Slate wiped. Its over. The story done, the door is closed, the past isn’t coming back. I’ve built the wall.
‘No more negativity’ if your names not on the list, there ain’t no way your getting back into rain on the future parade.
Yet having to come back to the Ugly Kingdom has really fucked with my head. I thought I’d begun to heal from the whole agonizing wound of my association with this country. Its inequality, class system and the whole disturbingly extra-ordinary life I appear to have lived here. And well, obviously ‘the healing of KosieT is going to take a little longer.’
Cause, frack me being back under this British sky, has been an emotional slapping akin with twenty rounds with a Rottweiler. The beast unleashed the very moment that plane hit the tarmac. It is as it is ‘it hurts being here.’ Ghosts everywhere. Yet in the essence of this my moaning monthly monologue, whilst I live my considered mundane; the process of this journaling thingy has me now mentally scuba diving with what seems like little oxygen. A growing written account of random whatever? My life in black and white? And well, on reflection ‘Where is my head?’
...reacting on the root of my unhappiness this is for sure.
Trapped in this ‘21st Century End of Times’ negative downturn, this whole back against the wall of absolute destruction. The drone of my restless thought pattern, ruled by a head-kicking Ninja, forever screaming “Mether-feckers” into the abyss. This wild wroth that disguises our pain; I love her, she’s the protector. The Goddess, who keeps the humour on my face, and those hater’s, frien-emies-false-ones, energy suckers and fracking pedophilic aliens types at bay….
Away, away from causing ever more unnecessary harm???
We should wish; alas war, politics and other fucking people. Too much to be wary of. Agenda central. So tired by it. Too sensitive to it. Actually so deeply scarred by it, the taste in my mouth soured into exceptionally saddened by the whole untruth. The untruth that has cloaked ‘the past’ that is both my own and all of humanities miss-guided-mind-programmed-spiritually-suppressed-massive-miss-understanding.
Hands up! Admit it, ffs I’m so fucked up, yet how sane are you? Wholly warped by it all, moulded and misshaped…
Yet in a way, being forced to come back to the Ugly Kingdom, this place of my birth. Has made me confront what it is I really don’t want in my life any longer. We’re in an eclipse season, things have to be eclipsed out, before we can eclipse things in. The old world has to die, before the new can be born.
Thus in my head July is dead and August is a re-birth…
And with it my mether-fecking Ninja is dead too; I slaughtered her in July, along with the whole chequered story that is my past. Its gone, what happened back then and when, can't be changed, thus it can't be lanquished in any more, its really not good for the health. And sadly there's no other soul to sue or blame for the general chaos. Thus its finished, gone, written off, as some crazy psychological expedition of painful repeating cycles, that have needed to be broken.
Now, well remarkable as it is. All these, my year’s of study in ‘the university of life’ all the kicking's, intimate moments and juxtapositions, now appear as nothing more than an extended course in coming to understand 'the need to see with only love and without hate…’
So simple, yet it seems to have taken forever to get here...
Anyway, aware I’ll be leaving ‘these greed & peasant lands’ of the Ugly Kingdom again soon. I get why I had to come back. With always more to learn, seemingly this return has been the quest to reclaim the little biscuit, that’s name is ForGIVEness.
THE LITTLE LATER
“That’s it; you can’t make it up.”
The eclipsing of the unexpected. Life, and all its ‘while we’re making other plans.’ I’m wary of Eclipses. Genuinely, on guard about them, as above so below; things happen, whilst the sun and moon are eclipsing about.
As a charming and capricious Fire Goat in the Chinese Horoscope. Who somewhat interestingly and oddly shares a birthday with Aleister Crowley?? I’m a born Libra, with a Virgo moon and ascendant. For whatever that means, we could presume I’m ‘an earthy maid questing for airy balance, that’s good at getting herself into precarious positions??’
Today all too aware that an Eclipse Season could shake my already shaky. A tad, apprehensive of August’s unknown. Past experience scars. There was this one a few years ago, that eclipsed in three consecutive day’s, the death of my mother, my dog and a miss-carriage. As I said, I’m wary of ‘Eclipse Season’ - here, waiting for what next? It’s warming up…
Life… eat, sleep, work, repeat. Waking at 4-5 am cause this is the pattern my body has been swinging recently; then, its coffee, work, broken at lunchtime for a sauna and swim. And then, back to work...until I sleep and start again. Small steps of progress; living it, doing it. Groundhogging to get my stuff done.
