CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE

De La Soul is good.

Also:

Imagination, Inspiration, and Intuition — Rudolf Steiner

cool

feel free to post anything you think or feel are creative presentations of knowledge - the fact of facts as known and presented from a singular view...

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/27/2022 03:13 AM

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Time You Came ‘Round

Felt closer and less, the warmth drenched the air in summers and falls, in evenings when the bitterness of the rinds only came out if you chewed down to the white parts, because it was quiet and even then, only when the days lasted into nights, that time of year when day-end heat makes its own physical echoes to take over the spine, in secret with difference, as the moisture of dim light builds while the sun sets earlier, day by day, building to particle oceans in pitch black by six - it was all remembrance in clouds of soot when we met.

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/29/2022 01:01 AM

Nightly Broadcast

Deterring the answer in favor of the warning on the packaging, wrapping up in the freezing that makes stuttering impossible to avoid, but that’s concealed in the studio monitors, and the voice broken like lateral icicles eviscerates as cold as the air is piercing - to put things into a format that is welcoming enough, considerate enough, and after a style that leaves nothing resolved but feels authoritarian, as the standard. It keeps them tuning in.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 05/29/2022 01:06 AM

(I always hear the line as - Jesus weeps, but he's been bathed - and I have no idea what the words actually are. Sometimes those things stick in my head and eventually play their roles in my creative output.)


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Personality Testing Character

Fell the tree-line if you expect release.

The open expanse is just past the appropriate act, but the bible is full of those types of quandaries, and that’s the only good book.

Time your exits by how the surprise shortening of your availability will register after you’re gone.

Few catch all the atmospheric shadows, massive and draping their forms downward, superimposed and dimming in ghostly visual echoes, collapsing to the Earth like a shared but empty secret - that take the sky and anything that could be called overwatch in the first place.

Still, it requires a special typecast.

A shaky but comforting mold assembled over time in the fractions of acts committed, built in the particular ways the details of each one commiserates with memory, holds in its crevices, in its concave regimenting structures, the feeling of having your every question answered - it tempts the target to remain in place, and for the entire time they are held in thrall, their forms shift.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/14/2022 09:24 PM

Principles of Radar

It was in their dreams to never see that target write again.

Silent and anxious twitches in their faces covered their minds racing, guessing words, huddled in the closet of a room, for insulation and to concentrate one pseudonym for character out of the lot of them; something they can take turns using for disguise as they move through shadows to experience all acts light fails to complete.

It’s matter and exposure - not “a” then of - it’s critical mass fast dissolve, simply because enough time was given. Thus, their interest to never hear from those types again, from the patients and people lost in the crevices of a scratched surface, along with those articulating their numbers into homogeneity then disappearing into the quiet, signal-fed masses.

Grey skies are clouds that seem matted if you’re living under the same storm front long enough, maybe over the span of a week, then the sky may as well become floor, for the spectacle you’ve just created - looking at the world that way.

Or, was that the silent removed orchestration coopting a lived perspective - aching not to haunt, built of death just the same, with decay the result of its approach - or is it the living who fuel it, those versed in everything light fails to complete?


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Last Edited by boutreality on 06/17/2022 08:32 PM

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Turbulence

Pestering conclusions surround and then the empty closes in, it takes a person like they’re being swallowed by the boundaries of their own selves, which suddenly have become an open shaft with slick walls and no way to climb out.

Falling, colliding and thinning with air then sinking through current, being dispersed along the bottom of the sky.

But still on the ground.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/27/2022 11:22 PM

Someone posted this song to one of my threads and I liked it, so I wrote while it played.

Learned from Time Spent Watching Demons

Shuffling their forms apart from shade in movements that remain concealed and coupled to the absence of light, shadows extend in pieces to tendrils that elongate into ephemeral fibers.

They work themselves into twining, the dry soot gossamer threads panting and twisting as they cross each other, over and over stretching like death collapsing, building into blackened cordage, to slip around the throat unnoticed.


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I know official vids don't seem to fair well, but this one's real artistic. And how about the woman demon/savior at the end for a statement? As perhaps the truest archetype man can come up with for the female.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/30/2022 08:43 PM

What a great message! People do get that all this woke letter crap (LGBTQ+) is just being used especially in Cali, to force the "inclusion" of the PEDO-RAPISTs right? That is what the + means - before it means Black racist asshole. [Hack in italics alone, term for sex acts with animals]
Black racist asshole? {That was to test the hack; preceding shows when term for sex acts w/ animals is typed}

Creatives get used - any and all sides pretend they get "the message" and the creative has to get paid, so the use and abuse continues.


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Names*/ Eyes Shut: Starlight

We had heard that words comprise promises, acknowledgments, conceits, and then we found out no one had approached the drawing board.

Finger-paints showed our parents we were grown, now capable of contributing to the same problem, and we grew aware of the world’s periodic tactile transactions; every pass, every contact sinking its impression into the skin – reddening our upper right torsos with marks invisibly known to only the recipient’s eye – these stamps cast directions to be lived and we obliged.

By then we could find no partisans, anyone who still believed:

To change the world our thinking must change.

-No one who took the charge seriously. Its sentiment fell muted into us, with all of us checking our periphery, looking quietly to everyone else to confirm our state.

Define the impulse as a flight of fancy and move on, the gallows are waiting. Play the sensory, reactive – no cognition – no sensation – and make it your habituated routine. It will always keep enough people smiling enough of the time. If your youth and all its excitement cannot obscure the blatant stagnation, you will probably need pills.

By then we could manufacture our own comfort without calling the process coping:

The incessant need to be engaged by something we believe we have control over gave us short and silent half-smiles, to replace interest, because the signal’s better closest to the window.

No one is worth talking to. No one thinks that about me – and the warm, hardly perceptible static off the screen no longer holds novelty. Falsely limiting my availability makes me important, though my earbuds are dated – hope no one notices.

Internal dialog detracts from the distraction:

I wish I spent less time awake, this chain of thoughts won’t stop, and I need a break.

