Conject? Sure!

“Man only uses 10% of his brain…” -unknown

Everyone has heard this phrase.  Is it true?  Who knows?  Maybe if we had full access to our brains we might be able to figure it out.  (Ha ha)

But if it is true then it implies that we are either too lazy to use our whole brains or that we are too stupid to use our whole brains.  And so I don’t like the phrase.  Nor would I ever agree with those implications.  We are incredibly smart.  We have already accomplished amazing things by simply putting our “minds” to the task.  Everyone usually points to the “man on the moon” example to signify that we are extremely intelligent.  But what about the radio signals that let us talk to the man on the moon?  Or that let us communicate with the un-manned craft sailing past the ex-planet Pluto?

These radio waves and spacecrafts are not just flukes of nature, or merely something we stumbled across.  Surely yes, we did stumble across the electro-magnetic wave that was the seedling for the development of radio.  But everything after that stumble was a deliberate part of man intentionally trying to develop radio waves and so many other things that spring from them, like microwaves.

So just that one little example makes me think that man is quite capable of using his entire facilities to create and exist.

So then why don’t we already have spacecraft that can fly at speeds close to light and hover-boards like Marty McFlie’s that can work on a patch of ground?  If our minds are so wonderful and our ability to use them endless – then why do we always seem stuck at a certain level of technology?

Here’s a hint: it’s not from our lack of ability.  But rather it is due to the confounded way that the human mind needs to compact all the information it deals with.  We simply can not retain all the input that we ever see, taste, feel, or hear.  I don’t think there is a single computer system on earth that could retain every little pixel of color or depth that the rods and cones in the back of your eyes have seen over the entire coarse of your life.  It’s simply too much information.  So the mind categorizes things in order to cut down on the specific information it needs to retain.  For example, you have probably seen over 5,000 different shades of yellow during your lifetime – but you can not recall all of them because your mind categorizes together those that are similar.  You might be able to recall a half dozen or so yellow’s from your past on a good day.

So how does that hinder technology?  Specifically it doesn’t – but generally it whoops the heck out of it.  When we study things today we tend to prioritize only those things that we have physically observed – and we tend to discount those things that we haven’t.  That’s a weird way of saying we are too confident for our own good.

If a team of electro-physicists want to build a television – or whoever it is that builds a television – then they have a list of parts that are known to be reliable when building a television.  If they want to build a better television then they take those known parts and tweak them this way or that in order to improve them.  And then joiola!  Better TV!

The problem with that is visionaries.  H.G. Wells was a visionary.  But he was not a rocket scientist.  If he was then we would have had a man on the moon 75 years earlier.  As it however – we had to wait until a very young Robert Goddard read Well’s novels, become inspired, and eventually grew up to become a rocket scientist who then “stumbled across” certain dynamics that could later be used to carry a man to the moon.  It’s a long process.  We can shorten it.

I am a visionary.  I know with everything I am that gravity is a pink unicorn.  It is a fairy tale, a theory made up by a man who believed Christ came to Earth to pull large levers on a huge “gravity machine” buried somewhere under the Earth.  Hogwash!

Why do scientists not take me seriously?  Or any of the hundreds of others of us who are absolutely certain that the phenomenon currently understood as gravity is actually nothing more than magnetic attraction and repulsion?

The reason is because they took Newton’s theory and ran with it.  They “scientificized” it – observed it – measured it – and wrote it down into a highly praised bible of all things gravity.

And even now – when they know we have faulty data that skews numbers coming back from the study of our expanding universe – and knowing that the only power in Einsteins theory of relativity that did not work was the power of gravity – they stick to the idea of gravity and assume that their observed data on gravity must be somehow off – and not the theory itself.

Wake up scientists!  There is no such thing as gravity.  Rewrite your laws using the rules of magnetism in conjunction with what you observed with gravity.

