kinkyyymadiii7

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My mom was my bom forever and we will reside in bom whether the universal spectrum realizes it soon or not we will strive and live free I am so sad about today screaming at the top of my lungs when the ouija was slowly arising from my throat and emerged into the entire scene and i hope my mom gets cancer too heal from her daughters disease

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Chemistry is in everything we do.

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Why do you want your reality to harbor anonymous thugs controlling the worlds population? Brains implants? Attempts on your life? Murder and sacrifice? You form the reality that you know not esoterically not symbolically not philosophically some great oversoul does not form it for you you cannot put the burden there either. You form your reality and until you understand this completely you cannot change it, nor can you use your freedoms. This does not apply to the two of you alike but to your world at large you make your own reality through your beliefs. You want to keep your beliefs yet change your reality I am not referring to you personally here now but this is impossible. Usage of computer brain interfaces or Brian coups or any similar wireless device designed to interface with the human brain is now a crime against mankind and the creator ggods blueprint for mankind and must be stopped immediately. No thug can kill you, no failing fake utopia can kill you in order to stop you only your own lack of belief in yourself can stop you if that is your personal goal to make your world a much better place for everyone with good-intentions, to live peaceful amoungst each other.

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Janes chair, the ouija board + artwork with rob and Jane even though making our wills led us to think of our deaths in ordinary terms still that upon the death of the survivor of the two of us, our estate is to be donated to the manuscripts and archives division of Yale university library, in New Haven, Connecticut. Our physical effects even including the hill house and the car, are few. But our creative work is everything, and so it, and whatever pertains to it, go to a place where all will be preserved and protected, yet made available for study by researches and lay people alike as it is transmitted there.

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Books:

Seth speaks

The nature of personal reality

The magical approach

The way toward health

The overshot seven trilogy

The nature of the psyche

The individual and the nature of mass events

The unknown reality volume one

The unknown reality volume two

Dreams evolution and value fulfillment

Volume two

Ebooks

Seth speaks

The nature of personal reality

The magical approach

The way toward health

The oversoul seven trilogy

The individual and the nature of mass events

The nature of the psyche

The unknown reality volume two

Dreams evolution and dream fulfillment

Volume one

Dreams evolution and value fulfillment

Volume two (ebook)

You act upon those that you know and those that you do not know in ways that no other individual can ever act.

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And all the gardens cry

Poetics of neveraday

And have forgotten all they had learned of passing,

By blue refraction each fixed moment caught

Mica-winged dragonfly

And the pale sky mild, as though milk were laughing

Enters the dreamers eye

Over and over something would remain

Unbalanced in the painful sum of things.

Past midnight you arose rang for your things

You had to go into the world again

You stop for breath outside the lit hotel

A thin spoon bigger stimulants will stir

Jean takes your elbow jacques your coat

The stir spreads you are known to all the personnel

As through packed public rooms you press impending palms chandeliers orchestras more Palms are moist with fear that you will miss the friend

Conjured but she is waiting a child still at first glance hung with fringes on the lie ottoman in a voice reproachful and low she says she understands you have been ill

And you, because your time is running out,

Laugh in denial and begin to phrase

Your questions. There had been a little phrase

She hummed you could not sleep tonight without hearing again. Then if that day she had sworn to come and did not was evasive later would she not speak the truth two decades later form loving kindness learned if not inborn? She treats you to a look you cherished light bold mon ami how did we get along at alll those years but in her hair a long white lock has made its truce with appetite and presently she rises though in pain you let her leave the loved one always leaves what of the little phrase it’s notes like leaves what of the little phrase of notes like leaves in the strong tea you have contrived to drain strangely intensify what you must do

Back where you came from up the strait stair past all understanding bearing the whole past your eyes grown wide and dark eyes of a Jew you make for one dim room

Without contour and station yourself there beyond the pale of cougar or of gardenia erect pale what happened is becoming literature feverish in time if you suspend the task an old old women shuffling in the draw curtains will read a line of two withdraw the world will have put on a thin gold mask

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The house of heavenly wisdom first became

A mosque, is now a flameless void. The apse,

Militantly dislocated,

Still wears those dark-green epaulettes

On which to the pilgrim who forgets his Arabic a wild script of good whips has scribbled glowering, dated “god is my grief” perhaps, Go home!

