"Tone"

 Tone

Just a change of tone is what we'll find

As all of loving  filters through mankind

The spinal fire ignites a steady flame

Eye to eye, the loving is the game

The structures of mankind begin to soften

Love produces sanity more often

w

"sooth"

 Since I kinda skipped over the whole stimulation and arousal part of lovemaking (since it won't be a problem, once men have confidence in  themselves), I thought this might act like a quick lesson.

Sooth

Along your neck the whispers run

Down your body, revel's spun

Seeking places, just for fun

That never saw the light of sun

Tremours trill and bodies brace

Sensing sooth in trembling trace

All along the body's length

Gains of all transcendent strength

Showers come to those who wait

In raindrops filling loving trait

The drums beat on

As comes new dawn

The beat of the drum becomes clarion call

The voice of  body blows, come one and all

You shiver delight as the drumming beats crest

Transforming the sound into one I love best

"Buried"

It's buried so deep that we slowly declined
The source of transcendence for all of mankind
Thrown in a grave and entombed deep beneath
Patterned behaviour, an ancient bequeath
That holds us in chains of unreason's deceit
From reasoning's presence, we only retreat
The boldness required to say we are more
Than baffling remnants, we need to explore
Magnificent beauty of life as could be
A sentient race with the will to be free
Of the chains and the dirt that were piled on the grave
Of sentient beauty, mistaken as knave
The shadows unseen in the corners of mind
Unhinges the wit and the heart of mankind
Love can emerge from the depths of that grave
As sentience teaches us how to behave

w

"Man destroyed, woman destroyed"

The title to this poem is a modification of the title of a book by Simone de Beauvoir, Woman Destroyed.

Man becomes hobbled with waning of truth
As lifetime progresses from bounds of his youth
Deceit is embedded so deep below skin
As misleading message sinks deeply within
Man could be coruscant, shining so bright
Except for embarrassment hid in the night
The man is befuddled as lie fades from view
Deceit in the heart as the specters renew
Now, comes a lady, the heart of desire
Lighting the essence, release spinal fire
Deceit in the loving encompasses life
Deep in the heart, lust plunges the knife
The fire is not lit, but the woman endures
'Til the bane of the man escalates and ensures
That the man is unhinged and unreason pours out
Then, only then, is the woman in rout

Unreason comes forth in so many forms

But all, in their essence, resembling storms

Seeking the love, which the heart does pursue

But, falling away, as they're falling for you

Or, ranting distractions to hide from the view

The failure men know, as the loving comes due

w

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I thought I would try a few poems to convey these very foreign ideas.  Maybe that will work for some people. 

Simone de Beauvoir was a genius.  She clearly knew woman was not at fault for humanity's predicament.  Her work, Woman Destroyed, led to this poem.  

What she, understandably, missed was that, perplexingly, the man is destroyed first, causing all of the havoc.  He doesn't seem destroyed because it was conditioned into him to act like everything was alright.  The man learns early to put on an act displaying himself as confident and sure, even though, deep in his heart, he knows he is destroyed.  There lies all of our confusion and the demise of our sentient state.

From reading many of her works, it becomes clear that she never admitted to herself that men have destroyed our situation thoroughly since day one.  She started the trend that all that was needed was for women to break free.  I wish it were so simple.  She always focused on the desperate struggle of the women's freedom, never suspecting that, until the man is freed from his bane, no one can be free.  It's understandable.  It was a man's issue to discover what men have endured.  It took three millennia.

If you don't think humanity's affairs are a mess (the general overall dysfunction and destruction), then you have a much higher tolerance for stupidity, viciousness, and unreason than me.

This makes me want to rewrite The Garden Of Eden and lay fault where it really belongs.  It's really a minor tweak.  Just portray a man writing the whole damn fictional diatribe against women pretty much clears things up.

----------

The depth of these poems escaped me until now, almost a decade after I wrote them. The poems contained far more meaning than I ever realized.  The poems are like a condensed version, a shorthand, of the nine books I wrote.

