B102 … Thoughts Along The Way

Coming Soon…
Death is walking home. It has befriended me. I feel comforted around him. At ease most of the time. I love to ponder on past loves. All those special moments when love was in the air and the gentle feelings of mutual caring was everywhere. Death reminds me to let go, find something close to distract me and keep me attentive to what is surrounding the now. Those moments of serenity with my loved ones are so delicate, they can change in a micro-flash and set me saddened with melancholy feelings of peace and short of breath. It is death luring me into itself.

Today is fresh and awake, tho the people are lonely they feel kind and alive. The sun is bright and heavy and soft today. I have no where to go and nothing wants me. I am rather free of the clutter at the moment. The cafe is quiet this friday afternoon and i have moments to escape from the commitments that dangle off the walls on the streets in the cities and all those clusters of people moving somewhere.

It is rare that this melancholy mood should enter this strong and persist into the realm of the day. I welcome this feeling. It gives me breath, a silence of the heart, a wonder softly glowing across this shy space, air filled with warm colour gleaming slow thru my eyes, to my inviting solitary mind.

I can’t stay here it seems. There is always some disturbance that throws me back in to the race. So i weave in and out like clouds that come and go across a deep long horizon desert plain or the constant soft rolling of waves along a perfect beach. Sometimes someone asks me a question like, ‘can i pet your dog’, I would like to answer, ‘if she lets you’, but i just say ‘sure’. There is an older middle aged woman slicing thru a bunch of dresses hanging on display down the hall from me. “oh that’s a pretty one” she says to her mind spread out across the room. She doesn’t answer back but notices another, “wow, that would look great on me”. I don’t question anything. This is life here in the moment, set aside across this universe in three d, sometimes four, right here along the hall for me alone. This is so exciting to view and feel, so special, unique, and alone.

Visual Oneness Happening

Woke and Awake Within The Ant Hill
The woke are awake attempting to keep the multitude asleep while i sit here wondering about other things. How is it possible to be here trapped within my thoughts like a free bird? I remember an acid trip when i was a young man back in the sixties. In the height of my most out of this world seeing, there would be firm knowings like in a vision that took place in my mind with images dispersing to bind this truth together as one. What i was observing was a ‘oneness’ with an ongoing revelation beyond thought. A place where sense data stood still. In complete silence of mind-activity i was aware of a truer reality beyond time and space. My mind began the usual habit to name-describe in micro time what was taking place. I noticed the more my mind thought/analysed the ‘timeless-now’ the further i could feel this truth disintegrating. I literally achieved the action of allowing my mind to destroy this truth with imaginary/thought/naming/analysing and than to eliminate this process from my consciousness completely and simply ‘be’, returning back to this beyond-feeling to a timeless ‘knowing’ and somehow at all times being aware of this ‘act’. I was mesmerized with this process and played with it for hours. This game, almost as a necessary practice to exist in this world was in itself a vision for living as a human being entrapped in the constant persistence of thought-belief-systems of mind activity.

Of course as time moved on and i grew more numb by staying within the reach of this holly-world i became a version of them, the people. An unnoticed poet and photo-art person. This mind game process is now often referred to as a spiritual practise of ‘letting go’ in a variety of ways that linger into the vast-past of eons ago. Shamanism is a way of life that investigates this realm where everything is possible and many worlds are discovered beneath these waves of dimensions. The more aware-medicine-people are well versed in the separation between reason and intuition. It is a constant learning how, when, where to maneuver thru these inner-outer-dimensions.

I jumped over a few dreams and landed on a typical scene of masked heads and well worn agendas working their way thru brains like a medicated wall, straight and smooth. I don’t have any complaints whatsoever as i walk freely down these halls and whisper to myself some folk tune click clacking away like a rambling dancing fool within my head. My head is no longer my head, it belongs to the way, the process, the mystery in this dreamtime.

Why do i hesitate so often just before i expose myself. There is no misfortune like the past and up ahead death is there, ready waiting to uncover the veils.

I can’t ignore this feeling any longer. Why are there so many scenes to distract and disasemble me like i was an imbecile, moron, idiot or the like. So many are so afraid to reflect themselves thru-out all angles, to show their faults and failures, as if we were from the same specie. It is a difficult task to see your blind mind open. We are all in this together whether we like it or not, but thank god there are separators thru this intermittent love story along the road.

To all my friends, aquiantences, and foe that are holding a grudge for something that we can hardly remember existed, long gone down the tubes of wavy memory, i welcome you all to my home.

I’m a new conspiracy theorist
Im a conspiracy theorist, i’ve been one ever since i discovered drugs, good natural drugs. It got me questioning everything, no topic was too sacred to investigate. Turns out i was right tons of times. It is more of an art than a science. Our science has gone a-muck. It’s mostly a corporate money machine. The people in the know know this. People like Tesla, Schauberger and hundreds of other scientists, inventors, pure thinkers were silenced killed or discarded in one way or another. Sure, we have all the toys one could ever dream of but we lost heart, intuition, the love embedded in the earth. We have lost contact with our creator and replaced it with a rigid science, an ultimate god, the disaster of mankind.

And here we are arguing over which corporate vaccine or mask to wear or not. My god we have lost it. Nature has been thrown out with its common sense, the slim wire of connection to the process, the mystery of everything is disintegrating as i write. We appear to be close to the end of the line, the final act, the glamour of the holly-world has got us all by the mind, the brain of corporate chemistry, and the big few that are as sick as a devil think they are in charge.

I find it near impossible to take serious anyone that has abused themselves to the extent of obesity of mind and body and are obsessed with corporate scientific monopoly of foods and seeds made from controlled patented altered genetics. And they want me to listen to their conclusions about ‘whatever’ in the toxic air of a science clearly running an octave too low, dangerous. Insane, an insane psychotic society we have created.

But the good news, as they say, is waiting just down the hall outside into the light air past the last shrub along the path thru the grass lands, the desert into the deep silent forest. There you find all the answers of the universe, just learn to listen and you will be told what, how, when, and where to move, but the why will remain in the invisible hands of the mystery…..that’s just the way it is…and don’t dare question me, how would i know?

Images and Writing By Patrick Wey

B101 … UnderWaves

Disjointed paragraphs attempting to survive, like a night in big-streets….like a natural chemistry trip….like life.

The undercurrent moves quietly and leaves a rush of wave in its wake; a mass like this changes landscapes and worlds. Some bubbles rise as poetry of flight from the deep, some too heavy fall to darker depths and others, much lighter and more awake, transform into light of a stratosphere.

The underground is where it all begins with the disruption of thought and the constant bending blending of ideals, the heart of the bohemian, these rough waters crashing up against the norm. This is change forever moving the mass into clearer skies, momentarily calm waters and clear destruction.

Waves Along the Shore Line

Unlike the waves along the shoreline, the mind has created a segment of delinquent controllers, egos worth more than they are, warped entities creating systems wholly for their own benefit. Whereas natural tribes of ancient times when all were for the many; our world of disjointed men, estranged with greed are creating thrones for their own alone.

A web of corruption strings a similar bloodline across eons of lies. An old displaced family sits naked on the horizon of negative evidence surfacing. Their platform is crumbling, the plan is crushed, time is slipping into the early dawn of clarity. They’re finished, just waiting for the future to catch up to itself. No sense in wasting words along main street, the restructuring of minds will do as they do. Up ahead is sucking the past into itself, a part of the future is predestined, a part is not. The way it is, the spirit is pushing us thru, nothing is for certain in the fields of thought, only the heart with a wounded ear lying silent up ahead creating these bends.

Cries in the Eyes of Nature

A day breaks into a single syllable, a crow cries out for help, the moon is sliding beyond the clouds, my mind is slowly wandering thru the haze. In the ditch of time a weary spec of hope lays dangling off some leaf hanging in dry air curled up beside itself and me. What is going on? A tree from a distance answers unclear into a breeze blowing free across the valley and i hesitate with my love and shake a while into some worried walls standing alone along a few avenues inside. “What’s goin on”, again i say to nobody listening.

In the forest she lets her self fall into thin air, the rough bark of a proud cedar speaks of lost loves and choices regretted while the soil snuggles up close with attention, the whole scene is smattered with situations, conclusions and of course, mystery. I walked over to the long sea and felt that depth within, that sacred space where angels speak and devils fade with the wind. People think there is someplace along this path where everything is all right, perfect but soon get left alone in the middle of a space where only nothingness spreads. They hurt and quit and accuse and leave for some foreign somewhere again.

I found an image to show you, some forms curving in and out of themselves, creating a meaning tailor made and cheap, easy and sharp. I expect you to have it, a sort of gift for hanging around all these years. I know you didn’t understand the game quite as well as you may have and there were times too often to mention that you would swear this doesn’t make any sense at all, useless, detrimental to your safety, your stability amongst your peers. I get it. I don’t hold it against you. I wasn’t thinking of how it would separate us. I was just surrendering to the flow, that suction into the night, that sensual luring into the mystery, thru all that fear and insane light.

Bridges Against the Wind

I’m leaving for now. There are other delights brushing up against my mind, soft thoughts falling off the walls, bridges against the winds of change to admire and loves waiting, still, along the waterways of illumination. I feel sad somehow to wander off so abruptly and i do have you in my mind when i say, “i loved you”, sometimes with all my heart and sometimes with it busted up inside and hurting but it was the best i could do in those moments faintly falling into that night of beauty and black. There will be others to replace these holes where things once were and others to mingle minds together as often lost lovers do with memory and dream.

When everything is said and more words just trouble time, possibly one last warm embrace could carry us to another dimension, a place where everything is in the right place, a place where there is no need to remove, replace, re-do, a place just right the way it is. Possibly one last breath of your love could smother my soul forever. That alone, could give me the strength to die from here.

days pass, avenues arise…..

The Duncan Garage Cafe and Robert, Magician.

It’s a gray day of light rain and a shallow moist wind blows free across the sky. I sit here at the Duncan Garage Cafe with a coffee and the 39 Days of July softly slides thru the atmosphere from across the street to today. A quiet folk singer possibly on his first debut creases the view of sound easy, almost unnoticed. I sit with some dreams scattered across the mindscape weaving in and out like a blanket secure warm questioning. I sit with this soft rain and each one of these fine drops sifting thru the memory of the universe for someone like me to pick up on a few thoughts and heave them around in a welcoming skull to develop a scene or two.

scenes:
Tanxxxx bounced across the street with a bunch of whole paragraphs shaking up the air like a gray day does. Conversations we both shared in delight, in a day like this. That was yesterday somewhere gone now for who knows how long into one of those delicate drops of slim water. She was a rare beauty lost amongst the rest of us and missed.

Hanxxxx in a real reality swung thru a Garage Cafe door, the door hitting my table and almost knocking off my coffee mug and spilling a hot coffee unto my computer as Tanxxxx once did. Strange, the way realities move across the pages and touch space of whole worlds apart that i get to see, feel, live within. Hanxxxx is a Garage freind, a beautiful pre-mid aged woman with a couple of kids and an energy well conditioned in the shamanic witch realms: including the mystery of local indigenous plants and their dimensions of magic. We shared stories of myths intertwined with scenes of ourselves mixed up in synchronicities too bazaar to not notice or forget. Odin, crows, magic mushroom scenarios, all interconnected woven like a macrame net from the over-worlds of universal secrets. Neither of us knows anything for sure, and we know that, and that is everything in such discussions……not to end up in false predictions and philosophies made of steel, plastics and fluffy air.

She departed in good spirits and left me here, free, alone again, of course, naturally.

It’s getting lonely, the years are smothered with endings everywhere. In the autumn-years things change slower knowing they have this darkness closer, approaching. That is one of many descriptions that enters the present space more often than before. This is age aging, nothing one can do about it, just stay sane into the mystery hanging around, accept everything as a wall would. Be quiet more often, attention with no intention.

Shanxxxx popped into view from out of nowhere, what a pleasant surprise. I knew she and her cat Mojo had returned from months of adventure in Costa Rico, and Mexico as Sasha, Kachi and I. We have a lot to talk about and rescheduled a time to mull over our experiences and relations with the structures of the world ever encroaching into our minds so forcefully, regrettably, dangerously and all with some twisted beautiful love. The order of novel plans seeping into our worlds like a disease, a virus look-a-like, unreal in nature and persistent and something you can’t ignore. Possibly Mexico will suck us back, possibly things will change more smooth, easy to move about without political-biochemistry cursing our natural nature.
It will be nice to hear and feel her love. Life is love in the end and kindness is ultimately the way to be, so we shall hear soon a little of what we think we know.

A Silent Silhouette Across the Waves

In other realms there are moments one would die for, one does die for. There is a love that is so intense it creates everything, silently and with beauty no mind can know; only the heart beats this drum uniting all, the pulse of reality, the pure essence of all change, the winds of peace and time. This is where the earth mother warms the wombs of life, speaks meaning into the freedom of spirit. I walk into this mystery with the night, alone, slow shadows spreading across this perfect landscape and sweet beauty stretching along the horizon thru waves of eternity tingling within my mind. Sleep and dreams thru nothingness engulfs me.

It is such a shame so many have lost true faith in our mother, replacing her with mechanical intelligence and its false prophets of deceitful reason circular, cursing the free spirits with chains of altered genetics and deadly chemicals. This is the nature of the many of man in times as these.

