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From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com>
Date: Sat, 18 Sep 1999 07:14:39 -0500
Fwd Date: Sat, 18 Sep 1999 23:51:15 -0400
Subject: Alfred's Odd Ode #317


Apology to MW #317 (For September 18, 1999)

I feel like my plug is pulled. Drugged, distracted, and annulled
-- adrift in this society of wayward souls who would be free.
Divorced from my autonomy, and driven to once healing knees, a
troubling ground distracts and plies and forces eyes from
listless skies. Hostile people orbit 'round, their children on
contested ground, and I can't hear their anguished words that,
(almost a foreign language) churn.  Ridiculed for even trying,
misunderstanding (bald face lying) --  dodging missiles of
derision  . . . in multitudes of indecision's . . .

Those that hold the golden reigns would choose their own
contrived refrains. They are not the least bit worried (as they
watch us crawl and scurry) that their way is not the best, and
makes us fail some crucial test! We're NOT alone in FINITE
space; it's well admitted, and the case, but these proponents of
old thinking cripple and deny us *stinking* they would do the
righteous thing while wearing craven crowns of kings! Arbitrary
and conniving, graced by *GOD* to do the thriving, these
pretenders of our rules would have us live enthralled -- abused.
Distracted by the flashing glitter of sullen rap stars --  heavy
hitters, folks are kept less satisfied to keep them hungry, mad
-- denied. Froth them up on "burning flags", or "silly stains on
crass blue rags" to snatch their eyes from stunning wonders kept
from view by those who plunder!

I imagine gracious spaces, with plastic wings I fly (if
graceless), coasting in a hollow sphere that orbits, high, so
far from here. Working in my hydroponics, breathing air that's
like a tonic, making things that save the earth and bring her
back, yes, lift our curse! Colonize the asteroids -- bigger
thoughts, and better choices, we could live in harmony if we
avoided harming knees. Simply put, it's _not_ respect that keeps
us mired and in debt. We don't keep our promises; we distort our
common senses; some of us would break our oaths to wear a
*better* set of clothes. This WILL keep us from the stars, and
tie us down with ancient bars that we don't need or even want if
truth was more than nonchalant. Take a breath and draw it free
as you come off your callused knees, and take advantage of the
wealth that staggers us with full stocked shelves!

And nature IS a realm of strife, but *man* would cruelly _twist_
that knife, and take from those that cannot fight what they
might find to LIKE in life. The bluest sky all filled with
clouds, the greenest hill apart from crowds. A graceful spot to
sit and rest, some birds to soar and make their nests. Colors
fresh in soft pastels that stroke and kiss the eyes -- the
smells! Smells that move your mind around to places you remember
-- sounds, sounds that brush the ears . . . caresses, brushing,
well away, distresses.   Peace from loathsome human hounds that
prey on those who stay in bounds is what to wish if you would
rather, but you're distracted I would gather. There could be an
actualization as more perceive their desperation as something
they must _save_ against (plus turn to Knapp, and Howe, or
Rense). That we don't get the "real deal" is starkly plain (and
so unreal) -- lost as it repeats refrains that treat us like we
have no brains. We only want our self respect that we have LOST
to sad neglect. Robber barons -- like of old, but all too legal,
so I'm told, hiding our myopic eyes from *treasures* they so
fear . . . despise.

Plenty can be had by all; autonomy is what it's called, and you
have earned it 'cause you're born to dance too fast for some
man's scorn. People team despite their fortunes, they can SEE
beyond distortion, and what in fact produce THESE teams, more
_power_ to contribute -- DREAMS, and _then_ we fly in off-world
spheres that spread more wealth -- outdistance fear. We could
LEAP out from our star, we could spread between them -- far; we
could live within the belt that sits between the planets
_dealt_. Just a simple bridge suspended, with no endpoints we've
invented, room enough for all our dreams, or Larry Niven's off
the beam.

And yet I feel so confined in this we call our present time,
with crass restrictions on our senses, sweet release behind tall
fences -- all that we could hope or pray for well within a grasp
we've paid for. Undefined, our satisfaction tantalizes its
distraction; all the cars and homes you buy don't fill _that_
place within you, Clyde.  You would have enough to give if those
that _have_ would give ONE rib, and live in worlds _we_ inhabit,
live the rules that we cohabit -- righteous honest self
actualization that we have _earned_ in protestation. This my
wish though heavens FALL, and folks hear drumming -- different
calls, and we discover brand new ages -- rules rewritten, truth
in pages. UFO's would fill the skies; with less there's more,
and less despised -- and we would find this *larger* world
preferable to our centers curled 'round the message of a man*
that fronted for a church's brand. This confines and ties me
down, these people all so scared to drown in seas where they
have no control though "process due" is what's extolled.

Lehmberg@snowhill.com

*Aristotle.

Restore John Ford!


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"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from
afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, burned at the
fundamentalist's stake.