I stopped writing poetry on the subject years ago for a couple of reasons.  It was necessary, as I became convinced that the general public would never read the poetry regarding the bane of mankind, much less understand it.  (like I said, it took me about a decade to figure the complexity of this poem out for myself, a lot of the meaning is somewhat hidden) (funny thing.  I have never touched this poem since I wrote it; very unusual for me).  So, I began writing the books.  They are thorough, if somewhat laborious.  What can I say?  Three thousand years we have been held in thrall to the animal.  So, yeah, it's complicated.  I am now uncertain whether either, poetry or prose, will ever get through.  There was another reason I moved away from this subject in poetry.  I found beauty, angst, and despair where I least expected it and it just about killed me.  It will kill me before it is over.  I was also overwhelmed and wrote about six hundred poems (I think it's about eight hundred now, maybe a thousand) about the most amazing woman I had ever encountered (along with  the eight (twelve) books of prose on our sentience and lack thereof).  (She is incredibly unique.  New under the sun, though She will never admit it - She even wrote something that describes the situation perfectly from a woman's point of view!  Of course, in shorthand.  It actually highlights an interesting point: the situation has changed somewhat since the days of Simone. in many ways, due to Simone)   Ummm, let me just clarify.  As Desiderata so perfectly explains, every step along the way, as full of anguish and anger as it has been, has been necessary.  I am just so tired of playing the part of Pangloss.  So, I guess there is still a remnant of Janus in me.  I know Desiderata is accurate to a great extent.  That doesn't make it easy to take.  The question is when do we achieve the tipping point?  One of the most powerful points of Desiderata applies.  All I have really done was try to give the concept of a sentient existence and loving coitus a jump start.  It will happen.  It's just a matter of how much longer before it does.  One could say I'm tired of waiting.  Like Really Tired.

It probably sounds crazy but rhoetry works to secure my intuitive thoughts.  To nail them to the wall, so to speak.  They explain everything so well for me.  Just not for most anyone else.  I cannot be the least bit ambiguous to convince anyone else, which is why I turned to prose (to my lasting regret, it works. it was necessary, it's just that I'd rather be writing poetry and I'd rather be writing about my favorite subject).  

It is also why I rewrite like mad (and, also, one reason I am so annoyed by the publishing process).  Unlike anything written before, precision and accuracy of what I convey is crucial.  At least, until humanity catches on in a big way.  It is not enough to just slap interesting words down on paper.  It is important, since it is so far beyond the known animal reality, that I portray the situation as accurately as possible.  I think I've shown well enough elsewhere just how difficult that is to do when faced with the mad reality of a sentient creature caught in the throes of an animal's perspective.  I have had to connect so many disparate dots as to boggle the mind of just about anyone else.  I've explained that well enough elsewhere, also.

"Intuitive" thought, in essence, is nothing more than collecting a number of observations of our bizarre, unfulfilled existence and piecing them together into partial answers to what I knew in my heart was true (kinda the ultimate intuitive thought): humanity can be whole and put away the animal forever.  Or, conversely, what is wrong with humanity?  That intuitive thought was buried so incredibly deep beneath the pile of garbage that we have tolerated since the beginning I couldn't initially even put it into words.

With poetry, my conscious mind gets caught up in the details of creating the rhyme and the rhythm.  That leaves the rest of my mind to roam free through the subconscious to connect culturally-suppressed observations regarding human life collected over a very long lifetime (in other words, I didn't kill myself off at 30.  just saying). Most of my life was spent observing, not interacting; the prehuman condition does not agree with me at all.  All I could do was observe the insane antics of an insane prehuman race and, then, analyze like crazy in every way possible).

Let's see if I can convey in prose what this particular poem hints at.  I was inspired for this poem by Simone de Beauvoir and, in particular her book, Woman Destroyed.  It was read soon after my intuitive realization that men are broken and there is no need for it to remain so.  I read a lot of Simone.  Understandable, since she is of the gender that is not the source of our insanity.  The best a woman can do is attempt to break free from its awful grip.  Men are the ones that need to gain their humanity.  But, first, they need to understand what is going on.

I am still not sure if she got that men have always been playing a shell game on humanity.  "Look over there, not over here!"  Again, understandable.  How could she possibly understand how failing to love breaks a person?  A woman never fails to love (read the books.  that is not as you may think) until the ability is beaten out of her, either figuratively, mentally, or physically.  Even then, it seldom disappears.  It just goes into hiding.   I'm not even sure a woman can understand the concept.  I guess not surprisingly, that is encouraging for a future in which both men and women know how to love.  It says something about the inborn nature of sentience that will never go away.

Her husband was bad news.   Besides being an awful husband, Sartre also pisses me off because existentialism is a perfect example of the shell game (see poem "Escapism").  The shell game of the male gender:  "Look over there, not over here!" I guess another quote to describe it might be, "Look at this shiny new toy!"  It is always a game of distraction.  Sartre's worse than any scifi author because the scifi author at least admits that it is all fiction.

