Streamy Poem

Choked
Despotic I lay in lame,
silently subduing,
gorilla arms make barbells
on my throat, in my halls.

Details
swimming like the salmon,
but they are all dieing,
scales are falling off and the
rivers are way too low.

Pulsing
 intergalactic star light
feeding my insecurities
telling me whispering madness's
wincing at their truth beams before falling back to blackness


Can
I forgive the people who really judge me
vs not letting go of the hatred.
the only one who needs to accept
is the one voice in my head I can not control.

Control
always just missing
pressing the right buttons
once in awhile I get it just right
then I think about it too much

You
only one who brought me
edging on the precipice
makes me want to jump off
can you give me a reason?

Downth and outh

Diary Reboot 1

How the hell is anyone supposed to save for anything? I thought living out of my van would cut down on expenses by paying less rent but even with food banks I still end up paying a lot of money monthly toward eating out. I go on trips and spend 100$ and it's devastating to my account. I pay 160$ a month for car insurance, 65$ for a storage unit, and 37$ for a gym membership. My bi-monthly pay check is usually 650$. That's working full time at a kitchen. 1300$ a month. That's like a lease option on a car. Jesus this is so impossible! I can't make a savings Unless I live a monk lifestyle, which I could if I lived in an environment that made me feel conducive to living a spartan life. But going out with friends and socializing is one of the few ways to relieve stress after work. And it's fun! I mean, I would save like 300$ a month if I only ate what I cooked (a total pain in the ass) and never went out.

Just seems so out of reach sometimes. Meanwhile it's getting colder every night and sleeping in my van is getting uncomfortable. I'm really ready to leave. I have about 30 days left to make money and get out of Dodge. I can not wait to leave. So excited to travel again and go live somewhere warm and isolated.

Taxcode, Nafta, Net Neutrality. News update

Hello All, here's some headlines and updates on stories from the week in American News.

Healthcare/Tax Code

Senate Republicans seek to lift the Obamacare mandate that all citizens be insured. In a move to slash the tax plan down to the requisite budget increase of 1.5 trillion, which is necessary to pass a bill without the possibility of a senate Filibuster, the removal of the 300 billion dollars government spends on health care subsidies would lower the new tax plan below that threshold.
Speculation suggests that Passing such legislation could lead to the dismantling of the Affordable Care Act.
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/senate-republicans-include-individual-mandate-repeal-tax-plan/story?id=51149346

Nafta or North American Free Trade Agreement

Negotiations between the three country members of the NAFTA agreement are once again struggling to pin down details on the agreements renewal. Some sticking points and their sectors include; Auto industry: America wants 85% of all auto's traded between nations to originate within the nations of Nafta. Meaning 85% of parts must be made and assembled in either Canada, USA, or Mexico.
Negotiations are in their 5th rounds of talk and are expected to continue through 2018.

Net Neutrality

A vote is expected to take place next month, involving the so called net neutrality laws that protect consumers from having their content and broadband speed affected by internet service providers. With the public comment portion of the review over, the FCC is expected to vote in December on whether or not to keep the Obama era rules in place. The current 5 member FCC board is majority republican.

Poetry to news articles #1

Here's a new thing Im trying, Snap poetry to news articles I find compelling and important.

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2017/11/10/563286253/mysterious-radioactive-cloud-over-europe-hints-at-accident-farther-east?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=2038

Still lurking underneath,

the monster is unleashed by your hand,

if all that lay beneath your feet,

were ever cast like dust in sand,

the world itself would cough and wheeze,

dust and ash and cough and sneeze

A world in sickness would last three days,

the doctor says to me.

