Archive for the ‘aliens’ Category

is a narrative about narratives of historical meaning, experience or knowledge, which offers a society legitimation through the anticipated completion of a (as yet unrealized) master idea. (wikapedia)

As I study post-modern philosophy I am struck by the parallels between the (old) (faith-based) narratives such as “Christianity” and the current metanarrative of the “Enlightenment”. I suppose these parallels work like blanks which need to be filled in, and thus they reveal the underlying psyche of human thought:

We need an origin story: Christian = Genesis,
Enlightenment = Evolution/Big Bang

We need an end times/apocalypse: Christian = Revelations,
Enlightenment = Ecological collapse

We need authority: Christian = priests, kings, god
Enlightenment = scientists, rational thinking

We need a mission: Christian = repentance, purity, servitude
Enlightenment = freedom, discovery

We need to be winning: Christian = converting non-Christians
Enlightenment = eradicating non-rational thought

We need an other: Christian = demons, devils, ghosts
Enlightenment = extra-terrestrials

And now my reader may be outraged at the length my broad-stroke thought experiment has been stretched to. How does the enlightenment produce aliens? One could argue that the image of the alien or E.T. was only possible and manifested when the world conscious hit a critical mass of rational thought and technological advances made them ‘imaginable’. Basically it goes “we need ghosts” – “we don’t believe in ghosts anymore” – “obviously technological advancement is our endgame human potential so clearly there exist beings that have reached it before us”.

As a side-note, I had a long conversation one night with a friend in Taipei who was very much a ‘citizen’ of the ‘enlightenment’. By this I mean he held to the narrative that rational thought and freedom is the potential of human beings and that it will ‘solve our problems’, basically I could tell he ‘thought science was cool’. I proposed my idea that science is simply the new religion of the masses and he was outraged. He insisted I could not compare the two because one is based on facts and rationality and the other is based on faith and lies. We had a very constructive and heated debate over beers in a park into the wee hours of the night.

I don’t recall my exact counter argument, though I do recall making him aware of his emotions, how ‘into defending science’ he was and how it sounded similar to a believer defending their religion. He was even proud that his home country of England had a statistic of more than fifty percent of people being non-religious. Which only made it sound more like his side was winning a new crusade.

Also on the topic of ‘not being allowed to compare the two’ because ‘one is based on fact and the other on faith’. I find that to be a moot point. ‘Facts’ are only a legitimate currency within the metanarrative of rational thought. Just because one side doesn’t need to use that currency, does not make it impossible to compare. I can still image the Punisher fighting Dr.Strange even though one of them uses guns and the other uses magic. I constantly find ‘science-lovers’ trying to bring the scientific method into discussions about human politics, but testable objective truths have less of a place in these discussions. Our weapons here should be personal experience and imagination (with a limited amount of rational thought, I will admit, obviously).

As the reader can probably tell by now, I try not to believe in the metanarrative of the enlightenment. I find the mechanical ‘Newtonian’ view of the universe extremely boring. I find peoples ‘faith’ in science and rational thought to be dangerous and depressing. These are heretical things to say and feel. Often in groups of new (actually even among my old friends) and at work I feel like I have to ‘stay in the closet’ with my personal view of the universe. Also, since I am a ‘sensitive’ and ‘intuitive’ human, I actually find it a struggle not to fall into their narrative of ‘science is cool’ when society (advertising, media, the water-cooler) is doing it’s best to shove it down my throat.

So you may be wondering what my personal metanarrative is, am I Christian or some New Age hippie? Not quite. I do appreciate the mythos of Christianity and all faith-based traditions (and the messiah narrative resonates with me since I exist within (scientists would say ‘suffer from’) a messiah-complex). But I try to see the world as a creative process. Personally I believe I am a god, or have an energy that could be called Christ-consciousness, atman, creativity, whatever, and that I created this world (and continue to create it) in order to experience it. I am not completely soliptic, if you asked me what I thought of other people and animals I would say that they are gods too, and I realize that this muddles the term.

So to return to the start, does my metanarrative reveal the above ‘psyche’ of the human condition? Of course. My origin story is all the experiences that have crafted my current existence. My apocalypse is my death, which I imagine at times and try to keep in my consciousness as a sort of final celebration or breaking forward into another reality. Do I have an authority? (muses? other artists or creators) An other? (well I do have a strange relationship with ghosts and aliens so I don’t quite know what that means, perhaps a bleed over from the other metanarratives surrounding me).

