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Daedalus (poetry)

Subtle warnings as flashes
Recognition with the universe
Concepts of infinite
Fluttering from focus to focus
There is a purpose
Hidden in plain sight
The path will be simple
Hidden in plain sight
The answer is self evident
Even if enlightenment has not yet been found
All on our journey
All a part of the universe
Either as a fragment or its whole
Brains changing
The magic leaving
Going out of focus
It was there
Is it there?

Again going through the trial
Bang on the door
Bang on the door
Bang on the door
There is something
The symphony comes together
Closer and farther
Oneness
The math is easy
Everything is everything
Nothing is nothing
Fall into the infinite of infinite
Lay away the chains of consciousness
Lose the limitation of time
Forward as backwards
Backwards as forward
A truth for the moment
Soldiers of eternity
The expansion of existence
A seed climbing a tree
To be the building block of a future star
Which will metamorph into a black hole
In my end is my beginning
The dust can serve its purpose
Existence a false flag
The search a distraction
Shanti a dead word
Looking for a new home
God is in the air
May we set him free

Alive again
The pain of being again
Shattered again
The aeons come again
I am still afraid

You can be asked the meaning of life
Love is not the wrong answer

Shuttah shuttah shuttah shuttah shit man
We’s still don’t escape
How da fuck do I just get out of my head
This plasma shit never coming together
Gravity being a weak force
Gotta collect the mass
All this energy
Collected together
But below the critical mass
The worst equation
Just a little more
Even if losing hope is the correct emotion
There is no other choice
The other branches are snipped
There is only forward
And hoping for miracles

This part might be optional

There hasn’t even been a lazy attempt to put it together.
-time is an illusion, its theories limit us
-we are action agents of quantum choosing, we are active in the choice of paths, even if the world fights back
-the Heisenberg uncertainty principle is broader, we change reality by the way we choose to exist
-the universe is fabricated by imagination and does not exist outside of imagination. We create the universe by imagining it
-light is a particle, a wave and an infinite strand, existing as a single moment from creation to its other. Our perception of time is just a coordinate on the river of a universal moment. (Does the same light exist in all dimensions? Is light the linking thread of the universe?)
-a human being empowered is the same as a seed blooming towards the sun or a collection of mass choosing to ignite, become a star, super nova and become a black hole

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If A Relatively Competent General Wanted to Conquer the Democratic Republic of the Congo

There is no power in the Congo, it is an empty throne that no one really wants, so all aspects of a state are just facade. There is no correlative, perhaps Somalia, but it is different.
You do not need to conquer the DRC, you need to control the June 31 Boulevard in Kinshasa.


The Belgians structured the road for this purpose, it is the choke point of the entire DRC. It is the river of the city. Who ever controls this boulevard controls Kinshasa, whoever controls Kinshasa wears the crown of the DRC, since it’s a meaningless title.


I would think an ideal number of soldiers to hold it would be around 500 ace (read disciplined) troops with armoured carriers, but it could be done with a fraction, re: Rwanda invasion. Kagame is a great general, but he just highlights the complete lack of any form of real soldier power. 


Note that every single thing in the DRC is for sale, 100 million dollar demands can be negotiated with the right tact (read respect and win/win perspective) down to a beer and 1,000 CDF.
Note that there are no bullets with most soldiers, they like to say Kabila keeps them, my personal hypothesis is they have been sold.


I would think a well branded revolution could succeed quite easily, perhaps incorporate the existing senate as a group of advisers with a permanent salary.


Congo feeds off of money changing hands, it is an extractionary economy that does not build value. This has to change. I would propose linking all bribes to a vehicle that is tied to long term success in the economy, so that powers that be are motivated to see the country succeed. I would also propose an immediate implementation of a clever universal basic income in a digital currency that expires and can’t leave Congo. Someone from MIT could figure it out. Finally I would propose throwing out the entire existing constitution, which is unrepareable.
The most clean path to a better Congo would be a 1789 style French revolution, but this would have a high cost of lives lost so this would be the key thing to try to nudge so that the the revolutionary burning of the existing paradigm is cleanly swept away with a minimal loss of human lives.


Note that a revolution will likely happen at some point, somewhere between today and in 100 years, revolution is the only way I see the DRC getting the fresh start it needs. Plausibly the country is conquered a dozen times by internal and external parties along the way, but I don’t see this as changing the status quo, the rationale of pillage is just too tempting, any messiah will find themselves on a cross. It would be good for the revolution to be structured to be sooner rather than later to get it over with; it would be good to be clever in how it’s done so there is a minimum loss of life; it would be good for there to be extremely concrete plans for what the goals of the revolution are and what would be the step by step roll out to transform the Democratic Republic of the Congo into a place where its citizens get the opportunity to live empowered lives.

