CURSE OF THE STARVING CLASS by SCOTT UTLEY

 

THE UNSINKABLE TITANIC ON HER FIRST VOYAGE:  

LIVERPOOL TO NYC

 

titanic fyfyfy

THOMAS UTLEY & SONS: The Utleys were one of the leading maritime brass founders, having also produced sidelights for Lusitania and Mauretania. They made many of the brass fittings for the Titanic and Olympic. These included the Titanic’s bells and Gothic patterned windows for the ship’s bars and dining rooms.

titanic dd

I am looking for a link I am certain exists. It has to do with the TITANIC, which was hit by an iceberg on this date at 11:40 PM and sank a few hours later. I know my mother’s family had something to do the the creation of the ship’s portal windows but I did not know that my father’s family had cast much of the brass regarding them.

lou

I seriously doubt my parents were aware of this. I think this is a first revelation particular to those surnames. Tell me that isn’t funny?

titanic io

The TITANIC struck an iceberg on April the 14 of 1912 at 11:40 PM and sank a few hours later. It was early morning of April 15, 1912. They were four days out on their way to NYC. 

tit sin

Thomas is my house-mate’s name. (He says.) The interesting thing, and there are so many, is that Jane Utley, Thomas’s wife,  had a premonition about the fate of the ship so she declined, along with her husband, a luxury cabin for two on the TITANIC for her maiden voyage. It is documented fact that although Jane apparently is not of Utley genetics, on another level that is immaterial, a moot point. I know Utley women who speak pf premonitions and they even bank on them. I don’t bank on anything. I don’t trust banks.

tit uuu

Utleys have been burned or hung in England (and probably in the early American colonies)  for being witches. One documented example is Sarah Utley, hung 1620 in London. Mother Utley was the name er people called her. She was accused of witchcraft when all she really was guilty of, was being a bit misunderstood. The Utley women never speak about their clairvoyant powers. Perhaps because society associates premonitions, miracles, telepathic powers, etc., as demonic, satanic or of the dark occult; to be feared when it is just the opposite. It never ceases to amaze me. Almost everything we have learned & think we know is really just the opposite.

titan protk.gif

I may run for president of the USA. Huh? My campaign slogan? MAKE HUMANOIDS CONSCIOUS AGAIN. That’s a joke. No, really, it is. It is, really.  It is such a joke that we are brain-dead Homo Sapiens. Do you realise we are the laughing stock of the Milky Way? We think dolphins are smart but not smarter than us. We know very well, some of us, that the IQ of the dumbest dolphin is fathoms ahead of any human on this planet, or on any other in any other universe. We believe, at least I do, that Whales are the true Gods of our world, yet many people eat them. I would never consider eating God unless She asked me to. That is not very likely, and not because the very idea grosses me out, You may find it appealing, but to each his own. Different strokes. There is no such thing as a stupid fish, but I know that clams are not too bright. I hope they are not, but I really cannot say that for certain. I can say with complete conviction they are brighter than you, me, I meant me. I don’t even know you. You must be quite brilliant to have read this far. You are a rare exception to the rule. You can live. Now, look closely below.  Do you see yourself in this mirror. I don’t. I see a fish out of water.
titan jj.gif

We think dolphins are smart but not smarter than us. We know very well, some of us, that the IQ of the dumbest dolphin is fathoms ahead of any human on this planet, or on any other in any other universe. We believe, at least I do, that Whales are the true Gods of our world, yet many people eat them. I would never consider eating God unless She asked me to. That is not very likely, and not because the very idea grosses me out, You may find it appealing, but to each his own. Different strokes. There is no such thing as a stupid fish, but I know that clams are not too bright. I hope they are not, but I really cannot say that for certain. I can say with complete conviction they are brighter than you, me, I meant me. I don’t even know you. Most all of the time we marginalize anyone who isn’t like, but who’s keeping time? I’m not judging, per se, I am observing with neutral subjectivity. We take that which is far greater than us & drag it through the mud. Gong Li says that in the I CHING or Ancient Book Of Chinese Wisdom (which traces its roots to Confucius), much of the text dates to 300o BCE, it says, “People hate that which is great.” Say no more. You must be quite brilliant to have read this far. You are a rare exception to the rule. You can live. Moving right along …

titanic_casting_pattern

Two sides of a casting pattern used by Thomas Utley & Company, brass founders of Stoneycroft, Liverpool, to make Titanic’s porthole, or sidelight, frames.

Above is the brass templates THOMAS UTLEY used for the TITANIC portals. Below is the link to that information. Here below is the culprit link below. Sue them, not me. They are the instigators of all you didn’t really read above. If you take umbrage with my language or ideas, please direct all coresidence to:

titan

Attention::TalkToMyHand@WhoCares.com. If you want to call in a bomb threat, and who doesn’t, please dial 1 888 fat-chance.

http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/maritime/visit/floor-plan/titanic/casting-pattern.aspx

tit ip

Thomas Utley and his wife Jane were invited to sail on Titanic’s maiden voyage. They are said to have declined because Jane had a premonition of the ship’s fate

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

 

On the upper decks of the TITANIC, there were over 350 of the world’s richest people, while on the lower decks, out of sight, there were over 2000 poor immigrants coming to America to start a new life.

