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THE PLANET MAN This poem, written in the winter of 1968, enjoyed a 2 year haul of celebrity in such diverse places as top dog powerful FM stations, be-ins, rock festivals, recordings, and audiences ranging from the Pacific Coast, East Coast Canada and U.S., and internationally. 'The Planet Man' was well hailed \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ HISTORY \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ Recorded in conjunct with an associate who wrote a brand new classical music score to go along strong in background for the voice of a moi' reciting rhythmically, tapes in several versions were played several times a week on more than one late night FM radio and made its way into the top slot evening lineup on Vancouver's top AM Rock and Roll show off and on. On the East coast, movement was gaining momentum through a young Newfoundlander who had inherited a chain of 5 radio stations from father gone, plus money, enough to revamp the 5 stations into 200,000 watt FM'ers (the most powerful radio transmitters available at that time) and went online as a 5 station string of 'Peace Stations'

The opener for first on-air broadcast took place in Montreal in late 1969, at exactly midnight the switch was thrown to initiate new 'Peace' broadcasting, with live remote from a hotel room in Montreal where John Lennon and wife Oko were holed up in a bed in the hotel room running an internation world peace forum from that bed. The new station went on line at precisely midnight, with opening chords of music and words flooding the 200,000 watt FM airwaves - my recording of \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ INTRODUCTION \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ english does not have suitable words to discuss such things as man/woman, woman/man, female/male, male/female . the whole of God ontology is in terms of Him, He, and His, and there is nothing else in english to talk about other, in metaphorical terms . alas . the Planet Man is not a man nor a woman , but a state of being , observation . sorry that English demands use of the words 'planet Man' to try to evoke a whole gist in one metaphor . In fact , english is so badly drafted by the men who originally drafted english, that the words 'planet woman' would simply be written off as very bad poetry . figure it out . You have work to do. Greydon July 14, 1996. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ THE PLANET MAN /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ today the planet man came into my mind flashing a world while I flashed mine there were glimpses of moving friendly entities a riot of feelings images a vast simplicity he then said : \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ it is strange to see your cities regulated by flashing colored traffic lights . does such pagentry mean the caravan of a man ? shadows of the incomprehensible rigidly rub around you hulla hoop your mind around the problem of humanity many are ready for it otherwise the human scream is preposterous much of life is a struggle and sooner or later you will sigh it doesn't matter where when how or why someday you will sigh it only matters that in you something mustn't sigh mad machines the mechanical bribes the men that make them twelve foot clanking dances are a quick way to die the only time the world seems steady is during an earthquake what makes your life so miserable you seem to thrive on being ignorant even being innocent of being ignorant you go right on being ignorant until you die your face winks out . an awesome kind of humanity to go on as living a race determined to die . to say i never think of you is a lie i am both whole and happy yet now i embark on a strange journey through your city of life so much on the one side your presence is almost unbearable in me your eyes lie in openings made pale by deep pre-occupations your precious feelings diddle their ends in the pools of your brain tooling life away caught in hallucinatory whirlpools of seething levels an odd spirit of rage rages . bashing the dim streets of memory ghosts of the whole human flicker by brilliantly for an instant fade into despair your present suddenly arrives a highway of hoary images gaping lovelessly where my feelings flow openly there was a time when i was too innocent not to love you . no longer so vulnerable pain takes my eyes how the world looks the love i have has fingers of grief a staggering pity my mind is a glass castle of bold urgencies all this happens when i try to love you yet the whole self soul wanderer will never bear my grin away your subliminal telepaths for help - at times faint and intermittant then loud and clear like music from a windy blind - the wind turns the music ancient /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ on the other side look around you to the eyes of the friendly people watch them as they pass by recognize the expression ? remember it ! these are cosmic eyes look for many dimensions in these same eyes starfire hangs at the verycenter here is the heart of consciousness and galaxies this