Rising Down Along the Streets in Innocence

I could have done so many things, if only i hadn’t fallen into this land of wonder, this hole of insight and torture, this love with you and all your dreams, all your charms, your sweet fragrance. If only i had walked across the plains of time alone, across the landscape of multi-coloured space, across this universe on a silver leaf, a love true and simple forever to the end. Here i am closing in on the last flight with you, all your evenings left on the broken shelves, your sweet desires lifting, letting go, your love entangled and worn. I am content to move within this, it’s been a good long life thru the forests and desserts and i’m ready to float now within your dream. Lets’ be on with it, the night is closing in, the birds are whistling their evening tunes and the sky is folding in on itself, i feel your love healing my soul, your heart filling me with serenity. blessed nite.

Listening to the sounds of the past, friends weave thru the psychedelic moments and the rooms of smoke and alcohol and music and dead on blues filling the blood of wandering souls everywhere…….memories last breath fading softly across the harmonies of change.

‘There is no meaning behind anything, it is all out front, in plain view smothered in mist, disguised as hidden’, says a long echo swirling down from the halls of eternity. There is a reason for everything, it is often said, yet the minds reason crumbles when it stumbles upon a hearts knowing and honours it with the label ‘coincidence’. The minds logic habitually gets nervous and falls apart when truth comes crawling around for no apparent reason; a little mystery, a big mystery, ‘it must all be mystery in the end and the beginning too’, says a defeated shakin reason.

Thoughts Falling on Walls and Halls and Stairways

We have been fooled into thinking that everything worthwhile must have a structural continuity as definite but i, doesn’t think so. If that were true every word would be condemned to not jump around in the alphabet and the selection would be enormously mathematically limited. Sometimes new letters need to be created just to exaggerate realities imagined, stretch the truth within its own waters.

I move from one paragraph to another like the days move into the weather. Nothing is prepared for the future like flexibility. The constant awareness of change, change is the continuity of mystery, never knowing anything for certain is the game with players like reason, intuition, nonsense, and paradox with a goal post of endlessness, just to excite the realms.

Explorations of a Photographic Artist

When i was a young boy, i dreamt like a dreamer does, destroying any perfection with perfect sense, like seeing the world upside down; lying on the floor and looking up, and there, sitting on the top of a wooden doorway with my feet hanging down into the plastered ceiling, walking across the ceiling-floor past a fountain of a dangling chandelier to my lookout, the lintel top of a window, my ledge to rest my excited elbows and to look down upon an upside down world fall, fold and bend perfectly normal into the streets. That, many years later developed into an art form of upside-down puddle reflections….i suppose.

This story has no beginning with no end, just the feeling of unsettling moods intertwining themselves like one breath to another, deep, shallow, short and long, slow, soft, panicking. The earth moves like this thru the cosmos with man constantly attempting and endlessly failing to limit eternity into some form of context, as if infinity was a concept.

Covidity has the world by the balls. The art-craft of virology has lifted some to the highest fears and drowned others in delight. The ideal of science has sworn minds into straight jackets, taken people to the edges of insanity where devious creatures roam. I stand alone in my understanding, separate in my heart, connected to the trees of life and love. I walk with an immune structure perfectly connected and intelligent. I own absolutely no fear of dying, it comes and goes like the wind. I am free in my silence, i am the right to live as life, octaves above worn science, religion, philosophy and thought. I am life love…..sometimes, i see it that way.

times are rusting, wearing thin – beauty hiding deep within

Possibly the next metamorphosis of man will be to rise above the chains of thought and its persistent nature of believing in itself and creating illusions perceived as real. Possibly man will transcend the insidious nature to control its environment in rigid design. There appears to be a time-space continuum where the creator and consciousness are co-creators for no apparent absolute reason but to exist to live within a substance similar to what we might attempt to describe as love as its essence. All is speculation but there is this gnawing feeling, weird knowing, that there is much more than this, this strangeness so strange with multi-layered eternal-mist our mind construct can never know. Off to the space where ‘nothing is real and nothing to get hung about’…my all time favourite lyrics….wish i had written something so beautiful so real as ‘strawberry fields forever’, but at-least i understand these words, here and there, at times when time falls apart, dissolves where freedom flies. ‘Let me take you down’. Thanks John Lennon.

It’s so strange to see people walking around masked in the hot sun in circular reasoning…….waiting i suppose for the next deadly viropox, and another boost into the new trans-human world; digitized. From research it has been acknowledged that there has not been one single virus isolated anywhere on this planet at anytime. It is all presupposed conclusions abstracted and media-ed across the globe to fill the pocket books of a chosen few and ultimately kill off the useless mass of eaters for some warped agenda by a group of psychopaths that believe they are entitled to own the world. The masses appear to not be able to conceive of such a simple plan to be real, to be executed with such finesse from the poorest serf to the executives of matters, governments and saints. They continue to refuse to see the possibilities and press on, living within their dystopia entertained and hypnotized, couched with their indifferences like a herd of snails…..and in rare occasions for short moments, i as many, have slid into this safe shelter under a shell moving slow across the fields of time; but short lived.

We See What We Want To See, But That’s Not Reality

Covidian delirium erupting across the wastelands, i sit here with my mouth on fire and a tongue feeling ill. They may own the main stream, but they can never touch the pure spring, the source of the hearts will.
Children and folk sacrificed on the lab-slab of political medicine as tattooed angels and mans lambs walk in herds doing the right thing, waiting in line for the safe jab, obedient and fooled by the very authority they adore. This world is messing with the world, roll back down your sleeve, we are not sacrificial lambs, adjust your trust to a higher science that respects the creation that created us, nature is our sacred earth.

Autumn Sasha

i moved on, turned the page, had enough,
my god it’s empty
damn, filling up quick
memories, dreams, alphabets
old shoes and avenues
here i come again
patched up and ready
clear skies and you

writing and images by patrick wey

B100 … illusions of love and heroes..

Levon Helm, once a hero, now gone

If you have read any of my more profound writings you may realize that some, if not all of your favourite heroes, leaders, gurus, artists, writers, are mostly, no more than someone like myself that really doesn’t know as much as you would like to believe they do. We’d like to believe that these unknowns, heroes are all so much more intelligent, spiritual, profound than they really are. It makes us feel safe. Media includes and excludes which enhances the trance, and that’s what we get, a facade wrapped in awkward realities. It is hard enough to know yourself (who ever that may be?) let alone another mind, but opinions keep on rolling on down the line, that’s the nature of the beast. When all is said and done, ‘we’re on our own’.

Teddy, fifteen in his backyard

To my friends that pretend to gag when they see my Blog pop up, if anything, you may realize that your heroes are nothing more than a more talented, well spoken, articulate version of just another mind wandering thru these streets of deep strange times and corrupted space trying to make sense in their own ways of this odd and beautiful world/universe…..just like me, but you may think you know me and think to yourself, no fucking way does that guy know this shit…and that’s right he probably doesn’t, (not in your terms) or does he?

Dylan is just one of my favourite artists and i am in awe often with his creations…….but he’s just an ordinary guy, at heart, with non-ordinary talents and a lot of hard work..he knows that, i know that….he says it in so many ways, if you listen carefully; just like me, cept i don’t have the fame, the money, the draw of the cards, the turn of the dice, the fate of the late, nights destiny and his talent, but i have mine and that is the way it is, what i got, and at my age, the game is almost thru, here………i’m fine with that, most of the time.

Iggy Pop, the 80’s

The art and the artist are like two completely separate strangers strangely connected, possibly, as earth and sky. The earth looks up at the sky and wonders when in the hell is it gonna fall and show it’s true colours and the sky gazes down with its wavering winds and wishes it could sleep, just for awhile, hidden along those soft and silent curves upon those mysterious plains. They, the two of them join as a kind-of ‘one’ in collaboration along with the turbulent seas and the rushing streams, silver lakes, clouds of water with a thirst for creation that unites them. The art or the artist, whom to trust, whom to believe……….’trust in no one’, the rain speaks, ‘let deep unspoken faith be the process, be the known, that is your best bet’…..’pick the queen of hearts’.

I want to thank the ones that have had the guts to acknowledge my posts, even when it was not socially acceptable. When many in this world seem to see nothing but black and white, wrong and right, while reality often weaves its truth thru gray, multicoloured endless questions. Thanks to the ones that exposed their shallow scared safe distance, also, tho you may not know who you are.

These are the times for all of us peasants to come together, rich and poor, bright and dull, to unite under the human heart of love, as trite and simple as that may seem, it is the only way. Jealousy and conceit is rusting our souls, this is the time to surrender to the hands of our maker, beyond the terms of the earth, great mystery, god; die to whence you came, we are of one purpose, somehow, someway, written deep within the heart, deep within within. When you listen carefully, honestly, sometimes the silence will speak in light, within the trees, the wind, ‘all creation is connected to one heart and you will know’.

Patrick, friends and enemies…

An ancient saying i stumbled upon along the way….’Some of your friends may become your greatest enemies and your enemies may become your friends, so treat them all alike’. That really does say chapters, volumes and with a simple, ‘love all’……as best you can, when you can and if you fall off the horse into the realms of darkness, and as soon as it be known, don’t question a thing, just get back in the saddle and keep riding.

Thanks again friends, enemies, life and this new energy of death ever slipping in so closer and closer; makes me aware that i do really care of what you think about me but not so much as to hide and die in the closets of my mind, as so many tend to do.

My enemies will hate me even more after this, possibly, probably, and my real friends will caress me even tighter….what a strange planet….the earth will grow stronger as the world continues to die…….that’s just the way it is.

Love in the streets…

down in the calle people are struggling
for a few strips of bread some are begging
some are taking pics and posting smiles
others are eating fancy meals with too much money

words too lazy to walk and thoughts too tired to think
the struggle has worn itself thin as an ancient taboo
faded down streets of glory like an old tattoo
and it’s closing time for us with whom knows who

the rolling hills used to roll right past my door
now they don’t do that anymore
the age of reality has sunk deep
low, down here, where everything is asleep

the heart ate my truth and bit into my soul
if it weren’t for my love i’d be nowhere at all
the masked men and the demons disaster
this world’s on it’s last leg, a last layer of plaster

too bad your mind loves the grooves where you suffer so
that you can’t rise above to step into the dance
and while you hesitate things are fading fast
often in life, you get but one chance

The WaterTower on Duke St across the plains of the Mount Hope Cemetery – Kitchener On Can

I love you Christine….

I fell in love last night in a dream with Christina. She lived two doors down for a couple of years when i was thirteen or so. I’m not sure if i had ever spoken to her but i noticed her every move when she entered a scene in and around the streets. I knew her brother Terry or maybe they were cousins, yes, she lived upstairs and he down but both shared the front door. Terry played baseball in the water tower field sometimes, i didn’t know him well, never asked about Christine.

I went to Mrs Heinbucks one day, down at the end of Stall Ave, possibly that was the day i went to apologize to her for whom knows what, we, our gang were the rowdy ones in the neighbourhood. We played lacrosse endlessly and the water-tower field was just beyond her back yard. Teddy lived a few houses back towards Duke St, which is where i lived down on the other side of the entrance to the water-tower and its huge field, or so it seemed at the time. Our lacrosse indian rubber or a sponge ball would often bounce into Mrs Heinbucks back yard. Her yard was over grown with shrubs and wild foliage of all kinds. We loved it but difficult to find a lost ball. Looking thru her front window one day, her hall way was strewn with stacks of old newspapers the ceiling high. Some called her a witch. We didn’t even know what a witch was, some scary person, is what we thought. Old decrepit, unusual, ugly, mean, something like that.

Chrisitne came to the door, i was surprised and totally lost control of my voice and my posture went flopping around like a rag doll. What was she doing here? I quickly maintained some composure and asked for Mrs Heinbuck. She hummed and hawed and said “sure, but she’s busy”, and i quickly interrupted and said, “ok, no problem, i’ll return later”…and i might have said, “thanks” and left nervously, awkward…..the beginnings of love?

I remember Christine being the sweetest thing that had grown in and around that neighbourhood and i talked to her, but once in my life, until last night. Last night we were in love, she was cuddled up beside me and i was telling her about the creation of the gelatine slides i produced that the producer of the CBC documentary on myself so much loved. Her father was curious and asked me numerous questions as Christine and i cuddled and laughed, hugged, joked and just loved one another. We were in tune, one love, immersed in a ‘now’ of sweet sweet young and tender romance.

That carried on until i awoke, sixty yeas later. Here in Mexico in some apartment over looking the pre dawn skyline of San Miguel de Allende. I instantly realized, deep, how i terribly miss that feeling of being in love. There is nothing in this life that can compare. Possibly that is why i have gone from one love to the next. When it faded, i faded and things fell apart. Apparently, there is a so called deeper ancient love that caresses the changes as they appear, possibly, but i believe most hang on out of fear, loss, loneliness and the horror, as one gets older, to die without any love at all.

Is it all about love, simple love, innocent love, deep torn worn love, love of every nature and how it weaves itself thru the strands of the mind and time, always ready to invite you in. Is mature love simple love made simple again? Possibly, but i desired that innocent, pure and fresh sweet spirit of new young love.

I loved you Christine, last night and possibly all my life was just waiting for this moment for you to appear. Now you’re gone and I’m back in the vacant neighbourhoods of my mind.

