Sunday, September 29, 2013

Errant Clocks...

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I'm logging in a sky-watch for the stuff one finds up there; I won't pretend what I have found—report what isn't there. Too, I don't mean to scare you or detract from your beliefs, but we're beset by bastards with the ethics of disease.
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See, it's "winners" write a history clearly missing all its thorns. It's how they've kept posterity on the UFOs suborned. It's how they've lied to spare themselves; it's why we don't look up; its why we ask no questions of these men we know—corrupt.
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This is why "they" can ignore us. This is how we're so insane. It's where we trod the paths we take—or shriek our shrill refrain.
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We call that cognitive dissonance, how to think when "up" is "down." How to justify what doesn't fit; turn "crap" to sparkling "crowns." ...Can't keep it up for very long; the spirit won't abide. One makes oneself irrelevant.  It makes one sick inside.
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See, still the lights traverse the sky, and strangeness DOES abound! Their speed is slow and variable. Their appearance is profound. ...And yes, they "flash" and "tumble", and they "vanish"—"reappear." They cannot be mere pelicans—too peculiar, odd, and queer. ...And I mean that in a good way, as produced by massive stars? It's an infinite diversity we've just trifled with so far!
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The "Christers" call them "demon's spawn" of "he who dwells below." They haven't copped to Enki, or Enlil, don't you know. See, assigning errant histories to a label they've constrained... just moves control to human hands from that which they've ordained!
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It's all just razzle-dazzle of a *faith* that they abuse... with Gods to "love" and "hate" folks so the flock will stay confused!
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"Skeptics" are a valued lot, but "bunkies" stink with fear. They've got a lot *invested* in a *future* they hold dear. "...The crown of all creation, we're alone..." these would maintain, and "reports of flying saucers come from crazy—misled—brains." They're like an errant clock which measures time, I would presume, as a chronicle of wishes for a world-view they consume.
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"Pundits" bury tongues in cheeks and sneer up ruffled sleeves. They front for corporate interests who would do just what they please. They've sold their souls to Mammon, see, would dissemble on the truth, so they're the part and parcel of control in disrepute!
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They're slick and coiffed, articulate, and too well dressed it seems. ...And THESE maintain the status quo composed of shallow dreams?
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It's true the "colored lights" portend, for them, a non-event! Yet, Folks report real UFOs... take pictures they present! We see them all across the world; we see they've been recorded... ...in the paintings of the masters who'd reveal what's reported!
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We see them in the photographs—to old to have been faked. We read them in the written word the sages wrote for fate. We hear them on the radio. We see them on TV. Content, we're sold a bill of goods, contained, betrayed—you see?
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So, I'm logging in a sky watch. I report what I perceive. I'm not a crass believer OR a skeptibunky... ...please.
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I have my own possession. I'm beholden to myself. I'll make my observation as I will for mental health.
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I'll "strike the Sun if it offends me," but let its fairness rule my soul. I'll move towards the evidence, and then where it leads I'll go.


alienview@roadrunner.com
www.AlienView.net




Though the "heavens" fall...

Hey. If they fell at all?  Then what's their value?  Trust in "The Lord," sure, your fellows will kill you if you don't... ...but tie up your freakin' camel!

The last few days resulted in four of "them" providing sightings of the previously described type. Nocturnal lights, tumbling, flashing, shamelessly stopping and starting, appearing and disappearing in flight-paths to the West, so highly strange.  These are observed in clear skies to vary speed and direction across an inky star field... What Dr. Hynek might have termed a CE-1... all you have to do is rock your head back and refuse to forecast what you might see; they're THERE, damn it!

Somebody knows...

Restore John Ford. Read on.

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