Wrote poem last night ~ “Mind Control: In four parts”

Mind Control

entails

creation

constraint

guidance

teaching

skill building

rewards

punishments

passivity training

mental anesthesia

physical anesthesia

health care

judgment

deception

encouragement

support

destruction

experimentation

accidents

use

abuse

commerce

and more.

Each person experiences different aspects.  It’s okay – I say – to tell others, “I am here, and this is what I see and experience.”

It’s a big, beautiful, horrific yin yang.

What’s a person on this edge to do?

Die?  (No, I already decided that; just mentioned it for rhetoric, a perfectly good subject of philosophical deliberation.)

Or communicate, negotiate…?

Or create!

Is it possible in this moment in history?  (I do it, but…  I wonder a lot.)

Only from other realms, it lately seems…

but I am always open to the possibility of miracles and surprising energies…. upsetting everything.  And like a smoldering fire, the whole place erupts. 

Yeah. 

Naturally.

[What the hell am I still doing here?  I thought I’d be outa here before things went crazy.  I think I’ve always assumed that’s what I’d bargained for.

Yeah, but I’m seeing a picture that implies staying here.  Sheesh.

– Where’d that come from?  A different alter adding her stuff in the middle of my essay.]

~

Part II

Some experience Earth differently.

All these things – creation to commerce – have been attributed to gods and other beings from the heavens throughout history.  Most of them apply to Jehovah.  All of them apply to the Sumerian gods, the Annunaki.  And many to the gods of every other culture on Earth.  Not all are in the histories, but a good many.

And Mind Control – MK – happens to work a whole lot like the entire rest of the world.  As if it was intrinsic to this world.  As if it was our world.  I.e., we live in mind control; we are mind controlled by virtue of living on Earth at this time in history; all of us are subject, just to what degree and for what purposes is the question.

~

Part III

Sometimes I feel I can accept it.  Sometimes I feel like the saddest victim on the planet.  And sometimes I feel like just one of thousands of test subjects, suffering like –

– like the plants I forget to water, or my chickens I cage and try to treat well, but I don’t all the time.  I’m not evil.  I’m just not fully conscious, at least not all the time.  And I imagine having less-than-perfect creator demi-gods, bumbling a bit, like novice gardeners, resident doctors, first-year teachers, or well-meaning and established – but absent-minded – professors.

Or maybe they’re brilliant angels, but they’re under attack.

Or – I get it – they’re brilliant angels, under attack, and they’re trying to rescue some of us from this Earth trap (of mind control), and it would sure be easier if I’d – and everyone would – wake up, more.

Whatever, I don’t know; but I’m starting to see the polarities blur more than ever, and the terror turning to mist and drifting away as I see these other energies as accidents, not acts of Satanic psychopaths, but rather maybe even by our friends and family, trying unsuccessfully to rescue us, like an animal in a trap who hurts itself in the net the rescuers have for it, not because they are evil, but because of the unnecessary struggle.

But that could be Mind Control, seducing, “Don’t you worry….”

.

.

.

Should I relax and not take so much personally, not try to understand, not try to change things?

Or should I be a hero and lead the way for victim’s rights on Earth?

Why has no one else tried to do this already?

Because no one wants to hear.

.

Other times I think I’m nothing special and I should get over myself and just try to live a happy life with what good days they give me.

Then I think that idea is just a carrot they dangle to keep their subject alive another day.

And I think they don’t deserve to suck my soul like this.

.

.

And round

and round

I go.