Octet Do Minor Goose Step

 

               I’m a brick.  No, I’m a fish.  I see.  I am scaled.  I’m steady there watching, observing.  You think I sink just because my movements are different from yours.  You also think I stink.  You have your atmosphere.  I have mine.

               I see front and back.  You have no care about your actions and the mess you leave behind.  My atmosphere has weight for me.  My atmosphere buoys me up.  Mine provides me support.  You do not care about your atmosphere.  You will not, you refuse to admit to the support it gives you.

               I work with my atmosphere.  I work with it to allow me to breathe.  You work against your atmosphere when you do what you do, all the things you do, you cannot breathe your atmosphere.  You ruin mine too.

               I should take some pride from that claim you made of me.  You called me a brick.

               A brick gives structure.  A brick builds safety.  A brick, many bricks together, planned, thought out, and in cooperation exists to provide security.

               I am wet.  I stare.  I dive and float.  I have the hard ground underneath.  I traverse the plants.  I scoop through nothing but flow, nothing but still, nothing but waves.  And I pop.  I shoot.  I arc through your emptiness, sitting in your sun, evaporating into your breeze.  That you take no notice of.

               I notice around me.  I see the fish shaped like me but different.  I see the fish not like the fish.  I see that mammal.  Did you know that you are a mammal?  I see the mammals that look like me.  The whale.  The many kinds of whale.  The porpoises , the dolphins.  They are many and they are different ant they are alive.

               You do not notice the birds and squirrels and raccoons, let alone your human neighbor.  If that neighbor isn’t you, you couldn’t care less.         

               To me, if it is alive, it needs care.  And if it is not alive.  If it is a rock or a breath of hydrogen or a calcite crystal all the way down to lowly soil.  It still needs care.

               When I see the trees along the stream path during the winter.  No leaves.  No vines.  No reaching through of plants.  I can see the tree and not the leaves it is presenting.  Every half of a foot to three feet there is another tree trunk.  Another twin of limbs.  Another strew to the sky.  And I see the bark.  All whites and reds and dull greens with dull yellows.  And they are an army of one.  Inch by three and one quarter inches.  Climbing high there are scales, isosceles triangles, vees, point down openings.  Upward en masse.

               And there are waves, sprayed dunes paralleling those waves going from sun to root in harmony.  There are pots and chains and smooth and vanishing flakes.  Trees can live together.  What about people?  English.  Irish.  Slovenian.  How about Blacks, Ethiopians, Kenyans, Zulus?  How many endangered Chinese, Indonesians, Japanese?  They all fight.  But those trees there don’t.

               Those barks, a symphony of bips and howls.  No wonder they grow and we don’t.

               How different would our civilization be?  We would actually take a step towards being sentient.  Even without any immigration the physical makeup of the cities of the United States will not gain sentience.  Whites will start treating other races as equals, not greaters or lesser.  For Whites will not encourage one group to claim ownership of all others.

               I think about my past, but I do not know it.  To be truthful, I do not even think about it much, anymore.  I used to think about it to present myself and to know there is another person with a different past who I am presenting myself to.

               My past, I went to the zoo a lot when I was young.  Now, that I am old, I go to the zoo a lot again.  That zoo is part of my selected identification.

               I recently talked to a similarly aged, old, human being.  I mentioned the zoo, as part of my introduction.  He mentioned the zoo, as a conversation tool, specific to our arbitrary circumstance.

               I assumed that he lived locally, by the zoo, in the past.  I went off verbally under that erred assumption.  In his verbalized reaction, when I gave him the chance, or did I question his statement and request understanding?  He told me that he grew up in a different state.  His family visited this zoo, one or two times during his early childhood.  His family relocated to other states, one or two times as he was growing up.  During those listened periods, his family visited My Zoo a couple of times.   He also visited the zoos located in the areas that he currently lived.

               I assumed wrong, at first.  I stated details that he did not have memory access to.  I did not listen, however.  Instead, I only verbalized about what I had experienced and we made a communication connection.

