different nay better

​To make the ego self-aware he visits places where once dared he not to place a single thought - oh what foul ruin long was wrought by him on himself and on others since the death of his dear mother. There’s a path that he shall take toward a power vast and great toward a future where he’s whole and not stuck in a rut or hole. From a place that none can enter nestled there within his center must now come the strength and power to drink of life’s sweet and sour not with judgement or with pain but smiling at all that is gained. To though do this he must change and become childlike again and give up all he now enjoys for different - nay, better - toys.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⟳⏛•īᛝ🜌￬Ⱄ-_-Ⱄ￬🜌ᛝī•⏛⟲

especially bullies will shit in their pants when The Great Unknowable restores balance

on routine, briefly

To lose weight, science says to decrease the intake of calories whilst increasing their output. In other words, to eat less and exercise more. This may sound simple but it can in fact be difficult - especially if the person seeking to lose weight follows few regular routines or performs few standard rituals. One ritual that has helped this author is a morning yoga practice. Performing enough sun salutations to wake up the body and synchronize it to with the brain, a morning practice is a strong way to praise the arrival of Sol Brother, this solar system’s sun. In Western countries, rituals are often reserved for official or sanctified places such as government buildings or churches. The average citizen is not encouraged to explore the inherent value of practicing personal and private rites - the ‘higher-ups’ do it for him! Perhaps as a method for teaching him blind obedience to authority figures, he is not taught to practice on his own; instead, he goes to his religious or civic leader, observing them as they go through the motions instead of staying home and doing the motions himself. With its twisted notion that only its priests can speak to That Which Cannot Be Named (whom they call Yahweh), the Catholic Church is one of the worst offenders in this field, telling its adherents that only at ‘their house’ and only through ‘their man’ might they communicate with the Great Mother. To break free of this hegemony, consider starting your own traditions such as a morning routine to welcome the sun or an evening ritual to wish it a safe and speedy return. Please start small and work your way into a longer ceremony that incorporates stretching, reading, and quiet reflection time. Each human alive today is an effortless expression of universal perfection... bring holiness back into your life by starting your own routines, today!

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

sic semper tyrannis

The Ynki thinks himself exceptional because he is the only power to have used nuclear weapons in anger. In addition, he is exceptional because he commits crimes against humanity at home and abroad yet weasels out of receiving his just punishment for such actions. Finally, he is exceptional because he preaches liberty for all people but practices slavery on his people of color, throwing them into prison at rates that would make a third-world dictator beam with pride. Ynki exceptionalism is an imbalanced state of affairs that shall sooner or later come crashing down violently - to the detriment persons alive today and seven generations of their offspring. Sic semper tyrannis.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on crushing ants

Him lumbering beast paused on his way across the sunken meadow, turning to see why his packmates barked. Ants were attacking their legs and paws, tiny things that stung hard. For years, the beasts had stood by while the ants multiplied - in hopes that the tiny threats would attack anything the beasts didn’t like. Now, though, the insects were latched onto the beasts’ own sensitive bits, tearing out skin, digging into orifices.

A juvenile beast went down, her pelt a carpet of stinging mandibles. In moments, she was dead. Outraged, the other beasts vowed to destroy the ants once and for all. Normally, the ants kept to themselves, but him lumbering beast had been stirring around in the stand of bushes were the crawling biters lived. Incensed at his audacity and upset that he had crushed many of their mates whilst in the throes of his stirrings, the miniscule moving mouths had decided to fight back.

“This is an outrage,” the beast bellowed, his voice hoarse and choking. “Cease this assault on my brethren!” He raised up on his hind legs, his broad back bathed in the light of a setting sun.
“You brought it upon yourself,” the ants cried back in unison. “You came to our lands and destroyed our cities, crushing the weak and the defenseless. You are reaping what you sowed - death, violence, and pain. We have too long stood by as you made your stirrings amongst the other insects, the weaker ones that could not or would not fight back.”
“But I was just trying to help my pack, to make the bushes easier for us to harvest!” the lumberer roared.
“You help no one by messing in our affairs, by crushing our people with every step. Enough is enough!”
With a sordid squeak, the ants launched a thousand and one assaults.

The beasts bled. And died.
Yet him lumbering beast - he who lead the entire pack - pledged he would continue to intervene where he saw fit. “I am exceptional, and this world needs me to show the way forward. So long as no one proves badder than me, it is my destiny to ignore the lessons of history and keep repeating the same mistakes with insane abandon. No one but my friends and I deserve to live well. Behold my terrible power, and shudder.”

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

dan-t’ian delving deeply

In his book Tao of Meditation, Mr. Hwa warned against accessing the dan-t’ian without sufficient training. He spoke of loss and gain, danger and promise, words I overlooked and ignored. Now, whilst recovering from the experience of accessing the dan-t’ian without sufficient training, I return to the beginning of his book - to start from scratch. Aho, and mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

big angry orange

In Hershey, PA, last night, the president-elect disappointed. Instead of embarking on the path of someone who has risen above partisan rhetoric, someone trying to make America truly great again, he dragged out the old racist slogans and hateful language, at one point mocking a disabled reporter. Perhaps he was just speaking to the crowd, rich Caucasians who booed loudly any time he mentioned Obama. Perhaps, though, his semi-sane suggestions of the last few weeks have been nothing but more smoke and mirrors from the Big Angry Orange. My companion and I left early, and so maybe we missed the part of Trump’s speech where he promised to disentangle America from its ongoing and illegal involvement in armed conflicts from Syria to Yemen. Most of what we saw appeared to be the president-elect rehashing his electoral victories and basically being publically jerked off by his legions of adoring white fans. Short on policy proposals but long on windbag self-aggrandizement, this author suggests that the ‘I Thank You Tour’ should be renamed the ‘You Thank Me Tour,’ and that Old Stumpy take things down a peg.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

rapid and furious

In the prayer room of a local hospital, a man was caught stealing and otherwise abusing copies of the Quran, Islam’s holy book. Accepting of most viewpoints and bursting with forgiveness, the chaplain in charge of the prayer room finally figured out who had been violating the sanctity of the sacred spaces in his care. Instead of having the offender arrested for the hate crimes he’d been committing, however, the chaplain merely alerted hospital security, who in turn approached the offender and gave him a stern warning, whereupon he pledged to cease his hateful, criminal assault. The man claimed he had been desecrating the translations of the Quran out of concern for the spiritual safety of his Christian neighbors. In his mind, it appears, the Muslim teachings promote only death and hatred - leaving no room for celebration, compassion, or love.

Imagine for a moment that this scenario had played out the other way around, that a non-Christian had been entering local chapels to steal, ruin, and similarly abuse the Christian holy books stored therein. Imagine he claimed he was doing it to protect the minds of children from the influence of Yahweh, the Christian god, who orders his followers to kill homosexuals (Leviticus 20:13); to murder people who work on Saturday, the Sabbath (Exodus 31:14); and to end the lives of those who don’t believe in him (2 Chronicles 15:12-13). Oh, how swift would be his likely judgement, how brutal the townspeople's reaction. Such an offender would probably rot in jail for months until he faced a hostile judge and jury; then, he’d go back to jail for the maximum period of time allowed by law.