The scientists’ common argument is that magnetism can not be gravity because the numbers from observations of both do not match.  Well, hello!  That’s exactly what we are saying!  Magnetism and hence gravity does not only emanate from the center of a planetary body – it emanates from every planetary body and galaxy in the universe and is bombarding us from all angles – and each planetary body is pummeled with magnetic waves from all angles – and not just attraction particles – which is basically what “gravity” was supposed to represent – but the affects from repulsion are being displayed from all different angles as well – which is where the skewed numbers come from.

So scientists please stop rejecting notions that you feel are untested and rely on your own observations of gravity to understand that the science itself is not marred – but rather the foundation of gravity is absolutely baseless.

I’m posting this for posterity.  This realization will never occur in my lifetime – I’m absolutely certain of that.  The way the human mind categorizes things and the sheer egos of those who consider themselves experts on gravity is simply too much to overcome.  And I don’t know when it will happen, but someday in the future man will finally realize that gravity is a farce and study of magnetism will become so precise that we will knock down light years of barriers with booming technology, intergalactic travel, and so many amazing things will happen because we will then be able to harness it.  But naysayers until then and those who are doomed to remain static will say these things are simply impossible.

And when that day comes – when this vision is realized – and if this ledger survives – then I want that generation to know that I was john Richter – a visionary – and that nothing is impossible.  Never say never young people.  Cut out that technology gap and don’t get too married to a single notion.

Better Headstones

Silly tenure –
Angels standing tall –
Marble faces –
outstretched wings –
eyes mere chisled balls –
Grass cut so neat –
trimmed around the stones –
Death trimmed nice –
quite complete –
garnish the moonlit shone…
And I, who ran through orchard high –
to find my angel there –
him speaking but in German tongue –
of years long gone by…
Tell me Angel, oh thee of stone –
Why do you speak to me?
On this dark dark night –
of moon shadow sight –
At quarter past hour of three…

“Oh my dear sir”
parted thousand year lips
“If only you could see
the wisdom and quests ‘neath me –
Of those lost in age from love –
of headstones weathered and worn –
of hearts beaten and torn –
names dribbled to sod –
lost to years and God –
Remnant lay in Earth –
Lost and forlorn…”

And I – a simple man –
known of Earth – but with a plan –
Through that of German tongue –
from age of Thor and thunder –
That I am but a simple man –
whose death shan’t be asunder…
And now I know –
From paupers to kings of past thrones –
The thing we really need ….
in this world of loveless creed…
are simply better headstones.

So quiet your thousand year old stone angels –
and just use granite, right?

© 2015 John Allen Richter

Wonderland Tea

Great Mad Hatter – was he
Belle of the Ball
But really tea amidst the trees and leaves
where fairies are said to run
upon moonlight escapade…
Catch one if you can –
foresting to and fro –
On wing they go – sometimes.
mistaken as insomniac grasshoppers –
and eaten by –
no wonder why –
the ever endeaverous Mr. Owl…
Who must spit out the fairies –
for their dust makes him sneeze!

And today Mr. Hatter rules the roost –
of crumpets and tea and thee – Sweet Alice –
Who knows not what to think
of this insanity drink –
That makes you grow –
from head to toe –
larger than the Hatter’s tree –
Past the dodo’s nesting there –
grow up above – into thin air
Looking down, can you see?
That which is the Hatter’s tea?

Grand gestures – and so theatrical he
insanity befalls —-  ’til the hours are wee
Dancing and singing and shouting about –
until all have left – except we three…
The Hatter, myself, and thee.

And may I please say dear –
if it won’t chase you away dear –
How lovely you look tonight!
And might I be bold –
as allow to unfold –
that you are my best delight!

