Saturday, December 24, 2005

Oh, you know what I mean huh?

All the words ever put too paper come from a mind, and only that mind knows the many nuances that make up the accumulative feeling, and depth of those words. It is not my intent to specifically point out certain individuals in general, for all will receive there court hearing, but it will not be from I. These are feelings that I have felt towards all mankind, and still feel, this including myself, for I am part of mankind, and even though for a long while I did not want to be part of it, I would sit imagining many scenario's in which would have brought my seed from far away places. Although this might be true in the ' particle ' sense of things, it is not in others. And again, " oh, you know what I mean huh? ", just kidding, sort of. My patience is growing short with situations that have no relevant logic to them, which leads me to desire total solitude. For many this is the last thing in which they wish to find themselves, but not for I. I have used solitude many times in life to seek shelter in, gain insight into myself, rest, enjoy hobbies that otherwise would not be able to do, reflect, and consider all ' more important things ', which distraction tends to dissolve in self, for then the self is not isolated to these evaluations only. I do not intend any harm; although freedom of speech, and self pity will ferment such things, nor ill-will, only what I truly feel, it being encoded only for me to know, until someone asks it of me, then my mouth will flow. But people today want to take the shorter road( like the rabbit), not following the course of things that are, leaving some segments out for fear of what is found within themselves. Everything changes, this is the only constant, the only thing that does not change, something in which we can do nothing about. However this also means that in which feels us with poison of heart of mind, does not have to always feel us with hurt and pain, for we are ' free ' moral agents, this means when things pertaining to our lives directly cause us pain and suffering, because of the immorality, we have the ' freedom ' to change it into a circumstance without pain and suffering, as long as our actions are ' moral ', for if they are not, then we do not have that freedom any longer, the motives being immoral. Of course the only human in which should advise us on this course in the end, should be ourselves, because we are ' free ', not bond as a slave to any other human being. I can handle opposing feelings on anything, just as long as I, in the end, am observed that right by another, for this is what all demand for themselves, and I know how to make proper use of that ' freedom '.

Diaries of IS1.239.