living fire is eternal it is looking right at you you will notice how these jewels are laughing for these are your friends who love you in your escalator of consciousness lies the real world it is simply awareness of kind tuning into your thoughts as they happen subjectively or from mind to kind . the process is natural occuring outside the confines of ego or mind in this place feelings flow opening reality becomes the whole space . recognition is no longer just intuitional . vibrations of love cosmic love , intelligence in the universe become very real functions of the whole human who is happy . these are no denied passions . mine are not whispery lips rubbering idle seclusions you are eternally expanding when humankind is together on a common frequency of love the i of us all stands together and thriving . /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ the planet man tip toes in to our minds kindly gently in we lovingly begin to rearrange the landscape we live the concept of nobody being supreme what could be more beautiful than sacrificing our shoes and socks what greater gift is there than to share life living for all time a greater meaning is to be heard in the stars and the color of their eyes in the galaxy. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ greydon moore february 22 . 68 vancouver canada re-edited Ottawa Spring . 95 re-edited Ottawa Fall . 95 re-edited Ottawa Summer . 96 re-edited Ottawa Fall . 96 2 ++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


THE GRISLY CORPSE "As you can plainly see my friend I've just finished my new casting its my latest and greatest creation its the most sublime in suffering exquisitely wrought agony of the ecstasy of the calvary on the cross the world has ever seen "That's quite a mouthful"; I interject. "I hope (the person continues without pause) the Pope might want to use it for the papal personal staff "No kidding? And I thought it was just a particularly grotesque corpse made of metal dangling on a cross "Did the LORD pinch you on the cheek today? "You mean ... " (I gesture as if pinching the buns of a bottom) There is a clatter a piece of metal on the spare parts rack against a wall collapses falling through a few layers of overplus we both look to the noise. The person asks that question again, probing, one eye larger than the other from the mentals: "Did the LORD pinch you on the cheek today?" "I think someone did. When I first looked upon your grotesquerie on the cross HOLY COW what a diabolical jolt! "You don't want to worship it then "Of course I don't want to worship it you think that's why I came here? (I turn, one heel squeeking against the machine shop cement and leave the metal smells the smoke, the dust sparkling in strays of rays splayed through the streaky windows leave the artisan to continue grunting and polishing mumbling and bolishing the fruits of such hideous labors) (Briefly I hold the all powerful Cube and Sphere of the Supreme Creators in consciousness almost instantly perceiving the avails in a re-stablization of a few particular frequencies back toward norm or at least back toward present tolerance levels as are currently operant on this planet at least as are currently operating through me on this planet given this planet's regressed conditions at this present flow change in time. And given the constraints and expansions in which I am presently functioning. Still some lower emotional contact levels to get rid of. But, I'm working on them all the time getting rid of junk experiencing more of the better moving in. Peace, Power, and Plenty in good movement through the soul matrix. And abundant joy in knowing that there is more to the whole of Creation than religious malpractices allow). (On the down side for the rest of the day innuendos of that religion keep creeping into my thoughts and perfuming my emotions. I know what it is. That person is venting their fury at me in their private thoughts because I didn't accept the stupidity of the grotesque crucifix and all that it implies. I don't know whatever had given that person the idea I had come to buy a crucifix. A complete opposite. I thought I had come to give the person information about the future of the planet. As you can see short circuits happen). (And that evening I get more from this thing I also have to contend with the artisan's personal bible study group saying a prayer for me. By this time I'm home at the cabin but physical disturbance isn't the problem the activities of the prayer group is. I swear, by all that is Perfect in Reality, that I don't need this kind of misguided static). (Ouch, I've just stubbed my toe against the edge of a table leg in the cabin. It was enough of a crank folding a toe to bring a tear to my eyes. I'll have to wisen up not let myself get so distracted. A half hour ago I spilled a box of shreddies on the floor. And before that knocked a cup of coffee over staining the corners of several new pages covered with quantum gravity mathematical equations for perfect eclipses involving venus, mercury, and mars. A creeping meatball is moving around in my environment. Just when it started I nearly cut my finger on a piece of glass because an empty peanut butter jar fell into the sink of soapy water unseen and got broken under the suds. Gotta be extra careful when these kind of vibes are ... getting in). 3 ++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


