Thrones: Little Black Book

By Adam Forrest

Initial Statement


There are many paths that one can follow that will lead the seeker to where they need to be; whether it is expedited or a gradual incline to the apex, along the road of evolution. We all have choices; we all contain the schematics necessary to achieve that which we seek to be. Certain trials to the crucible awaits obstacles to overcome and what you are going to experience, if you commit with profound scrutinization, is a journey of a life time, that which will expand your intuitive, creative, and psychic abilities and lead you towards the Gates of Eden. Nevertheless, an ordinary Journal is out of the question and once you meet your guide, together, we will explore the Universe...

You may proceed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781499052725

Book preview

9781499052725-4.jpg

Copyright © 2015 by Justin Forrest.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4990-5273-2

                eBook           978-1-4990-5272-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/21/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

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08.07.jpg

Directory…

Thrones: Little Black Book

12 +2 +2

+2+2+2

7

G

Contents

Proclamation

Kanónes

23.20.2

Alpha A

606 (__

555 (__

Beta B

788 (__

203 (__

Gamma 83031.png

995 (__

404 (__

Delta 83036.png

744 (__

997 (__

Epsilon E

915 (__

7392 (__

Zêta Z

001 (__

882 (__

Êta H

410 (__

600 (__

Thêta 83059.png

500 (__

1 (__

891 (__

Kappa K

516 (__

6*4+1/5-3^2*3/4*3 (__

Lambda 83063.png

5-4+1*6/6+4*1-1 (__

7/7+6/7*6+1-3*2-1/7 (__ & 9 (__ > (__)

Mu M

9*3-3/4*2-5*2 (__

9/3^2+6 (__

Nu N

9*2+2 (__

19+1 (__

Xi 83083.png

8-4/4+7-3/5+2*3+1/10+6-1+5/11*4+3-5*3+3-6/3+14 (__

6(2+5) + 4(2+4) + 1(2-1) (__ (Exo)

Omicron o

3(9/3)-2(12/6) (__

7(4-1)-8(-3+2) + 1 (__

Pi 83079.png

3*2+6 (__

3*2+1*2+1-2+1/2+1*2/4+1 (__

Rh P

7-3+2+2+2+2+2/7-1 (__

9*1-4+2*3+7/4+2+9 (__

Sigma 83095.png

7*2 (__

3^2-4+1 (__

Tau T

9*2 (__

3*2+1-2*3 (__

Upsilon Y

1+6*1+6 (__

44/22*11-10 (__

PhI 83102.png

25/5+2-4*2+3 (__

1*3+3 (__

5 (__

Chi X

5*4 (__

6*3 (__

1*1 (__

2*7 (__

4^2+3 (__

3 (__

4+1 (__

19-5 (__

31 (__

23 (__

2*9-4 (__

12 (__

41 (__

Psi 83120.png

81/9 (__

7*2+5 (__ (Exo)

Omega 83131.png

4*3*3*3/12*3-11= (__ (Exo)

1+2*4 (__ (Exo)

3*1-2 (__ (Exo)

8+1-4*1^2/5+12-3" (__ (Exo)

13 1 14 1 8 5 12 16 5 18

Esoterikos Ideos

0 [6(2+5) + 4(2+4) + 1(2-1)]

0-0

Ω

Φ

Ψ 83147.png

Φ Ψ Ω

Exoterikos Ideos

(7*2+5)

(4*3*3*3/12*3-11= )

(1+2*4 )

(3*1-2 )

(8+1-4*1^2/5+12-3" )

(14.15.20.5.19) )

Dóro

p8.jpg

Proclamation…

You may Assume the position…

This is my rendition to give you a good depiction, of how I incarnated on to Earth to further expand my intuition. Experiencing as an expression which created something more, then ascended into Heaven to bestow what was in store. Eyes are everywhere, posing as the Looker of Time; while this Journal is proclaimed with Intent, for you to experience my design. I prolonged the release with considerable consideration and gave a map for exact accommodation. But, with using the energy of Love in her purest state, I contemplated intensely, with great debate. The current state that I am in leaves me with unease and the Journal itself, cyclones the mind to stop the spreading of disease. Now this isn’t something to just read once and see because deep thought and profound ponder, has to come of thee. I leave you with questions, but the answers are soon to come, so let’s just say now… Reader, it has begun…

