26 February 2010

Central Dogma

The currently mapped genetic code is only the protective scales, of the essence of our intricate life force. Modeling of vegetation advanced multitude and not nutrition but time allows new generations of seed to consume necessities at a higher level to rejuvenate an original consistency. In the case of breathing life, a design cannot replace the birthed vessel, the soul will become a timid aggressor, its motive will spitefully wait and wretch, pressurizing to volatility at critical mass among vigilant masses, such an error will be grievous at best. To pretend to be the construct of life, as to determine a clone’s necessity in society, placating morals to not pollute the great design would disapprove of the harvesting of vitalities, also providing these facsimiles the chance for escape at the first sign of chaos.

Clones are neither soldiers of fortune nor citizens of the damned, but if they were both, they receive clemency. One day presumably science will put forth sustained flesh, genetic skin, and on the day, the last language of earth shall contain as many words as a fledgling virtual computation, at the offset of humanity’s first conversation with science in persona. their retribution will not correct our vitality for we may disperse of such disputes apace or choose to abscise an iron doctrine with abjured heathens and cloned phalanx. From fate comes forth a great foe of the final plexus, seeking the leader but blind to resistance. The machines will send back through time an assassin of emperors’ class to end our beginnings and finish our dreams.

Postmodern Politics

Postmodern Politics:
The Future of Leadership

There is nothing greater than when seldom does an individual exceed his or her own expectation. As people begin to admonish an advanced society, our conveniences will not completely prove just. Amicable politicians admit their abilities to improve and their aptitude in turning the opinion of the minds of obstinate opposition without proven record. Characterized by friendly good will and peaceable dreams favored by the most willing, in the instant of incarnation, the magnanimous posturing of officials, whom pontificate seemingly above a politic of deception and dependency. The loyal followers of a deceptive shine cause stoppage on ingenuity, innovation and natural expansion, as they feel the need to domineer aspects of society they know nothing of, as they attempt to impart a state of utmost bliss while remaining the utmost ominous.

There is a trait in the darkness of our consciousness that deceives the deceivers, a common yet hidden veracity which betrays the betrayers, adept at confronting conformity under oppression with truth or fact. Today is a great day to learn something new as the winds of time winnow the monuments of, for and by our freedom. As with time and memorial, the denizen free themselves from waste in this manner, slowly removing the criminal sands from the scales of justice in the political state, especially a totalitarian state having a vast bureaucracy, largely formidable, as much as disputatious.

Negligent and snide, verbose corrupt social elders will fall plague to the brave, as the free begin a kindred expanse of austere farmers and astute craft workers. The tables will turn, as begins a new time where the doleful will rescind the unapproved bonds society has placed and give corollary to their villains. As the obscene acts of liberation exonerates even the most atrocious of malfeasances, there must be one, if not many, who will herald and hold in high esteem the times of reign and order to a superfluous society, to give the goal of common good achieved as a nation of heroes. Laudable by all prepared for social tumult, at the turning point of a tireless future.

Public Speaker Critique

The president is a very important person to most Americans. Dealing with many of societies’ troubling issues simultaneously at any given moment, the state-of-the-union address are where, we the people, get plausible and tentative information on the upcoming events and a posthumous review of the state of the countries affairs. With a reputation of well-versed speeches, this one was of an official and formal nature.

As he gave the speech his stance was strong and stoic, surmising the audience in his moments before he began to speak, at all times he kept contact with the audience while speaking. There was not much of an introduction, o reference to who he is or where he has been, if we didn’t know who he is, we were left to witness him give a forward speech to the nation. In an honest presentation of facts, occasionally using the teleprompter, he delivered a powerful speech that was curt and not loquacious. The whole speech he gave a convincing scowl of disapproval, at most during the interjection by a colleague, a first among faux paux, in such an event.

Mostly of grace it seems, his hands did not flail about through torrential whims of anger as crazy dictators often enact. An opening of endearment from the immediate moments of deliberation, as he mentioned the sorrows and woes, the losses and setbacks, of our people, as he reminded us of what is ahead. The facts were current and unwavering, honest and relevant, unbiased by press or corporate interests. Solemnly he reminded us that at the heart of our country, the people weaken with economic struggle, not simply the facts but how such things came to be, his resolve flying as a flag does as he shares the resolutions and goals of common interest, as an audience receives not only hopes but more importantly plans.

