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Chapter 1

The Illuminati and Warrior Poets

To determine an appropriate beginning to reflect the essence of this book, to set the stage, seems impossible and that explains the dilemma. After many futile attempts to establish anything encompassing, the alternative was to creatively bounce between points in different ways to make any sense, to better explain the text within this book. Although the limited explanations of the metaphysical processes described within are nonetheless fascinating and many are of a groundbreaking nature, and while necessary to make understandable that put forth, are only of secondary importance.

The process begins in an unconventional manner one might suppose but for that matter, most of this book is unconventional compared to modern day concepts. It begins with an excerpt from the first page of something quite different I started in 1997, although with an agenda of a profound nature vividly clear, and belief in the spiritual nature of its authorship, that all was but lost to those who read it in its 'raw' form, that is, without narration. Perhaps because the format was too strange, maybe believability was an issue or it was simply "too deep". At any rate, at the urging of others, I realized the verse had to be 'narrated'... but only possible in an abstract sense, thus the main reason for this book.

A word about making snap judgments, don't, not yet, you would deny yourself... This is a most comprehensive book; it contains reams of original metaphysical insights about human rights, social issues and politics, many from a Warrior Poet's point of view.

There will be many fictional characters that come alive and contribute later in this book as an adventurous and imaginative novel slowly develops within. It is a juxtapositional story to the serious issues addressed when these most unusual characters play out their roles. The characters debut when the timing is right, as the scenarios develop, moving this most original tale more to center stage.

But there is quite a bit more... the door is opened to better understand metaphysics itself and the relationship to that metaphysical. The Muses (of Greek mythology) play a crucial role, as well as the Illuminati with their mystical capabilities. The book redefines how we might understand our fragile realities, how volatile and tenuous they can be.

This book also expresses the depths possible for human understanding and awareness; it challenges society at every level, it is designed to make you think in ways you never conceived before. There is a higher intelligence out there; I'll show you how to tap it.

We begin with these 1997 writings, undoubtedly a seemingly strange way to begin but nonetheless complete with narratives in an attempt to bridge the gap of understanding, to span the great divide required to comprehend spiritual logic, quite different from our own. In the process discover the spiritual agendas.

---- First wast the English Magna Carta in 1215, thence the Enlightenment over the course of years throughout Europe, largely France, thence camest the American Bill of Rights in 1791... So entereth now from a yesternight past, visions to sealeth these freedoms at last; thus herein for all men to knowest these seeds, this EX CATHEDRA VATICINATION by STD LEX:

We beseech that Akashic, by tiferet men see,
Gnostics requite us for what demons that be,
in Hades waits Tartarus ye traitors to fear,
an onus bade leaders, his dispassionate ear.
Valhalla awaketh us, their warriors so bold,
bred of the bourgeoisie and peasants of old,
to haunt in the mountains and valleys below,
in village and hamlet, all nations thy know.
Americans too, for vows which didst glisten,
calleth old freedoms, adrift in the mission.

Strange as it seems, Middle English these dreams, I reckon they know no Greek can I speak. Wisdom I feel thus prophetically real, these words I invoke in my mind I once spoke... "Oracles I see, of Apollo thy be, I asketh of thee if justice shall be?" In sweetness so dear from these lovelies I hear-- "Blood runneth not for freedom in vain, whence spiritual warriors vex traitors to pain. Hold all thou horses and hear thee all still, justice doth cometh and heed us they will." Sheathing my sword and dismounting my steed, I knelt on the ground and did emphatically plead..."Freedom we dieth for centuries escape, why hath the shackles grown stronger of late?" Then Apollo appeared and bellowed to me, like a roar of a lion, not timid was he, -- "In truth thou hast spoken, in anger I see, like mortals before who fled to the sea. Thy freedoms forsaken, I heareth before, battles men fought find favor no more. Poor memory hath man of Caesar I swear, thou give men often his power to dare. Send thee away, I believeth I shalt; yet pity hath I for thine weakness and doubt. To settle thy soul I knowest a way, hearken now mortal thence ride Tachyon, my bay. Seeketh thy leaders and saith my verse, lest God grows weary, impatient and terse. Keepeth thee faith and with loyal town criers, free art men with pure desires."

Like water is wet, doth freedom mean free,
exalteth no longer which may otherwise be,
shackles grow stronger, binding more taut,
thou makest believe thou prisoners be not.
Hereby be counselled within a twain score,
avow to these leges, make burdens no more.
'Apollo's verse'

You will notice the range of depth will vary within the text of this book but so staged for good reasons. These next two verses express that necessary for accountability for us to realize an ideal civilization (according to the Muses) and necessary to secure freedom, not for just a few generations, but forever...lest the endless cycle of wars, revolutions and misery.



Two begin for nations to follow,
vows to men expressively hallow;
for lex non scripta, common law,
make no mockery like Romans saw.
Begone Dark Ages, be thee aware,
bequeath us not your usual fare;
centuries came and sunsets sank,
danceth man on a pirate’s plank.
Grasp thee now our lyric dreams,
dabble not those arrant schemes;
thunder loud all freedom voices,
bloweth wind for innate choices.

The preceding ends, for the time being, that specific type of delivery and gives you a peek into spiritual thought, a dimension of awareness necessary for the perfectibility of humankind. That will be elaborated upon often within this book.

The ILLUMINATI and WARRIOR POETS began the process of deciphering spiritual thought early in history, undoubtedly the earliest humans involved, succeeded only by immortals, the Muses, those autonomous spiritual beings about which much more will be said. These Illuminati and this particular Warrior Poet within this book are extraordinary human beings, very compassionate and incredibly gifted in that metaphysical. They are a breed apart and those who help lead humankind on, beckoning and encouraging. The potential warrior poet within humans, living deep within the omnificent subconscious, also helps formulate the mind's conscience ideas, pointing out the endless possibilities. Meanwhile the near omniscient Illuminati continually strives to improve their working knowledge of spiritual desires and can often express them with the skill of a warrior poet. Again, much more will be said about these true patriots in various ways, directly and indirectly, implied and expressed. It should be noted the Illuminati referred to within this book are not those belonging to any worldly organization that may exist.

This will get difficult at times, for a beginner, while the verse and these narratives within also attempt to demonstrate there is a link between our earthly reality and another greater. You will discover after some time (with due diligence) that indeed, it takes a different frame of mind just to BEGIN to comprehend the higher order of things.

It cannot be assumed that you, the reader, are in tune or even close, unfortunately for many not even after reading this book, but some will, perhaps just a few. Nevertheless, a necessary exercise that I narrate this the best possible way; yours to try to understand, society's perfectibility depends on both of us.

