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Prediction by analogy -creativity - is so pervasive we normally don't notice it.

quote by Jeff Hawkins
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Magpie, My Keeper, Is Flying - Upon Freeing the Gift of Creativity Turned Inward

.
for Elaine Bellezza, Beloved Anima-as-Fate

'There is only one real deprivation, I decided this morning, and that is not to be able to give one's gift to those one loves most...The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.' - May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

This afternoon while still somewhat hungover from last night's rich meal and several glasses of strong red wine, I stumbled as one does when hungover, only today without feet but with eyes, upon the above quote by May Sarton. I had awakened this morning with fragments of a dream, repetitive of other dreams the past few months, where I am carrying something precious and just cannot put it down in any old place or upon just any available surface. I cannot put it down until I find the right surface and location.

These dreams are full of torrential flood waters, or backed up, stagnant water, toilets full of filth and pungent bright orange dark urine days old and fermenting. I cannot unhand the burden even though the urge to pee or flee or drive a car away or into flood waters is strong. I must not put down the burden odd as it is; it is my laptop carrying case made of canvas. It is large enough to carry not only my laptop but also many books with which I cannot, will not be parted from as they are the must-have-with-me-always 'bread', my staple and stability in a given to me world out of balance.

I have understood the dreams only a little - something within the psyche is flooding up, over-spilling or has already, has not been adequately canalized, channeled, streamed and guided, shaped and formed. Or flushed. I knew that eventually, as dreams do when one sits consciously, patiently, persistently with them, they would yield their messages to me, and upon revelation these must be obeyed, brought out into the world, Carl Jung having said that one has a moral responsibility to dreams once they are kenned and must be conscientiously acted upon in the outer world. Just dreaming is not enough. Everyone dreams but not very many know to dream them out into the world, to let their messages unfurl, flood and flow to bring forth new consciousness, to reshape old forms no longer adequate to self, place and time into symbol and their sense, usually not literal.

And thus, only just now, upon opening up haphazardly in a book about Dostoevsky and his struggle with addictions which mirror the profound compulsion to create at any cost perhaps beyond one's capacities to renew oneself, I find May Sarton's quote and suddenly the dreams clarify and sharpen into focus; I understand them as the burden of creativity too long turned inward, the burden of writing, the burden of poetry which I have carried heavily for most of my life since middle school when I was 11 or 12 years old when books became my lifeline, my link to existence that I could live on in spite of not wanting to do so. Written words, books, kept me from disappearing though I was and remain a mostly invisible word.

And thus the floods. One cannot ignore them. Alphabets tumble and roil. One dare not ignore them. One must see them without a choice to not see them. In them I am suddenly made visible, bright orange p*ss pots and all. I am both appalled and pleased. My burden is upon my knees.

The backed up water, the urine, is creativity. A somewhat odd symbol of creativity, there is more than enough evidence that urination is symbolic of self expression which is creativity. In ancient Rome the highly valued dirt from the urinals of boys' schools was collected to be used as a cosmetic in order to restore youthful energy and looks. A young boy, or puer in Latin, is an archetypal symbol of ongoing creativity and inspiration, the puer aeternas, the eternal youth, well springs of ongoing creativity still imaged in solid fountains of the world where eternal waters flow from the peni of cherubic youth.

I have struggled my entire life with a strong urge to create, to write, to express in words that creative daemon within which torments no matter the completion of a poem or essay, a lecture, a psalm. And now my dreams have had me consciously, urgently seeking a place to put the burden down, to perhaps come to it anew. I imagine that landing the burden means bringing it down to earth, manifesting creativity all the more by bringing my efforts to others for the strongest part of the compulsive urge in my creativity has been to contribute one good thing, one good poem or piece of writing which in some way might further the culture even if only by a flea's leg length.

The dreams urge me to let the urine flow, to let the flood waters indeed flood over, to be less self conscious of what I write and say but to have at it all and to say my say. And to let whatever waves there are crest and break upon ever receptive banks and shores whose duty it is to allow what may come from motion without complaint, the more compliant toward as yet to be fully formed purposes as yet to be scored.

