Murderland

Forest Down

The Forest before the murder, photo from the author…

…I've read all kinds of stories that tried to convey the condition of what its like to survive a sudden onset of mass murder. Understandably these narratives refer almost entirely to the human condition, sometimes extended to animal companions, yet never to any other manifestation of living.

This is a great oversight, or a numb ignorance, because early 21st century America not only loves human genocide, but killing of entire ecosystems.

There are perhaps too many times that heart and mind conjure memories of that Forest, Forest life, my constant companion. It was the Forest that broke my dependence on human beliefs and assertions, that through being forced into trials and facing false beliefs implanted by killer ignoramuses, the ensnaring lies were dropped like proverbial hot potatoes.

The Forest showed me beings that society said were vanished from the environs. I had biologists question me, and shake their heads wistfully. They struggled for an explanation. Perhaps I should have told them there are many worlds, and animals travel between them effortlessly, but they wouldn't have listened.

The Forest was a nexus of worlds, I traveled to places that could not be visited again, a defense against modern people and their vicious taking. One was an ancient ruin of a cave dwelling. I was drawn there because of a feeling. Ancient handholds in the stone, ancient flecks of plaster upon the ceilling. I was grateful to enjoy that participation. Shortly after visiting, modern people invaded and started stealing. They defiled the approach with their greed and ignorance, and the way was lost because of them.

Stories are told of others who found special places, eager to return to continue their rape and pillage, only to never find them again. This is the way the living world reacts, where knuckle dragging apes are only given to devastation.

Perhaps the irony is lost on most that today after the ecocide, most of what once was a forest is off limits to those of us who lived in it. You can call it agenda 21, or 30, or 50. You can say its resource protection. You can spin a hundred different lines a hundred different times, but its still just empty words.

Owl Owl in my dreams looking into me, great golden eyes the wisest of the wise.

Owl Owl needs to feel the spread of wings, the flex of talons, reckless flying.

Owl Owl daredevil swooping through the branches, brushing lightly the leaves.

Owl, why do you visit in these dreams, is it for the taste of raw physicality?

Owl and I dip and glide, spin and dive, as I am his breath, his pulsing blood.

Owl and I fly as one, crazy, almost suicidal through the shadow of the Forest.

The Owl spirit delights in the Forest, delights in the night. Upon awakening I return to this world where the Forest is dead and I am barred from entering the scarred remains.

It was at a location where one of the hats I have worn required my attention. I must work at the game of selling one's creativity to a mostly bored and uninterested public. I was having a discussion concerning the pillage of the forest, when up strode a woman who was with the government, speaking of Travel Management.

“You should get involved,” she said.

Fateful words.

I took the bait, once again to be a voice for the Forest, doomed to be held hostage by the tides of greed and mass murder.

Machiavelli swore the state was amoral, unbound by human constraints. For him it was best to be feared, the state as a temporal expression of psychopathic terrors, I lived to discover how wrong he was and is.

America is a place where the depths of unknowing and spiritual isolation are given monarchical authority, declared to be the true condition. The raw call of corruption, of duplicity and deceit that inevitably leads to destruction is always the loudest one. Thus the lies, the thick layer upon layer of lies and more lies intended to bury everyone.

The murder was not perped by the ignorant masses that see everything as loss or gain, and want to take everything. They were here mere accessories. The act was perpetrated by the self appointed government of the USA, and their beloved corporate contractors. Contractors are those who wear government logos on their clothes, which make them indistinguishable from actual government employees. Therefore the distinction is often administrative, in that corporate contractors always get paid.

Its really impossible to make any serious distinction between those who enforce and implement government policy vs. the greater population. They truly behave one and the same, and any exception is so rare as to be notable. I have known some exceptions, some rare individuals, are you reading this, Kevin?

I wasn’t told about the great pick nick until it was already happening. They were all somebody else’s friends, although they called me by my first name.They circled the wagons around the stone fireplace I had rebuilt, and burned my firewood and all of my pokers. They complained when they used all the toilet paper, throwing trash and when I asked them to pack out what they brought-they refused because it was used. They were eager to return, to have me lead hikes and show them places, but they couldn’t call me because I have no phone. Take your time on any return, I thought, its bad to be in a hurry.

The roar of motors, running across claims once fenced in and signed. Off-roaders ripped down the postings and cut the fences to drive on through. They claimed nobody minded, more layers of lies and lying. It was always and only all about whatever they wanted.

Travel Management was the government’s plan to destroy the legacy of common law and ecological protection. Government employees held special sessions with off road groups, empowering them to act with impunity, to turn sensitive watershed and rare animal zones into racetracks for them, narcissist apes on vehicles.

The government gave them expensive G.P.S. systems, and posted on the internet the routes through once protected areas and private property, all the while feigning innocence. When the government itself willfully ignores its own role, choosing avenues of destruction, the cute lie of ‘government by and for the people’ is revealed for what it truly is. There is nothing one can do.

