Red Roses For A Shady Lady

This is some pretty heady stuff for me. This black hole stuff. This what I described as a pearl-like looking entity being hollow in the center with radiant spokes coming out of it, but only for a certain distance, and that upon looking at such a configuration from the outside the finite end of those radiant spokes gave the object the look of an oyster pearl with it's deep luminescence.

Later I read some articles on how black holes work, and it made me wonder if what I've been describing as what looks like a pearl is not a teeny tiny black hole. My descriptions of what I purportedly "saw" in vision seem very consistent with the Hawking description of a black hole radiating a luminous ring around it. He and Penrose got awards for figuring that out.

This morning I was looking for the Wikipedia article on Hawking through Google, and the drop down list of possibles displayed a link to this web site:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hawking_radiation

and at the bottom of the article there was this link:

http://cerncourier.com/cws/article/cern/29199

Reading stuff like this is very important to me poetically, because it shows me that poetically ain't the only way to fly. It's obvious to me that these scientists are interested in the same topics I am, but their descriptive lingo seems to make them think they got exclusivity on what's wot. That's wot I'm trying to avoid. Claiming exclusivity is a fool's game. The more you fight it, the mo' bettah it's gone whip yo' ass. Even that doesn't matter compared to death as the final solution.

I think the one thing most people fear about what they'll lose by dying is their personality. In my death encounters it was the first thing to go, and in it's parting took the only tools for coping with extreme situations I am had with it (I am is __, is the personality). The personality is all a soul has as a defense against their experience of God.

An e-mail post reminded me of a little ditty we used to sing in Sunday School when I was a little boy:

"Give me oil in my lamp
keep me burning.
Give me oil in my lamp 
I pray.
Give me oil in my lamp
now just keep me on burning.
Keep me burning 'til the break of day.

I will make you fishers of meN 
if you'll only follow ME,
Hallelujah! What a savior!
I'm from sin set, you're from sin set,
We're all from sin set free."

I understand the oil prayer. It's that "fishers of men" bit that gets me to wondering. To my shock and dismay there appears to be other ways of be-co-me-ing than taking a vow of poverty and otherwise living like a beggar. It's taken me a lifetime to figure that out. Why come 'I am is' IS always the last to know? Why isn't gnowing something good enow? Most people who think of themselves as regular people are pedantic assholes! They may graduate, but they never get out of school. They never get to be grown-ups and do thangs on impulse just because they wanna. They're assholes I tell ya'. Walking around the streets like free men. There oughta be a law against being an asshole. That would solve a lot of environmental problems. 

I think 'I am is' may have been hanging around with the wrong poop peddlers when he matriculated to imitating them in his latest effort to create himself as a superior man. How can he be-co-me in unexpected, opportune moments without attracting attention to what he feels like he needs to do to make the ritual a done deal, in order to operate out some other's me like it was just another of the local spaceports? I think maybe this "attention-grabbing" while making that inward transition is one of those trans-dimensional patterns that appears to require caution in any other space/time continuum we unwittingly wander into in order to amuse ourselves or to divert our murky attention.