life between ancestors and prosperity
prospective revivals and platitudinous reversals around the inter essence of real runners and stunners as rolemodels. Prospects for and perspective on their inter-essentializing possibilities, revivals and reversals and platitutorial potential as providance-revisionary rolemodels.
THE TITLED SEGMENTS: x x from density to tensility x x Madonna, my vulcano x x polystrata(-)fi(e)delity x x Cernunnos churns us on to learn discern yearned for earning x x mint mind, a hint to grind x x turn pre-delection inside out x x me oh my Mercurial Curiosity between hideal and low deal x x hell is inner fire x x Jesus came for kids x x regarding 'King Jesus' by Robert Graves x x don't just recycle, pre-cycle x x fairytale about a screening for a show of hands x x Jewish Jesus x x Jews x x you wish to stress jewishness x x metal x x clout of faith or benefit of doubt x x mettle x x clean carma doesn't do with clean up carma must undo x x sword and stone x x dogspell wardback x x toy and tell with and in the key of Petrus x x does peter pan plug the pope's propitious clue properly? x x royal pee, priestly poo and purple peep hole prophetricks x x
Welcome to the future flour(y) pow(d)er fostering; potentially fastest and already (for sure) the most solid(ly formatted) prose-poetry on earth:   about 7 Megs spread out across over 88 files(averaging over 88 K'z colourful concept- harmmonized and hyrarchical wordsequences, including 4 megs worth of images, even) worth of contextual BLABS =Bottom LineAphoristically BallisticSolutions  which will (dis)solve all uncivilly polarizing centralizations,break up and open (c)lumpy niches and lumpynesses, wether they be institutionally animated or simply, inertly dormant(yet animatable),by pushing the logistic limits (to light) inventively, notably those (rocks) constraining vertical metabolisms (of trees).
(Only partly hypered) (on- to offsite-)link filesat this site are in a file called: commendablinklist.htm and new_links and recent_links.htm  and fifth_linklist.htm and an  (almost fully hypered) second priority file with Balkan sites, lists and (re)commentations
See the (insi(gh)te to (with)insite) navigaid at the bottom
God sleeps in rock, dreams in animals and may wake up in man, sunshine may become soil, that may sink in and split up into fluid and gaseous, even go clear yet most solid or be aborted.          In the beginning all of creation came up and runnin', traces began to flow, grow and ripen, but the preformfiller and smallmost common ancient clays couldn't receive an any more racist and polluting or less enlightened and refreshing respect from its purportedly likening yet irresponsible and certainly not yet on rolemodel type behaviour brood. What thoroughbred semi-urgent emergent or metanoid demiurge(ss)s(es) dare talk of decency, durability, tree lifespans, millenia, world years and foreign zodiacs of assorted animata seperately, let alone put 'm in perspective, even test their theses for horseshit and try monstrate what feels good unless they had a fucked up life on the bloodline front, best stimulant for thought and dealings with death?          From density to tensility: The good kings and queens played the fool and all other characters, travelling with many a manner of guise and mixing among the pickyest of pranksters, but now there is a status hiatus, and the (st)age (p)act gadgetry needs some updating badly too. I want to shift the blotchy blurry blind stare at and shallow lipservice to not yet fully differentiated, nonetheless honourability status claiming pub(l)ic stage craft into focus on magnificence, depicting main squeeze projects intended to hop, skip, jump and jog pauperized mindsets of the general populace into a more consciously jetstream steadying way of life, a state of magic fragrance as visiting cards, an internal weather dial that can tune into your favorite timeslots and -lifespans, where we-at-her becomes we with and for her lest we wither.          Madonna, my vulcano: (Kenau is butch bitch in dutch) Some flours rarely and barely bloom, others clump, shear and bump, still others buckle and boom to escape from gloom. What mad Ma(ma)donna might say to please and make me come to her senses: "I'm a nice girl really but you won't find a hole in my defenses unless you worship me from hard rock bottom line, ground level, the soles of my feet on up (but down first). Make my queendom grow soft, luscious and more resiliently tensilized into tall, spacious and harvestable shelter shade shedding, rain and shine soaked suckers for at least a bunch of acres worth around. The compelling proplexity of my Rock-Church and Crutch-Cross theme could use some fairly fearless fluffulation" and pollution free processing at the very least. As it happens, I set foot on the eroded hillside dropping away from her home and left an ugly black crayon smears on a shred of notepaper (I came terribly unprepared and prematurely right away, I just couldn't believe my luck when I found out were she lived, peddling around the Hollywood Hills asking a few people), I am sure this didn't morphogenetically pave the way for a less serious but all the more fanatic stalker, mister Ho Skins (no, he ain't Chinese), did it?          Recent rouser bee queen Madonna can sire my fire, should she such desire. Heard she got herself pregnant meanwhile, no hard feelings, wish her and family all the best (extensions thereof will surely not exclude me for no good reason). Not that the stars weren't willing, I got as close as her coverdesigher.  I guess she 'll have to hire me before she can fire me.  I am a rare applicant who happens to put both the earth moved to find it and the diamond if found by chance to general use and mutual benefit, it is the only thing that will really sway her swarm the playful right of way. 'T is time economics took reduced oxides into its value standard calculations. See chapter 2               Poof, went the witch and pop rock was no longer aloof: The annual Musicvideo award pickers of the National Association of Brick Distributors (toc tic, rock brick) would be flabbergasted, flattered, astounded, stunned and tickled pink to see a less squary way of branching out with their raw quarry rock as a resounding massively weightpulling and thus paying audience which produces a poundage product that will toll their bells, ring their registers, scale the range, throw 'm for a loop and evoke a spiralling round of smoothly growing stages all the way to the topmost of tuneful ton tricks: treeripeness. Simply from stooling music on sound philosophy and sensual fulltime foolproof provision within; it can set ills straight again, accept, expose, respire, forgive and even help'm emancipate themselves from having to cater to monopolies (see flunked flyer, previous chapter). Best of all, ween''m from merely symbolic Rockmusic in one fell swoop.                  Acquarius: I need to do my mime and model shows with rock and bottle blows. Have a bottle of water disguised as a rock and pour it into a real one, the stream symbolizing trees; consider the tarotcard designers. It probably wasn't safe to make much of treelore or were they trying to show that we learn about a process and principles when they are near enough gone missing links? the tarot cards.               Lets do the moany musicky click n lick tickle trick: Meeting my anamnesiastic nemesis named Madonna at a cata- and prolepticklishlike clip, a fast spacing pace through inner tie ya. Well past a vanished age of smiling dawns where wood could sprout, shoot and ripen some choice morsels of defendable melodymade throat-toned fortune wafting its fragrance my way to clear it cause in the traumatizing face of skinned and racked muse mentality, I mean lumbered life, slaughtered laughter (refering to the neighbouring skeleton of a house under construction where I ruminated and even spent a full moon night on my third and last fruitless visit), which wood-might could have been good enough to replace forgotten surrogate $3 shades for the space of a fully matured oakspan or so, instead I find it cut, skinned, sliced, squared and nailed into a cagey box skeleton with a dirt pile in front right at the top of the amazingly steep slope with that eagle eye mystery appelation. I realize now that meet-mating  and updating "Homers daughter "(Graves, R) isn't a natural wash up shipwreck, but a slow deliberate climb (up Oriole drive; Oriole Pa holds its own special mystery for Dan Winter by the way); to make the leap of faith and look my destiny in the eye with a spectacular daffy off of the neighbour's roof down onto