Only to be revealed too in the end, as another broken promise. Im seeing great calamity, who is wiser, the one shouting it from the mountains, or the other keeping to oneself? What is the coexistence of contingent matter in relation to subatomic particle diffraction, and what would that mean if such were manipulated in adverse ways for our planet? Questions never end. At any given moment there are very important questions that need an answer. All is ending here! My mother soothes me, her scent refreshing my senses, like the breathing in of a soft spring day. I miss her when leaving, like tomorrow she might not appear again, so I need to fill my cup of her always. The bible says that only those that have a heart of a child will enter the heavenly kingdom, so when alone with her and reverting to a young child again, just shows how much " child " is in this 28 year old man. IM quite pleased actually. Yes " mother " I will take the medicine( something in which I have not done yet), and quite being so stubborn. Walking around many boulevards tends to sore the feet you know. Where are you? Are you still out there, or have you been taken as well, perhaps we have already crossed paths, not to our notice. The road twists and turns, where it goes we never " really " know, although we try to fool ourselves with our " future" plans, even the crow flies crocked sometimes. I feel overly aloof now, a good indication is floating back down to earth, tranquility once again resting upon me, it saying softly " once again your poison is out, it is resting in time on the page of your notebook, rest now! Journey through a certain realm always requires special attention, and planning, for it is carefully guarded by viewers, many of them, constantly watching for flies on the wall. These ventures happening from the comfort of my own room, a warfare that exist out of physical view, sneaking up to the prismatic energy chambers, cloaking myself with ignorance; so as not to be detected, watching constantly for the flash of the viewer. Once in the energy field; it meshing, fluctuating all around the fibers of time, I thought I had found the keys, the answers, but only left without a complete picture of what was even yet to be, these journeys to this place are few, for the presence could tear one into. The wavy diffraction of light, as star is looked at through our atmosphere, hiding thoughts that one does not want to fear, solitude resides then " if " forever, only to be left with a reverting to beginning of all accomplishments. Oh the sutle velvet waves, slowly vibrating through my frequency perception, calming, attributes of gifts that many do not find from the hand of time. What color is your day? And why? Change is only as far away as we let it be, paths become worn, ruts are formed in which we have to sometimes crawl out of, broken, worn over, steady hands wither into nervous limbs, for what? Mom, I was not finished telling you something. I hate this feeling of not " really " knowing. I miss the streets of Austin during the wintertime, clammy cold wetness draped on the sidewalks, puddles vibrate from the rhythm's of downtown, the automated night percussion of the city wears on, fluctuating frequencies from the heat and air systems snoring away. As I sit perched on the restricted partition on the 18 story garage, observing the north 6th and congress streets. The rain comes in waves, generated by the condensing pressure from the buildings. As I put my eye to the scope I remembered the mission at hand, now was no time for transcendental memory. My target was STARTecho138, this is all I know, as well as a picture and characteristics. I did not know what he had done, didn't do, or do improperly. The way in which I was hired was anonymous, I only suspect the " powers that are "; wherever they are at, were providing me with work. The first time that I took a offer from them was my first mistake, for they control everything(despite what the ignorant want to think), and the risk of descent was impossible since there would be nowhere to get away to. And so here I lay, with a bead on a stranger, I was to shoot the MI1001 self extractor, which is a dart device which attaches payload to the subject, then spring recoils a long distance away from the target, hence being able to locate its trajectory and coordinates with pre-programmed tracking interfaces enclosed in my wristwatch. Then after shooting I retrace my steps and pick up the device. What is the payload? A genectically encoded binary message exchange to the heart, that is remotely controlled by satellite transmission. It is a " black op" device invented during the cold war, and thus has been perfected by the black agencies of today. Bead set. I have to wait for the exact angle, so that the reverting projection of the projectile will land in the predetermined location, all of this computated several months beforehand by technitions at IS1, using satellite imagery of differing angles, and autocad simulations of trajectory from specified triangulated targets. Breath in slowly.........breath, hit, watch. Target immediately reacts, but before his hands reach up to the target mark on his neck, the projectile is away and off him at 100,000 times a second sequence phase, there is confusion, his servants ask if he is ok, they are looking at the mark; test show it makes a mark like a mosquito bite, they brush it off and move inside there place of meeting. I lay quietly in the shadows, thinking again of those thoughts of yesterday, and how the land used to appease my being, the daffodil's in spring smelling so pure, as well as the air. Is this a falsity, or does reality still pervade me? Five minute timer softly sounds, I get up and move towards the flight of stairs, I exit ground level, pouring myself into the street, meeting a few stares here and there. The vibrations from my watch lead me; vibrations so as not to give away the secret on my arm, for we are careful like that. I already know where it is anyway, for we pre-programmed every sequence of the mission, just like we always do. Im at the location, casually reach down to tie my shoe and pick up the small device, as I lean up briskly, I lay it down softly in my jacket pocket. I impatiently hail a cap, wait, get in, and tell him of my north destination, wanting just to be home. 7.45 miles and $20.00 later I leave his working box, and Im in front of what I consider the long walk. I enter my apartment gate and start towards mine, the whole time walking in front of all the apartments that face the road. I can feel all these people staring at me through closed blinds, as if knowing the secret life I live alone. I turn the lock with my key, look left and right, and then enter. My surroundings I melt into, music on, fresh glass of water, drop my backpack, and take off my shoes. My computer greets me with a transmit receive warning, I go to debrief, and give them uplink verification. From here the device will be under there command control via sat uplink, and at any given time they can activate the device causing the active genetic material to enter the targets bloodstream, the encoding causing the heart to stop. Messy job is it not? I agree. I have been working on plans some time now, one of these plans is to write my reality to fiction. After thinking this sitting at my computer, I again throw it of as being impossible, escaping there presence in the ever present world of there's that is, and at that writing about it through fiction to the whole world, oh well, I think as I debrief. Turning of the " box " from " 1984 " I find my bed, where all is ok, and dreams don't come at night. Again as I lay, the memories are so real, I do not know if they are real, or supplanted, by them, or maybe there is a twin of me out there somewhere, living a peaceful life in the open spaces of time, or was it a passed life I think as I roll over to see a different night view of my room. I think from out of the dark, and then this thought dissipates again to where it came from.