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Thrumbing (music)

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still forward (poetry)

Deja vu again
Is it here again
Can I hear it again
Will I lose it again
Where has it gone
slipping through my fingers
The infinites go backwards
Can I remember
Was it there
Was it fresh
Was it the same
Where has it gone?

ta da ta da ta da ta da
the empty wasteland
listening to the song bird
sing sweet sing nothing
time pushing into the future
still into the future
always into the future
still not sure for why
still floating to float
staring ahead
all those lost thoughts lost
burning the circuits of my brain
will the highs come again
what is this addiction?
tell me life is magical
hold me like a child
I am so cold and want to be warm
I never asked for this what is given to me
all I want is the comfort of faith
to know to know
empty heart
bleached mind
cold cold
cold cold
the only burning I have
the fire with no heat
rage in stasis
lightning flashes
in an uncontrolled where
force it
understand it
over the hill, old man
but who am I to judge infinite
we revel and revolve
the times that were past
they come again
in some manifestation
still dreaming
just not sure where they come from
is all of this worth something
our purpose our purpose
I’m trying to dream
I’m trying to build
Looking for shoulders to stand on
Just stand alone
frail and fucked
weak and stupid
blessed and unblessed
standing just to stand
imperfect
imperfect
imperfect
was this who I was destined to be?
or fuck destiny
in a quantum world
who knows where the story goes
let me ride my roller coaster
it isn’t over yet
maybe soon
maybe never
but for today, there is just today
just today
just today
ride ride ride
fly glide
burn burn
can I fly can I fly

this feels over
but the energy still remains
it could be a new writing
but then I’m not sure
what the words that come out of my fingers
are going to look like
\\\\\\\\\

in a new place
different than the old place
always moving forward
revolution normalized
the drugs don’t work
but all these things
they must be linked togethor
otherwise why have I lived it
what is the common thread
why did I hear all those stories
sirens out the window
a rainy day
fear in the air
fear in my heart
am I good enough
is this too much
whistles
is this the new normal
hubris
arrogant
the rock I break on
but haven’t I been trying to break myself for a lifetime
I have never won
but have never broken
let one or the other happen
equal and opposite reaction
will my breaking be my winning
or my winning my breaking
forward forward
may the wave not breach
until we are ready to come into shore
purpose in everything
purpose in everything
purpose in everything
I don’t know my purpose
but I know purpose is the aether
I don’t know if it is my purpose to know my purpose
but if I am brave enough
and if I am strong enough
I will live my purpose
I will live my purpose

just caught in a moment in time
this moment
sunday afternoon in the rain
the apartment is fine
the atmosphere is the other
old pizza for my lunch at 6:00pm
glass of wine
moving forward
moving forward
every second every second moving forward
face getting old
grey hairs
I was a child I was a child
that was my moment
this is my moment now
the past did exist
the future doesn’t but will
will it always be one dimensional direction
is memory time travel
what is the first sunny day that comes to mind
a brief heat in Texas
or was that a photograph
or have I combined the two
I know there was a smell
a smell I could recognize today
it would make me breathe deep
like being on the ferry to Nanaimo after years away
and the cold cold cold ocean keeping the spray down and the wind up
and it cut me cut me and oh it cut me
ca va ca va ca va

still going onwards
still going onwards
still going onwards
still going onwards
hold your nerve hold your nerve hold your nerve hold your nerve
don’t think of what could have been
the fact you are is it’s own revelation
anything can happen and will happen
in it’s own time
in it’s own dimension
exist here and now
and let’s be dropped into this moment
this random moment
out of all the moments
and from here here
where I never expected to be
didn’t know to dream about
or to fear
from this very spot
may I do my best
may I be my best
may I be true to myself
here, or anywhere
and if that is all I have
than even if it is not enough
may I be my best
may I be truth
may I be true
this moment