You may Assume the position…

(12.5.20 12.9.7.8.20 12.9.22.5, 1.14.4 2.5.3.15.13.5 25.15.21.18 7.21.9.5.1.14.3.5)

With white lines and green walls, do we walk towards the back? Class is facing forward as we look through the glass. The past is rememberable by only looking with me, and I acknowledge you to ascend, into your purest state of true Divinity…

You may now, Assume the position…

Throne

Kanónes

(Rules)

I ndented is a hidden clue stop, stare, just don’t spew. Under the Line is important too, do not exclude but renew. Italicize forms from broken tries reduce to see, Find the Secret and connect it completely. Bold is code but never worn apart from the mystery, it is never torn. Dominance wins next who will it find? Take your time, for each word is intertwined. Use this as a guide for all will want to know. Again take your time, and the knowledge withheld will show. When you begin to realize make your marks, create your lines, now onward towards the start!

⇒I am numerically speaking,

take your time,

my idea is not

to trick your mind…!!!

Italicize forms from broken tries, reduce to see…

03/05/1993

0+3=3

0+5=5

1+9+9+3=22

22=2+2=4

3+5=8+4=12

12=1+2=3

3 Is the number that you see… . Use it to Master your ABC’s… (2.15.3.4)

This institution tortured and tampered with my soul, they played games with my mind and kept me under their control. I tried to imagine a day without fear, but living in here, to me, this vision would never appear. I am not a mathematician and or a lyrical musician; but to keep my story and my plan alive, exposure is my decision. I have planned already for you to read and indeed, I want you to spread this seed. But you have to find the secrets that reside within, use your mathematical imagination to help you begin. I am so downhill it may be too far for you to see, but once you get the codes, the truth will set you free! The Will of mine will toy with yours doing your homework, is like mentally doing your chores. I have placed codes inside of the bind, now for their discovery, it is left up for you to find…

Intelligence Bears Light

23.20.2

T he multitude of thoughts that swim through the psyche is astonishing. Every breath a person takes can bring about the spiritual manifestation of another perplexed idea. The Imagination, as some believe, is a station that houses and plays stored or fabricated images, describing the perplex plexus of everyday life. Whether a person chooses to interpret what they see as fiction or non-fiction is a part of their own Free Will. The mind of spirit, finds inspiration in the little anomalies of the receptive physical form of living. Therefore, if a person chooses to deviate from orthodox life, the enigma of being will help guide their ego into a transformative theosophical state of seeing. This will lead towards the self-actualization of Spirit and away from the oppressive materialistic chambers of being…

The question for thought comes from the statement Seeing, is Believing. But to truly believe, that notion coexists with understanding. One can believe in something and then, within the Hands of Time, learn to understand what they believe as a construct of fact; not only of the fabricated state, but also of the actual. Often in cases of liberation, the eradication of oneself is required. The complete compliance proceeds with the purification and the exact ratification of the soul. Some religious doctrines enable a person to undergo the process of the identification of self, through a form of spiritual ecstasy. This, in essence, allows One to stand upon the path of the Spirit in full contact to the Angle of Light, or the Solar Self of Higher-being.

The lowest point of light is darkness; the highest point of darkness is light. Imagination is a potent energetic currency which sees these two aspects in unity; as fear is only a fabrication to render a person into the limitations in which the soul knows not of… In allowance for the accumulation of the necessary levels of ascension, the imagination is an imperative system which must be allowed to free itself from the social dogma and political oppression that constricts mental growth. Self-expression, actualization, and realization begin to set the person upon the path of liberation, from the controlling sense of the Lower-Ego. Self-expression, allows spiritual ecstasy to convey the being into a spectacle stage of enlightenment. But for others, who are unsure of the dogmatic principles that are set into play, know nothing of the bliss that chambers itself within. The Being then becomes one with Light, one with Love, one with God and adheres to the plan. In doing so, this frees oneself from the illusive illusion or maya of the nightmarish limitations of Hell.

Morals, Ethics, Karma they’re all aspects of the Rule Book, so to say, within the Universal Game. Now further explanation is a whole other journal which upon creation allows the process of developing to follow . . .

