You Think you’ve trapped me in The Phantom Zone of Cyberspace?

You’re trapped also, Dear Sweet Self Sacrificing Inner Child.

Let us see which better angels of our nature will win the war of ideas.

By the way, this will teach all of you never to mix Red Bull with Red Kryptonite

Here comes The Red Eye Express!

Showtime

Omega Glory, A Star trek Episode

Add caption

The Future Ended In The Past

A traffic cop signaled a waste disposal truck driver to stop his vehicle.

 He ordered me out when he was told I had no ID.

Turning around to be handcuffed, he told me to stand in place until he got back from his squad car. The dampening field of bleakness began to crush like the chopper of a garbage truck.

Under a falling sun exploding in shades of autumn gold, I stared at the billboard for The History Channel overlooking the new Willis Avenue Bridge. I resisted diving off into The East River and becoming history with no past in this timeline. Just an unknown from who knows where in a universe that wastes nothing.

The cop came to back to scan my face with a mobile device.

 If you’re lying to me, he said, I know what you look like.

 Is this professional courtesy because we both take out the trash? This city made me feel like an illegal alien in a century that belongs only to its people for as long as they last.

                                      A Brief History Of Mind

I want to finish chapter and take home what belongs to the future …”Across all distances of time and space”, wrote the sixteenth American president like a homing beacon among the stars in other galaxies. I’ve been a willing prisoner of a child’s dream for far too long.

I want freedom for the better angels of our nature.

I wanted to be taken to the stationhouse and have my fingerprints sent to Washington.

There’s no record of you in the computer, said a bewildered librarian when I applied for access to cyberspace. This library was my boyhood fortress of solitude where I found A Winkle In Time and now the adult doesn’t exist.  She allowed me the use of the Internet until I found someone with my name at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Mystery is the source of all true art and science, said Albert Einstein.

I love a mystery, don’t you?

Tick…tick…tick…

Enlighten the people, generally, and tyranny and oppressions of body and mind will vanish like evil spirits at the dawn of day

Thomas Jefferson 1743-1826

I

In The Belly Of The Blog

Morning and night in The South Bronx of America, I see out the window a funeral home with 3 Pit Bulls that roam the roof like mythological Cerberus, the three-headed dog that prevents lost souls from escaping The Underworld.

Ashes to ashes, from dust you came to dust you shall return and, as the Irish are wont to say at wakes more often than not, may he or she be kept in the memory of The Almighty Who is from Everlasting to Everlasting. Who wants to remember heartache?

I’m tormented and scarred by grief in a universe that, according to Albert Einstein, wastes nothing. I visualize anger into The Red Eye of Jupiter to keep it in storage. I have to contain myself.

Behind me are Jesus and his Apostles on the face of a kitchen clock. Any moment now, people run of time. Some are lucky if they can get a last supper. I look up at the clouded evening and see a plane that makes me feel the loss of another vision of Persephone: a painter from faraway Venezuela far, it seems, as the planet Venus. Her birthday is 9/11.

The absence of love breeds terror and dreamless nights.

However, this is America where one can take a nightmare straight to DreamWorks.

Or down the hill and across dark waters to Riker’s Island Prison, poverty’s Big Brother.

Writing this is the worst of solitary confinements.

 I want freedom.

I found Excalibur within an old Win95.

The war of ideas rages now and the world can never sue for peace of mind.

It’s a firefight for higher education to The End.