And now I come to the end of this post and I have no idea what the point of it was. It is a far stray from my usual poetry and madness posts. Perhaps I should start a separate philosophy blog? (oh god, not another blog page) Perhaps it is best to end with a Baudrillard quote:

“We no longer seek glory, but identity.”


Lost in the humid swirl of summer,
Hot sticky bike races to work-
Rooftop comedy with the pigeons-
Space empire card games online…

Wires cross, the devices,
They need to charge, be plugged in,
I need to charge, be bug skinned,
Life at the edge of delirium…

Two screens glow, two cursors,
The curse of uninspired existence,
Ennui late night doubts plague me,
Where did all the adventure go?

Evaporated, sated, high on oblivion,
Slinging booze and being slung,
Like a proxy of myself, printed out,
Ink faded and uneven at the edges…

Who is the ghost really? I haunt myself,
Summer is a sick parasitic skin I wear-
And it wears down on me-
The season that is dark in all its brightness…

I need to escape the city, its bounds-
I need to escape my room, myself-
My addiction to the screens, the cards,
The cards about screens and thievery…

Like rats I survive here, a conclave,
A court of owl-aliens, testing my dreams,
A video of a prototype robot haywire,
A drowning apocalypse street screamer…

Somebody give me my quarter back,
Somebody shake me back to sanity,
I need magic to fly an angel over the skyline-
So everybody finally sees the spaceships…

Revenge from the formless fears
that shape my hallucinations-
Creations of societies subconscious
undaunted by my attempts at meditation-
Mediating faceless gods angels tricksters
demons flickering blue light dreams-
Revenge of reality
pulled loose at the seams-
Seems these things are immune to reason
irrational monster invisible invincible-
I can no longer trust science
or skepticism as root principle-
My foundation is shaken
I seen to many things, aliens-
Too many attempts at success
have turned out to be my failings-
Like trying to communicate with
the other confused humans wondering-
Blundering through the night with
the drone armies of ghosts bombing me-
Till my brain is the wasteland of
fictions you reject as madness-
Produced by hands that scrawl out
poison tipped lines of the savage-
I have become the mythical trick
of the messiah complex-
And I will die of the overdrawn
cure of the experimental tonics-
It’s not so complex but it’s not so simple
living in a triple vibration-
Taking in the pain of my city
while the citizens scream for salvation-

here I come hurtling-
pissed off that you killed my luck dragon-
and picked the bones clean-
your minions have eaten-
the meat of my dreams for years-
here I come with the revenge of the meek-
for the meek shall inherit the earth-
with DARKWORDS and darker poetry-
you don’t know me-
walking the streets in front of your homes-
while my hatred grows cold and old-
like the god of death-
I breathe my first last breathe-
and exhale DARKWORDS and dark poetry-

Like the spark that started the night that
feuled the riot that stole all the bricks-
All the walls picked apart whole blocks
of the city reduced to open pits-
And the goblins come crawling out
calling out for their bum king-
Well here he resides atop his throne
mountain of bones and gold rings-
In the echoing wind tunnel of babies
crying for uncaring mothers-
I stock my hordes with your
transformed abandoned brothers-
Striped toques and fingerless gloves
wave a goblin skull banner-
Goggled eyes over sharp toothed
smiles laughing ill-mannered-

for being so cruel and imperfect-
turning my faeries to perverted activities-
you exist to twist my symmetry-
well I will split you with DARKWORDS and dark poetry-
hold no hope for me-
I bleed green acid twice as cancerous as your greed-
I bring three fold the corrosion of your corruption-
cause I’m thirty years old-
and all my fifteen year old angst has returned two-fold-
so behold your demise with DARKWORDS and darker poetry.

Sleepless in Winnipeg

Posted: November 21, 2013 in aliens, madness, strangers
Tags: , ,

Aliens. The greys. Strange visitors in the night.
These things are only a thin part of your life;
Like coffee, a hot buzz, that you invited.
Or cold, like milk in your cereal, cooling your stomach.

You’ve seen too many films,
Read one too many comic book.
That luminescent triangular face,
Is engrained into your mind.

Waking, and sleeping, both worlds
Are manifested illusions.
The paralysis in between is no more real,
You do not break through the frequency.