the earth pile heaped just in front of it as she was passing, yelling something circuslike and fanciful  might have furthered my welcome nicely. Such delectable afterthoughts always happen to me cause real life has been so unpalatably premature to me busily mourning missed and spoilt chances (compost compiler would be a swell job for me) that I still can't stomach it real fast and squint at it quite a ruminateous bit. I did not clamour for a penetrant audience like Lyotard's greasy foreigners in 'Pacific wall' which I read at the time, I did not trade a promise for blood like a pro-, or con(tra)-semite. I played the mute game, no astute, pert, witty, full force justice visualized and erected to match my melting and crumbling heart at the mercy of breathless (or sooner perhaps out of breath at that highpoint of the drive) chimerae. However strong I know my charm to work on the free people picking me up freely for a free and freeing ride through time and space, it has always failed again and still again to fool the rich customer kings and queens (my customization credit sits in the bank waiting for a profitable enough scheme so the use veto can be repealed (it's not really as strict as I make it sound here though) but no luck so far and I'm not to become a conform converter if it means I can't turn rocks inside out at the same time, besides, a good clip is beyond my budget, however big by comparison).                   Dutchman meets Madonna on bicycle: Dear Mad Onna, I find it both strange and understandable that you are the first performing artist I feel open enough to expose to (sorry I did such a timid job the first time, have to plumb your plum-crazy depths later). Not that I can match your at that fatefull unexpected moment well disguised, famously tantalizing sexposture, truth is, I had no clue about your size (the bike I had managed to borrow that day  would have fit you funny enough), or accuracy of the location even till you peddled abreast; nevertheless I dare pledge our resonance will not fade.          A hunch, a hint and fancy may be vain company indeed. Tis a strain to free them that detain without no less than those within you. I don't know what kind of traction stress you prefer these days, but if you get bored of satirizing army-platoon-tanks, racetrack picket-ticket-startingline packs or orgasmic sperm and what have you militation, you could try my more potent, perky and crowded rock-city-forest stretch and mingle ideas free of (monopoly money) charge, it even comes with a full force of real current cause it is eternal coin of the realm, touch on that thorough enough and you will finally justify all eyes on sunnyer behaviour training tricks, even if it means the deathknell for your polluting industry! I wanna pull Madonna's hair, get mamatrixed into her lair. I am gonna blow her mind so she will give me a job (no bland playboy pun intended). A flag is a flaky windmill, a defiant flaunt in the face of abundance, a symbol of democratic dictatorship and therefore manipulated majority with mechanisms for ministering to mouthflapping, gullible and leachable people in place. Curb all the rest of the bribable babble rabble. Sloppy homework, girl, though a viable sprout you be, your flag needs framing before you can set sail to follow your noblest star, it takes a rootin routine to go apes-hit a gain. I love you and am calling on the cutting edge of time against all odds, to drive my wedgy radical streak into the chockful chokeyness of seemingly impervious depthless surfaces. I will pump and stir it, romp and purr it, my mother aimed high and yes you can have her job before she dies. Wish me well with my swilly swell, will you?!?!?!  It aint all done yet, but so far I am grateful my spiritual eye alighted onto innermost physical darkness;  yes, mama lies low way down deep and she dont teach,  but her blessings still remain within reach,  it is the mutely dark and dense part of her we are going for and after.              Polystrata(-)fi(e)delity: Peter Pan and Daedalus get tarred and feathered by Wingspan and v, Franz. Gilder's book Naked Nomads applies to me the same way and as much as do Ahasver traits as described by Klages (with his one time but then denounced bloodbrother in mind), yet they are blind to the vital and bright aspects of nonconformists, though skirting and flirting with shamanism in a skewy squinting kind a way; the trying, mostly impure, and one on one type home blasting (by other means than having babies), fires of that difficult road does indeed lead many into a hedonist deep and dense, a choozy few however come through and begin to expand their charisma, juggle more and better concepts, steel their will and tighten their tactics. If we may reckon gender bender Madonna amongst such jesters slouching toward the golden mean global christal clarity symbol decoding and implementation, I can only regret she has not found and funded a better strategist than me yet to meld and weld Chaplin's cane, Harlequin's dildo, the jester's bauble, Mercury's caduceus, the rockstar's guitar, Black Peter's club, Cernunnos's torque-coil-spring-wringing ramheaded snake, cornucopia and Jesus's symbolic cross and metaphoric sword, the witches broom, Arthur's excalibur, Peter's keys and various other totempoles into the updated version of potent tools, the wielding of rather than yielding to which (up beat vs beat up) earns the right of way to bed and birth babes and studs. Male bonding mechanics meanwhile are equally deadly at both extremes of excessive shooting, wether in bed or on the battle field, Choosing between deadly militation and miserable marriages for gender rolemodel guideline, the younger generations are always willing, though rarely skilled enough to create some state they will own allegiance to from scratch, so that often is as far as the itch gets, specially when weakened and sedated with comfort, delusion, false modesty, disempowerment, substitution, boredom, protest, drugs, etc.
Soil remineralization is the essentially not yet conscious cornerstone staging for natural abundance with a few equally obscure, misinterpreted or even forgotten exceptions like the mythical Deucalion, Sisyphos, Antaeus, Golem and Cernunnos. Mieke Bal her reading of Eve's creation may count as hints in this direction also. Albert Carter Savage, Julius Hensel, Mueller, Morgan Sampson and others from recent history could use some support and relief.                   Cernunnos:  turns me on to yearn, learn and earn a fully fleshed out revival version of his tool for ultimate discernment; nature's staple stamping status symbol: the ramheaded, tensilated and torqued metal snake. I will try to explain what I feel may be the meaning of this loop and slipknotty type tool of timely lag stagger supreme.          I suspect the antlered Celtic God Cernunnos once dug into pretensile, prelaxed and tensilizable but yet tightly time, on hold with baited breath (witness the miming of a rock any woman desiring something perpetrates) keeping gravels, with its thought ful fil a mental strategic "teeth"  he lay and relaxed some in the crook of his rock squeeze, crack, crunch, punch and unstiffen staff, maybe he even had different ones to suit the casing at hand, metal was not a very common commodity and maybe not even that yet in the Celtic world he roamed, but he made good use of it and so he deserved some.           I am a late descendant from or early ascendant back up to him and I can spin spirals with my axle, I used to need a hard surface for my mortar pestle type "hammermill" to work, but now.. screw the pedestal, this snakerslaker is even dynamic enough to follow me around, I 've always wanted a mobile rockcrusher to seek out the hidden parch links with, one with a real cockpit ful of keypanels, like a woven cocoon with remote touchtone crush, shatter, polish and spray action (appropriately hoppersized and loaded waterpropelbarrels matching the octaves arranged in a spherically shaped steeldrum or springily flexing snailhouse-caduceus-pump-strainer... see chapter 4)         The "current" coin of the realm which Cernunnos sowed all over the forest earned him the title: Lord of animals (probably signifying sentience and animation at large Are there any academic search engineers, willing to try them on this topic, out there?), he could play time like a flexible accordeon, all creatures loved him. He is the type of "green man" in vogue today but unlike the kid sitting around the fire place playing with ashes till it gives him the idea to start a garden, I am sure I cannot give Robert Bly credit for linking and/or recognizing this high and turning point consciously but at least he got this most significant segment-sequence right, though barely, as if only from hearsay.          