If you are thoroughly confused where this book might be going, don't despair, guess or give up. At such an early juncture it's not expected you can grasp this logic, the fleeting essence or feel the presence of something greater than ourselves. Indulge me as this book attempts to change that, although a task likened to trying to explain colors to someone born blind.

The following deals somewhat with the mind of our Warrior Poet, it gives some insight into how he thinks and his passionate nature. Although he has many metaphysical talents seemingly unlimited in scope, he attempts to write to a level of human understanding. Let's see what he's partly about....

Swiss Helm, old mountains, I behold thee everyday,
would thee move a furlong, certainly not thou say,
mirrors man's predicament, Dark Ages remain today,
precepts dost man smother, a binding with no sway.
Could thy majesty knowest, reflecteth so our pain,
why thou slopes art bluer, thy cry enigmatic rain?
Whence thy art the bluest, scale thee mystics can,
thence to touch the world, what really aileth man.

(From a dream)…So gracious they were, blue and soft, electrical fingers dancing aloft. Thence to the foothills they gingerly spread, down from the heavens they made a blue bed. They covered the mountains with a beautiful haze, flexing blue arcs into a dazzling maze. Henceforth I wondered why mountains would glow, exhibiting to me dramatically a show. But clouds will surrender this powerful force and loan it to mountains, a philosophical source. A message I knew as I witnessed this wonder as this omen included some oracular thunder. While forsaken old freedoms anger gods still, they proveth that power doth moveth by will...

What this country might but for veracity men bend,
although stolen our future, we conversely pretend,
wise men shall answer, who can imagine this place,
where freedom could live that no leaders disgrace.

We all seem to have limitations absorbing something new, the mind, it seems, has a relatively shallow area whereupon it stores information about something thought too bizarre. The mind must be given time to find an appropriate spot to file it. It then sorts it out for future reference and decides how it interrelates with other logic. It then reformulates a perspective and recalculates its reality. Of course our personal realities change everyday, sometimes hourly, dependent upon our current mood upon which outside forces can play havoc.

Sometimes the Warrior Poet, sensing his verse might be getting too deep to comprehend, backs off somewhat. He feels a need for the reader to consider him only human, capable of a relative shallowness. Besides, since shallowness is something many people are used to these days, he wants them to feel comfortable and deals with issues on a lower level, which means he is often addressing the symptoms, not the disease. Such is an example in this incomplete, unstructured, although soon to be verse spinning wildly in his head...

Courtly, I deem, walks my Titanic old dream, Themis, goddess so fine, her justice divine, Zeus had no choice but grant her lost voice, now, I think, she can make nations to blink. Apocalyptically irate, she begins to berate, "not a victim there be for codes that I see, should RICO laws stay is but another dismay, IRS but a scheme to keep affairs under wing, but can't encroach a new sales tax approach. Your minions delude while rights they elude, liberties they think are ships to yet sink."

Once the Warrior Poet believes he has demonstrated that he is still human and thus convinced himself, he delves again deeper while constantly reminding himself that in order to keep a reader's interest, not to get too deep. Depth, of course, is a relative term and used here to describe the level of comprehension but can often border on or cross into another dimension of thought. Sometimes these 'dimensions' are not directly related to our idea of logical thought. In many ways the logic and realities of the spiritual world have proven themselves so extremely foreign that they defy understanding and explanation. To bridge this gap of understanding, all the terminology and symbolic logic available is utilized, and if no combinations thereof seem to do the trick, then analogies or invented (ad hoc) terms are used. So this book isn't just about human rights and freedoms and as the themes change dramatically, the text becomes more comprehensive.

Cautiously, the Warrior Poet continues...

Sad for man it will continually be,
lest people harken the logic I see,
habitual creatures pacing thy fate,
a reason for men reacting too late.
Endowed freedoms the issue at hand,
a legacy given to inherit the land,
for children thus a nation to grow,
inviolable justice can thee bestow.

It should be said that most everything within this book is original, freshly sagacious and therefore empirical, nothing of any consequence was borrowed from any other source because, quite frankly, few have expressed such spiritual insights nor dared such an undertaking thusly. Many who did obtain such levels of awareness failed to follow through to share it for some reason. Perhaps their works were squelched, squashed or sequestered as one would expect during the Spanish Inquisition. In any event, this book is an original, largely uncontaminated and uninfluenced by other books. Great works of other writers and philosophers are included however and acknowledged for comparison and effect. Besides, they were the pioneers in profound thought, they deserve continued recognition.

Patiently, as the Warrior Poet versifies, our Illuminati look on awaiting their calling. These Illuminati, relatively passive and humble with their knowledge, understands the role the Warrior Poet and his verse plays, the necessary prelude to obtain greater understanding. Illuminati and new generations of Illuminati may not all be poets but unless they are, expressing themselves will be difficult until the warrior poets have done their job. The distinction between the two is that a warrior poet has an unequaled passion for a cause while as stated before, the Illuminati are more reserved. In collaboration, the two may join forces on certain tasks.

Desperate to keep an audience, the Warrior Poet may resort to subtle theatrics, humor, a play on words or various other methods to entertain which includes, but not limited to, ironies, brain teasers, whatever. He deeply resents having to resort to this but understands the human mind of today, demanding (to some measure) entertainment even when indulging serious subjects. We all have been guilty; we hate seemingly endless monotone deliveries and require music at funerals.

We'll see him poke a little fun at man while at the same time, point out the deafening rage coming from the spiritual souls of fallen warriors... but first, you need to know who Tachyon is. Tachyon, if you remember from a few pages ago, was a bay horse given the Warrior Poet by Apollo and so named after 'a hypothetical particle held to travel faster than light'. Tachyon is half horse, half wizard, and although very wise, often a smart aleck. You'll get to know and like Tachyon; he plays a major role...

I said ... “I beckon thee Tachyon, I need thee to saddle, and off will we fly from man's Tower of Babble. Must my hat hold ten gallons of rabbits since men cave-in to bad leadership habits?” “Indubitably I say” speaketh this bay, “man hast no horse sense, thinks only of sixpence, just like Caesar saw.” Then as a pause of sorts, he whinnies and snorts... "Bipedal hominids seem never to learn, grant powers in excess then THEIR freedoms they spurn. Monkey seeth, monkey doeth, man hath but Neanderthal cells with whistles and bells!"

The Warrior Poet then takes a prosaic detour and resorts to predictions from sources unclear, POSSIBLY the Muses...