Yesterday, no different. Albeit tired, from a short night's sleep, but keeping to it. I pulled up at the pool at one, had a cocooning fifteen minute sauna, walked back into the changing room to shower the sweat and get my goggles to swim. When it all went well Pete Tong; my body beyond my control, but the mind-aware ‘Is this it, am I dying?’
I don’t know what happened. I came around, on the floor of the shower with some kindly voice saying “...there, there, its okay. You passed out, you’ve convulsed and been sick.” What? Where? What...oh god? The women’s shower, Abergavenny pool, Gwent...what day of the week? Lying on the floor with my head now being softly lifted and placed on to a baby’s changing map. Feeling really weird, surrounded by concerned people, there, in a fetal position with the remnants of this morning's banana smoothie down my black swimming costume?? Ffs…
What 2 do??
Unable to define between conscious and self-conscious; all a bit not of my imagination and unexpected. Yet in a way the concern was endearing, I’ve done hundred’s of miles in Aber pool, they know me, still this was a drama I haven't previously caused. All the crew that work there, were warm, sublime and sweet, albeit maybe a little too stoic? An ambulance called? Yet funny as drama can sometimes be, I wasn’t left unaware of their fondness of me.
And what is my own unique kind of crazy...
‘She, me’ there being wrapped in cold towels to bring my body's heat down. Normally, my swim does this? Why was this day different? Whilst the desire was to be all tough and brush off the experience, I couldn’t physically do it. It took me a while to be ready to stand up again, and shower the stinking smoothie off.
“She never goes to the Doctor.”
“Call my healer, call my witch doctor; but not the NHS.”
Abergavenny Hospital. Monitored up?? This had not been the plan. What was the plan? Five, six hours later, they let me go. To rest from my stress?? M picked me up, taking me back to the Lucky Fucker parked in the swimming pool car park. I drove back up the valleys; pulled up outside the house and remembered the plan, it was M’s birthday. I had planned to go to his after swimming and wish him ‘Happy Birthday.’
Ff he’d just picked me up, dropped me off, and I hadn’t even remembered to say ‘top of the day.’ Walking into the house, I made a poached egg on toast. Then walked upstairs and sat on the edge of old Mrs. Jones's bed to duly eat and discuss the day.
It was then I began to weep...
THE LITTLE LATER
Ouch ffs, I just did something hopelessly Tourettes’eee. A moment, that was definitely not cool. Ffs I’m such a twat… Powerless to change it, putting my fecking Converse ‘All Stars’ right in it. Oh god, what 2 do… the blush of it?? Oh no another KosieT classic unleashed.
Me…. Forever treading where all other’s would have more discernment??? And no, now I’m sat here, squirming like a Thames eel with ADHD. Honestly, I can’t believe I just did that!
It is as it is; over the last week or so following my re-emergence on Twitter. Between all the scroll of general daily wah wah, analytics and Hootsuite; all of which state ‘still heading nowhere soon.’ Anyway, appearing as some shinning light amidst the otherwise droll, comes ‘an art-vendor’ with humour??
I can’t remember who followed who first. Perhaps, it was me, touched by sentiment; following some bloke, who shares both the name and birth location of my own long since deceased father. Surely no harm in that?? Why do we do anything hey? Anyway it’s innocent, it’s a game, albeit a deliciously funny one, that began with a photograph, that was duly replied to with another photograph. And this is how it began…
A week of intermittent photographic conversation, beguiling bombastic and just fecking funny. A rapid rant of creative nonsense, that’s kept me laughing through this otherwise ‘Eclipsing’ week. Then, whilst I had been holding my own quite well in the medium of photographic dialogue. It was actually me, that playfully conceded to change ‘up the game’ of this decadent Twitter dalliance. New ground, new medium 'music and film.'