The closest I got to approach picturing characters with the power, scope, range and influence of people like these so far was long ago, while reading the beginning of the originally spanish tragedy called: 'the child with the globe", which Robert Graves translated.          Cernunnos turned rocks into dust-spec-heaps and out to life inducing reduction at the bottom rungs of our organized life ladder. His type torquey tool unpaves and deblocks the rocks on the road to peaceful growth and decay, literally nipping misguidance in the bud, unfolding and -firling many a joculant slap in the face of death or a flocculant pinch in the cheeks of life, his touch and go squeeze spanned the Celtic ages.                       Mint mind gives a hint to grind: "Put your t(h)rust in dust", said our marblous lord of wealth and underworld: Cernunnos, dispenser of the physical realm coins. He was a purer and nitty grittyer rolemodel for Robin Hood, whose finer lines of work in progress are bloated, blurred, neglected, bypassed and stretched too far for comfort with the dis- and extortion derived, later and merely symbolic monopolist currencies of stripped and abstract number juggling magic, taking gold traffic off the road to fair (and) markets which boycotted him good. His thrust is a must, but his bouts of striking out and around are reactionary, not sunk in sink. The history of shaman ringleaders for a more natural and folksy life and their subjection to church rule and militant clout is treated very interestingly in Rhentergems book called 'When Santa was a Shaman' which shows how Saint Nicolas and Black Peter or Ruprecht (symbolizing the captured and enslaved shamen of yore, the earliest and longest lasting hit since early image making, indeed fusing the functions now divided among media, theater, politics, etc, in short: spectacle) were dormant and then fused overseas into a Santa Claus a century or so ago. Cernunnos is one of the rarest yet oldest figures in history, somebody in LA did a thesis on antlered anthropomorphizations, I forget who at the moment.                  Turn petrified pre-delection inside out: Ironic that man for a million years has taken up rock to use as projectiles, "make" tools with or arrest interaction through walls (more selective membranes than mountains), in short to change the shape and course of the lifeforms as they were before the hit or rub that was directed against them, leaving the projectile itself unchanged. It increased his reach and spared his teeth some effort but except for select visionaries like Adam, Moses, Deucalion, Anteaus and Cernunnos, little still does he suspect that with such reactionary use of rock as catalyst he is sparing his teeth and bones sustenance also, not to mention his responsibility for life around him; one more prime set of invertable reversable candid data concerning rock. Don't pick up a rock to change some other shape with but change the shape of rock itself. For more multiply sustainable and long term lifetimespanning across the spectrum, the ultimate gratification posture-ponement, that is the ticket for a welcome sextension of our welcome!          We are part hide and part trouble seeking addicts and with regards to the latter: as part-icipatory soilorganisms we score to a lesser degree,  the hybrid hype of hi-tec pomposity, lightheaded- and heavy heartedness notwithstanding.          Robert Graves's disproportionate awareness of blood versus dust left him leaving us suprisingly shallow reference to Cernunnos.
         Me oh my mercurial curiosity between hideal and low deal: I hail from, move toward and am wholly (t)rapt by Mercury, Cernunnos, the fool and Black Piet as much as poor Jesus. Befriend heaven, trade with earth and be diplomatic with hell, or is more to be gained from intimacy with hell to free the earth and thus fund heaven?          Let me tell you they might all have went to hell as well and easily as I can, I can help imagine how to bounce back just as comfortably as I know how,  to supply fresh suppleness.         confashion again:  Dog year third time around for a man with bad teeth, starved early on for things to put them into and mental bites to work on, but gaining on stalled time now, for diamondlike clarity.          Hermes is naked but with his caduceus and wings he may well have been as  capable of reduct- and marketabilizing the wealth of lost moments as his Celtic colleague Cernunnos, they both tended to send the G force tenderly. Trafficking with the underworld its wealth and leave such less savage, circling and cycling along on their proper axis.          Hells inner fire: Be hellbound for trouble to come up with a godly gain. Rock music, that sound magic may scrape and grate  the doors of hell away once it gets a bite to match its mark.          The raindance soak, trickle water stream and the lifetime lushing light beam together they flow into crushed, multiply voluminous and unstuck rather than decimated deadlock rock this is remote kinwinning redemption of our sin which greases the wheels that drive the drills and mills to make such acces welcoming inroads on hell with  and aims at a ceaselessly uncreasing roll of rock on, in and through time.          I pick up rocks their thirst to slake and all hell breaks out to live loosely in my wake.          Just scrape your subjects mealticket as your own existence justifying  homage to them off the doors of hell, then drape it with the tears of joy weeping, merciful and provisionary eye in the sky.          For the making of some jubilee dusts fluster most crusties with lust for more sust are easy to muster, they love to help make more of its organizing music lustre.          Help hell imbibe and partake of heaven cause without it the injunction to love thy enemy for mutual improvement remains rethoric, it blocks, shades, indi- and con gests the professor more often than not.          Any land upon which you may alight has bottom borders made of solid time, where ghosts and dusts wait in preunison for that slow release through the mysterious funnelinks of time's tunnelinks unless we ball and chain-gang-bang-chore and score their way clear.          Pray for strength and bring to bear it on life well, then prey on rock with a  chip and a chop chap away at the gates of hell and raise its content up.          In- and persistently cohesive rock, the hellish doors of death will take a hint, a prayer, a pry, a snoop, a prod, a nudge, a hit, an investigation too, in exchange for hopeful heaps which turnachurn up fresh green overhead to support shade and feed what bounds, bungles and leaps. Hellaceous gravitaceous rock is our creditstore for, and accesible with coherent emotion which is, love. The right kind of bell tells hell to get well. The debt we owe gravity is the one we owe hell and helps it feel swell, growing into heaven as I hope you can tell. Day and night metaphor machinery: ultralight might righted and megaheavily bereft left wronged.          Jubilee and mourning is a dusty end to sadness and a-djust beginning of lustre.  Few things go global succesfully so far besides big monies as extremist as their forerunners: redeemer heralding beligerents, false prophets, fake messiahs and roadsign climbing millenarians; it seems they just can't stop and wait to face themselves, they are bad timers, disorganizing, extortionistic and distracting. But a loving torque shall snake around all childrens credit stashes, absconded and stuffed into hell to pull 'm back to life.          Don't shut up and off, put your ailing foreignness up and through to it like all true blue planet huggers who gave direction and inflection to black and blue planet sluggers.         Profess(ionaliz)ing: Ingrationary integrity takes discerning grate rates that spins the kind of hi-tec shamanic strap-strain-strewment-strings to win  the flavor for and favor of next in line kin.          Wormship the ground, push the border of hell back down a little deeper, make 'm softer a little, more hospitable to burrower and creeper  fend for further inroads on its pent up captives. without your help it never (pr)evolves.          From rigid and rigged uptight hell to riddled and flocculant joculant swell,  help harvest our portion of radiance; another way of putting the sun in its place, incarnating and calling home the sun of a dogstar's relative   coming up roses with the raised from hell, rising from death's domain, a jampacked  dreary dreadknot realm.
