Survival of the fittest.. (a poem by Jack)

The universe is moving on without me and I can’t keep up…

Survival of the fittest…

Yet survival of lucrative ain’t leaving room for any other…

If Negro derived from Necro what does that mean..

I’m a dead man walking and survival is futile… Or perhaps I’m a spook.. A living ghost… Here to haunt you and remind you of a world that was and is perpetually dying off…

Boo!

I fear the most. The seeds of the earth aren’t being planted on fertile soil… They are falling to the wayside.. Being gathered up.. Social deconstructed… Genetically reengineered… Bearing the fruit of lies…

How can I keep up with this world… Money rules the actions of men.. If it doesn’t meet the bottom line it doesn’t so much matter..

Bottom line is I can’t keep up… Money plants seeds in the hearts of the chosen…

I was never chosen..

I sold my kidney so my family can eat… Ironic, my kidney isn’t fit enough to survive in me but in the body of the chosen it flourishes…

My body was sold to the lust of men.. Ironic… My body wasn’t fit enough to survive in peace it must be ravaged by the desires of the chosen…

I was slaughtered in a “drive-by”… My body wasn’t fit enough to live in peace yet my organs somehow found their way to black market..

The dark road to the chosen…

At least if I can’t pay the toll… With peace of mind…I can rest assured I can leverage the salt of the earth..

This universe is trying to help but the money is too fast… It’s keeping up with the money… And leaving me left in the irony…

The Fallen ( a poem/tale by Jack)

I was there when the Great City crumbled… We weren’t prepared.. All we knew was peace… And grace…

But we were attacked with unprecedented ferocity.. Creatures not of this place…thoughts foreign to this realm invaded our souls…

We crumbled.. Capitulated.. Cowered in fear of out demise.. Fire.. Hail…chaos… Tornados… Tsunamis..

Seared by the white hot…

We scattered in confusion.. Reducing ourselves to the least threatening appearance…

Carefully tucking our minds within our souls… Not to give trace to the Trackers…

Hiding amongst the animals of the earth… In a garden perhaps… Impervious…Graced with the guardians protection…

For ions…

Until one day… the bearer of light exposed us to who we once were..

This lil light of mine…

From under his protection we were casted..

Searching and scouring… Just to ignite that light once again….

Then the sons of gods found pleasant the daughters of men…

Kidnapped to caves… Concocting means of abominable reproduction… Creating atrocity after atrocity.. Until man was created in their image…

To watch.. To rule… To insure chaos..

As we speak.. I’m in a Cadillac spaceship…

Cruising the Cosmos… Outside of time… Just watching as it all unfolds..

Who am I to intervene upon what fate has made solid… I’m objective to the story until the story becomes my own…

And now I, like you, am trying to piece it all together.. I, like you, am trying to rebuild the great city…

But I know no architect.. I have no floor plan.. I am no master mason.. So where do I begin…

It’s so much easier to destroy than to build… The only remnants I have of the fallen city… Is a scorched earth and a forsaken moon…

But this lil light of mine.. I’m gonna let it shine..

Let it shine… Let it shine…

Fearless… And uninhibited… Until the Great City is built anew…

And the children of the indigo will make bright… The lights of us all…

Sticks and Stones… But words will never.. (A blog about the parasitic function of Language)

Language: what is its true purpose? Is it a symbol of man’s progression or the ultimate reason for man’s stagnation?

The following commentary is a reflection upon a statement I heard during a lecture– regarding English as being a bastardized and duplicitous language.

This blog is also a reflection upon a 1970’s article exploring mush mouth and jive talk and why it is a necessity and of importance to the English language.

The evil of language…

I will begin with a powerful allegory that believe to be true in so many ways. The Biblical story of the “Tower of Babel”. If you’re not familiar with it, it involves the Golden era of humanity. The people of earth were in harmony with each other so much so that they developed and enacted a plan to build a physical structure that would reach the heavens. God I’m his anger and insecurity both destroyed the physical construction and confused the people by giving the people different languages.

This story,whether you hold it true or not, speaks volumes on many levels. It’s implications are profound and I will touch on a few here.

I must set a few precepts. I stand on my philosophical conviction that we are a de-evolved species. As is my belief we were once androgynous beings who communicated without the use of language. As such, the Book of Genesis within the bible hints at man’s androgyny with its dual creation stories. As woman was separated from man… Implying they were once one… But that is for another Blog… This blog’s concern is the nefarious nature of language and the function it provides within a socially engaged community.

