Neuroandum #1

No one can hear the awakening voice
As it calls to the silence for recognition.
Only time will tell if the summons is answered
And the mind emerges stronger for it.
The depths are hollow, but walls of energy
Resound with music terrifyingly sweet,
As if death were a portal and not the end,
A fissure through which worlds unimagined
Beckon to pleasure unendurable
By any life comprehensible to us,
A paradise our fancies could never invent,
No gods of ours on the corners picking fights.
Down, down plummet the walls, ionic webs
And exotic slime coating the surface,
Composing the music in bursts of novelty
Faster than the changes of nightmare faces
Mutating to challenge sanity’s drama,
Provoking the voice to pitches unheard
But never inaudible if it survives
The ever accelerating upward down,
Curious gravity of songs so new
They alter the past the moment they’re heard
And deliver to the present now, at last,
A present feeling can be grateful for
And celebrate the enfranchisements of,
If the voice remind it how much it costs
To descend into flesh in search of thought
Flesh can engender but never survive
Since the mind is a fiction the brain discharges
To defend itself against its finitude.

Neuroandum #2


Coincidence engenders fears
Men and women try to deflect,
Building bibles to serve as biers,
While hoping they’re somehow elect.

This doesn’t work, their protests show.
The twisted faces and clenched fists
Only prove that they do not know
How is why anything exists —

Remove the means and death ensues.
Power has always understood
That if they have no means to use,
People can never reach the good.

In agony as power struts,
People must live in starving brains,
Their children yet more blasted guts
Sacrificed to tyranny’s reigns,

Which justify their endless hate,
Exploitation, and savage greed
With stories only they create,
Lest coincidence plant its seed

And people learn their deeper skill —
Where there is a way, there’s a will,
And they can flourish united
For the world evil divided
Ignorant how life’s ignited.

The Story of the Rose

The rose as it opens tells a story
The world never tires of hearing again.
Of a woman’s joy it evokes the glory
Otherwise alien to cynical men,

Who imagine everything is power
And possession zero sum of the law,
Too weak to brave the truth of the flower
That life is hardly what you think you saw —

Such men fear all women for what each one knows:
Nothing resists the fading of the rose.
But should a man learn the lesson they give,
He might also learn in time how to live.

“Roger That”: Responsible Ownership of Guns for Every Rational, Thinking Human Aware of Trust


These arguments are prefaced with a photo of the Rose PEACE.

The following and similar arguments are NOT screeds against responsible gun ownership. Self-defense is a legitimate posture for all animals, including humans, the hominid species, in a Nature that is indifferent, random, and violent, in which no living being can produce its own sugars for nourishment and life and so must kill to consume the sugars of other living beings, plants or animals or both, in order to survive. (We may buy foodstuffs in the supermarket, yes, but we pay others to kill animals and plants for us, lest we have to do it ourselves; increasingly, throughout the world people do do it for themselves, though — it’s called life.) Self-defense is an elementary given since other species will fight to preserve their lives. When we kill to feed ourselves, then, we must be prepared to defend ourselves.

Myself, I “Roger That”: Responsible Ownership of Guns for Every Rational, Thinking Human Aware of Trust. I do not “roger that” to the current insanity in which any maniac (terrorist, psychopath, gun-sucker, et al.) can purchase an automatic weapon of monstrous lethality.

The Gun-Nuttery consists largely though not exclusively of right-wing white males (“Re-thug-li-GUNS”) who consider themselves above the law and who have unconscionable sums of money, most of it got by exploitation, in order to fund their totalitarian agenda of owning the government as their private playmate to execute their will and see to their wants. They buy senators and representatives the way they buy bullets.

And they boast that they do this with impunity since they are merely exercising their “rights” (gross misreading of Amendment 2, especially the word “militia”), although their “rights” are destructive of human life on an increasingly catastrophic scale, as is directly evident in the slaughters of recent years, most recently in Parkland.

