Feeling Like a Rock!

I am feeling like an avalanche coming.    The smallest tremor to set me off.  Don’t get me wrong,  I am not considering any self-harm, to me or to others.  The shadows are coming again,  slowly,  but steadily.  One or two  of these are in ‘living color’.  Shadows of doubt,  panic attacks, like a Tsunami.   I hear the roar,  waters that creep and fill me,  with pains of high and Low Tides.

I have thought of my new name.  Do you like it? It was pretty racist to behold.  I have shanks of poetry,  misplaced grammar and enough hubris to weigh me down.  But rather I wish to find a copper coin.  I wish to elucidate,  on a lily pad called destiny.  I want to pick away the burrs.  To the Longfellow chaps.   I want to find a nuance and let it work for all of us.  Not a twenty and definitely not a line for ghouls.  I want to make mince meat into pies.  Not lines of craters nor lines of white.  I wish to find… and destroy it.  I wish for them to grow.  Not in some rusty hole.  I pray that these come to pass.

It is the dawn of anxiety,  I see my head floating downstream.  Portable Sinkholes,  elaborating,  roiling downward,  and making life ‘like a buoy’, a respite from the darkest downs.

A song, a note,   reveries with plumb lines,  like spider webs twisted.  Sometimes the emotions are overwrought, with their own insanity, glossed over but not forgotten.  Let us play harpsichords and twing a violin.  Let’s stop the wrong kind of thing.  Planting history with falling leaves.

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Dream within a dream 3

Maging masayá sana ang araw mo!

Ang pangit ng Tagalog ko

The Things that Really Matter

In the next few months,  we will be embarking on a quest to house homeless Veterans.  This will be no easy feat,  but it is achievable.  The biggest and best hope is an informed people, who lay aside political hyperbole and false narratives.  But what are these narratives?  What are the options?

Feeding our own poor,  who truly do need our help.  Not senseless rioting, raping women and girls.  Money that goes to the various social dichotomies,  SAIN kits and policies that help victims of those heinous crimes.  It is the women who suffer the vagaries by deed, police interviews and the court.

Ex-President Obama,  was big on campaign promises (immigration) and short on real initiatives.  The choke point was the Sequester. Well what about it?  Nestled in these obtuse proclamations,  was money that was diverted to (illegals, healthcare reform and the fish that saved Pittsburgh).   None of these were Republican issues per se, but they are real.

Filipino Superstar.  Coming to US  and supporting local and international causes. Video by Wish 107.5. All rights reserved by 107.5.  Listen .

The bargaining chip was the suspension of military pay and benefits.   Paring away needed support and doing an end run.  Two billion dollars which were earmarked for Veterans and to the VA , to pay for illegals.  Americans are watching us.  What are doing,  what is being done?  Nadda and more of that nada.

The people that matter and the funds to get this done.   Not five hundred dollar handshakes, the release sensitive documents and rapes that go unpunished.

More is going is to be said and done. Coming very soon.

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OK, Enough! Let’s Dance/Sing!

 

Reaction Videos Must watch,  for the reactions

If Hubris had a name it would have the moniker ‘Corruption”.  But let me address people here, but before I forget,  I am having a difficult time.  Seizures can be attributed to the Manic Depression.  It doesn’t matter what I eat or sleep.   I had seriously entertained calling it a ‘life’.   That said,  my cats are like a bridge over troubled waters.

This is sick…   All Filipino.  Listen people react from all the all around the world, reacting to these songs.

 

 


“Music is a higher revelation
than all wisdom and philosphy.
Music is the electrical soil
in which the spirit lives, thinks and invents.”
~ Ludwig van Beethoven ~

My cats give me a sense of what life is all about.   I stutter  and hiccup  jigsawed speech.  Today an incident reminded of the Tonic-Clonic Seizure on Jan 2015.   So, if there are points, that my mind is mentally wandering,  you know why.  Some days are great and too many not very good.  I was manic when I saw the Dr.  I was prescribed mood stabilizers but not really working yet.   Major Depression,  seeing and hearing things and the steady Mania that clouds my mind.

But this is not what this blog is about.  What it is about, is what makes us  shine and brings joy to our hearts.   It is about common threads,  that swirl and gives us a heads up, about our spiritual connections.   I want to eschew hyperbole and dance around the circle like muses waiting to be connected.

Music is such a vehicle,  speeding like a comet across the Northern Lights,  lifting spirits and dancing like ABBA.  Music is like string theory,  with a million microscopic worlds, waiting to unite us.

I imagine one day, that science will literally be put upon it’s head.   No more wantoness,   no more twinkie food for the oppressed.  No matter the difficulty,  music is our MUSE.  We share the passion,  feel it’s warmth, and is commodious with peace.  Hubris exits out the back door.   Music is peace.   Promoting equality and offering hope to the benighted.

“Music does bring people together.
It allows us to experience the same emotions.
People everywhere are the same in heart and spirit.
No matter what language we speak, what color we are,
the form of our politics or the expression of our love and our faith,
music proves: We are the same.”
~ John Denver ~

 

Conundrums!

Nothing but ‘conundrums’,  tactile songs of life,  hurt and death.   Mutilated dreams.  A side ward leap (of all kinds).   Brushing our teeth,  falling hair,  and the snowfall that comes or not.    Happy with changes,  chains of our own devices and external visages.  Looking in the mirror is not a vision of validation, but a portrait of someone else.

No cat cries or the crows feet that becomes whatever we wish  them to be.   Hills and valleys with slow-leaking dreams,  that are shuttered, squared and soon forgotten.  Past lives and artist pallets smeared by the weight of philosophy and the cottony clouds of faith.  God as fast-food or a mooring point of transcendental being.  Like a train going faster downhill, and the clambering effort to find ourselves,  between tragedy and a still pond.  Heights and Success and a   Frisbee, thrown from a rooftop, like a drone with no purpose falling to the ground, eschewing the literal from autism s.

Finally the Borealis Rainbows, a taciturn goblin, shedding Peacock wings, like a cat’s meow.  I blow by stops, I raise above the ether into orbit, rising from antiquity, with a somber soliloquy and beds of finality,. with shocks and snares of frightful stares.  Epic in peace, painfulness no more.

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”
Elie Wiesel

Mistakes, comas and period.  The end

Forever gone.

Larry Olson….

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Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right now I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he’s not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”
Nina Guilbeau, Too Many Sisters

I felt… Oh oh feelings!!!

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Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings – always darker, emptier and simpler.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/feelings.html#fGQvfxoqLOmo18UI.99

I felt but what was I feeling?

Were my perceptions of myself,  perceptions or guesses?

Were my guesses literal?

Or were my literal cognitions but fanciful dreams in a pick pocket’s hands?

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Were those hands ruddy or smooth?

Were those acts of sleight of hand cumbersome or like velvet?

Was it crushed velvet or a simulation,

like a Cubic Zirconia kind of Diamond?

And can a diamond be a friend

or can a CZ be one too?

So what if I feel.

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Was it a feeling  that I felt or a summation of feelings.

Feelings so elusive like water through ones fingers.

Fingers that rob and yet feed.

Fed by greed or by the perception of a job?

Does sustenance legitimize theft

when appreciation was only a fleeting consideration

of what I felt? A glimmer of what could have been?

Or more likely a clever ruse to conceal?

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