Lemon Whirls and Gumdrop Twirls…

M_135“We took the blood of the earth
and fell in love with death
with life itself as an excuse
Black is the sunlight shimmering below;
it flows through life and the guilt we share
We’re hiding in chorus as starry eyes close,
and seasons part in farewell;
‘cause we drained her blood, then forgetting her face
to hide from everyone”…from ‘The Last Hour of Ancient Sunlight’ by Draconian

Walked to once war—places—of warrior kill and spill of red along the sandy streams of green spaces—dreamed graces and where man—gun—marches—of rustle and rice mix—water—man—gun—to run—to stay and wait for the standing dream-scenes—plays and dances of red colors and life runes—places in ruins along sandy streams—of greener spaces—dreaming graces—places found and now not remembered—OK…We cannot kill a man’s family and expect forgiveness. Come by drone—by rifle—by bomb—by war or proxy—no one can forgive another for the murder of his own blood…Family by family—street-by-street—village—town—city—region—no matter and absolutely—no forgiveness. ‘And! While I breathe—I Hope…’

Planets of beginning’s end, and flashes within war clouds on high and on lighted skies for a trillion miles across the sky. The Alpha and the Omega—where Titans rule Atlantis—and—men of great—remove or rule places in time—now gone and a history of never was—on both the Earth and in the sky. We are—before Floods and long before parts of Genesis—that sometime happened—on—sometime worlds or other spaces—of other places and other times. Our Garden of Eden—not Sins—and then—tossed off-world? Eden could—have been better than ruining—by—T-Rex or consumed—by stronger uprights. Eden and sin and serpents, oh my! We are the proof of far removed parents—when gods may have ruled and created women and men—in places from Sirius to Mars to Earth and back—again? Our rulers and our ruled and our voices and our religions have rewritten our beginnings—in so many places and in so many—might have been accidents—that—these truths or fictions—have blurred the start of lost and the loss of—start. And! Still—the rest is yet to come—why not? ‘And! While I breathe—I Hope…’

This garden is hilltop high—we come here—almost twice—to plant flowers and remember sometime—with our voices. Tree lined field already picked and plowed of life—crosses—path as—resting—inside good woods as we look down—toward cattle and fence and trees and fields and a creek bed dry—except for trickles of water caught by pools and deposited by rains covering this hill and that valley just last evening. ‘And! While I breathe—I Hope…’

These—everyday—fail to notion-grasp the chance—of peaceful notion—depending on how-where you be—when flash streak—smoke reek—eye burn—tear and fear and the warp of notions—peace cease—little ones die before—killer memories evolve—into sweet substance and light bright smiles. Just bump-bangs away or a simple sail—set-to-wind—rail balance—’neath ruin— bridges of seven—or on—another land-fall beneath another sky—homes to build—caves to clean—and again for a short while—arrival—life comes home. Better—than missile speak or places too far gone to seek bomb shelter—chance for another—another dance before smoking tears or tomorrow-sorrow—death—peace—good life—ways forgotten—gone. ‘And! While I breathe—I Hope…’

“The circle safely closed—the web building starts—the markers of builders old and builders new. Star Guide—folded into original shape— until it is—again required and opened to read and follow—‘cross sky-bridge….Bang-Bang-Bang and let the game begin—again…‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this Time—this Twine—Re-wind. Again to be—to see…of loving the loving…of hands joined-to-body moving…of swings and wings and…Spirit-singing and peaceful sighing…Creation—the Witch smile and for this instant within a moment of Time—‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Re-wind.” ‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Rebel-Rebel by David Bowie

Layers of Flash…

Star_735“Know I’ve done wrong,
Left your heart torn
Is that what devils do?
Took you so low,
Where only fools go
I shook the angel in you

Now I’m rising from the ground
Rising up to you
Filled with all the strength I found
There’s nothing I can’t do”…From the song ‘Love Me Again‘…written by John Newman and Steve Booker—

We are not layers of flash and fear and afraid of flash and a million directions without notions of where and how to go or leave or approach or fade away. We are not human…we are alive—life—simple of reason and always on our way away to leave or stay or afraid to simply fade away…Climb now— branches high—winter nigh—leaves not springing—sprung—prior budding and climbing high and tucked just below frost line—mountain soft and night-time slow. Tree high and not moving twin-spin—slower—motion still.