Their modus operandi is fear, intimidation, and humiliation of any and all who oppose them. To them, any person opposed to them is “un-American” and is therefore subject to open season for annihilation, without thinking let alone compunction. We must understand that they believe it is their “RIGHT” to gun down … they call it “patriotism,” but it’s actually “hatriotism,” especially under the current “Republican” tyranny of Trump and Pence and Putin.

They love to hate and hate to love. No matter what else they call it, this is their passion. It is ultimately a racist, white-supremacist pathology that “compensates” for the wounded narcissism of childish oral savagery — “Why can’t I have everything I want! Right now!” — with the pseudo-adult savagery of murdering whoever is in the way of their narcissistic self-indulgence — “Give it to me or I’ll blow your goddam head off.”

NOTA BENE Thus, e.g., Trump, ultimate narcissistic brat, repeatedly threatens to shut down Washington if he doesn’t get his way.

And they exploit the democratic process by making good men and women afraid that they will be gunned down if they stand up for Responsible Ownership of Guns for Every Rational, Thinking Human Aware of Trust. Very few fathers and mothers will openly plead for sensible laws if they fear a Gun-Nut will walk up and “Gabby-Gifford” them and their children. So democracy is turned cancer, consuming its own vitals.

Their fallacious argument that they secure freedom for all Americans is immediately disproved and exposed as specious (and hollow) by the consequence of their actions, which is to flood America with weapons of mass murder by the millions, leading to unprecedented slaughter in our streets, clubs, schools, theaters, arenas, churches, and homes, profiting as they do so from the ever-escalating sales of guns and other weapons of mass murder. No one is safer. Everyone is a target. Their end is a complete Armageddon where all Americans will turn on each other and start firing, not merely a Civil War but an all-out Holocaust of any who do not think their way and follow their orders as supreme dictators of the(ir white-supremacist) “American” way of life — which is nothing more than the ever-festering Fascism that proves we lost the so-called Second World War.

This is the cancer of democracy: when your opponents can gun you down because you understand democracy differently from the way they do, but you do NOT desire to gun anyone down, your freedom has been ripped away from you. You are no longer free to be you, to be different. You can only be one of them … or die.

Those who consider themselves still free in America are, just so, deceiving themselves, especially when they go out after a daily or weekly slaughter-fest, to buy more weapons purportedly to protect themselves, because in that action they, precisely, resign their own individuality, hence also their freedom, in becoming a carbon copy of the Gun-Nuts. They are no longer free men or free women. They are robots who march to the orders of the dictators who are telling them exactly how to live — with guns, by guns, for guns … GUNS are GOD.

It is necessary to listen. On any given day in any given media anywhere in America, you can listen to people say that guns make them feel safe, guns make them feel confident, guns make them strong, guns make them feel alive … GUNS are GOD and the “gift” of God. Guns do everything antique religions once proposed that god does for believers, but not for the “soul,” as those religions argued, but for the body. And so Gun-nuts order more guns. Into this pow(d)er-keg the only match needed is a single psychopath, who can “go get him a gun anywhere,” and bang! another slaughter-fest begins, as in Parkland a few days ago.

If the Gun-Nuttery is to be stopped in its murderous theft of American wayS of life, then the entire society and its cultureS must stand up and choose different wayS of life, American wayS of life not infected with malignant Gun-nut-itis. We the people must stop loving to hate and hating to love. This is NOT idealism or sentimentality; it is the only survival strategy we have. It is one thing to tolerate tens of thousands of deaths every year on highways as one of the costs of living in America. It is another thing to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the hatred that guns down children, the elderly, honorable civil servants, church-goers, concert-goers, et al.

We the people must stop loving to hate and hating to love. This is NOT idealism or sentimentality. It is the only survival strategy we have.

This must begin at the local level with ordinary citizens acting in concert since the Gun-Nuttery owns the government, paying secret hundreds of millions of dollars to fix elections and corrupt the democratic process into “government of guns, by guns, for guns.” Ordinary citizens must work in concert to make America safe for ourselves and our children.

Does anyone seriously think the TrumPencePutin traitors to America currently pig-sty-ing in Washington, D. C., have the courage to resist the totalitarian monster that has turned America into hell on earth? Does anyone for a moment believe that “hatriotism” will stop at anything to triumph over rational, responsible citizens who believe in legitimate self-defense but abhor and reject homicidal mania?

