August Atomic Attack Issue #3


Creative Commons Copyright Sensei

"How To See Through Advertising & Other Bright Ideas"
© 1990-2006 Antero Alli

One of the lesser known facts about that famous rabble-rouser Timothy Leary was his whole-brain theory for intelligence increase (INFO-PSYCHOLOGY; Falcon Press), a model that has spawned two additional versions, one in my own book, ANGEL TECH (1987, Falcon) and the other in Robert Anton Wilson's PROMETHEUS RISING (1986, Falcon). Dr. Leary's "Eight-Circuit Brain" theory suggests that intelligence may be more than Intellectual Quotient (IQ) and plural by definition, as in an interaction of intelligences, or brains, begets more intelligence. In this model, eight interactive functions of intelligence are defined by Leary and, reframed by myself as: physical, emotional, intellectual, social, somatic, psychic, imaginative and quantum intelligences.

This 8-Circuit Brain model suggests that within each center, or function of intelligence, there exists three phases necessary to that center's operation. These three phases mirror the trinary activity of the most basic unit of biological intelligence, the neuron, in its capacity to absorb, integrate and transmit information and/or energy (also a working definition for intelligence). For example, physical intelligence is fulfilled to the degree one absorbs (receives), integrates (organizes), and transmits (expresses) physical experience. Apply this trinary function to each of the eight levels of intelligence and you'll get an idea of the extraordinary implications. The realization and increase of intelligence may be entirely up to HOW each central neural (not nervous) system processes its own experiences. To the extent experience is not absorbed, not integrated, not transmitted -- in one's own way -- is the measure of one's ignorance and idiocy in that center. You can be an intellectual genius and a social idiot. Are you intelligent ? No matter how smart you think you are:

Are you intelligent enough to confess ignorance...
the specific area of your particular idiocy ?
If so, what are you doing about it ?

We are all greater idiots than we realize. Getting past the vanity to admit it is the first initiation of a World Entertainment Warrior. There is a way to apply the 8-Circuit Brain model, in particular the first four centers, as a reference grid for deciphering advertising strategies and eventually, for seeing through them altogether. The first four circuits -- physical, emotional, intellectual, and social -- revolve around four interrelated personal survival needs. To the extent someone is not receiving, assimilating and communicating human experience in any combination of these four, is the extent survival anxiety persists in that area of life experience. Nobody knows this better than the media wizards (Art School Graduates) working for corporate advertising executives who play on the consumer's real and imagined deficiencies to sell their products.


Information wars are not fought over physical turf but the internal landscapes of the psyche itself; whosoever governs the metaphor, governs the mind. Those who are not learning new ways to keep learning and those who are not thinking for themselves are becoming Info-War casualties without knowing it. World Entertainment Wars exist at the level of mind. Information warfare implements massive infiltrations of gorgeous images and catchy buzzwords upstaging personal and collective imaginations with externally produced images and fantasies. War is hell. The horror of the information wars begins when imaginations are over-stimulated, numbed and replaced by corporate designer replicas.

Imaginations corroded by TV Overdose, Video Game Debauch, and Advertising Bulimia suffer the silent agonies of a slow death. Do these words ring melodramatic and paranoid ? Look again. The actual situations they refer to are more dramatic and terrifying than any ideas about them. To what extent have our minds become oversaturated with slick simulations of realities that we can no longer experience or create for ourselves? This mental dilemma not only blurs the distinctions between "reality" and "fantasy" but more critically, it diminishes our capacity to care about whether or not our dreams and fantasies are actually our own or the limbs of a larger body of mass-produced dreams designed by (old soap opera organ music, please): Corporate Imagination Killers! Dampen a person's power for imaging their own lives and futures and you wash away an internal psychic environment that is house and home to a living soul. Imagination loss precedes the death of soul.


Real intelligence thrives on process, not content. Any mind can fill itself with dead data and remain fundamentally ignorant; too many still do. The processes producing whatever contents fill a mind actually govern and regulate that content. WHAT something is, identifies it; HOW something happens, shows us its essence. Did you ever notice how the way someone says something can mean more than the actual words themselves? The way of how. The way of how is utilized to great effect by the Corporate Advertising Imagination Killers to change the contents of the consumer mind without asking their permission. Imagination lobotomy. Shame. Shame. Shame.

Corporate advertising promotional tactics act on the low-esteem of the naive consumers whose minds have not begun thinking for themselves and governing their own lives. The most sophisticated frontline advertising strategies trick the consumers into believing their lives are incomplete and deficient without the promoted product; only through purchasing the commodity will the consumer's life be "whole" or "better" again. The successful advertiser exposes a need and then, makes a promise to meet it for the price of whatever is selling. And maybe more.

By superimposing the grid of the first four circuits over this general "deficiency" principle, very specific information jumps out at us. Each level of survival, from physical through social, is genetically motivated by specific rewards assuring satisfaction of specific needs: 1) SECURITY 2) STATUS 3) KNOWLEDGE and 4) SEX.

Everybody defines and meets their needs for security, status, knowledge, and sex in different ways. The content of these needs is universal; the way of how they're met is personal. When needs aren't met, we are frustrated. This basic knowledge also forms the backbone of a successful advertising ploy: promise them anything but sell the product. By associating any product with the promise of more security or more status or more knowledge or more sex, the consumer's own unmet needs are touched and hooked.


There is no truth in advertising. Advertising is a business of promises, fantasies, and dreams: truth doesn't sell products, images do. The 8-circuit grid is a good starting point for seeing through these images. A good offense is the best defense. Corporate advertising will promise to deliver you whatever you're not giving yourself. Imagination Boot Camp demands that we learn to identify and expose our own needs and then, find our most honest ways of meeting them.

The public education systems are, in part, to blame for this epidemic of self-denial. Remember grade school. Young impressionable minds are taught to value knowns over unknowns, content over process, as a measure of not only intelligence but self-worth. Remember receiving your first "F" on your report card? The highest grades and the greatest approval goes to those minds willing and able to retain the densest volume of known facts. The imagination becomes ill when the mind stops relating with unknowns. When a mind is taught to avoid facing the abyss beyond its own machinations, it tends to fill that void with an endless stream of facts and trivial pursuits. The mind closes and is put out to pasture as a dead data depository.

