011 ARE YOU ONE OF THE 36?

ARE YOU ONE OF THE 36?

Completely inspired by your force of nature. You are an incredible energy, Marianne Williamson, a fakir. Too busy to read these thoughts in time and out of season. Maybe for the best, busy beatin’ treason. Satire, this be and very eye-rishy ta grasp fae-lethe. Directed towards a fringe group called - nomads and travelers and eyerish appauled (the first two groups way beyond gender, color, creed or sexual persuasion, that final group - ah sure ya know yerselves, no introduction, abrasion). To be privy to these groups, you must take it all in context, like a run for/from public office. A sort of an awakening, finding oneself left at the side - with the only group there to befriend you, being a Jodorowsky circus act, one climbs. For Michael Corleone said it best “It ain’t personal Sony” a slogan for bafia and bolitics, both put to rest. B’s and colloquialisms will be used like Kenny Everett on speed (My blogs are like VPN, will move at will all around with pen, in both humor and colloquialisms, higher than eagle as wren). Funny worlds will arise, as we delve deeper into each others brains now to confide, beyond stupid presentational pretenses - alive. Online is bringing new thoughtforms, through simple texts to full on presentations - “Here’s my contribution to balance the overall”. Lets not have only Politicians rule the airwaves. Points can be picked up from my pieces, like Easter Eggs and Selection Boxes. We PlayStation down the boreens of our lives, for we too influence, create the sacred ley lines. This read can be passed onto a Team Williamson player, who might tiktok it to you, over a cup a coffee. A very strong cup of coffee, long and black, mind the poo. I guarantee you, that the raggle-taggle bunch I mention in this blog, beat to their own drum not fog. If you connect with them, and they intuit back, then this blog, might very well be, a blessing in disguise instead of a very weird and wiley read tonight. It is without the trickery, a creator like Kali. An algorithm, the world over, might suggest this post even to Bassam - as the current expression of what the majority of the world are thinking right now, feeling, saying and/or doing, as they go about their routined days pushin’, that stone up the continual reappearing hill for nothin’. Or the A.I. could go gaga and go off, down the fields chasing butterflies. There’s a method to this madness, like a good sufi stretch. Most will prefer, to pass on it, like they do homeless people on the street. Go about their day, waking up tomorrow, to simply do it all again, this feek. It’s all in a dream. So goes this post, for there is no solid ground, just us ghosts. This writing is relative to anyone listening from a higher rung on the ladder. To get the pulse of the people, not bladder. Society speaks all around. Those higher up, those listening will be promoted, positioned, championed, through the power of intention of the 8 billion souls living on this planet, and the 100 billion bottles washed up on the spirit shores. Not for the faint of heart. A satire with colloquial humor from another country across the pond, djaying music, not registering for political office. But a cry all the same, from the people outta pocket. This post might have a longer lasting effect, beyond a 20 minute popcorn read, where both popcorn reader and writer, continually prepare for tomorrows world that never behests. And this brings The Fog, half way through the reading, never passing The Mist, bleeding. A world living between fog and mist, seems our lot right now, the wrong wish. The gypsy nomad sending out power beyond the collective, deep into the world reflective. We are watching and wishing you well. In other words “Dear God” lets get outta hell.

Its a life force, beyond running for president, beyond your humanity - that you seem to be expressing out. Those who are stumbling onto you now, the world over, are sensing a change with real connotation beyond Bbama’s Oullshit. A soul, a flame, a light is lit, a beacon, a reign. Life is a soul cry, to do something you believe in, to be the captain of your domain. And not its victim, to continue to beat to your own drums distain. The common person cannot do this actualized, unless it reverberates up the ladder. We in this country across the pond from you, have no one to look to, so we look abroad for the time being - waiting for a one to emerge from within, a feen. We know the higher positions have been coopted, compromised throughout the world. Up there, has become less free, conformity, strangling those rising wranglerly. So the artists stay alone, trying to build honest grass roots in tomes. Crowd sourcing through the thicket, not relying on corporate to wicker it. While the body politics self implodes all around. We continue to look for beacons found. Even in the imploding political confidence game. Playing every 4/5 years like an abusive repeating relationship game (which you mentioned in a recent interview with Gabor Maté).