Why did hospital security not take steps to prosecute the Christian who was abusing Qurans? Why did they not do everything in their power to protect the persons working in or visiting the hospital from the openly violent ways of a religious extremist? To this author’s eye, it seems that the original offender was given a pass because he was a Christian who chose to abuse the Muslim holy book. If this scenario had played out any differently, the outcome would have been one of rapid and furious action in the pursuit of justice. The area in which these hate crimes occurred is predominantly Christian; it is therefore not surprising that a person who would act in the manner of a Christian terrorist should receive not his due punishment but a mere slap on the wrist. When justice is kept blind, mankind has the chance to achieve greatness; when those who deserve her wrath are instead allowed to roam free, their minds poisoned by prejudice and hatred, the human race is doomed to wallow in fear-soaked failure.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on childhood dreams

During a severe bout of fever when I was nine or ten years old, I experienced strong hallucinations. Such were my visions that, whilst shivering in my bed one night, my sense of perspective skewed wildly, vast distances shrinking down to tiny points of light, small particles exploding in size. Aware of volume on a cosmic scale, I now understand I was at that young age phasing through stages of awareness (or perhaps levels of enlightenment) that many Westerners struggle to access. At some point during my childhood tribulations, everything I thought I knew, everything I had theretofore been aware of, vanished into a shrinking black dot. In its place was a white space of infinite proportion, at once massive and miniscule, into which entered an external force, an ancient and terrifying awareness I recognized as something outside of me. This figure - a small man wearing a strange hat who was at once as large and small as the crushingly vast white space around him - communicated with me using not words but knowing, not speech but the kind of awareness that is often called a gut feeling. He first appeared at the top of my whited-out mental framework, slowly drifting downward as our time together went on. I can’t remember how long this visitor rode me or to what extent I became his physical embodiment, his loa. But within me to this day still live his grapple-points, those spaces to which he attached during his visit, those avenues burst open by sickness down which he waltzed into my consciousness. I was terrified of him at the time, mostly because he was so foreign to my young brain, his power so great, his outline so hard to pin down. There was something in his hand, a staff or scepter, that shimmered and danced as he held it. Perhaps this figure was just a figment of my imagination conjured up by a mind in the throes of apparent death. Perhaps a wee god did stop by for a visit, drawn to the fertile fields of a young mind blasted open by fever. Either way, it was a lot to handle at such a young age, and it changed me significantly.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Tuesday morning’s dream

I was again in a house, but this one had lots of windows as well as blond beams of wood exposed to a bright blue sky above. Its roof was gone in places although I was confident in the structure’s overall integrity. I’d gotten to the house after climbing a steep hill, meaning that I had been climbing a steep hill and then found myself inside the house. Unlike in previous dreams, the house was not too scary, dark, or replete with series of ever-smaller doors I felt compelled to crawl through until I was squeezed in so tightly I could not move. I experienced the sensation that the house was moving or rolling as if floating on high seas. For some reason, I climbed up onto the roof, discovering it was a hybrid between hill and house. A Buddhist temple and other shrines stood on the roof’s peak, and as I was walking along it I wondered where the hill had gotten to. To my left were other buildings, a quaint town constructed in a medieval European style. To my right was the hill, an impossibly steep mountain shrouded in mist. I was running past the temple toward the shrines at the roof’s far end when I awoke back into full consciousness.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on American imperialism

This author rejects the notion of American exceptionalism. Having read repeatedly the nation’s founding documents, the Constitution and the Declaration, he finds in neither of the two texts cause or justification for imperial ambitions. America was not founded as an empire, and yet it is an empire, today. America exhibits sicknesses and discrepancies similar to those found in previous empires: we spend the lion’s share of our budget on keeping and expanding foreign corporate holdings - most often through aggressive war-making - whilst neglecting our domestic economy and infrastructure, allowing them to crumble; we curtail free speech and civil rights at home whilst paying them lip-service abroad; we imagine ourselves mighty because we had the unthinkable gall to use nuclear weapons in anger yet fail to understand that such brazen and inhuman acts compel other nations to arm themselves similarly; we call for the prosecution of foreign leaders who willingly committed crimes against humanity yet hold our own leaders (e.g. George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld) exempt from such prosecution even though our own crimes dwarf those of others; we topple legally elected foreign leaders in favor of violent thugs trained by us to subjugate and torture their own people in order to maintain and protect American corporate profits.

Not one of the deplorable conditions mentioned above is called for in the Constitution, this nation’s supposedly highest code of laws, wherefore these conditions are unconstitutional, unjust, and forbidden. There is no justification for America’s imperial ambitions; our acts of war in the interest of short-term corporate profit making violate the Constitutional directives, wherefore they must stop. The America of which we collectively dream - that place where all persons are created equal, where the government acts to protect the Life, Liberty, and Property of all persons instead of merely the financial gains of artificial, immortal entities - that America does not now exist, nor has it ever. We pathetic citizens who demand a return to traditional constitutional values are being ignored, laughed at, and brutally silenced. Woe be unto this nation. Forgive us, world, for we knew what terrible things we were doing, and did them anyway.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑

on blocking DAPL

Warriors allied with the Standing Rock Sioux successfully engaged in peaceful protest thwarted efforts to dig up and otherwise violate some of the lands they hold dear. The pipelines will go in, the oil will flow, but at least the greedy bastards who stand to gain immensely at the expense of this planet’s long-term livability will have to wait a little longer for their already vast fortunes to grow further. The rest of America goes about its business in uncaring ignorance, burning up old sunlight in its cars and getting fat on nutrient-poor food-like products - prepared snacks, fast food, and candy. Some argue that every life is precious, that we must fight to protect even the weakest among us. What about the greedy and the gluttonous, though, those people who just eat and eat and take and take until there is nothing left to eat or take? Those lives are worthwhile too, mostly because they serve as a challenge to those of us who reject the modern economic notion that the fortune of each man is carried solely by the bones in his back and the sweat on his brow. We who reject this notion, who think that humans work best when living in mutually supportive and multi-generational groups that pursue their happiness through artistic expression and ritual celebration, we stand against the isolation and loneliness that manifests when people work all day to afford a home they don’t have time to enjoy, their regular debt-payments enriching the top executives of distant banks. Let us take as an example the various tribes of the Sioux, who were subjugated, tortured, and disenfranchised before being moved into concentration camps in what was then unwanted land. Slowly, the Sioux rebuilt their communities and strengthened their connective bonds with the land and each other to the point that they can now protect their waters from a heavily-armed and militarized police force whose job it is to protect not lives and liberty but the profits of multinational corporations. Let us Americans of European Descent wake up, come together, and join the battle to ensure that all persons the world over can be free, happy, and safe. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

a meditative method

The Buddhist meditative practice known as tonglen involves inhaling the fears and suffering of other people and then exhaling calm, happiness, lightness, and love. It can be done to family members or friends who are in the same room as well as to strangers living on the other side of the globe. There is no conclusive proof that tonglen actually does anything, just as there is no conclusive proof that other types of prayer or meditation have any kind of real-world effect. Tonglen however is in this author’s opinion more useful than worrying; with tonglen, at least, the negative condition or deplorable state which someone finds concerning is recognized and tasted of before it is bathed in the healing energies of unbridled affection; with tonglen, the bad is taken in and the good is given out, whereas worrying only focuses on the negative without concern for the beneficial. Worrying is a one-way street that deals primarily with sadness and discontentment; tonglen is a circular path that honors the existence of suffering whilst actively working to heal it using the power of loving concern. To worry is to expend mental and emotional energy on analyzing and dissecting the things one thinks should change without any attempt made to rectify those things or make them better. Few good things come from worrying, but many good things come from tonglen. For more information, please look online or visit:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwqlurCvXuM
Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

