Split Second

Say what's on your mind, if you have a mind.
We have a split second left, in the scheme of things. There isn't time to be 'politically correct'. Try just being honest, for a change. Try just changing, for a change...instead. You know, time and space...change it...I dare you. Get off your religious shit, and give us a better outcome...and be remembered...or be reviled and forgotten...your choice.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Photo: credit unknown

Two Tires

A few years back, my now teen boy, was a little guy, maybe five or six years old, and old dad was working hard and thanklessly, daylight to dusk. Wife and I were talking..."Wouldn't it be nice to retire?" I don't know which of us said it, but my little boy piped up..."Daddy needs two tires!" Our car, such as it was, was in need of a lot more than we could give it.

I remember, we laughed and laughed, and we hugged the wise and loquacious kid. But now that I think of it, several years on...I still need 'two tires', because one retirement income on Social Security sure as hell isn't enough. Of course, the capitalist's out there are going..."Oh, well...boo hoo...you should have planned more carefully...then you wouldn't be whining about the government dole of Social Security."

And to that I answer, "Next time you go see the dentist, somebody stitch shut your mouth, you double dipping capitalist ass wipe! Even if you knew about working...really, you would still need ears to hear the cry's of everyone beneath yourself, and, well...I guess that's just everyone...right?" I hate guys like that, and you know they always do just fine for themselves, and it really is about themselves...all the way.

Now, don't get me wrong...I used to be a Democrat, a dyed in the wool tree hugging liberal, of a Democrat. Dad was one. I was one. But dad's passed over now, and he doesn't have to see this shit...thank God! He was a good, hard working democrat...old school type...one room schoolhouse type. He didn't have to see men turn to pussies and then to pansies, and fruits and vegetables right before our eyes. In dads day you stood behind your word, you stood up for your country...you were simple and undevious.

These last two political administrations have cured me of party affiliation on either side. I wasn't born or raised to be a lier or a sneak or a thief, or a self centered greedy human being, looking out only for myself. Our country has been cut up into political pie and sold to the highest bidder, by Democrats and Republicans alike. They say "Yes!" to everything and anyone with a handful of cash. They have sold the farm, and the family right down the river.

Well, you know where this goes...hope you relish Kim Chi...how about some nice 'prayer tower's', and a healthy dash of LBGT in your face...with a little 'pink slime' spread on top, and somebody from the 'blackhouse' telling you the economy's "just getting better and better...unstoppable. And what with no need to worry about Global Warming, we can sleep at night, in the knowledge that someone higher and smarter than a cat's ass is looking right out for us." Right!

Well, all I know is, our little 'life vest' of Social Security is in more danger than a sacred cow, because a bunch of politicians have been eating the burgers out it's ass, and working their way to the tip of it's nose, all hidden safely inside the beast, telling the rest of us 'poor schmucks', "it ain't gonna last forever." No one's responsible...it's just business, they tell us. They always tell us, "It's just business."

My little boy, when he was little, watched Larry King on the TV, and came to tell dad and mom, most excitedly..."Martin Luther King has a brother on TV...he's white and his name is Larry King!" The eyes of a child aren't so well informed, maybe...but I would rather hear his opinions and commentary, than anyone on TV. It's the only good news in the world today.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Portrait Of A Boy In A Tophat, by John Opie 1761- 1807

Mud and Marble

There is an issue I don't want to turn into poetry...I just want to say it straight out...it is schools.


 In Arizona, America, for those unfamiliar with more local geography...the Governor of the state, just signed a bill releasing 32 billion dollars to these cutting edge school administrations that supposedly teach the youngsters to be better, smarter citizens. If they are smarter, they're hiding it from me. They're tech'y alright.

They know every slang twit and twat shortcut to verbalization, in the texting and sexting vocabulary...but is all that money making their monkey business any less prevalent and are these schools making them better or smarter, or just more spoiled and savvy to how the system can be spun, twerked, twisted as they go along their years, out of focus to social manners and intricacies, and into media apps, and smart devices while the kids retrograde into lapses from all good sense, what so ever. 

