I try not to admit many things to myself. What it is to be free, comes into mind, as a huge question mark .
Am I a useful tool in an awful, feudal affair of the tories -- question mark.
Am I a developing creature, coming in the time avowed by a God unfathomable in his actions, though still, abundant at time with care -- question mark..
My question mark does not work on this computer... or I would sound much more ambiguous.
The implication of the question mark should hang over my work, because I am not an expert looking out from the mountain top. I have not climbed high enough to even glimpse them. I know vague words that mean something to others, though often little to me at the time. I do not wish to cause any conflicts with anyone. I do not wish to burn any bridges, though that is your choice, of course. I will befriend those who I once called enemy, or I will at least live in peace with them... though that is a piss poor substitute for all getting along, learning from each other, sharing our love freely with all people. Seeing if that love can be stronger than their hate. I believe Love always defeats hate in the end. In the arch of history, people try to come down on what they think is the right side. But only Love in great numbers.
I worry about the messages I see of late. I do not want to make some faux paux as I have in the past, that makes me hated by people for reasons that do not exist. I also change my opinion when presented with better facts, or just knowledge about something I have not been exposed to. I may not be able to get out and be around a lot of different cultures, but in my youth I sought this out. This I ranted about before, I see myself, and it is humiliating, screaming at you, or even opening my heart during my spiritual journal. Embarrassed by so much of what you have seen of me. The idea that I should respond all the time to this audience before me, constantly be on for them. I have been filled with the lightening of God... generated from deep inside of me... and He chose to spite. I had no plans, no idea why if you supposedly liked me you keep me in this situation.. how you could expect me to help you when... this means nothing to me now. An anger but I do not know what is going on out there, why you keep me from people.
I have been under what I can be vaguely called surveillance since this started, practically. I hate people were forced to watch this crap. I kept telling you, This is my life, this is not a show..... did she work behind my back, yes, I am sure of this. To this day my questions in my mind about her stop me from being able to open my heart much. I know I am to forgive everyone. This does not mean I wish my personal life to be a charade... or finding out small hints were true. I am not sure who she worked with. Someone. She knew some things.
I puzzle over this and look like an idiot, but these matters must be clear. You stole my name over and over and used it in ways that were inconceivable and I need to set the record straight. This does not mean I wish to be anything more than vague. Yes, those who know know. And I will write for them. I will take the shit of saying what needs to be said, not what can be said in a Politically nuanced manner that does not alienate voters. I can say what I wish about Palestine. I would never wish this violence from either side. War is a crime. Criminals do not follow laws. We see this in Israel, because of the brave Aljazeera reporters, and other witnesses of this hell, who die to bring us a genocide they think the world will stop if they get the word out....
I know I sound like a hypocrite as my bloody hands peck at the keys.. Still, I do not know how your world works, or my place in it entirely... or at all. I am trying to make it one of peace, though I am not pretending there is no threat, or that other organizations may have to do whatever... but all of you are free as you well know to do as you will. I will always step up, but it is a step back should that happen, One we will recover from. There should be no civil war or race war or any of that crap is this country. I just cannot believe people are so filled with fox's racist phobic fears of each other, that they make monsters out of teens knocking on the wrong door... and gets shot thru the door without a word. A six year old stabbed 24 times by their landlord after the kill,kill,kill of Fox changed him, his wife said.
I just wrote quite a bit that was lost when the cat walked across the keys.
I was trying to approach gratitude, for all you have done, to the living and the dead. My mourning for the living and the dead is endless, though I may believe they are free souls now... this does not enter into my thinking on this matter. I see only this world. I live here now for a reason. What will come will come, and I can hardly believe it is judgement, though I certainly believe in judging the flesh, for actions.
