N.J. (Part 3)
“Our liberation from obsessive thoughts is Jesus Christ” (2019)
1.Miraculously actuarial,
the woes on Chorazin/Bethsaida paint
one category of true balances.
False balances abhorred, Suleiman say.
True balances confirm one's foundling faith,
confirm consistency's miraculous
expansion. Called miraculous because
of able absence on an inner plane
of outer contradiction sand traps. Shoo!
Obsessive thought is flavoured alien.
2.
You hardly need ouija boards
to hear from the unkind undead
They have to work around the house
you see, the house one calls a head.
They
are a hate track in your mind!
obsessive thought that is not you,
and just like you they were designed.
A single human being is a crew –
“alone
yet not alone” -- more than
it knows. For manimals are brutes,
within them beasties. Welcome in!
Welcome aboard to bearing fruits,
to
doing good because it’s good
and not to get promoted, make
a killing, wow the neighbourhood.
God is our good for goodness sake.
3.
Obsessive thought-forms know how to induce
perversions of legitimate pursuits.
for instance turning love of solitude
(where also loved our Lord) into a curse
upon all sociality but roads,
encyclopedias, and similar.
Our vaunted solitude is simply not
a thing! “[A]lone yet not alone”, God said
when incarnating in the nick of time.
We have no actual privacy at all.
4.
Do you resent this? Mind's eye: summon shape
of yon resentment. How does shape compare
with lust or hate? Our squirm of evil is
rebellion, as its wang in harvest field
or inbox indicates, a dark pinched flare
of evil, weevils in the hearts of hates.
Our tweezers wander like a lion to
devour, (No one wields such gentle tongs
as God.) warily wander axial!
and spherical! and dazed! We are so cruel.
5.
The architecture of obsessive thought
may be inverted to “excuse” and not
“accuse” the neighbour whom we claim to love;
that is, it may be turned against itself.
Regeneration hollows lions out
like jack o’ lanterns, grows a rabbit in
their hearts. Uniqueness of their washing does
not simply go away, well represents
domestication in the house of God.
The mental lion lies down with the Lamb.
“Regeneration's 'Second Work of Grace'” (2019)
Humiliating: it’s His talent. We’re
no good, not in ourselves, motes in sunbeam.
The same sword pierces through us meme by meme.
as fate’s machinery, mates’ hates, near fear,
all grinding of
sandpaper in our lives --
backbiting comments, flat tyres, nagging wives --
conspire to rob us of free, fragile peace
where it makes sense to quest for golden fleece.
We believe we live
forever in the Word,
not out of it: the sword that pierces through,
the First and Second Comings' “...all things new”
"...is within you"! Now, comforted and spurred,
to speak of He who is
our bitten tongue,
our tact, our managed temper, each good deed.
His way He works in us, so seldom sung,
fosters humanity in us indeed
who were brute beasts
before His spirit lit
us, next explained flown evil thoughts as flood,
thus how led land lay. Pulled one from the pit,
He did: out of mire muck, out of the mud,
out of the Mariana
Trench where one preened, prone
to absence of executive control
with callous arrogance, heart hard young stone,
a rutting chimpanzee's worth of lost soul.
…Love happened in
one’s living room, vast joy
not an emotion but His living mind.
He really does love veering humankind.
He frees us to be far more than a toy.
“Day-Star Rising” (2019)
1. The New Church Writings hide no less than a rosetta stone
the startling frame of which precise alignment with the Word
confers an answer key add-access code, much as our Lord
unlocked Nehushtan-Resurrection, this a thousandfold.
This eerie Earth is like an icy stream wherein the Lord
exposes humankind! We’re in a tadpole factory now.
The proud prowl, so bewildered and obsessively in pain.
The envious, likewise tormented as a leaking boat,
must live this truth that sets them free to be led by the Lord:
that Jesus is our goodness and our status and our skill;
that saying less than this if well-aware is thievery!
That God respects not persons? Why, this same sword in us all.
2. The positive desire
to serve the Lord & all mankind
is Heaven; fear of punishment lives out prospective hell.
The observation of one’s thoughts in order to observe
for flares of evil, be these wheresoever found, is God’s.
