Phantoms of Inquisitor

Inquisitor writes he remembers his papal Inquiring. Listening to dreamland, so it would seem. He takes himself too seriously, heady alchemy, surrounded by a pride of devoted animals.. Still wining popes and presidents, slightly dissatisfied with the peasantry. Still somehow a strained recluse in a subterranean lair. Inquisitor appears to enjoy Ecclesiaste, rosary. Corinthians and lost cats are always well to do.

Black Elk revised the resurrection, when he laughed and he joked. Schopenhauer lamented freedom - "A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; ... if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free." And Schiller relayed - "There's no such thing as chance; and what to us seems merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny."
With thanks to the supreme self service of subterranean poetic pleasure, as always,
"We sit outside and argue all night long
about a God we've never seen but never fails to side with me."
Primitive Radio Gods.

Long ago an Inquisition canceled, for some continue a frightful fee. Shades of gitmo and sharia Inquisitorially. Uruz and tiwaz, wyrd in high weather. Canceled, but not the karma, not the habits, ingrained like childhood habits.

Still witches in an unlucky, anonymous, holocaust, they still bleed. Witch camps for outcasts in African streets. For them the world can end, with nary a whimper, encouraged there by lack of care. Yin yangs West first with bells and whistles - demi gods and rationalized castes and place.

A documentary of two boys shot execution style by police after complaining of being fondled by a guru, and to mention it is considered poor taste. A minister ...the comparison would be his own village in which he is viewed as a god, and that has happened too. No doubt the spin doctors will find a formula that works for them. Demi gods and corporate logos.



[edit on 7-5-2007 by clearwater]

Now a witch more than an Inquisitor, although, that was always arguable - Inquisitor is still counseling the halls of power with doctrines of Certain Retaliation - wipe out three nations and stop bickering around.

This week the Inquisitor's journal contains unexpected oversight, the preponderance of Machiavellian attention Inquisitor's paid to 911's conflicted reports, suggests - he suspects a covert bias.

Seems all at once the world is held hostage, give us your poor so we can put them in torture camps. Soldiers die from lack of body armor America's current versions of Freedom don't provide or permit them to buy. A constitution in ribbons and shreds, torture resurrected from the middle ages. We always told the Inquisitor everything.
Inquisitorial camps built to hold those turned in for bounty. Sentences for neighbors who don't agree to report 'suspicious' activity. Sounds like East Berlin under Putin, a man who can take God right out of Inquisition. North American export is mostly raw resource. Squandering the reserves, in wars, they don't let Generals run.
Has America, the over-sized infant confederacy, unaware of the impact of his his own tantrums, become the bully?

In his Journal, he writes,

www.unknowncountry.com...
Islam would have won--not over Christianity, because that isn't the real battle. It would have won over secularism, freedom and individuality, which, far more than Christianity, are its real enemies.

The question of whether or not Osama binLaden is rogue or loyal, is among the most important that can at present be asked. If he is loyal, then the fate of the world hinges on how accurately we differentiate our enemies: freedom from facile solution.
Winston Churchill wouldn't allow the same assault on legislative freedoms that constitute democracy, the last time the world was presented with a similar enemy.
Islam is not the only enemy to secular individual freedoms: The 400 million dollars spent on impeaching Clinton, a little flex from foreign markets to bring policy makers to their knees. In a literal and figurative sense, implies someone just sold the highest priced spin job in history.

He goes on to say in his journal entry - " Who Is Dave Gaubatz and Why is That So Important? Have no idea, sounds like a gum ball, or sour candy that fizzes. Mutually assured, there's no shortage of balls.
Tuesday May 1st, 2007"

www.unknowncountry.com...
The doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction kept us out of a nuclear exchange with the Soviet Union. This doctrine must be replaced with a new one: the doctrine of Certain Retaliation that states that, if a nuclear weapon is detonated anywhere in the west at all, North Korea, Syria and Iran can expect to be destroyed utterly and immediately, no questions asked.

Among other authors, Peter Levenda has suggested black flag cooperation behind the militant Muslim tyrants and the Nazi's imported to advance MC research. That Jihadist's were initially funded by the same money funding MKultra, rumored to have impugned the Inquisitor. Osama, a CIA trained operative in Afghanistan, is at large, and Iraq is the price that we've paid. Bush had to be strongly advised to have Aghanistan's invasion precede Iraq, he might have entirely overlooked it otherwise. The world has more nation's than one, anxious to try Osama binLaden for the lives that he's taken . Who is reaping the profits of his labor, seems understated.