It is as it is, intrigued by ‘the art vendor.’ He appears sharp, too sharp to be too young, but then, again maybe he stinks of piss and TCP and is on his way out? Who knows ‘this is social-media’ really who is who? Still he’s got a pocket full of classic photo’s, so challenge him a bit??? Game on; You Tube tennis with new balls?? And so it is, from very first thing this morning, my laptop has been pinging with a Nadal V Federer Direct Message Grand Slam. Sat writing all day; what else to do hey?
Flirt with a faceless ‘art vendor’ creatively with out words??? An expression of music, film and photographs, a play of pictorial linguistics, and there play on the perception; child’s play! Still, whilst this whole conversation remains ‘out of the blue’ I stand aware that really this is a game played only by ‘a particular kind of creative crazy.’ With quirk in abundance; what could possibly go wrong???
Okay maybe having to run a bit with the swift speed of returns, a test for agility, bouncing about the net trying to hit back the quintessential response. Too many You Tube tabs open, add all those Google ones, cause I can’t remember the name of feckin’ anything. So no, an easy mistake??? Yet oh ffs. Thinking I’d just pasted in the Kovac’s ‘Diggin’ in response to Sharon Tandy’s ‘Hurry Hurry Chou Chou…….???’
Then….idiot…. Leaping this tangible, intangible, twittering tennis into an altogether bigger game?? Oh ffs, I, she, me, hopeless that I am, just pasted in a whole genre of conversation ‘That just…….’
Well, blushing here in this Thames Eel coat; oh ffs.
So instead of playfully Diggin’ a bit.
I, she, the squirming one, just pasted in ‘Machiavelli’s frigging nemesis...’
And so, now well, after what was a ‘Stop’ quite a moment of pause in our game’s proceedings. Me left diggin’ about in a nervous girly bluster of helplessness, giggling only to myself; devoid of anywhere else to place my inept forwardness...
Anyway I just received ‘the spinner’ back over the net. Honestly, now I’m completely bemused, I don’t know what to perceive. Have I just been executed, or is this a salute ‘until death us do us part?’
Ffs, how’d you respond to this?
THE LITTLE LATER
I might as well be screaming in Greek. Like this tune, one of a few dragged back from Athens; it wont make it into my Desert Island Disk’s, yet I keep playing it. I’ve no fucking idea what he’s shouting about, yet there is something about this track, that has me…
Whilst I’ve just emailed Woozy, asking for a rough translate. Whatever its just a tune; but I now wanna know what he’s talking about? Just as I’d like people to care about what I’m talking about sometimes…
Here, ‘Eclipsing about.’ Aware that my imagination is unleashed at the moment, with no door closed to where it can’t take me. I write; the infamous ‘writers block’ is as it is, when its blocked its blocked, there is no way of getting through to this… This bit now, this bit when I’ve dragged my bleeding soul over some mether-fecking learning curve of a mountain, and am now given a moments reprieve in the flow, and I get to cruise…
Let go, lay back and ‘be a pure channel for the universe?’
‘Ffs just write the book…???’ Keep the flow, still as with seemingly all creative endeavour, there comes a point in the creative process that as an artist, I’ve always understood. It’s a knowing evolved through practice, it’s that moment in which you fully understand that creative genius is a deluded illusion, absolute bollocks; it doesn’t exist. Real art doesn’t come from you, it comes through you. Really, I know no brilliance; sensitive, recognising a difference in tone between what I’m thinking and what my mind is receiving. Instead I know only downloading information patterns…
Its Eclipse Season, its all coming in at the moment, my mind alive with greater disclosure, deeper, wider insight; the broader perspective with finer detail. A reboot, an update; eclipsing out the old, beginning again in the new. Its all a bit edgy. Really, I don’t believe ‘we, energetic beings’ have any real control beyond self-respect; each and all of us but a conduit of energy for ‘the collective negative or positive’ to work through…
“Think my art is shit???”
Wtf; I’m with ‘the good hearted’ most of us are just ever trying to do the right thing?? Still whilst, this struggle may yet quantify and identify ‘the where about’s of madness.’ I do know the pattern; its a cycle, a circle of crazy, that goes round and round, perpetuating like a dog chasing its tail. Everything wobbly, getting more weird, vision ever more squiffy from the practice.
The need to ‘STOP.’