Above we have story– a myth of the “Tower of Babel” which I categorize as an allegory of some type. In a way it transcends allegorical function in my mind. The primary focus is the fact that we have man on one accord. This implies that there was peace throughout all of humanity, because you can not built in times of tension or stress because you are focused on defense and paranoia. You have man in such harmony that they intended on taking their “humanity” to the level of “God”.

And how is this done?

By creating a “physical structure” that will allow them to attain that which is of “God”– “Reach the realm of the Heavens”. Now, the Bible would allude that this physical structure was a physical manifestation of Brick and Mortar… But I would ascertain that the physical structure was of the human form and body–as above so below. I’d argue that man was so in-tuned with the collective consciousness of each other that they were quickly rebuilding themselves and ascending both physically and mentally to a higher level of humanity. So much so that they garnered the attention of “God” himself– and I say himself loosely. Because the text says let “us” go down and confuse them.

What was “God’s” response.

That of jealousy, rage, and fear. He decided to destroy the tower, and confuse the minds of men– only leaving them with scattered languages to communicate with themselves. The implications of this is quite prolific. Here you have an “omnipotent” being feeling vulnerable. He felt threatened as though he could in a sense be surpassed by man. His best defense is to crumble the physical structure that man has created and destroy the mental, psychological and psychic solidarity that man created– as above so below.

I believe this was done by first creating a schism in the minds of men; followed by creating a schism in the bodies of men– no longer united we have both man and woman.

Yet I digress because this blog is about the duplicitous nature of language and it’s undermining of men’s social interaction. The barrier of language keeps men grounded and in a barbaric state of being– communicating on the most fundamental level. Even grunts posses more soul than a monotoned string of syllables.

This conviction provides the precepts for this Blog…

Language is the undoing of man. Language has single-handedly provided the tool that has led to the destruction of man’s cohesiveness. The function and nature of language allows for so much room for error and manipulation. Language extracts an idea or image or symbol from a source, transfigured that into words, and those words are then interpreted by a subjective source– and a meaning is contrived from this interpretation. If you have ever participated in the childhood game of “telephone” you have an inclination as to how easily things get muddied in translation.

Language is often the basis for class distinction. If you are perceived to speak with a certain drawl or slang you are automatically put with a social paradigm. A box that may or not be accurate, although some willing place themselves with this box by choosing to speak and act a certain way.

And then you have the nuance of dialogue–in which some innately seem to transcend language. They choose not to be restricted by the chains and rigid structure of language and they tend to take language to the next level. They do this subconsciously without even knowing– they begin speaking in slang creating their own vernacular. They begin to remove syllables and shift around syntax and generally accepted grammatical notions. They begin to speak with feeling, often slurring words or placing emphasis on tones and inflections. Essentially grabbing hold of the language and using it as their own tool. And this too is frowned upon by those higher on the social ladder of society because they can’t understand. They fear the slang, they fear the code talk because you can’t control what you don’t understand. But either way you splice it–that is but another rift created between men.

Ideas are transported between men. Ideas are limited to the language that describes them. Essentially if a word doesn’t exist describe a notion the notion can not exist. Language so much defines our reality– it restricts and binds the minds of men. Often keeping men within stereotypes and predictable roles.

And that’s just tip of the ice burg because then you have the written word. The written word has tribes all unto itself as well. You have scientific language, which differs from computer tech language, which differs from liturgical language, which differs from legislative language, which differs from ecclesiastical language yet all these different branches are supposed to work together somehow. And come together to work for humanities benefit.

Perhaps I will delve deeper into the discussion of language in another blog.

But I’ll leave you with this. Who stands to benefit from the division of men?

Who is the master of the tongue? If you control the words that are placed in people’s minds…. Do you also control the actions that are a result of those ideas?

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Twinkle… A lies radiance.. (a poem by Jack)

My greatest love is yet but an instrument of the devil…

Projectile vomiting a plane coercively laid out to precision..

The book of life wasn’t written by men.. But it’s words are reverberated by men.. Twisting tales to suit the desires of the storyteller…

Who tells my story but me.. It’s clear for any to read.. It’s there in plain sight… Word for word..

And yet, I still am illiterate to it’s doctrines and stimagtisms..

And my poet laureate is the whore of Babylon… I’m to trust the words.. written and passed down from generation to generation.. To be translated and orally dictated to me by a whore?

The whore of a fuckin whores..

And I believe her… Because I’m infatuated.. Not in love but in love with the thought of being in love..

And through the pale moonlight… My sins are addressed… Made evident.. And thrown in my face… These sins aren’t my story just a mere footnote..