Inquisitor is playing strip poker with wild cards in the deck. Mutually Assured Destruction, like suicide bombing. Like bombs to the highest bidder, total surveillance networks no freedom fighters only terrorist killers. Inquisitor hasn't lost his practical intelligence, one senses he wishes they would stop quibbling and simply bomb the hells while it's reassurance. Assuring the decisiveness intractable to Inquisitors, his strikes are retaliatory.


The Inquisitor's frail, calls for better parenting --

www.unknowncountry.com...
One thing that science has learned during the past few decades is that we are the ones who create monsters like this—usually through relentless childhood sexual abuse.

Only one quarter of abused children will re offend. Another statistic under estimating the systemic power problems, the magic ingredient in producing monsters.

Nature and nurture, waves on the sea, fluid inter relation of contradiction, symmetry, polarity, being and becoming; does choice precede freedom or freedom choice, it's always balancing. The scale hangs in the balance, not held by you or me: certainties are lovely cruelties, and "justice is a myth", quoth "The Key."

Shades of Minority Report and the need for invasive preemptive brain technology is cause for pause -- Nasa proposed this very thing for airports after 911 - the public outrage was instant. A market inured to the benefits of an idea, is an easy market to insinuate an idea into.

The technology unlikely to be used on psychopaths in power. Without mentioning that, she calls for preemptively tightening the sieve. Presuming a lot of faith in a bureaucracy already waging war on human rights --

www.unknowncountry.com...
.. we must try to identify these people BEFORE they act and lock them away before they harm anyone.

Cyber fascism and the Age of Irrationality, technology that is fiscally laissez faire, but also biologically - by paralleling unsustainable industry with 'addictive' technology - that can create a change in brain chemistry akin to addiction. - All glossed over in the Western media feeding frenzy age. A powerful weapon, not lost on them. Technology with the seductive power of a drug.

One briefly regulated from abuse, when Hitchcock's subliminal insertions were outlawed, muskets and moon rockets. Invasive brain technology is the way of the future and there is very little curiosity or attention paid today to the passive, addicting aspect of internet technology. China has 'treatment centers' for internet addiction - dynamics that mimic addiction - were spotted much sooner in China; more bread, than circus - presumably.

Physically addicting technology. What do we propose do with children? Sell them brain invasive technology in the logos they will remember in adulthood with the nostalgia reserved for family. The potential power of the cyber/soma age isn't lost on the marketers.

Mutually Assured Seduction of Invasive and Preemptive Brain Technology -

With legislation protecting the consumer more flaccid than the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) - No way of tracking damages or logging a central data base of possible side effects of privatized medicine - (Pharmacology) - and less from genetically modified foods: It's likely there will be little way of regulating any ethics marketers will be tempted to ignore.

Give them monsters and masterminds to swoon and protect them in secretive and underhanded ways. Easier to distract a preoccupied conscience from the unsavory: Colonial Dignidad, Immanuel Noriega, yet another mole in CIA history; razed slums in Panama's flexed muscle.

Think not on indentured service endemic to the bride:"Foreign Affairs": "In the CNN age, when indelible impressions are instantaneously formed around the world and when wall street and it's foreign counterparts can bring policy makers to their knees overnight..," - Begging the question who feels it's their recompense to spend 400 million dollars impeaching sexual indelicacy. 'Mastering the Politics of Deception' by David Corn comes to mind.

America is an anxious bride, her husband is only interested in obedience. With legions on hand, able to testify to the reptilian status of Cheney's Dicktatorship, the imperative seems less preposterous.

Post Script:
All these oversights come quite naturally, but the Most Glaring Oversight was the neglect to mention the recent guffaw at the white house, anecdotal evidence supports legions of desirable young sex slaves are embroiled in reptilian harems dotted throughout the world. In spite of the Inquisitor's digressing on the hexing in the basement of those oval rooms, there wasn't one word on the recent accusations concerning Bush's allegiance to Satan, not a hint at what must be a mint of salacious detail.

A curious oversight in Inquisitor's observations, given the prolific nature of the week and it's relation to retaliatory striking. Everyone remembers the last time an Inquisitor got a hold of a Goddess or two. Sex slaves and Satanists at the white house might reignite an old midnight memory of a purposeful ride. A dependable voting base is indicting Bush for kissing up to Satan's broomstick? It can't be of much threat as, it doesn't seem to concern the Inquisitor.

Dogged by rumors of deriving dark vampiric pleasures from mass deaths and catastrophes, George Bush and his attending entourage of "Illuminated Illuminati" are accused of satan worship. Satanist's distance the association, saying the Presidency is a black mark on their order, making Satanists holier than Presidents. Witches widely know, God's laws are written on all men's hearts (psychopaths and dilletantes excluded); each path it's own test of kindness.

