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Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Remembering my WW II girl in the French chateau




What an interesting moment. So much rushes in at once and I am aware of it all. Sorting through it seems challenging. The glow of the laptop fades into the darkness of the room and comes in contact with the dog that is pacing and looking for a loving hand to make contact with. The muted “chink” of her tags dance with the heartbeat of the clock, hidden somewhere in the dark; each trying to set a rhythm for a moment in time. From somewhere in the stillness of the deep outside, a rumble and then scream echo through the night as a train passes in the distance.

As all of these sensations steal through the night and try to find purchase in my consciousness, all I can think of is my beautiful little girl singing in that quaint little chateau in the hills of France. Will I ever see her again? Or will I be tormented to a lifetime of trying to remember her face in that smoke filled room so many years ago. The way the wisps of blue/white caressed her as she swayed to the music. The sound of her voice as it reached across out and embraced my heart. The conversations of all other lovers lost to time. We rewrote the tome of love without saying a word that night. I touched her heart with just a gaze. She possessed me without touch.

Tonight I sit alone and try to bring the beauty of the past alive by breathing life into this memory and giving it blood through the ink of my pen. As the incessant ticking continues, the dog has settled on the cool hallway floor. A second and third train has clamored through the peripheral of my dream. As my thoughts wind down and I prepare to set the ink aside for the evening, I wonder if I am a fool for entertaining the apparition of a memory halfway around the world. I think not. I will warm up the turntable and play our song as I drift off to meet her in my dreams. A dance, a kiss, and another page we shall write. I am on my way, my love…

© Oct 31, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Uncivilizing the mission

Since the dawn of time, mankind has been driven by sex and violence. History has proven this, via manuscript and word of mouth, time and again. After thousands of years, a few individuals got together to speak for the enlightened ones. They
had an idea to suppress sex and violence with a new mental tactic called commerce. The “civilizing mission” was now underway. The strong saw this as a threat, but could not stop its momentum. They joined the parade, but were scheming all the while, and eventually realized that even the strongest of mankind could be seduced and shackled with minimal effort; sex and violence. They called themselves "The Elite." Slowly they crippled the intoleration of perversion and violence by painting a pretty face on it and selling it back to the public as “someone else’s crime. Hollywood flourished. The twisted and corrupt realized that mankind’s dark side could be stirred with a little “innocent” thinking. While they sat at the bank and counted the monies they has manipulates out of the hard working family, we sat at home thinking, “If I watch someone else commit adultery or murder, it is not a crime.” Society failed to realize that the self proclaimed rulers were actually setting society up for its greatest fall; the failure of spirituality. The government outlawed sex and violence, yet sold it at 100 times fair market value via the silver screen. This created a system of “do what I say, not what I do.” The corrupt knew it would eventually filter into the blood of mankind and return our bloodlust. Now commerce revolves around sex and violence, and the once fair act of trade became a vile creature called greed. We slept with the enemy and contracted their disease. But the quiet that have been observing for years, are now realizing that a new “awakening” period is needed. The darkness must be dispelled. The spiritual are now seeded and growing. We are entering a new period. The Reawakening Era is upon us. We must fight as never before. Not a violent fight, but on of intellect and spirit. We will win. Perhaps not in this lifetime, but we can begin the battle for the sake of our children and their children. Even the mighty lion falls to an army of ants. It has begun…
 
© Oct 30, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Saturday, October 27, 2012

THE MADNESS OF GENIUS - The Individual (excerpt from chapter 3)



Life itself is the course in which one learns to develop many things, to include: free thinking, beliefs, hope, and awe. As one grows, darkness teaches the individual to form a shell around one’s innocence. The haze of corruption condoned by modern practices is often recognized by the genius within the madness; and in the process of self-preservation, this armor is regularly extended around the heart, minds, and spirits. The individual then becomes an automaton; believing everything the media serves and bowing before those that script the insanity. Free thinking becomes redirected into the arena of current secular ideologies; the individual learns to become a sheep and follow the flock over the cliff of conformity or face possible ostracization into oblivion.

Magic was alive and well in childhood, not just within this generation or the last. In fact, magic has been around since the beginning of time. When anything that seems impossible occurs, it is magic. When something makes the individual feel that incredible lightness of being, that is magic. Childhood was filled with moments of such awe. Watching a caterpillar cocoon and become a flying masterpiece of beauty was magic. Looking up into the sky as a meteor shower set the night on fire, that was magic. Seeing every other child as an equal; no matter their color, religion, height, weight, or any noticeable difference was magic. Diversity was awesome. As the controlling factions realized that hope and magic was still burning in the hearts of many, they decided to market them with the idea that the majority would rather pay for government allotted magic and hope in the stead of fighting for self induced freedoms. The peoples took the bait.

