our Lombok excursion

The peaks they were shifting from forward to back and horizons cluttered with churning whitecaps. Alone in the water, just me and my mate, we arrived right on time, not early or late. The surfboards were waxed and the camera was primed, our Lombok excursion seemed perfectly timed to capture the rising and powerful swells that this wee green island delivers so well. While riding on scooters that would not go fast there were many farmsteads and herds that we passed, dirt compounds and groups of water buffalo that moved with gaits plodding and measured and slow. Ekas and Gerupuk were our favorite bays, we surfed and we played in their waters ways, we drove motored explored them from east to west in search of such waves as would propel us best. Fried rice did sustain us and keep us alive, did fuel our unending and incessant drive to keep right on paddling, injured or whole, with joy in our hearts and hope deep in our souls. There were many rainstorms and thunderous peals that woke us from slumber and made children squeal but they didn't stop us from mounting our steeds or quieting our daily water-time needs. Goodbye then, fair Lombok, we shall meet again, farewell to the women and children and men whom we met and played with on your verdant hills – thanks for the love friendship food surf and goodwill.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

toned shapely slabs

There lies at the middle crux center and core a bright brimming majestic powerful store where most intuition and much knowledge lies in that sweet region twixt navel and thighs. Behind all the nether and lower-most abs, those chiseled tight granite-like toned shapely slabs, is a spot of strength knowing and density that controls and speaks to the lower body. To access it is to be one with the self for it is the fountain of youth truth and health; where once mine too hid behind layers of blubber I am now removing its shielding and cover. When delving deep into this curious place remember to relax the jaw and the face and sit with the feet crossed or up in lotus then breathe well and clear the mind of all its fuss. The power gained from such a meditation will outshine the photons hurled off by the sun, allowing the person to go venture soar without ever opening his house's door. Now put down those donuts, set coffee aside, and let your brave spirit some vortexes ride, and watch as greed avarice pettiness hate do suddenly vanish diminish abate.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dream vision thought

Oh darkest of night and oh brightest of day we ask that you prolong your too-fleeting stay. You come and visit us in dream vision thought; without your due influence we would be naught. The light of your passion does touch on our souls, we use it to plug up necessity's holes, to fill in the gaps that our minds cannot fill, to invent the future and cure lasting ill. Now people on far distant parts of the globe do wrack activate puzzle with frontal lobes in search of solutions to what might well be the means by which our race can reach apogee. Without ever talking to one another these people do stumble upon and discover the wealth of 'formation that fleet flits about to which they are known a Eureka! to shout. Some mighty good scientists did once propose that what our poor species should think that it knows comes down from the aether to infect the pan of truth-seeking woman of curious man. Just look at calculus and the pyramids – were not these developed in separate bids by people kept distant by vast furlonged leagues when now-shining cities lay covered in weeds? The secrets of airborne, mechanical flight that we think as merely a new modern right was thought of in Egypt and in the Near East when we in Europa were seen as just beasts. Keep therefore the brain-stem devoid of cruel pride and the blessed third eye consciously wide and think not of glory or long-lasting fame but feel for the burning of that holy flame that comes to the seeker who does then lets go whose guts are the kind that let her say :Don't know.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

them to fly

Without ever leaving the confines of this my house in the alley I have found some bliss and have found in writing my tranquility yet still my relatives can't see what I see. I have but few answers, the ones that I do would rarely be seen as quick clever or new, they're all mostly poached from the texts old and wise – just wrapped up in modern and crumbling disguise. I've no one to prove to that my path is good that I am now doing exact as I should, that I am now living here in this far land without vast resources and with fewer plans. I'll let them keep puzzling about my game and keep on repeating the eternal name that sounds without hurry from window and sky that gives my dreams wings and allows them to fly.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

drops and ruddy

Pain it blossoms pure and bright as I there sit and hold my fright and hold my twitching keeping small my sweaty drips and ruddy pall. There is much that I can take except the cruelty others make but now I'm learning not to look for faults or errors when I'm shook. Breathing deeply, staying calm, reveling in swazi's balm, I want for nothing but my peace and my sadnesses to decrease. This I must do, this I will, not with potion or with pill but rather with my steady breath and letting go till nothing's left. As it sit here watching vids while outside shriek the neighbors' kids while inside there is much hot heat that stalls my efforts to complete the process started long ago when I sat lonely in the snow. All is changing night and day so I will lock my mouth up tight and keep opinions to myself to maintain sanity and health.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

through quarters cramped

I've been to some death-camps and seen some mass graves into which were hurled chucked tossed innocent slaves; I've stood in the oven rooms smelling their reek and wandered through quarters cramped barren and bleak. The stories and tales of Survivors I've heard; did soak lap and sponge up each soft quiet word; did stand before mountains of shoes and shorn locks; did witness the stolen gold teeth and arm-clocks. I've been to Jerusalem's own Yad Vashem, examined the causes from which hatred stems, examined the lessons that our past imparts and struggled to understand cold callous hearts. This world we now live in is once again filled with racist small-minded and misguided swill – we see it in Europe and in the U. States where there are hot heated and brutal debates. These are though concerning the Islamic creed and ask if for tolerance there is still need and ask if the people who've made it their own should be whipped and murdered or just left alone. I know not the answers, my mind is too small, my intellect lacking in due wherewithal, I will though say one thing then leave well alone: Let he who's not sinned pick and cast the first stone.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

from the start

With a lukewarm greeting and hardly a wave there swept in a rakish and dastardly knave. He knocked over dishes and upset a cart and swore at the helpers and staff – from the start. His clothes they were made of the finest of threads and he quick demanded the softest of beds and he quick devoured a soup meant for all who sat there nearby him him in our greeting hall. His stay quickly ended however when he did molest a young girl – a terrible deed – whose father'd been hired to keep us secure from outside intruders and rapacious curs. We'd endured his rudeness and his faulty ways (each human among us can choose what he says) but when he did force himself onto that lass the attending women joined to beat his ass. They hauled him straight out to the foremost courtyard and hit him with fist and foot and hit him hard and left him there bleeding and made a photo of his face and broadcast it so all would know that men such as him were not welcome no more to sit at our table or knock at our door.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