our system’s sun

Native American activists in the Dakotas seeking to defend their lifeblood waters are being met by a militarized police force whose goal is to defend the short-term financial gains of a multinational corporate entity. This should not surprise anyone - since its inception, the American republic has abused, marginalized, and stolen from the indigenous tribespeople who originally inhabited Turtle Island (the North American continent). Previously, the Sioux tribe was forced violently from its ancestral lands by the U.S. military so that Americans of European Descent (i.e. white people) could take over the fields and valleys the tribe had for millennia groomed, tamed, and settled. Now, in the previously unwanted territories to which it was sent, the Sioux tribe is again under assault, this time so that an oil pipeline can be dug into its sacred soils and under its treasured rivers. Using technologies to capture and utilize solar power, America could run entirely on the nearly endless supply of fresh energy that arrives each morning from Sol, our system’s sun. Instead, America runs on old sunlight trapped by plants long ago in formations now buried deep below the earth - black, viscous old sunlight that must be pumped from deep underground before being moved often thousands of miles to refineries and storage dumps by pipeline, train, or truck. If each Ynki home or business were to collect its own solar electricity and use that self-generated power to cook food, make heat, or run electric automobiles, each Ynki home or business would become independent of (and by necessity take profits away from) the corporations that control this nation’s energy economy. These corporations want to make sure that American homes and businesses run on old and dirty rather than new and clean sunlight, since, this way, they get paid for each watt of energy used. Therefore, they spend untold millions of dollars lobbying against investment and research in solar-energy technologies; such technologies could upend their market dominance and disrupt their profit margins, and they will do nearly anything to maintain their stranglehold on consumer freedom. It bothers them not that the fluids containing old sunlight, if allowed to flow freely, tend to poison the land and pollute the waters - the only thing that matters to these corporations is that the Ynki simply can’t do without what they are selling and that he will pay a high price to maintain his addiction. If a person is concerned about the sad state of affairs in the Dakotas but cannot join the Standing Rock Sioux at their water protection sites, he ought consider reducing the amount of old sunlight he uses by heating less and driving fewer miles. Additionally, he ought contact his elected representatives and demand they work toward the adoption of solar energy initiatives instead of acquiescing to the demands of petroleum (old sunlight) producers. Stand strong, brave Sioux brothers and sisters rallying at Oceti Sakowin - this American author recognizes your sacrifice, and thanks you for it. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

𐃝|._☐-¡￬⟰￬¡-☐_.|𐃝

with thanking behind them and giving ahead they wrapped the last presents then headed to bed

𐀤ꜛџ=☼⌶.ᚒ.⌶☼=џꜛ𐀤

that bread on the counter is horribly stale; let’s soften its stiffness with honeywine ale

what mother taught

Thinking recently about my own legacy - those writings and other works I shall leave behind once this mortal body ceases to function - I realized with a shock that though I am a living embodiment of it not I nor my siblings maintain or share our mother’s legacy. She passed away 15 years ago, her withered body abused terribly by ALS. The following are some memories.


She taught me an old seaman’s trick - how to tie a shoe so that the knot opens easily but doesn’t slip - one brisk fall day on a sidewalk in downtown Shamokin, Pennsylvania.
She told me once that I would need to find a special kind of girl, one who would be able to deal with my peculiarities. At 14 years old I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I’m beginning to understand now, at 39.
She was cutting my hair once on the back patio of our house in Lichtenfels, Bavaria, and although she had just started I asked her if she was already done. With rare hints of anger in her voice, she told me to just sit still and let her work. I taught myself how to cut my own hair soon after that.
Figuring that I would be a bachelor for most of my adult life, she taught me how to mend my clothing with needle and thread as well as how to cook simple but nutritious meals and do laundry.
I learned from her that it’s feasible to ride a bicycle in all sorts of nasty weather.
She cared for me when I was very young and raised me with loving firmness and quick compassion.
She exhibited a profound calm in the face of adversity that I can only hope to mimic, never match.
She said I gave her little difficulty during birth, that I all but slid out, ready to take on the world. My first act was to pee on the doctor.

This is difficult to write. I shall share more soon. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⌶+￬.=ī¡⥞¤⥟¡ī=.￬+⌶

there’s not much a fellow might strive for in life than knowing his artwork and love will survive

logic & meditation

Certain old teachings encourage their reader to be still inside, to seek a silence in the mind. One benefit of a quiet mind is that it tells itself fewer stories than a mind consumed with labeling and categorizing what it sees and senses around it. This is important because the human often tells herself stories in situations unusual or potentially dangerous, then tends to keep living according the rules of these stories long after the spectre of harm has passed. By repeating to herself such stories, such logic parameters, she shapes her perception of the world, which in turn shapes the world around her. Into a still mind engaged in meditation frequently blossom old and unwanted logic parameters, at which point they can be tasted of and measured before being gradually broken down and replaced with logic parameters that serve to improve the life and surroundings of the person thinking them. A person who sits quietly in the dark and the depressing thoughts is a person basking in happiness, surrendered unto a core of loving indifference. Confronting long-standing and stagnant logic parameters is a tricky business, one that requires constant vigilance and true grit, but it rarely results in outright death, wherefore I shall continue.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

high and lofty

Genius flirts with danger when the foe is proved a hollow friend assuming mantles high and lofty using tones not wise or softly. Woe to us and woe worldwide for goodness has from within died replaced instead by ill foreboding caused by fearful persons’ voting. Hurry forth or stay inside to bask in bloody hateful pride of skin-tone, birthright heritage, spite, greediness, and privilege. Onward now this lumber beast that spans the lands from west to east that gobbles up earthen resources with its armed and angry forces. None might stop it none shall dare into its beady eyes to stare this nation-state which we call home that stands not righteous but alone.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on packing - briefly

The contents of both bags are laid out and double-checked, each item inspected and thought over to make sure it is not redundant, that it will actually be used. Though the trip is scheduled to last nearly a month, enough clothes are being packed for only one week; an overseas laundry run or two is in my future. The destination is tropical, so mostly shorts and shirts are spread out on the table next to my bed, but I throw in a light sweatshirt to protect me in air-conditioned spaces like my commute to the airport, the airport itself, and fancier hotels (although I prefer to stay local). Such items as flip-flops and boardshorts are fairly cheap and ruin quickly, so I plan to buy them on site. I lay out my clothes a few days before departure, inspecting them occasionally as time goes by, pulling out single-purpose items and replacing them with ones that can perform multiple roles, that can be worn in concert with one another. A light shawl makes the cut, as it can serve to warm my body as well as protect it from the sun. By the morning of my departure, I have whittled down the number of clothes so greatly that there is room enough in both bags for gifts and mementos bought en route. Streamlined, prepared, and raring to go, I make my way toward the bus line that will take me to the airport, adjusting my shawl and light sweatshirt to keep me warm in the blowing snow and being careful not to fall and break a hip on the icy sidewalks. With visions of sun-drenched beaches dancing in front of my eyes, I greet the driver, board his bus, pay my fare, and venture off toward parts as-yet unexplored (by me).