We do not steal Ferraris, do not lop off heads; therefore
our trouble is within, from which proceed obsessive thoughts,
the same discoursed on by the Lord, which
are the bulk of human sin. You’d think they’d look inside, those
lovers of the Lord (who said the Kingdom was within)!
You look within, you watch for evil thoughts and you confess
them to the Lord. Not that you cannot mention them to all,
didactically to indicate interiors for all.
3. For instance, one
resented people for such trivial
transgressions as the soiling of a plastic bag. You tell
the Lord these things, you bring up anger management, you care
about this pressing taming of your animality,
this phase shift from Accusing Saul to the Excusing Paul
(if so be His regeneration dwelleth in your heart)
amid domestication, our resentment crucified,
as crucified as bitterness and foolishness and hate.
It’s these we crucify; it’s cruelty, a serrated tongue
we crucify. We need not crucify our joy of life,
gift of the Lord, but evil thoughts and evil habits, lies
and greed and lust and doing good for gain. Hence “Watch and pray"!
“Hel-lo, Tik-Tok” (2020)
Industrial society: more bolt
of lightning than a plan; worn waves of Rust
Belt, not insidious conspiracy;
a torn, crushed, crumpled Red Bull can in mud,
a shopping cart abandoned by the road.
Not that some wave crests do not cackle now
& then, pent penthouse sociopathy
divided even as strewn street gangs are.
The robots walked into our city on
their soft robotic feet,
walked down our street -- last glimmering of an
explosion – on their soft robotic feet,
walked out of it, diminishing into
bright distance. Soon they are Tik-Tok again.
Bold busybodies crisscross neighbourhoods, these
faceless in proportion to surveillance.
Starlings murmur from the sky in abject shock.
“The pouring of the oil and wine from dawn(1) till eventide(3)” (2020)
Your propium, your ego, fallen flesh,
yon heart of stone that nearly fills your jar
is doomed! unless the Saviour fills that jar
with holy living water from the New
Jerusalem out of a boundless sea
of oil and wine, like Zeno's paradox
flipped right-side up, perfecting without end,
infinitesimal Ezekiel's feet
no longer able to touch ground. But if
you dare to touch that oil and wine, you kill
two witnesses, you crucify two thieves,
which is the night, the feet of iron and clay,
which is the fourth phase pale horse, death and hell,
when voice of bride and bridegroom sound no more.
Dead night is when the priest and Levite pass;
they pour not oil and wine into those wounds
inflicted on one robbed and left for dead.
“They're gonna hang Confucius from the sour apple tree” (2020)
Concerning CHAZ-cum-CHOP: Orange Man poopooed by Jenny
Durkan. Paris Commune. Late-stage Marxist-Leninism.
Thou shouldst not revile yon Orange Man, lest and anger haunt thee.
Thou shouldst not participate in a Two Minutes Hate, not any.
Parallel developments of dialectic ideologies.
Wars: Position? Motion? Late-stage Smithist-Financism
octopus of aggregation squid ink bubble pop, we're very busied!
War of Motion! Apparatchiks. Old Boy's Club. Both carbon
credits, Black Lives Matter intersectional convergence,
counterhegemonic. Trump poopooed by Governor Jay
Inslee. '...States Rights, Leninism sitting in a tree, k-
i-s-s-i-n-g...' Hyperinflationary debt
pop insurrectionary epic octopus-headache crescendo
shambles positive disintegration... 'will have order!'
Order in this fort! Calexit? Red Guards. Washorexit?
Red Guards pull Jeff Davis down... “We're gonna hang Jeff Davis
from the sour apple tree.” The mob has been unleashed, has
just pulled down slave trader Edward Colston's statue, dumped in Bristol
harbour. Neither “Classless” nor “Democracy” but one word,
oligarchy! Oligarchic interlocking, aggregation
paralleling other forms of global integration.
State of the Whole People, meet Democratism.
Sure, they're Marxist-Leninists, but you can always buy those
wholesale, much like mobs. A word on CHOP: Riddikulus. A
phrase on synthesis: Far Centre. Nourished must the genii be with fear.
Red Dawn done did it with Americans! Stunned stampede
mass hysteria coronovirus Great Depression.
Insurrectionary-foreign war: Novemberrevolution,
1918-19; Red October: 1917. Red Mafia.