Every one is gone, returned to their ancient lives. Ted, my adopted little brother, Edjew and his pigeons and his beautiful sister Theresa, Helmut, my best friend from four houses down the road on Bismark Ave, Les, down the rail tracks across from the feared Hillers, the big gang of 13 kids up on that high hill over looking the territory. I never got to know them until i was a young man of 15 and entered high school with Mark Hiller in my class and now Joe, his older brother has been in and out of my life ever since. Just talked to him the other day. Reestablished our bond and now the last bend is sucking us around the last views. It won’t be long now.

Possibly Christine felt for me as i did for her, also, way back then. We were so in love last night. A few years later i met someone similar, Carolyn and she took me in for 6 years thru the storms and fantasies of the sixties and our youth. We had a love, as they say, you don’t find every day, karma possibly. The early moments of pure love, there is nothing worth more in this most weary world.

Carolyn in the seventies…which is after the sixties.

I went on to others, love has always been my deepest love, everything else is secondary, trite really. In my mind, woman are the flowers of paradise, their beauty is incomparable, their love is perfect, magnificent, tender and whole. Us men boys know this and they feel it.

Goodnite Christine, thanks for your love, our love, so close, pure and so long ago, I’m such a silly man.

Images and writing by patrick wey

PS: i don’t know anything for certain, cept, that no one else does neither, probably, fortunately………my heroes died long ago; the way is no way at all, so do what you will, but if you will……..be kind with love, that’s everything.

Instant Revisit of this Article, a critique of sorts…

As in ‘Instant Karma’ a song written and performed by John Lennon, i felt this piece needed to be revisited instantly, even before i publish the original ‘writing’. There have been numerous ideas/concepts swarming around my skull in times of self doubt in the last month since i had began writing this ‘writing’. I felt the need to do an, ‘Instant-Revisit’ to ‘illusions of love and heroes..’

To begin with, i feel at times that this article paints me arrogant, full of shit, manipulative and a number of other negative characteristics that haunts my inner stability, so much so, that i thought that it would be a great exercise to point these issues out and do some in-article self therapy, analysis, transparency, as is often called in our modern times.

I do find it difficult to know whether my writing is any good at all, worth the while for anyone to spend the time to travel along these thoughts as they lay themselves out upon this dessert of nouns and coyotes on the run. I have had some positive encouragement by some of my friends that are respected in various fields from medicine, poetry, out-of-the-box thinkers, writers, artists and house wives to factory workers, a wide variety of our society…….but still, i just don’t know. CBC bought and played past work of mine including a multi-image show of Vern Harper some 25 years ago and did a documentary on myself entitled ‘A Path of His Own’. They highlighted my photography and a song i wrote, a ballad of Vern Harper explaining parts of his life. That is all so long ago, vague, irrelevant it feels. Possibly i am fooling myself again, in ways i can’t comprehend. How much of all this matters? Time passing by, so many roads, so many.

I live in a rather peculiar universe in my head and yes i suppose everyone does. But it is obvious that the majority of people have a variety of relatively common, traditional, trendy sets of heroes floating around their brains, like a carrot dangling in front of a mule, they believe, i don’t. I left all that behind years ago, i trust no one and question everything. It doesn’t take a genius to manoeuvre thru that suburb. And there are those in their high-rise cells that are terrified of flying any higher, sinking too low, so they attempt almost nothing out of the ordinary, follow the flow, live and criticize every attempt to release themselves and free themselves from their shackles and then curse them that are free.

That is the way i see it sometimes, often. It is difficult to understand realities and not fall into lecturing and yet teach somehow, someway. This has the danger of appearing arrogant and more so than that, being arrogant, preaching and not walking ones talk. That is the battle. I weave in and out of these terrains.

I am not always strong, i am not always weak. I fear the unknown, i throw myself into it. I know much about uncertainty which is a mystery to me. I attempt to be honest and end foolish at times. I am not a liar, though i have lied, unintentionally. I mean well and have strived to be a good man and many times have failed miserably.

Possibly these writings may have some meaning and can help another wanderer along his or her path. This life is extremely short when you round the last bends. It is important to make amends with others but more so to yourself. This self that is constantly on the move, rearranging itself, deteriorating, re-inventing its nature.
It is a mystery that i can feel love somehow everywhere for everyone and everything. Thoughts of jealousy, envy, conceit, deceit do swim in and out of my perception but ultimately love, caring, honesty, kindness is the truth that lifts my heart aware.
So with that i say i write and create artistic images purely for the world thru myself. May you get something from my endeavours. All my friends, enemies, acquaintances, for in the end, we all fall thru darkness into the light. That is what i tend to think……at the moment.
patrick wey

Covid Control Observations:
Since back in BC i realize more and more that this plan moving forward will need numerous individuals willing to control others and expose their behaviour for social credit scores. This procedure was much more dominant through-out the chain stores in Mexico as it has been here since day one. The giant Corporations are the first to implement new procedures for their One Governing agendas and smaller suffering stores follow suit and or die. An army of bullies world wide to execute the mandates. These mental types come from all classes; and social media to social credit is the path. We the passive will ultimately win thru eons of suffering. Hello new world coming, i’ll be out in the garden for now, for awhile, if you’re looking for me.
patrickwey
& ps: to klaus, billy, all the wives behind successful men, all your coconspirators, cronies……you’re all going down, there are many more of us than you may think, waking, seeing, preparing.

B99 … these are the times that have been talked about, prophesized…

***Kachina Times Along the High Sierras***

These are the times that have been talked about, prophesized. Manifestations of thousands of sacred books and eons of teachings from around the world are secretly silently transcending through the winds of change. The evil root in the mind of man is being exposed to ears that are listening. The awake aware are moving quietly in the vortical living free waters of love. All the spiritual religious philosophical scientific teachings are aligning silently in the predestined night sky. Truth from beyond all disciplines is tacitly weaving its web in the heart of man.
We are but a necessary part of a great mystery moving across the realms of time thru space of creation and destruction. Now is the way of the snake wavering across the nations, the purification light assembling in the hearts of the worthy, the ones that have chosen heart over mind, nature over machine, love over evil powers.
The numb, the followers, the weak will find grace along the trail of deceit in moments of revelation and some of them, also, will rise above their exploited and petrified brains.

In the valley of the lord the little people, trolls and ancient ancestors are emerging in the darkness of the night, the return of the magical ways, the new dawn is rising slowly in the hidden landscapes of the new unified mind. It is simply a matter of time before the ignoble oligarchs are flushed out and crucified.
The third world war is well on its way with death, despair, destruction, whereas light is dark and heaven is hell within the sacred soils of the earth, this diminishing distance between right and wrong is squeezing out the truth.
Test tubed control, needles of nano injections crushing the cells of humanity into robots, slaves, mere heartless spiritless entities of meat and brawn. This is the way this world ends, a slight whimper, a sheer cry along the squirmy avenues of rigid-time, biological dust and boulevards of chemical dirt.

***Vern Harper after council with the spirits (sweat lodge)***

Endless facts of this and finite rational numbers of that are filling up the hard wired centres of digital data with algorithms for an order of control to monopolize every living organism that exists on this sensitive surrendering earth. This is the way the end ends, slowly, methodically, horrific.
Transformations of all the gods are weaving in and out of existence as trillions of stars on an open desert night. Everything is coming together and falling apart as a heart beat, expanding, collapsing, pulsating into an eternal paradise of creations with magnitudes of endless nothingness and everythingness. All the prophets that have ever been and will ever be are united in council in the sacred circles of light in the timeless space aligning in the hearts of man.

Man and all his interchangeable entities are talking in tongues along the roads of service, songs into space of sounds sacred are emanating across the globe, the purification is here, the way is clear, the few that chose correctly, love, surrendering love will judge the many, both the ruthless and the lost sheep strew across the highlands.

On the open road to freedom the thick air will lift round the crashing souls and the split veins of micro maniacs will burst. The trails of torture and deceit will burn from the insides till love smothers the avenues with truth. The dark side can never over power the light, it’s in the nature of the universe and any fool can see, if one should desire to open up their hearts and let the pure mind be. That is the way it is, there is no in-between, a wave of endless possibilities collaborating eternally is of loves great mystery. You have a choice, to surrender to the mystery, love or endlessly suffer wth shallow and desperate knowing; it is up to you.

**The Medium is the Message – just another Manikin on the Wall**…

In the mean time, lap-coat murders, suffering, deceit, torture will be centre stage, so buckle up and open wide your eyes, if you are here now, you are in for one helluva challenging journey. Radiation, altered cells, genetic manipulations, wifi controlled mind-maps for a psychotic paradise is inscribed on the ordered tables of this dying new world. Wake up, facts are over flowing, what you once believed is dead, twisted, burnt; the prison is you, the key to unlock the gate is waiting patiently in your heart.
Throw away all your conclusions, dive into the night light of your heart, surrender to the earth as if it were your last breath and maybe, just maybe, you will awaken in the mystery of the light and you will know, that you will grow and everything is going to be purified. Simple love and a strong healthy pure spirit will conquer all, it is written in the stars, it is inscribed on the soul of the heavens, the super intelligence, the great mystery; nothing can change love, no perception can alter the absolute. Every theory dissolves into the mystery. Be. Simplicity travels direct to the heart, the heart is an entrance to the all knowing mystery, the silent pure mind. Find the heart and enter.
Thought is confined to the shallow relative vast domain of the abstract. No matter how you twist it, love, truth, god, the great mystery cannot be known with thought. Thought is a sacred tool that constantly demands to believe in what it thinks. That is its nature and our dilemma. Travel as often as you can to the other side, the absolute; simply to develop a sense of balance with what is mistakenly called the Great Spirit, Mystery, Love, God, Intelligence, Absolute. This sacred space cannot be defined.
Time to walk, let these thoughts drown in their own waters and clear the air for reality to be.

EFFORT of After Thoughts!
Pay Attention….Internationally Individual Sovereignty is on the run. Human versus Machine!
The super wealthy understand perfectly well that to control the money is to control the world. The super wealthy are twice as rich as they were just a few years ago and that is on an escalation ramp upwards. Super inflation, starvation, bribery and deceit will control the masses. There are mostly pawns in this game that have been twisted and fed with useless scum from the top, to implement their desires and to re-freeze their frozen beliefs.
The stage is set, the rules have been lodged, the fine details are written in the multi levelled plan, the reset is total dependency upon everything you are and can imagine and more. It doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not, it is coming for you.

This is the fight, step up and be counted, the sooner, the better it will be, for everyone.
Educate yourself, open up to the strange possibilities that are looming over us all. Don’t be censored and don’t censor, talk it all out, find the wave within you heart, catch it and keep swimming. You are the answer to the future of mankind. With out you the controllers have nothing to control. Waking up to what is, is the trail, it ends when you end.

This song somewhat expresses my life long quest to question everything that thought tends to weave into belief.

Beyond No Doubt in Jest (Song Written in 1971 by Patrick Wey)
Take me on an endless trip
And remove that’s all unreal
This road hasn’t been an easy one
That has led my thoughts to feel
That all that really matters
Is ta know that you don’t know
But it’s so hard
Gettin’ on that oneness road

Memories hit, old habits grip
Puts ya right back down
And the more you fall the harder it is
With pleasures all around
Makes it so hard
Gettin’ on that oneness road
Where all that really matters
Ia ta know that you don’t know

You better leave i tell myself
Or they’ll kill all your resistance
Then plaster you with secure beliefs
That depends on their assistance
And you’ll be where
You swore you’d never go
And you’ll deny
What you don’t really know

Take me away from this weary crowd
Far beyond my dreams
Open up to me one door
That closes when one leaves
Take me fadin, tripin
Through that mighty storm
I promise i’ll fight the night
Until the early morn
Where all that really matters
Is ta know that you don’t know
But it’s so hard getting on
Just getting on that oneness road
Fall 71
Thomas P Wey

Thoughts On Reason
Reason is a residue from the intelligent knowing of the great mystery channeled thru the mind of time. It is inadequate to understand reality without paradox and that is hardly an understanding at all. Thought is a beautiful tool but full of conceit. If man is not careful, the mind can believe it is greater than its creator. This is the war that is coming to fruition upon this earth and in the universe of mechanical dreams of modern monkey business.

Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

***Just Another Dreamer – Original Human Type***

B98 … I was such a fool.

**Big Hat** in the Southwest with Patrick

Isn’t it a pity
Now, isn’t it a shame
How we break each other’s hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other’s love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn’t it a pity

Some things take so long
But how do I explain
When not too many people
Can see we’re all the same
And because of all their tears
Their eyes can’t hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them

Isn’t it a pity
George Harrison
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIbVWNy7HBk

Passed a train full of fools on the way towards the gate. Watched them roll up sleeves, recite anthems, get down on their knees. I just had to look, it was their smile that tore my heart apart. Later that afternoon, sun blaring loud and screams silently weaving in and around the streets, noticed some love scrambling up along the road side waiting for a saviour or two to open up some gates, but by the time night rolled in, it was senseless, too late.

Headed out to nowhere on my way thru a mind, caught a glimpse of solitude swaying around a lost sign, spent a few days trying to convince myself that this was all for real, left for the horizon one hand on the hammer and the other on a wheel.

Passed a train full of fools on the way towards………………………………

Got off, settled in, sang some song that landed on my voice. Was calm when you turned your head and kissed my saddened wounds. Felt the pleasure of your love late, late into the afternoon. Heard someone say, ‘hey, i would like to, but i can’t stay’. The ways of a stranger in times as these lifts one up to the great rewards promised from a cafe down a street, but it’s all in the game, it ends dead, late, just before the gate.