Sounds like necromancy, used by several orders, not just Satanism. Christians must be feeling the pinch of the seduction of the Arts. The Master of Life, Christ as the most powerful necromancer defends white witchery - Obeying his mother, though his time had not yet come. Time is of no essence to him -making it always wise to let him go first.

Ah yes, the Great Redeemer and his Mother, The Queen of the Heavens...It appears Molloch's been redeemed from his fallen stature, since the last time Machicavelli woke up with Marx. Molloch redeemed, even somewhat Satan. Jude Thaddeus is patron saint of hopeless causes because of a game of telephone - not fully as redeemed as, perhaps - Osiris. Lilith, resolute at the gates of the garden, owl talon for feet, buried somewhere in a dusty tomb. Or next to our giddy young gal Sheala na Gig, hidden in purdah, like a hot and well-watered house flower.

Not one word, nor peep of the finer distinction's at the hub of Inquisitor's hexing conspiratorial...

All blithely overlooked this week, another curiosity in the witched Inquisitor.


Not quite optimistic exhilaration, still merrily toasted with a relish for horror.

Inquisitive Kama Sutra;**Sex**Sex**Sex** or the *Spanked* and the *Spanker.*

Before you accuse phantom of shamelessly fishing for viewers of Network - with a lascivious recounting of Faye Dunaway, recall Inquisitor's recent rebellious and suggestive notions in "Thinking XXX", after Communion, the world was Madame Bovary. Sex and its guilty pleasure are measure for measure; implying the suspicion - accurate semantics for Karma Sutra are essential to evolution and by extension, essential to understanding Certain Retaliatory Concoctions. Patience might be the very essence distinguishing poor from good lovers, scholars from knaves, those who don't and the others with silver garter snakes rigidly cooling in cellars.

A sought after alien sexual Svengali, endearing, pointed and poignant -"I have to admit that it would break my heart." Many illustrious literary luminaries share the tensions in Inquisitor's riveting book. "Thinking XXX", Gore Vidal, and Salman Rushdie, who in spite of fatwas fanning other flames, well known and respected authors. Rushdie might be more sympathetic to the few who heed quranic surgical restraint, for too large a part, castration. With an illustrative nod to Nin's nooks, our inquisitor has confessed to being only eleven in the photograph featured with his Thinking XXX quote.

Forget not, accusations of fatuous sensation, leveled at earlier infatuations of prose. Attributed, by infallible doctors, to a dysfunction of ovaries, requiring hysterectomy, similar to current circumcisions of hysteria's imagined source. Long ago when Bronte and Austin were salacious in fearsome castles and abbeys, before the inception of the humor award for - Joy is in the Subterranean Journey - there has always been a distaste for female prose. Regarded as somewhat degrading, like lurid and indulgent television is now.
Think on angst and not - Adverbs.

"You have not lived, my friend, until you have been waked up out of a dead sleep by an alien who seduces you with the precision of a computer and the cunning of a Geisha. Nor would you ever again entertain the idea that such an experience was a fantasy. If it was, and that was ever proved, I have to admit that it would break my heart."

Alien Sex -- Whitley Strieber
www.thinkingxxx.com...

Tightly clutched on a knee, lazily fingered kernels of popcorn, while the movie drones in the background. Mister twister allied against the Dragon...begging please Master please. Spare the rod and spoil the blossom.. ".. sticky pistil, leaning into a stamen,", Paula Cole sings. Understand love and you understand cooking, the importance of excising hoods and lip piercing. Sylvester plays with his little bird craves the tweet, loathes the twitter. One of the diary entries shares, "...man with an enormous penis". Semantics is important to clarity.

I whispered to Whitley, "Every woman in this place is looking at you," and it was TRUE."
www.unknowncountry.com...

Inquisitor's Certain Spanking, conjures up burdened fathers whose daughter's suitor's are somewhat unsavory, recalls the bulls of tiwaz: private dungeons, under lock and key. Inevitable spankings, the Certain retaliation. Implying the difference between perfumed gardens and pile-driving. The former being a little closer to principles of attraction. Putin renowned for the latter. Not unusual for some men to mistake one for the other. The Inquisitor is not a young groom. He once ruminated Long, Slow, and Hard, as the pace of the changes being made adjusting to the visitors, sounds deliberate.

Considering Inquisitor's XXX alien "..seduces you with the precision of a computer..,", they can't possibly come a moment too soon. A transition which has recently been rumored to try his patience, or perhaps it was the prolific and speedy penning of his recent digressions, soon a movie - "2012 and the War for Souls" - with its shades of the Inquisitor's previous preoccupation, that irritated his graciousness.