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on logic - update

For the past couple of weeks I have been exploring and tasting and trying to better understand the stories I tell myself, the logic-parameters within which I go about my daily business. Many of these logic parameters I set up around the age of five years old, in the wake of a sexual assault visited upon me by a shady, rapist neighbor. I was groped and abused then told to never tell anyone, on pain of death. Around the same time (because he apparently didn’t know, or bother to try and find out, how else to deal with the changes in my behavior) my father became psychologically abusive toward me. I was doing poorly in school; I had become overly sensitive to external stimuli (especially deep-voiced men); I was having trouble concentrating in general; and it seems that he thought that by being mean and spiteful toward me he could snap me out of it and somehow fix me. Now, almost 35 years later, I am still trying to fit the pieces of my psyche back together in the aftermath of the Big Shatter - being fed the Fruit of Forbidden Knowledge at too young an age. I gained from these traumatic childhood experiences a number of things, among them a strong empathy toward and desire to protect individuals downtrodden and weak; a nearly photographic memory of conversations and situations; a passionate dislike for and lack of fear of authority figures; the ability to make small children smile, and feel safe; the ability to detect - with a glance - sexual perversion in adult males; the ability to see beyond what the eye can usually see (such as where energies within the body are not flowing smoothly) that borders on the power to read minds. These abilities are of course counter-balanced by appropriate and equal disabilities, most of them existing in the form of the logical parameters I use to interact with the world - especially with women whom I find attractive. I have given myself until the rising of the next full moon on 14 November 2016 to explore and taste of these logical parameters so that I may start to heal myself more fully, and would like to profess my utter thanks and profound gratitude to the Lunar Goddesses of the Many Faiths who have watched over and sheltered me along this path. Mahalo, and om swastiastu.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on Trump’s win

To all of my non-American friends around the world: I did not vote for Donald Trump, nor do I support him now. I think Donald will make a terrible president. A proto-fascist with little regard for either the opinions of mankind or the notions of kindness and respect for others, Donald is the one person (out of nearly 330 millions!) whom the American people should never have elected. Riding to power on a wave of hatred-for-others and buoyed by a strong fervor of Eurocentric racism (that was brought to this land by Christopher Columbus in the year 1492), Donald in one sense embodies the idea that Americans of Northern European Descent are alone entitled to the promise and possibility of the American dream. In another sense, Donald is a genius for capturing the mood of the moment and exploiting the fears of working-class citizens to get himself elected to this nation’s highest post. He will not protect or uphold the Constitution, for he has apparently never read it and definitely does not understand what it is designed to do. He will likely trample upon the hard-won rights and privileges of the following communities: Latino; African-American; Muslim; Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, & Curious (LGBTQC); living women of childbearing age; as well as free-thinking and independent writers and other artists such as this author himself.

To my brothers and sisters of the Muslim faith - when Donald’s Death Squads come for you, I will do my best to keep you from harm. To my brothers and sisters of Latino descent - when Donald’s Deportation Squads come for you, I will do my best to keep you in this country. Do not despair, fellow lovers of liberty, for if history is any guide, fascist dictators such as Donald Trump cannot hold onto power for much longer than a decade and a half before the weight of their crimes drags them down into the abyss. Do not give up hope, but let love shine in your hearts, for love is eternal and immutable, the one act we can do for ourselves and our misguided neighbors that will prove that a shred of humanity still exists within the American experiment. Now is not the end of our struggles but the beginning. Hold fast and stay frosty.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場

on presidential selections

Dear fellow Ynki citizens:

As you vote on 8 November 2016, please remember that America is a constitutional republic that tends to operate using certain quasi-democratic institutions. The presidency is not one of those institutions. Americans do not elect their president - the president is selected by the Electoral College, which is in turn made up of persons chosen by the U.S. Senate. This part of the American system of government was set up this way to keep the uneducated masses - the base rabble - from choosing for their highest post a feeble-minded demagogue or a warmongering know-it-all. As currently those are the only feasible options, however, the system’s failures are becoming glaringly apparent. For the most part, the system is not to blame. Rather, we must blame the politicians who for nearly three centuries have altered and amended the original Constitution for their own short-term purposes and gains - those worthless scumbags are responsible for the promise of the American experiment imploding slowly before our eyes. A lumbering Hindenburg of ineptitude, corruption, and greed burning with sickening slowness, it will drag us little people down with it. We are reaping what we sowed - or allowed others to sow for us - and have only ourselves to blame for not demanding sooner a return to the founding principles of equality and justice, a retreat from aggressive war-making on sovereign nations, domestic and foreign alike. From U.S. government agents fighting First Peoples seeking to protect their sacred waters in the Dakotas to U.S. government agents fighting in support of the terrorist group known as Daesh (formerly ISIS, ISIL, and Islamic State) in Syria and Iraq, the balance of U.S. government action lies squarely in the negative realm. How much longer will we little people put up with this? Likely until the two political parties we have given a stranglehold on the lives of nearly 330 million American citizens are forced to share their power, that’s how long.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on achieving lotus

After years of practice - stretching and bending, pushing and wincing - I am finally able to sit in half-lotus. It occurred yesterday at a friend’s house when I entered his living room to find all chairs occupied. Taking a seat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, I knew in the Hidden Place of Secret Knowing that - without pain or strenuous effort - I could fold one foot under me and deposit the other one on top of the opposing leg’s inner thigh. I cannot explain how I knew I could do this, only that my body had figured it out and given me the go-ahead via channels of communication that work with feelings rather than words. Praise and thanks be to the forces in this and the other realms that helped me reach this milestone. I’m excited for the challenges to come. Huzzah!

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

[⏣Ūӝ␣¤ш¤␣ӝŪ⏣]

one hand might be giving the other one though is stealing from he who has little to show

words’ power - briefly

Similar to music, words have great power. In film, for example, certain styles of music are used to alter a person’s perception of a given scene - classical, say, for drama, hip-hop for action, country for nostalgia. Music can alter a person’s mood, improving or ruining it, depending on circumstance. Yet music, once heard, vanishes into nothingness; looking at a sheet of music and imagining what Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony sounds like is one thing, but hearing it played is a far more powerful and exciting experience.

Words also vanish into nothingness once spoken, unless they get stuck in an infinity loop inside the brain of person (A), in which case the words will continue to affect him, because he is repeating them to himself. In this manner, person (A) tends to build up resentment and anger against person (B), who had said the words previously, even though person (B) may no longer bear animosity toward or even remember what he’d said originally. This author finds himself engaging in subconscious conversation with persons who in the past got the upper hand over him. Apparently, this author thinks that by speaking the words that he failed to speak, he may regain some sort of power. Ah, what foolishness.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

logical imprisonment - briefly

During those (hopefully infrequent) traumatic periods in life, it sometimes occurs that an individual will change the stories he tells himself, thus altering the logical parameters within which he goes about his daily business. In order to adapt to the startlingly new conditions around him, he will tend to arrive at conclusions regarding his place in the world that bear little resemblance to the conclusions he had drawn up until that point. Imprisonment, be it self-imposed or imposed by others, is one external pressure - in this author’s experience and opinion - that weighs heavily upon most logical parameters previously held, so heavily that significant adjustments will almost always be made. A person will alter his routines and expectations to fit the new world in which he lives, often jettisoning what to outsider observers might appear to be rational and sound practices in favor of more fluid decision matrixes. To minimize the pain coming into his life he will often begin to display an unhealthy obedience to the person or persons whom he has given power over his mental state, especially if his new ‘master’ has little concern for his emotional well-being. The more neglectful those above him become, the less he will take care of himself physically and mentally, thus hastening the decline of both his physical and mental health.