By redefining "security" and "status" and "intelligence" and "sexuality" according to one's true feelings, responses and needs, something extraordinary occurs: an identity is born. Not a"self-image" (too often confused for identity) but an honest expression of your innate being. By defining one's terms, one stands a better chance of living by those terms and cultivating the ground of being essential for living a real life.

World Entertainment Warriors know it is too late to avoid self-definition; "define yourself or be defined." World Entertainment Warriors fight on the frontlines under camouflage of ineffable poetry, trance-inducing music and pirate cinema; they evoke where their opponents explain and then, get away with murderous humor. World Entertainment Warriors hit the roads, rearranging highway billboard images to expose dangerous truths while circulating posters of political candidates referenced by "Dial-A-Prayer" phone numbers. Most of all, World Entertainment Warriors use their wildest imaginations as combat weapons, as power tools and as mojo healing totems for inspiring people to death. If religion is the opiate of the masses then, the death of religion is the rebirth of poetry.

The phrase "world entertainment warriors" was inspired by my friend Rob Brezsny's band
WORLD ENTERTAINMENT WARS and our ongoing rapport with these themes and issues.

(c) 2006 All International Rights Reserved by Myztico

Hekate's Child

Laurie Corzett/libramoon

Child of Hekate,
sweetness and light?
Where is the mark
of your entombment?
Buried prematurely,
to strive for growth
in dark enclosure
striving for a breath
of the pompously negligent
of the blushing Moon
of the squabbling sons and daughters,
of daylight's pleasures.
Striving, tenderly
twisting around corners
aching for an unknown touch.

"Tell me, sir, then, how's it going now?"
Looking up narrowly from a tepid meal,
all at once remembering
playfellows on the schoolyard
running, out of breath,
filled with pride
a jolly good game.
Always someone begging
my attention,
but it wasn't really me,
just a story to steam off
or a butt to joke on.
All the silly give and take;
only time is taken
and that in big hungry chunks
of no tomorrows.

One long day
now the part all groggy
waking from fevered napping.
It wasn't supposed to be a tomb
nestled in Transylvanian bloodlines.
It was meant to be a child's cot,
freshly laundered cotton lace.
But the rats got in,
once the cats had been slaughtered.

Slowly wakening
I strive again to find my footing.
Learning to walk
was never as easy
as forgetting to fly.

(c) Bartley Keith No Artworks or Writings by Bartley Keith may be used or reproduced
in any form before or after sales without the express consent of Mr. Keith.

Lucifer in Eden.
by Willowdown

Lucifer wandered about Eden with a handful of stars of various shapes and sizes, various colours, intensities and fragrances.

'But where shall I plant them?' thought the Son of Morning to himself.

'I might plant one in the seed of a fruit-tree and watch it send a delicate silver shoot into the glorious, shimmering air of Eden, putting forth pale jade leaves frosted underneath with mother-of-pearl and platinum. With the gentle kiss of Spring and the tender caress of April rains it would sway gently to the rhythm of invisible mysteries as rare and wonderful blossom was spun upon its branches by the elementals of air and sunlight; and at the height of Summer my tiny star would begin the final phase of the gestation of some new and marvelous fruit and, tremulously - on Autumn's golden cusp - bring it forth for the world to inspect, well-proportioned in colour and form, delicious of taste and flavour, of pleasant texture upon the tongue, thirst-quenching and nourishing to the body, mind and senses, sitting well upon the stomach and full of infant seeds touched by starlight: a sweet temptation to animals and men to pluck and devour, to enjoy and be nourished by, and in so doing, sow its divine multiplication throughout the fields of Eden.'


'I might plant one in a tiny crevasse in a tiny rock upon a mountain,' thought Lucifer. 'Drawing slowly unto itself the hopes and desires of the sleeping minerals whose roots reach right down to the very core of the world, it would gently begin to awaken the buds and crystals of consciousness within them so that, watered by the sweet mountain dew and attenuated mountain mists, they would rise and mingle with the precipitation of the clouds and bubble up into the world as tiny silver serpents of water that men will call springs.

'Their senses enlivened by sunlight and the consciousness-expanding exhilaration of wide open space they would breathe deeply the invigorating odours of mosses and ferns, of various coloured lichens and hardy alpine flowers. Awakened to the delight of freedom and life they would run and grow and learn how to laugh; and as they grew stronger and their laughter grew stronger, they would become small streams leaping and gamboling between stones and boulders, running pell-mell down the steep sides of the mountains and hills like mad things, wild and half-demented with joy; and when they were surfeited with joy they would cool their heels in quiet tranquil pools in misty, mystic valleys sloped with brooding emerald forests full of the bright shining eyes of birds and tiny beasts.

'And when they were refreshed and rested they would put forth the strength of mighty rivers and roam and meander all over the world and the curious and intelligent fishes of the seas and oceans would swim up into their very souls and heartlands to lay their precious eggs in the laughing, sparkling, flashing, shining, ever-moving, ever-still, ever youthful, ever old, deep, quiet, curious, turbulent, passionate mysteries of their silver source; and men would look upon their sinuous, graceful surfaces glittering in the sunlight and see a thousand stars gleaming and shimmering as they make their way towards the sea (And at that sight, thought Lucifer, similar stars might arise and float up to the surface of the rivers that run in the souls of men: hopes, dreams, hidden desires and affectionate thoughts of loved ones...)

'And there,' saw Lucifer in his minds bright, revolving eye, 'at the edge of the Sea, they would be dissolved by the salt of the ocean and drawn up into the Heavens to merge and mingle once more with the Invisible; and when they were tired of that, or the Will of the Invisible devised some new game for them to play, He would send them back out from His bosom into the Cosmos and the world, some to carry messages for Him and His Angels; some to attend the greater Stars that burn and meditate in Heaven; and some to fall again as sweet and gentle rain precipitated from clouds and mountain mist upon the crowns of mountains, to gently strike the fires of waking springs and fan the tiny flames of their infant desire with encouraging words and the soft caresses of sweet delight.'


Lucifer sat for a while upon a grassy knoll and examined the small exquisite blades, inhaling the fresh exhilarating aroma of morning.

