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Sunday, December 12, 2010

Victory Shall Be Mine - sayeth the Lord

Sunday Morning
Dark before the dawn rainy
dark at three thirty in the afternoon
It's hard not to just curl up and read a book
a cork in my energy has to be removed. So much gunk surrounding it
Like being stabbed in the heart
memories of the fall surrounds and overwhelms
us all
We spent years trying to recover only to be hacked to pieces with the remnants of our true selves located light years away.
I just wandered on to some aryan nation sites. Woo doggy, the walking wounded- almost zombies= talking about bombing our cities in their songs. Trying to look at them without fear and then anger. Its hard. It is also hard to not want to take a wand or a rifle and blast them away. Somehow, I think thats what took us down the first few times, floods,earth changes Atlantis you know. They've genetically programmed us not to forgive. Cut off from the heart. the heart is encompassed by crevices so deep a mote of overwhelming sadness hemorages we feel we are pulled off a cliff. Grief for what we have done. Forgiveness. the balm
is destruction for the ego, which in its job to protect, it smothers the cries of the infant in its beauty.