twas a night somewhere near Christmas

out on the Colombian mountain range, I play a Zen Pipe for sir Pan , then salute all transvestites and their military man…its what I do, out here in the darkened Latin night, darkened short of blackness in that pale disguise of Light.  up here with all my vampires, owls and aves exotique, we vaporize the latest lies and go off to watch the geek…geeky on the TV, freaky at its best, leaky of its content, bullshit to the rest.

I went home for christmas, so I didn’t work that out, why’s it always gotta be that I’m the One to Shout ?  or pout or act out ? Damn, this shit gets OLD YO ! I am so out, you don’t even have clue. try another galaxy. another mountain range somewhere in Latin America,maybe Pategonia. this is the Christmas that I got Born Again…in the truest sense of the word…no religious BS, and those that I tried to give this to…it is not a problem…pick up the scraps after this done…

What ? Wha,whats done ? what , who, you mean ? uh wait…no…is that a threat or a warning or a plea for help or are you gunna do something wierd like kill a bunch of church people or sumpin like dat ? wait …are you implying, trying, sighing and crying out for some thing anything …should we uhh, ya know, worry about what’s next ? Not where I’m at…children.

Once upon a time in New Jersey a little boy played garbage truck with his sister, great game, good clean fun in the garbage. Now, we have learned to scavenge among the gulls and garbage of cities in modernity, we became estranged in hydrocarbons ‘neath the Tao of Soot. When was diesel made a perfume to avoid, or gasoline unleaded to enjoy ? It was all good to me once upon that time, I dug the diesel and her breath, she’s been my weasal in this dance of death.

but, how so twas near Xmas Petey ? Uncle tell me true, is all that crap they talk about somehere close to True ?  jus gather roun’my babies and I’ll unfold a tale, of pirates, evil monsters, Jonah and his whale, or giant fish or Giant Serpents or Starbucks Grande Latte see me high in Bogata on the path to Montsoiratte.

I just don’ t get it kids, I must be slippin’, oh sure, sure, I been trippin’ but it was for a good reason I said to myself again and again and I am most uncertain thatwhen i got outta school that I’ a  a prepared fo all a didssshiboleth shit… but I we got it , yep I got it and ain’ contagious sept ta my family day all got sickof me being so god damned sick all the time”’ ain’t yet got it strauight…mmmm…mental illneesses ya know how it is ? wellp uh, yeauh huh, then…so next.

People begin to wonder when to take me seriously. Perplexing isn’t it ? of course to write me off as crazy is the easy Christian way out, just disregard and don’t be bothered by the cries of help from a Friend and there you have it a full fledged degree in mass masked marauders grads of some paper mill with a cross stamped on it…yeah, I’d apologize to for such freakin’ arrogance. At this stage I roll with it,but Thumper, you better not get near my bumper, I’ll tag you like the wild and dirty hog that you have become before my eyes. Who ? What ? What’s the point here ? Please just leave us alone.

Some people die instantly when they are hanged, some actually will twist and slowly be strangled by a hemp rope that gnaws into their gagging throats,burning scraping at the inside and out of their own asphyxiation in panic and wish a final tear, a wish and then that becomes no fear…the bosses play with us, by playing upon Fear…what are we so afraid of ? what ever That is, that is what the government will play you with…this is an old game that they have become sloppy about, they have become cocky, they rely on their imagined techno smarts…too late Sammy. Twist a bit more.

I am No longer an exile without a country, I have been accepted as a Resident of Colombia, I am a resident guest. I don’t want to be in the USA anymore, I baled, I deserted, the way I beat the draft, with every thing I had, I used it against this stinking corrupt empire.that has propagated lies for too long…in the name of Jesus Christ…that has always been a real bad idea…but tried often.

And so now I happen, upon this revolution, within our evolution, orbiting free upon our solution, a holy ablution in a world gone gruesome. I’ve been through this before, you think you haven’t ? we fight this dirty war and it becomes apparent, in rhythms and in rhymes, and the darkest of our times, scratchin’ for the nickles and scrapin’ for those dimes, for Piers  the Englishmen, here’s a rotten Lime,  bow down at 10 Downing Street for your slimey time… gun control ? a moron,a limey and a jerk, find him a shovel and put the SOB to work.

But, it’s a New Year, so they say, the sun rose right on time and the coffee made itself again, amazing how that happens. I tripped through the Un of Consciousness, returned to the Om of Consciousness and corroborated the two as One with the Puppet Master, The Benevolent Dictator Himself, the reject from St. Peter’s Basilica, the one the only Jesus/Yeshuah/ Christos /the annointed/ Emmanuel/ God is with Us or (if you prefer) God with Us. Lied to, lied for,lied with, lied about, a myth, a marker, a joke, an unholy oath, a fag, a fraud , a king, a clown, a creep, a pope? Never !  December31st2013…Stop/ rumor/ Divine Image spotted on the Internet/ all systems failed and then failed to register or remember the incident, hard drives have been wiped clean/ information overload/ there is no control/ control is…an illusion, SHIT !

Oh yeah, so happy new years resolutions with all that healing of your contusions , here’s hopes for less confusions in your metaphysical conclusions, surely God must know The Way…but He juss keep openin gates at the Genesis of a Day , this day and that, this way gotta be where its at, grab my pencil and cock my hat I thought you knew me better than that.

So Happy Knees on your New Year, real green trees for ya too, drink the draft and act the daft and sing you B.B.s blues, if you can or really want won’t you let choo fly?  beyond the likes of Washington or the Myth of Princess Di,  the circus maxi media, the clowns of white house lawns, the unknown homeless soldiers always someone’s pawns, break a leg you turkey, give me one mo stick, I goss ta feedmah family and baby’s feelin’ sick, dis shit be gettin’old but I knows its still true…whatever you be given out,its comin’ back to you.

Happy New Year. Wishing only God’s Best Bet for you as it were.

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