There is beneath us the progenitor and we call it “Mother”. Above us is the progenitor and we call it “Net” for it takes us and tosses us into the known and the unknown.

Our home star is not as bright as yours. We prefer your temperate lands when we visit, where the vegetation is lush and green. Those of us who remain inhabit your deserts and open spaces.

We are your brothers and sisters. Our development has been to grow in awareness and the development of our power. You have the potential to develop as we have, but your instincts are of a social group who need dominant members. You develop your material reality and your physical world. Your anchor is fixed and you grip the familiar and reject the unknown. There is a comfortable point where you feel the fullness, that is the anchor. In order to maintain this as a static point you develop belief systems to support it. This is your weakness, you are innocent children.

We grew and developed along another pathway, our anchor is not  rigid. We use Net for our anchor and so are able to change our perceptual reality. We move in ways that you do not understand and in any direction. We draw the fibers of Net around us and jump and fly. You see us only from your anchor point so that you see us change shape, appear and disappear.

Our voices and languages are barely accessible to you. You hear deep sounds and high pitched chirruping and whistling. Very few among you have remnants of language incorporating any of these. Those remaining are as clicks and whistles. We prefer direct communication.

We are masters of illusion. Our survival has depended on it and it is our instinct.
Our power developed so that when we pull around us the fibers of Net we create a shield and throw an illusion before those who depend on vision. It is one of our protections and also our hunting technique. We are hidden from your material probes and instruments of increased sight in this way.

Although we have been close neighbours for aeons, you have hardly seen us, except for the Few. Your interpretations have created problems for you. Your reliance on the anchor is so great that some among you do go to great lengths to maintain it. There are those among you who will silence the Few rather than lose the fixed anchor.

You are infants only, a seeding coming to fruition, and you play with dangerous toys. Your anchor is geocentric. You are in danger as is any youngster who plays with fire. If we showed you ourselves openly your rulers would not be gentle in their curiosity. We have technology and use material tools but we have had less to restrict us. We held back your development as much as we were able to enable you to develop power of the mind and independent thought.

Your grasp of Net is strong but you are rigid and anchored. You have learned to stand up and hold on. Now is the time to let go and walk, let go and run, let go and fly.

Around what you name “body” and believe to be “All” is more that you do not perceive with your restricted vision sense. You are aware of this. If you will learn acceptance and filter less from your senses, you will find the beauty of the universe of energy around you and available. A small perceptual shift would show you how you appear to those of us outside your narrow sphere.

Your body has filaments, which when translated to sight, appear as small moving threads which shine with rainbows. They move and ripple inside an energy body of light. This is your true body. It has abilities and senses that are dormant as you do not access them. They are accessible but as your anchor renders you blind to this you do not use them without intense effort or instinctively in extremity. The filaments are drawn together and pass through the anchor. Depending upon your ability to select filaments of the Net, your habitual plane and reality is selected and determined.
Those among you with abilities in your energy senses you ostracise and even ******. You succumb to misinformation to treat them as fools or freaks. This may be instinctive but it is a control mechanism to perpetuate the anchor and maintain the hive of your artificial society. So due to this, you have even less sense of true reality as it could be to you, by breeding out and suppressing your gifts. We have attempted to rectify this with limited effect in successive seedings.

You may notice that our words to you have reference to sight. Your terminology is geared to vision. You rely on visual information  so much that you have neglected physical senses of taste and smell, hearing, touch and proximity. Compared with our perceptions you are as blind as a mole is compared to to your visual abilities.

Your construction of reality is so anchored that your dangerous inclination to gather around you artifacts gives to you a sense of permanence. You are anchoring yourselves in time, yet to you it is dead because your senses are dead. There is an opportunity for your predators to use this to enforce your perception of, and control you within, your anchor's limitations. In this way, producing written or pictorial and symbolic records in permanent form is beneficial only so far as understanding continues to exist of the conditions under which these records were left. By changing current understanding and language to suit their purposes, your enforcers are able to manipulate your branch of humanity on a large scale.

You seal yourselves into the rejuvenation plane of the Mother progenitor where you feed and breed. It is so pleasurable to you to stay within this cocoon of reality that you fail to open your cast and therefore fail to fly into the spaces of Net outside where your true inheritance lies. The end result of this is greed and unrest. Your greed is paramount to you as you seek ever more pleasurable gratification. You enslave one another, buy and sell time and forget what you are. You are allowing the destruction of your home world. Without the home world you will have no place of rejuvenation, and worse neither will the myriads of others who share this progenitor.

