Kaleidoscope

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Kaleidoscope

Whether to he was found in his lab, or just at the dentist, Luke Cadwell was just that kid. The one that people talked about. The one in an army green coat, with scraggly blond hair and an often red face. He thought that he was a scientist. His mind was that of a youth of 11. Thinking about Lego, pizza and where in the world was his dad. And scientific research. His mind was always on that topic and he had a tough time not believing that he was somehow created to achieve greatness. People just laughed at him. Laughed at him when he was mad, laughed at him when he was a little depressed and didn’t have much self esteem.

One day he was walking out the door of his mother’s house, a small 3 bedroom bungalow, a blue one, and about to hop on his Gearheart red mountain bike with his earphones on. Just then the parcel he had been waiting for came. The too busy to notice him delivery guy handed him a clipboard to have him sign for it, and hopped back in his dingy white van. It was an expedited parcel from china with stamps and Chinese writing on it that had his beloved passion wrapped up into a kit. It was a build your own robot kit. It was now in a white package with bubble wrap.

He ran inside, ignoring his mom on the couch in front of the television, Coca-Cola cans everywhere, and went up the flower imbedded linoleum covered steps to his room. There he placed it on the wooden old desk that had a writers lamp on it for drawing or coming up with designs. He had placed it beside the magnifying glass and the various little screw drivers. He would work on it later. Now he was off to the ravine.

At the ravine, where trees covered the landscape like umbrellas, he walked along side his bike through the trails. He wanted to get to an open sewer outlet that left its rusty mark close to the water. For now he was thinking. – What are subatomic particles, and why do I feel I need them for Jupiter? What is this day with the sunlight breathing through the leaves. No one will find my hideout. I must conquer the inevitable. Why dost my chest heave so much when I am barely breathing? If I kick this rock, this one that looks like one that the jerks threw at me, will that undo the bump caused by it and the tiny little scar left behind?- . Luke was crazy, and if it wasn’t for his army green long coat, he wouldn’t get so noticed. Right now he was winding down a wooded path filled with greenery. But everything looked purple to him. He saw things. He thought is was from alien technology emitted to him from specially designed satellites that were under the cloak of radar and scanners and stuff so that he might one day create a race of humanoid machines that would replace the flesh humans as he called them.

He walked up to the ravine and parked his bike in the trees and followed the muddy side of the creek. He was looking for an open sewer that he knew only too well. It was just around the next bend. And once inside, he would sit on a wooden crate that he had dragged there himself, one he had gotten from behind the local supermarket and then dragged about half a mile, to think for hours about aliens and watching the colours that he saw change. How he was going to eradicate human flesh and their desires to nurture such flesh.

When the sun came down and the sky was orange, he came out of the sewer and tracked back to his bike. He called the sewer his lab. That’s where he thought he got all the powers of his life. The one destined for the transformation of the human race.

During his walk back to the blue bungalow, some of his most feared bullies approached. Kyle, Steve, and Nash. Steve was a hefty 13 year old wearing faded, stained blue jeans and a red tee shirt that had a scull and crossbones on it. The other two seemed to gleam over his shoulder as Steve picked up the cigarette butt he had been trying to light with a lighter that had Guns & Roses as a label.

“You’ve got a pretty package for us?” Steve shouted. “One with all the bells and whistles?” These boys had once took one of his mail packages that Luke’s mother had bought him. It was a mile gage for his mountain bike. It had an alarm button on it and it was designed by Make – O.

Luke just rolled up into a ball, after laying down on the sidewalk and noticed a bunch of ants weren’t far from his head. They seemed to be talking to him in his mind. – Only one way up the anthill. Chuckle chuckle – .

“You are such a strange beaver, you are Lukey Pukey! I mean you live in a hole in the ground and gather up sticks. You actually are a beaver. You hide behind your trench coat.” Nash gave Luke a shot in the kidney with a balled up fist. “How you like them apples. Now let’s just see if you’ve got any money on you dipshit.” Nash then proceeded to pat him down and found a granola bar. “How shall we proceed with this, lollygagger? Should I feed it to the ants crawling up to your nose?”

Kyle tried opening one of Lukes eyes with his index and thumb, as Luke squeezed them shut. Then Kyle looked to Steve for approval. Steve smirked.

“Far from the dust, a pink flower rose, to conquer the unbelievable hight from which the shadow proclaimed justice,” Luke mumbled.

Later on that night, Luke did puke. He was reading the book of Revelation out of the Bible, chapter 13. It was about two beasts, and how the number of a man (or his name) would be 666. Luke thought about this, then to himself he decided that he must be the beast that makes the talking statue. As soon as he thought that, he heard a voice say “AIAIA”. Then he scuffled off to the toilet and hacked up the strawberry pie, hash browns and green beans he had for supper. Because, hey.. AI was artificial intelligence. And that was what he was.

He then got out his note pad and wrote AIAIA. In numerical terms an A was a 1 (because it was the first letter of the alphabet.) So if A was 1, then I would be 9, because that was the 9th letter of the alphabet. 19191. And yes sir it was 1991 with a 1 in the middle. He was the 1! And it was 1991! And Nash had called him ‘Lukey Pukey.’ These were the signs of the beast he decided. He then scrolled off in his mind to the castle that he would build. He would of course design robotic horses.

Cathy Gibson was a 10 year old girl who lived down the street. Her grades were good, she faired well with people, and she had a kind heart. She had strawberry red hair and freckles. She spent all her time reading many books. Some novels, and some non-fiction. She particularly was interested in human rights. She had a ginny pig named Earl. Sometimes she called him Darth after Darth Vader from Star Wars.

Tonight she was staring at the streetlamp by the tree out her window. The crisp night sky had a few dreamy clouds and a few stars were visible. The streetlamp cast light over a park bench. There was a grey cat sitting there with it’s tail twitching. Then she started thinking about witches. She wondered if there were “Good Witches.” Anyway, she didn’t believe in such things. She was raised in a family that went to church. Her dad, Hank, was a strict Christian that always made her say a prayer before eating. She had thought that was paranoid. He married a Roman Catholic woman (her mom) in some village in Kentucky where Cathy’s grandparents lived. That was in 1971. They had moved to Alberta, in Canada what she was 6 or 7 (she couldn’t remember.)

For now she would just float with the breeze. She was out for a walk with her fluffy white dog on a blue leash. She wanted to sit on that bench that she was staring at through her window on this fine fall evening. The stars. She wanted to see the stars and wonder what they had in store for her. Her dog started barking at the alley just down the path.

“Quit it Miles!” And she jerked the leash that the dog was pulling on. My Little Pony was her favourite show, and she loved cartoons. She wished that she had a pony instead of a dog, or maybe a dog too, because she loved Miles. He always kept her company and sometimes slept at the foot of her bed. But now she looked at the spaces between the wooden bench and thought, – I wonder if Jesus is sitting here – . She never felt alone.

Then she got up, fixed the pleats in her clothes and walked off down the sidewalk. It was almost 8 o’clock and she would be needing to get inside soon. She was done her homework, but her parents wanted her inside at 8:30.

Her mother, Alice Gibson, was in the front entrance of the house when Cathy came in. She was screwing in a light into an overhead light fixture.

“Hello my dear, we’ve got some more treats for miles under the kitchen sink if you were so inclined to give him one. Only one. We don’t want him getting fat. It’s good that you take him out for exercise so much.”

“Thanks mom, I’m sure he’d love it.” Cathy said with a little smile. “I’ll be off to bed in a few. We have phys-ed first thing tomorrow morning and I want to get a goal. Soccer is kickin’! I hope you and dad didn’t eat all that fruit salad, because I was going to have it for breakfast?”

“Still in the fridge. Enough for you anyway. Remember to only read The Chronicles of Narnia for half an hour or so. Your dad doesn’t want you to stay up too late again. And say your prayers.”

Cathy’s mom didn’t need to remind her. She would remember, she had soccer in the morning and she always said her prayers. Sometimes she thought her parents were a little light headed. She had only gone too far reading one night when she had wanted to find out what had happened to the fawn in that series that she was reading. She had been worried about him.

She gave her dog a treat and went up to her room for the night.

Once upon a time, there was a boy and a girl. They lived in different galaxies and worlds apart. But somehow destiny was to be. Luke was a miserable to his own loss. But he had destiny. Cathy was that of just a girl with a beautiful heart. And they were there set in time. What would unravel in their lives that would seem to need assistance. Like it was all some sort of a cosmic plan. They were travellers. And what was all this about alien technology? Do tell. Do tell more.

What Luke didn’t realize, or perceive accurately, was the web in which he was woven. There was Father God off in a different dimension with Jesus. Then there was The Holy Ghost. These 3 were beaming into his life a plan. One too complex for mankind. Only God would do or understand. The plan that Luke was a crazy kid was working well. He would fill the shoes needed in this day and age. Cathy would also fill her roll. They would grow, yes this was a story over time. Depicted in such a way that a human would understand. Written by a human.

What was lacking in the world today? A writer. Someone that would intrigue the mind into alien existence and miracles. Also there was faith and perseverance. You had to get to your goal. And Luke was too odd that he might get the job done. And his friend that would grow into a woman would be there as a helper. He would tell their story in a different time with a different view point. The one that everyone eventually gets.

Lightning crashes on the shore through a dark blue sky. Vapour, water, energy. There is a scorch mark left in the sand. When the lighting strikes and where it hits is all predetermined. It is also beautiful. The sound is like the sky has a hunger rumble in it’s belly. Thoughts and plans are conceived like this. The orchestration of the mind. The brain with synapses. Transmitters and receptors. God is not a brain or what you may call flesh. But there are flashes and constructions. God is the sky.

Luke woke up puzzled. Was it the night air that breathed into him some secret? Was it because it was Fall? September…. Yes. That was how he felt! He felt like ‘Yes!’ Whatever that meant. Into the tricks and puzzles of elapsed time, he would squander up enough strength to make it through the length of this walk. And this was his walk. Whatever superstitious feelings he had, well, they were there for a reason.