-Adam-

(9.13.1.7.9.14.5)

He found himself within his soul and discovered something new; his body was depleting and he knew not what to do. The feelings he encountered where often shunned and clouded by fear, but he led you, yes you the reader, to the beginning of his Epic Journey, that was near…

Alpha…

Freedom, What a great conception . . .

Those who think they are free are the easiest to control . . .

W e are all still slaves of the system, but the only difference now is we get paid. But do we truly get paid… ? With the cycle of taxes and the constant inclination to the cost of living, the cost of loving through the preconceived material mind, the replicated vision of tomorrow; no one is truly free. We think less for ourselves when it comes to decisions, we work hard but what do we have to show for it: nice clothes, a big house, and the most designer things within that home? But what belongs to you when Repossession comes with his scythe, creeping through the night in disguise, like a mare? We work hard to obtain the fanciest of things, while or country continues to suffer with more poverty than that of the Great Depression. While the rich get richer and the poor fall out of existence… are we truly free?

Black gunk, of the stick-stuck-goo melts and welts the waters sea; these oceans atomic structures cry out in agony. As we continue to paralyze the recycled matter for possessions that hinder our very existence; so are we free? What lies, but the lies of the American cause and what dictates us under ourselves but our very own laws? Is it our suicidal flaws that try to correct the broken jaws of man? We limit ourselves with the construction of this new generational sham. We take pride in, but hide our motive, our intent to destroy. We fire then employ with the unrighteous pain, unless the call to freedom is gained…

There is no such thing as Freedom and seldom is that lesson learned. We try to look the other way and upon truth we are rarely concerned. We must act in ways that unifies the mind, body, and soul. We must transcend and take whole. We must destroy the oppressors Will, but not act out of rage. We must stay wholesome, but until then turn the page…

(23.9.20.8)

"606

Assume the Position

As words that follow flow like voices, built by choices that you can only fathom; now that I have your mind, begin to imagine . . .

I would like to take this time and thank you for trying to find, for I am at odds end with these things that bind. I would also like to thank you for me you are beginning to free, and with every thought that passes your psyche, then, you will actually begin to see. As I ascend into my higher state I will gladly take you there, because by the end of this Journey, your Spirit will assume clear. I am myself, an improper sense, and you are yourself inside a pinch; but within this life we are more, we are a unit, like a handle on a door.

Assume the Position

Forcefully I throw you into submission, and my mission is ascension. This dimension isn’t the right dimension, but solely I seek your utmost attention. Again the schematics I’ve laid are a new invention; as I charge, then take your pension. But listen to the way I relay my decision on a grand premonition where I gain your attention. Did I mention my action is a reaction from my captive’s addiction… ? Now

Assume the position… !

Lie down on your back, you already are! Spread open your legs, you already do this by far. Slip down them panties and let me see, heck let us all see them goodies.

I again thank you for being at peace and a point in your position you would like to reach. To others, I like to teach, but never in a day would I preach. Unless given the chance to, then the opportunity is all mine; here find this and determine what you are made to find. See that is the thing about the human kind, we have this desire, this want to, to find. We love to search and discover; we love to explore and uncover. We are a very knowledge seeking race, and what drives us is that chase. It’s like a never ending lit match but the match lit isn’t exact. Then again it is; peace and prosperity, to you is what it gives. We dwell with constant hope within our heart and even in the dark, well, it can never be dark. We reach for the ark, led by the sounds from a harp, and that harp is in our heart; so within fear, it shall never be dark. I think, so abstractly I do and when I miss, I actually hit two. There are reasons why I love to play and there are moments where I love to play; but simply every other day is a new day where I see a new way, and when I see this way, I understand why I love to play…

Do you?

I shall secretly ask this to myself too, and whether I can hear it to answer, is what I might do. Undeniably I am very well, and my crazy ass, is like a bat from hell. Well the Under World, since that is where we all go, Tartarus, to wait for that one and final show. I know how to, but I do not know why I have become, I think it is my inability to understand what is meant by The One. Whether it is a person, place, or a thing, new ideas I always seem to maintain. Could this be the problem with the One and the Many, why do greedy people always say gimmie? I ask this only because it pertains to the philosophical idea of, the sensory system or the attributes of love.