Many prisons in which people today live are not prisons in the traditional sense, ones composed of walls, bars, and guards. Instead, these prisons are often mental states built upon hastily erected logical parameters designed to minimize the pain and suffering caused by something like a soured business deal, a bad financial decision, a poorly-chosen spouse, or an encounter with the police. Such is the strength of the stories we humans tell ourselves that what was once known to be nonsense suddenly sounds like truth. There is no easy way out of self-imposed, mental imprisonment to an illogical external force; as with most things that cause suffering in this world, the only way out is through - via counseling, meditation, and the nurturing of an inner compassion for the self. Mahalo, and be well.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

on bicycling logic

Since finishing the stunning graphic novel ‘Logicomix’ by Doxiadis and Papadimitriou, et al., I have begun to delve into - so as to better understand - the types of logic I apply in my daily life. This has ranged from examining the logic of human encounters to the logic of bicycling. As the first installment of a series of articles laying out the various types of logical parameters within which I (am many others, I suppose) tend to operate, I shall provide the latter, below.
A) The bicycle is a mechanical contraption used to move one or more persons through the physical realm by means of (primarily) human muscle power.
B) The bicycle consists of these basic elements: saddle, wheels, frame, propulsion system (gears), pedals, handlebars, and brakes.
C) To use a bicycle, sit down on the seat, grab the handlebars with the hands, and start pedaling with the feet, shifting the hips side-to-side (maintaining balanced) so as to not fall over.
[Immediately upon starting to write this I began to realize the difficulties involved in trying to define the logic of even basic human endeavors.]
D) Whilst bicycling, take care not to run into things, go faster than is safe, or do something (texting, talking, taking pictures) other than paying attention to and trying to avoid obstacles that may lie ahead.
E) Persons operating motor vehicles tend to give exactly zero fucks about persons operating bicycles; in order to live a relatively long life free of major injury, avoid busy roads and high-traffic areas (also, please wear a helmet and some form of protective for the eyes).
F) Keeping one’s bicycle in proper working order is essential to having fun whilst bicycling as well as getting from point A to point B quickly and without unforeseen and frustrating repair-related delays.
G) Sitting up straight whilst bicycling, with a straight back and the head resting comfortably atop the spine, opens the chest for easy breathing and allows the head to pivot easily from left to right (hence the phrase ‘keep your head on a swivel’) so that the cyclist (this is what someone who rides a bicycle is called) can quickly gather scraps information about what is behind himself using peripheral vision (i.e. without turning his head completely around and taking his eyes off of the road ahead).
H) Wherever the eyes looks or the head turns, that is where the bicycle will go. Keep the eyes and head pointed forward in order to ride in as straight a line as possible.
I) If forced to ride upon a street also frequented by motor vehicles, stay close to the curb unless circumstances (parked cars, open manholes, or similar obstacles) force you away from the curb, in which case it is 100% acceptable to take up the entire lane and cause a brief traffic-jam.
J) Persons operating motor vehicles will scream obscenities, yell curses, shake their fists, and even try to physically injure or kill a cyclist whom they feel caused them even the slightest delay upon their route. As with most such situations, the best response to anger is joyful compassion, since at the root of all anger lies a deep, inner sadness.

The above are but a few of the most important logical parameters related to bicycle riding. Please stay tuned for more articles concerned with the logical parameters related to activities such as dating, polite conversation, child rearing, &c.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

frameworks to defend

Words are a most cunning and powerful tool used by many persons from statesman to fool. When logic is spoken deep within the mind it leaves a great long-lasting footprint behind that can be then altered only with great force lest it should derail one’s mortal earthly course. This whorphan is gathering the logic spoken so that he may face the beasts that were awoken when previously he did set up frameworks to defend his heart and soul from certain jerks. Now that the offending parties are not near it is time to work on making himself clear of old and unwanted remnants of the past that cling to his psyche and cling to it fast. Please wish me luck in this here newfound endeavor that’s aimed to increase my success and my pleasure - the road that is most true seems not to be so but that’s how the things worth one’s while must go.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

⌓·ī☉ӝ⎑ӝ☉ī·⌓

this breath is so deep it just well might drown me; if so though that is what the godhead decrees

⌽⏛/џ|Ʉ⏙Ʉ|џ\⏛⌽

a man’s spine and stature are sure to start leaning should he live his life devoid of honest meaning

ought to offend

If not down an alley then stuck up a pole is where most graffiti will badger and troll unwary onlookers who can’t help but glance at something toward which they’ll then take a stance. Oh gourd! they cry loudly when they spy a sticker or a sprayed-on piece and then proceed to bicker about if it is or it is not true art (this has been discussed since mankind got its start). One faction will argue to tear the piece down the other will say that such acts are unfounded - that stifling expression harms all of our race just like a swift kick to a suckerpunched face. Images and words are offensive to some as are crude depictions of women or guns; some others however find fault with a lot and refuse to give modern things a fair shot; some others meanwhile give just zero fucks about ‘sacrilegious’ or similar truck - they do as they please knowing that neighbors tend to choose what’s OK and what ought to offend. Onward then, graffitos - city-walls await! There’s no telling what could tonight be your fate! Make pretty the surfaces others ignore - your fanbase is massive and yearning for more.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

me cycling past

In Hoi An, Vietnam, I learned to balance a bottle on my head - while bicycling. The year was 2016. Before then, I’d trained myself to balance things on the top of my head while just standing or walking slowly around. The stars aligned, however, in that ancient and beautiful port city when I moved my halfway empty 1.5 liter bottle of drinking water from the bicycle’s front basket up to the top of my head on the last turn before reaching the local market, down by the river. Riding slowly through the milling crowds, I drew cries of praise, looks of astonishment and dull stares alike. I waved to a few people then kept riding, crossing a busy intersection before pedaling some kilometers out into the suburbs. Occasionally, kids’ minds would be blown upon seeing me cycling past with the bottle balanced on my head; the children, almost always boys, would come running out into the street, pointing at me and laughing, shaking their heads, and giggling as they tried to emulate my efforts with their own bottles. In my experience, there are few methods for bridging cultural gaps as effective as lighthearted self-denigration; people around the world quickly accept into their midst someone who can prove he doesn’t take himself too seriously. And, the day after my discovery, I noticed that the residents of Hoi An seemed to recognize me personally. One or two got my attention, pointed to the tops of their heads, and smiled. A handful of others seemed to nod at me. Of all the things I’ve learned whilst traveling, this skill is both useful and useless, depending on the situation at hand; it’s helpful for making friends with kids but should be avoided around police officers and when wooing attractive young ladies.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

yours and cause

Each one’s right and each is wronger. This will go on how much longer? Oh that’s right until November at which time few will remember all the hateful things he said, her mistakes that left troops dead. Make it sooner make it quicker I can’t of this crap be sicker of these televised debates and of the long cruel nasty spates the verbal warfare and the lies - there’s few I as these two despise. Shut it off the screaming box but be forewarned: there’s aftershocks that will soon rock those minds of yours and cause great messes in your drawers.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

