An idea once thought to be foolish to me
as I came from a Christian paradigm.
I now find more and more interesting and free.
The idea that we can come back again.
That this life is a test, not the end.
That maybe what we give is what we will be.
Maybe we are waiting to be reborn anew.
Maybe our energy is now trapped not free.
=refractions . . .iterations . . .fractalated tendrils of our …
A number here or a number there
As products and people …
I walk through these rooms
in a house that is not …
After listening to the Terence McKenna talk embedded below I …
I write these words for you.
I write these words to be true.
I have given up all attachment to ownership.
That through writing, this becomes our partnership.
Between the syllables and grammar that is seduced
And the images in your head that are produced.
If I’m lucky a spark or two might go off in our brains.
To help us look at the world differently and refrain
From our preconceived ideas of reality.
From our programmed and memorized banality
Of which we all fall victim to in our lives.
That we all have become victims to in our media hives.
As we try and produce more quantity not quality.
As we try and find happiness and serenity.
They have always told us to follow our passion.
That only then will we lose our agression
And realize the things in our lives that that are dear.
That only through the pursuit of passion we would lose our fears.
That the world is our oyster if only we stayed true.
That “success” would find us with this world view.
And as I write you with these words following my passion
I want to tell you that the words above are a lie.
Those who follow their passion are not always blessed.
The world does not pay bills for artists and poets who do not rest.
The world does not care about artistic integrity.
For passion is not a tool to be used for celebrity.
Passion might help you get up in the morning.
Most will not be able to make a dime off a lifetime of soaring
Through the endless pursuit of soulful creations.
Through your skill and talent’s frustration.
A tainted world view we have been forced fed.
Led to believe that through our passion we would be wed.
That a wholeness would come over us and we would realize
That our reason for being would be truly idealized.
Nothing more far from the truth is this lie we have lived.
For one must make a living in order to learn to give.
Not to say that passion should not be cherished.
But it should not be traded for money or it will perish.
Keep it close to your heart and share it if you will.
But please don’t think that your talent will pay your bills.
Please realize that the world has had passions fill.
The day has come for our paths to part.
I say this with little loss of heart.
It is one year ago to the day
That we should come to part our ways.
We did our little romantic dance.
More hate than love as I was entranced.
Now I feel I have paid my dues
And I hope dearly you worked your voodoo.
That the tumor has shrunk inside my head.
That the MRI is correct that has led
My doctor to believe this has been a success.
If you have given me more time I am truly blessed.
As far as chemo goes you were a breeze.
As there was no hair or weight loss from me.
You just took my strength one week a month.
You just took my time with the blood tests during lunch.
Not too much to donate for the cause of life.
Not too much to give for more years of strife.
This struggle I choose to fight
To see my children seek the light.
This has been a long year indeed.
With two surgeries and you inside of me.
I hope that you and I will never meet again.
That our partnership has come to the very end.
So with all of this said.
I want to say thank you for the help.
I want to wish you much luck yourself.
I want you to do your very best
To heal all those who need the rest.
Akbar Lightning’s (a.k.a. Ken Vallario) wise words featured on Adbusters.org. Read here.
A quick jolt to the head.
Hit over and over again.
If you come out alive and not dead
Chances are you will have issues ahead.
Like hitting a brick wall in your car.
Like playing crash dummies you are
America’s pasttime as we gather around.
The new gladiators that ground and pound.
Memory loss or depression abound.
Football is the culprit they have found.
The scientific research can not be denied.
As the NFL puts it all aside and hides.
Young men who can’t remember the month.
Young men who can’t get off their stumps.
Maybe only a concussion or two they have had.
It’s the excessive small hits that are truly bad.
A sport that is known for being vicious.
Is now raising human rights suspicion.
What will happen in the future of this sport?
Will the NFL decide to accept it or distort?
Not unlike the tobacco companies it would seem.
Denying that nicotine is addictive to our human team.
Everyone knows that there are things that could happen.
A hit to the head could be the end of your dream.
Maybe a month or a few years it might take.
Then all of a sudden you can’t remember to bathe.
Getting out of bed in the morning is too hard.
Depression surrounding you as if a layer of lard
That is hardening your brain instead of heart.
That is making it hard for your words to form and part.
A sentence or two you might have said today.
Too many hits to the head to make your pay.
Too many memories lost that money can’t buy.
Too many days ahead to not try.
