The Barsoom Paradox

A revolution in quarters by the minds of an eye in the darkness
Four noses in the corners and staring at each alone
Another day of noble wolves tearing at the same bone
Forgetting that many sheep along the river starves none

Calling many to prepare to fight alone and stare at a tomb
Nomads in the wasteland carrying whips of their time
Carving with sharp tongues forgotten tales of dune lines
Newest basin flooding daily with misguided hearts and minds

Creating mercy for no other in the place of all lost time
By the seas lined with bones and shores of thrown stones
Could pissers be outnumbered or the bricks be undertow
But we never will remember if we've all been hanged for show

Giving misery outnumbers children and their hopes of home
Where the lack of war is plenty and the magnitude is peace
Greatest is the love of wisdom where there isn't strife or grief
Why the eyes of sleep are open with the reaper and the thief

Virtue Signal I

==
The pathological liars are everywhere, in for all, I write arguably badly fiction, and some of you I think were told not to lie and took it as a challenge and, after a thousand times, it became instinctual/pathological lying, which you should do as an adult, and some of you have jobs to tell the truth to millions and critically shouldn't do it, sleeping was invented for the very reason of not being able to stop lying. Basically, if you can't stop lying, dream awake or fall asleep.

Because I didn't realize this challenge by heathen protestant intradimensional idealist insomniacs was in effect, I'll start posting something, imperfect work and projects, i won't dip into the blogger drafts folder, but there will be stuff. I subscribe to my own blog by email, because I can, and know posts can bind in delivery, so tomorrow I'll wake and do an image interpretation for that fresh britches feeling, you will be fine having been warned, thus lo it shall be to those who'll hate it, yes, there are those among you it will not scratch their surface, this light is of their burning machinations reflecting off-of me at their immense power to hold power over stars and consume raw matters as the universe expands at a constant rate, while some of you are made of stardust and we assume your atoms will drift into the nearest orbited star from whatever planet you died.

That's settled, now let's waste the rest of this entry by settling a few questions.

A resistance fights a transition, to the new order your opposition is more like a rebellion or sternly-worded dissent.

Altho time waits for no one, it does wait for people to stop arguing, if it be about science, on the scale of things, we're not any farther until we go farther, stop complaining.

If you're reading this, your life isn't hard as it could be. Remember that.

A pro-life socialist wants programs for babies, a prochoice antisocialist doesn't want money for babies, and women don't always look at this that way.

Despite what they told you, you can put "Anti" on any word you want, even if people have never heard of it before. For example, I'm anticlimactic.

We are a species, however quaint on this suburb of a planet somewhat in the galactic sense and largely in the universal sense, there is no reason to starve anyone. Don't be shitty.

I almost forgot, if you couldn't do something in 8 years, collectively, unanimously, famously and willingly, let the people along the way you've hurt fix what you've broken.

Cake is a breakfast food, cereal is a lunch, and bacon is clearly a desert.

The first day of the week is Monday, day month year, water is wet, we tried to warn you, I'm sorry.





Hasta mañana
==

Shapeshifter soul

Mountains do not reinvent themselves, they are torn by vine and rain and the living. Matter passes thru the circle of existence into the next stage of reality, and when the mountains fill the oceans and the world turns on itself, the depth of the earth will lash at space, the burst of rage at the cold silence like waking sleep and blind memory. If each seed of the world bows to the next, then each plant fears no man, by series of progress only the obstacle can become the path. 

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A human opens their mind to the divine, standing still among many and among none, This is the nature of consciousness, subject to definition as a perspective of either lifeforms above us or below us, distinction reserved for the observer. Begin your world anew.  

A mind seeks identity, overlooking themselves for illusions, distrusting their reflections and replacing success with demise. Begin yourself anew. 

Seeing others, peace becomes the only refuge for those in danger or in madness, we find enemies when we look for them, and they find us just the same, if the enemy insanity the manifestation reciprocates. Begin your trust anew. 

Finding ourselves as the form which society allows, an individual contrasts itself to entities of commerce, tradition, and mere laws, until it begins to reject problems or become them, rejecting culture until attaining individual thought. Begin your search anew. 

It finds nature as all life, holding onto reality until rejoining the river of time, which time is the great wilderness of all ways, by and from each individual construct of eternity to every remittance of immortality in the fires of reincarnation. Begin your life anew. 

We can enter the spiritual plane, as endless echoes of memories does consciousness allow hidden worlds and unknown magic of the afterlife, where the reflection of sound meets an emotion's energy, dreams are easily thrown into a storm when reality is incomplete or undefined. Begin your dream anew. 

They doubt the singularity, fathomless contribution and unrequited identity, which rain drops cannot reverse quantum weight in vapor, countless systems of innumerable elements minuscule aside vacuous celestial spaces, as lightning having a singular direction, the compression merely a portal of the ethereal world, as fire flees embers to seek the cold, so does the plant reach for stars, as light among infinite supercilious energies, so does perpetuation destroy itself. Begin your day anew.