Strange...a smart device...a stupid kid, and none of them even want to be in school. They want to be home, locked in their rooms with their costly gaming platforms, freezing the world out, and living in a fantasy land. They don't want to talk to their parents, their siblings or the rest of the known world. They build mansions in the sky, but they never have their feet on the ground. Parents must force their children to step outside for a breath of chem trail air.

Meanwhile, there are the exceptions to this rule...kids that are not only smart and privileged, but go on to excel, enter colleges and create all manner of further smart devices that truly serve and make better, a smaller and smaller segment of society here or in the world. They are never taught or really encouraged to take those fine brains of theirs and make something practical for the lot of us; let's make some military crap instead. And this goes back to my issue at the beginning.

There are children all over the world who beg and yearn for an education, something just better than a mud hut and fire charcoal to write with...millions upon millions of them, and while it is obvious to every one world wide, that the spoilage in education in America is about 70 percent, the complete and utter lack of any sort of education in other countries, and lets mention the big one...Africa, is right at 100 percent in many areas. 

What do these 'have not's' do? They wait for humanitarian aid and kill each other. I've said for a long time, there are carnivores, vegetarians and humanitarians...watch out for those. Billions spent on kids that are spoiled, bored brats, while other kids want to learn, by the simplest means but can't. This is wrong, and it is as wrong as rape, or incest or murder or violence of any kind. It is a lying system of selfishness bent on ruining the privileged with too much, and the have nothing's with too little.

Watch the result's of imbalance. Here's how it works. Instead of the rich country's helping the poor country's get better, they send them a pittance through local government channels. We know that money's never going to get to the kids. It goes to the warlords, some of whom, one country or another, has dealings with, and so, these well off country's use the excuse of help, to wage their bloody war dealings. And a hell of a lot of money is spent on advertising...the good guys, from the bad guys. The good guys send money, that always funnels down a rat hole.

If we really want to show our greatness as a world or as a country, quit building marble halls for yourselves, and start helping the kids, all over, get a grip on reality. If they don't figure out what balance is, because you never taught them, then it's YOUR fault, not theirs. Balance will restore this tilting wobbling world from running down to destruction. Let's see if you care. And if you plan to wait on 'balance' the way you've waited on 'global warming', the kids who could save us wont have a clue. Chop chop people.

Don't bring the immigrants of every diseased nation to our shores, or we will be as bad off as they are. Instead, teach them to heal their own disease...show them their own worth in success with their own people. Help them make themselves great again, rather than brag about how great we are all the time. Don't make deals with their warlords for any reason, and give up the pretense of secrecy. Secrecy is an excuse to criminal activity. There has been so much of it for so long, the world is now eaten alive with wormholes of secrecy. When you cleanse the world, make sure to cleanse yourselves first, thou hypocrite's.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Photo: Mud Hut School in South Sudan, by unknown

Heir To A Many Colored Coat

The life of experience, is so rich, so vivid, so many hued and kaleidoscopic...it walks in great glory, if even though, unknown to itself...it passes in light from the end of mystery, to enter the door of darkness in wonder, and only that which created this wonder, knows with any certainty at all, whither it go'est, or from whence it came.

Yet, we stand at the side of some, and question, in great awe, what we may become, or how this thing is done...we need not fret, for life and death and life, alone, will answer that...in due time...in due time, and then and until then, just play in life and dance of it...in glittered rags, a testament...thou drag thy parti colored cloak along, and never know the thing.

As naked as a child newborn, having no mind of discernment...being simply human, so profound...so twisted and so gifted, skating o'er the cracks of God's great deep, frozen in each moment, taken as a gift of prophecy, we plow on into history, unseeing in the greater scale, a deeper truth in things, yet this is all well, for we are children, and the rest will come.

Until the answers fitting puzzelment's are done, we wobble on our way...one world among the many, and yet, the very cradle, we, of angels pray, perceive not, in our infancy, those things which pass our way...in real majesty...we simply shrug, and go about another day in life, so seeming long, and spending darkness fearing that end time, that counterbalances our joy.