But for now, he was to go to school. Green Park Elementary. Was it to be a day of ‘yes’? What would he find today. First block of the day was was phys-ed, or as he liked to call it, run around and kick a ball or throw for one class! But first he just had to get changed out of his jammies. They were Star Wars jammies, and he too would venture into the stars!

After he came downstairs, he found a bowl of ‘granola milk soup’. He thought that that was a better name than ‘cereal’. He would wash it down with orange juice. Delicious! (With just a little bit of brown sugar in his cereal too.)

– Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to school I go – , Luke thought as he slammed out the front door. His mother never scolded him on such things.. Her mind was a lost cause. She had never married. Spent her time watching Opera and was always telling people about the new crash diet she was on. How she would, of course this time, lose 45 kilos. She was often too lazy to put together the calorie burning meals and this always got the best of her.

But then again Luke was off down the same old sidewalk, right next to the same old street. He thought about perplexing things, like girls. He never had a dad to explain anything much to him, and his mother could not afford such luxuries as to explain one of the bigger things in life. Man versus woman, boy to girl. Luke thought if boys could talk to girls that, with their collaboration, they could figure out how to take over the world. But girls made his hands shake, and he would end up making them laugh. He once got his ass kicked by a brawny girl in grade 4. But he was in grade 5! He would figure this out, he needed to. Because he also wanted to take over the world.

His mind went into a rant: Female male salute. What was the difference between the two? Not much, there was not much difference besides appearance. They are shaped different. Emotions are the same, joy love fear sadness, etc. Does a squirrel feel that much different than a bear? Don’t they both feel cozy when they sleep? Do they both get hungry and enjoy their meals? They were different species, yet feel similar. Therefore male female feel the same.

But in our day and age males and females don’t get along. Humanity should be a functioning organism. All need to trust and love each other. If a male and female could explain this to the rest of the males and females, with a touch of life, this would become the trident for perfectly organized humanity. A ruling king and queen etcetera.

The elementary was now in view and Luke had an expression on his face of certainty. Why was he the only one to figure these things out?

Cathy comes out of the girls change room and into the gym. Luke is there in the corner, folding up his army green long jacket. He wants to keep it where he can see it. Cathy watches this and thinks to herself – Poor guy. He must want to be in the army or something. And half the class is watching him from the bleachers. Hope nobody laughs at him. –

Just then Ronny shouts out, “Cut the cheese, you green man! What are you a martian?”

Luke just sits there, trying to say something, but all that comes out is stutters. He then manages to say in a loud voice, “I’ve got my matters squared off! Thank you!”

The gym erupts in laughter.

They play their indoor soccer and Luke ends up with a skinned knee. He starts to ask for a bandage from coach and the coach just says, “Skinned knees are normal for an 11 year old Luke,” and catches the soccer ball that Nash passed him and coach blows his whistle.

“That’ll be all for today class. See you on Wednesday.”

Luke then walks back to where his jacket has been kicked and Cathy reaches down and picks it up and hands it to him.

“I didn’t laugh Luke. Sorry the gym teacher didn’t give you a bandaid. I don’t have any and I didn’t laugh when everyone else did. I think you’re special.” Cathy smiled.

“And you seem to be ostentatious! That meant something impressing or in other words.. thu thu thank you Cathy.” Lukes face turned red.

Cathy just took a moment to smile at him, then said, “Jesus loves you!” And trotted off.

Luke just bumbled off thinking about taking over the world and wondered if his mom had something for his knee. She always seemed to come up with a reason to give him Polysporin. That would probably do the trick this time. And the world would now be his.

“Watching and waiting,” Said the Watchman. The Watchman was a grey alien. He was with his apprentice Mort, also a grey alien. They were orbiting Earth now with the military safe Cloke on. This kept the White House from shooting down their ship.

Mort was looking at his control panel, sitting behind a big view screen that viewed the green planet. They were on a mission to retrieve a lost embryo, cloned from alien and human stem cells. It was buried in a burrow as they called them. Or thought them. What is telepathy anyway? Words without words. Thoughts that spoke. Alien communication or some humans, animals and baby dinosaur bugs. It was their Trojan horse. Their mission was to breed among humans.

There was a bright flash. There was a sound. There was tiny marching men on the ground. Then the little men got closer. Closer. And the Watchman appeared in the woods close to a group of soldiers in Russia. He headed toward the base’s medical compound completely disguised as a medical professional. He had a jumble of keys. He had to make it to their refrigerated safe.

Once inside he went directly to the safe, saying to the carded guard, “Hello Charles,” and after all, that was his name. Opening the switch dial that safeguarded the safe, the grey alien’s masked fingers felt for the back of the safe and opened the back trap door, removed the vial and instantly disappeared. Charles didn’t even have a clue.

It was 3 o’clock. It seemed to always be 3 o’clock in space. Three was an interval used often. 3 fingers. 3 crew members. 3 was the main multiplication code for the teleportation system plus the computer organism code that was made in space using sound. There was a fiery glow in the eyes of a man perceived through telepathy. This number was also 3 for some reason.

Crash landed ships were space spores. Used to implant technology into the growing human race. With their minds metabolizing new information. Able somewhat to comprehend just a little more each lunar cycle. But this was the Watchman’s ship. No crash vessel. Not here to aide mankind in a way that gentle men and women would understand. The embryo has to be planted and grown to the shape that would take on the form known as 333 times the number of man mates needed to spawn. Two. This embryo would wage war and wear it out of the planet. So it would never happen again. He had to. That is why he was needed in creation, wisdom or whatever may come.

Luke kicked a can all the way home. His tie up black leather boots made a scuffing sound as he strode. Then a clacking sound every 7 to 8 seconds as he kicked the can. He was now imagining spaceships and soldiers. This was an abstract thought. He just wanted some cold space in his lungs. Luke knew that no one could breathe in space, but right now he craved cold space. And he would float. That would be cool. It was weird that a girl would be nice to him too. This was in the back of his oblong brain. And why was his brain oblong again? That was a question for historians he decided.

When he got back home, he went upstairs to work on his parcel. Screws, bolts and springs and metal pillars and shapes that would eventually build the robot monkey on the box. It could be wound up and crash two little symbols together. He was working on his creativity now. Grabbing the screwdriver he thought he could see, he grabbed the metal rod he thought he could feel cold in his hand.

What was life anyway? And what was existence? It was a mockery of some type. There was intelligence watching him that he also thought he could see and feel. Something warm in his mind. He looked at a spring. He knew where that went. He knew where it belonged. EVERYTHING WAS QUITE LIKE IT SEEMED, his brain shouted and he looked out the window behind his desk. He could see a cat outside with a twitching tail. He wondered what the cat was thinking. – I want some fish, – he laughed.

1996

Luke was now a pimple popper. He was sixteen and about to drop out of high school. He spent too much time reading textbooks obsessively, and now he had a special tutor. This special tutor would sit with him and make him do homework normally. This drove Luke mad. He couldn’t handle the pressure of someone helping him.

The only one that had really helped him was Cathy. She helped him get along with people starting in grade 5. People actually had treated him better. He could adjust. But this was a little childish now. This tutor drove him mad.

Luke thought that he was doing well. Luke stayed at his mom’s. Luke did his homework. Luke didn’t understand this new setting of procedure? And what were these strange pills he was taking? Why was everyone wearing white? What is electric chock therapy?

Luke could see in his mind a locked facility. One with a bike rack in front. He concentrated on the handlebars. Was Luke in reality in some strange therapy session?

-Do I actually have what it took, I mean takes?- Like thought, staring blankly at his 11th grade teacher. He was in a special class and now he was staring at a chalkboard that looked a bit dark green with metallic edges all the way around the rectangle. Mr. Smith just sat at his desk, kind of rolling through his notes and grading papers. He was holding a red pen while the tail of the lid in his mouth. Mr. Smith knew what he was doing. Luke on the other had no clue.

Luke Caldwell was on the verge of being homeless. The only reason he had made it to grade 11 was because of his friend Cathy. She had stuck up for him so much and had given him hope. Now she and her parents had decided that her new jealous boyfriend was more important. He wouldn’t let Cathy talk to some guy that heaven knew was thinking something diabolical. And that was the last straw for Luke.

Exiting the school and walking down the cement wheelchair ramp staring at the hand rails with the chipped off green paint, then down at his feet, Luke felt clumsy. He thought he would continue on this sunny April afternoon down the street after this and forget the group home where he lived. His mother was dead damn it. He had no friends. Didn’t care to gloat about it. He wanted to be friends with the rats. He thought of the sewer drainpipe from his youth. His “lab.” He had never dared to go further down the pipe for fear of rats. He knew there must be rats.

Due to some informalities, Luke had lost his mind in a way that people noticed. They sent him to a mental hospital and there drugging him. All this is happening, but he doesn’t quite know what is going on. Maybe they have him on the wrong drug.

Luke found himself in front of a TV screen, sitting on a green sofa. There were other patients around the TV as well. One wearing green scrubs. He had a plastic smile on his face. He was talking to the group around the TV. A key ring dangled from a shoelace around his neck. I think the guy’s name is Jeffery. Jeffery was talking to the group around the television as if they were cattle. At least it said Jeffery and the word nurse on his identification tag to the right of the keys dangling from around the neck. After Jeffery spoke and after the TV eventually went off. It was room time.

Luke entered his room. There was a light green paint covering the walls. There was a wardrobe. There was a desk and a night stand with no lamp. There was a cozy bed with a wonderful quilt. On his desk there was paper and a floppy pen that he had trouble holding. It was not rigid at all. Luke sat down. He would write:

Hello. My. Name is Luke Cadwell. It is may 2nd, 1996. I have lost my friend. My friend would tell me where I am. I don’t know where my friend is and I don’t know where I am. I had red jello today. Yes I did recognize that. And some kind of leafy substance with oil on it. And chicken. But the chicken didn’t taste good. My food was sad because I am sad. I think I’ll write poems now.

