Where do they come from?
The brain is complex, of that there's no doubt.
Neurons, synapses, dendrites and axions, all woven together
to make up our brain.
Somehow, from this complex mess we emerge, our consciousness our mind, all this projected to the universe to do what it will.
The mind once turned on starts to think, ideas do emerge from the brains complexity.
Ideas just pop into existence seemingly with no effort from us.
How does that happen?
Is it just a compilation of our experiences jumbled up to create what we think, to pop up ideas?
Is it possible our brain is a complex receiver, ideas
being projected from another realm?
Since we don't know what's possible, anything is possible!
But, it does make you think!

We are all surfing the wave of time.
In times immediate wake is the frothiness of near history.
Smooths out as the wave moves on.
The wave churns and gurgles as the past is being created.
We the flotsam and jetsam along for the ride.
The wave creates the lives we have lead.
Potential is all that’s in the waves headlights.
Nothing at all the wave moves into.
We all live on the edge of reality and time.

Modernity.
Technology.
Racing
head long
helter-skelter
into the
future.
Like a
runaway train
speeding
out of
control.
Historic
societal norms
breaking apart.
What to
think,
what to
believe
losing
resonance.
Explosion of
information
barraging our
senses.
Overload.
Current institutions
clueless
of what’s coming.
Acceleration.
Biotechnology.
Information technology.
Nanotechnology.
Artificial intelligence.
All converging
on top of
our heads!
More change
coming
in the next
twenty years
than seen
in the
last three hundred.
What to
do?
How to
cope?
For now
at lest,
step away.
Relax,
visit nature.
Walk in the
woods.
Meditate,
sit by the
ocean.
Leave the
technology home.
Our minds came
from
simpler times,
not designed
for
light speed
change.
Step away,
at least
for awhile.
Reset your
sanity.
Less you
implode!



.

Information,
data flowing.
Flowing
through my
being.
Invisible hands
working my
mind,
Kneading
like clay.
Shaping,
forming what
I think.
Formatting
how
I think.
Information
invasion,
out
to capture
terrain,
territory.
Coursing
the folds
of my
mind.
Capturing
the ripples
of my being.
Homogenization
of thought
globally.
Power of
information.
The power to
control,
brainwash.
Brainwash
all who stare
too long.
Too long
into the
abyss!

Early morning.
Still dark.
Fire crackling.
Fireplace glow,
lights out.
Dark.
Fireplace glow
baths
everything.
Medieval.
Medieval
feel.
Cold, yet
warm.
Mind
wanders.
Infinity
contemplating.
Where to
turn?
What to
think?
Time.
Time
to think.
Time to
write!
Release.
Release
what’s within.
Clear the
mind.
Start again.
Write!

Down through the millennia grand armies have marched across plains of destruction.
Battle cries forever lost in the ether, spilt blood absorb and recycled. Names of the warriors forever lost, unknown to the future.
Civilizations have come and gone some never being known to modernity.
Important men striding the halls of power, controlling all they see, self impressed with their prowess. Brass knuckled business men climbing over and knocking down others any who got in their way, power at all cost.
Men gnawing their way to the present, leaving blood and destruction in their wake.
Where do such men go from here? How will their aggressive tendencies translate in the world of hyper-technology?
Will it propel them to the stars, or blast them into oblivion?
It's the toss of a coin I think.

We
are animals.
Having the
same instincts
as any animal.
Law of the
jungle courses
through our
veins.
Hormones flush
clouding  
judgement, wrecking
havoc on reason
and intellect.
Procreation,
self preservation
strongest of
animal
instincts.
*** and violence
dominates
human culture.
We think
ourselves
superior
sophisticated.
Biology
millions
of years in
the making.
Civilization
thousands
of years in
the making.
Conflicting,
struggling
to peacefully
coexist.

Look in the mirror. What do you see? Depends on the choices you've made. Depends on your programming. Depends on where you were born. Depends on what you were born. Look in the mirror. What part will you play? A protagonist? An antagonist? What will you do with the time you have? How strong is your will? Look in the mirror. What will you do?

Our race against extinction.
We all come from the same cradle.
Though we think ourselves mature.
Our childish and petty ways are truly obscene.
We are products of our environment, fine tuned
to fit the scene. Some are black with ***** hair
designed to mitigate the sun and dissipate heat.
Some are white with flat hair like a rug designed to accentuate
the sun and hold in the heat. One evolved in a hot sunny world
where too much sun and heat were harmful, so the body adapts to better succeed.
One comes from a cold, less sunny environment, so adapted to absorb more sun an retain the heat, both the body needs.
Both simply adaptations to succeed in where they live.
For years and years and still today these adaptations are held against
some, that’s truly insane. Indeed!
We now live in a world full of us in every possible nook.
One small orb in space that we humans habitate.
Much need and want around the world where people suffer and
die for lack of humanity. We spend billions each year on weaponry, money that could be better spent, to protect ourselves from ourselves. Insanity to the brink.
How have we managed to last this long is surly a mystery. Will we grow up in time before we are history?

