courtesy of Poets Of The Fall
The whole PizzaGate scandal…which…my friends…is in no way fake or some wild conspiracy. In my opinion, this coming to our attention was not by some stolen evidence or leak. We, the People, with the majority still asleep, have played our part in such sadist ceremonies (aka fuckn sick nefarious wickedness – where only the weak participate). Why? …you may say…we are guilty by omission…to act…to care…to pay attention to the realities surrounding us.
This is not new, and the fact that it’s so shocking to society baffles me. OPEN YOUR EYES people…our children have been the dangling sacrifice giving these fucks so much satisfaction. As innocence is lost, the whole sacred structure of family torn to bits leaving an obvious wound which shows on every level (w/exception to sickly slithering things).
Our Children’s cries are soul shattering, and most of you have never heard them. Those that have, being honest with one self walks on with that damn blind eye. For this we, in the eyes of such wickedness, give our consent through submission. Following the flock so as to believe your life can remain comfortable as long as you don’t rock the boat.
No Child, person and/or family is exempt…even the insiders are used up, spit out, then burned at the stake. I realize it’s almost unfathomable to imagine such horrific circumstances piercing your lives with torture, oppression and dehumanization on a grandiose scale.
To My Fellow Fighters for the Few…you, myself, our children and families have been branded by bloody bandits, ripped from our arms and spread across the lands. The harder we fight plunges us deeper Into That Dark Night. Those who sacrifice themselves by taking the stand that makes you a target, enduring continuous blows from every angle, these blows mean “shut the fuck up, bow down to the beast, and mind yer own business”.
Humanity, My Tribe, Your Families…Are Our Business and so far the lack of bravery has most of us bankrupt. Why are we still walking along, shopping, playing with our Iphone’s, and Living It Up…as our fellow-man suffers torturous strife? Does taking the easy route, playing it safe really mean more to you than the raping of our children’s souls? Being a lil pussy may be the thing in the order of the new world…but here on our ground, it’s a fucking disgrace.
Harshness is not my chosen forte…but damn it, this calls for it. Why…Oh Fucking Why? Does the wording PizzaGate, now put into an already long going sacrificial spiritual war, suddenly stirring society. Child Trafficking, Satanic Ritual Abuse, The Legal Kidnapping of Children…none of these make you wonder hmmmmmm wtf has this world come to?
PizzaGate…how dumbed down our society is when it take a damn pizza…before the “we’re raping their lil girls and boys then eating them too” for a fuckn reaction. With no offense to you…a weak one at that. Oh…we put it on youtube…we did a little blog…what more does one expect? …and I believe im speaking on behalf of all the tortured families, when I say…GET THE FUCK UP…Raid the Streets…Rid the Hate…Smash the State…Don’t back down & don’t let it fade into the neurotic news like it was some dust in the wind.
These are our children…children…the one thing that ensures a future remain…being hung on hooks, forced to drink blood, sodomized with knives and when they cry for help…CPS comes a storming shredding apart innocent lives.
Folks…yes the few that fight are utterly gaslighted. …but let us think for a moment SELAH…we are the many and they are the few…they know it too…the thought of us actually being the way we are intended to be…winds up their weakness, and grinds at their teeth. Don’t shove this aside and don’t you dare just take my word for it. Seek the truth…see it for yourself…let it stir your souls…then let’s start the fucking war already.
Remember the saying…”United We Stand…Divided We Fall”…uh yeah…it’s all true and the longer we stay scared and sit in idle…the more children are put on the table. Pizza is serious yo…so is the raping and exploitation of innocent children. No Pizza terms need apply to open thy eyes on that one. So…Society…What are you going to do? Before your ready to actually answer…pay mind to fact they are about to make yet another move…and this time ain’t easy cheesy cuz the target is YOU!!!
Time To Rise Up…Revolt is the cool thing to do 😉
Let Us Find Our Souls Once Again…Care for your fellow mankind…Honor All That Is…Have Humility, Invoke Thy Graces and Keep Your Eyes Watching God.
Below…a link to an inspiring video that leaves you in awe.