**Out on the road to nowhere with Big Hat**

It is a crying shame the way people have been treating each other. The injected against the none, the veiled tearing off the heads of the naked. The believers killing the adverse-believers. How did we get to this? How can family and friends disown others because they refuse to believe in what they believe? How can they smash love against the walls? Have we all gone insane? Really? I used to be able to disagree with your beliefs in jesus, buddha, liberals, laws, science’s and what have you, but somehow we can’t refuse a jab and sit at the same table, drink from the same glass, enjoy our company in that low evening light getting dark.

We’re excommunicated, it’s obvious, dead to our families, many friends and acquaintances, diseased, deranged, condemned until death. Don’t bullshit us, we can feel it, we ain’t blind, your sweet love stings. So many fake hearts crawling across the glamour of split plastic forked-lips down main streets across the globe. It makes me sick to the core of my reality. It’s all so unreal so unbelievable how this world has turned against itself. I have heard of so many families torn apart. How could a global health organization turn us against one another? How could we let that happen? How did they succeed? In years to come this will be the great hoax that exposed the truth of the depth of the herd as a shallow stream of self indulgent phoney limited lovers. How much more will the hurt have to hurt before real love steps up to the gate, walks thru to say hello in there, hello mate?

Well i still care about you, you can still enter my home, you can still dream thru my windows….you are my brother, my sister as stubborn as we might be, the simple love will survive, you can’t own it, buy it, destroy it. If love depended on our minds, there’d be hardly any love at all. Get back, to where we once belonged.

So possibly some of us will wake up before death comes to drag us away. What is the point in standing up for corporate institutionalized dogma criteria while lifes love is floating by just above these golden sewers of hell. I for one will welcome anyone that wishes to explore that fresh air where the fair hand of caring comes first. There is no perfection here along the shores of this world, wake up, this day is the day where all things possible come alive. Hey, take this sincere embrace and past it along, lets laugh again from the depths of our guts, let’s be the light thru these heavy scenes; they will surely die.

***Big Hat in the SouthWest, dead mufflers and vacant stations***

I remember when we were younger and times were simpler, so we thought. I am not totally sure what you thought, now that i know a little of how you are reacting to this new world and the order it is imposing. Oh well, i am not really sure if any of that matters, at all, now. Remember, how we laughed, as if nothing much mattered cept the moment, how music drove right into our souls, the nights walking around doing nothing and talking about something. When the differences seemed less important, something that could pass by, something that would be forgotten. Things are different now.

It makes me sad at times, as i’m sure it does you. Really blows me away sometimes when i think from somewhere, way out there…….what, we are being crucified for different beliefs in how we handle are bodies health? Wow, let it alone…wow, wish i could but the whole world is jamming jabs into our veins as if it was oxygen, something necessary to survive…it ain’t. Needles full of control and deceit.

How do we get thru this? We can’t even talk about it. I know i have been shunned by most family and friends, i’m not the only one. It’s a world problem now. Dialog seems to be the only way around this awkward curse cast upon our world. Most will not open up to see the possibilities of entanglement, too weird to acknowledge, much simpler to condemn what they consider as absurd, conspiracy hunches and therefore continue to build walls and live within these walls……….but their rooms are turning dark and they’re dragging this beautiful sacred earth into it.

I will continue to walk this road with the friends left with the cobble stone conclusions beneath. ‘This is the way the world dies, not with a bang but with a whimper’…..T.S.Elliot

The hollow men, the slaves in orbit, the weary and down trodden. We are the world, we are the magic in the night, the devastation of day, we are the people, the masked, the obedient, the dreamers, the thinkers, the lovers and haters, we are one divided in tender trembling hearts.

Now that we are used to drastic measures, after the shadows comes the hard dark black. The plan, as i speak will tear your souls apart if you let um, and the hollow minds will suck you in with determined acceptance, and your world will die, not with a bang but with a whimper.

I Won’t Back Down –Jonny Cash….. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8i5NLyXZdc

Tom Petty version… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1G4ustq-kmQ

I can’t even hear the thoughts you think, you’re that far behind.

BIG CHANGES RESTING IN MY HEART – I am so happy today, yesterday. I’m such an idiot, so stupid. I finally figured out facebook. It is like going to your in-laws for dinner or a first date or a job interview or something similar. Never discuss politics, religion or anything you may be quite concerned or obsessed about; don’t ever torture anyones beliefs.. Be polite, compliment often, nothing very serious or loonng, laugh a lot and remember birthdays, celebrations, anniversaries. Be light and if you must be heavy, be certain that you follow the trend, the majority or you will end up being condemned with few words, ostracized, shunned. Trust me newbies and oldies alike, i’ve been through it all. Post cute pictures containing animals, babies, elders, family members; soft edges, little poems. With all that being said, thank you all for your time, you are all so patient, kind, articulate, responsible, caring, honest, forgiving, mindful, faithful, loyal, eloquent, and punctual. I love you all for that more than you may ever know. Gee, i hope i didn’t over do it. ………. it makes it all so easy now, thanks again and again….and yea, again, what a fool i’ve been and an idiot too!

***A Fool in the Desert Dancing in Big Hat***

“The Fool On The Hill”

Day after day, alone on a hill
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still
But nobody wants to know him
They can see that he’s just a fool
And he never gives an answer

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

Well on the way, head in a cloud
The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud
But nobody ever hears him
Or the sound he appears to make
And he never seems to notice

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

And nobody seems to like him
They can tell what he wants to do
And he never shows his feelings

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

He never listens to them
He knows that they’re the fools
They don’t like him

The fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round
Paul & John the Beatles
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsRatIMUSu8

writing and images (all old time selfies) by patrick wey

Many more images of interchangeable friends and family and foe here

**My Mother Learned to Listen In Big Hat as I am**

***Hat Man out on the Range with a Broken Car in a Wonderful World***

***The Man in the Hat with a Thousand Faces Standing Perfectly Still***

***Patrick at 35 in an alleyway of Toronto***

**Patrick’s four sisters, and mothers – Barbara, Rosalyn, Trudy, Carolyn…i miss them all**.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
lose, and start again at your beginnings,
never breathe a word about your loss
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
‘a woman, my daughter‘

B97 … up past the dawn

**San Miguel de Allende from a narrow high cobble stone road**

We left Orizaba and Kachi’s caged animal friends behind and headed towards San Miguel de Allende. Sasha found a place online outside the city that appeared quaint and beautiful. A community of a few small casitas down a difficult road. Sasha was terribly sick all day with flue like symptoms, stomach ache, headaches, a complete mess on the nine hours on the road. Trying to rest in the back seat with Kachi in the front. We arrived close and headed up a cobble stone road that was incredibly bumpy for about four kilometres forcing me to a few k an hour. Then another turn onto an even worse road and eventually arrived according to google maps and thank god for g maps. It was a gate with no building in site, locked and no internet service. I was frustrated and tried to keep it confined but some of it escaped into the fresh desert air getting thicker. Sasha got out with a blanket and proceeded to be ill, lying on the earth while i scampered about tired, irritated with no solution forming across our minds. We saw another gate a few hundred metres down the road and Sasha suggested i walk down to see if i could get service to call the owners. Half way down i decided to walk back and get her in the car and drive there and if that failed, we’re outa there. We found service and talked to the owner Arleta. She said, ‘drive in’ and she would be on her way to meet us. When we met i expressed my views of terrible marketing, not letting us know how bad the road was but she was charming and eased the atmosphere with her polish calming presence. We left it at that, though it lingered on in my mind for awhile, i had to focus on Sasha, her illness.

The place was and is great. A beautiful land of cactuses of all sorts and beautiful adobe casitas, a common kitchen and a few dogs that accepted Kachi right off. Sasha headed for the bed immediately, we eventually joked about my attitude and it later repainted another memory which i will describe later on down the page.

**San Miguel de Allende…narrow roads thru hills and old stone**

The day broke with sun light streaming in the eastern window and us feeling much better. Sasha recovered by the next day and we just hung out and talked and got to know the owners, Arleta and Brian and her fifteen year old son Diego. We are situated on the side of a long slightly sloping hill over looking a wide desert valley with low soft curve mountainous hills silhouetted against the ends of the earth where the sky bends down to kiss the land.

I never expected that Arleta, a middle aged beautiful polish women would be a medicine woman conducting sweat lodge ceremonies right here just a number of metres from our cosita. Something was shaping in this relationship between my mind and the spirits surrounding, i could feel it, i knew something was coming, i couldn’t ignore the trail any longer, destiny was pulling me to the fire for a purification whether i wanted it or not.

In the next few days we travelled in to San Miguel a couple of times with Arleta and she showed us around. A beautiful city of narrow streets, high hills, ancient buildings of stone and brick, cobble stone roads, a magical fairy land from any perspective. We were slowly falling in love with the area and our hosts. Doors seemed to be opening for Sasha and myself. My mind was eliminating the full shelves of covid/world control information daily and replacing this space with that undistinguished energy that comes from the debts of mother earth. A long time coming, this road thru man and beast. Things were changing, i could feel it slowly filling the cells of my heart.

Turns out that a sweat was happening in a few days and of course we were invited. I hadn’t had a sweat since we left Ontario over five years ago. From doing sometimes three sweats a week to running my own lodge for ten years, that was a long recess. I knew it and other parts of my mind and heart were well aware of this lapse. I was on a sabbatical and it was ending. I am older now and to fall back into the path was a little easier to accept from here. I had been given an incredible life with many changes and many experiences that few have encountered. I was getting ready for another dive into death, the void, the sacred fields of nothingness where everything is born. Scared, yes at times, but that is all a part of the journey….you just step into the circle and perform, surrender to the powers that brought you here and will take you away…….as Vern would say ‘this red road never gets easier but it does get better’. Thats his words, an elder, a friend, a cree/irish medicine man now exploring the other side, i presume.

The streets of **San Miguel de Allende**

The sweat lodge ceremony came and went. Three hours abouts, a long one, normal here i hear. I was always taught ‘what happens in the lodge stays in the lodge’. That helps to keep it pure and safe. It brought many memories to the surface that i may need while in ceremony in Wirikuta, the sacred lands of grandmother peyote. In a few days we head towards her. It has been over thirty years since i went there three years in a row. I carry remnants that came to me the first time i was led there and now this remaining small piece of stone crystal has aided me back for the forth time. Things on the red road happen in fours, completes a cycle, ends something and brings something new into the space of a heart patiently secretly waiting. Things end and that can be difficult, hard on the mind, but the new things strengthen the heart with spirit, the engine, the power, the love to keep you walking true. It has been a long life, long road and i am thankful for the decisions that had brought these medicines to my heart. I still linger in regrets for lost loves, lost friends, family and twists and turns that altered realities that could have been. I don’t ponder on these but they surface at times, bring tears of heavy and soft light across the fields of my cheeks. That is the rewards of a life of hard trails and sweet love, deep darkness and intense light. Possibly the gemini in me explains a few of the difficulties that arose throughout these many years, possibly not. Thought itself has been my greatest enemy and also my dearest tool to swing me through the doors of perception, the spaces of the heart, voids and heavens, allies and enemies. My strength has always been my sincerity to exist free, the way of the heart is the only truth i know, it is the only way for a peaceful warrior, the only way to know love. Love is this energy, spirit that holds the universe together, it is the mystery that moves all things. You can’t own it, buy it, contain it, ask for it. You can’t feel it without truth, it is inseparable and truth lies still beyond all thought. Feelings mostly, are clusters of thought pretending to be something they are not. It is a long way to get somewhere and yet it is always so much closer than one might feel or think. I ask the earth and spirits of Wirikuta to allow me in, that i may surrender my heart and to be present to listen to the messages in your winds.

Thru a connection from Arleta we met a person that knows the lands of Wirikuta well and arranged for a cosita right there in the desert, minutes from the medicine, by foot.

**Sasha, Arleta and her ninety year old mom**

We arrived yesterday to here in Wirikuta, the desert over laying the land down from Real de Catorse where the sacred medicine grows. The Huichol and others have been coming here for thousands of years they say. I was here over thirty years ago for three years in a row with ceremonies of the sacrament of grandmother peyote. That changed my life and connected me with the northern tribes, Vern Harper and the sweats, vision quests, the rain dance and other ceremonies and ways. I am back here to pay tribute for the teachings that were implanted in my brain so many trails behind. There is a small community here of wanderers from various parts of the earth, living here cheap and walking the desert for change, for the medicine, for knowledge and life. Of course no one here is 73 as myself, much younger sincere people weaving in and out of the realities of this world.