Synchronistically, a few days ago I listened to a lecture by poet Allen Ginsberg about Walt Whitman and his imitators, those who were goodly influenced by his effulgent, self indulgent style, his garrulous poems which presumed to express the very expansiveness of the North American continent over-flooded by a plague of itinerant, persistent poachers and prophets from Europe to Eastern disembarkation and then inland and Westward, compelled to overtake land and native peoples in their possessed, pushed wake. Ginsberg imagined himself to be a timely extension of this unruly school, as savage as the projected upon land and justly-resistant, resident humanity stretched beyond known bounds and sounds. Blood drowned and pounded the god-hounded land even now is flooded by unleashed mighty rivers seeking, if rivers seek at all, to undo and renew in horse shoe and other shapes the crimes of consciousness compelled to overtake while leaving it up to human souls to repent and repair, to prepare for more powerful insurgencies of land and Self ever seeking new and nower expressions of dirt and deity. There's enough history beneath layers to support the scarp and scrape of momentary yet monumental motions finally given mouths to utter what lies both beneath and within the heaping huzzahs of here here here full and deep. As in my dream, it is hard to steer in such surpassing tides and currents. Still, I am searching for holy campground that I may lay my burden down.

I have no wish to imitate Whitman nor Ginsberg - though both are easily imitated since they did so themselves, an occupational hazard for writers - but only to be obedient to the daemon, that urgent, emergent, creative force within. It rushes within and against me. No matter whether derived of the grandiose American continent and the even more grandiose sky or not, I have all too successfully braced against it in fear of failure, reprisal or, worse, complete indifference from others. My dreams now urge floods and resultant coagulations, they bring creative splurges to ground from hand to the hard world. And Nature, too, is indifferent but begs none the less and all the more to be given utterance and response.

Respondeo ergo sum. I respond, therefore I am. I respond, therefore the other, earth, all her ants, is as long as there are eyes, ears, and scanning minds to acknowledge and touch, wrestle, caress, shape - some in scansions - outer from inner, inner from outer, landscapes to be all too quickly discarded in time for what is sung just ahead. And seen. Or hoped, all praise to telescopes. We would be they, so addicted to horizons, to bring them close.

Something there is needs completion via coagulation, forming, shaping, and sharing with whomever may be open to clods delivered. If not, rivers will, as they will without reason, continue to overrun their banks and insist upon covering designated previous cultivations. Let then excess of creativity have its say, play out, and leave the critical post-considerations to others. I will surely sit and ponder spent what spills forth, to shape, to edit, to discard. And watch my little yard sink beneath needed and needy floods.

I will have done with deprivation and bring myself, what I have shaped and misshapen, to the world. These things, this burden, have I most loved and felt responsible for, have born the shame of. I have fought and have failed utterly again and again though my attempts have been, and still are, sincere though not blameless. Fear has been my encampment, a longing beneath knowing feet in secret cellars just beyond reach of contracted hands forever spelling hunger. I know open bastion doors and windows to now fling beyond embankments what has been wrung out of my floes and woes though hands wither from too much turning against and inward. What a relief to burst beyond boundaries too long successfully restraining.

I recently wrote a poem about much too too solid bastions of self, of forceful puer energy ramming through and over and into long buried storms and petrified forms, of passion mangling the delusion of 'norms' ignoring too sensitive alarms. Given May Sarton's May revelation this morning I now understand that the poem is about more than eros, it is about that powerful creative/destructive force, the daemon/tyro that ever urges outward intent on making and staking Self in new land and at least one aging man wrenched and rendered from dried and calcified encrustations. I am, to borrow from the insistent dream image, beginning to leak. And to break open.

Archeology - What The Stele Says 'Upon Taking A Much Younger Lover'

That this old ground yields to plow stuns.
What begins to be, earth swell, breaks
root-room open to blood means.

Old skeins tear upon what is new terrain,
hunger worn, long appended. There is
no blame for pain is the blessing.