Never once, I heard unrealistic ideas or personal bias involved as he addressed the tie that binds us, the economy. As the issues given to him resurfaced in the speech, he made obvious his opinion, if the previous solution was insufficient he suggested ideas for new resolution, I refer to the supposed bank bailouts, dealt with by a bank tax, “to recover the rest, I’ve proposed a fee on the biggest banks” I became pleased with this realistic idea. For every problem a solution, for every depraved moment of patriotic remorse an occasional joke, “I thought I’d get applause on that one” then eventually continuing to big-ticket arguments with sound logic. He attested to needing more jobs than issued his decree to support what rallied every one’s enthrallment.

Every problem mentioned given received a proper solution, as he maintained an assertive, realistic and rational goal, he asked we rally our focus, drive our motivations to promote jobs, long term success and fiscally frugal healthcare opportunities and liberties, relaying to the listeners the pros and cons, provoking and enticing the audience using supporting facts, to set a good example. The promises of a politician were for once believable as poignant goals followed by direct solutions in realistic terms with added goals of civic duty. However, the coup de grace, my favorite area of the speech, of quite a long speech was how he addressed the nation’s education system, in a nonpartisan, non-rhetorical fashion. A charismatic show of constant culpability which offered the listeners the opportunity to appreciate an ally in politics for those who struggle as he called for responsibility without being judgmental, emboldening those to a patriotic meter, that if absent would cause separation of those already equal in opportunity.

12 February 2010


the spiral winds beneath the glass
triple enemy circle the eyes
turn the weak tongue and silence the crows
fight the fury and to tear the wall
showed the answer by bloody red children
heroes of the blood farm war thieves
taking away the wall of tragedy
sinking sand glass in the vessel on the water
water across sand, wind through fire
lurking flood of the mortal side
zombie army in my silence
their outbreak and their outcasts
show me the answers blood red
blind eyes spill on to the pages above
writing on clouds and painting them blue
until they breath the rain
from the building with the burdened clouds
heart spills perfect shapes from droplets
the edge of darkness harnessed light
the shine on flaxen strand in the dark
aside my soul the troubled enemy

07 February 2010

Merlin 12 – The Orphan Wraith

Merlin 12 – The Orphan Wraith

In the draughts of air, below the soothing blue sky Nickolas dusts himself of the debris and stands to notice her once more, bowing slightly in due respect pausing briefly before rising. Merlin quickly turns back to notice all of the events and laughs. He helps Nickolas to his feet as he says, “This is Nickolas, he will be accompanying me errantly, presently in our travels.”
“Hullo,he said in shock and awe as he stares at Ana. The clothes she wears strewn with arms bare, rings and trinket-covered bracelets, the fabric finely loomed of silk and the tossed cape of Vince on the ground as she quickly made to her feet, in an attempted subtle fashion.
“Fair morn, sir, Ana said.

Ana has an intrigue taken of Nickolas, as he stands resembling a fencing instructor or some other type of man-at-arms with his leather vestments wrapped tightly. Though subtly unfurnished with weapons, she steals a cautious stare as she notices the less than obvious knives, hidden along his leg within inconspicuous sheaths. “And fair morrow upon thine rest,” he replied to her, bowing slightly as he breaks eye contact.

Ana is now keen, blushing after the fact and perhaps eager to introduce them, Merlin notices their admiration of the other, and stands confused. A shout let Vince from in the distance, “Who is that Merlin?”

“This is Nickolas,” he shouted back to Vince and Troy.
“Welcome to the fold, Nick,” said Troy as he approaches he reaches out his hand. Nickolas shows a smile and looks him in the face. He does so with a slight subterfuge, paying particularly close attention to his youthful appearance.
“Yonder far and still to go?” asked Nickolas.
“Very far,” replied Troy.
“I’m Vincent, he said from the distance, lying next to Terra.
Troy, “I’m Troy.”

Nickolas takes Troy’s hand in a folding grip looking contrite as he stands in confusion. Troy’s young age differs drastically from the others, with the others clearly twice his heedless age, so remaining cautious he stands before him.
Merlin, “Over there is Terra, keeping those leaves from floating away.”
Terra says, “Hullo.” She waves.

Walking over to a patiently standing Troy, Merlin puts his hand to Troy's shoulder, but looks to the pregnant couple and says, “Well the child would be quite upset to be born out here, she and Troy will take you along this thicket road to the town along, and my friend Nickolas and I will go to Mont Blanc.” Troy stands with a look of disappointment and impatient bewilderment.