I wake, was I asleep, it seems I just went to sleep, or does it just always feel that way now? My bones hurt, like when sleeping I was really on a mission, remotely controlled as if they did not want me to even be privy to the mission at all, or maybe that is my guilty conscience begging to be heard, I don't care any longer. I stand up, stretching life into my tiredness, my eyes heavy with tired sleep. I light a cigarette only to feel my gums becoming mushy, I drink from the glass of last nights water, only to find it stale and rank, kinda like the walls, being a whore house for drifters, apartments always make me feel this way. Coffee starts, and I forget the time change, you would think after all my caculations and precision, something simple like the equinoxe's would be easily remembered and noted. Ok the hell with it anyhow, as I let the innocent coffee ground scent enter me, I look at the monitor, it looks at me. I have something to say, but remember my guard always. Phone rings; operator should not be calling this early, I answer, it is my mom being worried about me, telling me my dad wants me to contact him sometime, " he loves you ", I hang up the phone , and go to lay down again, letting the warm cover enrap me away from reality. My sister and her husband are coming over today, oh the life of normality. The Linux kernel reconfiguration lasted longer than expected, so until I finish it I will not have the means to gain access to the secure gateway using an SS1 VPN connection to receive information from Server B.1.5, this is ok though, at least I will have technical difficulties to blame, and stay home for awhile, most of the time I am in other places in the world, this is the first target in the U.S. in the last 3 years. Funny how it was Austin, like they might know of my decent, and made there point of me not going anywhere, and that there on to me, choosing someone here as a target, maybe this person was just some local bigwig and will never activate the payload, I will remember to watch the news, for usually I don't, big deal, I already know what I've done, no need to let it consume me, these people are bad anyway, if they need to be executed by the powers that are. My plans fade further as I think the worst.
It is December 25th 2003-5:14pm, three days after my objective, there has been a death of a local business/political man in Austin, he died in his sleep of a heartattack, hmmm, sounds like they took care of a small fish problem, but mainly they reminded me of my slavehood to them, I wonder how far into the file they had to got to find him, problally a problem as well, for he did have a wife and two children, hmmm. Today is usually not a day to venture out for me, but cannot stand my noisy box anymore, I think Im going to go to ' half-price books' to drink coffee and people watch, and wait for the unfamiliar chess opponet to come my way. There are cameras everywhere now here, constantly watching my every move, this is not an opinion, but know fact, they always watch, track, observe there slaves, constantly ready to take them back for ' reprogramming'. No matter what countersurvallence methods are used they can still view, listen, and know. Laser microphones, using electricity through light as a receiver, then there are the ' old age ' techniques like wire tapping, room taping, and now ' new age ' methods like remote viewing is well known, and what is behind there veil is very disturbing, it is not a friendly little ole man, who wants to get Dorothy home. If they wish to be, they can be everywhere, nowhere on this planet is safe from them, and there tentacles are reaching out into space as well. Ha, who do you think will be there? There will be the best out of the collective of mans genetic gene pool, why do you think the G-nome was decoded, so that the best of mans collective could be arranged in sequence in any given pre-configured way, repeated, and grown. Workers, scientist, archeologist, etc, all engineered and programmed for each assignment task. The shuttle has not flown for awhile now, it and the ISS is all a ruse, there is really a geo-stationary complex in orbit on the darkphaze of the moon, being geo-stationary to earth. I might be a slave, but one that is in deep, and have worked on many projects for awhile now, all the while blending seamlessly into the cracks of society as to remain hidden from the public, them not seeing any of the works that I do. Ok the conversations I have with myself ' I think ' as I get out of my car, and walk into the bookstore. Funny how the drive was not noticed, I wonder if others notice my self-obsorbedness of thought, or am I just being paranoid? Look at all the books, so many, I could spend many months here, alone, just me and the wonderful stories, yeah like in the " Never Ending Story ", where he hides himself to read long into the next few days. Im looking for something real, that I can digest, not contright, but brutally ugly, as fact, out there, but entirely feasible. I wonder back to the thoughts of a possible twin, maybe I would find his life in a story, a story of a different type, different era and time, maybe he is who led me here today, hoping to enlighten me before its too late, of the knowledge of away out for me, my secret way out that I have not learned or thought of, he will write on small pages coded in metaphor's of this knowledge, following me around making sure I get the hint. " Brother where art though", I speak to myself underbreath, but I am not in the mood Hamlet, thinking , not realizing the significance of these thoughts until arriving at the classical poetry section, then chuckling to myself over my new found humor. The first book gleaming at me is " Brother Speaks" , by Mark Zethermire, the first thirty pages spoke of dreams of a man had of his yet unborn brother telling him wisdom in simolee form, and then disappearing. Enough I say, close the book and walk out, Im hungry anyway, and I don't want to go down this road of hypothinizing mystery never to find an answer, for I have done that with so many other subjects, and one more is to much, but this I feel is of greater importance, but will think about it some more after I eat some food...................

