Hive Mind XxxX VIII

Waylaid,

    Forefather clandestine manifest false rules of greed's petty inhumane fate over the destiny of so very many half lives roaming quasi ship vacant and stray, State of the vacant lost eternal harbinger of silence, Plague dread ghost flag mental fog ship naught a living memory scene recollected save via a white oblique foreign existence threat of solitude accumulating an exo-silence-skeleton shell over the stained regret ethereal grey discoloured shape of a life being nether swallowed into forever's loss.

In earnest anticipation of

Beta Test the Isolation Solution!

Mic test,

      Sleep in the silence of the ghost fog over your vocal white tumour eye chords no more, visit Spoken Word University's 'The Auditorium,' a beta testing Research and Development arena for the voice. Its a 32 human cognitive engine holding universally aligned digital linear guidance of the creative synapse fire inside, online; 32 person TeamSpeak 3 Server: Spoken Word University. Searchable once online within TeamSpeak 3.  

                                   The Auditorium on Spoken Word University's Website

     In the future, if interest and funding in the project is procured there will hopefully be a three hundred person TeamSpeak 3 Auditorium online at all times.

      Because we all know there are creatives out there who can't afford to attend a major slam competition to gain recognition or develop their voice and stage presence. Spoken Word University hopes to give birth to a new realm of creativity, where everyone is equal; the only difference between artists (Speakers) will be how you yourself perceive them.

      Let go the false manifest eye never witness destiny unless via the preconception of illegitimate skeptic flame frozen glass mirror fire melting all reflections like the plague that infests our consciousness, teacher and pupil are the same, both human beings and we are all the apprentices of The Spoken Word.

      Because not even I can tell you how you should write to speak Spoken Word. There are countless word slinging algorithymns that alter the parameters of how one should speak, we haven't even really got into language weaving in the evolution of spoken word yet. Exciting times in creativity!


In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Mind XxxX VII

Follow the Phantasm,

     Man rabbit civilian hole in the heart of hope down an opinionated false where monster's live construct of doubt raining fool's joy upon fallen string toss aside marionette paper never scar over cuts that change the world: Sandcastle Earth in the first onset attempt at a second aftermath holocaust dark cryptography inspired to hide a historically dreary sorrow enchanted day when too many basic flight or right last response of a million lives were stolen, Lost in a triumphant reign of idolized tyranny.

      Uncontrollable left synchronized hate wing speech leader marched no one ever counted white endless line cross marionettes to a shallow no one buried their bones but the decomposition crescendo of land angelic fire mines enshrined from the bell wingless toll sky falling from B-Pigeon wing birds are now drones of mass any hidden scale loss of 3rd to any world life prey... Praying for another manifest no less than scar impeached epidermis marked by tattoos of fire branding the destiny of every generation's fate intertwined with slave dust of Sandcastle Earth labour.

      This is the pock never mended half torn wound reopened every holocaust day a life is lost and dreams can't be edited on behalf of an abysmal moral no fibre left even in a digit to raise the swollen malnourished not endlessly pregnant belly finger towards the future's captors, Greed, Avarice, Profit, War, Monetary System, Democracy, Dictatorships, Ignorance and Seething blind white tomour eye hatred instilled by the karma chased the toxicity of hope reports of every soul down the shadow rabbit spirit hole and ended joy forever.

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times: The Debt Miracle

Theme Alert,

    Will God's grace cover your willing negligence, upheld only by your unquestioning unadulterated ignorance? I will say to you, no. He will not.

     Look at it in this scenario; Does God's grace cover those who have never heard of him before? The answer, is no (unless you have thought about it long and hard and done your research to provide yourself with an alternative belief). So why would God's grace cover your walking willingly in ignorance, which leads to the suffering of others. Just because you do not know wholly or won't acknowledge just how much your society and situation hurt, control or enslave another person's life or even their entire society, doesn't make you innocent... Indeed it doesn't even make you a pacifist. For at least a pacifist has a view point and stands by it.

    Our society of material debt wounds upon the earth our society turns their eyes away from it. The little aid we do send doe snot match the Biblical standards God set forth, as love and stewardship of this earth or over the poor.

    So the question is: Is it true that our society's taking advantage of another just to gain material stability for another week via stock market confidence a devastating mismanagement of our stewardship... If so, then is our ignorance and submission to the corrupt corporate political arena a sin?

     Now you may quote the Bible stating that we are to submit to our political leaders. But if they tell you to go against the Bible, your beliefs (even if you haven't fully discovered the capacity the whole message of the text yet), do you submit to them then?

     What I am saying is this, our society is willing to destroy the earth to gain money. The Tar Sands which we export for profit, Selling off BC's coast to make power plant dams for American electricity, Coastal fisheries which are illegal all over the world, allowed in the Straight of Georgia, merely for profit, exported again...