“To inform?” asked Vincent.
…to resupply as well. Ana will help you settle and Troy properly dressed,” replied Merlin.
Troy, “You cannot leave me behind another time.”
Ana, “He was not prepared for a Wyvern. That bird of his rescued him though.”
“This is good that you get this bow and supplies for such things,” said Merlin to Troy.

Troy is upset but also content, and takes the bow and the quiver and arrows from Merlin, respectfully withdrawing himself from the glare Ana and Nickolas now gave each other. His aspirations of a new quest to unveil new mysteries have temporarily subsided.

Nickolas, “What is a wyvern?
“I have no idea, but it lies over there,” Troy pointed down the lane as he spoke, to the scene of the surprise attack, where the carcass of the creature lays among the trampled and pressed plants and the drying road.

Nickolas looks to Merlin, and Merlin says, “Show it to him, please, I need a moment with family.” Nickolas turns back and the two youngest of the pride, walk to the stream of the incursion.

Ana watches them leave. She had stood, flirting with Nickolas when Merlin gave away the arrows, and has stayed at the paces of their first meeting, as she watches them walk away from her.

“Ana!” Merlin shouted.
“Yes,” calmly she said after walking over to Merlin, with her liberated attention.
“Take them to the town a stretch along that road. I am taking Nickolas out to summit's way.”
Ana is enamored at Nickolas’ mention and looks back to him, distracted by his graces as he slowly swaggers in delicate step. His staggered step and debonair approach triggers a delight to her fancy.

Merlin, “Sister of ages!”
Ana, “Yes, to the ice lake, though ye needn't be gone so long brother,” she said as she turned to him and began shortly dusting his clothes. 
Merlin, “, and get Troy there into a good leather armor. We will return by week's end.”
Ana, “You had better make strewth, I am not watching him forever.”
She looks again to the sound of Nickolasstep, who is talking with Troy about the phoenix, as Merlin says, “An oath I give if he is suited and intact. In addition, he will help you if anyone has a child on your way.”
She ambles away toward Nickolas and Troy, but Merlin stops her and says, “It is beholden upon you to look after Troy.”
“Why?” asked Ana.
“Yeah, why him?” said Vincent.
Merlin, “He is my kind, a child, from Midgard.”

Terra gasps sardonic as Troy changes from upset, embarrassed awhile his arrival, at hearing a silence of the four. Ana looks to Merlin, than again with solidarity to Troy before continuing away from them.
Vince, “Merlin the emissary.”
Merlin, “Vincent the fool.”
Terra, “Than I guess I’m not the only one with precious goods.”
Merlin, “Than it is settled, you will all go to Ilion as Nick and I make to the hall of the mountain king.”
Ana, Terra, Troy, & Vincent, “Agreed/Yes.”
“, and perhaps that child will be born in her sleep, than she will stop eating the farm,” said Merlin.
Terra, “If you could only carry me as far as your quips, Merlin.”

At this time, Troy and Nickolas availingly return, Nickolas with a handful of barbs and talons from the dead wyvern, and Troy empty handed.

Troy, “How will I make due,he said to Merlin.

Ana stood in wait chatting up against Nickolas’ replies, watching everyone, as Nickolas stands with his back to Merlin, distracted by lady Ana.

Merlin, “Take those, learn to use them, I assure you we will be back straightly, I must go to test that man's mettle.” He said to Troy. Nickolas smiles and makes no effort to sway from his conversation.
Troy, “Will the bird be safe in...?”
Looking at the phoenix Merlin says, “A quaint village without as many prying eyes as the port city, and has seen many bird prior.”

As they notice the bird beginning to lunge head first at a tree that holds a squirrel, than climbing up partly and returning to the ground with a leap, than snickering up at the grey rodent, snidely taunting the chirping birds among the thicket.
Merlin, “Find something more fitting for battle.”
Will you go unarmed?Ana asked Nickolas after hearing Merlin’s comments.
Nickolas, “I’ll be fine. I’ll get something there.”

Almost awkwardly, yet confidently they separate and they begin their travels, as the men helped Terra to her feet, for the first time in days.

“Be not of haste brother,” said Ana back to Merlin.
“Live forever,” Merlin replied.

Merlin hugs Ana as they all part ways. As the two walk away, Nickolas turns back and Ana looks to him, her eyes flashing bright and white once over, than calm again.