thinking and tamper

There are some things that are just not in my power to fix mend judge sample clean heal grasp or scour. It is hard to get this or to comprehend what would send my mind around that fateful bend; not even I know what the future should hold or if that hot voice will continue to scold and harry my thinking and tamper with actions that keep me from finding such deep satisfaction as I see reflected in those around me. Where is this train heading? Don’t know - watch and see.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

last and let

Just what sort of person do we want in charge - she who does tread softly or he who does barge? This sits at the crux of the matter at hand regarding who shall man the helm of this land which will be decided in November soon by citizens voting for harpy or loon. Our world’s become complex and that with a quickness resembling more and more a viral sickness which cannot be controlled by might fright or reason especially during an election season. There are other options not just these two hacks who relish in making personal attacks: there’s too Gary Johnson and Dr. Jill Stein who do seem to have fresh ideas on their minds. Perhaps we should split up the union at last and let the Deep South elect a foul-mouthed ass and let the Northeast get its own female leader and let the West Coast decide who would be sweeter - a dyed in the wool free market touting man or a doctor who for Mother Nature stands? If nothing this cycle is interesting a strange and a curious recurring thing please be sure to tune in and cast a ballot (future generations will thank you a lot).

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

if tomorrow great

Be now gone this rotten core for I can’t stand it any more. It’s been long since I have seen the cracks and fissures in-between but so I saw and so was witnessed some hard truth about life’s business. We each perish, everyone, whether way old or really young; precious is each passing day so please take some time to laugh and play for there’s no telling if tomorrow great will be a family’s sorrow. Thus shall end this simple writing and thus ends this wrophan’s fighting against that which can’t be cheated once his candle is depleted.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

boner or whatever

Please sing loudly with me this one simple song: I do make mistakes and what I did was wrong. Now it doesn’t matter if one did commit the error the boner or whatever shit - the mere fact of speaking this freely, out loud, should clear out some gathering confusion clouds. By owning a mistake one proves to the world that one’s humility is indeed a pearl which shines from the bosom which shines from the heart - that one is not merely a rubbish upstart. The humble inherit a wealth without measure; they know an abiding and deeply-felt pleasure; they live without fearing their sins will be known for they from the start made sure these would be shown. Few of us do things right; we are prone to err; the above admission does prove that we dare to live up to failure and live up to loss - not as a base weakling but as a full boss.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Ū|¥¤¡ȫΨȫ¡¤¥|Ū

the man on the TV is selling some wares that promise to vanquish all worries and cares

whence they’ve come

There blasts from the bottom of that lava rock some dark seeking tendrils that gave me a shock. I had picked it up to check its taste and flavor - to see if its power I could hold and measure - but soon I did place it back down on the floor for I couldn’t hold it for one moment more. My left hand did ache it had taken the brunt of the screaming forces that the rock had spent and weak was my vision and my deep resolve for trying this puzzle to dutifully solve. Such rocks can’t be taken from their home, you see, especially not from the likes of Hawai’i; they must be returned to the place whence they’ve come in order to lessen the damage they’ve done. I then placed the rock between two temple dogs and asked it for patience whilst ‘round go the clogs of thinking and planning to get it back to the place where such damage it’s not wont to do. Oh ye goddess mighty oh ye goddess wise ye who doth alight wearing many a guise please help me to remedy this tipped o’er cart so that can be made a fresh and uncursed start. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

ask, request, command

Though flawed in many ways, modern English has figured a few things out. After 500 years of usage, standard words now exist that allow its user to inquire, to entreat, and to issue orders. Using these standard words, the English speaker is able to express himself clearly, concisely, and efficiently. The following are examples of some simple words and standard usages that, if used correctly, allow for streamlined communications.

The English speaker seeking to ask a question about someone’s ability to do something ought use the word ‘can.’ “Can you put the toilet seat down?” is a question about someone’s ability to put the toilet seat down, not a request for him to do so.
The English speaker seeking to request something of someone else ought use the word ‘will,’ or a variant thereof. “Would you put the toilet seat down?” is a request for someone to perform that act in the immediate future.
The English speaker seeking to direct the actions of another ought use the accusative form of the appropriate verb. “Put the toilet seat down!” is a command directed at someone else, a way to tell someone else to do something - not tomorrow, not later, but now.
These standard words and usages developed for a reason; they are not interchangeable, and efforts to use them in place of one another leads quickly to confusion.

Asking someone if they ‘want’ to do something is not the same as asking them to do that thing - it’s an inquiry into their personal desires and aspirations. Trying to turn a question into a request by using the word ‘please’ in conjunction with ‘can’ as a substitute for an inquiry or command is a crutch. Physical crutches are something a person discards as soon as he is well enough to move around without them. Similarly, linguistic crutches ought be discarded as soon as a person is comfortable with the standard words and usages mentioned above.

For more information, please read a book named ‘The Elements of Style’ by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

down and locked

The more we say the worse it sounds and louder bay our ego’s hounds and closer we’re to fauxing pas as if we were some foolish asses. To stay quiet to stay still is a mighty and precious skill that but few bother with today - rather in our ruts we’ll stay. Doubled down and locked in tight we utter things that aren’t right that smack of ignorance galore then say them louder and some more. In this hectic day and age we’re not taught to deal with our rage but to just spew at whom we please - just catering to ego’s needs. I am guilty of this too yet joining me are precious few in turning from what’s false inside and into the warm shining light that utters from the core of love that lives deep inside each of us.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

in dire straits

A lone American football player exercises his right to free speech using the public platform at his disposal. In response, an entire police department threatens to not do its job. By merely sitting quietly while others stood, this man sparked a national debate about free speech, respect, and honor. This conversation addresses questions swirling at the core of the American experiment. May citizens of this nation express themselves freely or should they be forced to stand at attention and display mindless devotion to a rectangular piece of cloth? The American flag represents a living nation. As such, it is a living thing that may not be glued or otherwise affixed to any article of clothing. Who enforces these federal flag laws that make it a crime to wear an American flag t-shirt? Will the police department in question start issuing citations to the tens of thousands of citizens who attend baseball games using the flag as wearing apparel - hats and shirts with a living thing illegally glued to them? A person walking down the street with a labrador retriever stapled to the front of his sweatshirt would be soon arrested for animal cruelty, but millions of Americans commit flag cruelty every day, and get away scott free. When a police department is allowed to choose which laws to enforce and which to ignore, when it publicly threatens to walk away from its duties and only a few citizens find that troubling, the republic for which the flag stands is in dire straits. To parrot the words of a current presidential candidate - people who don’t like free speech should leave America and find another country that works for them, a place where obedience is strictly enforced and any lack of respect for arbitrary symbolism is met with harsh and rapid sanction. That may sound like paradise to some, but it sure as syphilis doesn’t sound like one to me.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

