yellow brick road

 Here's an old mini-essay on consciousness: I've been spending a great deal of time trying to understand exactly what “consciousness” means and how to wrap my head around the idea of anything being more or less conscious than anything else. If consciousness is agreed upon by most to be some type of indication that a being is able to perceive its surroundings, then how is there an unconscious at all? Even at the smallest layer of reality, atoms and particles and energy all have to, to a degree, have an awareness of what's happening around them in order to react to their surroundings. Now, take an atom with electrons present. Those electrons “know” they are “attracted” to certain other particles. They have to or else they would not move. They may not have the same line of thinking one may associated with making conscious decisions, but them having any type of “preference” to what moves them suggests they “know” enough about their surroundings to react. How is this conscio...

Something a little different; I challenged myself to try to write on one specific topic that I have a definitive opinion about.  The COVID pandemic and its effect on what's already (in my definitive opinion) a jeopardized state of authentic human communication. (Maybe "authentic" isn't the word I'm searching for as much as "optimal/whole" art of communication.)      I don't know anyone that says they expected the COVID-19 outbreak to occur when it did. I know a few “conspiracy theorists” who can cite “New World Order” predictions and some Bible enthusiasts who may say it was foretold in scripture, but when the virus hit in early 2020, no one was able to definitely state they knew what exactly this meant for humanity. As far as my experience goes, most people thought it was just something that would likely pass once we observed the precautions being implemented and like everything else in our instantly-gratified world, there would be a quick fix.   ...

  I think I've always been on the right team because for so long I couldn't even see yours I never tried until survival mode met me and let me finally see how unoriginal my thoughts have been and may always be BECAUSE IM JUST YOUR REFLECTION baby do you feel me? Or do you feel at all? Not sure if I do, but at least I have the gall TO ADMIT IT you've got audacity therefore, so do I so don't move too quickly,  I'll soak it up and ring it out all over you what came first and who finishes last.... the chicken or the egg? I won't be too proud to beg but you will (based on what i've learned) so, who should be concerned? why am i the one who has to earn             (?) something we all deserve 

Adams Making Atoms Matter   Bidding wars, biting time  swallowing space shaped like an apple serpent's silver platters; Adams forming matters We forget we were born as products of punishing a great pursuit;  knowledge of the next chapter Out of Icarus-laced lies comes the anticipation  of an embittered taste from the unknown and untaught While Our very creation dependent on digesting what we're diverted from Stacking frequent shrill self-doubts disguised as insanity  a modern Pavlov's bell is sounded to the masses Each round rung forming the ladders we climb to find a false escape in tales told to us featuring freedom in trust falls and courage in leaps of faith Driven in droves, their buses shuttle us into a future  built of what we've forgotten. Eyes shut out from our choices mouths muzzled from making our matter matter as much as any atoms    

About the Author how many pens wrote our world what marks we've all made did we draw the upside down? was it our voice to usher in the cascade? we rub our eyes free of sleep note mirror-neuron yawns reflections of power in small groups of bias while we shoulder the fate of new dawns pressurized diamonds worth more than we're told as the current currency's value unearths and its codes unfold how can we fix what we must've broken  stumbling children in a world we were never taught   pacing proverbial darklands, feeling out senses playing marco polo modern hidden seek what's sought all the while, ones granted early access  tie tight the blindfolds they bought us to make repackaging autonomy as a selfish enemy  keys to our conscious as trophies to take  trading timelines like collector's items our intuition ignored, actions converted to pavlov's new bell what should be alarms, sounded by the drivers afforded means to steer us back to our shells cruel smiles cra...

 maze sick  One day I woke up and realized I had lost my mind so I went looking everywhere I walked roads til I collapsed searched tunnels underground classrooms stories tall asked friends and strangers just the same and kept coming back from dead ends,  despite advice otherwise “the map only moves forward” they told me  and then they watched and waited waiting for me to thank them I never noticed what they hid behind their backs inside their smiling jaws the secrets behind their eyes so with gratitude I swallowed every piece these force-fed answers pacified my hunger until one day  I was fFull my stomach sick with what's been poisoned starved for what I came for  they gave me a maze when I asked for myself

 merry they teach us early on  "life is but a dream" promise us a "merry, merry, merry" down this never-ending stream you'll notice absent are the lessons where "merry" isn't what it seems chainlinks and lace indistinguishable;  senses held together by both. what little energy leftover  wasted on a scream that they choke back to add to a collection  in a library we cannot see centered in the great maze of ever-moving our muscles feel less our own after every tired pursuit  met with dead ends and the loudest dead silence  we're left in the static while they change the channels