Foreign—not home and light-year long—away from places seen and spaces known before earth-fall—tunnel bright—tunnel sight—and—a space of place between real—and among the magic ones. Planet guided—peace pleased—run coming to streaks of night flash and day dash and a clash of two…And! They come by copter churn-twist-chop—by lorries-engines-rush—by cart-horse-pull—by men stretch-manned-carried—and all wounded ones or twos or many more or less and behind the layered flash of red-pink-nights—we wait and wonder and gather-to-elves notions—of life to stay or life to pass away—today.

We are the daughters and sons of earth and of the starry heavens. Our history is alive—simple and true—except when suppressed and distorted for unnecessary gains and a perversion called wealth…We are the eternity of spirits—no need beginning and never ending. Such is the sweetness of life. Symmetry with no form except wind and rain and careful storms of chaos and figure. Go figure—the here or the now and still history is not preformed or manufactured except through the controllers—of spins and twists and the thrill of the lie. Or—go figure with the smile of Leonardo or the Lady’s laugh or the chatter of many minds or—just a few—of many hearts. Is it better to flee or better to dig livelihood from the bottom of one’s own grave?

Arrives—those machined boxes machine-sweet—and together in minds of same or alternates where we twirl the whirl and call the laugh or two as boxes open and away we—they separate into some things or less or the loneliness of crowd bridges or twin screw moments of those spaces of time without seconds. And! Yes robots—we—search blood and find taste good in mingle – tingle moments—touch-amazing—touch not those imagine sources of unnecessary wariness and one becomes another and brief the flashes together spread the separate into singularity no more than once…Again—again and again.

Wind across this liquid—sunlight and thick wave dance—lights and slivers of silver and gold. Followers watch for scraps or bits to fall toward their reach either diving for something new or rocking gently on this clear sea of warming suns and moonlight’s dance of song and silence. Our nature to run with and from the many or the few? See often through the curved ceiling of doorway when curved light enters twenty-one tiny windows round these openings to escape places and leave regions. Still more a spirit than the body proper until chemicals of doubt and satisfaction rule body self ending sometime in time without mere reasons to be except—a rhythm to complete.

We are the daughters and sons of earth and of the starry heavens. Our history is alive—simple and true except when suppressed—through layers—distortion—or flashes of fear—tears…We are the eternity of spirits—never having to begin and never ending. Such is the sweetness of life.

And! Beautiful you are…

Love Me Again‘…performed by John Newman

Witches of Creation…

Power_67

So Spirit Fly…We are all Angels! Spirit Fly—for Love protects Everyone and Love reminds us that We are the Everywhere of Everyone across Touch Universal—Spirit Dancing—Spirit’s Life. And-Oh-Yeah! Thanks for allowing this ‘Humanum Robot’ to Follow—You! Witches of Creation—for another Year…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘The Power of Love’—by Candy de Rouge—

“I’ll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door

Feels like fire
I’m so in love with you
Dreams are like angels
They keep bad at bay-bad at bay
Love is the light
Scaring darkness away-yeah

I’m so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love your goal

The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love your goal

I’ll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
When the chips are down I’ll be around
With my undying, death-defying
Love for you

Envy will hurt itself
Let yourself be beautiful
Sparkling love, flowers
And pearls and pretty girls
Love is like an energy
Rushin’ rushin’ inside of me

The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love your goal

This time we go sublime
Lovers entwine-divine divine
Love is danger, love is pleasure
Love is pure-the only treasure

I’m so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love your goal

The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
The power of love
A force from above
A sky-scraping dove

Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love your goal

I’ll protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door”—Performed by ‘Frankie Goes To Hollywood’

Leave The Lights On…

M_79Inside a storm—powered walks and ghost-faced—the apparitions of other forms and memories of other long walking times when you and I crossed those places of doubt or mystery of the one to another and more touched a love touched—love touch and not to end or to begin but to exist in a forever place of places and diamond strength.

