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GaryFairy Mar 2022
Do you believe in the power of thought?

I am accepting clients for my thought casts.
I can cast negative or positive thoughts that will give you the results you want. I will cast 8 hours for $1000.

Of main importance is having the info on the person or business etc that you want me to cast toward.
The more info you have, the better the result. My methods are proven in ways that are undeniable.
I will not say that my spells ****, but there are some people who used to be living, that died in different ways.
One guy got ran over so many times that it took a week to identify him.

There are some people who had cancer and other diseases and health problems, that were healed. Cancer and sickness will come back, if the said person believes more in cancer than healing.
I would rather cast positive vibes, but with a good enough reason, I will do the opposite.
The reason that it is expensive is that I need certain nutrients and electrolytes in my body to make this energy work. It is very draining and dizzying.

My results on just myself are amazing. I was told I wouldn't live without taking my heart and blood pressure meds. I have lived 14 months since then, without those meds. I was told I had a hole in my heart, and I am sure that the hole is now healed. I do not go to doctors or believe in their type of healing.

I believe the truth, and the truth is that we have every drug inside us, that heals.

If you are interested, or want to know more, just message me.
This isn't as easy to do as you might think, so you might be better off to let me handle it, unless you have a lot of time and you are willing to meditate in the right ways. You also have to be willing to sweat and feel a lot of different things inside your body.
I have perfected this in many ways, but the main thing is for me to do that steady flow of powered thoughts. No drugs are used for this.
This is real.
I wouldn't even do this, but I need the money to better my life and move away from here.
I promise you will have total anonymity. Thanks
I can also train you on how to do this. It is hard work and some think it takes its toll on the caster also. I do not believe this. Of course it wears me out because casting uses electricity, and sends thoughts directly to target. Training is also $1000, and can be done I'm messaging, or video chat, or in person.
Jonathan Moya Sep 2020
1.

If there is wild moving water
there is a trout in it
waiting for the cast,

the whip of line in air
splashing a weigthless fly
on the mirror surface

luring the rainbow fish
to break the heavy air
for the angler’s fantasia.

                    2.

The Rogue is flowing
with trophy size cutthroats,
chars and steelheads,

yet the angler only feels
the stillness, the endless  casting,
the motionless standing in place

until time is forgotten,
his scheduled life forgotten,
what needs to be done next forgotten

only the emotion is left,
the heart of spirit ferrules,
the casting, the rod

with its wheel seats
made of rosewood,
inscribe calligraphy

in golden ink, shiny agate
guides in bamboo,
its garnet threads and

extra fine brass wire
in a five weight
ideal for trout fishing,

the anglers long boots
planted firmly in the stream,
getting lost in the ineffable moment

until the closing
orange hues of autumn
are reeled in and stowed away.
A M Ryder Oct 2019
Just as perfect
As the music is painful
They took their time
Piece by piece
Placing every star
Casting out the constellations bright
And you alike
To the furthest reaches
But never too far
These perfect points set
So you never forget who you are
Glenn Currier Mar 2019
This morning I woke up feeling lonely.
I don’t know why.
I have people around me who love me
and want to hold on to me
and I onto them.
I know…
feelings like this
and dreams
fly and soon evaporate into the cloudy sky.

But today some dark critter
a residue of the night
has hooked me
and won’t let go
it has reeled me in
so here I am using these lines
to cast my mind out into the choppy waters
to see if I can connect
with something swimming there
that’ll make sense of this tenuous mess
in which I wander and wallow.

I don’t seem to find my self
comfortable, wholly accepted and at home
with the people and places I roam
in this soaked and leaky vessel.
I know it’s stupid to be out here floating
when songs and words I’m often quoting
drift inside my head
planted there by many magnificent progenitors
who earnestly bred
a young man for whom they cared.

But loneliness does that.
It puts me where I know I shouldn’t be
by all grateful accounts.

I think to myself
I wish so and so was here to talk
but they’ve long gone and walked
from me
who has lived so long.

So here I am alone
casting out
or in
to find the answer, a home
or a place of some special grace…
while I sit here with these lines
in this lonely state.