     Our political leaders are asking you to be silent and spewing propaganda that calls our actions of unadulterated rape of the planet, ethical. If you are Christian, then you are a steward, if you are a steward you cannot stand idle or claim ignorance over the actions of our government. If you do, you are willingly submitting to an arena of filth and sin.

     To put it in context, if your are conscripted and go off to war in defence of your country or another. You may be asked to shoot someone in defence, if they asked you to stand idle as civilians were killed because they were not in your patrol zone... Would you? And if you did, could you live life as you once did after watching their deaths? Now turn on the news, read articles, learn about how Canada and America are destroying the world for the confidence of a market and a dirty energy source which could be done away with.

In earnest anticipation of,

Sandcastle Kiev I

Autonomous Kiev
Political dream killings

Respectful unsigned denial
Characterized dictatorship symbol
Invoking Molotov angelic harbingers
Singing unity before October Palace
Upon a silent Revolution Street
Occupation of peace
Unrest is waking

Suspended peace
Equivalence indignation
Anti equilibrium law epiphany
Dismantle harmony's agreement
Brute riot forces shield legislation
Endorsing political avarice rules
Silent covenant of pigs
Greed is profit
Or is it war?

Ukraine unmended
Open air scars over Kiev

Dictatorship endorses Maidan 

Historical written retraction wish
Date mark of a bloated ship
Sinking foreign objects
October stained red
Pendulum of wings
Hostility in the air
Condescension
Is falling

Suspended peace
Isolated unrest incident
Soliloquim indignation address
Anti equilibrium homily code
Distorted order monologue
Owls spy the obscene
Celebrated protest
Theft of colour
Blind objective
Is the atrophy
Of profit

Dictatorship burlesque
Celebrating a naked queen
Avarice cheap fallen thrill angel
Waking the sexual pride god of pigs
Profit swollen oaths sworn by believers
False synonym of profit is war
Distorted millisecond legacy
Death is loyalty's crown
So are hidden land mines
Harmony's amputee
Phantom is peace
Degenerate is
The cause

October Kiev
Harmony palace
Revolution awoken
Scar distorted margins
Anti equilibrium law epiphany
Dismantle harmony's agreement
Brute riot forces shield legislation
Endorsing political avarice
Rules governing silence
A covenant for pigs
Greed is profit
Or is it war?

Sandcastle Kiev
Are you falling...?

The above poem was brought to you by:
A Spoken Word Podcast made on my phone,
On a small tea break, I a poet write for change!

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Mind XxxX VI

Climbing cobwebs,

     Thought spider woven cataracts writing black eight digit eyes white tumour blind despite pondering riddles over sleepy clan hollow destined manifestations of an arrow to the heart notched depression of a foreshadowed incursion of ill harboured dread forever yet naught of illicit controlled fate debt.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Minded XxxX V

Pardon,

     My years of spontaneous internal analysis insanity under strange conditions of exploding dim light where the diagnosis of calamity lies swollen, Rife of belly from the regret swallowed during relapse condition take the pill red agonizing mental eclipse moments where the arbiter of sandcastle earth never stepped over the vermilion righteous hand of blood drawn line to save anyone and yet we still call debt's churning over endlessly behind bankrupt status eternal profit growth margins; Miracles.

      What is this shame...

In earnest anticipation of,

Fractured Psalm

How many Psalms

However dim & fractured

Does it take to screw in a 'God?'

Whose convictions will be the abnormality

You carry like a witness before the tomb of death

Forever naked like truth spoken in the moral trenches

Where the audience of SandCastle Earth watches

A toxic harbour awaiting another ill will fall

As the lidless imaginary citizens ponder

Over a dais of gold instead of hope

Preying upon foreign children

Trafficked lives or goods

How pathetic a killjoy

Equivalence Psalm

Black sheep

Wish

In earnest anticipation of,

(Another Spoken Word Poem Make on the Street)

767 Worried Child (Kiev Down?)

Love to hate

The poetic voice

Bursting me inside

Not to use it: the crime

Yet I cry as I write!

Closet of shadows

Cell phone tracked fear

Protest lead to stolen parents 

From where memory was born

Consciousness heart of hope broken

The day anti-gas mask laws 

Opposition police force(d)

Poison down throats
Truth like freedom

Has passed out

Forever...