         Light spirals into formerly stark, dry and dark uncoiled and moister cloisters to lay up treasure for a diamond age, it bounces up, sucks and lifts the no longer dense and tense in- and onto life's lively ladder and scales of organic meanings and sensible choices.          The sun is a suction device evalving the dark for a lark.          Jesus roots his cross in the devils loot to try hard for pumpin kinskin back and boned up to stage, reach and ripen, his undying spirit has none but kind truck with hell, cause he takes and gets on, over, in, through and out with it quite swell.          Jesus came for kids who would be giants: No news is good news, but without the sun living leaves can't spell out the bright future of soilbanking.          My theme is found hidden in all reaches, realms, domains, disciplines and manifestations of thought I have laid eyes on or heard about, could you stomach this any betterif I served it on a golden platter?          Mercy and justice are like gratitude and initiative  or sunshine and dust. ..          Mobilization modelers: Are crosses perverted trees, heavy karma tricks, car matrix? Ideally knowledgeable innocence (Jesus) goes to hell and back up to high heaven, bearing bounty in exchange for the use of liberating gifts and emmissaries of reconciliation, even if only symbolically, but so far our powertoolkit only served to exacerbate our scarcity carnage momentum and does not respond to merciful rain and shine or elicit ones which improve the cross as a vehicle for rides to and fro death. In the original and unsent letter to Madonna (app 3) I drew a little cartoon of a tree and a cross morphing into each other as well as a crucifix and sword becoming a mortar pestle work-in gear.          Is technology psychically sensitive and chargable, traumatized or resulting from trauma itself maybe, a cancer, a usur(p)ed mishap? See Lawrence Rickels for a circumloquacious answer.          Dad wasn't hard on peace? He certainly can't be moved to 'beleave' it like I do, I wasn't hard enough to kill cows, let alone trees, he shows no mercy ideologically but more than most simple folk, materially; he reads the lipservicing story of my sun of a bitch brother in spirit with the severest gravity and so only clean kind of magic he manages to convey but the days he expected the world from me or I from him (rather) are over (see chapter 3B).          Yes sing the praise of a sun born on the guiding faith in his father, logo no? He knew a technic- and formality solving scenario for efficient info processing, he was a first class rainbow programmarstammerer you see. Uncrypting his meaning makes trouble, and clean kind of troublemaking is his riddle deciphered.          Don't you think Jesus and anybody with even a remote incling of what his footsteps measure out and lead to has some speaking up to do after they see themselves through dark dungeon bottleneck deathbound habitland? Jesus invested his life in the dead of darkness and though he was tied hand and foot, he made out good in the functionally punctuated viscosity of soultime.         The day of judgment dogma says one world ruler immanent thus ligitimizing centralization.          Jesus went ahead, then rock and now money goes global by word of mouth, and meanwhile many more means of (inter)media through punch of keys but hardly anybody goes local biomassively speaking, I intend to do so anywhere effectively and often enough to seem global.          Jesus's crist-al-mighty crumble-cruncher: takes his shine to the heart of matter so they grow-flow up cleanly green. The mythology around Jesus as a choice, chosen and choozy one among all men, the one to win out, succeed and gain the day is a preflexion on the dawning realization that of all semen only one carries the burden of victory, he is able to make up for, yet causes the demise of the others, this is just a simile for that lucky lonesome sperm, the winning lottery ticket, the brief illusory moment of singularity and focus.          Did Jesus die for every one of Adam's descendants from and among apes, will it benefit only the lucky few that were part of and partial to his line as in the lucky sperm recursion mechanism? I didn't force him to provide me with a rolemodel or even ask me for nor as the sacrifice, yet as such Christian interpret(end)ation would have him; I don't want any part of that. I personally prefer living for the good of my fellowman rather than blaming or thanking them for allowing me to do, priding myself to have done, or boasting of going to do the unasked for opposite even if I knew or hoped it would be pawned off or chalked up as a blessing cause it proves this, that and or the other.          Should I expect to be misunderstood as much as Jesus was?          Regarding King Jesus by Robert Graves (see app 3):  Graves's view of the mission Jesus had in mind was: reconciling his deeply split personality encoded in the traditional lineage combo of royalty with the priesthood and it rings true: utterly charismatic yet aspiring to the most sterile form of logos law and order. It is based on an Egyptian text which (inspired another Jew in Vienna : Otto Weininger tremendously also) says that Jesus as Rep of the Great Spirit came to end childbirth (but maybe he meant overpopulation, excessive spermspouting or childlabour) and that he thought mothering was bothersome, so he tried to force the hour of miraculous hermaphroditic or postsexuality, yet he received his royal deserts from the hands of people that desired similarly to be emancipated and believed equally in or at least smokescreen lipserviced a Deity who could end all this chaos of Godawful rhythms in time that you could never count on cause they were always changing, but who were just as equally and inexorably embedded in nature and subjected to its tides.          So he was ritually hung like the traditional kings of old for a year and day, who served the mime an rhyme mysteries of a more powerfully feminine age in time, yet he proved to be viable fruit, harbouring seed and concept of the sort a lot of people clung to through the ensuing periods of globalization for and with technology, fatherrule, law and logic, what queen was he fighting for anyway?          Don't just recycle, precycle: Jesus 's last resort was a desperate kamikaze strategy to force the hour of a once and for all end to suffering, due to excessively and exclusively biased birth and death hyrarchies according to scholar/poet Graves in King Jesus, yet going to hell and back teaches and shows efforts expended on behalf of vertical traffic and symbolizes the trading of animosity for peaceful animation, smoothing spinrates for all of life and death as a whole. So Jesus proved well enough that there is no time ending father in the sky (at least not one to let his hand be forced) no matter how many lambs offered to the tune of some demagogic atonement, it's mostly just sinners down here sinking their quick fix and noxious sustenance under the watertable.          Internet: Jesus called daddy's bluff, or rather that of 'his' prophets and psychic momentum bubble builders, I often want to stop myself from participation in the paternal promise/bribe complexities (see Pa Pafka) and do something really radical for a change too instead of merely dumping this here at best symbolic though significant kind of gesture on Internet to help cross and spin the actual, potential, possible and real good, true, just and beautiful along, like allow suppressed schit-split prefs to surface from smoking flavorsome fragrant bud all the time and immerse myself in rainbowtrail kitchen and scout work no less.          The labyrinthine global ball and chain or terminal and cable ghetto of Interknot portends the rosy riches of the future yuppies with the clout of popularity potential that I am scurrying and scrying about and after for as well, but without too many deep illusion prone high hopes though, at least not very often... May we mutually serve each other('s) subjects into objects of desire (mudfling parties) to turn humans from the hopeless to the hippies into a new breed of future dealing role models:grippies.                  To most Jews Jesus was an unequipped messiah, a problematic usurper, all powers of nature and even supernature will not be left standing in the way of conjecturing culture, which subjects animal magnetism and charisma to highly charged taboos for and on its monstrators especially, even if they seem to want to have it both ways, like Jesus, it earned him a realm in ever neverland and this age of suspended judgment in all matters but profits public or private which boils down to damage for humbler life.          Jesus appointed portions of intangibly distant spaces to take place in seemingly solid time and vice versa, which may be related to what the Dutch call: the bullet is through the church, meaning the decision is made and the stage set.          I think and L W Lyons with me that christianity means crystal inanity (according to Cioran it is the death of language, refusal of selfknowledge).          Fairy tale about a screening for a show of hands: And Jesus on the cross said in a loosely handoffish way: "look ma, without hands", Mary smiled depreciatively. "Well, that 's nothing" she said, "you should have seen me make you without a hand from the person you are trying so desperately to challenge and prove exists and/or if he ever did figure in matriarchy, just goes to show what people will do to be infamous, but lets forget it, I'll start some sprouts, you will be hungry in three days, after all this you will see for yourself that only independence gives you a true charisma son, so now that you learned your lesson, we will see if we can't turn that prepotent cross-s-word puzzlementator of yours into a perpetrapenetrator type toy."          