We met a Polish woman whom took us on a walk and a number of buttons found us the same day we arrived. I began digesting some of the fruit on the walk. They are difficult to find and they show themselves in peculiar ways. Sasha at one point said to her self, so she thought, that i will only eat one if i find one, instantly she found two together. Later she said i will only eat what i find and again two more presented themselves to her immediately. I asked for nothing and found none but was given medicine from Veronica, our guide thru this sea of cactuses and this strange beautiful earth, a dry underwater ocean of unusual life. It was late afternoon and i was up all night, past the dawn. The time took me thru various scenes pleasant and unpleasant. I felt the powers of uncertainty everywhere, an unsatisfying feeling thru out. I ingested just enough to take me far in but not over the edge as my three pervious encounters so long ago had. The medicine stopped me from more, as it tends to do, which kept me lingering in this state from severe dimensions of beauty to uncomfortable visions dark and thick. In those dark moments the best way thru was to sing and let the power of sound vibrate thru my being. I asked for nothing but to listen to the voices of the earth and this was the answer; let the sound of earths songs be my protection and way thru life. Another theme that immersed myself into its arms was the incredible understanding of humanity being incredibly pitiful. Oliver, a medicine man teacher from my past would often begin his sweat lodge prayers with the words, ‘thank you mishomis, i am such a pitiful creature’ and carry on from there. I felt this human pitifulness as i had never felt it before. We are all so pitiful in our understanding of nature, creation and love. Dylan once used a line, ‘people that know more than they do’ which always struck me about the so many that carry on with certainties that don’t exist. We are so pitiful in our walk. With life so uncertain in every aspect of thought, the sound of earths songs are often the only reality that can keep one sane. That is what happened to me for many hours, to make certain i remember through out my walk on this earth to listen, listen to my song, help the pitiful creatures, my brothers and sisters with kindness, caring and love. We all so desperately need each others love. All though much of the time with grandmother peyote was difficult this time, and as she said, that ‘the understanding will come’, more and more now i realize it had to dig deep, very deep to keep my mind from wandering away from this realization, to have it scare me deep and severe into the realm of understanding so i may never forget to live pure and love and to be honest within my heart. We are all so pitiful in our knowing, love is the love that holds us together. Call it what you want, but we need each others help in so many ways. We are dying in a sea of self righteousness, we are so pitiful.

I didn’t have a drum or rattle which may have helped so i had to rely on the songs i had learned from ceremonies of sweats and others. One song was a song i learned right here in the desert of wirikuta over thirty years ago from Prem Das’s wife, and i have used that song many times since……Hey Yana Wana Ho. This land is so quiet, i hear ringing so often, like a plague of locusts. I realize in order to hear the people, life, god, you have to learn how to listen. Listening is so much more than hearing a few words from a few mouths on a few afternoons in a few cathedrals or a few leaders talking in parables; listening is hard, it is being present with nothing hindering your consciousness reinterpreting this raw truth….this is where love and truth are one. This is where it all begins and this is where we all end up and if we are lucky we learn how to tap into this realm while we are on this long walk thru time and understand for a few moments the power of earth song, silence and love.

There is no doubt this night was difficult, difficult in a different way than normal. I was scared, really scared at times. I have been scared many times in life and i have experience in these ways but still fear can be new and i felt the fear of the world in my veins, in my blood, in me, personal and impersonal. We are rotating in a world joined by the wind, we are one in so many ways. We are pitiful creatures living in fear and attempting to smother it with secure beliefs but nothing truly works. Dylan begins a song/poem ‘Visions of Joanna’ with, ‘Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks on you when you’re trying to be so quiet, we sit here stranded, though we’re all doin our best to deny it’.

The other night i did not escape from this realization, for hours in a tormenting realization of this dicotomy with one way out….be busy in the love of listening and earth song, hearing and reacting with love, kindness, caring and live your life honest with the self that emanates through out the heart. Simple, difficult and yet easy.

I could have told you this when i was 19, i did tell you this then. In the land of truth nothing changes. Live your life free, with truth and love, be honest and walk to the ends of the horizon where love begins. I interpret love as spirit, truth, god, eternal intelligence, pure energy. It is a lot of things, it is caring, it is helping, it is living free, it is walking your talk, it is holding your heart for all to see, it is falling and rising, it is in knowing, it is in life, it is pure, whole, it is listening, hearing. Sometimes love captures your soul and caresses your heart, sometimes it appears as a gift for a moment or two, possibly to show you the way, but listening is the way to eternal love, the way is listening, listening is everything, it is the way.

Now is the time for me to shut up and listen.

You cannot ask yourself ‘how’ to listen, without creating a path of your own doin and leading you elsewhere. Somehow you just stop all activity in your mind and then your brain, heart, and spirit glides thru the terrain of silence and timeless memory with the winds of love on the eternal way.

Sasha began her eating the next day. Her time with grandfather peyote is hers. There are lessons no matter how you cut it. Her time is her time. This desert has its way of introducing itself in the most peculiar ways, with vague clear patterns of change.

There are numerous stories told and untold that can surface in the dry air surrounding Wirikuta. Veronica and i had a conversation earlier and she told me some of what took place with her time here in the last months. She is a brave woman with numerous moments with the medicine and also of hours of accomplished boredom here alone in the desert sands. All has had an enormous affect on her outlook of life and it seems certain she will carry this into the hearts of many before she leaves this sacred earth. The connections from one button to the next spread out across this vast land is like a huge flower grid of transmitting energy tingling thru your bones, on a direct path to your source, the heart of everything, the centre of gravity where love levitates and dances upon the soul. Her energy sees clear the uncertainty i could feel, like a vase with out a form, a shelter without a storm, a being without a home. She emanates a sincerity warm and tender, like a woman in love, like a river in the rain.

**Weronika talking with me about the ways of the desert**

The dichotomy ran thru everything i was facing, the treacherous paths to freedom, the strangling fears to exist, the warmest embrace in this universe. I was aware as aware can be that i would never know what it was that my mind thirsted for. I knew this and had known this for decades but still the patterns to search would not relinquish their hold upon the mind. They would weave in and out of view endlessly if i watched them. To turn them off was to busy myself in life, in sound, in listening, in song. Life was this great gift that could never be fully understood with thought but fully loved in moments of great depth with action sincere and true.

curtains blowing free from the desert winds
tearing at the dust of my soul
dreams scattered across the desert sands
remnants of beauty wrapped tight
deep within the land
the truth of the way sitting there still, hidden in the sacredness
ancient memories walking invisible and bright
and a simple twist of fate gathered along the trail
weaving its mystery throughout thin air in this night
Hunyea Wasay, here to say hello and thanks
‘you turned me outside in with your stern touch
and pushed me back again
full, into this red path
herding lost sheep from around the mountain side
this world weak and struggling thru the desert heat’
this dry ocean floor of vision and drum
we few bend down on knees with broken souls
to worship this land true, where peyote grows

We headed for Real de Catorce today for the day. We had to hire a Willy’s Jeep from the Catorce Station at the base of the mountain. An hour ride up a narrow cobble stone road that edges on steep cliffs of death, wondrous and free. We began the hour long walk to the sacred mountain. It took three hours and we only then arrived at the base. My memory from thirty years ago had failed or we took the long way around. Things had changed here. We left with out reaching the top. It wasn’t our time. I paid respect in a special way with a stone i had carried for over thirty years. This is between me and the spirits.

The road leaving Real de Catorce towards **the** **Wirikuta desert**

Sasha and i had some difficulty in communication that erupted and settled. It felt we were being played by the Heyokas, the tricksters that teach by sometimes forcing situations that make one react. One may have ignored these trials for years but the trail here brings forth a depth and twists you into confrontations in ways you can’t refuse. We arrived back at the entrance to Real de Catorce and arranged a return back down the mountain to our car with an extra hour to wander thru the town. I remember aspects of the streets but things have changed so much. There were two small hotels then and now maybe twenty or so. Tourism has devoured much of the town with new homes built with the ancient brick but tasteful and shops with Huichol art and trinkets galore. Still, the town is magic, away from the madness. Long into the desert mountain walls away from the populated city streets. A charm, a treat, a land for only the serious tourists, but they come and apparently weekends and holidays it can be flooded with the shopping diners. Still, a pleasure for a few hours. We met a traveller and took him back to the desert with us where he will stay for months he said. Life on the road has a special way of dealing with your mind. We leave here in the morning. William Ira will stay on.

I suppose a lesson here is something i already knew but this time here again it would prove that ‘nothing is really certain and that is about as certain as it can get’…….and that had to sink deep inside and deeper still so that i may never forget………but i will, i do, and when times get too chaotic in the mind, turn to sound, to song and let that be your guide, your voice. There is nothing to prove to anyone, to your self, to the universe; there is nothing that can be known that can’t be known, there is nothing that needs your approval; be kind, help where you can, be honest and live as if it is your last moment, it is.

Over thirty years ago in the height of my short lived cocaine and drinking era, Annette my girlfriend then and i decided to avoid christmas with family and head for Mexico with my brand new Volvo bought with my lucrative business of selling a medicine now legal, psilocybe cubensis known to some as the magic mushroom. That story is long, intricate and not important here but i will say one thing, i regret little and i lived within the realm of the day. I always felt that the altering of the consciousness of man with mother earths sacred substances was much more honourable than being a typical doctor or pharmacist pushing unhealthy and life threatening bad drugs from behind a camouflaged counter. Here amidst the controversial modern pushers of vaccinations versus a natural immune system expresses my views. Cocaine was another issue and short lived. We headed straight down towards the Mexican border and made it to San Antonio in 24 hours. The next day we headed into Mexico crossing at Eagles Pass. I had to obtain car insurance crossing the border. The gentleman arranging the papers asked where we were travelling; i expressed down towards Mexico City over to the Gulf and back up towards Brownsville Texas. He prepared an itinerary which included possible sites along the way. In hours of highway driving Annette was reading this little booklet and she commented a few times on this quaint town called Real de Catorce. I know in my heart i avoided listening and passed by this ‘desire’ from her and eventually drove by the 20 kilometre cobble stone road with a mile and a half tunnel entrance to the town, Real de Catorce.

We arrived a long distance away in San Lois Potosi. We found a hotel on a dingy street and with the trunk open Annette slammed the last open car door closed, leaving the keys locked in the ignition. I know in my heart, i blamed her, cursed her and attempted to look for a solution. I was a jerk to put it mildly. It was a new car. what could i do? Smash a window? How would i get a replacement? We were just beginning our tour, what to do?

The back seat had an arm rest that allowed an opening into the trunk. I looked around and with the help of this young boy found an aluminum rod from a discarded TV antenna. It was about five feet long. I bent an inch of the end to over 90 degrees. I laid down inside the trunk with an arm stuck into the hole while Annette guided me from a side window. I eventually connected with the key ring with the bent stub. I was ready to pull the keys out of the ignition and hopefully they would not fall onto the floor and screw up my chances for good. In my mind and deep into my heart a strange feeling over took me. In a flash of a second i promised if i get these keys the next day we will drive back the two hours and go to this strange mining town, Real de Catorce. The keys pulled out, i raised the rod, i could hear the beautiful sound of the keys scratching all the way down the aluminium rod till they hit my little waiting fingers desperately grasping the sacred aluminum aerial rod. We rode back the next day. The magic began.

**Me with Real de Catorce in the background**

My life would never be the same. Peyote touched my heart with the earth as nothing from my past had ever done. She took me far from my time, this planet and explained in visions a universe in infinite design far beyond the typical mind of man. This held me in one dream to another and mended my mind from the trend of man and placed me on a sacred road of non ordinary realities.

I went back to the desert and Real de Catorce for two more years. The third year in vision i was told this is not my path. I was led to the northern shamanic ways. This was, is my life. It is what it is. There is so much more sacred and secret between these pages, paragraphs, words, never to be written. I was on the red road. I am here, I am back. Thanks, meegwetch, wirikuta, grandmother peyote.

Bob explains so well some of the thoughts that have traveled around this skull…he surely is a great poet for these times, possibly the greatest, i know of no other, comparable.

You sure got a lot of gall
to be so useless and all
muttering small talk at the wall
while i’m in the hall
oh, how can i explain?
it’s so hard to get on
and these visions of johanna
that kept me up past the dawn
Bob Dylan – Visions of Johanna…..1966 or so……..and though there is controversy over who Johanna is, for me she/he always represented a higher being, super intelligence, a god, of sorts.

writing and images by patrick wey

***Me 1988 or so, in Wirikuta…up past the dawn***

***Don Jose Masura, 110 years old, spend a few nights at his place in the Sierra Madres, the second year to Wirikuta***

***Me and Annette in the hills of Real de Catorce…1988***

***The third year to the desert alone***…1989

***The Huichol sacred mountain as an elephant traveling right***

***A man named Jessy -Real de Catorce***

***Streets of San MIguel de Allende – puddle image***

More images from our trip in the last months…

B96 … Kachi and the Gaged Animals/Birds

***The Benga Tiger that Kachi would run with every morning***

It’s cooler here in the mountains but it’s still hot for a thick northern fur-skinned lady like myself. I get out enough but i miss the long runs thru the BC forests, the fresh northern smells, but what can you do. We just came back from a few months on the beach in the Yucatan. I made lots of friends there and some became really good buddies. I got to swim in the gulf of Mexico when ever i wanted. It was hot there and getting hotter. A few street dogs tried screwing me a few times but other than that and some angry expats dogs, life was free, good, and Sasha and Patrick took great care of me. I’m a year and a half now and i feel almost mature most of the time. I think the heat can do that, makes you mellow and lazy at times, strangling a few threads of my puppy nature.

**Kachi and her buddy Happy-Hippo smiling for a photo-opp naturally**

My great excitement here in Orizaba is that we live beside a river-waterway that has a zoo a few kilometres all along its walkway. All the animals are from closed-down zoo’s throughout Mexico, a refuge of sorts. I mean wow, really, there are tigers, lions, coyotes, monkeys, giraffes, to name a few. None of them were aggressive towards me and i respected them all, especially the coyotes. They were something else, a strange erie feeling i felt around them. They never made eye contact and never came sniffing around for a lick or two, not like the hippo, now, wow that was awesome. When he yawned his whole face was nothing but mouth and throat, a weird tunnel dipping down to who knows where. He could have been a great buddy, i could feel it in my heart.