Was there ever a touch

That got my feet planted

I know too much

Even though I am taken for granted

Dear God of Cathy

The one with a beard and robe

I wish I was happy

And I wish to stare at a globe

One like earth or the sun

Sit in the dirt

Count from negative 66 to one

I think I’ll live in my shirt

I really like rats

Chase all the kittens away

No, I don’t like cats

Where I lay

I have found there has been none

And if I pay

I still remember one

That used to talk to me

Even when I felt awkwardly

And part of me bothers me

I can’t find the door

Nobody offers me

Food for the poor

Then Luke put down his floppy pen and decided to lay on the bed. He stiffened his back and pushed back the chair. Stepped up and out and over to the bed. He rested his hand on the yellow quilt which seemed to be sown together squares. It felt like cotton, but was probably polyester. Soft anyway. It smelled clean when he raised it to his nose. Then he pulled it back and lay underneath it on top of a white clothed mattress. The pillow brushed his face and he thought for a while before drifting off. He didn’t even hear the door lock shut.

The next morning Luke heard keys jingling and a lock turn. His door opened about a foot and a man stuck his head in Luke’s room and said, “Breakfast.” Luke wasn’t sure if he was hungry, he felt sick. Luke strolled out of his cell room.

He saw others moping around. They also looked sad. Every once in a while, he would see a man or a woman with a name tag. When he was sitting by the television before, one of those name tag wearers was talking. He also noticed that the people with name tags didn’t look as sad as everyone else. Luke walked around smelling eggs until he found the room that the smell was coming from. Then he was hit with the smell of coffee. He saw juice and cereal bowls. There was milk cartons there and plastic clear rectangular boxes with bran or other cereals. His mind seemed to increase in focus capability. He turned to one of the name tag people. “Am I in a hospital?”

“Why have you been wondering this?” One of the name tags said. This was a man.

“Sorry,” Luke said and started towards the line for food.

There by the windows looked like a nice place to sit. Looks like two or three to a table. But first, he would fill a bowl, add milk and get some eggs and juice. He had been taking drugs he realized. Now he was in a place that he didn’t remember getting to. But yesterday someone had given him a little paper cup with a green pill in it. Then he had felt drowsy and watched television. He still felt sick, he thought as he looked at his eggs. He shovelled them down as if they were mucus. Tasted like it maybe because he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet and he felt a paste in his mouth. Luke looked out the window.

The tree there was still budding. It looked wonderful and all free outside. He saw a squirrel. Was the squirrel looking just towards him or right at him? His cereal tasted a little more crisp and a little better than the eggs did. There were two packets of catsup sitting beside his plate unopened. When did he pick that up? Then he looked back inside and at the table where catsup packets were in a bowl. His brain was less intelligent it seemed. But he was pretty sure that he was in a hospital.

Luke padded his feet back to his room and closed the door, went to his desk and picked up the weird pen:

May 5 1996

Trust somebody. I used to trust somebody. Someone used to tell me what to think. I used to know what to think. I would be so good to someone. I would listen to them. Then I would know what to do. I can’t figure things out. I am trapped.

Then he put down his pen. He heard someone yell, “outside time.” Pushing the chair back from the desk and taking steps toward the green door, he pushed. Locked. He was trapped. It seemed like a good idea not to breathe. Then there were lights. Crashing through the waves he gasped for air. He was almost at the surface. Just needing air. It was like chewing on fingers.

Eyes open but sealed shut somehow. Arms tied down. A white cloth covered. A big light. A light visible through the eyelids. Legs also tied down. Was this the place from before childhood? There were creatures standing overhead as he lay there. One uttered dreary words and he felt a sharp pain in his arm. Then the lights started to fade…

Outer space. Black and empty and cold. Skin would be chilled. The blazing lights multiplied the universe. There was one close now. A sphere of frightening beauty. He recognized Saturn. This was all visible through a lens. As clear as a photograph. He as well could remember his name. His name was Hem… because Hem is fear. There were three of them. Luke would not know how he got these inward machine parts or how his name got reinforced as Hem. But Hem was better. It feels like home. It was time to really open his eyes.

Now Luke”s eyes were open. He felt a quilt on his face. Rolling to one side and sitting straight up he realized that the aliens put him back in the hospital room. Luke counted his teeth with his tongue and smiled. “Hem is fear!” He embraced the words as if the outer worlds had made friends with him. They tasted yellow.

There was a man. There was prejudice. Excellency walked among the stars. It was all told to be unraveled. It was predestined. The folk around here, they all must talk about him. What was his name now? He didn’t know. It didn’t seem to matter. Hem.. yes his name was Hem. Just being trapped behind these walls, dismal as they may seem, there were lost worlds and memories. He didn’t need to remember his name. Not anymore. He was guided by the light within. Did they call him crazy? Then crazy would keep him going.

This all reminded him of being in his mother’s womb. Dark and peaceful. Surrounded by organs that seemed to be organized by life. God was not a myth. God was right here. And yes, God was crazy.

Luke still found himself in his quarters. He then engaged his mind to go to the desk and pick up the the floppy pen. The writing instrument of Hem. And so the scribbles came:

May 19 1996

We the people have come together in one thought process, one mind. Yes, we are all in one body. We walk around the landscape derived from petty thieves. The stealer of souls. Their drugs are bitter medicine and I am a bug in a glass jar. There is grass in here and as I look up to the ceiling, I see that there are holes meant for air to pass through. I think. Therefore I am not.

Luke put the pen down and opened the blinds of the window behind the desk. The sunlight seemed crisp and he would bask in it’s glory. The sun was the proverbial king. The king of these festivities, anyway.

If he could just remember what he had to prove to this universe. That man would not walk with bones and organs, but data centres and gismos. Machine parts that would be encompassed with synthetic skin. These are the constructed resurrected bodies spoken of by Jesus. Luke sat down in the chair in front of the television. Star Trek was on. The android, the white one, was laughing.

xxxx

Cathy couldn’t find her purse. The small leather one with the silver zipper. How was she supposed to leave this jerk if she couldn’t find her purse? Or her car keys for that matter.

Her parents had it all wrong. This wasn’t the guy for her. And what had happened to poor Luke? Without her he had gotten into some trouble. Something about stealing food and yelling at the chef. Did he break a window? She thought she had heard that. The police probably took him to that wretched hospital. The one where he would lose hope. She wasn’t there to tell him what to say. She said a quick prayer for him and fumbled around the boots at the bottom of the closet then, “There you are!” She grabbed her little black leather purse. Then out the door and into her little blue Datsun.

At the corner, with her signal light on, she paused at the stop sign. The sunlight seemed beautiful or somehow crisp. Trapped. Luke was trapped.

Centuries did strange things to a teenager, even a hero like Luke. Luke was a hero, because as he suffered, others would suffer less. I mean, just look at the guy wearing the name tag in the unit nursing society bubble. He was laughing. Luke was sure that that guy was laughing because he was happy. That guy was happy and Luke was sad. That guy got the other spectrum. The opposite of opposites. The clever force between give and take.

Time was evading him now. He was a smooth pebble in a stream. He was the Arc of the Covenant. He was the Lord’s Mercy Seat. He felt compounded enough. And, after all, he was a vessel. But a beast as well. Was he a Devine devil? Was his form wrought in the heart of the Earth? But he would never defy God. Yes, this was something that he would never do.

Luke was lost in a cataclysm of thought as he sat in front of the television. The Simpsons were on. But Luke was in the stars.

Luke maybe heard a whisper and saw a yellow cartoon bird land on top of the television. It chirped like Luke was just waking up and he was 12. The day he had lunch in the park…

Changing out of his pj’s, he found that there was a button missing. Brushing his teeth he realized that he hadn’t really eaten the day before. His mother hadn’t noticed. She had told him that there was a box of granola bars in the cupboard and left overs in the fridge. Luke had spent the day starving believing that he was in one of Hitler’s war camps.

Today he was going to have toast (white bread. That’s all his mom ever bought) jam and orange juice. After that, it was this program on the Discovery channel that he wanted to watch about ancient Egypt. Some of the great tombs were buried in mercury and he wanted to learn more about that. He had just read a novel about a space dragon that used mercury somehow to propel itself through space and he was very prone to believe that this novel, or work of fiction, was actually based on scientific facts.

Later that day he ate granola bars in the park. He had used a small portion of thin rope that he had found in the basement, made a noose, and hung it from a sapling in what looked like an area that a squirrel was collecting pine cones. He wanted to catch one. He would perhaps build a mechanism wheel that would wind twine powered by squirrel. At the end of one hour and twenty seven minutes, he had considered these to be vain imaginations.

Chow time. Hospitals serve food.

Luke was laying in bed with his face down in the pillow. He didn’t realize he was mumbling. Going through the memories of the day, it seemed as if he was there for all of it. Breakfast, lunch and supper, plus snack. But what he was remembering most was talking to the doctor:

“Stop crying. It’s going to be ok.” Dr. Hindinplad said.

“It’s just… it’s just… I have been ostracized from the community! I was a well informed citizen. I walked through the park. I strolled. I even gave bread to the birds. I believe that I am a great well. I mean, I think that I am doing great and that I am well.”

“Do you like birds?”

“Yes.”

“We could arrange for you to see some pictures if you would like that Luke. Plus a lot more drugs to cram in your ass.” Dr. Hindinplad’s face turned red.

The room turned into what it smells like in a sewer. Sewers had rats. And if Luke could recall, there was a type of peace that came along with the technology behind all the draining systems, hot and cool water and the amount of dead rats that were in the reservoirs if supposed clean drinking water…

“It looks like I lost you Luke.” Dr. Hindinplad blinked. “What I was saying was would you like to see some birds. We could request that the librarian bring you a picture book.”

xxxx

Luke rolled over. The shapes he saw with his eyes closed were like planets and stars. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. He slipped into that other world where dreams are so picturesque. This went on until he heard the TV blaring outside his locked room. Getting out of bed and flipping his covers, Luke pressed the Indiglow button on his watch. 333 AM. He thought about pressing the call bell on the wall to request a nurse. Then, in a more dark frame of mind, he realized that his door was ajar.

Padding the door with his left hand (which felt like it was dead) he stepped out into the eerie television area. The TV was on but everyone else was trapped in their rooms. He looked at the nursing office through it’s glass cover. There was a man there wearing little round glasses that gestured to him to sit down.