The need to withdraw into quietness and reconsider, allows both the sage and the crazy dog to moderate. The rabid beast of misfortune and misinformation has to be learnt and tamed, before its cycle can be broken. Stillness, patience, a period of emptying, before time allows experience the dawn of new movement. Like backing up files, and digesting food, the process, the process; ‘from sickness to health’ or the other way round, its all a perpetuating process, until you break the chain? As with pushing and pushing on a door, when suddenly it opens, and you trip into the light. All that extended effort and then, just at that point hopelessness sweeps over you, a renewed faith leaps in.
Life, the universe and everything; the quest for peace.
I’m good, I’m strong, I’m punk…I’m one of the lucky one’s that caught the message. Yet be Jesus, conscious to, and alert of, both the pull of invisible strings in my head, and the exterior forces that bend me. Aware of the over-riding desire for HARMONY. Yet I stand ever pulled; as with all of humanity, here, confronting a very grizzly TYRANNY to find it.
Like this tune; this tune ‘I don’t understand…’
'Bloody Hawk’ twangs a vibrational essence, an emotive pictorial, an impression of the kind of haunting human anguish, compassion was perhaps created for??
Who knows what he’s shouting about, yet in my head knowing what I know? Here, being jolted about this way and that, between my own present subjects of interest. Banu’s tune, simply makes me want to scream about the REFUGEE CRISIS, and the vast global displacement of souls that’s occurring. My Englishness with a foreign voice screaming at me, and this is what I hear???
‘The Homeless, the Rootless, Helpless and Hopeless...’ the growing mire of millions and millions of our civilizations People, that have absolutely ‘nothing.’ Lost families, lost homes, lost lands, the loss of life’s foundation itself, to exist now in ‘No Man’s Land.’ From Mosul to Manchester, for whatever the reason why, this ‘homelessness’ is but a one-way ticket into a no way out situation. I've been there; I know. Certainly, they have no hope without the help, kindness of another person??
Absolutely stranded in Hotel California.
Yet ‘Who GIVES a fig?’
People fleeing from alien weapons of mass-destruction, bombs of Phosphorus and feck knows what else? The Middle East. Well, where is my head? Raging about it. 21st Century life forever coming back to the subject of Tyranny. Where’s the Harmony hey?? These, the invisible strings that pull my head, the duplicity in my knowledge of perfection, of bliss, coupled with the raging Ninja that I keep trying to slaughter. The one akin with Christopher Lambert in ‘Highlander’ ever rebirthing, and indestructibly coming back to the subject of war….
This ill-begotten fight for Supremacy; where there can be only ‘One.’
Which when there is only ‘One’ is feckin’ insane.
War….What 2 do with it?
The feckin’ WRONGNESS of it.
Alas only by individually refusing to partake in it, can we collectively win the war. Yet here amidst the debris of torture, The People of the 21st Century are going through right now, and really, none of us are going to get out of this unscathed.
Its brewing, it began long ago, but now its going to come like a tsunami…
As I see it, when I think of the Middle East, beyond 'how cruel, heartless injustice screams.' It is my spirit that lingers helplessly with the millions that are displaced, in this, in this fecking global political pretence, that is the ‘War of the ‘oh so’ Liberal Terrorism’ hiding the far greater truth, that is the grand and macabre De-Population Agenda. Its tentacles now in every area of our existence. Yet here, sitting in the West, observing this movement coming in from the East. Existing presently here, in the Ugly Kingdom, amidst the dirty mind-programming and fascist generating tactics of the Western Media. Harrowed by the racist bigoted attitudes, derived from this imposed consideration of the division of our nations, religions, skins and creeds…
And, well fucking hell, this is looking like the football terrace of hell. All lined up for the mether of all worthless murdering kick off’s??
The prison’s already rioting across Europe and beyond??? Ffs, who ruled ‘they couldn’t smoke?’
Time for a different tune??
Yet ffs. As I stand back, observe the rot of down-trodden condemnation, me, KosieT, Gulliver on her minds travel's.
My imagination unleashed...
This is manufactured mayhem; that's meant not to be good for any of us. Look at the map??? The annihilated Middle East??? Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Syria, the pious murdering free for all of bullshit and bent bureaucracy, fake news, false foreign policy, blood, carnage and terror’s bedlam. Benefits solely for arms trader’s. human-trafficker’s and 'NWO Full-Spectram Dominance.'
