Spinning Triangles…

5from the ‘Thunder—Perfect Mind’

“For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin. . . .
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons. . . .
I am the silence that is incomprehensible . . .
I am the utterance of my name.” (a feminine power divine)

We End…Storm-side fury—then gone…Quick-to-die and always—short to live. Snow— drinking blood. Wind shifting sands—the path always found—footsteps always gone. Come and go—never footsteps just paths beginning and footsteps—gone. Pictures supply—by the pushers— drugs—be free and around every curve something still-stands—still-falls—still-prays—still raptures and always fades. And! I will love you until—the wheels finally come off… “The world is an indecipherable-essentially absurd but fascinating spectacle.” (From Joyce Carol Oates):

‘The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his “natural superiors”, and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous “cash payment”. It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervor, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom — Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation. The reason the bourgeois exist and exploit the proletariat with low wages is private property, “the accumulation of wealth in private hands, the formation and increase of capital” and that wage labor is created entirely by competition among the workers…’ (Friedrich Engels)

Why compete—when together—we can ‘Over-Come.’…Xenophobia is fear of self…We have a right to be everywhere. When the rich become too rich—the wealthy—become selfish… Capitalist—classes abound…Now! On this earth too few people control the wealth—slave to wage folk are losing…Distribution of America’s wealth—Maybe—’an only way to survive’ donchathink?

The Siden war of occupation and terror continued for too many generations. Unfair war! Unity Central participated across planet distance from Siden World…Memory slipping of why supported; however, wealth and greed and the war-breed-slide collided with the like-minded. Historians now practiced the slice/dice recording of the winner of the Siden War. The destruction of a people include the body-spirit and the ways of people. Gone from prime memory—their art and their language and their reasons-for-love…Gone—their family traditions—their celebrations and their reasons—of-living-life. Siden—gone.

History spins tales—of warrior-world and of victory spoils. Truthful-liars create their world and into sand and dust go everything else. The spinning of ‘truth-creep’ bumps into pages of ‘Urgent News—Read all about It.’ Attacks—are always proper and necessary. People destroy—always the enemy-mine. And! Let their story end…so we can forget all about it.

Not all people are warriors—Our little ones and our women and our elders (the teachers of tradition—life—wisdom—hope and continuation) also die. They are societies’ survival and their names and their lives must be remembered—Correctly counted and reported and cherished in the present and the future. The People of Siden? Ultimately—religion’s mad wiggle becomes the rhyme and the reason for an unfair world…Religion always kills…Death of life is wrong…When death seizes a life may death be a natural ending and not a war-forced sorrow. Then—‘We may not be born to be wasted.’

And! Beautiful you are…

Roads

“Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong
Storm.. in the morning light
I feel
No more can I say
Frozen to myself
I got nobody on my side
And surely that ain’t right
And surely that ain’t right
Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong
How can it feel, this wrong
This moment
How can it feel, this wrong
Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong” (written and performed by Portishead)…

Of Spirit Songs and…

S_199—In your sound of music—in your works of art-touch and your words of rhythm and rhyme; I taste and feel the strength of your presence—Past and Today and into the Future and ‘wow’ light does exist…Thanks for sharing!

When eternal spirits visit body magic, please protect the ‘ghosts in these machines’—Open arms and rejoice in this welcoming of life—body embraced—touched senses to ground and as sky flight races across sky’s grand lengths remember—there are no gates of heaven. Body—form—blood—love—hand-to-hand and hip-to-hip—to and from the Mother-Ship…

Find no balance to bible-speak or the ramblings of government kings or the priests of wealth and babble—for they are the attempted ‘evil’ of control and failure. Eternal Spirit touches eternal spirits…Simple—refined—fair—logical—true and requiring no men-of-middle-claims or endless fancy killings—or…

Presidents, Premiers, Dictators, Popes, Imams, Chieftains, Generals-of-Death, Politicians-of-Control and Preacher Kings …When you fly by as simple sky birds without metal form and blame; we may just for an instant, look up into the sky and smile. Then we will continue the protection of little ones and our spinning world. Is not the purpose of us to help the small ones grow into the large ones?

When the call of  heart gives up and ends… eternal spirit never ceases—Eternal Spirit never waits to gain permission and access to Universe. Life is unstoppable and never ending…No Judgment awaits—No future calls for horror—No memories of past or present or future physical constructions…Not required or necessary. Gods created spirit-sparks and spirits—together dwell in the whenever time of wherever places for whatever reasons.