Basically, the male gender has always been so desperate to hide its failing, that they have been scamming ever since they realized their failure and failed to overcome it.  Let me emphasize, it is easily overcome - for a human.  Instead, we got "look over there!" for more than three millennia.  And, it has just been continually getting worse.  Look around.  We are accelerating our pace to embrace the animal as we get closer to throwing away any shred of our humanity.  If I wasn't so disgusted with spending fifteen years dissecting and explaining the animal, I could go to great lengths to show that we are becoming more and more adapted to the disgusting animal viewpoint as we throw away every remnant of our humanity.  The noble characteristics have just about withered away in our depths of confusion and certainty that we are no better than an animal.

The male gender had to scam in its attempt to hide its failing.  That has been the biggest disaster of our existence.  If only we had owned up to the awful failure that does not need to remain.  The scam artist became a trait of the gender.  That can change in a virtual heartbeat.  Of course, the alternative, success at loving coitus, was not possible for their feeble intellects.  Let me caution to not misread that sentence.  It is complicated to understand how to succeed.  It only requires a sentient mind, not a hurtling, boundless intellect.  In other words, a man can be dumber than a post and still learn loving coitus, if he can read.  In the not too distant future, it will be as natural as being human, walking, and talking.  No need to read a thing.

So, to get to the point, man is destroyed first.  He was destroyed long ago.  He can never attain his humanity until he puts away the scam artist.  He has passed it down to every single male descendent in every generation in one form or another.  For no good reason!!!!

If you have not read my books you may have difficulty following this, so let me just emphasize that there is no reason for the failure to continue.  Men have endured it all along because animal life had endured it for a billion years before that.  Animals can't do a damn thing about it but humans can.  All we need do is wake up and invoke our sentience.  No pills, acrobatics, alternatives, or appurtenances required.  We are not just animals.

You have no idea how badly it pisses me off that it had to come down to me to grasp this fact and, more importantly, that it took a lifetime to do so.  If men had not been scamming all along, and making stupid prophetic utterances in their early thirties (always trying to bask in the damned spotlight), they would have figured it all out long ago.  Yes, yes, yes, Desiderata

The long paragraphs and run-on sentences are in honour of Simone.

The Garden Of Eden

 Our Garden Of Eden is still ahead of us.  

You can't really believe that we frolicked with lions and tigers many millennia ago when we were little better than an animal and dumber than a rock, can you?  

The Garden of Eden wasn't even a rational myth.  That would be Pandora's Box.  That was a myth that sought answers and warned us of the possible misstep that we stepped right into with myths like The Garden of Eden.  If you are looking for more of an explanation of the myths, that would be in a couple of the earliest books.  

Once we truly become human is when we learn to love (educate the heart), maintain an emotional balance, think rationally, and fulfill our sentient state.  For all intents and purposes, it will be a Garden Of Eden, as long as you don't expect utopia.  If you expect an existence in which humanity can finally respect itself, then you are thinking in the right direction.

If you are looking for our demise that would be the mindless approach to life that we currently maintain.

dystopia

  the foundation of humanity's dystopia is the male gender's utter frustration with the state of coitus and their inability to understand how to succeed even though they damn well know they should.  See Explanations.  It can be done with ease.

dystopia and stupour are closely related.

"Windows"

  This belongs here as the conclusion to all of the questions I asked.

 Windows

The eyes through the heart

On the way to the soul

The life to restart

From mere pieces to whole

Speaks of the relative meaning of things

In utter frustration, I lost all the world

Impatient to sense all the loving unfurled

The dimwitted fear of the loving-less beast

All due to the fear that they can't make the feast

So, on I continue, still frustrations roam

To skip to the time when the heart knows its home

The loving begins with the tug on heartstrings

Awaiting the day, if it's only to feel

Explosion of loving, at last, become real

In the next lifetime the love will anneal;

Substantial as heart, to the loving I kneel

Impatiently waiting for all to wake up

To fill all of life from a lovingly cup

The human complete with the craft and the style

Of the love that transcends all the heart all the while

In glancing denials as we peer through the fog

Putting on airs of Pavlovian Dog

What's wrong with this picture that's glued to the screen

The love interrupted, the bout intervened

The loving corrupted with men in denial

The passion disrupted, the loving on trial

No pill is required, only sentience graced

With loving transformed and the hating erased

The frustration holds and impatience resounds

To think it requiring another full round

Another full lifetime for love to be found

The proof of the case is, in fact, all around

The fear of the failure has held us all bound

Sweep aside the conflicts and excuses

They're on the train that rides with the abuses

A juggernaut that leads to more the same

The crafted clown that's dripping in the rain

Late 2024: I was right.

changepoint

  There are three characteristics to the poems I write.  They always rhyme, attempt rhythm, and often contain a changepoint.  That is why I created the terms rhoem and rhoetry.  