NOTE DE L’AUTEUR :

Sur les ponts supérieurs du TITANIC, il y a pl de 350 des personnes les plus riches du monde, tandis que sur les ponts inférieurs, hors de vue, il y avait plus de 2000 pauvres immigrants venant en Amérique pour commencer une nouvelle vie.

tita ll

CURSE OF THE STARVING CLASS by SCOTT UTLEY

THE UNSINKABLE TITANIC ON HER FIRST VOYAGE:  

LIVERPOOL TO NYC

titanic fyfyfy

THOMAS UTLEY & SONS: The Utleys were one of the leading maritime brass founders, having also produced sidelights for Lusitania and Mauretania. They made many of the brass fittings for the Titanic and Olympic. These included the Titanic’s bells and Gothic patterned windows for the ship’s bars and dining rooms.

titanic dd

I am looking for a link I am certain exists. It has to do with the TITANIC, which was hit by an iceberg on this date at 11:40 PM and sank a few hours later. I know my mother’s family had something to do the the creation of the ship’s portal windows but I did not know that my father’s family had cast much of the brass regarding them.

lou

I seriously doubt my parents were aware of this. I think this is a first revelation particular to those surnames. Tell me that isn’t funny?

titanic io

The TITANIC struck an iceberg on April the 14 of 1912 at 11:40 PM and sank a few hours later. It was early morning of April 15, 1913. They were four days out on their way to NYC. 

tit sin

Thomas is my house-mate’s name. (He says.) The interesting thing, and there are so many, is that Jane Utley, Thomas’s wife,  had a premonition about the fate of the ship so she declined, along with her husband, a luxury cabin for two on the TITANIC for her maiden voyage. It is documented fact that although Jane apparently is not of Utley genetics, on another level that is immaterial, a moot point. I know Utley women who speak pf premonitions and they even bank on them. I don’t bank on anything. I don’t trust banks.

tit uuu

Utleys have been burned or hung in England (and probably in the early American colonies)  for being witches. One documented example is Sarah Utley, hung 1620 in London. Mother Utley was the name er people called her. She was accused of witchcraft when all she really was guilty of, was being a bit misunderstood. The Utley women never speak about their clairvoyant powers. Perhaps because society associates premonitions, miracles, telepathic powers, etc., as demonic, satanic or of the dark occult; to be feared when it is just the opposite. It never ceases to amaze me. Almost everything we have learned & think we know is really just the opposite.

 

titan protk.gif

I may run for president of the USA. Huh? My campaign slogan? MAKE HUMANOIDS CONSCIOUS AGAIN. That’s a joke. No, really, it is. It is, really.  It is such a joke that we are brain-dead Homo Sapiens. Do you realise we are the laughing stock of the Milky Way? We think dolphins are smart but not smarter than us. We know very well, some of us, that the IQ of the dumbest dolphin is fathoms ahead of any human on this planet, or on any other in any other universe. We believe, at least I do, that Whales are the true Gods of our world, yet many people eat them. I would never consider eating God unless She asked me to. That is not very likely, and not because the very idea grosses me out, You may find it appealing, but to each his own. Different strokes. There is no such thing as a stupid fish, but I know that clams are not too bright. I hope they are not, but I really cannot say that for certain. I can say with complete conviction they are brighter than you, me, I meant me. I don’t even know you. You must be quite brilliant to have read this far. You are a rare exception to the rule. You can live. Now, look closely below.  Do you see yourself in this mirror. I don’t. I see a fish out of water.
titan jj.gif

We think dolphins are smart but not smarter than us. We know very well, some of us, that the IQ of the dumbest dolphin is fathoms ahead of any human on this planet, or on any other in any other universe. We believe, at least I do, that Whales are the true Gods of our world, yet many people eat them. I would never consider eating God unless She asked me to. That is not very likely, and not because the very idea grosses me out, You may find it appealing, but to each his own. Different strokes. There is no such thing as a stupid fish, but I know that clams are not too bright. I hope they are not, but I really cannot say that for certain. I can say with complete conviction they are brighter than you, me, I meant me. I don’t even know you. Most all of the time we marginalize anyone who isn’t like, but who’s keeping time? I’m not judging, per se, I am observing with neutral subjectivity. We take that which is far greater than us & drag it through the mud. Gong Li says that in the I CHING or Ancient Book Of Chinese Wisdom (which traces its roots to Confucius), much of the text dates to 300o BCE, it says, “People hate that which is great.” Say no more. You must be quite brilliant to have read this far. You are a rare exception to the rule. You can live. Moving right along …

titanic_casting_pattern

Two sides of a casting pattern used by Thomas Utley & Company, brass founders of Stoneycroft, Liverpool, to make Titanic’s porthole, or sidelight, frames.

