Dragon Teeth

 

The stench of death from the breath of the dragon

floated in the air

fields afire

 dead flesh between the teeth

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Shit Damn Son of a Bitch

 

The back of the marred minivan shut with a clunk. The back end was filled with suit cases, random bags filled with paper towels and swifters, a dirty glass container just emptied of mashed potatoes, an electric piano, rice cooker and an air fryer...One dorm room cleaned out; first year at University done. 

The brothers laughed and chuckled as they sized each other up, the younger had gotten a tad taller again. It had been only a few weeks since they had seen each other, but one was on his own now, at least in monthly increments. They boys were blabbering away, each wanting to tell the other how different they are now. 'They had shared a room for the right amount of years', she thought to herself. They argued about whose playlist was better until one pulled the ace out and said, "Do you want to hear my new arrangements?" Slapped on the table as a sure winner. 

She turned the engine key, it felt like putting on her old favorite pair of black boots, better for gardening these days than a night out with the ladies on a random Friday night when they would try to forget age was upon on them, but never who they were. The van was worn in, sturdy and taken care of, but mostly beaten to hell. It was nice to have the sound of her children fill the space that felt so empty these days. It had been the carriage of choice, as she drove them to and fro telling them stories of the past and lessons for the future. 

She didn't get much time with them much anymore. Her daughter was on an adventure looking for herself, not wandering far from the nest yet but feet wet. She was just like her mother at the age, full of fire and creativity with a concern for the world as she planned a better future, honing and never afraid of a difficult subject...She would say, "but please, no math". Her boys she ate up when she got the chance. They were so tall it was hard to see them as the little guys they used to be when they would cuddle up next to her at the end of the day or grab on to her hand after school and tell her everything and anything. The boys were turning to men, she enjoyed seeing that they still didn't do their hair everyday...and hoped they always loved swords.    

She had done everything she could for them to give them a well balanced diet of nutrition for their body, mind, and soul. She was so very grateful for the chance to be a mom but a mom three times to three amazing people had not been an easy road. She crossing her fingers three times she did some of it right.

She had carried them when they were babies all the same against her chest everywhere until she couldn't and then she strapped them to her back and pushed the bigger two up and down the hills and streets of Chatan Town, Miyagi, and the sea wall stopping in places to try new foods you think might be sweet but are really octopus. Showing them all the sights and sounds, as she would tell them stories of the battle of Okinawa and the people that lived there. She knew they were too young to understand but also knew it would get tucked away in their tiny brains for later if they needed it. 

She made sure they knew if they needed her she was a call away since the days before they had words. 

It all felt so sudden, from full thrust to a fast stop. Making sure they brushed their teeth to hoping they brushed their teeth to knowing they didn't brush their teeth and they know better and there is nothing she could do about it. The frustrating moments of, "Are you going to carry your coat or wear your coat?" moments to "I'm so glad I had my coat mom, I hit the curb and busted the tire, and it was freeeeeezing!"

...

The moments with her children now were out of body experiences as time swirled around her as she saw past present and future all at once in every dimension available to her. 

...

There is a moment in time when we know...we have 'grown up'. Children think often they are 'grown up' before they actually meet with...maturity, an understanding of things, not just knowing. It happens at all different ages and in truth it doesn't always happen. "I'm waiting, and waiting, and waiting..."

...

It was the 80s when the economy had, as they might say politely, pooped a pickle. 

We were living in Florida, watching the space shuttle take off and blow up, helicopters and C-130's fly over head like the old days but this time we could walk to the beach.

My dad was between jobs and my parents had started a small business. Two kids away at University, one teenage girl that should probably never be left alone, and boy with hope. 

My mom had one pair of jeans that year. 

