It Is Later Than You Think…
I imagine we have all daydreamed of an intrepid archaeologist of some future generation uncovering the relics and debris of our own civilization, puzzling over the function of a lifeless iPad or broken TV. Or, more likely, a mysteriously un-degraded McDonald’s “hamburger” nestled in its original wrapping. But those thoughts must be particularly acute at this moment of world historical transition.
Our dis-ease does not come from the vertigo we feel when peering over the economic precipice, or the transformation of the political landscape in recent years, or even the socio-cultural turmoil that has led us to the summer of rage.
No, none of these worrying trends by themselves makes us dwell on the end of Pax Americana and the end of this era of civilization. It is the fact that all of these problems converge on one (phony) solution: war.
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Have you considered what would happen to the individual that managed to unite Ozymandias’ slaves such that they “refused to serve, all en masse”? Crucifixion comes to mind.
The paradox: the masses need a voice to unite them in a common struggle so that they can win the freedom to be individuals. The occupy movement was paralyzed by not having had a unifying voice to distill a clear and strongly shared message out of the chaos.
On the other hand….what happened in the 60’s? Youth were united by music, art, culture…. there were too many heroes to crucify all at once. I doubt the powers-that-shouldn’t-be will make the mistake of allowing this to happen again…. but…. perhaps there is something to learn by studying the magical circumstances that led to these types of near revolutions.
I suspect tanks, guns, cruise missiles and aircraft carriers could be defeated by Art. The best Art resonates with the masses by virtue of its succinct and accurate reflection of their true sentiment.
“Us and Them” needs to be very clearly demarcated. Without this list we are harmless to “Them”.
If the people with families who put on uniforms are busy singing songs and dancing in celebration of the wonders of the earth and all of humanity, who would drive the tanks? There aren’t enough of “Them” to pull it off without our help as Mr. Corbett suggests.
Ah, art! No, I don’t think art will be the solution at all, it never has been. Art serves the structure that pays. The Surrealist movement was rife with Freemasons, the New Age and the music of the hippie movement, all social engineering, much of it CIA–Gnostic Media is the resource for this aspect. But, you need only know the history of art to know this, who pays the piper calls the tune. It’s nothing new at all. What needs to happen is in the boring beige, the most un-glamorous of worlds, the place few want to go. When you’ve made your bread, then you create art. This is how civilization is structured, and this is how it will always rise and fall. Get back to first principles people. 🙂 https://kenshohomestead.org/
“What needs to happen is in the boring beige, the most un-glamorous of worlds, the place few want to go”
Agreed. You and I are among the FEW who have explored the boring beige and unglamorous places. How the hell to we reach the MANY?
Who has time to snoop into boring details what with the Olympic extravaganza, football, hockey, baseball, Lady Ga-Ga & porn in the palm of every hand? The schools and mainstream media have done all the thinking and provided all the answers. Path of least resistance. We are lazy and just content / entertained enough not to invest the effort to get off the couch.
Is it possible to persuade more minds to explore the beige regions? If so…..how?
Good article, James.
The ratcheting of tensions does seem to be building toward a crescendo.
Lest anyone has forgotten:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GO2U9jJoWsM
Well you know what I say. General strike. 2 weeks long. Everybody gets a vacation, and we put these clowns to bed for once and for all without a shot being fired.
Time to spread that idea far and wide! ASAP!
I was in Grade 3 and Sister De’sales was my principal in a Catholic school. I was smart, impudent and liked to compete with the other children for the answer. In short, I was a little shit. Too smart for my own good. One fine day I was called into her office with some others as I had been a rapscallion once again. The Sister pulled my britches down to my bare ass and introduced me to “This is the Board of Education”, A large, wooden paddle and after being properly introduced to the Board, she proceeded to beat the hell out of me with it. Her expected reaction of a wailing, apologetic and begging child was rebuffed by my genuine laughter. The harder she hit me with it, the harder I laughed–and it did indeed sting yet I continued to laugh at her out loud. The other children were confused by my behavior (they were all much older than I). I was not, however. I had beaten her with my mind. She had received quite the beating herself.
The Sister had unknowingly discredited herself with me from that day forward and I no longer acknowledged her authority over me and she damn well knew it. She would look away if we happen to pass in the hallway. Me, a child. A small child for my age but broad shouldered. A woman who had no business being in the charge of anyone, no less children. A tyrant she was. I understand she was institutionalized years later.
I bring up this true story to illustrate what I witness going on all around us with our politicians and their open contempt for their constituents, We The People, their openly corrupt behavior they don’t bother even trying to hide any longer and the behavior of the Federal Reserve in particular and their open misappropriation of our nations wealth. Again, right out in the open under the false guise of stimulating the economy in what is clearly not they are attempting to do. Both parties are plundering in the open and daring us to challenge them. Orchestrating Chaos by paid agents (Is not George Soros essentially a paid agent through his tax free NGO’s?) They are parasites and anyone with a pulse realizes this. In general, The People no longer recognize their authority and this petrifies them and they also know this. They are daring us to take action. Please heed this warning. They are our Sister De’Sales. Fear not. Laugh at them as you think, but do think.