We—you and I are the always of blood fleshed life and the songs across this universal mist and more between our hopes and fears and the together mists of we—have been here and are now among those stars beneath and below the skies. We are the power of magic life as words fail us and hand touches hand and hearts do thump together into those together places where we together begin and end and begin again…

We do not summon love…It whispers to our spirits—and touches us beyond the flesh of resistance and routes of layers and lives inside walls too high to be climbed or under or around or about the shouts of daily doubts and flight. Love heart touches and reaches—into body frail and those impossible attempts to hide among thrones of thorns and weary costs already paid and already spent. Listen—just listen. And! Love reminds us of the equality of equals—woman and man and the spirits of all trapped and living sentient sentences of life inside body—minding body.

In Calimesa City—seasons sometimes never alter the changes of day-to-day or week-be-week…In oiled air and heat/cold times—slick sea surfaces of spilled fog vapor and left over atmosphere exist…There be here… no peace in the world physical; space of place—we so require peace and survival love—surviving touches of harmony and balance and notions of understanding flash when notions between bullet touch and thunder waits just after lighting streaks across the sky of storms and cool winds stir after the noises of sky-rockets and after smoke fades from visions and sight.

In Calimesa City of Hearts—dwell the united of twin-twined spirits twirling the whirling of life and by passing this way to that place—continue they or stop or begin or begin the other dances of other places and races and the rhythm of spin story and formations of other forms…Abbreviations or truncations or annunciations and oh? The variations of Life Force and Form spin circles of universal swirl and twirl and whirl.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Go Your Own Way’ —by Lissie

Inspire—Expire and Moments…

G_33Time begins a whenever sounding of music—never ends through never ending starts of measures—measured and notes sent bouncing across a five lined staff of tremble and rhythm of rolling those tremulous ends or beginning starts or stops. An octave away and sound still rocks an ear or two toward silence not to hear but still vibrating life and crossing spaces between sound and whispering wind without pine forests or desert sands.

And ‘coke-blow’ away the white lined wind—never end and painless needles spin unreal reality and fade body walks among shimmers of blackness—edge storms—blinks the kitten eyes and scrapes escape to rooftop stars and window shines. There are no sounds of screams—in silence. Music in mind sized levels is only inside mind sized ears to once be seen in scales of notes added to working words to form verses of sound mix and chorus touch. An often dream or is this a poem of poet-speak? And! Not to know sometimes creates choirs in four-part harmony…

Hear pitch perfect spirit chorus pushed from moon-side to earth-side and back across ear-to-ear and from throat-to-voice and again out into spaces of hearing voices and silence. Created listener—speaker—and the quiet times of silent-speak. So! If gods are sexless and we created are creation of images dreamed and beamed to radiated radiation—we spirit-dance these sounds without vibrated vibrations or derivations’ chaos there be—than we see and be both the life of songs and silence…We finds this good!

Not so often—the choir of silence sings the songs of gatherings and sweet rolls of honey bread and coffee. Soft conversations in land’s across diners where breakfast breaks fasts of night and sleep ends in shrugs—stretched—muscles—twitched and sounds—reminding lives of living gently—cross clefts of treble wires and bass notes just beneath the bottom line. Falling trees in dawn lights at the center of creation’s place—vibrate notions and sounds both of illusive—illusions and illustrated—illustrations. We! Gods of these creations do find these to be good…

Thinking… With over 300—Chinese Billionaires and Companies of Capitalism—would Chairman Mao think—say—realize—and then—how would He react? Who—What—Where—When—Why—How? Newsy-News is commercial  excessive successes…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Banshee’ by Kendra Morris

Lights at World End…

Ships_427‘Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea today and follow tide…Come to harbor  sirens call…Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea to safety side tonight.’

Lights at the end of the world. Now! See those lights across these thousand worlds—welcome home to places you have started and places to begin again or again or on another day’s end and another night’s beginning. Drums to market those marks of time we call our own as heart beats—it starts again and ticks for awhile of wills coming around the corners of spaces in places seen or forgotten or found once for many crossings of spaces and races and time.