“Red sky in morning, sailor's warning.” Red Guards pull down values.
Wen2hua4 Da4Ge2ming4 hua4... They're gonna hang Confucius from
the sour apple tree. They wanna pull down Washington,
they wanna pull down Jefferson. They wanna deconstruct all
hegemonic values. Red News, Education. Children
chanting, holding carbon credit signs up for their masters.
Children chanting as once college
students did before them.
“Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge”.
Red, white, and blue,
How do you do? These Hectic Twenties get to you, Red, white
and blue? You're looking sick Red, white and blue, you're writhing hun.
You 've got you a hyperinflationary insurrection,
hun. Talking 'bout you, Red, white and blue! My land, you gotta
pull yourself together hun! Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. White.
I wonder who is paying for the Marxists and the mobs
and what will happen to the people, people who lost jobs.
Mine eyes have seen professionals stampeding to the moon,
susceptible as buffalos to any passing tune.
Their willingness to come aboard those contact tracing apps
stands out to me as clearly now as squiggly lines on maps
amid the driving rapids' churning, drilling them with dreaming.
44 I know not whom but raise our flag at twilight's last gleaming.
“Temptations Great Flood Swollen Jordan Fire” (2020)
We wake up in a body with a mind
a long time before learning to be kind,
infested by the tapeworms of the soul,
the ones whose present was a lump of coal
who spark up flames within that you enjoy
or don't, flames they enjoy and which destroy,
flames which destroyed them when they walked the Earth,
though in externals they displayed their worth.
We wake amid the shambling bodies here,
the waking personalities we near
with language and with action, knowing not
if in between their ears they are a bot
or not. So much depends on watching minds
for enemy behaviours of all kinds,
on seeing from more inwardly with love,
the charity of conscience from above.
The flood of infestations bridle men
who know not they've been taken for a spin.
The flood of evil thoughts whose wily wang
competeth not with joy; its oily tang
distinguished from our good thoughts, actions, goals.
Beneath Good's bridge lurk shadows, shambling trolls,
ships shipwrecked far from cozy hearths, firm shores.
No organ of our bodies, these are sores,
these piercing thoughts of deadened reprobates –
the nagging emphasis on one it hates --
known as intrusive thoughts to people now.
You're never quite alone behind your brow.
The thoughts of reprobates that flood your head,
perhaps distressed insomniac in bed,
perhaps amid torn turmoil of bright day
in shadowy recesses on the way
comprise the fiery trial which tempts your soul,
the great flood and what time the Jordan's swole,
the 40 days and nights of Jesus' fast,
the 40 years the Church of Sinai passed,
the Red Sea that destroyed all Pharaoh's host
through which the Israelites from coast to coast
proceeded like the house built on the rock
through fiery flood which purifies the flock.
“Our Father Jesus, Saviour of the World” (2020)
He is the light and heat. We are the dust.
That image causing jealousy? Our lust.
He is the love and truth, the joyous sound
of bride and bridegroom, wherewith we abound;
abound that is with mutuality
sincerity, with true sodality
and charity with everyone within.
Our Saviour from hereditary sin
is that same highway in the desert fools
can even travel as their lava cools.
He is the testing opportunity
to live forever and in unity.
He melts the biggest ice chips in our hearts.
Thereafter, even if by fits and starts,
the littler ice chips cannot bear His heat.
(His is the truth we drink, the good we eat);
these ice chips being lesser grudges, chips
on shoulders, feuds involving snarly quips,
and suchlike baggage in the cargo bay
which we resist such that it flees away,
attenuating to a shadow here
so that a true conjunction can cohere;
that is, conjunction with the God Man by
conjuncting good and truth with the Most High.
The Divine Human is Almighty Lord
and God and everlasting Father's Word;
and even people who don't know His name
can still conjunct, still play Love's hidden game.
For name is like to have a good name is;
so those who do His deeds are truly His;
not Nicolaitans, for a reward!
but even out of sight of one accord,
with all who live this way, conjuncting well
with Heaven as opposed to with some Hell.
Be not surprised that Jesus sometimes lets
the sand into your oyster shells and then,
(once we've become aware of law thus sin),
the rain temptation waterblasts your house
with vile insinuations like a mouse
or many mice perhaps, annoying as
a nagging voice some man or woman has.
