Monday, May 23, 2016

Worlds Beyond The Martian Underworld

Worlds Beyond

The Martian Underworld
(The Great Tsunamis of Mars, 3.4 Billion B.C.)  Part I of II

                    Moohtluv the Liege, of Venus and Mars

In the year 3.4-Billion B.C., the Demon of Mars had to go underground after the Great Tsunami took place.  The Greatest Title wave that had ever existed or came to be known in Mars’ solar system, triggered by an asteroid or comet strike into its ocean of water, it covered 750,000-square miles, the title-wave was 400-feet high.  This wave energetic as it was, picked up sediments, to include massive boulders, and dumped them at high and low elevations, and cut new channels into the orbs surface, and caved in many of Mars’ underground channels and passages.  The areas known as Chryse Planitia and Arabia Terra, were badly hit, regions of Mars. And ever since, these new and some old passages, and dome like cavers have been home to the Mar-demon.
       Moohtluv the Liege, came sometime thereafter, a life form from Venus, the last of his kind, for all of his species had been fossilized on Venus after a great catastrophe. Created, or born, 542-million B.C., in his first stage of life he was sea-dwelling, in some superficial form, and by the process of photosynthesis, and contact with certain bacteria, he had evolutionalzed out of this algae form to a higher form of organism, converted by sunlight and chemical energy, into a complex multi-cellular organism, by the grace of his creator.  His kind, progressively grew endlessly if not killed by their own kind, from some black eldritch diabolic act, or a natural disaster.  Likewise their complex civilization became extinct by some interstellar space atrocity, not so unlike the days of the dinosaurs on earth by an asteroid hit; and like Mars, where after its atrocity, lost its thin atmosphere, and high levels of oxygen. Consequently he found his way to Mars, and became Commander and Chief of the underground Mar-Demons, in their underground labyrinth, or dominion.
       These demon were an ebon form of dark incubated evil, evil in secrecy even among themselves, and there were a million or more of them, —evil that is, until Moohtluv took command, and harnessed them like Solomon did in his day. Had you asked one, what his voice sounded like he would have said, like a Niagara thunder of water, had he ever been to Niagara Falls. And as it might be known, as in the days of the dinosaurs on earth, animals with long lifespans grow gigantic, and he Moohtluv, was all of that.  In essence, he looked like a giant satanic salamander of 3000-pounds, with three faces, and two dimensional.
       Light seemed to be provided within these underground cannels, that per near went to the liquid iron core of Mars by some form of radioactive minerals in the walls and ceilings. Moohtluv was not governed by what man knew of biological laws, but in and of a different atom and dimensional system.  Had you been looking at him, he could have his body fade, and reappear, as if he was more projection, than substance. And in fear of him they, all the demon sought to woo him. They knew if he was making a humming noise, he was tranquil, if not, god forbid. His moods were governed by his monotone, or foreseen.
       In his chamber lofty, of iron stone and rock, this monstrous being, more like a grotesque apparition, floating hanging in midair like a mechanical mirage, hovered over all that entered, but when he slept it was on the warm floor of the cavern.
       Early one, Geon, an eerie disquieted Mar-demon, knew Moohtluv was supernatural, and did his tedious job of relaying his orders to the tribal demonic beings, of which there were several hundred clans, and became Moohtluv’s number on servant. And the uncongenial work that needed to be done throughout the underground fortress, he insured it would be done.    
       To kill a ruthless being, you need to be more ruthless, Geon told his tribe of 1000-followers, and Moohtluv’s power had stirred his imagination profoundly to devise a way to destroy him.  For even though Moohtluv looked to be a mere hallucinatory image, he was not. On the other hand he had a super mundane, routine. This he figured would be his weakness.
       By and large, Moohtluv was simply an envoy from a foreign planet, and long they had sought him out, but had favored him with their invitation to make peace among one another, but that inaction after so long became boring. And now their attempt at verbal communication was always to argue, and he and the rest of the clans never once, was allowed to do evil, over dominated another clan by Moohtluv, and not allowed to menace  anyone, and that was for the Mar-demon, painful.
       All creatures sleep, and almost without emotion or thought of any kind, Geon took this edge to its deepest point, thus while Moohtluv’s breathing, while sleeping was a consonant humming of a deep sleep, not REM, he would make his play.
       Moohtluv’s floor was near the edge of the crust of Mars’ underground lava pit, where it was very hot, and much movement or transit of magma shifted to and fro, Geon and his demonic force had sank huge rods into the floor, covered them with stone, when Moohtluv had visited the upper world of Mars on several trips to see the foreign sky, and whatever else, and thus giving Geon time to move in on his plan, and this evil dead he was to do that was to fill his evil eyes with a fury of boiling blood, once accomplished. Thus, he weirdly altered the strength of the floor of Moohtluv’s room. This evening while Moohtluv slept on an inquisitively tessellated floor as he had for quite a long time, to which rods now were interlocked and sank and disappeared underneath, and into sockets that were part of the floor, which could become topless, or roofless by one jerk of an iron mechanism, and whatever was in the room would be filled with this lava, this was to be done.
       And so, he pulled the lever, and the lava came pouring up, thick and heavy into the room, blusterous liquid, and ruby-red in color, and dissolving everything within the room and sweeping it away; hence, Geon jumped with glee at this gravitation of gigantic magma, and its movement. Geon had never dreamed it would work so perfectly, and so deliriously he went screaming down the hallway, he was the king of Mar-hell.  And I cannot describe the physical discomfort of Moohtluv, but it was surly some optic torture to see: floating gradually down into and swimming in and through the lower part of Mars’ lava, like a dead shadow, and surely he found himself in the grip of a nightmare, and there was no humming.
On the other hand, to Geon, Moohtluv was no more than some gigantic insect. Moreover, even Moohtluv, with his supernatural essence was powerless to such an assault.  And now, Geon would become that luring menace of evil he was aching to be.