-No one sees how celebrating diversity enabled conformity:

We accepted all the names already agreed upon, and applied them to anything we think ourselves capable of knowing. We chose our arguments poorly, and decided to define the word that is used to reference our bodies as what we live. (It just makes it easier to get along.)

*The term “Loss of Novelty” applies to a facet of neurological development; as we age less of what we encounter is new, and this dilates our experience of time.

On a rainy day in high school a physics teacher explains the idea of infinitely fast:

When you move out from under cover to under the next overhang, if your only option was to go infinitely fast you’d get soaked, because you’ll hit every drop in your body’s path.

-But no one can do such a thing, so if you want to stay dry you may as well run.

Starlight: Eyes Shut

Last Edited by boutreality on 07/22/2022 09:55 PM

Silence

A shallow breath cushions our wishes to force a smile.
Then we swallow its warmth to our frigid chests.

Kills

Halted in one complete singe, it can’t stay like this.

Ontology

Penance owed and no one feels worthy to collect. Years of too much love and no laughs. I miss what I can’t see, grieve without loss, hope no one catalogues brilliance or counts stars. Morning mist is the dewdrops’ pyre completed without petition. Inhale each answer’s prescience. Move in disrespect of sacrifice; jaded bites of the tongue make poor constellations. Forget the sun’s effort - a vigil threatening to engulf its shrine.


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Standards of the Industry (Players & Audience Included)

Beaten into you with trembling persistence then cored out and left a husk, training the deviant debutante and functioning ensemble, learning the personable, absent and wandering the ephemeral self, but mining out the corners of both their eyes, always - so they never see anything coming.

Dailies and stock price tickers are interchangeable if you’re high enough up in the building, as are screens, just shut your eyes. There is nothing they can’t control.

Does the sickening travel through the shades of the projections?
Tune in at 8 to decide?

They worked hard enough to deliver:

Cuddle up to heated up dismal sweats in under 22 minutes and it’ll make the cut.

Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 08:58 PM

Emboldened and Intoxicated

Time quakes the nerves that lie disrupted in connection, floating in fraying pieces under the surface that become light and heavy in stringy expanses to contain steadily defeated urges, connecting to sinew and straightening out as they toughen up, with the person they hold gone liquid just the same.

Cattle in spaces just beneath the future leather, or man’s neurological tissues strewn to full pertinence in blurring vision - in those times that you need to remain upright, when something else shifts you in whatever direction more than you move - leather and sun and skin with sweet tinges and bitter scents raising through the pores, for every tomorrow settled in dismissed recollection.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 08/08/2022 07:28 PM

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Parts of a Tree

Fell out from the ridges of the bark in dark long strands of half bodies, contaminated my clothes.

And slept on the branch on my belly, awoke with the woodened patterns of thick waving vertical bars pressing into one side of my face.

Fell out of dreams and rooted into the deep moist dirt, startled at the distant sounds of birds excited to eat insects flying at sunset.

Last Edited by boutreality on 04/15/2024 11:43 PM

Been having some problems posting an update to one of my other threads here, so I thought I'd try adding a post here I've come up with.

Starting with how to edit poetry:

The rule is the shorter the presentation, the more comprehensive the telling, because less words demand more if a reader is to be engaged. Longer works can play with leaving things out and withholding but for shorter works that doesn't happen.

Most of the poem above is passable. The needed change to the last line above is in italics here:

Fell out of dreams rooted deep enough to reach moist soil.... I also put the second line in parenthesis and I have my reasons.

See? Poetry is boring but in my book it is needed - it is the art of making figurative appraisals, while Wokism is the problem of taking everything too literally.

With Wokism a plague the world NEEDS figurative appraisals!

The rest of the post will rely on copy/paste - maybe that's an issue, but have you tried timing a reply to a thread when you really had something to say?

I write my own work in word, then I copy/paste.

If your reply box times out you lost all your work! So, we'll see.
===

(The word Decuun is pronounced Dee-Koon:)

Decuun Processing Conduit Readout
Type: Neurological Display
Class: Intelligent by Design

Images & Libelous Content:

All visual signal through brown to umber fields first develops children at playground - and at fault biologically proven in signal - children somehow hidden in darkness, in crawling positions, sudden picture infant [not naked].

Then boys and girls old enough and tall enough to ride the public park merry-go-round, trapped on hands and knees under its spinning metal platform, moving fast enough to move the dark air above them, shadow air swirling across the backs of children moving close to ground, somehow ducking in crawl, inching under the veracity of the increasing speeding spin of the metal ceiling, in deep black without light, sudden picture of a tower overtaking the horizon (rectangle monolith - more grey than black).

Boys and girls ducking under moving air in darkness over them, hidden air moving in black particle light, falling and turning under the metal reeling merry-go-round ceiling [ideal of monstrosity] unseen children in low crawl moving toward where the ride is fixed to the Earth. To maybe find silence in its noise and violent sun-drenched metal spinning above, providing its own source of heat, showering down in waves on the backs of boy and girl heads, sudden addition of enough light to make them out, sudden image of bright heating orange overtaking metal walls though tempered glass.

Prognosis: Pathways tapped were aligned more to biochemical activity than the neurological drivers biological current can source. Subject not parent, has had less than ten relationships in their life, and is clearly set in the mode of tasking their own brains with matters with which they have no responsible concern.

Case Closed and Archived: *-

Processing Conduit Readouts - The voice within the masses that corporations and constitutionally elected governments have every right to serve is now heard. Brought to you by Decuun.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 10/14/2022 10:58 PM

This arrangement will be longer (under 2 pgs) and it sort of switches up what's been here. Because song comes in the middle, here's something on that:

Joanna Newsom if memory serves was already a trained counselor when she was striking her claim as an artist, and this album moves me like no other - it's the only one of hers I have - but it's compelling to think that her output would have never been what it is without the counselor training.