We try and do the best we can, from beyond our own drum, the resilience being - never stop drumming the comine harvestor key. All are learning now, heartbreakingly we realize that some of us will simply never love. They're too far gone, a downward spiral on the ladder above. Some of course are just angry, in need of channeling. Some as dumb as bhit, living the monopoly denial demons, they quit. Unloving, being the first rung on the downward spiral. Below that, one finds bigotry, hate, evil, venturing down the depths. A higher vacuum cleaner kicks in, through invisible winds wet. Lets hope not to biblical proportions. There is still time for those on the rungs closer to zero. We sing George Michael's I gave you my heart each Christmas, as if in perennial election denial, Jim will fix it. We pass the tongue biting, at the thanksgiving tables of America fightin’. Hoping Americans had a better Thursday night than the Irish. To all those running for new political office we wonder, should we return back to these abusive political relationships once again, bring them into our personal and collective lives, amen. Do we change our political abusers, or is there another way? Can we be so brazen and ask for a different colored lollipop to stay. The child catcher is getting to be old hat, even the women prefer Benny Hill these days fat. We say goodbye to some loves. Who? The Republicans, the Democrats, Fianna Fail, Fine Gael, Labour, Christian Democrats, The Socialist Party, the Liberal Democratic Party. Just name your drug of choice found the world. Lynne McTaggart would say power of 8 goes beyond the body politic and football following. Or my Jesus is better than your toyshow and vice versa. For its at that level where "I can't make you love me" takes us front and center, power and preference in all our lives, fence her. We find, we do not love in current location/mindset/action. Most of us in fact, hate “where we find ourselves”, we lost traction. We need to go out from there, way past the perimeter deep inside, where there are no stars to find. For far out there, deep inside, we are stoned immaculate dyin’ on vine, awakened to a higher calling time. So say hello and wave the continual goodbye rhyme.

Turn down the lights, turn down the bed
Turn down these voices inside my head
Lay down with me, tell me no lies
Just hold me close, don't patronize - don't patronize me
灯りを消して眠りにつく
脳裏の声を消そうとするの
私と一緒に寝て　嘘は言わないで
抱きしめて欲しいだけ
冷たくあしらったりしないで

Cause I can't make you love me if you don't
You can't make your heart feel something it won't
Here in the dark, in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power
But you won't, no you won't
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't
だって愛してくれないでしょ その気もないのに　
どうにもないの　思い通りにならないでしょ？
暗闇の中で最後の時を過ごしてる
愛情が残れば、力を感じられるけど
でもそうじゃない、そうじゃない
だって愛してくれないでしょ　その気もないのに

I'll close my eyes, then I won't see
The love you don't feel when you're holding me
Morning will come and I'll do what's right
Just give me till then to give up this fight
And I will give up this fight
瞳を閉じてしまえば何も見えなくなる
抱いている時でさえ愛を感じないのね
朝が来ればすべきことをするだけ
その時まで言い争いはやめましょう
これ以上喧嘩したくないから 