               I stated one thing.  He stated something similar.  We were each able to alter our paralleled yet different lines of expressing memories.  And we ended up talking as individuals, different yet acknowledged people.

               Even though a tree is dying, it is not dead, get that through my mind.  I’m old.  I’m fat.  I have diabetes.  I am retired.  But I am not dead.  I still breathe some, I still well some, and I still think some.  I see my shadow on the path with the brown leaves and the dust fly by as I slowly wave and look at deer and twelve turtles and   summer being missed by, as this area awakens.  Awaken, I want to awaken and enjoy the warm sun on my ear or the back of my head and neck.  A breeze comes in that I inhale.

               I’ve seen thirteen turtles so far in this walk, and at least five deer.  I am more interested in the turtles so I am more persistent, but I have nothing against deer.  I like seeing them too.  Seeing life helps me realize that I have life.  But that selfishness is not the only reason I look for frogs and squirrels and snakes.  I enjoy them because they are there.  Twenty-six turtles and a bunch of fish. 

               Those dinosaurs have advanced more than man has.  They fly.  They live in water and on land.  Man kills himself.

               A race riot is where one plate of humanity scrapes past another.  Mountain building, such as the creation of the Himalayas, is where one race is over run, buried by another, such as white Europeans burying the original inhabitants of the Americas.  That is how the Rocky Mountains were formed.

               But those Rocky Mountains are in our past.  We’ve been eroded more than those Great Smokey Mountains.  Great?  Great is nothing.  It is all up in smoke.  And where white man is going now, our Great Technology is where this white plate runs across any other late, anything we think is different from us.  And we head into them, all of them, head on, and the best we can get is a Mariana Trench.  We are all out, under the seas, dead for eons.  And everyone is going under. 

               So, are you proud of your earth quake?  I am not proud that we’ve erupted.  This world has too many intrusions, igneous, basaltic, and others.  There, the deepest trench this world has seen, and you think you are looked up to for the assault of your basalt.  Only you can prevent herbivores. 

               Us continental shelf people claim that we were here first.  We don’t manage the sands.  We are the sands.  We don’t collapse those shells.  We are the shells of the past.  You will go to us.  You will go to shells.

               But there were continents before there were continental shelves.  And different continental shelves are made up from different rocks, from those different continents.  Before there were continents there were igneous intrusions.  There were the rocks that melted together to build those intrusions.  Basalt is at least as numerous as continental intrusions.  Us  Continentals claim that we are on top.  Maybe we are on top because we rest upon the more strengthen structures of all those basalts.  Maybe we are light weight in comparison to those what we like to call basalts.

               Contradiction Vs Contractor:

               I like to think that I assault basalt.  I like to chant “Igneous Uber Alles.”  I’m proud that I’m the one being intrusive.  Look at Devil’s Tower in Colorado.  They made a movie of me.  I don’t admit to it, but life originated in the oceans.  Life originated supported by those basalts.

               And before life, what was there?  There was no air.  There was no sea.  There were no continents.  There was no world.

               There were explosions and repulsions and radiations of those astral asymptotes.  Before the comet flung and the dying stars with widening worm holes, imploding black holes at the center of this nonexistent cosmetologically pulsars forcing to create the atom that burst into the red echoing of monopole material dimensional claims.

               A dead vibration off of an astral thread miasma-ing into that crashing of light which you call Old Sol.  That star whose arms and legs and cranial scabs escaped into meteoroids and mounds and gravitationally attracted speeds and spheres and renewing and cooling and escaping and intruding into our Mars and Mercuries and Saturns and Jupiters with base doubling above all.  Mightier than all rulers of all because we are and they don’t, or at least that is the thought we think.

               We will never rule them until we attack them.  Our foes, be you black or brown or ruling or down.  Why all this unclear stuff about foreign powers directing the United States Governments. When we should be more worried about American Voters directing these United States.

               He’s the Quo Pro Quid Kid.  The Boss of Quid Pro Quo. 

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