A group of curious herbivores came to inspect him, gazing at the Prince of Fire with gentle fearless eyes, snuffling at his hands and wings and filling his nostrils with the sweetness of their breath.

Presently the thought came to him that perhaps the trees and rivers had no great need of the quickening influence of his starry enzymes. Young and vibrant in the dawn of the world they already seemed imbued with beauty, wonder and marvelous strength enough to bring a million unspoken promises to fruition, to sing a million liquid songs and melodies capable of carrying a million drops of water down to the Sea.

'Perhaps, then, I might sow my stars within the souls of animals,' he thought, spreading them out upon the grass to inspect them.

'One might inculcate gentleness and maternal instinct within the corporeal heart of the cow; another might instill bravery and courage in the soul of a lion.

'This one here, with its lambent violet rays and flecks of topaz and obsidian, would bring out the inherent loyalty in the nature of the dog; whilst this russet-coloured rose of spikes would clearly make of the fox a wily and cunning fellow.'

He looked at each star carefully and shining perfectly within their lucid depths he saw the playfulness of the porpoise, the wisdom of the snake, the humility and willingness to serve of the passive, lumbering ox, the love of building waiting to blossom in the mind of the badger, the intelligence of the elephant, the finickiness of the cat and the mischievousness of the monkey.

Looking into the future, he saw also how readily all of these qualities, carried in the bosoms of his stars, might easily be corrupted and made enslaved by the selfishness and waywardness of some dominant but thoughtless creature.

And again, he wondered if perhaps there was really any need to plant his stars within the souls of the animals, for, looking at them closely, he thought to see already the stirrings and awakenings of just such inner qualities that his star-seeds contained.

Why then had God given these bright engines of light and cosmic fire into his care? Certainly he might plant them in the heart of the bull, the mallard, the pig, the stoat and the crocodile; and surely they would strengthen and enhance the natural propensities of those creatures' own budding natures - but might he not employ them to a better purpose?

What then of Man, that fledgling child of earth and Sky - more than a beast yet not wholly an angel, a seemingly empty vessel full of latent possibilities and the ambivalent elixir of vision?

Lucifer gazed down the long corridors of future days and saw splendid, marvelous, terrible Man bestriding the earth, knee-deep in bones and sinews, blood and the foam of madness flecking his chest and beard, weapons of murder clenched in his hands like a million reflections of Death's bright Scythe, rage and fury in his eyes like the lightning, the roar of thunder and the whirlwind issuing from his throat.

But he saw also, the budding and blossoming of bright, enlightened civilisations in China and India, in Egypt and Greece, and fastnesses of desert and mountain where men and women studied the intricate gyrations of the stars and the turnings of the Wheel of Nature, and fashioned knowledgeable and gentle philosophies, compassionate and inspirational poetries from the stirrings of their souls towards the One.

He saw engines of destruction.

and flowers of burgeoning consciousness;

he saw beautiful temples and statues of the gods toppled and defaced by barbarians,

books of wisdom and children's toys mired in stinking rivers of bodily fluids and entrails,

women and children raped on the steps of burning Acropoli;

the Self-Realisation of Buddha beneath the Bodhi Tree

and the Crucifixion of Christ.

He saw himself both worshipped and reviled as the Lightbringer and tempter of Mankind.

He saw swan-winged ships that sailed the oceans and skies,

disseminating knowledge between continents and worlds, stars and far-flung galaxies.

He saw the births and deaths of paupers and Kings,

the rise and fall of countries and empires like the passage of day and night.

He saw Summer sacrificed to the Winter Hag and the Children of Eternal Spring dancing on the bones of their parents.

And in the breast of each man, woman and child he saw, with equal wonder and dismay, a flashing scion of one of his handful of star-seeds, burning like a sentient jewel, suffusing every thought and action of Man with divine and terrible radiance.

Tears of rage and pity came then into Lucifer's eyes and he lifted up his face to Heaven.

'Is this then Your Will, O Lord? That I am to be the instigator of such bright, unholy Enlightenment, such fierce and Awe-ful Beauty?

'Am I to raise your children from guileless Innocence to Self-Knowledge, to awareness of Beauty and Perfection only that, in perfidy and despair, they might rend and tear each other like rabid beasts?

'Let it pass from me, My Lord!'


Raging and questioning thus, Lucifer threw himself upon the sward of Eden, alternatively cursing and beseeching his Father for guidance and direction; but no answer came.

The misty figures of Day and Night brooded upon the horizon of Paradise, a million unborn flowers and stars filled the air with their invisible scents and illuminations, a myriad flickering forms tinged with rainbow light.

Storm clouds gathered over Lucifer's prostrate form but not a single drop of rain fell from their swollen bulk; streams and rivers stood still as they listened in astonished dread and mute suspense to his ragged breathing, and even when it settled and became calm and mild they continued to hold themselves in motionlessness as if awaiting some hidden signal or Divine instruction.


Ages passed as Lucifer lay in inchoate swoon until presently, a small but gorgeously coloured butterfly fluttered by over his marvelously crowned head and landed on his cheek to sip at a tear that fell from his somnolent eye.

In that transaction of beauty and sorrow, something passed into Lucifer's soul and he sat up, weary but accepting in the pearly light of Eden, his doubts and questions unresolved but his equilibrium restored.

Should he plant his Stars within the soul of Man and the breasts of the Children of Men? Was it his task or mere presumption on his part; were his intuitions true or false?

Gazing once more into the golden haze of the future, Lucifer glimpsed the end of all Vision as a million, overlapping, rising and falling, individual yet indivisible waves broke against the shore of Mystery and sent a spray of tiny droplets and particles of light into space and the void, obscuring the End of Things from the eyes of men and Angels - and, Yea: his own far-sighted scrutiny.

He gathered up his seeds of cosmic fire and with a mighty shout, hurled them into the still and unfinished Heavens, where they took their places amongst the planets and stars, the moons and worlds and whirling spheres of God's prismatic Creation.


Quickened by their presence, in their midst, their gyres and oscillations took on greater depths and intricacies, moving in vast interlocking patterns on paths and orbits unknown even to the Seraphim and Cherubim.

Emboldened by their mystic motion, Day and Night strode across the Earth with mighty strides; the swollen clouds released their pent-up rain and a million flowers opened their throats to receive their celestial benison.