Call spirit-dance! The naming of name-times quantify mysteries of understanding heart-touch inside flesh-times when body-survival purposes daily pursuits or interests—same as food to stomach and sleeping in arms-of safety. Mother holds baby close and Father embraces in his arms; hope and love and protection. She and he together, once more family-dance the form of strength social and fabricated continuum.

So! Visiting Spirits stop and animate walking—flying—swimming and crawling flesh. No tests and no required reasons. Gods create no wars on earth or in the above places of the wherever or ever been. Gods do not allow horror or death or strife or pain or happiness or grief or destruction. The ‘Gods’ do not judge the fallibility or fragility of flesh and whimsy. Why? Poverty—Greed—Control—Governments—Religions equal the Terror/Horror of this immediate now and this immediate place.

Life is Eternal Spirit and we are these spirits. One or many across a star field of many star-filled nights and days. Stars do not dim in the light-of-dawning bright. Eyes often see more than eyes discover and understanding may stop at birth or continue until stopped heart—begins Spirit-walks again across a Spirited-Sky—beyond—below and maybe again on a whirly-twirly world somewhere in another time or place or race. Nothing matters—except Love and Life and Peace—doncha think?

And! Beautiful you are…

‘My Destiny’—by Leaves’ Eyes

Before Thunder Words…

F34bCaution now and then the laughter of strings from harps as happens when verses dance along these pages of parchment and tin pictures. Dust spreads across this land as the too much wind and too late water cannot not spread trickles and tickles of streams and lakes and oceans of fresh liquid across a salt less sea. Lifelines of service—tonight we caress soft sounds and submit to our songs.

The dancing skates of wheels and those of ice rails arrive to use by feet and ancient selves of balance and twists and turns and freedom without the gravity of graves as again the singing strings of violins fill the evening with song and rhythm and rhyme. And! Fiddlers play music—lately into the night and dancers form circles toward fires of light and away from darkness or the empty space of silence.

Together stories of life are magnificent. Tales and lies and glories and lies and the tall words of historic wars and heroic praise not required when the fiddlers play true sense of liquid verses and the movement of peace endings and hopes beginning in the fires of spirit strength and life’s power. Everlasting is this spirit and life begins and ends as the fiddlers play.

You do come home. This is a place where monsters do not dwell except in the mystery of children’s thoughts and their laughter. You do come home, where bombs of war do not shatter dreams or disturb determination of freedom—folly and lives. This is our place without borders.  Only the religions of kings attempt to divide and conquer spirit wings and fiddlers speak.

Our bags of sleep are warm and not the humble man’s strait jacket. We gather to face fire for light and we turn away to sleep. Quick is the night and into the mists of morning’s gathering we shift and shape and move as substance occurs and flesh begins—warm of blood and energy. As day we begin another time without restrictions or reasons or thoughts except to begin as light spreads and we muscle our way into another way of day.

And! Beautiful you are…

Change Body Change…

71In the beginning there was the violence of creation—and as womankind and mankind spread about the earth violence was their survival…Born in blood and dead in blood. Such is the way of physical life and being physical in the rhythm of here-today-and-gone-tomorrow. Within the cycle called life—we are born to be wasted.

Let us not fall in war but simply fall in love! A pleasant change—don-cha-think?

 

“Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one”…’Image’ by John Lennon

And! Beautiful you are…

//

Illusions and River Spirits…

44The Hollowing is an indentation of soil between concrete ruins and dirt–just a skip from Will’s alley. It is a sacred area. Hollowing is visited by those healthy and those sick of Plague Waste…Religiously sacred? The Witches’ Coven and blessed ground is touched and healing powers and love abounds and…Crowman knows better.

Hollowing is a bomb-sized hole in the ground used as cover during Latest War. These pictures of miracle destroyed large chunks of Sity and killed eighteen million and one half…Latest War occurred one hundred years past and was just another in the many wars fought first for ideals and then for survival…Plague came later and survival lost!

What of Coven and what of life’s life? In a wig-waggled world most children do not live past the ‘coming of age.’ We are ‘preggers’ and then we die of Plague waste. It is a simple death. No suffering, no pocks, not ugly…just sleep. So! The hope for young men and young women to procreate, in case of ‘cure-fall,’ is great. And! There is ‘cure-fall.’ Many gatherings live past their twentieth year and some into their thirties.

Not many—but sacred—for they are the mothers and the fathers of future days…Not hopeless, then. Sad, yes…but expected without variance, except by Coven…Witches live forever. Witches are the power of lives and life and choices and dictates and control. They are the fire builders and the rain of oils that fall from somewhere-to-there without distraction…The Coven hurls great sounds and flashes across sky and through the clouds.