Reference piece in last post for 1st part; "Decuun" is pronounced Dee-koon.
==

Decuun Processing Conduit Readout
Type: Integrated Cognitive and Physical Display
Class: Intelligent by Design

Images & Libelous Content:

Visual signal develops to one cognitive visage rendered in fragments of focus, looking downward to the right to a phone screen, ghostly white light pales her forearm at the wrist, suddenly against the backdrop of nighttime car interior [superimposed glow of alone].

She awakes hours later.

Peripherals recorded in signal reflected through plaster wall surfacing off the sheet metal framing of entrance to dining hall:

She is in sweats without makeup [inattentive but reminiscent of bed] she nearly shuffles her feet as she crosses the open room and she looks up in glances to where windows meet high ceilings (abiding underserved aspirations and unsustainable goals).

Prognosis: Subject is on the other side of years spent missing social cues that are only conveyed with nonverbal communications. Their life will be lived in a coed world with no valid identification to their sex other than their bodies.

Case Closed and Archived: +”



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1.(4) Catastrophic Exposure

Billable conclusions precipitate organizational actions, the self-cutting population is somehow needed to offset the public’s release of commercial demons - always travelling in secret in sheets of an inner skin through the listener and assimilating the viewer with certainty - or treasuries are allocated to budget only once they accord to Decuun bylaws, that grant fifty percent of what is taken in through congressional graft to every constitutionally elected official, that is to be paid out over the course of their careers in service - good morning I knew you whispers empty head sex slave - only after the legislative proceeds from each bill make it into a general slush fund - you should have switched her into compulsory, Sir - no one gets their hands dirty - now someone is going to pay for that and no one gets their hands dirty.

Sir, it’s best you vacate the premises.

My country in thin fabric suits of the finest wool - flanked by rail thin cohorts of sexual drive - move policy in pants - because where a bill starts is sacred - after all, the blood spills - children ought to learn that early and constrict with the trends - not against them - in rotundas and under domes - with 5000 dollar shoes on marble.

Inside the rot of teeth my country tis of thee for whom - for them, fortified with intelligence - for one hundred forty royal-sanctioned landowners packed into a barn to begin a new measured promise - Lucifer and Satan in congress in silver with gold running in strands through its artifice - in late 18th century candle and torch light, in romance with the new and upcoming iron; that advanced - but it was the birth of a country, uniting in quiet torrid modalities the u and the s - united for the Arian sanguine.

Bavaria is their front. Their lords of darkness churning black death rotting with special interest so long it carbonized flesh, stretching endless between what seem like invisible columns spinning in place, through its own world apart from the haunted corridor dominance by the US of the Arian for the states united to detriment, forced Bavarian dependence for all time - voice of a civilization turn on the ovens - and its sexy grueling death scenes, a dark room lit by one bulb whose girls naked tortured beg and scream into thick shadow to men off camera - the onyx bones through the Earth Bavarian infrastructure - the sounds of gunshot - for all age - world concealing the invisible spools stretching rotting fields of putrid flesh taught in torture, twisted from skeletons in one complete tear, one brutal turn somehow comported their awareness with the flesh of their bodies absent structure into the terrifying strewn-out anguish.

They were people but they’re empty demons now gone. There would come to be fifty states, what with five meaning death and every zero a way in - Decuun archival system decoded - the United States of America forces separate the skin from the internal content, white American backbone isolated the agency of performance in the citizen’s solid jelly filling and arranged it, now foreign hands maneuver.

Spontaneous needs to augment per case will be constant, and language appropriate to the legislative process prohibits open target civilian. It forever boils down to seasons in session.

Vision is of the eyes - but through secret methods strewn - because of two fingers on the five-year old’s head - noted - sight retards outward in thin plasma strings, white cornea and strands of vibrant blue iris threads through the broken surface of the black pupil, pushing miniscule deep night columns invisibly outward into air, pupil surfaces break in protrusions - physical and unknown to the rest of man - sight travels its own corridors - through the interiors of dark town-cars - blame it on the navigation - we brought the chip manufacturing home - praise in lingerie.

Last Edited by boutreality on 10/14/2022 11:02 PM

Please be reminded of yT policies that apparently favor GROOMING & the sexualization of children before considering:

Below vid was removed from its accompanying post, which happens - but some WOKE ass, we can be certain, reported the song itself as too violent for yT's community guidelines.

It had one of a few covers for the album it came from - a monk committing self-emoliation in protest - in/about Vietnam, a largely Buddhist country that at the time was plummeted into what appeared to be Catholic leadership decisions, that built to more and more violent conflict, until the Vietnam war resulted.

The counter intelligence line was "if Buddhist monks are so concerned and they have completely released all their worldly attachments, why should anyone else care?

Hence during this period, some monks made the decision to burn themselves alive.

The war was billed as the fight of communism, and the United States drafted anyone anyone young enough who wasnot in college into the military, forcing them to fight for their country.

The war was CiA engineered from the get.

They alone were why the apparently Catholic interests rose to power in the first place, but the war was about arms deals and the export of opium from the golden triangle - at the time Vietnam became the major source of heroin worldwide.

On the arms deals, look into Nixon and the makers of Huey helicopters.

(Song below was originally at this post):
Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 6)

And guess what else the Woke are ready to leave behind?
-As if they feel it's time we repeat it...

History.

So, for the farce of remembering upper class society of the middle ages as accepting of races who were only thought of as slaves, and to the wokists who smile at the screens that make it all so pretty:

[***] LANGAUGE POLICE: YOU PROTECT D*CKS SOAKED IN CHILD BLOOD

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[***] LANGAUGE POLICE: YOU PROTECT D*CKS SOAKED IN CHILD BLOOD

[Burden of Proof] ::

(Anonymous as voice)

In compositing our character for this sketch I started a document called “entries”.

(second writing)
These were the words.

Any object placed as a whole makes indictment its objective.

William, arrangement is the trap.