In the Thinking XXX picture youth hints at times before marriage. Or early times in the mix, when Inquisitor thought no club should have him for a member. His better half was relieved to hear the confessed origins for the rocky patch of the contract: "Thank God! It’s not me after all!". The shared secret became a rock to stand on.

A reader might suspect premature relief in Anne's quick absence of worry for the reason's that he confessed. Annie, though relieved - at the source of his rails, might have thought twice, after the rumors of hybrid children. Possibly resulting in the usual jealousies, and broken hearts: There was a brief threat that he might have ended up another Gulliver on travels, without his devoted love at his side. Flying became one of the Inquisitor's powers, after a steely young and interested hybrid flung herself onto him, and clung to him, as though she wished she could keep him.

"..he’d wanted me to leave him before he went completely crazy, so I wouldn’t have to go through the agony of committing him to a mental hospital. It was one of the most courageous acts I've ever known."
www.unknowncountry.com...

Appearances say presently a rock in good condition, in spite of recent scares; Inquisitor not insensitive to the burdens fame and aliens have visited upon the marriage. Once harems for the purpose of procreation, and the number of concubines in a man's house, was more evidence of philanthropy, than anything else. Perhaps atavistic reasoning encouraged Anne's original blitheness too easily, easy acceptance of the rocky escapades to have waylaid the Inquisitor. How many deflowered or sired hybrids, fall like cherry blossom petals on the Inquisitor's path? In one subscriber account, his closer encountering 1, he claims to marry, in spirit, the diaspora. Enquiring minds want to know more.

Inquisitor has said of his 'Grayish' friends, that of pornography, they disapprove, and of broken vows, they exhort. It's not quite clear whether it's the vow or monogamy, but without the latter - it wouldn't be the same dirt. The Inquisitor and his wife are 'Porn stars' in their own right; not prudes or self flagellating punitives, well for the sake of certainty, not prudes or puritanical punitives morosely spouting value judgments to conceal the dulled edge of husbandry. An edge said to be dulled by borrowing, lending and money laundering.

Not an edge apparently dulled in the marriage, imparting by maybe unintentional example, the importance of kama sutra distinctions to evolution and what the visitor's may be trying to convey. Seinfeld's coveted crowned muffin tops are cake and eating it too, not an unusual temptation, any creature would drool.

Orwell had his own view of mangled semantics as did St Jude. There are others among the maligned of the spanked and the spanker. Sheer numbers support the ripeness of examining each word In the language of kama sutra. With a view to our sexy Inquisitor (or ambassador in this case) and his gracious, bodacious better half, let's review his stance on sexual psychology, in regards their erotic worldly swaths, with a view to the extent of the icebergs that might interfere with the staff.

.."excitement of biting into a hot dog and knowing that the maw of hell now awaited me. And the taste! So delicious!..."

Victorians knew an ounce of repression was worth a pound of aphrodisiac. By invitation, forbidden Hot Dogs always seem to fall on Fridays. Sensitive to Catholic hot dogs, and aliens with onerous expectation, Inquisitor engages a mindful manner, exacerbating the moral friction. Communion is cannibalism, as Inquisitor's lock-picking Master suggests, imagining Plato's universe and Swedenberg's manly heaven, we all know the part of which Blake said, 'Beauty liked best.' Sister Hildegard might also be a luckiest of lucky, with a clarification of terms. Which brings us back to Kali Duga, and the Kama of the Sutra.

A rebellious Inquisitor conspiring to keep hot house flowers entirely out of the wind and the rain. Such attention to detail imparts fecundity; fertile compost gardened in the Inquisitor's glade. Making the matter of semantics, honing the scythe, to plow Dumuzi's field, immediately more intimate, than fascist, fiscal frivolity, or certain spankings.

Plowing is a responsibility, before a freedom and after both - Art: 'truth beauty, beauty truth,' and the 'joy of it will last forever'. Venus might note the acute rigidity inferred by the plow's acuity, tilling the distinctions on which gardens grow. The Inquisitor's wife appears to be a witch whose fondness for cats is matched only by the cats' fondness back - Sometimes cats have been known to travel in packs, prides, semantics calls cat packs.

Rolling Thunder, once said, There's no such thing as a weed. Weeds, winds and flowers, can all be held hostage by pirates. Sunflowers and roses both grace any posey that might conceal a nasal zeal.

Machiavelli and Marx woke religion making wild claims for Crowley - what enquiring minds really want to know, is always in order and worthy of note.

A lazy seaman fishes harder. Captain has negotiated the bergs with short work.

If you don't like the Inquisitor, you might like his garden..
Or a few of the stray cats that there lurk.