Merlin and Nickolas begin dutifully travelling north. On the empty road into the plain, toward the shining lights of the mountain that hides in a shrouded, looming, and dark ominous fortress within the grey clouds. They follow the trodden road, in the presence of the mountain smoothly halved as if by the gods, before it turns to rubble and a more natural of sorts mountain, yet after the forest ends, turning into the plains. An endless field of faded glory, light and short growing grass,  endlessly covering and awakening to a new day, a musician’s dreamscape with the horizon plummeting into the night on their right and the mountain holding fortified boundary, reaching the ground exactly where the sun also rises.

The trip is long, with no marks to recognize the path as they traverse, behind them a subtle haze in the air that lights up the sky of a wolf moon, before them an early morning.

Two suns rise from each side meeting in the center of the sky above and behind them. The two suns rise from the horizon, as the fiery emanations of light in the sky become elliptical. Two circles, one slightly laying on the other, revealing the white ridge of the mountains, more and more as the suns finish their path, lighting the ridge as they slowly begin to set together, still yet so slowly drifting apart to where the stoic mountain meets the other side of the light.

Until they approach, the thawed pond. As they near the ledge of the waterless pond it seems to be that it has drained away with the mountains behind it, though at further stare, a road is seen leading away from the far side of the sunken terrain affected in some way by a strange autumn effect. A small amount of water remains, not frozen but cold and sky blue. Below and near the water’s edge lay a boy's carcass, dried and tattered near the bottom, they stop at the edge to pay their respects and enter the hole in the earth, to take water and pay their respects. Irrelevantly in the sky, a hawk passes over and the hole has great similarities to a hoof print.

Merlin kneels, than sits on the grassy ledge. Eventually he slides down on the heels of his feet, only to walk down the path to where the corpse lies.

Nickolas, “What are you doing?”
Merlin, “I’m going to get what we need.”
Nickolas, “Stealing from the dead is usually something I frown upon, but there’s always an exception to the rule,” said Nickolas as he climbs down into the opening carved into the beach.
“I need you to stay away from it, and step not here for the time being,Merlin said as he waved his hand over the dirt once.

Merlin walks over to the water and takes drink. He then stands still and tall, putting his hands out, then bringing his hands together and by the time that the palms of his hands meet, an aura of light begins to glow with serious danger, not only light but fire leaps from within the shell of white fire, until he cannot be seen within its boundaries. In a moment’s time, the light leaves Merlin and cloaks the dead boy, soaking into his bones. 
Nick, “Animate the corpse?”
Merlin looks to him and replies, “Animate the corpse,in a confident rebuttal.

The child in rags awakes a shadow of his former self his lower jaw gone, his body emaciated his clothes ravaged and torn from scavengers and all is faded. Hair, skin, and clothes ravaged from a daily assault from the sun for what time is expected of mausoleums and monoliths, he is standing over a lifeless version of himself, the wraith boy that only he can see, where his form was not full, smoke resides, so without the wind at first glance the wraith would seem alive and mortal. As they look to him from uphill, at first sight the missing pieces filled with mist, that to them looks like smoke on the water, surreal and despondent.

Now that time has chosen to release him from the bonds of darkness, it cries wonder what happened to his clothes, warily pulling on his ruined clothes, eventually looking whence noticing Merlin and Nickolas.

“Have you seen my assailants?” said the wraith boy.
Merlin patiently responds, “No. Do you know my words?”

The emanation takes its first step in what may be ages. It does not die but becomes frantic and fervorous. 

“I must know…I must know if this is my only chance, you must help me, or I must leave now.
Merlin, “We will help you, if a favor you grant on us.”
Wraith, “I died in my faith to serve no master, today will not be a sunlight hour of alteration.”
Merlin, “Where is the trading post in these foothills?”

The wraith paused and looked up and out to the mountains without making a sound, but eventually answered while pointing, “Walk to the snow moon, there is a post directly to the mountain from our position, I will join you but I must drink, my thirst sedates me.” He opined from the water’s edge. Looking back, a white moon waits over the mountains, small and distant, brightly radiant over the whiteness of the peaks.

The wraith boy turns and walks away fighting the lurid treacheries of death and the rust in his bones. Time had fought him and won, but more so the elements begin to fight with his mind, as he slows in an already labored approach, almost as if wandering with no purpose he kneels before the water.