I was watching an interview with Pierce Brosnan this morning, and he was asked to give advice to young actors, and after he advised against sitting around waiting for the telephone to ring, Matt Lauer agreed saying ‘yeah, he’s treating it less like an actor, and more like a businessman’ and there was a general agreement that this was a virtue, to treat the art as if it were a business. And firstly, I want to say, if I wanted to be a businessman I would not have become an artist. I kind of thought that being an artist was a way of avoiding the stress and mania of business life, and that those of us in the arts were in some way cooperatively engaged in resisting this type of model. But sadly, we know that the business model of the arts, the professionalistic posturing has become the norm, and those of us who resist this are seen as resentful cranks, and that is probably true too.
Goddamnit! What’s my point?
My point is this: Pierce Brosnan looked nervous. Matt Lauer looked nervous. The other night when I was watching the awful grammy awards, Jennifer Lopez looked like she was about to faint from nerves, as did Beyonce, and just about every person up there on stage. There are two ways to explain this. One, those in the limelight have always been full of visible anxiety and because I projected my own wishes onto them I was unable to detect it, and now that I am somewhat more detached I am able to see it. Or two, everybody is getting freakin wigged out man, as the world becomes one big machine, and even the stars and the famous people, all of them are having to work like robots to maintain these images that don’t even satisfy them anymore, and all of us are freakin out and the actors, the stage performers, they have it the worst because they have to keep smiling, keep shining…
I think it’s number 2 man, i think people at the top are starting to understand that the arts have been co-opted, and we have put ourselves back where we were in the middle ages, minstrels riding around on portable stages, begging for scraps. This business model was a bad idea, thanks Whorehol, thanks to all you pop-idiots for selling us out. We should have kept our hearts in the game, kept the shamanistic vibe that has always been our saving grace. But no, now I have to watch Jennifer Lopez tremble as she tries to read the teleprompter, and I see a frightened little girl instead of a shining diva.
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH
Akbar Lightning
The stream flows over you.
Cutting through rock and granite.
Carving mental pictures in it.
Shaping your physical and mental view.
What is your cause?
What will make you stop and pause?
Is it homelessness or cancer research?
Is it peace or educational solutions reached?
What truly tickles your fancy?
What would wake you from your fantasy?
Is there a cause that you believe in?
An inequality you could help make even.
Follow your passions they all say.
Only then will you find your way.
Only then will you be able to pay your bills.
Only then will you find the will.
Submit to a higher power and the water’s flow
that will direct your path and grow.
But what if this is not true?
What if this is all a distorted view?
What if you never find your passion?
What if you were not sent here for a mission?
Does that not mean you deserve the same?
Are we all put here to find fame?
Or are we all part of a collective decision?
Free will just a disguise to continue division.
All this I ask as I try and find my new path.
Many questions unanswered in my present and past.
The future holds the answers for which I seek.
I will know more each day and week.
For I am open to the cause I have sought.
But I am about done with the battles I have fought.
Ready to let the stream just take me.
Wherever it leads me I will soon see.
I will keep my head above water and continue to float.
Let the waters take me out to the sea in my life boat.
Hopefully the waters will not be too strong.
Hopefully my decisions I make are not too wrong.
For I don’t feel my free will is so free anymore.
But I am still looking forward to the adventure in store.
Signals you detect on the ground.
You sniff them as you look around.
Looking for the path to find your way.
Where to look for food and water today.
Up and down the hills you go.
Bumping into others you barely know.
As we communicate through the air.
As we Look for things that are not there.
No stone or rock unturned to build our cities.
Often for the small tribes we take much pity.
Sometimes we think of living in a village.
Sometimes we think of the enemies we pillage.
You question the chemicals that we make.
You question the chemicals that we partake.
Maybe you can’t but operate as you are told.
A superorganism we are beginning to mold.
Waking each day traveling the path before us.
Connecting the dots we should not make a fuss.
For each individual is part of a whole
And everyone has their own specific role.
Workers and soldiers man their stations
As queens and drones make the decisions.
A scout is sometimes sent out for food.
If it finds something it might send for you.
No matter your position your help support the group.
The unity you experience is part of an endless loop.
Of life and death and atrophy and inflate.
Of acceptance and denial and love and hate.
No eyes are needed to sense your way.
Just follow your compass and do not stray.
Globatron is a work of art.
Globatron is not a blog. The structure of the blog is utilized in order to surrender to this new form of social connectivity.
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