All hurt now stings twilight quaked into being.
Your breath falls upon me now, taut, sinew,
bruising hand, purple inside flares warrior nerves

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
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I'm sorry, I didn't notice

I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When this started to happen
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I just let it begin

I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The change in anythin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When we stopped talkin'

I'm sorry, I didn't notice
We weren't letting each other in
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
That sad, sad trend

I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The beginning of the end
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
You were no longer my friend

But believe me, now I notice
And it hurts deep within
Now that I notice
I hope you'll be again

poem by Dylan Burkhart
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Throw Yourself Away

Baby's born on the bathroom floor
her mother prays that it'll never cry
but nothing's wrong you got your prom dress on
When they ask you'llsay it isn't mine
Oooh, you know they're gonna know you lied
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God ain't even helping you out
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down
So keep the way you feel anonymous
And hide it all until the day you die
your secret's safe at least you thought it was
But you can only keep it for a little while
Oooh, and now you're terrified
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God ain't even helping you out
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down
Baby's born on the bathroom floor
Her Mother prays that it'll never cry
but nothing's wrong you got your prom dress on
And when they ask you say it isn't mine
And damn you for thinkin' we would never know
And damn you for thinkin' we would never mind
theOnly reason that you'd made it this far
You never asked him but you never try
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you out
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you out
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you out
Wash my, hands of this
You notice that God aint even helping you
Why the hell don't you throw yourself away
You know they're gonna burn it down

song performed by Nickelback
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I've Come to Notice More Now

I've come to notice more now,
The falling snow.
I've come to notice more now,
A certain purpose...
I had disavowed.
I've come to notice more now,
The core of my being with more meaning.
A joy I can express...
With less emphasis on things collected.
And a happiness I always had,
But somehow did not allow.
I've come to notice more now,
I can.
I've come to notice more now,
I will!
I've come to notice more now,
My needs are basically fulfilled.
Without desire to seek approval,
Sought to identify my peace of mind!
I've come to notice more now,
Thoughts like that I have left behind.
And notice, I do...
My blessings!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Got to Notice...

You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.

You've got to watch.Your back.
And every little step you take.
You can not stop.To drop...
A point of view someone will take,
And hate...you!

You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.

You can not smile. Or nod. Or say hello,
'Have a good day! '
You may regret.Someone you've met.
Then get upset.
When they just turn, and walk away!
That's how it is today.

You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.

You've got to watch.Your back.
And every little step you take.
You can not stop.To drop...
A point of view someone will take,
And hate with such rage....displayed.

People are in a rage.
Today...
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.

Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.

Don't stop. Don't stop!
Pat your feet to the beat...
Repeat!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Four kinds of trait

Assets
Brahmin: Brain
Kshatrya: Ego
Vysya: Desire
Sudhra: Skill

Tools
Brahmin: Knowledge
Kshatrya: Valour
Vysya: Risk
Sudhra: Labour

End
Brahmin: Position
Kshatrya: Power
Vysya: Wealth
Sudhra: Acceptance

Yoga
Brahmin: Jnana
Kshatrya: Raja
Vysya: Bhakthi
Suhra: Karma

Sex
Brahmin: Procreation
Kshatrya: Entertainment
Vysya: Lust
Sudhra: Accident

Weakness
Brahmin: Selfishness
Kshatrya: Error of judgment
Vysya: Sin of pursuit
Sudhra: Slip of impulse

Goal
Brahmin: Security
Kshatrya: Authority
Vysya: comfort
Sudhra: Recognition

Value
Brahmin: Eternal
Kshatrya: Justice
Vysya: Dharma
Sudhra: Dedication

Prohibition
Brahmin: Craving

[...] Read more

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Is This The Year The World Will End?

The Mayans knew a thing or two.
They forecast that the world would end
In two thousand and ten plus two.
I do not think we can depend

On their prediction coming true..
There have been prophecies before
Predicting that the end was due,
I do not there will be more.

I do not claim to prophecies
I have no faith in those who do.
My world will end the day I die.
I think the same applies to you.