We move on down this hall of realization. A lot of people have come to the saddened knowledge, that we have been sheep all this time. Some come to anger and erupt on, or close to, on Full Moon toastin’ bon-bons. We jump out of the sitcom, soap opera, telenovela. Jump away from all those who trigger us in conversation. Say goodbye to all those who are not healthy for our private lives. Repositioned to a secondary status or kept only for the work politics, out further fields divide. To local, national and global we go to battle, once the private is reorganized. Hopefully more wise - we do not retreat to the same topics, searching in the same places, where love don't live here anymore, traces. Out there beyond the 12 PG rated movie that Hollywood/Government deems our intellect. Marianne Williamson, I sense, I hope, is trying to bring something new to the table. It could very well start in the States, a type of Arab Spring (thanks to Stuart Seldowitz says you (this man was caught on camera in New York verbally abusing/provoking an immigrant). I still can't believe his street rant, like American school children having gun access, reversing sycophant. Europeans just don't get that fully (knives yeah, but we won’t venture there either now after the Irish Thanksgiving we had). We all sense - the Seldowitz incident breaths bad acting. Could it be a lookalike, the same way a popstar or actor has doubles? If real, then it’s a psychosis, a ferocious sadness of watching a man off his meds. We Irish, wonder, was it the same over here on our thanksgiving Thursday. This energy moves its way across the world as wetiko. What Marianne is trying to birth in, is something not as psychosis, but as a world citizen with a bottle of cop on. A mob erupted in Dublin, Ireland last Thursday night and destroyed city property to release the tension. Head scratching is and of what I am talking about here tonight. A man of foreign origin stabbed 3 people, very little information released at the time of this writing. So a Capital City reacted in street protest. Again we question is this real. We have come from South America where its very normal for governments to pay thugs to disrupt, if a distraction is needed. For nothing is off the table anymore. What would they be trying to distract us from. Eh.…. Incomprehensible Incompetence. Ah, you're right there Ted. Seldowitz, Dublin, we question both. What’s really going on and why are we not told more about both incidents. Were both mental health issues or simply a cry out to the world. By holding this type of information and not letting the public know, authorities in a normal chieftain setting, would be held accountable for escalating behavior and not putting tensions to ease. Full Moon, Psychosis, Political Chess playing or the release of tension to show the kraken has awoken. The first brings in the reality that the astrological grandfather clock has now started beating, natural law is breathing in and out like waves to shore. Out with the old 24/7/365 and in with a star clock. But its not New Years yet. No matter. We start listening to Pam Gregory's Astrology to play catch up. The second point means, the world is going mad, not being able to handle these new energies, that are coming to earth like a bihad (ya it desn’y statt with b, but buck sake, give the singer some). This boiling pot temperature (for the dial has been turned up) through climate and speed of living, bunts, buck. The third and fourth point above, the Chess Moves and the Kraken, will play out, one against the other as characters blacken. We all have our own opinion of who wins that game. Marianne could go greyer than Obama, if she makes it to office seeing all the shame/blame, becomes privy to what lies behind the Childhoods End Commander-in-Chief Position - the reign. Having to continue the term/terms out, like Obama, who now produces films like Rustin (mirroring/revealing himself in character). All atone, all appease, scaring her. We are jaded, we hope Marianne is up to task. Not sure who's up over here, so we look across the pond for now, a dare. Obama tried to jump on the coat tails of hope and change, where the most optimistic or those beating to their own drums, live flag and wave. He never fulfilled. While the New York dissident and Dublin incident were taking place, my wife and I were watching Rustin and The Best of Enemies (two movies pointing a way to so many conflicts about us all right now). So apt for large and small (the negotiating living room tables of our lives to the UN kingkiller tablets of stone). I neither write for an American audience, nor Irish. Enough do that and get very annoyed if others try to push in. Like seagulls saying mine, mine, mine or buy me a coffee, coffee, coffee..... Start treating it all as grown ups for people like me to go back to the playful. I lived a life of actualizing the self consciously and sub, which brought others along for a ride, unbeknownst to me, rub a dub. A realization I have slowly awoken to. Wouldn’t go anywhere near a road that Marianne has chosen. I’m just pointing it out - Powers have come in and we are all awakening to something. Yes, say the nomads, more of this speel and stop talking about politics with the booboos. They're never waking up. Others reading this are just angry. For them, I’m not going far enough. More still think, I’m after their seagull bread. I’m whistling a tune I hear, last day in June in me head. Marianne Williamson is whistling hers. What are you whistling, right now? Ain’t whistling. Pass the bourbon, and get on with it, Paddy, got a caddy booked for four at four and we’re all lookin’ forward ta shouting four. And they say such a noble game. All types are being asked to bale cotton. I look around to see the majority singing Moz and George Michael songs. I spy with my little eye, as if a Canadian moose riding atop, the back of a mammoth, Brother Bear die. We see behind the Bruce helmet again and again and again, repeatedly catchphrasing "he's behind you" at the perennial Panto when. We all find ourselves returning to the four year abusive political marriage reunion, panto reversed. We heartbreakingly go through these perennial set plays, only to find ourselves duped again as beached whales -  what will we do now, in new territory, like I wrote in my 003 Post. Go for it, god damn it, we ‘ll move the fountain/mountain, we be ghosts. A certain amount of Americans hope it plays through you, Marianne, so do. Flock it, I'm all in and I'm not even American......USA, USA trickles down from the fae. I sense if Marianne does light a way, it will ripple. Regarding the Dublin situation Thursday, we all question on this here island, how does a group of that size form, in the space of a few hours. How does a WhatsApp/Telegram collection get that mobilization into operation (better than any Amazon Transport). What, who, are the intelligences behind this (they should be the ones running Amazon, ‘cause that bloody Multi-National is turning inta a disorganized mess). Mindless public damage is completely stupid. As Stupid as Seldowsitz commenting like he did to a street vender who was simply trying to make a living. A crazy action, Eastood shouts Unforgiven. That and the Irish incident need direction, a channeling. The New York incident - no justification, the Irish one - a reaction to a government not listening to its people since 2020. Want to really scare the bebesus out of power, acquire all knowledge in the ways of voting, from top level to local. Light that fire, not the bloody Lewis (a train system in Dublin). The world over for sure, had similar local headlines, all waxing and waning like the full moon rising, leading all the way to this Sunday Night/Monday morning moon fighting. Government response here was incredible. They now have the ammunition to go after anyone they see fit, instead of comprehending why it came to pass, dicks. The Bilary revenge becomes the Baradkar balls-up. Here to love…….the call up!?