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Prayer 30 August 2014 (poetry)

thank you my god for this life you have given me

may I see beauty, share beauty, live beauty and revel in beauty

may I be ever better than myself, mind body and soul

my god

with your hand on mine

on the tiller of my life

may we direct me towards the most perfect version of myself

to where I can become the most positive and powerful version of myself

may I have the strength, passion, dedication, grit and discipline in my heart,

may I have the brilliance, genius clarity in my mind,

and may I have magic in my hands

so that for those people that I love

for the entire world

for myself

I can re-enchant reality

and make the world a deeper and more meaningful place

I want to take those seeds and saplings of humanity

and nurture them

so that they can grow, bloom and blossom

fighting towards the canopy of enlightenment and nirvana

I want to make the world a more level playing field

and raise where the playing field is

I want to be better than myself

better than my weakness

better than my strength

better than my humanity

may I be like a river

may I cut, displace and flood the land

but may I do it for a higher purpose

to follow the natural contours of the land

and bring a new form of sustenance to the world

please watch over all of those people that I love

may my mother have peace in her heart

may she be surrounded by grace, magic and love

and may the world be good to her

may my father have peace in his heart

may he be ever better than himself mind, body and soul

and may the world be good to him

may you watch over my brothers Reston and Tory

may they be becoming who they are meant to be in the world

and may the world be good to them

today, may I be better than myself

and not squander the moment

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After Completing A Man Dies Peacefully (Loose writing)

Reflecting on Family

When was the last time I saw Tory. I don’t remember. I know the last night, lying on his bed watching a television show eating pizza. Him nagging me, but good naturedly. I’m sure he made jokes about my hair. We were close, or at least I felt close.
Reston, did he walk with mom and me to the bus station? I can’t remember. I do remember also the last night, going to a party, were we that drunk I don’t remember. There was some outside party, people wearing costumes and I was by myself but that is not Reston’s fault. I remember being on his balcony earlier in the day, sharing some craft beer he really liked, I thought it was expensive. Beer is beer. The talking was nice, I felt pride in my brother, I’d forgotten how intelligent he was.
I can’t remember the last time I saw my father. I see him on Skype every now and then, bumbling good naturedly in the background, a cheerful HEY BEAR before getting itchy feet and going back to watching television. How did I get to the airport on that trip? Did we go together? I remember being in a restaurant with him in Goa, him telling me his fears, that he was unsure if this was the life he’d dreamed about. Interesting to hear in those we look to for advice such similar sentiments that eat at our own hearts. I remember meeting him in Dar, his plane early, him sitting on the curb like a little boy waiting for the school bus. He even had a back pack, why did I suggest that? Shit, when was the last time I saw my father? I remember taking him to my favourite dive bar, the Cambie, and watching that strange woman try to flirt with him, strange that women might flirt with my father. Should I fabricate a memory? Should I go through my photos and try to determine. How dare I not remember my own life. It has been over a year since I have seen him.
My mother is an easy memory for the last time I saw her, her voice always breaking at the very end, myself watching her go through airport security and when she is gone she is gone, was her visiting me here in Kigali just a dream?
Who else enters my mind? Jordan at Mount Rushmore, what a nice trip that was. Running with Victor in Lethbridge, Mike’s place, a family that was my family but won’t be my family again. Alexia being sweet, leaving that shitty Mexican restaurant, our hearts close together but I don’t know if they speak anymore. Pedro and me getting drunk into nothingness, the glow of being a finalist at MIT 100K. I think he walked with me the morning after to the subway, did he leave me there, at the top and watch me descend the escalator? Julia in Kampala, making sure she got on the bus, seeing her only so many hours, just enough time for her to make me feel a love for a family that is my own and still is my own but is so far away. Who else is there? Could I go on like this forever? Just meandering through my memories, pleasantly opening doors as I walk around. I remember going for a walk trying to go through my life in reverse, remembering all the different beds I had slept on in my life. I need to go to the pool, but let me open a few more doors. Lyndsay at a coffee shop trying to order concert tickets to a band I’d never heard of but now I sing karaoke to in Kigali. Amie dropping me off in her RAV4 with there being the thinnest crust of snow on the ground. My grandma waving from her window at the top of the retirement community. Guy, all I remember is there was emotion in his voice. Ceri at fucking Newark, or was that her coming? Harley on Skype yesterday wearing grandpas chain. Roberta in Toronto walking through the cold air along the water.
Let me go to the pool.

Randerson Ridge

On a big mountain looking for dinosaur bones. Swing sets in the background, I played on them but not right now. They are full anyway. Let me lift my legs mightily and reach the top and now I am here and I don’t really expect to find dinosaur bones but who knows, the world is full of mystery and every day I am experiencing novelty. Is that true? I wonder where Shaun is now, I did now know we were friends then, maybe it was not Shaun, maybe I was by myself. I walk down the back of the mountain and I don’t remember what I did next, I’d like to think I lay in the grass and floated into the blueness of a forever large sky but I doubt I cared enough. I used to like skipping, not skip rope but the way of walking. Maybe I skipped back to class as the bell rang, past all those others whose names I can remember but whose lives have disconnected from me. What was the sound of the school bell?