I dont like being out in the public anymore, as if there is an invisible plague drifting around in the air, nor did I go to eat after leaving the bookstore, my mood being that of disgust and amusing discontent; funny how discontent can be amusing, after finding no pleasure in either of the two activities. It is now December 27th 2003-6:05, and again my observance of what is deemed ' realility ' eludes me, for Christmas has passed, and I have been enjoying the inner walls of my dwelling, noticing nothing unless I want too. It has been awhile since I have noticed the ' holidays ', and even remembering my birthday is a dim fading light in the mind, for I dont need to be reminded of my aging, nor my limited time on the flake of dust, and the whole idea is pointless, just societies relentless hold on the pocket books of greed, clucthing all that it can on the struggling many that reside upon the earth, taking there power; which they have created, in the form of money, and then destroying them further with pointless opressions that fill the valley whole. These oppressions arent few, and they range from mild to harsh: taxes, unfair allocation of child support, penalties of trivial law; like not wearing your seat belt, oh, and did I say taxes. I could go on, but Im not in the mood to regurgitate what should be plainly understood. I sit though mellow, in a chair of age, comfy, looking out my drawn curtains through the small openings of lighted pathways. I sip from a cup of cold filtered water, feeling it soak my inner tissue as if to breath life again into me. The 20 year old copy of " Leaves Of Grass "-(Whitman) sits in my lap, oh the impeccable diction of this man, on the coffee table sits an 1918 Webster dictionary, for I need it often. I try not to think of Austin, and hide within my time capsule, trying to not be reminded of my precarious situation, now is not the time for that, I need to clear myself, to see within, to see the time domain as an whole, letting each particle of it come together and mesh, fitting in the place of the mind with wholeness. Again my cigarette falls to the ground, and I have become very quick as to not let it burn into the carpet. I miss going out in the fake world, the world of sugar coating, the ignorance being so blissful, existing through life never aware of what is in the shadows, the ' real ' shadows, the ones where the people with real power exist, playing there game of chess upon the whole of humanity, viewing it as really only a game. The gloss of misperceive invading my being again, the unknowing of the reality that truly exists'. I get up and move over to the stove, where there is an attempt taking place at cooking some steaks, lobster, rice, and chicken. I have not reason to cook like this but one, that is I want to. I want to treat myself to something nice before I make my move, they expect me to, so I will, I am not afraid anymore, I do not want to be the puppet, running around doing the masters ' dirty work '. And for what, patriotism, honor, defending the country? If I where really be defending the country, I would start with taking out the ' puppets ' in office, and then reveal the men in the shadows. And I am not the only one on the inside that feels this way, and there are many on the outside whose intuition sees what is really going on. The outside is mostly comprised of younger ones, for the older ones are tired, and many have been fooled all there live, and are set in there ways. I still here older ones talk about the first and second world wars, as if it was something of honor for the United States to fight in, the whole time knowing that all along it was a power grab on both sides, both sides being from the same tree. What really amazes me is that the U.S. allowed Pearl Harbor to happen so that that they could enter the war, all along it was the elite social club of the secret unseen government playing chess on the board of life. And now after the last 25 years it is not hidden anymore to the public; especially since the year 2000, but the people just can not bring themselves to see the truth. Do I need to mention 911, if only you knew what I know, your blood would boil at the fact of the realization of your deception,' that the powers that are have veiled your mind with. ' But that is ok, anyone knowing anything, will not change even the smallest plan of there's. There have been many great minds of think tanks that hypothesize differing scenario's for them, I know I have been there, sitting in what is called viewing booths, viewing the space infraction zones. Just the fact of all not knowing this term verifies my words. What is even more depressing is that on TV there are certain shows that they have had written, revealing there plots and circumstances, but many never think twice about it for it is labeled ' fiction ', if only you knew how they laugh about this, saying " look how they are fooled, we give them the puzzle, but they are too stupid to see the realility ". Oh, this is the worst part, all these ' intelligent ' people walking around having no idea of what realm they exist in, and the foil that has overtook them. I love music, it being one of the only things in life that soothes my soul. I walk back over to my chair, after being satisfied that I have not ruined the food. I really am I good cook, but I need to constantly hover of the food being cooked in order for it to cook well; as most good chiefs, but I get easily distracted, and this tends to complicate things. For instance when I first moved to this apartment, I had some incense that had become wet from the rain. I took them and put them in the oven to heat them a bit, but forgot about them. I was on the balcony, and after smoke started pouring out of the open door, I finally noticed, and hurried to the oven to take them out. I had to open the front door as well to vent the place, and it was quite interesting. There was a Chinese couple coming up the stairs as I was outside, just looking at me with an expressionless face, wondering what this crazy man was doing burning such a big stick of insence, if only they knew, that might have laughed. That is funny though, how we miss the humor in things because of presuming others, overlooking the humor in our haste to be correct in these assumptions. But that was about a year ago, and humor in general has not greeted me since then in a large way, most of my days are filled with gloom, for I still have not found an acceptable solution, and there are many more problems and stressful circumstances being added every day.