I could be wrong quite possibly
It may be true the Mayans knew.
Enough to state with certainty.
That their prediction would come true.

The Mayans were astronomers
They left behind a legacy
In the form of calendars
What they believed would come to be.

Is this the year of destiny?
We have no choice but wait and see.
I think that very probably.
We’ll carry on regardlessly.

It just another prophecy.
Though based on erudition.
The Mayans thought mistakenly.
Would herald the destruction.

Of everything and everyone.
We hope that it will prove to be
another failed prediction.
Like every other prophecy.

What fate decrees will come to be.
The world is bound to end some day.
But when remains a mystery.
No man alive can solve today.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Creativity is a great motivator because it makes people interested in what they are doing. Creativity gives hope that there can be a worthwhile idea. Creativity gives the possibility of some sort of achievement to everyone. Creativity makes life more fun and more interesting.

quote by Edward de Bono
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Creativity Can't Make Up For Depression

Creativity cannot make up for depression
which it attempts to cure,
it can’t replace it with the kind of supersession
that made spurious lure
of Christianity when it induced some Jews
to make up for their loss
of their identity, condemned, they thought, to lose
unless they chose the cross.
No, creativity provides a transient high,
and then becomes a wraith,
for those who’re so depressed they find they cannot fly,
because they’ve lost their faith
in their ability to reproduce success,
which if it is not con-
stantly repeated is a letter whose address
appears to be, “Dear John.”

Inspired by an article (“In Praise of the Crack-U: A novelist peers through darkness to find glittering gems in writing and art”) , by the South African-born novelist Jeanette Winterson, lesbian lover of Julian Barnes’s widow, Pat Kavanagh, in the October 17,2009 WSJ (A report about her lesbian relations includes the information: Blessed with good looks that led many to compare her to Katharine Hepburn, she secured a nonspeaking part in Under Milk Wood. “I never got paid, but I did get to snog Richard Burton, ” she said) . Winterson writes:
The stories are well known; Vincent Van Gogh cut off his ear and went mad. Sylvia Plath gassed herself. Anne Sexton committed suicide. Emily Dickinson was manic-depressive. Virginia Woolf worked through alternating bouts of madness and depression for most of her life. The mad, bad and dangerous wild boys of high art and popular culture make great copy—whether it's Caravaggio on the run for murder after one of his rages, or Allen Ginsberg, naked and drunk, howling through Manhattan. The women—Plath, Frida Kahlo, Maria Callas, Janis Joplin—imploding like dark stars, are the stuff of obsession…. Longing is painful. Every work of art is an attempt to bring into being the object of loss. The pictures, the music, the poems and the performances are an intense engagement with loss. While one is in the act of making, one is not in loss, and one has meaning. The fierce crashes that happen to many creative people when a piece of work is done (read Hemingway on this) come out of the sense that however good the work, it has not answered the loss. The strange thing about creative work is that it can have enormous value for others while its maker is left ravaged. The ancient Greeks understood this as the price of an encounter with a god—the divine forces enter the human and use him or her as an instrument, only to be ultimately destroyed. But I do not believe that creativity is destructive or divine. I believe it is the part of us that gives shape and voice to our innermost reality. This is frightening. Encounters with the real, in particular what we really feel, are something we generally try to avoid. Art mediates the encounter, allowing us to get nearer to our longing and our loss, to risk more, to dare more. Yet for the maker, the exposure is not mediated; it is total and terrifying. That is why so many creative people cut themselves off from their own experience, using drugs or drink or sex or shipwreck to avoid absolute exposure to the pain of creativity. When Whitman turned to face his dark angel, to wrestle with himself, he was acknowledging his own loss, his own longing, his own unstaunched wound.