Ffs, the fall out; it’s massive, two to three times bigger than I'd have imagined, Googling about, an estimated 150-170, maybe 200 million soon displaced around the world??? Jesus, as I see it the East is doing the only thing they can, they’re pouring out. Scattering, scrambling; run or die, the only hope of ‘sanctitude’ escape to the West??
What here? Here, to all this fascist bigotry???
To all this judgement, all this dawdling Royalist programme of white Christian supremacy???
Where is the love? I read only, the well worn sign reading ‘Madness this way???’ And a careless queen...
Yet what I see on the horizon, is horrible, merciless, a vast dinosaur of ever more ruthless tragedy, with absolutely no comedy. We have to change our thinking. Swiftly bypass creating any more TYRANNY. Jesus we have to broaden our compassion. West, East everywhere ‘we’re the struggling masses.’ The poor; the banks are empty, a complete crash seemingly now formed and inevitable. We don't know how to feed ourselves of our own lands any longer?? Yet the programmed fascist Western mind thinks it knows best??? Whinging, screaming ‘immigrants and migrants, and ever us and them???’ Alas, the Tanks are on the borders, there’s a blood curdling, crazy religious supremacy right behind you, and your ‘impoverished desperation’ is the only opposing force???
Millions and millions, hundreds of millions of war torn asylum seekers, desperate for refuge. Freedom.. somewhere friendly to lay their hat?
Men, woman and children off the street of mass atrocity, that we the US and UK can only imagine, yet freely commit??? Really, there are no words to cover what should be our shame. The Wars we create and the Weapons we make. Honestly, which side are you working for? We’ve done this, our military, our taxes, our government’s, and now the intention is to build some fecking big wall to hide the BREXIT truth?? Caring not, we manage our shame, and hide all natural spiritual wisdom, by belittling the worth of our Eastern brother, by duly imprisoning him in some vast camp of heartless iniquity, with no escape…
For doing what???
Where East meets West? Never the two did mix, hey??
Come ON! Time to behave...
So why are the Refugee’s being shepherded like criminals??? These Our People, our civilization, and our children? Its like the persecution of Auschwitz, all over again, and still we do not learn.
These lands are ‘Our lands’. There are ‘No Borders’. There are no rules beyond Nature's own.
War and all else is ‘Bloody Hawk.’
And this is why, I write; I can’t sing, can’t rap, but I can rant creatively with words, when pulled by invisible strings and a raging spirited Ninja, ever baiting me to scream louder.
It is as it is is until all this fascist, racist, warmongering, ego-fuelled bigotry, understands the mystical freedom, found through dancing to the rhythm of a loving world...
Alas, none of us are free, until we’re all free...
The war must stop.
I'll be back, when Woozy translates.
"When we all remember...."
THE LITTLE LATER
So, obviously out of beat and out of key; here, loosing my rhythm ‘Does anyone understand what I’m talking, asking, screaming, or even care about?’
“Off beam, a couple of steps short of the Poker Dance?”
Oh ffs, so much dislocated communication! My simple question to Woozy ‘So what’s this bloke Banu shouting about?’ Was duly replied to, there in my inbox this morning, with only the words ‘Kosie, where are you?’ and the above photograph…
Ha, ha, wtf, more coffee??? But what is Banu shouting?
This is my life, nothing really makes sense any longer. Here, hopeless in ‘the miss’ of all this random nonsense; where ‘nothing means nothing and don't answer anything’ is ever warmed by the puerile frame of mind. Ffs I love my friends, but does anybody take me seriously??!
So, I phoned some Greek Isles and woke Prokopis up. Echoing my request down some scratchy line, shouting for him to go to August on my blog and reach the subject of ‘Ore War and Bloody Hawk’ and give me the quick translate ‘on the Greek….’ being expressed??
Oh ffs, ask me one on Sport?
Another crazy conversation; like scratchy ropes, covered in pigeon shit to utterly dissimilar dimensions. Me missing Europe horribly, 'oh the beach, oh Athens.' Instead I’m grafting my socks off in feckin’ Cardiff???