#5245/ 5-17 thru 20-2016

Worlds Beyond

Demon-ridden Times   
(The Great Plains of Mars, 3 Billion B.C.)  Part II of II

Geon.  A demon amongst the demon of the underworld of Mars, known as Mar-demon amongst one another, was the culprit that killed Moohtluv the Liege, and not everyone liked what he had done, for Moohtluv kept law and order, and now all there was, was chaos.  Geon was an alchemist, necromancer, astrologer, and between the death of Moohtluv, and this day on Mars, a half billion years later, he had ten arch-fiends as his students (apprentices), also he was ahead of a legion of bat-winged demon, within   the underground kingdom. 
       It was said Geon, the worse of the lot, was born on a moonless midnight, and was transported from some other planet, other than Mars, through diabolic arts, his father being in bad health, indicating an early death, had send him to Mars; his father being an enchanting, lycanthropic demon (or werewolf of sorts) of black spells, and malice.  Thus, like father, like son.
       And within one of the several regions of the kingdom of the Mars underworld, were the reluctant race of succubus and incubus’ in contradiction of Geon for his longtime prejudices in their sexual prowess, hence, in all their meetings they took liberty to scorn him.   Several called on the Demon of Doom, to judge this demon whom was more hated than earth’s antichrist. For eons he had a mesmeric persuasion over his students of a most brilliant promise, even stood by him up to this point. For the succubus’ considered them his cult, and said he worked his spells on them to keep them in his cult.
      And so was he judged this day to be vanished once and forevermore to the plains of Mars, and was made to dig his way up to its surface, twenty-five miles. He felt at times as he dug as if entombed.  As for the underworld it was really their first banishment on Mars, to a Mar-demon, but to keep peace what is one demon amongst a million or two.  They were indifferent not all that much different than the human race would be, whenever that would be.  And yes, it was to Geon’s dismay and horror he had to wander the plains of Mars of a few hundred years, until one day he tripped upon a brazen-bolted tomb, found in one of the trenches. Lo, the sun’s rays were hot, had been hot, and was drying him up like a prune. But he said to himself, as any wise demon might say, “You play, you got to pay,” and the penalty for his misdeeds were as we all know, the sun-scorched surface of Mars, forevermore; for even demons like a little comfort now and then, and the solar winds as often as they came were becoming a daily complaint for Geon—to himself, that is—and  he now he was thinking of diabolic revenge and ravishment upon his fellow demon; nothing new for demons of course, but he was not one of those mustering-ground devils, he’d prefer the cooler dungeons of Mars’ hell, its lava hot fire and brimstone and mephitic odors to what he was enduring, on the surface of Mars daily.
       And so he thought day to day, night after moonless night, of his subterranean ex-friends, then without thinking—or perhaps with too much thinking on what his revenge would be—he took the shroud from the dead corpse from the tomb he had thrown it out of: torn and ragged, but a cover to a naked demon, was very much welcomed; an evil hissing as of a dozen serpents came from the shroud.  He tried to strip the shroud off from his shoulders, but the cadaverous hissing turned quickly into a mass of serpents that folded around him like white on rice, in stone. Appalled at this vision he started his chanting of sonorous exorcism of the snakes—that did little good, that is to say, naught!  And hence he fell backwards into the very tomb he had robbed as if taking the place of the dead corpse, slain eons ago, by none other than Moohtluv the Liege.
       And there he lay, thinking the old saying, unable to move an inch, or a toe or a finger, just a blink of an eyelid: “What goes around comes around!”