Would your god send only one sun to weave the long time travelling rays with the wet drops and some fresh dry dust together upon arrival?           "The ballad of Judas" shows Jesus as an extremist and projector; was he intolerant saying that those not for him were against him or did he really speak up for and about life from its humble rockbottom beginnings as the ultimate sharing experience?          There is a hyrarchical sequence in Jesus his power over and responsibility for death and life, however much it spins round so as to make itself less obvious,  he went down before rising up like Antaeus, he didn't put life to death but applied his to it exemplarily under his most difficult circumstances, rowing with the oars at hands as the Dutch say, meaning even with your bare (or pierced in this case) hands if it is down to that.            I give some pieces of parched peace a splashy sprinklelike spray till it gets the gooey, slap and blurpy consistency of fresh clay  in honour of our most famous baptizing fetishist nicknamed cryst-almighty, concerned as he was with things light and flighty,  ironically he got lumped in with a long line of kings and proved good enough to eat ritually along with more common things.          Fullfillment of prophecy; was Jesus in fact forced to yield to the cross and won't he come back till later when things have gotten even worse or did he wield it spiritually rather than 'merely' physically, or only symbolically, to wet our appetite and  wait patiently to be welcomed back in our gutsyest midst all the sooner? The bicker and battle in the different leagues of manic maniac monopolies is edging to that borderline vulnerability of any such peaking process, so, will the bed to suit the benevolent descendant of ultimate evil power soon be made? Let'm do their worst with this hope and comfort in mind, you fellow human grist for such mills.  See Gilder for a counterpoint (taken) that a once and for all switch-glitch is a fiction, nevertheless some institutions are around too damn long and that is fact even though by default and the very kind of projection I have just described.          I let my limbs make my point with the pivots stirring in a moving center stage gravity target, I suck in my privates to draw up dark motives and diffuse pubic revelry; waking and upping our recall capacities, not faster through but deeper in to present time, spraying sprinkles, waving webs, weaving screens and blowing bubbles.           I am bonely lonely, best left all one only, how else can I write a missive from hell and show that the richest, godliest power of a nature groom (g-rooming, Dutch: ruimen means the holds or clearing) personification ever to walk the earth, cannot have it all without shopping around there for a couple of days, his toppled levity goes tumbling through gravity and heavyness, he takes a dive to adjust and precord the reaccordabblibles like Antaeus.         Jewish Jesus: At father's most recent argument in particular I was not blamed for his sake but that of somebody who died for my sins, the prince of peace, a man with no less global ambitions than the people that produced him, the most aggressive and expansive strain of virile, inventive yet desertifying cultures or should I call them the first unwilling and pacifist victims of such pressures, to become aware of and start trying to outrun it, who's memory of and homesickness for the greenery they commemorated with such profusion in Biblical metaphor, made them roam in search of some more help and haven to the extent they were in- and affected by melancholic nostalgia for the very things they lost, overcame, -ruled or destroyed in the appallingly continuous process; a very torn legacy but all in all some few sooner seem of greater influence as forerunners than they may be as victims and/or fighters of decidedly globalizing changes due to conspiracy of the secret sort, invariably lacking in goodwill and common sense, no doubt countless many more try counter this but are hampered by the very fold they are unwilling to shake and unable to unite, all in all the range pendulum must swing and stretch in either direction equally far I trust and wider in their case than for any other kind of people I think to be sure.          Jezus presumed on his dad's timetable, fatherdear proved unwilling to be rushed and would rather allow his son to postp(r)one himself to a time when people can easily visualize riding clouds, understand synergy, magnetics and see through incarnation cycles. Rumours of aliens in cahoots with the worst of secret government and hitec type earth repair tribes roughriding rainbow storms will hotly contest the honour of having their way with the inevitable inscenation of such air born ambitos, I 'd prefer to see trees rise, simply ascending and taken aloft by dark sin redeeming sun, helping growth; raising mightily crumbled crustal cristals from the dead. Jesus tried to lead the way back to fertile dirt or at least he is in, on and up it.          Jews: Of course we long since lost track of who is one and who isn't, we all are as much as we all are monkeylike. A better designation for the wrong kind of trouble in the world would use terms denoting behaviour and disposition to measure imposure, imposture and many more im's. Take for instance James Demeo's forthcoming and ongoing work about patriarchy and desertification as guidelines rather than blood ones. This said, let me play around a bit as I did well flippantly at the bottom of the loquacious chapter.          Is ra el? No, ra is not el, neither is the sun very well, cause it hasn't met and mated with the bounty from hell.          Zionism and propaganda vs scionwood and propagation.          "He who hates himself is immodest" Cioran quoted by a posthumous publisher on the back of Theodor Lessing's book on Jews          Why soil one's garden from rockbottom on up or keep one 's brothers mothers in smooth unsmother, I begged you a question or two, you split personality jew?          A monkey practises patience and prudence, the jew is half monkey, half god and perseveres in preparing a global network of power for a Messiah. Half man, half god and perfect nobody can be deviously anal and congested or precipitously psychedelic and hitec, yet ridiculed, crucified, underdogged and perverted. The former figure they will manage to (pur)chase a golden snail (in)to Jerusalem (=possesion of peace) come hell or high water. The latter realize the snail must, can and best be at peace whereever he goes with prudence, perseverence and patience.          Jews are a number of tribes who's bloodlineS are tied, tried and trying, paradoxically enough they got famous bycause of the talent for serving and sporting the opposite: dry logic and all knowing centralism, a very special and old concept taken to the Indians if there is any truth to Mormonism, though they never allowed it to degenerate into a merely symbolic monocultural icon like legal tender, neither did they pretend to fight religious wars.          Make trouble for kin, trouble before skin, whaddaya mean foreskin? Trouble making to stay motivated and learn to earn before you yearn. Sexuality steadied or abstained from altogether as a power source.          Jocularly dirty minds make do with the images but they fan a peculiar fever in more materially and less cerebrally oriented folks.          As soon as, when, and cause we start realizing more and more talents get merely projected to and squandered on conjuring reacting to supposed threats from alien nations and persistent hysterics concerning preparations to visit the grey, (funny enough) monsters of deep space in the halowed name of defense, withstanding nor resisting, we may notice that terrestrial, imperialist expansion and colonist dominance trades indecency and taboo status with and eroding from concommitant, equally unceasing, more primary, blatant and directly sexual versions of firing away at appraising and speculating about beautiful targets being beset and beleagered by bogey and bogus stungunners in hot pursuit, it seems the same people who equally much love to be left in the dark with the latter try to leave others in it about the former commodification victims.          A remarkable Parool article (may 96) featured the acknowledgement that meat is a stimulant, a drug. Some Jews have vivid memories of paradise fueling their fond visions about how to find and go the way back of the heart. They are heavily endowed with and sometimes keenly aware of reason's plodding grope and gripe with symbols and tollgates. you wish to stress Jewishness and chew on the use of dualism which chooses jewels and dues over fresh fallen dews (also see white po(w)der suspends, chapter 2)          The protocols of Zion are also said to be a work by Machiavelli originally (and that can be true since he was a jew, just joking with you). It basically says that all imperialistically bent people must become or manipulate lawyers, bankers and doctors in order to swap opinion and gain global power. The ultra rightists who have almost a hundred publishers that I know of in the U S say things like: "whites are the chosen and threatened ones", so and so did this and that beginning with Adam to justify their genealogy of power centralization and claim the rights to it for themselves. Clear, clean, deep blue eyes are indeed as rare as proper forests, which may be the physical kernel of truth that fuels the frantic extremists.             The myth of the wandering jew can profit from my motocross, arms race and mineral cycles metaphor mixture meant to leave the pack and stink behind, to overcome lucky sperm and lottery fancy.          