Month: September 2020

Art – Dream Collage Via Dakota Sky Walker

I screamed my defiance

and heaped upon the

curs’d beast all the rage

and hate and despair of

a soul quest denied.

No sooner had I entered the

gullet of that celestial parasite

then a plan

bloomed in my mind; I would

find the creature’s gullet

and cut my way out

if it took a cold eternity.

Immediately my plan was

thwarted, I could not see

in the blackness of

that vast tunnel.

As I sped ever inwards

I felt shapes go whistling past

unseen but sensed,

as the wind bent

to accommodate passage

towards that continental stomach.

I cupp’d my wings and scooped

great buckets of air, slowing

my headlong rush –

my feet found

the gentle tug of gravity

and I followed them down lower

as my eyes focused to the dim,

I thought….

I saw a feeble light and bent

my path towards discovery.

I noticed looming swift

two spaced spires

far apart and

like a moth towards

a feeble flame

before I could

turn aside, I was caught

in a mighty net that stretched

between two parapets – placed

artfully, as a spider does a

web. My flight ended abrupt

and entangled, my left wing

unnaturally bent as I felt

a hollow bone give. I cried

out in pain and outrage

and all the toils of my efforts

stole over my exhausted

frame and I collapsed, unknown

and unknowing into a fitfull

sleep.

I know not how long

I hung suspended like

a fly in its trap, my sleep

felt short and dreamless

I awoke to the smell

of cumin, cardamom and

coriander. I was caught

well and true and the net

wrapped around me like

a lover’s letter in its envelope.

I felt myself being lowered

in slow but steady rhythm

and saw the feeble light

grow as I descended.

What first I thought

were faces bodiless and

floating, were instead attached

to bodies harder to fathom

because of the light I bent

myself towards discovery:

Gathered and gathering

a sect of men like no other

(if men indeed they were)

I had encountered on the land

or at sea: their faces were banded

and from each stripe a corresponding

light came forth. Their skulls were

glabrous and their bodies in

equal proportion to my own

covered in tailored clothing

exceptionally well made

from the base of the

neck down. Showing only

the glow of their strip’d lit faces

each layer seven in all –

At the crown orange, not

unlike Beauty’s tower, below that

circling their foreheads

an eldritch violet, and

just above their ears another orange,

around their eyes and cheekbones

a raccoon’s bandit mask

pale and white.

Their cheeks were a deep emerald

shaped like a cockle shell: the hinge

at the notch of the ear and

stretching forth. Both nose and

lips were full and sensuous,

an earthly brown were they,

along their chins

and jawline was yet another violet.

Underneath the chin leaking

below that sharp jawline

two more bands, again one orange

and one more violet disappeared

below their worn well clothes.

I hailed them

with as much good cheer

as I could muster

for many a bad encounter

can be blunted with a

glad voice.

They jumped and

the lights of their faces

were chaotic and

unpatterned, it was clear

they were not expecting speech

and did not know

yet what I was.

Even as their flashing flushes

flickered fast, a single word

emerged articulated

and precise: Engedi! Engedi!

Like a pebble plunging

to the depths of

the unsounded murk,

the great globe of

my orbits spun, still

reeling from Beauty’s kiss

my ears stuffed with

the wind of my passage,

the soul of Pride’s boot

on my chest stamp’d and

I, aswirl in mixed state –

Kleos’ voice sung my

farewell

as the seven heavens all

the constellations rung,

and the planets in their

stations list’ning stood

to the O-gape of my

breathless mouth aping

the circle of the moon

wide wandering where

up was down

and down was

the frequentative flutter of

fitful flight forestalling

the fateful fall

with Ignorance on my back

and I on Fear’s shoulders

as he clawed at both my

legs. High the tower must have

loomed and terrible was

my tumble until triumphant

as an angel rampant

on a field of stars my

wings snatched hold

the transient air

and I soared.

With one hand

on my hilt and the other

with my Quill, I caught

the tow’ring draft and climbed

and climbed, and climbed and

the music of the vaulted

sky thrummed as I recalled

Beauty’s fingers feather deep

and the clockwork steps

toward my eternal beloved.

O foresight!

