Boots on the Ground

Police officers are the boots of the corrupt and wealthy. They grind the poor and the visionaries beneath their soles, batons, water hoses and tear gas, so they can sleep on the back porch of the masters.

Not all officers are the Dogs of the Rich. Not all sheriffs hunt the foreclosed middle class like wounded ducks. Not all. But, if you don’t stop the boot from grinding, if you don’t stop the baton from striking, you are participating in the violence. You must do your part.

There will always be slave catchers, there will always be people who break the law for freedomsake. Conscience and history tends to favor one of the other. Which one are you?

Ancient Future

There it is, my passage out! A thin door amongst pages of a book. She told me I wrote scripture, my poetry had god-sense. I scribble only what I have seen.

My religion is liberty. A realization that your original mind is all you need to be free. The mind of a child, ignorance of fear. This world is a dream, so live in a dream-state as often as you can.

A scribe with many books in his satchel. Each one written with his feet. Experiences he prints in blood and dirt, dries into scars on the pages. The future reads and changes course. Only then can it really be called the future.

Photo: A journal I bought from Borders Books taken with iPhone3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Kaimal Mark II, Cano Cafenol)

All Quiet on the Western Front

There's no war here. Not overtly, no soldiers in the streets, no tanks. But Sony corp wants your browsing information if you view any sites or videos about jailbreaking PS3s. American corporations want to drive our wages down until competitive with China and India. Companies are hiring less, making more profit and paying less for healthcare, but there's no war here.

No AK-47 pointed at me in the grocery store, but I pay more for food. No watchtower, no soldier at a checkpoint, but the RealID Act could prevent me from entering a government building or an airplane. There's less and less debate every election cycle: the GOP will send six battalions overseas, but the Democrats will only send a half dozen. Republicans will gut union rights, Dems say "we" must make sacrifices and then give tax cuts to rich.

That's why I take such joy in the uprisings in North Africa and the Middle East. People want what a responsible government is suppose to deliver. And the kicker is the way they are going about it is a form of direct democracy. I hope historians are watching Al Jazeera and taking notes. Kids in the West may need them one day.

Photo: The corner taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Lucifer VI lens, Alfred Infrared film, Cadet Blue Gel flash)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Cream, Two sugars

Is this what they want? Caffeine and emails? A rat race or democracy? In the West, we tend to think it's the same thing. For how can you have the right to vote without the right to purchase?

In America, the tectonic shifting of rich and the government, keep middle class houses under threat. Is this what they want? In Egypt, Tunisia, etc, do they just want the right to choose which elite will rule over them? Is the experiment they seek possible? How do they build a republic without republicans becoming corrupt?

The challenge we face in the West is corporations perverting our democracy. First it was rich land owners that made the laws, now corporations want to run the society like sweat shop: minimum regulations, low wages and no unions. Hope the family in the Middle East can improve on what we call democracy.

Photo: Too expensive coffee and mobile taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Lucefer VI, Blanko Noir, RedEye Gel)

Pooper Scooper

The future is only dark for the unprepared. For those who've lose faith in their inner god. Now the dark doesn't have to be scary. In fact, once you've purged a few demons, you can see in the dark much more clearly.

Having been haunted by the demons common to man. I've learned their trick is making you forget they're visitors, not part of your essential self. Demons, like the ego, are baggage that we pick up along our material journey. While on earth, we get mud on our shoes, motes in our eyes and spinach in our teeth. That's a big deal for someone who didn't have a body to start with.

Ego isn't a bad thing, its a pet, an animal that needs taming, an ape that can smoke. If you ever think its civilized - watch out; you could get your face ripped off. We only need the ego for comfort and to talk to egocentric people. Those few of us that shed the ego before death or old age - I'll see you in the dog park.

People free of ego's domination are interesting to talk to. They seem self-contained, comfortable in their own skin and adaptable. Folk around them tend to adjust to higher frequencies. The egoless are centers of gravity, contagions, forces of nature.

Once this state is achieved, time for departure is near. You see, not only is the ego a pet, its also an anchor. The buoyancy of the little god can easily overcome earth's pull without an ego weighing it down. A low pressure system forms overhead, then a whirlwind brings death to the body. So when people say "the good die young" it's because of the weather.

The path to achieving this state of egolessness is boring and wonderful. One technique is to progressively free oneself from fear, learn life's lessons and accept that everything and everyone "out there" is really in here - we are all one. With these elements in place, buoyancy is increased and the spiritual eye opens.

There are all kinds of adventures to be had by just accepting who you are and that you define who that is. No religion required.

See you in the dog park.