I have tried to do the right thing and I keep running up against someone who tries to jail me, isolate me... I accept the hostage status. I must always remember what might have happened once had I left my life here in this city. A repeat of a horror that I would never want. I would never order. If I had been asked about my intentions, you would have heard... I lied to you as you lied to me. I no longer will respond with lies. I left my little land mines in this world... unexploded. I worry about them as well. Is a writer responsible if their writing kills people, I was asked once. I believe if their intention is to cause violence then yes, this is criminal. I was trying to fight a revolution where I did not trust anyone was on my side, or if they were, why... I was a soldier and you did not notice, because the power of words was underestimated again. My words killed more than they tell me. There was I guess only one war I ordered. I did so because I see my Democracy falling apart. I do not know if I can fix it, but I knew that aiding a perceived enemy, had to end, or change... I pray they changed. I would hate to be your enemy.
I am concerned about all but this last blow was life changing. I wish to throw my guns away... but as long as there is a fight, that is desertion.
An actor playing Camus, said, 'We write the same thing over and over.. ' Certainly this is sadly becoming me, writing the same old same old. Once, long ago, when I lived in a dream, I felt I would develop a voice as a writer, the person shown in my poetry best. My ethics often screamed instead of logically explained. Told in metaphors of war that made my every word seem like the beat of a war drum, a warning to others who would TRY to stop them. I successfully did this twice without meaning to.
I think I have been called a Rat for revealing what I have of what happened to me. I kept much back and will. That is a fucking gift. What I talk about needs brought into the light, where the darkness disappears. A past that cannot be forgotten. I am not trying to tell anyone anything new, I am telling the same old story, the truth as I know it at the time. My how that has changed over the last twenty years. The same mind behind these words, but the thought processes have been changed tremendously due to actions seemingly out of my control. Back when I still thought this was all a play on words.... One day it was brought up to kill everyone with a certain color eye, and a saint pointed out that she had that color eye and was all angry... and I realized they were serious.
Later I would see commercials seeming to show that blacks were in danger in a near by state. Others on the tv came right out and spoke in code of people being killed, during the self help period, and the painting, when I lived on Estes. I had no idea why that was happening to them, did not think my anger had anything to do with this. I was told only by those criticizing me, and I considered this slander at the time, or you telling me horrible things I did not understand, though I had a strong inclination, then found out this to be true. I think of all these scenes in my mind when I heard a reference to me, to always kind of go fuck you, I will live as I live.... and the depression, isolation, brain washing, etc... I read Waking Up Jesus and think how different this book will be now, written as the shapeless being I know myself to be, not exalted in any way, just content and loved on high.... this is the memory that comes to me and gives me peace whenever I allow myself to give into taking care of myself, instead of obsessing on the world, or my place in it.
I do not think I am a rat, because in your case, this merely means some one who told the truth. I was never a party to your crimes, and the worst of what was done was not what I wanted. I forgive. This is in my nature. Not something I will work on. Those I feel hate for in the moment I will forgive one day, though until those injustices are stopped... my righteous indignation takes over... but I will keep my fuming to myself... fight the fire with water.. And I keep secrets as many know though you shock the hell out of me at times. I do not know what free is but I sure would like to experience it once... to know what it is. I want to spend one day being able to ask questions. I want to be convinced I need to work on souls not politics.
To some of you, whom I have never abandoned, though you seem to think I will too often for me to wish to remember. My nature is that of a protector. At the heart of most cops is such a being, though often this is twisted by racism, into protecting whites from blacks. Ot blaming all blacks because the ones they sometimes run into pull guns. Or more have guns, due to the neighborhoods they live in, most more out of fear than need, and more apt to be used in suicide, or child hood horrors... like a three year pulling the gun out from under the seat while his mom shops, she returns and he he points the gun at her and shoots her in the face.
Why give kids toy guns.... my mom tried to avoid all of that with us. I still played war a lot as a kid, but no bb guns, which everyone had, etc. The one gun we had, Nicks fathers 22 was something I never ever thought of. Later the bullies, who hated him, though loved his older brother. chased him into the house, Nick got scared and got the gun, and pointed at them. The fuckwads called the cops, they took the gun.
