I was in darkly lit room filled with mostly women sleeping on the ground.
The light source came through holes above ornate wooden panels all around.
I made my way from right to left and towards a man named ‘Pete.’
I kept shaking him to wake up but only had silence from these elite.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Lousy losers keep your tattered shirts on nice and tight.
There are empowered people who are ready to fight.
No one cares how the other side stumbles and falls.
The big winners always seem to take the greatest windfalls.
To battle is a chance to a long dark tunnel
with a deep gorge below in a black hole funnel.
The invisible light is pin prick in small size.
The narrow path through needle hurts the naked eyes.
A wide unclasp to reveal their inner most thoughts;
This Shakespeare does not have time to mock a big gloat.
Truth seekers, who travel by holding hand in hand,
have the chance to live promised lands.
Each one scurries to embrace the bright light so far.
Some would fall off the bridge by the Milky Way stars.
The galaxy waited to unfurl its fury
towards our planet as a death and grand jury.
Many are welcomed back but few have found a way.
Disembodied souls are held back or gone astray.
Without a chance to prove their eternal self worth;
the lost students of old would have many re-births.
Revised on 07-09-2006 at 11:32PM…
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
The call came for another last minute, urgent request.
She felt her system undergo an arrest.
The angel books helped soothe her still angered nerves.
The fat little pest summoned her to serve.
The hard working angel will patiently wait.
She flies the ley lines while greedy elites hate.
Many moons and suns have shone their own true lights.
The annoying call prompted her to take a quick flight.
Her patience in this is brought forth from within.
This is a test for happiness to begin.
Others wonder why she takes on this harsh service.
They don’t know this is her funeral service.
The theme applies for those who wins or looses.
The reality is which side chooses.
There paths in this lifetime offer her the best.
All her endeavors seem like an endless quest.
Her inner aspect says there’s no time to waste.
She waits patiently to avoid harm in haste.
Although she lacks the wings of an angel’s charm,
she is within reach of her beloved’s strong arms.
Revised on 07-17-2006 at 07:27AM…
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
The twiddling thumbs of hers go round and round.
Fiddling sums of money go round and round.
Where these two stop she does not care or know.
She keeps twiddling due to lack of this dough.
Fiddlers could dance on her rooftop this time.
Bakers could work throughout the kitchen grime.
The twiddle, however, could not be stilled.
She waits for the dough to rise with its thrills.
The warmth of bread rises up to the nose.
Her ravished eating goes money blows.
The fiddler plays his melodious tune
as he eats her soup with a silver spoon.
The night draws near as she sighs with her yawn.
She heads home down a river like a swan.
She rides in her car, which rolls towards home.
Her black beaded purse contains her black comb.
She strokes her raven hair down from a bun.
She jokes to herself that tonight was fun.
She danced and dined and enjoyed some red wine.
She met a man who was gorgeous and fine.
Her thumbs twiddle through times of thick and thin.
In the end, she will always wear her grin.
When love is lost, stolen and forgotten,
money gained and not shared ends up rotten.
Revised on 07-14-2006 at 07:26PM…
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
At eight thirty five, my right ear hole rang tonight.
I read an article about their cobalt blue.
This means that better days coming is quite true;
although my fellows no longer blog of their plights;
There is no need to reveal by what one already scorns.
Whatever action has been done or badly said.
There is one faith that they cannot and will not tread.
That true love is always there to remove old thorns.
On March twenty-two of thousand three, my fate
was a strange encounter while at a starry place.
It was near railways and a dried up river space.
At fourteen hundred and twenty minutes, I ate.
Suddenly, my right ear hole rang loudly that day.
I rubbed that ear hole to make the sound go away.
There was a camera near the money giver.
It was mounted near the top left of the bathrooms.
I ate my big burger amidst greasy fumes.
My last visit there was near the greasy river.
He walked towards the bathroom slinking up from behind.
He wore a long black overcoat below the knee.
He hurriedly left without a goodbye to me.
He wore no smile and had dark shades on like a blind.
My right hole ringing reminded me of both
stories but there is no jury to listen to my oath.
Revised on 07-08-2006at 01:33AM in an attempt at two sonnets…
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Chocolate chips is best enjoyed in my desserts of vanilla or mocha ice cream drenched in hot fudge, of cookies melted and still hot from the oven and of granola bars all sticky and glued together with oats.