And even though I do, I hope...fear not, and that I try to live by, and I face the ghost's, my memories pass by...all sorrows on each holiday and mark my time, preparing for God's own surprise, for not all things are evident, or meant to be...known...some sanctums are the father's only, and seem wholly strange to prying eyes and ears of little ones...fret not...for that which you are meant, will be amply known...at some future date.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Joseph's Coat Of Many Colors, by Yoram Raanan

Sans Bumper Sticker

I will attempt to tackle an issue, perhaps I should not. The issue is religion. It is supposed to raise people, to heal them and to guide them by steps toward a heavenly transcendence. I will include the various beliefs in magical craft as well. They most, prescribe steps to greater and greater enlightenment at a higher and higher level, but human nature being as it is, there are deceptions, manipulations, political ramifications, and stumbling blocks along the whole way that purports to be 'the way'. 

It all ends up cultish, hidden, rejecting, deceiving...instead of redeeming, and it turns off peoples lights, instead of on. The strong rule in such hierarchies, the wealthy, the ones with an edge, an 'in', a cue, a clue, so that, there become klatch's and cadre's of favorites, of pets, of chosen, of privileged in every one of the disciplines of religion in the land. The most desirable of all are at the highest place. The least desirable, hold the lowest, so that the lowest, and weakest, must bear the weight of the entire erection.

It is like the story of the turtles standing upon one another's backs...higher and ever higher they go, and where will it ever end, and why did it not end long ago? The bridge was long since paid for, but the tax, the daily sacrifice, continues unabated. Where will it end? I tell you where it will end. When people quit supporting failed causes with bumper stickers, and bumper crops of carelessly conceived ideas that are only good for the few, but will never support the many. 

When they quit being a party to the popular and become more discerning of lesser interests than their own; they will find out, being a warrior is in regard to healing rather than destroying and balance is about intention. A whole and healthy intention is all about the balance in every step we take, with everyone we know, through every hour of our life, so that the whole, may be kept whole, and not reduced to pieces.

In the entirety of religion, of belief in the ineffable, there are good things, and bad things. These houses seldom clean themselves, and they are all, entirely, in need of a good 'rooting', and in some cases, 'booting', and in some cases, of having their candle snuffed, for it is the dark they love anyway. To those of us who wish for sunrise, I suggest a generic approach...a pinch of this...a dab of that...a bit of those, and leave the 'whole cloth' for the 'patches'...they are more colorful anyway.

Let no one say, you cannot receive God of your own intuition, or television without a cable. It's all rubbish, and the reception, down on the farm, if not better, is brighter for truth. For now, you believe what they tell you. I tell you...go directly to the source, and see what you may see. God bless the hunch...God bless the wonder...and God bless thee.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: By Henry Scott Tuke

What Doth The Peacock Cry?

What doth the Peacock cry? Hast thou heard? Hast thou heard, it's message say? Or, having heard, hast said, or rather than, a compound lie? For bird has seen, with hundred eye, the nature of the world.

What doth the Peacock cry? Will not thou say? Come forth, thou, from  thy starry throne, to answer as transparently. What is the game thou manifest'th here, that Royalty has known? For all is not, as would appear, for, tis not raiment that a creature wear, but what is in a creature's craw, that makes it's purpose plain. 

What doth the Peacock cry? Come! Whisper...I have heard the thing, and know, and now see through the world all other's view, another way. Hast thou, hesitant, put down thine aim, to listen to the bird of heaven say..."Maya...Maya...Maya", and dost thou know what Maya mean? Illusion...illusion is the game.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Albertus Verhoesen, Peacock, Rooster and Chickens In a Garden

See Ya!

Growing up financially poor and struggling, as so many are, I gleaned a few insights and humors of my experiences, and the following is an expression of such insight. It isn't written because I'm angry...because, I can't write when I'm angry. It is written out of acknowledgement of the way things are...for millions. Oh, the bureaucracy, out of political(lying)considerations, play with those numbers to make the masses believe, the poor are moronic non-starters who are just genetically lazy, and there's only a few of us...anyway. But, just remember...the worm turns.