Then secular ideologies of dominance and control yoked and enslaved the spirit to the ideas that dream were just dreams. Wrong. Dreams have power. Belief has power. Faith has power. Individuality has the power. One must forget before one can remember. There it is, the word the rulers resent: ONE. Think for the singularity within. Only the self knows what is good for the great expanse within the soul of the corporeal being it is bonded with. The government has stripped the masses of individuality and hung the golden harness of self deprecation around the necks of society, which is taken with modesty and carried with pride under the illusion that the powers that be are generous and do no harm to those that carry the world upon their shoulders.

Alongside the falsification that thinking for oneself is a crime, society has also been led to believe that any deviation from said “normal,” is an aberration and needs to medicate. Whether it is self induce via alcohol or illegal drugs, or prescribed medication; the masses line up in groves to feed this addiction created by the government to control the individual. Illegal drugs are made available, with a shroud of mystery surrounding the alleged “war on drugs.” This creates a steady supply of criminals, addicts, fear, and the supposition of more law enforcement. Thus, more control and less freedom.

Society is afraid to dream for itself. It now visits the local seller of dreams, and offers hard earned monies to pay for preconceived notions of fantasy created in a factory. Imagination has been left at the gallows.

© Oct 27, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Happy Anniversary...me...


Today marks an interesting day for me. Fifteen year ago was the happiest day of my life. I gazed into the eyes of another human and swore, before our Creator, to love them until death. I meant it, she did not. Ten years ago, she destroyed physical trust; four years ago she assassinated mental trust. The lies hurt me more than her promiscuity. For the last few years I have wondered what love really
consists of; truth, trust, intimacy, physical contact, etc. I have screamed it at the Heavens, WTFlip is love? Ahahaha, I actually waited for a response. Got none. I have come to realize that as humans, we are exactly as we are supposed to be. Creation is perfect. No mistakes. So, forgiveness is the key. Not forgetting. That is why we keep making the same mistake. It is said that history repeats itself, and that is because we never learned from our mistakes. Although, are there really mistakes? Since all is perfect, and destiny awaits…Hmmmm, a paradox. Is a mistake a mistake or is it the mistaken identity of perfection in action? As a mortal soul, I miss my mate; as an immortal, I am happy where I am with my new found future. I would know none of you and never have started writing. I would be shackled in a dead end secular ideology, and bored beyond tears. Cheers to memories and new beginnings…

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

THE MADNESS OF GENIUS - The Government (excerpt from chapter 2)


 Plato’s words ring true, "Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed, by the masses."  Those that use the “quieted” part of the mind are considered outlaws and rebels; dangerous if you will, by the government. Unless you offer these services to the powers that be, you are marked for life. Any government wants full control of a mind that reaches beyond the allowed education. As the church once limited knowledge of the “Word of God” to the clergy, the governments of today’s world allow limited knowledge to be piecemealed out to society. If one bows and accepts the tack and harness of control, one is given a certain length of rope with which they eventually hang themselves.
Control of knowledge has always been the rules to the game of social division and enslavement. If only given a fish when hungry, one never learns to fish. To end the cycle of dependency, the producer stops supplying and the receiver eventually starves. This is the current state of affairs in the public education system. Instead of allowing the genius to move forward at an accelerated rate, they are now hobbled with those less interested in academics and more in tune with dreaming. And to complete the tail biting, the dreamers are forced to learn academics which alter their perception of their realities; hence a paradox infinity. The madness of genius becomes confused and out of control under the thumb of self-proclaimed rulers of the world. A group that created a false sense of ruler-ship by drafting monies and forcing a system of commerce upon the world is now taking individuality and selling it back to the individual at an extraordinarily exponential increase. But the genius of madness is beginning to awaken and realize the mental fetters and chains are being tightened and soon will become crushing and debilitating.  We want out and we will use or madness and genius to extrapolate a plan of escape.

© Oct 13, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Monday, October 22, 2012

It’s not what you took; it’s what you left behind…



Our castle was strong,
but will never stand as long as the memory of you.
Our carriage was swift,
but not as elegant as your arrival into my heart.
Our coffers were full,
but no where near the completeness you offered.
Our love was a faerie tale,
and you chose to turn it to rust.

The castle, carriage, gold, and love
Will all be forgotten as they turn to dust one day…
But the mem’ries you left behind
Will haunt me the rest of my life, night and day…

Our son, a prince, has lost his throne…
The king disenchanted, so far from home…
The queen rules with ice in her veins…
It’s not what she took; it’s what she left behind...


