A Poem

 

The blue eye looked back at her

surrounded by the forest green

as she waited for her silver

then she would make Gold

732

 

Let me see this. 

Star Date: seventeen, seven, twenty twenty five

 

The regular people of Spain have started to pushback on the caliphate, the government sits back and watch’s it all go down like in Scotland, Ireland and the likes. In the city state of mini apocalypse, I mean Minneapolis the citizens don’t bother fighting back the caliphate, they seem to take it like a slap in the face and think their ‘Christian modern gay way’ of turn a cheek is helpful but alas almost all the church’s are depraved, none hold the 10 commandments up. 

There is talk the new Caesar will have some sort of gladiator game on the lawn of the White House where he resides. The Senate and congress are wholly corrupted and the citizens have no say. It seems back to the drawing board is the only soulution. People still yell 'democracy' with no idea what it means anymore. 

I read a story yesterday of a couple in the city state of California using surrogates to breed their own children, 21 of them. The couple own(ed) a surrogate business, which in my mind implies a great deal. It's difficult to explain the dangers of modern 'science' and the lack of ethics all around to people that just want to sell something that is not worth buying. (mo money mo money mo money is all they seem to want, and sometimes they just want to take from those that have as they scream, 'it's the Christian way.'

They blessed people don't walk in the modern way, they keep the others a way a part, not walking in step.

The food sold in stores in boxes, cans and jars come from massive vats filled with poison and no care. For some reason the powers that be take the waste of humans, 'clean' in (don't inject your own waste, it's waste with reason) for drinking purposes. Me, "I don't touch the stuff, I have an idea what's in it." as the modern 'doctors' tell people to drink a gallon a day as the putrid water flushes any real nutrients from their system. Those same modern medicine people insist the injection of foreign substances into the body and allopathic pills are pushed, sold and marketed to paralyze the brain from working properly. Modernity really is a poison. Psychologists affirm everyone and their problems with no cure in site because they refuse God in all their teachings, much like the preachers with false teachings dripping from their mouths, a new religion in the name of the old. 

In Truth it's sad to see. 

When the term, 'religious war is at hand' is said most shrug their shoulders not knowing or refusing to recognize the dangers about to be as armed people fight on the streets here and across the seas. 

Syria is a True Christian nation as Iran is Persian but the caliphate that has no leader as of yet expands its way. Spains people are crying because their history has taught them the tragedy of the past the most can not see. 

Be still and listen

One day I will tell you a story

She used her letter opener as the tool it was to spread the words far and wide as she spun them here and dropped them there.

I said to my husband before I checked, "It'll be 3, 5 or naught." It was 3 and then it was more. 

Doctor Green Bag

 

We Switch We Grow We Move We Sow

the ground below

We seed We weed 

We remove that takes that doesn’t belong

For a free society 

God's law intervenes

For When men lose their Way

We Knell and pray

Hands together Feel the touch

Left and Right 

East to West

We steeple the sound

The salt Water drops

She slipped her muted shaded moss tiger green shoes upon her feet, a velvet touch to walk upon the earth. Her soft denim pants so wide the grace of her step hidden from the eyes. She bore her whetted fangs for all to see, fair warning her sharp tongue blood did run. The Witch Doctor Green Bag, a rope tied round her thin waist, a pull for a soul when sometimes needed, others she gave enough to hang, as she stepped lightly up on the ground. 

Her voice was soft for only one,

"Hey Mama, you're doin' a great job." to the beautiful woman 9 children in toe. Her step was subdued, and her soul did glow, her halo only some would know, and tired she was, the weight of the world, this woman 9 children in tow.

The Witch Doctor Green Bag, her degrees of days, old medicine ways of herb and sometimes whey, looked down the path after a greeting met with delight to see a grotesque human lost in the days. The warnings all there, the soul gone to the no where, nothing to do, not this soul rope for thee for this human did not see, a little goes a long way. 

The sky then rumbled 

the earth did shake 

a gloomy cloud took shape

 not for all 

but the many 

that affirmed wrong ways.

         

Gamatria

 

What is the most blasphemous thing a human can do that is un-forgivable, under every circumstance regarding God's love?

Blasphemy of the Holy Spirit.

What is the Holy Spirt?

The Holy Spirt is the soul you invite unto this earth when we procreate; pro-create, when humans ask to bring forth another, made from two a third. 

Dear women of planet earth that push and excuse the murder of the future that was invited, the thing that is the Holy Spirt, the soul, that you murder before their first breath, the mother's that have neutered and maimed their children's future, you are not forgiven ever. To take the life of one invited into your womb, the babies first home, is not forgivable, ever. They passed it along and even wrote it down.

Why is everyone so confused? 

Do I know some one that can remove views, stop and then add at will, for a specific reason? I enjoy cyphering and deciphering but alas my time is best spent cyphering as I keep my hands busy and feet moving. 

"Head up, back straight, look me in the eyes."

...and then she saw inside. 

Water Lily's

The morning was warm and the moisture floated mid air as the sun sniped the ground below eyeing spots trying to hide under the thicketed pocked clouds and canopy of leaves. On the edge of the woods where the sun would shine down except after a dance for some rain the Cherokee witch was at home, praise be to God. Her tanned arms hardly a hair to be found but underground her other half sang, songs of old from lands far and told. 

The little rabbit with a soft round white tufted tail darted into the dark woods and the bright golden yellow house finch with a glaring spot of black upon his wings darted close to the ground and swept up into the river birch tree. Clay beneath her nails she dug the ground, some seeds she scattered others she planned with thought of the future growth on mind. This was the land the Dove Star would grow. 

A subtle breeze blew through and the chimes filled the air with tender deep thoughts. The Cherokee witch stirred her pot above the open flame and gazed. The sun flowers stood tall and the pointy head of the royal red cardinals were all well fed. Stir she would her pot upon the open flame until the time when right was at hand. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

Monet painted the water lily over and over and over, a vision he curated for you to view.

When something becomes great it grows, but you know that, do you understand it though is a different question when dealing with something not tangible.

My great grandmother didn't care for my mother much because she was much more powerful, my mother doesn't know this. I looked through my great grandmothers eyes as some can do as I listened to her stories, mostly old news, nut never new. You see we witches see one another, some we see as kin and the weak ones see the good ones as a threat. We can feel it in the air when one walks by. We carry totems and degrees most can not see.

Unbound

 

Two lines horizontal 

Nothing is ever straight it’ll eventually meet somewhere down the road. 

An unbroken separation of 2 snakes...always connected, you might not know where

The year was 1954, it was a hot Alabama day, the first day of summer. The solstice over it was back to work in the cotton field. 

Be still and listen

One day I will tell you a story

never in order, always proper

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