Until the Sun Disappears

We have desecrated even this twilight - we have emptied the moon of
its light so that we might blind ourselves.

When the hero stood at the door we shrouded his face, pulled his heart from
his chest and sank bullets in his head until the saving ideas were drowned by screams.

We raped the land and poured blood on the trees because we thought that
would make them strong - we have killed the tallest, the best, the most beautiful hearts of men.

WE have strangled the hope from the streets, from the voices of children, with green paper
shoved down their throats. When they vomit it smells like oil.

We pack them in, identity and eyes, until they appear to be one contiguous color - one big
brown face. We have forgotten the soil of their eyes, fertilized with their blood, lies beneath
the plastic world we have created.

Industry grew from the broken steel like the phoenix of our dreams - we provided
Icarus with wings of rubber tested at 2000 degrees. We knew the sun burned hotter.
WE flung him into the sky anyway. When his charred body dropped like a stone
we covered our eyes and called it a firework.

We will die at the hands of the man and woman and child next to us.

WE have condemned the world to a life as bloody as ours.

My Life on the Elevens

If the world is the same as it always was -
and everything has already happened:

If everything that has happened at least once has happened on an eleven:

Then eleven is the anniversary of the beginning of time

and

If the world was split there would be eleven seams - that is five cuts
and one half cut

and

If I lived in a house with eleven rooms that were each
eleven by eleven and it also had
eleven hallways that were each
eleven by one
the sq. feet
of my house would be
one-four-five-two

not including the thickness of the walls
because they are without time -
so none of the events of the world have happened on them
which makes them equal to
zero

and

If every clock has one
eleven and two hands then every
one day those
two hands will touch that one
eleven twenty-six times
in total.


This is my time.

Who has the monopoly on truth?

Lately I have been curious about the increasing ambiguity of truth. It seems that the more we discover, probe and theorize, the less we are willing to quantify and make objective statements.

Sure there are those questions which have never (and can seemingly never be) answered: Is there a god - big or little g?

There are questions which seem teasingly within our intellectual grasp: Is organized religion, ultimately, harmful to humanity in our increasingly global community?

And, then those which seem fairly certain, if not absolute: What is the best form of government? Does the possiblity of life on other planets exist?

What I seek to do is find connections between these categories. Like buidling blocks of truth, using what we know to uncover what we think we know, or what we simply don't know, is the most obvious (useful) method. However this technique has been curiously absent from the encompassing world of religion.

Certainly, I am only one of many who have had this thought - how can seemingly logical, rational throngs of people who label themselves believers continue to convince themselves of the existence of a personal god? What are the rational ramifications - how much must they ignore in order to sustain this belief? Are personal faith and rationalism mutually exclusive?

Feedback always welcome.

The Things I Should Like To Say

"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." Nietzsche


Though, admittedly, there will be no readers to this floating forum - there are ideas I wish to send out into the abyss. This will most likely include politics, religion, and the odd bit of poetry.

Please enjoy, my teeming masses.