Planet of The Texturians : Lines of Communication

The Planet of the Texturians  opens the lines of communication. They worship the Word and the Line, but few can find their way to their intricate interpretations of perception and constructed realities. 

Pages & Maps: Archival  Reports

Soft Phonemes flash by-

making hard Morphemes tremble,

a gentle rain falls –

thoughts pool up clear reflections,

ripples expand directions.


A Cartography of Thoughts from other spheres can be used to find a type of meaning in uncertainty.  There are shorelines that touch Memory; this is where Time translates Experience into foreign tongues. Hyper-Temporal drift  creates parallel identities. Which One is the I ?



Are smiles damaged – was transfusion ?

And then,….. before stool house,

lightning hounds cry.


Sleeps too, my doctor frozen,

they think wool stones with known woods,

A Jacobian opinion –


farmhouse horse, nose village,

tool twine tools –

ashes sorts One Sleep –

evening,…. eyes broken,

modify, respectable I am;

A Transformation Theatre……



Between,….. often these wings,

then get sand off;

Go two up, Fate Green –

some soften his years,

as a starry vegetable woods.


{ Sadly this  intercept was beyond their orbit, now arises the uncertainty of simile vectors on the waves of a sudden discourse. Perhaps the tachyon ships will arrive at a point of singularity,… if their metaphor propulsion engines are intact.}


In the garage don’t stand,

Only Silence before Behaviour Lakes.


Snow miles out-numbered stiff vagabond;

Go knee woods of bells;

Calls shaken torn bands perfectly –

it watched it in a thesis of her darkest skin.


Sins are stopping by the scales;

Assume full-soul-song;

Toe just is so.

The Cyber is Hacked !


The Cyber is Hacked !

The Inter-web Highway is surfed out –

literally, but in a figurative sense.



Here external-web is intra-webbed me-text,

for designation of high risk, high threat posts.

The security aspect of cyber is very, very tough –

And maybe, it’s hardly doable/dough-able.




Briefing Intelligence Briefly


Do-able Dew-enable 0 Parse  Text-being 

2Too Ballet, The Metaphorical Euphemist,

Q3 in a line – 

Protecting the integrity of internal investigations.

Tweet at 



        6U  …..




Wired for Truth – Post Lies

on the line between  meaning –

see real metaphors. 


interconnected –

how isolated  we are –


in The Cloud, wisps of voices

evaporate into airs.





Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn;
Where night’s black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.

Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those
That in despair their last fortunes deplore.
Light doth but shame disclose.

Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pity is fled;
And tears and sighs and groans my weary days, my weary days
Of all joys have deprived.

From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is thrown;
And fear and grief and pain for my deserts, for my deserts
Are my hopes, since hope is gone.

Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell,
Learn to contemn light
Happy, happy they that in hell
Feel not the world’s despite.



Flow, my tears, (1596)

  – an “ayre” (lute song)

composed by John Dowland.

Note: Hyper-linked words and lines will open in separate tabs.  – explore & be entertained by curious links & sources.

Sweater Time !?






We’re having a heat wave,

A tropical heat wave,

The temperature’s rising,

It isn’t surprising,

She certainly can can-can.

Heat Wave composed by Irving Berlin

1933 Recording by

  Meyer Davis & His Orchestra


Meyer Davis was born in Elliot City, MD in 1893. He started his first band while in high school after being rejected by the school orchestra. He was one of the first band contractors. While continuing to play until his death in 1976, his band played for Woodrow Wilson and for every President since then until Gerald Ford, Davis is best remembered for his numerous groups playing under the Meyer Davis Orchestra banner, in effect turning the name into a brand. At the height of his career, Davis owned 80 orchestras or bands with over 1,000 musicians. As a consequence, Davis successfully controlled much of East Coast Society ( Washington DC , New York, Boston and Philadelphia) functions and celebrations. This continued throughout the 50s & 60s .

Rock ‘n Roll Fifties jived

into Psychedelic dreams,

as Big Bands sit in

suits stuffed in conformity.

What happened to all that Jazz ?






Shadow Universe: The Ultimate Insider – 5 Easy Steps


This is part of the Shadow Universe

The Ultimate Insider

Guides You


5 Easy Steps !

# 1 

She credits her upbringing


the FARM



A Strong Sense



# 2 



Water Cereal.

The bowl fills up sky-

blue stars reach the horizon –

eating is child’s play. 


Milk Banana Juice !

All Years begin

with a story flower.

# 4



school learn  smart !

The  sloth clings to tree

rising towards spinning wheel –

the years become  one,

a tree story on which we ride. 

Branches ladened with day’s dreams.

# 5

Biomedical Clusters Show !

A lighthouse holds moonlight.

It is a striking  convergence,

Me and My Shadow.

The moonlight shines on –

the wall meets them half way there,

between becoming  one. 

Tomorrow, today’s shadow,

still carries yesterday’s child .


Note: Click the image

to see an enlargement

details of  digitally

modified collage.

Smoke Screen Mirror: That Old House

Smoke Screen Mirror

Smoke screen mirror, a powerful array of that Old House, forming a wall of opposition that could make it exceedingly difficult for him. It revealed a measure of contempt and distrust toward their own son.


Smoke Screen Mirror - That Old House

Years wore themselves away, communications between them became more and more rare, or perhaps it was because of the need to cleanse The Bear. It shambled about in the shadows, forever hungry for tribute. It ruled within the walls of that Old House, as surely as the crows commanded the trees and the wires that stood around the perimeter of the yards.


Madness began a slow steady drip down into the foundations. Hymns of Intention did nothing to cancel their knowledge of the coming despair, a hail of lost chances.


Smoke Screen Mirror - That Old House 2

Lana tried to build a personal ice wall to prevent her from feeling the sting of inevitability. Martin played at an emotional raffle, knowing he had as much chance at escaping those walls as going up against the judgment of The Highwaymen.


Ash on the forehead-

the history of the tomb,

Who dances here now ?


The rooms were also seeking the light; only a crimson aneurysm came through the windows, like a falling star that devours the sunrise. The smoke kissed mirrors and the windowpanes exchanged cutting looks, fracture’s smiles flying over the waves.



Smoke Screen Mirror - That Old House 3

House sales were down. The children dreamt of Disneyland and other sanitized nightmare locales. It mattered not – often looking out the cracked glass of white tobacco – That Old House – their expectations could be seen riding by with The Highwaymen, pale jewels and withered crab-apples in the same satchels .


He should not be here –

One hand changed, his fall bled out,

he found his sea –

spiritual inflammation,

Sharp blue switch blade of regrets.


That Old House may be empty, but it will always be occupied with memories in the smoke screen mirror.