To what end is what I contemplate everyday of my life. Who would benefit? Certainly not We The People unless our strategy is not of a reactionary response but one of thought and mutual benefit to humanity. War is clearly what they are fomenting against the Russians/ Chinese and the Persian people and I would imagine culling of the herd is a major motivation of these self appointed “intellectual elite” which they are certainly not. Pseudo-Intellectuals on their best day and obvious Narcissistic Personality Disorder with concurrent Psychopathology is their clear diagnosis.
In conclusion, I am an imperfect man with a history of challenging authority or rather, the injustices of certain authority figures and institutions. My Grandfather referred to me as “The Outlaw”, never by my name. My own Father referred to me as “The Prince of Darkness”. Oddly enough, those were terms of endearment and not an attack on my character.
I thank James for his insights and insightful poetry he referred to. I have a short verse that may correspond to his desires for our lives and humanity. He wants us to live, love and prevail.
Life is real, Life is earnest and the grave is not it’s goal. Longfellow.
Love One Another
The Mohawk
Events do seem to be approaching nexus but because their are so many players a singularity seems unlikely but the continuance of actions on multiple fronts and levels, each grappling for advantage might be viewed as the zeitgeist. Clearly a war between nuclear powers by design could be likened to a madness where suicide and murder are synonymous. The Apex Elites may contain within their matrix an element of psychopathy but I don’t believe suicidal thoughts are apart of their ‘culture.’ If war between nuclear states comes it will be due to an accident resulting from the brinkmanship being employed and there will then not likely be any future terrestrial archaeologists to unearth the remains of such a tragedy of a forgotten species on an insignificant planet unless others venture here from across the “boundless and bare” desert of space and the “lone and level sands [of time] that stretch far away.”
Wow James Thank you!
I was pondering this on a hike today and there you have it. You read my thoughts. I always come back to the layers analogy or macro/micro realization of feeling the changes happening on the outer most layer reverberating down to my inner most layer. When change happens it is inevitable obviously and is also usually a mixed bag as to what was good or bad that ended and what little strands find there way through to the next chapter. All in all the state of things certainly can make us anxious but I’ve been finding strength in the inevitable decent of tyrants. Though it is very tempting with accelerating technology and the 100 year plans to dominate that seem to abound in our psychopathically dense halls of power, still I think they will fall. It will be terrible if they take us with them but the fact they will fail and the general good will of average human beings gives me faith that we will make it through. Thank you so much James. Your work has made a lasting impression on my life. Be Well and Persevere!!!!
Oh and I agree with Joe. World Wide Vacation!!!!!
Thanks for the Steemit link, which prompted me to revisit that wonderful Texas Agorist-Activist, Derrick Broze.
Here is 2 minutes with Derrick Broze.
https://youtu.be/ygc1LQyqd3M?t=9m8s
Thank you all for your thoughts. Makes me feel connected.
Today, my wife and I went to visit a farm, were we learned that with the help of Effective Microorganisms, it is possible not only to cultivate more fertile soil and more resistant flora and fauna, but also to produce high-quality foods that are particularly rich in antioxidants.
Well, some of the Microorganisms are capable to survive the super hot environment of a geyser i. e. over 212°F or 100°C.
That makes me think, that we all are in a way survivors. We survived the beatings of the tirants until today. Let’s enjoy our life and stay connected and when it is necessary one day come all together, fill the streets, the places and show them how many people we are and let’s show them, with a laughter or even a smile, how much we have learned from our enemies.
By the way: Still working in your garden, James?
>>>Let’s enjoy our life and stay connected and when it is necessary one day come all together, fill the streets …
Hopefully some day before TPTB get their hoard of autonomous killer robots/drones without a programmed conscience, because otherwise gathering all together in one place might just make it easier to implement the Final Solution.
I meant it metaphorically ;-D
Just imagine the power of the people and don’t be scared.
Laughing at tyrants is one of the most powerful weapon. It is like we could stick a needle into their system and take all their life away.
True. Maybe Saul Alinsky’s fifth Rule for Radicals has something to it:
“RULE #5: “Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon.†There is no defense. It’s irrational. It’s infuriating. It also works as a key pressure point to force the enemy into concessions.”
I suppose laughing at tyrants is a form of ridicule, but methinks that these particular tyrants are too far along the Ubermensch process to ever concede any ground at all. I believe they would blow the entire world up before they would share it, or concede defeat.
One of my all time favorite movie quotes;
George Taylor: “You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!”
(Charlton Heston. Planet of the Apes, 1968)
The colossus says … “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless … for an I.R.S number, and a no-docs home-loan with no down payment necessary; as long as you vote Democrat; or for an Establishment Republican if you must; or don’t vote at all; or vote after you’re dead; who gives a crap! Democracy, freedom for all, and a guarantee that your mandated retirement funds will definitely be secure, one day, in a stack of AAA-rated War Bonds [T-Bonds]; the gold-standard for champions the world over.”