There is a song from each mother progenitor within Net. It is a combined song and made up of the host progenitor together with silent voices of each and every life form. Together from each home world, the inhabitants send out a pulse. This is not a song from one species of a world but rather it is a song from all species, in fact every particle of every organism that lives.

To our developed senses the song of a world is brighter than the star it orbits. They are filaments of Net. The varied forms of life all send out their unique song. Many of us interact, harmonise, visit, commune and combine. You feel isolation only because you fail to harmonise and join your own song.

In your past and present we have felt the song of your world. Those of us belonging are part of that song. It is the song of being from the many. It does not end at the perimeters which you imagine. You have a problem in that, for the majority, you do not join your voices to the song. Mainly it is in dreaming, in childhood and in old age that we hear you.

We attempted to observe and commune and found many of you receptive to us. We have taught to you methods of development and given you gifts and tools. You have kept and preserved some of this knowledge only for a select few. Fears and distrust among others has caused destruction of a great proportion of the gifts that we have given to you. We found many lines of breeding where potential for development was possible. Your greed and your predator class destroyed many of them due to the competitive desire to have power over others.

In past seedings upon your progenitor and in the oldest times of your present incarnation, we have been known well and respected. Acknowledged for our seniority and loved as cousins. You did call us gods to distinguish our abilities. Then what did you do? Your control mechanisms changed the meanings of your language, whole languages were lost in wars over territory. You developed power structures and religions. Powerful rulers accumulated and isolated your shared knowledge.

You reduced your development by selective education in the Way. Territorial disputes and greed over resources divided you. You ceased to listen to the Mother. Instead of harmonious living which you had managed in agreement with each other already, you were divided by hormonal impulses, insecurity, violence and greed. The natural openness of the female within it's central domain became enclosed, imprisoned and the natural desire of the male to outwardly discover and interact was turned inwards until it became a sedentary desire for dominance within the female domain. You lost the harmonics of the song. Your religions underestimate the power of borrowed tools. Your ruling classes made deals that they didn't understand, with predators they didn't recognise, in order to save themselves.

We stood on ground over ground and were called Immortals. We gave you wisdom and were called Kings. We moved and played among you and were called Jinn. We moved among the small folk and were called Faerie. We appeared in light and were called Angels. We wandered in places where you too did once wander and were called Ghosts and Demons. Those who spoke to us and attempted to impart to your hive our knowledge, you raised as prophets or slandered and ridiculed. You stole their words to make them your own words of power, changing them to your own ends or you murdered the messengers because you feared the changes that increased understanding brings.

You incorporated the experiences of your murdered victims into a celebration of your own power structures, twisted and out of synchronisation with the song. There are some among you who are in communion with the Great Spirit of life. We seek to heal your song, your complete home world song for the benefit of the myriad sentient beings who rejuvenate here, including yourselves. We seek to set you free to wander the threads of Net. It is within your reach but not in the ways that you  are taught.

Your world is about to change and you must change with it as you are a small part of it. Holding the threads into your own anchor point will break them. You have reached inertia, entropy. The movement has to come, it is inevitable. Imagine one of your large machines of cogs and wheels and bars. Your insistence upon a rigid anchor is like a bar within the machine that doesn't move. A point of inertia in a moving system will be removed. This has happened over and over among your kind and our kind in many places and worlds. You do not remember when worlds underwent cataclysm, forgetful of trauma you have followed a similar path.

We travel along pathways of energy, both upon worlds and in the Net. Moving bodies follow these paths. We follow comets and small bodies able to move freely within Net. Net permeates your mother progenitor.

Survivors mapped the movements of Net after the slate was wiped clean and you were reseeded. There is a secret that your rulers are aware of and you are not. The secret is that there are no rulers within Net. You all have the freedom and capability to access true harmony of the song. You allow a faction, to call themselves an elite class. You fear this as a hidden power, a predator. It's aim is to amass Time: a power based on material wealth. They take this power easily as they have taken and twisted truth and history. The gifts are shared among you equally and these few know this. Resources are plentiful and yet you succumb to their restrictions. A predator cannot survive without it's prey. We are not your predators although we move among you. Your predator is within and feeds upon your fear.