These sins never defined me.. But let the whore tell it…

Her sweet lies, I’ve grown fond of…
As a Siren…I’m transformed… Her melodious references are constantly hypnotizing and reinforcing what I ain’t but what I should be… Such a splendid melody…

Death by desire…

Reengineer my soul while you’ll at it.. You’ve already disfigured my body.. Encroached on my birth rite..

Yet despite the lies… My story will one day rewrite itself…
DNA plastered upon the surface of the galaxy… Words.. Whispering.. Through the stardust…

My story will verberate through the twinkling of the stars…

Is the key to a successful business Luck? (a blog about business)

Is the key to a successful business Luck?

The process and concept of a successful business has always fascinated me. In fact, I graduated from a business college and often wondered why the people teaching me didn’t have successful businesses. I mean they seem to have all the steps laid out, all the analytics, all the matrices, every ingredient it takes to develop a successful business.

Why don’t they have successful businesses?

I believe there is a determining element that is not so much measured quantitatively but animates the life blood of a business and accounts for its success.

Aside from a product who has an insatiable, un-replaceable demand what allows a business to thrive? Aside from the expertise, creativity, savvy, and necessary talent or product what gives a business the sustainable momentum to reach success?

I’d argue that the most important factor of business is luck.

Yes, luck!

I know, this may seem an unconventional approach to the topic but it rings true. No one wants to hear that they can’t control the destiny of their actions. You want to believe that some how your business savvy and “unique” approach will set you apart from all the competitors. Fate has no hand in making me, I make me! But how true is that? Inspiration without a series of fortunate events strung together is dead works.

How would I define luck?

I would not consider it a spontaneous act that just happens serendipitously and bam you have a successful business. I’d argue that it is a series of serendipitous acts that are strung together by the savvy, determination, and wherewithal of a driving force: a passionate master mind. You have to have the sustainability and passion to bring “luck” your way. You as a business entrepreneur have to create an exposure so that “luck” has the opportunity to find you over and over again. So that your business can eclipse plateau after plateau and continue to grow until it reaches the graces of success.

It’s easy to look towards hindsight as to why a business was successful. Provide a commentary as to what worked and what didn’t work, I mean you already have all of the facts and how they played out. But could you predict the success of a startup business? And could you use your acumen to make it a success?

Truth is, there is no formula. There is no specific standard to follow that will bring you success, but there are means to bring about “luck.”

Luck has a very distinct taste and is attracted to a specific character of an individual or corporate identity.

MARKETING is the greatest tool to attract this “luck”, people need to see and relate to your vision. If your vision can not be transplanted in their mind there is no means for a customer/investor to gravitate towards the product. This requires accessibility to your product as well as some type of intrinsic connection to your product. Your product has to spark something that its competitors do not.

THOROUGH PLANNING: this allows for the momentum of the business to flow freely. It allows for a clear cut vision to be fastened in the mind of those driving the business. And despite the pitfalls that may arise you will have a foundation to stand firm on and revamp if necessary– a rock of salvation if you will. Planning allows for sustainability through the chaos and hopeless lulls.

PASSION: I believe this is the strongest tool that one can use to attract “luck”. It takes great passion and courage to start a business. There are so many variables that one can never be truly sure of themselves. There are so many inevitable setbacks that can discourage and break the weak willed. Passion helps others relate to your vision. Passion helps you to stay loyal to your vision. Passion drives others to support your vision and gives them reason to hear your story. People love a product that the producer is passionate over. Through the process of climbing towards success, passion will be the counter force to gravity, elevating your will and spirits every step of the way, allowing others to believe in you.

And lastly you actually have to have a good product. You can’t put the cart before the horse. Without having a product or service worth while or useful no one will even give you the time of day. You have to have a demographic to which you are targeting. If you have nobody in mind then nobody will have you or your service in mind.

Of course there are many other factors that help bring a business to success and keep it there. Each business is unique whether it be service driven or product driven, but I believe the above principles hold true on any scale of business. They are the foundational pieces that will bring forth all the luck you need to get your business going.

And if you feel passionate about starting a business of any kind, I will advise you go do it! You will learn many lessons along the way, you will build many relationships along the way, you can be a galvanizing force to the community of people you serve. When done correctly a business brings positivity to all it effects. And of course the converse holds true as well, which is cause of many if the worlds ills. That’s another subject for another blog for another day, but be encouraged and may luck be with you.

Holographic Sincerity (a poem by Jack)

I traversed on a plane of holographic ubiquity…

I was swallowed by the shallow..