At the edge of a Forest, a Man and Woman, clad in skins and woven leaves, huddled closer to the little fire that warmed them and gazed up in awe at the blazing ribbon of the Milky River wherein the bright new Gods and Demons of their souls and the souls of their unborn children danced and celebrated the advent of Time and Dreaming.

'Now it is out of my hands,' said Lucifer, quietly, to the Universe.

Folding his wings about him so that he became invisible behind their wall of flame and light, he retreated into unseen temples of lesser and intermediate mystery to ponder and study various other matters.

Over the Earth, the first bright meteors that were the living children of his star-seeds began to fall into the hearts and souls of dreamers and clairvoyants, into the breasts of poets, warriors, mothers, scientists and wanderers.

They have been falling ever since...
copyright Willowdown

Sunstorm (c) Marjorie Kaye

Foolproof Vision
by Glen Wells

In the night sky I saw Orion
Jupiter and Mars
Venus was inconsolable
hiding behind an Oort Cloud
In May or December I wished upon a star
Betelgeuse or Rigel
Pleiades was obscured by Hubble
some satellite or such
I was making love beneath a full moon light
when caution blew a hole in the wind
a meteor shower was burning nightingales
from the sky
some fate took hold of constellations
and brought a black hole near
time was stood on its tail
space became a menace
as the sun spun out of control
(c) Glen Wells All Rights Reserved

copyright Keith Wigdor

"Creative Destructions"

Howling dogs enter a lion's night
to hide in caves... -scowling
for tomorrow's early light,
-to grasp at the dress-maker's skirt,
-to rip & tear at the fabric of time.

Exquisite dolls dance to the music-
box's clamoring notes & bells.
I sit displaced, wondering in awe
at the great creations
in destructions of things past.

-by Bartley Keith

No Artworks or Writings by Bartley Keith may be used or reproduced
in any form before or after sales without the express consent of Mr. Keith.

(c) Gaelin Meyer Creative Commons licence(Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5)

What now, World?

Well here I am, world.
Yes, I have returned to you
because you begged me --
and I must certainly be a fool
for listening to your pleading
and trusting you again --
but who knows the ways of the heart?

What now, my great lover?
Will you bare my soft shoulders;
caress them with your calloused hands?
Run your fingers over my skin
and drag your straggly beard
over my slender arms
to make me tremble and shiver?

Or will you take your whip
and rip my flesh open
as you did the very last time?
Will you despise me for what I am;
be jealous of my kindness
and give me no chance
to defend myself?

Will you walk me to your bed,
lay me gently upon your silken sheets
and make love to me under the moon?
Or will you tie my wrists
and beat me black and blue
as in every other time
since neither of us can remember?

I haven't changed you know.
(And I do wish I had --
though I do not know which way)
I'm still the same old me
though in a different body.
And you -- how have you changed
beyond your tearful promises?

Ah well, I'm here now
once more in your power --
whether by choice,
foolishness or ignorance --
and how well we both know
you may do with me
absolutely as you wish.

Sha'Tara the Grey

Predator at Dusk
Jude Cowell Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative 2.5

Chapter One
A Dream Unfolds

from Dream Wizards
by Ken Shapley

Once upon a time, time upon a chance, chance upon a change...

"When my eyes close, my words fall asleep, and I feel them change from sounds, with the power to create, into shapes of light. Blended with the heart pulse of my souls knowing, they become my dreams.
When the lucid ones come, the eyelid of my minds eye opens and I awaken within my dream.
Cats know this, I think they can they sense ripples in the web of dreams. Sometimes they close their eyes and whisk me away to places only their royalty know."

Luke's Dream Diary

In the village of Shirotori, high up in the Japanese Alps, within sight of the sacred mountain Hakusan lives a young woman called Mio. Her name literally means "Beautiful Umbilical Cord," which may sound a wee bit strange to the western ear, "Beautiful Connection" would be another way of imparting the meaning of her name.
Her village is surrounded by mountains on all sides, covered with forests of cherry, birch and bamboo. Nestling in their depths are lakes and rivers with equally magical names like Kuzuryuko, the Nine Headed Dragon Lake and Umeno Kakehashi, The Bridge into Dreamland!
Her parents must have been very insightful in choosing her name for her because Mio certainly makes beautiful connections. She is well loved by all her relatives and is doubly blessed for she has grown up surrounded by not only her immediate family but by aunts and uncles, cousins galore, grandparents and even great grand parents. The beautiful connection of a large supportive family and the stories they tell keeps their link of ancestry, and the wisdom it holds, alive within her like a bubbling spring of joy.
Mio endeavours to remain aware, in every moment, of the feeling of really being connected to whatever she is doing, savouring its flavours. Whether she is playing her piano, racing down a mountain slope on her skis, chatting with people or sitting quietly alone just watching nature, she observes the subtleties of the connections being made.
From this natural propensity she developed the wonderful gift of being able to observe things just as they are in all their beauty. She chose to see the good in people and from an early age noticed, with her sparkling hazel eyes, that there is a beauteous web of subtle light that expresses the quality of connection in progress between all living things.
She first noticed it whilst watching dew on a flower when she was very young. She saw the beauty of the flower and the beauty of the dew and felt that she was not the only one doing the watching! The water, the flower, they were watching her too. For every action there is indeed an equal and opposite reaction! As she opened to the delight of this feeling she saw a golden glow of light between herself and the flower. The flower appreciated the water, the water appreciated the flower and she appreciated them both.
Whenever she took the time to appreciate the purity and beauty of life in all its many facets, both light and dark, and her connectedness to it, she would see auras. She noticed that people's auras were always changing, expressing outwardly how they truly felt. If someone were not speaking the truth she would see a murky orange light around their throats! The auric dance of lights is spontaneous and exists in a huge array of colours; as threads of lights, as tiny sparkles, there one instant and gone the next; as hazy sheets of delicate shades; as jagged uncertainties, as oceanic vistas. They are the dynamic connection between seemingly separate things. Very early on in life she knew without a shadow of a doubt that there is no separation, we are all one.
Her fascination with the interconnectedness of all things also extends to the world of dreams. To Mio it seems very obvious that we are the living dream of the earth in this huge galaxy. This is where we make the connections to the symbols our bodies need for healing, the place where we all explore our connection to each other most fully.