I love to see people reveal who they are not, and in doing so, reveal who they truly are. Example...the wife of a trendy therapy clinic owner in a chique mountain town in the northwest, appeared at the local Walmart we used to frequent. When she saw me, she did this 'deer in the headlights' thing, like she wanted to erase time and space...go back to before I saw her, and just reboot the whole scene, or hide from the scene, altogether. I was in health care at that time and had a client who used her husbands services.

It is like witnessing a member of your church, declaring his or herself to be a 'vegan'. Half an hour later, after services, you have a roaring appetite up, you stop in at Kentucky Fried, and low and behold, there's the 'vegan' and his or her whole brood belly up to the bar, swilling down greasy bird by the hand fulls. Oh sure...it's flat out hypocracy, but it's also funny stuff, worthy of a line or two of, none to subtle, satire.

Why do people  do this stuff? Well, for a lot of reasons. Mostly, maybe, because they want to appear to be better than, higher than or more superiorly positioned than the next fellow in rank. It's like, a poor person goes and begs food stamps, kills another day in a dead life of begging, to feed themselves and their family. But, a middle class family; now, when they go belly up, and end up living in the BMW, it's a much more complex affair, because 'appearances' are everything...especially to those who were earlier, and very vocally, putting down 'the poor' for begging.

You see, it can happen to any body, in an instant. Fortunes change...sometimes overnight. It's not funny that this happens to people, but it's funny to watch people who have no predictive power, but a boatload of money, take advantage of 'sales', 'slum it' at the superstores of the disadvantaged and then, look so spooked when they've been recognized behind a Mr. Potato Head disguise, for who they truly are...disgustingly well off 'middle class'. That's what they call rich people now, I guess, for tax reasons.

See...we don't like the cheap stuff; it's just all we can get. It's all in poor taste, but the manager's of 'disadvantaged fashion' apparently feel this is all we deserve, so they stock in crap...invariably crap. On the other hand, the well off who pretend to follow fashion, actually have little to no taste, but they 'hang' at fashion malls and such where only the money'd can afford to shop. In truth, these 'fashionista's' would rather buy a cheap piece of crap from a box store, and save the difference to buy a non essential fur coat, or a trip to the Riviera...second such that year. Heaven forbid, they should be seen.

That's why, when I see them, they KNOW they've been seen by the Dick of gypsy's, the paperatza of necessity, who couldn't afford taste even though he has taste...and so, tasteful meets tasteless, and who's who, and who cares, and I can tell you...it's a laugh riot, from my point of view at the shit end of the stick. See, we go along, and we do the things we must do to survive. In pretty damn quick order, a survivor overcomes embarrassment and shame, and rebuilds him or herself...at a new level, with a sort of 'loser's pride', which is a rebirth in a way.

It doesn't matter if the 'winner's circle' turns out to be in a shit hole. It's attitude that makes you a winner. It's not fashion, and it's, sure as hell, not a hot car built by a German. It can be just a guy who had the nuts to crawl in and out of a dumpster, to get a meal to survive. And there was that hippie over there giving me the 'thumbs up'. I've been there, and i've had to do that, and it was hard, but I survived, and I'm more for it, not less. Now I have stories, badges, arguable honors.

Yeah! I didn't finish High School, and I didn't finish college, because the system isn't set up to give a break to every Tom and Harry, Dick. But I did accomplish...I did raise a family...I did get a lot of experience. While the jokers of the middle class yuck it up  at their watering holes, and compliment themselves on their brilliance, look for me at the box stores, or driving a Chevy that's about 20 years old. See ya!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Photo: credit unknown

Maya

ma·ya

ˈmīə,ˈmäyə/

The supernatural power wielded by gods and demons to produce illusions. The power by which the universe becomes manifest; the illusion or appearance of the phenomenal world.

Several years ago I began a quest, It started with me as a man in my very early 30's, pursuing a religious path. The path started simply enough, with a life changing experience; the loss of a family, the reduction of what I thought in myself, of myself.The world was on board with that. I noted, in my peculiarly analytical manner, that the world was always on board with reducing me, reducing my worth, be it physical or spiritual...to zero, or as near zero as one could get. It never built me up. Never. Never in all my years upon this world. It would not sustain me, nor encourage me, nor compliment me, nor inflate me. It was not about teaching me a lesson. It seemed more to be about eradicating an enemy...and why would that be?