Poly-pag-animist orgiastic season followers were met and overcome by the chaster, sublimating, yet unfortunately more sterile and explosive charge of econo-miserly and expansive perverts, mentally gay, massacre and missile minded males, worst jews in the lead, the best warning against these and advocating a different course.          The jew; adapter, trader with mindful thoughts and oughtful blinds, wandering spirit, globalizer, admirer, mirrorer, namer and manhandler of more and more creation, substituting animal for human and later (among the first) to leave behind blood sacrifice and multiplicity altogether in search of a unifying principle, subjected to heavy yet vitalizing pruning, though one could argue over the selection criteria, plodded on through hardships, escaping the desert and trying to outrun the desertifying habits under his skin, bearing the brunt of conspicuousness from perspicacity, loquaciousness and joi de vivre, running his psychedelic, mixing, mercenary, range spanning and stubborn curiosity through all barriers, past all tests, prying beyond sensible spectra.          The edge of bitterness from christian mangling and mincing opposition softened by amusement over the fact that landowning and professional restrictions which were meant as a punishment allowed as much as forced some Jews to perfect yet more innovating power of mindgames resulting in making them generally applicable, like the cramped quarter philosophies of island lover Darwin and pessimist Malthus, but he came to full blown self- and soulsearching crisis with a macabre twist when the strain that set out to conquer by subversion and unfortunately laid waste in the process (tho to them it was a matter of making it look more recognizable to his short term memory in need of excorsize for survival during their mercurial sojourn), to Greece, Italy, Spain and France, in turn came upon a segment of the human family that turned out to be willing to play the chosen ones games too, albeit inverted, thus holding up the mirror to them;  the secret agents of ungraspable logos, law, spirit, global exterritoriality, text, many disguises and bloodlines met and grappled with Blut und Boden Betreuenden. Result? Hollywood and Disneyland.          Any mixture of blood and memory is a chance for complementation and vitality as much as one for contradiction, obscurity and confusion. Indeed we see both manifestations across the on the whole more colourfully diverse and especially weatherwise extreme American continent.          The Germanic with Semitic mixtures result sometimes in blue eyed no- or woe-mansland hybrid High-breds who go pregnant with a harmonic and very visionary feel for futures far off and pasts long gone, these individuals were so supersensible and anachronistic that their strain is prone to suicidal tendencies as they shrink from workloads, loneliness and beleagerment by expediency survivalists operating at any cost that promises profits and the comparatively numb convention from both sides of their heritage.            A prime example of these was Theodor Lessing who came close to formulating and dredging my theme up well and way before me, between him and Klages there was the dualistic rub which proved such a force in polarizing politics then, but might have resulted in plenty fresh dust had they managed to mime and model what were at times almost perfect formulas, especially Lessing's who was assasinated on foreign ground by some dumb Nazi hoping for the price put on his head, in 1933. Lessing realized very well that rare flowers rarely breed true but revert to older stock, yet life on, from, at and of the mental level shows a different picture  though, doesn't it?. Yes. Well, hopefully anyway.          If nomads with no pride of place, pying the puppet show piper, are responsible for amelioration of the worldwide phenomena of slavery, patriarchy, testosterone terrorism, war and population explosion, cause their frame of mind first hit upon and got stuck on political economy or plain power of commerce as the best way to wage war by other means, there are still fewer but nobler, diamond among cole ones that will nurse, ripen and bring us the truely tidal, complementary completion of the de- and centralization processes cause they are just a little ahead (witness the shaping of the movie industry, though media technology has its origin in frustration of more basic and immediate, but most of all moving engenderment efforts, which is why encryption seems to be taken more serious than indexation, so it is a bad example really) of every body else in no matter which field of endeavor, especially in a 'mental is tops' one though, gaining the day as I write, in this era of prolific and accelerating information hype. Lamentably few seem to be looking for the humbly common connectors to enable repair for stable and sustainable cycling as I understand it.          Immensely compact, -piled and -plicated pasts must be recycled, such is the law of tectonics, but also that of Palogenesis, Psyche bogged down with toggling memories, boiling eruptions of DNA (Dwelling Need Acknowledgment) as a one time hippy-front-fighter put it), proper mourning to come clean for a fresher morning. If this had been a good piece of writing, it should already at the beginning have listed all the instances necessary to illustrate each of the above generalizations with sources quoted, preferably authoritative ones like the as is rumoured (starting right now) soon to be no longer secret services but I make do with a reference to my bibliography.          My eleven years of curiosity and distaste by turns, for conspiracy literature starting with Ezra Pound (Graves disliked him), through and past antisemitism, corporate cunning, CIA, defense lobbies, white supremacy and ending with the positive kinds of (eco-)monetary (fertilizing=banking=state=insurance=theater=media) reform (I am considering going to help Joern Zube out) gives me the impression that there is a shift of focus away from financial and ethnic emphasis to a modern technology and alien( n)ation centred criticism if you can call it that, running themselves away from beginnings with, into endings by, clear into and/or out of, dust; never working a livelyer way with it which god doesn't forbid.          It doesn't pay to be suspicious of dark dealings and sly secrets in a full time way, though we all like to avoid nasty suprises, becoming concerned with them to the same degree we lose faith and have lost control to obscure and remote centers, which is easy to do for most people when they try balance the books and come up with a parasitic streak that seems to be pushing done,  overdone and gone status with deeper roots than an outsider can finally fathom or fabulate fully.          Metal: Two of the most idiosyncratic metal handlers in history are Jesus (the temple coins) and Cernunnos (the torqued ramsheaded snake-snag used to fill the bag with freshly minted coin of the realm); the differences are complementary (Jesus did mentally for soul what Cernunnos did physically for nature), they were similar "blubbermen" in the know about the merits of a trip to hell and back, appraising the devil as tribute payment to a priceless sun.          How many mudflinging kings who use their enamoursome armor to repose amidst batches of ashlike bashed rock do you know and if none, why not be one? A matter of poking the chockfully choking if you can trade the benefit of doubt for the clout of faith.          Jesus lost his cool over metal in the temple but had to be nailed to a cross, Jesus's tongue wagging table turning versus Cernunnos's tool spinning coin-minting ring and fling, yet Jesus seemed to suspect that the higher you want to fly, the deeper you must pry.          Rainbow Hardware washes well on worlywide wishlist: Metal ore is a substance intensely subjected to fire, then for the most part fashioned into hurting, hoarding, herding, hounding and hiding implements of scarcity brash and brawn, testosteroid terrorism and exclusive ways for more and more devious and parasitic segments of the gene pool, hopefully only temporarily overriding general balance but extinctions prove the opposite more often than not. A gadget with performator traits on the other hand is an earth moving tool of rainbow magnitude to meet, match, mate and mingle lofty aspirations with earth's upper crust its utmost weighty good to do the plumbing between heaven and earth and string weave some fractal tube-springs together, the real reel man to this manner born is a tecno-tarzan dreamtime mimer who will not forget about every body, but get-a-bout-for every body, he substantiates symbols, he programs attraction attire from mud to marble and back there, hence ever after forth.          Biospherical disciplines and freedoms meet above pleasantly frequented and adjustabled bottom bounds, which will come to be seen and shown differently, cause I bear with them borders and rub fresh dust from rock's blind stare to help soak up the water and take care not to spill their precious fare of reduct flair  back into space thanks to the pretty polish of a dare for which I bear my brunting ware that never traps live limbs in its snare, I wear it hard with dignified fun for fine and fair folk just about anythere where it matters will I do a just bout right near there where wisdom's hardyware will see its way clear into rock  for rain n shine knitting life  close behind and welcoming the rootright of way. ..          Mettle: Why lift dead weight into the live body's build, draft the lively and brash into the deadly brawl, why whip organs and glands into despair for buck sake????? Why not try whiptongue grafting a scion of some promise into your congenitoralhood; say after me: I will be squeezing those rough, tough and tumble impervials, those uptight skin and boney marble stoney rocks, to set them rumble-crumbling and soaking up water thoroughly. They are brutish in brunt (preglacial), yet once wet will become politely servile.       