Seemingly overnight off road vehicle dealerships sprouted up in urban places. Ruts up hillsides, trails worn down several feet after just one season, places where wildlife once gathered, abandoned. It was only the extreme places where they still lived. Did your gate just get shot up? Did you and your livestock get threatened? Did they just drive through the stream? Do you see the erosion, the soil and oil in the water?

No accountability, criminal activity protected. Tear down your fences, do burnouts before your front door, if they meet you in the forest, they might try to run you over, threaten you face to face, or just shoot you, unless you are packing your own heater.

According to official government statements, Travel Management was the plan which would control vehicle use in the National Forest. Administratively they used it to revoke all protections, and remove all requirements and penalties associated with ‘managing’ these areas. Travel Management unleashed government without accountability, which is something they always wanted.

Travel Management erased the ancient English speaking tradition of Common Law, which is essentially a law of freedom. In Common law, nothing is prohibited unless expressly forbidden. This tradition was already ancient when the Magna Carta was signed in 1215. One might ask what gives a group of lunatic computer jocks the right to change the law to the point of gutting it, the answer is absolutely nothing.

This is the way the corporate government actually operates, if there is some obstacle to total control, just ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist. The question arises, what did they determine to be the new law they would follow? Why that would be the law of the ‘globalists.’

One can define ‘globalists’ in myriad disparaging ways and never get close to a complete description, but there are some realities. ‘Globalists’ have a long history of working against life and humanity. They are universally wealthy beyond measure, and until recently with the World Economic Forum, they acted purely behind the scenes, letting others take the fall and the heat for their programs. One more thing…they absolutely adore Napoleonic law.

What in the world is Napoleonic Law?

Napoleonic law is the law of the despot. Everything is prohibited unless expressly permitted. So the US government, that self described beacon of freedom has installed for its administration of the forest totalitarian globalist law.

If you think the narcissist apes on off road vehicles, or the giant environmental organizations that rubber stamp government actions raised even a pinky, to recognize the overstepping, or demand a return of freedom, or lost a moment of sleep, or took a break from counting their money you would be greatly mistaken.

We should be clear that big name environmentalist groups involved with Travel Management are actually groups profiting over servitude, so of course they are enemies of freedom. Big name enviros stepped in without any of us asking, acting as if they were the protectors of the forest, the authority that would guarantee a fair and living natural land. All one had to do, was get everything done between their perpetual vacations, and justify their fat salaries by working as unpaid, unacknowledged slaves.

In the end big name enviros showed their true colours by siding with the government that declared Napoleonic law on everything. Big name enviros absolutely love their lies, their narcissistic fantasies, but most of all they love vacations and money, and people working for them for free.

Its all very cleverly done, free labor and knowledge of the land in trade for an image of protection, which everyone finds out later never materializes, because the slaves empowered a traitor, a Quisling of the worst kind, who surreptitiously works against the slave’s interest.

The actual purpose of big name enviros in Travel Management was twofold; one to give the appearance, to create the illusion that the National Environmental Policy Act is actually in effect, truly working, which of course it isn’t. It goes back to Sheldon Wolin, who wrote the book on inverted totalitarianism. Second it was to control the opposition. If it sounds like something uttered by Lenin, well it is.

So now anyone who reads this knows that the US government, off-road enthusiasts, and big name environmentalists are enemies of freedom and a healthy planet. Armed with this information it should be quite clear that ecocide was inevitable. I actually felt it, heard its heavy breathing, felt its steps shake the earth as it got nearer and nearer.

Fire.

That feeling, that wind blowing saying without words that an end was arriving. The enveloping of the Nothing, stretching for the final breath, the final touch so softly fleeting. The leaves, the leaves from the rich forest floor became my body, rippling, opening with rows of shifting shadows as I was breathing, breathing and moving in quiet waves. Golden leaves pastel reds, oranges forming a man, a body, where bluebirds found a home and were happily flitting. I drink the forest as the forest makes me. The bright sky soundless failing. Its over, its done, so much life and history already sung, no one left to remember as the hold on life releases.

“Its gonna happen!”

My friend Stan, three tour Vietnam veteran, speaking on the entity arriving. Prophetic words, he died before he had to behold the work of the corrupt corporate government with directed energy weapons and fire.

Nothing happens here by accident, everything is planned, all of it is scripted. The mouthpieces carefully maintain the deception. The players maneuver behind the scenes, and keep the entrained guessing. There is no spiritual truth here, no joy, no revelation. There is just the determined grasping of wanting, the greedy surly wish to stomp face, to take it all before anyone is looking.

The Forest was weakened by decades of aerial spraying, trails and grids and patterns like smoke coalescing into a miasma that curtailed the moisture, expanding upon the natural dry cycle. Synthetic bugs dropped upon the land, demented porridge in the sky, brought to you by those who pretend to protect you.

The Trees were weakened by the psychotic persistent spraying that only myself and a small handful of others could see. Perhaps it was here that I lost all faith in humanity. People are convinced they are the pillar of the world, the most important measure for eternity, yet the pathetic egotists couldn't even see the spraying.