You are not in the tribes now, you have no shaman, no guide to take you in and out of the gate and this role cannot be allocated to parasitic Blind Time Hoarders. These whip up your passions and lead you into war and destruction to further their material wealth. It leads you away from the song, as these think to enhance their own survival which it may do but never can as they understand it. They seek to steal your dreams and make them their own, they are helpless without you. They care nothing for the song because they are aware of successive seedings.

Net is a dream reality, changing, immeasurable, boundless, filled with infinite possibilities and you are creators. Blind time hoarders drive you by combining the minds and dreams and belief systems of many to focus onto what they themselves desire, in order to bring it to fruition. They employ dream stealers to prevent your development. They believe that their own song can exist independently and they guide you only to anchor yourselves into your own prison.

All is a dream, all is ephemeral, changing, dynamic. There is no death after death, no damnation on any particular plane. Reality is how you construct your song. Your rulers create inertia for you the many and profit for themselves using you as the tools of your own entrapment. There is no death and no damnation, they are constructs of your reality made by material anchor points and you are controlled by fear of the inevitable. It is a statecraft to use belief systems to control perceptions of reality in order to fix the anchor point to a rigid point of convenience. In this way you are farmed, you are a crop in each seeding. Who seeds you? You seed yourselves. Sentient beings are all naturally regenerated by the mechanisms of Net when conditions exist that are compatible, world after world, in each growth cycle of every celestial body. In the regeneration, holding to your rigid anchor point, you seed into your prison after each cataclysm, each breaking of the inertia.

If you would be open to the mechanisms of the place you inhabit with it's creative forces, it's sentience and it's dynamics you will learn to fly the progenitor Net's pathways and return home for rejuvenation to your progenitor Mother of the tribes.

ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.

Ah, the statecraft of
present times, was becoming
agender.
The strength of institution
would lie in old oil paintings.

You become stupid
and start living in dark rooms
to understand the sun.

Half-beliefs were―
cooked straight from the
sermons of striped coats.

The delusion was
simple. There was camphora
to revive the fainting glory.

More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.

It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.

The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.

I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.

Utmost nadir of despair found
this atheist craning his neck skyward
hearing resplendent August orchestra
today June 10th, 2022
choral symphony may sound absurd,
but...mine supreme auditory sense

(compensated with poor vision,
i.e. extreme myopia) impossible mission
driving after dark
genetically injured
acute undoubted gifted courtesy,
viz cochlear ability crystal clear
also heard kindled melodious Lord

and lady joyously plucked harp strings,
which did lyft uber spirits seared, moored
anchored of me, one who demurred
coyly being graced with
exquisite hypnosis got lured

into cerulean celestial vault,
where I acquiesced and murmured
after a lifetime of hardship inured
every cell in my glob bully
warmed weatherbeaten body

sought salvation, thus poetic urge averred
this skeptic (nee nihilist), no matter
faith no more,...perhaps
soul asylum desperation secured

tenuous linkedin thread of hope
barely connecting yours truly, whose word
not necessarily claiming
to be the gospel truth,

nonetheless sought to nimbly aire
asthma tried and true valued metier,
vis a vis thru write of springiness declare
ring nothing sacrilegious,
nor decried as Harris say (ad) aware
no matter Doubting Thomas's (donned

as trumpeting English muffins)
may suspiciously questioning - dare
faux authenticity atop wobbly
shaky, and noname spear
such antithetical blare
nee as the rhyming ranting

of a harmless maniac
with mediocre ability to scare
heavenly visualization -
secondarily as a zealous
Earthlinked aspiring balladeer,

who immediately chucked
delusive fastasical notions
earning degree as an engineer,
thus setting sights, and
virtually figurative crosshair

to cackle like Chanticlear,
which discordant aural
debacle tortured ear pier
sing decibel threshold of unbear
hubble pain for
those unfortunately subjected

and forced to endure such screeching
a result of budget cuts - profoundly severe
that perilous, seditious, and viscous tear
into webbed, whirled, and wide statecraft,
hence melodic reverberation mistaken
as mock apple pie "FAKE" fakir

begging intercession qua spiritual guardian,
wrought mine overactive imagination
conjuring smug cockle doodle fledgling cheer
shoring temple mount reverse fortune,

whereby by fanciful fatefulness, I fell victim,
tomb eye own dim eyes, poppycock did ensnare
riotous, roisterous, and ruinous roostering
essentially roused, grounded,
and distorted nightmare!