Saw an interview of Marianne Williamson with Richard D. Wolff a year back, where she said Trump used the alt media to his advantage. Some said, in the wrong. Don't care, only that Marianne could do it now, in the right. Trump might say, she's in the wrong, Marianne would say him. And we all play the hokey pokey, some cravin’ munchies with a bong. If mainstream do not give a platform to the ones who are bringing change into the world, then they must do exactly like Dax (a Canadian rapper), who got 80 million views on Spotify, fact. He, along with Tom McDonald (both singer/songwriter/rappers, work outside the system, so it seems…..we at least hope they’re not hackers. Doing it one by one - Rik Mayall and Diane Jessie Miller says you, the pun). Daxxy boy, yourself Marianne and a multitude of others, the ones who are getting transported to Oz without rudders - are all stepping up now playing the game, as honest and incorruptibly as possible in blame. Decently, and as effectively, in this new level, that we all find ourselves ballooned to, bedeviled. We, down in the trenches, wish you the best in your challenges. As individuals, we want to be fully spent, fully lived in our own movies. But the world is over-pulling us into the god realms, these times callin’ us to wrong duties. Administrators being, trumped up little managers, addicted to the power, instead of getting in and out, as quickly as one can, to these greying positions of power. We’re called to step up from kitchen sink to world. We are questioning so much now, we are the awakening herd. We do not want to be over stretched in duty, obligation, rights, loves, fights, hungers. We even want lesser work, so we can concentrate on life as berserkers. If you Marianne, go to office and work 7am to midnight for four years, we’ll even question you. That's not a life, that's a cruxifiction. Worth it, ask Obama, ask Trump. A death bed ask, not when they're words affect their position/power/status in this world attract. Make sure you don't quote the constant previous denegations. For that's how its always been. Right now we hang at precipice lookin’ ta win.

“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong and sound as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?” - C.S.Lewis.

By getting the life and death answers to everything, we then resolve issues such as "has it always been a prison planet system". We are awakening, but only to the realization that we want to move beyond herd. Yes, stick it to a political audience, stay esoteric man, ride the snake, 7 miles hurled. Mention Lasso. Easy now hipster, easy now Yank. Fix a system where we all can be individuals together, not wank. Though this time, not as a Monty Python joke, struggling, and no jokes on coke. To say to ourselves, that we moved the water cooler, trailblazed a life - if not for another, then at least for self. If we go the wrong direction on this side of the Janus and come out another birth canal by mistake - at least we have a semblance of how to begin again, not fake. Dax asked rappers all over the world to write up a number of verses and sing them on a podcast. He banged out a 20 minute version of his song from this and got a good fraction of the music world listening. Marianne could do this throughout America, from local office candidates, all the way up. Probably won’t listen but A.I. has it noted in millisecond (fook sake HAL, will ya stop, will ya). Explain the ballot box and how the whole tomfoolery plays out, educate people onward and upward, ya trout. An Irish Podcaster recently did a clip explaining the Irish version of the ballot boot - all that it entailed. It was quite informative for a good section of the population be whales. The majority who participated on the streets of Dublin last Thursday night, might see a different road, if they knew more than MMA a fight. If led by, or beyond mob emotion - a better more informed, politically savvy, educated group could awaken, beyond texting to meet downtown for a good old donnybrook wake inn. The depths of sophistication in the heart of the tribal rites of a Saturday night says you. Then maybe, a true force awakens beyond coup. You can just imagine how wool could be pulled over, when Irish eyes are smiling or raging "Ya see that road over there fella, well don't take that one, atall, atall". In an alternative reality, the politicians are all comedians. Why do doctors, accountants, lawyers talk double Dutch to the average citizen, as if we were fellow guild members. To confound of course. Would love to add politicians here, but its their assistants who know more - all the in and outs of the job. Elvis sing Lemonade. “Lemonade, that sweet refreshing drink”. Politicians have to speak plain like us, that's how they were blessed, bless ‘em, cursed. Then….mightn’t that mean we could all be politicians. Yes, a celebrity is not a people. Don’t question the celebrity, question that the political job was null and void all these years since those taking baths came along. Civil servants and unions run a country, not the politician. We all are more awakened, educated and beyond a lot of them now. Like Yosser Hughes, we just go up to them and say “Giz a job! I can do that!” (deaf and mad colloquialism for the initiated, sorry Americans, jack and coke will stand ya right. Boys from the Black Stuff [a British TV Series] too much of an ask, a fight tonight).

Team up Marianne. When sending your tongues of fire out, make them aware that all platforms from bootube down, including bubstack here, block so many of the more informative and influential people/messages from fear. The algorithm like a gun, is as good as who's holding it. Hard for the true to hook up at times, when they might not even be algorithmically visible to one another - invisible fines. Yet that's life, just because a person looks the most popular in that group, doesn't mean they are. There's shills, emperors without clothes, false prophets, tossers. Our attention distracted by the moronic/prudy/plain/over pietied. Incredible worlds we live in, Walter Mitty. Terrific race the Ukrainians, where one can go from playing a fictional president on tv to the actual position. Can the flat earthers go back to a round outlook, after this realization and vice verse. The remedial mindset - these are small but those are far away. Russell Brand would have you on his podcast, Marianne, bring the fae. You need to ask those who follow you - which online broadcasters should you connect with. Do not base it on views. Wisdom of the crowds, can be mob, can be enlightening, like a gun depends on the hand. We all want Shane back ta beat the lovely shit outta Jack Wilson, Ryker and all the boys. We are all Shane, we’ve always been Shane. And we will do these things…..because its the right thing to do again and again.