Above is the brass templates THOMAS UTLEY used for the TITANIC portals. Below is the link to that information. Here below is the culprit link below. Sue them, not me. They are the instigators of all you didn’t really read above. If you take umbrage with my language or ideas, please direct all coresidence to:

titan

Attention::TalkToMyHand@WhoCares.com. If you want to call in a bomb threat, and who doesn’t, please dial 1 888 fat-chance.

http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/maritime/visit/floor-plan/titanic/casting-pattern.aspx

tit ip

Thomas Utley and his wife Jane were invited to sail on Titanic’s maiden voyage. They are said to have declined because Jane had a premonition of the ship’s fate

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

 

On the upper decks of the TITANIC, there were over 350 of the world’s richest people, while on the lower decks, out of sight, there were over 2000 poor immigrants coming to America to start a new life.

NOTE DE L’AUTEUR :

Sur les ponts supérieurs du TITANIC, il y a pl de 350 des personnes les plus riches du monde, tandis que sur les ponts inférieurs, hors de vue, il y avait plus de 2000 pauvres immigrants venant en Amérique pour commencer une nouvelle vie.

tita ll

COMMAND THYSELF ~ TAKE ME TO CHURCH ~ WE MCDONALD ~ THE VOICE

The_World_TimelineWallpaper_850x320_animation

“Command thyself to be healed, to be loved, to love, to forgive, to be forgiven, command thyself.” A priest-king man taught me that last night in a parking lot after the sunset … somewhere near Reseda on Magnolia Avenue in San Fernando Valley. Bingo howled at every passing dog from the rear window of my car. Joel & I ignored him until I finally commanded Bingo to stop that XXXX! 

Let me tell you, there is something true and all-powerful in the words of that young man, as he held up at times a tattered Bible. I always thought I could rewrite that book. I’m certain I could have made it more accessible to youth (I was well on my way.), but I was young, just 14, and my SA sponsor said, “No, what are you, nuts?” It turns out that it was the other way around. It’s always like that, don’t you  agree?  

No, I was not nuts, not then, not ever, if you exclude the characters I have portrayed in my storied career as an illusional master of stealth. I am as sane as you are. He, the sponsor, on the other hand, was crazier than a bed bug and loaded all the time which was JUST NOT FAIR! All sponsors of anything are nuts by nature, or haven’t  you heard?

Although I can often quote the Bible. I have never read it. In case I ever do, don’t spoil the ending for me. Thank you in advance. Now, maybe you do not believe in God. Maybe God doesn’t care. Maybe, just maybe, God doesn’t believe in you. Think about that, why don’t you? Later.

It ‘s not like it makes a difference. How kind are you? Are you making every effort to be a better man or a better woman to our world. Are you a being who, when after you are gone, our planet will lovingly whisper to the western wind racing by, “I am happy they came. I am sad to see them go, but I am glad they stayed as long as they did.”  Now you know why clouds cry. The rains are tears of joy. Hmmm … how kind where you in your life? That will be the only question. That is all that will matter then. It is all that matters now. 

The upshot to this story is:  Trust your instincts & follow your heart. That is where God resides. Maybe you will rewrite the Bible or whatever other scriptures you hold close to your heart & by doing so, change our world for the better … or not … your worth as a living being was measured in full when you were born. Do nothing if that is your desire. That’s what I do. It may be your destiny. I hope it’s mine.

blackjesus

BURN

smoke '''

 

 

INCINERATE MY SAVAGE SOUL
I AM PAPER BURNING AT ALL MY EDGES
YOU ARE THE SMOKE I BECOME 

KING OF HEARTS~PRINCE OF FOOLS

 

ship-boat-migrate-fishing-sea-ocean-2

Peace flows through the waterfalls of my land. Hawks with river red shoulders soar upon trampoline skies high above fertile ground where everything grows without asking. On these boulders at the mouth of this river I call forgiveness near redwood groves standing tall upon razor blade cliffs of desire, I keep a company of one. I am happy. Each morning I tend my crops. At midday, I give thanks to the sun. When dusk arrives, I drench myself under blue dot starlight & give thanks to the moon. When my prayers are done, I lend my gaze towards the creatures who are always about. We share a fond curiosity for each other. We are equals. Their love keeps my heart polished. I soothe theirs with songs from my soul. This is the way of the world for a simple man living a simple life upon holy land. It wasn’t always this way.

II

I am sweaty naked standing over a filthy floor in an emptied room beside a fireplace that has never seen a true fire. I survey the battlefield before me. I am shocked, but I do not flinch. I am wounded, but I do not bleed. I am an atrocity. I am the last hope of my kind. I must survive. I haven’t a choice. I feel shame yet I am proud. I marvel at the accumulated detritus of three years worth of grief. My smug admiration for this excremental no man’s waste land laying prone before me is tempered by a pervading sense of self-deception. Regret crawls under my skin. I cannot scratch this itch. There is no one here or anywhere who can scratch it for me. There are no drugs, illicit or otherwise, that have the power to reconstruct my faulty fractured DNA.