From my very infancy, I loved every living thing, minus spiders, snakes, scorpions, mad dogs and barbarians, but even they, I could give place to. In my mind, all manner of things have their rightful place in the scheme of creation. It was not my place to judge, nor my experience to know all things, in order to judge. So, I kept my place, my peace, and more often than not...my opinion, to myself. Though, it kept nagging me, that seeming raison d'etre of the creation itself, to deny me a place, mine or otherwise. Still I persisted.

I was baptized, but not synthesized into any order of wholeness by it. I remained with observations and many unanswered questions. I spoke with God under many excuses, to heal, to know, to be guided. A relationship did develop and still remains. Largely, I do the talking...in fact, wholly. But I excuse that too, beneath the banner of 'I don't know how to pray' or, 'I have ego in the way' . There were always ready reasons, and always ready contributors to my faulty reasoning's. But of a concrete answer, a communication from beyond, above...nothing.

Within however; now there was a completely different complexion. Ton's of communication; some of it me...nay...all of it me. Most of it, doubting, reasoning, hoping, failing of hope, and behind it...always...observation. I have come to believe, in fact, that that omniscient eye of ever present observation, is the god within me. It is not an easily deceived eye, nor does it pass away. It concludes when it has gathered proof enough. All that passes is thought, doubt, hopelessness, disappointment and gas.

I promised God, in the infancy of my understanding, that wherever the path led, in pursuing Jesus, I would surely go. I very well tried, but several things happened. First off, the church I became involved with, had not the slightest thing to do with realizing Jesus, for they did all things opposite of his teachings...so when I decided to go on the road, and search after my own way...it became 'the way'. It was a step toward my eventual 'self realization'. For, it is the very essence of understanding our own motivations, that push us along 'the way'.

This being an arduous and life long quest, we age, and as we do, we tend, or at least I do, to try to rid ourselves of the superfluous...to drop our baggage, as it were. With any religion, there is 'added baggage'. It became a point of survival, on the road of experience toward self realization, to decide who or what you're going to carry...so I had to decide if I could carry myself and Jesus. It became obvious, that Jesus was going to have to walk a mile in my shoes rather than the other way around. I didn't boot him and haven't to this day, but he must walk beside me now, and he must accept that I have other spiritual advisers as well.

Somewhere along 'the way' I met up with Buddha. Now Buddha doesn't talk much either. But he has these followers, same as Jesus, same as God or Jehovah, and they will fill you in with dharma, with gospel, and with lectures until you want to chuck the whole lot and just retch for about a week straight...just to get the illness of religion out of your system. So, after several of these purges in my life...to get rid of the disease, yet remain spiritual...I decided to keep certain things...and I have. You could call them a distillation of teachings from many religions, and just many sources...in general.

I try to tell a Christian preacher, or a follower of Jesus or Jehovah, that what I get from Buddha, in essence, isn't yards of verbiage out of books. For me it is all distillated in the posture of my little Buddha statue, and simply reeks with the expression of 'sit still...empty your mind...look inward...be at peace...smile...be happy...love'. Isn't that enough? It is for me. And that's what it's all come down to. Jesus said it. Just love. They all said it. It's just that nobody was genuinely listening. They were all too busy lieing, that they 'know' Jesus, or they 'know' Buddha, or they know this or that one, because, just like people who knock their heads against prayer walls...they want to be seen of other men doing so or knowing so, until the reality of the real thing isn't there, and never will be there'.

You cannot base the reality of the existence of a manifestation on a lie, and expect it to keep it's integrity forever. Because, well...that all just becomes unbelievable at some point. When it becomes too unbelievable, it loses force, shape. It's center will not hold and it collapses, as a soap bubble does. Maybe we will be lucky and have another manifestation to fill with air and bring to life or maybe there will be no life and the air will be taken from it. Everyone should look up the word 'pneuma'. It has to do with God and with breath. God breathed life into this manifestation, but belief and air are in short supply these days. Has anyone noticed? The bubble is collapsing. Why? Because God is not a lier, and lies cannot sustain this bubble any longer.