It nags all night as accusation piles
on accusation, fantasising wiles
succeed each other, resist our control.
So far as we oppose them, so far whole,
so far abundant, liberated from
enslavement, beating to a different drum,
the mutual love of Heaven in our hearts.
This is the unity He makes of parts
46
and why we woke up in a ticking bomb
that starts out dancing, then falls in the tomb,
same belly Lazarus lay in 3 days.
This is life's meaning beyond all the haze
of battle, nags within and nags without,
the frenemies, the hypocrites, the shout
and bustle of metropoli, hired mobs'
two-way conduction and whatever robs
the people of their dearly purchased dough.
And those same people reap as they did sow.
We'd best sow good thoughts and good deeds or else!
The reprobate in fiery shadows dwells.
They share our heads to fructify our souls.
They hate us, even what we love, our goals.
Such is the flame of testing in our hearts,
becoming Moses: humble, skilled in arts
of the Egyptians, sure the Lord is light
that lights our bulbs, a truth that dispels pride,
and that gives envy no place to abide.
“Field Notes on the Living God” Spring 2020
Jesus Grew Up + From Everlasting
from
wilderness unto Gethsemane
from His 1st Flood unto the victory on
the Cross which glorified, fully fulfilled
Isaiah 9, verse 6, His wandering
in Sinai fiery furnace fiery trial
unto the tears of blood among the blooms
among which He proceeded towards night's cross,
His victory overcoming cornerstone,
the cornerstone of best fit of all lines.
The God Man, Divine Human Jesus Christ,
addresses us in verses of best fit,
aims for the most regenerations,
(a maximum utilitarian approach
exactly in accordance with the love
of liberty) and blooms within us at
exactly when we can be kept in love,
a love that gradually gets purified.
A pure relational event transpires,
and following this brush with joyous dawn
you no more need the proof of which they speak
than need to prove your partner has a mind.
Regeneration sucks the poison from
our wounds, our wound up fantasising lusts
for anything, not just arousal in
the narrow sense, but anything at all.
It's Jesus who instructs how to love,
who flows into our stockpiled divine truths
as wine into a vessel, brightly shines
from Mt Paran, blooms-rises in the heart
the hunted hare has, gentleness upon
it, has it, cups it carefully, so much
more carefully than we cup ants (but great
by far than we above the ants, His love
sustaining us from plunging into Hell!).
Beyond our thoughts in secret passageways
outside of training forms like time and space,
belief becomes instruction in the art
of love instead of bitterness, first stir
of mutual love, the pearl of great price known
as charity, the charity on which
the law and prophets hang, the cuckoo clock
of prophecy, the passion play of fall
in charity in course of quarters, love
consociating us where we most belong.
He knows that many simply will not believe
so gives us many leaves for healing lands,
domesticates hereditary sin,
the tendencies thereto which we all have.
48
He does not need one's testimony but
our everlasting Father Jesus Christ,
that inexpressible and holy joy
who calibrated what is holiness
was clearly intertwined with all
conception and all creativity –
“without whom there is nothing done that's done” --
and outside ordinary time and space.
Joy taught one thereby how to overcome
past bitterness, establishing excuse
upon excuse for other people, how
to notice one's wound up severity.
This is not dogma! these are field notes here,
this happens as your partner happens, as
a migraine happens, as the radio
will bongo, as we drain a dram of dream.
These then are field notes on the living God
relational event dawn Jesus Christ
one can't express! such intricate and vast
expansive silent organ music! How
dawn helped one get up in the morning! How
His love instructed one in noticing
the other human beings, loving them
(1st Thessalonians 4:9, I believe),
the mutual love of Jesus in our hearts
that swallows up the flood the dragon spews.
“The marks of sin and error in the hand and in the head” 4-2/3-21
Hysterical totalitarian
humongous “Long Emergency” Peak Oil
Peak Everything Peak Population Eek!
Despite totalitarian features in these creepy crawly men
I would be more concerned about our error and our sin.
Seek Him and worry not about the mark
in head which is the same old sin or mark
in hand that is the same old error, not
some technocratic fearporn zombie film
catastrophism worry lest one damn
oneself by getting barcode, feeding kids!
It winds them up with burning fear, it rends their hearts.
