heightened deadening

Telling in a straight voice, the crimes of the present as he seas them, might make you react so please take like whiskiskey ..
The reastion of the silent and waiting ,, and the day shall be at peace with future. No more to encroach on the people trails of government, when the ….

The meaning of this moment after working physical labors, I stand to work again. With only thoughts. And the like.. Where emotions come to lead and mercy the care given spot..
Yet heart the lonely, and mind the nature, mind the given and lent, the incredible changing machine to view and review,, ,, yes it is the mind for which many horrors are formed and then asked to erase, when horror is past tense, and the nature of now is a-livin. So what ,, so i am seeing like the addict does with heightened deadening.. To reap from the sown I must in nature have, for the waste of the life worth living is living. The dead sickly venture of abnormality and traumatic cause. Do i stand in the nature known to you, oh ever silent wave.
So Locally , i have trouble having seen it. Like a ghost which rides my back with something to say ,
my drive and desperate.silliness.
For maybe , i found a light unusual.. Escape was as easy as being, and i could not see anything but that When i first left to the world. It was all now and i expected the wood work to yell at me, and sometimes did, the induendos, silent scene observation, the tint of light of a dirt window, the empty stree and a sudden shadow movement un bodied. I thought i was alive, the echoeing of magic in a youth skull., I thought i was feeling, but the thought somewhere became stronger than feelings. Or the depth of the feeling echoed off wasx envroment dictated for the younger me,, a me that fofund peace with silence and hope in feeling, free.
So in that hope of achievement, i ventured into a world of no choices, and all voiced interest seem insane for the path at my head, living my feet hoping my heart. I enstrangeeed and dove in relations which were not normanzied. Interest we talked and forgotten. I was never in love with the person i was, or the one in front of me, I loved the image and voic of the hopes and enjoyed a fantasy because i had never felt enough to live mutual equality, My love became the surroundedness, you are there but i am not .. I am trying and there is no enlightenment in trying.. When so natural a concept.
I have asked you to come to my bed side, I have asked without a reason, i may not die in the next ten years but i might all the same, in this regret is also drive, the cristal clear image of having the right to live, for life is shorter than the frost it grows over.
So those things being said, and i am stealling lines like there is an invention to it. When i am just running around a topic, the voice of myown, telling me i am an addict but this time i really feel it, and it is the soberity for which has given me, emitions and balenced reasoning, and even some sore regret.. But i am still having a hard time. I am longing to get high , i dream it, and i know the sprit is far from it, drugs have opened a door i would have never seen maybe, becasue i would have been living my hope,, but wait that is what i did..
I think i would like to write things larger,
addictions are killing what could be my life, for the numbed and tired equality of class. You can watch me squirm out of incredible sistuations , inner ly with the care of a doctor, craving out the endless “Responces” and re clairifcation, the itemization of character, the seperation of will and knowledge. For there to run away can never live, the eqaulity of a free sober delight. Though i have found myself going a bit crazy over sporting events.
The excitement of a world seris champion in boston, and i was routing. And felt like i was there, helping the ball glide higher, the batter could hear me say swing batter. From a seat in a american diner where it takes forty minutes to enjoy a meal and that’s before you touch it..
It is to say i am falling behind in seeing again, herre now. My sight is clouded by my fears maybe, soemtimes i thnk it is the waking of man to his form, which scares me most, this thing i would to get rid of but for the fear of being without it, to lean where the road get boring, from lack of partispation. The world always outside, and i want the interior to create vacations.
I guess that would be a reason for writing.. So there where we read, (in the quite and spiritual) we are algiven like no where else. Transported from what is real to what is real , from place and ablitiy to uderstanding, or just here.. Where there is the following of here.. For the sake of the same,, a moment.

It has been a good week since i have written. A good week is a figure of speech for the has been normal for the worker type i have again assumed. And if i don’t look for ways out i will be forever. I told of taking a room, and iver mentioned the quitting of smoke , yes to the one and the other seems to be in the way again. I long to quit like i long to stop working both seem about as hard. It is one of the hardest things to do , to quit something it took years to aquire. This addiction is tantalizing. But i lose hours i can not afford when i do it i hope to be what i want yet, at the descending age.
The battery is half full. I am stoned and my life of responciblibity and incoherant civility attack at al kinds of angles.
Hands make from troubles long established from smoking.. Small clogged nerve endings. And , sight cloves of animal skin, long over dried.
Motives. Like answering god’s calling . And nature so apart and instant. And i watch television, the world seris, and elections and it is the holiday, next after holloween we have an election, and then give thanks – giving. Our reward for another year without rebellion. The best way to get the house to yourself. Is to have a party..
then give it all away , in decorated little packetages. With red for the blood and green for the half assed peace of nature. Or should I say the Red for blood and the green for photo generational cell. The plant blood. Things i only remember to say with occasions. Talents i forget for the normalcy of thought under the influence, but once the zone is clear, the avenues (dis) un covered, you are human and concept. Feels, which have been made to be seperated from actionare more upon nature for being nature and leading in peace and mental health normalacy.
In other words, i feel like i leaving the complecations of being.
And is there some wrong in not wanting to be , the child of this , or the cultural fact of that,, the addiction to. The use of , the left out few, like irony is a more peacefull truth. That which is the word is never said,,
i hear somewherre,, i can only feel it is felt
so there is where to i step. This innocense of understanding, flying ,like the death to face is yet just a concept of the life we lead. And there to find again a moment out to many for knowing and when. it isnt the knowledge for which kills,
but the responce at the end of t he fall.

And yet why to know at all.

At the same time i sit , i watch a movie.

The entrance to this maze is what an age would mean.. If visual confusion could be equalled in paint. Mental follow through is a now, which is heavier than any past.. So what do we say. We are walking the quick lightening sinaps. Transfering emotions to dictation. So here is the wisdom. Wherre are my faulure cast about like dice.
For i am human and human is the innocense proposed by god.
The now energy symbol. Literal and linear.

But to ask sence , is to scream into the past until future takes precedent. But then even that can not be whole. Until the past and future meet in a now. For the eternal sense never leaves. Such that past and future are only keys of sight to what is now.
So , if each plot and story could be intersperced into televised visuals, appearing colaged, blurry, if we are let without emotions to direct, the joy of being.
Which anything that can remove , this joy, is seen eventually.
A tree leaves
of age.

You asked me a question. When before reaching for the computer for which you are so devoted, and curse by. So eroaded itinto the manufestation of point and comment, but yet so long from the comment are you, eqaulling sides, to listen and foce full dialougures, inspired by remorse,
you who so kindly unequals himself to become with humanity, and off feelings, while he wants to see feelings, and when not stoned do. But here the commotion of illusions, the depressives maufest and indocrination of excess, of the passion of escape. Let call what you will. I am here.. And the tlae yet goes, on.. The story of the one, the illusion of control, the respect of not being, the escape of love,, .. ‘ herre the illusion is a mental conditioning, to realize how large the now can be , in lonely walks and idle trendings,
here where i am not bound to the hammer, or the corn for whcih it raises, here i whave come nothing and like it as long as no won comes home, and here is the peaced remarked apon by gods greater , the poe, the harwtrone, the hope that words had some reason. To devulge the lesssons of thought, of human utility, of relization. In side small comments, and over all tone.
Here where change makes the removal of stagnace and Morals.
You come, oh past ones, at me with a knife,
but i come with a gun,,
you have taught me to shoot
and given me lessons
on the reverse.
Little humility lesson
like you go nothing
and deal with it.
Laugh gold rings invisible
so the gun is poverty is the only purity.. Except wait..
What am i talking about.. The flow of emotins make unheard. And is unheard as i wite this , a loss of memory , a telling of stories, no , for the create of such would resolve around what you already know. And strerero types which create a farse, when the depth of people is so much more, the depth,,
and there in idle words and caustic tales of living,, the one only who could write the only only,, for the uglyness of my most pleasuable momment could only be mine,, the analisis complete and unadorn for literture is my martyered god..
This remainder of bones in script, and blood of line.
To emasculate or defeat..
I love the way a misspelling proposes .. For i have thought on words
and reproduced another,, for the winner knows to effect is a unknown for humanity takes and leaves.. So there is no reality to me, my working hands fighting with my follow through of a dream.. Known in the self defeat of a blue collar micro chip.
As once again the look of the wording.. Blue chip.. A tested intellect. The self defeat and the knowledge of it..
Oh i wonder what awaking can yet see light,,
My hands untired and type through movies..
But working i can do.
I make a painting today.. it is a women looking up , like up is a thing, her arm is raised, the other reaching down behind her.
The first you can not see as only the breast protray the movement, the edge of the canvas removes the rest of the arm. Most of the body is abstract lines of the four colors used when i was trying to make a plant scene.
I called it “ the connection” for the muse littered the finalness , Acceptance is the suggestion but not the picture all will see as they each look for something different.
But that is not what i was going to write, and i wonder how far i wil go ,, the changes are intellectually there , the changes of mentaol creation,, the drugs make me feell paranoid all the time, thinking people are paying attention to me,, when i am out in the stone of it.. All is fantasy and i wonder who knows, i ask a lot of questions and generally do not interact with life,, aroud me,, and in my heard i am thinking about the interaction, lke when i am stoneed at work and i thing about the plots going on around me, being insuecure when i know inside i do not have to worry and yet , let my thoughts go instead of .. The freedom, i am without all the vices.

so here is again. Another day without phyiscal work. Watching a movie. So what is the verdtic. Must i judge, am I capible, she lost her short time ,memory. And the family is not a different. ‘
I have lost the movie. And i have been watching,, as she is blond girl.
Nad yet as the pasting is of time, I wonder on health and relations, such would be not a greateness to be lost , for what comes wihtout calling is therre , what has come up through the genertrtive forrest relates intimately with Sciense, even with knowlsege which is leading.. There is feelings to make a man into himsself only wise, and yet wisdom, comes around form innerter, for it is how you live, . Walls are slavery..
Clamor —

i dont want to leave the last post alone

it is another day . and the events of the last week , month year , have only been the sorted affair of a homeless musician writer depression head. As i i peice together the days like there is something to do . like one of the resumes will get out. like my projects can get off the ground, and it is just my own willingness to look for the abstract inside of American correctness. it is mine to answer , but to tell you, is interesting also. for their are moments when i feel connected to the truth of life, and all else is a fantasy, like the jobs you work , like the loves you pursue, as in they would all fall apart if you just didn’t go. if you just said the wrong words, life is so precarious. and alone. our voice given to the energy never seem to equal the reality we could create, such that to call life the matrix, a choice between pills doesn’t seem far off. and yet i am not sure with pill I have taken. I know it is not the linear for in that i have contained my prejudice for years. School being a set of classification right wrong grading when learning is only a matter of reaching out the same books. but i do see how thinking alone only leads to viewing feelings about subjects more than dialogue, you are a god alone. Even as i have taken alone to be a mantra. alone in a car. alone in a fantasy one can not connect with so alone what i can only hear my heart beating, and maybe that is all we should really hear. Like a squirrel i said not long ago. Like to feel is the pinnacle of life. when all else demands not to . we go to work and give away the life hours for the work hours, we come home and need to split sleep between the Living and resting. Such that to feel takes to much time and we drink and fondle ourselves into a creation of life far removed from what we are actually living, and then some of us have children to get up and Do the same. A fine line between living and thinking. between reacting and living.
Lately i have been trying something new, the idea that i can find a path through the depression without weed. for which i have self medicating with with i have been preserving my illusions to happyness with. In fact i miss it. I miss not caring about all problems weather of my onw believe or the worlds. like living in my car. a problem or not, the not being a fact of money , or joblessness, of security. it goes back to the fear of Missing the moment. saying the wrong words, being kicked out of the system for my strangeness, or for my real hatred of it. An american system which gives nothing to its people and yet takes so much in taxes, when the rest of the First world countries provide free education because a society without education can never keep a first world standing. Twenty five percent of our country gets and education higher than grade schools. and I should learn to write like them, I should care? That is the system we work for a system that pulls down the preverbal boot straps. So when i consider my life, I accpet the fantasy , it is not th esystems fault , once you realize the system doenst care about anyone. unless you are “of money”.I live a dream.
Yesterday it was sunny , and in my less than joyous way i played a local restaurant that welcomes musicians to come and earn a meal by playing for an hour. I felt different, being one of the few times i have played without my supporting weed. and all my nerves left and i just did an hour, with limited improvisation and a heart for each tune, being as they were all mine accept for Fire and Rain. which i did at the beginning and end. but i wasn’t nervous. It seems one of the benefits from no weed.
After i played on the streets for a little while. I played to the sun and for myself to hear the chords, to feel the moment wiht the sun and nothing else. you see it is the end of the month and as all who get a check , and i do.. i get a check because of the depression when sometimes i thinkit is just my punishment for not following the linear i was able to see long ago. and instead just read, and just wrote, but even in that i didnt produce and still am not. I ramble like this in many journals and for many reasons but without some point for really nothing seems to have point , we are a species waiting for the end. Watching it come, and somewhere people are building shelters that will survive. adn we will be remembered for the love we could never get around to making law, not for earth or for our bodies. We seperated ourselves into the haves and nots, while under a sun under the same sky, thinking we were right ,those are the hard workers. the millionaries. they are the hard workers. passing time in meetings to see how much less they can pay workers or how much natural resources they can take from the earth while upping the price until all of your work house are spent and you have to use credit to pay the montages which eventual has lead to now. with no more room to go. but that matters little to a man living in his car, Except now, when the car sits on a street corner cuase i can not afford gas, or when the next time it comes to pay for the paper work which keeps it on the road. I always hated the words , “thats the way it is” and yet that si the way i live. the way it is is oly fit for a man to stay alone, making due with the freedom i have taken for myself. I dont pay rent or utilities, I live without electric, and steal it from a coffee house. from the excess of the turn of coffee.. a mark up of 5oo percent. enough to pay a electric bill i refuse to hold privately. I live in a eight by four by three tomb. I spent 197 a month on the books and what ever i get from friends whos support lacks with each word i write. and what i get playing guitar. i have blankets and heat the car with my blood. the facts of the smallness the free. I know where all the free meals are, yet i don’t go because i could be worse off, and i would have to be around my peer group.. since they are on this thing or that. the drunks or the meta heads, who bow there head going in. or are so use to it that they are chatty to all their “comrades” , Or they are just out of prison. or they are just passing through. to many to know what branch of “don’t have” they are on, I can only feel for my safty on one angle, I don’t want to be known,, for the car sits alone everyday while i am away from it. and to many people knowing might mean what little i have could be taken.
I don’t talk to you either who live in the forty hour week because i am always in need , cigarettes, coffee, food,, I have already asked you for a job. and you said no, you don’t know where one is.. or gave me the number of day labor where you wait in line for 9 dolars an hour, because you didn’t have the sense to mortgage your life to one degree or another. you didn’t have the sense to pay the system to be in the system. and i look around and i am wrong , for the daily laborers are mostly them the system has kicked out for the same reasons as the free meal people, the same stories with more and more creative human choices, but then you notice it isn’t just them who were kicked out , it is more now them who are forced out. like they did all the right things, spent years and years working and then one day they were rulled on by all those hard working millionaries. the gods of saving money not lives.

to all hateful people who call themselves my brother

next chapter dear brother.

I write on occasion of your birth. A day I wasn’t around for but one which affected me though only on writing this can I really feel. It is a sorting of myself that brings me to analysis you. you who does not talk to me. You who has made worse the hours years we shared and with your denial of me. I am unloved by.
Nonacceptance is the greater harm than any years of the past for one is past , the other on going.
Dear brother;
You know I don’t dislike my life though your achievements the world would weigh more heavily then my own . I am not without my talents. but even as i write I don’t feel equal to you yet write to support myself and my independence from the lingering remorse i feel as your shadow of my life. Your ideals I do not share. Your work ethic , so embedded into you by our step father ,I have seen as a hindrance. Not that people should not work hard. but to work for self fulfillment can never be proven as worthy. I feel i have created things, a magazine, a band, my website, my consciousness, and my writings are all events well earned and not as linear as what your life would appreciate.
But yet sitting in the back of my car, the world of material gains would weigh me in different, those who weigh by money and possessions are really lost to true harmony. They give up peace for schedules and individual consciousness for group ignorance.
Even as I write this one yearly letter I come to see myself again and again as having the harmony enough to continue on the path of adaptation and self realization. while you Just what? bend over backward to hold on to your piece of the ever lessening stability of materialism. The group think of corporate controls. A group think that depends on subservience and forced subjection to emotionless designs.
I hear so little from you , except your wife sits alone while your work takes you across the lonely country.
I remember only the last hate filled words against a mother who fed you and a brother who’s life you have no right to enter. And yet I write you , not to you, but to the world about you, to free me.
for I don’t know if you will ever read this , I don’t know cause we don’t talk. Not after the last where you offer advice over a new frind. advice you shouldnt give because of the unfortunate absence you have been .
You will never see the one hundred and eighty five dollars i owe you. You will never see it because i am an artist and live from hand to mouth as they say. but you also will never get me to build you a house or hear me write a kind word to you, you have missed out on my love and as such there must have been many people you have missed out on and i pity you.
but I did talk to you four years ago, when your compliment another artist because you don’t understand my work or just didn’t give a shit to look at or listen to what i have spent years formulating.
While my sin against you are few , you tried to kill me once , chasing me with a knife, subjecting me to cruelties after the fourteen years of abuse had ended. and I still remember how you tested me and my loyalty when at the back of the car at seven or eight you stabbed me with a sharp pencil and i didn’t say a word. You were ,and are still, cruel, inhuman and emotionless. It is a quiet pain i have never really identified until now. even though the lead from the pencil is still a black dot in my thigh. I will always hold that against you, and i can see by your size you hold it against yourself.
You are spineless and afraid . You never came to realize the beauty of true creation and stick to a life of cruel linear emotionally devoid subservience. Just like when you were young, spineless, “Taught” and never self relevant. I always tired but at 46, I am done.
I write this and most everything i write is to free myself, because i need freedom. I need to feel a true sense of self forgiveness by not holding on.
I guess i forgave you everyday of those years, and one last time I forgive you with these words because you are just what you are. and personal advancement is a self achievement i need for me. It is the loves’s we have lived that we need to understand. and i now understand you for the cruel man you will always be.. good bye.

i am sad. and i do and dont know why

smoke a cigerette , think calm thoughts, look at the future. Today a man died in my head, he died on friday as the herald reported it. his name was Hearld,, no Harold. what ever, you would know him if you were out in the downtown of bellingville. I am sad . he was a nice person, poor like all of us, he lived in a closet in the clover building for years. and really i didn’t know him well. but lately he would ask me about the Occupy movement and you could feel he wanted to attend.. but couldn’t because of the frustrations of Old age and arthritis. there must have been other reasons but i never got to ask. I remember he would knod his head last summer and sometimes listen as i played guitar on the streets busking.
He was a familiar face we look for but never really acknowledge as important, until they are not there. The idea of permanence gives us hope. the missing sight of the near Santa looking man, has been a hole in the downtown facade. it is not the end to my sadness.
I have also said good bye to the bellingville Occupy at the same time. I miss the feeling around protest, but the meaning has been lost. Small groups gather in far off places, arguing about small things, and no mention of the greater movement of corporate crimes against the government,, or corporate collusion to over throw the government, we can no longer live by business alone promising the rights of people. Our food is corrupted, our children are taught to corrupt, we are living a short lived lie daily. like nothing matters. and we argue on a president.
I watched as these small groups ripped off one uniform for another, and create disillusionment through an united intelligence that still didn’t know how deep the rabbit hole. and in that vain created a controlled organization that didn’t even have an Occupy Bellingham sign, until the artist Lea Kelley made one (she left the movement soon after the second protest when the controllers invited her to a private meeting she refused to attend) these same problems Never more seen than at the camp in Maritime Park. when the “Protester” couldn’t tell you why they were there from the alcohol on their breath, or their childishness concerning research. they haven’t been following the defrauding of the government since JFK, through Haliburton, to the Bank ballouts. from the ten years war and false starting of Weapons of mass destruction that were not there. six thousand die with us to blame. cause we didn’t say anything and corporate opinion rules the media, owning to Reagans elimination of contols over ownership of media sources.
I watched sadly . as no one who understood the problems fully were allowed to present the conclusions and include everyone in the discussions. It was a hope ,like most, that failed. like missing a dead man.
But that does not end what i am sad about. With all the clamoring about corporate control which is useless, we aren’t hearing from their lips , the true voice of The need for change in environmentalism and Practices. We don’t hear about solar energy,, we dont hear about alternative fuels.. and we see Hummers running around, and people guarding private property with mansions. We have allowed so much in the name of money. that only the question of money affects us. I think the occupy movement has the wrong shoes on ,, and for a reason. if a people’s movement became about environment issues the corporation would have to change. Someone is looking to stop that,, but it is the stable of European riots. We choose instead to argue about jobs we gave away long ago. and the Education and welfare of our people we gave away to the cheapest bidder long ago.
and that is not even why i am sad. I am sad because things are changing for me. and i must live without even the small money i get. I cant work, the low brow ignorance of Washington laws and my twitching from ptsd. i don’t know the underground well enough around here. and most of this Sheltered area are undereducated or over educated Ie sold out, and haven’t realized nothing gets done by the book. Laws are made for people who get caught. and Private knowledge is the only knowledge. you would think Cleaning up Chemical messes would be first right in a land with the largest Waste dump in the country. and a town with a water front infested with mercury, with the ever present side effect of depression. Maybe i am sad cause i am still here.
I have learned a lot here. I have learned i had ptsd, for which only really came out when trying to talk with Occupy Ga’s Occupy Drunks and the weak and mediocre public here. but lets face it is me i was and always talk to. my violent voice is constantly restrained by Marijuana, my actions started to get like my step father, possessive and drunk with righteousness, I yelled at a girl to stop her from intervening when i wanted a man to swing on me at the occupy camp. as he acted like he was angry and brave enough He called me a thief for taking a jacket donated to the movement. but there is no hope on the streets among the weak, or drug infested,, so i have been learning about me, and i am sad. I don’t see the environment as sustainable, i don’t see our food as good for us. I see and hear the corporate opinion ruling the day, and i listened as another man died, and realized i didn’t know him well enough to cry , though talk to him at least once a week. and saw him everyday, I am disjointed. and sorry for the wrongs i commit, but there doesn’t seem to be a right. we are all fucked. ONly as we pretend can we find life. don’t look this way or that and you might survive, but don’t expect to have a real hope for your children unless you are building an underground fall out shelter that can survive fifty years. It has been a long life. filled with pain. i am sad .

and the police are coming in bellingham , theyve said they would . well the area has been listed as no trepassing , so this is called. And be no trepassing agasisnt us..

and so yet,
i will or not be there. I will or not my world to leave a better place, I will or not be part of the human race for which finds systems disastrous. and i am not even mentioning bankers and fraud i am not mentioning bush and Halliburton, the mob and the cia, no i am not talking about the chemicals in food or the warming of the earth in order to get at the oil reserves underneath, or the planned littering of our media by allowing the persons of corporate nature(as separate from human nature, differences like a communistic approach to the senses,, like the normal peoples sence of doom.) let 85 percent of “major media” to be owned by five Corporations,, or the planned destruction in the seas, from the blacked gulf to the nuclear east , i am not talking of the radioactive Armageddon that already happened and we are just waiting for the side effects with every bite of fish, no I am . not.. talking of that.
it is so to the confusion of my conversation , wonders first on its own values,, its own sences and philosophy,, Its own will i am to will or not. it is that of seeing the paths which accept the hideous and super being of our inner creations. and that Such as Blame and scorn be gone, the vibrations and equality of water beings as energy soul, are recognized. And suffered, for the perfection is a dream of all being so.
I am not as achieved as of all that and so when i hear the voices of madness which becomes authority, i look inside and see me.
i see the child who looked with guilt at his own noise and then as an adult walked into brick walls to show you i can while drunk, i am the last one you hit at a party, and the first who wants to live the furthermost of the money spent. i am the one with no name you never remember because you meet me drinking. but I jump at the unheard approaches, and have a anger. but only when i will or not.
i have lost every job because i have walked off. Scaring myself with adult anger, Oh yes you can read Tolstoy one day and scream in darkin nights with one ripped business shirt and a smell of tequila forgotten And almost everything that just went on. but looking at the ex-stream only in a rear view.
Knowing each moment as a passionate chance.
A love zealously celebrated. a moment’s will
far of civil such the poet brand,
and never the same after.
A stand is well placed
so I will or will not.
all with humble laughter.

.
or i fall off your deep end impassioned by a moment not started here and where here it will not die.. the Occupy, It is a set of eyes with hope learning frustration. As a new thing , fresh eyes in sparkles of youth, standing in side the main tent. store bought tshirts and conversations of the favorite game Ninnteen , that says “i am ready” “I am just a solider” right after he tells me about the white Lexius “over there pointing his hand, thats the one, in one game, that he almost got to the end with.19 and already thinking he is a body. it mades me want to describe everyone, for the old man with a black cowboy hat , as tall as rain, and cunning in a chess feild, the electriciam that hs a house but was called here by a dart on a map. or T– who’s five nothing and raised his three children in the woods for a while. who goes canning with a calm acceptance.
Stories, and i want to think of them, for they were my occupy. people are heart.. and the wallstreeters, became the heartland, as this mixture was congregated, like a cloud of people, condensed humidity from a frustration of back door deals posing as caring government
A Government without responsibility or a positive world definition. Some one wants it to be “government as tax collector only , and that we will privatize”.
but yet..
Do we pay just for a Protection status? when the authority is onlly weapons and not reason. for reason would just have a conversation on the matter. would look at all the corporate movements and the effects there of and find some leaning that says you are right and we should be the first Occupy city,,Bellingham Especially , for the Georgia Pacific Lot which litters our common water front, two miles long and half a mile wide, which is one of the largest “chemical contamination” which sickens our water supply with mercury, and sickens us with a side effect of mercury poison; depression.
the Coal Trains are just a new part of bellingham’s contamination and these people chained themselves to each other in a big puppy pile on top of the tracks stopping trains for five hours. on the OCCUPY THE POrts day.
but i am tired of talking and must sleep, i will or will not.go tomorrow.
I want to talk better but can not. Frustration at the history of the last fifty years buzz my head. but i have only lived as an adult through the most recent,, that time of the lies with wmd, the stealing of governmental contracts and the persuits of death and American domination surrounding the last eleven years , the issues of guarding foreign gas pipelines and dieing for corporate oil profits from an Oil based President. And even before that when they were getting ready, and Environ-ing us, OK ing us, S and L ing us and when we started to talk about the WTO to much;
Such that within the next year Bush decides to read; to kindergarden kids(who were told not to make fun of the President) .
ii have talked to much again, one last thingy,, if government is meant to be just a tax collector for the reason of policing and authorizing law of one over the other without regard to true justice as a common man would understand life and liberty and a global awareness education,starting with mediation and ending with raw food farming and New zoning laws of solar energy on all new buildings large and small then , Then i would say get out ,, and we would protect ourselves, we would make friends , not hid agendas, but we would have to explain ourselves to other, to give the whole picture and not just the slow “conspiratorial planning”, (which i would guess at as being World Domination For world government Through the recognition of Aliens and which leads to a common sense of Metaphysical Unity.
, a yea , “what he said”

after the holly

the wind in washington has blown in a window. flying glass and pushed over plants, relieving boredom of a box never seeing mess, the correct house built for natures control.. no it is against nature that most housing is built,, Unaccepted of the shelterlessness of animals. It is something to loose, Our animal. animals are intuitive. animals know how to please themselves and only remember through body twitches, like a cat that automatically winces when a hand comes to pet them, but you know they have never been hit in thirty years. it just remembers.
the window crashed to the floor onto a carpet, it was old and the owners of the window ,of the square building are home asleep, a renter has no say in the land he occupies, no say to the quality of the windows, the clearness of the glass, it is someone else’s , and only cleanliness can the renter claim, and self decision to be here,or to leave,or to be housed, at all, it doesn’t seem a choice, as in humans are to big to burrow. but have in the past, in a past where every bit of land wasn’t bought up , by some investor and “ran” by “management”,, who are really to blame for the hatred, for the low quality of the pane of glass that broke, caused by improper glazing. the middle managers who perform no task as the Marx guy said.
the renter could have taken care of it. but was told not to.. its someones job. the Managers.. funny how a majority of our economy is people that tell and represent money, yet are uselessly earning a living. those same people get paid more than a construction worker who breaks his back to do things.. and yet has noting to retire on. the Lazy rich are: because they are ?smart? because they are greedy,, the most useless of people educated with a business degree.. while the lazy push around large sums of money, and laugh that the window broke. from some other country or from some other class consciousness, who’s houses have the latest windows, double pained.
Guilt is one. destruction of others, of planet is two.
Renters are trained to not care, Trained to blame. like the religions that say it is god’s fault and leave the rich out of it.. God’s were invented to protect the rich, or we would have killed them long ago.
I shouldn’t complain, i didn’t fix the window. Didn’t create the glass. Didn’t support the renter when he asked to be recognized, in fact it had nothing to do with me,, as i am the trillions who expect love and never get to see the glass as something we create instead of just looking through. Break it and let in the nature we are. the hope our organizations mean represent.. oh wait .. first the training would have to be faced,, the ideals that float through the pain.. like the prejudices we get like osmosis, i don’t know why i am writing this. the looking glass i guess, the point of procedure, the glass was broken and i cheer but alone on a road living in a car. where you sleep and nothing more. the rest is nature , the wind is freedom, the tears are quiet rain, the pain of sight, is hope of seeing , telling, knowing. we can not protect ourselves from nature. the fact that we try leaves what we call blame in place. systems ,, misunderstanding.
when the window broke i was standing there. i was outside, i was the cause with a hammer, I just wanted to wake up.

i am not done with this.. a day in a house

and welcome the morning. with a world changing in front of us, when did we become so afraid as to not trust our system.. when we needed separate laws to convict “terrorist” when was that separate from crime. but that is not what i wanted to talk about. it is of loneliness and self criticism i wanted to talk. With a cat in my lap and coffee by my side.. but love has run to let me think on my own. the empty chair besides me remembers more the laughter and partnership felt with one gone. So the chairs sit empty. and the heart knows why.
It has been awhile since i have had such a complaint. for as we have space to do what we want we find a disconnection to the rest of society, and left to our own to have invisible worlds and more lonely lives. Reaching out to know through a screen. Well bordered and without sence of touch smell , all visual, preplanned nonreactive. Even the sounds are planned and who couldn’t fall in love given the right sound track. this meaning of private Property is used agaisnt us.

i have one hour; almost.

 and it is another day. these words like notes in a bottle,cast on to the serf, i mean surf, . the grand expanse of a tidal pull called internet.

Here where we are all Ben Franklin or Tomas Jefferson.. or not with the latter. but the first , oh there is a lesson of love, of a fourteen year old with A Printing Press.. oh that was the shit… and here we go to our digital reprieve from invisibility..  But only in allusion I am afraid, after many years of marketing , i am still treading the waters of a few who listen, and yet it is me. asking of myself words which expand and grow and invade and divide.. but from a whole is all. Escapes into humanity are our only shared reality is a inner humanity.

  I question myself, have i come to hate mankind. Hate with a capitol, hate from the darkness and callousness of drug dealing coke users, Hate from the alcohol and all depressants which confuse sense of self.; move us beyond feeling to a world of mental creation such that we can not understand, and those that field the abscess, don’t bend to the inhumanity of “civility” Western or Eastern, Namely those who look into the void of misunderstandings  to find themselves naked and overbearing  to the dis reasonable FACTS in control .. the powerfully unclean, who tell themselves they can not feel environment. and cast aspersion to the natural facts of peace and personal Prosperity. Who cant not understand 

that the water of feeling is life.

   Petty , Shallow men and women have controlled in the vein of this Distraction, this Materialistic Absolution,  Controlled through Private exchanges of more Materialism, And every dollar earned is another removing one from the hope of a metaphysical understanding..