The above song got hammered by a section of women. Gender, race, color, creed. Ethnic cleansing, war, what is it good for........are the current heated topics, not the crying of men. Yes, a certain section of feminists hate this song, they do not want the man to cry, put on the poor me hat or find solace in victimhood. It has been women all along fighting injustice. Do not co-opt this, like you’re trying to co-opt the women’s toilet, por favor. Men are just the last in line, it’s their turn to claim the Niemöller lines. I was stunned hearing this backlash from local to further afield. Massive undercurrents of these feelings, are also here in Ireland. Just like the Arab world have Tears for Fears and Oleta Adams singing a societal cry, Ireland has had its own road of this. I have seen it play out in a lot of countries. Man has been brought up a boy, girls are broken and brought up woman. Men go after mommy and then run away with Barbie. Women go after the immature son, trying to teach them again and again and again, eventually give up/get their hearts hardened and finally turn to those who take baths ....... a lot. And the cycle repeats again, next generation. What's the solution? Don't know, have ya got a generation of time. Put the kettle on. Solve that and you might solve the world, says you. Why do bislamics subjugate their boman bopenly? Why do western countries do it secretly? Why do I write it all reversly? Marianne here, mightn't be strong enough for Butin, Betanyahu or Binping, shouted out from the masculine part of the kitchen table. By Bot. Sorry, I mean, why not? Its not a cage fight. Though I luv the Frankie Goes to Hollywood video where two lookalike presidents go at it in the ring. We’ll ask Belenskyy, who has his own worries - the Oscars were giving him the cold shoulder, when his acting has been incredible for the furries? And why does he have two y's at the end of his name (Belenskyy), do we have to remind ourselves with a second y of why, each time we name this fella (will someone from Days of our Lives, Fair City, Eastenders be Brime Binister bof Bireland, Bitt’an or could it be a bixed barcial bartist). Getting real fond of the B's man, are you. We must tell it to the Bee's, they’ll take it to the trees and those be the keys.

Telling the Bees, it ripples out to the world. That, and the copying of Dax, is how you create a platform, even ask him and McDonald how they sway. Ask Lenny Kravitz his, he'll probably send you towards the slow chess game from Rustin and The Best of Enemies as a start. They're all trying to change the world but it starts country by country, city by city, town by town, street by street. Music is like noding, goes up and down and all around. Politics is washing dirty clothes. One simply can't get that spot off the shirt, no matter how hard you try. Its all so distressing. Heavens tonight says you. So many professions promote wrong personality traits - dog eat dog one, the most popular version. The world is changing, the old style clock and 12 month calendar is slowly being replaced by the astrological. 100 yrs of quantum mechanics is seeping, slouching slowly, towards Bethlehem polling. Its not a flat world, not round, its way more than what we thought. We awaken. Stay awake, you will see incredible things.

Online people who have found position and gravy trains are now turning. They’re starting to be gatekeepers. What? Ask Bisrael. The victim becomes the new vampire or wolfman. They protect their own niche like a crab to shell. You smell mine, I yours, fook we’re in hell. You promote me, I you. You go paid on mine, I on yours. Oh you’re awful you are, but I like you, tour or turds. If I sense you are direct competition, I avoid you. My success is more important, that both of us struggling together for the common good. You might just struggle more successfully than I, or god forbid, win a presidential race with better lie. Also applies to anyone reading this, as well as those creating content, weetabix. Sadly contemplating war down to the level of kitchen table - all ladders we climb, this crawling we fingernail to life boat. It goes no where when we see it portrayed as mainstream chaos mine. Oh you silly sods, we say. There are no lifeboats left. What if we're all judged, on how well we helped another, or helped the world in general through mud. And not how well we played the monopoly game. Flock that, keep that hippy quiet. Can we shut him up. Eh no, bozos like this fellow are replicating like robot A.I. As robotic rabbits, man, what are we gonna do. A secret handshake or piece of financial inside knowledge - a blessing, a clue, blindly accepting our broker advice, investing in whatever brings returns, saying bollocks the ethics - this pays for my cubans, high as a kite. He’s fookin’ it all up and all people like him. The eye of the needle, vicodin. Where hatred and racism comes from? We burst into thought, wanting to rewatch Malick’s The Thin Red Line, if just for the first line, minutes of utopia, fine. That education, the world keeps off the tables of realization. That working colonies mostly, only need working ants boastin’. Philosopher ants and artistic ants are directed towards administration and therapy. We are asked to keep it down a little, keep the grey overcoat on stuart little. We'll color your coat only when we decide, to let you out of the traps lied. Until then Pedro, roll those Montecristos. The next words to clip to bootube to humble us all, as we look out beyond the kitchen table to the world wars and sing tonight, thank god its them, instead of you. Yet Niemöller words ring out deep inside. We think New York, Dublin, Rustin and The Best of Enemies, Ukraine, Palestine, Climate, National, Local, Family and Michale Rooker as Frank Bailey. Which person from your life or have you ever thought along these lines yourself, were you ever Stuart Seldowitz in your own life - playing out that scenario on the street corner of life. We all question deep inside, our own prejudices to die. We constantly compete with one another for love. The most unloved compete the most aggressively, oh turn down the lights, turn down the beds. The following won’t play, gotta paste and play it yourself.

