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Location: UFOUpDatesList.Com > 1998 > Jul > Jul 15

Alfred's Odd Ode #256

From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com>
Date: Wed, 15 Jul 1998 07:36:24 -0500
Fwd Date: Wed, 15 Jul 1998 10:38:58 -0400
Subject: Alfred's Odd Ode #256

Apology to MW #256 (For July 15, 1998)

I thank fate for boundless energy, and the Army for the rest; though I'm
likely called I bite the hand that feeds me. Nothing's further from the
truth, I am humble, un-aloof, but insisting on a freedom I have _earned_
so let me be! I'd _be_ just what you want me. But it's got to be my way.
The smallest price I'm asking is the wage that you should pay.  You want
me in there fighting righteous battles in your fray? Then give it to me
real, cousin! Eschew pretension -- false display!

Give it me straight, _paid_ leader, though my heart explodes my chest!
Give it to me level though I fail every test. Give it to me honest though
my pillars fall with rust, though I _lose_ it all -- this new world, and
I end as dry as dust.

Give it with veracity though I tear _your_ towers down! Give it with
alacrity though _you_ end up goat or clown. Give it and be forthright,
give it or be damned, give it though your vaults clean out, and you're
driven from this land!

Give even if it hurts, good friend, it's what you've asked of me. Give it
cause I've paid my end, it's your turn now, you see. Give it up in better
time, dark man, give it up while you can pay. Be a hero in our history,
or be the convict on display!

On Mars it's frankly obvious, and the moon is secret still. Why scramble
all the video? Why does NASA feed us swill? Why do we waste a farthing on
an organ filled with blood, when the melting of our icecaps has the
oceans rage and flood? Our skies are filled with colored light not made
by those on earth? An interest in the sex lives of the _famous_ is its
dearth! The pyramids are piled upon the secrets of the ages? Yet we
endure mere tabloids spewing Willy's boffing pages!

Our Shuttles filmed _*amazing*_stuff on 48 and 80, but Springer's show is
all the rage, what's happened to us lately?  I see them in the stark blue
skies, they drift before excited eyes like tiny dots too fast and sly, or
way to slow, and closer, why? They don't appear just me it seems, there
are others standing 'round in dreams, reality's, for them, obscene, "It
must be *us*", they bleat with steam.

We don't want foundation rattled, though it's built up in the air. We'd
_keep_ the lies constructed to beguile us, mon frere. It's safer to deny
the skies, and pretend *creations crown*, or to suffer gods that *love*
us -- keep us stupid, keep us down. Anything you'd make me do will _not_
get done your way. Give it up you gods and devils, or give out, and go


. . .Which was, of course, the theme of Babylon 5 until its denouement --
shortly after Sheridan assumes a federation presidency, but I digress.

"Who are you"?

"What do you want"?

Restoring  John Ford answers both questions.

Restore John Ford!

Explore the Alien View? <Updated 10 July>


"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from
afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, while burning at the
fundamentalist's stake.