Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be noses and always on your face,
Ah yes, changes and changes; appearances and sensations of change, rumors of change, rumors of war, rumors masquerading as truth in pursuit of war, the ultimate banker's sexual fantasy with blood as the lubricant and submission unto death for the perpetual bottom, humanity.
It is a time of lies and the redundancy of lies about Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen-amen, Sudan and Somalia, Egypt, Libya, Syria and the never ending genocide in Palestine; home of the original inhabitants at the non existent mercy of non native invaders, pretending to be the people they are exterminating; no rational, reasonable or in any manner of truth possible as anything else, ah, yes. Finally there is Iran in the gunsights of those who want that endless extent of plundered landscape.
It is a time of election manipulations with hardly an exception, except in countries not yet under the boot of those who have no more than a farce in respect of the democratic process. The heinous machine of Little Georgie Sorrows and the Zionist controlled Department of State, their minions and media, pathologically lying about the free elections in countries other than the US, where it is a humorless joke. Hypocrisy abounds and the hypocrites dance in shameless abandon, incapable of embarrassment, self reflection or concern, drunk on the illusion of power not their only, simply on loan and soon to be repossessed. The note has come due. The utilities will be shut off. They will learn the meaning of “turn your head and cough”, followed by the probing finger wave. God's own TSA will be manning the borders and doors; frightening four armed demons in their uniform suits, asking for documents and papers that cannot be found. The special internment camps will open. The bullhorns will sound and the lights will go off.
It has been a pleasure to walk across these times with you. We have been constant companions. Perhaps we have even been friends. Absence and disappearance may happen but the dynamic never ends. We've learned a great deal in this mutual exchange. We're part of each other and the resonance holds. It is stronger than all opposition. It cannot be controlled.
Now and then I watch the counter, I've seen two hundred and fifty readers at one time, from countries I never heard of before. They come in from Kosovo and Borneo, Sumatra and the Russian Federation. There's a man in Ulanbatur and a man in Mozambique ('ten thousand dead in The Congo, a friend of mine died in Peru and another man's in Mozambique, order me another Tequila sunrise, I gotta go take a leak'). Yes there's a reader in Mozambique. He caught a case of Bilharzia snails. I haven't heard from him in months. I hope he's okay.
It's a strange thing to see all those countries scroll by with people I'll never meet. Now and then someone drops by from Texas or Sweden. One on them lives not 9 kilometers from here and we corresponded for a couple of years until I saw the name of the town he lives in. We take walks in the woods and talk about the people we've read. He took me to a Bear Lacht cluster and I made a pesto from it that was so good, people keep wanting more. Several jars go off to the solstice party this weekend. I made a huge lasagna like casserole but I won't be eating any of it. The food there is remarkable. People bring so many things, all of them of gut schmeckt. Suddenly I'm not going. It's the highlight of my year. Why am I not going? I don't know why. All of the people I'm close to around here will be there. They won't understand this and I won't be dancing all night around that enormous bonfire, while the drums go on and on into the night. I'll just be here, as much as I am ever 'here'. Where is 'here'? Well, it won't be there.
The cars all loaded, thank goodness the driver is not. Soon the car will depart. There's always the chance someone will call and insist on coming to get me, even though it's a hundred K from here, or someone from somewhere will have yet to go and swing by. I don't expect it but I've left that option open. It's not fair to those I only see on this occasion for those long raps about so many things. My friend Roy from India will be there. We often sit at some tables in the shade. I have a few beers and we wax rhapsodic about all kinds of things. Roy is one of those people that is so wonderful to talk with. He's one of those well educated Indians and he tells me all kinds of things about India.
I've been mentioning India and how someone was going to invite me some where. I've talked about the Kumbh Mela and how I wasn't sure I would attend again. Then on the radio show I mentioned how I was going to get an invitation and it could mean my disappearing into the Himalayas or somewhere and the very next day, someone who had not heard the radio show, wrote to tell me that he wanted to buy me a couple of weeks in a yoga retreat in Arunachala along with a round-trip plane ticket and some indication of expenses covered, though I should have a certain measure of that. Of all the places I had wanted to go in India, Arunachala was at the top of the list with Rishikesh following and so that will happen as well, right there in the foothills of the Himalayas.