Photo: Metro platform from inside subway w/ reflection from window, taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Helga Viking, Float)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Black Tea

Shadows and radio voices dissipate. Doors slam on black Explorers. Caravan moves with the White House in the rearview, Mr. Obama has had his day.

Taxes are raised by the new guy - silence. Middle and working classes carry an unfair portion of the national debt - crickets. Wars on borrowed money from China and Japan, but the media is hard pressed to find protests against fiscal irresponsibility.

There are a few chapters here and there, but mostly Black and Hispanic members now. They didn't realize that tea time was over once Obama left office. So the 'diversity' in the party was left holding the last tea bag.

It was never really about the money...

photo taken with iPhone 3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Lucifer VI, Ina's 1969)

When We Were Kings

This is my first time in a time machine. "No it isn't." said the proprietor.

"But, it's very simple really, just put your money in the meter, select the time and place, hop in the vehicle and whoosh you'll be 'transported' to that era. How long you stay there depends on how much money you'll willing to spend. The scenes from your past appear on the windshield. And whatever you do, don't get out of the car."

I am alone today, my girlfriend... Who am I kidding, don't have a girlfriend. That's why I'm here. I want to see myself when I was on the prowl. I've allowed my work to dull my senses to the warmer sex. Been feeling off balance without some consistant female energy in my life.

One hour, I believe one hour of conversation got me into Melissa's sanctuary. I was pretty hot then, in my late 20's. Didn't spend a weekend alone unless I wanted to.

Ok, this is a rough guess, but my diary says I met her at this coffeehouse, at this time.. 100 credits for an hour.. In the car and here we go..!

Damn, I was slim back then. There she is, Melissa walking towards me, our eyes met then.. she turns away. Damn. That would have it for me if that happened today, but my past self seems intrigued by it. Ok, so I did go after her.

"Excuse me Miss, but you missed me. I was siting right there.." Ahhh, the shy type eh? I see I'm trying to get her to laugh, right there in the middle of the coffeehouse, a crowded coffeehouse.

Ok, my boldness gets rewarded. She agrees to let me buy her coffee. Hmm, a few more jokes, a compliment and the defenses start coming down.

Don't remember her touching me so early. Ok, I get her to come to the movies across the street. Some chick flick.

Aww, she crying on my shoulder. Oh Damn, no I didn't just look up and thank God...

Ok, I see now. Funny, don't even remember all the girls that turned me down. Guess winners do write history, even in our minds.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Jimmy, Alfred Infrared)

Zen for Critics

A train indecisive up a hill. I study her, she ignors, forward and upward. Stream whispers. I know it's just a dream.

In this hot kiss of summer, I sweat memories. Rewind buttons drip toward earth. My companion in this exercise, struggles against her own ingenuity. A little closer to a perfect angle. A little more naked before god.

Memory and whispers answer to no one, a free expression of mindlessness - zen for critics. When we lose ourselves in our labor, we be. We really just be.

I see the ass of the train, a beautiful way to imagine a brief companion. Whispers can't be seen now, must have stopped talking to herself. Convinced, of the rightness of her expression.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Helga Viking, Afred Infrared)

Tunnel Vision

Had this vision of the future. It was filled with a communities of people who spoke in twitterese. They viewed their blogs, open mics and photography as their life's work and their 9 to 5 as a necessary evil. Success is getting off the plantation. Everybody was counting down.

There was a these souls walking under a beautiful black sun, eyes a flame. Sharing tales of their escape and messages from the North star.

We huddle around the water cooler, warming our hands with stories of publishers returning calls and concert dates. Dreams are fire.

When one left the plantation. It was like we were all half way there. It made the electronic cotton lighter, backs ached less, vision got clearer.

I see the route for my escape. It's a five year plan, but should keep me and my family out of servitude for generations.

When I close my eyes, I see stars I need to follow out of here. There's joy in this journey and thorn scarred fingers make great fairytales.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Pistil)

Elevator Conversations

There is a meditation I use from time to time; after centering myself with slow deliberate breathes, I imagine an elevator.

In this elevator I press the sub-basement button, then I feel the downward sensation of the car. At each floor, the doors open and a wise man or prophet gets on and we chat; Martin Luther King, Jr., Gandhi, my Grandmother and so on.

On a good night, before I get to the bottom, I become so captivated by the conversations I lose track of time and my body.

During one meditation session, once I reached bottom, there was no elevator. I looked "down" and saw stars. I decided to go to one of the stars. I would move toward them and they seemed to move away from me. It was beautiful and frustrating. I had little awareness of my body, but felt the need to escape from it through one of these shiny portals.