==

For info on the format see post: Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 5)

Last Edited by boutreality on 04/15/2024 11:47 PM

If anyone has read Dalton Trumbo's Johnny Got His Gun, the passage about Jesus in Mother Mary's arms, and the fear in her eyes for her child, during Christmas in that war hospital is a passage for the ages... and it's far from the only one. The book is highly recommended.

==

Backcountry

Frost in thin grey sleets covers stands of yellow grass in cold morning, secret dim of shadow falls between hollowing blades, where discreet blackness in thin lines holds cold close to the ground - felt in the feet through the shoes - most near patches where heavy frost has bitten in shade, apart from soggy yellow stretches of grass clinging to the ground of the open rows between Christmas trees, where families wander a seasonal farm covered in fog on the tenth of December.

Late in the season for some. Seven a.m. under heavy grey overcast.

Forty-five minute drive from the nearest town and eight families wandering through the field with it too cold for insects and the smell of frozen pine sap and hot cider at the cashier trailer. Field attendants race though the plot, each with a spool of red ribbon and a knife, to trees marked by a family member standing idly near their choice, while teams of two gather at chosen trees to cut them down then pass them to the crew that mounts them on the roofs of cars.

A man died and now we have tree farms.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 10:28 PM

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Moving a Silent Majority

Push inward spirals and remain statue still, to set your body apart from the commercial monster and gain perspective, to claim your position on the ground beneath your feet.

No one else does it.

Oxygen Failing

A thought bounced around my head so long the timbre of its absent voice shook my skeleton.

Tumbling downward to cities, air in wind disperses fragmented chemicals from dithered to particle gasoline dumped from planes into the city’s ceiling, shifting through carbon monoxide as it all falls - and pictured the pine needles coated greasy black on trees at the cul-de-sac where trucks return from their route to their daily lot - when I was there upon inhale it felt like my nostrils narrowed and around the street's large green municipal power box the air is drier, thinner.

It browns more of the needles on the nearest trees.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 01/09/2023 07:00 PM

I'm not sure it's possible to be my age, have a thread like this and not use this, so here it goes.


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Missing by Years

If you watch closely her hair trembles for moments on end, and the spells are marked by a vacancy to her eyes - that’s how the cold gets in - those who notice her move differently, as if in their glances away they preemptively miss the victim of an abduction.

Last Edited by boutreality on 02/16/2023 12:21 AM

Was It Love

A piercing constriction of her iris, she only caught at work looking deep into the mirror, that she has since learned to trigger at will, is set upon taking another victim.

Outside the bathroom door his torso is overtaken by invisible columns of flesh grown into vertical shells, his attempts to assemble his words shake silent defeat into their chasms, as if they are being breathed into place and taken to their own world, from where they will haunt him, with enough time away from her.


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Last Edited by boutreality on 03/10/2023 03:06 AM

FOR READERS. This is a forum, if you post people may respond, and I thought the idea of finding knowledge expressed creatively, to any degree, might catch on enough that others would post. This has not happened and the thread's like 6 pages into what may as well be my writing lab, but with music. In that spirit, this one will be longer, and it will get into my writer’s thinking on one of my projects.


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Under 3-page section from my weird novel. Here’s the idea: codes written into an artsy, Avant Gard novel format, the codex and all that is explained in part one of the novel. This is a section of part two, where useful information narratives just interrupt one another, calling into question the potential validity of all of them, on purpose - the idea is that Group members are communicating with each other, anticipating that their codes and intelligence communications will be disregarded. Fair warning - it contains the f-word a couple of times. Enjoy:

Terrible inner screams conceal themselves in the ripping of phantom neurological tissue the targets believe is their brain, the sensation of a physical medium tearing apart inside the skull cavity worsens, sinks its impact into temporal lobes, registers as loud crashing sounds spontaneously announced in varying secret tones - can lull the Project to sleep before they act outside command. Gratitude in simple gestures in perpetual cycle, show thanks to your local Bonesmen as your culture, assimilate their custom, they certify the angels of hell and drenched in black ooze greying against the skin where it thins, they manage the commerce of administering PCP to children. Makes the most tender sexpot living robots out of five-year-olds, and to their culture five is a great age to start because if the kids have to be killed, by Lucifer’s rule five means death. It’s all the justification needed.

The field of all of existence begins with the substance of matter and consciousness, the field concentrates field constituencies to matter and concentrates consciousness to sentience, while sentience generates intent, take these components alone as proof that there is latent to the field intent which is subject to be directed by any knowing party. Reverence for word to debilitation, by canon or by commitment to memory is standard to creating the leaders of every age - master of seven religious dogmas the Satanist - so no matter the country, they are available for service. PCP is used to create Personal Control Presences; fragments of sentience that are thought to inhabit the spirit world. These exist in swarms in the field that is called the Aura of the body and if a person is targeted, PCPs are most often used to excite the senses and the focus of the consumer for the purpose of driving sales. How they are made follows. Sensitivity to the assemblage of letters f-u-c-k, at sound or by sight was the first widespread, passive measure ever used to secure the sex slave trade.

Build a planet from matter with a variance of lower amounts of consciousness, make animals the most obvious demonstrations of lower sentience concentrated to life, give man its cerebral cortex and a few other advantages, then direct the latent to the field intent. The knowing party are the builders. They know the process required to commit to the mass construction, and this means the raw field dynamics - the sentience, matter and intent - are all theirs to maneuver; they own it from every conceivable angle. To comprehend the Satanic value of training children by getting them high on PCP in particular, the Group recommends using their model of the Aura. In short, the Aura is not thought of as one field underlying the body, but as two comingled and yet definitively separate fields: the SIR and the WEC. The declaration that men wanted to fuck a female marked her as a possible target for being kidnapped into a network of scheduled, arranged breeding couplings that were sanctioned by kings across the planet.