I saw much… Beyond what a man ought to see…

Too much to process in one instance so time became a blur…

It sped by so swift.. I could make out the remnants of pain and protoplasm.. Succulence and serendipity… Salvation and the transfiguration of Elijah…

By the rod of Moses I penetrated reality… Slithering through souls as though avoiding innocent by standers..

Swallowing the would-be-creations of charlatans: a holographic illusion of the original..
Survival of the fittest holds true… At least in this instance it does…

Blond hair, blue eyes…

Can I reminisce.. When it was oh so intricate but the intricacy made life so pleasant.. More harmonious.. Now life’s simplicity creates so many complications..

It’s like time doesn’t travel fast enough… My third eye is glued wide shut.. Stuck in never land..

Bronze heart… Embolden spirit…

Delivered my mind and the rest was soon to follow… By the word of creation… The sonic vibe of a Big Bang… I’m free… Free from myself to express myself however I see fit…

And as I maneuver through ubiquitous terrain… I see all things are made possible because all possibilities existed and continue to do so…

From hologram to reality to back…

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Never Land (a poem by Jack)

Unfortunate…

I’ve become a victim of habits.. Cursed by the monotony of my own mundane creation..

Tell me… When you see us… Who do you think we are?

A product of form, habit and function.. If so the future is bleak… And if we were to believe you.. The future is dire…

It means we are lost in never-land… Not never never land because that would be an impossible oxymoron..

But never land.. The land where the cursed exchange free will for the possibility of happenstance… A place where there is no dark… Because there is nothing hidden.. Nothing is of your own…

All that was hidden is willingly given away…

Never land… A place of inexistence.. Where lack of existence is so prevalent it becomes the norm…

A place where there are no victims only numbers.. Numbers go on for ever… They pave the road of never land.. Death in numbers.. Disbursement in numbers…greed by numbers.. Nameless infinite numbers that harbor no feelings just gluttony and hypersexuality(numbers love to reproduce)….

No one leaves never land…

Why would they?

You can die over and over and still feel the same..

Besides you couldn’t escape if you wanted to…

This is of our creation.. The heaven of our hell is the hell of our heaven..

Welcome to never land.. Where each day is as innocuously delightful as the next..

The happiest state of mind you will ever know…because the ending is as the beginning…

And we all know how it will end…

How unfortunate…

Hourglass of men….(a poem by Jack)

As the sands of time trickle… My fate is dispersed one grain at a time….

Black sand and rose gold…

I’ve been a god since inception…

I will remain a god through this false assimilation…

And erroneous indoctrination

I’m just not in touch with the world anymore… It both saddens me and worries me…

I watch as granule after granule slowly falls… Human emotion bottled up.. Looking for an excuse to explode… Destroying and ravaging body after body… Soul after soul… Mind after mind…

Atop Mt Olympus I look down in be-wonderment… Is this who I am to live among… Is this what I have created myself to be…

I’m out of touch with reality and reality doesn’t even so much care as to embrace me…

It just keeps on going with the sands of time.. It’s destination unknown… It just keeps picking up souls along the way.. A bandwagon full of wayward souls.. Led astray… Just along for the ride…

To who knows where..

For who knows what..

Til time runs out and reality leaves them behind…

And they are gathered together in a cesspool… An amalgamation of man and man’s image: the manifestation of confusion and artificiality’s love child.

From dust they were not wholly formed
yet from dust they shall utterly return..

One granule at a time…

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Dreams… More reality than reality?

Dreams…

Serve many purposes…

The nature of dreams has always been an enigma to man. Some chalk them up to a vivid imagination and nothing more. Others say that they are a means for the subconscious mind to bring to consciousness any number of deep seeded issues. Still, others find it as a means of premonition– efforts of the universe to communicate some ground breaking idea or vital piece of information.

I find dreams very helpful, and have probably used them in all three of the above facets. Once I became fascinated with my dreams I would write everything that I remembered about them upon awakening. I still attempt to do this but not as frequently. I’ve learned much about myself through dreams. My fears… And what would push me to overcome them. I’ve been myself in dreams, omniscient narrator in dreams, I’ve even been other people of other races of other time periods…I’ve been in the future–the past. I’ve died–I’ve killed. I’ve received story ideas via dreams.

I’ve had a wide range of dreams, but one sticks out in particular. I will recount here:

I originally had this dream back in December of 2012.  I’ve attempted to analyze this dream on many occasions and have drawn inferences.  It has  revealed truths to me on a variety of levels.  The dream was very vivid and impressionable. In fact, it is impressed upon my psyche until this day.