#5248/ 5-22-2016

Worlds Beyond

The Martian,
 (The Great Plains of Mars, 2.75 Billion B.C.)  Part III of III

              The Worm-Mar-serpent

Whelp the Chief Dwarf, quite small for even being a dwarf, of Mars’ underworld, had a most extravagant curiosity, and this is his story, as legend tells it, in the halls of Mars’ hell, and by and large, he was the strongest of all the dwarfs; once a student of Moohtluv the Liege, and as diabolic as Geon, was one of the many dwarfs who, for fun the demonic dwarfs would play the game ‘Who can enter the noise quicker!” Entering noises, those bloody nostrils of one another to see if they could possess the other, was a game unnamed that I actually named in lack of any suitable name, but a game all the same. And thus, each dwarf, Mar-demon watched the disappearance of his fellow mate, inch by inch.
       The underworld had really little to nil, good pastimes, so they had to be really inventive, or creative. And Whelp the Dwarf, did exactly what his bully type character prescribed, he invented and if his fellow dwarf Mar-demon, didn’t like it, he’d walloped them one good wallop,  those he got frustrated with, that is.  Next to Geon, he was a menace, and ahead of the clan of demon dwarfs, of which perhaps 10,000-existed, unrobed as the day is long, nude like the incubi, he was somewhat cabalistic in that he was similar to Geon in the occult manner. And thus he took over Geon’s pupils and nurtured them in his moribund ways.  There remained an undeclared enigma for Whelp, that curiosity: “Was Geon still alive, in his entombment?”  And the commonality between he and Geon, they both hated the demonic forces beyond their own races within the underworld.
       He kept himself busy though with his arcane science and deep wizardry, his so called incubated evil. But still as for Geon, he could not shake off his disquietude. So he found himself above on the surface of Mars, one dreary day in the year 2.7 Billion B.C., (thereabouts; take or give a million or two).
       And so now he searched for the tomb of Geon.
       It should be pointed out, on Mars there are more brown twilights than those like normal earth sunsets and moonrises, twilights per se. He for his first time seen the grim and rugged landmass of Mars— “Hurray!” he said, as he took his first steps onto its surface. From where he stood, apart from the solar winds, there was no sign of occupation, as expected. Cautiously he peered over what was called: “The Somber Broad Valley” where Geon was supposed have been entombed. Whereupon he made his way down the sheer, and rough cliffs then once below he paused to recuperate his abating strength.  He heard some baffling, and confused noises. Apart from the remote ambiguous noises and tapings, the day was locked in mortal stillness. Even the solar winds in the valley had stopped, it was as if he was trespassing, and the dead knew it and the planet was accommodating the dead; it was as if he was in a cloud of paralyzing evil, and it was slowly starting to hang over his head, unobserved.  The silence was eerie, as if older than time.
       It was well known in the underworld, once there lived a subhuman civilization on Planet Mars, and they had all perished in the valley he was now in, some say by a volcanic eruption, so it was in a way, forbidden ground, a graveyard of sorts. And now, Whelp the Dwarf heard the tapings louder and louder, with a more audible voice in the background, a muffled voice. Then he spotted Geon’s tomb, it was his voice he heard. Now within sight, but at a distance, he saw his dark sooty fingers that hung out of the tomb, keeping himself well beyond the tomb’s shadow, he walked made a sort of circuit around the tomb, he did not dare to step into its shadow for fear of being dragged into the tomb with Geon. Although as far as he could tell he and the tomb’s occupant were the only ones about, no serpents or sub humans. Leaning against a fragment of a worn stone, he paused to concentrate on a clattering below his feet, crouching he put more weight on the surface, in one specific spot, and more weight on the worn stone he was leaning on, again it was his curiosity at work: the narrow ledge he was leaning on broke and its stone, and to his most astonishing dismay, the floor of the surface   caved in, and there was a thousand wormlike snakes ten feet long, with big round heads and vampire teeth, and they were hungry, very hungry, whose details are barely speakable. But one thing I can say for sure, the old saying is true to its every letter: “Curiosity killed the cat,” and in this case also the dwarf!”
#5249/ 5-23-2016