I have my viewfinder set to intricate detail, but something is not right. I cannot figure out exactly what that something is, but I know something is missing. There are no cannons. There are no tanks. There are no rotting corpses here. The trenches were far muddier in my war. The pools of blood were tar black & thicker than that of this battlefield before me. There are orange poppies painted in bold relief upon the fireplace mantle. There are no orange poppies in my war. This war is an impostor. I should know. I have a damned medal of dishonor knifed into my brawny chest. This scene may look dreary enough, but it lacks the heroic brutality I proudly claim I suffered. If I were to tell you it was me who caused this suffering with explosives I had planted upon the dark side of my heart, I would turn to shattered glass. I will not utter another word about it. Speechless or not I remain the same …

… a desolate landscape. Life doesn’t live here anymore. I’m meaningless. I have lost the only war I ever truly cared enough to fight. If I could I would turn back the hands of time, but I am unable to do such a thing. I’ve tried. I can travel without moving through a multitude of parallel universes with you in the room. You’d never notice. I’ve morphed into a butterfly more times than there are trees in the forest, but I cannot go back in time. That would take a miracle. It’s just as well. Why would I want to go back in time? These are the best years of my life, for I have the memories of the best years of my life living, loving & being with you. If this is true, where has the sun gone? Who am I? Who are you? Where are we?

III

Moments slide backwards then stop altogether. Deep spaces in between billions of misfiring synapses within my skull are illuminated by flashes of electric mind-blowing white. My eyes are mesmerized. My face is paralyzed. My body is now a paradise. I don’t know what this means. All I know is if I don’t allow whatever my mind wants to say flow freely out of my mouth, I shall explode. My body is now a paradise for strangers with no faces. What does this mean? I’m frightened. Time is still but not so my mind as it forges its escape … and …

… I am a blue translucent dragonfly careening through thickets of moss over the rushing creek of this canyon. I am frantic frenetic to find the source of my lovers cries within a crystallized powder blue shroud of mist. The faster I go the further away I am. My consciousness shifts instantaneously. I cannot breathe. I see through my contorted version of reality in a flash of warped time & space. I don’t like this. I hate it! I’m claustrophobic but I never realized this until now. As I spin upward seeking my one last gasp of air, enough room explodes within the implosion of my soul. I remember. This is the place I fought my war. I am its lone survivor. I cannot bear it a moment longer. I can barely hold my head up. Before I am able to screw my courage to the whipping post, this moment is gone forever.

VI

Below me is the exalted grave of a spiritual warrior I could not live up to then, & I cannot live up to now. As worthy as I may seem in the eyes of the unknowing, I am a dwarf star next to a supernova. I know this. I wonder why it’s always me who survives? I have been gifted throughout my life with profound love from great men & women only to sever my spirit’s spine every time.

V

I wonder at the emotions & the crack hearted questions splattered all over these wounded walls. There is blood on the floor leading into a darkened hallway. I thought I knew where that hallway leads to, but I don’t remember now. As hard as I try to recall, all I see is a blank screen. I am a television turned to thunderous static on mute. If I were not deaf, I would go completely insane. The channel I am looking for has been moved to another world where I no longer get the signal.

I vaguely recall a man’s heart dripping a trail of tears; tears of blood from a shattered heart. That is what these stains in my eyes are. I see that much. I remember this much; a man squatting in the corner of this room. His eyes shut blind between ears without sound to hear. He resembles me. I turn away as fast as I can. I am afraid. I’m almost too frightened to breathe, but not too afraid to cry. It passes. This moment passes into eternity along with all the others.

VI

War is over. I survive. I may be crippled, but I’m not lame. I have scars deeply etched into my soul’s flesh, but I shall sing again. I hear music even when it isn’t playing. I know I shall sing once again.

I see snapshots of your mind everywhere. Wow! It feels like the fourth of July. Hmm… I wonder how the debris on these walls & this floor ever came to be. I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter now. Thank you for taking my mind to a different sort of landscape. The soul creatures you create are quite beautiful, but they always were. The ones you have sent to cover my heart in winter are the loveliest ones of all. That kind of living artwork cannot be taught. It cannot be given to anyone as if it were a mere commodity. One must earn it & learn it through lifetimes of service in joy. I know that now. Here comes the sun.

 

sun am

 

 

 

 

CELESTIAL ORCHESTRATIONS written & performed by SCOTT UTLEY

 

 

 

 

MY PROPHET RISING

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My prophet rises from snow white sands. He is cut & bruised with bloody hands. His metamorphosis is marked by purple flowering feathered wings immaculately conceived. He reaches into the eye of the sky & fondles memories from before my time, back when this river flowed with twice its heart & the sky more volatile with twice its strike. When this desert land was twice as young, He walked along these very skies now dusked across my mind like a churning holy electrical explosion.

My prophet rises from the deep blue sea with gaping wounds for all to see. His metamorphosis is marked by the inhalation of deep & conscious breath. His yellow diamonds are draped upon his brawny chest strung side by side with cosmic thread. He is future, present & the past. He’s courage fed by fathers brave & mothers strong. They’ve taught him well, both right & wrong. This world unceasingly expands its view. With opened eyes & a child’s pride, He is my harness. I love this ride.