Which takes me to the next step on my path of 'the way'. Although, I am only partly a Buddhist, and a mixture of many other experiences, I can attest to a fact, that, just as the world lies and lies and lies, I become ever and ever more obdurate to the lie, and ever less believing in this reality. In fact, if it were solely on my shoulders, to decide whether this manifestation of reality continues or ceases, it would just collapse for lack of belief. The preposterous things that are happening in our world, socially, environmentally, religiously and militarily, beggar belief in anything. Every good thing worth believing has been crapped on by the big dogs and the little ones, while the world cheers.

It makes me wonder about that thing the Buddhists speak of...'Maya', that everything here is illusion, that people aren't real, nor flags, nor religions, nor borders, nor any of those things that pit us against one another and seek to divide us...imagine...nothing to kill or die for...indeed. The children of the country of Bhutan, when asked if other children bully them or lie or steal from them, respond "Why would we do that to ourselves, to shame our worth within ourselves, to make ourselves lower instead of higher? Why would anyone do that?" My  question exactly. So as I believe less in this world, I come to realize there is another on 'the way', and I am glad because I grow tired of Maya, and can already see the rips and tears in the fabric of illusion.

Ironically enough, it is the world and it's lie, and it's illusion, that has forced me to cast away my own...and to seek safe harbor in the unknown, and in far away lands and other worlds, so I am thankful this world gave me little, with holding all that was precious to it, in knowledge that sooner or later I would pierce it's veiled disguise, and realize it for the lie it has become, and perhaps always was. Perhaps it is the very nature of 'the way' to show us the face of almighty ego at last, that we may rescind our error to find a better way. I know there are not many walking this narrow path.

I am thankful to Jehovah, to Jesus, to Buddha and to all those who either walked along with me or crossed my path in some life affecting way...because it taught me what I now reveal to you. We must walk our own walk and talk our own talk and be our own self and none other, in order to realize and fulfill our quest in this world. We must know to fix our self before we can fix another. In the end, our own eye of observation will collect and observe and separate chaff from wheat...for we are god's as Jesus said. We have the power to bless or to curse our world...and right now everyone seems on the bandwagon to curse it.

It matters not, for balance is the law of the way. This unbalanced lie will fall and end. A new balance will begin, and as all things are, that are new...it will be fresh and clean and will regenerate with it's naivete and loveliness, and innocence. The old earth will pass away, and a new earth will begin...as it was long ago. And those who cared will be there, and those who did not will not. That is my manifestation, and my imagination, and my self realization. John Lennon knew this to be true and eventually, every living creature will only need to 'imagine' to make it so...as it was in the beginning.

In passing, I mentioned a little thing John Lennon said...a very important little thing..."imagine". So John in his living and his dying had somewhat to do with my making as well, as have these times and these obstacles we have all faced. How many of us are real? I don't know. I only know, the ones who aren't or weren't wont be there. Those that are real? They will be there. Those saying 'Keep'n it real' with tee shirts and bumper stickers, will probably prefer to go merchandising somewhere else, maybe on 'buzz word' world or something...where ever, I just hope they buzz off. I'm tired of phonies and liers, as this poor world of dust is tired.

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: credit unknown

The Invitation

Friends and lovers are often like those who take me into their circle.
What do I get, and what do they want? Well, what I get is a pic of some young woman revealing her more than ample bosom, or her more than ample buttocks. But when I try to find out more about that person, I come to realize, there is no more than that...to that person. There is only a little icon inviting me to reciprocate. I don't reciprocate anymore. Show me a soul first. Show me more than you have to show...to let me know...who you are. 

Men do this to me too. Don't do this to me. Show me what you got. I enjoy the form...oh yeah, but if that's all it is, and there's no more, no soul...then, what do you really want of me, my soul? You can't have my soul. It's mine. It's all I have, it's what I will carry to my next life and my next...it's what you will note when you comment..."There's just something about him." or 'her, if I come back as a woman...but I don't think I will come back as a woman, because I think that's just so much political correctness. 