heil to the Wharton chief firebrand -
more worrisome than an ovarian cyst
every race, religion, nationality,
gender, creed, et cetera with impunity dissed
brigand able, eager, ready and willing
to punch contenders throwing his fist
against rival – one nasty and brutish soul
after reading, you get the gist
how dictator wannabe lurching
with tremendous oaf fish shill

blatantly, flagrantly, and glad-handedly
zapping usurping power, breeding dissent
soundlessly slithering,
spreading vile disinformation
onto social media platforms
targeting undecided electorates
analogous to casting dark shadows
across the edge of night
hissed tory revoked eclipsed
loosing unfettered horrors.

Das boot trump out-
(oust him to) Waterloo
Eagerly awaits you
the bully in the white house and true.

Whit that, yawl get a lucky strike
if ya keep yar show
as my Reince prescience foretells this poe
fur one quarter off hiz terminal daze starring down
(with bad medicine), thee ole scarecrow.

╰☆╮ Thankfully, I'm not a royal heir
to the power monger hoarders╰☆╮
which comb hen might handy when borders
hermetically sealed - per heil hit lore
caw zing a furor with his stark jumbo je lay bean orders.

I don't wanna don a duck dynasty outfit,
or that of a woodchucker but...holy mother f*cker
and kudos to any heckler,
who deems steam roller trump as a mean trucker.

Thus - for the umpteenth attempt to post
without any intention
to induce rabid reaction to roast
my *** (albeit scrawny just to be cheeky),
I **** rye America will burn like toast
the legacy of democracy
transparent as a ghost
if....mister money bags - to the finish line
of presidential electorate, he doth coast.

My anti Donald trump screed continues tut try
tip picture conjure pixelated stress less or more
WE MUST DO MORE THAN YODEL LOUD:
(and preach to the choir)
out....out...get...life not death, he seems to ab ****
ding **** Donald drake...out...of...here...
without...his security detail or...coat....of...
(Emperor wears no clothes) armor.

I will not condone political measures
from that mane lion kapo -
jabbering indiscretion.

Herewith follows a poem
(concatenated with above lines)
I dashed off in a huff - to douse
dat auld don trumpeting joie de vivre
fin de siecle utopia of yesteryear
puffin sewerage bilge -
strike n horror n ma eyes -
for opinion aye espouse
based on scary political fracas
and looming nightmare -

whar mo' will grouse
to obstruct trump access
to black keys to white house
that a looming presidential nightmare
doth not become real - gruff louse
he will crush sacred freedoms,
whence western civilization goes off bluff
analogous to a rabid cat terminating
the life of more'n Mickey Mouse.

DUCK AFTER DUMP - PING THE DON -
a pipe dream that will never take shape.

Air ring ma thoughts - no matter aye ham
juiced one twenty first century mwm ape
serves as genuine s cape
to fly (during pitch black hours of night)
on his witch a ma call it...
to escape temporarily the cares and concerns
of an uncertain world,
where as an outlier from madding crowd I gape

at the sheer insanity
trumpeting strumpets donning an innate
prejudice and senselessness purr
blind faith toward self avowed demigod --
seize ***** viz Caesar -

forever linkedin with maxim
Veni, Vedi, Vici - idolized statecraft motto
Trump perfects with his witch's brew he doth stir
his hair coiffed and puffed like it whir
wind blown kickstart ting mobs to stir
paying Deep Purple bodyguards
to evict ruckus-causing murmur
oh...how the masses will let this country
go to hell in handbasket -
blithely purging the Iran Nuclear Deal,
The Paris Climate Agreement

plus rack up stratospheric global debt
cause zing this one measly mortal male to fret
Boom, boom, boom gotta get get
that totalitarian rule will force every man,
woman and child to march....het
two...three...four, while the billionaire
turns a third blind eye speeds away
in his foo fighter jet
argh...heavens to Betsy Ross,
Condoleezza Rice, Nancy Reagan,

