A promotional poem….just because…

The Yucca Poem

The Yucca Poem



pon the wall was a painting
Simply framed of a Yucca plant
My parents’ home enfolded it
Hanging on the living room wall 
always smiling at me
The artist’s hands painted 
it upon a wild hill
I looked at it all my life
From babe until the painting
Was stolen away after 
my parents’ death.
It had a constant white bloom.
Curiously I looked 
at the flower many times
I am sure it sung me to sleep.
The Yucca is a wild plant
Growing along
The aromatic California 
coastal ranges
further into the valley and hills
Tall thin and tenuous
boldly spread throughout 
valley canyons.

Yucca calls us to our 
nobility of character
Yucca calls us 
to a wild uniqueness
Singing if you listen quietly
A hum older than we know.

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Chumash

Chumash Cosmology


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/_people

my doppelgänger did not wave good-bye !

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At this time last year, we went for a drive. On our way to San Francisco California.  Our mission was to see some William Blake at a book library.

They also had some Blake facsimiles for sale. Which I found irresistible. We took a roundabout way to get there.  We ended up on the mighty Monmouth Mountain staying in a nice off-season hotel. It was large and even had a kitchen. We went out later to have some sushi and a beer.

Walking home the high altitude made me feel strange. The hotel had a fire outside in the courtyard. We sat and moved around the large fire. It felt wildly bizarre.  Then we entered the room and went to bed. I can’t sleep long on my sides especially with a full belly. I have arthritis. There was a big couch near the fireplace in the hotel room. I watched the fire and fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke to see myself looking at myself. My doppelgänger looked just like me but was fully dressed in the long dress coat I was wearing the night before. Sitting down on the table before me, my doppelgänger was looking deeply into my eyes. I looked right back.

A haunting, mysterious overwhelming feeling of depth touched me that morning. A profoundly uncomfortable darkness addressed me as a presence which I do not want to meet again…. any time soon!


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

Dance for Drinks or just dance….

This is an older Flopisde Comic… when life was a lot faster and the night was “always young!” The “Dancing One” was initiated by the ancient worm at the bottom of a bottle. More than that he could not stop dancing. Even Mr. Fuck had a difficult time keeping up with “twinkle toes.”  The “Wild Card” was the man about town. Time to get him dancing again.


A point: So we at Flipside Comics need a kick in the butt too…. the song below is a very silly one and we don’t take it seriously…  it is a ridiculous song. If Mr. Fuck was to take it seriously he would be on the side of the pagans… a crusade of pagans against the Christians. An over all perspective might be the good FLOPSIDE people on a crusade against the Trumpians !!! RAMBO says just dance…

 

THE FUCKING ASSHOLIAN TRUMPIANS !!!!!


around 2011


Bitchin’ drive over Box Canyon this morning in my car.

Today youngest son decided to take a state AP Calculus test. It was in Simi Valley. So I took the old Santa Susana Pass home. Then the wild and mysterious Box Canyon as well. The magic is still there too. One thing I can still count on in this fucking strange life.  As I reached the high point of Box Canyon I  saw the pig with red eyes and then the 1979 Gary Numan song Cars came on the car radio. A moment of wow. My little green Fiat then tuned into a magical ride down a roller coaster. Turns and downs like never before with the words of Gary Numan singing to us. My little Fiat was a jewel as we road through the nimbus foggy clouds always hangin’round this place. What a bitchin’ roller coaster ride it was this morning.

The song is all about those times when wild music seemed to fill the airwaves and my jerky head. 1979 was a very good year for this fresh new music. Also years later, the song was on my oldest son’s first play-station game. One of the first PS games he mastered is Test Drive. What a great song . Takes me on a car ride of good memories and today I have a new one. Perfection !

As a friend of friends


Urania is talking to Uranus
Ambassador to the planets and stars
She calls to Earth
As a friend of friends,
Catalyst of goodness and humor,
to Uranus ascending electric magma
Eccentric insect antenna muses
Human Beings 
To be the best 
we can be.


 

 

 

 

Existentialism and turning 60…

“…individual’s starting point is characterized by what has been called “the existential attitude,” or a sense of disorientation, confusion, or dread in the face of an apparently meaningless or absurd. Many existentialists have also regarded traditional systematic or academic philosophies, in both style and content, as too abstract and remote from concrete human experience.”

