"Admonitions"...no I think I was a bit rude. I should apologize, and will...
Yes your right most of the media is there to mislead. But, there is a story for those that know how to read it. There is another story, woven between that one. The real human story -- an age-old story that has been going on since the start of us all. A dualism of dark and light. Souls entangled in an battle.
The story that ties all stories together. One gains a greater view of the world as time goes on; a wisdom, after seeing and experiencing so much.
I have been caught in it may whole life.
This reality machine, this matrix that is controlled by some very dark and perverted artists. They 24/7, manufacture reality for us...and we go along with it, for the most part; it seems harmless, but it is harmful. It steals the individual in all of us. The great power inside all of us; the great power of imagination and creativity.. Or pushes those that hang on to it to the edges, and they becomes outsiders. They become divergent thinkers. Not like ordinary thinkers.
"Gold that refuses to be coins"
And then there is the useful idiots that carry out the bidding of a philosophy or a master.
This blog is very much about that -- and the artist that writes it, does not know the deeper story. She thinks she does...but she cannot see it objectively, she see through a specific color of glasses. But I see it differently, because I am in it. Always in it..
It is what I have been chosen for...and so I strive now to bring light to the mind of the ignorant.
I have a low reputation score, because, I don't care about scores -- I don't write for the score, and I am terrible with small talk. I can never be part of group, or consensus thought. I am, alone here in my point of view on this subject lol. And I know more than these commenters can realize. My thing is Russian History and the geopolitics of that subject. I have been studying it my whole life.
I have enemies and am not liked, here -- people want to hear lies, white ones...and so...the consensus is that west is a bad place, filled with bad white men. They think I am a troll..a disinformed, a misinformed...if only they knew.
It's a thin blue line Kimberly. A very thin blue line.
The best to you.
I see you like poetry...I give you this one.
THE REVENANT
The long gray march back into winter.
Returns, here....to the convent.
And me I retreat now as I've done before, back to mine own country.
All full of colors, and my own suns light, unseen by the most.
Except, the singular eye.
And that taste, in my mouth, that hollow taste of the nature of this world, soured and long gone bad, past it's time.
That surrounds me in....
A chemical frost, quickly was about me very early.
About four....
And the quiet and the fox, and the toxic fog.
And him and me, are only friends
We talk about cats in passing, and his brother, and love, and a little home in the woods...and a missus.
And I speak of mine, and he nods, and we then move on...past each other into the thick of the early morning.
I walk, and I think...
I think about extermination, I think of insects asleep in rotting wood, I think of the quiet.
I think of everything but what I should think about.
I think about where I am walking, 10,000 years from now.
I think of standing under a mile of ice.
Frozen, conscious, waiting for the suns warmth to melt that prison and free me.
And then I look up ahead, into the vapor and I see him.
And I turn to look back down the avenue.
To see if am alone.
To see if it is private.
And he speaks...
"Are you ready yet?"
"Is it time...Michael?."
"How many more visits must I make like this, before you decide?"
"Look back now, look back down that street ?... They are, as they always have been. They will never change. Time never changes but one.
The story is the same, its...just the small details that are different. A car now, and a horse and a wagon ago. A lightbulb , but once a candle."
He turned and pointed out to the landscape, painted in mist. And exclaimed...
"Generations, like the just gone wheat in that field, collecting shiny things in the sunlight, and burying them in dark....
like lonely Ravens."
"I am about to paint my masterpiece !" I said.
"Your always about to paint your masterpiece...even if you did paint it, who would look at it?"
'Who would care about it?...you are alone here."
"No..no. I would care about. Many would care...."
"I mean it this time, I can feel it rise....deep, from inside of me....rising. It's a powerful feeling !"
"It will change it all. The world will accept and see it as new."
"A work like this has never been created."
"This is a master work...."
"It's right there just below the surface of my skin.... I know it."
We stood there for a long time, quiet, listening to the reality; he turned and looked back to the fields, and then back at me.
A low warm light started like a match struck deep out and within the fog.
And I pointed, "Look the sun!"
A warm feeling rose inside of me, another chance.
Everything became so clear, so very clear....I looked at him and he was genuinely smiling.
"The world has always been the most beautiful at sunrise." he said
"I was there the very first time it happened."
He came close to me, and reached and kissed me on the cheek. And said...
"Until tomorrow then, brother?"
"Yes." I replied...
"Until tomorrow then."
--Michael Burns
RE: Psychopathic US Senator Openly Calls For Maduro To Suffer Gaddafi’s Fate