Steel Riders pause by waterside as tides of water—kiss shoreline wave length along with one hundred sounds and as gulls ride the dips of above and around piers of ruined wood and splintered ages where once the Calimesa City existed and tide changes mattered to boat anchored and ships sailing against the evening lines. The water’s edge and the skies of blue and pink and red and orange and yellow—as earth spins sets sunlight to softness and twinkles of sky lighted canvas sheets the blue-gray into darkness and stars light the sailor’s way along the caverns of space and place and the race of time.

These are the salty ways of salted sea and flecks of foam scatter along shore-sided shifts of sand from wet to dry and dune rise above and beyond watered edges before ruined boardwalks remind nothing of something once savored and watched and known by forgotten ones—once upright writers of the times and the sounds of ‘days of a future’s past.’ Still! We all cross spaces along these places of the races in time gathered and night ships crossing heaven’s ragged ridges…

Slaves of speed and those things filling corners of house scattered and caves overwhelmed by many needs requiring covers to crawl into and away from storm’s wrath—drenched in sweat and rain and dried with winds of howling sounds and lighted by the flash of light streams—traced along the edges of cloud swirl and twirl and reflected from a trillion eyes shining bright into those nights of storm and clutter and later—mist lifts from a million places outside caves and houses and homes now forgotten and almost gone.

Robot now and then and once again when creature walks splendid winds across another place of times remembered and the stories of this and that are told by any-to-any-listening to robot tales and adventures as the course of discourse is launched through songs of sailor’s speak and wig-waggled across a thousand skies complete with warrior legends and the strength of priestess kiss and home returns. We all sail here—the sailors of these moments—friends and family and the you of me and the me of us and all—eternal spirits we be the power of life—inside folded space or outside yonder rim-spin—we are…

This time of days of times ago and present time, the old man vision touched those other ones and whispered, “Not this time—Not this time—our children will not go to war.” Others knew that this time of times would not be the time for dead children and metal touch-to-flesh-madness—For these moments in time—warriors were not necessary…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘The Islander’—by Nightwish

Moon Color Red…

9A quotation repeated…”It is the duty of us all to ensure that our society remain one of which we are proud, not a society wary of immigrants and intent on their expulsion or a society that disputes the welfare state or a society in which the media are controlled by the wealthy. We would oppose such things were we true heirs to the National Council of the Resistance.”— By Stephane Hessel

We are immigrants of this world. Since a flash of mystery or notions or nicks or knacks or reasons or rhymes we move through time and place and home and one-to-another. We are the managers ‘blood of red’ same air and dancers of fictional truths drawn by spirits same and dreams of hope and the hope of dreams. We are the past—the present—and the days of future dances.

We are the art of the Gods!   We are life—all growing and all walking and all crawling and all swimming—We are Life—perfect and unstoppable…Needs fulfilled—Peace? Poverty is not a disease. Greed is disease and the antithesis of Peace. And! Better to fall in love than to fall in battle…

Medicine may assists us…Medicine never creates us…Medicine does not destroy us…Us…Life and the power of Love. Helping any life to heal must never be considered revenue. Must be without reason and to be applied without expectation of compensation…Medical—Life—Cost—Need—Always—Greed…

Ο Όρκος του Ιπποκράτη

“I swear by Apollo Physician and Asclepius and Hygeia and Panaceia and all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

To hold him who has taught me this art as equal to my parents and to live my life in partnership with him, and if he is in need of money to give him a share of mine, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage and to teach them this art—if they desire to learn it—without fee and covenant; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the medical law, but no one else.

I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

What I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep to myself, holding such things shameful to be spoken about.

If I fulfill this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.”