Bodybuilding works with the painbarrier mystery in an inverted narcissistic way, causing egos to bloat and muscles to bulge leaving dead weight as an idle fixture to be lifted and lowered in an endlessly musclebound, identity calousing and sterile repetition. You can't win or lose very much without pain says Schwarzenegger, but he don't seem to mean it the same way I or Ray do. Real ease from released trauma takes mental clarity to see the pain in, pain out delay that constitutes the rift between heaven and earth. So much diddely squat for looks since they kill the core of sensitivity. A better way of pumping iron is rearing Excalibur, the rockgearing and obstruct clearing quickness fitting fix for livelyness, no idle fixture that even when lifted lets and puts down dead weight still very much the way it found it.          Sword and stone, one hell of a dynamic couple:  they come with love in a queendom  --excalibur cuts credit and slack from death and stirs debt to life-- Excalibur must quell the land before hairpulling womanchase is justified. Lance a lot (a kind of Cernunnos and infused with the same unbeatable and far reaching qualities of the character in "the child with the globe", translated from Spanish by Graves) would best the king but for his magic sword which breaks when peace breaking jealousy enters the fight. His own servile and harnessed alter ego wounds poor naked Lance, his wound festers till the queen touches it. Yet later not only the queen, the sword chooses Lance's side as well, but the patriarch, still not fair and square enough, rents this quadruplicity also, no dicing, minting and slicing, melting and pouring of flowing oxides, love's prime staples, allowed, let alone growth, reduction and transpiration, in short, fenixing of them. Sex per tease, flawless flow, Excalibur is an unmuddled piddle, reared, geared, charged and equal to the task of rending the mask and setting it adrift to assuage the rift between its sedentary complacency and unengaged providential information, between betraying the fold of introspectacular formality and the sun. Rock and me can and must wait for the day when blows that spring leaks instead strike home for liberation. Let me fuse you onto the fission mission inside out of longlived inert power body, between it and the flimmer twinkle tickle, the seemingly seamed up yield their invincibly chaotic panic powder to the time rhyming wielder of stitch unsticking wiggly Excalibur which readies the rock to be watered and return 'm reburnable ashes to timely sentience. Without this the wet is wasted, with it, water becomes transport for growth (much faster and more warmheartedly) as the sun collects the dues in the form of harnessed challenges just as lovingly as its own are offered. Any sunny side upping rocks to cross the way of the sword will come to know the mettle of defence as hairline crack and basic seam sublissim-age maker of lively livery.          Dogspell wardback:  GREEN GOSPELS GROW LUSHER LIKE DOGSPELLS BARK AND USHER GREENER GROWLZ You throw a blessing that beats the doggy bone trick, when you choose to chew some rock right quick, as if it were really just a stick. Could new identification criteria be a help? Buckminster Fuller, geodesic designer tried for some. Let us take biomass; its weight, volume and diversity with parity all the way up the chain from desolate isolation via singlecelled organisms and despite one up man-god-war-shippers through to-get-her workinship which was given Adam to name. Biological banking on the balancing buffer where masspower and energy reciprocate and meet, yes yes, the devilish slack can meet the host who plays creationist in your backyard whenever and any time he is ready before it is too late to set such a stage. Onward with the tree of life, it needs a loving, room and man making touch base grip, a reach into the gloom doom womb of crickle crackle reducible rock. No doubt we can unfold and sprout life from her with a kite of a cross, a drummilling sexcalibrating earthy weapon.          I am studying the harlequin, jester, fool, joker, king, trickster, clown,  withch, preacher, doctor, banker, fruittramp, gypsy, wandering jew, shaman, saviour, mountebank, hero, god (in particular Cernunnos) and black Peter complex.          Earth's spirited uproots feel rather unburdened and voluntarized when drafted to join battle in the surging rootroute, rock, rumble, rattle, wet, spout and sprout fieldwork. Savvy saviours, royal beggars, streetmusicians, wayside shamen and forestfemales have common denominotions.          Toy and tell in the keys of Peter; (see appendix 2):  Rock; dense, crushed, fluffed and organisized; heavy, volatile and rooted   PIET ROCKS THE INCLING CLANG CLOCK- LOCKS Who will steel his mettle to match and take it to the mint, square a way with quintessentializing integration of head, hand, heart and hinge, who will wiggle sexcalibur, who will find, fund and found Peter's key?, the very selfsame one that opens both heaven and earth all at once or doesn't when contro-, or perverted. Why not get Peter's perpetrapenetreator to work; use that key to storm the gates of hell, empathy with the least does the most, when we find our way back to the humbles with roaring rumbles after leaving the path of stumbles, grumbles and mumbles we will be doing allright, can we have a bigger blessing to b(e)less and do more to help the cueing dream time crowd? Piet the percrushionist has the stone broke and true coin of the realm issueing some unclustered dust from the thirsty parts of the crust, ready to swell and grow with lust for life. He is a true shine tieing, dust wetting, mudmoving lustre musterer. He stalks storms and rides their crests, in a Kevlar Bucky ball covered with flexorganoplast on a quest for rock to soak cause life suckles on mud. He lifts the downtrodden, lowers the hi holies and strains the never yet seen roughly at first till at last they pass through a very fine screen, and where wind would play with wayward dust, he will still his batches of brood (broertje dood) with the wild sky's waters and heavenly fire to soon show some real clean green while fresh breathing air transpires off the home dome trees.          Proaggress unorganized rockfaces says Peter Pan the Pope so that time making but keeping rock can stand to lose its strain to gain a dynamicly stretchable chain of rainbow circum-sub-jectstantial objectionlessnes.          To anchor and stabilize an impulsive, wavering character, put a highly energetic, gullible and basically good man in gear, Jesus nicknamed-famed-blamed-shamed him: Petrus.          Does Peter Pan plug the Pope's propitious clue properly?          The lusty sweat behind thy brow can match the dusty drought in thy rock to meet-mate-moisten it in the stircrazy jetmist whirlwinds of thy grow-room into rockbeating-churchorgan pressure play to spray pipes.          Our task is clean cut out for pain through strain size reduction, but most people neglect to assume this virtue that goes with the leap of faith. (see the chapter 3, part 1 Ray doctrine).          Jesus coined a new nickname for Simon who mistook himself for what he was supposed to be reminded to stand up for and throttled the life out of himself instead of same into the rememberable and personalizable subject.           Crushed rock is like a decentralized, benevolent, previously oppressive, inhospitable and impervious power structure empowering powder. If this is true of such low life forms, how much more so must the other end of the food chain find resonance and recursive mimicry connection here to complete and close cycles to open spirals.          Jesus saw that the brawling, impulsive, vital and loyal but violent disposition of Simon was needed for this specific job of literally shining light into darkness to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, but he could not find the patience and humility then, were he alive now he would try to find many souljerks and helmet headed ones again to lend him an ear, but figuratively this time.          Let's wet his reappear-dance appetite with musical rock crushers,  the best thing in the way of lifelushers that might come close to his idea of a churchorgan(izer).         Black peter raps on rocks to space their content clutter, unwrap their natural talents, and redeem their bedevilishly isolated matter, so their innards are no longer kept and held back from the one sun of man by the many misfit sons of a bitch in the kitchen.         Clean karma doesn't do what clean up karma must undo:  The individual is sovereign and exercizes at his own cost, this is implied in the term: karma; it needs to be reckoned and dealt with more specifically and made explicit in human rights drafts.          If there are recyclable spirits frolicking up above, would they be glad or sad nobody has the knack to invoke their presence, are these redress applicants cueing, waiting for and baiting us employables to apply ourselves and unply complementary supplication material with eminently deployable implement to squeeze the living daylights into minerals?          Burbanks bark: his efforts to sponsor a precious chosen few (6 in 1.000.000) is unlike Hitler's, who's ruthless rout out cared not where his subjects volition was at and condemned what did not fit his future mold.          Man is given to walk a piece of solid darkness, glowing deep inside covered with a colourful maze of fruit in season, playing hide, skin, bark and seek to help the meekmost heavies with frames, nets, filters and hardy perrennial care ware scaling their ranges, full lip the reaches and partition the spectra too.