Chocolate chips are dark, sugary and crunchy and it’s softer to bite down on every scrumptious morsels compared to the snack foods like nuts, chips and dips. I prefer chocolate chips over chocolate bars because it’s smaller and as satisfying when it melts in my mouth.
These little delights have been my favorite comfort and serotonin producers all my life. They ease the times of being sad during romantic movies and miserable for not having company. And the reward is the small satisfaction of being filled from a sugar high. For I have also gained some fat cells singing praise of incoming tidings and some cavities hailing the widening holes in my teeth.
Chocolate chips may look like dark droppings made by hamsters but its true form is revealed in the bitter sweet taste. That is what happened to my family units last night. Their reconciliation efforts with each other paid off. After having lowered themselves to baser emotions for too long, that night brought them closer together and raised the spiritual vibration back to normal. Whether this is due in part to my disappearance from their lives last night is but a piece of the puzzle that I cannot explain.
My presence has been to listen and council the two opposing forces to the best of my abilities. These interventions also included my personal prayers to allow these forces to gain enough understanding of themselves and the clearing of the surrounding property with orgonite, ceremonial smudging and holy water, which I also sprinkled on Brat due to some gremlins making noises in the gutter outside his bedroom on 03-06-2006.
After only five days, the results were clear. The good intentions of everyone uplifted their sensibilities and got them back on track. And the train is going forward for them all. There is no going back to their old selves.
I know in my heart they have overcome this most recent and major obstacle at this point in time. Instead of ramming head onto the blockage that continued to harm them, both have merely found a way around. And that was how these two united.
Brat understood that Maws anger is for his own good. With that primary affirmation, Maw promised to never get angry at him again. Her renewed strength has been described as the burden that flew upward (with both arms flung out and hands flared opened) and away from her shoulders. Her voice, once stifled with little air due to asthma, is much clearer and calmer now. Everyone at the dinner last night changed.
I am truly thankful that somehow the bitter sweet relationship between Brat and Maw has always been the perfect lesson to me. I only wished that I could have been there to share the dark chocolate cake that came with the dinner last night. Unfortunately, the cake wasn’t made with my favorite chocolate chips.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Saturday March 11, 2006 – 07:11pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
Dagnabbit! Those mosquitoes are biting me! Their bites are almost unnoticeable by my bad hearing until I get all red and itchy and these hives start to form on my skin. I’d barely hear the initial buzz by my ears or feel something on my nose. My reaction time to swat them away was and still is slow. Then it’s too late and I get stung.
This vapor medicine would be rubbed and/or taped over to expedite the healing action onto my wounds. The menthol action does work for those wanting immediate relief in two days. On day one, the swellings of the bigger bites go down by half their sizes. By day two, the remaining red dots appear as little itchy scabs that get picked and heal over until picked at again. Pick. Pick.
That is what happens when these critters like to bite me. I must taste good to them otherwise they won’t keep coming back for more of my skin and blood. The red bites on my skin appear out of nowhere and I think they hide within my Tempur-Pedic bed system where air pockets allow not only their hideaways but great support for my back.
Other mattresses used to numb my whole arm and hurt my neck and shoulders when I try to sleep on my sides. I still have to sleep flat on my back with better comfort thanks to my new bed which cost me over two thousand dollars.
I do sleep more soundly now and dream more vividly than ever before due the comfortable bed. And, yes, I do snore when sound asleep and have awoken myself in the middle of snores! My bio-units make fun of me when I start snoring during my short naps on the family sofa after a hard day’s work. Snoring is from the side of Paw, again.
When I grew up on the military housing, I used to get bitten all over by critters and got allergic reactions from those itchy hives as usual. I remember one of my eyelids swelling shut after being bitten by a mosquito. This bite took a long time to heal because the story is one that Maw remembered well.
At the back of the military housing, there was this bush about four feet in height. Within this bush there thrived a nest of wasps. We all could hear the buzzing get louder as we got closer to the well hidden nest in that bush. For whatever reason that bush was left dangerously there while we kids played merrily on our swing set not to far off. That bush was eventually removed and we no longer feared the potential attack by one of those insects hurting us. None stung us.
My other horrible experience was at the same swing set on the back of the military housing where a bunch of our friends were playing. As I sat down on the leftmost swing and enjoyed the laughter of other children, there landed this big spider on the back of my hand. It was as big as my hand and scary too.