[edit on 7-5-2007 by clearwater]

Found crinkled up in bushes, a paper containing old fashioned ink scrawling, presumably carried to the surface by fastidious mole people. Literature migrated in the same way, seeds are migrated.

In past lives, we know the Inquisitor has ravished, penned up and mated hordes of young girls. His penchant for husbandry persists with the attention he concentrates on his current vow. An onerous karmic burden, possibly offset by his self-less seeding of otherworldly ravenous maws. A burden not permitted to interfere with the marriage...The Inquisitor dreams of retaliatory striking. Short hair, dour in black the color for mounting authority, assured retaliatory spankings. Strikes to drive in gate posts on the fence around the garden. Sometimes butts think for themselves, when smarting, most often in Spring while listening to Vivaldi. Everything forgotten in catacombs, dusty tombs full of phantoms haunting old courtships, discrete lover's tryst, paid for on the wrist, bed in a closet, hive hotel room. Keys to unlock an hours worth of heaven making hurried love in the dark quiet caves. Searching for knights wasting away, holy grail intact in the armor. Imbibing a fountain of youth with silver snakes in secret waterways, dark tunnels can feel like flying, porcelain round ways where the walls have windows for eyes, resolute and secretive.....Close the curtains..,They're watching....

Not a popular dictate - Certain Spanking, Inquisitor.

They recoil from certain spanking; whining mewls of wet children. Unappreciative of the tenacity with which the delivery became certain. Thumb screws and welts, the jeering carts helped, witches naked, better for spanking them.

No one likes a certain spanking, except for a few spanker's.

Spanking gets Generals heard over the roar, always the banners eyes look for. United Colored Logos, under sweatshops hidden. Gurus so adored, crime is forbidden. Either righteously outraged or jealously craved, the spanked and their spanker's.

Mr FizzyGumball sounds strident - laws must be laid, obeyed or he'll spank them. Though the mineral water is divine, it's a fine line in the casbah between misbehaving and spanking.

A heady wine for the man wielding spank power. Especially a man with a harem, as close encounters one subscribes - To know the Inquisitor is to be his bride. The more bottoms bridled, the more bottoms to be trifled, presumably, for the certainly spanking Inquisitor.

Collateral damage in the hunt for Satan's broomstick, not only women like sweeping. Some are born to swept delight and some to the endless night of rug cover. *Sex*, *Sex*, *Sex* and more *Sex* - all of the universe loves to digress on the tangled gladness of spanked and spanker.

Mated in front of an audience who agreed the spanking was a disastrous embarrassment, for the female, our Inquisitor nevertheless bravely extends his appendage to encompass its husbandry.

A chorus with pointed fingers who adjure - Who is the pig and who is the dirt, an acrimonious matrimonial cacophony. Courageously committed to all the aliens, hybrids, witches and chimeras who have riches for the Inquisitor's britches, he's amassed a harem stretching the galaxy.

Black Tiger Gulch isn't neutral anymore. "World was on fire no one could save me but you.." The hybrid walks funny. Not, O O O, a cat - not, O O O, not like that - too soon, too late, too hurried too wait, not ghost paws reflexed, not dark yawns outstretched, not like that at all. They don't like tigers, tigers roar. Don't like how tigers sneak up behind with a jugular claw.

Kissing cousins, sugar loafed. Black smoke trailing up like a warning to junk the stills. It's beginning to look like Copperhead road, Spanky giddy na gig with snakes for brothers,

Go on Inquisitor, spank them.


[edit on 7-5-2007 by clearwater]

According to Friday's sermon on Qatar tv, there are three types of wives who require spanking. The first is the one brought up with spanking, brutality has become the only communication she understands. Presumably, a capacity for learning was lost in childhood. The second is the condescending wife who ignores her husband, only a spank will bring her down a peg. The third and worst one is the twisted and disobedient wife; naughty for the sake of defiance. Someone is obliged to put contrary Mary's marigolds into a row. The wives who require the most decisive of retaliatory spankings, are the ones who are naughty just for the sake of being naughty. They are the most fun.

Spanking men worry, who is going to spank children and their mothers if and when the spankings become immoral

Not the hedonistic example set by Beavis and Butthead. The mullah giving Friday's sermon doesn't recommend spankings as the first and last course on a shared meal, but he says sometimes spankings are necessary. Like the Inquisitor, who justifies his certain spankings as retaliatory. Neither is daunted, not shrinking from a spanking, should the need for spanking become necessary.

Despite admonitions from the pulpit, spanking has failed to oppress the female spirit and there is a new breed in the harem. Harem being the word for the female part of the house. Sometimes when the spankings aren't enough, or when a woman is so beautiful the world must be protected from temptation - she is placed in purdah. A hot house for female flowers and their licensed spankers only.