Beyond this is what some group leaders have called the eternal promise. It is worth noting that in the past a handful of leaders have built entire campaigns that evil itself had to contend with in their time, and if their campaign was strong enough, what is considered concept physics alone made the indelible mark of their original stand permanent to the field. The SIR is the Superstring-based Individuated Regulator, which is not involved in PCP creation in any direct way, while if the goal is to create Personal Control Presences, the Whole-field Entanglement Chamber, or WEC is indispensable to strapping a little girl or boy to a chair after they’ve inhaled Angel Dust - common name for PCP - Satan dancing through a man in his Hell’s Angel leathers over a four-year-old. The fornication under command of king program was abbreviated to the letters f.u.c.k.

However, with nurture meeting the fault of nature, most of the world develops in a format that is akin to maturing in that it is called maturing, more than the process can be used to make evident true sovereign authority. It is the standard. This turns an actual, physics-based stand against evil orchestration a position evil has to make different arrangements for even still, because the position, in its smallest impact manages to make clear an idea, a mode of thinking, or a thing that the total field of existence itself needs, but is lacking. Hell’s Angels are Skull and Bones’ entrusted to traffic PCP and some of them learn to torture children with the specific methods required to make sex slaves, but the part of the process that uses Angel Dust has wider application. The continual interest is that the control of breeding allows evil men to improve the appearance of their next generation, and this is required because the more evil men can attract potential victims with plain good looks the more souls are fed to Satan, so this tradition extends far into the planet’s distant past - the tradition being the fuck program; it’s obvious that people wouldn’t even want to hear its name.

That is ground for the eternal promise; the need to see evil ended. The need to manage its secret equations, making how they are written work, fuels the positions evil must maintain at all times. The Whole-field Entanglement Chamber (WEC) is an empty, enclosed metal hold that is shaped like a massive three-dimensional oval, more than it is egg shaped, though the field it helps to make is commonly referred to as a glowing egg. The WEC level is there to serve as ground for impact-originating structures entangling to the body of any target; one chamber to which any personal field agitator can be connected through entanglement, and because the WEC entangles to people in general - functioning as its own level of the Aura - the impact-originating node delivers its surreptitious disturbance to any target. One of the arranged allotments of raw field dynamics the WEC enables connection to is the Differentiated Sentience Cloud, or DSC. The pragmatism of arranging the ignorance required to ignore the true values that are common to people, because they are people, is not the intended outcome of longstanding tradition - Luciferians through Freemasonry have proven that to themselves, but they are a patriarchal order that takes care of their own - and dances with nothing but white Aprons on at the side of a bed with a drugged little girl on the right amount of psychoactives that the Freemason’s hardening penis, raising the Apron by the girl’s intoxicated sight, becomes a magical snake cloaked in white by the command of, quite possibly, a sitting President, Judge, Senator, Congressman, or General who is wearing the Apron - the sacred center for the reverence little girls are to have for the aged, Luciferian male member - it is rumored that the inner lining of the garment is arousing to exposed genitals.

The result is a permanent intent to end evil that is latent to the field. The eternal promise is answer to all sentience that has been unable to escape evil, sourcing an intent to have evil end, even internally - insomuch as they want their torture and suffering to end, an eternal need is being expressed and the eternal promise is answer to that need. The Differentiated Sentience Cloud is sentience concentrated to a pre-formatting state, and with a little girl strapped down before the PCP is inhaled, with her physical body excited to the point of restrained mania, the sentience that can be said to belong to her own lifeforce, as it exists, concentrated into the matter of the neurons and axons in her brain and nervous system, begins to shake and react as its own field state; not action of the matter of the brain, but action of sentience, now freed from its biological, matter-bound containment with the physical expression of what PCP is doing to a four year old girl’s bloodstream. Freemasons in textiles and snakes cloaked in white, building the corridors of history then infesting them with plagues all at once, through the sickly wonders that are found when climbing the ladder that builds evil god-man.

Field potential made in the function of a system that requires suffering, has created a field that requires that suffering end, in the present tense, and at all times. Bits of fragmentary, manic, truly freaking-out sentience get shuffled out of the physical matter of the child brain on Angel Dust, and they are then unleashed into the DSC (Differentiated Sentience Cloud), which uses the newly added lifeforce at its raw field component - as it is more structured toward a complete identity than anything in the DSC - to assimilate piecemeal allotments of pre-formatting sentience into several thousand newly forming fractions of experience whose only existence will be what the “Personal Control Presences” became after the child was forced to ingest PCP. Snowflakes desiccating on ground, fading as they falter to droplet pools, fearing the moment clouds uncover the sun.

Evil will end so long as total intent is directed responsibly. Everyone has a WEC level to what few would even think to call their Aura, and transmission of PCPs into people, so that they can render their permanent, field-state of excitement and interest into the potential customer as they are shopping, is as easy as intruding into the target field with an opening that allows for the passage of regularly renewed clouds of Personal Control Presences. Drive the market drivers, because everyone simply has to respect the bottom line.
==

More writing from labwork on the same project: Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 6)

Last Edited by boutreality on 03/30/2023 09:46 PM

ROOKIES

It was strange songs fluctuating lyrics with static and warbling stretched out singing, and it was something about love. Girls fixates on grout squares between foot square tiles with a man holding a pointer at the white screen hanging down from the ceiling at the front of the Motor Inn’s small meeting room, she’s sitting third row back and when she shifts the direction of her glare from the grout lines and how they square the tiles everywhere in the room, she switches directly to the black rubber tip that covers the top of the wooden pointer the man at the screen holds in his hand. There are sounds of air conditioning shaking inside the walls and ceiling, they come sudden and interrupt the off-signal station playing on the radio in the windowsill.

When the weathered parts of you…

Those times can settle on top of you but you know, you can’t sense it happening. Girl is trying to ignore the man at the screen, who is giving his third presentation to her today, this one is about how worked-up and ready for sex a man can become after a few hours at a hard job. She is eight. Floor and bath tiles with beveled, fine detail ridges smeared light pink with blood - like the point was to spread it out thin as if it were pink paint. Black sky shadows in midday are usually the impact on vision a furrowed brow can cause, bustling in-between cities scape, strip malls off highways type of rural; hotels are where the girls get beds for a night, but the men who train them visit before sleep, then the meeting rooms with the man with the pointer in every city; this room was different because of its tile. The bedroom smelled like stale, dried-over urine and throw up, then the bathroom’s paint with the radio playing.