© Sept 23, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Today's lesson in writing

Today is Sunday. Sol-day. Soul-day. A day to reflect on the core of existence. So, I thought we could practice our ability to immerse ourselves into being. Sit back a moment and feel "life." Not just the chance of "existing," but feel your heart beating, lungs breathing, blood flowing, brain working. Experience you for a moment. Forget the world. Close your eyes for a few moments and open your soul.
I am guessing we all have reopened our eyes. Onward...today we shall begin our journey into "becoming." We will allow ourselves to exist as something else. We will experience life as something other than ourselves. It will enhance our abilities to describe creation and existence as we write. Are you ready?
I will explain the exercise and then you practice at your leisure. Read the entire exercise before you close your eyes.
EXERCISE 1: Pick something your wish to know more about; a bird, a tree, a rock. Look at it. Study it's aesthetics. Watch it exist for a while. Now, close your eyes. Find and feel it's perimeter. Confine yourself to that space. Discover the heartbeat and breathing of this subject. If it has none, feel it's density.
For the rest of this exercise; I will work it as a bird, to give you an idea of how it is done.
Move you shoulders a bit and feel the wings on your back. Relax and know that flying is as effortless to a bird as walking is for humans. Feel the breeze blow and let yourself rise upon the currents.  The wind that carries you is warm  and relaxing. All of your human worries are gone. As you drop the weight of mortal worried, you rise higher and higher. Soon you can feel the breeze caressing your entire body. You are moving thru the sky with ease. You can see for miles and miles. Peacefulness settles in as you soar above mortality. Fly as long as you like.
Just remember to occasionally flap your wings (shoulders) and feel the etherealness of being something other than human. Appreciate the essence of "being." No other life form has this capability...

NOTE: You can implement the atmosphere with a fan, audio of wind and birds, floral aromas, etc...anything to assist in your transformation....

Saturday, October 20, 2012

THE MADNESS OF GENIUS - The Artist (excerpt from chapter 1)



Being all and being nothing. The madness of being an artist is fleeting from one emotion to another at a moment’s notice. There are times when I feel I am dancing in an elaborate ballroom full of eloquently dress emotions. Each is present; as are variations of all, to include morphs. Sometimes, I find a harmonic balance and fall into step with my emotional partner; I am tapped on the shoulder by a beauty in a different flowing dress. Other times, I get to waltz the entire evening with one elegant apparition. Each spirit brings with it a new and defining quality. The longer we dance, the deeper the understanding.
I have conveyed this to a few individuals and they claim me to have no soul. No soul? I believe it to be quite the contrary; not only do I possess a soul, I have complete unadulterated control of it.
Ships must have a destination. As well as absolute control and balance, they must also maintain a readiness for unknown squalls. That is precisely the ideology to which I assign myself. Some claim it a “no spin zone,” but I believe it is. Each emotion draws you in and tries to keep you anchored in its waters. One must remain vigilant at all times and be ready to raise sails and escape the lovely song of the resident siren. Enchanting is the sad song of lost love or the promise of hope on the horizon. Intoxicating is the melody that compliments a love that lasts forever. Without awareness, one easily gets lost and pulled under.
The members of the field of psychology in which I have conversed with in this matter have called me insane. They wanted to medicate me due to the lack of willingness to give control of my “gift” to the powers that be. Some have tried to lure me into their science of lies and deceit, while others attack with their redirected resentment and vocabulary of psychobabble BS. They have fallen prey to self imposed importance and are controlled by the mindless fools that sit upon their throne of righteousness and point fingers at the world. I refuse to play the blame game. We are each capable and responsible for our actions. Blaming others is cowardice. As a child, you hunted for the hidden Easter egg made of chocolate, now it is time to hunt for that golden egg of “self,” and see how beautiful you are.
For years, I fought the “voices” in my head. I listened to others tell me how out of tune I was with the world. How “mad” I was. Other claimed me a genius. How was I completing homework in class and way ahead of everyone else, if I was crazy? How was it possible to be a genius when I could not control the cascading flow of thoughts in my head? Focus was near impossible. I could not comprehend why the labels of madness and genius were both placed on me. I began to study Aristotle, Plato, Brahe, DaVinci, Mozart, Beethoven, Tesla, and many other great minds from the past. I also read up on psychology and found many things of interest. In today’s world, most of the great thinkers of the past would be diagnosed with some form of mental aberration and placed on a mood stabilizer or anti-depressant. That would hinder and stop their genius. It is a sad fact that if the government is not allowed full access and control of “genius,” it seeks to destroy it. It is difficult for those whom have forgotten the power of acceptance and complete surrender to the spirit to understand the abilities of calmness they offer. Having inkwells for each emotion and knowing how much to write about each is mandatory for controlling the elements. If you set aside the quill too long, or delve too deeply into one miasma, you might never regain control of this gift. Losing touch with creativity allows others to have power over you. You are not crazy for believing in magic. Magic is the pure awe of believing something until it happens. Knowing and understanding this fact is part of the genius of madness.