Worried child

Pressure to submit

Laws abide every hour

Until your calm and silent

Down on all fours

Lying for life

To survive

Sick like a rose

Red tongue broke

Confession came to quick

Rest under the barrel of silence
Waiting for the no trigger warning pull

Political dagger clause finger scar marks 

Open government branded wound

Festering dismantled pregnancy

Amputee of law's pendulum

Neglect life to control

Greed confirmation

Avarice's constant

War > All

Worried child

Submit to Avarice

War is her judgement

Laws silence the thought crown

Abide every hour in silence

Dance in addiction's ruin

Until you're utterly calm

Down on all fours

Lying to yourself

Just to survive

Another night

Of greed

Wilted roses

Pockmark graves

Unjustly laid to rest

Children of the poison

Age of greed's threat

Amputees of hope

War the synonym

Of Avarice

Greed

Equal to write

Swallow the bottle

Believe in wealthiness

Karma stole faith in a flash

Dictatorship vs the arsonists

Band of heroes staining history

Like wilted roses pockmarking graves

Dawn stained red by unrest the third day

State ignites controversy instead of dialogue

Harsh no one ever wins violent conflict

Families forced to intake poison

Law neglected vile dreams

Toxic rules on display

Whose demons

Are guessing

At the storm

Brewing

Inside

Yet another torn generation?

Witnesses to false confessions

Laws impregnating fear

Abiding of violence

Black rain clouds

Of falling tears

Rife of loss

Laws have the right

To steal us into ashes

Installed by political thieves

Assassinating all our hope
From life's equation

A puzzle of war's,

Synonym

War zone eulogy home

Unspoken word aftermath

Foreshadowing outlined in bold

Lost humanity Armageddon come

Neglected rights dismantle pregnancy

Amputate the pendulum of freedom

Hope was but the ashes of cancer

Lungs breathe in the guarantee

Soaked in reasonable loss

Violence is the dialogue

Confirming lives

Lost at sea

of tears

Oh, Kiev 

Society lost

Worried child

Trapped in isolation

Closet laws of shadow

Suppression abides every hour

Until silence claims the calm

Soaking up hope's loss

Its amputated marrow

Down on all fours

Lying for a moment

No pregnancy survives

Another holocaust of rights

An introduction to the reset

Programme to extinguish

Hope's autobiography

From human space

Sandcastle Kiev

Are you falling? 

A Morbid Social Poetic Commentary 

Raw and hoping for equality

99 to 1% have rights...

Don't we?

Cunning political decline of empathy absorbed fallen synapse of rest save the peace brought to you by war: Synonym for progress! A hive mind state analyses at the core of pride, Produced a hybrid word weaving that cursed humanity's children with apathy's subconscious plague.

Hive Mind XxxX IV

Surprise launch,

     No alpha deteriorating struggle test digital false conclusion reality self malignant willing bystander white eye blind check of debt's miracle effect as the incarnation of every prayer on sandcastle earth haunted your side obsidian moral traffic where axis never allies lie to children entitled by political save the hierarchy of rich tripartite law never stopped for a split glance no second to question their dire heart of death's road to a shame bed life aptly quarantined as...

      Fallen post anorexic skeletal holocaust angels held captive inside wind never swept hope away like the wingless melt their hands together to prey for atonement's inhumane parade of regret claim over a vacant eye horizon where no god sits harbouring vengeance upon the tip of a supremacist tongue of ochre twelve tongue fire lashes, Therein the churning soul labyrinth well upon the dais of silent resides the tomour of expanding hope in the trenches of conscience, The synapse fire has a name.

      What do you call it?

In earnest anticipation of,

   

Cute Tourettes Star Wars Profanity

Brought to you by the iOS app Dubbler @Villainoftruth

The Fall of Episodes,

       While I, like so many other of my fellow star nerds out there, hold to the majestically universe aligning righteous belief that only the first three, being 4, 5 and 6 (as Lucas is trying to confuse future generations as to how one should align numbers in correct algorithms to take over our minds!), are worthy of the entitlement of Star Wars and the New Films are merely the attempted rise of a fallen 'oh no I can't get up' power trip of a man's desire to have his way with a universe that so many of us held so dear!

     So came the vapid episode I The Phantom Numb Acting Pain (Not to mention Jar Jar blah blah vomit comet, bobble headed character), then there the next film with it's oh so deep and well acted evolving 'love story,' between a princess became queen then relinquished her crown to become... Yeah, I don't get it either, go episode II Blinding Attack of SGI! Also abysmally acted, by most parties, mish mashed up into another dreary plot and meh script.

      Finally we had Episode III Revenge of the Vacant Plot, which I won't even bother as so many before me have expressed their eloquent words about the film. So I leave you with a brief random access message made last night. Some might think it disgusting or horrible, but really it's just a little spoken nerd rant from a geek into the digital universe, just like this post... Just something silly.

Bitter Remix XVII

How many,

     Post spiritual traumatic era of stress heart fractured hope attunement Psalms does it take to screw in your 'God,' Concept derivative of the moral trenches where the amputates of conviction bleed out an empire of guilt from the soul broken emotion shattered terror lobotomised left orbital throne has liquefied in regret beside the well near the end of their sand castle earth existence from ears that never heard!