"The first problem of women is men…who look at women…as for pleasure, a doll, piece of furniture, and a slave in agricultural society," declared the thirtiesh, handsome, and volatile PFLP spokesman Ghassan Kanafani.

"Dogmatic habits of oriental life which regard a woman as a disabled or sub-abled creature" are the culprit, announced Fateh spokesman Sufian alAzam, a Damascene with a British accent.

"The presence of any woman in society was a sexual presence; now she's becoming a human being equal to man," reports Mona Saudi, twenty-five year old PFLP woman activist.

All the spanking in the world won't stop Leila Khaled from strapping on suicide bombs to avenge her brother. Fedayeen like to spank too. Making it essential to have a head spanker available to sort it all out. A Machiavellian insight the Inquisitor must have carried forward from his inquiring days - making his doctrine of Assured Mutual Spanking, a fatherly sacrifice of responsible spanking.

How can spanking reflect the meat of the matter, ask a Roman...You could say current global tensions mirror those of a darker period, when fierce jousters were determined to ignite a darkness lit only by candles. Now they're spanking over who's bottom is reddest after a bruising bout with a bully. You could say it's a -

***Spankquisition***

Female bottoms around the world are trembling with the ramifications of the Spankquisition. One could say the Inquisitor is on the spanking edge, of the current tensions. His doctrine of assured mutual spanking broaches the clerical divide over flanking.

Western women, mullahs preach, are the abused, spanked for puerile pleasure and profit in pornographic markets, making all Western women poor. Open season on the childish reasons it's men - women adore.

Dulled is the edge of the plow cutting the furrow, complain spanking men. Send us your naughty, your infidel heavens, and we'll wrangle them. Only chattel warrant the effort of correction, unmarried spanking is in question.

Spanking men lock up daughters, and wives. Girls just want to have rumble. Unspanked mothers are breadwinners and nursemaids, often two jobs at half the wage. No apparent resistance in the water for protuberances. Gulfs in advantage give rise to spankings. The 20th century relays some people craved a good rifling.

Male hands strike when restrained from engaging. Benevolence is to obedience what hunters of game are to cruelty. Lilith flew over the garden wall when the first furrow was laid - together they stand and fraying, they upbraid.

Ribs cast shadows with pointed shade. It's children who task adults to grow - the season to which spanked bottoms bow. Some stems warrant thrashing. Weeding requires a Spankquisitional blow.

Flowers thus assaulted, astrally wilting with the spring and fall - may suffer chagrin to be told the field has method to its mowing. Deluged fields compose next year's posy. Spring delights on flowers conceding to seasons. Such is the way of fields and flowers...and judicially religious wrestling.

Muslim clerics might rail, The thin line between God and savagery is defended by spanking, making bottoms shudder. To which our Spankquisitor flails - Keep your hands off my bottoms, or I'll spank you. The heart of the matter is a tussle, absolution and daily rustles, Spankquisitors..and..,

Spankings.

Purdah makes Free, licentious censure.

Truth/beauty, beauty/truth and beauty becomes ritual. Gardens of foot bound concubines are window boxes of precious lotus, hobbled like stiletto heels; her feet the flowers shaped by his ardor. Stretching for the light of the window, the flower adores the gardener's attentions as often as despises it. Customs and habits flute the vent, not reside in it - the happiness of love survives cultures more than cultures devise it.

Ribs removed for a fee, marry daughters to plastic surgeons for security. Wolves remind us the myth of beauty is sought after and expensive cruelty. No different than the sub-Saharan infibulation, that guarantees a young woman's marital virginity. Different flowers, same garden.

Gardens are tended fields in wild jungles; biological destiny, social Darwinism and the Selfish Gene. Despite slavery, Spartacus fought for a fee, and so it is for women. A lover of men and mother of children, her biology is Industrial slavery. Purdah makes Free

Human beings are sexual creatures. Clitoridectomy and removing the labia minor don't excise sexuality. Victorian doctors treated hysteria with hysterectomy, to find symptoms often exacerbated. Then confinement and rest would be prescribed. The uninformed attentions to flowers from their gardeners.

Flowers must be comfortable in their gardens, pruned, watered and shaded as nature demands it. Pruning the trimmings around a bud to improve it's exposure isn't cruel. Neither is building walls to protect the seedlings from winds and storms.

Flowers in their nurseries peek out onto the world through windows and electronic eyes, their privacy insured; beauty too precious to suffer the indignities of the wilds. Young saplings secured in wrapping, vulnerable to the ferocious appetite of the elements, the hot and the cold. A fool freezes as quickly as a wise man in a blizzard. Beauty has the burka, protected in purdah.

