arch/ive/ief (2000 - 2005)

Not separated from the state, mammon directs mollock to ride ripshod over
life, replacing business with warocide, humaneness with premeditated murder.
Packaged and marketed in everything and one, it's the extinction incarnate,
alival undone. While the gov't's depts. of not knowing determine no one
will, millenias of folk wisdom sociologically muted, will soon be
genetically engineered out. How, through "la machine's" scientisms use of
emotional de-constructivism, numbing all. To undermine the evolution, all
real feeling, relation, striving, fidelity, fraternity and love. Arthur
Miller knew, "when guns go boom arts die". What do Goya's 82, on war, do
for you?

This while, "art is a lie that tells the truth", according to Picasso. Yet,
scientism, this secular societies religion of choice, is so popular that
neither its lies, nor its unmentioned truths, are allowed to be known; "we",
must just swallow it whole. Though, while its an accepted medium of
defraction, realities light refracted through it, still details what's so,
without. The cost of our co-dependence on, denial of it? They used to say,
"war's good business, invest your son", now, the price is your species.
Will "we" be undone?

What won't societies whorism, vampirism, economic cannibalism destroy, only
the life, for, it's indivisible. Viva la evolution! How about the
institutions that are meant to protect? "Naught, but, rags on the back of
our country", Mark Twain. What can we do? Know all gov't scientists are
political ones first. Question supposed professionalism and one of its
roots, Cartesian defined time; devolution in a package. That gov't panacea
for dehumanization is old. Do you remember Rousseau said, "Where are the
citizens, I only see businessmen". Question unnatural selection, and
silence, "all it takes for evil to rule a land, is for good men to remain
silent", Thoreau.

Know, as Howard Zinn, "media, artists are determining people get in line
around the perimeter of gov't power, yet, it's their job to transcend
that". Remember I.F. Stone's two words, "gov'ts lie". Think out of the
ass. As artists, how else can we address the elements of war? By the
struggling with supposed paradoxes, as actuating artistic process,
individuation and indivination, through creation of art. The artist
transcends mundane and
worldly society, by envisioning perspectives, subjects, mediums, styles,
outside their framework, allowing a looking glass in which the world,
individual, and reality are reflected; though, only.

The devolutionary mantra, "you've got to be professional", is the most
repetitive of their codes. It seems that's all it takes for people to
justify, self censor, limit, not question, allowing all other..., their
piece of the rock too; everyone in for a penny, in for a pound, mostly decay
bound. Yet, it's necessary for artists to inspire paradigms in which others
can struggle with societies mechanistic mold of professional; worn like a
mask; whatever being done behind it. Thereby, facilitating feeling, views,
discernments and questioning of exigencies, et al. Keep in mind Mark
Twain's, "patriotism is loyalty to country, not its institutions", Emma
Goldman's, "... is love of country, not gov't", and Arthur Miller's, "... is
indifferently bestowing custody of their country to state depts.". The
"process" is dumbing down most.

One of wars elements is one of the corporation's convolution's roots, greed.
It has always fueled their use of the gov't as a bat against the middle
class and lower, women, children, and the indigenous, less abled, etc.
Whereas, "we", struggling to be, wouldn't even bat an eye in the direction
of destruction. As ever, souls simmering in humanities hearth, spirits
arising, can mean enough for all. The war machines oiling itself with non:
white, Christian, U.S. blood escalates, proving absolute power corrupts
absolutely and what Joseph Heller said, "war corrupts all who engage in it".
Leonard Peltier reminds us that "the innocent pay the highest price for
injustice", and "the corrupt hate them". What else can we all do, not be a
link in the chain of murder, actuate potential, own responsibilities,
including civic, and teach anyone. If you don't exercise responsibility,
its siamese sister, freedom, will wither, as well; like a muscle.
Similarly, if you don't break the chains that bind you, "we" will never
break the chain. Berrigan wrote, "cause is the heart's beat, the children
born, the risen bread". Peltier, "we're all related, all one". As Bob
Marley sung, "could you be..., then be...".

Artist/
Their innerselves, stretched canvasses
On that frameless frame, the world.
They being painted by life itself,
With reality as the brush.
The painting ever evolving,
The frame continually changing,
Their beingness as gleaned meanings
For all to share; seen through,
If they were there.

Injustices/
Addressing, not addressing them has a cost,
One is individual, the other is global.

Bridge/
An artist isn't one who creates art,
For, all living beings do.
Palate, as you'd have it, sparce or
Abundantly, an expression of self.
The mystery of the suns grace,
Perceived by us within our eye as
An ethereal rainbow in kaleidoscope,
Always unfolding, is dabbed from and
Given to form; with reality,
The brush, holding us.
Betwixt those two we, being life, art,
Fill, and are fuller, still.
Not grasp or let go, it's all we know,
Feeling's reeling in living art.

responsibility/
If you don't exercise it,
Its siamese sister, freedom,
Will wither, as well.

Manners/
In which doings and not doings
Are done or aren't,
Brings life and light to them,
Or it doesn't.

ends or means/
Neither do I embrace.
Rather, the struggle well run,
Which uplifts us uncrowned,
Every moment humans race!

clarity/
Sword that cuts all ways,
Without, for, there's no cutting;
And a pointless point.

One's Mental Cell/
Built of walls of delusions,
Made with bricks of illusions,
Is one's hell.

EDEN?/
Splitting of atom,
Cloning of adam, hubris;
Leads to extinction.

Cityscape/
Hustled and bustled,
Still, hands only put to heart,
Beings, only art.

silent siren//
As embryo brought to not know,
With ancient forests gone,
Obsolescence of rights,
Liberty's torch scorched, bell cracked,
Knell snatched, how could she go on./

Yet, borne in arms drawn
From beyond man's loss,
Though, bearing that cross,
We, midwived through the body of blue, go!/

For, we hear the call resounding from earth,
As the sun illumines and springs burst,
Gaia's silence implores, humanity
Be not my stillbirth!

grey/
Those more attached to
Living or dying
Are more closely death.

Copy, share as you will. Enjoy your eve'. reality