I think I will come back as I am, with more experience, round upon round...until finally, I need come back no more. We are who we are. It doesn't matter if we put a dress on it, or smear it with lipstick. It doesn't matter if we embellish it, or add an extra two inches to parts of our stature. It doesn't matter if we come with hair or hairless, or if it hangs on this side or that, of our boxers. What matter's is what is within, what we came with, and what we've done to improve our lives and the lot of others, and this terribly sad and forgotten world.

You see, people who are truthful, and who are trying to  learn the right from the wrong, are like me...they may not 'get it' at first, but they finally learn to  see through the lie...they learn to recognize beauty from beastly, to identify this and that, to understand a pretense, a cover up, a bad hair piece...they grow and get better within themselves...while the phonies just continue to  use the same old bait...just bad fishermen, altogether. And, here you'll be, living in this world alone. Everyone see's your horns...we all have horns...give it up.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Hylas and The Nymphs, by John William Waterhouse 1896

Lost Horizon Quotes #1

I hope you will read each of these seven quotes I have chosen to share, from the wonderful novelist, James Hilton. I like to call them 'the seven seals'. They are chuck full of great, yet simple wisdom...enjoy, Bruce James Clyde 2015




“If I could put it into a very few words, dear sir, I should say that our prevalent belief is in moderation. We inculcate the virtue of avoiding excesses of all kinds—even including, if you will pardon the paradox, excess of virtue itself.” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #2

“We believe that to govern perfectly it is necessary to avoid governing too much.” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #3

“The jewel has facets,” said the Chinese, “and it is possible that many religions are moderately true.” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #4

“We have reason. It is the entire meaning and purpose of Shangri-La. It came to me in a vision long, long ago. I foresaw a time when man exalting in the technique of murder, would rage so hotly over the world, that every book, every treasure would be doomed to destruction. This vision was so vivid and so moving that I determined to gather together all things of beauty and culture that I could and preserve them here against the doom toward which the world is rushing. Look at the world today. Is there anything more pitiful? What madness there is! What blindness! A scurrying mass of bewildered humanity crashing headlong against each other. The time must come, my friend, when brutality and the lust for power must perish by its own sword. For when that day comes, the world must begin to look for a new life. And it is our hope that they may find it here.” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #5

“if we have not found the heaven within,we have not found the heaven without”
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #6

"Is there not too much tension in the world at present, and might it not be better if more people were slackers?” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Lost Horizon Quotes #7

“People make mistakes in life through believing too much, but they have a damned dull time if they believe too little.” 
― James Hilton, Lost Horizon

Kubla Khan

Occasionally, in my own search for Shangri-la, Shambala or Arcadia...that 'perfect place', we all seek, in one way or another...I find a beautiful poetic expression of such a place...an 'Eden'. This poem is such a one, and so, I have included it, along with my own poetry. All credits are given, and my thanks...Bruce James Clyde 2015

Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment. 

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

   Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

   The shadow of the dome of pleasure

   Floated midway on the waves;

   Where was heard the mingled measure

   From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

   A damsel with a dulcimer

   In a vision once I saw:

   It was an Abyssinian maid

   And on her dulcimer she played,

   Singing of Mount Abora.

   Could I revive within me

   Her symphony and song,

   To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Article reprinted from Poetry Foundation

Art: By presently unknown artist

When Words Fail

If words do no justice, say no words...

written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Photo: Paro Taktsang Monastery, Bhutan

The Snowstorm

When I was a little boy...

dropped off at my bus stop...

in Alaska during a blizzard...

I stepped off that nice warm bus...

into a wind of frozen wrath...

and blinding snow about me...

I lost the path...

and fell face first...

in the smothering snow...

I was terrified...

then a strong hand reached down...

and pulled me up...

and there was my dads smiling face...

all my life that incident...

has been an allegory...

for my relationship...

with this world and my God...

my father in heaven...

still lifts me up...

when I am lost...

which is pretty much...

most of the time...

and I love him because of it...

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Photo: Paperboy In A Snowstorm, on Geoff Nate's Blog