It is as follows:

We are in the middle of a desert, my father and I.  It isn’t a sandy desert, but a barren, dry desert with nothing surrounding us.  There isn’t anything near us with the exception of a tool shed like structure. I remember my father having plenty of keys. I don’t remember if the sky was moon lit or the sun was beginning to set, but there was limited light outside.

My father unlocked the door to the shed and I followed him in. As I walked into the small shed something to the left immediately caught my eye.  On the left side of the shed there was a cabinet fastened to the wall and it covered the entire wall.  It was a cabinet that was not encased with glass but with a metal mesh, it too had a lock placed upon it.

My father allowed me to look at the cabinet and study what was inside.

The cabinet housed a variety of figurines.  All of which were dark and demonic in nature.  No two were alike. They were each very small and frightening but they were not figurines.  I could tell that they were very much alive, just deactivated, dormant, or sleep in a sense.  I could feel the energy from these little specimen and I experienced a small rush of fear but became relieved because they were locked behind this mesh.

My father then grasp the keys in his hands as though he were implying a transference of power.  As though he were the guardian of these demons and I have come of age to take on the responsibility.  He then ask “Am I ready to take care of it?” I know that I didn’t respond immediately and I didn’t respond with a whole lot of confidence.  I acquiesced and I remember him asking me several more times as though reiterating the pertinence of the matter.  He then hands me a contract and I sign it not fully aware of the complexity of the situation.  It felt like something I was supposed to do. From there the dream sort of fades out and I don’t remember much.

I wrote down my immediate thoughts upon awakening from the dream. They aren’t so much coherent but are as follows:

God of Old==>Father.

Leads to Shed==> Helter Skelter==> Subconscious

In the Shed==>Figurines==>Demons==> Tools of the Old==> Warriors==> Killers

God of Israel==> Fallen God==> Power no longer what it was==> reduced to mortal means==> For me to control Legion==>What does this mean?==> Crazy Man==> Who am I?

So what does one do if the Devil asked him to look after his legion==> The power to become Devil/God lies in your hands==> It is a matter of perception…

Angel of Death==> Delivers destruction regardless of circumstance==>Despite who sends him –same result. So who you are is not a matter of title or action more so perception.

I do have to say.  When I awoke from the dream, I felt extremely empowered and privileged.

———-

That dream occurred a little over two years ago. I reflect back on it from time to time because the dream was so poignant.  It left a lasting impression and my more recent thoughts are as follows:

I found it quite interesting the symbolism regarding the transference of power and what power actual is.  The power wasn’t so much in releasing the destructive force but in restraining the destructive force.  I found that concept extremely revealing.  The act of restraint is a God like act in itself.  Another concept that I noticed is that once the destructive force is released, there is no viable way of reharnessing the destruction. Although I had the means of releasing the destruction I had no means of controlling the chaos or result of the chaos once it was released.  And the fact that I experienced some fear implies that I wouldn’t necessarily be impervious to its harm.

It provided the perfect duality of man–both God/Satan rest in the matter of choice.

The dream spoke to me on many levels and above are the levels that I am comfortable sharing with the public.  The other messages I will keep to myself.

Thank you for taking the time to read the post.  Any thoughts are more than welcomed. I’ve used my dreams for many means, including a source of inspiration for story concepts as well as poetry and more.

 

Justifiable Atrocity (a poem by Jack)

How do you cure a justifiable atrocity…

How can I shed tears for a self inflicted wound…

A wound that gave my soul life but by the cost of another…

I said sorry but I’m not sorry..

I feel sorry but I’m not sorry…

Your tears minus well be mine… I feel everything you do… Only difference is masochism…

The pain grants me joy… And her smile makes my heart smile.. But that’s only incidental…

It was all so simple… There was an us… And I hated myself for it… So I redefined myself… And hate myself all the same.. But now I have hope..

Hope because your suffering is proof love does exist… And the callus around my heart is proof evil don’t… No evil… Just the infliction of misery from one man to another… Reciprocated and refracted like light bouncing off a mirror…

So can you see my mistake.. Does the light of my truth reflect as honesty or refracted as just another half truth… Just another lie looking to justify my actions…

A man can rationalize just about anything… It’s what separates us from the animals…

And that’s how I justify curing such an atrocity…

Forgive me… For all beauty finds its derivatives in destructive means…

Let that beauty fulfill itself and renew our souls..

And one day… You too will justify my atrocity….

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