My Dear Reader;
This time, assuming that you won’t mind,
i’ll tell some experiences of mine that seem to rhyme somehow;
THEN, if i can, i’ll piece together what i’m talking about; Okay?
But whatever it is exactly, we will focus our eyes into THE FUTURE.
Yes? So i think these widely varied events add up to something::
=Event A: THE RECENT LUNAR ECLIPSE::
The entire subject of Letter #5 was a Psychic
Reading of the recent Near-Total Lunar Eclipse.
The reading seemed to say just one thing only:
Our Beloved World will be re-birthed. But how??
=Event B: UNCANNY PSYCHIC READING::
This Mabon, i had some pro-human god’s blessing,
in teaching a quite Advanced Student, in one session,
both my Oldest Deck, a Teaching Tool in our Founding of NE. Paganism,
and together with it also my newest deck: “Singing Fish Pocket Tarot”;
And late in our session, we were shifting up from Teaching into Song;
But Fish “3” showed up placed paradoxically, confusing me completely;
As if there’s some invisible lens or hinge between the art works;
That’s a long-wavelength signal from Somewhere Someone;
I seemed to sense an anomaly, a Profound Riddle,
a knot gesturing to show me something true;
AND, in that psychic moment,
I SMELLED A SWEET WIND FROM THE FUTURE.
Well, that’s it, okay?
=Event C: LAND ENERGIES here resemble a SCI-FI NOVEL I Wrote::
Time with its endless Lying Promises, Impediments, and Horrors,
has beat the Punk out of me, it has. And now crawling up crippled
and naked from Personality Disintegration, it’s a steep climb indeed;
And so OH !!.Imagine The SUFFERINGS OF DIVINE EARTH.!!
And yet, in my book of imagination the Land Energies HEAL HER,
as i pray they are, even now, pain by pain HEALING ME.
=Event D:: One of the BEST USES i’ve ever put an ART WORK to::
=Da:: This found an excellent use: My 1830’s Museum Character::
“Anti-Slavery New England Small Town Banker”;
Developed thru a few years of Careful Study and Creative Chat with
tens of thousands of Visitors; individuals, pairs and parties of them;
Most all REALLY up for some Creative Chat on HOW LIFE REALLY IS?,
instead of the Enslaving Question:: ?!.WHERE CAN I GET MONEY.!??
(One Friday going in, i dropped by Occupy with 12 free tickets.)
=Db:: Time of day: In Our Village: 15 minutes after Official Close;
With our Unarmed Security Staff, in Unarmed Security Staff clothes,
fanning out from their office to find and move any tardy Visitors along,
by standing back a ways and making Gentle Shooing Motions at them;
In other words::
That was a peaceful, soft, and gentle autumn afternoon,
Sacred to Wisdom, fading from its bright glow;
And me stepping out of my beloved Bank Exhibit,
in my path ahead were a Sorrowful Couple hand in hand,
Me looking like Lincoln in Top Hat and tailored Swallowtail Coat;
They leaving on the path i step into, 30 meters ahead, mournful, slow.
=Dc::: Gentle Courtesy::
..Me slowing, me gently beside them;
My character ready to take some weight from them;
My character’s 1830’s-AUTHENTIC, softly, kindly, courteously,
Tipped top hat; Slow bow at the waist; “Good Afternoon”,
so well practiced, matching their slow step perfectly;
For this age steals Spouses young, Babies out of cradles.
And so now, by the sum total Gentle Courtesy of us all,
we become Pilgrim Souls treading a length of path TOGETHER;
ALL of it: Absolutely 1830’S-IN-CHARACTER-AUTHENTIC,
And my instinctive habit by then in every minute of that art,
For this age steals Spouses young, Babies out of cradles.
So their culture taught: an Active Habit of pitying other’s sorrow,
purifies all our hearts’ kinship, and thus it comforts every Soul there.
=Dd:: Now, there are Conscious complexities of this Spiritual purity;
As here: My New Englander deeply HATES all who ENSLAVE people,
places SORROW ITSELF there, builds a Wise Virtuous Logic for it,
and will Logically ground his Spiritual Sympathy for these THERE,
While others will find a Passionate Logic of their time seizes them.
So he bows as if finding a ragged pair of Escaped Slaves in the road,
So he bows as if he will carry the weight of THAT on this brief walk,
and their open hearts return that Deep Love, thinking in their terms;
Terms of the Recent HORRID TRAGIC STARVATION MURDER of a city;
But we are now Primordial Comrade Pilgrims of the road.
Naturally then, they offer a greeting of equal Frank Intimacy,
gave it 1 word each, 2 words, with gestures, between them.
She first, pointing to Him, spoke “SARAJEVO”; the murdered city.
He raised his eyes, held them steady into mine, then spoke “yes”.
I deep pondering, whisper: “I hope our museum was a good day.”
