On a parachute

I'm gliding into the day --


I jumped from my dream.

Terror evolves in the pure open space
where sparked by the doubt of one who resents
the consequence of living and knowing
nothing of the terrible, terrible
confrontation, it propounds incessant
problems of being and ceasing until
entangled Reason entangles itself
in implications of implications,

confounding the space, conceiving a place
of refuge bounding Nowhere’s edge,
where ponderous dreams of life without care
augment the power and anger and dread
of Terror itself, thickening like air,
glutting the infinite heart of the head.

The best thing we can say is "I don't know"

It is also the hardest thing for a lot of folks to say. They like to think they know things, but a lot of the time thinking you know something keeps you from learning.

Victims of Consciousness (please don't be offended...or be offended)

You are a victim of consciousness. A deer has a baby and the baby gets up and walks. A human has a baby and it can't walk for almost a year. That smack on the ***, along with the mother's consciousness does that. You can put a newborn in water and it will swim away. It will come up for air and all. If you believed it would be okay, and walked away, that baby would be okay. That is, if you didn't worry about it dying.

Are we less or more than a deer? Or are we equal?

A hawk could get that baby that is swimming away...that is, if you believe it can happen.

We are programmed in the womb, and in the first 7 years of life. The subconscious "hard drive" is where most spend their minds. Check out my page for some videos of me bending your beliefs. I can't break your belief, because I'd have to change your perception. You are too smart for that, or too stupid.

FOOLS.

Bring me monkey pox and I will eat it.

COVID? Gulp!

Believe in health and not sickness.

FOOLS!

Die or live. Your simple choice.
God wants you to believe in you.

FOOLS!

I am off all heart meds for two years now. I feel better than ever, and I even let snakes bite me

FOOL!
It hurts a little.

A running stream of consciousness
flows into the meadows
The bright and green made brightest by the sun
Blooms, flowers, bushes and bugs exist together here

When the large hand Death comes
With its dirt, dry fingers twists the stream of the spout off shut

Goodbye to the freshly flowing water, and blooms and flowers
bushes and the bugs
Sweet dreams to sweet consciousness
Forever and always