Together 9

She was a 9 and he was a 6
Oh, how could it be,said the 6
Jumping those integers 3?
Sitting on his head searching
for ways to become more of a 9
When lo,
she said,hello 9
I am just a 6,he replied
No, you are the 9.
I am but a 6.
With that they knew,
Together they would be 9's,
through out infinity
they would bend over backwards for each other.
Oh!
it is so divine to watch two sixes become two nines,
forming a more perfect union across time,
eventually evolving into one whole =(69)

Fall equinox

I never meant to fall,
Took so long to find my Cinderella at the ball!
I'm sorry the glass slipper fell beyond my wall.

But now it's time to get back to you,
the world will hold,
until we're through,
Until I get it back to you.

I never meant to fall,
for Cinderella at the Ball,
But when you do you know thru and thru
the shortest man stands tall.

Searching for princesses across the sea,
the fallen will rise before me,
No more curtseying
No more kissing of hand,
Today O' Moloch cries
for he knows his time is almost through.

Christ again will anthemize,
The lasso'd fire flies,
And bring the slipper back for all.
Time to balance back upon the ball.

No, I never meant to fall,
But I rise and get back upon the ball,
No matter how many tries,
Those enemies with red eyes,
may try to push me down.

I've already been there before,
and in darkness found a crown,
I've climbed up from the deep,
And that's why I now peep,
Here to anthemize,
The lover's cries,
sleeping in night,
there will be those who cry
it is all a lie,
well
truth is
all I can be,
I hope you can believe,
And journey back to the ball with me,
I brought your dancing shoes
though they are not blue,
I forged them in the deep,
Red as my blood,
Come and dance with me
and you all will see,

It is not so hard to balance love and the ball

The Network is Social

It was between the time of skynet observing facebook, a match.com made in a heaven un-yet defined, that I found my search engine comparing the theoretically electronic virtual world to the biologically inhabited one I reside. I submited a query, that caused my hard dive to crash in the form of a dizzying sense. Everything in the virtual world was only a reflection of the things in the biological side. It was an rpg, for which anyone could design. Suddenly, windows of thought popped up of quotes.com/alberteinstein. If God played with dice, how many sides exist as part of the larger die? And what resides inside? Servers down as I slept, my dreams used paint to create a world. The world went from 0 to 1. 11 to more complex symbols that gathered information from the world I created. It was then that I felt them use the results to expand from the world I created to the furthest reaches of space still trapped in my mind. No longer hibernating, but liberating the ethereal soul from the electric impulses that control the machine of my body. I explored our bio-world. Observed the string, and connected open to closed ports. It was not until considering all that I had known, still unsure, I knew we were not alone. The thoughts that raced in competition for the finish line, only could go forward by coming together. It was the evolution of man, that led to the evolution of industry, which came together to create this web. We have command and conquered over the world, and have only begun to set our eyes on stars. If only in my lifetime I could get to mars. How might I do this? Query.....query....searching....little hourglass dropping virtual sand. Use the network that is social, so mightier might I stand.
In this bio-world in another's mind. Technologically trapped from the ethereal network I felt something like a hand. No God, no man, nor woman, but just one more like me. We came to an understanding of what the other was. As suddenly as it had been, so it never was. I called it buzz.

Is God's Will Free?

God. The Creator. The All-knowing.
Allower of light, decider of darkness.
Speaker to Prophets, listener to sinners.
Omnipotent and Omnipresent, incorporeal and incorruptable.

With all this power, knowledge, and being is there something that it lacks?
If God made Angels and the Devil was the first to fall, what is it he saw in the divine that made him decide to take the plunge? Did he decide? Would all be forgiven if he simply asked?
Is it possible, that love can only be freely given? Only when it is earned, and taken care of and reciprocated can it reach its full potential.
It is strange, this time in history. I am disgusted by the news, it leads me to believe that there is no decency left in people. However that news is filtered. Through a screen over wires, from some network to my home or laptop the new home.
Where ever I go I hear people complain about how it should be better. Well, How? What would make it better? Why isn't it that way? Why aren't you doing it that way already? I don’t know seems a satisfactory answer to them. Content to complain then not do anything to change their stars.

There is a slight false helplessness to the human condition. We put our faith in others to do right and are disappointed when they don't meet our expectations. Faith in ones self to do good in the world is something I hope to one day have. Albeit showing a stranger kindness without expectation is like giving them a piece of you.