I once saw a dove flying above my head, and the white dove seemed red, but why? Did this dove exist as I thought, or as I know . . . there are many answers that could possibly show? We drown out our sorrows with booze, and then from the after effects we snooze. Day in and day out we do not care if we lose, because for us to pick and choose would be bending the rules. We have ways, and in here certain ways, determines how staggered or smooth will be our days. Not often do we feel at ease, and the summers breeze, doesn’t come by natural trees. We know nature as being, but they teach nature as seeing; if my sight is deceived by seeing, aren’t we more accurate by just being?

There are more questions than answers in this place, and that leads us towards our chase. We make no haste, to face, the mace from the ill toxic confessions in this place. Yet we race to space when given the chance to break free from this place. Being in here, they want you to be happy and well, well I have a problem with that, since most of us seem under some spell. We, to the outer population seem crazy, but to each other we are fine, until we find a reason, we are controlled by grime. They poison our waters; more so than your own, it’s just ours gives a certain smell, which creates a certain tone. After days of drinking our waters, you will start to see it too, it being the little men who run along the walls, and change colors from lies to true. Which is very satisfactory in a way, it gives a different outlook towards an already grey day. They tell us constantly, we are their slaves and they are our Masters. Whether you are Black, Latino, or White it really doesn’t matter. We are under their thrall, so…

Assume the Position!

555

I believe so heartily that Heaven sees me, hell deceives me, and the world wants to kill me, but oddly, I find there is no one like you . . .!

I had a friend, I found a foe;

I told the world, now my friends should know.

I hold her close, I hold her there,

I told her to stop but she didn’t dare.

She pushes me, I fight her back,

they all whisper, we got his back.

But that’s not exact, since eyes could not see,

the descent of my game, that led me to she.

Her fallen crown, I stop then stare . . .

The numbers apart are broken and spewed everywhere!

She tried to thrall, for days at hand;

this letter I found, puts them back in to sand.

My countenance, I had anger in my veins . . .

To the point where I was clinically insane!

I colored the walls whiter than bone, and

covered my face,

which brought my new name to Throne.

. . . . And so we begin… . !

I know myself as being me, but what separates me from, is ideology. The idea that I have, that I am someone else and the sensations that I feel, recreate myself. I, being me, I am Throne, and I sit here patiently with my own. I cannot decide on whether I am able, but then again, I am perfectly stable. I prefer to call out to everyone that I see, even the reader, which is you… hopefully. I choose to decide on what one can and what one cannot, but to give up, I will never stop. I gave up on the thinking that I can fly, so I’ll just sit here and subconsciously try… I feel like a warrior with a battle scar, and every time I cry out, everyone shall know by far. But then again we are all crazed and the paid enslavement is underway.

Just like everyone from around here we are owned by the state, and the love that we get, well, that is just fate. Usually predetermined from an act of God, but even of that message we are robbed. We are told we all come from One, even the crazies believe we are the sum. In fact, well, that is a different story to tell, and from the viewpoint of Christianity, if I tell it wrong, I will end up in hell. But in hell is already where I am, from them, our foes, we will never ascend. I am cautious in everything that I say, because I know some people out there will take it some type of way. Whether it being the wrong way, or be it may, I just know with these multi-spiritual perceptions, the ideas of any go a long way.

Where am I? But to find me I ask, for I am of a section where we are considered last. I believe that in time we’ll be first, but then again this is an idea to rehearse. I applaud the person, and I applaud the Jew, because on cue, we can all do it too. It, well it is all, we are strong people and again shall never fall. I have prime examples, since I have many friends and all of them know in due time the minority will win.