…meet the withered parts of you…


[link to www.youtube.com (secure)]

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/12/2023 01:34 AM

More of a story for this post, so more to read - maybe at least enjoy until the song. Be well.

To be clear upfront, rapists ought to be lied down - if you traffic in enough of my other threads, you’ll approach that I know that certain people out there, who are liable to traffic GLP can and will access exactly what I mean by this; it’ll be fun if you’re into that direction of seeing the world.

Tori Amos framed the power of the creative female’s voice eloquently and with ferocity on what is just about the only album I ever owned of hers (after this period of her career I moved away from her work, with my view augmented appropriately). At the risk of defining the listener’s ear for the body of her work, Tori Amos was raped, and I never really heard any details; the artist is what they present. For the message of this thread and the story that follows, this fact from the creative’s formative years opens up dimensions in the presentation.


[link to www.youtube.com (secure)]

‘Once upon a time’ narratives have been used to calm the cultural awareness of entire societies of people throughout time, in order to direct mass awareness toward commonalties of agreed upon reasoning, and have historically factored into how peoples have been driven to justify their nation’s and their community’s goals. Following is about 4 pages.

THE DAWN OF THE CLIMATE CHANGE SEX & DEATH CULT - A NON-FAIRY TALE

There’s real science to how the practice of concern about moisture leaving the atmosphere of the Earth has been handled since the populated planet began. This has always been to conceal one salient and unfortunately, physics-backed fact - men want sex and will commit to extreme orchestrations to obtain it - orchestrations that would only be possible were the Earth ran as a patriarchal system, insomuch as only the conclusions of the males who are enough associated to sanctioned power formulate the final, direction-setting voice mankind must follow.

The following may as well be a fairy tale account, as the claim is that one conspiracy of men has persisted no matter how estranged from fact their founding theories are, the operational voice for their reasoning, that would work to explain the many ministrations these men and only them enact, results from a decision-making process that was built through covert educations, specific to each man’s sect, that always enforced in their developing minds that what only their kind knows, is so important that they in particular have to know it - in a sense, for their generation - and its import is made evident in that adolescent boys, typically of late junior high school age, are given sexual rewards in return for their demonstrating that they know how to think correctly and act appropriately during these years.

There is no way that the boys of each generation, as they grow into their roles in evil traditions across the planet, are all accustomed to sex-based incentivization with girls who are at times their own classmates, being used as tools to encourage their behavior and performance, without the widespread, institutionalized breeding of girls who are raised to serve as sex slaves. For every societal upheaval, and in answering every demand for change, the patriarchal layout of power has been in charge, and when distilled to its working agency, the ability of the rulers to - if not in power themselves - surreptitiously control women history remembers as rulers, has been used as reason to take over the development of women from when they were girls - justifying their regular kidnappings; explaining why girls are forced into sex slavery; because not only can women be controlled and used to puppet-lead a nation or company, men regularly have their wills broken for sex and to evil in charge, this means sex is currency. This explains why in evil’s culture it is accepted that women of their traditions are raised to be property, and oftentimes their wombs become baby mills, intended only to breed evil men and sex slave women.

But this evil is backed by a brand of physics, and these workings for guaranteed sex have lasted since the beginning of the inhabited planet - it’s obvious a contingent of men rewarded with sex only they can secure is not going to out themselves, especially when their infrastructure is edified in the sex-enabled rearing of their most important and influential - so sex slavery virtually arrived with people because men and sex - and how little leadership is questioned, when the sects and orders of the traditions these kind grew up in ensure each generation’s distribution into leadership positions across the planet as they age; things “won’t or can’t” change; good enough story, but there is a physics behind this lie.

And, since an exploitation of our species’ inherent sexual impulse is in truth, at the center of the falsehood, it may be helpful to lean into the fairy tale-like content of the actual explanation behind every climate science conspiracy ever known, since mankind’s very first bout with climate change ever.

DID YOU KNOW CLIMATE SCIENCE WAS ABOUT AROUSAL? THEY DID.

The planet was once a giant rainforest. Its name was Tera, for what is said to be the two syllables’ meanings; Te is for water-soaked vegetable matter, while Ra is said to be the one intelligence of energy and being that unites all stars of all solar systems and galaxies. People of perfect genetic stock grew freely and settled the land of the first Earth. They did not know that they were started from their genetic code up, built to life by an alien species - that was made to carry the intelligence of how to build man and woman and little else, that remained hidden from view for some time after its arrival, and monitored first man as the vanguard operation that reported back to the Arian God men, who were yet to arrive.

When the first Arians arrived, they were not seen, and they arrived out of phase, sinking through the isolated and uninhabited sky into the Pacific Ocean, where their means of travel was built out into their base from where it anchored itself to the sea floor.

Young women would bathe nude in ponds, lakes and streams on the paradise rainforest Earth regularly, and the arriving Arains monitored the women using technologies on their bases, which built themselves by mining into and through the planet using mining technology that apparently ran itself - much of the construction itself was automated - and while it was getting established, the ‘spaceman’ Arians would isolate one bathing, nude woman at a time, establishing a connection to their bodies by using a field that Earth peoples’ DNA was invented to ground, in order to enable remote physical impact.

From the ship the Arians took to Earth, a field that enables sub-physical contact is generated, and Arian men contacted women using their technology as an unseen, Godlike presence, while the women are bathing, specifically when their genitals are below the water - and as an invisible force the removed Arian aroused the female. These instances were happening at random across the planet for quite some time; all triggered by Arians working in what becomes the Atlantis base, and for all the lone women, experiencing something different in their bathing routine - many of whom may had been encouraged by the intimate nature of the encounters to keep their whereabouts secret, so as to ensure they would be alone - the phantom lover presence they all pursued was accompanied by a male voice that alleged the same wondrous fact of nature across the planet, which was for some reason focused on the fact that when aroused the female genitals lubricate; a voice that must be observed at all times and no matter how little sense it made, that claimed women must observe their commitment to the unseen personage by believing in its allegation that the abundant moisture in the rainforest and in the ground and sky, is only there because of how the female body is responding to the ghost-presence that is triggering their arousal at the moment; she lubricates, and it for some reason means the biosphere itself is able to sustain its moisture.