One evening Mio sat gazing out her window at the starry night sky. It had been an excellent day. She had visited a huge waterfall in the mountains near her home. Just being there had cleansed away all her troubles and left her feeling wonderful. Even more wonderful was the fact that she would be seventeen years old the next day.
A huge cherry tree stood in the garden; it was just coming into blossom. Tens of thousands of pinky white five leaf blossoms filled the air with their delicate uplifting scent. Mio watched the air around the tree for the subtle changes in light that she had always been able to see. She breathed in and out with the tree and wondered about the relationship between tree and stars. She saw a soft peachy aura in the air around the tree and from time to time little sparkles of light in the air many meters away from the tree. She watched the thinnest of threads of light extending way out from the tree up, up, up into the night sky.
"So it's not just the sunlight, but also the starlight you can drink," she said out loud to the tree.
With that encouraging thought she blew three kisses into the night air as a thank you to life and snuggled herself down into her bed leaving the window open to let the fresh spring air inspire her dreaming mind.
"Tonight I will dream of my birthday present. Tonight I will dream of my birthday present. Tonight I will dream of my birthday present and I will remember my dream," she said out loud to herself. Then she closed her eyes and soon fell into a deep, deep sleep. This is what she dreamt.

She moved through a market place. An excited crowd of people was gathered around something up ahead. Mio moved through her dreamscape towards them. She went by stalls selling flowers and stalls selling wooden bowls and stalls selling sky juice until she came to the throng of people. She felt a thrill of excitement, wonder and curiosity emanating from them and wove her way through, peering ahead eagerly as she went.
The sight that greeted her was quite the most remarkable market stall she had ever seen. It was made up of a multicoloured floral patterned awning, which provided shade for the goods on display. A sign, written in a beautiful flowing script read
Marlo Timpani,
Purveyor of Tibetan
Long Distance Travelling Cats.

There on a carpet woven with circular interlinking daisy patterns that rippled out in geometric perfection sat thirteen huge cats. Each one of them sat in a centre of one of the inner circles.
They were the size of young bears yet decidedly feline, almost like giant panthers except that they all had deliciously long shiny black fur, large ears with curling hairs like a lynx and extraordinarily long whiskers that quivered to an unfelt wind. Long sweeps of fur came down from their cheeks and chins giving them all an air of mysterious sagacity.
The cats were sitting on their haunches with their body's upright and stock still, their eyes tightly shut. They looked like fine statues that might guard the entrance to an emperor's palace or a temple. A low undulating humming sound radiated around them through the air. Unlike the purring of ordinary cats these cats purred in harmony with each other and as Mio listened she heard delicate undertones and overtones. The melodic sound chased away any fears the people might have had about getting so close to such big cats!
Behind the cats, sitting on a barrel, smoking a curved long stemmed pipe was the proprietor. He had the look of someone who had travelled a long, long way in his lifetime, in far off and wonderful places.
His clothing was a mixture of many cultures. On his head he wore a wide brimmed black velvet hat, decorated with triangular patches of different colours. It had three peacock feathers sticking out of it, one on each side and one trailing out and back behind him from the centre. His eyes were warm and kind, deep brown and they shone with a mischievous knowing light. His face was deeply tanned and heavily wrinkled when he smiled yet smooth as smooth can be at other times. He had great round cheekbones, a rather long nose and an outrageously curled white moustache that had a sky bluish tinge to it, matching his well-groomed short pointed beard. He wore a long magenta robe that came down to his ankles covering voluminous baggy trousers of golden silk with deep purple pockets, also made of silk. His boots were of soft brown leather decorated with circular mirrors and silver bells. Around his waist was a velvet ochre cummerbund with many small purple half moon pockets, edged with silver, sewn into it. Mio's dreaming eyes widened with delight just looking at him. He emanated an air of excitement dappled with mystery and great peacefulness.
"Ladies, gentlemen, little acorns, one and all. You see before you the only collection of Tibetan Long Distance Travelling Cats, in the whole wide world. They originate from a hidden valley in the Himalayas and were discovered by a marathon monk from mount Pi by the name of Benfro Na Omfoot on one of the 10,000 mile runs that he made in his distinguished 169-year lifetime. As his student I was left these cats, Kolars, to give them their proper name, by the venerable Mr. Omfoot with the instructions that they should be taken around the world for them to choose their owners."
At this point Marlo paused and scanned the crowd with his well-travelled eyes. A thrill of excitement raced through Mio at the thought of having one of these amazing cats for her very own.
"What do they eat," she called out, suddenly wondering just how safe the neighbourhood would be with such a huge cat living there. Murmurs of apprehension swept through the crowd
"Well young lady perhaps you can guess," said Marlo
"Bits of Himalayan Mountains?" Answered Mio hopefully. This caused a wave of laughter with its cuteness.
"Well no, not exactly," said Marlo, "although in a way yes as the Himalayas do play a part of making their food. They are in fact vegetarian, preferring milk, wild honey and flowers, particularly seven petal Huka flowers when they can get them."
"How long do they live," asked another voice?
"I don't know, none of them has ever died," replied Marlo.
"What makes these Kolars so special then?" asked another voice. Mio gazed around to see who had asked and saw a tall man in his mid twenties with straight sandy hair. Their eyes met and there was a sudden stirring in the texture of the dream as if recognition were taking place, as if in some future or past time they knew each other and were sharing the same dream. They gazed at each other in the dream light, both searching for something to say. She heard the name "Tom" resonating within her.
The moment passed as Marlo said "Aha now there's a question, would you like to see? Perhaps I can wake them up, ah young lady would you like to stroke one of them?"
"Oh can I really?" said Mio.
"Sure go ahead," said Marlo giving her a big wink.
Mio walked forward and gingerly reached out and gently ran her hand over the long black fur of the nearest cat.
"Oh how soft!"
"Oh yes," said Marlo.
"Has he got a name?"
"Mer Kah Fah Kalish Kah Ba"
As Marlo said the name all the cats woke up simultaneously and opened their eyes. The crowd jumped back with amazement and gasped with astonishment. Each cat had eyes of a different colour to the next, incredibly clear and bright, sparkling with intelligence and knowing. They had pink and purple and green eyes, electric amber, black and citrine, orange, turquoise and violet eyes, emerald eyes, sapphire eyes and peach coloured eyes. The Kolars sat quietly observing the crowd, detached and nonchalant as can be. These feline eyes saw through and within and beyond all at the same time. The one Mio liked best had mysterious deep dark blue eyes, the colour of a full moon twilight sky.
The Kolars rose as one and stretched all over then began to wander around nuzzling each other. They began to play fight, tumbling over and over each other with the grace of Olympic gymnasts. The crowd sighed in unison and this sound acted as a trigger for the Kolars.
They suddenly stopped their playing and happily padded their way into the midst of the assembled people. Wherever their paws touched the ground Mio was amazed to see soft ripples appear as if the Kolars were affecting the fabric of the dream with their movement! Anxiety dissolved into wonder and laughter as the Kolars rubbed themselves against legs, hips and outstretched hands. The Kolars showed no fear, their bright eyes and whiskers thrilled with every touch of a human hand. They moved with great surefootedness as all cats do and were so alert and relaxed and powerful that Mio wondered whether these cats could travel extremely fast if they wanted to. The Kolars radiated an aura of tirelessness and hospitality. They greeted each and every person with their undivided attention courteously, and were always aware of their bodies, being careful not to step on people's feet or have their own stepped on.
On occasion a young hand would reach out to grab hold of a long swishing furry black tail. These always moved out of the way with lightning speed, performed a snake like dance that ended in a gentle yet firm tap on the hand of the offender. Not too harsh yet definite enough to leave the impression that the tails of Tibetan Long Distance Travelling Cats are not for pulling!
A few people tried to pick them up but even the strongest found that they could only lift their front feet off the ground with their hands wrapped under the Kolar's chests. The Kolars did not mind this, especially if they were given a big squeeze.
Mio had fallen in love with Mer Kah Fah Kalish Kah Ba and it seemed that the he had taken a fancy to her too. He had rolled on his back and was purring loudly as Mio stroked his jet-black fur. She looked closely at the fur as it fell through her fingers. It was not actually black at all but a dark rusty auburn colour when the light caught it just right. Peering even closer with her dreaming vision she saw that right down at the root of every hair now and again she saw a flicker of life fire blue light! The colour was mesmerizing, and as she looked at it other images began to swim through her senses.
Majestic mountains and spiral galaxies, courts of emperors and wide open fields, scents of breezes and the thrill of running, running, running faster, faster, faster then a sense of travelling through dimensions in coiling corridors of light! Mer Kah Fah Kalish Kah Ba rolled over and circled around to look deeply into Mio's eyes. Mio gazed back entranced, those eyes held questions, questions as clear and as direct as spoken words.