My Prophet rises. I am He. I’ve wept in pain but now I’m free. Upon this sand my heart is burned. There is so much I have to learn. My metamorphosis is marked by the song of my soul echoing through the cathedral of my mind. I know I am more than looks perceive. My well is full. I have no greed. Christ is here & surely bleeds. He is my lover. I am He.

gggb

 

HARP OF THE GODS

If you’re mystic, come this way & play for me. 

Tune your strings sharp & clear 

with all the pressure I can bare. 

If you’re mystic, stroke my hair & kiss my lips. 

Take me to your mother ship. 

Rifle me with your tough grip. 

Anchor me to your bright blue. 

Show  myself to me through you. 

Your platinum strings are clear & true. 

Play your harp, this is your cue. 

I know you’re mystic, I am too.

Say the word & I’ll play for you.

harps ff

PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM ~ SILENCE=DEATH

Silence_equals_death

This incredible Face Book journey has been more of a virtual diary for all of us than anything else. In the grand scheme of things, the future, and there will be a future, will look upon us as trailblazers who either lived up to the promise of our great humanity or did not. Thus far, we are utter failures. We have learned a great deal but we have yet to open our eyes wide and apply the truths we know in our heart are there and must see their light shine or wither away. If you believe you of your own self can do nothing, or if you lack empathy, compassion, or if you are silent in the face of brutality then you will suffer that fate yourself. This is the truth of the world and is proven over and over again, To allow your government to indiscriminately kill babies and others with or without impunity is a slap to the face of god. Is that going to be your legacy?

Our counter intuitive support of rogue nations who are wrapped in the cloak of an absurd righteousness, or just happen to be in the spot on the beach you like the best, is bullshit and evil, if there is such a thing as evil… you are it. You allow your government to support and prop up other nations who are committing crimes against humanity just as they declared they were the objects of. Will they, will you ever learn your lessons? You say never again and then do it again. Time is running out.

That is just not right. The odious, Dantesque penchant currently the rage, the marginalization of immigrants, the demonization of the Muslim faith and it’s adherents tells the universe you really are in deep trouble. Not because you are as ignorant as any of your predecessors (for which there is no defense nor escape from the price you will most assuredly pay), but because nobody anywhere gets away with anything despite what geniuses say about that issue or any other where you simply defame your creator’s intention; the glorification of the goodness of being. THIS MUST CEASE. If it does not, we cease. Is that your legacy? I do not believe so. I remember: SILENCE EQUALS DEATH. SILENCE=DEATH. If you understand only one thing in your brief, fleeting, so very eternal life, understand this: ALL LIFE IS SACRED.

aids fd

PLAY MY GUITAR

yellow car

I tossed and turned throughout the night, something amiss, not quite right. Thunder rolled across black skies, lightning struck shut both my eyes. My bed lay shattered upon shards of glass. Clouds swirled by,  like comets fast.  I wondered if this night would pass. I prayed to God this would not last. Take me away, my soul please spare this doubt, this pain, this noise I hear. This heavy night I cannot bear. What I can’t see is what I fear. When sunrise creeps into the day, what in the world will loved ones say? Morning came, morning went, my body wracked, my spirit spent. Day turned into early eve,. Deep within my dreams did weave. Finally, my conscience broke into a world where flowers spoke. The life I’d known was all but gone. Rocks and trees sang sweet love songs. I looked around for someone to share this miracle I swear I hear, someone to see the Robin’s egg jump up and dance upon a chair, someone to play that old guitar driving by in its yellow car. I realized then, it’s just me. I’m alone again. It’s just me who sees. I wiped the sweat clean from my brow. Who would believe me, anyhow?

Image result for flowers blomming  animated dif

 

EDGE OF THE WORLD ~ SCOTT UTLEY ~ FEATURING: LACH HILL ~ WINTER-SCENE-13-CUE-5

I followed the song of the nightingale through the forest to the edge of my mind. I remembered to cut lilacs from the bank of the creek as I raced to the place we first met. The Muses found me naked singing lullabies to shooting stars over a blue harvest moon. Fearful for my sanity, they summoned the Elder Blue Sprites & the Green Wood Elves; odd creatures revered for their great healing powers. Do you remember the cliffs of desire where we first met at the edge of the world near the temple of the heart where a forgiving ocean meets the grateful sky? Do you remember Frey, the golden bear who wished us well?  

The Elder Blue Sprites were certain I must be either crazy or insane from hunger so they fed me cherry blossoms & tried to distract me with fantasies from the other side of time. The Green Wood Elves being somewhat more wizened than their cousins insisted I was a sign from the great source of our belonging. They proudly displayed their magic to me. They showed me how they had learned to make stars sing. I had never heard a true symphony until that day. The Green Wood Elves taught me how to expand my heart beyond what I thought was its ultimate frontier. They taught me how they weave their magic with hopes I might finally free myself from the ghosts of my past and the image of you when we first met. I could  never let that happen though. Sometimes Wood Elves can be so naive.