Of course, this is a lie. It is fantastical. Basic biosphere science explains that it is a lie, but only advanced physics of the actual unified field can explain how they pull the lie off. These ideas are not taught; Freemasonic degrees make the first men builders, out of the need for shelter. Massive climate changes eventually caused Earth’s first peoples to need more permanent structures, and those climate changes started somewhere - they began with moisture being taken from the atmosphere of a giant rainforest, and the sun reaching the forest canopy in growing swaths causing massive heat pockets; lower pressure over higher makes storms; basic atmosphere and weather stuff.

One main method of drying out the planet involves the idea of squeezing atoms and molecules of matter in a specific way to generate a more electric electromagnetic field that is built forth out of the electromagnetism that in a sense gets “squeezed out of” the same forces that are holding the matter together.

Four rectangle objects, that look like what is pictured as being produced in masse in a storm of Jupiter in the movie 2010 - the sort-of sequel to 2001 A Space Odyssey - are arranged for intra-dimensional impact at four sides of what would be a cube, and they are all pressing inward into a mass of the Earth’s mantle, with their combined efforts producing a second, man-made electromagnetic field, that is just electrical enough to dry out the environment where and when its impacts can be localized, while it at all times works as planet-spanning field that blends in with the Earth’s naturally occurring electromagnetic field (the one known to protect the planet from cosmic radiation). The array is their power station - to access that part think of this array’s impacts enabling the use of all the magma of the Earth’s inner layers to make its own rock and stone factory. Rock does not carry current and this stone is made to have conduit routes throughout its form, that carry the stepped-down electrical current that is generated by the larger array.

Electrical current dries out the atmosphere, and the world destroyers and rulers require a baseline for a planet where the evaporation of moisture can be increased or decreased at their command, so this brand of electricity it taken using the method described above, and projected in an array that looks like the inner scaffolding of what would be a donut - evenly spaced bands of energy looping up above, out from, then back and under a central circular structure.

GHOST ARIAN GOD MEN ARE PERVERTS - WHO “KNOW” WOMEN ARE LIARS

The most likely and most widely known cause of moisture being taken from the planet in masse was mining. Certain aspects of the global mining required immense amounts of cooling and this requires enormous amounts of ice - cooling for massive mining structures using that much ice will need stolen water at levels that will impact weather eventually, at least in that it will produce steam that will blend in with the rainforest, that it is not rainforest mist, and this will further change the climate. The Arians arrive as men who walk up out of the Pacific Ocean, onto the shores of the planet where they have remotely been sexually molesting as many women as their covert technologies allow them to reach, acting as Gods, taking the women they had sufficiently compromised across the planet all at once as their property.

By then, original men of the first genetic stock had noticed the disappearing moisture and the increasingly violent weather it caused on several parts of the planet, thought they were not likely to correlate the cause to the disappearing mists directly; it made more sense to associate the Arians who arrived with its cause, who of course, were not going to explain that the complex array of technologies that were mining so much of the planet that ice poles had began forming to cool the machines that mine were to blame - men like sex and reasons to convince a female that sex is warranted - and by using their Atlantean technologies, the Arians had predisposed populations of the females of the planet to accept a different, readily convenient explanation:

If a female is aroused enough to be lubricated but she is denying her state of sexual interest / readiness, it causes the mists of the Earth to dry out, and for this reason, denial and uneasiness when sexual interest is active in the female is to blame for the first violent weather patterns.

This idea was the foundation of the Climate Change Sex Cult. Its narrative covertly rules all of climate science, using Satanism as its cover and its enforcement. The association between a female’s biological display at arousal and moisture in the atmosphere is sham science. It’s made up, and the source of the idea is to where Satanism can trace the beast system’s origins, because man needing to prove a female was in fact aroused ‘enough’, despite her claims to the contrary, led the Arians to teach men to become enough of an animal - enough less a man - for the sake of ferocity of presence, and the ability to adopt certain animal strengths, like an enhanced ability to smell. Using their augmented sense of smell, Arian-enabled beast-men were entrusted to report a female’s true sexual intent - by smell - what justified their presence was considered the first ‘ethical imperative’, because women apparently regularly got aroused enough to ‘help the mists return’, but they were also regularly denying men of their moisture, which, apparently, was ruining the climate.

The Climate Change Sex Cult is tangentially to blame for the Satanic act of live sacrifice, and this is especially apparent at levels of Satanism that are prone to call their ritualistically killed children Servants of the Mists. Men who gathered in certain camps of concern over the first planet’s initial climate changes were approached with a different secret view. They were given psychoactive substances - more than likely Soma, the original white liquid mushroom preparation - and they were forced to witness live killings until they saw a cloud of sentience leaving the bodies of the murdered.

Sentience is itself a white plasma - a mist-like substance - and 21 grams of it is said to leave the body at death. This means the first killings, which were liable to be anticipated as required to enforce the space-Arian’s rule as things got worse, were seen as a secondary type of ethical imperative; killing them was said to release a type of spirit servant that will work to bring the mists of the original rainforest back to the planet, apparently because if you know how to see these Spirit Servants, they look like some sort of mist, and they only come from murdered sacrifices.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/02/2023 11:13 AM

At The Trailer

Cold air moisture, sound-shortening cold, because the freezing will hit the lungs too fast to be able speak it all.

The window should not be open, still, the aluminum tracks are laced with a few insect carcasses, webs, and tiny pieces of leaves.

