The IT people back in the early years predicted that "the world will blossom" with the influx of information to every corner of the globe. The world still remains buried in war, disease, famine, mistrust, envy, deceit. If any bloom at all, it is artificial. You can lead the people to information, but still they do not "see".

Many americans appear to distrust reality, and cling to their personal political fantasies. Thus true transparency simply confuses and disheartens. Basing personal political thought on major sensationalism media can be directly tied to the public's manic consumerism. The public elected Obama on one of its manic "highs", and now turns on him when depressed. Transparency is not only needed in corporations and government, but also within the publics view of themselves. Are we really what we say we are? Almot never.

"THE COMING INSURRECTION"....a manual for change....

....From humans as parasites to humans as humans.

......From humans as disease to humans as humans.

Earth will love you for it.

ME AND FANTASY

ME AND FANTASY

Me: but how is it you came.

Fanta: on the summer’s night wind.

Me: Ah, …but last night there was no wind.

Fanta: I followed a moonbeam.

Me: But what if clouds prevail?

Fanta: Then I shall find your dreams.

Me: what if….what if I dream no more?

Fanta: you and I shall disappear.
If you search you will not see
If you wish I will not be.
So who do you want me to be?

Me: you are in spite of me
You are a willow tree
In my heart and in my dreams
You are my secret fantasy.

Fanta: Consider this, daydreamer--
If I am yours and you are mine
Who made who upon a time?
We are not the same. We harmonize.
I am the music in your eyes
You are the whispers in my sighs

Me: then lead me on a sandy beach where land and waters meet
White sand…with cliffs and campfires and tales of rocket ships.
Marshmallow kisses, seashells, and wine
Wind in curls rhyme
Lost, not alone, in love
Walk me on the edge
Between me and fantasy.

THE MIRROR

Is this world as it appears?
Unsure, I asked my favorite mirror
Mirror, mirror, my old friend--tell me no, it’s not the end
Of music, dreams, and skies so blue
Of mother’s touch…and father’s too
The mirror stood silent as I cried
It showed my fear, I saw my lies
The eyes…..those eyes. Do I know those eyes?
That face I sort of recognize
Please tell me, mirror-who is he
Is he simply fantasy?
Does he have a heart, a soul?
Are his dreams impossible?
This strange man I now see
Is he you or is he me?
The mirror reflects on what I say
But not a word from it today
They say we’re only bits of sand
Nothing much to understand
Gazing at my favorite mirror
Things are not as they appear

THE REPTILIAN MALE

Why are men such poor communicators?....
because the fear of being annialated by other men?

Men perpetuate their ignorance in this fashion.

_________________________

We began as waunderers. We are waunderers still

We have lingered long enough on this shore of the cosmic ocean

It is time at last to set sail for the stars