You'll want to shudder the rough cough

cast the phlegm blob,

and cleanse your skin with volcano salts.

https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/qkjnvw/kids-win-the-right-to-sue-the-us-government-over-climate-change?utm_source=vicefbus

Descent into the wormhole you

blade forged in a young adults novel

can the who is be be the we can who

pride so full of the people

I found them last year in the lost times

pink youthful mouths

decrying the status

sharp bugle sounds

this is our rally

http://www.newsweek.com/syria-assad-worst-war-over-isis-defeat-620332
(Old article)

Who was it that we were so for and,

in war what does it take not to be massacred by

the winning side?
Is it best to let it rest the facts of what was happened,

and let the public be mislead and the rest of it forgotten

O Syria, O Arab Spring, O reasons,

Please let all who fought the wall,

go home and be forgotten.

The most Expensive thing I never remembered

I was flying down the dirt road, my teeth chattering. In front of me i could hear the laughter of care-free festival goers. They were unknown compatriots, people just trying to help a guy as best as they thought they could. The dirt was left curling behind the car wheels, and even though i didn't check, I'm sure my bike was leaving it's own miniature dust trail behind us. Between the bike at the car was a narrow space- maybe 4 feet at the most. A long paracord line connected my bike handle bars to the shotgun side view mirror.
       "HEY!" I ask in staccato rhythm to the bumping ground.
"How fast are we going?"
      You may have asked yourself how did I get in this position? As much as I've thought about the answer, I still can't give myself a definitive one. Panic was a big reason, and being embarrassed too. As it turns out trying to hide an embarrassing thing usually ends with something even more embarrassing happening, along with the original secret you were trying to keep. Every stupid mistake will continue along it's path, until something strategic comes to mind to course correct.
     "Uhh, 28 miles-per-hour!". Not a reassuring number.
"Arf-Arf!" I bark out our established safety word, one arf for good, two arf's for bad.
     "I don't think this bike's tires can handle anything faster". A few more seconds as i watch the spokes whizz, their silver lines a blurring optical illusion, i'm looking for a pothole or pit that will be the utter doom of my band-aid bicycle solution. Like a black bag over a face, my vision goes dark and I'am utterly unconscious.
       
In America the easiest way to go from having a balanced bank account to falling into incredible debt is by going to the hospital.
 More than chronic illness or condition, people go into medical debt from one time, unpredictable visits to the hospital. This can be for a multitude of reasons. Many people who report medical debt are 'the insured' but their insurance didn't cover enough of their expenses, and what was left over was made into debt. Other people suffer from accidents that require special ambulatory services, and still others were insured but not in the right way. For instance, Life-Flight services take their own type of insurance. While not very expensive, (A year long policy might cost 65$) not having the insurance can be life changing.
        When I got into my accident at Eclipse Oregon I wasn't conscious enough to decide what was going to happen. I remember being warned that the lines into the Fest were going to be long, winding down a one way dirt road with no way out. I never thought those circumstances would sign me up for what would be the most expensive bill of my life. A lot of Med-flights cost around $35,000, compared against a 65$ yearly fee it seems like, once you know you're going on an isolated adventure then its best to get some. But then again maybe that's what these companies want all of us to think? Why else would the disparity between a yearly fee and a massive one time bill be so great? Most of these bills ended up being so huge, because it's expected that people will fight the cost. Like with other bills (generally medical) you can get a lot of the cost reduced. But industry understands this, so it's factored into the cost. Lots of people can argue a $35,000 bill down to $25,000. And still you can argue that your health insurance provider is supposed to cover medical transport (generally not specified), and have them cover say, another $10,000. Still, a $15,000 one time helicopter ride sits as a huge expense for any person.
        I'm glad that I was taken to a hospital and treated for some severe injuries. Who wouldn't be? I'm grateful for all the medical staff, the doctors and the nurses, and all the transport staff, from the helicopter pilot to the Taxi Cab who drove me back to the festival. But, I had a broken arm and a concussion. Arguably, these are not 'life threatening' injuries. Arguably, if I had been conscious and allowed to make a choice, I may found some other way to the hospital. Definitely, If I had looked into a crystal ball and seen the cost of the Medi-cab, I would have scrambled for any other option. But in all likely-hood, there really was no other option for me. Circumstance and destiny lent a heavy hand, one that can not be mitigated. My advice to you is, See if medicab insurance is right for your Situation.