Boston destroys heritage

In the wake of apparently deliberate acts of art desecration, the city of Boston, Massachusetts, USA, lies stripped of much of its artistic and cultural heritage. Irreparably damaged are thousands of unique works posted at significant personal risk by scores of talented individuals; gone are untold treasures, wiped from the face of the Earth by the censor’s brush and scraper. Once a place which people visited to marvel at the ingenuity of the human imagination, Boston has joined the ranks of many other American cities that view street art as entirely devoid of intrinsic worth, something to be rooted out, painted over, and destroyed. As someone who travels to cities around the world in order to curate their graffiti, I weep at the destruction wrought by the city of Boston upon its open-air art galleries. Light poles once adorned with riots of colorful stickers now stand bare; walls once covered by compellingly crafted murals now display nothing more than a coating of drab paint. Does Boston at least photograph these works of art before forcibly removing them from view? Would it allow an art-loving citizen such as me to precede its roving Art Desecration Squads so that I can at least photograph each piece before it is scraped off or painted over? Likely, it would not, as such a concession might lend credibility to the artistic endeavors of rogue but creative individuals who spend their time and money on trying to make the world a more colorful and exciting place. In our American police state, it appears, the only works of art that have the right to exist in public are politically correct advertisements selling us drugs and clothes, snacks and cellphones. To be fair, there are some street artists whose primary aim appears to be the destruction of property. The majority of these elusive and cunning individuals, however, seem to be acting out of a desire to challenge the sterilization of our communal spaces, to bring color and design to areas devoid of both. Mankind’s oldest form of artistic expression, the application of graffiti spans millennia, continents, and cultures. From the Egyptian pyramids to the caves at Lascaux, from America’s oldest structures to ancient Southeast Asian cities, graffiti - more than perhaps any other form of artistic expression - unites mankind. To the graffiti lovers of the world: avoid Boston! Little remains here of our unique and exuberant cultural heritage.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

lessen the Fear

No thought rhyme or action no word uttered here can change what is coming or lessen the Fear. Our freedoms stand gutted we let them erode after a few false-flag terror episodes used by our top leaders to whip into froth a nation of crybabies lazy and soft. We bomb other people with ‘bots in the sky our lakes they are poisoned our rivers run dry but we just keep spending the People’s own dollars on whips and on chains and on man-sized dog collars. America’s above and better than this we once were a beacon of promise and bliss but now we’re reviled a thousand times ten by freethinking women and peace-loving men. So sit back and relax the finale’s near when the clouds of anger and hatefulness clear and this once-good nation returns to the task of minding it’s business - not others’ - at last.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

troll we’ll too

It is swell to be troll whose words exact a heavy toll whose face is hidden from all lookers within online pressure-cookers. In these modern times of ours we don’t pay visits bearing flowers instead it’s mostly hatred cruel defining ev’ry social rule. Where’s it come from this foul habit? Voices screaming loud and rabid? It won’t take long wait and see until there’s talk of the Nazis. Where’s it come from but TV, especially ‘reality’ - it’s taught us to be loud-mouthed scum who hurl abuse at everyone. Such behavior runs against the lengths to which mankind has went to keep the peace within his ranks whilst dwelling next to riverbanks. Spam we will and troll we’ll too - this is just what we humans do - we’ve done it since the first guy laughed for sending a bunk telegraph. Mankind do what mankind want be it to peacock or to flaunt his ignorance as knowledge full oh what a giant heap of bull.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a suitable cure

It kills its own people it throws them in chains it poisons and browbeats and perverts and stains the notions upon which its foundations rest whilst telling the world that it alone knows best. It is a foul hegemon whom none can touch it grabs after anything not in its clutch it bombs using robots that skip through the winds won’t ever atone for its myriad sins. We average citizens huddle afraid not knowing when next will come a no-knock raid and fear for our safety and fear for our lives here under the gaze of that all-seeing eye. What happened to noble e pluribus unum? The making from Many a singular One? It fell by the wayside it’s gone from this pale its Renaissance notions are rotten and stale - the rich they get richer beyond comprehension whilst poor people simmer in abject dejection. The Many they sit in their homes watching telly their willpower sapped and their minds turned to jelly with cheap and fast food stuffed down into their bellies their snifters all brimming with gin vodka brandy. Now what does it do the Ynki hegemon? It wastes all the goodwill that it ever won by trying to force the world’s collected nations to dance to the whim of its cruel machinations. Don’t give in please stay strong speak truth unto power this here is our moment our bright finest hour - by keeping awareness consistent and pure we’ll find for these problems a suitable cure.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a suitable cure

It kills its own people it throws them in chains it poisons and browbeats and perverts and stains the notions upon which its foundations rest whilst telling the world that it alone knows best. It is a foul hegemon whom none can touch it grabs after anything not in its clutch it bombs using robots that skip through the winds won’t ever atone for its myriad sins. We average citizens huddle afraid not knowing when next will come a no-knock raid and fear for our safety and fear for our lives here under the gaze of that all-seeing eye. What happened to noble e pluribus unum? The making from Many a singular One? It fell by the wayside it’s gone from this pale its Renaissance notions are rotten and stale - the rich they get richer beyond comprehension whilst poor people simmer in abject dejection. The Many they sit in their homes watching telly their willpower sapped and their minds turned to jelly with cheap and fast food stuffed down into their bellies their snifters all brimming with gin vodka brandy. Now what does it do the Ynki hegemon? It wastes all the goodwill that it ever won by trying to force the world’s collected nations to dance to the whim of its cruel machinations. Don’t give in please stay strong speak truth unto power this here is our moment our bright finest hour - by keeping awareness consistent and pure we’ll find for these problems a suitable cure.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

letters and arts

Only time will tell if this gobbledegook will have had the power this world to have shook. Ich muss deshalb schreiben und das jeden Tag egal ob ich Zeit hab egal ob ich mag. For that I need focus and visual charts to help keep me sharp in the letters and arts. Ja gut ich bin sieben mal sieben mal zehn und alles was ist wird schnell genug vergehen.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dies mein Boot

To where oh where can people go who do not really give a throw about these modern cares and woes who simply want to live in peace far from fast food greed hate police? Is it legal to sign out and make a lengthy walkabout whilst eating berries from the trees and stealing sweets from honey-bees? Must one own a fancy car and buy swell drinks at fancy bars and date a hot but crazy chick who toys and teases with the dick? Our forebearers rode the rails and took their baths in milking pails and did with little did with less as worries sat upon on their chests like Will this farmland blow away? and Can I feed my kids today? Ist egal wir konsumieren greifen an nur zu verlieren es geht uns gut es gehts uns prächtig denn das Land ist stolz und maechtig. Schalten ab das kann man nur mit Kugel Messer Stein und Schnur - die Obdachlosen haben Recht und schlafen da mitunter Dreck und geben sich nicht mal die Mühe wirklich zu glauben an die Lüge. Gesucht ist Hafen in der Not um abzuschliessen dies mein Boot dies Leben das meins ist genannt hier auf dies unser Sonntrabant.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

the waving ocean

We got trees delivered and rode on our bikes at times quickly checking for new bumble-likes then sat on the beach to crack open a beer a few miles north of that world-famous pier. He is my best guy-friend and I’ll miss him much not just for his steadfastness in the clutch but also because he will split up his side when I douse with fart-smell a girl riding by. I’ve crashed on his couch more nights than there are stars and stood by his side during fights at the bars he is ten years ten days my junior it’s true and when we’re together there’s mischief abrew. Farewell then Tallbreeno until our next meet and may you with courage your challenges greet with humble and solid respect and devotion I’ll see you next time out on the waving ocean.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

