Italy: Sold to Big Pharma

In a letter to Robert F. Kennedy, Dr. Antonietta M. Gatti lays out her concerns about her nation, Italy. As an Italian doctor, researcher and scholar and citizen of that country, an expert in Bio-materials and especially very small particles, nano-particles that can corrupt and taint vaccines. These particles are very small. One can't simply push the vaccine through a sieve and clean out the particulate, these things are very small as the name implies. Dr. Gatti and her associate and husband Dr. Stefano Montanari have been investigating the corruption that can very easily enter into vaccines in their manufacture and contaminate the vaccine causing seriously more harm than the mercury, aluminum and particles from the machine processing...

BIOMILQ

Absurdities of the absurdities. Bill Gates's newest project -- synthetic breast milk. It seems a new one is released every single day. From Bill Gates using vaccines that use the bodies of babies to make the vaccines, he is now putting technology in their bodies via synthetic breast milk. BIOMILQ a new product released on to the market, and to be assisted in their startup in the world, by none other than that super arch-villain and pain in the ass software coder and pretend scientist and vaccine pusher, Bill Gates of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BMGF). Foundations are new and improved ways of making vast amounts of money without paying tax on it, as can be seen with the Gates foundation

POEM: The Convent Burned down last night.

The convent burned down last night. It's end had already started with collapse, in forgotten areas of the building... and waterlogged ceiling, and weakening sections of the roof. Caved to slowed fall. Wallpaper peeled as like old skin -- walls were surrendering to age and the mold. The ghostly revenants that occupied it for the many decades were forced to ascend and reach for heaven's gate. I stepped on careful legs, bearing witness of its dying. Parts gave up, like vital organs surrendering to exhaustion...

IN THE JAWS OF THE BLACK DOG: Part 2

... I have reached a measure of greater understanding of who I am, and am proud of my abilities, the skills and talents I have had to achieve just to remain off the street and not a homeless man. To have taken advantage fully of the many gifts personally, but have not achieved the success in those that I should have had, all those that were given, along with the emotional baggage and emotional immaturity and insecurity and weirdness sometimes that I can be. I am a greater artist even though, condition stopped me from painting. I have made many inroads into music and my guitar and carpentry and working with my hands; my writing of poetry and storytelling which has helped me to develop a way into my own mind and find out where I falter with language. I am an obsessive dictionary reader, always unsure of my use of the language...

IN THE JAWS OF THE BLACK DOG: Part 3

Autism has left me in ruins sometimes emotionally -- many times socially, and yet as the artist, I have soared to the highest ground it has shown me I feel. The risk-taker, the expanded vision, the imagination journey as visuals are my chosen language. The ability to see something so very complex and decipher it and und4erstanding its meaning. Collaboration with other artists has produced works by me but not me solely.  Objets d'art I would not have been able to accomplish alone. I am a gifted painter in my own right, and I say that without any false modesty. Autism has made me quite visual in my learning and expression of myself...

Hydroxychloroquine

From the research that used to be, until dragged down and sent down the memory hole -- Hydroxychloroquine was the godsend for COVID sufferers, but hell that cure won't work and the Lancet study said it caused heart problems until they redacted the whole paper. A little bird tells me these studies are bought and paid for by...the usual suspects, *wink wink*. One needs a new very expensive thoroughly researched messenger RNA vaccine glowing a fluorescent blue as it is eased into your veins. Its RNA messenger code splices into your genetic makeup and implant itself in the library of you, and voila' you're body is a factory producing your own medicine. WOW...that's exactly what I want to be. A little medicine factory producing what? Forever. With my genetics all whacky now. I'll be glowing in the dark and want to hang around with bats...

What do you think AI is all about?

Individual spirit -- they just don't get it. You speak about spirit as the real self, and you get that look from them that you get from your dog when your playing an harmonica. Spirit is about freedom, and freedom is not outside, I find it is inside me. And I have no idea why I keep forgetting that. Oh yeah... stimulus-response. And so the question came up the other day, from my friend Jon Rappoport. It was based around freedom and the loss of it. Now, I must say Jon is an excellent fellow and after reading him for decade or so, I am convinced now that I am not crazy, that the world that we live is a manufactured reality, that there is a massive industry that 24 hours a day, 365 days a year toils to came our minds enslaved...

POEM: WHAT NEXT!

Eight-carbon molecules in rivers of waste, and the sun in a sack cloth hauls itself up again into the sky. And looks down in disgust at what was…a good idea. These mayfly lives, passing through and piling up, one upon the other as sediments on the basement of this world. Built up in that wake of seconds upon seconds. Relent. Red cushion for a place to sit, amidst rancor. Nihilism for a heart, and reluctance. And crazed mystics still keep pushing shopping carts up hills of abuse...

Poem: IT’S NOT THAT COMPLICATED…

  by Michael Burns The versions of old stories took on a life of their own. The sheer amount of time involved, expressed itself as well. It began to no longer be a campfire tale, an interesting thing one speaks about on a long voyage. It seemed it became the most logical answer to that age-old problem -- well, wonder that is...many people tried to exploit it, they push mystery into what otherwise was a simple thing. Claimed they had inside information. Claimed all kinds of things. Swore to high heavens they knew someone who, knew someone...told lies, to impress their friends or lovers. And some were, genuinely delusional, or crooked, or just plain old lonely, and looking for attention, swore they knew the real truth of it. It was in fad, and then out of fashion. Some even threatened, to eradicate that curiosity for good. Others, went to war over it -