Are you worthy?
Are you true?
Are you ready?

A dreaming tear fell from a dreaming eye down a dreamer's cheek. Mio's eyes held the reply, "I always have been and I am now."
Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnng, Marlo chimed some symbols and the dream dissolved into the strident scene of one great cat and one wizardly looking gentleman with a curling moustache seated on a golden disk floating on sunset dappled clouds. Mio's body thrilled with excitement as within her dream she realized that she was dreaming. Smiles and laughter and ridiculousness erupted from all around. It was as if the water within the clouds suddenly formed into the shapes of people, people who were sharing a colossal cosmic joke with her. A new sense of what it is to have life reigned supreme.

Now that she knew that she was dreaming the realization dawned on her that she could choose what happened if she wanted to. Just like being an artist, she could create or do whatever she wanted in her dream! With a fixed intent Mio expressed the desire to fly through and around the clouds. Instantly her body tingled with energy and she felt wind upon her cheeks as she sailed up into the sky. Her dream expanded on a sensory level; colours had smells, sounds had feelings and euphoria swept through her being. Mer Kah Fah Kalish Kah Ba shone like a black diamond and soft strong words reverberated within Mio's heart.
"I choose you.
You will find me soon.
Look in the newspaper
When you wake up."
A deep dreamless, smiling sleep came upon Mio as a soothing balm of light. Then, after a while of a new dream unfolded. She saw a shining sphere of amethyst light. It seemed to be calling to her. It was so beautiful, every shade of violet and purple imaginable danced within its perfect form. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life; it was as if it were made of concentrated "Ki" - life force. It radiated an intelligence she at once felt intimately familiar with! Somehow it had a quality to it akin to looking in a mirror yet it was a mirror that reflected her soul. Within its perfect form dwelt a pure, self-referring, infinitely well-organised knowingness, harmonious in every way with natural law. She was so mesmerized by its radiance that before long she felt herself becoming one with it.

The instant she did so the dream vanished and she suddenly found herself looking down at her physical body, lying asleep in her warm bed! Around her whole body was an aura of the same gorgeous violet and purple lights! The softest of motions, a childlike wave passed slowly though her aura from her feet to her head and back again in synch with her breathing. She saw a thin silvery umbilical cord extending from her dreaming self down into her physical body. Within it flowed amethyst light and tiny sparkles of many different colours. As she looked closer she saw the sparkles held within their radiance complex geometric patterns as beautiful as spherical snowflakes.
Down the umbilicus and into her physical body they flowed. Mio desired to return into her body and experience what feelings were present and, as if blown by a dreaming wind she moved slowly down and her awareness returned once more to the vessel that carried it during the waking hours.
Luxuriant warmth swept through her senses, and like the contented purr of a happy cat she started to snore. Long, long, long she slept and as the first rays of the spring morning sun touched her forehead she awoke and she remembered who she was and what to do.
(c) Ken Shapley All Rights Reserved

(c) 2006 All International Rights Reserved by Myztico

Earthly Paradise


In my Earthly Paradise
you are forever walking over a dew-speckled emerald lawn
illuminated with blue and yellow-eyed daisies.
The morning sun has woven a tiara of fine-spun silver
to crown her fresh creation.
(In the Beautiful Islands it is always morning, always noon,
always violet-skied mystical evening).
A thousand little winds gently caress the golden aureole of your hair,
a butterfly of blue and satin black has 'lighted on your hand
to drink the nectar of your perspiration;
you brush it idly aside but it must return and return,
drawn by a sweetness it can find in no living flower.
Beside you a wonderful tree is growing:
its trunk is of silver, its branches are platinum
and its leaves are all of finely beaten gold.
Its sap is living milk and honey and its variously-shaped
and coloured fruits are pulsing, sentient jewels.
Even the shadows in that land are living, pastel-coloured spirits
that sometimes become detached from the objects that cast them...
I have seen a train of naiads, sylphs and seraphim follow you down
to the crystal waters of the river
to spash about you as you bathe,
dissolving and coming together again in tiny, giggling droplets
of prismatic light.