10/18/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Between The Lines

Verse 1:
Ive been searching
Ive been thinking
Ive been searching so long
What I am looking for
Ive been hearing love will hit you
But everybodys wrong
Cause I just happen to notice
That certain look in your eye
Chorus:
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
But now I really do
Verse 2:
Nothing major ever happened
But its the greatest feeling Ive ever had
Strong emotions all have left me
Just a tenderness inside my heart
Just happened to notice a knowing smile
Chorus
(now I really do)
Just happened, I noticed
That certain look in your eyes
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need, didnt need no neon
To notice baby
I never before, never before
I knew it, I knew it
Bridge:
Started dreamin about you baby
Now I know just what Im feeling
Can it be you are my baby?
Never gonna let you go
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
Never gonna-never gonna let you go
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need no neon signs
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need, didnt need, didnt need no neon

[...] Read more

song performed by Debbie Gibson
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Angels Sing As God Receives Michael Jackson

angels in myriads sing
as God Jesus receives
soul Michael Jackson’s
into eternity his heaven

in America when Michael Jackson promoted
conservation ‘Earth Song’ save peace themes
Michael was sin politically targeted slandered
then Salem witch hunt nationally discredited

‘We Are The World’ Michael's innocent vision
piano keys poverty black white bones slaughtered
Illuminati enraged plots vile character bite incision
Illuminati hates God love people earth save vision

‘We Are The World’ this our beautified earth save vision

“We are the world We are the children....
Send them your heart So they'll know that someone cares...
As God has shown us by turning stone to bread
So we all must lend a helping hand”

Illuminati plots sows new world order dark enslavement seeds

Illuminati will do anything to destroy
innocent Michael’s legacy influence
executed killed to order not by martyr gun
interesting trying to trace where attacks

upon innocent Michael’s character originated
evidence indicates evil smear campaign of lies
a national priority by several cult organizations
mist mind demons sow hate agenda public arena

this world has slandered attacked and killed
peace makers for thousands of years continuous
when will peace have a chance reign glorious?
like a child enlightened minds promote pious

random fusing might simply bring into meaning
neutralization of different voices violence hating
Michael the two of us need live on earth no more
we spoke words peace love in air from God we bore

‘Earth Song’ by Michael Jackson carry us to heaven’s door

“What about sunrise?
What about rain?
What about all the things?
That you said we were to gain

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Bride of Abydos

"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." — Burns

TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT,
BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,

BYRON.

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; [1]
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun —
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? [2]
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Prose: On The Existence Of God

A brief statement about certain controversial questions and issues relating to some core religious topics such as:
What is God?
Where is God?
Who Is God?
and a new or old philosophy and perspective (depending on the readers views) offering an explanation to these age old questions.

Prelude:
The proof of That which is not restricted to any construct of the human mind and is beyond imagination is Divine. This is sometimes revealed to a select few in the form of a revelation or philosophy from time to time and is what history calls religion and is also uplifting and blissful.
The ordinary human mind and intellect cannot comprehend or fathom that which is beyond it but only staggers at the attempt, bewildering as it is to the ego which is the seat of the mind and limited individual personality. (See Note #1)

Standpoint 1
It is generally stated that neither the existence nor the non-existence of God can be proven. But if there is absolutely nothing or everything is somehow taken away, then whatever is left or there is that remains can only be the place, source or state from which everything is brought into existence and sustained for a while within its own infinite being and by its own infinite or unlimited latent capacity of power, knowledge and blissful freedom of imagination and creation.

Standpoint 2
The state of absolute nothing (colorless, formless, odorless, indivisible, unfathomable) , if there ever was such a state, would then be the complete and infinite unmanifest state or prior condition of this Boundless and Eternal Being or God from where all the universe, as we have come to know and see to date, has come and in which it still must exist without any exception regardless of what there appears now to be.

Standpoint 3
All the planets, moons, suns, stars, galaxies, nebulae and whatever else there may be are nothing other than, relatively speaking, like the atoms, molecules, compounds, cells etc that go to make up the body of a living physical entity, and in this specific and particular case, the manifest cosmic being known as or called the universe, and the so called black holes would then be found to be the arterial pathways of the energy or substance known as dark energy and matter which is of a non atomic nature (See Note #2) . It should also be noted that the simplest and first atom or atomic substance or element is hydrogen, which is made up of just an electron and a proton, and is the most abundant atomic substance in the universe. In other words from the one formless substance of dark energy and matter come hydrogen) , helium, lithium, etc (in the order of the atomic scale) : from the simplest and lightest to the most complicated, densest and heaviest.

