WW3

pt 1; "Deals with the dead Bulldogs.

         [ 2015-2018 ]

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Notes; Tuesday morning, 13th April 2563BE

[ Edit ]

important memories & revelations about the war; on consciousness & the nights spent in my back garden smoking in the winter twilight, often with a beer and battle going on to retake my own mind from deep state crime.

What Sets Us Apart

What is it 

    the writer says? 

 

  "Tell the story 

    You know. .


Fawkes was always the only one who entered Parliament with honest intentions & his spirit was one of the most livid & vivid I met.

 

During the Second World War, my Grandfather was a communications expert. He worked in Africa & had a brother who signed up for the RAF underage; a wing gunner. Shot down over France. My Grandmother had 2 brothers - Ken; who got hit by a milk truck & was never the same again. But it was Peter; who flew Lancaster Bombers. After the war; at age 60, for his birthday, he took a flight over the Antarctic; it was something he always wanted to do. But the flight disappeared, crashed. Eventually, they found them & identified him from his wedding ring. It was the most famous air disaster in New Zealand History. 

 

The Mount Erebus disaster occurred on November 28 1979 when Air New Zealand Flight 901 (TE-901) flew into Mount Erebus on Ross Island, Antarctica, killing all 237 passengers and 20 crew on board.

The Book of Numbers; that's why dems callsdit

     "In the Wilderness ... 

 

 

What do you think is under the ice in paradigms

When you are Dead things make sense

Who in the field do you lot trust?

 

When all is lost;

    the ends of May;     Lost days.      Endless nights

          Many Leagues of Shallowsh ...

 

      Let

     the Crows 

         come

I had to accept my own maddness.

For if one does not, the great doubt will only build

I wondered for many nights into sun rises

seeking liberation through my hearing.

I tried to approach the edge with honest intentions, often in mindset with the court; surrounded by the invisible gangs & stars of silver screen fame and novels of poetic history all the same that i had come to belive in and trust like most angelic of young one; a mad as hell & cocky field reporter. But always behaving like a kid for the most part. I found that state was most original for my innocence to play the role my spirit was crying out for, it; my spirit - was incorruptibility set on revenge & finding a way to make sin a part of the path towards a kind of salvation in belly laughs for my cosmic audience. When i was off stage i was still traped in depression, miserable, sad, feeling the pain of the world. I felt like an old man, who forgot never to grow up between those acts. And it remains that way to this day. Eventually i would give up just remaining a mute meme like Charlie and take to the word on black screen. It was there i would have some of my most vivid imaginations confirmed as a kind of reality in another paradigm, parallel to all the many things i dreamed of seeing in this lifetime. As my verse came down onto the black i found the alchemy was signing away to narratives; divination. I found myself in a lamp, where all eyes watch. Where oldest of mirrors rome. Guarding my prose with all their notes. Drinking my readings from bottles found beyond the spells of time. Filled with letters that burn like rhyme; singing to those books, those reels of visual ephemeral trails that spin from the source to the ends of known voice & clime the walls that haunt us all. I sore wild complexity, of my own making; becoming simply a matter of creating a way out from within. And then it would happen; the roses, explosions, hearts echos oceans; unfolding in sonic waves spiraling up into the great cosmos in my mind. For what was once a tunnel vision had now become a large expanding sphere of orb like quality; that i can only report of as an expanding universe as the sands of time remained below. Great highs were being reached, as i would pen & those levels i chased into the furthest lights, were shared with my most trusted of spiritual guides. I built narratives around those moments, in the dunes where angel arrive to mark the time. These pockets of time where no man is; - islands in the sky.

 

I was once a prisoner, but now i was a Judge.

& I always had that strange feeling,

             like i had an audience.

 

An actor is at most a poet

and at least an entertainer.

M.B