Espirito Santo

I grew up Catholic. I attended church. I followed the orders of the church. I viewed the priest as a steward of the Gospels and leader of God’s flock. I confessed my sins, said my prayers, and asked God to use me as a vessel for his will. Did I feel more spiritual? No. Why?

In the context of the purpose of my religion, I was upholding the traditions of my community. My grandparents attended church as did my parents. Religion though is more than tradition. At my grandmother’s funeral mass, she was lauded for her long suffering to God (in spite of ailments). I had an awakening at this mass. This woman adhered to doctrine, loved in spite of race, class, education, and creed. She had her faults, but at 85 assisted by walker with oxygen tank in tow, she sat front row every Sunday showing up for God.

This taught me that spiritual is not a place, color, doctrine, or socioeconomic condition. She taught me that it is what is inside that makes a person. It was then, at that mass I understood the purpose of religion. In my previous experience I had followed the formula. Kneel, pray, stand. Kneel, pray, stand. Never feeling, spiritual.

In the final farewell, the priest summoned us pallbearers to escort my grandmother down the main church aisle. This time there was no walker or oxygen tank in tow. I walked teary eyed as small weeps crept out as we passed each aisle. Something great had left the earth that day and everyone knew it. I cannot explain the heavy feelings floating around pulling down on each of us like the Earth pulling down on the moon.  Yet, when outside the church a great flood of joy overcame me. I heard my grandmothers voice telling me "hito, you have to believe".

At that point I felt a great resounding peace, like I was standing in the woods alone. All ideas of race, class, and money, melted from me like a piece of ice in the sun. I felt free, I felt spiritual.

Lead Us Not, Into Temptation

Lilacs in winter, turn white, autumn is the bearer of change.

Whispering waters shout, vices, are made up! 

--- 

Prayers on Sunday, Tibetan gong, Mao Zedong. 

Our shadows are our religion our religion is our song.

---

Pushed to an edge, sharp, like Occam’s razor.

---

Flesh is too precious to cut.

---

 Human existence is common, like a penny on the ground.

Walk any street U.S.A, pennies on floor, rain gutter, and beggar’s cup.

On those pennies, Abe Lincoln, honest Abe; shot in the back for all his slaves.

---

Emancipation, frail like an egg, laid in open air.

Too much is assumed, too much is consumed. 
The climax and the end. 
I bear my cross.

|

--|--

 I ask the dead souls; give me guidance. 
---
Aristotle created the modern world.
---

Fascinating, how nature does nothing in vain.
---

 I eat my emotions and crave their sunrise.

---

Cui bono?

---

 Van Gouge, 
an artist, 
slept on straw.

He gave his privilege 
and 
learning to the souls that warmed the earth.
---

When is the last time, you, were in a coal mine? 
---

How black are your lungs?
---

How white is your soul?
---

The dust of the Earth is made of the bodies of old.
---

Why has man become blind with eyes of grey?
---

Marble stones, calcified flesh.

---

 I Oedipus, noble king blinded by dagger.

Dangle fingers from withered hands!

 ---

Watching, for mercy in all my darkness.

For justice is blind. 

---

Her scales balance eternity. 

 Man is blind and knows nothing of life before his birth. 

---

 I Oedipus, premature homunculus, a gods dream and humor. 

Anger is a recognizable song, for, what disaster am I prepared?

 ---

Urim and Thummim glow bright.

---

At morn they are in front, the climax and the end, in the eve they are behind.

---

All of life is a shadow and I man stumble with no sight.  

---

Fin

What Do I Owe?

Most of what I write is not all that good. Am I good? Who am I to judge? Walking around, nose to ground, sniffing urine filled air, looking to score, need I say more? 

“Life is a zero sum game”, coming from lips of those who don’t look into the eyes of those they harm. 
Liars, cheaters, and thieves of old had dignity, ask Gauguin, ask Caravaggio. 
Fist fights used to mean something, now nothing means nothing. 
It is a sad world. 
A sham. 
--
Hell!
--
I am not sad!
-- 
I roll with the punches, duck and counter every time a bad spell comes waltzing my way. 
Life used to be basic, now it’s filled to the brim. 
Drowning in shit, man outside corner store, eyes wide watching as I pull my last dime… 
Please spare, sir? Spare what? 
Not even my time is free. 
What happens when life is no longer valuable? Men, no longer apart of the earth? 
Let’s get trashed and forget all this nonsense, I have a life to waste. 
Nonsense! 
My tears are just as valuable as the next mans, my breath just as clean. 
What happens when you die? I speculate the answer. 
-- 
I wonder if death is like life. 
--
I see many men dead as they walk, stale eyes, counting their dollars in head. 
End to end, when do ends meet?
---  
I see dead men walking, singing defeat, I see dead men walking, screaming "retreat". 
Reprise! 
----
The clock strikes twelve, even lady Macbeth could not clean her hands!
-----
Wash me clean of my sorrows, of every dollar I borrow, tomorrow is tomorrow! Tomorrow is tomorrow… 

Love In the Mind, Alone.