Before we depart some important reminders, within a twain score means heave soon the blinders. A forty-year hourglass doth Valhalla claim dear, each grain that droppeth a warrior to fear. Whence they make their challenge by proxy, assume their actions to be anciently foxy. As the sand goeth under, old warriors wilt wonder... "For the sake of all freedoms, for the sake of our pain, what fool could think we would dieth in vain?" Then from the shadows to hear was Pickett reveling so clear... "Up spirits, up, and to your posts..."

Finally the Warrior Poet musters up the nerve, at the urging of the Illuminati, to be bold once again. "State in verse" pleaded the Illuminati, "the third accountability law."...


Before touching on world politics, next in line, it should be pointed out that neither the Illuminati nor the Warrior Poet are necessarily prophets per se (like Nostradamous). They may, or may not be, particularly talented predicting events. Events lead to no particular conclusion necessarily and are often short-lived. They can envision however, ultimate conclusions with crystal clarity.

If the Warrior Poet has any shortcomings, it's yielding to the temptation to prophesying, much to the chagrin of the Illuminati, who (you may still find this surprising) are more reserved, less daring. Prophesying is a tricky business better left to true prophets whom, we've all been led to believe, see a clear picture. Prophets, of course, are Illuminati but not all Illuminati are prophets. The Warrior Poet, on his own volition, may find himself interpreting a murky vision or dream, not convinced the prophet is much different or can see any clearer.

In any event, bear witness to his attempts as some good may come from it. If nothing else, it sounds an alarm about possibilities, something we should be concerned about. It's like if something isn't checked, then...

Perhaps the Warrior Poets brand of prophesying is more useful than that of Nostradamous. He 'merely' wrote prophecies about events and few, if any, ultimate conclusions except when the world would end. Furthermore, he didn't bother to write most of them in a manner discernible BEFORE the event. What good would that be? Most of his quatrains could only be matched up AFTER the event. He was good but not thoughtful enough, even if the Inquisition was a problem. Poor old Nostradamous, not here to defend himself...

On March 20, 1997 the Warrior Poet was working on this verse which he also never completed, unsure perhaps...

Money, money, money, Yeltsin needeth plenty; gold from his mine, Chinese would like fine but oil he will accede in hour of yuan need. As the peso was saved in the Mexican Charade, Hong Kong in their fool zeal cooks up a yuan deal. Fu-hsi eats their kitty; Yen-ti milks their city. Gone is their capital idea and tender exchange.

While it is clear our Warrior Poet writes a good deal of verse within this book, so do the Illuminati (ours). These Illuminati, for the most part, serve as mentors; it is unclear which if either influences the rhyming dialog within this book and the stichomythic dialogs yet to come as alter egos are involved in this book. Perhaps I, the author, in a human capacity, must take the credit (or blame). We can have our peculiar capacities can't we?

Astraddle an old log in the mystical blue fog sat a squalid old man scribing a plan... "What", I did ask, "are you taking to task?" Not lifting his head something answered instead... "To whom do you speak, to which common old freak? It is I, the dog, you should wisely address, be leery of man who schemes up a mess." Certain, I fear, a dog I could hear, but to that eeriness sound I did quickly resound... "If a dog you are, I've traveled too far, because dogs have not six legs nor one eye in the middle, certainly not a dog would flash a pink fiddle!"

Soon vanished that dog and the man on the log but before they did fade a statement the dog made... "The art of deception; a characteristic reflection." To that I did wonder and stood there to ponder... of all men does he mean or just that man with a scheme? Why would a dog with a fiddle bark out that short riddle? So wait I shall on my wizard and pal...

When Tachyon soared back down through the stars, this ancient fast horse just barely missed Mars and with a landing it seemed a little bit rough, could this wizard be tipsy, to land on his duff? I asked "So what in the world is the matter with you, high flying that fast and missing a shoe?" In reply he slurred "The Big Dipper was full of water I thought, maybe vodka it held, I drank a straight shot?"

"Tachyon, you look shakier on four legs than a drunkard on two but thank God you can talk because I have a question for you... About a strange dog and a dirty..." Interrupting me fast with a swig from his flask, Tachyon said... "Yes, I know them, the dog is called Spin and old man is Rhetoric, both are degenerates but return they will and possibly secrets they spill (hic). A pair to draw to but not poker they play, just political havoc is what I hear say. While the dog's strange fiddle is really a mirror, reflects the truth for some men to fear" --- Then with a lick, a hic and unquestionably adverse, he cites this disjointed question-full verse...

Mongol/Ming or Manchu brawn, does a dynasty Chinese dawn?
With an olive but no branch, might men fear a U.S. ranch?
If shifting sand is liberty, high tide treason do we see?
Do men see a good flag sink, a nation try a poison drink?

With no help for awhile but watch that drunken horse smile, an estuary would hurl a bonny white pearl. Landing nearby and big as a head, it shortly began to slowly turn red. Inside was boiling an alphabet soup, spinning and turning in a circular loop. I saw Confucius and Mencius stirring to spell their strange and self-humored mystic-like tale...

In Moscow's Red Square my chopsticks no fare,
Boris in a pan, eat this alpha and omega man!
No loans will we lend or their rubles defend,
no one will, Great Scot, nyet as in NATO-NOT!
Boats did USA miss, junks on the Baltic fish.

Was Boris Yeltsin the 'alpha and omega man'? Since he has been succeeded, that question may mean something other that seemingly obvious. Perhaps an error in prophecy, time will tell...

Not that Russia or Asia becomes the topic of this book either, nor will Mexico, yet their cases deserve mentioning to point out how American foreign policy plays a questionable role. It is well known our foreign policy is often intrusive and based on greed, especially when we conduct 'business as usual' with these criminally run countries. 'Business as usual' only perpetuates a bad situation, empowers it.

Hopefully only until recently, thanks to the election of Vicente Fox, our neighbor Mexico was largely a wretched political place on a par with Iran, Iraq, North Korea, etc., etc. American foreign policy didn't acknowledge this because they're our bordered neighbors, yet Cuba is another story because they're our UN-bordered neighbors, an interesting policy comparison.

The consistent thing about our foreign policy is its inconsistency, except for treacherous bureaucrats and strategies driven by greed. Of course we're not the only country with treasonous bureaucrats, traitors to their respective countries and humankind.

The Warrior Poet had this on Mexico on April 12, 1997; it appears a good part of his prophecy was right...

As cultures and languages intermingle, as Mexico and ours, that process gave birth to forms of 'Spanglish'. As noted earlier, to his chagrin the Warrior Poet resorts to unfortunate tactics to keep the reader entertained...