You've heard the story about how I came to be in Europe and was announcing it for a few months on stage at my gigs and then, whoomph, there I was and have been for 13 years almost. This happened the same way; odd about all that. Yesterday I had a long conversation with my primary invisible friend who told me all kinds of things about what might come to pass there, some of them pretty incredible but I've suspended all disbelief in the face of so much that was unbelievable before it happened and happened again.
I'm supposed to maybe go to Romania, the fellow who offered me a house there is going to stop by in about six weeks on his way there. I once had an astro-cartography reading done for me and Romania was right there on a major line, indicating a dreamy child-like state filled with all manner of supernatural possibility. Odd how that presented itself too and that is Transylvania. He says that wolves have followed him home of a night walking the one kilometer from the village to the house. There are bears there and all sorts of things. The Carpathian mountains are somewhere around. I think of Keanu Reeves, riding in that coach along that high windy road toward that castle. Yikes! I suppose I could go, I'm not afraid of things like that, not with all the garlic I eat (grin) and no one I've ever met eats as much garlic as I do. It's interesting, when I first started eating it; my friend Peter and I used to make a couple of slices of toast each morning, butter them and cover the whole surface of the bread with sliced garlic and then liberally sprinkle cayenne over it, popping it into the oven for a short time. What a way to start the day. Of course we would radiate it for ten feet around. People would notice and it was peculiar. Some people didn't mind at all and some minded a lot but the one's who minded were often vampires of a sort. Then something funny happened over the years, you couldn't smell it on me most of the time. Garlic is a blood purifier and you smell because the smell attends the poisons being pushed out of the skin and you really smell it when someone eats it with meat. I don't eat meat.
There's a two hundred page book called The Book of Garlic, that's how many things it does. Everyone should read it. It's very interesting. Then there's that force some of us have that's like an invisible crucifix and that thing about the devil being turned into an angel of light at the given moment and which scares the be-jesus out of fundies cause it implies all kinds of things they don't want to know about and why it's been reworked to such a degree in The Bible that it no longer even says that because the devil they are actually worshiping isn't too keen on them catching on. Well, there's a whole lot of mysterious shit going on in broad daylight behind a transparent curtain which turns real opaque when viewed through the necessary filter of ignorance that protects the viewer from undesirable illuminations and realizations that require massive adjustments that get in the way of all that bloodthirsty mayhem being carried on in the name of the one who isn't present and I guess you get the idea.
The thing is, no one is hiding from anyone. People are hiding whatever from themselves so as to be able to pursue the things they would have to stop engaging in, were they actually to see what they claim they are seeking after and claim to be serving. That would just mess up all that secret and, unfortunately not suppressed stuff that keeps breaking through the weakest link in the chain that's around their neck but manifesting in another geographic location; 'doing the old Sandusky as we like to call it around here.
I finished reading Monkey on a Stick again and thought, “Good grief, I'd forgotten what total psychopathic swine some of those guys were/are, like Kirtanananda, Hansadutta, Dharmatma, Drescher and all the other filth but... it makes sense to me, Kali Yuga, exactly what needed to act out, unfortunately for the poor girls, women and young boys affected by the mindblowing abuse along with the indifference of authorities and some of the incredible public demonstrations with guns and what not. Man! No question that was all grooved to go on until there was little doubt about any of it. I wonder where that Kirtananada is now. He belongs in a cell. Well, not my area of enforcement, is it.
See you at Smoking Mirrors in the next day or two.
'Sing it Loud' is track no. 6 of 10 on Visible's eponymous 'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)
There will be a radio show tonight at 7:30 Central see the radio blog accessed at the top of the page.