Today I sat on the Edge of the World and gazed to the End of Time

"I don't know why it's the Way it is, I just know It Is."
-an Outlander when I asked him why we have to run the planet the way we do
Today I sat on the Edge of the World and gazed to the End of Time, and asked: What if?

I cannot live in the Green Zones but I can visit them. And in seeing their Places Unspoiled, I'm reminded of the magical beauty of this planet of ours. How an Intelligent Design permeates from the atom to the end of the Universe. All this time we've been searching for Paradise, and it's been right under our noses all along. As I sit here watching the Gentle Glistening of the water, I feel our Maker speak an Ancient Dream to me. And I wonder: Are we going to fuck this up beyond all repair?

Are we going to turn Day into Night and Joy into Fright? Will we continue on until this world simply has nothing left to give? And if so, what then? Do we die a death Unimaginable? As we wantonly destroy and consume, we place ourselves on a path with No Escape.

I don't know about you guys, but I want to live!

Darkness is the new hip. And Death is cool.

Darkness is the new hip. And Death is cool. But it wasn't always like this. During the Golden Age of our Blossoming, our songs and our art were about the coming Utopia. We spoke of our Dreams and the New Way of living to end all suffering. But once we found out the Price for our dreams - the abandonment of the Profit System - we turned our back on them.

So now those who once danced with Flowers now dance with the same exuberance for Death.To them it's all the same: celebrate the Wind - no matter which way it blows. Our songs and art glorify power, the "necessity" for evil and a disdain for Reality. No one speaks of the Old Dreams anymore.

We have a Shared Secret: our way of life is not viable. And this Silence is dragging us into a dark Hole. There are those who point to the despair on our planet, to fixes that need to be made and how the System could be made good. No one wants the Good Life to end. But never is it mentioned that Profits should not come before our lives. For they say a place of Darkness must be preserved.

Seems we have made our own death Fashionable.

Editor's Note: It was a hell of hells.

Editor's Note:

It was a hell of hells. Unimaginable horror. The last entry really got to me when first I read it. I pictured myself in a time when insanity ruled the day and fealty to it was actually expected. I literally could see the author drowning in his self-described "sea of madness", surrounded by an ocean of unfeeling eyes. And as the feeling of being futureless descended upon the Alpha Centaurians their hearts only became harder. Theirs is a sorrow that echoes across time. If only we could communicate with other worlds as they approach the crisis time to show them just how real the danger is. But only through their fires may they be purified.

It's 2 AM and both moons are out here in No Man's Land.

It's 2 AM and both moons are out here in No Man's Land. I am not able to generate the profits to live in a Green Zone bubble. But I am allowed to work there which affords me the ability to live on the outskirts so I can still escape the feared life in the Outlands. Since I run into both Outlanders and Green Zoners, I pretend to be whomever I meet as there is so much resistence between the two. The Outlanders merely see the Greenies as hoarders of resources, refusing to share the wealth. Green Zoners see the Outlanders as animals whose only intent is to take without giving. How is the Harmony of survival to come out of that??

A Political Man got in my face and demanded to know my Positions and Goals. I told him my only goal was to be Human. "That's selfish!" he chastised. "It's self-seeking and does not serve the Greater Good! Profits must be maintained and you must choose your system!" So I asked him: If you're goal is not to be human, then what is it? It was then he told me I am too stupid to understand politics.

I am lost in a sea of madness. No port I pull in to is safe harbor. It's like being on a planet of fire. Where is safety when all things are consumed? I can buy no more time by running to another land. Yet, I know somewhere there's an answer to life on a Dying Planet.

No one seems resigned to Love.

The Black Wars are the Essence of War.

The Black Wars are the Essence of War. It's a Dead Warrior's dream come true: constant, endless strife until the end of time. In the war zones, Anarchy of the Beast reigns supreme. Overhead, the steady flow of brooding, grey cargo planes passes over day and night to feed the insatiable War Machine. Many are those who Profit from the Black Wars but war means never having your own home.

The Black Wars got their name from their Black hearted nature. There've been reports of soldiers crying while firing, recoiling at the very devastation they wreak. The fighters' suicide rates have skyrocketed. It's a cannibalistic War. As a Green Zone dies, it divides itself in half with the two sides fighting over the remaining resources. The half that wins is the new Green Zone - until it starts to run dry and the war starts all over again.

It's a surreal nightmare these times are. Children run laughing through lush parks in the Green Zone, children run screaming in terror in the war zones. I myself have spent time hiding from nearby skirmishes, watching wide-eyed as the Soldiers of Despair pass by. Afterwards, as I walk the battlefield with its rising, black smoke and sickening stench of Death, I think of the Dream Killers who orchestrate this hell and how happy they would be at such a sight.

The war from without reflects the war from within.

43 days without the Sun.

43 days without the Sun. I thought I would go mad. Some did. Every day the same with globs of grey hued Clouds tinged with a rustic brown suffocating the Sky. What is going on here? Have we completely lost our minds? As Fear broke out, the Quellers were quick to rush in with Explanations of Exoneration for our ways. And since there’s nothing more abhorrent in the Green Zones than the Thought of Change, they did what they always do: disconnected a little bit more.

No one resists the Cup of No Tomorrow. The unbearable reality of what we’ve done oppresses the Sober Mind into torment. But rather than work our way through it, we drink once more of the Mindlessness of Madness. It tells us all is OK. See only the Now, with no thought further. How comforting it is: the soothing thought of never having to pay. Some have made whole Cults out of it. They Banned me when I said we must pay for our sins to survive. With Righteous Fury I was informed we must NOT pay for our sins to survive.

But will we be OK with The Now of tomorrow?

Who sings on a dying planet?

"And in the the end
The love you take
Is equal to
The love you fake."
- From the New World Order album
Who sings on a dying planet? Our art has become artless. This is what happens when Faith is lost. Oh sure, I hear a lot crap about proclaiming faith and posing as a True Believer, but the words ring hollow. If you can't sing with Soul, sing as if you have soul - and we'll pretend it's the same. Wishful thinking has replaced hope and fear has made a desert of our dreams. Guilt kills all rythm.

"If you can't have a Life, at least you can have a lifestyle." A friend of mine said this to me recently. So we sing about the Goodies we got, how High we're living and all the so-called Power we can glory in. What a crock. Hard Beats from Hard Hearts. What happened to our belief in a Better Way? "Everything we Love will never die." Was I the only one to Believe that? I don't care I'm mocked as a Naive Idealist. Let them sing of their profits, but as for me, I prefer this lyric:

"Find your way back! Find your way back to the heart!"