Ageing and turning 60 is an interesting time. I am reflecting over my life. The metaphor of fitting jigsaw pieces together is the best one that can describe my experience now. I now understand the meaning of existentialism. I thought I had an idea of what it meant. Not until now do I know it truly. It is a jolting reality. The now observing the past is how one can see existentialism alive!

As a child I remember waking up at night with a strange sensation that lasted only a few moments. A surrounding feeling that came to mind. One that I could not touch, access with words, or edify. It was a feeling deep in my teeth of something other. It would go away quickly. I had that same feeling through my growing up. I always knew when the other feeling was approaching. The other feeling went away as I grew up.

K -12, my whole education experience I was asleep. I realize this now. Existential is based on contrary things. Conflict or mindfulness to the absurd world we live in. When I look back at myself I was experiencing or having an existential experience my whole young life. I was in a shadow world of social pressures and abstract ideals that where strange to me.

Only waking up occasionally to the wind on the hills or the rain while walking home. Playing in green fields with my friends.  The smell of the earth and the feel of pepper trees on my skin. The aroma of the eucalyptus tree.

I went through the motions at school. I did not study or bring books home, and if I did I don’t remember them much. I do remember reading the little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis, the King James Christian Bible, and Seven Arrow by Hyemeyohsts Storm. (Native American Myth) Sherlock Holmes appealed to me. Also, songs on the radio are moments of awareness.

I was in trauma while I was growing up too! I was living in a home with an alcoholic parent and experienced love but also emotional abuse as a regular part of my life.

My point being I was not awake to my human experience until I started waking up later in my teens by the jolt of consensual sex, youthful love, and punk music.

I remember at 18 or so there were times that a light would come on and everything seemed more intense.  One time out to dinner with my parents it seemed that the restaurant light above us turned on brighter. I was in an intense illumination. Then the light went out. This is when I was experiencing an awakening an existential conflicting experience.

When I entered the punk rock world in Los Angeles I experienced this existential conflicting experience increasingly. The people and music really stirred me up. I awoke to the absurdity of life in a good way. I found my mind, voice, and soul all aligned. I began to acquire knowledge easily. I read ecstatically. I found out that I had an engaging and intellectual mind that had not been touched by the k-12 academia that tried to teach me.

I don’t think we can continue to live in an existential conflicting reality. Yet in these such moments when the existential happens.  This is where we can find our authentic self. I am very grateful!!


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“…child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim believed that fairy tales help children cope with their existential anxieties and dilemmas.”


Bubbles…


While sitting in my computer room I heard a lady screaming. In a fire windy weaving voice yelling,

“Fuck you, fuck you , fuck you!!”

The car raced by my home. Oldest son heard it too. It was not directed at us but we did catch it in passing.

Last night while watching reruns of Ancient Aliens I came upon one old image I’ve studied and another that I did not know about. The flower of Life and Leonardo da Vinci’s long-lost portrait of Christ ‘Salvator Mundi’

The flower of Life means many things but the one meaning I love best is that it represents the universe.

The Christ portrait  is fascinating. I am amazed by a sphere he is holding. An interfaith symbol that other religious masters hold as well.

Two mystical round bubbles or circles of insight came together in my mind.  Because Leonardo da Vinci shows the Flower of Life in his works, I found this an interesting point of reflection and study.

So I did my own improvisation and put the flower of Life in the bubble sphere. It was fun to do.

I hope the lady who was screaming will have a better day then she seemed to be having.


Flower of Life Symbol

 


 

Leonardo da Vinci’s long lost portrait of Christ ‘Salvator Mundi’

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bubble/

Leonardo da Vinci’s long lost portrait of Christ ‘Salvator Mundi’


Flower Of Life

Dream time….Australian Aboriginal Art


The Ngangikurungkurr practice what they call dadirri, a form of deep listening for these sacred stories. As Aboriginal elder Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr puts it, “Through the years, we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories. As we grow older, we ourselves become the storytellers. We pass on to the young ones all they must know. The stories and songs sink quietly into our minds and we hold them deep inside. In the ceremonies we celebrate the awareness of our lives as sacred.”

Turner, Toko-pa. Belonging: Remembering Ourselves home (Kindle Locations 3112-3116). Her Own Room Press. Kindle Edition.