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Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Well... let's start off with something we didn't know already and listen to the reflex lies from those foisting such unpleasantness on others. The newscaster reports that maybe they drink the soda to compensate for other bad habits. There's something wrong with that statement. This goes hand in hand with the state of the unholy union as it exists in The Great Satan (grin) these days.
Of all corporations, I tended to admire Costco more than others for the way they treat their employees and for how they raised my standard of living when they showed up. That is, until I saw this obscenity. Those who waste food WILL go hungry; cosmic law.
As a followup on those charities that congregate and celebrate their own celebrity and then make it possible for people like The Haitians to eat mudpies, here's what looks like a photo op for what is also a regular event. Sun Dried Mudpies... why, that's not dissimilar to the latest trendy diet; raw foods. If only the Haitians could take comfort from being rendered hip by the hippest among us. Of course, Bono-Boy is there and Ms World Compassion, Sarah Silverman was also there. Did any of that money reach the Haitians? Was there even enough to get some A-1 Steak Sauce for the Mudsteaks? I know saffron is probably out of the question but... can you imagine some fine Spanish saffron kneaded into the Mudcakes?
Mr. Apocalypse is watching these people and he's not smiling. In fact, from my observation point he appears somewhat grim and furthermore! Gwyneth hasn't pledged a single $90.00 white t-shirt to the Haitian community. Everyone knows how good a Haitian looks in a white t-shirt. Maybe Gwyneth is concerned they'd get some Mudpie on those shirts, or blood, depending on whatever faction of the Tonton Macoute is still doing their thing. Haiti is in the subtropics. It's a no brainer that they could grow all the food needed, especially if these charity ghouls put the money toward cutting edge community gardens and other projects. Maybe God hates the Haitians. Nah... God doesn't hate anyone. He might be displeased with the courses so many people go off on but he doesn't hate the spark of his own being within them.
Never let it be said that there is not a generous talent pool for politicians in The Great Satan. I'm guessing by the look on her face that she wouldn't be up for my suggestion but... aren't the hogs most in need of castration located in Washington, DC? As something relevant by only the slimmest of margins but ... nevertheless informative; Errol Flynn used to make his living (pre-Hollywood) biting the balls off of sheep in Australia; how they did it back in the day. As far as desirable professions, that's right up there with boil sucking and jobs I dare not mention, lest the more sensitive among us have trouble containing their stomach. Interestingly, Flynn catapulted into Hollywood as a result of two producers, sunning themselves on the beach in Oz, seeing him walk past them. One of them said to the other, "that fellow should be in pictures" and so... then he was. One time during my extreme kundalini phase, I was at Rehoboth Beach and engaged in bringing the waves to shore on the mind reigns of my hands and a reporter from Time came up to me and told me he would like to write an article about me. I was way off planet for that sort of thing, in my own mind.
Later on in that day, a jeep drove up with several young ladies in it and they sat around cross legged in from of me and I could literally see and feel a dark red fire radiating from their crotches. It did not put me in an amorous mood. As difficult as those times could tend to be, I didn't realize how good I had it. I should never have stepped away and sought to integrate into the world at some level of basic functioning. Besides my being an undesirable, I wasn't equipped for the task, being as, due to arrested development I wasn't much more than 12 years old. Hindsight... hindsight... I can't tell you what a comfort it has been to intuit that it has all been programmed for whatever the reason was.
There is a frenzied pushing and shoving going on in the backrooms; false flag the Russians! False Flag the Syrians! False flag the Iranians! Kill! Kill! Kill! Ah... the blood lust is percolating like a coffee maker. The Zio-Ogre is hungry... feed me!!! Feed me!!! It is not unlike being a junkie in need of a fix.
There is that question that hangs in the air; what can we do about it? We've got no armies or nuclear weapons. They do though. We've no pervasive media to reach the sleepwalking dead, that we might resurrect them from their graveyard of terminal dreams. "How about a nice Coke Zero?" It's now available in the 55 gallon drum. All you need is a straw. Take one from the camel's back. Camelback... hmmm. You know, there never was any humidity in Phoenix until tens of thousands of residents put in all those swimming pools. Still... what to do? What to do? You do what is always the most effective; work for good and stand your ground and watch evil destroy itself.
Consider, if you will, the sheer magnitude and number of ongoing offenses against Nature. Was there ever a more patient and giving lady? Sometimes when I am walking in the fields around here, especially in The Fall, I will see the abundance of apples on the trees and think, "Look at all she provides! It is far more than we could need." I've come to the brink of tears on several occasions while in contemplation of this. All she does is give; the evil that men do...
I remember, in altered states, how she would appear at the bottom of meadows or in the eve of the treeline, holographically vibrating there; the shifting, shimmering colors and that voice from everywhere and nowhere that was comfort itself. There in her secret bowers one might lie for eons;
Sister Reflection, you've caught me again,
In your special mirror of love
and I'm wrapped in the arms of an old fashioned tale
that's both story and song to my ears
and the best is the rest when I hear
what you're saying.
Sister Reflection how long has it been
since that morning in Harlequin meadow?
where we talked about children and dolphins and death
and you laughed when you saw I was smiling
and bluebirds were perched on the piling
Of old fences
You come and you go like the high flying tides
You are the moon on my shoulder
and sometimes I turn and it's all mystery
and I am just one more look older
High on some rock like a soldier
with no armor
Some men were born fitters or folders or fools
I was born out of your laughter
to tame my desire and teach it to dance
To run and to sing through the branches of trees
and to lecture the wind through a kingdom of leaves
in some forest
I was born to believe this
what else can I do?
Love's all I know of religion
and words are just bricks in the cities of pain
and I'm just a pilgrim that waits by the well
and what do I know of Heaven or Hell
or the future
or the future
Sister Reflection, you're just a reflection
something I saw while dreaming.
Sister Reflection, you're just a reflection
Something I saw while dreaming somewhere.
No doubt an unnecessary digression... but thinking about all of these things puts me in a mood; sad for all that has happened, that didn't need to and nostalgic for all that is hidden because it would not be safe otherwise, not in this brutalized landscape of tormented souls, who can find no other release for their pain except to visit it upon others.
I don't know how it's going to turn out but I am aware of the sun in the sky and the sun does not seem too concerned. The stars continue to move in their courses and so do the planets and they arrange themselves according to the vibrations necessary for whatever the purpose of demonstration is meant to be down here. Events are not precisely choreographed. We are not set in stone. There is wiggle room. There is opportunity to cooperate and collaborate with The Cosmos, rather than to be in pursuit of the transitory in these times of intense transit. It's not a big step from Google Glass to Google Ass, nor from Yahoo to Boo hoo.
I've seen it said and recommended that one should have a light touch and not grasp anything too tightly. What is it that Lao Tzu said, "Let life ripen and fall, will is not the way at all, deny the way of life and you are dead."
Yes... they are burning up in the back rooms. They cannot contain themselves and that is always a recipe for disaster. The Laoster had a lot to say about that too. He's got something for all occasions and most of the time about how to avoid them. Some trick of the mind has taken place in my consciousness. I can now see the good in all that has happened to me and the rightness of my situation, such as it is, "How can a man's life keep its course. If he will not let it flow? Those who flow as life flows know. They need no other force: They feel no wear, they feel no tear, They need no mending, no repair."
Last night's radio show is up now for streaming.
'Materialism' will feature on a forthcoming Visible album, sometime in 2014
Lyrics (pops up)
The Curious Tale of Ash and The Whine
- 'A Novel of the Unnatural and Supernatural...'
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