Ray From Sun

The morning time with its golden shine, reminding me of times presence taking it all away. From the matter of stars they say we are made, but I sit alone in the vast blackness of times domain.
The hue sneaking in through the blinds drawn around the window, saying to the world to " stay away", only to release a sigh from the expectation of the season. There are no remembrance's anymore with merit, they all being molested by the hand of evil man, and taken to the place of forgetfulness. Are you there in the shadows again, leaving your bile as a marker to your presence, or is that I toad sitting upon the log of ill-gotten gains, and your shadow in time the articulating factor to your bad deeds. There are some of you whom I watch, and observe in the darkness. You let your hearts bleed the truth of whom you really are through your mouths. This day being like all others, laden with false hope, and promise of a future of purpose, only to be thrown down to the dirt where it always is, the words spoken drift through my ears as if they where never spoken, for they are always the same empty air mass that passes in the lungs, that is all. Have you heard of the boredom in which you produce, the wretched taste that is left on the palate of disgust, only to be ingested again by your tongues. If only the words of mine you really where to hear, you fear would grow, as the realization of not knowing me drifted into your sullken head. You smell the salty air of your destruction, and do not even know the reason in which it beckons you so. I have censored myself again, for pity of you, and as not to crush the small flower in the fields. If only, if only I were to let go, for you to see the bright light of rage that exists within, but I will not, not yet anyway, for there is still other things in which I have to do with you, you foolish little man that sits on the cold hard floor awaiting your end. But I will, will let you know these things eventually before you die, and will not turn my tongue from you forever. You still think that I fear you, if you only knew, only knew the extent in which I do not, you would run, run far away to the cliffs, hoping that they will protect you. I always call others out, revealing the truth of matters with boldness. People like you hide from me, trying to turn my logic to illogic, hoping that I will forget your errs, I have not, Nor will I. For all that need everything explained to them I am quite justified in my feeling, for I have seen you, and your ways. Some also think they are so big and bad; either mentally or physically, I see you too, and IM waiting for your blood to fill the earth, and the vultures to dear apart your eye's. I hate you, I have always have, and those that want to speak there feeble words of how this is not a good thing in which to feel, well they speak from ignorance and stupidity, for some on this land should be removed, and there thought fade like the setting sun from the mind and heart, for all they do is cause more destruction and evil. Some also think of themselves as knowing me, however I would reason that this not be true, for they have just been playing tricks with themselves, to try to make things easier on themselves from there lack of understanding, but I do not care any longer, for time will be the great equalizer, and justice will find its course again. I see you there, but you do not see me. I feel your fear, but none exists within me any longer. I smell your apprehension, but will deliver yours on a platter if you like.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Peanut wants to play.