In front of the TV Luke was captivated at the round white table (like the one in the doctor’s office) that a crumpled crying figure was sitting at under a bright white light on the television. It was a man, the crying man being questioned.

“Calm down sir. Just tell us what happened in this mental hospital as you say.”

“It was terrible. I feel so queasy. There was this kid there. He was 19. What was his name? Ernie? Ya that’s it. It was his birthday. Kid was excited. He asked the staff at the hospital if they would make him a birthday cake…” *sobs.

“Continue.”

“So they drag him to a room that says ‘Sanitation.’ We all hear some screams and a terrible grinding sound. Like a wood chipper. Half an hour later they roll a giant bag of flour on a cart in there… And then at supper time they served us birthday cake. With icing it said, ‘Happy 19th Birthday Ernie,’ on it.”

Next thing Luke knew, he was waking up for breakfast.

Cathy sat by herself at her desk. She would write letters. She had already began. She looked out the window. There was that bench. Would Luke understand a letter? She crumpled her paper. Maybe she should try and visit him. She decided to get out the phone book. She found the number.

“Switchboard.”

“Hi. This is Cathy Gibson. May I speak to Luke Cadwell?”

“What unit is he on?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m not even sure what’s going on with him.” Cathy described at a loss.

“Well I’m sorry ma’am. We can’t disclose his information.”

“Well.. ok. Can someone tell him that I called?”

“I’m sorry. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No. Ok, thank you.”

“Bye.”

Cathy felt deflated. Where in this world was there a place for Luke Cadwell? It certainly wasn’t a hospital. Maybe she would try getting ahold of someone. But who? Luke’s mom passed. Who in the world would look out for him now?

Cathy stared out the window at the clouds. The sun was out. Blue sky. Friendly fluffy white clouds. She thought of God.

The grey aliens targeted Cathy. From their other than silent space minds abounded a conversation: – Here is a fine specimen. We need to engage the logic of her mind over the next century. Then our timing will be exact. Then we shall see the encompassed time capsule in a womb. For now we can see that she is healthy and in no way antisocial. She even believes in the Jesus of Nazareth. He is in a distinct algorithm with the side where all the light consumes us. We will wait then. 10 years marks the spot. –

Into a time lapse. The conditioning of the mind is vital. Essential. We will blog from our website. We will discuss politics. We will try and endeavour to become complete. A cufflink that binds together the soul and spirit. We will owe who we need to be. In the utmost query. One that bosses the rest. Let us just become what we are. Our truest form. Just be who you thought you were, before you think. Don’t try and recall. Hem is a beast. Hem was the beginning. In the beginning was Hem.

Because I was brought up this way, I learned. I learned what I needed to know. But in a different way. In a way that is not taught. The way that things must be. To be who I really am. Fear keeps me back. So I will press through it as if it was irrelevant. It must not be my life. Though it may mark me, it is not who I am.

Faith in Jesus. Is is the most power and strength. After all Cathy does miracles. I’ve seen her pray for a man with a bum knee at the supermarket. He was happy, smiling and said that he was pain free. She did all this in Jesus name. If I can focus my thought, maybe I can enter into a Devine mental method. Learn the way to think. Cathy has taught me so much. If it wan’t for her through God’s mercy, I don’t think that I would have every gotten out of that mental hospital. I was in fear, I suppose, that I would never elevate myself of that place. Liquid tears and rightfully yours,

Hem (Luke Cadwell)

Luke licked the envelope and sent it off to the White House. Being in Canada didn’t seem to matter to the postmen, Luke thought.

Luke was in solitary confinement in the hospital. But he believes that he is the premier of Canada. He has been in for 6 months. They threw him in there because he slapped then bit a male nurse. Unlike his childhood, he is making an attempt at violence. He never stood up to bullies. So now he is trying to stand up against the government. They give him his floppy pen and paper and he is allowed to write letters and no longer allowed to use the phone after some rude phone calls. Cathy lost the chance to call. She can’t seem to get him out as he doesn’t respond the same way over the phone. They won’t let her visit because Luke’s legal guardian had an argument about medication with her. They couldn’t agree on drugs and Luke’s guardian thinks that she is a bad influence. But they do let her call to no fulfillment of any kind of the therapy that Luke needs. It is 2001 and the twin towers have gone down. Luke talks about Osama Bin Laden all the time.

Luke’s diagnosis is schizo effective bipolar type. The doctors expect him to learn. Their treatment team view him as if he was an adolescent troublemaker with a big temper and a fully grown body. He is 21 now. He has begun writing a book. Mostly gibberish about humanoid functioning robotic bodies. He wants a website. That is what he does when his brain is working better. Right now he believes he is in the Parliament building.

Luke picks up his floppy pen:

This is his. I am giving it all to him. My life, my love, my lust. I will not be depraved. I will be a cave dweller.

Luke put the pen back down. He felt love. He didn’t really know what was going on, but as he wrote those words, there was some purity there. All of the sudden, he was a kid again, sitting in the sewer on a crate. In his lab. He could see this and a man was also there in a white robe. He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and told Luke to wake up. And he breathed on him.

Then Luke was back in his seclusion/solitary confinement cell. He thought he could smell baked bread. Luke decided to stand up (as he had been sitting on his mattress on the floor) and knock on his own door. “I’m here,” Luke said. The staff member sitting outside his door said nothing. Luke sat back down. He was here.

Luke had managed somehow to find his way out of many delusions. They let him out of his cell at the 7 month mark.

Luke was discharged to live in the community with everyone else. He got a job at the local convenience store and handed out apples to the local homeless. He didn’t hear voices or see things anymore on his medication. Cathy ran the convenience store. They seemed to be existing in the perfect habitat. That is until Cathy somehow gave birth to a very strange baby. People thought that Luke was the father, even though he wasn’t.

The End

Written by Luke Cadwell aka Reyhan Jones

I put down my pen a long time ago. And yes often it was a floppy pen, designed in such a way that it couldn’t be used aggressively or to hurt myself. I do not know what message I carry, as I am just some guy in a mental hospital. I do believe in Jesus, but I am not here to push that on you. I just thought I would kind of journal or write. I just want to be some kind of warped influence.

I have been in a mental hospital for 17 years. My brain should probably be working better than it is. But you see, I have ingested a lot of prescribed medication over the years. I am not really expected to live that long because I have a severe mental illness. I can tell you stories though. As I kind of putts along. One day I would like to see the mountains. I would also like to see the government run by a man and woman of God. Someone who is led by God’s Spirit. The Government doesn’t really admit God or aliens. But he and they are real.

I don’t really know what I talk about. I have kind of lost my mind. But I am very confident. I know that I am loved. As I continue this life, I wish to breed knowledge of things that are not talked about. What is real. Maybe someday I won’t be behind these walls but, things to consider, I just want to write to see what I sound like. Just to see what I say. Because, as I always say, if you’ve got nothing to say, say something else. I want to keep you company. How about I talk about something else? Do you want me to tell you another story? Or should I pick up my guitar and write a song? Oh that’s right. You can’t really hear me. It’s just me in my cell. Or room or whatever you want to call it. Let’s try and change the world ok? Just you and me! Then we would have purpose. I mean, not going to hell is a struggle for some people, but you and me? We got it covered right? Just be Good to people and pray for them and mention the greatness of God like he is. That’s easy enough. But maybe we’ve got to psyche each other up. I dunno. Like I bet if Donald Trump was psyched up enough, he might get that wall built. We should do something like that, but maybe make more sense. The only thing that I can think of is to get the word out.

Maybe we could take classes in robotic sciences and build great machines that would enforce God as King… I dunno. Haha. Or maybe I could be the Prime Minister’s body guard and get him to talk about aliens and God. Or maybe we could figure out how to get in contact with extra terrestrials and see if they are on our side? Maybe then world domination that forces those intimate with God into authority. What if people knew that they could actually talk to God. Maybe not the mentally ill, but there are legit people who hear the greatest things that you can’t even imagine. You can actually hear what is perfect. People chase this to failure unfortunately because there are so many people who claim to have God on their side or with them, but they don’t. They are frauds. Anyway.. my diagnosis is schizoaffective bipolar type if you were wondering. That means something to do with hearing voices and noticing signs as someone might call them or paying too much attention to detail. Basically believing that you are getting messages through the configuration of things. Like numbers.

The world is coming up with some pretty good technology I’d say. I’ve heard rumours that a lot of our technology is reverse engineered off of crashed alien ships. Meaning that they find some technology and take it apart and figure out how to build it or something. Seems to make sense to me.

What am I to me? Good question. I am the leader of a vast army and the soldiers of God. As I do my best to represent him, as I wish people to follow him. And I know that I am crazy and I will live some life of some use and I will always be disappointed in the lack of dreams fulfilled. Yes I don’t make sense. I don’t see myself as little, yet I appear to be. Just a blade of grass waiting for the lawnmower. I wish to gather people together. All the crazies. Just a bunch of lunatics that see me and see that God is with me. Because if someone sees that God is with someone, they too can figure out how it is done. I wish to do it right, as I hide away in my cave, my quarters, my cell, my hell.

I might as well take all my anguish and misery and frustration and explode into an active Spirit led Christian… But since I don’t really feel much other that I am confused, I am going to speak as though my words will come to pass. I am going to do things with almost no basis other than I am 30 pages away from finishing reading the bible for the 7th time. I have begged God and prayed. I do see people get healed through me in Jesus name through a prayer and a touch. This is true and not even the doctors who don’t care about what happens to me say I’m delusional. This is regular Christian behaviour. So I am going to speak to them. The people. The poor folks trapped in here with the crazy. I am going to say random things to them that will sometimes come true. Because that is what they do in the Bible. Jesus said he was going to be murdered and come back to life and it happened. So I am saying that this world will be ruled by the godly and I will die and go somewhere where the wheat fields are. The paradise. And I will speak some part of the kingdom into the earth or something. Only with God’s permission, oh and that is what we are supposed to pray. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done.