Words and reasons of and for oaths are altered by translations and by time… ‘Ο Όρκος του Ιπποκράτη‘ is ancient in the time of flesh, however; seconds in the time of Life. Magic words are spoken and promises are broken or changed or forgotten. However; when flesh cries from the pain of sickness or fear or anguish—magic must never be diminished by the filth of money-changers and by the Greed of Destruction…

And! Beautiful you are…

The Balance of Nations…

P_88In the twirl of the whirl and between the steps of metal warriors, Robots—us begin a step-lock of unison and the hope of…Earth renewal and the premised promises of days to better the inside-outside of motions reached without notions of greed and the failure of ‘too-much-too soon and too often.’

Freedom requires a society to alter a spread of nothing too many and too much to very few. Kingdoms? Governments? Religions—A name of control by a few over everyone? Prophets and Saviors have roamed this sweet earth and gently whispered of social worlds and caring among societies. Were these magic-folk the founders of Socialism? Did magicians of Buddhism or Islam or Hinduism or Christianity conjure the magic of Socialism?

The Religions that quickly chased—followed these Foundation Creators created War Machines and Kingdoms of Profit…Wars—Crusades—Reformation—Alteration—Reputation—Saturation and Infatuation— are ruler words…Bloodletting ensues and what is physical turns to dust in eyes-twinkle and agony…On the back of labor and slaves and wage-slaves…Governments are created—enhanced—and ultimately destroyed. ‘Blood—Sweat—Tears’ are people costs…Rulers advance and decline once they dismiss their origin of originality.

Western Civilization…Equals the commission of crimes against Humanity to further Profit Lust and the Terror of Capitalism. Moments in time, recorded by the people and not by the winners of wars and the concentration of wealthy words and lies; world variances and imbalances are discovered.  Imbalanced nations (currently in the Middle East)?  When people die—the wealthy win…Many people die—the wealthy win. When there are wars—the wealthy win.  Called Religious wars—Sectarian strife—and many other names. The destruction of balance—Yes–Yes—Yeah!

During the 20th century, the USA favored dictators over freedom throughout South America. Cuba is very close—almost ‘Florida close…’ Why is this present day embargo still the reality of an ‘old-white-men’ government? Another terror of Capitalism—Yes! Why is Socialism an enemy of the People? It is not a crime nor is it against the rights of People anywhere…Redistribute the costs of Cold and Hot Wars committed against humanity during the twentieth century and our world—prospers in a Social world. Equality—Yes—Yes—Yeah!

In countries practicing Capitalism (USA, etc.) the means of production are not labor’s property. Very few people own the land and materials required for manufacturing, factories, machines and other instruments of production…Therefore; if you are not wealthy you are a slave—a wage slave. Wages are never fair because the lust-for-profit is more powerful than Truth, Justice, Love and Life.

Corporate ‘cultures’ easily translated mean—profit at all cost and all of the Working Class is an expense…Eliminate every expense to further our profits! La Serrata—Separation? Where are the values we learned from our mothers? Why is greed the prime motive of Industry and its future development? For the standards of friendship and family and our world, Capitalism is the antithesis. It adheres to competition at all costs. It dismisses cooperation, help for fellowman, responsibility to society, the benefits of others and love.

Abusing the rights of the Workers-of-the-World is a Crime against Humanity…Like Genocide and Sociocide, these abuses; destroy life and the freedom of people everywhere on this twirly-whirly planet. Capitalism is not freedom…It is slavery for us all…It is war and a savage waste of precious life…It benefits no one except a few. It destroys Society…It forces revolution and revolution is bloody. Why is Religion also an industry? Why not just…Lust of life—not of Riches?

  • Per Pope John II— Centesimus Annus: “Ownership of the means of production, whether in industry or agriculture, is just and legitimate if it serves useful work. It becomes illegitimate, however, when it is not utilized or when it serves to impede the work of others in an effort to gain a profit which is not the result of the overall expansion of work and the wealth of society, but rather is the result of curbing them or of illicit exploitation, speculation or the breaking of solidarity among working people. Ownership of this kind has no justification and represents an abuse in the sight of God and humanity.”

