Cornwall Security employee has in daylight today exited work vehicle in thousand oaks to initiate false name using another's forcibly removing public utility access from the army corps of engineers in the United States of America. Per declaration
Removing free speech
Time now is 9:59a.m
Interested parties up to the AFL-CIO and all account holders in California have previously been named defendents
Order of city draw from account concludes upon registration entries of harbor house desk pantry fool reception.
As to whom is eating
Typically "fasting" days, rights and laws devolve internment districting rather astutely in history.
That one has as currency and is currently undergoing the burden of halting on side notes for another's labor in a daylights gaining momentum.
Conjectures reposing argument precludes
Allow them respect, those who battle on.' In tents and cars
Australia you are being guided so wrong.' I presume there's
No voting facility 'for our disenfranchised?' I question the
Morality? Where is the councel of the wise? I advise intervention..We saw it before.' Camps of internment when
A health scare hit the doors.' Now such a reaction is needed in a more positive way.' Reach out..Show humanity'
Let them vote..Have their say.' Fix things at the bottom and
It'll come good..We know what our forebears beleived and
How they stood.' The spirit of Australia was forged in hard
Times..It will rise to the challenge.' All we need we will find.'
Turn to each other.' And allow some dignity..Release all fear
That Australia may become again 'the land of oppertunity'
“Art is the medium by which a person, having experienced an emotion, intentionally transmits it to others” – Leo Tolstoy
A bleak monotonous landscape,
Had been her outlook for years.
She so vehemently longed to escape.
The young woman fought back tears.
Christina’s world was internment.
Trapped in a body with muscles decaying.
Poor dear lacked discernment,
Her will to walk, her spirit not obeying.
Muscular Dystrophy restricted her being.
Crawling helplessly across the field,
The horizon beyond is all she will be seeing.
Determined to create an impenetrable shield.
To separate her from her crippling disorder.
Forcing herself daily, her bent limbs to be unfurled.
In spite of her debilitating marauder,
In pain Miss Christina Olson seeks to view the world.
Inner inspiration and discernment,
Agree within for conscience internment;
Within me, I hear constant divine call,
I understand all that is good for all...!
True wisdom exists with the fear of God,
From within each does the almighty laud;
Will I ever gain this divine insight,
With no true love though mighty be I might...?
Praying for wisdom, reading divine words,
Breathing by words, like within eggs, new birds;
Reflecting, pondering, meditating,
For sacred demands and commands waiting...
One doesn't gain divine wisdom with ease,
Struggle to survive in it never cease;
If one can, yet, succeed in doing so,
Life and death will, within his control flow...!!!
12 January 2023
A spiritual wisdom download Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
We lose loved ones friends enemies. The impact of the heart of that lost one is felt like a ripple in a pond. Love and loss is part of the natural order. It's internment, it's reuniting, it's grief and happiness. The thought of living with an emptiness a hollow spot inside our hearts and mind. It's the seed of hope as well as the seed of doubt. The hope that they are in a better state a better place without pain and suffering. And the doubt that we will ever be the same now that their gone. But time moves forward but there are wounds time can't heal. So we celebrate while we are here and when we go we celebrate life just the same.
What do you see when you look at me?
Is it the COVID creators and kamikaze?
Does it cause rage and your blood boil?
Do you want me to just wrap food in foil?
Well if only you knew the burden we carry.
The judgement makes our life very scary.
Just because we know the martial arts.
Xenophobes show they have no hearts.
By damaging and boycotting our stores.
Graffiti phrases of shame on our doors.
Blaming us for events we did not partake.
Suffocating us like a giant python snake.
You did it to Arabs for the past 2 decades.
Cutting into their hearts like razor blades.
We remember our grandparents detained.
In WWII internment camps they remained.
The rate of racially motivated attacks.
Piling up medical bills in huge stacks.
Offenders don’t even verify the origin.
Willing to strike a parent’s next of kin.
Nationwide the frequency has tripled.
Through communities fear has rippled.
Let’s try to look past what you can see.
To lower Asian Americans new anxiety.
I shall not linger, tarry, where,
Beneath the oaks, out of the glare,
I had a dog to bury, ere
I lose control, emotions flare.
Among the roots, precise, with care,
There was so little room to spare:
A cairn of rock so none would dare
To dig, to make inquiry there.
Failed him, of this I'm great aware.
At times, a bit too much to bear.
It is a tragic, sad affair,
And so I dug internment lair.
The two of us, a bonded pair.
That wondrous coat of fine black hair!
But, damn! His actions: hard to square.
With growling, fearful, narrowed stare,
Attacked an infant, small and fair;
Gave all of us an awful scare.
I vowed demise, a solemn swear.
The righteous end, and yet, beware:
'Twas grief, not vengeance, in the air,
Commended with a tearful prayer.
----------
(In memory of Dizzy, the devil dog, a border collie I had for about 10 years,
but had to put down when he attacked my grandson. The experience is not
recent, but the emotion is still raw after all these years)
What I have noticed here
and there
on campuses
in medical service centers
within hospitality sanctuaries
in sane asylums
Most of the language
in exterior marketing
and interior messaging cultures
Has gently moved from internment
and imprisonment
and confinement
and isolation
and punishment,
Whether voluntarily elected
selected
invited
or imposed
sentenced
medicinal
sterile
purgative,
Whether mental
or physical,
spiritual
or natural,
Has moved on to a more engaging
empowering
enlightening reconnection
of multiculturally intelligent hospitality
Inviting universal health care
for reconnecting all,
regardless of how irritating
and silent
and/or vocally strident.
