Thursday, August 13, 2015

*An Original Poster


I have walked this panic`d earth to the tempo of my birth, in this I state that this is a place of turf.  For in the instant of these reads I write to the memory of ground, to central on the breeze that this storm will ring.  On the vast and buried fight, I might the hand to this right, on the correct in action of the reason of the band.  A stand to the stage that is the shell of rage for minute to a talk, on the fact, writes, have date.  To cast these parts to the tide, in this the day, and, the ride, from a point of know return I type, in response with calculation on my mind.  Shall the guard of shield lie with a counter on the spy, than in the balance on any far, the fast will bring a lather.  Sweat not my friend from base of trim as the wisdom is a dream, to advantage gates I've seen, in the real of my Being.  To breathe with candor to taste this theme, there is a charge to what has been in the youth of sacred streamed.  I know that as I cruise these lines with the Hobo or the sign, a signal that is black and white, is as the road is to drive.

Simple yet on the thinking is the thoughts of what knew when, for wise are the hours to the tending of the challenges.  Shelf to stage the written page is in the protection of the book, as I remember each in stood.  On each moment that I grasp the impact of the words, to stern, I can say, to the person, that these times, are of a certain time, in the bearings, that direction of the scene.

I do what is the tune in chord, the guitar picker on the War, in the battlefield worn, a protection is not fear.  From these papers that I keep, I reveal, as I steep the kettle, is the boil on the frogs, of shrimp in curl trump.  A card of Taro, the flip of queen, on the singer in the spline, to wonder what this caters serves, is to ask the problem served.  For on the tablets that the ancients, where many pebbles staired, up and down the ladder lore, watch, the appendage it's a smile.  Frowning is the upside down effect of truth, as the question not of I, answers, to the formal lie.  I know that as the world is in the Lock of cage and key, I respect decisions, drool, for as the Tomb is grave, so tool.  Travel journey Men of earth, there seems no place to work this purse, as I was told by asked not came, in this I can no the shame.

Crate well my box to pyramid in the Sphinx, I spy a change, not the body for the face, I believe the shape has breadth.  Should the sling have cheaped the nose by shaving face to plunder sewn, the fault of that will befall the people whom destroyed the stones.  From the carriage of the horse to the Nero on the street, a violin in rosin bow, the music of the sheets of roil.  Temple church to chapel brain, as the Sphinx is a truth, the sign is that it has been changed, I heard the muslim did this chain.  To porch of the Muslim reign, I say, so simply, I say with rein, did you carve the Sphinx by rain with your dagger by your slain.  Asking for the revelation, I tell you of the stain, in cause, for if you should have scored the Sphinx I state, that Pyramid has a jinx.

Charge this to good old Mother Earth, Creation blasts the particle girth, and shall the People slay the turf, than the wares are Mans by cursed.  No one should tear the place to piece, for in this done I say a Priest, as the past is present Now, the future is the Ox in Cow.  Nurse not the never for a curse, if you are the ones that dirt, on your hands may not be blood, but, in this know that chisel lug.  Gear this word to sentence proof, I have no cave I write to learn, count the grain of thought I give, in this gift it's Allah lived.  He says to you in simple place, that killing is the biggest stake, for on the stick of dynamite, killing is the murder Smite.  No countenance of such acts done, the virgin, or, the men that run, in ruin of the mind, to think, it is the brain, that breaks these chained.

Never should a persons perk not be considered as the pane, to sill the window of the place that speaks to meet, not kill for plain.  Should the world text this now, in that know Plato wow, for Atlantis rolls a beach at the bottom of this piece.  A riddle on the path of wrote, is the one in peaceful tote, a brush with sake, to tell of state, is the worth of measure crate.  Mark the ax as Odins fax, for in the power of think Thrice, stars to constellation soar. on the broth it is A Core.

Grocer with the water failing, storms of dry sand, on the reason, Walls that raise to blinding dust, in this understanding, my thrust.  A Sword of Swail, Abrahams rush, the knife that cuts but will not drudge, is the dullest sharp to cut, as the wound is spun to mushed.  The tongue will scream a silence slings, the lull in by the way of form, turn your channel, it is a switch, to know, that crop of field rich, that is the plow of depth in stitch, the suture of the sat in dish.