Crazy dog, that smile, silly tooth, no, I want to wright, no, noooo, N O O O O O O . I sillyly thought tha Ishould play; with the ole pool, and worn out dark leatherly thing, moms laughing; strange how she is looking over my shoulder while Im wri- now he is jumbing on me with that smile.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Should I post my writings, for I dont like to type, being that I am an old fashioned pencil and ink man.

Where is time?

Wasting of the time, that goes, and everything is fine.............. Sitting in filth, after many roads traveled, only to come again to this sad fact friend, longing away from present, my mind is in the past's of vast suspended animation .? ? !Purpose sought, purpose found, now I have to find the higher ground . .. . . ... .. ... ... .. . .. .. .. Not as one presumes, for it is further away from your point of view. What I see, is the distractions, too slow decaying of limited time, fulfilling yes another of the pasts rhyme. ... ... . . .. ... ..... .... .. . .. . . ... ... .. . .. . . . . ... . Ok then, take me for a spin, always hoping that you will win, I thought, pass along, revealing all I sought, over this time period of knowing not.
Hmmm, the sounds of oscillating points of light, complexity detailing, the harmonic influxuastions, that remedy the fiber of afterthought. ... .. .. . . .. ... . . . .......... ..
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The time before time still exist, or the foundation that is our present would not able to exist. The fragile existence between the sexes. Destroying ourselves and our procreation, Searching the pit for fresh surroundings. ? !! !! He walks into the store, the familiar surroundings of uncomfortableness surrounds him. He wonders the thoughts of others, as if there exists a field of confusions being injecting into daily circumstances.

Friday, September 30, 2005

The Wicked In Heaven?

While looking for a place to post my artwork I mistakenly came across this site yeah look around there site extensively, click on the link ' The Landover Baptist Church' in the purple box second to the top , I had to put this up for everyone to see. The repugnant bile of ignorance coming from these people has left me speechless. I thought about writing a essay debunking all there beliefs, but these lowly creatures don't deserve my time. And anyone wondering why so many people today don't like religion need only to go as far as this website. Talk about weeds growing in amongst the wheat. And the way they idolize polictical leaders and this country! By the way the founders of this country where mostly pagan, and many of them where free masons, and that can be understood by doing some basic research. PUKE, I still cant believe this cult exist under the quise of being Christian. Check it out. Once in the main site, go to the forums to see what type of people they are, from there own mouths. And in the sermon Archive one sermon say that ' Jesus hates sinners as much as his daddy, but isnt that why Jesus came to earth ' for sinners', he himself said that he did. Its so disgusting. Read it all people, get your share of there so called ' ministry'. Oh and the topic ' Do you have demons in your colon?'. And ' I cant wait to see people burn in hell', that is if the bible really said anything about hell, which it does not, it is just a fear tactic that has been used to keep people in church and the ' money' flowing to the preachers so they don't have to really 'work'. And in the same 'sermon section' there is an article titled " She's White; Kobe's Black. Case Closed!", and obvious racist overtones, I suppose that these people think that Jesus was a white man huh? Im sorry, I don't post such things as this, but I could not resist due to there arrogance. Im reading on as I write and it is so disgusting, they even condone murdering people which whom they see as ' deserving of death, because there just going to burn in hell anyway'. Any wonder the world is in such a bad state with people like this having any type of power. I am not religious, but had to point our such hypocrisy of this magnitude