Caring spaces
with not quite enough time yet
to grow a WholeEarth health-wealth spa
for co-invested nature Spirits
of nonviolent communion
But heading in that multi-regenerational election,
engaging our preferred healthy
interdependently wealthy
direction.
The force is catter-balled inside of it's own redemption,
you are not meandering without,
or even tempered to non-survive the site-
they told us in many more trials that we don't travel in far as much as we can keep being more than what was told is for...
So many wines and gatherings of the eclipse,
so many new tides you might wonder how they all fly when really it's nothing to attack.
"So fly like a G-6"
"Never guide the high it's all alike and its..."
No ask why,
no internment bite,
just the waltz of the mountain goats and whites..
The flutter around after strong size,
weathered mime and together light.
Sayonara,
the melanin haters love saying to us
With a foot stomp stomp,
and a wicked tone profane cuss:
“Good riddance to you,
ghetto cockroaches
400-years of your whiny fuss,
we done had enough”
In reply,
we annoying colored critters say:
“Yippie, yippie ka-yay!”
Oppression choosers,
colonial terrorist losers,
we don’t give a Hans Gruber
how you feel
It’s a thirty generation story fall —
We die hard,
but Nakatomi truth kills
Don’t try to mushroom sweep
our fungi pain under the spore rug
Hiroshima lies ...
Nagasaki cries ...
Internment hate you lip cancer love
We die hard,
but Nakatomi truth kills
Ain’t no Roy
coming to our rescue,
on a white horse Trigger
No worries, tho’ ...
We die hard,
but Nakatomi truth kills
Looks like that splat
on the ground
is only gonna get bigger
Patina lady, with torch in hand,
bastion of freedom in a promised land.
Now perish the principles upholding your base
by the internment of children in a zoo like place.
Patina lady when you were young
homeless from many shores did come
and gathered grateful at your hem,
American dream in view for them.
Patina lady, green like money
that flows through bytes as Wall Street honey.
No longer are welcomed the “tired and the poor.”
Put up a wall and shut the back door.
Patina lady, green like sickness
Let's clean you up to bronze with quickness.
There’s an urgent need to renovate
a nation that doesn't tolerate.
6/27/18
Protest poem : A poem with a message N/A Judged 4/6/19
NA re-run Poetry Contest Sponsored by: John Hamilton
The process in a hive
surgical snippets of allopathic
functioning and standardized
the unequal rhetoric
of a stolen paradise
Reaction homogeneous undiversified
to clacking gear
of working mechanized
the robotic motor
for economic lives
Buy the used up trash can of civilized
Such are the things of love in their passing
waste recycling
no longer applicable
the useless detritus
the human industrialized
The process in a hive
Sweet fortuitous profit
for living in life only to survive
the laws of credit
the hum drum mechanic
steadfastly brutalized
Cut, swipe the cure-all chemical
the ready cash
with its easy voodoo
its empty idols
strangle to a last breath the spiritual
Flip through the catalog of the hive
Its children become weaponized
uniformed internment
scrutinies institution
of all their varied lives
a scrape of paper tossed upon
the economies expendable garbage pile
I killed a man. Took his life, he lives no more.
Watching his lifeless body, prone, lying on the floor.
How should I feel? So many emotions fill my brain.
It was so quick, just one blow removed him from this plane.
Murder! just a word but the act itself carries such weight.
Such a heinous crime. It should be harder to seal one's fate.
I always prided myself with being a person of fine moral standing.
To hold onto my freedom, forged in the fires of Hades, I was demanding.
From debtors prison to transportation.
Betrayed by the government of my beloved nation.
Shipwrecked and marooned before arrival.
I set my mind to my very survival.
The secrets of my past internment, this Galoot threatened to expose.
Blackmail, extortion, to seal his lips with the truth only he knows.
Now the manacles which once bound my hands and feet,
replaced by fetters on my conscience, shackled by my grievous deed.
To the gallows I will never submit or succumb.
My freedom bought with luck, misfortune and bitterly won.
Flee again I must. Yet another new life I will secure.
I will leave my mark on this land, for my generations to procure.
Lusting the passions of a secret desire
Unwinding the mystery of my needs
Funerals are for the future
Internment I ask be deferred
Timeless is my youth
Useless is my request
At seeking eternity or at least eternal rest
End of times may seem long away
Beauty we know fades, it will happen some day
So I dream of youthful moments
Isle graveyards were far away
Holy wars and loveless scores
That a soldier must endure
A desire for peace escapes this generation and more
External forces and internal woes
Death dances at my door
Dedicated to Sara Bernhardt, who slept in her coffin amongst all her love letters.
Lest there be any doubt,
There has been far too much,
For the hand that has written so squarely,
Has spoken with a tongue that is round.
There is much to do,
Far more then any mouth can speak.
The dormant seeds whose wait nears death,
Need not internment under mountains to breath,
But freedom to grow under the faithful eye of patience,
Whose blanket comforts and nourishes,
Waiting for eyes to open.
There is an ocean where tears need to be fished,
Mixed with blood and the black of ink,
Poured into an opaque bottle,
Shaken once for eternal life
And with the gift of hands that let go,
And a brush whose name none may know,
A stroke shall begin to shape,
Remake and retake
The face whose hope had faded.
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