Standpoint 4
This then is the reason why we should consider the infinitely large of the outer universe with all the cosmic forces and objects known and unknown on the one hand, while its opposite, the infinitely small, being that of the inner universe, in the form of man's mind and emotions together with the sub and atomic forces on the other, both co-existing at the same time without an apparent beginning or end, that make up the whole visible and invisible creation which is seemingly expanding, until the endless end, in something greater than itself, for how else could this ever be? (See Note #4)

Standpoint 5
The preceeding points help to validate the statements in the scriptures which say "as above so below" and that "we are made in the image and likeness of God" (ie: our soul or spirit within) , and an aspect of Einstein's theory of Relativity that mentions or postulates of ‘the curvature of space' and certain aspects of Quantum Physics. The preceeding points also bring together both views of the so called ‘Big Bang' and ‘Steady State' theories that have gained popularity in modern times and where the former seems to be the more widely accepted view.

Standpoint 6
The five so called elements of Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Ether mentioned in certain philosophical texts and which correlate to the five lower energy centers (or Chakras) of the human body are complemented by two higher ones being those of Light and Sound of the two higher centers. This also explains the scripture where it is written "in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God" and where "God said let there be light and there was light" (See Note #3) which indicates that from the ‘Word of God' or primeval sound came light, then ether, air, fire, water and earth in a descending order. The last five mentioned elements deal specifically with life and conditions on our own world and also other worlds where one, some or all of the seven kingdoms of evolution are to be found in various stages of development.

Standpoint 7
If man is made in the image and likeness of God then whatever can be seen outside can also be seen inside in the sense that there is nothing but God that really exists and that the essence of God is in man's soul and spirit. An analogy of this would be to look at a dropp of an infinite ocean (without boundaries or divisions) and to recognize or realize that the dropp of the ocean is nothing other than the ocean itself which may apparently seem to be separate or limited due to a bubble of ignorance and limited perception (the effect of duality or God's Cosmic Illusion or Maya) . The illusion of duality becomes less apparent and is indeed negligible to the point of non existence as man evolves spiritually and realises his oneness with the essence or real part of his inner being which is non other than a dropp in (not separate from) this indivisible infinite ocean of God. This is where an individual sees or perceives the underlying all-pervasive reality everywhere, also known as or called the seeing of 'Unity in Diversity'. When this 'essence' is made the focus of an individual's consciousness and is continually invoked upon by various means it then becomes activated or awakened, so to speak, from a dormant latent state, to one of a highly charged and source seeking intelligent energy that is returning back to its real home or state from the lowest center of consciousness (gross, dense and material) in the human body to the highest centers being those in the higher parts of the body which are of a much finer or subtle consciousness and associated with light and sound (i.e. the primeval sound and light of creation) which come from God or the state of infinite consciousness. This is also the state of Absolute Nothing mentioned in Standpoint 2 above from where Absolutely Everything has come from or manifested within its own Being and the Infinite Existence (all that exists does so within God) due to the infinite latent capacity of power, knowledge and blissful freedom of imagination and creation (Standpoint 1) .
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Notes:
(#1) See also my other prose titled 'God is the Highest Good'.
(#2) The universe is the infinite creation and creature of God.
(#3) See The Old and New Testaments of The Holy Bible.
(#4) We use a telescope to see into the body of the universe being incredibly large and use a microscope to see things or signs of life that are incredibly small.