***Coyote …. no eye contact … Kachi had great respect for her ancestors***

Kachi makes friends with the most peculiar. She has a way of softening the hardest minds, the most vicious teeth. The Benga tiger and her would run along the distance of the cage every morning on our walks along the river-way-zoo. Sasha and i would rub the scalp of the tiger as he would push his head up against the gage like a purring kitten. Strange feeling with that power that could tear your head apart in one swift swipe of its paw, claws the size of fingers, so gentle and so fierce, the dichotomy of life, death.

***Mr. Camel had a special taste for Kachi***

It was sad to see them pondering back and forth in their cages like a psychotic in an insane asylum and at other times with a restless contentment no different than so many of us. We could hear the weary yelping of the coyotes every evening and morning with their deep biological connections to their kind. Most of these animals and birds would be lost and death would surely follow their every move if left out in any wilderness. That seems to be what so many humans are so eagerly frightened of; to leave their safe closets full of their sacred beliefs, so they ponder back and forth like a caged animal in and out of the popular mediums and news till death comes and drags them away like a lost soul searching for a heaven to sleep within. Caged beliefs looking for a way out. Been there, at times am there, leaving there.

We left Orizaba and headed for San Miguel de Alende. That is where things came alive, the spring time desert and where the magic began.

It was sad to move on from Orizaba, a special place and very few expats and gringos. The tourists are almost all Mexican. I prefer that myself. Sasha likes a few more of the other. It does bring in other conveniences, but then you end up like San Miguel, or Puerto Valarta, Cancun, the list is increasing daily, tourists everywhere where often arrogance tags along. That is the nature of man, no wonder some one dreamed up a great reset……..who knows…what’s right? All i know is it is a great big universe and i’m one little spec in this eternal passing of time, so stay connected to the creator, it is a great mystery, be good, be true in the heart……….that is all you need to do, as J Lennon said, ‘All you need is Love, …. it’s easy’.

Kachi is teaching us to move on with grace. She is terrifying if necessary but always attempts the passive approach first. I am still learning that soft approach, after so many years, i still struggle with that simple way. Kachi may have been happier left in BC with the forests but she wants to be with us. That is clear. We move on.

The next post will be about our stay in the desert, the sweat lodge, peyote, the streets of San Miguel de Allende and our connection with Arleta and Brian, her fifteen year old son Diago, her land, her welcoming and helpful energies helping to heal a little more within our ways.

***This is the Orizaba river walk of Zoo refugees***

***Mrs Ostrich and Kachi developed a strange curious friendship***

***I think they started to fall in love***

***Kachi and the Grey Fox nose to nose***

***It was a piccolo evening in black and white***

***It’s not all that great – free food and own nothing***

***Right behind the ears……yea….don’t stop***

***Kachi and Macaw discussing borders***

Images and Writing by Patrick Wey

B95 … to be honest with you….

It’s hard to be honest, let alone with you. You are many, my lovers, kids, especially my nieces, nephews too, friends, family. Many of my friends kinda have an idea of something of what i am somewhat about. It’s complicated, no doubt. It is one strange world our heads are spinning in, thru galaxies that would burst our imaginations to smithereens if confronted. It’s weird no matter how you look at it. I know there are some incredible thinkers that can twist your thoughts around into worlds you would have had no idea could ever exist. I am sorry if i didn’t perform as well as i could have. I fell apart in times of terrible distress, danced to difficult tunes, was not always there when you were falling off into places where shadows dominate. That is life. It is what it has been. We invented this relationship we share, with feelings, rooms full of ourselves, love in many ways, weary, dreary, and kind, but all sacred, just for existing. This life is so much more than we will ever know, it is truly so sacred it is worth living every moment pure and honest, but we don’t. It’s complicated, i think i mentioned that.

Thanks all of you, what else can i say. None of this matters in the end; what end, where did it all come from, where is it all going? Some of us know that none of that matters, it is all way too weird to think you can think yourself thru the pines. It’s magic, that’s what it is. If it is a mystery in the end, it certainly is in the beginning also and so, therefore, all the way thru too, no matter what conclusions you develop along the way.

***Sasha and Kachi in a slow setting sun***

That is why i have a lot to say about nothing. What else can you talk about, really, that is all we know, a lot about a little of nothing.

I can’t express how deep the pain travels in me for the times that i have hurt you. Why, what was it worth? Things i may have said, opportunities i may have snubbed. Life doesn’t move smooth through every cave, the tunnels of love often turn much too dark to travel. I forgive you at this moment for every spec of agitation you may have felt along our path, and especially, if i used this against you to further my arrogant vault of sick pleasures. It would be a miracle to be forgiven also, even tho fare, it seems unlikely. They say we are all to be resolved in the end. We shall see, possibly.

A man with a cane slowed down around the bend, the street corner came on fast, comparably, and the changes in his head were vast. This was me in some other universe imagined, seated in a cafe across the street. He had a lot more going on than the city streets. He was a composer. He composed images out of the visual noise within the streets, poems from a lamp post, the hard concrete walks, the slim v of blue sky down at the end of the avenue. He was a man of hope, he carved sunshine out of slim air, beauty out of despair.

Down stairs a cane stays close. The odds tighten up and infinity goes on trial. With every breath life keeps travelling down the roads thru you. I am the eye that keeps things alive. I am the end result of a lot. When time feels right the whole orchestra is in perfect tune and makes things happen.

This great deset is such a pity, a shame to waste such precious time; nothing more than a used cane. The way around is preferable on this occasion, no sense in going straight through, get off the cloud, the grid…..learn, comprehend, act…..do something every moment you can, to get yourself free, see beyond the light, there, where the way is you. Leave the shadows dancing out along your walls, get out of the cave into the deep light. It will not blind you.

***Two happy fellows discussing stuff – Chelem Yucatan***

I have to admit. I have tried to be kind, tried to keep it inside, but my god, how come so many are still hanging on to the institutions, corporations, billionaires, that clearly have next to no real interest in your health or survival? How can so many continue to believe whole heartily mainstream anything? There is so much information these days exposing the fraudulent activities; hollywood movies, documentaries, experts in so many disciplines……what the frick are you listening to, are you that afraid to jump out of your worn habits of belief and open up to new possibilities? This world is not what we have been conditioned to believe. No matter how many degrees and initials you may have, we have been strategically fooled. The evidence is all around if you would just open up your hearts and admit you don’t really know what the frick is really going on…….possibly from there, that viewpoint, you may start to see. I don’t know. I don’t know if there is really any help for you? How much easier does it have to be to open up your hearts and look around, stop your comfort of following, agreeing with friends and family for fear of being criticized, left alone. I don’t know why i should even care, though your beliefs do affect the whole world, especially in these times….it’s really not my problem.

The cane is crippled, throw it a way, make a miracle, it is up to you. You don’t need me, you don’t need anyone. You can do this. We all can. It is the nature of nature. We all have what it takes to transform. Don’t we?

There are tools where ever you are, to wake up. It is an endless journey. Yes correct, it never ends. There are times to sleep, dream, there are times to wake up and be the smell of the rose, its essence. There are many whom have assisted in helping one to grow. I am grateful to have grown up in the likes of many but the one that helped the most, no doubt was Bob Dylan. He spoke my language, and he intertwined modern words within melodies and sounds that took them off into terrains that only music could be worthy of in this task; to drive them past the brain directly into the heart……if you let them, and i let them.

Now i find it so hard to elevate others to an equal level to understand the distance words can go without falling completely into meaninglessness. Without the river of sound and the melody of escape, words can often fall short, even cripple themselves, irrelevant.

I never asked for your crutch
Now dont ask for mine….”4th Time Around” B Dylan

Understanding life is similar to a boxing match with a set number of rounds. You have to get it right to win the fight. You can never give up. You may die. You may be maimed for life. You may win. You must choose your battles wisely. Listen to no one. Your heart is connected to the source of thee creation. Words may lead you to the gate but they are not allowed inside. Alone, connected to all the voices of the inner world, silence can take you home.

People like Dylan have the ability to lead you around the heart, take you on trips through the terrains of the mind with no lasting indoctrination attempting to own your soul. If you listen well, you can fly free along the creation that is simply where it is at. Sure his tunes are not the only ones that can do that, but there is no better consistent song writer that exists in our times. Down Lennon’s Strawberry fields and God, I don’t believe, and so many more…..of course, there are others. The point here is that the point can not get you there but it may drop you off around the entrance. It is all up to you, you may have to ‘crawl across cut glass’, to get you there. You must want to know more than anything else before you may find out that knowing itself is not what you think, it is an understanding beyond the time of words.

‘sometimes i think there are no words but these to say which are true, but there are no truths outside the gates of eden’ dylan

‘Love is all there is, it makes the world go around, love and only love it can’t be denied, no matter what you think about it, you just won’t be able to do without it, take a tip from one whom has tried’ dylan

There are so many more lyrics; the tune helps to drive it to the land where it was born, there, in the land of ‘awake’.

We are in drastic times. The fight is in the upper rounds. It is live or die. It can only be won by choosing natures wisdom over mans fallible reason. Natural mathematics over euclidean abstracts, Implosion power over explosion environments, love over hate, the heart over mind…..the unequal balance of the golden mean – yin and yang.

It is all connected, alkaline systems over acidic sweet terrains of disease. Vaccinations as a hoax, unnecessary; is our science running an octave too low.? Money and power has smothered the hearts of the people, from the little guy in the factory fields to the mighty kings and queens of the plastic jungle. Evil versus the good, this is the fight where no one is spared.

From the deep state to the feathers of life the war of man is in full flight. Weapons traveling thru the bio worlds of life is entering the imaginations of the masses. Altered bio-digital memory cells, muscles, plastic flexible bones on the advertising lists for human consumption with the elevation of man to a super being. The masses are flocking to the doors, waiting in line to get the best buy. It is a brave unnatural world in the making. Senses from optics and coils to immortal digital souls the fight is humility or selfish power, heart or mind, nature or man. Complicated, simple? The most correct route to the heart of life is simple, what is complicated is the muffled confusion of unnatural reason. Most love to debate and argue in the land of confusion and create new toys for more adventures to be the best at any expense. It is the war of complications or simplicity and that appears to be much too complicated to become a simple solution for man. Goodbye to the natural man; may i love once more before i am taken away, I can smell the odour of the new world order blowing across the nations and the people flocking into the labs for adjustments.

I hope to leave soon, before it is too late, on the night train, to escape quietly, out to the last beach, the shores of solitude, the tears of rage.

When you can see the end result of what they have in store, you can see through the moves along the way,. The fake virus and its cure, the energy shortage, food supply diminished, all the dependency-grids tightening like a noose around your neck. The money system maneuvering, private everything diminishing, huge money transfers to the few, eliminating private business and wealth. Social credit carrots on every shelf for your convenience and control.

A mysterious intervention to alter the consciousness of man seems to be the only solution for this mad world. No matter how you survive the power hungry evil energies there are always new mediums waiting to suck out any love you may have left. What is the answer for a simple soul………stay simple, let the heart move your day, your night; ultimately, nature is in control and it is all just a big world drama moving against the natural way, many will suffer, many will die, love, many will see, many will die blind, but ultimately nothing really matters……so be good and simple, it is a much easier life this way and gentler on the soul.

Images and writing by patrick wey

A few extra shots from recent times in the streets….

***Big bosom, big mask, hair blowing in modern breeze***

***Shoe shine man taking a break, working on a cross word puzzle***

***Style and age, fashion and survival***

***The masked and unmasked around every corner***

Images and writing by patrick wey

B94 … I need help / Ontario Friends & Family

Dear Friends / Family,

My life long collection of photographic slides, negatives, and contact sheets needs a new home for a period of time. They have been stored at a close friend’s of mine for the last four years in Kitchener On. and now i need to move them because the space will no longer be available.

If interested in helping a friend in distress, please contact me.…for details, arrangements,

My plan is to sell this collection to the highest honourable bitter. I have been postponing this but now I must take action. I need a home for them for the interim time period which could be as long as a couple of years., but hopefully much less.

The space needed – relatively dry, not too cold or warm……(normal home conditions or 8 to 30 degrees C approximately). The area needed is roughly one metre by one metre by two metres high. In a corner of a room with a curtain over them makes them almost invisible. (120,000 images) Please help me, someone.

I would arrange them to be shipped anywhere in Ontario for a safe secure home.

Patrick

PS: view my work here…. https://patrickwey.zenfolio.com/

For more details please contact me….

www.patrickwey.com

skype patrickwey

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*Me /* ***Travelin down a lost highway….****not much has changed*

Images and writing by patrick wey

B93 … beyond the walls into free space…

People need a story with chapters of news swimming desperately down thru the editions of trust and hope.

All the psyco paths lead to the board room where the few seats sit, all the faces have been replaced and their motives sit hidden between the steps up to the grand pyramid between the walls, up to the big hammer, the one sick eye watching over the domain like a decrepit elder.

I can’t help you, i don’t have anything you want. The sacred is too far from your swollen eyes, the barriers are too thick with deep-seated lies, alibis, there is no way out for you. Sit in the streets of your glorified heavens and continue your crippled curses into that dangerous breeze and watch your paradise slip further below the tar.

I can hear the constant waves slowly melt away the pain, the silver sea, the rushing waters of life leading me, kissing my heart, taking me beyond, swallowing my self into the nothingness of loves forest. I hold dear the elusive feel of your touch and the caresses that glide across my heavens. I want you so bad in those moments when life is so close to death. I care more for you, then i could ever hold on to a self, as absurd as that may be.