Everything Is Passing Away

Time. The very essence of the enemy. We conveniently trick our minds in believing otherwise, as if all the time exists, and is on our side. The days mesh with the past like the waves attacking the shores. All this playing out before our eyes, and then we die. Our accumulated knowledge we claim as gold, every insight elevated to the heavens, we then find out that it really amounts only to a grain of sand. We boast of our accomplishments as if they really exist, but then we look around this small planet revolving around the sun, and realize we don't know at all. Our good works sometimes result in more complications. Why is this so? Is it that we don't even know where to step? We think the future can be seen, but then when it is, we recoil in denial, saying to ourselves 'that cant be so '. We put our trust in people who mislead us, as an excuse of not directing our own destiny, we have others direct it for us. Governments, religion, philosophy, and our own mental ego fail us at every turn. Our ego. Ego. The word is only a word. A word that is really a definition. A definition that is defended even to the death, that death mostly being without cause, or the cause being another invented fallacy of our ego. Where is man heading, or do we even know, much less care? Many do not care today, they live only for today, forsaking all else. It has come to the point where nothing matters but self, and as long as self is constantly satisfied nothing else matters. Humankind makes me sick often these days, the begging off of truth from ourselves, the truth to see what is really reality and what we conjure as reality. We are in trouble, and most do not even know this, for they sit in front of there TV's, letting others fill there heads with words of desolation that come in sheeps cloathing. Our earth is dying, we are dying, for we cannot live without the earth. Do we care? Obviously not for we continue to let others lead us as sheep to our destruction. We will not stand up and take control of this reality, we will let but a few take away everything that we perceive and understand; even if this is not much. I see it coming,(I know, I just contridicted myself) like a great black nothingness that will consume us all, ingesting us into its bottomless pit, only to dissolve into atoms again, filling the universe with our corrupted matter. I try to find some light to write about, but there is none to speak of. Maybe enlightenment is not so wonderful after all, and that ignorance is truly bliss. I think not though, and accept it nonetheless.

Monday, August 29, 2005


Monday August 29 2005
I find myself finally at peace, soul sitting upon a cloud by the rivers of tranquility. You see when the heart is given to another and this person begins to touch it in a cruel way, this action brings out the worst in me. And although you have not seen 'my' worst, it is there ; worst as in mental imagery of skinning the guilty alive, just to watch them die a slow painful death. The sutle innuendoes of dagger like emotiontional projection still emanates from her, she even went as far as describing the wonderful dinner with some man, as if thinking that would incite jealousy in me, but it did not, nor did I listen any differently to her as I would a stranger. I know that she knows that I know, and her manipulations don't affect me any longer. She wanted many hugs today, I gave them too her, but without the infusion of my feeling, and she felt this. Most of our relationship went without kisses from her; for it seemed they disgusted her, but this morning she beckoned my lips with hers, which I drew away from. I wear sackcloth and ashes; in the way of not bathing, nor taking much care of myself, I do this as a remermbarance of many bad decisions in life I have made, this relationship being yet another. I will fulfill my word. I will. For these type ones can not try to take that away from me. My integrity, and honor, which when these attributes do not fail, within it makes them angry. Like the bible says ' loving one that hates you is like raking hot coals upon there heads' this being so very true. To pick her up, I have been late twice in the last 5 weeks, her dad is sending her more money due to my incompetence; for a cab maybe. I wonder with what words and inflection she talks to others about me with. Does she lie a labryith of lies, so that she comes out on top, looking princess like, saving face before her friends. Or is it half lies and truth, just enough lies though to produce the same effect? Or does the truth really suit her mouth? I don't care any longer, for I know how I have acted, how I restrained myself, how I have done my best and acted with humility even when provoked, and for this I am proud of myself. I do speak truth, for I have observed it, and but am only rearticulating what time has witnessed. I am at peace, and she knows this, and it secretly bothers her, I can see it in her eyes, face, and mannerisms. I still wish her no ill, no matter what grotesqueness comes my way. I will still not stoop. It is over, with only time now to dissolve the memory. Goodbye as you fade with the setting sun, so that the morning dew can refresh my senses again. It is so interesting how we think that external circumstances or people affect us, when really it is only ourselves that allow this to be entered into us by these inflections of people or circumstances, either producing positive or negative feelings within ourselves, whether by 'letting' these things affect us the way they do or not. There have been some of my fiends who think I should just stop helping her. What of the good Samaritan? You see this Samaritan man came across a Jewish man; and the Jews hated the Samaritan at this time. Many of the mans own people passed by him, the Samaritan though came across him and had pity for him, paid for his stay at a lodge, his food, and his recovery. Now Jesus gave this parable in response to the disciples asking him; after his speech about treating others as your neihbors, who really is your nehbor. I think it very fitting this parable, for it shows that even people that hate us we should love, and have compassion for in there time of need. This does not mean that we let our minds and hearts be affected by these ones, only that we do not completely shun them from our being, by the use fo hatefulness, which stems from selfishness. That is, they hurt maliciously, so therefore due to that pain our perception and attitude to them will then be negative. This is not the way of light, but darkness. This is one of the most difficult things to do in life, that is to be like the Samaritan, and it is much deeper then just being kind to people, for like the bible says it is easy to love people who love you, but much harder to show love to those that don't.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