Everyone nearby ran away from me as I cried and wailed. I was frozen in fear because I didn’t want those sharp fangs digging into my flesh. They laughed and kept telling me to get rid of it myself. I didn’t know how. No one came to my rescue and had to shake off that critter knowing noone seemed to care. I ran to my mommy. That spider did not bite me.
Pimples and acne have been my other personal battle and that is like being bitten, only from inside out. It’s the way my system reacts to the likes of fat, oil and meat. I know that my diet has not been under control all my life. The insecurity of not having enough to eat is hard to overcome when if fact abundance in foodstuff would not be my problem in this lifetime.
Eating in moderation is difficult for me when I have this bad habit of snacking in between meals. I know, if I do lose my weight, I’ll start feeling cold due to less fatty layers that keep me warm. The people around me are fat pigs and disgusting when they have to eat for the sake of eating. I should take better care of myself now. Then again doesn’t that chocolate cake look delicious?
Being bitten is one thing but biting back is another. I don’t remember biting anyone except for one cousin (on the side of Paw), who used to assert her aggressive behavior by grabbing hold of our arms and trying to bite us on the hands if things didn’t go her way. That was in the past and don’t know if that trait still exist in her. Maybe her kids might inherit the biting mechanism. Kids will do all sorts of fun games and end up getting hurt someway. It’s the rules, I suppose.
How does one bite back when injured by another party? I would use the legal system, sue Pete and pals and perhaps, if possible, win a settlement, which seems to be the norm in this country. Sometimes settling out of court is a better option. Who knows? All I see is plain greed by both the plaintiff and defendant but mostly by the legal people who represent both parties.
Going through the legal process is yet another slow bureaucratic process with all its red tape and red-eyed people from crying too much that happen to wear down the nerves of anyone. And by the time any justice, if any, has been handed down by basically and unauthorized person, there is nothing left except the big bill that no one could pay off. There is the bail, if any, then off to jail, which is already full of people with bad energy.
I don’t know too much about the law, the legal system or my basic inalienable rights. I only know that my sovereign rights to exist are absolute and no court system on any land could take action or enact any justice over my head, mind, body or soul. As long as the natural laws and the laws of return are respected, no foreign placed jurisdiction on the original earth keepers’ land I currently call home could replace that right to live free in peace and harmony.
It’s the little tidbits of reality that come from the ‘real’ freedom biters that have taken enough crap to know that all contracts are meant to be broken and forgiven once and for all. There is no such thing as binding like a noose around the neck, the hands or feet when there is love. Unconditional love knows no bound: No man-made law could bite that truth.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Wednesday March 8, 2006 – 10:50pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
“Je suis ennuie.” I think to myself in French because I do feel bored with the overall cloudy day of gray. I really don’t want to crawl back into bed and waste my time doing nothing. I am not yet bedridden and still am able-bodied; so people should be active during normal waking hours while they still can.
The only time I should be Laying down on my nice canopy bed with its sunny yellow-colored sheets with ruffled edgings is reading a nice book to inspire my ennui days, depressurizing my back by bringing my knees to 90 degrees with feet still on bed, then to the left feeling the stretch (oh, good) and finally to the right hearing the pop (ah, relief) and sleeping with such Skill that dreaming of donuts Dunking over the jail-like fence enclosure of Andersen could make me Fat so much.
Donuts taste good and would have complimented this morning’s Kona coffee blend (of Arabica beans and Kona beans) that Maw had brewed in our miniature plastics coffee maker a few minutes ago. The smell of breakfast creeps upstairs as Dad pan fries the berry farm sausage left over from Christmas and Mom pan fries her garlic flavored fried rice. My mouth is watering from the smell of food from below as I sip my coffee upstairs in my bedroom.
I am blind to love. I did not see how perfect the design of this play has ended. It brought tears of disbelief to my dry eyes. The issues between both Brat and Maw are not my problem. And, honestly, I did not care. My main purpose seems to be the middle ground as each pour their bucket load of beautiful sounds into my two ear holes of how the other operates.
Her mission seems to allow Brat much needed fighting spirit to express, strengthen and defend himself against others that may do him real or imagined harm. His version is to do nothing for her behavior does not justify her actions of provoking the baser emotions in others. I discovered this morning from Maw that both her and Brat are now in good terms.