Sity is a child’s world both spelled and said as it sounds. Sity is concrete and great rivers of water and oil and salt and the saturation of dusted waste and dusted life. Sity is a brief whisper of humanity. Sity is crap. Sity is sore. Sity is the dance across once hills and soft snow and winter night. Sity is life and snow is no longer white.

Crowman glances down. The boy is strange and speaks few words. Withdrawn? However, that is his way. They are; the children surviving Plague. Quiet? Yes! And; yes again to fatalism, fear, courage and the strength of one or more than one. Nothing surprises them. They accept everything. They expect nothing normal and nothing abnormal.

They do not understand the difference. There is nothing either moral or physical. Customs and habits do not; for children, exist. Only survival…Sity.

And! Beautiful you are…

//

//

War Eternally Yours…

We fight these wars for so long and over and again until life ends and begins and ends…yesterday—today—tomorrow…Nothing matters but everything means the beginning of another end and we die and live together on these fields of battle.

I have been with you and in the names of religion and government and power and home, we battled foe, either you or me against another or against each other. No matter…we lived and died and were remembered and forgotten. And! We fought these wars and died. Forever; these wars for life-for throne-for freedom and we are lost.

War with Alexander or against Napoleon or another king or another religion of a same or different God. You and I, battle scarred or wounded or dying and never remembered except when she misses us or when we miss her. And! Our women go to war beside us. They stand with us and they die with us. They are not created to die in war. They are Life.

If we hate war—then why do we continually fight wars against life until life ceases and starts and stops and begins—ad infinitum? We! Are born to be wasted? Flags changed and still blood red is never a different liquid poured from wounds of knife or sword or spear or bullet or bomb or cannon or when mixed with powder and smoke. Blood red flows from you and I and horse and cat and dog and man and woman and child and baby…Still blood red—cries for strength and air and life.

I win and your history fades. You win and my life fades…And! If I must fight may I die to protect or save my family and my love? Be damned the government or the church or the faith or a thousand knife wounds or a million bullets. I fight and I will die for Home—and home is where I am this time—in this land or another place or world in another day or another time. We are born to be wasted…

Would it be precious to know that Love and Peace and Understanding is the next ideal stop made beneath the sky? Would it be precious not to be born and wasted but to be born and last without war for just one lifetime? Not to fall in battle—but just to fall in love…

One then
Two now
Then another
Then we
Then us.

Growls both low
And throat deep
Sounds just above
Noise-thought and
Beyond Dream-Speak.

Then whistles
Of distant trains.
A long distance
Away-again a call
And memory of war…

And! Beautiful you are…

Songs of Sociocide and…

Across skies ago, wails of the finish: of together and life and custom and speak and thought and reason and living and dying stopped immediately…Reverses gone. Motion and the familiarity of home-stop and vision of little candles burning in the window or home lights at the end of the world—extinguished and gone. The sailors without sail and the soldiers without war and the need to succeed in twinkling flashes disappeared across this sky above earth-spin. They were gone and we ended.

Someone said they arrived and Sociocide began the end of civilization. We became world-colony and use and stop and start and stagger and another Earth diminished before the new illumination and enlightenment. They stripped bare–ground quicker than we had consumed our way across the planet. These off-worlders devoured our own too many and our own slaughter of mother-world and the failing of protection became insignificant.

These fools and folly of off-world stopped our only way to continue. They failed to see their vision fade into star-stream and moon-dust. They removed our Love…

He looked up and said…”Scan the sky-sweet baby. Must leave… They will kill you. Somehow! Go to them. And you will not die.”

She too looked and saw his face, “Without you, I am dead…Without us we end. Without you and me— no Baby and without—we are…”

Is this a love story? Sociocide is now! Sociocide is yesterday! Sociocide is murder! Sociocide is  Crime against Humanity…Ask the Natives of America or the Palestinians or…It does require time, however, today we free-fall toward acceleration and the annihilation of Everyday.

And! Beautiful you are…

Tears to Cry…

1…We find clouds within the river of souls. Rivers of the sea. These rivers born become sky. When the rivers become too heavy they fall back into the sea. Rivers-to-rain-to-earth-to-mountains-and-reason flows into sea…

We are born with all knowledge and wisdom and reason…We pass this way or that-many times born and many times moved. Born knowing all yet remembering in the physical is the challenge.

