My Cozen is Rushin'

My Cozen is Rushin'
op-ed
@mjbanks

So, Ukraine, it's a place, it's far from where I live, except, the news, you surely need that, the news it shows Ukraine on the network communications channels, that's where I remember seeing it. You can agree thus far.

So, Ukraine, it was protesting in the streets, its people fighting to not be starving and on their knees, sick of living like subjectees. The gov't of UKR had been overcome by commie radicals, unless there are any other kind, not so kindly, and the people in suffering protested, and eventually there was a new order, a new alliance and understanding, another phase of the human development, where humans could develop condition and condition-developers would learn what it was like to be human. With this much hereby you understand.

Then Crimea wanted to go, to leave the place called confusion and rejoin the nation of Russia. Crimea, once hazed by wars of dominion because of its strategic coastal island stature, then and now retained statehood, while being part of UKR after the eastern inevitable collapse of socialist-controlled (and poisoned) USSR now RUS. It reserved the right to leave, much like Texas, but with fewer guns because Europeans like to disarm victims and ban free speech and other childish tyrannical absurdities. Inasmuch common knowledge, this much you know.

As UKR began to rebuild, soon autonomous Crimea stepped again into the embrace of Russia, there are many speakers of its current language, and to achieve a wholeness, not by solidarity, but of survival, Crimea rejoined the big bear, Russia. Ukraine, having protested to get gas and commodities by means of open barter, free market, from all places of the world, not just Russia, is fledgling and struggling, and the people still have, whether you like it or not, whether you hypocritically have the very word democracy in your country's name and don't allow it, or not, ...still have the right to choose where they shop, where they work, where they sleep. More over, this is well known by those willing to observe our world.

Besides, of all things, those events, if Russia continues to force UKR to soviet quarry, that would be disconcerting, unwarranted by the already protesting and protested citizens, and a real beta-move, as some say. Nonetheless, now have come the many to revolt against the existent stagnation being given further regression and disaster, local vying for feudal power, the result ever left in the ashes of every commie wake. The Russian-speaking community has heard and seen the news, as we have seen UKR in turmoil, they understand the Russian newscasts, they know the soviets have taken their inevitable fall. I believe that they (Russian speaking people) feel, as if, Russia will not force trade-route treatises on an aligned/annexed UKR, and that there will be a large Russian eagle wing coveting them and protecting UKR, in the face of perpetual socialist failure, offering a Russian province protection, unlike the former empire that had robbed and starved them, in the face of it happening again.

To this I feel the American president does not know, and many do not know. In fact quite the opposition, that the socialist American leader outright rejects federalism should it reject socialist fiefdom. He, my president, vocally objects to Russian assistance to UKR, which I find outright ironic and disparaging. Methinks, that P. Obama feels the need to be "hawkish" after years of sending the military to protect Afghan corruption and making cattle confiscations on USA public lands, his 'trigger finger' is itchy, and by that I mean his childlike ego. Since he is the president that supports the dictatorship in Venezuela, I would have bet that he'd endorse rejoining RUS, and since he doesn't, I trust Russia more than ever.

/op-ed


@mjbanks

Merlin 3:37 Concilliabule

Merlin 3:37 Concilliabule

@mjbanks

Crimson and Malachi set, confined to a coach travelling the day environ, separated by fated perception of faded vision bright to faintest light with photosensitivity.

Crimson: I see the world thru bloody eyes the way it is painted, never dying in the night. Taking, we, from life, beyond death, more eyes that reflect the moon than will one live again, sworn to brave the brink of the great dividing mountain between day and darkness. A citadel of rapture bastion to the surrounding frailty, as each star is a fortress to the decay of the sky itself. A fortress a foundation for a throne covered in pestle of ageless gathered bones made of palm stones the likes of which mere men cannot push atop zenith, with the strength bereft twofold of slake and sate, fanged ones prevail. In darkness nearest Hellheim, dare not our patience be projection to Midgard, answer the silence save we end the humans for our desire while they sleep. Yet of this, the cambion and the hellion bring the cure by which humanity takes its name.

Malachi: They are too much Albion to separate, more so he than of she and least of they and we, but I do not reckon to say their namesake forsaking, my grace.

Crimson: I have confused you with life and death again, like a memory of a dream that kills the sleeper, knowing impermanence while being of its vehicle in this world of nine. I, seeking blood and honor, destroy the introspection of enlightened humans whom may answer the call to that charge of duty.

Malachi: Had I known I would have traded you my prison.

Crimson: Make keen notice of the mages and their actions, confide your findings of their convictions, ill fate comes to those caught by staring eyes.

Malachi: Deep pains, elicited are thee, shine to the heart of the mind enduring that I will as bade before all else. (He pauses, listening to his surroundings). Fall the very drop of rain and I will follow it with blood the very next.

Crimson: Premature, fear is our only resource actual. (The wagon rustles, they listen for commotion, occurring none). These like days of old, we rely on our couriers, coevals in errantry, and like then we must endure painful trust, for now. There is little likelihood that they need us to task some mercenarily errant deed. No, they need haven, in lesser for and by the mother, in greater by an elder horizon storm.