Source: I Wish I Could Sing
A Purpose is why God brought you into this life? Although I myself had to admit it…every trial…tribulation…every loss…when like everyone; we missed many marks…each act…thought…experience ~ brings forth the purpose, throwing it asunder seemingly lost beneath the ocean’s waves ~ yet another divine lesson… brought a comrade whom reached out thy hand ~ wiping sand revealing a great man. Such small deeds – some to grow…some will take away one’s aglow ~ now it’s humanity… where purpose is sketched ~ how we serve…ever so selflessly…can make dark broken souls sprout roses and rainbows. …ever so thoughtlessly ~ hearts, families, hopes and the what once was…can be forever lost in one of Mom’s worn down sheds. Even so…Go…Rage into the Light…bravely enter that dark night…make a wish…look up look up…see the stars??? forgetting the purpose …we walk into weeping waves…sudden sight keeps a heart warm…that shiney Sun of a gun…whispers…remember the stars?…they took our scars…righteous thieves in the night…what was wrong…what is right…dissipate…aided by galactic stargates ~ created to break apart hate. There’s a garden…see it there? wait…wasn’t moms worn down shed /./ …. SMILING…finally…SMILING. See… I told you, that night we laid laughing, telling stories, you just 3 & me…of the future – nice things mom would bring… she with butterflies found lost hopes, hearts and our families…They are right there…In that garden – for all of us to share; Purpose will always be fluttering & flying free as a butterfly…just being safe…she planted it in the garden… so we’d always have it…that…no one can take…so let’s go back to the place…just kids laughing…so silly these things
…Nishkama (Inspired by Frank)
Enough is Enough…when no sensitivity , love or people rarely surround me
Enough is fucking enough when I have to try to remove my own sutures, when I have to stop and breathe almost passing out just to get up the hill to the hospital which has no bus route.
When Doctors upon Doctors need an emergency contact and a support person and I just leave it blank…looking down as I whisper there is no one.
When I cannot even know the littlest yet to me most precious bits and pieces of Chloe as my oldest always states “Not Right Now Mom”…the right now never comes & my soul survives for the thought of her.
Elle, I am at her mercy for she has the info that could save me…My No Matter What promise to Chloe has loosened that noose on the tree when even hanging failed me.
I feel forsaken expected to laugh through the losses, walk hills faster with cancer, not worry, be scared, complain, reach out…anything cuz it interrupts her happiness.
So as Ive mastered suffocating in silence, in there again…at the mercy of the key-holder to what little left can ease the lack of breath shall it be a time she uses that key when nothing is going on in life if she has a minute.
The silent rage, sufferings, sacrifices and even simple needs will be here suffocating within me as a slowly fade.
My mother tortured me for almost a lifetime and still I honored her. My name was on her doctors list, I made time for her appointments, took care of her, bathing her, even the sacred act of tending her feet.
Although broken…her fears were eased as I digested her regrets and anger with little acknowledge until days before the end.Then I rendered my greatest gift ensuring she was not to die alone.
I took my own soul breathing it into her for what seemed like hours. Not even a thought crossed me as i am on ground zero with EMT courageous n selflessly giving her all the beautiful heartfelt words of worthiness so she got to feel that love, that honor…instilling her worth.
I divinely carried her soul through the realms of her passing. All this…to give her everything she refused me…her soul set a free.
Enough – Les Brown
Me accepting silent suffocation with little to no chance of ever relief…
All the while being assaulted on a soul level by an ungrateful younger brother who’s memory obviously vacated; attacking the one soul who threw herself in front of gunfire, violence, trauma
…even putting myself between him & one of Daddy’s Druggies who was like a beast sliding a knife up my 3yr old brothers neck just glaring as if I would scare and run.
Instead I boldly came face to face with Wild Bill his knife blade set to shred my baby brother’s head as he so innocently lied asleep.
That mutherfucker said “Someone’s head is being cut off here & now…Who’s It Gonna Be?” i swear the devil leaped out of his eyes testing my honor, my will and my love for my dear brother.
Swift as a wolf I raised my head up to him as I pushed my neck up high silently declaring…Then take me. Raising his Rambo style knife to my throat I never shifted my gaze…letting that bitch know you’ll have to behead me taking my life while you look into my fearless eyes.
Suddenly as if a ghost appeared his eyes where scared and he startled pulling back that blade before he jumped out Lil Frankie’s bedroom window onto the back storage & off into the night.
Hearing my mother screaming down the stairs rocking back n forth with ambulatory aid. I confronted her in disgust stating “What are you so freaked out & scared? Mom…”He pulled a gun on me”…again her needs
… so trying to inform her; he not only put a gun to my head in the hallway that night …he almost killed my brother Frankie yielding a knife against his throat which was about the size of his 3yr old head…was as futile as expecting her to be a mom.
Springwood would force me to be fearless, protecting my Lil brother’s sheltering their pain by always throwing myself into danger to be the shield.
