Jan 11

The Question:

The question?
No, no, not ‘To Be”!
Don’t be silly.
The question IS the answer, don’t you see?
Your life is the answer, you the question:
How do you climb a mountain?
From the Top.

-Iliad Terra

Jan 11

Islands in the Stream

Sinking Worlds

I forced myself to listen — it seemed contrived…  I tried to become inspired, but…

…well, actually I was bored off my wits!

On the left, I had the State of The Union Address by a man I feel terribly sorry for.

However, on the right, of course, the entire World is sinking, a world of islands and empires built on sand: the irony of it all as Dubai’s World sinks back into the ocean…

Time to rise America, and once more be the beacon on the Hill in a world frolicking in folly.  Show ’em what ya got!

Jan 11

The Choices We Make

on a cold wintry day… a gift for children.

Last night I had a dream

I was flying.

I saw children the world over…

All quietly suffering.

Children in war-torn lands,

In Bank dust-bowls,

And slums and forgotten orphanages…

All of them suffering.

…Suffering the choices we make.


Jan 11

The morning after

[The previous night Obamacare was repealed in the House.  Capitol Hill was awash with wounds, and posturing, and regrouping, or so we were led to believe by the media…]

First time I noticed her she was turning the corner on First and D heading toward the Capitol Hill Club.

She wore black stilettos with trace of gold trim, adorned with large bright red silk poppy flowers fastened to their backs.

The sound of her shoes hitting the pavement was mesmerizing — there was a decidedly feminine and confidant spring to her steps as she neared the club.

Her skin was bright translucent pale with a slight hint of pink as it reached the hem of her short ruffled black skirt.  She had wrapped herself in a satin quilted jacket with rich black mink liner, which contrasted dramatically against her straight blond hair as it laid tantalizingly tucked inside the jacket with an air of perfectly planned abandon.

As she walked past me I could make out a hint of perfume blended with her anticipation. Her eyes were covered by a large pair of LV glasses, which in turn accentuated her barely discernible smile beguilingly aged with a hard crease etched to the left side of her mouth.

The club entrance was crowded with black suits engaged in flashing their PDA’s and fake power-laughing as she marched through their pack, looking straight ahead with pronounced disregard and amplified determination. The pack turned to look as she passed by, as if she were a bullet passing through, leaving eddies of desire in her wake.

“Wow!” my partner remarked in awe. “A Capitol Hill staffer…”

“No, it’s more like a kept denizen of power chambers, feasting on powerful men, preying on their weakness, a poisonous plaything.

She’s the reason why all these folks get up in the morning to come here – I hate to break it to ya my deluded friend, but it’s not your welfare that motivates these people to conquer the Hill…”

“I’d fight for that!” he smirked, nodding his head.

Moments later, she stormed out of the club, her lips shut tight, and made a b-line for the Cannon building up the hill. Her steps were quicker and more determined this time, tok tak tok tak tok, as she disappeared around the corner…

1300 hrs
January 20th, 2011
Capitol Hill, Washington DC

-Iliad Terra

Jan 11


You slept long enough

Now wake up.

The battle is real,

You’re not dreaming…

Now tune in:

There are no UFOs
Don’t you know?

And what you do see
Is if we tell you so.

Of God and Birth?
You mean Taxes till Death!