Sunday, May 15, 2016

The Haunting Stones

The Haunting Stones
((1997, non-fiction) (Stonehenge))

Standing in front of one of the megalith
colossal stones, at Stonehenge,
on the Salisbury Plain, in Southern England
I was awe-struck immediately—
A demonic face, ominously contorted appeared.
The longer I looked, the more sinister the impression.
The strange evil spirit was as if in despair,
imprisoned, caged in granite!
The imprint leered from the stone hatefully!
The spot where the hollow remained,
wore a macabre grimace.
I thought for a moment, it might even speak aloud.
The evil conveyed was outside humanity—
It was more ancient than the Bronze Aged stones,
this temple or shrine of sorts!
Perchance this unfamiliar spirit had grown hideous
because of his Mesolithic old world age.
After a long staring in silence
equally includible and sinister was that the face
which grew hypnotically if not actually more robust…
The lower portion of the stone was haunted likewise
with shadowy lords of hell: they
were also looking at me with malediction.
The stone and impressions, the color of gray-rats,
with a blustering flame in its curvatures.
But never anything like the face.
All frightful entities, night-bird spirits, whom serve
Servitor for the damned?
I asked the keeper, “Can you see faces in these
“No,” he said almost begrudgingly,
“but a few select other folk can!”
“Maybe it’s haunted!” I said as if in half jest.
To him, it was of no disquiet.
As I walked away to my bus, of tourists, I looked back
towards the stone with the face in it—
(out of the tail end of my eye, —my peripheral vision)
The image was tracking me, like a wolf to blood.
Then the image melted into the miry granite.

It remains after nineteen-years an infernal mystery,
perhaps not to be solved.
The place its self has a horde of entities of its own—
scrutinizing, and an indwelling personality
I do believe.
It’s there like a soul of a devil.
But I can’t pin it down, or touch it!
I’m not superstitious, but I know this world exists.
It’s just not an odd phenomena in my time.
Traveling throughout the world, this was not
the first time some particular spot I’ve visited, that
I’ve come face to face with an inimical nature
of this sort.
The difference here was, whatever it was, was
hatefully aware, watchful!
It is in essence, a cul-de-sac.