Flowers first in the garden know it best, overseeing the sowing of compatible seeds and the planting of new flowers. A flower more beautiful in colorful company. The daughter who obeys her father and accepts purdah, will be protected from the slings and arrows, like the one who obeys God is protected from temptation. The duty of gardeners is to their flowers and flowers obey bees. When the duty is ignored, pests invade the garden.

The poet Akbar Allahbadi wrote one hundred years ago:

"Unveiled maidens walking unabashed.
Akbar got an eyeful and felt ashamed.
"Your veil?" He asked. "With our men." They said.
"It veils their wisdom, and drapes their sanity."

Half of Christian marriages end in divorce with children saturating the poverty rates. South America has execution squads for excess children. In Romania, children sweep out corners of sewers to make them more welcoming. Fellatio is a handshake - veiled wisdom and draped sanity are fine words.

Flowers pruned not for love but for profit, the industrial helpmate. Flowers discarded to the street like an aged dog that no longer pleases her master. Western money pays for lucrative sexual tourism in the East, trampling all the gardens; visas for strippers officially stamped sexual slavery and arresting purveyors of children, while neglecting to arrest the purveyee. Purdah makes Free.

Mari was derided for artificial gardening when he made priests constitutional gardeners and nuns flowers for bees. A woman needn't be a gardener to be many things. Gardeners attend to flowers and flowers to spring. Gardener's might attend a moratorium on gardening, not divided by red lights and green. The largest sexual organ in the body, is still the brain.

Wise gardeners distinguish the equal beauty of sunflowers and hot house roses, both are flowers. A world without flowers is not disposed to bees. Bees, flowers and beautiful gardens require pruning, protection and watering. For a discerning horticulturist, Purdah makes Free.


[edit on 12-5-2007 by clearwater]

Inquisitor endows his privilege and trumpets the swan. A swan for the chicken's year. Chanteclair's duty to the roost foremost, favors the red hen with crude verbose. "Peck, peck, peck and the phantoms a ghost, peck, peck, peck, this is my nest". There's archons and devils and evil galore but not in the Cygnet's floral harem. No, the Cygnet's evil goes to the darkness where he sends it. To the black vaults, the catacombs, the subterranean hex, the purdah's for phantoms pecking failed to digest.

...Cygnus, nothing could be more true..so certainly Cygnus..King of the garden wrestlers. How many sisters has Leda...half the maids have turned to flora and the other half to fauna. No earthly bower, garden or pond, hides flowers safely away from swans. The bird's might feel, it's their element. Mate Cygnus, mate for life. His vessel, his mass, his chattel. The matter through which his children take life.

Roman, like the courtyard filled with laughter at the gutting of the Roman's master's wife. Cygnet suffered such remorse - but liked it best, when the scullery maid became a witch after Cygnet got wet. Busy worker, mating his glade at the god's behest, it's what Cygnet does best...Ha...Cygnus..so certain ~ What does dark attack do to aggregate like and manifesting water, where there isn't a lake? ~ What of darkness Cygnus? Pandora is forbidden to open the box. What of darkness? Who makes it, and how much does it cost?

What surprise arbitrary darkness, wielded with papal bliss or banished chagrin. What was a witch then, what now is a number? Black, is the tomb serving Cygnus' leisure, the purdahs, the labyrinth, where burn the fiery holes. Mate Cygnus but remember, Cygnus gardens next to Hades and Cygnus' garden is shored. The gods won't argue, they will side with the swan. They will strengthen his wings to enhance his blows, give him black for cover of night. Cygnus knows what is in the garden is his own. Swans don't like being jeered, but they survive it. Cygnus eats spiders then it's off to bed. What reward have sticky spiders on a sleeping swans head?

Lying, like lending, borrowing and money laundering, dulls the edge of husbandry. Born a bride, the fiery secrecy. Poised between Heaven and Hell, never be where you dwell, wile the whole life breaching. Look to the stink rising up from the vents for reflection.

Treading water always six inches over where? - Six inches to solid ground, six inches to the air - tread a little harder, only six inches left to spare. The faster the tread, the closer the dare; over there, where grass is greener.

Not gardened with ease, the labyrinth, quiet as stone. No twittering trees, no if you please, no sound. It's the place where nothing ever really happens. Stay in your homes, where once there was, echoing with the sounds of scurry and shuffle, scattering claws when light shines.

Hair matted and eyes dimmed from darkness, misshapen moles crawl catacombs. A ragged bump, a rotting clump, were toes once. No good Samaritans walk where they roam. All above, in the breezy garden, sights to ponder. Rhyming sweetly on the color of welted slaves and the cost of a well endowed one.

