americanifesto: eat

The ants smell the honey, but they can’t get to it.
I keep the honey container in my bed-chambers because,
Otherwise,
If I leave it in the kitchen or pantry
It drains too quickly.

Next to it is a jar of bee pollen.
I let a few grains dissolve in my mouth
Every few hours.

I suppose I should thanks my apian friends
Since,
It seems,
I eat anything they excrete.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

24 March 2017

a dreaming carnivore

To my rear was a broad and flat stretch of railway bordered by a low metal fence. To my left, parked upon a darkened cobblestone street, sat a police car. From within it I was being watched by something of infinite and massive proportions, That Which Cannot Be Named.

I had bought a piece of meat in a nearby store, which I cooked using a pocket-sized flamethrower. The thick steak bent in upon itself sharply as it reacted to the scorching heat. Every juicy tendon and sinewy muscle fiber, the milky envelope of fascia, was clear to me, as was the essence of the beast slaughtered to produce it. (Soon after awakening, I realized that eating animals raised in conditions of torture and neglect contributes to sad and aggressive thought patterns.)

Other dreams followed in the hours I spent sleeping rather than practicing my usual morning meditations. They have vanished, however, from memory.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

28 June 2013

on bucking wheat

Just now, following my intuition, I took the loaf my whole-wheat bread out of the cupboard, walked it outside, and threw it onto the compost pile. There it now sits with the bagels someone had given me earlier in the week. During a brief Wiser Self meditation last night, while working on my Forrest Yoga teacher training homework, I asked Spirit what I could do to hew the Path and realize the Tao within myself. A soft, quiet, patient voice inside me responded, telling me to get serious about this New Way and stop eating refined sugars and wheat. Perhaps if I stop toxifying my innards with lumps of gas-producing and highly processed materials, I can get my psoas muscles to loosen up and my dura to unwind. Pray it be so, aho.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

28 December 2011

on francophobia

A scourge has been spreading throughout these United States – the love of things French! Also known as francophilia, this adoption of French customs has infiltrated our cafeterias as french-fries and as Pasteurization; it has crept into our language as adopted words, among them respondez s'il vous plait (RSVP), a-la-carte, reason, arrest, and blonde. For the love of the flesh yet clinging to my bones, our President Alexander Hamilton even spoke this foul language while he held office.

In order to purify our society of the remnants of this most dangerous of influences, we must do more than change our french fries to freedom fries – we must excise from the annals of history the names of Hamilton and of any other American, living or dead, who at any point was even suspected of being able to speak the tongue of those cowardly frog-eating bastards. Anything less would fall short of our stated goals, among which we count the cleansing of foreign contamination from our society. Only through vigilance might we prevail.

Spes Mea In Ratio Est - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp