Tag: danger

High Criminy

Psychefancy, Christomancy, a Thebian priest and his tools. The highway is the by way is the liars way of breaking with the rules. To leave the brave, the accusing of rags, the jealousy of the rote. To too well tell a curiosity to dwell is the parasitism of a cleft in the wall straying, is the deft prerogative of slacking brown nose toads. The oath of a diligent and cross fountain gather has to excuse the Winter, excuse the rain, excuse the very plumbing truth for its simples, its pathos, its gain.

As a child I had my blues. I had my tasty treats and I had my designs. Make good on my fortune and react by spreading the garland around. Give good witness to the tourney in the trades and cheer on the charge leaders in the snuff and morays. A heuristics of the nominal purchase of the low down spirit. For penchant, for musings, for brave concord in the light of another oncoming day.

To speak of rain is made obfuscate. The harassment of savages saves their own. Another drink but it ain’t on me. You see that would be the clover hoof. The Gillian cast of sympathy a lack. How many the times does an exhort need to tell you you don’t need to leave unless you need a hallowed reed to blow us all away.

The page doesn’t turn without the idle to fall its way through. There is no cache of booze. No store of gold. No bank note for us to go by.

Only a broken mother asking how many children you will take, how many coffers you will leave empty, how many lies you will force your young men and women to tell. Its the new slavery and all you need are believers. That will seal the Deil. The lie of the conceited flesh. Both the purile and the anteseptic make out no such due accord. An irascible convenience of bailed out Strophies and baumed out gartens in the disputed Sun.

If things look up then you are getting duped. If you cross the bridge then you will be stumbled from your stoop. The best effort is to no longer have anything to do with evil. The best demon is the one that choses never to exist. The best dead man is one born again. It doesn’t get any easier than that. Simply move from this place of your own volition and check the street when you cross it.

A place like this goes without saying. The best result of customers is the gypsy sending the current home. Any other cause of the diaspora and we will have to cut our losses. We do neither make practice of it nor do we profess it. It is bewitching and the extent to which it has exaserbated the vehemence of its rebuke is not our call.

If you position yourselves at the cryogenic with a redundancy that currently is your stone. One thing is you have only to imagine your enemy. The same as the evil you purchase in your markets. The ride aspect of the carnival leaves you at the door.

Return is as decisive as foul play. You are caught without your better reason and your hide splits at the confessor’s error. You are a consumer you see! And I mean through and through. The indulgence of the mass going by prepares of nefarious means. It just glares when their babies cry for the succor of your candy. Another tests and the order is denied. What is rather apprehended is the tantrum of two foot tall infidels and the flash in the pan ethos of conniving runts. Those automatons of the filth and the crud.

To end on pleasant note. The garden cares for those who tend it. And to tend it well it needs its respects and it’s revolutions. Vouch for it like death and you will find your health improves by far. The earth bids us give her lease for a longer tide down her shores. Life is not a matter of objects. A stinking mess shouldn’t be ignored. Get out and exercise your constitution. Or go to camp. Just don’t excuse your consumption because you are a faithless and bastardized. Be. And do that in good company. Thank you.

Magic, Spirit, Healing, Practice

Fear. Fear of death. Fear of the unknown. And the converse. Those things longed for, or sorrowed after or in so many ways more familiar found to overjoy.

Boo! Aaaah. Ooooh. Yes. Yes I see it now. The long walk up from posterity has found few paradigms that are willing to put it down again. It would seem the Sun was set on a skew wrapped in packing tape and then sent by the barrel like oil for sipping spoons to dole it back out at $100 a pop! Ah yes 👍 casterated oil, snake 🐍 oil, ketchup, patent goods and hairbrained ideas.

Is it beauty that escapes us in looking over? Do the various rites of passage deigned fit for youth at least give us time for a good glimpse at what that beauty provides. We are living longer. I can see in some sense that we are maturing slower. I can see much of the mass hobnobbing down the road. Itself staying mostly silent in it’s affections. And yet there it is also. Stumbling horribly when the gregarious nature of the Holy See at such times looks only to capture or encapsulate that mass for it’s own privy. It’s losing battle with the control principal forced out upon the Western beam.

The demiurge is a well acquainted romantic in the guise of man. Unfortunately having once or a few times seen the great beauty of the Universal and it’s accompanying dreams their is all to often that uninhibited want of the fool to try and ring the thing by the neck. Unfortunately.

The quavering breadth of aetherial space and it’s surround of the Earth is an entity of no uncertain persuation. Let Mother Nature be. Let her ways remain free of the constant need to turn her into a queen bee pumping out the flesh to be forced to survive on a limited planet of now diminishing resources. Let the vision be. But do not repeatedly ask for the weird or freaky when those things out of control do not belong in your direct means of manifestation.

The Earth and the Universal are physical in so many ways. But God and Mother Nature are not always involved in the matter to the same extent. Confusing this issue has literally put us behind the wheel of our own destruction. It would be a whole lot wiser if the roll call of the flesh were not so highly conceited by the want of power 💪 brokers to take control of everything that comes before them or happens to pass their way throughout the normal cycles of life and death in revolution of the heavens.

We are failing at this test of our spirits miserably. The more of a grip we need on the collar of earthlife and mankind the less coherent are we in our person and the more liable and inculpable we are in regards to those things that still remain out of our reach. Not to make that want of possession out to trespass. And not to further taint the remaining domains of regenerative Earth. Knowing not to entertain our jealousy and pride in going about always trying to divine the creative nature of life is a best practice.

It is simple enough to be thrilled at times by the nature of the world 🌎. While those things without a good nature are like a burden of the cross. Inanimate. Bent. Dark as a hole. And demanding the flesh for it’s perversity and it’s pilage.

The right to live a life of spiritual practice while making good on the surrounding environment is not all about the medium of exchange. The best measures to calculate by can usually be apprehended just by finding them where they happen to lay. And dark or macabre as you might think that ease is to be found in the grave. Not the body dead and packed away in a six-sided box with an appropriate tombstone kind of grave. But in regards to the heavenly bodies of the solar system, the Galaxy, and thus the Universe.

That meaning of the grave will bring us into time of being together with the likeness of our offspring and brethren. It will go so far as to open the gates of heaven. And it will keep the constitution of the body human nice and snug.

Still it is best to beware of strange tidings in that grave. Hold your own and try to stay safe when it comes to letting go. Of those things dross or unnecessary. Always coming up with the foment of tide in the washing of the many sands. Knowing them that are longing for respect and acceptance. And not to be disuaded by the crass handling of a medicine wheel bunch of drunken lunatics.

Faith to me seems the best approach to the unknown and yet that faith remain within the realm of possibility. Communication is a working kind of faith. Relate to one another in an honest means to convey what might simply be called wisdom or at least that it is sage.

Stories and reckoning are good. But so is the tradition of honor which does not always get spoken of lightly or in times of jest. For the better care of this planet and her children I would continue in the scale of this practice and make good on the peace of a peaceful community.

Stay fit and practice good health. Remember though to respect others if there wishes or means of keeping up that practice does not include those things outside their element and without their own good blessing way or a belief in a higher power. We are a familiar set of individuals whose own discretion will best bring each of us into the light of peaceful community and cohabitation. Beyond that the only ones we need control are our ourselves.

Hooks & Crooks

Trees, trees in a forest. The bastes and the herds of the hempen plantum synergia. And then again a banana slips on by. Within the megalopolis of ut garret lookers and seekers after their salts. Owing to the mineral consistency of a piecemeal degree of damasked flora. A legend of vegetal moon endearing bloodlust in the exhaling of toxins. A remove from the grade and cline overhead and toppem on the side of blowing windem seer.

If you wait to see your way down the travail, if your guts extend to the moors of a soluble character in a tolling belle of the libertad. Tied and of no ill refute. A comparison between the long drawn meters of a changing patios. Laughing at the epochial cuniform stratum of telegraph wire and freedom post.

The bluejay of happenstance goes to its hedge and nuzzles a maiden of the secure pasturage. His gal, his girl, his welkin woman of the mayfair sessions. She is industrious, she is a glad walker of the irony and agape. An olden Greek love whereby chum is legion and blowhard is the whalers’ road and good awful lode.

With a spur and chicken cross. The icabod and the caparison. The driver and his monkey say how do. They have met with the stewards of the thoroughfare and they have galvanized their steel. If anything more troublesome comes down this road we will have to abandon ship and head off for the hinterland.

Make good on our prospects and buy a number of cheese sandwiches for the children. Appease the concurrent nations of the captioned garnishment of their stride. Give the daylight hours a cup full of blessings to make good cook of thematic pots. Tbe fulsome foodstuffs and the elixers of a sound pie.

Cogni

Peaceful, easy and full of sympathy. Nomen C cogitance in bloom. The valued expression of namesake. Given to the bedding down of horny deer on hilltop of a downtrodden grass. I could write her a letter of the diminutive type. Emboldened with sweet displays of incredulous wit forsooth. The nicks and foils of a blaspheme free truckload of the peach.

And yes the bond of infrequency has the bent of too many out of hand referrals unto the treasure and trove. Many glowering torpitudes making out like cuttahacks in the Hessian stream of a distant fugue. To take on ourselves the hawkish means of recognition in the fields of pasturage. With the tresses bound to all go enjoy the decent and arriving. I hope to see you all there with as much chutzpah and contest as could be found between a cricket and a racehorse.

To battle it out clodhopping their way around the ripened track. With touts and crafty schoolwork ruse. A cogitance in the nervy way that bellows can swiftly steal a fire from the blade. To engrave the phrase upon it’s broad. Left to crow’s singing charlatan mouthful and lifelong chum and carousels loving.

Maybe there is better less bitter way to come into the power of knowing. But very few people ever choose to give it a chance. They want concrete throes, pavements, and the host of indelible answers to go by.

Stop it! End the charade and the axe grinding and the folly of blasphemous the ruse. End it! To be your own better helper and friend. The good old fashioned reason to look down in order to look up. How so? Have you no confidante? Are you one more b-rate study in chumps or just a bad date? The world must know the difference between service and ugly minded people out to take every law advantage of the freedoms of their fellow man, and woman.

I do not merely see. I sense. And the control to acknowledge that to people of trust and not those we don’t is the difference between a tailspin and a long, slow curve. The thing is, most people,like it or not have very little time to pay attention to the natural flow of events here in this earthly circus. Not to mention that besides those who would just as soon we blow it out loud asses.

There is also that contingent of greedy eastwards who do not believe in freedom at all. Once discovered by the average Joe the fact is that that schmuck or duppy, which ever side of the argument they find themselves on, only has enough time to tell the lie. That great work of all malicious people everywhere.

I myself am of the mind that we all really need each other to an Earth’s short ton degree. Farther going there and much to becoming here but the truth that for the most part we are best left alone and to our devices. I know that recognition amongst the fallen and statistic. If fishing the pond of mankind is moving closer and closer to the cheating side of the slack. In their ethics and relations and how they choose to take part in the upbringing of others. Chillies. Chiel. Youngins.

That is enough for me. The world will at times still find her children are trying to throw a wrench into the works but that’s the fucking business. And like it or not the mass and that part of it that is black is giving peoples the business. The haunting line of freaks driving down the line behind the wheel of their own destruction.

Nothing necessarily truthful remains that can be said on this at present. I know the care of my namesake amongst the ways of my brethren as together our revolutions continue in the guises of a dear Lord and I know the blasphemous tide that often surrounds the Christ. Other than that there is the fine lot of life’s variety. Mystery plays it’s hand a guide and herald falling in love with someone to spend the glad days espoused and caring for the chillies come of that kind of care and foreboding.

Thank you very much. I will be here all week. Lol

Awestruck 1996/01/07

The savior and the king do battle. While star struck diadems spark. Whistling amongst the chattel. This causes such a stir to shark. Laughter begets jest. In finesse none the less. For a man of naught to confide. To bring up qualms so tried. At the side of standards. Once pandered. With wine. For ables to dine. Till near death makes both blessed.

And remember the walls. That came tumbling down. Faces no longer in a tree grown. More or less watching the days go by. That made men cry. And others turn to stone.

Open Contest 2000/02/05

Spit fire-open contest. And he in his attire has chosen to gather with the par event in horizon.

When will the Zepher attract its cohorts? How shall Ecumenicus return to the deft renown?

With a jiff of the trick. So up air hardy you’ll not rather have them sick.

Each with a one of his exhalations. Providing explanations. And the rippled speech of your common seer.

This I say has entendre closer to sense than any ultimatum my dear.

Cloud Clarity

A clarity of space. Some hilarity in the race. A gander at the stock of our neighbors. A daily listing to chores through many labors. To reeve forth the unguent. To reap broad stars of lusty pent. A divine conflagration of peoples. Over broad passes and many steeples. The makeshift predilection of towers. From loose shrifts, the humble bowers.

Cavalcading like streetfell hippies. A curry of fell dashes from a sky paints paths trippy. Het diagramatical lour embellishing sheens of the topical spheres. Tectonic arch craftsman at the gears. With thunderbolt and looming shrouds. The way they stack up they’re as alive as the clouds

Over Field And Glen 1994/02/08

Run free with the wind in the fielded glen. Fast as a cloud with a few minutes over a valley to spend. Then rest beneath a few trees with hints of azure skies above the boughs. Or bathe in the cool of mountain streams during spring thaws. For such occurrences I bodily strive. Bound through nature’s eternal struggle with happenstance.

To keep my life I write, I sing. I fly as in a dream with birds on a wing. An augury of flight. Innocents of the night. With our lives like ritual and a foreboding sense of might. Where we will land to the predator there is given no clue. Simply a fact that this story continues later is true.

Join The Movement 1996/05/06

The time has come when I should join the movement. Thinking though my get up and go must have got up and went. Yet where? If I should care. Can this movement be?

If not standing beneath the gallows of a hangmans’ tree. Or as clouds high, born of tempest storming aloft the sea. I am here thinking. That it is a long road to instincting. If I have got to make this movement a part of me.

Warding off strife. Throughout my life. To live, love, and take a wife. With what else being rife. I want it shone. The way these thoughts into dreams are grown. Till our memories are honed. That each of us stands. With open hands. A member in the heart of gold band.

This movement, is it a tribe? Jah people, a revolutionary jibe. At the resting, souls of our earthly harmony. Telling what’s up. To each of us. You and me.

Change comes and we are on our own. Again protecting hearts from loath at what’s still ode. We’ve got to rise up singing. Having been brought low.