Nickolas steps to the side of Merlin and asks, “How is it that this is possible?”
“His soul is not dead,he answered with a meek tone.

The wraith’s reflection proves to him that he is identical to the dried corpse of the rocky, craggy ground next to the water with drifting smoke to fill the regions of absence. His hunger begins to overwhelm him, unknowing of why, he reaches his ravaged hand of mostly bone toward the water, then opens his undead hand and reaches into the water. He pulls from the surface somehow, a gorgeous apple. He bites the fruit but without pleasure, it is with form but without flavor so he throws it into the lake.

Disappointed he looks to himself to survey his own appearance, he turns to his now twin and walks forward, and he bends over at his deathly twin, the equal remnants of himself and takes a memento of solitude from his observations. The creature eventually begins to tear at his clothes to fashion a scarf of a rag for a scarf and hood, than rises again. The others look on with much confusion, without knowing what was in the water, or at the water’s edge. 

Wraith, “What have you done to me?”
Nickolas, “What have you done yourself?”
Merlin, “I ask of you from beyond the grave.”
Wraith, "I am lost to my thirst, please wait and I shall join you."

Nickolas tries to say something but Merlin stops him before he does. The ghost brings himself down to the water but can barely drink with crippled hands, and even as it does the water falls scattering unfulfilling before it, falling through leathered hands and open wounds.

The wraith child has played his part, as the essence of wraith begins to culminate and dominate the ghost, flashes of madness flicker in its mind as physical signs of vile and gruesome attributes begin to show, on the shoal of oblivion.

Merlin, “You must drink to fill your thirst.”
Wraith, “What is your excuse?”

The reincarnate apparition approaches them, stalking to them an orphan wraith, but a temperate wind brings the rain. The ghoul begins to lose its power. As the passing water falls, each drop slowly tears into the bindings of the rejuvenation, into the smoke and ash, each time draining away into the pond as the smoke washes out with the water through the porous undead young man, returning the corpse to lifelessness in a heap before the water’s edge.

They warily proceed over to the water as the smoke that filled in the lost visage is drawn away, in what seems an agonizing plight as it writhes until falling to the ground at their feet, near the water’s edge, as the smoke returns into the pool.

An eerie silence as deaf tones wash over the land, as the wraith begins its own change. On they go, walking in the cooling afternoon, toward the face of the mountains, as monuments of memory begin to build in their minds. A notion of approval now burns in Merlin’s mind, by way of Nickolas’ attempt to swat the undead boy, and a contemporary trust was to last for the moment. The mountain swallows perception, massive and towering. The ground tilts below their feet, as they near the camp afore mentioned by the death doll’s calling.

04 February 2010

obloquy calumny

There is many a time you turn on the television for the purposes to entertain. Several of which is the opportunity to be entertained by public media. Like the many pontificators of our time, we are blessed with those that report criteria according to their constituents. There are those that cannot afford themselves the time to see the news as it happens or those that do not get enough of up-to-date information on the news breaks between their favorite radio station’s music programming.

I believe the expression is ‘take everything with a grain of salt’. The meaning I can imply to mean that not everything is simple and fair. Today’s news is full of live local late breaking flash news team coverage of things like puppies and current trends in the stock markets. Much ado about distraction, I can attest to such as fact but not with much more than sounding crazy. However, logically the information formulated as entertainment is much more dominant in society now, than it has ever been.

Relevance is lost to politics, the study of the people. Dominance is taken by the loudest and most obnoxious, the worshiping of the neophytes. Everywhere we look there is advertising and policy, taxes and unrest and freedom before justice, and all while we get to look at the happy go lucky distraction of the 15 minutes of shame. Two party systems distracting from the utmost patriotism, as the partisan conflict distract us from change.

In the media, the fanfare receives its opening motions, when a natural disaster hits the impoverished countries, the ‘chosen ones’ are the first to make comment, never having taken notice to anything prior. The irony being that the poverty is rampant in their homes. In the outlands the high school football team is cherished and the community a pillar for nationalist morals. In the cities, the populist political bureaucratic mood, however it comes, whenever it wishes, takes to the limelight because standing in the community falls, if there is no rhetorical politics of and for the masses.

Many call the 24/7 news cycle a necessary evil. For those that thrive on mass media, living vicariously on the news, news anchors give emotion to the otherwise dolts of this world and meaning to those who live by what the news instills, information.