#5238/5-11 & 12-2016

Worlds Beyond Strange World ‘(Planet Reversal’ last episode with Dr. McGee) X

Worlds Beyond

Strange World
‘(Planet Reversal’ last episode with Dr. McGee) X


When Dr. McGee left my office to investigate a matter concerning Venus and Saturn, along with its moons, he left with me his memorandums on his research up to date on the issue he was putting together. Somehow I was not optimistic I’d not see him again in the flesh.  I had no doubts he—as always—had discovered something, after he had denoted something about hand-axes made of flint 700,000-years ago found on a Norfolk beach,   a recent axe made of basalt 49,000 years old, then referring to the first Sumerian King, A-lu-lim, 241,000 B.C.,  and the north and south poles being reversed by earth’s magnetic invisible shield which seemingly took place 778,000-years ago, he called it: ‘Planet Reversal’ and then he went home, sat in chair, had heart attack and died. My old Army friend, and scientific comrade, just like that.  The funeral took place in Alabama yesterday, and his manuscript, or memos he left behind for me to ponder on, a step into the mysterious cloud-enwrapped planet earth, as it was perhaps know to humanity or its inhabitants, per near a million years ago, information unattainable had he not left them with me.

       As I started reading them in my office today after his funeral yesterday, a strange, outwardly unearthly world we had back in those far-off days, and so now I shall let Dr. McGee tell his own story in his own words as I read the manuscript, but a few pages long in its entire, to be his verbal scribe, the impersonality of my role being his explainer:

     “They were dark haired people called ‘black-heads’ and spoke an agglutinative language, similar to the Ancient Turkish (Turanian).  I do believe they came from another world, perhaps Venus, Saturn, or one of their moons, or one of the many 4000-planets now discovered by our interspace telescopes, searching the galaxies, especial the one hundred  galaxies hidden behind the Milky Way, with their countless solar systems and planets:
       “I found a map, purchased it, it was a redrawn map from around the 15th Century, which was a duplicate of a prior map I was told of a more ancient type. I traced the map back to King A-lu-lim, the first known Sumerian king, 241,000 B.C.  His dynasty ruled five to six kingdoms, one being Antarctica.  His region alone lasted 28,800-years, and his dynasty as I mentioned went back to, 241,000 B.C., thereafter onward. Until the second dynasty came into to play 24,510-years was its length, and the three or four or five dynasties thereafter, perhaps lasting 3000 to 3500-years a piece. It is safe to say, the Sumerian race goes back to perhaps 300,000-years or so, at which time, during this period the map was originally made. And on the map, Antarctica was a luscious green landmass.
       “Now we must keep an open mind to this.  One mystery leads to another, and things don’t get solved unless another unsolved mystery appears, and so King A-lu-lim whom I believe had the map original made, and made at a distance above the earth, and prior to his coming to earth, perhaps from some spacecraft, since it is a view overlooking the globe.
       “To make the story simpler to understand I am abandoning any formal phrases in physics, or clutches, and try to explain how this all came about in more or less modest way, but I must assume the King and his astronauts came from some planet, I choose Venus, although it very well could have been anywhere among the star planets.  The King, perhaps the Captain of the spacecraft, was courageous in his own right, hacking his way through space, hesitate to leave any real data on his trip about his trip, other than the map, having to overthrow the known world of hybrid humanoids. Even avoiding to a certain degree their presence, perhaps using them for labor purposes, when need be.

       “Prior to the King’s arrival, about 778,000 B.C., another happening was in process, inside earth, and outside it, and around it. Earth’s turbulent and invisible magnetic field and shield, was taking a reversal.
       “As we know within earth’s molten core, here fluid motions generate this field, some 3000 km beneath our feet. In a swirling opinion of liquid iron, this is what makes a compass do what a compass is supposed to do, and also creates the effects, as in the magnetism in rocks and ocean currents. As a result, we have this magnetic ‘bubble’ that protects us from space radiation, now weakening. Should it weaken excessively, north will become south and south, north! This very thing was taking place 780,000 B.C., slowly but surely, perhaps completed 250,000 B.C., which we can conclude Antarctica was green prior to this, whereupon, the Sumerians in its first eight kings, would have lived through this cycle change, of the mass magnetic field thinning at its midriff and reversing itself, changing the seasons in the south predominately and permanently, or at least until now, as it is changing once again.
       “This change intensity, can be seen in the magnetic north, which is off more often than 400-miles any given day, and the geographical North, is never the same as the magnetic north as we know, and perchance think it should be. This all of course takes place in earth’s liquid motion within her east-west fluctuation flow.