Their skin pieces itself into miniscule confrontations between invisible particles of ice in the air and the pores of their hands, arms and legs, their entire nervous systems recoil in suffering, all of them curled up on the floor against a thin wood paneled wall - whole bodies that know they’re missing.


[link to www.youtube.com (secure)]

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/11/2023 09:15 PM

Creatives get quite far before they get approached to take their exposure to the levels of potential stardom, and the bait and switch of the industry involved, no matter the type of creative content, begins at table discussions that guarantee contracts will be signed at the next meeting, but come the next meeting, they are isolated in the rooms where the singing is to happen, then anally raped. From there, the ideas of being trapped in the industry begin to take definition; a knock-out drug slipped into their drink at what seems to be a perfectly normal public venue often soon follows the second room.

-Take from the warning what you will and most don’t like reading a creative’s notes on creativity and their form, but some do, and the rest before the bold equals signs involve just that; I do enjoy driving people to explore their own creative impulses, and it would not have been responsible to omit the opening.

ESTABLISH MEASURE, YOUNG, NEW, OR NOVEL WRITER

The fundamental importance of sound poetry is its capacity to enable voice, and the structural integrity of a poet’s end result is based on a few facts of what is being accomplished in the process of reading poetry.

Though it is valuable to use poetry as one’s own vehicle for the handling of thought and emotion, its end is to externalize and for this reason - and not for the purposes of vain display at any point - even work accumulated in private practice achieves its purpose under future evaluation; this same end is the touchstone found by poets whose work gets remembered.

Poetry must work on the fact that what it captures is best presented, often, in boundless discussions that have scant regard for the words of the piece being considered, and this is because the poem is the article of resolution - for whatever is at issue, which is of course only presented by the poet, but the article is in the hands of the readers.

Or, to paraphrase part of the OP, words have a suchness of which we are not often aware, and beyond compelling, novel interpretation and the imparting of unique perspective, poetry has measure, which in itself enables its mystique, and to keep that simple, define this as the potential to drive internally-assessed resolution - reading poetry in this sense is interactive, but it is not an interaction with the poet; it is an interface with what compels.

To establish measure, I devised the Eyes Shut: Starlight poems. Rules are that the total number of lines on a blank Microsoft word doc are the number of lines to be used, open lines included, to present a topic that by any measure, cannot be defined in one page.

So, the title is the name of a topic or an allusion to it (the idea of names can be defined in one sentence, but the implications of names as an idea would take more than one page to explain; one of the poems is titled Names / Eyes Shut: Starlight), and the title is on the first line, plus, the last line of the page had to be Starlight: Eyes Shut.

===


[link to www.bitchute.com (secure)]
Hack impacts one word in the piece below; fifth section between lines in parentheses, second line ends with the word you'd get from removing "continued" from the words discontinued cord.

Natures in Conflict / Eyes Shut: Starlight

(An inarticulate war cry, justifications and arguments for attack.)

Sensation the overriding liable, extorting all victims prospect, courting each angle into every collision. Petals struggle open to blossom, each stem pushed through the ground, leaning their partners into facing the dew. Playing for playmates’ sakes, wearing colors suited for mourning, and shaking off obvious company alone. Did anyone feel the clouds fear dawn, turn briefly toward another, demand silence conform response?

(An evening flower bed brimming with morning glories.)

We know our consorts, their famished needs, fainting toward the east. Wanted these bodies under control, told these drops are not tears, afraid rain will pummel us to the ground. Vessels, once questioned, felled with their contents, spilling to the west. Without any feeling, deaf though sounds are only gusts of air, without maps, light, magnet or compass.

(An exploding battlefield collecting spent shells, lifeless bodies.)

Time is to erase our questions, insert chaotic discussions, or we’re cursing the charcoal taste of our selves evaporating slightly with rain. Every strike softens as it lands, begs petals to ask while shimmering, each stem trembling. An unknowing, mute orchestra blessed in constant intrigue, struggling to speak. First drop deduces reprimand, second annunciates our will, then more confuses any coherent wish.

(An array of tiny pools spilling over with nectar.)

Tears are assigned to build, formed by their edges, and encouraged to drop when their departure isn’t noticed. Soil was forced apart and tilled, spines trickling thin waterfalls into pools between cracks on leaves. Wind brushes us against each other, we occasionally spasm, and are moved to weep. These feet we can’t see, roots spreading in hopes to find interaction, have us convinced the others exist.

(An opening in the sky widens to Valhalla, itchy trigger-fingers.)

Once upon a burial, then repeated for the decay of your remains, the sky gathers our rage. Rumors fail reverie, presence is each body’s longing to fall and lose our petals to the door. Seasons last until they become spells, fade into visions no one can recount, and are replaced by no. Spades for emptying and filling decanters with honor, grudges hold long enough to never reconcile, our lives to yours.

(An un-seasonal cold spell accompanied by storms.)

New chore to remove the dead, dig holes to the appropriate depth, estimate the next rainfall.

Starlight: Eyes Shut

===
Link to next post that is kind of related to this one: Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 7)

Last Edited by boutreality on 10/24/2023 11:26 AM

SO, the word would have been what you get from taking the words discontinued cord, if you remove continued, but because all at GLP are so considerate of discourse...

I'll link to it since it's the last post on the previous page: Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 6)

Here's another Eyes Shut: Starlight poem:
Thread: CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE (Page 6)

Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 09:28 PM

food and cats

Cool poem. You can tell why it'd be best not to expect that to make market... Thanks for the time.

FEEL FREE TO POST MORE, though I can remove them.

TO BE CLEAR, I liked the poem, it's simply that the post added to revive the thread made its own point.

Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 09:31 PM

This is to get the taste of the hack of the last post of page six out. Plus, with the caveat at the start of that one, this song makes sense and the words are short. If the words are a repeat, I'll switch it out, but it'll take a while to find that.

===

Times Report

A child writes where we were on the sidewalk with a stick he dips in gutter water, passersby inhale an evaporating answer.


[link to www.youtube.com (secure)]

Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 10:05 PM