The stench on the breeze finds them confounded. Heaven subdues the hells bubbling up from the wells. Like rats from sudden sound, agony scurries from heaven's cacophonous harmony. To catacombs and purdahs and fiery hells, where ghosts preserve the righteous applause with standing ovation.

Helianthus annuus everywhere glowers, while trimmed roses stay shrouded. Jealous lotus, rare and costly sunshine. Glades are ruled by Cygnus absolutely. Flowers address life so seasonally, the god's created bees. Bees are moving to the catacombs, to the purdah's. Even mushrooms shall have a gardener. Bees are finding comb compatibility. Cygnus knows, August is The Fall for flowers, flowers hate fall. Posy wilts after plucked, carnage when snatched and discarded. Worst of all, harsher than hail and drought, crueler than frostbite and bruised floral frames - Flowers fear never to be smelt, never carried on a warm breeze to a waiting snout and inhaled there. Flowers worship the sun, and they are also sunshine. Darling, darling honey bee in the vinyards of Siena chianti is sweet, watered by aqueducts built by bees, for bowers.

Cygnus

And hence the gizzard's wizard shall foredoom
The fate of Rome and the fall of the superdome.
Then cease blighted toadstool, to mourn thy ravished hair
plucked to add new glory to a chicken's rear.
Not all fair wiry meshes yanked from a buttock
Draw such curious stares after flummoxed.
For after all the strumming of the bum,
When, after millions thrummed, you yourself must sigh;
When those persistent prongs must prick, as prick they must
Burying pinions with piledrivers, raising the roost -
This catacomb, bees shall abide
and midst the black inscribe Kitty's name.
Rose Perpetua

Hot on the heels of civilization's need to use Invasive Brain Technology to weed out V-tech shooters, an article cajoling every marketer's nocturnal petition, "obedient new consumers." It's the *Talk* of the *Catacomb*. Will IBT toys for children end the problem of television babysitting?

"This could be a powerful tool to teach kids the ability to focus their minds and it might help correct a major problem: studies show that children as young as 3 months old are watching too much TV."
www.unknowncountry.com...

Shocking postulation - these toys will correct electronic babysitting? "correct a major problem.." Ethically used, light therapy treats many psychological conditions. The catacomb sees what power does to Skinner's rats.

Toys interactively wired to corporate psychologists are going to advance electronic babysitting, not correct it. There are dead and dying left, right and center. Numbers are probably higher than school shootings by now, including adults, and their co-addicted who may feature in 'suicide'.

The more someone is imprinted visually, the easier it is to imprint them. A light on a video game that goes off when concentration falters will encourage a Pavlovian obsess to compulse. Concentration is born of love, not spank; spanking craven power instead of spanking craving power.

The Carnage

www.wired.com...
www.jrn.columbia.edu...
www.china.org.cn...

Will unethical toy manufacturers be weeded out along with anyone capable of violence? The almost best seller - "How I Would Have Done It" comes to mind. Sociopathic corporate personhood accountable to bottom lines, leading to emptied minds and pockets.

It's beginning to look alot like Atlantis, with sharp dichotomies - outside no music, inside the gates, only dance. Science regards sin as instinct. Predictable psychological conditions permitting easy manipulation.

CAT scans conducted on genetic test groups revealed different brain function in the emotional centers of children genetically predisposed to addiction and those from the genetic norm. Predisposed children are vulnerable to the syndrome known as the great imitator whose symptoms can mimic all the hallmarks: depression, psychosis, manic depression, obsessive compulsion. Kid's on techno crack. Consumerism exploits addiction more than sobers it. Genetic predisposition creates a biological basis, brain patterns are then entrenched with repetition.

Children are such a vulnerable market, it immediately sets the stage for Absolute Corporate Spank power. Of course, spanker knows it will "..create obedient new consumers. Because he's Cygnus, the flying Spankquisitor.

"It's bad enough that kids, under the influence of television, now demand brand-name toys at younger and younger ages. In the future, the toys themselves will be able to influence our kids’ minds and create obedient new consumers."
www.unknowncountry.com...

Brain Invasive Tech is the Swan medicine of the Corporazzi, penetrates the surface, spanks the babes of the glades, ducks a diver.

Earth has her own music that twitters and hums. Bacon suggested wails and moans, right off her axis.

Light is blinking...

A pit bull, with elegance, homage and brawn. Lose interest in many things, but not the beauty of the SWAN, SWAN, SWAN, SWAN.

what on earth?

can you provide a 50-word summary?

I should have put it in humor...I think it means it's getting better....

So many conflicts, so little time.