She worked every day. Her finger tips burned from the hot glue she would use to hold together the most beautiful silk flower arrangements. My mom is a brilliant marketer and business woman, not to mention artist (I know she's better than me just like my daughter is also a better artist than me, they are exceptional), cook (I always think I'm good until I sit at her table), not to mention covert operator for an underground movement of freedom fighters. I would watch with glory as this little woman in a pinafore would man handle an antique armoire from one corner to another. I hated wearing my pinafore, I was a dumb teenager; I knew it was brilliant even then though, an old fashioned frock that kept your clothes clean, because 'shop business' is a dirty business sometimes. Weekends I would help out if she needed it and I always ended up with nostrils assaulted by mulberry oil, after awhile you appreciated it because sometimes that was the only sale that day, time were tight. Years of hard work and as my mother would say "location, location, location"....like a good air traffic controllers wife. My moms shop was the best shop, people will read this and if they knew, The Country Life, they are nodding their heads in agreement. 

When we would go to Market in Atlanta or Dallas it was awing to see her weave in and out booths, stalls and showrooms looking for that thing*...and she always would find it, then when ordering, she put a clause in her contract that what ever it was it couldn't be sold in any other business within a certain mile radius. I would watch her plan in her mind and order what would come when so new and different would fill the shop to never bore a customers eyes, or ears. ...An ode to the dulcimer hammer I could probably write.

This is the same woman that took us, her 4 kids, to Hong Kong for a couple of weeks, by herself as we returned to reside in the US. It was an old school tour, where you stay and visit place to place, this is not a vacation, it is a tour. She walked us through the streets and piers of Hong Kong as we got to choose our own eel from the bucket if we desired. The four of us behind her like a herd of cats that knew what they were doing. We always add a wink on that one as we were delayed getting to Hawaii because her made for her snake skin shoes wouldn't be done in time; they had been made from a snake with soft scales the colour of a storm over a land of ash. 

Also the same woman that was told, here are your new diggs honey, as she looked on to see filthy old army barracks on Roberts Field in Liberia that no one had lived in for years; with 2 small children and a baby as she listened to the drums beat down the river. Welcome home. She had to deal with bot flies and very large poisonous snakes that even the locals didn't want to get near. It was the tamed jungle of West Africa. 

When we lived in Rosedale, New York for a short time, that's when my mom would grind sirloin for burgers because their neighbors upstairs worked for a family* and it was a better price. 

The first apartment in the first building, that's where I grew up. The grey walls for years mom had to live with as she fought to be able to change them. The macramé hanging tables to add some personality to the furniture we were given. The dull terrazzo floors that when we left were the envy of the other ladies as they wondered how my mom did it. "Put your socks on kids, it's sliding time."

My mothers life experiences are the ones that make a woman wise. She knows the ways of all the peoples. She speaks one language and all of them. 

...

My mother at 23/4 was traveling on a plane with my brother and sister. They are 11 months apart and my brother was a 'handful', all the time. My sister on the other hand was not and with her head of curly golden locks and cute little button nose the nun next to my Mother says, "let me help you..." and sits with my sister on her lap happily playing with the Sisters rosary.  As the story is told my sister yanked a touch to hard on the Sisters rosary and it broke and out of the perfect little doll mouth, "shitdamnsonofabitch". 

...

To my children's biological mothers, 

It's you I think of on mothers day. 

I pray every day I've done it right; I know that we all together made a choice for a better future. 

Thank you for the gift of life. 

Thank you for Motherhood.

 

Black Moon Rise

 

sturdy the mind 

ready the soul 

bind water to earth 

reach the sky

hear the voice

plant the seeds

bringing life forward 

with grace and care

mind is ready

soul is sturdy 

May our blessings be fruitful 

by the power of three so mote it be

Dazzle Them with Brilliance

 

I walked down the steps from the plane. I could see the concrete tower my father worked best from this vantage point. The wind was mighty that day, dry, hot and would pinch your skin every once in awhile. The sun blazed through the air obscured with the sand pellets, brown and grey all around us but the bright blue of the Gulf of Oman. My father waited till I was down the stairs and put two suitcases one on each side of me, I don't recall if I was scared I would blow away or if he thought I would blow away. I held on to each handle as the wind whipped around us. My sister and brother beside me, our younger brother in our mothers arms we stood on the tarmac. We were home. This was the same tarmac they found our first pet roaming and in general making a nuisance for aircraft takeoff and landings, Clarence, our donkey. 