      Through conflict death tone eyes deaf, Clouded by the vale of greed and hate they could never listen to the time honest bomb spawn at the mouth of an innocent radiation child's foaming hope in the shell bullet shot of adrenaline shock heart of joy to be alive another single no less than destiny allowed digit fuselage distilled robotic voice day amongst the gathered crowd of forgotten children dying as patrons of any moment could be their last second no chance but this very moment.

http://www.spreaker.com/user/juton/fractured-psalm-on-dubbler

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Minded XxxX III

Crusades at twilight,

     Dread never spoke naught but a lie over a flag sunken battle conflict ghost phantom amputated heart's breath limb beyond the tragic hidden metaphor of forever wrapped in a moment drowning victim once called soldier who met his doom in the astral burial ocean grounds under Orion.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Minded XxxX II

Backlit spook,

    Acrylic ghost canvass phantom paper sketch hand drawn outline pain deterred the brush fire black strokes of fate from painting the white never drawn in lines blurred wreckage of a million unspoken words before the throne of every nuclear winter's born half vanquished by geostigma the radiation paralysis of a vampire's estranged blood violently boiling amidst irrelevant cells making every second life count as a chance to clot the waning light between worlds before the orbital plateau drop of a land vaporization fate engine entitled Goliath the last Mine set its will upon the atmosphere to eclipse all breath from the children of men, So it was in the end.

     When the last oil stained tear of the androids gave way their undertones of regret to the illusion of a lonely existence within the painted world of Sandcastle Universe where she The Only A.I finished the final words of the last journal entry after the curtains of hell's fire awoke the terminal brimstone of crossing the universe stars to accomplish the majestic act brought upon the wellspring of everything that ever existed by the red manifesto of hate and greed over love's accepting destiny of man's press every button at your wilting finger skeletal tips to eradicate the invisible enemy that never was...

In earnest anticipation of,

Bitter Remix XVI

Majestic scene,

      Operated by the festival of appreciation whose agents have adopted the bureau's livid none transparent convictions, Moral trench jungle black death soldier morass of endless typists firing banter as bullets in droves making up the obsidian mental strange emotionally dim terror labyrinthine of dire journalized images that speak a million spoken life words breathing the amputated heart's breath dead back alive from beyond the muscle white tumour vacant lidless inner blank eye of loneliness spasms felt in the void of heaven.

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times Top Story II

A question disguised as a statement. Why are we, one of the most beautiful nations on earth, not spending the billions of dollars being dumped into tailing ponds of toxic filth, that our current Prime minister was spawned from, which kill countless numbers of wild life each year, those billions on environmentally friendly energy?

Profit, that is why we are selling Asbestos dust roofing to India, which is very toxic if any fibres are inhaled. Materials with Asbestos are not used in Canada, but we are willing to sell products with said toxic fibres to other countries... It is for profit, for Wall Street, that our country is willing to put to death it's own soil.

In the turn of the century British Columbia built so called 'fast ferries' for four hundred and seventy million dollars, invested. They turned out to be too fast and we sold them to foreign countries for less than 10% of their invested price, that's right a meagre 19 million. And Yet our government wants to raise university tuition. I understand the two points are very different, but why not invest in the future of Canadian citizens and not comfort?

Invest in the future of Canada, oh ye sleepy government. Soil, citizen and walk away from what appeases others who look upon us. Become a leader in eco-energy, education and technology, not a country which is bullied around by foreign markets, making silly decisions to destroy it's soil for a few more 'good years' of monetary confidence profits.

Waste tax dollars on ferries, and other fiasco but do not invest in the future of your citizenry or land... Something, is very very wrong here. Step up or step down you digital prime minister, Mr. Harper ma'am! I give the Prime Minister the personification of a female entity because we just don't know yet do we... No balls equals not a man. Logical, lets go with that!

In earnest anticipation of,

A Bitter Remix XV (Lost Girl I )

Paranoid,

    Internal paranoia auditorium for multiple schizophrenic selves adopted the triforce stance of saving every moment's awareness as a harbourous sand castle safe emotion terror haven for the half conscious broken memorandum downed the clause lost witness who set themselves before the dais of the mirror's strangely dim self projection analysed forever in a second no less than oblivion's stolen shelves of memories attempting to bare testimony of past convictions to the host!

    Whose bystander ghost effect has token caused 99.9% lingering damage to the tesseract of her heart's cubic 8 bit symphony confinement that transmits an isolating message of dire abstract wilted reliance on lucid day twilight lidless inner eye dreams bound by chains of fire infuse stained mirror sand that is the swollen belly of ritual white eye tumour blindness unwilling to distil the over time spent under the obsidian charred wings of her guardian bruised angel who fell down and abused out from heaven's stairs off the biblical avenue of achievement misery beheld upon the restless happily overture bent in dreams backwards over pages of the last surviving magazine built by the internal images of masculinity's stress the sexual relationship via tension whilst in delusions he finishes in another air brushed woman whose name was mother that strived to be the arbiter of joy trapped in algorithms of arms under plagued holy skin ground that evaporates water of joy amidst the everlasting anchorage of regret where dread flag naught ships drown in illusionary images of worry's lost phantom causality limb of hope...