If the poem starts out gloomy, a changepoint is required.

"The Travelers" typifies it best.

It can be hard to detect but, the changepoint in "The Travelers" is very obvious.  "But, what was that they saw ahead"  Funny, of all of the poems I have written, this is the only one that I reread regularly and find nothing to change.

Anyways, I'm looking for that changepoint in life, now.  It will be a sharp demarcation.  

In every way, I looked at life to detect what was wrong.  But, unlike the opposite gender that cannot even hope for change, since it is not in their hands, the male gender can.  Somewhere deep within, I knew that the fault was with my own gender.

I spent about twenty years studying all of the usual excuses and explanations of the madness of humanity and never said a word because, after lengthy review, none of it added up.  I wrote at least a book's worth on the usual suspects but there was no point in discussing it because it didn't change a thing.  It was all just words used as a coverup.  Maybe I had to clear the deck before I could see what was really going on.

It is such a complicated situation that it still takes my breath away.  A race becomes sentient and must, emotionally and intellectually, confront a problem that has wasted and confounded more than 100 generations.  

Simultaneously, we are asked to confront a seeming flaw in one gender, while living with the flaw.  It completely dumbfounded everyone for so long.  The last time anyone pulled it out of the Box to take a look was about three millennia ago.  The only way it will ever be possible to change is by confronting it intellectually.  Even that is scary because it does not prove the pudding.

No, the first step was to look back on a life of wastage in order to see the wreckage that the lack causes.  It could only be done by one that would accept no lesser measure of Humanity than success in everything.  How I maintained my confidence and self-respect is beyond me.  I guess it came down to accepting that there is something wrong, even though it mystified me as it has one hundred generations.  It never dumbfounded me.

In this case, the changepoint is when a determined heart takes the next step while they are still young enough to count.  A young man needs to be able to look at what I have laid out (especially in Explanations) intellectually and have the wherewithal to succeed.  Every man has everything he needs to succeed, except the wherewithal, which is slowly whittled away after puberty.  Nature doesn't create blind alleys.  But, it will surely let a stupoured race come to its end, if it can't figure it out.

 It will spread from that one young man.  That is the changepoint.

If you feel you are reaching full understanding I suggest, after you read through the rest of the posts on this site, that you go to this link.  lp

It is so exciting, now, to reread the rhoems and see just how accurate they are.  I can't call them predictions, really.  It really is just a matter of insightfulness, clarity, seeing what is really going on.  Not the future, but the past and that which sets us free.

"Difference"

What is the difference in the man

That learns to love with all he can

Not the stumbled stride of brute

But, loving whole, right to the root

He loves a woman as he can

But, grovels not, he is a man

No animal that merely begs

That is not written in the regs

Nor animal that growls and beats

To force the woman forth her treats

For Humans are another sort

They love for love and not for sport

What is the essence of a man

To hide from nothing, heed no ban

Clarity must be the call

For Human to avoid the fall

Face his demon, only one

Failure irks until it's done

Destroys the Human from within

Causing race to hear the din

The clamour of forsaken soul

Must realize it can be whole

And hear the clairing call

That clarity is all

We can't be human sans our pride

In our race and in our stride

In all we do must be respect

Back we go to missing speck

In all we do must be the pride

Back we go to missing stride

As long as men deceive themselves

The deeper in the lies he delves

Refuting all of reason's ways

As in the muck, his lack he lays

Taken in stride, it's simple to do

But, broken the stride of race to construe 

That all becomes right with the men and their ways

As they learn of the love and its brightening rays

Rather than scoffing at that which they fear

That they're not up to that they hold dear

The misery caught behind every eye

Telling the story of life gone awry

No more to rely on a wing and a prayer

Now I reveal all the landscape, so bare

Confounding the sight for all there to see

Setting the soul and notions so free

I cannot question any longer

Landscape that can make us stronger

The clarity's required, my dear

The fog, it lifts, the view is clear

I cannot question any longer

As clarity becoming stronger

90%

 The missing 90%

They say we use only 10% of our brain.  The truth is that we use 90% of our brains to contend with the mess of delusional paradigms that we have concocted over three millennia that conflict with sentient reality and the sentient desire for clarity. 

Our resources are spent winnowing through - justifying certain aspects, while rejecting other aspects (as our upbringing determines) - the gibberish that has been heaped upon sentient reality for the last three millennia.  All because men could not accept that they had something to learn.  Something so simple for a modern man to learn that only remains confounding due to the gibberish that has been handed down that we continue to accept and argue over.