 ...

How do I write something about/for my Dad, for his 80th Birthday that is worthy; I have an idea...I won't use French. I think that's funny and you're welcome. I'm half my mom and half my dad, practically down the middle. My love of homemaking and creation of all things I get from my mom and all things that fly, orbit, travel the Heavens, and philosophy from my dad; one of the greatest men that has ever existed and that has made such a great impact on my life, all of it positive. I hold my parents in the utmost regard and I don't mind saying so, publicly.  

"if you can't dazzle them with brilliance...baffle them with bullshit" 

Do I say, "Sorry I'm such an asshole. I was a rotten child and I didn't listen often enough, probably still don't."?  Please Note that down and consider it done.                                           

A bit of back ground...

I don't know what it's like to grow up the middle of Massachusetts in a factory town, dirt poor, living in a tenet house on an oiled street with not a pot to piss in. I know he got out of that town as soon as he could, but didn't leave it behind. Can you hear the accent of a tall young man with ears a bit big for his small head covered in a mass of Chestnut hair, sharp hazel eyes and with an air of street cool when he walked in a room...that's my dad. 

At 18 and a graduate of High School he had no plan for the future but to enlist in the United States Marine Corps. His signature on the dotted line was the catalyst of adventure that he hadn't imagined as a young man. A future of Sultans and Princes, of Communist revolutions and uprisings, proxy wars and hostages. A life time too many of Bot flies and bills to pay. Troubled children and a troubled world to tend to. A future he and my mom built, a family and hard work. The American Dream...a business and land of their own to grow crops. A place where the children and grand children would come home. Put in some hard work and you get three squares.  

...

Reading was implemented in our early years. We read the classics, Ayn Rand and Warren Murphy, he would quiz us and we would discuss so we could understand the meanings behind the stories. How we grew up was make sure you know what you are talking about and if you don't know something find it out, and you should always ask questions. 

We had a reel to reel that my dad would set up with old stories of the Lone Ranger and The Shadow. Where all the kids in the compound would make beds of blankets and pillows, half of us under the dining room table, spread into the living room on our shiny terrazzo floors, as we lay intently with our head in hands on elbows as we imagined as we listened.

...

When I was 15 my father sat me down for a discussion of standards. We were in the United States now and the rules were very different from where I grew up. The question was...What kind of standard will I carry. The topic came up via my speech class. I was prepping to argue pro life or pro choice, we wouldn't know which until that fateful moment you get up to the podium. This was a moment of turn in my life where I made a commitment to a Standard of Life. I'm Pro Life, I promised, I didn't promise something and say, 'I know dad.', I said, "I understand dad." The two words, knowing and understanding, are different. I do not believe in the death penalty, there is no system not corruptible, that is part of carrying a Standard. My father helped instill that in me...the true meaning of life and always see the goodness in it. 

...

A bit over 20 years ago now he had and survived a heart-attack when we were in Peru, adopting our daughter, BrownNut, We didn't know till we were on the way home. He didn't want us to know and distract us...his Grand daughter, the most important thing in the world, the future he built, was on her way home from her birth country. His first grandbaby. I won the best daughter award that year. 

...

Now a days it's a discussion of gardening sprinkled like fertilizer into the political discourse...gotta keep everybody grounded, to reality, rocking on his chair that works just fine.  

The smell of unfiltered smokes puffed a bit here and a bit there, and coffee throughout the day. An orange soda to quench the afternoon heat. 

...

My father is one of those really smart people...the invited to mensa kind of smart people that say no thank you, the kind of smart that can track multiple levels in space and time and keep destruction to a level of zero. My dad is a problem solver. I know there are other dads that are great too. People should have really good roll models...

My dad...he is one of the best ever. 

 I love you dad. Thank you for all the sacrifices you made so we could have the life we did. Thanks for bringing us everywhere. Thank you for all the life lessons when we didn't want them. Thank you for the hours of time you gave to my questions. Thank you for every samosa you brought home in a paper bag.