I love this cliff near the den of the bear where the sky drinks the sea & mountains stand tall at the edge of my mind where we bathed in an ocean of forgiveness. That was ten thousand years ago but here I still stand. The Western Wind says you will be home soon. I knew you would return. Hurry now. My whole world is waiting for you. I am still holding lilacs too.

 

MEMORY of YOUR FACE

Burnt onto the pages of my ancient history, is the story of our love; a spiritual decree. Penned onto the memory of my simple, fleeting life, is the epic of our union, quite beautifully described. I am stunned by the depth of your soul. Shall I be forever mystified? And this evening, brazenly confetti’’d on a Hollywood freeway overpass, I saw your initials set upon a fractured heart. While my soul bleeds adoration in silence, I wonder, is this love’s crucifixion? Is this how Mary felt in the garden? No answer is of consequence, for what I will remember long after I have died, is the memory of your face, indelibly inscribed.

AlEX cropped

TOPEKA PREACHA

 

He says he loves Jesus and Jesus loves him.
He’s a modern day prophet forgiving your sins.
He’s a radio pirate with a cable show too,
A mistress in Paris, an eye out for you.

His brand of religion breeds heartbreak and pain.
He’s a born again Christian with something to gain.
Deceitfully convincing his flock of salvation,
In return he receives a standing ovation.

His glorious sermons preach schemes of division,
Exquisitely crafted to prevent any schism.
Triumphantly pitting his will against right,
He lusts after money & covets your wife.

An unnatural affection for boys under ten,
He’s drugged quite a few on his couch in the den.
He’s suspicious of women and fearful of men.
There’s a gun by his bed marked ‘specially’ for them.

He’s a beast. He’s a monster. It’s sad but it’s true.
His secret agenda keeps Jesus from you.
He’s afraid you’ll rise up if you find out the truth,
Afraid you’ll tip off your wife & your youth.

He’s a huckster, a shyster, and the devil disguised.
He’s a freak who insists only his god is wise.
This prince of invective is consumed by desire.
While preaching forgiveness he’s stoking his fire.

 

 

AQUILA

I am your mother.

I have made love to the moon.

You are a bird, downy garbed,

and not yet ready to fly.

I have drank our earth’s tears.

yet every day I get high.

You are wide-eyed & lovely

filled with questions why?

Partake of my wisdom,

and together,

we shall kiss the sky.

RING OF FIRE

I walk briskly at first.

I shuffle sacred boulders between each foot.

I teeter at the edge of humanity.

I’m perched on the lips of this cup

Brimming over with exquisite insanity

This wonderful world miraculous mathematical equation

and all the earth’s treasures scattered before me

I skirt precpices , one side to the other

a crcle game aornd this tismuminuss world

we call the ring of fire

I jump high, I  rise, I sail, I soar

up & over, south   west,

then down into the east

up & over then under back,

over & over  over agans

under and up and over again,

It’s such great fun, I’ll do it again,

Jump, I jump, I take a high dive,

I sky dive into the heart of this miraclos world

I am a skimming stone on a great pond

we call the ring of fire.

THE SKY GOES ON FOREVER

In this dream, I am falling free without fear. Suddenly, my descent is intercepted by swift moving clouds. Each one has a distinct face yet they all share the same radiant smile. They carry me along for thousands of miles, pointing out strange and wonderful lands. The spectacular sight below of fantastic creatures roaming free upon a paradise found makes my heart tremble like fine rice paper. In this super world unfolding, predators are never triumphant because predators are never born. Without warning, the cloud faces are gone. I continue gliding along the path of the rising sun in the company of a thousand golden eagles. I soar around our mother earth sailing effortlessly on a grand solar wind in the company of a thousand beautifully plumed golden eagles, and the sky goes on forever

hawk-hfhfh

HARP OF THE GODS

If you’re mystic, 

come this way & play for me.

Tune your strings sharp & clear 

with all the  pressure I can bare.

If you’re mystic, 

stroke my hair & kiss my lips.

Take me to your mother ship. 

Rifle me with your tough grip.

Anchor me to your bright blue. 

Show  myself to me through you.

Your platinum strings are clear & true.

Please play your harp.

This is your cue.

I know you’re mystic,

I am too.

Just say the word,

I’ll play for you.


sco kyf u tufy olyg

 

 

 

 

 

PERFECT FROM THE START

I grew up in the cracks of skyscrapers. I learned to run before I could walk. I’ve seen the world in flames. I’ve heard my Mother’s sobbing. I know your pain because I am an old man dying. I am the newborn’s breath. I am a tree standing tall and proud and … I am here to say it is more than fun or games or unbearable pain. It is joy and laughter. It’s the look of love and  …  I am a young bird singing. I am its Mother weeping. I am the sun & I’m laughing all the way each & every perfect day. It is hard to believe but it has been perfect from the start … every day in every way… yes, perfect from the start.