Eons
in the making.
Law of the
jungle
ruling our
way.
Etched on
our soul.
Survival,
at all
cost.
Protecting
territory,
raiding for
resources.
Power to
control,
ruling over
others.
How
do we survive?
How
do we
move forward?
Can the
animal
move forward?
Can the
animal control
Instincts which
control the
animal?
Change
is required
less the
animal succumb.
Succumb
to the
weapons of
today.
Blending with
technology,
merging with
A.I.,
refining the
animal,
the bridge
to the
future,
the
path to the
Universe.

Photographs are time machines to the past.
Instant moments in time reflecting back to current eyes.
A street scene of Boston is hung on my wall, a moment sliced
out of time from 1893.

Trolley cars side by side waggling down the street.
Ladies clothed from the sky to the ground bustling around town.
The gents of the day striding along suited with the clicking of their canes.
Horses pulling carriages, delivering produce, moving people here and there while leaving earthy aromatic gifts all around.

Trees in the park that are still there today, leaving shadow memories on the ground.

Each and every person in the scene has a story to tell, they each lived
their lives to the tune of the day.

Each started that day, one day in their lives, they loved, they laughed, they cried and they cheered at the game.
Children in the park running playing just the same.

All gone now, just a moment long past.

Little knowing this moment of their existence would be captured and hung on my wall as a testament to their brief moment in time.

The spirt Of
Christmas.
Secularism,
leaning away
from religion.
Do not know
if there is
a god.
I believe in a
great maker, but
don’t believe
humanity has
a clue.
Yet,
Christmas Spirit.
What is it?
I feel it
in the warm
glow of
Christmas lights
on the tree
and
throughout
the house.
I hear it in
Christmas carols
playing softly.
I sense it
in the
cracklings
of the
Yuletide log.
I remember it
fondly
as a child.
I experience it
as gifts are
lovingly
passed around.
Life can be
hard.
Life can be
cruel.
But,
Christmas spirit.
What is it?
I do not
know.......
But,
for me
at least
life
would be
a little bit
colder
without it.

What is time?
Is it something we have?
Was it granted to us from the great beyond?
What do we do with time? I mean, we only have so much of it.
Is time an illusion, something not really there?
Are we an illusion, Just a view in the mirror, nothing more?
Are we just shadows on a cave wall, reflections of a different place?
Are we really we or just an avatar of someone more?

Change is happening rapidly.
It will only seed up!
Humanity’s in the grip of explosive rearrangement.
How we handle it will be interesting to watch.
Some will get involved, attach it to themselves.
Others will pull away not wanting to lose their humanity.
Technology will be ever present, taking over our lives.
There will be no escaping it.
You may move to the country in an an attempt to get away.
To no avail. It will find you and absorb you as with everyone else.
The question is, will it be nirvana or will it be hell?
I guess only time will tell!

Incomprehensible.
Beyond
human scale.
Look deep,
deep
into time.
Through
the beginning,
through
the darkly
orb to
another time.
Then again,
again and
then
again again.
Limitless.
Scales
incomprehensible.
Human limitations
legion.
Scurrying
around
self righteous
so important.
Insignificant.
Dead realities,
empty voids
one after the
next.
Deep time
frozen time.
Ultimate voids.
Limitless voids.
Googolplex
voids.
Endless before.
Endless to be.
Human scale.
No such
thing.
Don’t blink!

Why do we suffer?
What's the point?
People are born with terrible conditions,
live lives of torment and pain.
Die painful horrible deaths.
Why?
Why would a God created such conditions?
To teach us lessons? Seems cruel I think.
Wouldn't there be kinder gentler ways to get the job done?
Couldn't God create a world where happiness, peace and tranquility abound?
Must we suffer to prove something to warrant nirvana?
God made us, why so imperfect then?
What's the point?
Is the game rigged for some others to watch
be entertained ?
Seems cruel don't you think?
What kind of loving god would treat us like this?

Center of
all things.
Beliefs
archaic,
simplistic,
unfounded.
Oblivious
to all that
matters.
Limited in
nature and
scope.
Local beliefs,
ideas,
small in design.
Mind ,
simple,
limited in
structure.
Sees in small
bites.
Unable to
comprehend
beyond its
architecture.
Like fish
in a bowl.
Only so much
to know.

We enter the scene but do not hang around, shortly back into the ether we bound.
We are just flesh and bone, in the end just ashes and soot is all that is found.
It’s what we leave behind that may make a difference, that may make a sound.
It is ideas that remain after we are gone, it is ideas that can make the world go around. It’s what we think that matters, that may be profound.
The measure of us is not we existed, but what thoughts and
ideas did we bring and expound. What ideas did we sow and which ones took root? These are the ones that get passed around.
Riches acquired mean nothing in the end, it’s what’s in our minds that ultimately transcends.

Larger than can be
contemplated.
Older
than can be
grasped.
Encompassing
everything.
Movements
that cannot be
understood.
The machine
controls
all.
What we,
mere specks
call the universe.
The unfathomable,
beyond our
comprehension.
This machine, but
one in an infinite
sea of machines.
How did it
all begin?
What turned it on?
How many
iterations?
What's the point
of it?
Where will it
end?
We, as currently
constituted can
never know.
But,
changes
are afoot.
If we make it
through
what's to come;
we may
finally
come to
know.

