THE SECRET OF MAKING WAR ©

 

BY ANDREW J BRINKMAN

 

‘U / N / I / Verse at War’ © The Roots 1996.  ‘... . -.-. .-. . - / .-- .- .-.’

 

‘You don’t see us, but we see you’ © The Roots 1999. ‘-... .. --. / -... .-. --- - .... . .-.’

 

‘Return to Innocence Lost’ © The Roots 1999.  ‘.--. . .-. ... --- -. .- .-.. .. - -.-- / -.-. .-. .- -.-. -.-‘

 

You only vice in life to burn your own soul, making life slow and slurred, rushing to break train, open door, hustle for seat, done with this day.  Get up tomorrow and repeat.

 

Your only lie to yourself is calling yourself names, under vigor of childish attitude like you need this to understand your inner devil to be blamed, and framed.

 

Mother’s do despair when child hates oneself and no-longer stands his own, for his own ground.  There is only one way to believe you are beautiful, and make that your war of the day.

 

But hook, line and sinker, sins this spin into annihilation of twisted sexual proud, caught in life, for rhythmic shroud, in time louder, and loud, making hump loving a must to war the sex, and bust the cuss into utter childish flattery for we need humping into vexation but no longer vexed. 

 

We’re in a secret war.

 

The Lord we rest on, ‘guide us’.  Guide ourselves, make declarations of war and we find love.

 

The war of interjection means we need time to pace, but only really our love is hurt not the criticism.

 

Critical theory tells us to infer which way of two sides to go, but neo-Nazi stops I dealing in truth, honesty and freedom.  Sodomy never caught up with me it is utter war next, just to finish him off.

 

The danger of war is to make a reaction in a Monist way and find one wrong not to know all her curves, all her facets.  Fun-loving always wins, no war, just Man’s secret to conquer her, and her entirety, until she comes into being.

 

Secret wars like Che and Fidel’s make us look naive, nimble, but translucent, for his cloak of dense coloured smoke for which we live by in our minds, but always tempered by 21 st Century realities.  We live as if we are history through existentialist reprieve and go on making new ideas under the roof of new order, next movement, and a safe party!

 

Pleasant stops at the fun fair, candy floss on her lips tell us that is all we needed.  The real secret war that goes on behind curtains is over money, foot limits, busting your card on the contactless machine, making yourself in a drunken stupor to find out there is really a point to that?  You need to make your life with yourself and your home. 

 

‘Everything you need you have’ by Gerad Kite, states we all talk rubbish, embarrass each other, make presumptions and find out it is our physical health that is to blame.  But you have to be really lost to believe you need to read it if just taking on a song, a good drink in moderation, and fight that mediocrity, just as I am now with intelligent provocation.

 

Statistics mean we have no chance under a system unless we have the reputation to overbear it, and too much abuse gets in the way.  ‘No we do care, that is exactly why you are not allowed!’  The answer my friend is to ask for justice, and govern yourself.  This can be done by understanding law, the order of life, and where we come from first.  

 

How to aform chaos is to listen to the Gods, for here comes CHE, and the LORD!

 

‘WHAT WE NEED IS A REASON’ © CG 2017.

 

And the reason is thus: ‘Our health is empty instead of replete’©.

 

There are innocent people being misinterpreted by their old friends wishing ill-health, surgeons finding out mistruths to cut further than is required, people forced by black mail to have oncology, misdiagnosis of mental health, the list goes on, all because insurance companies and big cats have to get wealthier and wealthier, whilst the innocent suffer.  This is our secret war, our stealth, our private interlude, to begin a revolution in health.

 

There have been enough 'IOU’s' says Noreena Hertz.  So the World Bank Wins, and by the way they will not be at your funeral, because they’re a bit busy making everyone pay their way, and oh what a shame to know you’ve gone, actually we could do with some of him, I know says someone?  We’ll clone them, then we’ll all be happy, and by the way they can’t procreate, so we’ll make fun of them behind our nouveau-riche existence.  OH what fun says the banker.

 

‘U / N / I / Verse at War’ is where we’re at.  Burning more than we’re learning, now is the time to learn the art of your secret war! Go! Go!