Spoon of moons to suns on wished, a ring for gold the pitch of stone, each a sand that counts the finch, is a bird to shadow disc.  Do not conquer with a whip, this is the elephant of scotch in pits, a plug of dike, to thumb, of bike, is the ink, that writes this sight.  Change is on the foot of slight, a turning tied, the writes I byte, spiders crawl to attach, for the Sphinx says get to stacked.  That temper on the carving mile, is the evidence of the stile, round in on the sphere, of scar, is the proof of death by dialed. Calling number, calling prime, calling area by the lined, in the annex of this light, know that tunnel its a spurned.  Raise your stead to study split, than the Christian is a trick, scar the markings by the book, good old King James wrote a soot.  Burning pages, removing smite adding in the stories slice, taking this and placing that, so to the basket handles spite.  In that Chapel of the set, as the Preacher ministers debt, the threat of said to Hell on best, is the placement of the head.  Do not cut the charge from shoulders, as each of you accounts are swelled, dead will come to taunt your dreams, in the life with eyes that seem.  Graze your walks to streets of done, in this know the switch is sprung.  Now that time is in the day of the eyes that stare back at say, it will be the clock at Hand in 11th of the lover`d.  No blind fold needed, no folded hands, no knees to scab, or, foreheads dragged, as your prayer is counted hour, in the Month of August how`er, know that break is still a dial, calling states as food is water.

Waist to chest in speaking Violet, is the color of the smite it, rinsing one to bleed the other, is the same and speaks the father.  Change these times to peace these marks, as the Scars will rise the 'Morrows.  Do not discount this charge, as the debt is all to Mars.  Stand on Venus should you please, but, the punish is the pleased, for in that matter Catholics too, killed the millions of the feud.

~ Mark this Hour, the clock of the minute, on, Time, in, Time, of, Time, and, finally, How, time. ~

The hour was early on the day of July 29th, 2012, I was woken from my slumber in the dead of night.  I rose out of my sleep to write this in complete and without interruption.  Although I have posted this free-write on by blog 'The Secret of the Universe is Choice' I did not allow you to read it in it's original written format as in this entirety of now.  Writing by my natural hand, in a paragraph form, I changed the lay-out of the two earlier published posts to allow the reader to enjoy the context with a more avid ability to read the candor of the said without bias.  Today I have written in a sentence structure that is of the exact cadence as the original write.  It is the detail of my life to put into this record on this my blog at the time of the minute hour when I am comfortable sharing how, when, why and where the following piece came to be written originally.  Due to the character of the impact that this had on me personally, it took me seven months to write this particular 'free-write' on my blog, and, at that, I published it as a Post that could be read by the passer-by whom peruses my writes without consistency to the attention that should be given to the message in, and, of itself.  In this welcome to the text of the grit introducing a done, It's a Battle for the Crown.

During the Regime of Satan, Lucifer shall be silenced by the horror of such a shock that God himself
shall fall dead. In this Celestial Battle the barrage of man into the spiritual will be met with the blood of innocence on the hands of no one person.  For in the Fall of God Himself, from the Heavens above, he shall have sacrificed nothing for these cries. The death shall have been not swift but sudden from the emotional sight of what Man has done.

The Battle Cries of the Once opposing side shall cease with such an amazing speed that there is no-wonder. As They loved Their Father. Not One Human Being will be privy to the Pain, to the Agony of the Dark Angels.  No Head will hang, not a prayer will have been said, only rejoicing will be heard on the assumption of what has now become absurd.

I quiet my own, to respect this tragedy. The Scene is surreal and the fear immortal, for Their Father, Our Father, the Lord God Almighty has been smited by the hand of man kinds Hatred, Doubt, Transgression & Sin.  As Darkness looks upon the Other, an entity on the Horizon is confirmation that what has happened is murderous and without question, treason against a celestial.

Joining 'The Brethren' of the divine, I stare with disbelief and sadness.  For few take heed or will consider Satan in this Template of War.  Watching, I testify to the truth of level and the magnificence of the lord that was.  Rise not to the occasion for as this has come to be, you neither felt or cared to know of it's Transparency. Another Confirmation to the deeds to come.  The Future is bleak, for I feel anger at this action will turn fear into rage and revenge from the darkest fare shall not be felt, but realized by the manifestation into the flesh; by all of what was and is no more the under-verse.

Joined by their Brothers, an invitation was sent and an order delivered to the heaven that was,

Join me or burn as an arch-angel of mercy in a spit-fire black dialect, immursed for repeated time in the Power of the light. Set in a Void....