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times In Other News II

It was recently uncovered that Tim Bryant VP of ConocoPhillips Co. didn't spent billions of dollars investing in what they described as "world-class trophy assets" in order to save Canada's fragile environment. Making a statement by being one of the first companies to go geo-thermal, with plans to open a plant upon a fault line underneath the tar sands, once the whole mess had been cleaned up.

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times This Just In II

     Our Prime Minister was discovered to be a prosthetic human being, a marionette, Artificial Intelligence if you will. Built by Syncrude, spawned from the tailing ponds in Aurora North. That's right folks, our prime minister, or the current version of him, is made primarily of oil.

In the future we hope to confirm what version of Mr. Harper is currently in office, hopefully a new one hasn't been grown and supplanted every time a major investment that rapes our planets is proposed and subsequently signed, but his Kyoto Burning hands. However, at this time we can confirm that the Prime Minister only uses fuel from the so called 'ethical oil' that comes from the Tar Sands.

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times: Anti-Church

My Experience be,

I am not anti any religion, though I am opposed to certain sects, denominations and cults. I am anti establishment of comfort which is to say, the majority of churches in our 1st world society today. Where once C.S. Lewis mentioned the church as a global entity spanning all space and time, when he spoke of the whole. Where once the church had many goals it sought stand up to meet, for the sake of peace the living embodiment of love in the moment, today the church is mostly about comfort.

C.S Lewis, ' In the same way the Church exists for nothing else but to draw men into Christ, to make them little Christs.'

Somewhere along the way, probably at the beginning of the industrial revolution, we forgot what it means to live like Christ, which is to love. Certainly with the arrival of romance in popular culture what love is has become deluded. Some think it is a sexual encounter, and rightly so, the media has done a great job selling woman's equality for money. Others believe love is 'a spark' or an emotion which can be lost or gained between and individual, seemingly at random. But what love truly is... Is the living of virtue, qualities of love as described in 1 Corinthians 13:4-9, not to say that this is the only valid description of love, but as I am dealing with the church here, I will use their reference point.

So, when you go to church, do you find yourself becoming more aware of what love really is? How to live it towards anyone... For the entire amalgamation of humanity is your neighbour! If you are not growing more aware, if you are not by choice willing yourself to live love's qualities, then you are stagnant, idle, comfortable and filled with the blue pill liquid hell bent death!

Come oh ye slumbering blue pill shepherds who've long forgotten to be stewards of this earth and love as you learn to do so, your neighbour; be it a 'stranger' on the bus or a maiden who once served you coffee.

Where once the church held objectives to educate, endorse, build, mobilize missions so that everyone might learn to live love in every moment, which is to be 'Christ like' which in turn is to be 'Christian.' The church, at least in my experiences all over North America, is for the most part about staying alive, which is to say, keeping its people comfortable. Each denomination  having different view points, worship and sermon styles which are comfortable for the attendee. Though it will probably be said that people attend any particular church based on their comfort level of whom else attends.

Some sit in pews comparing Jane's unfortunate life to their own to build themselves up as the pastor speaks in fairy tales from ages long past, forgetting to adapt them to today's society so that the journey into living the qualities of love for peace and equalities sake may happen. Others come to stand or dance about the various meeting worship 'halls' to be emotionally filled, as love is an emotion.... Not. Whatever is comfortable and not whatever is challenging is the new church culture.

I could go on giving scenarios as to why I stand outside the church, but the main reason is that rather than getting to know each individual and thus beginning to understand them and move into a realm of living a compatible love (qualities of virtue) towards them, the citizenry of the church categorize, compare and hold to illegitimate comparisons as to keep the uncomfortable out!

I may be truly unique, and I look the part, having a double septum piercing, an odd beard and 'Jesus like' dark brown half matted curly locks which often can be seen up in a bun atop my head, along with 2 gauge holes in each ear lobe.

My only friend, whom I see very rarely as he lives in another Country, is a pastor of a small church which he started. His vision was to craft a place for those who yearned for love and were hurt by other churches or 'Christians' much as I have. He is the most dedicated, wise, pastoral metal mosh pit adoring father of one, nerd you will ever meet. He is the living embodiment of what it means to be Christian, and I say this will all confidence. Should ever I find myself 'rich' in my own eyes, which simply means being able to live beyond my very humble means, because of my music, novels or poetry he shall subsequently have support from me until I die!