In the morning-light things come to me that i would never have suspected, dreams waver across the horizon of my eyes and i feel you so right, so beautiful i shiver in the ecstasy of it all, then it all disappears as if it never was and i’m back on your torn avenues.

It doesn’t matter much when it is all spread across the mind, fragments of disappearing dreams and fake love trying to glue it all together. I can see you there trembling in your tattoos, your brave cartoons burning conceit into your skin. I watch with amazement as you stroll past, reflections of your soul piercing thru the tar-lit roads. Useless and meaningless your day drags the news around like a knife and you cut open every wound you can find just to smother it with your foul facts tainted and corroding like a carcass.

It may be harsh, the descriptions of your ways, but it shall pass, that is as absolute as it gets. When the night time falls i’ll be watching from the side. I will help every heart that cries out and every soul dying in pain. The bridge between the weak and the wounded is moving into position, the banisters are flying high, up in the bleachers you can feel the spirit, the day has begun. A parallel universe right here on earth, the elite with their puppets and the good with their warmth, just like an ‘Island’………..alone, fading out to sea.

We shall leave a trace in history, that is fascinating, a sculpture of what is now. We are the thoughts exposed to matter of fact, tho the future may not have clear access to this reality, it did exist and we are the witness as transient as it may be. The fabric of our lives, our decisions, our loves and hates will bend within the weave of dreamtime. The truth appears as nothing more than a whistle from a mexican crow in an early morning dawn.

My home-town ‘the suitcase’ escapes the confines of land but my boot-heels are free no more. I have ended down in the lost and found for a recycled life that never existed in the first place. I am homeless, without the tendency to believe and a wandering soul that finds nothing for certain. Some say that it is a curse and some swear that this is true freedom. I don’t say much about it all but the past sure seems very far behind, most of the time, almost out of site, remnants scatter the open road but the last train is already on the move and my suitcase is stuck in the tracks.

We should all look around more, be kinder. We are all racing against time. We all steal a few sentences from here and there and try to make them fit, into a paragraph or two. Sometimes it works but often it doesn’t. There is a lot of uncertainty in the galleries of life. The more you realize what you don’t know the more you know you don’t know, and that knowing is the key to uncertainly. Maybe yes, maybe no, that is inscribed on the trucks to freedom.

Off in the jungles of circumstance digits are racing thru time. Art is on the run, science has crossed the sacred line, religion is a cluster of brain cells drowning in a lab-tube, music has gone into hiding, surfing thru the lowlands. Words of the poets are split into letters numbered and organized. Dance is given to the ward for safe keeping waiting til the way is clear. Down on wall street the social control is in the third quarter, the crash is topping out. You can feel the tension on the boulevards of the America’s, the numbers rising high as the fall is moving in. In the forest, roots are grasping for the past, leaves are growing rough, bark is terribly thin.

The lone call of the wolf sits high on the back of the beauty as the beast is crawling in.

Over the years the mighty kings of the jungle figured out how to control the herd. How to organize an agenda right down to street level. That is what has happened as of late and they know most will not believe it and not figure it out and in fact support it and torture the ones that are seeing the light. There lies the war, the separation of the people while they continue to play with the plan and have the media direct and project the moves. They figure it out with few adjustments, rearrangements along the way, according to the reactions of the masses, till they get it right, they keep pushing their narration. Any subversive dissonance is crushed along the way.

As in the peaceful canadian trucker convoy, which should be praised, by most is crushed, demoralized, sabotaged, made trite, useless, stupid and it all seems logical to most of the people. Where the news flows the people go.

Now, up pops a war, the convoy seems shallow. People imprisoned, bank accounts seized, businesses destroyed and mass minds support the tyranny as good solid government judgements. Most have moved on into the debates over the war, name calling from either side, arguments of which media is correct, amateur experts spread all over social media with their view points and any movement towards the more sinister agenda is labeled as theorists, destroyed and discarded by the majority. Only the masses can stop the movement of the agenda of the few on the many and they have them by the balls, their pay checks, minds, hearts and souls. So the raw truth stays hidden, invisible, discreet and scrapes along the floors of the plague. That is the condition of the world, shallow in the many and deep and dark by the few.

***Maria Christina and her little boy…a new friend, a new light.***

Zero point energy exists as the natural way nature generates and distributes the infinite frequencies and shapes of energy / spirit. Man has created a much inferior death-giving form of energy generation as an explosive system which depends upon a constant refuelling. This has produced various grids easily controlled by a few over the many. The natural implosive systems have been crushed, hidden, manipulated into secrecy. Explosive energy systems create in their wake the environments for death giving energies with the accumulation of pathogens, unfriendly bacteria and viruses.

The control of the world depends upon a web of grids, from oil, gas, precious metals, information, printed money, genetics, humans and more. People are waking up at an alarming level and this has sent a fear among the few and therefore all the drastic moves as of late to secure their agenda. They have turned the industrial structures into a robotization regime and therefore do not need the large population of humanity. The turn-time has come to eliminate most of the herd. The plans are well on their way. They are the few with the illusion they have been chosen to execute these ancient old visions from their feeble elders and own our world. They have tricked humanity into silence of their agendas with persecution if exposing them. They know the nature of the human mind and the extremely devious ways they maintain to continue in their faith of things that just do not and can not exist. The masses have been easily fooled, manipulated into eons of wars around the world with greed as their closest ally. Money and power sits deep in the minds of the people, a few bucks to tons, they have you covered for a few dirty deeds, all in the name of good business and survival.

***Beautiful Woman Friend of Maria Christina along the Beach Front***

I’m done with it, find your own sketch of the future, the past has got you incapsulated and i quit. I am walking out alone. Take your dreams and shove them outside. I am through with catering to this mess. I am free from this, finally. I am running down the edges of your minds and sliding off into the distance, into the forests of creation, art on my fingers, colour in my head, words and paint and objects of no definite form gliding thru the open doors of here and now……i’m done with you.

Old images alive and real took me here. Here i am done with them. Lybia had it right. Take that new view and slap it till it dies. The moon is just a slight silver sliver tonight. I am well. The streets are sailing across the horizon, from Nantucket to Merida, Beijing, London, ….. i know my words are drowning in a sea of my own doin…fine, i can deal with that. I can take you with me if you want, set your mind at ease, fly straight thru the pages of time. You don’t have to be you, jump out, find a new breeze, move into your heart for no reason, let the momentum…………..be.

I need these words to hit you hard, smash against your skull, dig deep into your soul. I need you to hear me whisper so loud its deafening. I want to be heard. I have no apology for striking out, with fierce force i have this to say…….wake up, join in on the chorus….’maybe yes, maybe no, that’s the only way to go’.

You have dragged me thru your views, your news, your sick minds, your eloquent facts. I am not blaming you, cursing you, begging you, asking you…..leave me out in your cold, really, i don’t mind. I have been out here for years and now you know it. I don’t care about your dreams, your fake fur homes, your ten cars, dinner parties. I don’t care about your news, your obsessions with fire-science, your heroes, their money, their power….i don’t care.

I care about you, your tender quiet heart, your sensitive wounds. I care about that silent love when it whispers in your ear. I care.

Down the streets of my youth, the air is thin. I can see my friends surrounding a lamp post with talk of mischief blowing around the light. We were free and there was nothing that could stop us from our love for the night. If there was a door to open we were there. We had cool cars, thoughts, we lived in the moment, winter or summer, we drove fast and never looked back, our life was being there, down the open road. Time moved more serious and the spirit of the sixties drove us as far as we could go. I laid my thumb out into the highways and traveled wherever the road would take me. Inside, the terrain went thru the changes of colour beaming across my skull, freedom as far as you could see and nothing and nobody stood between the shadows, the open road held my spirit into the light like a chalice.

Time kept coming and the changes never stopped. The road took me far beyond my reach, at times i was left alone, no comforts of a home, no soft love left in the corners of my mind, hard times on a road to freedom, truth dangling off trees, the forest there to save me. Time kept moving in, no moments to adjust, only the constant chill of the circle game whirling around begging me to turn, hold on……..but the open road kept moving and i was its sacred possession.

***Shading Herself Amidst the Heat of the World***

Now, much older, times have spread out across the fields of this mind and left me moving slower, the open road still pours its light down upon me and i still surrender to its love. Soon i will be gone and a new form will open up, an endless stream of open roads into an eternity. A part of me is in a part of you and everything, we are all together, indian, white, black, crow, rain, all of us will continue to weave this tree of life, and after life, into an open road, into a forever.

Friday Mar. 5 2022

Sasha and i went to the Merida theatre centre tonight, a hundred plus year old opera house to listen to the local symphony orchestra. Thru the first couple of Ravel pieces my eyes wandered through the space across the high ceilings and layers of seats wrapped around the oval shaped ancient architecture. With eyes closed i saw words tripping thru time over smooth cobble stone streets, violins kissing the jungle air with sad joy of poems breaking the silence with form. The solid sounds held together with sacred notes embracing one another and covering my thoughts with grace. The romance of deep connections where words fall off cliffs, syllables dancing against the weight of love, the truth of air moving free in the moments of my mind. Impressions of soft sounds only a violin can speak, my thoughts fell apart in the dance of the cellos, my heart melted like desperate rain on an Irish coast. The way of the evening stood still with me inside the composition conducting colours across the horizons of my mind, layers of vague emptiness moving thoughts about like clouds.

Later Mozart shifted things into a more grandiose world…….i fell back in time. After, we walked about the old streets of Merida and let our moods dig deep into the brick. We travelled across our brains protective barrier and swung our love into empty streets full with people. That was a mistake and we paid dearly for our lack of control and while the world didn’t flinch an eye, freedom bit deep. Our night ended back home with our dog happy as hell to see us. We fell into dreamtime with magical impressions filling up the night beyond the walls into free space.

March 7 2022 – Disassociate yourself, swim hard thru the sweet lies, taste the alkali truth. A fresh pure sea of life is the way of a healthy earth. We have been fooled into believing the wealthy scheme of an euclidean dream is the only way. It is the way of domination grids, a trick, an insane manipulation of the spirit. Be free, travel inside, trust the earth and a science that comprehends and copies nature. Modern science is ruled by a lab of money and a test tube of selfish control. Bio-interconnection to the digital realities will be the end of natural man. Beauty exists in a free world, a terrain of natural movement. Clean out your body, purify your mind, breathe well, eat well, exercise, save your self from the matrix looming close and live free.

Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

Thanks for the Comment

Some Extra Shots

Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

B92 … Bubbles Rising Bursting

Feb. 17 2022

Many times i have felt like giving up on these posts for lack of response. I clearly see friends and relatives that have avoided me for what ever reasons. When i have seen the popular ones gain loads of likes and response for a lot less work and inferior content in their posts, imo. I avoid social media contact but once in a while i stroll down the walls just to see what is happening, as a thermometer, of what is the going trends in attitudes, the responses to the media news, propaganda. I have attempted to give alternative views for a more rounded approach to know what is going on around the planet mostly concerning the ‘covid’ issue, of course, but not exclusively. Most of my attempts have failed miserably. I have had no contact with many friends and all of my family for over a year. I realize many people are in a similar position, division over view points. If there truly is a hidden war goin on then they have extremely successfully divided the population. Who ever ‘they‘ are, and if you don’t have a clue by now, you’re truly lost in a world that doesn’t exist.

Just when i have had it, ready to throw the pens and keypads against the wall, i get an email with a blog post comment that shows there are those, few as they may be, that truly see value in my work.

**Merida Yucatan …. hiding behind a mask**

So, i continue on with one more post. I simply address the thoughts that surround this mind on a daily/weekly bases. I am not trying to convince anyone of anything. That, possibly is my mistake! Simply by questioning the main stream narration i get labeled to what ever is the popular trend in insults….rightist, racist, stupid, uninformed, follower…. and sometimes hideous jokes and clever cartoons.

I can’t win, i know this. I am not trying to win. I can’t deny that it would be preferable to be listened to, to have intelligent heart felt comments crowding up my email every day, but that doesn’t happen and probably never will; why, i wonder sometimes? That is partly my ego hurting, wounded, but there is also a frustration on the nature of the masses and their approach towards understanding. Very few people consider themselves just another one of the masses, they tend to believe they are always intelligent individuals and incredibly clear on what they think they know.

I question as many beliefs my strained mind can handle and still fall short of the truth of ‘what is’ and that is, what is.

As an example. I have tended to follow the truck convoy as a good thing. Later, i was informed it may have been instigated by right wing warriors, white supremists and funded by people i would probably not want to be associated with. So i looked at this as well as i could. I see with out much doubt that the majority involved are peaceful and just want the right to their choice for what enters their body and more. Some are very aware of the tyrannic approach the canadian government is taking, others are less concerned. The main slogan is ‘freedom’. So many main stream have criticized the freedom element as stupid, trite, moronic and worse. Dialog is necessary for democracy, the way i see it. This stand off has escalated world wide and yet so many still want to diminish it as ridiculous, stupid, etc but the fact is that it has awaken people the world over, they are talking. That is the point….i believe. If it is somewhat funded by the right wealthy for other than honest concerns then so be it. If i had to stop supporting anything because of corruption lurking in the foundations i would have little to support or next to nothing. This world is corrupt to the core.