I did escape eventually, but not this time. For now, I'm just moving through space chasing stars.

Photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs & Hipstamatic app (Lens: John S, Film: Pistil, no Flash)

Red States, Blue States, Jaded States

In management you learn that alot of decisions are made before any jobs are posted, any meetings held, before any memos go out. I'm a manager and at times changing the system is antithetical to career advancement, so pick my battles. Enter the Politicians.

Before s/he is elected, most of the policy decisions have already been made. You can predict how much "change" the candidate will bring by looking at their major donors. Change is antithetical to funding next campaign, so they pick their battles; usually small ones that make good press, but don't challenge the system.

Winds of change many times comes from CEO's asses: more surveillance, more austerity, class warfare. When it rains it pours and every four years we vote for a new Weather Man. Dig?!

Thats why I like the Zeitgeist Movement; individuals free of religion, embracing technology and see class labels for what they are, a means to divide and conquer. With a mentality like that, voting is not looking sexy right about now.

All the angst and anger I had toward the Right; all the disappointment I have with the Left; leaves me with the notion of walking away from them both. That energy is better spent focusing on my business interests, family & friends. What makes me happy is election-proof.

There are some political activities that do appeal to me, one is total boycott and divestment in Israel. The Jewish State is this generation's Apartheid South Africa.

Going Green is something I'll work towards, not because of human induced global warming (don't agree with Gore), but going green because we can. There were electric cars in Henry Ford's time, guess oil had a stronger lobby.

"Net Neutrality is the First Amendment issue of our time" to quote Senator Al Franken, I agree. If the ISPs get their way, independent media and other non-establishment content providers will become the UHF of the Internet.

I enjoyed being apart of history by helping to elect the first African American President. Just didn't know the Powers That Be were integrated long before the Whitehouse. They will fund a Martian if he pledges to keep the status quo. Mr. Barak Hussein Obama may be the last President I vote for, but if my political action is multiplied by others, this won't be the last time I make history.

photo caption - taken w/ iPhone 3GS and Hipstamatic app

The King is Dead

Did you see him fall? I just heard this hush go over the crowd, this sigh. Like the whole world was a dream and we're just waking up.

When he fell, when our hero fell, we had to grow up. All of us.

We couldn't depend on him to inspire. We had to find the reasons on our own. We had to make our own religion.

photo: crystal chess set, beneath glass table - taken w/ iPhone 3GS and Hipstamatic app

The Tower

My Love. I know she's up there. Stranded in a midnight of concrete and steel.

My Scars. My Scars tell the story. Those archers, the knights without end, they all have wounded me. Liberating pieces of my flesh. Pigeons gather, eat the crumbs of my broken body.

Her smile. In the struggle, her smile was lost to me; only hate and revenge for comfort. They are my soul mates. When I finally free her from this mountain, will I be the man she once knew? How could I? When all that made me beautiful has beaten into swords.

photo: info column on underground subway platform - taken w/ iPhone 3GS & Hipstamatic app

Apple Time Machine

I got this time machine that's always late. It's not the machine's fault. I've just been lazy with maintenance.

The vibrations from time travel cause the control dials to slide backwards sometimes. A screwdriver could've fix that.

The monitor doesn't turn or swivel easily, so I can't see if there are palm trees or dinosaurs ahead. Some WD-40 knock that rust right out.

Duct tape could have saved the Titanic. My multiple-dimensional side-view mirror keeps falling off: catastrophies are closer than they appear.

What's the point of having a time machine that's always late? To impress the girls, the iPad is too expensive.

photo: caught multiple reflections off subway train window, while riding in train - taken w/ iPhone 3GS. Adjusted image contrast, saturation with PS Mobile app

Train of Thought

Every evening, my mind rides the train. Crowded with thoughts of all kinds, rushing by sitting there. Each one caught up in its own thoughts of itself. Crowded. Some won't move over for the new thoughts, so they have to stand, wait their turn for comfort.

I got this bad vibe, she didn't even want a seat. Just standing there basking in apprehension. Stared at her for awhile, but she didn't want to gave it back. Other thoughts got attracted to her, then lost in her. The train was clearing out.

Her gravity was strong. Rocking, rotating with the uneasiness of cowboy on the Rez. This idea served no real purpose, being a creation of the ego. But even illusions get respect, if they demand it.

After I snapped a picture, my attenion turns to other passengers. The bad vibe goes away. Sometimes I forget: the universe is mental.

Photo: officer in subway train car - taken w/ iPhone 3GS. Image adjusted using PS Mobile app. Microsoft Paint on my PC for black bar.