A Dis~Ease of the Emotion, the Ego, the Warrior Spirit...? Think Knot
sorrow ode to fighting the parasitic war on humanity
here's a salute`
insert image of utopia here, right on the tips of humanities...minds
+ warriors of the heart everywhere, who just want the 'fleas
please 2 be washed away from beloved Gaia's survival, and especially 2 my beloved lander, the two white horses himself, who brought a rolling basket case, infested with the fleas of parasitic disaster, to any rock to continue marching on, cane or no cain, able to live on in the face of this big disaster called life at this time.
+ inspiration rippling out to Granny Milky Waye, and the entire universe, never mind the precious Earth herself...
+ 2 moving in mysterious ways beyond me as an entity of its own, anonymous poetry, through the portal of an imprisoned sea person, talk to the webbed hand.......and their community, keeping hearts and minds alive through truth from an undersea abyss, and throughout the ring of fire's pacific storm enveloping the entire globe
to all tunes, and all of tunes, of all ages, eons and alike, and 'here we go'...etcetera
Pacific. Doesn't that mean pacifist? Atlantic, what does that mean? Evoking Atlantis? Pi in the sky?
Where's the specs, and oh, that Pieman when one needs some apple pi...oh here it is...carry on, sold heirs of earth...
Fuk-U Shame on all of us. Absolutely deadly right. The radiation is everywhere, under the strange skin we now view our beloved skeyes through. Where the pass the fists are forced to battle this evil face=on, and we all, every last soul on the planet, connected by each molecule, each atom, mourn the loss of life, of incredible beauty, that mounts every gut wrenchin, puking yellow bucket second. Astronomic timing assists this atomic wastrel astrally. The humans everywhere, including the beloved awake, are free to agonize over the lost minds of seemingly most, who are still zombified shut down but unconsciously seemingly also from the depths of their gut, know. All of us in this beloved bucket know. No, no denial can slough this off. The proverbial shee-it, has hee-it, the big wazoo.
sheeit, i've dreaded to speak it, the unspeakable, but the skin on our view to the beloved life giving skeye ...gngngngngngngng... smoke some toughlove atmosphere. ok, sorry , a nother outburst. vomit gut wrenching in the background, a shower of grief and a glass of life giving later.
The skin on our view to our beloved Granny up in the forever skeye - our own IONOSPHERE, looks like a bleeding Hour Glass. okay, enough of my fear, release, let it go... and once and for all, again,
sorry.
Yet all now must know one no, oh god no, thing. The planet's crust is dying again, and will have to slough us off again, violently, again, just like the dina sores, but hey, the Archons are on the run. They are leaving Earth, hell they are as good as dead already as they have in all ways. Us, humans, this grand yet infinitesimally small experiment, or whatever the hell we are, entertainment in a petrie dish, (we are also love, beauty, grace, art, healing, morning glory coffee shops, bean towns, brilliance of like minds, etc., etc., ad museum) on this <3rd blankety="" rock.="">
We, the people. and They, the sheeple. AllOne Oh, No. face up to the fact, if we' want to OVERCOME, it has to be inclusive of all. Bad, good, ugly, smelly, annoying, zombie, rich, poor, etc. 'We' are ALLONE. It can all be said in a tiny, two word hidden elegant piece of invisible...
'is that code?...' ===Ferguson's beloved annoying robot
II Yes, I personally am one of those who, (hey, so how do
you really feel?) talk/think too much, fell in with the bp, bombastic ego blob distorter dis~ease prison trap. We were slipped a mind-f*ck mickey, collectively. Big f*cking deal, yawn, there are fish fried as we eat, of much more survival related. Yet being yet another human inflicted with insomnia over the grief of life today, brings this question. As more and more insomnia comes to the humans, suffering over the pain Gaia, their beloved bloodied but still alive space ship, is suffering from, what do we do - besides get angry, and mean mouth everything in the near vicinity to death? abandon ship? Yes, this is a compulsion. Run away. //This is subjective here, I have been and have to fight miserably against being a horrible meanest mouth bee-ache around, in person, in my own reclusive mind, especially when pain interrupts the dang sleep patterns, and have to reign it in or die too quick, per anum.//
We are all the fall children, those alive at this time on Gaia, who with free will through love, are living the gift of the space community: make it or break it, freewillers. What is sex anyway, another contruct, another drug, an addiction ?
No. It is in its purest form infused with that old beauty, that old whore, that infinitely infantile delicate beauty that from witch is all life on earth springs, LOVE. Yeah, yeah, but the human condition, et. all, is that the work never ends. Slough off all the speed of lightning bullshit, and all it boils even frogs down to is yet another art, another distraction, oh, yeah, and a way to perpetuate, uh, I MEAN procreate us atoms on this rock # 3, III. as a gemini sun, II, eye and especially 'i', think way too much. Talk too much. should be away from you all humans in a cave far off in a nother galaxy. Whole decades wasted in trying to figure out, how to crack, not crack, not the ass, but the bleeding answer.