Mississippi Burning - My Daddy Killed That Mule - Youtube.

So we send intention to Marianne Williamson, to Dax. The world is watching, some don't give a bhit anymore, me ass. When before, most wearied and worried to hold what they had. Many have lost the schoolboy mentality of “I don't care or its my ball and I'm going home mad” - let the powers that be, take me out, if they so wish, I'm speaking my mind, let them tell of my compromises rhymed, flock it, the tipping point comes, these things to be said. Marianne - Robert Edward Grant is setting up his own platform Orion. Get on it. If not he, then Emad Mostaque with Stability. Who to trust, we gotta risk it for a biscuit at times. The road opens only in headlights, fined. Brigadoon. We intuit forward through mines.

Go to Michael Meade and have it told through myth.

Go to David Whyte as your poet laureate to fit

Blessings

Go to Bubstack and ask for a writers following. Tell them, that you have no time to smell theirs. Ya'll smell ‘em later. That - what you’re doing, is a World good. Just chill out on the Ukraine War, ya should. It sounds like you were told - say whatever you want, but stick with Biden Policy on Ukraine or fold. Its coming up to two years on that war. Everything is eventually brought to and gets carved up at table. If all things were open source, open discussion, then everything would come to pass easier. Honest discussions, debates, votes on how the people in Ukraine see their country, conflict, solution. World Citizen and a Bottle of Cop-On, the spake.

Go to Heather Ensworth through Astrology and see how she grasps the change of the old 24/7/365 to the new astrological clock. Find out what Carly Simon, Patti Smith, Stevie Nicks think, wise mature women who run with the wolves or even Clarissa Pinkola Estés (all of your generation). Do a Dax round table. Grab Russell Brand for an interview, reach out to Joe Rogan, have another go with Jimmy Dore. If not you, then who? If not this system, then what? Great caustic wit is Jimmy, but without an answer to these questions he's pissing in the wind, leading his audience and himself back to bottle and the bud (good Moroccan bwana not the carcinogenic McDonaldized versions cuz, they currently industrialize America with like fudge), liver drinking and carcinogenic smoking - all laughing through the tears woking. Not personally attacking, Jimmy bloking. There’s no time to knock something/someone down, without obligatorily replacing it with a solution bound. It does not help the overall. If Jimmy says no to you Marianne once again, then he has to be asked, what’s his way out beyond bud and bud. Legitimate questions are important “what would you do in “said” situation, Jimmy luv. “What do you currently know of the control mechanisms when you get to office, Marianne, will your hands be tied. In your current knowledge (hand on heart) what are you allowed to do and why, your awareness of the hidden protocols of wine”. If you're naïve to these things, then the interviewer has to awaken that within you. If you are so aware of entering a den of vipers, then its important to know how deep the rabbit hole goes. Might end up going to - who would you support, yourself, if you didn't make it. What system could slowly be put into political place, to change things to a course in miracles, I mean direction. For most feel, its the system, rather than the person, that fails. Can greater minds think out localization as the new way forward. Does the heart and mind rule with an iron fist or does multiple systems in the body self regulate, this body politic fix. All these people mentioned above, go with intuition, the world burns inside each head and outside, in climate and war fission. I might be wrong with some mentioned above, I could be wrong with you as candidate luv. I might end up buying into the gravy train myself and go along telling me/myself and I - this is nice now and simply play out choo choo train for the rest of the ride in western climes. Is Charles Eisenstein still with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. He’s been quite for a while or is it, he’s not given voice on mainstream as you yourself are not, Marianne - define. I like what these two say, but also like to sing “Everybody Knows” through my days. Oh the dichotomies that we all face.