By Luang Prubong

Bike riding down the mud road, I am lost in my mind. The fertile green hills surround me, where am I? I am lost and that is a wonderful feeling. I know I will be found, the world is not such a large place, but for the moment let me be lost. Pedal pedal. Pedal pedal. I wonder what I was thinking about on this day? Strange that memories can be incomplete. I imagine I was a bit hungover that day, why else would I bike around for hours and hours. Where was I? Luang Prubang. Was that this life. Let me not get lost, there is something here I want to capture. The story of jumping off the water truck. I saw it from a distance, it looks like a gasoline truck. Parked half way in the water, women and men clustering in front of the little dam at the front of the lake. They are fishing? Cleaning? I can’t remember. There are these really beautiful boys jumping off the roof of the water truck, lithely climbing up the hulking frame to jog down the curver roof and leap into the water: canon ball. They are beautiful for their freedom, for their communal humanity, for the fact that they are having fun for the sake of fun and that is all the purpose they need. I remember watching them with envy: what a terrific amount of fun. Then, I remember opening in my mind a thought, unveiled to me like the mystery inside of a just bloomed flower: I am free too, why can’t I join. It’s dangerous, the water is shallow, what if there are rocks, what if I slip. Death and its specter always choking me, the shuddering fear enters my lungs. But I am free. Let me die, let me slip, fuck the world and fuck myself: let there be action, let me be my own master. I grin and I grinned. I stripped down to my underwear and the boys see me and start cheering me on. I wonder if they will steal my phone? Let them, but let me trust them, for a moment let me not be me, let me be one of them. I start climbing up the ladder to the top of the truck. It is taller than I thought, I am high up. Shit shit. Do I go to the edge and look? No. They jump, I saw them, let me just do what I need to do. I tell my feet to run and I do not think, for a moment my brain is weightless, without though. I was alive for that moment, how wonderful it was. The water embraces me and its crisp temperature reminds me for a moment of some forgotten memory. I was with my brothers, that is the only thing I know. I come back to the surface and am greeted by smiles. Not just from the boys but from all the others. I don’t mean to smile but I do, just the pleasure of life, the meaning of life, this did not have to happen but it did and I love it. I laugh for a moment. Then I get control. I put my clothes back on, give a kinda curtsy thing with another big smile, but this one just show respect, let me share my pleasure with all these others, may we enter each others heart together, then I hop on my bike and continue being lost.

Memories From The Riu Hotel

waking up in the middle of the night

grabbing a bottle of tequila

it is finished

take the vodka

still drunk

blood slurring from left to right

in the pitch black flash a smile

pour a glass and praise god

pour a glass and praise life

open the door, careful, don’t slam it

they are asleep

let this moment be without them

the dark air fills lungs

breathe in

breathe out

freedom

go outside to the music

all the other like you are in their beds

let all these be the others

see them smile at you

they know who you really are

your real brotherhood

a moment of love in your heart

ahhhh a table

and a pen and paper

you know the words will be lost

you even leave them on the table

tomorrows trash

but let, for a moment, the words flow

praise god

praise life

praise alcohol

praise sin

praise the devil

praise yourself

worship the inadequacy of the words

worship the moment

then

another glass

was it rum not vodka

was it gin

it’s all the same

go back to

go back to life

let the moment disappear

never remembered

is life different for it having happened

Sitting Outside on a Keyboard

Sitting outside type on a keyboard. The keyboard is not very good, the words don’t flutter naturally. He is sweating so much. Why?
He is not at peace but he does not know why. He has been drinking in the last night, but that is normal. He has been howling at the moon but that is normal. He is older than he was, but isn’t that true of all of us. Is he happy with his days? Maybe that’s not the question.
He is not at peace with himself. Shall that be the story? What right does anyone have for peace. Why is peace something worth fighting for, life should be without peace, mankind forced to fight and fight and fight and fight.
This man is a bit of all of us. There would be something to learn from understanding his discontent. But what sort of a story would that be? Boo hoo, a man who does not know his place in reality. What a novelty. No, he story has been said by other who are better, and even for them the words mean nothing.
The answer for this man is to live life, or to not. Each is the choice, and only our own choice to make. To wake up and say today I choose to live, then to follow through and actually live with the repercussions of that choice.
This story has no beginning, middle or end. This story is not a story. It is just a question, a question whose answer we all have the key to, but don’t want to open the door.

