I’m Probably a Psychopath

One of the main traits of the average psychopath is that he believes that he is more intelligent than everyone around him.  With recent polls showing Hillary Clinton leading the current presidential race by quite a majority I have suddenly become acutely aware that I am indeed smarter than quite a majority of other people – at least in my own country.  I’ve long suspected such.  Now there is confirmation.  But isn’t that what a psychopath would say?

And politics is not the only reason that I feel smarter than others.  I can’t explain why either.  It’s like just knowing that science is on the wrong path on many things.  Most notably gravity and magnetism, which are two elements of a yet nondescript, undiscovered single thing.  And it’s not quantum physics, but rather field physics that will eventually provide the answers to the magic of magnetism.

To wit:  Our current understanding of creating electricity is not unlike a caveman passing two rocks past each other and noticing a spark come from between them.  “Oooooh,” the caveman must think.  “Sparky sparky!”  And then sometime later “Owwww, sparky hurt caveman!”

Of course that’s a crude example and todays technology is a little bit more complicated than that – we’ve applied math to the two rocks for example to get the most spark for our buck, so to speak.  Efficiency, you know.  But we’re still stuck on the idea that we have to physically pass the two rocks past each other – the magnet rock and the copper rock – in order to get the spark.  And that takes fuel to run the motors to constantly run these two rocks past one another in great big machines we call generators.

But the entire premise is wrong.  Some motion is required, but not that damn much.  In fact, so little motion is required that the magnets/copper team could produce more energy than it takes to run its own generator, leaving extra electricity to use elsewhere.  That’s called over-unity and it requires no fuels to run the generators.  They (would) run themselves.  I say “would” because over-unity hasn’t been discovered yet.

Why has over-unity not been discovered?  Two reasons:  First, it’s due to our misunderstanding of magnetism and gravity.  Second, our previous false science has create false rules, saying that over-unity is impossible.  Therefore, many young scientists are told from the get-go that it is a futile effort and they should and will never seek to discover it.  So its discovery is going to be a slow process, because every generation’s scientists are bull headed and think they know it all.  (Yet if that were true then we would still be lighting fires with flint rocks and living in caves.)  We don’t know it all.  In fact, I’d estimate we barely know a hair’s fraction of it all.

So who will discover over-unity?  I hope it’s me.  However there are far greater minded people than I working on it.  Whoever eventually crashes that ceiling will understand that magnets work on fields, not particles.  And that the dielectric band around the center of any magnet is what must move in order to create electricity, not the entire magnet itself nor the copper.  So finding over-unity is as easy as discovering a way to move the dielectric band of a magnet without needing to move the magnet itself.  I can tell you that we as a society are really close to that and this discovery, when it comes, will be the greatest one of all time – because we will have power with no need for fuel.

You saw it here first.

Lies, Lies, Lies

Lies, lies, lies….
We live in a box with invisible walls.
With those who sneer at charity balls.
And dance on rose petals.
While peasants starve.

Oh we are so good, we are so tall,
We’re sensitive to the pain of all –
And while we complain of how came milk and honey –
We choke on it – for it is god.
And we shall drown in it –
before giving it up.

Oh the plight of the American Indian –
as we robbed and stole his home.
How horrible we are.
Please pass the yams….
Butter?  Yes please.

We’ll wait until next Columbus Day
to feel his pain again.

My Little Cube

Bjorn over at dverspoets.com issued a challenge for writing a cube poem.  As a man of limited means, this is all I can do:




Hey, I thought, this is a walnut tree!
I saw the walnut -eh, balls, on the ground.
Too close to the house though.
I could see some had fallen on the roof.
I would like to have a walnut tree, I thought.
It’s wood is so beautiful.
The nuts so tasty.  Hard work though.
And I thought, that’s a cool tree.
Then it was inside to meet my new wife’s grandparents.
That was so many things ago.
Two college degrees ago.
Three kids ago.
Almost one career ago.
One almost great love ago.
But it never really was.
More of her thinking me an idiot.
It’s over.  But I still wish I had a walnut tree.

The Idiot and the Walnut Tree…..


Tender ears, hear the quiet.
Enjoy the sound of nothing.
Let it surround your heart and
soothe your soul.
Swim within its peace –
drown within it if you like –
and avoid the din of this hateful world.

Blackness take me,
void this life and memory –
Pray thee God, oh thou great,
my Lord, my Master,
my Tormentor –
Release my soul from this cocoon!
This cacophony of evil!

And I will repent forever more,
for whatever it is that brought me here.
Except that to suffer fools….
For those who suckle the witch’s breast,
should stay here forever –
In this Purgatory we call life….

Hedge Apple

A hedge apple laid on the road…
It’s green-ness contrasting the black tarry pitch.
It’s weight too great for the limb to hold,
stretched down, and down, and down –
until finally the weight was too great.
The hedge apple snapped –
Falling, falling to the ground.
And mother branch returned to her proud position.
Almost.  But not quite springing back to her glory.
Just a little bounce robbed from her gate –
her stance against the wind a little less worthy.
But there she stayed to shelter her little hedge apple.
To wait for him to find his own soily patch,
where he can root and grow and grow.
Another year, another stretching sag,
another little hedge apple fallen…
and on and on.
And now mother branch hangs so low,
misery and pain her only friends…
Waiting to snap off herself – to fall to
the ground and give fertilizer to what
should have been her children.
But they aren’t there.
Because we thought it was fun to smash them in the street.



Black darkness swallows whole my innards –
this life of flowers and bees and persimmon trees –
constantly adorned by bluest sky and puff puff clouds –
with rolling waters so cool and clear –
sighting God’s love far but yet near.

And we, those cast from heaven,
to walk the soil of years’ past shit.
To toil and grasp hands in filth,
to plant a seed of new life born.
And sprouting from this cesspool death,
is God’s beauty beyond the norm.
A green leaf pops up through,
and we attend our Sunday pew –
to give thanks for life come anew –
and sustenance which we can chew.

Oh God, oh God, your plan is clear –
that we be damned year by year –
sentenced to hunger and pain of life,
suffering intolerance and radical strife,
to bring a war – to bring the blood –
to kill a man for words lacking love.

Am I Cain or am I Able?
Living for love or for the sabre?
To which of these do I owe my fate
– being destined to walk upon this earth?
If Cain were sentenced here –
this life of toil and crime –
it would certainly make sense –
But why Dear God did Able come –
What was his offense?

If misery could be given a name,
I would call it Life.
As the only relief that I can find,
is my dearly beloved wife.

Thank you for the most wonderful thing I know.