A Jest
Just a jousting jest, you get the gist?
Justice will be served with history’s grist.
-IAT
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Harpooing the Beluga
Harpooning a Beluga
How my mid wanders…
December 16th 2009
NEO’s LOG
I’m busy developing a modern version of Diogenes wandering though the ruins of today…
So as I type on my broken laptop, Betsy, my neighbor, drops in for a hello. She’s a fellow artist, restrained and cute, wondering if… We chat about the bourgeois reminisce…but we both see the veneer, refreshingly self-aware in our own reconcile.
A bit later Socrates comes by for a hello. We chat about animal sentience and intra-species dialogue.
We talk about mycelium organisms spanning the subsoil of large forests, huge gigantic creatures existing on a completely different algorithm, and we discuss how forests are intelligent and unified organisms…
Then, he points me to the Norway “Spiral” right before Obama’s peace award…
So I dig in…
A quick Google and I discover a piece of dis-half-info attributing the spiral to a Bulava launch having gone wry…
But I remember Dimitri talking about HAARP, so I plug that tidbit in…
And of course I remember that Dr. Lin, my highly efficient NOAA roommate, had mentioned the other day something about stratospheric detonations and atmospheric engineering taking place on multiple levels ever since the late ‘50’s – “most are classified,” he had said sheepishly! Oh how fun!
Hmmm, so then I calculate in Copenhagen and its spokesman, Al, and the debacle that it has now become, especially with the police batons beating up unarmed protesters? And the hired goons labeled with the NWO triangle on their uniforms? Hmmm…
So then I discover that there’s a HAARP outpost right there in Tromsø, Norway… right along the coast of White Sea…
Ok, so then at this point my brain clicks and clacks all over the place – I’m scampering for that tinfoil hat for real! – I factor in the “successful” launch of the Sajjil-2! um, as a provocative gesture…
Oh boy, could it be that the Bulava was also a “provocative” gesture by the Russkies right before POTUS received his award for peace, er, prior to declaring war and increased troop levels?
And maybe HAARP sent that bad puppy spiraling right out of commission?
What would Diogenes tell Alexander, I wonder… A sign in the sky? Oh how delightful is this chess game! Indeed…
-Iliad Alexander Terra
Forgiveness
Carry the World
How to forgive a fallen soul,
And brace for what’s foretold,
But alas all is to no avail,
For the world has grown too old…
-Iliad Terra
Our New God
I’m speechless…
This lunacy is so trenchant that it renders my very psyche bereft of hope…
Slowly America is being brutally raped in broad daylight… We watch this nation bleed while our hands are tied and our voices gagged and our very souls crucified…
The dawn of a new god is upon us. And we’re asked to bow…
Like a powerful disease a new beast rends the flesh of its prey and watches death with bloodshot and impervious eyes, devoid of empathy and remorse…
Yet it’s not Obama, for he is not even real! I have developed whiplash just watching him read robotically from left to right on his Teleprompters… He’s just an empty shell, a hollow robot, and a tragic man…
The real story is the craft of the new religion-makers, the Masters behind the veil atop their pyramid.
Welcome to inevitability on a scale beyond your wildest nightmares.
on “The Road”
-Iliad Terra
Für Élan
…It’s been raining nonstop,
My heart goes out to America, to her fading glory,
To all those folks who had gathered in front of the White House
Hoping to save this extinguishing torch for their children…
And I think of my father… buried six feet under, in this rain.
Isn’t he cold? …that dream…
So here’s a song to keep us warm with tears lost in the rain…
…And to lost fathers and strong sons,
To weak mothers,
And gentle daughters,
To the feeble, huddled under plastic tarps and damp blankets in the cold,
And to a frightened President already tired…
Translation from Hebrew:
“Night of stars, the sun has risen
You sit there, staring at the darkness
An hour passes, a day and a year
And you are still waiting for him.
An hour passes, a day and a year,
And you are still lost, blinded in the faith.
The fruit of your garden, you shall ask for,
Who will tell you, and you will reply?
Your pain is hard, and the days pass by,
You are left alone, want to believe,
That the time is coming near,
The time when he promised to come back.”
-Iliad Alexander Terra