And so abandoned my heart
at the very thought
that you discover
my secret aloft –
That the Hatter, my dear
is not far or near
nor dancing there
nor shouting here
For if you ever – even once
found the Hatter kind and tame –
then please know sweet Alice –
He and I are the same…

© 2015 John Allen Richter

A Man’s Grave

Quiet day – slumber..
Wasting away it’s own time.
For neither wind nor song of bird should rile this place –
Nor cricket scamper across its green.
Here lies majesty – an earthen treasure –
Of love and life and mind sublime –
So that only the rose shall slowly open its petals –
to receive the sun.
And there within such beauty rose –
a captured love of mindful prose –
that he of past somehow arose –
to project the love –
to protect the rose…..
Duty done, now can doze –
In quiet grave – we suppose…
As all creation stands afroze,
In awe and honor of all things being –
Edgar Allan Poe’s……

© 2015 John Allen Richter


Roses that grew in enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe –
Fell on upturn’d faces of these roses
That gave out, in return for the love-light,
Their odorous souls in ecstatic death –
Fell on upturn’d faces of these roses
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted
By thee, and the poetry of thy presence.

A snippet from “To Helen”
by Edgar Allan Poe



You Are My Angel

We are angels
to and fro
all complete
head to toe

Born in image
of God’s delight
In free will
lies our might

Choices made
Lo, love born lost –
triggered hatred
as icy frost

So cast we out
of Heaven’s gate
down to Earth
and here we wait

Learn to love
His one command
failing that
forced to stand

Wings all clipped
staggering within
this glorious place
of love and sin

Which to choose?
Which to choose?
Free will at its best –
Most fail to see
hatred’s epiphany –
Love is just a test.

For hatred is innate –
sin is born within –
Love is not a choice
But a key not to sin…

And now I know
in all the worlds foils
having found your heart
hidden in Earths toils.

So I turn the key –
I turn the key –
Which your great love
gave to me….

And within I find
such peace of mind –
and the dear beauty
of knowing you’re mine…

And with your love
my wings will grow
And I shall fly to Heaven
with you in tow…..

© 2015 John Allen Richter

Angel #34

I live the twists
the turns
the scars
the burns…
I see the smoke
the charred remains
the blackened ash
of loveless stains…
Nothing stays the same.

John, John?
Take your pills
Undo the twists
and straighten the turns
smoothe the scars
and calm the stars…
And then sleep.
Dream about the nurses station.
You must please them too.
Because life’s not about you.
It’s about them.
Again and again.
The greater ones –
those who tower above –
whose lives are better –
filled with love –
but not you –
( they tell me )
you don’t deserve –
you’re only here to serve.

How dare you speak to them
John – these humans –
who God created –
anointed free will –
but not for you…
They say to me –
How dare you seek love
you filthy mess
talk to them –
as though they care.
about you.
Your un-metered poems
with no internal rhymes…
acting as though you’re real –
with a heart beat in time…

Fallen angels don’t matter.
Except for you – I say to you –
I know you’re one too.
When did you figure it out?
Between the trips to the nurses station?
I didn’t know –
Until I met you…


A snippet from “To Helen,” by Edgar Alllan Poe

Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes
I saw but them – they were the world to me
I saw but them – saw only them for hours –
Saw only them until the moon went down
What wild-heart histories seem to lie enwritten
Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!
How dark a woe! yet how sublime a hope!
How silently serene a sea of pride!How darling an ambition! yet how deep –
How fathomless a capacity for love!


One Night I Sang

I sat – tables in a row –
Chairs swallowing them each –
and every one – like satellite moons
half back high and swizzle sticks
shooting from their centers –
little crystal stars filled with –
slow melting ice and two fingered gins…
and her eyes shoot through  –
through the mist –
through the smoke –
through the lust and sweat and
beer stained carpet – and all the musical
notes swirling ’round the stage
don’t stop her eyes –
can’t stop her eyes –
eyes that feel me –
feel my inner nakedness –
my tiny little being in her majestic universe –
of smoke and beer and gin…
And  I sit among the swizzles –
my little stirring friends and I –
wishing I were her guitar –
and that she would rock me –
gently strum me into such –
a beautiful song as this…..
Oh how wondrous was –
the night I sang her song!

© 2015 John Allen Richter


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