       “Now back to our dear Sumerian Kings, what happened to their dynasties? For the old dynasties perished, and the lesser dynasties came into play, those that ruled for 3500-years or so. By 70,000 B.C., the whole process of earth’s reversal had taken place. And because of this, a tragic event took place, that per near vanished earth’s humanoids to extinction. And the Sumerians likewise, actually the study shows the drastic dip in humanity to about 5000-total, male, female, old, young, children, and the entirety of humanoids and sub humanoids. Of them, perhaps forty-Sumerians survived, of which out of this, about 7600 B.C., the first Dynasty of Erech came into existence. But what took place on the island of Sumatra, in Indonesia, and in the South China Sea area, during an Ice Age,  Toba, a volcano erupted; a number ‘8’, of a mega-colossal magnitude, the greatest volcanic eruption in historic times. It blew 650 miles of vaporized rock into the air.  Leaving a great portion of earth with six centimeters of ash, it cooled the earth by twenty degrees, and what was left of mankind, were simply small bands of humans, hungry and scattered for 50,000-years. And the legacy of the Sumerian Kings.”    Dr. B. G. McGee

#5237/ 5-11 & 12 2016

Worlds Beyond The Waldorf Catacomb

Worlds Beyond

The Waldorf Catacomb

The two plants circle a small sun, a dwarf sun, as often the term is used for planets of a small size planets, but in this case, these two planets are the size of earth, and the sun is small, so we can call it, a dwarf sun, that is, its size is 1/8 the size of earth’s sun, so the analogy fits I do believe. This solar system, from these two planets and sun, is forty light-years from earth, small as it is it is seeable from earth’s telescope and by Hubble’s Space Telescope, in interstellar space, without a problem.  William H. Waldorf is a psychbiologist, with a secondary doctorate in psychodynamics. 
       Scientists know man will never get to physically walk on any of those two planets, but they are of interest to them: it would take 80-years roundtrip, at the speed of light.
       Dr. Waldorf, stationed in Darmstadt Germany, as a consultant for the Space Station there, has been working on a special project, a system that will change time-travel, that is to say, faster than the speed of light, where scraps and fragments of a person, through mind projection will be patched together, as a shadow and this shadow will travel this distance, and will be able to observe and interact with his  observations and produce actual living conditions on those planets or for that matter any planet, once their location is pinpointed—; a form of personification through one’s shadow. Of course it is more complicated than that, but in laymen terms that is it in a nutshell.  Let me also add, one’s shadow takes the place of one’s physiology.  While in this state mentally you would no longer exist here on earth, while being wherever else you may be.  
       Some of the complications reside in the least movement on earth, would disturb the gravity and molecule balance around you on the other planet; you would although on such a planet mentally be present, interact with objects, faces, forms, angles and color.  Any disturbance—again I repeat,  involved would alter the  interaction,  produce delirious implications, distorted visions, cause one’s atoms to disrupt, whole on the visiting planet.
       Dr. Waldorf explained to his colleagues, this was a new kind of astronaut, the new and the future.  Hence, one could be driven into transstaller life. If you can see something through a telescope, that something you are looking at, has a trigger to project something back to you, its image, thus, you can reverse that, to have that something pull your image to it, but more with more personification, more embodiment. 
       As for the good doctor, he had extended the barriers of the brain, modified the atoms, their interactions, within the brain, those 100-billion molecules, that swim around and within its nucleus, reprograming them on a map, to invade the cosmos.   Once and a while the unbelievable becomes the believable, by trial and error: so was his philosophy.
       And is it not true, two brains are better than one, and in this case it was one brain, and one brain alone, he allowed no one to step within his circle of experimentation, although he kept them updated, lest he lose his grant. What he failed to look at was the law of a new environment. He had built a contemplative vision, and visual impressions to his earthly cylinder that would transport him to his destination: his shadow would be so light, it would not cause a problem with travel through space and its matter, nor earth’s several spheres. Gravity did not need to pull it, nor light, but two triggers, one from the person to look upon the sight, and a trigger from the sight, looked upon, that is the sight of the destination, that interaction, with the shadow of him being as light as a feather, would project   onto his landmass, but it needed to be focused perfectly, lest he end up in the sun’s liquid heat, and who knows what then, the inevitable.
       He took with him the laws and perspectives of his own world. He hung motionlessly within a hung cylinder, suspended in air, warm but nearly paralyzed in place, as to not move. His mind traveled through space and time in a quantum wave, faster than time, one-hundredfold, light-years faster ((200-million miles per second, thereabout?)(Or about 12-billion miles per minute, or 61.2 trillion miles per hour…? Consequently, a six hour travel span))
       He could not remember anything beyond himself peering a few times around the space cylinder, nor could he imagine anything, nor was he in REM sleep, he fell into a dead, lifeless slumber.
       He awoke on one of the two planets, he could strangely breathe, it had evidently a light stratosphere, enough for a shadow, if indeed he even needed one, he was breathing in his cylinder. He had a ghostly form, an impression of himself for the most part, but mentally more there than on earth. He felt like a cataleptic god of sorts, like the gods of mythology. It was as if his mind produced atom-folded heat, he was a carbon copy of himself on earth, in shadow contortions. As he looked about, it seemed the planet was in the stage earth had been in during a previous Ice Age, when North America had reached its pre-Clovis phase, thereabouts, 16,000 to 9000 B.C., he saw  a mammoth, cousin to the elephant. He heard thunder, felt the inscrutable heat of the dwarf sun.
       He had left earth 50-years old, now he was 130-years old earth time, and knew if he returned he’d physically die, thus he, transmitted to his colleagues, that he wanted to remain where he was, and thus, his mummified, was preserved in a motionless coffin, called “The Waldorf Catacomb,” retained at the British Museum, in one of its cellar backrooms, safe and soundless.