© Oct 20, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Friday, October 19, 2012

Politics, politics, politics

OK. One more time. I am NOT Republican, I am NOT Democrat, I am NOT Independent, or any other "labeled" faction of social control. I detest this admin, the last, and the ones before that...dating back at least 150 years. There are very few admins that actually care about the people. They care solely about their pocketbooks. They use the old smoke and mirrors technique of lies and deceit to make you think they really care.
Individuals make this country great. Hard work makes this country great. There is no "justice," only laws. Helping children have faith is helping this country. Teaching teens to dream and hold on to those dreams is helping this country. Giving hope to another is helping this country.
Making promises that one never keeps is cancerous to the future. White lies and grand illusions stand for a short period of time, but will fall.
I am NOT religious. I follow no secular ideology. I am spiritual. I believe in our Creator. I do not believe in the fear-factor of religion. I believe in a Creator full of love, not one of condemnation.
People like Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, and the like inspire me. I will never bow before hate again.
Finally...MY BLOG. NO PROFANITY. If you don't like my posts, state so in a civilized manner.  Thank you.
Remember: Live, laugh, love, but most to the utmost - respect all. We are each individuals with our own perceptions and understandings of everything in existence. No two humans are exactly alike, just as no two snowflakes are identical. Life would be boring if we were all the same. Next time you think to change another to your mental status...think..."If this person and all thought exactly like me, I could never have a debate, would never have anything to dream about, and would be kissing myself during intimate moments." Yuck! Diversity is the key to happiness.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

IN MY DREAMS



Waking to the smell of your perfume in the air
Still feeling your fingers tangled in my hair
Across my neck waltzes your love whisper
On my lips the lingering hint of your sweet kiss
Until last night, I thought I knew what love was…
Redefined with new heights reached

mmmmmm….

Entering the day, we wander thru the park
You voice carries a song in French
Straight from your soul to my heart
As the birds play and sing of Fae
We get to our favorite café
I turn to look your way
As real as it always seems
You’re still the girl in my dreams
Half a world away, “Coffee for one, no cream…”

I’ll see you under starlit skies…

© Oct 18, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

value, accept, understand...

Value the beauty of the caterpillar, accept the silence of the cocoon, and then you will understand the wonder of the butterfly...

Monday, October 15, 2012

MY MERMAID



On the seas of discontent,
I find myself adrift.
Waiting for the sun to rise,
a lifting of the mist.

Anchored in the waters dark,
my jaded heart holds fast. 
Am I doomed eternally,
to tread the seas of past?

Staring at the rolling waves,
Lost within the sound.
Hypnotic hiss of distant shores,
against my hull do pound.

Silence splits the night in two,
the seas as calm as glass.
Then rises from the depth of night,
a pure angelic sweetness.

She rises from the water’s skin,
singing sounds of love.
The words I’ve never heard before,
but know from where they come.

I gaze into her eyes of light,
and feel the warmth once more.
My sails now full of future winds,
I leave behind the storm.

© Oct 15, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: Photo courtesy of PL

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Had to share this speech. Amazing!

To the students and faculty of our high school:

I am your new principal, and honored to be so. There is no greater calling than to teach young people.

I would like to apprise you of some important changes coming to our school. I am making these changes because I am convinced that most of the ideas that have dominated public education in America have worked against you, against your teachers and against our country.

First, this school will no longer honor race or ethnicity. I could not care less if your racial makeup is black, brown, red, yellow or white. I could not care less if your origins are African, Latin American, Asian or European, or if your ancestors arrived here on the Mayflower or on slave ships.

The only identity I care about, the only one this school will recognize, is your individual identity -- your character, your scholarship, your humanity. And the only national identity this school will care about is American. This is an American public school, and American public schools were created to make better Americans.

If you wish to affirm an ethnic, racial or religious identity through school, you will have to go elsewhere. We will end all ethnicity-, race- and non-American nationality-based celebrations. They undermine the motto of America, one of its three central values -- e pluribus unum, "from many, one." And this school will be guided by America's values.

