The soul of the times
hurting we struggle on
the sellouts are yelling the loudest
everybody wants to win the popularity contest
the real is in revolt against the weak whackness
those that could change things only do it to their own benefit
Leaving us in a cold wilderness, wandering alone.
Where’s the love ?
Turn all things into honey, should be divine law.
Kill them with kindness
Kiss the snake without fear.
Take yourself away from poisoned thought
replace with truth and purpose.
Anything that interrupts your divine flow, must be obliterated.
The path must be cleared to continue.

For me it means a new way
I need to pull down more power in the present
I need to be more effective to help more.
Eliminate the blockages.
Recognize the impediments and systematically attack them.
Our spirits must be galvanized, our souls made into new alloys.
It is always darkest before the dawn.
Stay frosty
Be clutch for your team.
Your example will empower those around you.
Get your true groove back, find your swagger.
Be the change you need.

What a rough year.
God doesn’t like ugly.
We have never been closer together and further apart.
Always remember, there are more of us than there are of them.

When W. Bush was finally declared king I cut off all my dreads.
When this Sunkist Anti-Christ arranged his hostile takeover I quit drinking.
I want to handle this transition with more wisdom and purpose.
There is opportunity in crisis.
It Is time to access the root of our power, draw it down like never before.

Can we end the collective pain loop?
Can we re-chart our stars?
It is time to redraw the map.
It is time to no longer fear the control.
It is time to shoot them right between the eyes.
They divide and conquer until we out evolve them.
The powers to be need to be separated from their wealth and power.
They want to spray us with viruses and then deny us the cure.
Keep us sick and easily controlled
Chemtrails and pharmaceuticals power the prison industrial complex.
The swindlers spit a good game for the intellectually dishonest
The lazy thinkers don’t mind marching orders if the football game is on.
Look at all the shiny objects, don’t pay attention to what the man is doing behind the curtain
Distracted and diverted we dead-end over and over again.
Born into a snare, we booby-trap our own lives.
We are all dwellers in a mirage.
The art of survival is the story that never ends.
Win to share.
We all bleed into the same stream.