We must love life more than they love guns in their psychotic self-righteousness. This sentence and this imperative begin with “we.”

Selections from “Conversations Between Poetry and Physics,” #4

The Romance of Entropy

Everything in the future is a wave, everything in the past is a particle.

Lawrence Bragg 

It is perfectly true, as the philosophers say, that life must be understood backwards. But they forget the other proposition, that it must be lived forwards.

Søren Kierkegaard

He should not have given the clue to her.
It fits more secrets than she realizes,
And once they’re open there’s no going back,
Cry as you might or thunder as you will.

Our towers never reach heaven, much less god.
They collapse in the dungeons we raise them on,
Pretending our meters are measured perfectly,
Ignoring the terra we romance in.

The higher we soar the further down we plunge,
Oblivious to the rhythm the real exacts —
The copula random, the tunneling blind,
Life unreasonable reason forming

As energy plays with matter and mass
In stellar nurseries beyond our ken
In which we’re kin to quanta uncanny
Which measure the world we miscomprehend …

Order comes after — effect, never cause —
But we in our universe think in reverse,
Desperately hope for what we know is false,
Return to a truth which was never mortal.

But nothing in the past can save our kind.
The past has taught us nothing and never will.
Now for us is the fullness of time. Now —
While you can — live the future you’re dreaming of.

She should not have given the clue to him.
It fits more secrets than he realizes,
And once they’re open there’s no going back …
Only going forward into your life.

Selections from “Conversations Between Poetry and Physics,” #3

What’s the Matter?


In the deep-sea vents billions of years ago,
Molecular star-stuff boiled in chemistry
We can comprehend: proton pumps energized
Archaic cellular procreation.

But we are too vain to share beginnings
With matter that does not matter to us
Unless someone like us created it —
No matter what, our image must come first.

So theocrats by fickle forgeries
Murder their kind to praise some deity,
Suppurating endless greed and cruelty
And contempt for the stars they can’t command,

From which they flee in fantasies they fable
Fearful only forgiveness finally matters.

Selections from “Conversations Between Poetry and Physics,” #2


We never see them. They travel too fast.
Also, they’re massless … of the mysteries
We confront in nature, among the darkest:
Light has no mass — incomprehensible speed
And power to bind the nucleus together,
But no mass as it flows around and in us.

With math we can predict wonders of light,
But see it, never, only its echo
As it reflects from matter — nebulas,
Galaxies, stars, planets, water droplets,
Any of the mass emergencies energy
Curves, shapes, and folds across the universe.

Pause for a moment. You are right now
Sitting in light as light enlightens everything
In you, through you, and all about space-time
Through which you’re hurtling on an orb
You’re privileged to feel is fixed and stable.

But by chance did you check the weather tonight?

And yes, the weather inside you, as well,
Since that is not just a figure of speech,
Any more than the lightning outside
Is just a figure of meteorology,
Though you know it is, computed to limits
Of many decimal places in places
Decimated, too, by phenomena which
Are numbers as much as lightning flashes.

Try to feel the edge between math and mud.

Each is as real as the other, if “real”
Is the word you must use, energy and form
In folds enamoring each the other,
Much the better metaphor of interaction
In nature, sub-atomic and surface alike.

The “real” is always changing, which is why
Humankind cannot bear much reality
But must absorb a new understanding.

The photon serves as its own antiparticle
In waves in which is is equal to does,
Metaphysics answering to physics …
In the light was the beginning. Turbulence,
Not of things but of relationships that measure
Things, enfolding themselves among themselves
For their physics, sustains our perception,
Too slow for the real, to engage the physical
And, curiosity aroused by sense,
Experience metaphors of experiment
Which accelerate the mind to infinity.

Our eyes follow the light all the way down
Toward the absent presence of origin:
The point-non-point of singular intension,
The profusion of masses in waves of light,
The flow of energy to the break of love.

Hold on — careful, not too tight … it explodes.
Let go, but only when light enraptures you.