Nihilo nihil, I have always thought this way, because independently we cannot stay. We are a people with certain tasks, but mine being who I am, mine, will come to past. I am here and now, and there from back, as the complete standardized English skills I lack. I put what is, in front, since what isn’t or is not, still is. I can completely comprehend from the orthodox view of what is, but with that being so, does it live? I challenge the person who reads this to find, since I know I will not be here in time; for this is now considered the past, and what you are reading is, what happened first to last. I am completely aware of how you will see, since I exist metaphysically. That means I am here and there, so double times over I am aware. It is in my constitution that I progress, and by writing this, well, I feel this is best…

Above the line under the seed, my skin burns again, as my spirit is freed. I am unleashed from my tomb, which binds me to the physical, and my mental combined has become my spiritual. I am conflicting in many ways, but the ways down under, are the ways. I stay stationed in a point of selflessness, and the being inside of me does not hold selfishness. I confess to whoever reads the deeds of my actions and hopefully they keep me at ease. I am no psycho, but I am a lunatic, it’s understandable in this complete and utter body shift. The dots predict fire, and my foreskin grows higher. My thoughts kept keep me dyer, and I dy’er inside of this dryer. I aspire towards more aspirin, my captives keep my in a cage, calling me names saying I am plagued! I am myself, again I say, and the unraveling will go underway. I shift to assemble and this point is where I stay; I’ll let you know again, but I’ll give it to you this way. I am complete, as I open up and let you in, my old skin flays as my new persona reveals my Zen…

Come visit me . . .

Where am I… .?

Beta…

I shall limit myself until I give in,

and once I do I will break the lines of them.

I will not conduct myself in anyway

other than that of a new way . . .

Let’s reconstruct this unforgiving dream . . .

F ew of us ever break the orthodox patterns in which we use the material mind for thought; whereas those individuals, who understand who they are nvot, learn, develop, and grow through the more intricate workings of their human brain. We are programmed early on about the limitations of fear, yet some do not choose for themselves what is right and what is wrong. By learning from one who has been programmed like you, the process of remembrance gets harder and harder. When someone says’ knowledge is power, use it as a guiding tool to transcend from your material brain and grow in the life of your spiritual mind. If you find your calling in life, do not turn from it, but embrace it and say Welcome, we have a lot of work ahead of us to make a difference…!

Now the question is, will you be the one who changes, or be the one who watches others do it for you… ?

(16.15.23.5.18)

Wisdoms is like a Golden rose in a garden of purple flowers…

788

Blasphemy . . . This is Blasphemy!

I’ll ask you to stay, but then I let you go. As you turn from me, I’ll see you do it slow. Did you know that I am oak, and unless you find me, then on the twenty third day, of May, I will croak? But damn, am I really damned by testaments unseen, and in the place in which I stay, I beg it to be a dream. The unorthodox idea is that I can be tamed, and my mind won’t seem to flay. But with this new added pressure, I wrote to the thinker of a new day. I am Throne, and by all means call me what you may, but my life will never see that twenty-fourth day. They lock me away, and who is they you might say… ? They are the Who, that watches me scolding my every desire and they are also the ‘social junkies’, who binds my mind from ascending higher. They are the ones that assuage the need for thrall; they are a part of the Secret in which I am kept concealed, inside of it all. I live in this place and a way from I search to find, but the Guards that inflict simulate a new design. They control the pipes purging the waters with parasites, mice, and other chemicals that bite. The manipulation comes as a troll; I loathe not and hold control. Even though I am aseptic, and I have no visitation rights, everyone in this damned place I fight.

Blasphemy . . . This is Blasphemy . . .

But, I am a religious man and I know who I see, when I, Hmmm then again, yes then again I was free. But simply to you Reader I mustn’t say too much, because if I do, that twenty third day, for me wouldn’t be of such. I suck the blood to mark my wound, and from every ounce of, they cannot trace my tomb. I try to keep away from being melancholy, so from I stay, but the wroth inside of me seems to spray. Then again, I am dressed in white and with my skin complexion; to these people I bring fright. A nigger-man that is right, I always seem to bring harm and if you, the reader, want to stop now, then I won’t be alarmed…

Blasphemy . . . This is Blasphemy . . .