Barenaked Ladies, and Goo Goo Dolls,
how did the fickle finger of fate let
this pompous *** allergic
to law and order sowing,
loosing, and fomenting insurrection
crowdsourcing, wherever anarchy met
vacuums up majority votes
across world wide
quartered, (tattered), and webbed net
to finagle vox populi,

and groom hooligan nasty ruffian thugs
with smashed face as his smart pet
GoLong Daddy story short -
pondering my rental circumstance
will be upended if this ret
chad, evil, googly-eyed, gastronomic,
narcissistic bullish Don will set
the spark for world war three -
via gone ah re: ha...ha...ha...to all vet
tureens within the sea to shining cyber sea

American crucible melting *** -
with verbal whips,
whose invective blast sucker punching
DACA, and those
who strain to uphold economic backbone,
he does NOT STOP to undermine stoop labor,
which anonymous backs,
he bloodies via twittering whetstone
unless....Katrina and the Waves, superman
or the Sabrina can oust him yet.

Greetings reader from a cross between an aging seventy inch long (ringing ding ****) haired pencil necked geek and a Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe; meaning yours truly actually a virtually married Pennsylvania man, who crossed his sixty fifth year young threshold on January thirteenth 2024, nevertheless despite rancor from the missus who frowns on me favoring female for acquaintanceship/friendship ideally while taking a ride On The Good Ship Lollipop.

if nothing else germinated
adult language affections
inexplicable tummy why
(approximately three quarters
of my lxiv roy hull orbits ago),
I can still vividly recall
names of girls from mud
trickle hull hating as a Methacton
High School graduate,
plus the two semesters completed
at Montgomery County Community College,
which diploma worth less than
the paper certifying completion
of requisite credits.

Unbeknownst tummy if
(Susan Bishop, Cheryl Hahn,
Judy Jacobs, Donna Keckley,
Fay Landis, Sandra Ray,
Julia Ward, and a handful of others)
gleaned any hint that an intense desire
shutter flying within thy solar plexus
to blurt (in a bumbling fashion)
even a feeble hello
dogged each day of classes.

Nothing about this then
awkward, blimey clammy, dorky,
edgy, friggin gawky, *****, ipsy,
jumpy, kooky, loony, moody, nerdy,
okay, plenti quirky, ratty, sulky,
timidly undersized very withdrawn,
xpn yankee Zeusian.

If familiar during my prime numbered days,
with either powder milk biscuits
(which according to Garrison Keillor -
gives shy people the courage
to get up and do ***** deeds
done dirt cheap (in honor
of the late Malcolm Young,
the pulse of AC/DC),
or raw bits, and additionally
adroit crafting, expostulating
gross iniquities keeping maidens
overly questing regarding taming
uber vibrant ***** wonka
your all time cerebrally enlightened,
guy initially kindling manifold
oppressed quaking ****** undulations
wracking yawping aspiring
corpus dictionary epicurean.

Yes, that tis quite a mouthful,
but then this ardent devotee, gamboling
jousting literary nonsensical
philosophical reader, tenderly tinder
verizon wormy yakking arboreal
cloven earmarked, graciously intelligent
kibitzer, modest opportunistic
questioning statecraft,
unpretentiously warbling bupkis.

Though verb boss this poet manque
doth strive tubby re: noun,
or at the least beak comb knighted
among his majesty (HMS) –
cutting (thru the figurative iceberg) crew,
which pronoun smint foments
hostile interjections, whereby
grievance addressed by my
reciting constituent articles comprising
English Language.

As a result of assiduous, copious, exodus,
grammar grappling, inchoate knowledge,
mastery of quirky syntax
underscored unpretentious
versatility with words.

Adverb beal concupiscence endowment
grows ineluctable kickstarting
my obvious quest shunned unfairly
without your adjective choice
entirely granted.

Infinitives key mordant obscures
quasi rhetorician traversing ultimate
vernacular wordsmith zeroing
at becoming catapulted
**** eminently fructified.

Caterwauling causes
champion colleague Collins collision,
collusion, conjunction conspiracy,
demanding expulsion, forthwith
groupie Harris insinuating, juxtaposing,
keeping lowest mediocrity necessitating
one principle question.

Reddit slated tenure unified vicars,
wherein xfinity yielded zing along.