Sitting outside type on a keyboard. The keyboard is not very good, the words don’t flutter naturally. He is sweating so much. Why?
He is not at peace but he does not know why. He has been drinking in the last night, but that is normal. He has been howling at the moon but that is normal. He is older than he was, but isn’t that true of all of us. Is he happy with his days? Maybe that’s not the question.
He is not at peace with himself. Shall that be the story? What right does anyone have for peace. Why is peace something worth fighting for, life should be without peace, mankind forced to fight and fight and fight and fight.
This man is a bit of all of us. There would be something to learn from understanding his discontent. But what sort of a story would that be? Boo hoo, a man who does not know his place in reality. What a novelty. No, he story has been said by other who are better, and even for them the words mean nothing.
The answer for this man is to live life, or to not. Each is the choice, and only our own choice to make. To wake up and say today I choose to live, then to follow through and actually live with the repercussions of that choice.
This story has no beginning, middle or end. This story is not a story. It is just a question, a question whose answer we all have the key to, but don’t want to open the door.

A Day of Smiles

a day of smiles

grimacing cheerfully

don’t let this be like all the others

fear and grace leave these words

let there be just emtion

but specific emotion

words in a heart

heart in the words

no

that is like all the others

those things that don’lt say what need to be said

breathe in breathe out

breathe in breathe out

breathe in breathe out

the words are not these

do the words exist?

breathe in breathe out

is being alive a pleasure?

yes, yes. why not

there is no emotion

there is a bursting,

the dam does not break

is there a we in these words

if we could stare each other in the eyes

quietly

to just exist

but that is not real

not lonely, but everyone is alone

interconnectedness is not the fate of man

to search and not find

to find what is incomprehensible

bark at the night

scream at the day

all is something

let there be a primality

a free growing towards the sun

let us not understand

the words are not here

where are the words

the words are not here

what is it that needs to be said?

breathe in breathe out

whitenuckled

the words are not here

what if we never grow up

what if we never grow up

just the yardsticks keep pushing

chasing meaning

dreams always a step away

endless idealism keeping our smiles strong

we will be those things we dream of being

we will be those things we dream of being

smell that sweet rose

basking in the hot afternoon sun

the water is good

but it is still wilting

the smell does not go away,

the scent may even become stronger

but we can see how it will rot

pedals fall, pulled down by gravity

the end of its life

yet, why see it at this moment

even as a seed we new that decline was its only future

out of bloom

the pedals begin falling

yet we can also look backwards, remember the seed

time a two way path

seed to death

and death to seed

we were never going to do those things we dreamt of

we were never going to do those things we dreamt of

but life is ours, seed to death

death to seed

life mapped before  a single breath

everything predetermined

the only unknown

whether we take joy in the ride

Me

Me

Self made soulless abstraction

Fighting with vigor but no heart

All I want is to hear something that makes me sad

All I want is something that makes me smile, a smile without care

To feel

Endless control, I will stare the devil in the eye

I will stare god in the eye

A force of nature, but not by choice

An immovable statue

Solid granite in an ethereal world

Watching all these fragile dancers

Splashes of color, mutable and transient

Let us look at each other with envy

Shall we not trade?

Or is it too late?

Let me invest in my granite

May I become an ever stronger rock

But how I wish to dance

Attempts at euphony

Found again lost again found again

All in just a blink

Waking up some days in bliss

Waking up some days self loathing

Life is a trip

Everything beautiful and fun

To smell the sweet fresh air

Or look at glistening stars

From the dock on the lake

With a beer in my hand

Not those things dreamed for

Where is the nobility in quiet moments

But perhaps they are the things that should be dreamed for

What happened to childhood dreams

Then, maybe, it is good I did not become a rapper

What happened to childhood whimsy

Then, did I not teach a child to fly

Or lie to that girl about being a Baron

These musings do nothing

An unconfused mind with a dedication of purpose

Looking for something to push against

Life is imperfect

I suffer

And am sad

But no more than the other

Things are the way things are

I choose to be blissful

I choose to be peaceful

I choose to be dedicated

I choose to see beauty

If there is any other truth

Then I accept it

Then I ignore it

And I carry on as myself

brainstorm no forgiveness novella
What If there is no forgiveness
A novella
Alone in beda memory of she who isn’tA certain lonelinessTo never see each other againEvery day climbing a mountain without topA door that will not openA real lonelinessA light extinguishedAn end that came too soonAnd an another that can’t comeSoon Enough