Head down, no way out; there are certain things I can’t think about at the moment. People I love in far off shores, being one of them. Dawdling on memory lane or fishing for future fantasy, when fine focus is the only fast lane out of the Ugly Kingdom. Is, would in this precarious moment of my life right now, be insanity.
What's the point??? Ever squidgy on my dreams, when the universe always has another plan...
Alas knowing crazy like a sister. Here, trying to tame the parameters of the madder mind, dragging it off to the gym 'to tighten those loose bits.' Those dreamy bits, those wistful bits that forever fuck you over, dragging you to some inevitable state of dislocated expectation. Existing-in-a-floating-bubble-of-Wonderland??? Feck that, kill all hippies; expect nothing, have no attachment and let go of your pipe dreams???
No never! What are we without our dreams?? Yet here, feeling weird, keeping my own dreams really close to my chest right now. Behaving in a genuinely mute way towards the outside world, I've nothing to say 'I'm writing.' Digging deep inside, not out. The reality is I can’t speak to anyone about what I’m presently working on creatively, this blog, but a small token of something a bit more ambitious???
Here, rolling a spliff to get the job done?
Yet really, its like this, we have to transcend our dreams into reality. World peace? It has to be created. My creative ambitions are the same; beginning from a quiet place within, tentative, a little scared, but it doesn’t quash what is the tickle of knowing how artistic exhilaration feels. Really, I’m not speaking to anybody about what I'm grafting on, because I don’t wanna fucking jinx it, and actually, against my track record 'Who knows if I'm going to finish it?'
Yet as an energetic being; I also observe, how hiding my secrets, not being open, or disclosing the truth to those I'm close to. Does genuinely put me in that place, where I’m a couple of steps out on the free flow of the Poker Dance. On guard protective of my pre-occupied thoughts; hiding something, not talking openly about ‘my ting’ and really it is like stifling the natural order of things…
Aware of it, sensitive to the block or not; people know.
My energy as Woozy says ‘Kosie where are you?’
My conversation with Prokopis, not dissimilar, "Koz, what you doing?" And here’s me, ‘I can’t answer...’
Still sometime 'thank Prokopis' later, the Bloody Hawk on Banu transpires in translation, to be a conversation with his father asking 'If he is proud of him...'
Ffs, all this and Woozy's photo did translate?!?!!
But then again, on the subject of the refugees, the homeless, and ruthlessly displaced in this whole global warmongering shenannigan. Maybe my musical intuition is spot on, I mean 'Are we proud, proud of ourselves, proud of what is happening....?"
Cause 'Fuck your Nationalism, we're all Earthling's' and I know only the present disgrace.
THE LITTLE LATER
Adam and feckin’ beliEve it. Game over.
Our churlish soul’s, absolutely Trumped.
Hear this whistle ‘Where is your head, where are these collective thoughts going??’
One giant leap towards deeper miss-understanding??? ‘Ffs storm the White House.’ The barometer of heat under this toupee of terrorism, that is the depopulating of our species from the planet, is reaching the boiling point of nearing complete.
This, our civilizations light ever dimming under the stark glare of white supremacy and ‘North Korea me out!’ Really, there’s not much love and sacredness about is there?? Yet if we care, ‘we, the good hearted’ what can we do? The voiceless scream of our soul, but always pissing in the wind?? Yet here, as I stand, me, KosieT, asking myself the question “Okay what can I do, what can I do to lead this furious global debate back to harmony?”
Well, it is a question that has had me lost down the lesser trodden path for feckin’ ages. Years of metaphysical exploration to understand the answer. Heart ever bleeding, twanging the very very small violin playing to the left of my pulmonary artery “What is the answer?” Where is the whereabouts of Harmony in this world?
Searching for something long lost in the collective mind?
Cause, being a bit Timothy Leary about the general manipulative Media of things, 'the using our head, to get out of our minds' would appear as consciously working...
Yet as guilty as the next man for being a victim to all the trick's of untruth. Year's spent pointlessly pontificating, warring with other's over the wrong and right of concerned politics, and all that creates the innate, yet vain, delusion of our self-supremacy. This 'can't get past go' illusion that one crew is better than another, my way better than your way, where West ever remains greater than East?