My dad was always huddled in some corner all scary like with a spoon that I guess held his drugs, lighting it over a glass of water. I was so scared & frantic that by chance if I didn’t watch over my brothers. my dad’s drug uses, and missed a cup of that water it could kill one of my brothers.
Well over a year I got up at 5am going through everything rinsing out all glasses of water also hiding residue. Fearing my Lil bros, unaware of the danger could expose themselves to it or worse drink one of Dad’s drug glasses of water.
No one knew of this besides my therapist, until confronting my mom prior her passing and now…in this random therapeutic rant.
One morning i awoke just a few minutes later than usual…knowing my bros were up early too I ran down the stairs into the kitchen.
Hence my worst fear…my cute Lil bro Marvin wearing my purple polo shit, with his cute cheeks, freckles and red poofy hair…was already in the kitchen taking an almost full drink from one of dad’s cups…
I panicked and instantly reacted by slapping him in the face with my right hand so hard the blow forced the water to spurt out his mouth. I barely saved him, ashamed I didn’t get to that glass…this moment created a trauma so deep it haunts me even now.
It was Not ..doing whatever I could to care & protect my bros not caring of my expense, as I’m the big sister if I didn’t take this job on they’d be scared, unable to protect themselves from the violence and trauma I so vigilantly & desperately tried to shield them from.
It was the look on Lil Marvin’s face…in sheer shock…traumatized by his big sister…and why she slapped him so suddenly when he did nothing wrong…that look of despair left me broken silently screaming what the fuck is wrong with my parents?”
…I couldn’t explain to Marvin or Frankie why I did that, They were too young to understand plus keeping them from seeing/knowing all the bad things going on was my job.
Trauma allows little memory of my plight, never telling them I often wondered if they thought I was a bad big sister…My Mom’s death last Dec. 2016 swiftly assaults me with that answer.
My whole childhood seemed in vain; as Frank verbally shattered the few patched up pieces of my existence. Especially him, I was devoted…
my parents left my brothers with this weird couple to watch them a few hours – lack of care – me not there – lead to a huge physical trauma to my Frankie.
One full leg was shattered, his pelvis broken and the upper other leg broken as well. He was in a near full body-cast for almost a year, only 4, mom & dad couldn’t keep him safe…so big sissy was determined to keep him cared for.
We lived in the projects and since mom barely made meals and we had little food most times. I would take Lil bros over to the rec center for free lunch every day.
There was this tight left/right/then left fenced entrance…no other way could we get in. So bis Sissy proudly smiled as she patiently and strongly carried her Frankie, in full body-cast which also had a bar connecting the legs to keep the core in place
…all the way from their apartment which was very far (in kid glasses) to that rec center for his daily lunch. Sometimes they’d run out and I gave up mine so my Lil bros would feel good & strong.
Relentlessly, for months, every day 1x or more severely struggled successfully getting Lil frank through that damn gate. He’d be hot(it was summer) in that cast and frustrated so I’d tell him don’t worry little brother were gonna get through this gate and every time the struggle was worth it.
The trauma not only physically stunted him as he would have to re-learn everything, yet psychologically as well…he couldn’t talk saying words trying to get his point across. Sissy put on her teacher hat and sure a shit Frankie was talking again.
I also saw him as my savior…due to many violent scary experiences all occurring at night where I put on my Momma Bear hat giving myself in hopes I could spare them of the suffering and pain.
I was terrified of darkness w/out light. Laying in my bed paralyzed, too afraid to move as I could not see my surroundings…
I would cry “Frankie…Frankie…Frankie”; and that adorable red headed stunner at 2/¾ yrs of age…would run into my room turn on my light…so I felt safe. We would fall asleep laughing and telling stories.
I prayed every night silently making my plea to God, that if he could put any pain or struggles my Lil bros may face on me to weather. I also prayed that if I have kids please please please help me save them from ever experiencing my type of sufferings.
I, being a child naively tried to make a pact with God. I would take all this pain, all this suffering, all the severe scary abuse and be brave always in exchange for giving my Lil bros a fighting chance at life.
I insisted he gave me any experience that would scare or hurt my Lil bros, as my scars to bear. Always reminding God my future family will be everything our family was not and my kids would never be abused in ways that I did.
Thinking back my thought process could only be unconditional love & hope for my Lil bros to not see what I saw, felt what I felt, experience what I experienced as I was already damaged goods but the boys…we can save the boys…right God?