In my Earthly Paradise
there is no hunger or strife,
the multi-headed World Serpent suckles each man, woman and child
at its multitude of breasts;
the birds, beasts and every living blade of grass
also take their nourishment there,
folded in the coils of Sleep beneath the diamond Moon.
Once I awoke to a world of glittering myriad-faceted Light,
my lips pressed tightly to one of the Serpent's
jeweled and resinous nipples...
gazing into its unwavering and unclosing eyes
I watched it shift and change its coiled and sinuous Form
until You stood before me and took me up upon Your lap
and showed me all the Suns and Planets
whirling in the Void.
Then You parted the shimmering, golden curtains of the World
and took me to a still and quiet place.

When I awoke again
it was always morning, always noon.
always violet-skied evening.
A thousand little winds came to me
whispering Your name in my ear
and when I turned to look for You,
You were standing just a short distance away
beneath the glittering leaves and pulsing fruit
of the tree of Knowledge and Beauty.
A phoenix bird was nestled on the shoulder of your samite gown,
a thing of blazing whiteness and light,
and was carefully picking Wisdom-worms
from out of your hair.

copyright Willowdown
(c) Seth D8


CONTRIBUTORS August Atomic Attack

All of the work (and believe me, it is work) presented here is the property of the individual artists. All of their rights are reserved. So, no lifting without permission. Contact information can probably be found on the contributors' pages. If not, check with me to contact anyone whose work you wish to use: libramoon42@mindspring.com

Laurie Corzett/libramoon

is seeking collaboration for her Flash Utopian Fiction Project: series of flash fiction pieces around a federation of diverse villages each working out their methods of community life -- little dramatic impacts illustrating creative solutions to social problems. Got ideas? libramoon's observatory (blog) libramoon42@mindspring.co


Born 1953, Liverpool.Have worked as a librarian, peanut butter processor, dishwasher and dogsbody in too many hotels to mention.Also an artist - have contributed many black and white third world studies to numerous journals globally, often affiliated with Ananda Marga Yoga society for whom I've done voluntary work in S.E. Asia, including mural painting and work in various social projects.Also worked as a volunteer at a large orphanage in Thailand.Currently making and hand-painting jewelry/ craft boxes displaying fairies, dragons, Winnie the Pooh.Working off and on at a few appalling fantasy novels.Occasionally make dolls houses, castles and rocking horses... A regular contributor to a number of poetry websites.

Keith Wigdor

For the Contact information: my website, http://www.surrealismnow.com/ email: kwigdor@si.rr.com I am a Surrealist, and I am the Owner and Gallery Manager of SURREALISM NOW! http://www.surrealismnow.com/ My art and illustration work has been in many online zines and various publications.

Jude Cowell

Lifelong artist, Jude Cowell, currently works primarily in oil and watercolor pencil on paper. This Georgia native's drawings may be viewed online at Cosmic Persona Designs Art Gallery, and at Dreamyfish Art, where postcards and limited edition prints are available upon request. Cosmic Persona Designs is a collection of archetypal feminine images, cosmic-visionary art (some from an earlier series, Children's World), children's art, and more. An astrological influence is apparent, for Jude has been a serious astrology novice for 10 years, and is writer and publisher of the Political Astrology blog, Stars Over Washington. Dreamyfish Art is a gallery of Saturn's realism--botanically-drawn tropical fish portraits--blended with Neptune's watery, illusory qualities--a combination which neatly describes the artist's natal Sun Capricorn-Moon Pisces personality. Fish dream, too, and here you may have a sneak peek into their most favorite and secret dream locations undersea at Dreamyfish Art. Several moons ago, Jude was an art student at Atlanta School of Art (now College of Art) on Peachtree Street, and even now you may detect a Fashion Illustration, Layout, and Design influence in her work, especially in the Cosmic Persona Designs collection. You never know what might show up at Cosmic Persona, but you are cordially invited to stop by when you can...and remember that fish dream, too!
For queries, to offer feedback, or for ordering details, email artist at: cosmicpersonadesigns@earthlink.net or dreamyfishart@earthlink.net

Wishing Peace, Love, and Art to All,
Jude Cowell
http://dreamyfishart.blogspot.com/, and

Sha'Tara the Grey

Ahhhh... the bio thing. I dread those. Usually I prefer to let the "work" speak for itself.

Antero Alli

I don't see myself as an artist. The self-proclaimed "artist" is a delusion; that title is for others to decide. I see myself more as a kind of accidental agitator. I do not agitate on purpose. I am no narcissistic provocateur out to get society's goat nor am I some infantile nihilist raging against "the man" or "the machine" (unless Stupidity can be found in a man or a machine). My agitating is more a gut response to being agitated. I am agitated by the bone-crushing, soul-deadening mediocrity disguised as "Art" produced by any individual, any group, any society still wallowing in its own tragic loss of imagination. My aim is to agitate Imagination, the chief inlet for Soul in this era.