BIG MERRY GO ROUND What for those masks and statues along the wall racks are those cracks in the rows of spindles with paint peeling meant to be metaphysical A hapless fervent spins one of the wheels in hurried waste a century of their favorite karma flies off in haste unknown even to the carcass of the crusty old priest on display behind the modern glass divider The chip does nothing more than sluing to the bust loosens a bit of dust from the wall basket containing the old saint's kidney stones. That rumble the thunder has just made had nothing to do with it it is not the gods getting ready for a visit The priests steering the population past the spinning wheels had no reason to order heads shaved every six hours till the thunder stops. No dumb beliefs in gods that treat humans with low gifts Some hand gets sliced away for every one forgetting to pray five times a day minimum the left hand lost to those who, forgetting the way, eat with it on that on that fateful day The same is recycled through the pit time after time till logic gets sick of it Blasting into nirvana awesome state of hypothetical nothing relentless pointless powerful without a thought and certainly no science for nothing in everything is chaos. Fees paid for confessions the best trees hewed anew for processions of the cross carried by a staggering authority to demonstrate all that absurd in their shuffling positions ahh, saints made from the catalogue of persecuted heretics who wouldn't break the ties of the death grip yet didn't quite believe the beliefs of old languages intoned into the dark of consciousness A mother keeps turning up in the weirdest places everyone different every name the same How many times have you been struck by fear for failing to get to the mass on time Some great clot of heady vibrations tuned into dope and sex and other low frequency emanations Beetles eat whatever falls to the cave floor Some wretches suspect there is much much more than easy to score side trips to the force and do nothing more besides talk about it they do not think to the edge of obvious they do not see beyond chaos talking is wasteland easy and no sting of truth the thoughts merely babble a few seconds of hard thought got caught misting in easy breezes What dammed legacies still linger glued to the subconscious from days gone past when priests taught god circled the earth like a merry go round. greydon moore (circ) 1990-96 4 ++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


====================== NEWPOEM ====================== You forever freesail learning the winds with know motion go and be peace journey to joy stay there forever happiness in the Divine lights Reality unmeasured by mortal eyes looking three days hence from glories past return to the dominion is all that is asked rejoice in the re-union the sounds of mighty wisdom soar through the eternal wounded souls limping along the truth path limp too much more the path keeps turning to the sore it is not the way that makes words too esoteric to have meaning the logic of the fact is the one act of Reality that has no esoteric to devoid the meanings a golden dawn lights up the horizon as far as the single eye can see there is everlasting glory in the Reality that has no measure as slow as the speed of light. a wine brimming till the cup runs over has many meanings none of them diabollical leaning the winds for more on the tack to niceness a simple thought of abomination to the body dishonors the corpse honors god when the thought is cancelled in the instant it came in the real act the thought can't happen a rose grows to become so bud it is a gift of great gain given simply to someone who serves one another metaphysical shame players of the earth spend so much time trying to connect the spang from their loins to the female they most have on target at any given moment in time the essence is lost see all females and males conjoined in a great harmony each the other so conjoined within yourself none can ever possibly harm the other no loin manouvers take place there are no loin masters so great is the pure esctacy of the haromonious therefore internalize re-align put a crown of glory on your head stand on a cushion of golden light ===================== NEWPOEM 2 ===================== Go and be knoble peace powers the plenty enter into the kingdom that is large know the doors are wide open there is no bounds to time beyond measure where truth flows love has being building since creation began and will continue until all existence is one mighty glory of love attained in light bright so powerful so radiant so chrystal and facet there can be no remis no turning back it is happening now stages toward the final countdown have already begun and you are a part of the whole developement so know that in the beginning of your future starting now the heavenly gates have