It is as it is, all the shouting, all this political wah wah, it just goes straight into ‘the abyss of to no avail.’ What’s the point? Its not helping or saving, or stopping anything or anyone. Words are cheap ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you, everyone is shouting...’ When really, none of us are listening to ourselves, or even resisting the compulsion of the ego to influence our desires over others. The god of coverted recognition and power, another war is sparked...
Yet if I was Queen, the world wouldn’t be like this, I would demand deeper understanding and real education, by which we’d again understand great Spiritual Knowledge Acknowledges No King, and just as there is a world of gravity, there is another that exists without gravity. Alas I’m not Queen and I’m helpless??? Oh ffs, year’s spent worrying, screaming ‘I can’t believe you just said that, did that, and think that’ at some gruesome mass-media and for what??
Yet in the bigger picture, amidst the energy of it all as it manifests. Here, living within, the as above so below, I’m it and it is me, of it all. Who knows if we find our teacher’s, or if they find their pupil, yet we are all shaped and moulded by both the mind of the cruel and the good. The scathing and the abundant. Favouring the later, with only a small handful of real friends...
Me, and all of ‘Generation X’ here to help guide the Millennials, and yet do any of us know how to save the world from destroying itself?
Alas I think we’ve become a civilization that no longer knows, or even remembers its ‘Super Power.’ We exist in an energetic and vibrational universe in which we are all connected. Existing in both a seen and an unseen world, a universe of what we know and a universe of what we don’t know. Born of ‘The Tournament of Light and Dark’ here, to play our ‘ever more conscious’ part in this vast Play on Perception.
Bring it on! Life hey, wtf “Why am I here?”
In Persian mythology, it was Ahrimanes who was the evil power, the Prince of the Kingdom of Darkness. He was the rival of Oromazes, the Prince of the Kingdom of Light. Here, on this earth these two powers have divided, and equal dominion. Sometimes one of the two holds a temporary supremacy. So here we are again, accept Ahrimanes is called Donald, and Oromazes ‘a god that would let us prove his existence’ is needed???
Queen Kosie?? Hell no, playing god or the devil can place you in a highly vulnerable position.
Yet it is as it is, with all the attention Trump and his tacky tactics have right now. He and his NWO G20 Ugly Crew hold supremacy. Not good. The need to address an atomic situation. Wtf flying monkeys! Yet existing amidst the 'crazy’ spiritual suppression, under this merciless Gaia of Donald’s Darkness, too many breaking down, not up; the ruthless treatment of the meek…
So many in the quandary of how to inherit the earth?
Personally, willing to fight like a savage beast to protect my child, those I love, and the natural order of things. These past couple of months back here, in the Ugly Kingdom has taught me much. Leaving the sun in June, life itself forcing me back here, to this dark overcast island. Reverting, like taking a step backwards, leaving the light of foreign shores and coming back here, into this old world of mine, its Empire and the land that’s DNA is my blood. This heavy, shadowy capitalistic environment, that my rebel way has fought against all my life.
And now again, it engulfs me.
And this is the lesson, baring witness to how my mind has been ‘eclipsing in all this retrograde.’ Its not healthy, under this over-riding overcast observation of 21st Century life, addled by the shame I hold for this ‘Our British Queen & Country’ and its hymn of fascist white supremacy, that does everything in hand with America. Terrorizer May merrily selling arms to help them. Ffs..... Yet like many of us, who stand trapped behind an understanding of the truth, whilst living ever embroiled in the energetic untruth; really, it is like living with a perpetual hangover…
I don’t want it, I don't wish to play any part in perpetuating it, and yet the issues confronting the 21st Century are in our face. Dragging us in, like a junkie to a poison, just one more draft, one more hit of the dark side?
Yet this is it, if you know light, how can you go back to the dark??? You can’t, you know better. You’re aware that in a universe of dynamic energy, maintaining the purest of vibrations is the only way to win the game. Alas we've lost the knowledge, its fear that fights the beast. Yet you can't fight the beast by fighting it. Instead we humanity have to kill it will love, by raising above the vortex of darkness.
Love can win over war and hate, if we use it to do so. All of us...
So come on! Be the love, show it and express it, I promise I'll make more of an effort too...