Whirring, whirling, spinning blade are you​​​​​​​​​​, not going anywhere, meaning nothing, until we see you on a helicopter. Then, meaning have you, meaning, you are the dangerous effective engine of a lean flying machine, you have all the up you can have to go. All of it and more, you know, and context is sometimes all. All.
 

For since 1984, there was a gift, there a seeing gift;​​​​​​​​​​ I suppose it makes sense they call such people 'seers', since no one could see those things coming, they always seem much too far away. But so much seems far away, when you have been pressing your nose to the bark and see not even the plurality of what you are pressing to so closely, only the singular tree and that in minutiae. Yes, you see the bark and never the trees, forest or mountain.

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So this was my fit, my gift, my conundrum, my fate:​​​​​​​​​​ to hear again destruction in my ear and know what comes, and know that I could be the goat. See the goat smelled the hungry mountain lion and climbed the tree, without warning. He left the Shepard and all of his sheep and made sure he was safe. The shepard curious, briefly went to the tree and wondered aloud, 'why did the goat climb the tree and not even one with much fruit upon it at all. The goat, seeming to pity him, looked to where the lion was stalking the clueless and unmoving sheep and called out lightly. The lion looked up, the Shepard looked over and the goat looked down as if to say 'mountain lion, fool'.

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So here I am set to play the beleaguered goat​​​​​​​​​​, only it is not just a pathetic bleat that I have to say. Destruction comes, as some of my ancestors, the Maya foretold; for some the destruction has already come, their fate linked to the 266,500 or so hearts that the day after 12/21/2012 was owed to keep life going, according to the beings of the underworld. This was the head cost of ensuring the sun would keep coming. For some, it still marches forth and you have some choice.

On a personal note the only reason I speak​​​​​​​​​​ is because it is fair to me think that as long as you still have breath, and still can go on, surely it is not time to go. Some will feel that vacuum of death upon them and seek to impose this on others. This thing will seek to sift, to strain, to make death and murder seem to be the only choice. So here are the words of a beleaguered goat:

• Do not let it sift you as it did Jovan Belcher, Adam Lanza, and Jacob Tyler Roberts or the women (and men) these stories are based on, as someone of air, viciousness and bitterness warned how it WILL come. The rhythmic prose stories Spore, Broken and Teacher Heels are all from this base..
• Use the tools in this site to strengthen yourself for the fight or the reclamation of your life.