The code. that // // master number cloaked, ...code. Survival, with the least fallout possible. It ain't happening, unless it's all just a big joke played out on hugh manatee.
As the fall children at this juncture in EONS, we bear the brunt of sadness for ours existing now, especially of course, but also,
all our future unborn generations. But hell, think about that one for one bleepin' second. Are we becoming maudlin? Were we always from the beginning? oh, sorry, gotta take a deep breath and choke my brains out for a sec....... whew! pass the furball, and the cheap beloved Cally wine bucket please...oh, whew, thanks. sorry bout that... italian innate lifes blood sustenance. Fuck it. I digress again. Oh, and pass that beloved magnesium laden Japanese sesame seed oil that I steadfastly refuse to give up, just add a little kelp and I'm good to go.
I guess what old granny bag is trying to fart across here. the crux of the bisquick. thanks, Zappa...burp! shit! sssssorrry. Izzy.....somewhere over this rainbow. Dang, SHUT, UP, ME!!!! Ok, just got another gulp of 'air'a gain, hold the phone.
La Gista, is the fact i'm trying to convey with these damned words. that. and only that. sigh.
The gist is, of this mind at this time anywayz, could be that all we have to do is realise we are being innoculated with all this crap. Yup, call me delusional, it's so easy. It's outright WAR.RAW, shooting humanity right through our pineals, under our collective faces, violently cleaning us out. The archons are so stupid though, as greed=driven all ways are and will nevermore be, that these motley collection of pissy little ass-whipped 'slimers' :) realise finally now they are on their journey to non-existence, through the beloved vaccuum of Gaia's mom, Granny's Milky Waye, that they have already left, leaving diseased parasitic infested freed carcasses still going through their machinations, motions, in shock and realising with sorrow and the potential of will to change, what the hell they are doing spraying their own grandchildrens' skies with deadly human insect spray scratches across the ionosphere. And that even tough love was always available to all of us, but those on the run, have proverbially already LEFT THE BUILDING and have blown their wads, screaming for their diapers to be changed nevermore, whipped up and wiped out, off the face of our beloved planet, with the help of our intention through the beloved Milky Way of 'ours.,. Whew, but what a mess of legacy parasites leave hosts behind! 'Zombies' everywhere can be healed, but only if they themselves wake up and will it so. We have sooooo many diverse inhabitants from other galaxies, the diversity here is in our front geek plastic lined for pens, POCKETS. Sea? Soooo sad. And our lives are so short. Carrying the direct knowledge and intentions of all our past lives with us if we so choose to reincarnate, what the hell, what other Earths need saving? Plenty of choices out there, I imagine...
to the tunes of Welcome to the terrordome. by you know who mastersofmusic
Remember the beloved sea evolved beings that are STILL and WILL ALLWAYS survive through the abyss' of GAIA's oceans? Talk to the webbed hand through the porthole images of attempted yet truly 3D carbon based incarceration? We, all life on this planet,
is slowly, yes unwillingly, becoming innoculated to radiation. Sooo much life will die, but that's part of the fractals of keys, there is not one, there are infinite possibilities. Potential is the only infinite.,,? The archon's little pissy group of 'more for us, less for everyone else', that genre, is dead. Lost to humanity, soon to be just a blip on the endless timelines of life.
Ahhhh, these puny human lives are so short. Too short. No offense.
So, back to the tunes of the Keys of Life, thank you Stevie, and ALL MUSIC sssssPennedPellWellsssss.
The key of life is the fact that life is unstoppable. Even on Gaia. Hell, she is so sad for us that we didn't catch on this merry bleepin go round, and call me delusional, and I will take it with pride for grist.
She is
formerly parasite ridden, at least i must insist on believing this for us...for own sanity and survival. Course, I can try to force the agenda, but it is not up to one microcosm. It is up to really tough choice: banding all together, good bad and etc. Cops and robbers. etc. Gaia has all these horrific deadly to much life on her, dotted with acne of sorts, flaming pustu=wells. So, with each coming generations of life giving, as that will never stop, we are definitely spinning down the old toilet of life here. But hey, isn't that GRIST? the mill never dies, it may disintegrate over eons but stone, even if irradiated, will live on as sand that erodes yet other outcroppings of rock with wind and water. Even nuclear blasts can be healed of sorts, Adapted to, and moved on from. Not minimizing the pain, just trying to survive through it.
If my stoopid, stubborn delusion that we will survive is annoying, just ignore the outbursts. But hey, i, eye n I love my delusion, it is my oldest and most reclusive friend. And I am losing some of my sadness to hope, just because it is ingrained in this dang human, italian, and british/nordic damned to hell here on a very sick poor beloved little planet will to survive. Matters not, what flavor humans are. Life will always adapt and change. and who doesn't love life?
Blip!!