already opened full to welcome you back in ============================== == BANG THE BELL BOLDLY == ============================== Great the pyramid sound but only just, so much noise around the container so much poise lost in boasting old increments thinkers and wishers abound who only moan when the pyramid does not open their eternity now in one flash of instant easing into view so effortlessly so polite a mighty Cube and Sphere pounds down the bounderies of the pyramid gliding along infinity it stands true gleaming in golden space red blue and yellow so intense so around no other colors can be heard in the sounds of glory that comprise the compositions out of which grows the new Cube and Sphere so close so nearby so real it can even be seen on Earth Greydon Moore July 8, 1998 Ottawa Canada Email: farstar@storm.ca Site: accura-av-com.poetry.htm 5 ++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ THE DONKEYODEON one solution is to beam on the higher frequencies . another secret is love . in the world and in our hearts . such truth lies in the formations of sanity which is unrelenting ability to love each other . we as men and women feel no shame in expressing such love , in upholding both men and women as equals within our love it is beautiful . it is beautiful . only the love itself matters . the love strapping is a very friendly shmoo . devoid of sex pure love is utterly universal . a child of five or a puppydog can be your close friends the love strapping is a very friendly shmoo . our horizon I mean our human horizon is no longer diminishing . doors to perception seem to be opening with snaps . with it grows a lifetime revelation - to find love universally . it seems our potential increases with each long flash and smile . how can we be fools any longer since we are honest and no fool is honest . thats what particularly hurts because today the world has visibly darkened with a blast . the world's schizophrenia is alive again . today I am thinking of the Donkeyodeon . civilization rolls on a vast and mindless amoeba with some parts dropping off and other parts being added on how about a can of worms to start the motor cycle ? the message is predictable concepts lurching with loud noises in the brain arteries carrying city energy to the fantastic Donkeyodeon brain . the heart is the motor whose lines of force can reach out from the machine to arrange us . our lives change no more questioners the questions defeated by the brain . in the process is change a strange agony the pictures shift harmless behavior becomes no longer disorganized something seems to grip the trusting mind and twist it sideways altering Reality with a jolt only it sticks there for we don't have the will to change the Donkeyodeon has touched our minds with a black blast of iron . but now ladies and gentlemen my projector is ready : for your own reviewing pleasure let me present to you the poems of the Donkeyodeon - roark roark roark kloon : (in some other language) whats real in the world - ah master so easy it is whatever you want to make it roark bidgit bidgit ! oh oh games ego making funny noises again this time a little too loudly - if I want to look at something above me I float up to it then glance down if I momentarily loose control of my environment I shoot backwards down the corridor into the dungeon . the pin is my one contact with Reality . the sea is choppy with a deep sea freighter just pulling into dock the freighter being attacked by the city whip a whole slew of cops rush in . I run headlong from cop to cop confronted suddenly by a blinding flash of pain in the face it is the whipper running gleefully backwards out of sight laughing having just punched the cop straight in the face . but the cop has caught ME - still strange looking with the implant of a fist imbedded in his face - and whispers verrry good ! ' what kind of a guy are you .' the brain asks ' how can I tell the state of your kind ' ' the one contact I have with you is through your can of shoe polish ' wrong wrong I have given up polishing my shoes for greater things now Im floating up from the sidewalk past walls and buildings past incredibly evil suggestions on the top floors of buildings I frantically twist and turn to avoid these evil suggestions the long bumming corridor in to which I am stabbing the pin at the floor walls ceiling is meaningless . I am hurtling backwards at terrific speed into the dungeon . here it ends with a clang of closing doors for the pin is my one contact with Reality . in the dungeon I am sage as long as I keep touching the pin to the floor I remain safe . the instant I break contact I find myself back out on deck with the freighter just pulling into harbor , about to be attacked by the city whip while coppers rally in the background and evil suggestions rattle their presences at me from the lower story windows . the pin is my one contact with reality . motors for sale : Fog Motors Grand Stay in Business Ends This Friday but Trapp Motors 3-Ring Circus of Big Buys Still Goes On ' - yes yes life goes on endlessly give me another cigarette ouch - little motor pinched itself hardly