May all such fearporn on this Earth be broken down for parts.
There's too much boogabooga, Brave New World...
Like smog, it can't be healthy for the young
or old or “man unkind”. Fear is itself
totalitarian, so never believe
a Big Lie if you can avoid mere faith
in governments and corporations to
be affable sincere upfront and not
have interests, some inimical, perhaps,
to citizens who have a conscience left.
You have enough to keep you up at night,
need oil and wine poured in your wounds, and light!
Let's flee their clutches to our nearby calm
tranquility alertness diligence
renewing spirituality! May dawn
of timelessness within the flesh of time,
the fountain of His timelessness in us,
instruct you, bloom in you, convey you forth
in safety, well up in your conscience like
a lamp! Let not this world dishearten you.
Let not this treacherous ochlocracy's
canned cancelation cancel you for good.
Let not this stampede with a million eyes
surveilling all with not cabal but mob
suspicion, roving revolution, Rome,
stamp over you with hooves of cesium
and technocratic sacking of Bastilles,
and anarchic surveilled swiveling eyes!
O Lord, open their eyes that they might see
the nurturance and light you showed to me.
Lest gentle bread and subtle wine die out,
degenerating into eating bread with care
by measure, drinking water (wine too) with
astonishment, may God blow on the coal
of His Church in the wilderness of here
and now; that gentleness may prosper here
as in the Heavens not the bread of night
and wickedness and mourning; and that wine
and not the wine of violence of the lie /
the error / the distortion may light up
this labyrinth with glory, inmost breadth.
He rides the horse of understanding in the Word
beyond the flicking surface angel's flaming sword.
“Scratched Doodle on Exam Room Desk” Autumn 2021
We saw an Empire crash and burn:
most humans cycle more than learn,
She paints her wrath with Cynthia and Steve.
this came as no surprise. We praised
its sunset with our lips but dazed
(we had to after all, because
of the hysterical totalitarian stampede)
among the liars in our heads
He paints his envy with the face of Tom.
which suckle on our empty dreads
we see a dream we choose of love
or hate as light by shadow, dove
by owl we crumble in the room
where Jesus's sword cuts through
our foreheads and our hands with flood and fire,
where we are choices in His loom.
She never ceased to paint her wrath with Cynthia and Steve:
uncircumcised, slain by the sword.
We reap the whirlwind that we sow
be this a lifetime of mere self
a grape skin empty bottle
lightbulb's filament, a mote of dust
or prospering our neighbour's health.
Our automation phase shift looms
Watch out for hating people you don't hate!
in offices and living rooms
as mass society stampedes.
They paint their issues with your face!
True warnings happen. No one heeds,
or few. The technocratic mob
howls. Someone guiltless has no job.
He never ceased to paint his envy with the face of Tom:
uncircumcised, slain by the sword.
“Death to TV! Death! Death! Only Death! ” (2021)
Men trust their Project Fear feed far too much,
endangering their liberty and mine
with mass hysterias of feedback loops,
should notice the red flags inherent in
such strident 'news'. You want to make the world
a better place? Get rid of it, don't let
the vilest human devils on this Earth
not only wind you up with fear but make
a profit in the bargain! You should not
allow this evil curse to rule your house,
to lie to your own spouse and your own kids.
“Elegy for the Victims of Hysterical Totalitarianism” (2021)
FEAR The humans are stampeding on the veldt,
Hey citizens! The wonderful experimental drug
FEARPORN stampeding down the interstate,
is ready, it's on special, wow! Let's do this!
FEEDBACK LOOPS in a blind panic
Look, they're lining up, celebrities
and all! There's Midwin Charles! Oh wait there's not.
Or was one heck of a coincidence!
SUBLIMINALS whilst wild calliopes galumph.
Unplug electric cobra.
Change the world.
“We're going to need far more tentacles than this!” (2021)
If Centre abnegation Overton
contraction led to Hard Right, Hard Left or
Hard Centre (being Far's successful fruiting), one would hope
for such a leader as the noble Salazar.
For Abnegation of the Centre leads to Overton
contraction → Polarised society → Disequilibrium.