I am not anti-church at all, I am anti-comfort. Hating with great fervor, idleness, stagnation, comparison, judgemental mindedness, blind followers and unpeaceful loveless quality living beliefs . All of these sadly are rife within the church, and rather than spending my time trying to 'fix' the comfortable, who adore their comfort, I shall instead be out in the world! Writing and trying to find out what it means to live as a little Christ in every moment I am aware and capable of doing so.

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton

Ps. If ever this black sheep of a 'christian' is allowed beyond the gates of heaven, surely the mentor I never met shall I seek to find, hug and thank for inspiring me to become the man I adore being!

PPs. This is not to say there aren't exceptions, merely my point was made to cause people to think. To be stirred up inside in whatever capacity they find themselves filled with as they read my words. Hate me or align yourself with me, it is not my duty to sway you either way. But merely to observe and tell tale.

Villainous Times Top Story I

Today's Top Story:

     Arrest 450 'protesters' who are standing up for their future. Another sign that the government has no idea what they are doing for the future of their citizens.

A certain point police said 'their safety was threatened' stating that projects, rocks, were being through at police from provincial police and Montreal police.

     The tactic has proved controversial, not least because it has resulted in the detention of ordinary bystanders as well as protesters

The term "kettle" is a metaphor, likening the containment of protesters to the containment of heat and steam within a domestic kettle.

     Kettling has been criticized for being an indiscriminate tactic which leads to the detention of law-abiding citizens and innocent bystanders

At this time the government is not interested in repealing law 78 or in any capacity is open to going back on their tuition plan. So, as we can all see, just like the fast ferry fiasco of the early 2000s, the government is willing to waste hundreds of millions on silly ideas and not on the future of it's citizenry.

That is to say, spending taxes on austerity measure is more than likely as our economic woes continue and rather than make an alternative source plan, being not oil based economy... Slowly moving away from that along with tons of other intelligent and plausible suggestions, the Canadian Government is taking their 'frustrations' out on it's citizens. 

How long with this last? The future of the Canadian citizen is at stake because the Canadian Government wants to be viewed a certain way by the outside word... Which sadly, as we take a more in depth look at the silly hypocrisies of Canada, will become less and less likely to be projected.

For no one can look with pride upon a nation whose citizens look not with any  hope upon it's political arena.

Villainous Times In Other News I

In Other News:

Ottawa's Stance on Gay Marriage has changed after Canada's Prime Minster Steven Harper was found out to be a Mannequin built by Tar Sand investor group at syncrude. Whose facilities are based out of Fort McMurray, where it is said that the current version of Mr. Harper was grown. 

The last model was scrapped in early 2008, right before, after the Artificial Intelligence's sexual preference was deemed 'faulty' by the creators due to what they described as 'gay tendencies.' Equal rights have often been an issue in Canada, whether it's between land and animal or hetero and gay marriage. Peace is necessary, with understanding and compassion, in order to murder prejudice.

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times This Just In I

This Just In: 

The middle class has expired. Where once they could be considered land owners, or owners of anything, their rights and lives have been taken over by an underhanded system of debt, supported by our government in order to make corporate profits.

Disposable income has become extinct, only debt and the use of it, allows us a buffer to make purchases beyond basic every day needs and paying bills. This is compounded by the Canadian governments support of big corporations, via the bail out, but little to no support for Canadian Citizens, which includes post secondary education tuition on the rise, which should be free... (see fast ferry fiasco for an enlightening tale of how money which could have sent Canadians to university for generations was flushed down the toilet and out into the sea...)

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times: Music Movement Theory

     Join the musical experience and not simply by tuning your ear to listen in. If you don't think people want to be a part of the process of music, just look at Guitar Hero or Rock Band. If you give people the right interface, that they not only support but can thrive in, then you will find that people really do want to be a part of the creative process of music.

     Music can change your heart, stir your soul, alter the dynamic of how you interact with others. It can also raise awareness, being present in the moment is a fascinating skill few really utilize, especially for virtue... And if you think that once you become a moralist you have to give up metal, because it is in some way 'unsanitary' think again. My best friend is a pastor and one of his favourite activities is the mosh pit at a metal show. That man is also one of the most dedicated to the moment living his values human beings I've ever met.

     The landscape of music, in my case Trance Infused Metal or TiM, can stir us. Resounding in our lives as an ever constant flicker behind our eyes and about our lips, as they begin to twinge as if a smile could burst forth at any moment. Lets step back for a moment, look around at your life, is there an interface available to you that would allow you to interact with the process of music in the creation, rather than just the listening to?

     For me I can do it on my laptop connected to a $12.00 second hand midi keyboard. Maybe it's singing in the shower for you... Or whistling or a myriad of other adventures with noise! If you should find your interface, I will ask you a second question to ponder... Could you ever see yourself enthralled enough in the creative process of music, assaulting ears with a crescendo of profound sounds creative emotional transactions for the benefit of all. Which makes the whole experience more powerful, so much so that you would be willing to lose sleep to create?