If you didn't make it, would you be in Kennedys corner or angry like Bilary, remaining in service to self. I like to shine, we all do, but if there's a better player, would we pass the ball. Would he, would you or do we all find ourselves at times playing Michael Rooker as Frank Bailey (do we always need to feel better than someone else). We kind of know, Bilary and Bancy would remain in STS. Could I be extradited now like Assange for that sentence alone at your behest. The Irish might like that. The fecker can’t keep on his grey overcoat over here and it’s raining like in beer (guaranteed by Cern in fear) and we already scalped this fecker like Samson. He’s a loon, he’s singing away without a pot ta piss in, without ransom. Could I be the new Douglass Mackey. Would Marianne and her supporters be thinking - ok, bit of a whack job, this Irish laddie be. I followed his train of thought and links and liked them, right up to his mentioning Kennedy. That was the straw that broke the camels. If I were either of you (for I think both of you are sufficiently well off, not worrying about money as cost) I would team up if needs be, somewhere down the crazy river of 2024 if still free. Tag team a presidency. Why? So every second day, you could go fishing or something, says you, or maybe says Kennedy, maybe fly. What? Are you off your meds. Ya Hippy, ya. This is America, Paddy, we don’t stop the train, to fish the local rivers. Of course, of course, it’s just sometimes, I mull away like I’m Huck Finn. Ya know, that truant, that all yee Americans feel is just fine and dandy for a novel, just not in the real important world, where you Americans workaholic yer lives to death unfurled. Like a Brigadoon, a Tibetan sand mandala, which you, Marianne, would be quite aware of. This mandala has become a terrible vista, to be cleaned up. A sacrifice in need of luck. We all got to sacrifice something - a tapa, fasting, alms giving, any good action. But presidency for 4 years, 7am to midnight, 7 days a week, when we're all naturally leaving that rote. The 24/7/365 cycle was madness, too much fueling on sherbet be ghost. Most candidates don't need the money, its supposedly vocational, yet no one ever thought of sharing the job rational. Are we not all working towards noding? Sorry, but this is not Huck Finn thinking. Politics is not a team sportin’. Yes, this writer went off script Marianne, like Hoffman in Wag the Dog. Cant we get onto the editor of this here, Bubstack and cane/cain this guy some way to fog. Already happened mate. Bubstack beally bold boys boo. Bhey bon’t bike be (Substack really bold boys, don’t bike be). Could you come to the realization Marianne, that Trump represented to the people, a change of system. That somehow these football political party teams, have had their time. By staying within party, a party member has to toe the line, at some stage, when the line is called to formation or in the shadows of decline. Very few get the ball like Pele to do this, this, this, this and goal. Same with Trump, his hands (a lot of people mis-understood) were tied, once he was in office orange tanned. We all weary of the system, not the party and not the candidate. Trumps’ a maverick, you’re a maverick. Kennedy’ a maverick. Hell Tom Cruise, jumpin’ on a couch is a maverick. The road is to maverickdom. Over here, most are taking baths and waiting for Christmas vacations. No mavericks, bath taking middlemen and we all say gis us job, I can do that, its tragic. A lot are down the fields playing Huck Finn still, or deep in cruxifiction to the daily toils will (it all needs to be awakened from slumber). The psychic accountability to hold on your shoulders, is an incredible Atlas ask. That's why I wish you the best and speak Political, when I’m not in the least that way guessed. Well as much as Huck ever wore a vest. The wilder, the artist, the rebel, the shaman, never have taken a whole people with them. They always said “you're welcome to come on my ride but I don't want any followers, no room for sheep in the jungles of eternity wide. All must be sovereign, all self actualized and interdependent, to be a true collective. Would Trump say all that. Eh no, he just likes the last part. If the person doesn't make his level, he blurts out “ you're fired”, ya devil.