But something made a book fall from your shelf,
For some reason you woke up,
At four in the morning, startled and saying;
“No, go away! Go away!” heart racing.

Staring at your closet, turning the light on.
Somehow your pillow is on the floor,
You must have thrown it there, in imagined panic,
Dismiss the idea that something moved it.

Nothing is trying to implant nodes into you,
Soon a dermatologist will call,
You will have the bumps on your back and neck,
Dismissed as cysts caused by stress.

There are strange and dark problems,
They plague your life, it’s true.
But they come from this world,
Not from the cold blue winter sky.

Other Being

Posted: November 21, 2013 in aliens, dreams, madness, spiritual, strangers

It’s a trick of light
It’s a manifestation
Do you really believe
That other beings are out there?

In the early morning
You awaken to darkness
You are startled, you call out
“No, Go away! Go away!”

You turn on your reading lamp
Something has moved your pillow
Something has made a book fall off your shelf
You think what could this all mean?

There is a reasonable explanation
There always is
But there is also an explanation
That that defies the daylight world

There is that flash of blue light
A beam you have witnessed before
And a roaring sound you hope
Is just airplanes in the sky

But this future is stranger
It has become reality now
Is it the cultural subconscious
Just an image ingrained in your mind?

When you can’t evenSee yourself
How can you tell me
That you have seen the other being

Are they watching us
From a different frequency?
Are they teasing me, helpless
In my sleep paralysis?

And what is this bump on my back?
And what is this bump on my neck?
Is it just the stress of life?
Or implanted screen memories…

Cause I’m missing time
I’m waking up sleepless
I’m battling demons
That you tell me are just figments

I can’t open my closet
I can’t look in that corner
And sometimes I can’t look away
My heart is racing, please explain

I’m not even a religious man
Yet I whisper for Jesus
Because if nobody else sees this
Then I must be going mad

Lies, lies, lies, my eyes
Illusions, deception
Creatures of fiction
Why do they plague me know?

It’s just a trick of light
Your paranoid manifestation
You can’t actually believe
You are seeing the other being

Monster to Monster

Posted: October 28, 2013 in aliens, drugs

Is there a connection?

Alan Watts voice therapy
force carry me through the darkness
of not falling asleep
staying up in the heat

Worried about the closet
the extra space with the extra unknown
the possessions grown
the possessed

The buzzing warm
overblown metaphorical
distorted historically

Constant sweat drip
lack of air
the fan drones on

What is this need-
for a blanket?
even this thin clothe armor
can it stop
(the rubbery grey fingers getting closer
and closer…)

Skin like a mask
hiding a worse horror
than those black
gaze into my unevolved fear

Why can’t it fear me?
why do I fear it?
am I not as much a monster?

I feel their presence right before I go to bed-
The hum of their scanners as they probe my head-
Tending to the seeds, long ago planted-
Into the womb of my mother, by a doctor only disguised as-

Really they wear masks of all types-
One even posed as a friend of mine-
Trying to activate an implant in the back of my eye-
But I caught the spy, in the web of his own lies-

I chased him all the way to his space vessel-
Hidden deep under a neighbors’ septic well-
He fired the engines, took off, turned invisible-
And none of the local authorities believed any of this top be plausible-

But it’s true, the new life forms are invading us-
I’ve witnessed seemingly witless old ladies whispering secrets-
Into what you would claim to be run of the mill parking meters-
But they are really doomsday devices with hidden levers-

“I won’t trust a single human!
“I don’t accept one word as the truth!
They are in cahoots! with the priest and gurus!
I say watch your leaders, people, watch your leaders…”

My cortex holds microscopic nodes-
Through microwaves it sends them scrambled codes-
And if you go down any unknown back roads-
You’ll find landing zones for the mother loads-

I intercepted a call to number two from number one-
A status update that the next phase had begun-
They’ve nearly taken over every single telecom-
Soon we will rule this world run system terror drone-

“I say watch your leaders, people, watch your leaders…”

The mother-ship is hovering-
Slowly we’re discovering-
Pods and doubles stuttering-
Soulless round black eyes of the nothing-

They want our planet for their own-
Terraformed into a suitable home-
For these aliens all alone-
Walking among us, mostly unknown-

That’s why I say watch your leaders, people, watch your leaders…