War is good option for TPTB. War could be blamed for all the troubles, while some of them might even stay hidden.
It would be very hard to explain economic crash for example, so better hide it with war or some kind of chaos. And particularly, what should be done in the aftermath of economic crash.
Do you think people would be willing to support the system that makes possible, that 62 wealthiest people have more wealth than bottom half of humanity? 62 vs. 3.500.000.000 . Of course, its not just wealth in question but also power that comes with wealth.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P97r9Ci5Kg
With this level of inequality we have the world like this now. It can’t be better!
I think this talking about war is more to scare us. More fear. We are not scared enough with terrorists. More fear and chaos is needed for next chapter of NWO.
>> Ah, art! No, I don’t think art will be the solution at all, it never has been.
I disagree. Please look at this:
The Space Peace Star project
http://spacepeacestar.space
Wow. Well Said.
Art is the only solution. It has always been the only solution. We are artist; and I mean we, all of us. Our aspirations are secondary to the creative mind.
Artists are not insane individuals separate and unique from the rest of the herd.
We have been taught to be problem solvers A to B, b to C…solutions are found when you are not looking for them. The best I am, comes from playing. Be defiance and play when you should’nt. That is the real you, that is you playing in the fields of love.
As John said “There are no problems….
Dare to imagine a big space the biggest space, and then dare again to imagine even greater space…in that expansion great energy flows in and answers to most complex problems are arrived at so very simply.
You can circle the drain, or live your life as a free, creative and immortal individual.
This is all a game they play to close you down….fly for Gods sakes.
An a gift for all…
POETS HOSPITAL
BY: Me
There’s a hospital for poets
End of the road for a broken dreamer and an artist with tarnish on his soul
There’s no line up there, you just walk right in and get into a bed.
Dead dreamers are wheeled by on gurneys on their way to reincarnations
The place is filled with unspoken words, and half filled remnants of…those angry hearts
Ghosts walk the halls of the unpublished, asking you for a word…ah, “Please will you listen.”
The great Dylan Thomas died here and the place reeks now of a writing shed. Corso walks by holding an antiquated toaster and speaks to him in tongues about the substance of a symbol
“I was born here and I will die here.” He exclaims in the accent of an Italian Hamlet, on passing.
A water drenched rat from the Titanic, hugs the wall on its way to the basement to fornicate with its American cousin.
Scribbled notes on latin edges, and pencilled words on back pages, of dog-eared books about etiquette, written by a Vanderbilt.
And scratched last lines onto the walls grasped, and gasped out by those on their way to the other side for recycling.
And the ‘wall of hope’ remembers.
And so I check my pulse and found I had the prerequisites …to be in this place.
I was definitely a card-carrying member. And my poems were sick.
The nurse arrives and asks to take my temperature.
I tell her “I am minus thirty and dropping…my heart is frozen.Can you heelp? There’s an ice age comin, don’t ya know!”
“Aw” she says, “Would you like a hot drink, what seems to be your trouble Micko, and can you bend over dear.”
She reminds me of a poem about another woman.
An Irish woman named love. Who lives under a hill. And the words fall out of my mouth, “Come away O’human child…”
I tell her I am suffering from double entendre
“Aw” she says “There’s a lot of that going round these days.”, as she pulls the thermometer from its hold.”
Nursey leaves swishin; I love that sound. And I wait, on my little cot for doctor Big Fingers to arrive.
“And how are we today.” he says, on entering the clutter. He walks over and closes a cupboard door to staunch bleeding words from the top shelf.
“We?”
I ask to borrow his pen and clipboard with a page. And scribble down quickly the words to my next ode.
‘I have a bug in my ear and I am tone-deaf to bullshit’
I return his clipboard, pens are hard to get here.
“So what are my chances doc…will I live?..is this fatal?
Will I need an operation…maybe a transfusion. To rid myself of the parasites in my thoughts.
Am I using my words well,?..am I color blind to context.
Is my sense of semantics charged, and pure to the meaning.
C’mon Doc, don’t hold back. Tell me the truth.
Am I…a dead poet?”
He looks at me and sighs, ” Poets are born with broken thoughts. And use words as pills to heal themselves.”
Write a couple more lines, and I will see you in the morning…
I returned to my room and there was Corso and that fucking toaster…he was chewin the fat with Larry Ferlinghetti…about spaghetti, al dente. And something about publishing his next book.
They turned and looked at me and Larry said…”So you want to be part of the club, is that right kid. Are you a sick poet?”
“No.” I sez…”but I wouldn’t mind a chit-chat about Fluxus, I sometimes get on my drums and start with my heartbeat.
Bom bom..bom bom…bombom bombom and the blood gurgles glickly and falls through the holes at end of my veins.
Red.
Sticky.”
Larry leaves in disgust, hands in the air, exclaiming “Wannabee, couldhadbeen, mightdahad.”
I am content now I found my own…I don’t feel as fatal. Not nearly as fatal.
My poems are better …and fellow madmen arrive every morning with new lines.
And my fake Irish nurse arrives for late night checks of my vitals.
I think… I’m ok.
cheers