Love

Arstin Viggin
   

Post 2. blast from the past/ retrospect / what was i going through

Dear Blog,

I'am writing to you from the distant future. Here, in this unpredictable place, in this unkowing place, in this fine place, is a spot to land your bi-plane.

There, on the desert beach where you landed your Saharan coloured plane down,

are the cool gentle waters where blue green reign supreme,

and there are very few things to worry about.

Where you are is your present, My past.

In that time space was a whole other worry set,...

A whole other situation paradigm...

Had to think on your feet.

And describe it.

Let's take a look at what was going on as things led up to where I'am.


Hey, basically, there was too much sensitive material, it turns out I'm not ready to divulge my personal journals yet in online audience spree so I took this one down. i'll be revisiting this post.

(here are some poems from Chicago)

1. Tall black ceiling,

with a charred texture,

like the burned bark of the redwoods;

I ask for sex with my eyes but,

no replies.

2. The temple turns rose in the evening sun,
   they used a white stone, to show trust in
   It's choice, of colours.
   Inside, I ask for humility,
   while the eyes of someones friendly daughter,
   stare me up and down.
3. Hunger has many doors.
   With each mouth clamoring, lip smacking,
   and then, falling silent.

Love APW

Bahai temple of Chicago

At the Elephant seal observation beach

Post 1. Back to basically nothing

Dear Dearies,

I sit in the fabulous café, where people come.

There are the entrepreneurs who sit together, with their laptops and writing tablets, in two's and three's, discussing plans and idea's, off the clock, unpaid creative time. They often drink plain coffee and tea. They pass the computer back and forth.

There are the young women sitting at the table, they drink the bottomless mimosas special. They lounge on the comfy seats, talking and chatting. They don't move much, they don't drink too fast. They are cute.

There are the solo artists, one guy who's trying to code but can't get off facebook. The young Japanese girl who goes to college, she drinks a small saucer of latte. Her head phones are in, she acts like I do, with the eyes set forward on the screen.

There are the breakfast only folks, who sit at the bar with iced coffee's. They are serious business, lovers maybe, or close friends. He grabs her left overs in the carry away box. She pats his bum and they walk out.

                       I'am in the Saint Luis Obispo. It is a quaint, valley city. The girls dress in the most incredible ways. Lots of cut halters with the lacy bra's showing. Short short jeans. College styled fashionista's. The men are tall and strong, some with a very country style background. Boys who stand 6-6 1/2 feet tall, big arms. Others are shorter, with beards and glasses. There are fewer piercings

on the men; women have septum rings. The mountains surrounding the city are cringing with erupted beauty. Blotches of orange poppy continents can be seen from far away. If I ever have a child, with the acne sensitivity, I will say to them "Look up ther, in the mountains. Their faces are blotchy with poppy, sunflowers, and goldenrod. Orange, red, purple, like your face is, but we do not call these things ugly. The flowers come with the spring, fecund and fertile notions. We call them beautiful, just like you my child.

How do I like this now, being on my own traveling.. The loneliness is not so severe, making friends is simple. What is hard is the usual. Sex, money, these are the worrisome dreams I have when I'm sleeping in my car. The world is beautiful and as long as I take care of myself, exercise, love, good food, then I can get through it. Looking for work, hoping to find a farm where I can buckle down and become myself. All the people of my generation seem to be doing it. I miss making women purr. I miss easy nights on a mattress. I miss my close friends.

Peace on earth. may the names of all the gods be heard because they are ringing in the bells of vibration all around us.