El Presidente Salinas, O' where didst you go?
You sold U.S. Mexico, vamoosed with la dough!
No more pesos for cattle, nada to plant corn,
now the whole enchilada more chili and scorn.
With no mucho frijoles, then so little bread,
will PRI relato "let them eat tacos" instead?
Grain-train banditos should be the precursor-

In case you were unaware, trains carrying grain in Mexico were often being held-up for their cargo in the late 1990‘s (an un-circulated news event).

In Mexico known, will be a fracture of stone, affectionately envisioned by those simply imprisoned. Meanwhile a horse, of wonder of course, sports a white beard that seems really weird but this wizardly-like and faster-than-light flier reveals the bane of their no class, high caste PRI liar....

It would be appropriate to note again that this was written in 1997, more than 3 years later as this book is being compiled, the political atmosphere in Mexico had changed as the PRI was booted out of the Presidency with the help of Jimmy Carter and the international effort to monitor a fair election process. Their involvement mandated (in effect) that all political parties to be given equal time on the airways. (Conspicuously absent was Jimmy to oversee America's 2000 election process in Florida)

This was a good thing for once, the U.S. intervening in the Mexican election process which saved the day, pushed back the inevitable doom (via the grinding poverty) for the Mexican people. Did the U.S. see the writing on the wall? Of course they did, they acted on some wise advice but did it come from the State Department? It's uncharacteristic. Could there be hope after all at times?

In 1997-98, when material within this book was mailed across the country, which included most major newspapers, the usage of two titles in every case was suggested... just like for the following segment:

Mariachis play 'Flight of El Bumble Peso', a Salinas quickstep?
America dough-si-doughs, Asia refinances Mexico's dizzying twirl?

These titles were surely all but lost to the media boneheads, as was the entire text. Anyway, from here on, these suggested titles will often be included as they give additional insights into the text that follows it, often being insinuative.

For reasons explained, this piece on Mexico might not apply any longer but still worth revisiting, another prophecy thwarted?

As a matter of due course I asked this time traveled horse--- "Quite literally as possible but nevertheless, reflect your opinions on Mexico's big mess, make known your knowledge to fill the abyss, avail to us visions men otherwise miss. Do so now for the powers-that-may and every skeptical 'no-way' Jose; forget thee not those Toms that doubt, the 'show-me' Missourian or the average Boy Scout.”

With a snort and a whinny after my oats he ate many... "Do you want a tangent forecast whereby Mexico might last? A dissertation on human nature and reflected in projected scenario nomenclature? Can do, dude, just tell me their true mood." "Mood," I asked, "when they're importing food? While staple supplies are critically short, who’d expect a veritable good sport? To build up their herds from the terrible drought and pinning their hopes on American money, to the Mexican ranchers, it's nothing very funny!"

After awhile Tachyon said with a smile--- "Can't you figure it out? The possibilities are endless for will, but limited by doubt. Travel I can to how it might be, what good is a million scenarios I see? “

A Mexican standoff or an ultra high noon,
Aztec and Mayans, do men bay at the moon?
With insider efforts to avoid a disaster,
spin yards of yarn, plaster over plaster.
Poncho's critical mass and eleventh hour,
last straw is found in a Monterrey tower.

Virginia reel on the green Yucatan flute,
the more men dance the more will it toot.
To upbeat good rhythm, them Mexicans can,
they need not their pot but only the PAN.
Against a small army, without even scuds,
wages a lost war to punks shooting drugs.
When Mexican officials smile like Saddam,
blinded our press, sees not Iraq or Iran.

The following was included on the same page but a different matter entirely because timely input is important. The following was more than an afterthought, more than something to finish out a page. It is important for our own country, is anybody listening?

We interrupt this Mexican synecdochical labyrinth for a flash from the Cyberspace Press Cooperative (circa?):


In the year 2020, a few more or a few less,
Americans demanded no more sugarcoat press,
the good of our forests, the issue at hand,
no lumber for Judas, his paper buys banned.
The media was hung by its big rubber stamp,
inked not of Arnolds who slept in its camp.

The passion of the Warrior Poet is most evident isn't it? Actually this is the way he prefers to write, reflecting the moderately diluted thoughts of his inspiration source, the Muses. The Muses are also the prime source for the Illuminati, or it's believed to be primary. From ancient times the Muses have been credited as the inspiration source for all artists, which include musicians, writers and poets (Music was derived from the word 'Muse').

It seems clear that inspiration and knowledge comes from the same source but if it doesn't, any distinction must be very narrow because the source 'feels' like one in the same. The Muses offer incredible inspiration, seemingly many great works not possible without their help. By the time inspired works are finished, the word 'incredible' is most appropriate (finally a suitable word in describing something metaphysical!). Could these inspirers, all nine of the Muses also have access to metaphysical knowledge that they are willing to share? Assuredly so, during the times a 'connection' is made, inspiration flows while at the same time, insights.

Unbelievable to the vast majority is the depth of knowledge possible although easily seen by the Illuminati. Relating that depth is the hard part, it takes a particular skill, something Nostradamous lacked, the poor fellow. The Illuminati and the Warrior Poet often collaborate for those depths in the extreme because the more profound the message, being purer, it is often incomprehensible to mortal humans, hence the skill required to make it comprehensible without losing too much of its essence.

The following is a departure from what we earlier called accountability laws. On behalf of humankind, they are spiritual edicts to the leadership of every country and to their fifth columnists, the media. The shoe, having been dropped, is now on the other foot, and those deserving boots will have the blessing of the spirit world, ESPECIALLY Valhalla. However, the following doesn't seem to be quite an 'edict of accountability', it's unknown why it was put forth as such, it clearly reads more like a warning. At any rate, this seemingly apparent 'mistake' was not deleted but will stand without a title, subject to being reclassified.

Covers no illicit press nor a wicked news medium,
nor shields men echoing some psuedo-rights idiom,
or hides even what copious ink tries; our rights.
Beware ye fascist, know thee blackness of nights.

The above should be left free for you, the reader, to interpret; it's really not always that difficult. Such may, or may not, have brainteasers serving as provokers, it's just that readers often enjoy figuring some things out for themselves. Commenting on every word and inference was avoided for that reason, not to spoil the broth, so to speak.

Or, you may be wondering why I don't call a spade a spade and use plain English. Moreover, wonder why the text is not delivered in a more conventional way. It's fervently hoped that will soon become evident without the need for detailed explanation. Various points will often only be alluded to, it's expected your intelligence, if you have a mind to, will figure it out. There are simply various powers connected to various deliveries, vaguely put...

Bill Clinton, perhaps the standard by which all future orators will be judged, is THE current master in his realm of communicating. So too, Walt Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson and many others in their respective realms but aside from great words of wisdom, it was delivery. Without an effective delivery, unique in style often, great thinkers remain unknowns as if a tree fell and made no sound.