Books authored:
Angel Tech, Astrologik, The Vertical Oracle, The Akashic Record Player, Towards an Archeology of the Soul, A Modern Shaman's Guide to a Pregnant Universe

"The Greater Circulation" (2005), "Orphans of Delirium" (2004), "Under a Shipwrecked Moon" (2003), "Hysteria" (2002), "Tragos" (2001), "The Drivetime" (1995).

where to find my work: www.verticalpool.com

Jorge Myztico Campo

or "Tico" as his friends call him was born on the revolutionary island of Cuba. His Parents fled Cuba when he was less than a year old to escape Castro's dictatorship and moved to New York City. Tico was raised in the Heart of Times Square, formerly known as Hell's Kitchen or more recently as the Theatre District. His interest in the arts began at the age of 5, primarily inspired by his Father, Reinaldo's light hearted drawings of cowboys, indians & assorted NYC characters. Fascinated by how lines formed images he followed his father's lead. Spending hours with coloring books, drawing dinosaurs, skeletons & odd creations, as well as being influenced at this young age by the animated art of Max Fleischer & the Looney Tunes cartoons. He is a self taught artist, musician, filmmaker,writer & photographer. To find out more about Myztico and to see an extensive collection of his art and music please visit his website at: http://myztico.mosaicglobe.com
email address myztico13@yahoo.com


1/2 alien whitetrash artist…
…born and raised in KENTUCKY…
trans-porter, artist, counselor, philosopher, mystic-in-training… founding
member of an art collective manifested as:
…also known as sensei buddhabelly of the esoteric hip hop artists,
WHITETRASH SHAOLIN - visine for your third eye myspace.com/whitetrashshaolin

Sensei began working in the medium of collage two years ago while working with troubled teens as a way to tap into the psyche. Relying on training in shamanism, internal martial arts, meditation, and various other mystical practices, Sensei provides the viewer with an opportunity for playful exploration and contemplation in his work. Each collage is presented as a teaching in which the student is allowed to find their own lesson.

Marjorie Kaye

is an artist residing in Salem, Massachusetts who graduated from Syracuse University in 1979 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Painting cum laude. She is best known for her colorful, detailed mandala drawings and has exhibited these in many galleries and shows nationally. She is also the owner and operator of the on-line Caladan Gallery, which exhibits artists from around the world, as well as being the newly appointed director of Gallery 181 in Lawrence, MA, a contemporary, alternative space. Her drawings resonate from the center and draw the energy outwards. The forms are influenced by nature, geometry, music, and are also influenced by the artwork of many ancient cultures. The pieces, stemming from the symmetrical perfection of the traditional mandala, alter considerably from the form, injected with a subtle shift of content and direction that throws them off-center in their own revolution.

She feels that the opportunity for spiritual manifestation through art is limitless. “Art is life celebrated in matter.” She also is influenced and draws images she has called “Social Surrealism”, attending to the “little sticks in our pathways, and sometimes the boulders!”

“Regardless of the follies of mankind, I celebrate the boundless range of elemental combinations present in the universe. From basic substances of matter emerge presences of infinite variety that take form as planets, comets, stars, trees, human-kind, and other celestial travelers. This is a manifestation of the creativity of spirit. This is present and reflected on all levels of being. It is with this observation that my drawings are made.”

Marjorie Kaye
388 Essex Street, #1F
Salem, MA 01970
(978) 741-7094

Bartley Keith

the Surrealist & Magic Realist, considers the True Function of Art to
be a Mind-Opening and Spiritual Practice expressed by the artist and explored by viewers. In some ways Art is an Alchemy Tool of large or small transformations, with abilities to see the world in new ways and open minds, revealing personal insights about the self and nature of reality into our conscious minds.

The Artist spent over 20 years producing Realist Artworks for a general audience and has sold Originals & Limited Edition Prints into over 500 homes in Ohio with many repeat buyers. The artist has finally decided to concentrate on doing the Art he loves, sees, and creates within his own mind's eye -usually Surrealism & Magic Realism.

Bartley Keith's Art site is www.bartleykeithsurrealism.com and he may be emailed at artbreton77@yahoo.com for more info or comments.

Glen Wells

Tiptoeing through darkness, searching for scandal, hiding warts that defy logic.
My license to steal has expired. The key to longevity is procrastination.
Curiosity killed the cat, for awhile I was a suspect.
Not calling for revolution, evolution,creative design, creative differences,memory lapses, forgetful forgers,hysteric historians, libeling libertarians,systematic scientific sectarians,egalitarian elucidators of educational egress.

Poetry Collection : http://pvntr.blogspot.com/
E-Mail : gawell@yahoo.com

Kenneth Shapley

This story is an extract from Kenneth Shapleys new novel “When We All Dream Together” available online at www.lulu.com/kenscreations All copyright rights including adaptation for screen belong to Kenneth Shapley.

Kenneth Shapley is a writer, artist, didgeridoo teacher and healer living in Edinburgh. Since an early age he has enjoyed a vibrantly lucid dreaming life. In July 2003 a recurring dream came to him. He wrote it down and just kept on writing. What evolved over the next two years was the novel “When We All Dream Together.” It follows the exciting story of thirteen dreamers around the world who are guided one by one to a magical dream grove by a telepathic tribe of great black cats. Here they meet dream wizards Marlo Timpani and Wee Min who instruct them in the ways of lucid dreaming. Through the magic of sacred geometry, light and sound they become the last dream tribe. Their mission is to share soul wisdom through their dreams and if they can believe in their dreams find each other in waking life. The book sows the seeds for how a dreaming revolution may happen. The book is set in the present with its climax in 2012.

website: www.medicinedreams.com

Gaelin Meyer

I initially started making art as a means of working through all the baggage that I picked up during my childhood. Art as therapy was a very important part of my healing process. I am self taught, dropped out of high school despite being of above average intelligence, and managed to walk into a job teaching art at a local primary school at age 19. Anybody who has taught kids (especially within the constraints of post-apartheid South Africa) knows how exhausting it can be. During this time I didn't focus very much on my own work. I had two little ones of my own, and played with art in my spare time. I also began exploring music. My dad played in a bluegrass band, and I grew up going to gigs with him. Writing music also became a from of therapy. Poetry put to song.

I am now approaching my thirties. In terms of therapy I have worked through (almost) everything on my plate. The deeper issues I address with zen meditation and intuitive energy work. This means that my art is open to the possibility of being a tool for much wider expression. Now I can spend time playing, reflecting the world around me, and exploring new mediums.

The piece that I have submitted for Emerging Visions is called 'merge'. It is a purely experiential state, that cannot be logically or rationaly defined. Hopefully this painting can give the viewer a glimpse into some of the myriad states of consciousness available to us.

You can see more of my work, and hear some _very_ rough demos of my music at http://heartsong.co.za/gaelin/index.htm ( please note the site is still in progress, I am designing in mysef, and still learning some basic HTML skills :)

Seth D8


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