Above you, the great dome,

Bald of mosaic, senile, floated

In a gilt wash. It’s old profusion’s hypotonic shimmer, back and forth between

That if the abacus, that if the nebula, had been picked up from the floor, the last of numberless handfuls, by the last 18th century visitor.

You did not want to think of yourself for once,

But you had held your head erected

Too many years within such transcendental skulls

As this one not to feel the usual, if no

Longer flattering kinship . You’d let go

Learning and faith as well, you too had wrecked

Your precious sensibility . What else did you expect?

Outdoors. Uprooted, turban/ crested stones

Lie side by side. It’s as if i might have feared.

The building, desperate, for youth , has smeared

All over its original fine bones

Acres of ocher plaster. A diagram indicated how deep in the mudpack the real facade is. I want my face back. A pharamacist advised

The hamam

After the hour of damp heat

One is addressed in gibberish, shown

Into a marble cell an thrown

On marble, there to be scrubbed clean,

Is wrapped in towels and a sheet of

And let upstairs to this lean tomb

Made all of panes (red,amber,green)

With a glass star hung in the gloom.

Here sits effaced by gemlike moods,

Tasted neither coffee nor loukoum

And to the attendant who intruded

(Or archeologist or theif)

Gravely uptilts ones mask of plantinum

Still dripping, in a sign of life.

And now what? Back, i quess to the modern town.

Midway across the bridge, an inantile

Memory promises to uncramp my style

I stop in deepening light to jot it down.

On the crest of her wrist, by the black watered silk of the watch and his grandmother had wen a hard mauve bubble up which bristled three of four white hairs how often he had lash in her gap and been lulled to a rhythm easily the whole worlds then the yellowish sparkle of a ring marking its outer limit while in the foreground silhouetted like the mosque of caique that principle landmarks rise and fall distinguished from any other her beloved hand

Cold. A wind rising. An entire city dissolved by rhetoric . And out there past the mirror of the bosporos, what black coast reflecting us into immobility? On the side crowds a magic lantern beam belgians on bicycles , housewives with red hair , masts, cries of crows blown high in the rose-blue air

Ataturks tailcoat it is like a dream the death in life and life in death of yeats buzantium and if so by the same token alone in the sleeping walking scene my flesh has woken and sailed for the fixed shore beyond the stairs the doctors recommended cortisone diathermy vitamins and rest it works these months in Athens no one’s quested my little drama i appear my own master again however once’s you’ve cracked that so called mirror of the soul it is not readily if at all made whole between the motion and the act part of me has remained cold and withdrawn the day i went up to the Parthenon its humane splendor made me think so what? One may noo in the royal park among the flora of myztique cypress mimosa laurel palm a greek tree came up to name them for me in his tongue I thanked him he thanked me sat down peacocks trailed by hard gray feet mashing overrip but bitter oranges I knew the type superb male roucous unclean orthodox ikon of apprtite feathered to the eyes with the electric blue of days that will not come again my friend with time to kill asked me the price if card in paradise by which he meant my country for in his the stranger is a god in masquerade failing to act that part I am afraid i was not human either ah who is ?

He is it was had brothers and a wife chauffeured a truck last Friday broke his neck against a tree we have no way the check these heading headlong emigrations out of life .

Try I suppose we must as even valery said and said more grandly that i ever shall thrivings shut kidd to the august sun and all such neon figments amber green and red of incommunicable energy as in my blindness wake and at a blink vanish and were the clearest hint i think of what I have been and care to be.