(A couple of notes, we're going to be dealing a lot with realities throughout this book, directly and creatively within the text, a new dimension to enjoy. Also, when 'the' Illuminati are referred to, it means my Illuminati.)


Blue Laws and Realities

Most of my single-page bimonthly periodicals mailed across the country required some thought to understand but some were relatively shallow... all for good reasons. However, most people won't bother to look up any word they don't know, for that within they should. They'll breeze on by, thinking they'll get the jest of the text without knowing the meaning of a few words, naughty, naughty. All of us are guilty of that most of the time but it's encouraged to break out the dictionary whereby the essence of the text can be savored. For that reason and convenience, a limited glossary is included in the rear of this book. I hope that it's comprehensive enough. Otherwise it’s a dirty-rotten shame rushing to finish a book just to say it's been read and then give it a critique.

Besides, it's an eye-opening experience to note the dates of origin for the countless words in the dictionary coined to describe complexities. If at any time one might believe our ancestors were stupid is to believe not in necromancy. In many ways it was demonstrated our ascendants were collectively more intelligent. Ingenuity was a necessity in the olden days and that required a lot of thinking. Thinking thus begot knowledge and knowledge begot a higher awareness.

Since we don't need much ingenuity anymore to survive since our ancestors invented most basic conveniences, we don't have to think as much, REALLY think. Largely today, it seems politicians and the media are allowed to think for us instead. It was no accident that the great minds were from yesteryear, demonstrated by the fact the greatest philosophers have long since passed. Even mysticism once flourished back then but that neither was naïve thinking or because people had nothing better to do. Mysticism came into being by profound thinking, not unusual for those days.

However we do need to credit our current generations but sadly they focus with a narrower beam, and ever more narrowing as specialists now. People now believe all energies for thinking must be concentrated on our trade to compete lest be eaten alive. There's logic to that but...

From a sampling of the various types of intellects from my circle of friends, and there weren't many (?), even those of 'open' minds, none were capable of going the distance with the verse within, most were bogged down early, a few made it further. The problem was, in retrospect, not the substance of the text necessarily, although problematic in comprehending, but to a great extent it was the format, my ‘delivery’.

I wrestled with that problem for quite some time and came to the conclusion that by making the text too 'conventional' it would lose its effectiveness; the power of this type of expression would be lost. The only solution, and challenge, was to somehow entice the reader's interest in verse. If we are to have a 'hiatus the profoundest' as Walt Whitman was quoted as saying, that 'no eye seems to perceive', then this may be it, maybe forever.

The hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt were certainly not written conventionally yet drew the greatest of possible interest. The interest was there to interpret them because, in part, they represented history, but it was more than that. It was a tantalizing challenge of the highest order; imagine deciphering ancient history in such a way. All was there; it was only a matter of figuring it out. There seems to be a challenging comparison here.

The hieroglyphics represented history also in a different way, this wasn't just bones or relics to decipher, hieroglyphics was something else altogether, a challenge made in heaven, a LANGUAGE to decipher of a highly advanced ancient society. For the archaeologist, historian and linguist, a dream come true. The verse within is also a language to decipher but without pyramids to write upon, nothing emblematic... visible that is.

Perhaps soon we'll have as much interest in our future as we've had in our past, thus the verse within. Perhaps now we won't be driving forward with our eyes always glued to the rearview mirror. However, there are those who do look forward and are trying to shape our destiny, figuring out how humans should live in the future and how to enforce it. Guess who...

But it really isn't our government collectively doing that exactly, they only take the initiative to raise taxes, build bigger bureaucracies and waste money it seems. Our government is however, acquiescing to imperialistic think tanks and transnational corporations who believe in a one-world government. Both have collaborators (many as members) in our bureaucratic offices and throughout Congress cooperating in varying degrees.

If we continue to allow government bureaucrats and our elected officials to belong to these groups, the next generation of best-selling books will be about 'how to tolerate living in a police state'. They have no legitimate business belonging to these groups nor should they have the time. Further, they should serve only one master, we the people.

Before proceeding to narrate more works by the Warrior Poet and Illuminati, it would be appropriate and timely to ponder a parallel to a famous speech from our past, from our English roots...

"The Americans are the sons, not the bastards, of England" said William Pitt in England's House of Commons in 1766... "The Americans have not acted in all things with prudence and temper. They have been driven to madness by injustice. Will you punish them for the madness you have occasioned?"

You guessed it, a modern-day revisionist might say, "Patriots are the sons, NOT the bastards, of America." So too, the other of Pitt's speech remains apropos for today's patriots, even WTO (World Trade Organization) demonstrators. How can anyone call themselves a true American or a universal spirit and always acquiesce, always knuckle under to that un-American or sanction trade with those countries who violate civil rights?

We acquiesce through tolerance, an insidious habit, for things such as unreasonable bail (recently for WTO demonstrators), tolerance of the RICO laws, that is, confiscation of property without due process. The list of what 'Americans' acquiesce to is becoming endless. Don't get that wrong, even with laws unfit for a grand society, America is still probably the best place to live in the world (so heralds my opinion of the rest of the world). Compared to other countries, we still have the best of many things, on a par in some regimented categories but are sliding downhill faster in many instances. We have the highest crime rate in the world for reasons some may find surprising... largely due to the pervasive hypocrisy within our government, within our laws and regulations, in almost everything government does. That breeds crime and the number-one cause. The media showcases the effects but is otherwise seemingly oblivious, or?

If you recall from the first chapter, I stated no appropriate starting point for this book could be found and that I would have to swing about in different ways to make any sense. This is part of that process so the book continues thusly...

Annie Oakley takes aim on bomber wannbes,
uses hotshot buckshot?
Annie blasts away with trick shotgun,
BB's sting the terrorist turf?,

Whomsoever strikes next, art thou McVeigh?
What purpose, ask I, bomb a nation astray?
A reprisal of sorts, that carnage at Waco?
Ruby Ridge perhaps of a villainy de facto?
No matter your beef, this causes me grief,
no bomb can be made that blasts us relief.
Know thyself terror, a shot you are short,
you should aim first for justice in court.
You muzzle the critics, guarded our print,
not a bird of a feather, fret at the hint.
Freedom of speech, the right to bear arms,
gives man no reason for his violent charm.
Nations can listen, hear their voice ring,
say Mahatma Gandhi, Doctor Martin L. King.
Caesar Chavez, who marched with pure will,
echo these giants; make a mountain a hill.

As we fade away for a different matter, done-so now in a musical manner but inside our castle some discotheque clatter... "Okay fellas, lets rock and roll, altogether now, get-down-soul... one anda tw--" (then thrown rocks knock at our Telesis Tower). "Shucks boys, lower the drawbridge and back to work, we've got a real customer or some shallow dumb jerk!"