According to her, Brat said sorry to both his bio-units last night and gave each one a hug and kiss with my Maw blessing him with ‘Amen’ (in Filipino style on the forehead touched with her right knuckles in gorilla-like fashion) in forgiveness. Oh, this is a sweet image coming from that Maw as she reiterates to my ear holes of how beloved Brat could be for apologizing after all that has been said and done over the past few days.
He is her good boy (oink) for being the nice Pig sign, which he is; while I am her bad girl (hiss) for being the mischievous Monkey sign, which I am. Although Maw has branded me as lacking compassion and understanding, my true self dictates that there is no apology necessary to be given by this lazy woman at this time. I still may be this dumb, stupid girl in a body of a thirty-seven year old woman. But I should know better, right?
How crooked are they for stringing me and my heart along in this, my boring life? How could they lower themselves with the base emotions of hate, fear and anger during wartime and then raise themselves with the noble emotions of love, understanding and compassion during peacetime? Why do people like me bother taking sides?
The theme of destruction and creation has been played out all too frequently over the years by both Maw and Brat. And I am often left wondering who are the victims that are so many and easy to prey and where are the rescuers that are so few and hard to find.
Those that hold the middle position have the greatest responsibility as both forces of dark and light, of bad and good and of wrong and right dual each other in a never ending story towards love and peace.
Somehow during my efforts of being true to oneself while learning of the many confusing trials and errors that goes with adjusting perceptions towards many truths, I feel this whistler blowing an old WWI tune into the wind, the “Colonel Bogey March” of the epic movie “The Bridge on the River Kwai” (1957).
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Sunday March 5, 2006 – 09:11am (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
People are more dishonest and downright sneaky nowadays and long gone are the open doors and windows to greet both friends during the day and strangers in the night. There are many times from past experiences that allow for better understanding of how to best deal with individuals who lack of compassion towards those with less exposure to the darker aspects of human conditions. Why do people feel the need to act nice when they want something?
Common sense tells us we should be more understanding to the least of our brothers and sisters and forgive the wrongs done by them for they do not know what they are doing. These people darn well know what they are doing and all for the wrong reasons due to lack of moral ethics to treat others better and with dignity and lack of intelligence to show fortitude and forbearance in the face of confrontations or disputes.
Some choose to pull at one’s heart string by calling my cell phone yesterday and reporting a head on collision in a vehicle accident on Tuesday, walking miraculously from the scene and coughing from sounding sick per a business associate named Pete or by calling our house today and trying to deliver Christmas presents to our house after three months of holding these packages hostage per the sister (Malouse) of Paw.
These two real life dramas are either met with silence in no support for the nonsense of delaying a trust in faith or with anger in verbal retaliation by Paw to send back the presents to the givers, respectively. People who operate like these two are unbelievable. But their forgiveness is only when our memories fail us.
For the most part, people seem to behave nicely at first and smile behind a mask of indifference. Imperfections in people exist and fault finding plays as a common theme with my relatives. The most involved relatives in each other’s affairs are mostly the women.
Sometimes they get the in-laws involved because they themselves cannot resolve their problems within the family. I often wonder why they bother convincing others to contribute their time and money for efforts that do not always work to bring the relatives together.
For example, I do not understand why two registered nurses (Malouse and Maldeath) dumped old granny in the nursing home in December 2005. Old granny cannot get around much because the daughters either refuse to buy old granny a wheelchair (due to the place of ‘Mal-Low’ is too small) or to take care of her (due to the husbands are mean). My relatives should be honest and let us know exactly why they have taken that course of action after the fact.
Old Granny Lose does not belong in the nursing home because like most residents want some company and would cry almost every time someone comes over to visit. This is truly sad because I am powerless to have her live in a better place and have only my prayers for her happiness. My family and I don’t visit her anymore because it hurts to see old granny that way of playing dumb.
Basically ignoring people with bad attitudes seems to be an alternative. And that works fine for us living in the South Bay over the years of not really knowing these East Bay lifestyles. Since we live too far from them to travel such long and stressful distances, we no longer attend their parties either.
This saves us money from buying useless gifts that might end up either thrown away and never to be seen again or recycled from the hidden recesses of the closets for someone else’s party and heartache from knowing that, for whatever reasons being, still make a big deal for not visiting them in the first place. It’s nice to know they still send us invitations though.
Some people will never truly learn that eventually we mostly misunderstood people with nothing but positive outlooks in life will have learned their devious ways of being the wolf in sheep clothing’s and sucker punch them where the truth really counts.