Hard Left – Hard Centre – and Hard Right vie with the abnegation caste;
whence Stalin, Salazar, and Strident Mustache, not at Yalta but
as though. Before the silence falls, now know:
The abnegation of the Centre muffles language as
speech muddies, renders it mob-hashtag rule
instead of English, plants mines in precisely truth,
kills cities. Crumbling infrastructure – Debt –
The terrorising of selectorates and courts --
Fearporn-imbued, totalitarian Move! Move it! Move along!
hysteria – Steered automation idle people bomb –
The situation's far too complex and
dynamic for the present leadership
to even grasp! Sock puppets do not rule
but file the paperwork of tidal waves
with Globalism's Moolah (1) and its State (2),
which both not just the first will aggregate
in interlocking of directorate.
Unlike 'Reptilians', this one boasts proof!
Those stuffed shirts simply are not bright enough
nor brisk enough to keep with the Earth
they 'rule' supposedly in Parliaments
and boardrooms, think tanks and foundations, but
don't actually; they're more like surfers on
our wave, and then our wave is over. They're
relieved not to be dangling from a post
who now and then might implement the Moon
and lash The People with mere urgency.
“The ripples of His having come again”
Before the 2nd Coming, it was simpler far
to hide one's inner predilections with a mask,
whereas these sorting outers days we scream out what are,
at least comparatively, new wine in new flask.
The shockwaves of His Comings radiate in waves
that drown the Nephilim, drown also Pharaoh's troops
and raise His New Church morning white horse from their graves,
a head of gold, the faithful city in fresh groups
and fresh considerations, patching not the old.
He came, Friends, like a thief just like He said
He would, just as discreetly as He came with gold
wed silver for the inner humans in His head.
He came not to invade the Earth with angel host,
nor with the conquest Jews and Christians thought He would,
but with the fiery teaching of the Holy Ghost,
which maketh all things new like truthfulness and good.
These truths and goods, these rungs on Jacob's ladder should
be married, which is their conjunction with the Lord,
and not adulterous. Choose your forever 'hood
with care along the way and grow to love the Word.
For when adulterous then truth and good
are bread of wickedness and wine of violence, thus
the evil and the false, the harlot's neighborhood.
Hence the commandments taught by God Himself to us.
“The Interlocking of Directorate is Green” (2021)
The East is Red
“My gown stays white
from morn till night
upon the road of Anthracite...” *
Why do the soldiers have a holiday
but not the miners? Curious! For brave
boys and brave men braved darkness and collapse.
“The clock struck twelve,
the mouse ran down....”
Cheaply extractable petroleum
ran down. We ran down Sunset Boulevard
together from Tomorrowland's RustBelt-
ifying lying, or at best half truth-
ful euphemistic language, taking breaks
from all that dirty hectic resource use
& economic growth, a sort of UBI
or Universal Basic Income but
with added fear, hysteria, and lies,
these rapids of recalibration. “Ring
around the rosie,
pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down.”
We tried to hold onto increasingly
greased ladders but we all fell down and down.
It came back into fashion to be tough.
“Be not a cancer on the Earth.
Leave room for nature.”
Colony collapse disorder. Massive
drop in bird & insect population.
Yes, “Leave room for nature”; and for freedom.
Yes, “Be not a cancer on the Earth”. Leave
room for liberty. Leave room for liberty.
*This was a historical commercial jingle advertising a train line run on anthracite and thus cleaner mentioned on Wikipedia.
“Once upon a time and space there was a planet” (2021)
with a geometrically expanding population
and a finite resource base. Instead of telling people
why there were so many and dramatic changes
suddenly, it was decided to REDACTED carbon
credits and abortion, homosexuality REDACTED
mobilising children to demand REDACTED
so that aggregating interlocking
of directorate just said that cow farts
didn't want new airports. Sometimes it's expedient to
say that history was your own idea, preserving
thus a shred of dignity. We got so idealistic,
don't you know. REDACTED. Marshall the influencers! “Wake
up the china!” “Wake up, Neo”. Wake up,
Everyman. Ah, winter. Time to sting the drones.
When we touch starfish they just liquify.
Even sardines have gotten tired of us.
Aha! We know! We'll put us under house
arrest and that will keep her very well.
The Science Is Uh Settled (which it never is of course)
as raggedly totalitarian decline declined
to mention, thus REDACTED silence fell REDACTED
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