(screams below, the skies fall)  


     Turn aside from the Coats of Defile and pick-up your internal and seductive mind, for our Father has been taken by the instant.  The sight of Man and the conditional tongue with which he speaks, reached his heart through a spiritual view, imploding his soul into an ashen remain.

We are alone.

Satan Speaks.

As I listen to his repose, I am filled with questions.  My Sight of such has brought no pleasure into my life, for home is no more.  Watching, this parade of the celestial as the mass chapels a response.

Greeting one another I am baffled by the comradery that has been recovered by......(All) The blackness encompasses each of Gods Warriors as they fall knot but in the flight of the run, join the fallen one.  Not changing sides but abandoning the skies for the feet of mortal Men.


A calculated response to an unwholesome action has left a godless nation for...Eternity?  No, All Time.

As I see a view of the untamed one, I search for any sign of the almighty himself.  There is nothing.  I continue deep into the night and in the early hours of Morn, imploring Nature itself to bid her due.

Where has He run?, I Scream

The communication is set forth  by Mother Natures concern for the Wild One.  I rest not.  The Search is over.  Remembrance ranks my mind with the temper of the most ancient pass; long it has been since the time of witness of such an unbearable thought end.  As the agony enhances my minds-eye, I have the complication of a Sage, for it is me which has been entrusted to bleed.  An archaic faucet opens to the turning of the tides in an effort to stop the impending flood of the darkest matter upon whom will bare such a baffling and cunning decree.

An "Order of Cause" is issued by a Universal Writ, to bring to justice the mind-blowing Beings as Murderers of rage.  I'm floored by the writ of the galactical stars.  In a moment of law I attempt to take flight to join whom I cannot find.  Grounded by the Forces of a Godless Earth I can feel the upsurge of Nature.  Preparing her own for a battle on dirt, I gasp, I am not hurt.

My mind rebels, as a Silent Scream escapes to no avail.  What creature shall live as the dark-ones prevail?  A moment of callous assumption of man.  The Declare of Understanding a Spiritual-Hand.
Has risen, not forced a demonic re-soul, "Why?" I plead, "Did You Knock God Out?"

Your lack of faith, and, constant rivalry with your fellow man kind destroyed that which you profess to stand.  Yet, in deeper thought, I retreat for reason.  KNOW! a higher power is a continual phrase.  I continue to listen, you speak with no delicacy.

"As we understood him."

You have underlined this in your text all over this World.

So, you...... Know of His death.

I'm blind with the sight of this.  My minds-eye is aghast, I search to quit these workings of mine.  I blink to know thyself not sight.  A treacherous and vicious turn-about.  I feel numb with the anticipatory reveal of your motives.  You wake a spelling voice of a Voodoo Shack, Lucifer is back.

How foolish of me to believe that there was a glimmer of anything like hope or faith.  For in my face
you question the meanings of such words.  Have You finally realized the loss?  Knowledge is not found, it is realized.  But, should Natural Knowledge there wit be gained, you shall perish in the evidence of your Shrinking Thought.  The Gift of Wonder shall be robbed from you, you shall die in mind not spirit for an everlasting & immortal death shall be held in an accord for this sin you have propagated against god himself.

Witchcraft is for the vain of Heart, and you enveloped your beings in it's magic,as satanic reproach.

Listening to the rehearsal of your fruitless manorisms towards other beings brings me to my knees so that I may recognize that which you have accomplished.

For in my prayer, I know no end to this Means of defilement that I have had to witness,
in my person.

Forth coming shall be the Curse of Man.  Make evident your store. Satan has his lore and I know his father is the dying lite on the horizon you hit.

The battle which you have waged will be the war of this Earth.  Walking upright and on two feet not four, shall serve as the tender for which darkness shall trade your lives upon.  The failure to appear shall be marked with the postage of voice, and the message written will become self-evident as blown.

Not even a burial for the old man, No Marker to represent His place, Just Gone, into thin matter of change again.  I'm repulsed.

Changing the Future for the Past reminds me to listen.  I can hear the drumming of the Underworld, to each beat, I can match the head to the echo.  What have you done?  Waking the enlightened one.

For the next in charge was thrown to earth, to serve a sentence of disobedience on Remand.  Or, maybe this was part of a grander plan.  Or, maybe, you just didn't think that with the King's death,
a prince would stand to take his rightful heir and crown in darkness, on Land!

A Sage's Reveal.                      

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