The forms of punishment are always the truth. Nothing could beat the almighty truth of letting a piece of one’s mind be known straight forwarded and without restraint and if kicking their rear ends justify the means for a much needed awakening for taking too long to evolve towards a better good.
Oh, and will you all, for Pete’s sake, please grow up and learn to stop stepping all over each other to prove you are not different but no better than the rest of us? Come on!
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Saturday March 4, 2006 – 09:40am (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
People need homes to call their own with all the comforts of home furnishings, modern conveniences and a large grassy backyard containing a swimming pool, a barbecue cooking section for bio-units luncheons and a garden maze for the kids to play.
People want houses to ‘have’ for showing off to bio-units and friends and don’t mind struggling to make payments on mortgages that could never be paid off in a lifetime (like my hard working cousins in their newly purchased houses up in San Ramon, CA).
Others find no other means to afford the illusion of home ownership and end up living in their trucks somewhere out back at a bio-unit’s yard or walking the streets begging for money and being in and out of shelters.
The process of escrow, for example, for any home buyer is tedious. Parties involved have to know what they are doing because ownership of property is a commitment. This is like being married only it’s not a live person. Cash up front as down payment of some ten or twenty percent, whatever the case may be, is required in order to secure a property that other buyers may end up outbidding.
Some may put their prides down far enough to ask bio-units members, relatives or friends for some cash to qualify for a home loan. Others learn to work hard and not risk the embarrassment of later finding out that the original lenders may have interest in the properties or have sentiments of helping the borrowers.
A similar event occurred with Twit and her boyfriend, Brat. Both did not have cash for down payments. Last Sunday, the agent had told ‘Windy’ to get Brat to write a check to cover the three percent of escrow. I think the agent wanted her commission up front. The red flag in this relationship has been this big issue of who could match the down payment so that the bum brother (of Twit and after living in her condo for four years without working) won’t be allowed to move into the potential new house of this nice but ignorant couple.
The key answer is to have her sell her condo prior to getting a new house; since she has more leverage in the relationship. (This seems like a given for a couple where women have more power in some mysterious ways). Twit and Brat are perfect for each other. I wish I could be there for both of them in times like these, as well as for certain innocent folks forced into homelessness. They will always have my best interest, on my behalf.
Who, in the real world, has real cash? The illusion is not backed by any real gold standards and so cash in this sense doesn’t exist. I certainly do not have cash. If I had cash to spend, I would be living on them hills, Beverly Hills.
I have my bio-units to thank for their kind arrangement of staying at home and rent free. I avoid being homeless and stay within secured comfort. The price is my freedom of going in and out of the house freely without offering explanations of my whereabouts, after the curfew of being home before midnight.
By not owning real property, I free myself from the responsibilities of paying for property taxes, monthly mortgages, home insurances and utility bills. And I’ve been told the best way to go is to live in an apartment, which is something that I’ve never had the chance to try.
The idea of sharing the same walls, however, is not as private as a single residence that I’m living in. And I cherish my personal space so I could compose my blogs in quiet solitude, play on my Kimball piano, take pictures out back and walk indoors free and uninhibited in pink underwear during nights for a glass of warm milk.
I’ve been told to invest in real property. What would happen if the real estate market busts after some t-bills are sold en mass, if ever. Why would I want to work long hours, lose sleep, risk fatigue and get bags under my already tired eyes?
Why should I allow some lousy lenders to take away my life savings of hard earned pennies and have them rub their fat, grubby, grease-laden palms in delight at another deal that lands them a large commission, an all expense paid vacation and a better sense of pride in fooling others into the dreamless state of paper trails that seem to get shredded into oblivion as if nothing could ever come of starting the whole process of debt?
Those that are lucky enough to own property once shared under the sovereign rights of the earth keepers now segmented into reservations should not think for once that their ownership of paid off or invested properties belong to them. Nothing in this world belongs to anyone at any moment.
Anything that appears to be shared by all is but another illusion by those global elites who hold onto our throats until we bleed them more money to pay off their creditors. And the cycle of debt never seems to stop there either.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Saturday March 4, 2006 – 02:09pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
I see gray clouds up above yesterday and the whole of today. It’s 07:33PM.
The cats and dogs are pouring their tears as heavily upon rooftops, treetops and mop tops of old hairstyles and everywhere the sounds of washing cars establishments beating on windshields wiping faster than flags waving for Indy cars towards the finish line.
