A Dream of Oxidane

 

  This is insane, a dream of oxidane, nobody calls it that, which only goes to show 

There's so much left to learn that we already know.   It's a matter of recollecting.  

 The stories of our fathers and mothers. The exploits of our sisters and brothers. 

 Here all together on this planet Earth. Sometimes our escapes into fantasy work all too well. 

We tend to forget the magnificence on display right here with mother nature. 

 Our catalog of knowledge adds wings to our sails, lifting up our spirits and steering our ship. 

We can get along when put to the trial, we're all in it together most anyone can tell. 

With our nose to the grindstone all of the while we'll brave it together through heaven and hell. 

   Here we go 

     screaming to a Dream

    screaming to a Dream 

   screaming to a Dream of oxidane

 Since all life as we know it siphoned in through the Eye of Poseidon so to speak

 We can see glimpses of its molecular chain forming deep within the ocean 

 With multiple factors on a planetary scale converging to set the conditions for life

 We emerge blind and blinking under the scourge of daylight on our journey toward demise

 Suffering multiple strobe lit attacks on our course by necessity wondering why all the way

 Knowing life has a way of balancing out the bad by adding value to the good. 

    A dream of a sinking golden chain of twenty four carat links dropped in the ocean 

twisting while falling through a sunbeam and flashing reflections occasionally 

  itself a sort of mirror reflection of our own constitution in genetic display 

 as a self-perpetuating organism in tune with our biome by definition, tenacious life. 

   A dream of a lustrous cane of polished black coral inlaid flush with the surface a golden insignia

 This rare variety of white gold flashed a pale shade of quicksilver in the moonlight

 It shared a molecular bond with the fibrous material in the wand allowing it to ground itself 

 In the greater electromagnetic field surrounding, rendering the device into a dowsing stick 

 carrying the innate ability to lead one to the nearest body of water, one who knows how to wield it 

   A dream of a body of water so vast a colony of whales gets lost in the distance 

 Calling each other with haunting ululations lost in the canyons of the deep 

  Consoled by the lonely howls absolved in the void on the rapid current towards sleep 

 

 

  

 

 

 

deep blog dream generator

 by  shaun lawton 

   When we're this far buried under the multiple layers of html programming already set to establish the architecture of the web city itself, we know our part in the ensemble of rapid assimilation gets lost quickly in the shifting gears in between; but the best part, besides the fact that we've seen it all a hundred times over cross-stitched back and forth and every where in between remains the unknown factor-X lies perpetually ahead enticing us forward to never stop giving it our all, never quit this neverending quest of the endlessly repeating dream, it's dead set ahead of us and we've prepared ourselves all our lives for it, so don't let it escape our fingertips before we scream.

  We've incurred a reparation to the entire host cell colony bloodline progenitor assembly machine so that a perpetual production line can be virtually guaranteed thereby maintaining its absence or its habitable accountability and upkeep factor, whichever the case may be having been met with perfect accordance to its self fulfilling execution.  

   Since in the case of its absence an automatic reaction to trigger a regulatory checkup becomes engaged the outcome pans out to a zero sum failure resolution which in plain parlance may be translated to perpetual maintenance itself a technical term meaning in perfectly well functioning condition. 

\

   

Ode To Yuggoth

for H. P. Lovecraft,  Adam Bolivar &  John Shirley

                                    art by Shaun Lawton





Our classical depiction of humans
And how we must appear to be today
Through an exquisite metamorphosis
Find ourselves in a transitional phase
As we must propagate our dna
To infiltrate our very own substrate
With age old unintended pollutants
And intoxicants our antibodies 

Struggle with, white blood cells proliferate
Against and agents within our micro-
Biome collaborate with and adapt
To while we all mutate and procreate
So that all the various living aspects
Which shape us variegate and rearrange

At the micro level encoding new
Bits into our molecular program
Taking advantage of ongoing change
Until fungi in our mycobiomes 
Alter themselves in a new direction
To which our fate is so gradually
Still being forged we don't even notice
The scintillating changes in our eyes

Retinal striations gaze upon us
From the mirror each day we brush our teeth
Until one new dawn beyond tomorrow's
Horizon something else would be staring
Back at us from our own dark reflections
Except by that time we'll have done away 

With the need for bathrooms, mirrors and homes
Because by then all the fruiting bodies
Will have recombined into fresh new modes
Bacteria and fungi will arise 
The dominant form replaces that part
Of us we consider human today
The surface of this very same planet
Will ripple with odd configurations

Of fungal formations whose shapes may hold
Dim impressions of the old human style
Except twisted and split in half so that
A shelf of fungus along canyon rims
Perched beneath the shade of towering pines
May resemble a fragment of rib cage

While other forms of broken off fungi
May take the shape of elegant femurs
Bent to the haunted whispering darkness
Gathered under overhung moss gardens
Tending themselves along the sunken rims
Of cratered ponds reflecting the still disc
Of the perfect full moon continuing
Its silent orbiting halo about 

The crowning Earth's mutated stage amid 
Lightning storms and pure sonic ablutions
Constantly upgrading preparation
For this modified phase of unfolding
Susurrations whispering in shadows
For the next solar hymnal to the wind

HOMINEM PRAEGRESSUS

I

 