This includes all after-school clubs. I will not authorize clubs that divide students based on any identities. This includes race, language, religion, sexual orientation or whatever else may become in vogue in a society divided by political correctness.

Your clubs will be based on interests and passions, not blood, ethnic, racial or other physically defined ties. Those clubs just cultivate narcissism -- an unhealthy preoccupation with the self -- while the purpose of education is to get you to think beyond yourself. So we will have clubs that transport you to the wonders and glories of art, music, astronomy, languages you do not already speak, carpentry and more. If the only extracurricular activities you can imagine being interesting in are those based on ethnic, racial or sexual identity, that means that little outside of yourself really interests you.

Second, I am uninterested in whether English is your native language. My only interest in terms of language is that you leave this school speaking and writing English as fluently as possible. The English language has united America's citizens for over 200 years, and it will unite us at this school. It is one of the indispensable reasons this country of immigrants has always come to be one country. And if you leave this school without excellent English language skills, I would be remiss in my duty to ensure that you will be prepared to successfully compete in the American job market. We will learn other languages here -- it is deplorable that most Americans only speak English -- but if you want classes taught in your native language rather than in English, this is not your school.

Third, because I regard learning as a sacred endeavor, everything in this school will reflect learning's elevated status. This means, among other things, that you and your teachers will dress accordingly. Many people in our society dress more formally for Hollywood events than for church or school. These people have their priorities backward. Therefore, there will be a formal dress code at this school.

Fourth, no obscene language will be tolerated anywhere on this school's property -- whether in class, in the hallways or at athletic events. If you can't speak without using the f-word, you can't speak. By obscene language I mean the words banned by the Federal Communications Commission, plus epithets such as [the 'N' word], even when used by one black student to address another black, or 'bitch,' even when addressed by a girl to a girlfriend. It is my intent that by the time you leave this school, you will be among the few your age to instinctively distinguish between the elevated and the degraded, the holy and the obscene.

Fifth, we will end all self-esteem programs. In this school, self-esteem will be attained in only one way -- the way people attained it until decided otherwise a generation ago -- by earning it. One immediate consequence is that there will be one valedictorian, not eight.

Sixth, and last, I am reorienting the school toward academics and away from politics and propaganda. No more time will be devoted to scaring you about smoking and caffeine, or terrifying you about sexual harassment or global warming. No more semesters will be devoted to condom wearing and teaching you to regard sexual relations as only or primarily a health issue. There will be no more attempts to convince you that you are a victim because you are not white, or not male, or not heterosexual or not Christian. We will have failed if any one of you graduates this school and does not consider him or herself inordinately lucky -- to be alive and to be an American.

Now, please stand and join me in the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag of our country. As many of you do not know the words, your teachers will hand them out to you.
-- Dennis Prager
(1948-) American syndicated radio talk show host, syndicated columnist, author, and public speaker
Source: A Speech Every American High School Principal Should Give, July 13. 2010

Saturday, October 13, 2012

THE MADNESS OF GENIUS (book introduction)




Introduction:

This book has been a lifetime in the making. I have lived through the maelstrom of madness and genius. They are inseparable. They are actually one in the same. Both must be controlled or the mind is lost to infinity.
It has been said that only one thought may be in the mind at any given second. That is a falsehood. I have thousands of thoughts/voices rushing simultaneous through my mind every second of every day and all night. Sometimes I am unable to sleep.  As a child, it was unnerving and kept my focus from any particular point. Today, they call that ADHD, and keep the pharmaceutical conglomerates in business by peddling stimulants and depressants to children and adults. I was lucky enough to have a childhood before such atrocities were daily rituals.
It took many years and much attention to learn to weave a pattern from the cascading flow of thoughts that poured over the precipice of my thought processes and turn them into a rope of salvation that kept me from plummeting to the bottom of the waterfall of intelligence and imagination. I hung on for dear life, precariously for decades. Eventually, I learned that the waters in creation were not meant to be feared, but enjoyed. I let go of the self-made sanctuary and learned to fly. The more I ventured in my mind, the more I learned. Little is impossible, once you set your mind to it.
To quote a wise man, Albert Einstein,  that explored more of his mind than most, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Therein lays the madness of genius. As a society we are tossed in the endless seas of accepted knowledge: mathematics, language, cultural studies, and a plethora of other peoples’ ideologies. All the while, they refuse to teach you how to think for yourself and to nurture your own creativity. The ability for the upper echelons to make a dollar off of you if exponentially diminished, the more you use your own abilities to create and think for yourself. Letting the seed of your own creativity flourish and feed your insight is the madness of genius.