A tempest force roaring beneath the skin. 
I dare bemoan, do not tempt this force, 
for destroy you it will 
and leave you hollow 
beneath
your 
skin.

BITCOIN

Game-Theory:

"Rocks have weight,

 or

eyes

 would

see

them

floating

to the Sun."

"Things as they are."

Methods of Ruler-ship:

"One cannot give up the 

WORLD

 to those 

   one despises."

Zombies Ate My Neighbors!

Game-Theory:

“If the market is flooded with low-priced, high-grade heroin, a significant population is addicted,” “That’s the free market.” 

I AM THAT I AM

I AM THAT I AM,

Half-Man, Half-Beast.
I AM THAT I AM,

Half-Devil, Half Priest.

---

INTO THE EARTH,

We Enter.

On the Surface lay the 

LIVING.

---
INTO THE DEPTHS
We Enter.

Below the Surface lie the

DECEASED.

Inaugural Death Bed

Chimes of summer's breeze - ring out - calling long-distance. 

Flaws equidistant  to the mirror reflect shadows hidden beneath small egos. 

---

"Who is calling please"?

---

Operator responds to bionic voice - digital monotone repeats a recorded recorded, "It is I".

---

Half-witting, stumbling half-sober, the mind succumbs to what it believes to be reason. 

Open shaft - tunnel of birth - light breaking through obstructions. 

---

"No" repeats the voice "life has no instructions". 

---

Stumble upon the great mystery, the mystery of all mysteries, there are no mysteries.

---

Haphazard as it seems. 

Resolve all madness in dream. 

---

"Who is calling please"? 

---

"It is I"

Indie-vidual...

Trouble with individuality is, is it is too individual. One cannot multiply, one times one equals one.
---
Hard times test the simple, financial crisis test the smart. Temptation, a woman spread bare. Seldom a full-moon, rare good man, rare. At fault for fault, halt, wings of wax melt, when close to the Sun.
---
 Roulette with a six-piece, madness at Salmon's lot, chance on the roulette table, Sisyphus kissing his rock. 

Intelligent Design

 Methods of Ruler-ship:

"No one has succeeded in the modern American political game like the biggest banks on Wall Street, which lobbied for deregulation during the three decades prior to the crisis of 2008, and then pushed back effectively against almost all dimensions of financial reform."

"Their success has paid off handsomely. The top executives at 14 leading financial firms received cash compensation (as salary, bonus, and/or stock options exercised) totaling roughly $2.5 billion in 2000-2008 – with five individuals alone receiving $2 billion."

"But these masters of the universe did not earn that money without massive government assistance. By being perceived as “too big to fail,” their banks benefit from a government backstop or downside guarantee. They can take on more risk – running a more highly leveraged business with less shareholder capital. They get bigger returns when things go well and receive state support when fortune turns against them: heads they win, tails we lose."

Nothingness

I look at you as you pass, 

you look at me as you pass.

...

Eyes center stage.

... 

 I know nothing of you, 

you know nothing of me.
...
Eyes turn away.

...

 I feel nothing for you, 

you feel nothing for me.

...
Nothing.

History of Repetition

Game-Theory:

"We cannot afford to forget the lessons of the crisis and the damage it caused to millions of Americans. Amnesia is what causes financial crises."

Scales Shall Fall From Thine Eyes.

 My writing like my life will have errors, yet the only person whom I am capable of pleasing is myself; flawed by nature, an overachiever, drunken binges, drunk on the river Styx. 

---

I am “thine own palace”, the world is my jail. “Angel’s sinn'd first, then devils, and then man”, I am a man of my sins, a sin of one man. 

---

Expression my expression, damned of the damned. I am that I am, damned of the damned. To hell with form, let it die with tradition; expression of my expression prerequisite of permission. Conform! Deform! Rules for the twisting, be warned, Muses know no form exempt from permission.

---

 "For it is ultimately the function of art; to bring us to a condition of serenity, stillness, and reconciliation.” Not chide, bicker, and snicker for fear of humiliation.  "For it is the function of art; to bring us to serenity, stillness, and reconciliation." Not chide, bicker, and snicker for fear of humiliation.

Death and Transfiguration

A friendly reminder:
I am where I am, doing that which I am doing.