A dark Terrestrial Vibe – Subconscious Data Cloud


Cool, but not cold to the touch it was. The damp darkness of it. The rough readiness of it being hard on the skin and bones of his skull which suddenly felt even heavier on it. Sleeping on the carpet of sharp rocks and dust of years all trudged and worn away by small animals scampering by in a past time of shelter.

It takes time to make that kind of black. The black of a cave out of sight of the world.  So black that your eyes can only see nothing real, only see what they imagine to see. There is no light further back, but there is sound.

There is a vibe in a cave, if only you could hear it.

be quiet enough, and still your breathing…

solid until the vibe sound came through it.

Came through your chest instead of oxygen to hear it.

the solid sounds of the earth below it.

and the struggling sound of water trickling kindly in it.

through the cracks of stone above it.

He woke up thinking..

” Yes it’s quiet, but I keep all my data down here, my memories my private ‘cloud’ my stuff that I did in the past. No disk drives, no wires, no access, no one can actually get at the data except me.  On the off chance that in a million year, way past my lifetime, I need it.  It might be found. Found down here in the dark recesses of my terrestrial mind, down in the dark where the terrestrial vibe sounds.”

“Yes it is quiet, but why do I need to keep it ? Why keep it when I sleep to forget it, why keep it longer, than my own mind would need it.  Emails, Data gone by, links once useful, now dissappeared and irretrievable. Why keep it, if no one can get it or use it or understand it or need it.”

She loved her child in Paragraphs (And a gun is no Parenthesis)

..()...I read that the gunman who shot his mum, himself and all of those poor kids at Sandy Hook today, that he was himself scarcely but an adult. Perhaps he thought it was an event, an act from which he and his community could recover, that would set his world right, but sadly his expression of madness involved a gun, with death at its bullets and barrel and Death is not a Parenthesis.

Of course we all know that due to our love of the ultimate power of the gun, we cannot avoid having that power available to those who might best not have it. Unfortunately death, and senseless tragic death if final, it is not a parenthesis.  It is not an aside, from which we can recover. No it is an ending of the sacred lives of our children and usually the gunman( in this case a child of 20) which burns forever in the hearts and minds of the living.  Our argument for the gun is one of defence. A good argument, but a bad conclusion.

I read today about a son who shot his mum, who as a teacher dies at the hands of one she loves in the midst of others she cared for and loved and who loved her.  Our thoughts and prayers for the living who in the wake of this tragedy have the hope and courage to change the desire for people to have and hold guns (which are no parenthesis).

PS: I found a link – which has a group of people who seem to want to take action


Water rocks and streams [a poem]

Water Rocks and Streams

Time is flowing faster,

when friends friends and children leave

they get less likely to come

when the their river runs faster

with white birds of heaven and black birds of fate

sit together,  slow heavy on our mossy bank of dreams

watching our lives as water rocks and streams

there you are down and having fun

life your own to damage and array

and makes lonely the days of those who gave it

when you go away.

yet we know we know you know we all must go

and make a mark on this blue water sphere

where gravity pulls hard and stronger faster time

where else does its clock tick except here

to live and ready for eternity