The great evil spirit arose in those days, nor has it yet gone back to sleeping. Do you know your politicians and CEOs, your actors and your generals are feeding it daily? Oh wait, thats just a conspiracy theory. The plebian enforcers and gatekeepers know so much better than anyone who has been there. Just keep voting!

Fire.

The howling filled the night deep in the backcountry. It was a wild cacaphony utterly devoid of any humanity. Its purity could not be judged by dulled abrahamic senses, as its being was beyond the comfort sphere of people.

The ancient spirit was singing, above Tsesht Yett Na Ma Chinaya, the place I knew intimately. With the spirits singing the death song the end was approaching rapidly.

I had to work. I had to shave and comb my hair and find some clothes that didn't have holes because I had to sell my love in the city. I stood before my tiny place with the Bull Elk skull and complete rack above the porch dreaming. I couldn't escape the feeling that my reality was breaking into small pieces. I pulled the memory into my heart so that even after death I could call upon the essence of that brief happy time when the Forest was mine, and I was the leafy dream of the Forest.

Driving down the rough dirt road I never looked back. I had left my life in the demon worshiping hands of the fire cult*, and they were going to treat me accordingly.

They had to choose the time I was forced into the city, because I would have fought them and died before I would ever have let them play their games. Their broken bodies would have fed the mud of the road, and their helicopters would have been grounded permanently.

Evil spirit never attacks directly. Evil spirit hits when the target is distracted and buisy, like when engaged in the dreary buisness of having to pull in some green frog skins to pay the never ending bills, and try to find some boots I don't have to duct tape.

It was in the ugly citiscape where the vision hit like a million bricks and flattened me. I slumped in a chair unable to catch air. I knew my place built more than a century ago in the Forest was burning.

I was sick and reeling. My fellow man reacted by attacking and blaming me for everything. I solved their problems, told them to get lost, and struggled through my time of working. Finally getting a chance I left the hairless apes behind, stepped outside, and saw the most incredible sight of the giant mushroom cloud over my Forest, created by the government fire.

Evil spirit cackling.

I could hear the trees screaming. It was a high pitched death song as they perished and vanished from this world.

A report on the lap dog media, that the government was happy to ground all firefighting resources, and cause as much destruction as possible. Arrogant narcissist government official confessing. It was obviously the truth, for almost immediately the report was yanked, the reporter fired, and an apology to all the perpetrators was launched.

Democracy is inverted totalitarianism. It is the face of deceit, a way to make those who don't make the decisions culpable.

The adult Turkey Vulture writhed in agony upon the grey scorched earth. Half his body was burnt, all his feathers gone, and his one wing a bony facsimile. He stared out of his single remaining eye, fighting for life. Such is the nature of the real world. Life will struggle against all odds no matter the pain or consequence. He lasted a handful of hours.

Murderers.

The little Cinnamon Bear had been caught in the open. She had hidden too long from the molten flames, and as she bolted for her freedom she was captured on three sides by the raging satellite induced fire. Her young body lay on her tummy dessicated by the government fire. Her empty eye sockets staring.

There will be a reckoning.

The essence of current black magic practiced by the upper classes is bondage and propritiation. What will they do when the offerings don't sate, and the fetters won't bind, when the forces demand them as payment?

Reckoning.

Fast forward to today, and big name eniviros explain government policy. Narcissist apes climb on off road vehicles to discover how deep they can cut ruts into fields. The government celebrates their new found totalitarianism.

Hundreds of thousands of acres, including places that should never taste fire are scorched to ash by directed energy weaponry. Lives lost, entire communities removed, the corrupt corporate government and big name environmentalists making excuses and cashing their checks, taking vacations to warm places, practicing lies and deceit, even to themselves to continue to fuel the taking.

Asleep precious sleep, reverence to you mother of everything, for bringing the wonder of the void, please never awaken. In the golden place, beyond devouring flames, the great beings stretched all the way to the pulsing stars, their mighty branches reaching.

Roots stretching endlessly, through the firmament of eternity, bathe in their glow, they have left the murder and the grift, and the heavily layered lies, and the evil spirits roused by those who will never incarnate again.

Dead forest, fruit of murderland, here in Elfland sleeping and recovering. Don't you dare wake me. I do not wish to stand beneathe the spraying. Don't ever wake me, for here in dreams I can live in love and laughter, playing with those I used to know on Earth.

Never wake me. I wish to sleep the endless sleep, where I fly daredevil circles with the magnificent Owl, brushing wingfeathers on pine needles sparkling with moisture, soaring diving and climbing beneathe the mysterious Moon.

• Fire cult is a term that was not invented by me, but apt it is, for it describes a fevered messianic condition amongst the US government ‘land management' agencies, whereby their artificially instigated fire is seen as purifying the earth of forest. The fire cult sees fire as the solution to everything, including the ‘problem’ of people who live close to nature.