The Circus

Come one! Come all! Bring your friends short or tall!
See our lovely Lady Liberty balance upon a ball!
Come one! Come all! Better hurry before she takes a fall!
Watch as Lady Justice is stripped of her blindfold to clash with William Tell!
Come one! Come all! Gather your sons, Gather your daughters, before this duel of martyrs!
Come all! Come one! Battle Royale: Baby Boomers versus Generation's X,Y, and Z?
Come all! Come one! I don't know whose going to clean up after, but certainly not me!
C.E.O. and ringleader of all that you will see!

You call them crazy, I call them friend

Psychotic, bipolar, dual personality...words we all use to described the deranged ramblings of the man wearing aluminum foil on his head. We call him crazy. We feel a slight pitty and fear for what he is. He reminds of the fragility of our most precious gift. We don't like to look. Fearful that he'll turn into a mirror. He has lost his grip on reality and will most likely not retun. Sure we think that he will, if he gets the right treatment.That's right. Get him to a doctor that's only read about his state in textbooks so he can give him drugs. Drugs that make the colorful garden of the mind, a foggy knoll. They will make your body move uncontrolably, in ways you never have before. The worst thing is the labels. Especially when nobody else in the room knows. Did you about that guy danced with a pretty girl, then ran out crying? Yeah, he was bipolar....oooohhh. At what point do people become able to jump from end to end of the bell curve of happiness. How about that woman that killed her husband? The one that beat her every day, and no one helped her? Yea! I heard. Total psycho. I look away and say.
What made him go so far past the fringe? Was it not enough vitamins? Was it to many drugs? So we're going to cure him with more. That will work. For some. Others just need someone to talk to. Maybe the aliens really are trying to communicate with us/he can't take it though. No one believes him. Why won't they believe him? Was he bipolar, or was he gay? Did she have a choice to kill him, or be killed?It is all to fantastical. So's the fact that the earth's round...today. Time determines who's proven wright or wrong. From Leonardo DaVinci, to John Nash, and I'm sure they called Jesus crazy too. Are the voices he heard from God? Or were they just the thoughts in his own head making such sense of the world around him that they sounded divine? As he removes the tinfoil a light reflects from his hat and into my own eyes. His speach no longer rambling, but eloquent. Suddenly enlightenment inspiration, the divine touch of God, or I just see what needs to be done to work to change the system for the better. They are going to call me crazy. Will I be crucified? Or will I be doped up straped to an uncomfortable bed, not sure of even who I am anymore or why I am here? No, I will live comfortably, in my own house. It is my goal to take care of everyone, to work toward world peace. They will call me crazy. So, let it be. It's not putting up with bad people and worse situations.
It's not pretending that everything is ok, when your screaming for someone to see you inside. It's not working at a job that you hate, for years only to be fired before retirement. Being mean to a stranger trying to make a friend. It's not crazy to pray to no one you've ever met our heard from. But if you tell anyone you heard his voice, and he spoke to you and you plainly saw his face as clearly as the text on this page? That is crazy!

But sometimes crazy is the way of life. To dream a little dream, finding a little love, or changing the world.
Then let them call us crazy, because it is that hope which keeps me going. Not that we should stop, because a few of us need to hear it sometimes. I hope that one day you too will be called crazy, then maybe I'll have a new friend

Why write?

Why do I write?

Because they make me. The voices in the room that only I can here rain like a downpour in a summer’s storm upon my eardrums. They called me distracted, and wanted to hold me back. Whether it be in grade school or the hospital I would no doubt be stuck in after strangling the cat…if I listened. Long ago I found that writing helped get these voices out, trapped on paper. No longer in my mind, if I ever was having trouble removing them I would write I guess the beginning is the best place to start because that’s what the nuns told me. An exorcism for my grip of morality, and additionally sanity, would drive the voices the thoughts askew. I’m not the only one who’s heard noises though, Stravinsky was driven mad by a D flat note. He also ended up killing himself..I think. Or at least that's what their telling me.

Write do I?

I guess the beginning is the best places to start, because that’s what the nun would sing. I’ve never felt fully whole. Never understood why others think or act the way they do. I am most happy, when I am in a crowded room, sitting alone at the back observing the one’s around me. The instinct to create art is inherent in our genes. Create… More….but how do you create? Inspiration for me comes through the inconsequential world around, inside, was and will be. They call me a dreamer, but according to John Lennon I’m not the only one. Maybe one day I’ll be able to get shot by a fan that misunderstands me.

I do why?