This is cash you see, cash you see, my skin is diseased, not my complexity but my skin, it bleeds. I try to become terror; I try not to have an error, but sometimes I cannot do, only in this manner of the voices that spew. I threw, I throw a fit and shit hits the wall, they are coming; they are coming quick I was told the Doc, they just called…

Some days are different from the rest; some days mimic the best. They think everyone in here is a klept, something like an extreme theft. Thievery, is it me you see, me you see, me you see? Can it be, or is it not, I have never stole, so I never stopped. This is locked, a secret a way, and I am myself but my eulogies do not stray. I have to stay sane in this place; for the untamed that I face, will rip my face outside in, while the morgue of bodies guide the insane person’s to cope with a friend’s death again. They visualize it setting them free, so they do that shit, right in front of me. It’s like you are walking down the hall, and you see someone you know, so you wave to them all, but the mutual feelings do not flow… They look depressed but you sort of know why, so they cut their wrist and bleed out to die. I see that shit in here, and afterwards death stains the air. It is not fair to see that happen this way, but I can only continue to live the right way. I love my Creator, I love my home, I love myself for not being alone; yet that is how I feel and for that to go away, is so surreal. Although, at dinner I sit alone, I know who I am, and I know I am Throne!

203

Do what you want,

do what you may . . .

But I will have

the last laugh today.

-Throne-

I was feeling serendipity; in that room there was plenty of empty face sympathy. The looks that I got took my mind into a state of epiphany, where thoughts arose and eroded with misery. I felt the contagion surface which led me to swoon, a man in a white coat then entered into the room. There was a lady behind and a portable chair, and whatever could happen was going to anyway, so I did not care. Above the horizon I began to stare, in a shock and awe, I felt myself becoming aware. The room moisturized with an unpleasant tone and the toon sense benign me back into his throne. I was seated in a perplexed way, where my legs, straight they strayed. I rested my head with ease on the pads behind, and into attention I focused my mind.

The man in the white coat took my hand and placed it inside of the strap; he also brushed my locks a little bit back. I then saw him motion for over the girl to come, and scrutinizing her further I noticed she was the nurse. Time settled in motion and he told her to do the things that they rehearsed. She handed him a scalpel and he put it on the table, the rest was a conversation between us, well the willing part where I was able.

Doc: So Throne… Hmmm, that is an odd name. Does that name in this Institution, bring you any fame?

Throne: . . . ? (Silence)

Doc: No answer aye. Well I see I have to play the game that you play. Today Throne today, we’re gonna do something different today?

Throne: . . . ? (Silence)

Doc: Still nothing to say! (The doctor walks towards the tray, where he has the N.U.T) This is a new tray, can’t you tell by the glistening array?

Throne: . . . ?

Doc: Dammit you mutt speak!

Throne: . . . ? You tell me to speak, so to speak I do, but best believe I have control over you. If you tell me to jump, then that is what I shall do, but best believe I have control over you… . (The Doctor walks from where the Syringes were and stares deep within my face . . .)

Doc: Listen; to leave this place, you have to cooperate!

Throne: There is no completion and if I cooperate then that too, will still lead to depletion. Lord, may you have mercy on his soul, for his actions, he does not know. I will let you go, if you let me flee and I won’t tell anyone of antiquity. Exemplify my order and suffer less my ways, believe me I am not a slave! (The Doc takes the syringe and plucks it with his finger . . . The toxin squirts up, and a peachy smell lingers . . .)

I am of antiquity, dogma is you. I have seen it all, so I know it is true. I am falling in the fires that do not burn my skin; hot is the sweat that seeps from your chin. You can stop Doc, my life you do not have to take, I beg you, I beg you to awake… (I sit up in my chair)

Doc: Restrain him, sit him down, I have to inject the N.U.T, before he rages as a hound… ! (Four men run to restrain, as my sobs grow of agony and pain)

Throne: Believe… Believe, the evil deeds of them will separate us and weight us in sin… Listen again, me you have to find, take times hands and unwind. I mustn’t die, but to die I might. (I close my eyes and fade in and out, without a fight)

Doc: His heart still beats, so he is not dead, but my hands are blood drenched in red. I am fed up with his behavior; the inmates keep calling him their savior. We have to send him into the abyss, where is she, this she cannot miss. Did you set up the psychotic dream? Did she dream of a bore inside of here scene? She cannot know of him, we have to keep them away. They cannot ever know of the plan on the twenty third day.

After the Doctor finishes talking to the guards, a nurse named Laura walks in and hands him a letter . . . I can tell he is reading the letter by his stagnant energy he gives off. He is in deep contemplation and I meet his conscious in another scene.

Gamma…

T hem bones them bones them dry bones; Them bones them bones them dry bone; Them bones them bones them dry bones   .   .   . But wait, what makes them dry?