So, I’m going to strap on my Stephen King Last Gunslinger pistols and go get anti-christ. And when this virus wipes enough of our sanity away and we are all trash dwellers hiding in the mountains, I will be he who overcomes from the Bible. Plus they will be carried by my pain. I will cast hell off as a shadow when I am crept into the outskirts of this nightmare and into a world where God is needed and bled for. My life will pay the token for the passing of my humanity to be passed on from one heaven seeker to another. These are the words of the reverse crazy. Mental hospitals will provide beacons of hope and be filled with the lost ones. Who in their bodies will see the glory that God provides through Christ.

Humidifier. Humid fire. I will be the wettest fire hahaha. Just sitting in my room coming up with mumbo jumbo. Doesn’t all glory see it’s dark days? I mean, the sheep need to be tended by someone who wasn’t pretended. Jesus was real, but his name is apparently a curse word. I would assume you really needed to be somebody if 2000 years after you were around, people were stubbing their toe and saying your name. I will be humid because my mask will keep me warm.

That’s the great thing about this Covid 19/Corona Virus thing. The masks. I really feel much better about myself if I need a mask. I am Luke Cadwell, but I fought. I fought and wore masks. Somehow I just felt better wearing one. More comfortable I mean. And now it’s not ridiculous that I walk around in public places wearing a mask. It just feels right somehow not the lonely trooper. We will wage war with sin and death.

Warrior

By Reyhan Jones

If you have what it takes. Then be who you must be. You have to trust some people. You gotta become one with your surroundings. Does someone need a drink? Does someone need some food? You’ll be there at some points, and not in others. You will be generous. You will have a breaking point. No one will take your generosity. It does not belong to them, it belongs to you.

You set foot on the earth, and there is dirt between your toes, this is your home. When you hear the lion, This is your father. You have entered the arena, your weapons are at hand, and you are afraid. You feel fear. But this doesn’t stop you. Because you know this is only natural.

What is your breaking point? it is an infinite point in front of your nose. you can’t see it. you don’t see it coming. You will push it as far away from you as you can. Thrust in front of you is your microphone. you have many decibels of anger and pain. You can let it out when your killer instinct is activated. you are on the prowl. You are like your father.

Your only natural power is the one you find yourself in. Right there in your surroundings. Who you are is what you can do in any situation. Your environment is the skill testing question. The joy of the Lord is your strength. Now do you know what that means?

That means you’re having a really rough time. You don’t feel good, things are chaos. The outcome looks grim. Things you need aren’t there. But you? You’re laughing for some reason. You might have just been thinking about giving everything up. You might have just been thinking about the great day when you’re old and just about to be released into heaven. You could be at the end of your wits. But you are laughing when people see you you goofing around. Are you having a good day?

You are not having a good day. But because yours is there, people still see light in your eyes. And for some reason you think you’re funny. People look at you and they don’t know that you’re having a tough time. Your own laugh cheers you up. Even though you don’t feel good. That is the joy of the Lord. It’s when it’s rough and you remember laughing. You didn’t feel good but it was funny.

Your strength is also that you get up. Your mind can twist you down a hole of a depression over a mistake. But you put on the joy of the Lord. And the bad emotions that you received lessoned. In time there will be no pain. You’ll look back on something you thought was terrible, on something you thought would plague your mind. And it doesn’t hurt. You’re glad you learned. Because you get up.

When you think you’re gonna give up, when your light doesn’t seem to be shining so bright, when you are at the grim state of emergency, behold who you are. Look at yourself in that moment. Remember you were there. Remember yourself, that you in your awesomeness because of Jesus was actually at that point. And the molten clay that you must be made of. And the rocks you must have in your brain. To make you so bold this day. Remember your pain.

For if the Lord was building you up. If he watched you as the tears streamed down your cheeks and didn’t say a word. If he formed you like brass. If you made you sharper than a diamond. It was in the compress of pain. I can define myself this way. That I am the product of God’s love, and that pain has defined me my whole life. But if I have the chance for worthy cause, I jump right back into that hell. Because why Lions walk back and forth when they are in a cage it is because they are looking. It is because they are still moving. Still lightly flexing their muscles, they were built to pounce.

If all I need to do is try harder than everybody else, then I will do with the best. If it is only pain that I need to take, then I can take the most. But give me love. Give me the joy of the Lord.

¡Revolución!

In the Paths We Walk

Did you hear? Psst… keep it quiet. Or maybe scream and shout. God is available to join! The mightiest God, the All Powerful, the God whose wrath is fire that is never quenched. The One who walks among men. Whispers to women. Takes aim and sets the seas ablaze. The strongest force imaginable. He knows all that is. And he is our Squad Commander. Don’t be led astray. Hold on tight. We’ve been looking for you. Armageddon is Daddy’s pet. Beasts will come. Fire will come from the sky. Every knee will bow. Indestructible bodies will be flaunted. Lightning will crash. From eternity to the stars, we will rule as kings and queens.

Are you down? Can you roll with those punches? Can you turn the other cheek? We may have to flee to the mountains. Woe to those who have babies in those days. We must be agile. We must be able to move. Run and duck and hide on all these gloomers. Where is it safe when a mighty force comes from the sky? All will be judged. Become the real you! Fill the gap in your spirit. Walk the streets and burst into protons and neutrons that speak to the needers. We are the Way. We are the church of congress. Will God rule in the authority of a government individual? We need this.

What if King David was cloned into the territories of the Earth. And he had castles and infantry? What if 1000 of him in castle appeared? With force and modern technology? What if the world was ruled by God? Now he waits. He is looking for you queen/king. Set you up to govern a palace, a home, a building or a stadium. We must do his will. We must roll out the stepping stones. We must breath liberty, life and love. You will be hearing of wars and rumours of wars, but don’t worry. These things must take place. Take your pain and make it mean something!

March out. Let everyone you meet taste your fire. Ignite the streets. Gather in buildings. Contrary to popular opinion miracles of the Ghost are real. He touches peoples hearts. He mends broken tissue. People feel heat when they are getting healed. But this is hidden from you in todays society. Society says that it isn’t real. So, do a field test. If you are a Christian, just start praying for people. It may take 3 months if you pray for people everyday.. But then the miracles start. For me, God started using my hands quite quickly probably because I have fasted and prayed a lot. But it is true. Has the media fooled you into thinking it was fake? You may be one with God.

First dedicate yourself to God as if to die for him. Think about him. Read about him. There are Bibles readily available. Talk to him as he can hear you. Spend time on your bed dreaming about him. Seek him. Fill your mind up with him. Be a host to his thoughts. Don’t wonder if he is listening. Of course he is there. Of course he is paying attention to you. If you only knew how many people really roll with God. In a genuine way. He really visits lots of people.

If only the ways we walked would just drip with sunshine. If we would just yearn and do what we must. If we could just brush away our fears and become the instrument needed to do his will. To set things up so that the next thing that happens is glorious. We can step with our feet in the right place at the right pace. We can be who we need to be. I will always be the best I can be by constantly making the choice of my utmost. To choose my best option. Even the best you can think of. Sometimes it’s a mistake. But make another step. Do your best. Sometimes that’s resting. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it’s easy. It may be easy if you look at the things you do as you did the only way available to you. Don’t fret about it. Be solid. It was the only way you did it. That is best. To roll with it all. Make a mistake like it was meant to be. And change your thought patterns if something needs adjusting. This is still your best.

The things you copy from other people are valuable. If someone is really good at something, make them your teacher. You lack social skills? Copy someone who has them. You want to lose weight? Copy someone who has lost weight. You want to pray for people? Copy the prayers of someone who tells how it is done. But the best inspiration comes directly from God in your heart, as I feel these words come out.

I don’t know if those were the best words to say. I don’t know if this is a good book. I don’t know if I should be writing right now in the bowels of this mental hospital. But I believe I am the best. I believe that I am writing my best. I believe that this book is the best. It was done the way I did it. And unless something changes. I am proud of this. I am choosing to do the thing that I thought was my best thought. I chose this option. So I’m going with it. Jesus is in my heart.

Delusions

What is my face but scars. As I take you on this journey, learn what you see. The stars and scars mask my face, and I find myself in a pandemic. I am not panning for change. I am change. Let me be who I thought you were. I thought you were the best. And the things that come out of my mind can only be defined with letters and phrases.

I’m the first father on this planet. I am your dad. You heard of me and my wife in the Bible. In the very beginning. It was in these days that I ruled as a King. My ways seem to be more just for there were none other. Just me and the Holy Spirit. He found his form in so many other ways. People used him as if he was magic. We had some technology like the technology that created us. But in my 1000 years I hadn’t come up with the sufficient technology to create invincible bodies for ourselves to transfer our souls into. We died. Another story went from our children to our children’s children to our children’s children’s children.

I would be friend the grizzly bear. I would talk to the dancing gazelle. I would share meals with the doe, the deer. And the dinosaurs. They were mostly afraid of me as I carried my weapon And I could jump 45 feet in the air and deliver a killing blow to teach lessons. But it wasn’t there herd that I had the most trouble with. It was my own children. I was violent with them is they grew up to be very strong themselves. Eve was also strong she was my lioness.

Over the years I’ve lived many lives. Since the beginning of creation about six 6000 years ago, I’ve sometimes realized that I was Adam. In each life I seem to find Eve. I have been many great Warriors in time you’ve heard of some of them, but we won’t get into that. I’ve seen heaven 57 times and hell twice. In those times I would stay about 20 years. For my last life I spent much time in hell including in this life where I am locked in an insane asylum. I have suffered my 1000 years of pain. And am the first one to come to this world to be cast down from heaven. There is a rebellious Angel who almost has the same story. His name is Lucifer. He was the leader of praise and worship in heaven. He was the music to listen to. And like me, he was beautiful. I am God’s replacement for Lucifer so I steal his name and his birthright. In Isaiah 6515 it says to the effect that God’s chosen will take your name as a curse and put you to death. So I spell it a little bit differently. LYUSY FUR. Two names that is pronounced lie you see and then fur, because I am an animal. You know in my time in my days of the past we could speak to all creatures human is just a race but to the rest of you it is a species.