I was born a prodigal son with tattoos plastered across my face. In a mysterious yet perfect Elizabethan script they said, “Dear Mother, I will recklessly forget your glory. I will scatter the riches you give me upon a sweet, naive & unsuspecting full moon. I will choose suffering before healing.  I will rip my soul to shreds. I will shine as bright as any star you have ever created. I will be folly before I flourish. I am your son. I am my mother’s son.” Don’t hurt me. Love me. Laugh with me. Smile with me. I will fulfill your plans for me because underneath the veil of chaos, my heart will never forget that whatever your will creates is divine & cannot be separated from its source. Whether I remember it or not, my soul knows everything. My soul is the beating of your heart at midday. You rejoice in my healed and fractured mind because you know I know you never make mistakes.

And so it was. And so it is. So you see? I said come and see and She saw … She did come & the entire cosmos did see that I was never unworthy of her love because it is her desire that all life should flower eternally with joy regardless the path her beloved children choose to take. Is it any wonder why I cry so hard? Is it any wonder why I laugh so loud? I am the wind that churns. I am a young bird weeping. I am the center of the hawk’s red eye and … it is hard to believe it’s been perfect from the start … yes … perfect from the start.

hawk ss

 

THIS MOON TONIGHT

There is no way you can avoid this moon tonight.

Do you hear me?

There is no way you can avoid this moon tonight.

At this moment

It is framed by my giant regal avocado tree in bloom.

There is the face of Buddha in it.

That is very clear.

Or should I say, ‘He is very clear?”

There is a nucleus spinning rapidly.

There are lotus flowers morphing and diamonds too.

They are in the mix.

Another face but it is not human.

There is a new moon full tonight.

It is not like any moon ever before.

full iii

BURN ~ SCOTT UTLEY

INCINERATE MY SAVAGE SOUL

I AM PAPER BURNING AT ALL MY EDGES

YOUARE THE SMOKE I BECOME

GOLIATHANS written by SCOTT UTLEY

In various shades of suede stood Rex, King of the Goliathans. The Great Dane beauty had lived his life according to the laws of nature. Kilos of muscle, tendons & fierce intelligence griped the cliffs to Heaven’s Gate. Behind him, carrying a pail of lotus leaves galloped Alex. I loved him for that. I saw a field of Mandarin Poppies bleed into the horizon. I saw both giants lay dying to their earthly vessels as much as deathly hues could burnish.

 

Where the sky meets the raging sea dreams did weep along the mouth of the mourning coast. Big Sur cried throughout the night. Angels sighed as the ocean, lapping needling pines, did show such compassion that the rains did come. As eve dipped into the pitch black ink of night, these two giants laying there gave witness to eternal splendor. I loved them both for that. Frosted magma breached the shores where I lay crying.

 

Morning came without her sirens and all was calm, when before mine eyes I surely saw a dream come forth. I looked to where the giants had laid down their heavy journey. On the very mark they had been supinely entwined near the raging sea with her eyes wide opened were two splendid giant Birds of Paradise. I loved God for that & I kissed her sky for the shear beauty of it all. 

 

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PERFECT DAY

From this primordial cauldron, sulfur & nitrogen compounds fume, ghost-like, up into the ether. This is where stars are born & stars die. Here, a lazy lizard is apt to check you out up & down faster than a rattlesnake can rattle. This is where the trickster coyote crosses my path. No matter how congested Los Angeles becomes, the coyote finds me.

Just yesterday about 9 in the morning I was passing Benedict Canyon in my car when an unusually large doe gallops into my peripheral vision. She charges head-on for my car’s front bumper. Two seconds before impact she freezes… cocks her giant dewy eyed head from side to side gazing at me with unmistakable attitude; a sweet, sly humor.

Later in the day, a monarch butterfly of uncommon earthly hues glides into our garden circling twice before gently resting upon Alex’s head. I tip my gaze a fraction skyward just in time to catch two mischievous ruby-red throated hummingbirds hover above them… just a moment… before they return to their frenetic game of tag. I think I am witnessing still life in motion.

I rake the driveway free of the purple jacaranda blooms while our cat purrs upturned, side to side with the dogs; all three innocents hypnotized by the spring sun. Finally, just as I believe I’ve seen it all for one day, a swift & hungry falcon comes charging from the heavens to the top of our avocado tree, then she lunges at a flock of doves cooing blissfully in a chorus line perched on a limb. Feathers come raining down upon our heads. The falcon is stunned. We can see it dawn upon her; all the doves have gotten away.

perfect day

 

ANGELO 2000 – 2014 [with] HIS PAL JOE

 

For fourteen years into the new third millennium there was a saintly rainbow-winged figure who graced our eyes & our beautiful skies made all the more lovely by his presence. All things must great must surely end in order to be born once again. Dear Angelo, thank you for coming. You didn’t have to. We know that. But you did. That shows us & the rest of the universe just what kind of fabulous bird you truly are. 