Crickets
sounding their
enchanting
sound.
Peeper choruses
from the pond,
finely tuned,
while Bullfrogs
barup their
baritone song.
Swooping bats
devouring,
warm breezes
dancing.
Owl hoots
deep in the
woods.
Coyotes howling
in the
distance.
Evening’s
Symphony
tuned to
perfection.

Like pearls

in the

void.

Consciousness

is rare.

Scouring our

Galactic neighborhood

we find none.

Where is everyone?

Have they

moved on?

Evolved

to a

different realm?

Have they

died out?

Are they

still primitive?

Are we

the first?

These questions

repeated

trillions of times

in trillions of galaxies.

For now

at least,

ours

is the only

Cosmic Shire

we know.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Hand
on the wall,
creation
complete.
Mouth
full of
pigment,
sprayed on
the hand.
Artist signature
for the
eons to
observe.
I
was here
the
artist
shouts out.
You don’t
know
who I am,
but,
I
was here!
We
know not
who
the
artist was.
But we
know the
meaning
of the
hand
on the
wall.
The hand
on the
wall.
We
do so
still!

Back in time.
Staring back
they are.
Wondering
about the
ancients
they do.
Wondering about
those who
came before.
Deep history
exploring.
Digital
archeology,
searching.
Searching
for the
Genesis planet.
Ancestor programs
churned by
quantum simulators
looking.
Looking
for probable
origin
scenarios.
We who
are here,
now.
Lived
long
long
ago!

When
they come,
what will
they see?
Organics,
animals.
A world
full of animals.
***** messy,
animals.
Animals
steeped in
instincts,
controlling.
Animals fighting.
Pecking order,
fighting for
power, control.
War,
eons of
war, killing
on an
unimaginative
scale.
Millions
upon millions
killed.
Killed
for control.
Primitive
beliefs.
Beliefs,
they’ll
find alien
belief systems.
Religion, they’ll
find religions
preaching.
Controlling.
Speaking
of gods,
saviors.
None of which
resonates with
their understanding
of things.
They’ll stay
out of sight,
so alien this
all be.

We are mere children of the void.
Specks on an infinitesimally small mote in limitless space.
Lost by size, overlooked by indifference. A universe indifferent to our existence. The stars will shine, the planets will spin regardless of our future.
We are children who have a high opinion of ourselves, think we talk to God. Presumptuous beyond belief.
Yet, we are children on the verge of a pivot of unimaginable scope into infinite knowledge or total oblivion. It all hangs on a thread. The next few years will determine if we all slide into the depths of non existence with nor a sigh from the universe, or transform into the Seers, watching the birth of intelligence on a galactic scale. What a pivot indeed!

Earth is home for billions of us, we live on one planet, we all call it home.
None of us, however, live in the same world.
The worlds we live in are as varied
as the people that inhabit them.
Some live in heaven others call hell their home, many live in limbo made simply to roam.
No two worlds are exactly the same.
Some are healthy while others in pain.
Some are rich many are poor.
Some live in freedom others detained.
Some are happy while many are sad.
This planet has many worlds, none are the same.
Some are gregarious others simply plain.
Some are geniuse while others insane.
Each one with their own story to tell.
History is replete with such worlds, no two are the same.

Why do we feel love?
Do we even know what loves is?
How do you know when we’re in love?
Does anyone really know?
Songs have been sung about love for thousands of years.
Stories, poems, books and movies flood our senses about love.
We are obsessed about love. We are lonely without it and confused when in love.
There is love for your parents, love for your children even love for your pets. But it’s romantic love that fogs up our heads.
Why do people fall out of love? Where they ever really in love?
Is in just about making babies, survival of the species? Is it just about hormones flushing through our systems that riles us up? Is it just about companionship for when we get old?
How many times have you asked yourself or been asked by others,
how do I know when I’m in love? Some have said, you’ll just know it when you are. Never really understood that reply. A better answer I think, if you have to ask you’re not in love. Sorry but that’s the best I can do, after that it’s all up to you.

4 AM
Tough time.
Dark time.
Ghost
haunting.
Haunting
the recesses
the private
places.
Places
where
thoughts
are born.
Mistakes
magnified,
circling
overhead.
Regrets
gnawing.
Gna­wing
at the
soul.
The silent
time.
Morphing
futures
spinning
around.
No escape.
Nothing
to distract.
Nowhere
to hide.
Blackness
envelopes.
Sunrise.
New day
dawns.
New hope,
fresh start.
Moving on,
till 4 AM
returns again.

Religion is
power,
control,
nothing
more.
Talking to
God.
Great power!
In the
name of
God.
Power to
control.
Power to
build.
Great cathedrals.
Power to
destroy.
Populations
eradicated.
Control the
masses.
Subjugation.
Submission.
Down on
your knees.
Eyes open.
Life to live.
Death,
ceasing to exist.
Fear,
death, oblivion.
Great Fear.
No concern,
life after death.
Great relief.
One catch.
Believe as you’re
told.
Do
as we say.
Down on your
knees for
eternal salvation.
Says who?
Religion,
great power.
Power to
control!