#5243/ 5-15-2016

Middle of the Pendulum

 The Hyperborean Mythos 

Middle of the Pendulum

 (Dr. Nutt in Ushuaia, Argentina, 2010) Part III


In the Silence

Dr. Nutt.   I fell into a sky that now had grown dark, the whole scene took on a semi-nocturnal aspect, and made me think of doom, in the twilight of a dying sun.  It was as if I was on the airless moon in silence. I heard not even a leave or an insect move, uncanny silence.
       It was the silence of the endless emptiness.
       Death nearly confirmed by disquietude.
       Now I heard a sound in the silence of this macabre scene, like a click, the swing of a pendulum. I turned to listen closer, what reality was I now to confront?   ...
       No sooner had the movement of the pendulum made another click I felt warmth. I was petrified, I felt I was weighted down by some unavoidable nightmare. But I felt motion, and heat emerged from this motion, even from its shadow motion came as if one thing triggered another, and heat thereafter, for the moon was at first cold—figuratively speaking for I don’t know if I was or if I wasn’t on the moon mentally, spiritually in some time and space box, and that’s where I felt I was. And now I was watching, which was another interaction, my brain awhirl, it was reactivated with dizzying terror, but reactivated all the same, and that mattered.
       The previous ebbing blackness was disappearing and consciousness was lifted, leaving behind death, the moon, the shadow, the cold and thus, peering at hospital walls.