HEAVEN KNOWS

Hollywood and Vine ~ erupting with volcanic fireworks like fireflies ~ millions of them over and over again yes again and again yes again ~ ooooooooo ~ ohhhhhhhh ~ ahhhhhhhh ~ they bring the western and eastern worlds closer ~ the rockets red glare and the flying glow worms do ~ yes they do ~ gaze higher ~ higher now ~ higher ~ higher ~ higher ~ there ~ juvenile shooting stars from Orion’s belt race for first place ~ kids ~ what can you do ~ even angels with lots of time under their belts are hopping with excitement ~ this has been going on since you first arrived ~ this is the way I have been feeling for many years and many, many lifetimes ~ ever since I first fell into your eyes and then re-emerged a man more compassionate ~ I have been blessed by Fortuna to have walked the landscape of your most beautiful face ~ you know I know you have performed many miracles ~ I am one miracle of yours ~ some fools have all the luck ~ so tell me ~ are you a saint or just an angel of the highest order ~ talk to the animals for me ~ tell them I am here ~ I am very fine and doing well and I am coming ~ it may take a while but I’ll be there ~ heaven is lucky to have you and heaven knows it.

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CELESTIAL ORCHESTRATIONS written and performed by SCOTT UTLEY

FANTASTIC DANCE by SCOTT UTLEY

 

His ascension came twenty one days to the day he left his beautiful body. A silhouette was all that we could define through the sun drenched smile he wore. It is impossible to mistake his world class smile for that of any other. A starlight flurry of goodness blotted out the pain of our broken hearts just as dawn galloped in.

We told each other later that we had witnessed a chariot of gold sutured with platinum thread; a glistening chassis beriched beyond conception with spinning, light-bolted studs & each masterpiece capped with an astonishing precious gem. Some jewels were not of this world. Some jewels were not even of this universe… such magnificence as none of us had ever seen nor would ever see again… a true sweet chariot of the gods propelled by the holy willed power of four & twenty black maned stallions of equal majesty. They pulled the suns & moons from galaxies nearest our own across a royal blue-blooded, yoke-tinged, cobra-laced sky.

Our souls, bedazzled & breathless, reflexively thrust an ovation onto the astrolabe of dawn. Only delicate golden orioles could be heard singing good morning to this beautiful day. Alex preferred it this way. In a favorite past incarnation he was a Roman Augur, therefore his heart was rich with fondness for every winged being he ever knew.

Ruby red diamonds, yellows, blues & Tahitian black pearls from yet another sweet time & place rained upon everyone~ pulsing unified code~surfing crazy shiny-mind waves of Mother Milky Way. Their mirrors reflected wondrous images. Among them were holy men washing the feet of beggar men & the women who keep the fires burning dancing a fantastic dance, millions of them & more but numbers do not go up that high, especially where numbers don’t count at all.

There were many women dancing a fantastic dance. I was reminded of the Black ladies who sing the gospels; from the hips, hands to the sky, left then right; a supplication out to front then down to the ground, over & over & over again. There were smiles everywhere & love, joy & more joy. If you could get close enough to these mahogany ladies you’d find that there is a lot of space & a great freedom around each one, yet from a distance they look packed together moving in unison; perfect choreography like a water dance; up, down, left, right & happy. Did I mention happy?

This must be the part of heaven God has reserved for poets, from the first poet to the last, from infant poets to great ancient oracles. Everything alive & electrical is heading the same way. Everyone loving the same because love moves in the same direction as our galaxy & the cosmos. It must be the joy of the spiral, from helical strands of DNA to the great spiraling universes. It is a perpetual blossoming. It makes a happy sound. Our nature is a happy sound. Laughter. Smiles. It is a great way to live. It would be a wonderful way to die if there was such a thing as death.

Alex smiled his way throughout the universe just as he had done throughout our lives. He never cared for anything in the world but pure love. God loved him for that. We all did. We all do. More than anything else, more than his mind blowing mastery of numerous forms of art & branches of science, Alex Johns was a great poet. They say the same about saints who come to visit us. The love of great poets defies profound. Such purity of soul makes you want to cry. I don’t know why they bother with us unless it is because they love us so much… as much as we love them.

And so it was. So it is.

 

AlEX cropped

ALEXANDER M JOHNS

1966-2010

DIAMONDS POLISHED BY THE SEA

big sur

I see a river of flames pouring through the sky of my mind. I witness Star Pine Marionettes in deep green silhouettes making love to the powder blue canvass of dusk. I see a clusters of Bumble Bee Palms milking honey from thin air and smiles everywhere.

In this silence that is our universe unfolding I hear a voice from deep within my inner knowing.  “Brother Jesus is a diamond polished by the sea. He is this sunrise bleeding reds & blues into the day. Buddha is a butterfly. His fluttering wings are a soothing balm for our flaming hearts. Yogananda is a sacred pearl shimmering black & glittering blue. His is a simple beauty composed of pure grace lacking nothing but kindness for you & I. Muhammad is a desert wind shifting shapeless upon the landscape of our souls. He is nothing at all yet everything there is. Confucius is the rain. He nourishes the very clouds we walk on. Yahweh is a songbird singing good morning to the day. Mary is our mother. It is her breast milk which gives us life.”

I shudder. I feel the heat of the breath of our loving creator; our mother divine cleansing our hearts with most compassionate love every moment of every day. We believe her when she holds us in her loving arms & tells us we are all diamonds polished by the sea … every day in every way. I am bliss.

animated_diamond2