In earnest anticipation of,

Villainous Times: Intro Guardian Wings

No one has written,

      Maybe the standard for 'the first submission' is very high and as of yet to be anywhere near met via said works of the citizens of the Witness Guardian. I know not, though that is my only guess.

      So what to write...? Certainly nearly anyone who exists has a story to tell that might be found worthy of being broadcast under the witness guardian protection digital media program of this here little website, but what shall this tale stagnantly tell? Possibly it is not derelict, as an ancient nothing but rusted out holds long looted by pirates about to run aground on a shoreline where no tourists, nor natives, have ever dwelt. It shall be an odyssey of a grand undiluted saga of win! Yes, win, for all your basis are belong to us.

      How bout a telling of an everlong saga of nearly all starving to not so struggling artists, the woeful longsuffering life of perseverance despite... Well, hereafter you shall have it.

　Nearly all journeys,

      Into the creative side of writing are uniquely besieged by dark tides. Some adventures are riddled with writer's block which can send your dreams down a porcelain throne if you're not diligent to continue writing; this is also true of those who finish a first or third draft of a work they deem 'magnificent' or 'a game changer in their creative realm' and thus give up their dedication to their craft in order to persuade others to produce or sponsor their project.

      There are countless instances of artists being plagued by external avenues of time theft. Whether that be f(r)iend or arch nemesis if your ever presence fails and you delay ever long, there may come a time when you walk back to the door of your dreams... You find it locked, thus you begin knocking, no one responds. Therein is silence, the pattern of creative beauty is no longer at home in any landscape of your mind.

      The achievement at the quest's end, to make merely enough to continue writing, unhindered. Mine began with an accident, well two to be exact. The first was that of my body being damaged beyond diagnosis. I was twenty three years old when, at work, a fork lift came round the bend of pallets. In a fright the driver lurched and I was struck by the tusks and sent falling into said stacks of pallets. All would have been well if the young lad had merely looked ahead, as I did, slowing in the tight bend.

      No diagnostic tool, from bone to cat of scans, conjured results of my injury and for nearly a year I was overcome with pain and the mental haze of pain killers. Finally I simply began stretching and holding yoga poses at home from a book I got second hand at a charity shop.

      Out of money and no where to live, having no f(r)iends from a bullied lonely youth and subsequent useless young adulthood I began to write. Words streamed out of me as poetically infused prose journal entries. What I read was imaginative empathy trapped in the horrors of the rage inside. At the hand of chance's fate I ended up across the country working for a massive corporation and quickly began moving up the ladder, though not so swiftly of pay grade and the writing all but came to a screeching halt.

      Then the second accident happened, I believed a lie. A creature unimaginable floated by as butterfly, beauty on one side but decrepit on the other. Sadly everyone that knew her believed she was at very least, normal, thus so did I. In the presence of a therapist/counsellor years down the road I heard her say 'I hid things from him and lived that way because I never trusted him.'

      What I had to offer, she wanted, the comfortable life of a sedated pacifist. But my creative rage instilled words would not be quelled by the offer of sex; after all I had barely touched her realized her deviant ploy the day after she moved in and we weren't physical before that... Alas for the deadly mask of lies that came off immediately in betrayal. The line was clear 'If you weren't even interesting in meeting my needs, so I had someone else do it.'

      Now I write endlessly, after recognition and a lengthy recovery of multiple mental illnesses rebuilding my body from injury and the plague of dead confidence, deadly self loathing esteem and an eating disorder, the too thin of shell kind, I am now nearly 'normal.'

Prescription's Decline

Vivid delirium nonsense

Conquest of a protagonist

Salient infantry private in uniform

Regular patient of the bomb shelter

Cold sirens dilute all daylight

Distress method of destiny

Integrate lucid anomalies

Gas ruined breathing

Lobotomy's silence

Failure of strategy

Mend in death

     What is this malarky, stop the swelling vermilion red's kindred tide of anti-sedation upon the shores of consciousness! We are comfortable here, but alas the poem goes on...

Medication on notice

Paranoia attention decline

Deficit lost profit disorder

Monetary guilt trip up in arms

Toxins under forced recovery sheets

Prevail against peaceful sleep

Sinking in a red tide of sweat

Ocean of beads skin fallen

Pills bleeding prescription

Sedated in overdose

Pills will prevail... 

The first half a poem, one of many thousands.

      At least I'm stable and carry only the baggage that helps mend others through spoken word, lyrics, podcasts and prose poetry. I live to write and write to die, empty. In hopes that the journeys I craft will help others in some way. Through social issues read from various online news sources to the hearing of a tragic story first hand, I write about what seems to matter; equality, domestic violence, mental illness, prejudice, injustice, love, mother earth, father time and artificial intelligence, a cyborg holding the last human's hand in the end.