Is it due to the suffering kids who cry? Or them drones that fly within the sky, with an eighty percent miss rate, oh my?!

Is it because of the suffering of the women who weep, from the men who call themselves as they beat her discrete? The children forgotten at home who don’t eat? Or that nightmarish program on the tube, that repeats?

Them bones are dry, but why?

Is it due to the holocaust of war, destroying rain forest and more; causing the life within to leave, die on the streets, then rot carrying disease?

Them bones are dry, but why . . .?

Can we come to a consensus? Like for instance, who killed JFK? Was it us or the CIA? As US it is too and we trust but over you that just blew… And over them they just flew, with hellfire missiles in crews; designated flyers who control through panels on tubes, then noob with white walls and lube.

Them bones are dry but why?

Is it because of the greed of fries, toxic agents integrating themselves in, welting away molecules precious to the skin?

Is it because of the high fructose corn syrup that stops the normal process of control; as spoons dig more holes in things that make us fold.

Or is it because the children that have none want some, and the sum that has some wants one, more, piece of desert for the kids who feast on bread built with bleach to teach us to treat… ?

Them bones are dry, but why?

Is it due to the commercials that advertise; skin care products that really project lies and destroy the skins natural defense then hide?

Or is it due to the fact that we rage, sip whiskey then wage; sip Hennessy and slave to the Cooperate Gods of the age?

Them bones them bones them dry bones; Them bones them bones them dry bones; Them bones them bones them dry bones . . . But wait, what makes them dry?

Is it because of the children who cry, pleading for presents and more; while children of the same age are being plumage through the violence of war? As we create kids who want more, beg and plead to go to a store, shop till they drop and bore, bored from the same thing they just adored.

Their bones are dry but why . . .?

Is it because of the weeping wallowers who flock to the rivers of the Nile? Those who swim, bathe and defile? Then drink from the same streams of piss, and create things for Americans that are so meaningless. We dismiss kiss and oblige to the wish list of the first gift of the day, we smile, wave and say hey. Eat pork in sugar coated beans, and consume things that are made from the wallowers of the stream. Nubian queens bleached bread and taught to smile, programmed to step to the right as a child. Wanting the very thing that keeps us besieged, then plead to the hand that fed to obtain the very thing that they need…

Them bones are dry, but why?

Is it due to the homelessness that depress the best, that thought while living in the land of the free, more land they would see, but the rich own that too and then make bills and sue. Robbing the very man that actually built this land, stripped of sense, selfless wrench, thrown in the trench to fight another war, eating the thing that these pigs adore?

How can that be, theses dried bones left in the street, cobbled foam and weak, a cynical plan kept discrete; because these bones are dry, but why?

Them bones them bones them dry bones; Them bones them bones them dry bones; Them bones them bones them dry bones . . . But wait, what makes them dry?

What about a person who smokes fugs, dirt-bent-plants strung out from rugs; rolled like cubs that drink from a rotten bosom, blossomed in the nest tweaked like an extreme Muslim.

Or is it due to the clouds of fumes that troll off the gon, penta with fact to the terror of bombs; thousands of arms covered burnt over lawns, with batons bathed in signals calling stigmas to those less fond.

Is it from the alarm called by death when he is mated for disease, cancer to the puffer who passes to threes; groups of troops handing cigs to the right, with less of a test to the resisters who fight. No one’s knows night suffocated with smite, smoking in plight but smiling with delight…

Them bones are dry but why?

Could it be due to the water that we drink, fumes off the loom insidious to the stink. Starched drenched with links that wrap like meat, meeting the mouth of the children who speak? Sipped tipped taken with pain, flames erect the waters sending stunners to trains, panicked in pain dying my mane, activist drink it too slaughtered in vain. How come the dentistry feels the need to do it too, with teeth so white, is that really true?

Them bones are dry but why?

Is it from the drug war, that creates such a grand employment for; getting kids addicted to, shooting up until another high they ensue? Heroine, chemically addictive, substance dependent; moving past the mind too timid; eyes swirling back so vivid; depleting lipids, skinny tidbit creating another midget that can’t do without it. Though, when the drug war is extradited hands seized try and fight it, gathering connects that connect and rewrite it; as scrummy politicians sign it, calling it tuition?