Foresight which takes

us ceaselessly beyond and

places us where we ever

wish to be yet anxious

never to arrive. With

newfound tips of feather’d

flight I pinioned the sky

and tried to join the heavn’ly

mechanism. But I could no

more hold the intricacies

of that vast and ephemeral

machine in my sight than I could

hold Beauty in my arms

and the tears of my failures

rained

down:

down below:

the solemn temples, down below

the gorgeous palaces, down below

the cloud capp’d tow’rs, yea

down below, on the great globe

itself and out of sight.

The teeth of my gears would

not mesh, for as astronomy teaches:

The planets and the stars

show how the heavens go

but they do not

show how to go to heaven.

The fire of Beauty’s

touch cooled to ember in

my mortal frame and

I sensed a motion in thin air;

that stretched above the capp’d

clouds like the desert of the ocean

and from below I saw

the great grey waves part and mounded

breaks from the surface below.

In a moment of rationality

and instinct, ostensibly opposed

I drew my knees upon my chest

and dove.

The wind roared with my

descent and my wing’d

flight carved the clouds

asunder, to the left a

bank and to the right

a swerve, spiraling downwards

ever sensing

a great gaping maw

nipping at my feet

I could not see the

relentless pursuer as

the clouds blocked

discernment from afar

and soon as I thought I had

at last won the chase

was when I saw the hungry

mouth – wide as a mountain

and as inescapable as the dawn;

At last I beheld my pursuer

it was not a bird of prey,

nor leviathan, or sting’d ray

nor another like myself

but a serpentine eel long and

hungry – it was a lamprey

and the great O-gape of its

mouth was a ring of teeth

wicked and curved; the mound I

thought was the body

was merely a fin.

I could no more

fly past that mighty orifice

than sail an ocean

in a day –

and before I could

think aught else,

was consumed.

Kleos said, “You would have

me know my place and I

would have you know your’s.

Sheath your blade and compete

with me without your gift.

You need not guess to know

its nature, it gives unfair advantage.”

I did as Pride bade and placed

the sword in its tower

and buckled it to my hip.

The blade’s nature was sharp

in my mind, I needed it not

to understand its purpose.

“Very well Kleos,” I said,

“I have done as you asked.

Let us play our game so

I may recline by my beloved.”

Kleos laughed, “O son of

Pelasgus, you cannot tarry

here – look, already the

window is closing on

your fate.” His chin twitched

to the cut square, now smaller

than before. It was then I caught

from the corner of my eye

Fear, he was hiding behind

Ignorance who foolishly I

thought lost to the surging reef.

“There is time enough to

prove if Beauty’s vision saw

true or if you are just

another brick in her tower.”

He then produced two

Quills – his from the tail of a

Peacock, it’s eye of wisdom

full and wide, mine from a

stone dove, grey and unremarking.

With deft strokes only Pride

can accomplish, Kleos scribed letters

fine on the smooth marble wall:

“What is the nature of Beauty?”

Poised with my Quill I recalled

the orange light I saw high

in Beauty’s tower while I

shivered on the sand.

I wrote:

“That which pleases upon being seen.”

My letters were his equal.

And in the task of writing I felt

a sensation strangely familiar

between the blades of my back,

back from my long ago –

yet I had not time to attend as

Kleos nodded and wrote again:

“What science does Beauty favor and why?”

and his script was better than my last.

Long did I study the night sky

from the deck of my ship

so I wrote:

“Beauty is astronomy. Both rely on observation.”

My hand was fine and steady

my script better still. It was then

it came to me, that sensation

so familiar as if I were a

child cutting teeth

something between my shoulders,

yearning to break free.

The window was closing rapidly.

I placed it firmly behind

and said: “Ask your last question Pride.”

Kleos bowed and wrote:

“What is the secret of the tower

and the drowsy sword?”

Fear climbed on both my legs with

Ignorance on his back – the window was

growing dangerously small. As Fear

marched upwards towards my heart

A cold certainty stole over me

that in failure I become

pinioned by the perverse enslavement

of a sickened appetite

entombed in Beauty’s tower forever.

“And you were so close.” Kleos gloated,

as he approached within arm’s length.