Queried then did Tachyon: "For a weak common soul and a lousy thin dime, do we really need to mystically rhyme?"--- "Synecdochically so!” said the Eye of the Shadow, "to fathom what depths they are mentally charged, whether-or-not they can field verbum sapienti enlarged."

(I then answered the door instead of playing our score) "Well, what bringeth thou two subverters out and about? A question thou hast for my wizard no doubt?”  (Silence)- "Speaketh, Mr. Spin, thee six-legged dog with one eye in the middle, I seest thee bringeth thy pink little fiddle!" -- "We looked!” sobbed that dirty dog; "both him and me, we both looked!" -- I then asked, "Do thee mean into thy mirror, that men art to everyday fear? It maketh not the damnedest to me but what didst thee see?” -- "Nary a reflection, not any question", bawled Spin, "but an omen I saw, I became an outlaw! While old Rhetoric here is really so scared, he saw psychologism no longer spared!" -- To that I responded... "What didst thee expect, thou both art now societal rejects! Thy black magic we hath sawest, who doth play thy fiddle, must he look in its mirror. Come back later as we longeth to jam, whilst we wilt not harken to thy wry tune, devil rhetoric we damn!"

This won't be done often but as an example of interpretation, it has to do with the dog's fiddle. If you recall before, the "fiddle is really a mirror, reflects the truth for some men to fear". Then, "who doth play thy fiddle, must he look in its mirror". Simple, readers can figure out what that means, a reckoning, but playing this fiddle creates days of reckoning before one's natural death.

This fiddle, actually anything, can manifest a mirror that reflects what you are, if guilty, the fear of that occurrence intensifies. Of course that process is put in motion within one's own mind, the guilty conscience as judged by the subconscious. Although seemingly obvious, the dynamics are not.

We all have latent powers but they cannot be tapped without being 'clear', as L. Ron Hubbard put it. Perhaps there is a more encompassing term than 'clear' but that's not important now. The point is that 'clear', within this book but not necessarily in his, is a human that is relatively 'right'. To the degree he is, he can become (to an equal degree) omniscient, omnificent and then omnipotent, not possible unless you are 'clear' (that word is not entirely apropos).

If this is true, that only those worthy can utilize latent powers... imagine then the possibilities! Surely, with due reflection, Jesus Christ was a 'clear' and why he was capable of what he did. There is much more to be said about that but it raises the next curious question. What are these latent powers? There seems to be no limitations whatsoever as to the variations and extent.

There are many who believe that we are really gods, but in our present state, that is, as run-of-the-mill humans, a sorry excuse. We have denied ourselves in many ways by being sheep, followers. Believe this now, universality factors in largely as part of THE 'test'. It's a matter of our immortality, plain and simple.

Immortality depends upon being 'clear' and one MUST BE before they die. There are no shortcuts nor can anybody be 'blessed' into immortality. Within this book you will pick up hints on what you must do and it has nothing to do with 'religions' or furthering any agenda. Remember this also, of all humans who have ever lived, assuredly (in my estimation) only a few thousand have achieved immortality so far and Jesus Christ was one of them if those stories are true. It's largely unknown who those men and women were but they lived as such a Jesus lived, also in a sense living a life as true rebels, nonconformists.

One more time about why there are largely only hints within this book, it's because of human nature... one shortcoming we have is that there never seems to be any real appreciation for knowledge if it's all laid out. For your necessary discoveries, the WILL to become 'clear' must be passionate and the WILL to find the way must be overwhelming. The clergy and religions have failed societies because to do less, souls will be lost forever...

Enough of that for awhile, let’s get back to earth.

Well, long tall Sally, she looks for speed,
she's got drug money that uncle Juan needs,
she was real smart, her career once bright,
shoots up mercy whence her job took flight.
"Gracias Senora, I made wads at this fence,
other Mexicans earn, for 1 hour, just 45¢"!
She flicks his sombrero and cynically coos,
"Up your Chihuahua, jobs are gone for YOU!"

(Prophetically he flings a tortilla retort)
"Poco rico Americans, you no live someday!"
"Gringo honchos hate you, diablos del rey!"
Industry’s drug high, the slave-wages rush,
deals us the burgers, not people they push.

While on would they go,
more songs do men know,
in tunes do they tarry,
sayeth Thomas D. Harry.
No lyrics do they hear,
deaf ears must we fear,
who utters and propose,
that men act in repose.

And finally for this segment, another edict of accountability...


Well, are you convinced of anything yet? Formulating an opinion? Keep in mind there's a long way to go although you must be still curious why it's necessary to jump around so much. Again, that reasoning will often be reflected upon, it's a matter of maintaining a healthy overall perspective at all times, being highly cognizant constantly about the core principles of existence.

It was not appropriate to say one should stay 'relatively informed', imagine the breadth of that non-inclusive phrase. It would indicate the gathered intelligence from moronity to total enlightenment, interesting only because it demonstrates the possible range of knowledge. It could have been also rephrased as "relatively informed to an adequate level of understanding" or "relatively informed in matters men should know, but don't, in matters not known to be important, but are". A mouthful that certainly needs no further elaboration...

Perhaps you haven't gotten the picture this book is trying to paint yet but you're persistent and that's what it takes, persistence in finding truths and understanding, wherever you can. There are rewards in deciphering the spiritual picture provided you are determined to find the way. This is when ‘will’ runs so fast as to catch up with his spiritual awareness which is also fast, known as having the ability to easily overtake knowledge.

From time to time throughout this book, if you're still here, you'll be treated to something special.... Well, something different anyway, maybe a hint or two, when you're STILL wondering, why all these hints? What's wrong with spelling it out? Again, to respond in a different way, that's something Nostradamous must have wrestled with but he would have had problems with the authorities if the quatrains were easily understood. The thugs of the Inquisition must have thought him mad to write such incomprehensible gobbledygook and therefore deemed him not a threat. He could have done it, then arranged to have them distributed after he was dead, or so it seems. He wrote them as he saw them, which often led to broad interpretations (too vague). In any event, he didn't deal with why he wouldn't spell it out; there is no known record of it anyway.

Again, Nostradamous predicted events and was unequaled in that arena but he predicted mostly events as I recall. Although the Illuminati and Warrior Poet herein have obviously never met Nostradamous, they can deeply sense his frustration. They face the same dilemma, knowing something he knew about delivery problems and it wasn't about UPS.

It seems the Warrior Poet has a passion for almost everything but just wait until he gets into the family farm crisis later... Now to the subject of victimless crimes (by the Illuminati)...