© Oct 13, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

The Genius of Madness (except from THE MADNESS OF GENIUS)



Today, the norm in society is to be indoctrinated, in public schools, with a certain expectation and limited scope on how and why things are the way they are. We are allowed to think, as long as it coincides with the agenda currently being allocated by the administration ruling the realm. Imagination has been removed via dissection, manufactured into capsule form, labeled,  and sold back to the originator at twice fair market value. This discourages so many that the preferred ride into fantasy is a temporary ride on someone else’s wings. Which lends to laziness and lack of mental growth, and society feeds off the genius…
There is a group of individuals that are misunderstood and ostracized for their “abnormality.” Some say that those inflicted with mental aberrations are to be feared and destroyed. I don’t think so. Through the years, I have conversed with many “crazy” people. They seemed saner that some of the alleged “normal” people I know. They have a gift of not fearing the unknown. When ideologists tried to narrow their thinking field, they refuse to allow it. Look back in history and consider some of the great thinkers and crafters. They were considered oddities in their time. Today, many of them would be misdiagnosed as schizophrenic, bi-polar, or borderline personalities.
The genius in madness is keeping every door open to each corridor in the mind. Do not shut and barricade any of them. Do not listen to the so-called masters of reality. They are in charge of their own destiny, no one else’s. Being able to wander into any room at any given time is a gift, once it is no longer an overwhelming sensation. So long have we been denied free thinking that we are now afraid to step into the darkness of unknown. The winds of change and creation blow gently through this vast array of cerebral tunnels. Listening to the forgotten melodies and songs that rise from the depths of you soul and echo through the mind; that is the genius of madness.

© Oct 13, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Thursday, October 11, 2012

STAR GAZERS excerpts II (a memory)

Oops. Started this with, "Close your eyes and let me take you back to one of those magical moments." Duh! You couldn't read the post if you closed you eyes. So, let me start over…as you read this, feel the peace and awe of an 11 year old child enter your heart and bring you a moment of peace:
The year was 1977. We were in Red Mesa, Arizona. The closest town of any size was nearly 100 miles away, a million to a kid. Anyway…my brothers and I had a sleepover with the Hearne kids. We had the sleeping bags spread out on the sandy dunes of the remote settlement. The radio was tuned to 77KOB out of Albuquerque, NM. We were awaiting Vincent Price to scare the bejeez out of us via The Radio Horror Theatre hour. As we filled our incessant appetites with hotdogs, pork n’ beans, chips, cookies, fruit, and coffee (yes! addicted at 5). Howwwwl! {{{jump}}} there is was…the start of the chorus of coyote howls. They would get closer as the night wore on.
Patience growing thinner, we battled with sticks. We had gathered this night for the light show.  A huge meteor shower. As we listened to Vincent Price slowly ease between the howl of the night, the clouds started rolling in. Oh no! Not tonight. Soon the sky was blanketed with clouds. It is so dark that you might be able to see an inch in front of you, if you strain with bug-eyes! Ahaha. Anyway…
Not allowing this night to be ruined, Sylvia and I began talking about the universe and spirituality. She and I always thought and talked “outside the box.” We let the other “kids” talk Scooby Doo and Gilligan. As we chatted, I felt her disappointment in the lack of starlight and meteor sightings. I asked her to believe that something would happen and she agreed. I promise on my quill that this is true. A small opening appeared in the clouds, perhaps the size of a silver dollar if you held it at arms length. Through this opening, we saw four or five streaks of light. I turned to look at her and only saw the reflection of the shooting stars in her eyes. That is the moment I started believing in magic again. The squeezed my hand and said, “We did it. We made it happen.” The forgotten coyotes and radio slowly eased back into the ambiance of the night. I fell asleep beyond content that night.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

THE MOON IS HER MIRROR



As a little girl…
she danced upon the keys,
unlocked the spheres of greatness
with melody, her partner…

 ...enchantment aroused…

Trees changed dress time and again
And she remained true to her steps…
Winds and the rains carved her heart
While the music shaped her soul…

...enchantment grew...

She woke one day to a world of change
Where all bowed before her elegance…
The inspiration that once led her
Was now hers to pass to another…

Her beauty had enchanted the sun,
And now Luna hangs upon her wall…

…to reflect the love of Sol…




© Oct 9, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Monday, October 8, 2012

SMOKE



Through the audience social… assemblé, hair and arms like apparitions of smoke, elegantly moving through the night air in unison with the melodies lost in time. Each changing harmonic ~ shifts the direction of the serpent-like phantoms. 