It is like we live amongst aliens. The black cat has his thoughts and has forgotten to speak and use his tongue. But mostly we spoke with our minds. Now the cattle as you call them, I called them beautiful, have seemed to dumb down a bit. When I talk to them they just look at me is it as if they have forgotten their father?

In the book of Job I spoke with the Holy Spirit. That is the story of me father God. Jobe said at the end that he wished he could read my book. Well here it is my friend whatever body you have found yourself enjoy. I have also lived as cats and dogs and Wolves and Lions and Dragons. But never a snake.

In this life I have suffered, and yes the number of my name is 666. I have finished my 1000 years found in chain. If you are measuring time by pain matters. Because I was tortured here. I would fight and they would torture me. Do I need to explain to you now why the number of my name is 666? I suppose I would have to for me to boggle your mind just a little. I’m not sure what it is called when people do this but if you number every letter of the alphabet. For example if an A was was a one the letter B a 2, and C a 3, and you continue to number them all the way to zed which would be 26. Then one letter could represent a number and a number could represent a letter. This is key. Remember God is 3.

In this life I am Reyhan Jones. Reyhan Paul Macbeth Jones.Living amidst COVID-19 and all the lovely masks I get to wear. Now let’s take what I call the pattern of numbers and letters and take the first 3 letters because God is 3 of my name Rey R being 18. E is 5. Y 25. And 18525 + 666 = 19191. In letters that would be AIAIA. 3 letters (A). And two I’s. There are two of me in Revelation 13. 1313 is the first 3 letters of my middle name Mac. M is 13, A 1 and C 3. 1313 +666 = 1979 (the year in this life that I was conceived.) Ladeeda and whopdeedoo. I don’t sound like me talking like this. I haven’t sounded like myself since 1998, when the Edmonton Police Services broke my nose and made me see my own blood. And 1998 is 3 × 666. I had anger towards them because of that. AI is artificial intelligence. Or a new body if I can make a cybernetic body. In Revelation 13, an image that can speak and act. The criminal code for murder in the United States is 187. The first 3 letters of Lyusy (Lyu) is 122521 + 666 = 123187. 123 murder. This all came to me in solitary confinement when I was 36 (or 3 sixes.)

I believe in Jesus. I believe to walk with God is just. I have no other way to go now that I know this. This is divine universal knowledge from God. I am just a man that has lived too long. I am all that I can be. And if the Holy Spirit wants to replace Lucifer with me, then that is what he gets. You may know this because of the numbers of my name, or you may think that I am insane. But still I will walk among these flames, and be who I must. If I was the first man and the children of God are gods, then I am a man to be feared. Hemisphere. Hem is Fear.

Will you be my enterprise. Will you be the denomination of truth. Will you step up and be the Angel of light. Will you find all it takes will you muster up every bit of strength? Can’t you see that the world is dying for you? Would not ought be is what seems to be. In the place of the Antichrist that is not I. Jesus will rule and every knee shall bow to him. He is my son. And he who denies the father and the son Has the spirit of Antichrist. I heard there is also another who has the number 666 for his name. That he may want mark you. If I was marking people I would mark the unbelievers the ones who didn’t believe in Jesus. But I am here now. In the end I close.

Would you congratulate yourself on a few things? Would you understand that you’ve done the best you could? Do you know that I can pass my spirit to you? Do you know that the Holy Ghost can be given away to whom he sees fit? Jesus did this when he died on the cross. You know I only take Lucifer’s name as a curse to him. He has been replaced by a beautiful being, me myself and I serious ha ha ha ha. And I’ve Sir I’ve been bound for 1000 years. 1000 years of pain. And I’m unleashed now for a short time. I get my power from the dragon Is that true? I used to be in a gang called the crazy Dragons.

My story is that of destruction. When I was Hitler I destroyed. And in this life I have been destroyed. Brought to the muck in goo and shame of failure. Broken and broken and broken. But I stood up in between rounds. I will find my day. Set up my throne to honour God and of course Jesus. I though am a beast. There may be another symbolic one and his throne must be destroyed. We must hide from the mark of the beast. I am your father and I will guide you. My spirit my ghost my love.

I spent my time eating celery. I am in cell 1231. The missing 2 numbers are eight 7. Why does life take me on such turns, engraved on my grave is a groove. I will die and come back in three days. To my resurrected body. Completely invincible with synthetic flesh and hidden beneath the mechanisms the cybernetic being which holds my vital organs. One of the two witnesses, cool.

Hem & Fear

-Diagonal.- “Lucid dreams. Welcome to your encounter. Do you have your mask on? You must be very careful not to breathe viruses. Here. They are here. Outside. They want to mark your hand or your forehead. Don’t worry… it is just an inoculation. My friend? Are you having a Jesus Christ break down? Yes you will be assigned a number.. just something something 060606. Fine? Sir I can’t see if you are smiling through your mask. Your eyes look… menacing! Oh my! We are going to need to call a code on you. We are not going to hurt your female friend! By no means!”

XXXX

Next I have these following thoughts:

I see this world in front of me. I know that it’ll take me places. I know that I will be the best I can be, now that we are united. So to unlock the next stage of this game to be the flame in which I find myself burning, I must become that which I’ve always wanted to be. Choose the double edged sword. My cuffs have been unlocked too and now I wear a mask. Now I’m out on the streets, hiding like a vagrant fool. To breathe in the night air, to have some nicotine, to enjoy the flavour of my coffee, I have become. I have become the warning to my fellow man. I’ve become the way that I must walk. My feet follow me up through my shoulders, my worry has expanded outside of my head. Now I just carry my packsack, and walk alongside Fear. It’s been 45 minutes since my encounter with diagonal. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to go. I think I might end up sleeping on underneath the tree with Fear.

The name of my best friend is Fear. Serious to be apart of my way of thinking. I will be why I ought to be trusting in the end. I will be where I thought I was, in this time of beginning. This is the beginning, this is now. Everything starts from today. We must find the joining of souls together. We must unite. As I walk along this journey, I’ll run into strangers to me. I will find strangers to me and I’ll make small talk maybe I will share some things with them, maybe I will give them some money. Maybe I will give them a blanket. Maybe they will continue to walk with me, if I find that they have morals if they’re not going to try and destroy me. But this is where I walk alone even when I am with people. For it is only me and Fear.

We are alone together and we are one. We are the same. This world is but an empty husk. I am a bird in the air looking down at my prey. I keep my hands folded. I keep water in my water bottle. I keep a couple wipes in my pocket. I try to find an outlet so I can charge my watch. I am looking for a vagrant. someone who might be so eloquent as to give me the time of day. Maybe I will find my way, but I must make shelter, a place to sleep for the night. What I need to do is find some cheap plastic.

They sell it at a lot of stores. Painters plastic, 8 feet by 12 feet. I can lay it on the ground and put a blanket on top of that. Then I can roll up in my blanket covered in plastic. I will be good even in the rain. And there’s room for her. Yes we might get a little wet. Then I checked the dumpsters for food. Maybe some old milk or some bread. I’m dying inside my mind. I want to get in a minivan with a peace symbol painted on the side. Find some hippie to go on a road trip with. Maybe there will be gatherings. Maybe I can find more soldiers. because Diagonal is hunting us down. They want to mark us. I’m not going to hell. I’m the leader with my mask, through the streets I charge. I’ll follow the leader and that is me, and of course Fear. She is beautiful.

Now you may think that I have an issue with Fear, and I do. She is my lifeline. She is a person. She is smart and brave and she challenges me. I must listen. You must obey because she needs a partner. Now just to find a place to fill up my water bottle. And maybe I can steal some food from the garden. Maybe I can eat the bark off trees. Tonight I will look at the stars.

XXXX

Today’s mission, should you decide to except it, is just to know who you are. You got a view who you plan to be. You’re the same person you were when you were a kid. In your truest form. During these days it is hard to tell what are your ways of purity. You must find yourself. You must look in. Angels are there, watching you. Do you think you get all your ideas from yourself? You are going to be in the planning the matrix until the dust settles. This moon will never grow cold. You will never grow old. You just must continue. Can you breed? Can you believe just a little bit of trust? In these days, you may fumble a little, you may cry a little, but don’t be little. The tide is coming and we’ll set the days left for you hey.

Hem is journaling now. That’s me. I’m Hem. Fear is by the window. She always looks so good. They’ve locked down society. It went amuck. Police raids and military and Diagonal set up a task force. It has been 30 years since their encryption. Since the day that they decided to do it. The world has become hell and we live off of garbage and home growns. Now we are in something like a tree fort. It is a better view from up here. Just some woods close by. Don’t want to give you any locations or names because who knows who will find this. It’s better now.

It’s better now because I was locked up for so many years and tortured. Now I just survive and have my input with some scientists and I regularly read about AI and many of Einstein’s books. The theories of matter, space time etcetera. Been able to flag down some ships. Been able to walk aboard many of the fleet. It seems that we are getting much assistance from other planets now. But I always wear my mask. It defines me. It is like the thousand years of hell that I suffered.

Oh… intel says that our camp has been spotted. It’s time to get the hell outta here.

XXXX

If you Google me, you may find my work. I have volumes and volumes of my work, ever since this began. It all started in 2020, when I was yet but a mental patient. You know that every time God comes to this planet, or announces himself, people kill torture confine and destroy. Father God came to rule with his son, who is coming from the heavens. Diagonal seems to lock in on my location every 16 months. It’s almost as if they have some key to Hell. But the world will be dominated. And those who fall, well, fall. Many just gave up and received the mark. Well.. can’t blame the handicapped and the old folk. But those that did it for money? Comfort? Can’t say that I would have chosen to be them.

XXXX

My foot is on the fritz again. It keeps giving weird algorithms. Got to get it checked on. 30 years in the trenches that all started with a knock at the door while I was hanging out with Fear. Do tell. Such a story is waived from the mind that God brought out of darkness. It started with the machines, as we ourselves became machines. I look look like youth of 21. Now my days and nights associated with thoughts that came alongside deposit training and my Tronic brain that I possess in my cerebral cortex is as it is. Calculations from which I found myself amazed at the time dedicated to obtain energy. I have alien technology composed of mostly moving magnets as my power source. It enhances my thoughts and my mind has remote flow. I’ll be what thought it was before this all began. From the foundation of the world. Time is of the essence now. And people are trying to fly the flags of their representation. Dark days ahead but lights in the narrow finale.