In Continuum

 

When you can find gratitude in lessons learned from those you wish had never walked on your path in continuum you win a battle. This is a solid to live by and very difficult if (it's part of the Jihad)...not trained and well practiced in the ways of Christ Consciousness and all the other great teachers of life philosophy and what nots.

Those that use and harm children with their misdeeds let it be known only some of the children were taught to forgive. 

Maybe some of you don't know what 'consequential knowledge' is...it's the scientific word for Karma. Literally know what you do and what will happen in sequence way down the multitude of lines or in front of your face. Now let me tell you a little something if you don't already know, Karma isn't Voodoo... Boogaloo Voodoo is the 2nd sentence though; the bloody dress on the fence post hanging high for all to see as they enter the tribe.

Can you see all the futures? If you can, and I know some of you can see many if not a few...it's an exciting time now. When you are able to look back you will see in hind site all the places we went wrong culturally as humans on a whole.  

If you hadn't been taking note (literally taking notes while all the craziness that has gone down of late, world wide, in your country, in your near vicinity) in one of Earths first 'whole earth' event, man made, perhaps a bit too prideful?, bioweapon they hacked together and in turn will cause pestilence and then famine via their own mismanagement, yada, yada, yada...and in my best Kristin on a stage preaching voice "Can I get an Amen we have War too now" (that is not 'hey lets have more war.' It's 'hey...it's gonna get outta hand war and I will make light of that which is heavy.) It's a funny (peculiar not Ha Ha) thing when you can see old stories repeat time and time again on different scales and in different languages. 

Be still and Listen

One day I'll tell you a story

When 

you train 

for something great 

you never waver your standard 

of greatness or you will never achieve more than you already have.

Heart weight

 perched on the blood moon 

she watches 

The dream world wakes

Heat from below 

bellowing from the earth

 the stars rain down

streets of Dilmun shattered

the sins of man

come home

Have any of you noticed the waywardness of man kind. The hate and envy all around. The utter vileness

The disregard for life as the big kids torture the little ones sometimes killing them  

Let's say you come from a family that is 'old school'

dad has been away working and mom has been in charge 

the kids are outta control

 mom is pissed

these offspring are cunning

the kids think they know better 

 they think they know everything

I heard a bird song

dad is on his way 

When he sees the state of being

Everyone is gonna have to stand in line

you can think about how you behaved

while you are waiting your turn

when the lies you told 

come for you

     did you let them float 

                          

                                    in the wind

               

                                        thinking they were taken away

                                                                

                                                                    

                                                                        no longer a bother

                                            

                                            when the lies you told

                            

                                                                                            come for you

                      

                                                                        will you fan them

                                   

 till flames ignite

                                                                

                                                                                        when the lies you told 

                                                                                                                   

                                             come for you

What will you do

perched on the scales of justice

where your heart will be weighed

 

Love, Maat

The Root of Evil

 

Ask a person what the root of all evil is and they would probably tell you it's money. 

...

I would like to preface this with a few statements and some questions spattered through that I think about as I write this. I believe most people are genuinely good and that times are crazier then they have been in many life times. This is a moment when excuses for bad behavior are not to be accepted. When times get rough we must be tough, tough on the inside, when right vs wrong means more now than it ever has. I mean that, not hyperbole. When the lines drawn are so thin and the communication levels are so intertwined we have a web of a telephone game but more intricate. Our children have been fed the poison fruit. That may sound like extreme language but in reality they have access to all knowledge we have on the internet...and that can be called poison...You have been on the internet before right? (My eyebrows are raised as I look at you sideways...this is something you can not argue against...unless you are retarding the conversation.) It doesn't matter how often you told them, "You can't believe everything on the internet." 

...