~ Smooth ~ Flowing ~ Grace ~

She makes love to each moment with every pas. Battu, her legs like a gentle wind, caress and shift the smoke in new exotic formations that capture my gaze and grip my heart. Ballon… I hold my breath as she offers attitude.
Glissade from the stage into my heart.

~ fumée ~


© Oct 8, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Excerpts from "Star Gazers"





Dalion’s quest for spiritual knowledge had become a ritual. Five short years living with the Navajo had rekindled his desire to uncover his Native American roots. The Navajo traditions had awakened something deep within his Cherokee blood. Sometime during the year of 1976, Dalion’s spirit had left his body in search of something far greater than offered by conventional education or religion. Through the years it seemed his essence was still in Arizona trapped on the Rez, searching for that guide to release the torment of this existence. Many cultures and many interactions later, he was returning to Red Mesa in hopes becoming complete and finishing his journey.
“Yes, yes,” he thought, “I’ve been from coast to coast and still haven’t found ONE all enlightening religion.” They are all in conflict, even the ones that claimed to be peaceful. Some claim the holy day to be Saturday while others declare Sunday. Predestination was thought outrageous centuries ago, yet many still claim we all have destinies according to God. The ONE thing that really got to Dalion was the claim that God loves all and is a loving God, yet he knew from the beginning that ¾ of humanity was going to burn in this place called Hell. How could a “loving” God create a species and condemn over half of them to perish in such a horrific manner? All the “Christians” that I pose this question, call me “Luciferian.” Whatever! There is more to the big picture and Dalion was dead set on finding it. He wasn’t sold on the idea of reincarnation, but had vivid memories of past lives. He laughed to himself, “I might have been a knight once, but I damn sure ain’t coming back as a water buffalo! Too Hades with secular ideologies! I will find the path to enlightenment if it kills me.”

The pounding drum beat gets my heart rate soaring in rhythm and ready to ride again. The horses breathing heavy and the hooves pounding.  Leaning back, I feel the rain run down my face and neck, under my cloak, and down the small of my back. I have missed  riding in the rain. The creak of leather and the pounding of my heart within my armor, fighting to be heard above the rain against my breastplate. The clank of swords against shields in ready for the attack. I hear the horns and spur my mount forward, prepared to enter a night of flesh and blade.
“Aaaaarg!” Dalion wakes up with a shout. Sweat pouring from every part of his body. “Not again,” he thought. “Jeez! When will these nightmares stop?” He crawled out of bed, noticing it was 4:44 and headed to start the coffee. 4:44? “That’s 5 years straight,” he thought. What gives? The marble floor was as cold as the cutting wind had been in … Where the hell had he been? Forgetting the clock his mind wandered back to the dream. Was it a dream or a memory? He felt so connected to the dream. It seemed so real. As he reached for the carafe to prep the coffee Dalion noticed a trickle of blood land on his forearm. He wasn’t ready to face what he might see in the mirror, so he anxiously finished the caffeine ritual before trudging off to the bathroom.



Sitting cross-legged in front of Dalion was a very old man. He looked to be at least 300 years old. The wisdom of his years had elegantly creased his face with wrinkles. The peace that flowed intertwined with his word offered great knowledge through a soothing medium. The medicine man told him to complete the internal journey and find peace of being. Dalion closed his eyes and began the sacred introspection.
“Am I what I believe I am, or could I more? Am I less? Am I living a dream and dreaming my reality? Should I stay within the boundaries that everyone else has set for me, or do I fly free and explore the unknown to discover my true self? Too damn many questions. It is time to forget the ego and search for the well of peace. No more focusing on the past voices that scream, ‘You should have never been born. You are a loser. I hate you. You are not worthy.’ I am tired of hurting and resenting. I need to cleanse my soul and forgive all the negative thoughts that others delude themselves with before transferring those same messages upon my shoulders to bear. The 7 labors were given to Hercules, not I. It is high time to shrug the yoke of hate and dawn the harness of love.”
Dalion looked at his outstretched arms and saw wings of fire. He stole a glance at his torso. His whole being was aflame. Phoenix! He knew he was burning off the outer shell of the ego. He was ready to fly again. He was a new being with a new beginning. Daimon looked up and find himself standing on the precipice of a chasm between two great buttes. He closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle wind and was lifted high above the desert floor. Serenity filled his being. Total peace was within his existence. He felt so alive, and cleansed. Dalion opened his eyes only to find himself back in the sweat lodge and the old man replaced by a raven. “What a trip! Time to get outta here!” he thought, as he stood up and left the depth of the dimly lit structure and walked out into a cool breeze of the Arizona thunderstorm. Dalion jerked awake. “Damn, these dream/visions are getting intense.”