fair Cahuenga Pass

Once under the highway near Universal is where does begin a magnificent hill. Its sidewalks are wide with green trees it abounds and thick are the shade-spots that dapple its grounds and rich is the reward that arrives at last when spying the peak of fair Cahuenga Pass. It’s rideable whenever daytime or night (now during the latter I switch on a light) and watch at the top for loose rocks on my right while pedaling madly with all of my might. Along it are fast-food booze cigarette shops dispensaries groomers yet few red-light stops; when southbound upon it people rarely turn lest they run smack into nature’s own rock-berm. Then… over! I’m over! by golly hot dog here comes some relief from that hard-churning slog my wits are about me though I dare not rest for slaloming traffic’s a demanding test. At some points are gravel at some points are holes I take over lanes lest I should be bulldozed by uncaring drivers who’re trying to shoot the gap between me and boulders thick with roots. I know not the name of the goddess whose is the honor of guarding the Cahuenga Pass but thank and applaud her for her loving hands that guide and protect all who pass through her lands.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

allow the yang

When I see an attractive woman who I get the feeling might find me attractive too, my chi tends to slam up into the 6th chakra from where it normally resides in the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th. Instead of approaching her and saying hello, as my lower nodes are telling me to do, a voyeuristic and deeply insecure part of me pulls inward and launches a furious attempt to calculate just how much she might like me as well as how best to get her to not like me. The bundled chi energies start heating up my physical flesh from the eyebrows on backward, the 3rd eye area, as I strain to think of something to say to her. Women pick up on this immediately, fleeing from sickly waves of needing, wanting, yearning energy that lash from the yet-shadowy depths of what, in short, is a pocket of pain. I’ve come to understand, with time and conscious effort, that in the left-rear quadrant of the 6th chakra lives my ego, or at least a fear-body that kicks in if when encountering women I allow these strong yin to overwhelm the yang of the 6th. This pocket, a largely Read Only Memory part of my consciousness, was in early youth hijacked by irrational forces, should my recollections hold true. If the hijacker was an outside party, it could have arrived during a spell of fever-dreams around age nine or ten. In one of these dreams, I became aware of a brilliantly white space of indeterminate size - the Great Vast Crushing Nothingness mentioned in earlier works. My sense of self was in extreme flux, shrinking and growing from infinitely large to impossibly small, sometimes both simultaneously; and into this space appeared a being not of my own design, a vaguely humanoid figure that appeared in front of me before rising up and to the left of my field of vision. This entity spoke to me not with words but feelings, a sense of tremendous and all-reaching power. (I have no strongly negative memories of this dream / visitation, rather ones of gut-wrenching and paralyzing awe.) If this pocket started as an autochthonous formation, however, I suspect it festered into existence in those first teenage years in Germany when the ‘rents were on poor terms; I was struggling with learning the language yet still going to school in it as well as learning to play the trumpet with my teeth in braces; and my few friends and I were on a collision course with catastrophe. I internalized a lot of loneliness and self-loathing during that time, venting it as my teens progressed in ever fool-hardier ventures. Whether by either of these two ways, or by another, the dominance of this pocket of pain is shrinking in direct correlation to a growing self-awareness helped along by spiritual and meditation work done on the Island of the Gods. Through impartial observance and daily practice, its strength will diminish further - if my good fortune holds, that is.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

pretty much fucked

For the average citizen, ignorance of the law does not excuse him from punishment. Consider that taken together federal, state, and local laws number in the tens of thousands, and change, constantly. Without focused effort, however, most Americans commit 3 felonies a day, as Mr. Harvey Silverglate of Boston writes in his book. When looked at critically, this system seems to exist not to protect or better lives but to extort cash from or transfer into prison-slavery people who get caught breaking said myriad laws. (Please note: according to the U.S. Constitution, slavery is still legal in America, but only as a form of punishment, i.e. prison.) For the citizen working as a police officer, however, ignorance of the law - ignorance even of the fundamental tenets of the Constitution - is met not with reprimand but reward. Following Heien v. North Carolina, citizens working in the police forces can violate the rights and freedoms of their fellow citizens, first performing warrant-less searches then claiming ignorance of the Constitution’s 4th amendment protections against same. What sort of nation allows a heavily armed police force - a standing army beholden to neither established law nor the opinions of mankind - to operate free of the constraints of the very document upon which it was founded? What sort of country sends the armed agents it has chosen to enforce its laws out into the street without first making sure they understand the contents of the very document they at some point swore to protect and uphold? When a terrorist attacks, the various churches of the religion he claims adherence to come forward and denounce his violent ways. Where, however, are the voices of the various police departments around America coming forward to denounce extrajudicial executions committed by their brothers in blue? Are police unions in large numbers urging their members to stop escalating roadside encounters and stating publicly that they do not condone violent acts against unarmed civilians regardless of creed, hue, or race? The police unions are not, and great numbers of police officers are not, because citizens who work as police officers exist not to protect the rest of us but to distrust, fine, follow, track, stalk, and - if startled - shoot those of us who do not work as police officers. Now, more than perhaps ever before, the age-old concerns about watchers (and who watches them) lick hot at the forefront of the mind.

Video recordings abound of police officers shooting unarmed or legally armed average civilians out of at best fearful aggression and at worst hateful convenience. When investigated, most of the shootings are deemed justified - by an attorney general or equivalent legal party who works frequently with the trigger-happy police officer and his colleagues, who must depend on the man’s good favor to efficiently perform his daily duties, and who is thus inclined to find the man’s behavior in accordance with whatever police-specific or special laws that he and his ilk conspire to uphold and protect. (The American people have given police officers leave to break the law - to lie, cheat, and steal - in order to secure a criminal conviction. Ought we be surprised that they’ve decided to include in their list of permitted crimes that of shooting first and asking the questions later?) The lawless savagery of absolute Despotism that occurs when those supposed to keep the peace are given leave to break it - at will and without fear of punishment - runs counter to the letter of our nation’s founding document, the Declaration of Independence. (In reality, It offers the People no protections, however, as in the opinion of the U.S. federal government the Declaration has no legal weight or legislative significance.) Among the causes that compelled the Founding Persons to declare their separation from the British empire was as follows - For Quartering large bodies of troops among us: For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States(.) When reading the Declaration immediately after you finish this piece, I challenge you to substitute ‘the King of Great Britain’ with ‘the U.S. federal government.’ How similar to the conditions we face today were those which drove the Founding Persons to call bullshit and ouster their plutocratic overlords? (In a widely-circulated official Pentagon training manual, the Founding Persons - George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, &c. are referred to as criminal extremists one rung below outright terrorists who would today be barred from military service). Are the conditions we currently face but another example of sic semper tyrannis, proof that a political force of sufficient size and longevity will naturally evolve into the very oppressive and dastardly power it once sought to overthrow - even a political force conceived for and supposedly dedicated to the purpose of bringing betterment and liberty to a large mass of people?

Unless we average citizens do something very soon, the million tentacles of the teenage police-state throbbing in our midst will seek out and suffocate what few freedoms we have left. Since 2001 C.E., civilians working as police officers have killed more unarmed and innocent civilians than the terrorists did on 11 September, albeit one or two and not hundreds or thousands at a time. How does one root out a beast as firmly latched to the fear-teat of modern America as a police force that slays our youth and hounds the defenseless whilst demanding knee-jerk and blind obedience to its every whim and fancy? A beast whose appetite for blood and gore never lingers, whose cruel heart pumps blood black and blue? Not quickly, efficiently, or thoroughly. To start, however, please know your rights, and record every interaction with the police. Beyond that, though, put on some lipstick and rouge, because we the People are pretty much fucked.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