Is mind trick a past living and not in present mind-side?  Is this a cursed perception of no-know and bliss. Today! The feline lives and reacts and lives and we die every day as present gives way to knowing of days future’s past.

We constant filter and with the filtering come the rise of inability to learn the newest faction of the newest day…Why? Survival required or as young we faithfully believe that we are the protected ones…So! Does the manufacturing of physical pursuit and the push to procreate change us into constant filter and learning’s inability to survive in its most improved state of origin? Is development the cessation of originality? Can-can’t-won’t-don’t-will-will not, ad infinitum…We are a stop-start filtering failure-one splash at a time? We are the social creation, born individuals and seeking ways to listen yet forgetting to hear the use of universal song and the rhythm of planet twirl and the wig-waggle space of home.

2…George Orwell wrote of the difference between the proles and the folks in Winston Smith’s realm…Proles were nasty folk…however, these loved—joyous sex, raised children as parents, thought the way people usually think and were touched/untouched by government (controls)…in the name of being proper…Today, I fear that we are deeply involved with gov-speak, thought control and the manipulation of the few over the mass…I am non-prole wishing to be free.

Is faith nothing more than another word for instinct? And what is the actual difference between evolution and creation…We can still be the product of a creator(s) and continue to change (evolve) ad infinitum! Do we need a religion or a religious bent-curse-construction to be good people? What is a ‘good’ person? If creature—creators returned, if they are able to return, would these creators be so dense that they would not understand the physical nature of us grabbing an edge and hanging on to survive? Be fruitful and multiply–why not?  We are designed to procreate. Faith or instinct or just another word for one robot’s run with another robot…So! I prefer to dance along the lunatic ridge and robot-run out-of-the-way of necessity. The only difference I have discovered between us Robots is inside/outside! We share time-we are family we are unplugged–damn! Hoping that Me (Robot) unplug before you (Robot)! Survival dictates this hope. Instinct? The edge-framed in faith? I created to protect your sweet machinery…would not have it any other way…Programmed—oh-hell yeah!

We would happily check the past and the future to better understand today…understanding is another survival dance in three-time tracks?

3…She and her child almost became warriors turned inside-out and the enemy of each thought and word and movement in a dark lot after sundown inside or outside the vehicle of hope’s loss and under the street lamps. Raging usually saved for woman against woman’s territory and boundaries and love lost somewhere between proper and violence…Lost mother and lost daughter and feud-fire for every reason and no reason to lose or love one another except through blood-bond and reason-love. Drink my tears… I cry.

And! Beautiful you are…

Upside-Down to Where…

How much can the weight of an upside-down giant pyramid be supported by the strength of American Workers, until this giant super-structure crumbles and turns to dust? Damage control has failed and the fiction of a powerhouse US dollar is just a fictitious theatrical prop. Jobs and credit are gone. However, how much can be repaired by future money that has already been spent and exhausted?

Bad is worse? Crumble-crumble and the giant pyramid is “falling down is falling down”…Already started several years ago. Cause and what is happening? Known and Failure…

Government is impotent? The war-machine is or appears to be innocuous? And! The three branches of the American Government are lobby-front and lobby center? Any part of the Executive and Legislative branches can be purchased? No and Yes? Come on…How much money does Truth cost?

Baa-boom and baa-boom and Baa-boom and North to Central to South America disappear? Dictators again or an eternal revolution? Wear, were and now where?

List features called our issues have no solution. Only talk-shows remain to spin nothing into nothing and bad-news to follow these shows into silence?

Fortunes are made in the talk-shows list of problems with no answers because sheep will follow any shepherd appearing on their televisions over any cliff in high-definition and crisp color.

oops…there goes a once powerful and good country into the unseen and soon-to-be-forgotten surface of another soon to be discovered paradise?

Oh yes!  There goes this world…

Far-Right Christianity Club (FRCC)

Moneychangers are waiting 20-deep to take your money and spend our church money on a Babylon life in this Babylon time. The Far-Right Christianity Club (FRCC) is…a long list of faults and errors and judgments. They are not a part of our message of Love and Truth and Understanding. Mankind can destroy the body, however, mankind is unable to pass judgments on his own soul, times several billion souls.

Fear the FRCC because of their Kill Zones. Too much hatred, too much thumping, too much money and a powerful lobby, able to legislate morality (gay marriage, abortion and other FRCC policies)…oops, there goes the separation between Church and State.

Power is not always correct. FRCC is incorrect.

Peace and Love and Understanding is a wonderful counter to the above. Peace and Love and Understanding are the Power of the People…

Correct and Amen…