There is freedom from the transmission devices digging into skin of scalp and hiding where only daredevils roam freely in circles. Pluck!
The feeling becomes soothing and sleepy in my hands; the root herewith being less itchy and hairy in my palms as I hold to light shining and shiny yet through to show lifelessness, stillness and laughing at the strand.
I am free and am no longer slave to wandering nails etching railroad tracks to unknown forestation thick and deep. Dark are the colors above as I sleep while it makes noise of squealing delights to once existence on top.
Now, no longer buzzing in annoyance but in garbage among balls matted or in water flushed towards birthing into ocean wide and blue, deeper until returning with others for the attack and more and more to roam in circles.
Mirror, mirror where are they? They they are but not in hay as yellow. But in reflections beyond blurry eyesight did I see. Hurry, more are more coming forward with the urge to raise sheaves and harvest that gray there.
Over there! It’s lost and cannot be found. I miss again from lack of strength to raise arms higher. I see it! Pluck!
There is relief at last and more to go. I’m afraid where only gray hairs grow.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Monday February 27, 2006 – 07:35pm (PST) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
The final answer of No! is my blog for today. My big brain and fragile mind cannot handle the overwhelming disinformation.
I say No! To media driven, fear mongering, visually laden programming from a bunch of overpaid hoot nannies broadcaster via our airwaves and radio waves.
The weather is cold, cloudy and rainy outside now and overall color is gray.
I say No! To weather that is controlled unnaturally by HAARP and similar weird devices.
My feeling is not to working today and don’t feel I’m being paid enough for my efforts.
I say No! to working hard for nothing and earning cold hard cash that flushes down the royal throne we call the toilet, which could now use bidets for cleaner behinds.
Toilet habits are mundane and unnecessary to discuss especially to my public.
I say No! to the usage of toilets, the fluoride or fluorine contained in mouthwashes and toothpastes or to the natural bodily function of pooping.
No more delays and betrayal of trusts are warranted. I only trust myself and no one else anymore.
I say No! to traitors of my heart. They have been too cunning and scheming in persuading the unwary individuals involved.
Certain people should pay for deceiving me.
I say No! to wheelers and dealers behind closed doors too. They have been too secretive and not forthcoming with their activities.
My help is more than enough already.
I say No! to creditors with exorbitant interest rates on loans that could kill us poor folks, parasites that drain our energies, beggars that should know better about working menial jobs at least, predators that chomp on the necks for nourishment and suckers that give false hopes, the worse of the kind.
Yesterday, my dream worlds were composed in the shortest amount of words that I could remember.
I say No! to burning out (or smoking the kinds of stuff that burn your brains or balls, if you are of the male species).
Nothing could keep this person more preoccupied than to tirelessly sit on her behind to accomplish pieces of her wee little history via online blogging.
I say No! to tiredness of body and mind and pieces of drivel that are too long.
Too many people think about who or what I AM.
I say No! to slanderers, hearsay-ers and gossipers that bear false witness against me, myself and I (and any neighbors that happen to get in the way for all I care).
Trying to prove any intelligence in blogging is not my goal. My writing skills are in the novice stage.
I say No! to intelligent geniuses, well educated in universities, well-versed kinds of messengers and reporters.
My freedom to communicate is being practiced everyday and is being read by what’s left of my public in what I perceive as real and in my reality.
I say No! to freedom ringers (ding! ding!), truth seekers and crusaders beyond the third dimensional thinkers.
There is the opposition to freedom.
I say No! to slave drivers, control freaks and sharp shooters aimed at innocent people to be stilled into silence.
War is nonsense. Ego is nonsense. Any propaganda to promote violence is nonsense.
I say No! to war to fuel the egos of these global elites and via the media broadcasters.
Governments or religious organizations in any way, shape or form are too many.
I say No! to mechanisms installed by smart ones that don’t always work for everyone.
You may say No! to anything that doesn’t click with being true to yourselves.
You may say No! to everyone you don’t like or could care less to like.
You may, however, say Yes! to love, kindness and compassion.
You may also say Yes! to hope and a better future.
You may yet be saved with your generous donations too.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
I say No! to interjections that could make me throw up, which I did one time outside our church when I was cramping one Sunday morning.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Original publication:
- Monday February 27, 2006 – 08:30am (PST)
- http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-dMLYEJo3fqqaTf8Pi2_DBUz8?p=62