Well back to playing Ghost Town by The Specials, returning to be a part time actor in a Fathers Ted episode, on some small Island over there. No fear of me Bilary. Bit like Lawrence, a double edged sword, glad to get rid of me and my writings gored. Pint of larger and a packet of peanuts Lawrence. Trying to think beyond the football team mentality that we all play. If only in word and song, when time comes to wile. Lawrence loving the sands, Nick loving the trees in Deerhunter, yet I see a slow waltz coming to my house, all ran. That or the majority will go insane. Which I’m prepared to act out gladly, if it comes to my door. I have the fake fin ready from Jaws. I saw all the zombie movies from Invasion of the Body Snatchers on. Could write a gremlins version, we’d be all in the theater singing hi ho, hi ho gone wrong. The change of the board is a coming. The new board games - all beyond Chess and Monopoly. Amazon are screaming “we will sell anything we can get our hands on this Christmas”. Yet no one has the foggiest - what will be the new selling games, Jim will fix it. Certain things, plays, ideas, thoughts, need to be said. My words are examples, each thought brings forth the relativity of its time, but only if we feel free to say such things in wine. How many of us feel free enough to voice these days, one word from an authority and we zip it. Well some of us, anyways. Solidarity Reg. I am an anomaly in the normal world, though there are thousands of us here. 144k cape fear. Stop putting numbers in me mouth, boay. Even 36. If it was a forty day fast, I would do 39. Marianne is an anomaly in the political world. On every rung of the ladder, its proving best to toe the line and not anomalize. So the herd, accepts the culling. The powers that be sad - we’ll accept some breakouts, but the rest of you, get in the truck, pal. Accepting pick offs at the edge - be our daily bread. Since 2020, a lot of us are questioning more and more and more. The average person is fascinated by the hero in movies/celebrity book show, the one who live life beyond the tribe, who fend for themselves, who overcame the herding ways, all the william tells. Though view it, only with popcorn as sneaky thought crime. We forget that this is the very calling of life, the hero’s journey that must be undertaken by all past wine. You can still play it out, in Monopoly and Chess, but you must get the juices flowing! I mean it now lads, the bar will eventually close, no jest. Juicing it up here boss, juicing some sense into it all. All pieces are being asked for, we put them to our board. I play preschool here, draw a stickman and color it in. You tell me (regarding my writing)“that’s a nice coffee table”. A brother in arms paints an incredible landscape from a higher school year/rung/world, because of my stick man. Everything kicks starts everything else, and the world changes and we all eventually jump the fence. No one knows who’s really influencing who, the chicken or the egg, eh Dax, true, true. A nobody can influence a somebody, a somebody might be a nobody in the next world. A homeless person, or a world leader. The past, the future, vice versa and all around. George Michael is busking on the street corner with Frank Stallone - take me back, do do do do unheard. In a bunoscionn world, all positions reverse in whirl. The beggar who died of cold in the winter streets last night, might be the one welcoming you into the next world, tomorrow night. A world he created in the realm you find yourself - Purgatorising light (there was a being and he lived on his own, he had no one to talk to and nothing to do, he drew up the plans and learned to work with his hands, a million years passed by and his work was done - Hide and Seek sang Howard Jones on and on and on). Maybe you are living that play out, right now. Wait a minute, where’s me jumper, how now brown cow - was this whole post, just promoting pharmaceutical products, all along. No! Then stop that. Stop scaring people Wong. When you find your servant is your master sang Sting, after reading Hesse’s Journey to the East, oh little wing, sting. We will roll up our sleeves. We will go again. We will be the ones who inject into the world this time, exactly what we want, and not be injected into, unless we keep mooing cuz. Men, women and everyone in-between, we break the chains, we 36 out again.

024 THE LEGEND OF THE 36 JUST MEN

Heatoning, aha’ing, churching even. The sadness in Palestine, the local/global disconnect between people, epidemicing to legal pill and whiskey pushing devine. Hey buy one/get one free. The boiling underneath the collar, the Moz sad singing, the sad song eyes of the elderly - the only ones taking advantage of the public parks. The middle aged, too busy tiktoking, juggling 80 hours between them. A few words, a few songs, something to acknowledge all that happens in this - no rest for the wicked lands, where I write or kiss. Sure happy Christmas me arse, I pray god its our last. Sung in gest, renditioning a Pogues classic for sex. To be brought out for seasons greetings. Everything is all said and done, though two wars and the deadening feelings they brung, we simply trot along towards Christmas in cognitive care, who won. Then comes the Grinch spoiling thanksgiving in New York. A Kraken awakened in me Capital, here on western shores, all wok’d. Both screaming once again, for sense to be made to self. This is what we all do, New York, Dublin, ourselves, our own lives. How we speak, how we love, hate, from the personal circle, all the way out through society, it ripples. To thought forms forming their small influences into the world. Then these winds join winds, and become storm. We converse, we word, we draw, we sing, we rage, we cry, we love, we bring. We watch toy shows, we thanksgive, we go crazy, we die, we live - all to show ourselves we’re alive, we can rebalance a world out of kilt. Are we mad with hope (like the Laura poems of Zhivago). Adding my crazy entry, hoping it recalibrates rather than hinder-tinders to rope. We all do as best we can, though ever misguidedly, it might seem, all ran. We still attempt, tempt, tease, the muse to expression. A kraken, a once and future president, some tunes, humor, a heart beating. Beating in voice shouting “Go now, go, walk out the door. Just turn around now 'Cause you're not welcome anymore”. We sing to an old world crumbling all round and we do it with panache, the show must go on, duty though adore.

ARE YOU ONE OF THE 36 ON THE CHECKERED FLOOR?