The following was written in January 1999...


Touchy subjects take praxeology to the core,
laws had relegated them to an open backdoor,
the little Dutch boy, his thumb in a pickle,
as penny-ante peccadilloes cost he a nickel.
Politicians can straddle and wire any fence,
string out answers with barbs that he rents.

Miscellaneous creatures of the societal zoo,
they became elephants with an invisible hue,
invaded our living room, unseen in the pink,
that's bad news for viewing as keepers wink.
Inherently supine, complacency lacks vision,
its incandescence dims a high-beam decision.

Sings Jimmy Crack Corn that he doesn't care,
since the blue laws, a sound-bite no affair,
heard those crashing sounds as vices batter,
but for that weakling door, a castle matter.
A revolution lost, what's left is evolution,
but stir like crazy as hardens the solution.

Marijuana ropes notices, an old cowboy said,
but pay no mind to this weed on your spread,
just like a tumbleweed, the Russian Thistle,
ignored to tears, they blow away and fizzle.
Counter painkillers seem like just placebos,
no such remedy sells in Rastafarian gazebos.

Government agencies employ vampires, ghouls,
these photophobics learnt creepy in schools,
functional robots which dysfunction mankind,
a mission for possessing each body and mind.
Group-think realities, wisp shallows, a bug,
conventional idioms which sandwich the smug.

That just about wraps up the thoughts the Illuminati have regarding victimless crimes, at least for awhile. There isn't much to narrate about this; the verse said it all in a most masterful way. Arguments cannot be conceived that can dispute it and why the Warrior Poet or Illuminati would challenge anybody to a published word-limit debate in any newspaper. With the Muses at their side, NOBODY could possibly win against them. Victimless crimes are a carryover from medieval times; it's past time we dispensed with them. Some may be ugly and unpleasant to gawk at but so is homosexuality, so is garbage and so are a lot of things. We're not about to outlaw toilets are we?

More will be said about victimless crimes later, directly and in an indirect manner, even as part of the plot when the novel within slowly develops, a few fictional lines begin giving but scant clues what is in store. As the book progresses, the characters take more control, begin to dominate.

Before this chapter temporarily leaves the realm of earthly realities, try to imagine comparisons between your cognitive realities (awake) and the realities within your dreams. The next time you have a dream and recalling it the next morning, take note of the fact you didn't question the scenarios. In other words, the particular roll you played in your dream, note that your character didn't question the circumstances or plot; your character accepted the conditions as the dream played on. Once you realize this, consider how much we do that cognizant. To a lesser degree of course but the question is, how much less?

You'll discover, with some meditation, that in the cognitive state we only notice minor inconsistencies. We don't seem to be consistently aware of the greater miracles surrounding us everyday, life itself for example. Would not your living, breathing body be inconsistent with your realities at work? Is not the sun inconsistent also? How often do you think of either, or bother to consider them, incorporate their significance?

We are awash in a sea of miracles but since they are commonplace, we pay them little attention. There are other things many of us fail to incorporate into our reality which constitutes our current state of affairs (perceived reality). Not our personal state of affairs mind you, we do a pretty good job watching out for ourselves but so do animals, their reality is survival and the only one. Cannot we do better than think only of survival? Like animals?

The states of affairs referred to are the realities within our society and almost everything falls under this category, our governments, institutions and religions included. Anything man created is a reflection of his society and a great influence on our daily lives. But importantly, society creates a subjacent reality, the daily environment that we live in but like our body or sun, we pay little attention to that significance, these imposed realities of society.

This is also what this book is largely about, to get you to think. It is to remind you the importance to incorporate all aspects of your environment in order to maintain the most encompassing reality.

If one decides he or she would benefit from having a well-rounded awareness, then it can happen. An improved perspective begets a more realistic reality. That not only will but must ultimately include recognizing the follies of our society.

If an invention was no more than a worthless contraption it would go by the wayside but if laws and regulations are worthless contraptions, they stay, often for many generations. Laws and regulations should be considered as inventions, which they are, and their value determined by their usefulness. If a particular invention were dangerous to society and killed people, it would be discarded (or outlawed). If an invention attracted flies (crime) it would also be discarded but strangely, government officials like to make natural or personal preferences into something dangerous so that it attracts these flies.

Our society created the Underwriters Laboratory (UL) to inspect and underwrite electrical appliances for safety purposes. We don't have any such laboratory to inspect victimless 'crime' laws and regulations (blue laws) for safety purposes. These are those things society invented that are dangerous and attract flies. Actually it was the 'moral majority' that did it, radicals backed by religions that worship making natural acts dangerous so they attract flies.

Arguments calling natural acts ‘immoral’ come from the 'moral majority' and are largely invisible people who decide what's ordinary or natural. They're the ones who decide that it's okay to ruin society with laws and regulations that kill innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time and attract flies. That's okay as long as they can tell you what to do. Environmentalists are also strangely invisible in this world of ours that doesn’t believe in invisible beings.

This is not a dream whereby we accept the circumstances and play out our role, or it shouldn't be. We accept this idiotic notion that other people can have a say in what we with our bodies so it must be a dream. It’s really heteronomy.

Said once and deservedly said again, blue laws are the clearest representation of hypocrisy and the most insidious destructive force in society. With or without a personal interest in drugs or prostitution, outlawing them does tenfold more damage than good, and affects all of society. Blue laws affect innocent people and have little effect on either conduct or consumption. It is the height of hypocrisy and it is this hypocritical stance that breeds disrespect for laws and regulations, and that, my friend, is the reason for America's high crime rate.

It's all such a farce, kids think, these stupid laws and regulations. Kids notice these things more so than adults because they're new on the block and are checking out the territory. Adults have become accustomed to blue laws, we forget they're there. Adults are still dreaming, not questioning the hypocritical scenarios.

Meanwhile the kids, now disrespectful and resentful because their parents are always in dreamland, lash back. They wonder why they must be in their dream too.

Kids positively think everything must be a farce if laws and regulations are a farce and that's logical reasoning. The hypocrisy within society directly fosters crime and the number-one reason kids go bad, or later as adults. While sociologists and psychologists tinker with the lesser causes, they overlook and underestimate this fact. If they were to recognize hypocrisy within society as the leading cause for crime, all institutions would pooh-pooh their discovery and dismiss it because hypocrisy is an integral part of their foundation; many would not exist without it. Then, because institutions wouldn't invite these sociologists and psychologists to tea anymore, they drop the notion and quietly go back to thinking up other reasons for crime.