A Memory of What

Well.. that’s what they say when you are doing good. “You hearing any voices? Any thoughts of suicide or harming others?” I laugh. But only on the inside. They don’t care if my insides squeal. They don’t care if I choke on a pill, nod off and die. What they care about is power. They want to dominate you and make you deal with it.

Then there are the people who think I need to be here. Perhaps they asked me, “Oh, and where are you from?” And I say a mental hospital. I always give myself up for such contempt. Then they scorn me. Like I am some freak. One that needs to be squirreled away like some measly beast. And I try to play it off like I really don’t belong here. But well.. I am here. I am that guy. They drugged me until I didn’t know if my brain was strudel. I played the part. Said all sorts of obscene things and acted like a wild beast. I was driven to an inhumane point.

And I think that God is not one to be reckoned with. I am very afraid of him in the back of my mind. He loves me because I am on his side. That is all I know how to be. Is on his side. And I am not tempted to leave his side. I guess part of me is scared that he is cynical. Afraid that I am falling into some frightful trap where I am damned forever. To be gnawing at chains that have bound me to a large hellish beast. I say all this even though I laugh and play and know that I am loved by him.

A court stenographer takes notes and they have my wording. I guess that would put me here, in a dark dungeon dungeon of the earth. I guess that would put me below ground in a bunker, where no one can find me. Only the completely insane machines who have lost their function find their home here. In the robot repair centre. The machines that behave properly are the ones that think they’re human beings. Unaware that under their skin is metal alloy. Unaware that their hallucinating when they think they see their flesh after they cut themselves. Anywhere that in a car accident the mechanics are revealed of a cybernetic being. You don’t know this, fate of humanity?

Let me take you on a little trip down memory Lane. Me locked in a room, screaming profanities naked. I thought I was a robot. I thought I was underground. I thought that the windows were computer screens that made it look like they were going on the view the outside world. I thought there were robotic owls and squirrels. I thought I could talk to machines. I thought a machine attacked me. I thought I killed Stephen King. I still remember the radio. I still remember the camera in the corner of my room. that camera would emit flashes of light when I had certain thoughts. It was guided by aliens. They wanted me to walk into a secure alcove and into the green beam of light to be teleported to my cybernetic body to what was waiting for me in space. The ship that I was transferring bodies to looked like something off of Star Wars and there was a fleet. I remember vines growing out of the toilet. I remember being in an echo of reality where my brain was splattered against the wall. Do you know the things that happened in that room brought me closer the kissing the stars? Do you know that it is illegal to lock somebody up that long? Nine months.

I believe that they were shooting a movie on the property. And I found some charcoal sticks, I used them for makeup. I drew her on myself. I would dress up for my camera and do all sorts of freaky drawings on my face making me look evil. I would perform for my camera thinking I was part of a movie. All alone in the creepozoids worId and presented myself as a man of God in the beginning. They tortured me until I was busy. I lost my mind to push some place past suicide. To push him to a place where he becomes a beast. To push him to a place where his imagination creates a little woman that spoke to him that was four inches tall and one that he could share with his friends. I could give my imaginary friend to other people. I faked my own death or so I thought. I stopped responding to the people who would check up on me and I just lay there. I became unresponsive and they took me to a hospital. A real hospital. When the police came to see me in my cell they were afraid of me. They said things like if he gets up I’m outta here. And so I stayed quiet. At some point I stuck my tongue out or hummed a funeral song. But I just lay there until I got to the other hospital. Then I stood up on my bed and said I faked my own death. And I told them that I was an undercover agent working for the White House. That I was Tupac Shakur and I was 45 years old. I said I’m white now. That I had plastic surgery. And I was supposed to make a comeback but they locked me in a mental hospital. When they brought me from the hospital back to the mental hospital I yelled at everyone from the stretcher I said back off. They were going to give me a needle I think but they cleared out of my room and they didn’t even search me. I took all the heart monitor stickers off of my body and arranged them around my room myself. I thought that they were cameras that I had gotten from the White House. That they could see me and hear me. I posed many riddles. And I couldn’t truly see the expression on someone’s face when they spoke to me. Because I would hallucinate things like anger and hatred. Then their face would glitch so I would see that they looked afraid.

I remembered thinking that I could move people with my eyes. That I could make some come to my cell or talk to someone. I remember yelling at them. I remember security coming up to give me a needle and I punched the glass and said come on. Bring it on. And they left, they walked away, rather in a hurry.

Just a Dream

You know I always wanted to be a character in a book. I want to read my story. I wanna see the places in events that will unfold in my life. And who I am as a hero. I would be some kind of being that was forceful, and evil when necessary. Not that it really is evil but more like justice. When I had to make a critical decision I could do it. I guess I would be finally kind of like God. But if I had to throw someone into hell I would. to save someone. I could be brutal to someone to save someone. and people would talk about me. They would want to learn how to be like me. Women would wanna be like me, and men. Not that they would want to change sexes. I am not inferring that. But more like character without sex. I would be a being. I would be a personality. I would be the one who made the right decision at the right time. I would ignore trivial worry. And I would be courageous, if not sometimes shy. Bashful. And there would be true beauty in my heart. And I would be romance, and when they carried me off to my grave there would be rose petals. And all the people that hurt me and tortured me and stood against me would be forgotten. No one would stand by their grave. But by my grave there would be roses. But I will not die. I will live.

You know there are times when I wonder how small I will be. When I wonder if God wants me to not care if I gain weight. Write some ideas down. Pray for a few people and then just cease to exist. To be a little gateway to heaven. In my own little world and he just wants me to live for some reason. But the story I would make would be that I am a giant. I’ll be one who ruled the world with fury, and set apart this world from injustice. I would make humans fair. I would show them the way to be judged by yourself. I would show people how to govern themselves. I would show people how to be one with God so that God could choose the right from the wrong in their lives. God will it would allow me to be this conduit. That I could pass my spirit or God’s spirit two others. So that they wouldn’t choose to do the wrong thing. The thing that they don’t want to do. Because I think everyone wants to be the best.

When I walk I see the colours through the trees, no I’m not outside. Though I do not feel the weather, the wind is coming. And I will make a windmill. I will save my village. The righteous of the Lord will find their strength in him. I will be blessed. And I will bless. There are clouds they can almost speak to you. And there is a way that no one must touch. To become what we must be, we must travel through some dark valleys. The world will burn. But I will not be touched. There are similarities between good and evil. Almost a breaking point. To be the best you have to deal with the vile. To be the best you must understand its weakness. And to be the best, to be the best you must rise above it. But you can walk among criminals and the criminally insane. See a flower there, planted in the rock? Tonight is the night of your dreams, and tomorrow is the morning. Will you bleed with me? Will you burn with me? Will you become who you really are.

They Don’t Want Me

Do I have a point? I am unfit for society. So how about I never leave the hospital? I am not contributing to the world. I am hidden from it. Lock me in my room. Or maybe I will lock myself in my room. I am sick of wanting more. How about I write books? Maybe someone will find this and treasure it.. because I have no point. No point of being. Tell people about Jesus. Yes.. read this and learn. Learn to stand up for something. And God wants me alive for some reason. I hate my life.

Hahaha..

But anyway. I guess I will be who he wants me to be. The treasure buried beneath the sea. Find me in a box covered with the scull and crossbones. Golgotha. The place of the scull. In these next lines I will reveal to you who you are. What your destiny is. And how I can change that. Blank. Blank. Blank. What are you missing? Is there love in your heart? Love is the answer. What is the second blank? Who do you reach to see? These are the times and days where I just want to watch and read post-apocalyptic programming. We need to see that there is an end. Blank three? You will be yourself… do you love? Entwined in this mind are three.

The Three Blanks

Moses walked around puffing a lit cigarette. He had to move into this boarding house with his friends. It was a two story rat infested looking place where the floors creeped and the carpet was old. “1000 bucks,” The Pakistani older gentlemen said. That’s what he wanted for the property. “Round here, things don’t cost much after the collapse of society.” And now the police were goons. A goon squad. They didn’t really get paid. They were just a thuggish wuggish bunch of connivers. They wanted to beat you and torture you.

But the thing was that we couldn’t buy or sell anything anymore, not from the classy folk. Some of us still had money, and there was an underground market and we purified our own water. We could generate electricity to run our phones which we managed to get internet on. But the cops watch what we post, so it is difficult. Mark of the Beast. Yes sir 666. It was all said and done now. So Moses just looked after his Kids, or so he called them.

Yes sir these are days tough, but we have love. All of us together running around, and still we had a point to make. We live for Jesus. We just scavenge for food, and try to fix up old dusty cars. We just live kind the way we were meant to, all of us sporting these End Times. The days are more mixture of hate and failure, but there was the breath in our lungs. We carry the Spirit with us, and we choose to do what’s right. We live in the moment, and we love reading storybooks. The future seems grim, but then again there are the prophecies. That being Jesus will come back. And we will get new bodies, but for now we are the cure for our diseases. Time keeps on taking into the future and enough is been said and done. We are not the lonely ones because we have faith. And faith is more like knowledge these days. We are the ones that prognosticate to future and forgive me for talking about Moses in the third person, for I am he. I am the one that has bowed down. I see the grace of God and even grace for my enemies.

We live day to day and struggle to struggle. We are comfortable though in our own kind of way. In a way that bleeds. We are the First Blank. We are the blank of society.