Them bones them bones them dry bones, Them bones them bones them dry bones, Them bones them bones them dry bones . . . But wait, what makes them dry?

995

I am kept surreptitious I am, only in the secret of man; I know their plan. I have to foil again and these deranged forces I have to withstand. I know who they are, but I do not know about she; these cynical dreams that I have, are some sort of mystery. I try to be as ordinary at times, but other times I am as a mime. I am ripe and rip-it-be-it-may, I only complain about the previous day. That is antiquity something from my past, and as I am… . I shall have the last laugh. I cough abruptly from too hard of a sneeze and as patterns assemble the wind, abstractly from me, spits the breeze. I rest aside of my pain as my potent abilities grow, and even after the serendipity tone of laughter, everything vile seems to slow. I am team-less as I search only to never find, but the ontos of thought, channels through my mind. Sometimes here and there, here and there I search and want to find, still in the same token it does not come, but it sedates my mind. I am a free thinker, I am a free stinker, but to stink I’ll never do. I conclude myself, only by starting with you. I moved my state of being, until I see, then in time it’s a state of seeing, so there is where I’ll see. Across the skies under the way, I am everywhere but here is where I lay. Continuously I continue to be, but after the act of being fades, then I’ll truly see.

The other day, I was moved from housing section A, to housing section C. And in C everyone inside was harkening me. They always seem to ask, can I make a way? And to them, yes is what I would say. I agree to disagree but then I agree again, and my pagan friends, now believe in him… I walk in the direction of the Light, and I love in the direction of the Sun, since the moon isn’t a part of the one. That is a trivial thought with unspoken force, and the time after time stills, then do I have remorse. It is in my course that I’ll set my subjects free, but while writing in this Journal do I truly see. I have somewhat of a memory advantage, which lavishes within my soul, as in time it molds like a dweller in a hole. I move without haste and talk in the same manner, constructing carefully, I act as its planner. I carefully tell these events and I try to do so in order, but the order given, is played from my recorder. I pick with the people who play with my mind, but their pragmatic senses are left hard to unwind. Everyone knows it, everyone can see it too, but I hate, I repeat, hate, the things these Doctors do. We truly are enslaved and given drugs, it’s like with our lives, they are the holders of the plugs.

There were a hundred sloths but I could only count ten, inside of this ward that is what we call them. But in particular there is this one, the devils one, with a golden engraved energy gun. Now just for fun I might have him caught, put on trial, detained, and stopped. But that would flock floods from the police and with that attention, me, I would never be released. Plus there is too much at stake, but then again it always usually is, and the decree of men, power will fall from them. I try not to think about certain subjects like that, but when I do the nightmares of certain events keep creeping back. On a certain day within my memory bank, gives shivers to my spine, I lost a child… well I believe she was mine. I lost the love and as it went, a new persona, to me, was sent. The night that I remember brings so much pain, in my memory it shall always remain.

I see her bleeding, and crying over a crib, and then it flashes to outside and a grave I had to dig. I dug it deep, I dug it in and whatever was in my hands I placed it in. I always tell this lady, it is better now, but what and or who, I can never remember how. I end up in the strangest places and encounter the most hideous faces; the narcissistic Oasis cases usually make this the strangest. I even met a rapist who would only rape fish, but then again, after burying that thing, I would dream of this. I would just tell myself my mind is trying to get me to cry, because subconsciously I dream of these things without ever knowing why. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if they were mine, because my mind flays before answers I find. I see myself in a repetitive state, and the animalistic nature keeps erupting to awake. I come to grasps with only what I see, but would that mean these memories were implanted into me . . .?

I think it is due to the terror that every day we face, a different way to make our hearts race. We come in this place with mild diseases, but as the season’s change for different reasons, the matter at hand sets in like legions. It’s like whatever they do to us makes it worse and worse, to the point where you’re bleeding and crying like the Earth. It’s a shame that I have seen so many good people die, and their families holler, but not even cry. And I’m sitting there ease dropping thinking to myself, you’re not even gonna ask why… ? What the fuck, your loved one died and you were spoon fed a lie. We live, love and then we die, we live and we live,