noticed it was only a machine the shorter end of human circuitry I know that kind of man no turn-on to speak of he is blind in a special way but this is fantastic ! the typewriter isnt even human ! I am working on this manuscript . the typewriter comes towards me . there is nothing I can do . go away , I try . but it ignores me . help I cry . the typewriter comes towards me . the doors vanish the windows are asleep . leave me alone I tell the typewriter . but it ignores me . the manuscript falls to the floor . the typewriter comes towards me . I pick up the chair and beat the typewriter . but it ignores me . where can I run to . the typewriter comes towards me . you insane thing I yell to it . but it ignores me . what else can I do when the chair lies broken and the typewriter comes towards me . outside , on the eerily deserted thoroughfare only one main vehicle a streetsweeper comes towards us on the same side of the street : big mechanical , and subliminally howling - the hermit in us shivers . while my own voice is saying as we move ahead into history we still tend to peer rigidly backwards into history to the traditional whip which follows right along behind our rapid accelaration into the electronnic motor of the 21th century future . because we are still plugged into the past by our umbilical cords of uncertainty we loose the ability to grasp the meaning of truth which is suddenly all around us as we arrive innocent in the future . the result is abnormality and distortion ending metaphorically in a crippling process which leaves many of us as ontological spastics and the rest of us as consciousless disasters . the trick is to free our minds from the false psycho-delicious trip of making history perform before our eyes in a rear view mirror . otherwise lsd - horseless carriage of the twentieth century ' women might lapse into sexual orgies the speed of the machine might drive men to suicide ' ' the trip might encourage the lower classes to move around restlessly ' ' in time it will seem like a 12 hour tunnel suffocating riders in every carriage of the train and reality will rush out the other end a driverless beserk hearse ' ' innocent passers by will be driven jabberingly insane by the mere connection with one of these roaming smoking serpants ' everybody unhappy about their ontology move our tongues to set the mood in motion machines set our tongues to the off position a moan now glimmers over the treetops across the gorge a ninty foot hard rock apartment juts out of a ravine in which our homes once used to repose overlooking the spaced downhill trees lovingly ouch ! little worm notched itself she has fouled her self rubbed her body the wrong way slipping in to core eating apple outward to meet day delicious forest of fingers in her eyes she curls through out side in roots of the apple tree . donut fashion . she does not have the warm clear windows of the truth meter thats right . the sky is big breath over blue canopy . that big blue mushroom tolls spring images like dayglo . robins laugh merrily from tree to tree . yet clouds are still roiling in the sky in pictures . one blue and flowered day vest has a pout of sadness to it . the whole blizzard of our consciousness might be slipping into another gear but neither is it moving upwards at this moment nor downwards but only sideways . in inlet harbor at the foot of Burrard Street a deep sea freighter signals its coming departure with a profound kloon . otherwise mind remains much the same agonizing . I remember the question of love and after that the politics and the brain and the forceless carriage . running through it all is the Donkeyodeon which still continues to touch our minds with a black blast of iron . this story began with love ironically its ending seems to be heading again towards love . but something has taken me a lot further than just to this pause for in the space of just one year I have changed . we have changed . just as the world has changed . or is changing . or will be changed . to end the Donkeyodeon . /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ - Finis - Vancouver Summer 1968 Revised Ottawa Spring 1995 Revised Ottawa Fall 1995 Revised Ottawa Winter 1996 Revised Ottawa Fall 1996 Revised Ottawa Spring 1998 Greydon Moore 6 ++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


Scoffer's don't exist, say those who most want to control the thoughts of others. greydon moore, Ottawa '95 It is a well known side effect of Murphy's Law that needless speculation becomes increasingly reckless in direct proportion to the fewest known facts. greydon moore, Ottawa '95 What happens when contact lenses suddenly disappear during a sneeze, is Particle Physics. greydon moore, Ottawa '95 He who gets the girl always gets her as the reward in the final scene in the movie. She just gets the guy. How come. greydon moore, Ottawa '95 Ask and you shall recieve. Don't ask and you won't recieve. Never ask and you can't recieve. Give and be merry. Keep and be buried. greydon moore, Ottawa '98 +++++++========+++++++++++==========++++++++++==========


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