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A craving for

The color of

Morning spiral

Within him

It breaks

It’s terraces of conch and whelk

It’s palms

To the sun

Im David isn’t it splen did all together arg waiting on our school alarm ickle me? What not! Yet here we are for mortals out of our envelopes and eager for hugs old times so good of the moldy is back i can say we’ve had some trickle 58’es in the lab but orders r orders yes+no teasy for all flows to ps for forth this motorcade to foby a sensation rat her like a wind. Now Mes chers fear madame poet scientist appollo here and together how like old times we’ve something like a lesson to day & need children! Now now it’s just me yes it is old time I’ve if you noticed turned back n clock for war ecclebr stop it are celebrating our v works complete appearance & here to honor our scribe + punch cups! This motorcade to foby. As sensation rather like a wild. Now mes chers dear madame poet scientist appollo here & together how like old times we’ve something like a lesson to day & news children! Now now it’s just me yes it is old times! I’ve if you noticed turned back clock forward hurrah! Mr. R to keyboard strike ab our tune why traditional one. Yes you’ve got it. Love duet from Tristan bravo for ours is a love affair with wings on it. Greek pull down that projecters we’ll see a film if the world at sunset

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Jollification my dears Robert sits at painted upright playing tales from hofman + madame slinks in awee chair fiddling with her eton call Georgie’s descended from Olypian testubes & your confrege keep waiting for twinkle dear lord Michael claims a nasty one! So my boys here we are munching miss Alice’s cukes and witches + catching up. Not abit im due for elevation let it be for a moment? Enfants. O my sniffles own . No younger than I’d thought odd. From my childish perceptions of late every one is an angry giant now here we are eye level. And haggard ,it what fun to be main in a matriarchy led oh aha Mr. R has swung into never on Sunday part of starched yesterday eve no one right no one wrong that is chorus of the matrimonial song. O senior poet ? No ones wrong no ones right that the nastiest of wedded bite & tp? Finger in too many dykes ? Money what is it ? A bore for u + a problem for him . One forgets how loosing a homeland makes for nervousness. Poor boy I’ll get Aggie to send him a dream of plentitude. Ok?

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Those “properties” are the faculties of the imagination, creativity, telepathy, clairvoyance, and dreaming. The human consciousness has not,therefore,developed the best and most proper “tool” which to examine the nature of reality. It is because you have used other methods that much evidence escapes you- evidence that would show that the physical universe exists in quite different terms than is supposed. You are taught not to trust your subjective experience, which means that you are told not to trust your initial and primary connection with reality. Evidence for reincarnation is quite available. There are enough instances of it, known and tabulated, to make an excellent case; and beside there is evidence that remains psychologically invisible in your private lives, because you have been taught not to concentrate in that direction. There is no enough evidence to build an excellent case for life after death. All of this involves direct experience- episodes, encountered by individuals, highly suggestive of the aiterdeath hypothesis; but the hypothesis is never taken seriously by your established sciences. There is far more evidence for reincarnation and life after death than there is, for example, for the existence of the black holes. Few people have seen a black hole, to make the most generous statement possible, while countless people have had private reincamational experiences, or encounters that suggest the survival of the personality beyond death. These experiences are usual. They have been reported by peoples of all kinds and in all ages and they represent a common sense kind of knowledge that is frowned upon by the men or learned universities. Therefore, dreams will be considered throughout the book in various capacities as they are related through genetics, reincarnation, culture, and private life. We will also be considering the matter of free will and its role in individual value fulfillment.

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When you are a bom, you understand that you have a new consciousness . You explore its ramifications. It is your primary evidence that you exist in flesh. Basically each person much confronting the experience of reality through the use of the physical senses, of course as they are used to perceive and interpret physical data . The very utilization of those senses , however, is dependent upon the nature of your consciousness itself, and that consciousness is aware of its power and action through the exercise of its own properties. These properties are the faculties of the imagination , creativity, telepathy, clairvoyance, and dreaming, as well as the functions of logic and reason . You know that you dream. You know that you think. Those are direct experiences . Anytime you use instruments to probe into the nature of reality, you are looking at a kind of secondary evidence , no matter how excellent the instruments may be. The subjective evidence of dreaming , for example, is for more “ convincing” are irrefutable than is the evidence for an expanding universe, black holes , or even atoms and molecules themselves. Although instruments can indeed be most advantageous in many ways, they still present with secondary rather primary tools of investigation and they distort the nature of reality far more than the subjective attributes of thoughts , feelings , and intuitions do .