That's the reality of today, government officials and those of every institution want you to adopt their realities as fundamentally sound whereby you won't question them. As an example, officials could dress like clowns and after a few years people would expect them to dress that way. If you didn't dress like a clown, you weren't an official. It's partly that way already; they act like clowns passing laws that kids laugh at... which we don't notice. But then again, we don't notice our body as a miracle or the sun.

Religions say money is the root of all evil, that’s not necessarily so, it may only play second fiddle to hypocrisy in the average person's circumstances. Until their realities are back in the ballpark, money plays halfheartedly in this two-man band.

So it is then, realities.

----This has been so very strange, what the heck is happening anyway? All of a sudden, poof, I’m standing in front of a bunch of troops like a drill sergeant. I don't know this place, didn't know those men this morning either! Be cool, it'll all make sense soon, I must have a case of amnesia... Equally strange how I handled it though, just kept right on truckin', playing the part. Musta blinked a few times though, I wonder if the men noticed?

Man, this can't be a dream; it's too real. I don't remember coming here, way out in this countryside, how did I get here? What am I doing here anyway? I know I'm asking myself this, so it must be real then. It'll come to me in---, wait a doggone minute; I was last sitting on my porch...

There's somebody coming, walking this way... I didn't see him earlier for all the trees. Friend or foe I wondered, so a ‘howdy’ with a raised voice I called out, followed with a confident "nice day, huh?"

"Yup, sure is, been here long?" was the reply of this somewhat strangely dressed man wearing a glengarry hat... "I was looking for my little dog, a white Maltese." Feeling a slight sigh of relief I responded, "no, I haven't seen one, I think I dozed off” came as my quick response but insipid answer.

"Well," he said, "I figured somebody seen him, just asking around. I better keep looking before it gets dark, he was scared, the little guy. The weirdest darn thing, ah, well I guess I better go."

What in the world, I'm still thinking to myself, and I kept thinking while this odd fellow's expression began to change... "You okay?” he asked as he slightly cocks his head. I thought I might regret it if I didn't answer, he might think I'm crazy or something so..."yeah, yeah, still groggy I guess."

"Yeah, okay, I hope I find Nicki" said the fellow as he headed back down the hill. He stopped about 20 feet away and turned around. "Have you been here long?” he curiously asked again... I was still standing but my knees felt weak, I sat down on a good-sized rock and stared across the small valley studded with pine trees, juniper and a few sycamores, and kept staring. It seemed a few manzanitas nearby seemed waiting for me to come to my senses. My god, I thought, it's been a half-day and I still don't know how I got here. Finally I replied, "no, not long, you?"

He then slowly walked back towards me, admitting..."me neither, ended up here yesterday, strange and I can't figure it out."... Okay I'm thinking, maybe him too, I should say something, "ah, yeah, me too, something strange, I donno, I was on my porch... How'd you get here?"

"Well, I hate to admit it but I'm not sure. The last thing, I mean, the dog and me were, ah, hell, I don't know!"

Caution was beginning to give way when I echoed his confusion. "It was the damnedest thing, I was sitting on my porch thinking and, well, that's what I was doing last, well, I don't know how I ended up here, maybe, well hell, I don't know either."

The fellow lowered himself to his haunches for an earnest conversation and began..."Something weird musta happened, to both of us I guess, maybe we were abducted by aliens or something, you think?"

"Well, I don't recollect anything like that, but I've been in a strange mood lately though, I don't know if that had anything to do with this---"... "How so?” pressed the man, "what kinda mood, was something bothering you?"

"Yeah, I was down in the dumps sorta, what, ah, did you see a UFO or something? ”No", he began, "but I was down too, depressed about things, can't do nothin', can't change a thing.".... About the time I thought he would elaborate, he popped another question... "What were you down about?"

It was then my turn..."Same thing", I replied as if we may yet be getting somewhere, "trying to figure out how one man can make a difference."... "Hell, me too" he said as he lowered one knee to the ground, "you don't suppose, I mean, are you thinking what I'm thinking? Is it possible?"

The conversation went on for hours even after this Warrior Poet and I found Nicki, and so it came to be.... our new reality.

In amazement I pondered my new environment and circumstances; I compared this to different realities one might normally experience in life, a new job, a different home, another girlfriend. I thought the only difference was I always remembered the important link between the two different realities.

In wrapping up this chapter, perhaps now humankind will echo the resounding tone within this book, maybe also that heralding an evolution in powerful English poetry that effectively began with Geoffrey Chaucer (died 1400)....

In 1894, referring to the English poet, Edmond Spenser (1552-1599), Henry A. Beers wrote "His aerial creations resemble the blossoms of the epiphytic orchids, which have no root in the soil, but draw their nourishment from the moisture of the air.”

Their birth was of the womb of morning dew
and their conception of the glorious prime.

Also of Spenser he wrote… "The four hymns in praise of Love and Beauty, Heavenly love and Heavenly Beauty, are also stately and noble poems, but by reason of their abstractness and the Platonic mysticism which they express, are less generally pleasing than the others mentioned. Allegory and mysticism had no natural affiliation with Spenser's genius. He was a seer of visions, of images full, brilliant, and distinct; and not, like Bunyan, Dante, or Hawthorne, a projector into bodily shapes of ideas, typical and emblematic; the shadows which haunt the conscience and mind.”

Other poets were also in touch with the metaphysical world; these works bear some evidence...

As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew
From nature, I believe them true.
They argue no corrupted mind
In him; the fault is in mankind.

A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thought: a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused.

Underneath this sable herse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother;
Death, ere thou hast slain another
Learn'd and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.
Ben Jonson

I think these are evidence they were touched by this metaphysical phenomena but I couldn't grasp them at first and was originally critical. I read them in a cursory manner without thought, perhaps in professional jealousy. I can now understand their magnetic draw and applaud them. I need to appreciate the work of others consistently but while espousing upon something especially profound, I think Beers himself was equally provocative and of immense talent.

The following expresses the sentiments of all too many people, but it need not be. This should be considered only a view from a precarious ledge on an upward climb, the struggle of man for a dignified and satisfying existence. Without idealists, such is our fate forever...

The Cheats of Hope
[From Aurengzebe.]
When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
Yet, fooled with hope, men favor the deceit,
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay;
To-morrow's falser than the former day,
Lies worse, and while it says we shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possessed.
Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain,
And from the dregs of life think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give.
I'm tired of waiting for this chymic gold
Which fools us young and beggars us when old.
John Dryden

If up to this point you are still having a hard time relating, I should somehow like to stand and invoke the thinking environment during the Enlightenment in eighteenth century Europe, primarily in France and England. Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire factored in heavily in this first spiritually collective thought-inspired wonder of the world, with two more to come.

(end of chapter two)

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Last modified: 10/25/13