Later in life i struggled with God…as Marvin was into gangs and angry at the world…then Frankie was just used as another player in this world’s sick selfish games
…everyone & everything to this day is shadowed by Frankie’s acts, being still a child 11/12, was acting out his abuse. I didn’t blink and protected Frankie from the backlash, injustices and judgements these acts would bring.
Even risking my own children defending his honor… This was important to me as I saw things bad scary things mom n dad even with friends used to make him do.
These struggles my brothers endured in my eyes were supposed to be on my shoulders, and as Big Sissy I personally blamed myself for their sufferings…believing i failed somewhere along the line
…and God had failed on 1 of only 2 prayers I prayed for nightly since I could remember…I hated him…Crossing his name out of every spiritual book I would buy…eventually learning many paths all led me back to Him.
For years I have suffered immensely feeling my failings to take better care of him earlier in life was why…now…in my greatest tragedy…i’m nothing but a piece of trash left on some dark lonely road in Ocosta.
..My son Sage, losing everything for an imminent noble plight, my breakdown suffocating silently as no hand reached my way. I was in this alone and with every missing of the mark; Frank would judge me, looking down at me, denying such; yet he either was blind to his own behaviors or this infliction of shame upon me is intentional.
The moral to the story, better stated stories’… on most levels is still up in the air.
My mom’s death… compounded with Frank’s, almost demonic in nature, verbal and non verbal abuse is long-suffering. Perhaps the Devil has been sneaking upon him years now…
Instantaneously when mom died, so did any goodness in Frank. Possessed, creating chaos on sacred ground, refusing Moms children, grandchildren, family and friends any sort of closure…In respect for impending legal actions I won’t prevail any further details…
In a short time span; I lost my only real longtime girlfriend and coworker to a tragic death, soon after my Kelly who glitters died in her sleep…then my mom died – devastatingly so did my brother frank…
Another child taken (via brotherly love) ~ My Sissy…my heart just cries out for her daily…constantly looking, searching, praying God will at least… bring My Sissy back.
My soul decided any hope of some family besides personally was dead. My safe place gone…
I always felt content knowing that If; Life May Again Rip Me 2 Shreds…I had Momma’s Compound, with the Satanic Scary Ritual Grounds & old creepy mossy forests
In Frank’s eyes; its a garbage dump hoarders compound…and by golly…against all consciousness, Mom’s rights, her will, the beneficiaries, that property, and all her items would be pillaged, dishonored, and by legal standards; straight up fuckin irrevocably damaged
One of the most painful familial situations is to be the brother or sister of a narcissistic sibling. From the beginning they “have it in” for you as the old saying goes. I have heard from so many of their victims. The stories told are hair raising. Even in early childhood there are memories of being pinched, squeezed, shamelessly slapped. All of this is perpetrated with impunity. The parent(s) of the victimized child is often a narcissist and gives the special , golden holy terror free reign in the household. There are no rules for this brat turned tyrant. The embattled child is always in fight or flight mode. There is no letting down, no relaxing of hypervigilence, no rest or freedom to express oneself authentically in this family constellation.
In some instances in adulthood the narcissistic sibling far in advance plots how he or she will deceive the parent (s) and gain full control over the family finances or trusts. This is shocking but it happens more often than one would think.
There are cases in which the golden narcissistic sibling intimidates brothers and sisters into taking his/her side against the scapegoated children. These battles become very ugly and can eventually rip families apart.
Rather than live in these dreadful circumstances many siblings break completely from their family of origin and move into a no contact mode. This is often painful since it is difficult for some to believe that a sibling with whom we share our DNA could be so treacherous. Coming to terms with this reality is essential to the healing process.
Learning about the psychological core and dynamics of the narcissistic personality recognizing their specific traits and the naked truth about them is the beginning of healing.
Acknowledging and appreciating your authenticity, the fact that you survived this series of hells is a huge step toward becoming whole. You went through these wars since childhood and have survived into adulthood. You deserve tremendous credit and acknowledgement for this achievement. So many of these survivors are among the kindest, most empathetic and intuitive individuals I have every known. Here is to your continuing healing, your triumph as an individual and the unbounded use of all of your creative gifts.
The truly iconic portrait above (artist yet be known) shows a daughter, a friend and a mother. Their faces show survived battles once slained, their eyes the sadness such loss brings…yet the portrait tells all; although broken, humbled and small. The Stand…proves they still believe Goodness and Love will , in the end …Conquer All
Here I stand, a ghost…simply a shell of a once thriving, blissfully, adoring mother
Each of them, invoking…in their own unique ways, the healings of thy soul
Oh, how I honored them, utter reverance! They like moonbeams shot across the skies, teaching me of family and love…what that truly is
My bones ached, while working six to seven days a week, determined to render them all that I once hoped for as a child yet never recieved.