poem by George Krokos
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A Prayer in Spring

the universe
flows through the man
a minscule of
all creations
a volcano
seethes beneath
a calm demeanor
the krakatoa
that never announced
its blast
lava and all
the anger
that seethes, it burns
through the man
the tempest
the wind, the thunder,
the lightning
that sweeps through the land
the dowager throws her tantrums
a whole army of men beheaded
the river cruises through stone
a thousand years
to run through a dream
the central intelligence's dream
the man's patience
to fashion a way to the other world, universe
the men a miniscule of creation
in the sky, in the sea,
in the smallest gene, cell
you find the working
of the man
the pervasive intelligence
manifests in the miniscule
of creation; men
the lord wants interaction
the world to communicate
cell with cell, oxygen with hydrogen
sperm with ovum
the central intelligence
accumulates in the man
ensures the propagation
of a wondrous world
of interaction, growth
men, the miniscule of
the pervasive intelligence
go east, go west,
go north, go south
you turn back to the man
for answer to world's intelligence

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Proven Criminality Of Mubarak Terror Regime

“Thousands of WikiLeaks
released documents,
diplomatic cables from
2009 and 2010 from
the US embassy in Cairo.
Prove the Barak Obama
administration knew
a dictator Hosni Mubarak
regime held onto power
by terrorizing Egyptians.”

“US Ambassador Margaret
Scobey in a cable dated
January 15,2009. The letter
calls police brutality “routine
and pervasive” and states that
“police using force to extract
confessions from criminals [is]
a daily event.” A daily shame
written in blood screaming pain
“routine and pervasive” torture.”

Embassy informants “estimate
there are literally hundreds of
torture incidents every day in
Cairo police stations alone.”
Did you ever calculate the cost?
Credibility cost of supporting
a torture terror evil vile regime?
Did you never wonder why
Egypt's police are hated feared?
Loathed with justified intensity?

The first two stanzas are the poem ‘The Mubarak Torture Regime’.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Mubarak Torture Regime

Thousands of WikiLeaks
released documents,
diplomatic cables from
2009 and 2010 from
the US embassy in Cairo.
Prove the Barak Obama
administration knew
a dictator Hosni Mubarak
regime held onto power
by terrorizing Egyptians.

US Ambassador Margaret
Scobey in a cable dated
January 15,2009. The letter
calls police brutality “routine
and pervasive” and states that
“police using force to extract
confessions from criminals [is]
a daily event.” A daily shame
written in blood screaming pain
“routine and pervasive” torture.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Feeling Out Of Sorts?

Feeling out of sorts these days?
Want to know what you can do?
Need help? Here are 50 ways,
Maybe you'll benefit from a few

ROTMS

SYMPTOMS OF SPIRITUAL AWAKENING

1. Changing sleep patterns: restlessness, hot feet, waking up two or three times a night. Feeling tired after you wake up and sleepy off and on during the day.
There is something called the Triad Sleep Pattern that occurs for many: you sleep for about 2-3 hours, wake up, go back to sleep for another couple of hours, wake again, and go back to sleep again. For others, the sleep requirements have changed. You can get by on less sleep.
Lately I have been experiencing huge waves of energy running into my body from the crown. It feels good, but it keeps me awake for a long time, then subsides.

Advice: Get used to it. Make peace with it and don't worry about getting enough sleep (which often causes more insomnia) . You will be able to make it through the day if you hold thoughts of getting just what you need. You can also request your Higher Power to give you a break now and then and give you a good, deep night's sleep.

If you can't go back to sleep right away, use the waking moments to meditate, read poetry, write in your journal or look at the moon. Your body will adjust to the new pattern.

2. Activity at the crown of the head: Tingling, itching, prickly, crawling sensations along the scalp and/or down the spine. A sense of energy vibrating on top of the head, as if energy is erupting from the head in a shower. Also the sensation of energy pouring in through the crown, described as 'sprinkles'.

This may also be experienced as pressure on the crown, as if someone is pushing his/her finger into the center of your head. As I mentioned in #1, I have been experiencing huge downloads of energy through the crown.
In the past, I have felt more generalized pressure, as if my head is in a gentle vise. One man related that his hair stood on end and his body was covered with goosebumps.

Advice: This is nothing to be alarmed about. What you are experiencing is an opening of the crown chakra. The sensations mean that you are opening up to receive divine energy.