Have you seen brain scans of Children in different stages of development compared to adults? We do have some clear ideas on brain development and we are well aware of it's continued development through out the years. If I explain to you that humans have a life cycle that is different then I think other mammals would you grasp that our off spring does not mature as fast as other mammals. We live as long as we can in the uterus but because our brains our so big we have to be able to fit out of the vaginal canal, this is complicated and yet simple because we have been doing it from the beginning of our time. Then after we are born our mothers feed us the nutrients we need because we are unable to function on our own, we are growing outside the womb, out side the pouch of a marsupial...until we reach adulthood. I know you all know this but a complete understanding that the Child is in a growth stage, like a pupa, but a separate human with thoughts of their own, separate...but the brain is still in it's developmental stage. You don't know how fabulous you are going to be until you come out the other end, and then we develop more. We witches have a saying you may know it; the maiden, the mother, the crone. These are the three stages of a developed adult human, before that we are but Children. The scariest understanding of this is the post birth  abortion movement. 

...

The root of all evil is human kind. We just like excuses for our bad behavior so we say money. Money is supposed to be an intermediary of trade, hopefully free trade, but you know that. Back to the topic of evil; That's why we fight the Jihad. I know it's an uncomfortable word for a Westerner. It's the Angels on your shoulders. One telling you to do the right thing, the other saying to do the thing that you want to do but know is wrong and in your mind you make an excuse for doing the wrong thing. We all know it's true.

...

They State is literally coming for your Children with the help of the teachers and the net that they control and everything the Children hear and see...It's Federal Policy. Our government is sanctioning physical modification on to Children. Why? 

We have another man made virus on our hand...this one is accelerated. We have, again, it's kafkaesque (stuck in a loop of insanity), mass cognitive inability to understand chopping off a little girls breasts before adulthood would be a bad idea...everyone sane knows this...Key word sane. It's the Biden/Harris administration policy. 

The destruction and vilification of the family structure and the norm of humans is what is happening before your eyes...are you asking why? 

It's Federal Policy to mutilate a child that is still developing.

You all have been mind fucked like a mother fucker.

It is Federal policy.   

...

A man can not be a woman and a woman can not be a man, just like killing babies is wrong, don't you have lines? Standards you hold high that you will fight for? If it's not you Children and the future...what then?... 

...if we don't blow ourselves up I wish humans would figure out how to come together and do it the right way. I hope with a nudge here and a thoughtful question there we can get things moving in the correct direction. It takes time to change a river flow unless you have the help of others and a God or two on your side. 

...

Some people might say the root of all evil is that we are never happy with what we have and always want more...but is that some one being jealous of anothers ability to dream and work...and practice a good life.  We should most certainly have this discussion before and not just let a few people take the reins...I don't know where they are driving but it's not the direction that is in the best interest of human kind.

Trans humanism is upon us on us. It's on a stage right in front, in a dress of societal appropriation. How do we live with all that is in front of us and still keep it all together while they are trying to destroy the one thing that can keep things together...the family has to win. 

We are talking about a real life situation that isn't real to you yet perhaps but if you want things to be not more fucked up for your Children it's time to stand up. Stand up for Your family. Stand up for the Family structure. Stand for something for Gods sake. Have some Standards. 

Don't you think we should think things through and discuss what is happening culturally: The why? The how? The what? On a level starting with the end game; what kind of society do we want knowing human behavior as best we do, without the control of totalitarian leadership? While thinking this through keeping in mind the massive medical problems that will be upon us soon (they have already started), mental health on decline (why?), an economic collapse (if you don't know why, ask, know who to ask), a world war that is creeping across our door step, with every historical moment we have to teach us, every cultural boulder we must climb, go around, or smash into pieces, every philosophical goodness from religions of old to every technology we have at our hands and that we build. It's a lot to think about...most people don't like to think about these things. They think they have no power to change the rivers path.  

A segment of our population has no consequential knowledge and believe lies told to them by others-that is an absolute true statement...why? How did it get the way? Was it always this way? 

...

You are not broken, there is nothing to fix...except in your mind where you have the power to heal your self, it's called discipline. 

...but wait there's more...

I'm ready for my next stage. I hear it's the best stage, the one with forgotten power that's ready for an awakening.