No hassle, the cops hated the Woodcocks, who were behind this. They all treated me great all the time, except their mean dog, Tip. Supposed to protect the house, and probably abused, he hated anyone not in the family. The Father was gone because he abused the youngest child at two or three. Terrible thing. He was an intelligent man, though a weirdo obviously. I knew them only after him, when the Mother, who I liked, was a drunk, and abusive toward the oldest boy, in particular. Sad scene. They slept on huge piles of clothes, without beds, burrowed down in them, because they had no blankets. Shitty childhoods. Good friends out in the streets, etc.
I could certainly write a southern gothic about my neighborhood.
Nick.... Paul let kids into the house once to beat him up. You were supposed to be safe if you got in your house. Your parents or someone would stop it, but no... the woodcocks. It was terrible. To think just when he was phasing out of that, an animal torturer as well, and he was becoming kinder, getting along with Dad and even me, at sixteen, he died. I had made a joke the week before, Hey, lets get in an accident, that will be fun. Paul was amused and asked my dad if he heard what I was saying. I was standing up in our VW van, holding onto the two front bucket seats, looking at the road through the windshield at the long country road, fields on all sides, just a bit of green around the irrigation canals that lined a lot of roads, making for ditches on both sides. I remember everything too well, the look of amusement on Pauls face. It is the only good memory I have of him. I remember pre drop... not that day, but his hanging me over before. I do not know if one day I refused to move, may have added that in for dramatic effect, but that is my memory of it.. I wrote at the beginning of all this that the Eagle spirit flew out from me and killed him, that I became a murderer at this age. Man, the drugs they had me on, the flight of the poetry...
I believed such a thing possible of a Christ. If there was a God, who that was surprise enough to me, so if that was true, then I was puzzled by what was true with this Christ I felt inside me so strongly at times.... though the irrational things I said at times, there would be no excuse for that now. I did not understand the depth of religion. I did not give it much thought. My mother, when this started, tells me to read the bible when I tell her I am turning into Christ, so in on it from the beginning. Like I would take my script from another time, when I had been writing this time all along.... and would not change to play their role. I tried to destroy the idea of Jesus as judgemental. I tried to tell you this was about peace and love. How it went from that to this is beyond me, though how to continue with peace and love, I know how to do that, and the other.
Without experiencing the deaths in this, hearing of the chaos released, slaves kept in the names of this, rights taken away in the name of this.... and so wrong, putting machine guns back on the street, in a time I distrusted the government because of what was happening to me, and happened to me. Why I was this target, etc. I get it now. The people who fought against me, or were involved in the cult, I forgive and believe history requires peace.. You classified this long ago. I am saying Go In Peace... I was used in a different way. I would never have asked of you what you did. No one has that right. A system was in place of which I was a cog. When I realized as much, I struck out. I tried to stop the excesses. I understand better now why my presence drove so many to madness, or temporary madness, now that the depth of religion is clearer to me. The following people do is new to me as well. I was always one who was seeking things, but I followed my own unique vision, the right of the artist I told myself.
I can only repeat the wisest humans I have had contact with. Put their language into modern times, or understanding level if they are ancient or talk about them if I knew them. I am very tired of thinking I know anyone from the media. I am sure you know too much about me from watching me like you, which again is a total weirdness to me. I understand in some ways God arranged this, because a wicked person could do a lot of damage.
Those who would call me a rat should know that I make no bones about protecting democracy, and that I support the USA, and their friendship with other countries. I am not going to like everything governments do, and I am surprised when they get anything right. They have helped me in my time of need with ssi while also crippling me by keeping the amount so low I cannot live on the check except in poverty.
I do not wish to have any enemies. I hope that cleansing the left of negative foreign interests, while still maintaining love and peace and respect among all parties is the way I wish this all operated. It seems to be moving that way again in the bit of press that I got. I do not get excited over things really anymore in good ways but this certainly made my mind more peaceful. I thank God that two of the big three can meet as humans...
We must never dehumanize one another again. My respect and humbling before the knowledge of the Chinese culture's wisdom, and struggle to have a society of equals... they have been through too much violence, as we all have. The time has come to know, all issues will one day turn into one, survival while the climate changes. On this common ground, let an oasis grow in this desert of hate.
