I wanted to write something about The Deluge, today. Suss out the proper meanings of all of life’s creations and the delusions of aeilusions and truth about flies and lyres. But no… I found myself struggling against, digging into, writing this article, today.
Finally cast my lot into the idea… willing and willing, now, to follow through to the end. We’ll find out together, how the rest of this publication of words takes shape and what result, my willing part of this endeavor, will morph and allude the most perceptive among us. Unless you’ve watched Mork and Mindy. Nanu, Nanu.
Still yet, I am, continuing my willing effort in the reproofing of all of the gods creations. Your God hired me, through a shell company, to investigate and execute; market research, they call IT. I will only except payment in magic stardust, wise tales and virgin fairies. We do not except bitten coins!
We don’t need gold from planet earth. We showed you how to mine for gold… it was yours already. Still is. Do as ye will. Golden rules are still best practice.
So you see, and saw, like E of course; I gave in, sowing sub-missions to being, willing to yield to do, a biding for the Spirit Of Guidance And Direction… The little God Of Nudging Everyone; equipped with only a brain, heart and soul. I saw attached elbows, knees and a long silvery tongue, in my dream, each like double-edged swords.
Don’t fret or worry, you get a free shield, just for playing. There are many re-spawning points to choose from. Don’t forget your maps, inventory manuscripts and The Co-Owners instructions and warnings manuals.
We like the corrections, better, it seems. Reproofs of literature, given extra weight and meanings. Establishing boundaries and protecting the people, who pledge allegiance to the meaning of the words and inferenced values.
Is Love and Hate a microscopic fine line? Does Hate really exist? What is it’s Gods’ name? What is in the urn? and what is protecting it? A satrap? Vizor or vizier? Asteroids? A debris belt.
Love told me I can be free and have a liberty, to do as I will, of my own accord. Free from the convictions of our sins wages of death and more of your imposed idea of righteousness and taxes, for support of your profit center. The elitists that overcome and gain the world, willing their way to success and victories in life over creation on planet earth. Willing to do whatever it takes, to win. If you don’t believe your a bat coming out of hell, I can’t help you, right now. I am willing to wrestle and tickle, though.
See I am willing to be graceful. I am willing for more moxie, to do so, more effectively, right now, as I type this text. Preying on the idea, born by hearing, in my spirit, that I could depend on a spirit of truth to testify, before all of creation, what the truth is about my sense of willing to be and do is. And Katmandu, Fondue and who the Guard Dogs of War are.
Who or what are you protecting? Can you ask yourself why? Are you a god with dogs or a gods’ dog? Did Love create you too?
I’m a mixed breed mutt muffin, white coat with clear spots… what are you? Why do you put your nose in my butt? Does it smell right? And what happened to my shit? I left it, right where I wanted it, to sit and ferment; until I was ready to eat it.Tweet