but watch.. and there is no where else to go.. Mediation in High Schools. Vibrational understandings to music, Schorkra connected to ‘global energy Law.. The Facts of peace, and World View coming to a mirrors understanding. A personal recognition..
my hatred doesn’t last long,, because doesn’t answer its own philosophies. and i can not hate pets,, I can not hate lesser forms. who exist only in a misunderstanding of feelings. so bantered about but dis reasonableness like Capitalism without Free education… You are not informed ,, you are left to create,, or recreate , the wheel.
Starting from scratch is Enlightenment of the Second yet if you don’t you are controlled. stop reading and go eat plastic food,, and cry over your children doing drugs and living in Parks. Because you didn’t evolve. didn’t see all is part of the whole of experience.
and it is to myself all is said.. as last night i was yelled at.. and yelled. to care is the worst feeling sometimes,, to see a beautiful idea turned into yet another un-evolved venture by human ego and plannings without emotional wholeness. some day the Peace will be all. we will change a world from devastation to progression through the application of natural law for which we have inside us now.. agreement of world vision and personal metaphysics.
I know the beast and have grown to hate him.. the mirror philosophies needed to understand self.

to talk of time is to see what remains to find its change

and yes today i play a couple of songs, I think , at a Protest night , of voice held by Dana Lyons, I am not sure it will go off but i will be there with axe. but what is the politics i cannot really say, do i approve of my own action concerning the being of the ninety nine. will i be used on a list for even participating, is the cunning of people outside of government ruining government, contracting the hands of power to fewer and fewer.. while the ultimate is power over self.. it is nature of mankind, that is to embody. a complete one being that cannot cast into Laws or bound by Judicial dictate.It is feel and we find the tidal push because off all the tidal desecration of ocean , Ice caps, and human psychology. the problems are broad if you look outside, and curable if you look inside. we can have a peaceful day no matter the storms, and we have lived that way forever. the News , the Media, being two separate entities confuse us to sides and arguments. they tell us a whole structure would fall if we trip over the feather. and yet we look at our feet while traveling.. you see someone has painted left and right on them. so it is at that we look.. and yet it is like blinders on the horse. Live your specialty, while your emotions know,, a peaceful world is not the goals of economics,, only a government can insure Tranquility and Advancement of Society..

 as an artist i can only feel my way , it is sad maybe, but someone must feel within this world of slanted arguments without the proper questions to argue. We have ,with our vote created this? We have Wanted things, but the Promises Failed.. they were distractions while the elected did what ever the corporations which are suppose to help the general society , fail to include everyone, they who produce nothing, get all with limited caring and no responsibility any more.. they have managed to create nonprofits to represent their interest,, basically creating a perfect system where all equals the goal of said interest and nothing for true human interests.. we have been stopped as a society from the benefits of solar energy, from the benefits of research, with a corroded food supply, we have been denied access to space by corporate space programs, and all with our own dollars.

  the occupy has been divided,to the core ,, which should be called Cup.. loos the o , c, py,

CUP equals the core of the movement to bring Justice to Corporations that defraud the Government. These type of Defrauding Have to be defined.. Halliburton, is one kind, Environ another, The federal reserve and Investment banks, All international Corporation.. must be tried in world court.. A corporation that brings down a government should be ruled criminal and all Assets Frozen.

  but i am an artist. i can only feel the pain sometimes. the living in my car, the living on borrowed money , the hope of the day inside my guitar, and pen. without capitol because i twitch at interviews. and loose jobs because of my PtSD.. namely I am human, and Feel to create a better day for myself. in that my ideas are my therapy.

 singing my muse, my personal cure. i guess. tonight in front of a crowd i will perform.  I hope they like it, but revolt in metaphysical nature is my only real concern, we are water,and in that we are the whole. 100 percent.

 

.

a day, a moment. the first time one watchs a domestic action ,, part one

It is eleven thirty the axes are to fall at midnight. . we watch , and wonder what is coming. I don’t want to see. but i feel we are to see. each day a difference of time. the Occupy is before us.. as in inside our hearts further and further devoid of its flesh for the contribution to silence.. A yell only fulfills..
I know i am not but two friends are in Portland , and i know it is my age that is keeping me.here. but i am wrong , for life a moment is..this is not something that has began yesterday,, this is just the stress of our times.. we have been pushed to this. they have,, we have,, all are facing , but some of the message seem confused, but such is the vocabulary of the Pressured, stressed worried, the world is being effected by the corporate mortality or lack of which. . over and over.. the federal government is being disbanded in front of our eyes,, with the Deficit, with the lost of personal economic controls ..a government which can not afford its budget is unable to help or changed life for the better.. that will be left to the corporate masters to choose when we are allowed to have natural sustainability.. Electric engines, Solar Panels, Wind energy.. When will we make Corporate food Producers, Produce all natural products as the standard, Where we create Law that insure the standard we create in the next years. for the time of water starts with the flow of a tide over a corporate mind.
I once thought i was important, and i know forever now It is we that makes a whole. Of the sufferance as a people we are tired,, We have given our fathers brother and sister wives, in wars for foreign concerns which We were lead. we were incited with the lies of WMD, We were conned it accepting No Bid contracts, and the start of a deficit the largest ever,, And that money drained into American hands.. American Corporate Hands,, that Had the money then to invest. and divest the government through more loans more interest.