I studied Kleos’ question written

on the marble wall and

I saw the answer writ

before my eyes… the clue

the drowsy sword – but I held

my Quill and spoke: “A tower

is an oubliette standing on its

mouth – alike both forward and back

in the manner of the mirror.

Both are the destination of things

placed to be forgotten.”

Upon my answer two wings burst

from between my aching back

and Kleos kicked me with

a terrible force fully upon

my chest. I flew backwards

from the tower, as much

sideways as outwards in

a flurry of feathers,

fear, and ignorance.

He yelled as I tumbled

like a marble from a thumb:

“Well done Peratae! Chase after

Truth and Goodness and you will

find Beauty hurrying to catch up!”

And I saw the eye of wisdom

on his Quill wink at me as

the stones closed over the grin

on Kleos’ beaming face.

In the beginning era of a distant day

that is always and never now

there came the dawn I left Vanin Nos

just of an age to choose crusade

having tumbled long the treadworn trail

down the gentle slopes of Philistia,

softly by the Kingdom of the Abdalles,

until I found myself on the coast of Pride,

a stiff wind lifting my mane

fresh off the Gulf of Arrogance.

I gathered my crew, hard proven

tough and scarred from lands unyielding

each in their own unconquered:

Bigotry and Prejudice, Ignorance and Fear

Hatred and Envy, Greed and Vengeance

lending their strength to my own.

Together we razed the forest ashore

from sapling to copse to towering timber

head bent and fingers prying

we stole what we liked from

the pulp profusely pounded

and with them we fashioned

a vessel solid and unbending

with oaken conviction constructed

bound together in fevered pitch;

our eyes on the horizon

we trusted the winds of intuition

and deduced the current of logic until

at last we sailed, one hand on the wheel

one chained to oars of called out cadence

sails taut and sweat from below

our froth and foam carried us outwards

lulled on gulls wings and salt spray

the slap of the waves abeam

we slipped the straits of Ginnungagap

as Reason drowsed on the masthead;

she failed to note the lee shore

and all the glittering lights of Nod.

On Dream’s rocky shore we crashed

born on waves splintered thusly

my mighty vessel flounder’d, losing

Ignorance to the surging reef and

Vengeance to the gauzy salt foam.

Fear plucked us from the flotsam

faded to shade on the moonlit beach;

we gasped shivering on the sand

spied close at hand Endymion’s Cave

that slumbering youth in Selene’s shine

in his grotto below where Beauty sighs

up above in her castle, sleeping.

In a tower perfectly rounded

limned by a singular flame

a single window draped in

hues of orange lucubration

its warm welcome entrance

a spiral round’d stare as much

upwards as inwards and

at the end of the clockwork

steps beyond the stony plinth:

an altar for a singular form

at her feet a lantern, covered

at her head a candle, perfumed

in between lace silken and fine

and I, held captive by the view

felt the stars move above me.

In the corner standing proudly

Aidos, her guardian mute and forgiving;

blessing well my wishes as

no mere figmagairies for an oubliette

but rather a tenacious vine wound round

clinging tightly the raven spandrels

of hard a won ataraxia

and a well worn phronesis.

So with the goddess’ permission

I drew back the lace and leant

to listen for my whisper of fate:

No one more surprised than I

her eyes slowly opened, the

fingers of her right hand traced

my startled brow on the left,

and the fingertips of her left

a sweetness on both my lips –

then she cradled my face

Beauty’s fingers feathers deep

in my hair and by my right ear

soft by her mouth, she breathed:

“You will not see my like again until

beyond the realm of Oludumaré,

around the Cape of Aphrodite and past

the cities Laodicea and Peragamum.”

I opened to reply and

she silenced me with

a kiss that slew both

Vanity and Cowardice

and with a fiery pain born of

burning sand writhing fluid on

ground memories too fine for sifting:

I cried –

So how then shall joy know joy?

Upon whose brow shall

rest this duskmoon eve

and on whose feet the base clay?