      Statistical Physics

Dr. Nutt    sat up on the edge of his hospital bed, trying to figure out what took place. He looked at the probabilistic nature of heat, thermodynamics, and saying to himself out loud: “Cold teaspoons are heated up in hot water.”
       He had been for the most part—while vacationing in Ushuaia (Patagonia, 2010)—had  fallen into the Beagle Canal strolling its muddy shores down below his Motel: he was taken out as dead,  a cold fish dead as a doornail, evidently that had heated back up, but how was that so, he pondered?
       “It’s all interaction,” he told himself. “Hot to cold. Hot is hot, because atoms move more quickly compared to cold, which move slower, with zero friction, the pendulum will move endlessly forever, friction produces heat. The swing of the pendulum is friction.” He was trying to put the puzzle together, what happened to him, evidently he had fallen into the canal, and survived: “I was in the middle of the pendulum, sort of speaking, until I started to run in my dead state (or dream state or unconscious state) thus I swung the pendulum, a hot body materializes when material collided, heat passes to a colder body.”
       He now was concentrating on the edge of his bed, as the nurses looked in now and then on him pondering with his hands on his forehead: he concentrated on electromagnetic waves, which vibrate randomly, —for he firmly believed he was dead, and he was dead. He emblematically told himself, I was as if thrown into a boat of protons that move fast like molecules in a hot balloon, when they heat they defuse, especially in the cold water. His mind now went to gravitational fields; thinking, this is what scientists do, try to figure out, what there is to figure out, for he worked for the Los Andes Space Center high up in the Andes of Peru where he worked as a scientist, as an astrophysics technician.
       “Time and Space,” he mumbled, “thermal vibrations of hot space-time took place. I was flowing between dead and life—time! I don’t know the exact formula, but time flows, location doesn’t and to the body the question asked was ‘What is the present’ for a while there was no answer for a ‘now’ answer. The present can be an illusion to the universal flow of time…”
       He knew a hot body cannot become hotter through cold contact, so the dynamics of heat would say, the roots of heat has an independent nature. Heat being like a balloon, deflating unpredictable as for molecule activity. When molecules collide heat passes from the hotter body to the colder.
       “The thermostat in my body sensing death, and knowing how the consciousness is formed, that is to say, 100-billion neurons in the brain being thawed out to work, likened to the 100-billion stars in the Milky Way, tells us ’…you are free to run to escape death’s claws—go!’ for there is not an ‘I’ in my neurons in my brain, the ‘I’ is formed by knowledge and culture handed down through representations. And so I stepped out of the middle of the pendulum, allegorically speaking, with what someone might call, a moment in time and space, between death and life, there was a spark, a reaction that triggered another reaction that produced heat, —perhaps God’s hands are more warming than we care to acknowledge. And this heat took precedence, and gave me back life; who’s to say, it’s all still a mystery.”

#5241/ 5-14-2016   

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

The Vaults of Lost Time

Can the flower go back into a seed?
The plant into the root?
Dead leaves, go back to its original branch?
No more than time can resume its past course.
But lost time is never really lost!
It remains precisely as it should be, had been.
The error, is in that man can go back and have lived through a past happening.
For I have descended into the vaults of lost time—
Potent are man’s visions to pierce the restraints of time and space, summing the laws of record and arrangement, the timetable of life to rift and bend, as you beckon!
To such a person, time will tolerate: make room and space for this one person.
To see what was, and to return to what is.


Lost Days

I had a dream, sweeping thorough me today: deep to deeper.
Seven billion human beings, like colossal demon, trodden the world’s streets! 
Seven-hundred and fifty billion pounds of flesh, blood and meat.
And we were multiplying…
The world’s floor was sinking in, wavering like a kite in the wind.
We grew faint, and the world lost its counterclockwise spin.
I could hear the racking of earth’s fault plates as they shifted, rotated.
Slabs hitting one another as they vibrated under earth’s crust.
And I could hear the shocks of cities riven by earthquakes.
And I could hear and see, the coastal masses crumbling in front of chaotic sea waves.
Yes, all in one little dream-vision.
Writing now of the doom and sorrow yet to come, dreadful can be the fathoms of time—
Their hidden mysteries.
Time is a stairway to change, and if there is no change, steps crumble one by one—
These are lost days, falling into a gulf of nothingness.