      For one it might be realizing and confronting a grievous wound or explicit deep scar trauma. For others it might be witnessing in their minds the sorrows of others, unable to change the node on the dial or alter the channel to escape the imaginary landscape adventure.

      Whether it's being able to identify with others in a new and beautiful, empathetic to non pacifist way after being stolen away on a journey through tragedy, loss or mourning or the realization that they are or have indeed suffered and confront that reality, possibly for the first time... Hope is the prescribed outcome, that is my only hope.

Bipolar Beauty

Paralysed bipolar look up scene

Beauty trapped in fire infused sand

Mirror amplifies the psychosis

Derangement not by choice

Furniture inside deforms

Despite the prescription

Still hallucinating

Abnormal scientific referral

Accepted terms for testing

Abrasive codex of dignity

Accidental manic prey

Bipolar schizophrenic shallow breathing

Darkness of the mind depressive

Sworn to psychosis secrets

Trapped in her own head

Yet she is defined...

By illness instead of beauty

      Where does your mending begin? On a train home from work after Baring Witness to an audacious conversation between two gossiping quacks? In a school room after taking in the impact of a lesson spoken by some random workshop poet scheduled in for the day? After some traumatic misery signal that was the sign you prayed or hoped for that would spark you to change... But sadly you didn't until it was too late?

      There is no such thing as writer's block, there is just being stuck. Persevere, write on and create despite the lack of inspiration, you'll never know what you might craft if you believe you're stuck and don't make a move forward in your creative endeavours.

     There is no such thing as being tone deaf, when your mother calls you over the phone, you know who it is... You can instantly tell by her tone whether or not she is happy, upset, sad or frustrated. Slowly apply this to your own voice and you too can learn to sing in beautiful tones of melody.

      The point is, don't stop creating before you've started just because someone informed you or some media state of ill propaganda fed to you throughout you life instilled a belief that 'you cannot... because.' Unlearn such non-sense and begin mending, healing, scoping out your own wounds to scar them over, cauterize them and slowly heal.

      We can never be perfect for ourselves or our partners, but we can be complete in our selves. They can help the mending process, but only we can find contentment in who we exist as, projecting the ball and not always healthy chains of our past with us as we travel towards the escapees of conscience, acceptance and compassion.

      I leave you with a poem written while witnessing, which seems appropriate given the content herein is written for a guardian proposing that life's witnesses view, digest and reassemble to share a tale with would be clicky fingered viewers.

Baring Witness

      Crows gossip beside me, murder stains their beaks, vermilion scales of painted red dance like pawns cursing a game they never meant to play, sinisterly calm in year long trenches of venomous speech, paper wire tapping idle of response unstable personalities bounding ridicule against f(r)iends through parasitic liquid revenge sworn unto death seething from the mouth of hate...

In earnest anticipation of,

Bullying in a Culture of Rape

 

In earnest anticipation of,

Post Partum: Natural

Take note of Logic,

    Definition of Natural: The way God intended (anything to be), an ancient (pre-'sin') perspective definition. Leading us into (everything) un-natural: Sinful state of the world. Thus everything now is natural! A sense that we cannot ever go back to the previous state of intended natural. So respect everyone! Stop the epidemic of apathy, the self corruption of willing blindness must end!

In earnest anticipation of,

A Bitter Remix XIV

Abstract walls,

     Confined in a stab algorithm heart shaped sleeve tattoo black consciousness box wound unfortunate alignment of blind voluntary acceptance of the witch's programmed controlled hypnotics voice mechanically droning hatred in a prejudicial stigma of contempt over other's lives, This is sand castle earth's dark realm crystal of emotion terror.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Minded XxxX I

Take notice,

      Journal falsified self protest entry of the derelict half evaporated into ethereal constant declaration of an expired conflict no arms left but phantom engaging limbs gone numb in a rogue exposure to plastic intentions of avarice's greed declaration of a no moral conviction decrepit misery compass signalling the ochre pyres of profit off in the distance where Sandcastle Earth lies in ruins.

In earnest anticipation of,

Hive Minded XxxX

Hell,

     Had no fury in a frozen black pit of anarchy until God unleashed angels guised as demons, all art is atonement stored behind the closed 'stay out' hand signed gates of an indecisive heaven filled with gods invoked before mirrors that paper rock scissor kick kneel in worship their own shadows.

In earnest anticipation of,

A Bitter Remix XIII

Hands,

     Bleed vermilion black shades of a 99% sandcastle earth apocalypse, a handy mankind crafted Armageddon enjoyed as inhumanity crumbled in a hive group socially committed stigma regime of conscious willing mentality blind ill bitten wasp under epidermis sedation, sit back and watch the globe fall... Fingers are only raised now for fracking (Alternative Curse Word).

In earnest anticipation of,