Alas! Our time was nearly

over, she falling into torpor

as her lace fell to the floor

yet not before a gesture to

the sword sheathed by her side;

our trembling hands grasped it

as she slipped down with

a sigh, “’ware her brother Kleos

who is sure to arrive.” It was

then I noticed Aidos, undone

by a kiss, bleeding fast in the

corner awaiting her abyss

I slid over beside the window

awaiting Shame’s brother – when

he came in through the

cut square, all bluster and noise

He saw his twin pierced asunder,

Beauty’s lace upon the floor,

and then he felt the edge

bequeathed from my adored.

It was my first real sight

of it, lain bare across Pride’s

neck – along it’s length

a single word: ACQUISITION

and it had heft – he swallowed

almost undoing himself, such

was the keenness of the blade.

“Who is this?” Kleos asked.

“The one who would slay two

gods and defile another all

in one night? Tell me, tell me,

Pride must know.

How did you rouse Beauty

from her eternal slumber?

Tell Me, Pride must know.”

I held the blade steady

my reasons true and good

to tell Pride my name

could be the last thing

I would ever do, yet

I also knew I could not lie

and remain the blade’s steward –

a contradiction with me between,

so I reached for truth,

knowing that it is often paradoxical.

“I search Beauty’s light and I seek

what is good. The goddess reached

for me,” I said, “and your sister

stood mute – it was Beauty’s boon,

that severed the anchors of Shame.

This blade, given to me

your arrival foreseen; what you do

with this knowledge, remains to be.”

And then I let him go.

As one does not hold Pride

captive and remain unscathed.

Kleos turned and faced me

his gaze was fierce and raw

He spoke not a word as he

took my measure head to toe:

“I know you,” Pride said, “You

are the one who razed the forest

off the coast that bears my name;

I was standing on your forecastle

right up until you crashed – it

was I that lulled sweet Reason

and not the gull or salt spray.

Now your vessel is in ruin.

I’ve been your companion before

book passage once again, if you can.”

“‘Tis true I, I see it now, when

your hand was on the wheel

and not mine alone.” I replied. “But

now I burn with Beauty’s kiss and

Pride must know its place.” He

scowled and shifted his gaze

for he heard I spoke the truth

and I knew I had the best of him

when I saw Aidos stir

back from the abyss. Yet Kleos

was not to be put off so easily.

I must not hate.

Hate is the soul killer.

Hate is the little void that brings the utter abyss.

I will face my hate.

I will permit it to bloom and fade through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn my heart outwards to illuminate the path.

When the hate has gone there will be wisdom.

Only we will remain.

*With deep appreciation to Frank Herbert

It is said that all that there is or ever was once began no larger than the nail on your smallest finger. You can imagine how difficult it was to find a quiet corner to think. So the invention of something called nothing was extremely revolutionary at the time. Which, by the way, had to be invented right along with all that nothing. It was just as true than as it is now that you can’t get nothing without paying something. Time is the debt nothing pays for all the expansion it insists upon.

As a practical matter, and really, what is matter if not practical – with it we can not only do stuff, we are stuff. Matter is what matters to matter – you can tell by the way it wishes to get back together. Just like in the old days. The real old days. People, being made of the stuff, also like to get together. And like the stuff on the very smallest of scales, they resent being pushed too close – push them enough, and they’re bound to push back.

It’s a good model to build relationships on. Think of yourself like the nucleus of an atom. All the relationships in your life are like electrons that surround you – your parents make up part of you, call them the protons and neutrons, that essential part of you without which you wouldn’t be at all. Siblings and other immediate family members are the closest to you – until you get old enough to shuffle them off to another ‘ring’ if need be. And sometimes, let’s face it, it needs be.

Some of the electrons, also known as friends and co-workers, will orbit around you as you will around them – the important thing is to recognize how close to the nucleus they will be held. When one is young, the electron cloud is dense and hot – just like at the beginning of the universe. Friends and co-workers are precious and interact with the nucleus with ease and candor.

This generally does not last. For some it does. Most, however, find themselves expanding, filling up their personal electron universe with space – often seen as a bad thing, as past friends move away, surfing their own personal waves of expansion. While it may pain the heart to lose those once dear, expansion brings its own rewards. It allows room for others to interact who otherwise could not or would not.