We were Light…shining even in chaos, a never surrending flame, like the sun which burns brightly …frightfully exposing “the lying ones”
Hate, why is it so?…I dont believe Ill ever understand why they plunged into our lives, like indian arrowheads afire
They, without sufferings, no oppression nor chains, and no crimes against their humanity…Unwarrented them the feathered battle cry
Shattering lives, like a walk on a Sunday afternoon, without thought or even a conscious…pierced we were by fiery stakes
Running, we tried to trick ourselves into believing…we were surviving somehow, some way.
Yet…words were never spake of our inner tortureous state
We stood the plight…attempting to fight, an evil we knew not, would tear apart our lives stitch by stitch, with every inch
Throwing us without armor…into a war against the most sacred structure of all creation
Has no meaning to those, who enter our homes as snakes by nightfall, conspiring our demise
At times, I ponder…why, why did we as beings, have to be so pure and free?
Perhaps, if our DNA suddenly disconnected, like the surge of a dusty electric cord…we could shut our the light shining within us
There was no alternative…We brought forth to give life to those in strife
We knew not of malicious chilvary, no demons in our eyes, never to dishonor…breaking no righteous code
Tears, like tsunami’s, swallowed us whole…drowning in innocence
Holding on, for dear life to some ancient falace, strips fading thread by thread
We cried out, seeking justice…for the ressurected life we once so peacably lived
Those lying ones, desired us dead…our presence ingnited their nefarious ways, as darkness hides not in the light
We, played pretend, like as if we were once again whole…
While our light asundered to a dim, worn down wick. White candles, which could not again be lit…
Plunged into darkness…we strayed, broken and alone, no brightness inside, not even a kind eye did we find
As slowly, we were torn apart, our souls having no choice…but to live in this night ever so dark
Where once…our eyes were watching God, faith evaporated with each unforgiving sulfurous night sky
The softness of thy soul…lost, hiding behind hopeless steel war torn sheilds
Our souls in many ways knelt to death…never to be reclaimed
We were jaded as japanese elephants, as they stripped the flicker from our eyes
Wandering without wishes…to a home we never returned
Spread across the lands…like the monks vikings stole, forcing godliness be enslaved by man
All around us, everything still running on…while we, paralyzed could only break with the slightest move
Whirlwinds…kept us on the floor, as our powers depleted, from this blood tainted war
Grooming us, like mules…they made us slaves in what other’s claimed “be a free world”
No skeleton keys we found…keeping us bound, for want of love only family brings
Stripped of all comforts…no cloaks were left us
As we wandered cold unknown roads…blinded in darkness, a spark not even to appear
We Stand…Alive Still, but for, only the hopes of Our Tribe
Each One tortured…fragments of fortitude, relieve frail bones never layed rest from lost feelings of home
No blood flows through mystic veins, not a thought of failing umbrellas in the rain…leaving lanterns bereft aglow
To fight a little every day, each our own way, believing how great it be, when our tribe is finally set free
We all run, to eachother…yet never a brush of touch
Like a record loops, again and over again, to eachother, still…we run
As some small spark, hidden deep within our souls…keeps us standing
Galactic glimpses of hope… some a time filling our hearts holes
What am I to say?…Still we believe someday…It’ll Be Ok!
It’s May Day Folks…Brothers, Sisters, Mothers, Fathers, Daughters and Sons…
WE MUST STAND STEADFAST AS A WHOLE…We Are the 99%
April 27, 2017 4:12 PM
Ernest Reigh, five-six, 160 pounds, was released from Florida’s prison system March 1 after doing 19 years for lewd and lascivious behavior and indecent assault on a child under 16; attempted sexual assault on a victim under the age of 12; and perjury. Now, law enforcement doesn’t know where this convicted sex offender is.
After he was dropped off in Fort Pierce, Reigh was to be living in the 100 block of South U.S. 1. He never reported to the Federal Probation Office, nor did he register his address with the St. Lucie County as required of convicted sex offenders.
U.S. Marshals say Reigh admitted to once selling a machine gun for $500. There’s a $2,000 reward for information leading to Reigh’s arrest. Marshals believe he might be on the way to North Carolina or Pennsylvania.
Anyone with information on his whereabouts can call Deputy U.S. Marshal Christopher Crotty at 305-710-7395 or Task Force Officer John Brady at 954-707-2457.