Our classical depiction of what humans appear to be today undergoes an exquisite metamorphosis while we find ourselves currently in a transitional phase as our DNA continues to propagate and we infiltrate our own substrate with unintended pollutants and intoxicants our antibodies struggle with and white blood cells proliferate against and agents within our microbiome collaborate with and adapt to while we slowly mutate and procreate so that all the various separate living aspects which make us whole variegate and rearrange at the microlevel encoding new bits into our molecular programming taking advantage of these natural ongoing changes until the fungi in our mycobiome alter and shape themselves to accommodate the direction in which our fate is so gradually being forged we don't even notice the scintillating changes in the retinal striations of our own eyes as they gaze back at us from the mirror every day we shave and brush our teeth until one new dawn beyond tomorrow's horizon something else completely would be staring back at us from our own reflections except by then we'll have done away entirely with the need for bathrooms and mirrors and houses and clothes because by that point all the fruiting bodies will have recombined into a fresh new mode where one of the many competing microbes and bacteria and fungi will arise as the dominant form replacing that part of us today which we consider human and the surface of this very planet will ripple with fantastic configurations of fungal formations whose shapes may yet hold submerged echoes of the old human style except twisted and split in half so a section of certain fungus along canyon rims perched beneath the shades of towering conifers may be reminiscent of a fragment of our old rib cages and other species of broken off fungi may take the shape of elegant femurs bent toward the whispering darkness collecting under overhanging moss gardens tending themselves along the rims of sunken crater ponds reflecting the still chalky disc of the perfect moon continuing its silent orbiting halo about the crowning Earth amid lightning storms and auroral susurrations for the next solar hymnal to the wind.  

II

LUNARTUNE

                                  watercolor  by Shaun Lawton




On the far side of the moon what secrets do you enshroud
For crying out loud what's that shadow navel crater all about
And why does it look like a pair of eyes stare back at me
From a cross-hatched pentacular scarred cephalopod
Hovering under the surface blasted by scattered pockmarks
The moon was caught whistling its tune after we gazed up
At the played out manifestations from wolf to cuttlefish
Flash frozen in time the blink of an image captured
Before echoing throughout all eternity to mirror the map
About to be traced to discover our dark and filthy secret

Primum Legem

                                                                                    photo by Shaun Lawton

Primordial galaxies introduced only six-hundred million years after the universe came into existence have now been glimpsed through the ever-more magnifying lens of the Hubble telescope. 

Apparently they appear towards the end of the "re-Ionization Epoch," which constituted the first seven-hundred million years of our universe.   

Massive mid-term clusters of galaxies which stand in our line of sight between our position here today in orbit about our local star and these tiny distant early galaxies produce an effect known as gravitational lensing—which boosts the distance the Hubble telescope allows our vision to observe.     

Think of it as a sort of bauble-magnification; by focusing our visual examination in on and then through these distant intervening galactic pools of light, we are able to further magnify our visual field deeper into the early, that is to say, more distant galaxies formed right after the proposed Big Bang.   *




*  It is vital for us to keep in mind that the Big Bang theory itself has yet to be proven, of course, and therefore must continually serve as that place-holder, or bookmark if you will, which best represents what we've summed up about the early formation+ of the universe at this particular stage of our suppositions.    


+ Formation:   I find tantalizing evidence winking in and out of the idea behind this word itself: "formation."  

To opine that our universe may have been formed by a "Big Bang" is to have assumed that it necessarily "came into being" in the first place. 

What if, instead, this universe were always to have been here?  

If, in fact, the Universe were eternal then no such Bang, either large or small, would be necessarily necessary—which also means to suggest that neither does an eternal phenomenon  (such as our universe might just as likely turn out to be) necessarily have to do without such curious phases as those which might involve so-called cosmic explosions (be they huge or tiny ones, for that matter).


Suffice it to say, we have observed natural phenomena from our planetary spot here circling our local star, of both macro- and micro-cosmic caliber, to the point we might infer that a continuum comprised of an interrelated series of increasingly differing magnitudes of bigger and lesser universal outbursts might fluidly stem from stellar evolutionary forces quite beyond the current limit of our comprehension despite actively continuing through this day.  

To the best capacity of our understanding then, we can naturally allow for there to have been a Big Bang because concurrent and observable astral phenomena seem to support this sort of incident, and besides, whether or not such an event were part of a chain of similar connected affairs, if such should turn out to be the case or not for that matter, it would potentially remain of little to no consequence considering the nature of relativity insofar as how Einstein has led us to understand it. 

In other words a lot of these digressions amidst our speculative process may be considered moot even while we continue foraging our way through what is largely the unknown.

The more serious aspect of this consideration (that of our own particular cosmic emergence) should lend itself toward our venturing which category the alleged initial universal explosion of great magnitude should most likely fall into:  that of strictly a destructive nature, possibly with a byproduct of creation, or perhaps of mysterious breathing or orgasmic qualities,  or even any combination of elements possibly of a former universe whose energy given off upon detonation may have triggered and forged our own macrocosm—the next cosmological link in a chain of developing universes, one coming into being after another in the manner of a great extended domino reaction, each fated for oblivion as surely as a line of disappearing air bubbles being churned up into and then back out of our oceanic tides.**



**  Much like the smallest particles being observed at the quantum level as signified by the Uncertainty Principle.   



The one certainty which rings true about the nature of our origins remains that we actually do not know the answers to these questions positing the cause of our universe and ourselves. 

Perhaps the simple reason for that lies somewhere in the realm of our having a misplaced penchant for asking the wrong questions. 

If what we seek lies in this direction, we may rest assured that inquiries into the nature of our or our universe's commencement may ultimately be filed along with other such pleasant yet meretricious activities like navel gazing, painting pictures, the composition of music and literature, or even masturbation, to name a few examples which immediately spring to mind.      

There is no question we are here, now, today, as we have been since yesterday and will continue to be onward through tomorrow. 

Einstein has already hinted that the only real thing in our actual existence may be time itself, and that space and everything in between could amount to a grand illusion processed by the most sophisticated and least understood mechanism in the universe, our very own brains.