Hello out there…?
Zero Nine Jul 2017
I don't even know what to say anymore
I've used the word word and words
too many times and I'm in
something of a rut
dominated by a state of nigh infinite flux
the problem is I'm aiming an empty gun
at yellow iron ducks, red horned devils
thinking the same few thoughts again, again,
again, stuck casting such dark spells
spinning the wheel, ever on the carousel
all i do is cast dark spells
all i do is tell true stories
as if they were tall tales
when i could scribe my life
as if it were fiction
common dark spells
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Martin Narrod Apr 2014
When at first it happens I want none of it. I even say no. I discard the plane tickets, the train stamps, the envelopes of money into a safety deposit box some train station off The Embarcadero and just head East. It frightens me, I'm horrified. The potency is developing in my inner organs, I can't cough right, sleep right, I just suffer and complain. Instead of doing things differently, they've made it so you can soak right in. Just strand yourself on the side of the roadway and they've got rules for you too. The sounds are torturous, the rooms are empty, and the men grow complacent and empty. Nothing is as serious as this. Four years ago a car, three years ago a plane, now I just shuffle and complain. I search for a key to my happiness. I look for it in desktop monitors, caramel apple lollipops, new cashmere vanilla candles, consuming six or more bottles of water a day, E-Cigarettes even, even those, I use apple juice, lychee nectar, mango sorbet, and chocolate fudge sundaes. I'm 40 up on the 140 I went down with. All the miles I'd walked in a firm step, a fever, a bag full of cheap wine for a man that works the car park. 43rd between 8th and 9th. Every thing is bright lights and theater nights. More pacing, there is gum stuck to every square of sidewalk, men and women wheel around a block away selling discount drugs in the streets and outside the Subway on 44th, in the Chinese food mart on 7th. They blow blow blow in their little plastic straw tubes and for $12 a drop they ask you to reach your hands inside their pockets, "take what you like and leave the rest. No one remembers it like this, the girls laugh practically upside down, they wear sky-blue light dyed denim overalls, covering all the parts of their shoulders but exposing their ****, they have plastic bags in their boots, and cute bobby bobbing hair cuts like water crest shoots exploding in lime juice. They pace too, but their legs are shorter, their conversations longer, the horns in their heads grow slowly out from midnight. The devil put the hate on them too.

Even the children are bigoted in this bicentennial. The ******'s nook is no longer the sewing shop in the corner of the strip mall up by Deerbrook Mall. I haven't seen a fountain with change in it since the 80's. The newest thing I heard about imaginations are that, "They come out the first and last Wednesday of the month, you gotta check with Game Stop if you want to pre-order the right ones." I think we must be on number 18 by now. There were four of us riding shotgun in the boxcar up to the valley last month, now they don't even run the trains anymore. One third of everything left to go.

I'm growing quiet; if they can't tell it's not my job to teach them. If they can't spell, I ain't gotta word to word combat that's going to come down on 'em. My brain is so uptight I can't sleep before sundown or sunrise. I see legs and oil futures with every blink. I listen to the old phone messages constantly. I make up stories to go with the missed calls. Still I hope everything will work out okay, because nothing is as serious as this. It makes me sick. It makes the guy undo itself with a brass nail, the blood unclogged from the rash from last month, I find out I'm toxic to poisons, and then I'm told that they're a prescription for that too. It wasn't a ******* rumor. The time to back up or move is now. A idle figure in an orange shirt, a tapestry that moves with every hallucination, forty, fifty, sixty hours I've never slept. I may have been years. My stomach is rusting from water with nowhere to go. I feel sick. I feel woozy, but I don't believe in feelings. I sit upright because I'm uptight, I turn my head around and look over my shoulder. But I know that any friend that's worth looking at me wouldn't arouse my spirit at this hour. There is a net that they speak of when everything's gone. It's the madness that transforms nothingness when the devil's around. Whole empires are crashing. Whole bottom drawers of unworn clothing, tagged and abetted stuffed into black crape garbage bags and drove off into the moonlight. I'm sweating and soporific, living half by half two in and two out, if I had the chance I'd try to remember just which way I get out. When I check on the rumors, when I say my goodbye, I know that I'm the only one sitting in this room of cocksure spirit animals and half-plastic book casings, and that no one whispers and no one cries, not even the bereft can produce a lullaby. I am dying to figure out how to move voicemails from iPhones to iTunes, I googled it while sitting down in the city last night. Poor service. 10 months. Not even one blame the famous few.

After tired comes guilty, after guilty the shame, after that apathy, after that I'm awake. I've never been good at being better than me. But those voicemails, I want them somewhere permanently.
Inspired by a Voicemail, Written for Britni West

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