Revival

Dear Me,

I am sick with a cold and under the weather. The day was a slow start but last night I camped under the RedWoods for the first time and had my first lucid dream experience. I jumped from a building two, three times and each time I was flying. I soared through an endless turquoise blue; there were no landscapes or objects only flight and facing fear.
      The woods are good to me. Sometimes I think there was never a person on the planet who was built with the patience I needed, so it goes that the Divine Mother provides it. I'am glad to be away from people who count on me. I'am glad to not be counted now.
      I love you all very much, the great wheel turns on. I'am currently residing in Santa Cruz in the woods. I pray for you and the world.
Sincerely,
Austin

Entry 13, "From a day of the written life of Arstin Viggin" secret nursery practices, The groupies and the buskers

The secret journals of Arstin Viggin.

Entry one, Day 36, July the 18^th.

It is 6 Ante Meridian, where we are sleeping in the old storage shack on the other side of the ranch.  Smoky  sun filters through the dirty pan windows in still dust motes. I awaken from the old military style cot they have in storage here, beside me is Caru and the rest of our wet packing’s. She is awakening in roll-around motions as my creaky steel starts to get out. The day of yester, heavy rain had come and soaked our tent and clothes- my musty sleeping bag was the biggest blow, leaving me with a fleece blanket and the fanged cold night

Toward the kitchen.

            I go to the coffee.

And sit down and open the wooden swing-door where the morning companion lays full.

            The man on the floor closes his eyes to become upward- a piece of that vanishing particle.

Colours

Coloring the vista

            Nothing

            Nothing

           

I’am nothing now

Afterwards the coffee is poured and nothing sits in silence.

                I re-appear in the refrigerator,

  Caru walks through the swing-door

Our shadows meet on the tiny gray ground, moving backwards and forwards.

                  

It is 7:30 and we’re both in the car, the radio is playing and a young black girl is describing how the school she attends does not teach The Civil Rights Movement. She says that her friends laughed when she could not explain who ‘Jim Crow’ was. I think for awhile…

It is an appalling situation.

            Maybe someday, I’ll offer public high-schools a seminar covering all aspects of The Civil Rights Movement. I know all kinds of how to study and explain history, so why not children.

But then maybe, I’ll start a whole school, calling it “The School of the Colonized People of North America”.

And we’ll start a revolution there.

            Now I’am getting out of the car and onto the gravel parking lot. All around us is gold smitten rods flowing into and through green trees. Caru and I get to work by 7:34 and everything is okay. This is a place of monkish attitude; passing knowledge of universal disapproval, but with the generosity of human forgiveness. We both quietly vow to get here sooner next time.

           

  We board the bed of a truck and trundle through the wilderness. Our driver slowly navigates the puddles and tree limbs that have seemingly filled or moved over night. We speak softly in the morning and listen to the birds. In the house of life and death there is little need for loud voices.

      Once  stopped,  Our cohort descends like ants off of the stricken mound, and begin to grab their bottles, sickles, hats.

For many long hours we will cut through the fields. The sensation of slicing roots sends small reverberations through the hands. A soundless commentary on the ending of small life force. 

 There are different positions in the fields and rows. All along small life giving orbs are being constructed, the heralding guardians of our own races mutualistic helix driven relationship. In our hands small Oak saplings sit across from Honey Locust buds. We dig like miners, in to our children, the jewels among the dirt, laying down many obstacles, foes. 

         In the early morning Ron and Nestor go to the front of the row, far away from the rest of our group. In silence they apply themselves into heavy bushes of Poor man’s weed. It looks like the frilly fan of dinosaur times, a small sub-grass weed with fractal webs of soft leaves. I think that they must both enjoy the silent start of the morning, plowing whole bodily into the work of clearing the Weeds.
     And all around us is the work. 

               We work for a long time in the sun.
yesterday’s rain has made the ground black and soggy. I like to sit my knees down on a bed of just-razed weeds and sink into the mud. I pull the poor mans weed out and toke it out from my mouth.
It is break time and I ‘am hitting a bowl of marihuana in the parking lot. My arms and legs are starting to build momentum to the day. It is cool while clouds pass on a heavy wind. I watch the trees dance and let the drug come over my eyes.

Soon we are back,

And forth,

Across the field in our own different ways and pathologies.