Malachi: We could have hearkened to abode by our land-spies or a cutpurse, perhaps even afoot. To what extent is our knowing with less proof to show and fewer parts for pardon?

Crimson: At his word my darkest fears unearthed themselves, a fear of not knowing, but as forgotten emotion churned thunderous like the heart of mountains beneath the boot-heels of the gods of gods, I will mark the ground around his empty vessel if need be. Like some dreaded truth within us ourselves, what he fights, I must fear. What he fears, I must dread. What he dreads, I must kill, and what he kills I must drink. The sorcerer is a weathervane, from which we must always drink.

Malachi: So shall it be.

The wagon wobbles and jostles the country road, the scene a dry lake shore as mountain streams run shallow or missing, to fill only creek as is norm of season, and distantly the great cold mountain called Vermillion, and the town halfway below it, and the berg between envoy and livery. Merlin and Ana ride on the bench of the horses, not on the wagon.

Merlin: What is the oldest language you speak well?

The passengers hurry to put their ears to the walls of the wagon, desperate to hear their drivers speak even a single clue of conceit or conception, in the darkness of their transport.

Ana: I speak a bit of Sand, perchance its tributary, nothing of dusty books from the type of bastards I've ever met.

Merlin: Put a scarf on your face, sit next to me, and only whisper.
Malachi: He’s smart. (Crimson punches Malachi)

Merlin: Dangerous wretched climate, I hope ends soon; they know we need to trust them, either in truce or mockery, troubled with the momentum of escape.

Ana: Reliant to suffer more without our wit.

Merlin: Indeed, bewildered we are safe endangered, and tried when levied against our freedom, without so much as gratefulness.

Ana: When it’s shone it shines.

Merlin: A poisoned blood will hide you, but it must be purged and runs a short wick ever shorter by your bearing.
Ana: Do they not drink the sick?

Merlin: Not commonly in their capital so, by the gods I pray it comes to that not.

Ana: What manner of beast belays them?

Merlin: My dear, given there can be not, beheld by ages they cannot, hardened by living and hollowed by ranks of all the worlds, they fear us the most.

Ana: By our advantage over Midgard?

Merlin: By our advantage despite it.

As Merlin lifts a finger it begins to burn, he blows sparse dust from the flame, a very dull pulverized dust smokes and smells of sweetness into the air. A town of carpenters and tree-farmers, their eyes burn to see it beneath the sunlight and the mountain where a shadowed now very dry and hot midday, dominates along the lengthy distance of tiny streams, there are trees crooked and dry waiting for a merging delta to return, the forest roots deepest as can be, and the adjacent sea, where mercenaries in a blank camp ready for the sunset moon.


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Litote

Not it is as they say the adults, that the adolescence is the best time of the life, is clear it is superior as its mastery, but the reality is that it is one of those moments most difficult of being human, giving into changes, the new emotions, and arena of people that tell you everyday how to do everything, but which they are incapable of sentiment to hear a little of your story.

I hope I'm saying this next part correctly:

A veces no puede entenderlas, y decir no razón a intenta. Hoy es así, aunque decir pistas son empiezan a conjunto, y tiene que comprender pronto.

When it snows in hell....

So, I bet there are many politicians that said there is a better chance of it snowing in hell than their hasteful plans failing, well, it snowed and it's tax day, in chicagoland, the flagship of policies that have lead every other nation to war, or worse, you get the picture.....

 Just thought I'd put that out there, while we're sharing for the benefit of others, I thought I made it quite clear that it was supposed to stop snowing here.

 Egad. I wont it to make the running, but I'm just slovenly enough to be too slow to get warm. 

Oh look, what's this.....?

I finally did some "spring cleaning" even tho it won't quit to make the snow. Must be all that global warming doing the snowing and cooling. Here's something for the muses to make into an intro or extro, it doesn't have to be in any order or anything, I don't know why, time is its own entity; or if you're in reality these are fixedly so and you'll have to see it, or be one with the experience; some are blank beneath the keys, others will be divided, more so will be taken beyond the end, the day is above and the night is below, today is the blood moon eclipse thru the dawn and it snows to melt for the angered zephyrs.....

#BloodMoonEclipse

A Fool's Day Everyday

As I write this, to wit none of you may believe I've even written this posthumously, previously, or proactively, it wasn't posted because I simply didn't feel like it. As I begin the next act of my life, I do go forth unencumbered by deigning political opinions and without aversion to work, I venture with foisted political ambitions of ambitious politician fools and their cadres of feigned ignorance indeterminably identical to actual failings. Not seeking loss and losing sight of such so sought, an autonomous network clarity surrounded by ambiguous domains with fierce anonymity, this sanctuary with administration defined will have terminal connection, open sources of communication, border arbitration, and a repository of sages.

I do not believe in a fate that falls on men however they act; but I do believe in a fate that falls on them unless they act.
— The Buddha (@_Buddha_Quotes) March 4, 2014