Just what are the things that you can find balled up inside? What can you unravel? Are you spending so much time associated with the little details that you aren’t enjoying life? For us, just the details of what not to do that could lead to sequester. I mean if peeps are plotting to trap you, it’s a good thing to be a little paranoid. You must have principles to succeed. The same for our behaviour, I mean, we do strive to be the best. Do you make awkward situations? Narrow down what you did or said. Was it paranoid? Don’t be paranoid. Act in the opposite way of paranoia. Are you annoying when you are trying to be bold? Identify the situation, and break it down to what your principles are. You need to have reasonable sounding cause for the way you act. For example, me, Moses, the father of this group of believers. I know that if I try really hard to say things, they probably aren’t meant to be. If I feel compelled to be constantly saying things that are in fear of capture, that is a problem. I need to be bold. So the best thing that I can do, is when making a necessary action in a fearful situation, it is best not to speak from what could happen. I’ve got to strive for the only cause I have and that is survival. So it is my principle to do what I planned without complaint. This makes me lead by example. Those are my believable reasons for that principle.

And I don’t need to confess my fears to anyone. The more you talk about what you did or said in a paranoid way that you blame yourself for, the more fear you have. Because then you will fear what people think of you after telling or confessing things that aren’t you. A person could get to breaking down their life into paranoid things that they have to tell people. You have no reason to be a paranoid person, so don’t act like one. If someone brings something up, you have no shame. You can say that you’ve had paranoid thoughts before but learned how you dealt with them. After going through PTSD myself, I had to put myself back together. A good mental health is being the best. You are the best. Do the best you can until you learn better. The more you speak of fear, the more you fear. But I even say that, – I’m scared right now, – like it ain’t no thing. I had to deal with a lot of these thoughts after running out of air while being chocked for three days. They did weird things to me. No-one rescued me and I wondered off into the wilderness for four years. I came up with a lot of principles which made me the leader I am today.

We live in a consequence today. The consequence (that was meant to be) of society. They the people, the government didn’t adhere to the word of God. But the classy lawbreakers seem to be in a seance. They seem to be dining with the forks and knives of destruction. To ignore the bible and the Lawless man, seems to have off kiltered a few. A few too many. They use a chip in their hand to be marked by a society that does not endorse God. Some even get marked in their forehead if they have a limb missing. This government tells us nothing of God. This government does not statistically prove the existence of big truths. Like the aliens of some planets seem to have upgraded their bodies to that of machine parts of a deluxe eternal body. The president or prime minister is more of a puppet meant for the people. The government cares about money and commodity. I just snuffed out my third cigarette. I must smoke too much lol. Got all my people in that broken down white house. But that is my white house. And we shall strive for the just. Ah.. to rebuild based on God’s warriors!

We have counterparts. I have been communicating on a regular basis with visitors from the sky. My job is to bring up a crew. They say God is raising me up as a father. We go out to some back fields behind the city a few kilometres and they land for us rather than just giving off the light shows that we first saw when we began to encounter them. They said that they are sick of donating tissue to the military, as their ships are often shot down, and surviving crew are abducted by humans.

Just now, I’ve decided to take myself on a long walk. I will be in the car that we scavenged for a bit. We will be going through the country. And I will be worried about the goons. Will they catch me again? It’s always in the back of my mind that all this will be taken away and I will be forced into suicidal thoughts. Oh what an outcome. Do they not know that they are doing nothing good? That we need justice and revelation only brought by our suffered Lord Jesus Christ? Us pilgrims seem to enjoy our life. Until it is over instantly. Just when you think to yourself – this is the way it will be now, – we suffer in utter defeat. But Fate finds us and rescues us after we have seemed to pay our dues of grief. Because there are always rescue missions. I front most of them. Front lines baby. But the goons have technology. We have been removing implants.

From the times that I (Moses) have been abducted myself, I found a notebook the other day. It had vast scribblings in it. I do appreciate that state of mind that I was in. Loss of composure compounded into phrases and paragraphs. Here is a little snippet:

“Christmas is coming and what will that reap? Ha. That is a joke. I have been journaling for months now and I have seen much blood and death. My blood. It is like an asylum where I am kept. And yes.. I have become dread. If I had not had it in my mind that I was fighting for the love of a woman, would it have been possible to make it this far? I am dread and I wear a mask.

As a pilgrim does make progress, I have rattled through the days and weeks. How will my men find me? I feel like an old man now. I am for God and by God. There is no other way. I am so glad I made it this far, for I believe that I am at least half way done using my carcass. My mind goes in loops between Satan and God. I wonder about reincarnation though it is not written about in the only Good Book. Devils must hate God because they even exist. Their only existence is to be damned.

Could I take part in the resurrection? Could I contribute to the building of invincible bodies? What kind of technology would this be? I am he who overcomes the number 666. For I can calculate it for myself. I wish only to please God.”

The Woes of Mankind

I have found myself coughing. The First woe is here. I will die now. I think the more I exasperate my soul, the more glory I find. The more I suffer, the better I see. I am 40 years old now. I might as well die. How about this is my very long suicide note. But God won’t let me die.. He would be mad at me. I am supposed to speak to his people. I am supposed to be his voice. At that I do not lack words. They just come. I am in too dense a space. This void box where I sit at my computer. These words are for you. Get them in your scull.

I am a hero today. The very kind of heroes. Why? Because I can still count my knuckles. They may be sore but I sore. Not an eye sore.

Why must we come here? All I know is pain. The whole reason for me being locked up for 17 years was because of my lack of restrain facing loss of freedom. All I did was steal chicken. Then I got in a fight and they drugged me. Next thing I fight them until they find a drug that didn’t make me try and kill myself. And um.. ya 13 years of that. Now for the last 4 years I’ve been chill. But I’ll let you know when I have other thoughts.

I’m a piece of shit. Wait until you find out. I must have said the wrong thing at some point. Don’t know what God wants me for. But I am bold and brave. I’ve got a good heart. But still there is this nagging feeling. This feeling that says I should die. Don’t know why that comes to me. I guess I should get over it. Oh but I don’t want to get over it.

I enjoy being sad. I enjoy not caring if I live. I can stay locked in a room for years. I have been in my room a lot even today. Oh how my guitar called to me today. I enjoy being miserable. I wonder if my name gets out there are people just going to look at me like a retard. I look retarded and handicapped. I always end up talking to people and I like to make jokes. But I probably haven’t thought so much about anything as much as I think about death. But then I would just get reincarnated. Live this stupid life. I am God’s voice. So a lot of what you hear is blessed. God loves me. Oh but how I love to be sad. It is the best feeling I think. To want to die. I am going to write many books and live to be old. It is all just scribbles.

To you who am I? I’ve got delusions and I spaz. Admit it. You would make fun of me. I mean some people talk to me like they want to fight. I would fight anyone in the ring. Not caring with my headphones blaring. Middle finger ain’t sticking up. I try not to swear.

8 Comments

Wyatt says:

September 5, 2020 at 11:51 +00:00

Hey Ryane it’s Wyatt this is great

Reply
- Reyhan Jones says:
  
  September 5, 2020 at 11:51 +00:00
  
  Thanks dude! Help me find a publisher.. this is the beginning of my next book…
  
  Reply
Shana says:

September 5, 2020 at 11:51 +00:00

Hey Reyhan. Would you believe me if I say I totally know how Luke feels? You’re a great writer. You have a lot of talent and you write that makes people think in creative ways. Have a good one

Reply
- Reyhan Jones says:
  
  September 5, 2020 at 11:51 +00:00
  
  Thanks!
  
  Reply
Dustyn Ivy says:

October 2, 2021 at 11:51 +00:00

“Do you like birds?”

“Yes.”

“We could arrange for you to see some pictures if you would like that Luke. Plus a lot more drugs to cram in your ass.” Dr. Hindinplad’s face turned red.

best party of the book lol. no but seriously I wish I could still write like you they ‘cured’ me of all my originality and creativity i used to look at a blank sheet of paper and see anything i wanted now all i see is a blank sheet of paper .

You mentioned the grey aliens according to germatria theyre a type of being like a human that has merged with an insect spirit one of the nurses dakota told me she was a gray so the aliens are alot closer then you think perhaps they have some kind of cloaking mechanism they look like bugs with huge black eyes.

One of the lunch ladys told me that I *became* a gray and my memory was wiped and I cant cry anymore i just feel nothing. One of the psychiatrists told me he was working for the new world order which is disconcerting to say the least.

You know the mentally ill are treated worse then black people, worse then natives, worse then immigrants and as bad as lgbtq people. its unfortunate but we’re practically 5th class citizens and nobody cares or does anything about it its really sad. but back to the gray aliens apparently theyre here to get dna samples to fix theyre dna because they kept cloning themselves and they ran out of new genetic material and theyre at war with the reptillians supposedly but they do they’re bidding essentially that one nurse with the red hair told me she was talking to aliens i said ‘the lizard kind’ and she said ‘they scare me’ there here to keep us on the 3rd dimension they operate on the fourth and fifth but theyre here to keep us from realizing our infinite potential as co creators on the planet earth basically by medicating us theyre saying that we arent allowed to cocreate paradise (or hell) on earth because were mentally ill i heard one nurse say (we stripped him of all his abilities

) and where do you think those abilities go? to corrupt beurocrats and so called leaders the entire ahs system is to imprision and enslave divergent thinkers this is what you free health care and the tax dollars you pay get you, imprisioned and enslaved indigo children if you’ve heard that term before. Dr rai said something about a “soul farm” now that terrifys me as i feel ive lost my soul … you eat things on a farm ) – ; thats not good.

Anyways im rambling good essay rey, keep it up.

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Dustyn Ivy says:

October 2, 2021 at 11:51 +00:00

My uncle uncle Glenn escaped from more prison’s and robbed more banks then John Dillinger but he was the Canadian version he did I think it was 10 years in solitary confinement because he kept escaping from prision. I wouldnt mind 9 months alone with my thoughts no distractions but then you really have to confront the darker aspects of the soul.

I recommend you check out “The emerald tablets of thoth female voice” on youtube its a really good book thats based on works from antiquity very relaxing and very powerful check it out search for it on youtube. i prefer the female voice because it sounds more mystical. might give you inspiration for you writing.

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Dustyn Ivy says:

October 2, 2021 at 11:51 +00:00

9 months mmusta been pretty scary thou i think i could do it but when i got out i wouldnt be the same

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- Reyhan Jones says:
  
  October 2, 2021 at 11:51 +00:00
  
  Very interesting! Fun to read your comments
  
  Reply

Reyhan Jones is Mental Hospital Gospel

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