The unstable novelist modes of american culture as seen by Gaile Mcgregor:
                                     GARDEN                                                       CITY OF NEW JERUSALEM
       noble savage                                              soldier/policeman
(submission)                                     (assertion)
       SAINT                                     CHAMPION
    ANTI-HERO                          ADVENTURER
madman (passive)                                      pioneer (active)
criminal (active)                                         captive (passive)
WORLD MACHINE                                                   WILDERNESS
What with do we splatter, what with do we splurge, to satisfy which choice of urge? Keep and call the ghastly project(ile)s home and off, welcome them (properly punctu(gr)ated ones) right through the birth canal from light photon, dust atom and water molecule on up through to become biomassive soul supporters and juicyer cracks along all axes of spin.          Expect a chief behind all but the insultable manner of guise.           A jerk jitters, fritters and fricts himself a way to a punc- and rupture,  a hero fracts himself a way to rapture. Search out some seedy sins now, love 'm to life yet, for a clean slate with total recall.          Royal, priestly and purple peep hole prophetricks:  Memory lapse, weather awry, glacier grind, what makes us withhold you breath, dear rock of ages? --animation: taking your rocks for a stroll-- A death drive is a dead drive, a life drive derives itfrom mental consolidation pitched against the physical kind. P: Arbitrary autonomy perpetuates privilege and privation. ---from idol smash to ideal ash--- Do I care about fresh air held captive in reducible rock? --please don't mention the tension transvention in vain--          Royalty has the responsability of being within earshot to open hearts, loyal to the hardest ones in nature and the softest ones of angels and unborns, it always remains in full view of eyes that see through time,  it sports contact with death at stake to touch it up to the point of loosening and beleaving it into fresh and lively green nourishment versions of itself all along the food chain.          I have high hopes for life to strike itself a haven into heaps of deep and steep rocky riches, these crustal crystals will concede access thanks to a cruising cross after the archetypical hearts,  not holding out, up against,  nor even hold it off much longer.          We can pay our inter esse between sunlight and fresh trouble.          We may only fight inertia and old habits if we are willing to right God and ourselves to organize our planet thoroughly  by finding new ways to help photosynthesis.          A stone updating sprout totes his votecaster with stout clout to mint without stint, affect the connect, end the isola-infect and rub some space into rock,  grub some grace from it and give it a shine,  so fresh and raw upstart dirt ends stale and sterile war real fine.          Aspire to become a muddler modeler, try to give it some very best thought before its fate is bought and sold down the river cause gravity has soul and its golems go for giggles.          Nobody will buy my ideas right now, cause he don't have any fear some how.           Breathing room creation is done with and to conspirational coins of the realm; that constitutes coinspirallusive instinct solutionz to bring magnitude and charisma to life in its wake.         I am social space filling cause physical nonspace milling. Reincarnation is mentality recycling, it explains how unrepentant, nonpreventant, blockbluster immature hordes of lords shall be left equally as bereft of cleavage and cleft as they now keep others from p-reaching the evolvalves of nurture and love.
6 Karma, charma and  scarred is ma:  (8) Graves+---(5) Lyons----(4) Winter---(3) Keyserling      Randall and Campbell:"Sacred symbols of the ancients" from deVorss Publishers, Box 550 Marina del Rey, Ca 90294   Gaile Mcgregor's "Noble savage in the new world garden" literature on street theatre wit, peaceful monstrations and  attests, Fools, Clowns, Jokers, Messiahs, Gods, etc. I cannot resist putting a few very original conspiracy refs in here:   Michael Topper of: The New Thunderbird Chronicle from Pallisades, 15237 Sunset Blvd, St 29, Ca 90272, USA, a handout in Co-ops, written with the most exquisitely "melodious" choice of words and phrasing which redeems a subject once again perverted by worst case scenarios somewhat, he joined the flower of life crouwd with Val Valerian and such..    London psychogeographical Association, Box 15, 138 Kingsland High street, London E8 2NS.UK, like so many reactionaries, they put up a fight for the old holy places now in the wrong hands rather than creating new ones (see the commendablinklist file for a critical note on the Neoist crowd spawned by this lot).  Jews and Jesuses:  (9) Robert Graves and Raphael Patai x x x (4) Lawrence William Lyons x x x (3) Tom Pawlicki (see Appendix 0) x x x (3) Lawrence Rickels x x x (4) Theodor Lessing x x x  Herbert Poetzl x x x Ludwig Klages x x x Alfred Schuler x x x Werner Sombart, Hans Rudolf Bartsch x x x Frederic Grunfeld: "Prophets without honour" x x x George Steiner: "Homeland: the text" x x x Sander Gilman x x x Otto Weininger x x x I was once shown a Colorado room full of provocative protocols of Zion-type propaganda from hundreds of sources totally unknown to me up till then, a privilege of the hitchhiker with good ears  (and that of my physiognomically speaking that is, his were even bigger) by a likable 60ish incarnation of Elijah, so he says,who was ready or a courtbattle to reclaim his fabulous wealth, was this the billionaire I had been standing by the roadside for so long for? see also: the end of the chapter called: "loquaciously perspicacious linguae"

A site navigaid:     Switch to soundbite sampled files of the newer works at this site from Blabsabs_Index.htm              Use the links in the latter half to reach my older work (via appetizing one or two line characterizations of the aphorisms, essays and segments, which vary in size from a few lines to a page or two)(those with titles are listed in the table_of_contents.htm             These most mulled over bits are again briefly described (differently, including proper name plus keyword source(l)inks)in the abstracts file.        One may prefer to switch to my guest appearances and check my credentials first (sometime anyway I hope): /intro_to_currency_issues.htm               Then there is the off the cuff stuff: my several (11 files) list picks and interactions via: table of contents for all list post files.               And finally my (another 11 file): correspondence collection.
  Bottom line aphoristically ballisticsolutions (afford and) arouse beleaf Systemics.
Your host was: piet the punchline pioneer who shuns not hardest of tasks: (no, not leading a paper and print free life or a personally owned phone, computer and car free one too, that's easy; but) to pinch pith to most universally assimilable of powders cause "it ain't so bad to be a paracletic dabbler  with all these newspfangled plexciting and gruesomely growsomizing autonomobiles"
aim responses at: poetpiet@hotbot.com
send your (re)actions to: poetpiet@hotbot.com
Nedstat Counter
Is this the only disfunctionalcounter(ring) culture left?
Half of this site was created/gestating during the 80ties (links thereto are in the table of contents for instance) and the rest since then (latest files at tops of all content files).      last minor changes took place in july 99
Tripod tool Nedstat installed near the end of nov 98
Created during the eighties and early nineties;
Last (minor) update/add on at the beginning of december 98
last major corrections 1997;            poetpiet@hotbot.com
Go see what else poetpiet can puzzle you with here
.......................or here........................
or check the intro to my first batch of guest appearances
which concerns all sorts of currency issues