Can you imagine what it will be like when 90% of our brain is freed from wasting its time contending with the deceits, and the conflicting and confusing paradigms and delusions of nonsense and absurdity provided by the animal that we were?  It all goes away when men gain their self-respect.  

Confidence game

I don't know why I didn't think of this before.  The confidence game, of course, explains what is wrong with humanity best.  It is also the best evidence.  Where does the con game start?  What causes it?  It starts when a man achieves puberty and realizes things are not working as expected.  He puts on a mask of confidence to get through the day - even though he knows he fails miserably at that which any man should be able to succeed - loving a woman.  He begins to justify his failure in his own mind.  What else is he to do?  Oh, by the way, it happens to virtually every man alive.  Very, very few overcome the issue to any extent.  Worse yet, the usual question arises causing the paranoia to deepen.  Is it just me??!?!?

        When the confidence game gets out of hand humanity suffers.  Which has been the standard since the beginning.  It will continue until men actually gain the success that will lead them to have the confidence, as well as the love, they have always desired.  The pills only provide a false front behind which some men hide and still remain less than human.  The pill is not even as fulfilling as those that accept the situation as it is and deal with it on their own in some other way.  A pill does not fulfill a man's Humanity.  Only unassisted Loving Coitus can do that.

Farce

  The more I think about it, the more ludicrous it gets.  We have avoided, with prejudice, becoming Human.  All because some dumb-asses, three millennia ago, couldn't figure out how to do the one thing that could free their humanity.  In their bewilderment, they began a campaign of cover-up instead of facing up.  That started it all.  All of the delusions and violent distractions stem from one realization.  It is the one true conspiracy theory since the beginning of our existence.  The rest is just fluff; further coverup.  The human race has conspired against itself to remain an animal.  All of the rest of it is mice dropping.

        In other words, we were not equipped for our sentience when it hit us right between the eyes.  We have yet to recover and attain our sentient state and desire for clarity.

If it wasn't so incredibly stupid  and destructive to our existence, I would have to laugh.

I'd write some more but I would start cursing up a storm.  I know how humanity operates.  It will take forever for this to sink in.  I'm becoming impatient for at least a sign that it is seeping through the least thick heads, that humanity doesn't have to live a lie.  There's only one lie.  That's all it took to start the ball rolling and it wasn't even a lie at the time.  Those dimwitted beasts we used to be didn't have the slightest hope of figuring it out and they couldn't face it.  Our awareness grew more quickly than our knowledge.  Lies grew more quickly than clarity.  Men couldn't change it because it was too complex for them long ago, so they shuttered the building.  It is no longer too complex.  It hasn't been for at least a century.  I sometimes wonder if it could have been overcome three millennia ago.  We had a lot to learn, but was it only dishonesty that got in the way?  

        Worse, is that we have a lot to unlearn.  Three millennia worth of beliefs that do not suit a sentient race.  We can succeed at love.  We no longer need to remain delusional.

I could go all big noise about it but that wouldn't help.  It is the difference between conscious evolution and witless revolution.  I hate it but it will take some time to sink in.  If I raised a brouhaha, it would just cause further outbreaks of the insanity that has gripped us for three millennia.  No, slow and easy, while I chomp at the bit and tear out my hair.  It is the only way we move forward.  

Until we lose the ties to the herd.  In some ways, that is what it's all about.  A herd of animals huddling together for fear of their own sentience, for fear of facing the truth, for fear of the inevitable blast of incoherency from the last dregs of the animal..  

    Aaaarrrrrgggghhhhhh!  Once that is done, we can be Human.

I have to laugh.  I even tested these insights on a site that thought itself savvy.  An exclusive club for those that can think.  If one can't broaden one's focus to study many issues, one isn't welcome.  I had to laugh.  There's only one issue.  All of the superficial issues that we have spent (wasted) our time contemplating are nothing but window dressing, distractions to assure we never look at the real problem that men have always feared they could never overcome.     

This is the most ironic farce to top them all.  The male gender fears revealing the secret that has never been a secret.  It is the secret that men keep only from themselves.  Everyone knows it.  If there is any hint that the 'secret' is threatened in some indirect way (think alternative sexual orientations, think female liberation, think gay especially), the male gender goes mad in order to distract from the secret that is no secret at all.  ??!?!?!! (Yeah, this paragraph probably needs a lot of rewrites to make clear)

Almost all of the rest of our problems branch off from the single realization of a dumbfounded race that threw it off-balance three millennia ago.  

I'm fairly certain I'm the only one thinking here.  We are on the threshold of the dream.

Wish I could get it across to someone.