So Again:  “Go ahead and hate your neighbor—go ahead and cheat a friend—Do it in the name of heaven— you could justify it in the end—There won’t be any trumpets blowing—come the judgment day—On the bloody morning after—One Tin Soldier rides away.”

by Joni Mitchell

And! Beautiful you are…

Life! Not Resource…

F141Life is not a resource. Life is being…Trees—fish—animals—reptilian alive—life. Since life is being then everything on this precious earth and in our sweet oceans—lakes and rivers are beings. We too are members of this stream and our existence and freedom and balance are interlocked in these motions and rhythms and rhymes. Dependents we are and we rejoice in the music of nature’s symphony and universal spirit-speak.

Life is not a resource. Forests are not board-feet. Our precious animals are alive and well and multiplying within circle-life and when undisturbed; are balance and the harmony of earth twirl and whirl across space—required for survival and never a commercial aggravation of money changers and the idiocy of gain. Precious must be protected; used by wise beings, removed from destruction and worshiped as our only method to survive future days or nights. Unless! Flash we stop and our carbon-based trickle ceases equal value and determination.

Life is not a resource. When forest covered this place—land once stripped is now concrete jungles and scattered sky-buildings layered from portions of little to—too much. Resource-speak twisted this place into battlefields and crime and punishment and the damage of civilization and the end of peace. Nations began with ‘battle-cries of freedom’ and the blood of poor laborers and slaves created hope for many and freedom for few.  Life is not  to be purchased or sold.

Life is not a resource. The middle of an Eastern portion of a world spinning across a universe of space and time and landfall and splendor has a determination created by a Western ideology so foreign and devoid of principle that Sociocide is a study in collateral damage and a ‘resourceful’ necessity. Egypt—Palestine—Lebanon—Syria—Iraq—Iran and…Presently; these wars are battles of imbalance created by this terror from the West. Someday soon—this will pass…Life is sacred and family is love!

Life is not a resource—and Colonialism is the destruction of Society. Western civilization believes life is resource. However; life is interlocked and dependent and precious. Resource is another tool for wealth creation and the capitalization of destruction. Until decisions of an illogical accumulation of life as resources cease, the world will gain nothing and the drones of war will continue forever.

Life is not a resource. May we all become an inspiration of balance and love? Remember we are creations of creative folk—never alone. We are spirits and joined to every living thing—seen and also not observed. We are animals and fish and reptiles and trees and flowers and skies and moons and suns and stars and planets across many miles inside universes of many miles.

Are we not everlasting spirit-life in an eternal place wherever these places remain? Now! Cover us with moonlight and star bright—as we angel-dance in misty air and yesterday’s futures—tomorrow.

And! Beautiful you are…

Wolf Diamonds and Life…

A721Are we more than the physical bodies we almost realize? An Eternal Spirit is a forever being with great substance and knowledge and wisdom and the understanding of…We are the dreams of everything and more than less…It is not the riddle of life. It is the living of this day. We are not born to die. We are not created by accident or purpose or reason or rhyme. We are life and we rule universal space  between drops of rain and among flakes of snow.

We spin just right of whales with horns and the unicorns of ages ago and futures from earth. We live inside the great shadows of a trillion suns of light and night and moon silver twirls upon the magnificence of between times when drenched in golden dreams and diamond wolves of today’s day-night. Not a middle riddle called Life…

Walk these Martian trails long before bombs turn soil red and chase air away from ground. We dance piper sounds between green cliffs of magic and the forever of Ever-lands. Gods smile and we; you and I smile back and with boundless energies of we—feed the land. We are the blood of substance but just for a little time and then we begin-again as now and as then ago.

Do we determine our own destiny—both as spirits and as the blood of flesh? Angry Gods do not exist. Angry men—matter little except to scrubs of scurry selves, being just before the spirits of after self and spinning matter of expressions. Rude the kings and queens of foolish speak when angles fall toward earthbound trivial moment and gods require no explanations and fear rules these angled angels.

As bloody flesh, we turned peace to war and gash—slash across another spin of earth. Battles disturb the strength of peace and the balance of life. We war against nothing except the ideas and ideals of Anti-life. Remove religions and governments and kings and queens!  Better-to-fall-in-love—not-to fall-in-battle—donchathink?

And! Beautiful you are…