When one wants solitude you go to the deeper jungles and sit in silence. Others break into pairs all day talking- bowed down and hidden past the taller trees, who can say what is happening all day through the field?

       I glide to the deep end and sit down glazed over. The pot makes me slow and clumsy, but I don’t mind taking my time in the afternoon. It feels worth the preponderance, the severity and significance, of when trees show you their dancing.

      I turn to the others as lunch comes closer. I dream of telling them all that we are truly a holy ordos of peoples, here to protect and serve the natural stewards of the planet. I think about a time when I had said that at the graveyard, and a young man with black stubble, black eyes, black hair, agreed to my declaration.
In the end, I say nothing and walk to the car alone.

Lunch Lunch Sandwhiches Sandwhiches,

             Later Ron is telling me about the Coma he spent 3 months of his life in.
A case of meningitis had the doctors saying he would never walk again.
I see him bend down carefully to pluck a crabgrass and know he is a born survivor.

Later,

     We are drinking water by the canteen. Janey is saying “You guys can come over to my place and take a shower!”

 Later we will go there with mixed results.

          Now it is the end of the day.

             Nestor is calling to us from the bottom of the field, Erin is standing beside him looking out.

      inside my heart I know it must be a worthy item of inspection. I make a mad dash, pumping arms and legs to catch a glimpse.

Across the road, as I turn the angles,

I see the black figured shape of a Feline.
“Gato Grande”. The beast is big with wide eyes staring us all down , the long tail swishing over its body.

The mountain lion is in motion as I come down the sidewell, it lopes its heavy body over to the tree line and disappears. 

Caru and Janey are too  late to see it. I am glad I ran down.
Nestor says it must have been a Mountain Lion.
I ask him why not a bobcat?
He says
“The tail. The tail es big”
he waves his arms threateningly in the air.

We are all excited and nervous.
I tell nestor “That cat has you’re number!”
I wanted it to sound cool so I slide my hand to my throat. 

He walks off while I wonder if it was offensive.
            

 Looking at the trees, I know it dosen’t matter.

The End. 

Post 12, Our journey is the pilgrimage/here we stand, death of a disease

Dear Ghost,

Behind my own crawling skin sensations,
there is the constant mind focused vexation,
above and beyond there is no sequestration,
        And all the parts are in conjunction
               stopping this, my locomotion,
it can not be such simple reasons,
    as what is right and wrong
        it can not be the poison of the seasons,
              it ceremoniously arrives then...
as the body's own personal treason's.

hello everyone and welcome again to the Step-Rhythmic melodies of our journey. As of late, Mara and Taeroot have been searching for the right road to gold. Wherein american accomplishments amount to the cyber produced currency vouchers; we are looking for solid establishments to give us these vouchers in exchange for our goods/services.
The places have been hallowed through from the resigning winds of economic fate- alas, all that we thought was settled is nought. We have been walking in the broken shards of promises falling through wind swept plains= debris and heavy wood block our path>
So it has been that the journey which is our pilgrimage must be tried and tested. the marijuana jobs with their THC fields lay fallow. The temporary services are as equally barren.
       We took the time last week to celebrate our two year anniversary  The travels have brought us closest to our truth, and it has been the greatest of blessings from this rhythmic giant Earth to meet and be with Her. below are some photos of us in our Suite; a sweet nuptial smoking room where you can puff on cigs and watch the Tele. It was swell.
Below that are some more pictures. These indicate how we make money as of late- the scraping of old coffee machines for their hidden metals. We made 25.10$ yesterday.
Happy blessings to the world of buffeted souls

Austin Wiggin

mara in her resplendent disposition 

legs of a princess

meditation

the portal opened then close, swallowing the boy whole

king sized bed

alluring photo

plum walls

Emuyouthere?

this is what camp looks like

Carey at work

a montage of photos

he was struck by the damage done

how all things are destined to fall to their pieces

he wanted to pour libations on the corpses

and gave thanks for their boons

Rest in piece coffee