If one is very fortunate, they find a complementary atom, one that fits so neatly into the orbit of the other they become a singular compound. The fusion of these elements is often accompanied by much light and energy. The same is true if the fusion is torn asunder. Sometimes it wastes away by slow decay, losing half of itself given enough time. Truly stable partnerships are nearly indestructible and even if a parting is inevitable, affection and respect never disappear.

Dealing with the loss of a family member or a cherished relationship is a quick way to expand – the loss is an emptiness, a nothing that looks to be filled. It is paradoxical, but it is often the case that the greatest growth occurs within a great loss.

No matter what arrangement you may find yourself in, remember that most of the other atoms you encounter – as nothing pays its debt in time – are also looking for a warm hearth to orbit, someone to show them what other configurations in space and time are possible. We all pine for that special electron that will expand our nothing. Which is to say, those that excite and elicit from us our own special light.

Remember, sometimes it is up to you to be that person. Don’t be afraid. Find the right one and you’re gold.

From the Journal of Peratae Bogomil

[File: Soft Monkey – initial training]

[Begin transcript]

Ah, there you are number ten. Have a seat. Did you see number eleven on your way here? I fear he overindulged during midday nourishment and might be feeling the aftereffects. Do give him my sympathy when you see him next. So, you’re off to Earth as well I see. Not to worry, we’ll make you right as rain, as the humans like to say.

The purpose of this station is to outline the personality template you’ve been assigned. In this case, a traditional liberal. Humans being what they are, know that this is only a broad outline and you shouldn’t take this information as dogma – it is a template, a foundation in which to build a nuanced personality. I will help you integrate the language and basic survival skills you’ve already learned with your assigned cover during your three weeks in universe yellow, planet Earth, North America, in the year [{redacted} replaced with era] mid twentieth century/early 21st.

Comfy? Good. Feel free to help yourself to refreshment. It may be best to leave the mayo churros alone, as eleven can no doubt testify. Let’s begin.

Do you prefer top down or bottom up? That’s a good idea, plan top down, build bottom up. So be it.

Your assignment is a female of the species in early adulthood. If you’ll check your language installment you will see liberal defined as one who is open minded and does not regularly follow traditional or orthodox ways or forms. You’ll notice many entries of this word in your language installment – care will be required to utilize each in the appropriate way. More on this later.

As a liberal, you respond well to positive role models. You believe in fairness and helping those who cannot help themselves. Whenever the downtrodden need a champion, the liberal is there. Equality is a level playing field and freedom is freedom from power abuses and inequality. Of the two, equality is preferred.

The traditional liberal holds these general beliefs: Religion is scientific, non-organized, and unconventional. Rights are to be respected by others and minorities protected. Criminals are social and economic victims, often exploited in both. The homeless are downtrodden victims of the system and lack opportunity. The liberal motto can best be summed up as “One for all and all for one.”

Valuable education is perceived as that which fosters learning – to ask questions, to relate to and co-operate with others. A child equipped with this education built on the values of self examination, empathy and openness creates the potential for self realization who then becomes a fulfilled adult. Vocations preferred by the template include: architects, scientists, media, teachers, and law.

Liberal families feature a nurturing parent who build a relationship with their children based on respect and trust. Nurturing parents instill values of empathy and moral diversity in order to create a self nurturing child.

A community based on ethics creates an atmosphere of protection and communication for families to thrive within. When it comes to society and culture a good motto to remember is, “The world can be improved.” You prefer a society that is inclusive, multicultural, and evolving. The preferred community is one based on ethics with a moral underpinning.

I know. It’s a lot to take in. We’re almost done however, we’re at the top now. As a political philosophy, liberalism is based on a progressive nature that looks to the future. It is egalitarian and idealistic stressing the need for equality and favors change over tradition. In practical matters this manifests itself in calling for a regulated economy [see economic packet subsection four{reference function user disabled – no further references will be provided] of business and industry. Taxation and spending is favored to alleviate suffering and provide for the common good.

What else? Hmmm, just remember you’re more than willing to interfere in society and social life if there is suffering to be addressed and you’ll do fine. Your focus is on society and you support fair trade, workers over management towards a goal of personal freedom and self fulfillment.

So that’s it. You’re looking a bit flushed eleven. I warned you about those churros…[end transcript]