I am beginning to realize that there is no right or wrong, only our perceptions thereof.
I had a vision that I was standing with the woman that has been in my thoughts as long as I can remember. We were looking at an apple. We both knew the fruit was red in color. She said to me, “If you could only see the apple through my eyes.” I focused, and my soul entered her body for a brief moment. What I saw changed my perspectives on life itself. I saw the apple, but it was blue. That put a crack in my ideologies of right and wrong. What I saw as red, she saw as blue. Just because two people see the same thing, it might be quite different in each of their minds.  So every right is wrong and every wrong is right. I understood something of the ancient wisdom at that moment. Throughout the next 10 years that wisdom was touched by Fibonacci and grew exponentially.  There is only ONE.


Dalion recalled reading Brian Greene’s The Elegant Universe some years back and one line has been haunting him since he waded through the thick book on the Super-string theory, “How can a speck of a universe be physically identical to the great expanse we view in the heavens above?” He knew the answer before he finished the question. Through the fabrics of love and time, all things are equal. A rock has the same qualities as a star. Ions and anions. Everything that exists is there to regulate and fill in the holes of our existence. To add color to this confined corporeal life. To help us understand the all encompassing expanse of love. Love is where we originated and where we will return. That is all that really matters. So, a speck of a universe IS physically identical to the great expanse through the filter of my heart. Molecules. Atoms. Dalion was beginning to feel weightless in mind and body. He knew he was on the right track. D.D. Jent had once told me, “There is an unseen order to chaos.” He was so right. All the knowledge and wisdom of the ages are converging and offering a map to the next elemental plane. What everyone thinks to be layers of chaos actually create a pattern of order.

 Excerpts from STAR GAZERS: The journey within the journey

Saturday, October 6, 2012

THE SIGH



We lived,
You and I, in our separate worlds connected with love…
We laughed
You and I, in our desperate attempt to live…
We loved
You and I, in our intimate moments of laughter…
Apart we found each other…
Together we reached the heights…
Contentment at a distance…

© Oct 6, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
PHOTO: courtesy of PL

A DAILY HINT FOR WRITERS LOOKING TO EXPAND THEIR HORIZONS

 find a cafe with outside seating. be aware of the life around you. feel the buzz. don't "eavesdrop," but listen to the chatter. look for poetics in peoples actions. a hug, a kiss, a slap, a brushing of hands between lovers, a casual touch, the "look," a tear, the greetings, the farewells...each has a signature of poetics. learn to read that and you will redefine your writing skills and deepen you inkwells...

NOTE: photo is a random find on the internet

Thursday, October 4, 2012

THE SILHOUETTE





Flip of a coin
Where do I focus?
Silhouette or the backdrop
The beauty of my world on a balance
Behind the veil awaits the dispelling light
That will chase the shadows away
But that will destroy my silhouette.
As the minuets evolve into minutes (or vice versa)
Rays of darkness feed my passion
And brings my dream to life
Dancing deeper into my soul
My silhouette pirouettes
I shall remain unseen and in the night
Transfixed on the puppet
That is now the puppeteer
Until the strings that bind me
Are destroyed by morning light.

© Oct 3, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
PHOTO: courtesy PL

HER KISS

Seldom had a reason
Had rhythm but no rhyme
Tried to hide from fate
But one look at her-

Shattered my defenses…

Shallow is my breath
Anticipation my heart
Thunder shakes my ears
Nerves alive with fire-

No sense of senses…

Her face in my mind
Her lips long awaited
Like a lost schoolboy
I quiver with desire-

Inches away from bliss…

Collision of skin
Transference of souls
I am you, you are I
Sensual pyre-

Heaven in her kiss…

© Oct 3, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
PHOTO: courtesy of PL

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

INTO THE RAIN

Three pawn came calling,
betwixt light and metal
By more shadow than detail,
trapped the queen of dreams
They bound her with looks
and dared take her away
Dancing behind the red in black
Until the skies grew grey
Then to the king they did whisk her
to be punish without cause
He locked her in a frozen tower
left to live between her breaths…

…she veiled the tears of pain…

Strolling near a whispered sound
I heard her lovely song
Looking upon her majesty plight
I nerved to ask the “wrong?”
She bowed before this humble bard
And smiled the warmth of the sun
Dance with me one sweet dance
A melody from days of gone?

…unveil a lost refrain...

We danced and danced into the night
Until the moon rolled by
As the sun was cursed by clouds
I gazed into her eyes

…and we slipped into the rain…
.
© Oct 2, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
PHOTO:  courtesy of PL