First let me tell you something that did not come to mind::
Altho, for years, i was a Soldier of our Merciless Imperial Power,
And furthermore even a sometime Soldier of !.IMPERIAL ARTILERY.!,
that Most Heinous profession of Mass Torturers;
Besieging SARAJEVO, defended mainly by this:: a Militia of Rifle Snipers;
Besieging for month, after month, and after Merciless Starvation Month,
Besieging by BIG ARTILLERY CANNONS close-up transforming Sarajevo,
to a ubiquitous dust of broken concrete and demolished Human Flesh;
Blasting from the close Closed Ring of the city’s once-beautiful hills::
No, ONLY BY LUCK i didn’t “serve” in any suchlike Cannoneer Battalions,
and yet i’m able honestly to tell you: That day i did not think of that,
for no, for me there was only sharing their burden that afternoon,
for we were become Primordial Comrade Pilgrims of the road,
a way of succor for both the Enslaved and the Killed Souls.
And i have seldom had such pleasure in a walk;
Felt the weight they’d handed over as a sort of satisfactory comfort,
Like a well-made heavy pack, feeling steady on back and shoulders.
And glancing to them saw he carried her pain while she carried his.
But it’s not far.
For there’s a spot where i, an initiate of the place, MUST speak up:
Sadly, we must part company MUCH Sooner than they can expect (!!!)
At a carefully half-overgrown-hidden fork ahead to our Staff Parking,
it’s obviously Doctor Who’s hyperlink thru time and space;
So i point, and offer the gentle sci-fi joke,
and we all gently laugh.
And you kno, by then i feel like, in entirely different circumstances,
let’s go find a nice dinner conversation and some delicious beers,
but that’s certainly an unlikely possible future, not that night.
That is surely an event to be given into memory as it is.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
I was there showing My Painting “DRONE STRIKE”;
(Ie: “GUERNICA With DRONE”: Shuffled, shrunk, months’ work.)
(!!.Except with “Wounded FRIDA KAHLO Screaming” in the street.!!)
“Drone Strike In North Waziristan”
Acrylic on canvas by Stone Riley
It was at a very big National War Resistance conference,
where, The First Time, in the care of Pacifist Psychiatrists,
one of countless US. Soldiers driven far into a dark universe,
by loyal US. Government Service in US. Drone War Corps;
For the first time, one of those veterans spoke to the public;
me in a Lobby Door watching; and my pseudo-Picasso nicely lit
across the lobby behind me, tall like a monument, on a tall easel;
Before me, at the lectern down there:::
A Haunted Wraith with a horrifying Brief Report of Horror.
Agony In Brief, bundled offstage in a blanket by friends.
Then hurried on:: Their Most ROUSING NYC Black Minister,
A famous HEADLINE PACIFIST ORATOR doing good work,
OF COURSE rushing in to relieve the broken soldier.
So the lobby’s rightfully rendered empty for awhile,
till i MAYBE see the Broken Soldier, VIEWING The Picture,
leaning in a dim-lit “Exit” door surely come from backstage;
I think:: Oh! The PALE WRAITH.!!
Then me nodding toward him, extending psychic fingers out,
i knew myself soul-deep as Elder Army Medic Corporal,
now equipped with a picture of what we’d got into.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Memory awakes: For my Field Ambulance Squad, plus whoever;
Back there I did an Indoor Chalkboard Class, of all unlikely things,
us squeezed into a dusty meeting room above Battalion Headquarters,
had a wall-wide chalkboard, filled with a sketch from a Field Manual:
.. .. If war came there: How to STAY HIDDEN in those hills?
.. .. They were standing in corners, leaning on the low rafters;
.. .. For i had driven all around there, small vehicles in all weather,
.. .. and constantly thinking as i went;
.. .. My class titled “Military Crest”; an ancient principle of all warfare.
.. .. (And most intent was: My Guy who’s secretly teaching Malcolm X,
.. .. .. who should be recognized as one of the great military leaders,
.. .. .. My Guy, who, in a park with his Young GI Malcolm X class,
.. .. .. one Saturday, may have been their Graduation Day i guess,
.. .. .. they’re all springy & energetic as a Ball Team & find me there.
.. .. ..& My Guy, fing bstrd, called Secret Dibs; from under my buttocks
.. .. .. claimed my bench, in a lovely spot fit for noble celebrations.)
.. .. .. & My Guy, fing bstrd, shooed me off.
.. ..I carefully set my chewed cigar butt aside on the podium (for elan),
.. .. .&Began: “Here’s how to keep from getting shot at with cannons.”
But in other theater: was My Guy got hit with the Military Insanity.
And i kno no strategy but a careful, watchful, receptive, silence.
<=.End Of Event E.<=
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
I’m ready (are you?) for looking forward.??
Obviously I have a Tarot here, this is the Singing Fish.
I kno the Fish like to sing little stories to us;
I’ll use 3 cards for .. Now .. Future .. Distant Future.
I have: “S” :Sex like the tenderest eroticism. – (now)
I have: “One” :As the holy unity of all things. – (future)
I have: “A” :Mother Eve’s apple of wisdom. – (distant future)
Does this foretell our species’ long-awaited initiation,
thru some lovely play of ages, substances, dimensions,
to the once-forbidden Tender Wisdom of Holy Mother Eve?
If so, what may be the timescale of this Beautiful Reality Song?
“P” :Power like the unending strength of Plants;
that is recommended.
(.Here is the end of this Public Prophecy.)