3. Sudden waves of emotion. Crying at the dropp of a hat. Feeling suddenly angry or sad with little provocation. Or inexplicably depressed. Then very happy. Emotional roller coaster. There is often a pressure or sense of emotions congested in the heart chakra (the middle of the chest) . This is not to be confused with the heart, which is located to the left of the heart chakra.

Advice: Accept your feelings as they come up and let them go. Go directly to your heart chakra and feel the emotion. Expand it outward to your all your fields and breathe deeply from the belly all the way up to your upper chest. Just feel the feeling and let it evaporate on its own. Don't direct the emotions at anyone.

You are cleaning out your past. If you want some help with this, say out loud that you intend to release all these old issues and ask your Higher Power to help you. You can also ask Grace Elohim to help you release with ease and gentleness. Be grateful that your body is releasing the see motions and not holding onto them inside where they can do harm.

One source suggests that depression is linked to letting go of relationships to people, work, etc. that no longer match us and our frequencies. When we feel guilty about letting go of these relationships, depression helps us medicate that pain.

4. Old 'stuff' seems to be coming up, as described above, and the people with whom you need to work it out (or their clones) appear in your life. Completion issues.

Or perhaps you need to work through issues of self-worth, abundance, creativity, addictions, etc. The resources or people you need to help you move through these issues start to appear.

Advice: Same as #3. Additionally, don't get too involved in analyzing these issues. Examining them too much will simply cycle you back through them over and over again at deeper and deeper levels. Get professional help if you need to and walk through it.

Do not try to avoid them or disassociate yourself from them. Embrace whatever comes up and thank it for helping you move ahead. Thank your Higher Power for giving you the opportunity to release these issues. Remember, you don't want these issues to stay stuck in your body.

5. Changes in weight. The weight gain in the US population is phenomenal. Other people may be losing weight.

[...] Read more

poem by Ray Lucero
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The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.

quote by R.D. Laing
Added by Lucian Velea
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At Least

Oh, hmm oh yeah, hmm, hmm, hmm
I'm on way back to Atlanta
About to start a new life
Cause I can't take it here
It seems the more we fight
The more the pressure
I'm in this lonely house
Sitting high up on a hill
Pressin' the buttons on the control
Flipping through channels on TV
Wondering when you're coming home
And take care of family
At least you can call and say I'm busy
At least you can say I'm running late
At least you can give some kind of notice
Let somebody know that you're okay
At least you can take some time to phone
At least you can just one day stay home
At least you can take me out to me
If you love me, you would've done those things
You won't miss me till I'm gone
Impossible to drink from a well that's gone dry, yeah
And every night you come in singing the same old song
How could you do me wrong?
When you know it ain't right
Pressin' the buttons on the control
Flipping through channels on TV
Wondering when you're coming home
And take care of family
At least you can call and say I'm busy
At least you can say I'm running late
At least you can give some kind of notice
Let somebody know that you're okay
At least you can take some time to phone
At least you can just one day stay home
At least you can take me out to me
If you love me, you would've done those things
Take in a movie show, a carnival
A place to go, we can be alone
But instead I'm staring at these matching walls
The weekends spent, a compliment
Flowers sent would've kept me at home
But now instead I'm packing my bags and I'm gone
At least you can call and say I'm busy
At least you can say I'm running late
At least you can give some kind of notice
Let somebody know that you're okay
At least you can take some time to phone
At least you can just one day stay home
At least you can take me out to me

[...] Read more

song performed by Kelly Price
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sub Culture (Razormaid!)

I like walking in the park
When it gets late at night
I move 'round in the dark
And leave when it gets light
I sit around by day
Tied up in chains so tight
These crazy words of mine
So wrong they could be right
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
I like talking in my sleep
When people work so hard
They need what they can't keep
A choice that leaves them scarred
A view without a room
Unveils the truth so soon
And when the sun goes down
You've lost what you had found
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone

song performed by New Order
Added by Lucian Velea
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