An Heir To A Thought

Many clouds spoke to me, saying that the rain had dried up. A surprise was asked of me, but I found none waiting. The moon spoke of long ago, when the dew used to reside on the earth, it being the nurturing force in which all drank from. Where did all the birds go, they roaming the heavens looking for shelter from the coldness that follows the weary traveler. How long do I wait for the rain, or should I pack and head for another realm in the universe, free from the chains that enslave them so. A frog told me that he was dyeing, and If I wanted to save him I would have to go on a journey for the nectar of the soil. I ask him where this nectar was, and he did not answer. Seeing how lost I was I thought for a long moment, and then the answer came to me. Happy that I had found it I ran to the frog, only to find that he was dead, his insides being eaten by a strange plaque. I feel into despair, of not being able to provide for this little frog, so what hope do I have for any of my presumed species. A sharp ray glimmered past my eye, it being frozen in time as a revealer of the past presents that have made up the existance that I have known. In this ray was the reflections of people and places that I have encountered, they all having frowns upon there face as they look at me with dim eyes. I told them to seek themselves first before seeking my faults, but they would not listen. It is always this way I suppose. The sky looks so soft and peaceful today, as if not knowing the desolation of ourselves they reside below it, turmoil that we create alone, out of misplaced boredom, I wish I had this type of ignorance, but unfortunately I am fully aware. Joy spoke to me in a dream, but then spit upon me and vanished by day, silly joy, playing like it does with us, filling us halfway, then poking a hole to drain us.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

What is it?

The threads of the future streaks to the horizon of forgotten fate, seeing this before the sun stimulates the imagination of the past of tomorrow. Will the darkness forget the light altogether? Or is the dust of yesterday before the mind only. A man told me a riddle today, but it was forgotten on the trivial speech of the clown like children that roam the desert looking for scraps of buzzards. Cold desolate matter emanating from the ground of breaking hearts, slowly seeping into the gashes of the mind. Did you say to me the things of the past, or is my hearing slightly disrupted? I think not on the negative aspects of life without reason, for they are abundant and imprint themselves into the soul as daggers. Young child so soft, but hardened by the life of strangers, is this the fate of all, or just the lonely bagabon under the briges? " I care for you' they say, but then proceed to ingest the inside of the emotions. Soft spoken words appease my soul, they are forgotten though by the incandescent memories of the pain that follows them. What does the poet speak? Or do his words remain hidden as they should, for if they where truly understood many would hunt him, to kill him, for revealing the fermented poison that bubbles forth from them. Of course the journey is short, and nothing really matters in the end. For what do we really own, or posses, or care for, but nothing. It is all lost on confusions. So I say what I feel, and still the prison cell awaits me. Honesty is only as important as the one in which you are talking too. This of course is fallacy, for with some honesty is the only importance. I wait for my sentencing with dullness in heart, for I have been on trail before, and have always been found quilty by one that does not fully see me. Oh the unjust trails that lay before us all, and to what end do they claim us, only as far as it is convenient to them, for themselves have looked into the mirror of self revealing with shame and loathing, only to see the self that they truly know and fear to realize.