I have often claimed that i am not an expert in any of these fields but also that experts are being silenced and not allowed to have open debate on main stream media. There are reasons for that. The media news is not free, here we fall back on this word Freedom. Anyone whom has read my blogs know i often quote others especially Dylan…….’Freedom, just around the corner from you, but with truth so far off, what good would it do.’
This line implies that freedom may exist without truth. That, i believe, is something to be concerned about.

***Playa Del Carmen corrupted by a flash flood***

If the honest protesters are lured by corrupt money, they will figure it out and it will be exposed, we hope. The fact that the whole world is talking about things they could not mention a month ago says volumes. I could be wrong and if i am, so what, i am not forcing anyone to believe in anything i say…..just question everything, sincerely, and make changes accordingly, reevaluate, adjust, decipher, change, move on.

Anyone that has investigated the world we live within to any real depth will likely have come across numerous conspiracies involving large sums of money and the coercing of minds to act accordingly.

This is of course is what is going on everywhere today and yet so many are so convinced they know and understand what is happening. They don’t, i don’t, and very few do, if any. This world is complex. Where the news goes the people go.

I have a good heart. I care about things, many things. I have supported wrong causes out of ignorance. We live in a world where deceit and lies are considered good business, smart thinking, appropriate. But by far, the masses are honest, but are coerced into doing and saying things for the sake of an extra dollar, billion or two.

There are thousands of new rabbit holes to enter for the flexible minded ones. This world is absolutely not what is presented in the media, history books, main stream anything. So to hear all these constant conclusions on social media by the many whom, realistically should not be heard at all, is most disheartening for an honest heart.

It is all about control, control of every mind on this planet and if you can’t see that by now you truly are a sheep asleep, or a lazy mind acting asleep.

I know many read my blog but are afraid to associate themselves with someone that is considered on the wrong side and possibly dangerous to be affiliated with. So be it, one of my followers is probably worth more than a hundred of the crowd as far as loyal longevity goes.

***Women of Belarus…..like people everywhere just wanting the freedom to be***

One should not feel ashamed or guilty for supporting this side or that side. We have been played. We are one people when all settles in the dust. I did not get vaccinated and feel it was my right for many personal reasons that have come to me throughtout my life.
I got vacinated because i believe it was the right thing to do. Through time things have changed and i am not as certain as i once was but i live with my decision.

I am in the middle and i can see both sides and the difficulty in understanding that it can take to come together. From the perspective of our death bed we can truly see that we are not enemies. We can get through this.

I believe we have been played, that there are forces behind the scene pulling ropes for their control and the financial benefits of a few. Some of this understanding involves conspiracies. Plans that have been arranged rearranged adjusted to new data in new times, all for an end of an over-all control of the total planet. Insane, yes.

I don’t believe we have been played, there is a real threat of a virus eliminating humanity unless we take very severe actions. If you don’t get vaccinated you can be threatening me, my family and all of humanity.

I believe we have been manipulated and the injection itself could be our worst enemy, deadly.

All of us have learned that money and control can often taint even the most sincere minds. We have learned that following the money often can lead to an understanding of what is really going on.

There are lazy minds or uninterested or unconcerned that have managed to get by suitably well enough for their minds to feel sane, safe, comfortable on the surface. This is not addressing them. There may be no help for them.

The internet has made research much simpler for the ones that take the time to investigate. When you follow the money, you can find that most of all the businesses, corporations, institutions, governments are controlled by a very few corporations owned by a very few families. They control a large network, often right down to the local franchise workers around the corner of your avenue. This is absolutely not a theory. There are documentaries that list SEC filings showing without a doubt whom owns what, everywhere on this earth. It is really quite revealing. We have been played, manipulated, divided into wars, enemies. This is just not right, unfare and has gone on for far too long.

So really, whether you are on this side or that side, we are not the enemy. Try to understand my views and i will try to understand yours but let us both attempt to investigate the reality of what is happening together. Only through a united effort can we come together……….or continue to fight the wrong enemy.

Feb 23 2022

You can follow the science and be confused or follow the money and see what’s really going on. Where the news flows the people follow. No matter what the topic, they”ll take you where they want you to go, from viruses to guns, their agenda is your narration, make a choice, they got you covered, create the truth and the path will own you, for real freedom is full of colour.

And ain’t it hard when it’s discovered and aren’t you embarrassed when you realize we’ve been fooled again. You lost friends, family for standing with the crowd because it was too tough to stand alone. Now, you act as if you were aware from the beginning, but the damage is done, the curse is set, you with your emptiness on that jaded street and that is it, this is all that you get. It makes me sick to watch the leaders continue to strangle your heart with mandates confining your mind with their thoughts, and all along you believing they come from yourself within.

***Sculptor, Valentine – Belarus…the horror of war***

There is only one step down from here and there you’d never want to go, the lower level where there is absolutely nobody else around, the dungeon of your mind where you have lost every fragment of control. When you’re wrong, you’re wrong, there ain’t no way else to tell; the bells may toll, the sirens ring but the only way thru this is total ultimate surrender within your heart and that appears to be much more than you would ever care to do.

Back in the territory of fortune and distain the workers are scrambling for a few bites of love and down here there is nothing but money, but things are on the move, the table is turning, the winds are shifting, eyes wide and the veil is lifting, truth is shinning through.

The new world is nothing but bad fiction now, the order is falling, the people are slowly twisting their heads into this light, as rare as it might be, it’s been a far too long a night to get it right.

Feb 24/22
Down here in the sun sand the beach is hot and humid, a big war across the globe, the news right ready with a view for every viewer. I got my own problems with a relationship falling into an abyss and a dog demanding attention and a headache for every curse bombarding me with love, sick love. I don’t belong to no one and no one belongs to me, sometimes that is what i am forced to believe but i know it ain’t true. What ever gets you through the dark, that’s what they say and there is a ‘they’ for every issue and they don’t give a damn. I’ve seen it comin and there is no one to blame, life is fuckin hard these ways no matter how many sunsets you squeeze between your eyes. This is the middle of a night and i’m tired, tired, so tired of all this stuff endlessly caressing my heart like a jack hammer to my brain. There must be someway out of here said one self to another, there is far too much disruption and nothin but scattered belief bending around my mind. Time to walk straight through to the other side, no more lies, no more fancy descriptions shielding me from you, i’m goin, i’m goin, i’m gone.

Just like it was planned, a war to take the mind off the planedemic, for a while. The masters of war don’t give a fuck about people, their pain, suffering by the hands of these bastards….money, power and some weird glory squashed against plastic hearts, that’s their life, hardly a glimpse of truth left inside their minds, brains full of disease, conceit running thru their veins, horror on the edge of their soul. The clever ones fall for the same old tricks, war, separation, media veils while eyes are off the ball, freedom from all borders scraped away from the cells in your brain.

Feb 26/22
It’s a sad world, really, words trapped inside skulls never to escape, no place to land, no ear to hear. I want to express my soul but i can’t. If i could, really, i’d bring together all the friends i’ve known, all the lovers i’ve loved all the family that have been so dear to me. I’d name them but if i missed one or two i’d find it so hard to forgive myself for eliminating anyone and possibly causing them pain that they might not know till it entered their soul and that would be too late. Even the ones that have betrayed me have had attributes that often over power the worst they could ever have done to anyone. That is life, as i have said, it is sad and incredible. Sometimes i just want to cry on how beautiful the moments have been and to realize life is so short and the tender moments needed to share this just don’t come around often enough.

So this is the night, where the sounds of those tender moments are swirling around my heart. There are a billion stars hanging light across the milky way and the warm breeze cries the loss of the times trapped into shallow memories caressing my sensitive skin in these heart-warming moments, oh tonight, you will end and i will walk on, again without you. You the one that got lost in the moments when i was hiding. I may remember your touch but that is not enough to fulfil this loss, it never will be, it never can be. Life will move on into the dark, into the light, into the day, into the night, but you are gone and it is a pain i can’t bare, i can’t truly accept………..so i move along, switch the chords, strum soft, hard and wipe the tears from my damp skin and walk, just walk, no direction home. I’m alright with that…………..most of the time.

Some people give away their hearts for a few words, sell their bodies for a few bucks, some people don’t have much of a choice of anything, just to survive. People trust charlatans that will sell your mind away in a minute and fool you into believing they have the answer for your salvation. Some people trust anybody with a few initials attached to their name or a ton of gold hanging off their souls. Some people trust facts that are held up by invisible pillars and will die for them. Some people are too many and some people are too few that trust only in the ways of nature, beyond mans formulation of thought…….freedom, in this world, is a hard price.

Images and writing by patrick wey

Comment please, it helps my journey.

B91 … Fractured Thoughts Splattered Up Against Walls of a Few Days

There’s All Kinds Of Problems…

Don’t cha know people
You been hypnotized
Don’t cha feel you’re missin’ somethin
Fightin’ for all those lies
There’s all kinds of problems
but i ain’t got the time
………….Winter 72 / Patrick wey

Mind Mandates Forcing Heart Lock Downs

When you know the outcome of the multi-level plan for the
reset, then you can easily see the trail for the masses.
Main stream media is nothing more than propaganda by the elite.
Only our numbers can bring this down.
Wake up yourself and wake up whom ever you can, how ever you can.
Waking up is being open to whatever data surrounds you……eliminate any conclusions before entering the field of possibilities. Be careful of what you form into belief. All belief is make belief.

Bob Dylan said it well in the Times They Are a Changin…in this verse…so very long ago, 1964 or so.
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’

How long will the mandates of the mind control the lockdowns of the heart?
I’ve been thinking about this world psychosis of following a focused agenda all my life and now it has erupted into an obvious full force hysteria world wide. How can this happen? How can so many of the population, wealthy, poor, intelligent, ignorant all fall into a so similar fabricated hole?
Most people believe that they could never be programmed into believing what they don’t want to believe. They think they are free minded individuals that can not be coerced, not be fooled. These behind the curtains are masters of deceit. They have studied how the mind of man can be molded into doing what they want them to do without the masses knowing it. This, is the perfect program of deception.

***Variations in shape with little choice***

Without the will and the tools to skillfully maneuver thru the maze of deception, the virgin minds are shaped into desired ends. Through endless programming of inserting a mixture of desires from the holly-world life-styles, to a unity of civil responsibilities and intelligent scientific decisions thru endless advertising and propaganda laced news, the majority of people become numb to the diet of deceit slowly invading their minds. It is a slow process of manipulated historic facts, lies turned into doctrine from the minute you’re born thru the schools of education/indoctrination into the work force all set in a plan to control every mind world wide for every minute of their life’s and yet to have the individuals still believe they have the freedom to choose.
Very few had seen this coming, very few broke loose early on but there are many that do suspect deception deep. This is the state we are in now. More minds are breaking loose, seeing the rigid lies fall behind in the wake of their new perception. People are waking up, they have been fucked around for too long. More and more are accepting that they have been fooled and are just getting on with the new realizations, the hard look at how crazy this world really is, how deep the deception lies.

I am not an anti-vaxer. I am anti forced injections. I am not a conspiracy theorist ‘per se’. I theorize on collusions and sometimes they end up uncovering conspiracies. I am not anti-main stream media. I am anti externally controlled misinformation media. I am not a racist. I dislike the aspects of people that use their race to force a point. I don’t spread hate. I hate somethings sometimes. I am not a canadian. I am a human being living on falsely claimed soil we call ‘canada’.

The Zbird is expanding it’s claws
the chosen are frozen in a narration, outdated,
unhinged, holding on to a psychotic dream
coming to take us down
put us in a place within a crowd
the Zbird, flying low
tainting everything
wherever it goes

Heyoka Man said, “they said”, ‘us elders began this plan a couple thousand years ago to own the world, as prophesized, divide the people in two, us and gentile. We invented currency, banking and thoroughly understand the greed of the mind. We implanted these visioned teachings and passed them along from generation to now. The plan is unfolding to fruition, in this generation here, these times, now. World control is within our claws. Most of the people have absolutely no clue, they are welcoming the moves with hypnotized minds, open hearts, blind souls.’
Heyoka Man, what do you see, is there still a way to set us free? Is it too late to close the gate, barge thru the canals, escape? Has it gone too far, over the edge of man, to kill the dream dead, is there enough life left to see the chosen frozen, to expose the plan, to wake up the dead, to execute the leaders, to disintegrate the map, to rehabilitate the elders?
Hey Hey Heyoka Man, what’s the plan? Is it too late for the world, for the world to understand, hey, Heyoka Man?

This isn’t a dream no more, this is it, as real as it gets. There’s a whole lot of shit flowing down this ditch. The free dream is broken, disintegrating, falling apart, tearing the souls right outa the hearts of the people. The surface is covered in facts, swimming hard towards the drain, creating all kinds of pain, but who cares, darkness hanging on the horizon, people strolling along the beach, looking for lost shells, looking for anything to cover up the cracks, seal up the leaks, spread out, fly.
Every bone, locked inside their bodies, numb and outa sinc. I want sha ta know i never meant you any harm. I got caught up in the flood, torn between the winds, stretched out along the trail, beaten down, lame. Your time was ripe, a hit amongst the fools, you stole every ‘like’ you could get, you give them exactly what they wanted, you read their palms like a saint, your black cape, hovering in the breeze. You were on top, they were on the bottom, you left them strangling for a clear breath as you faded into grey. I remember exactly the words you said when you squealed your tires fast outa town, ‘it’s a sad and beautiful day, sorry to leave you so stranded, swimming thru the rust’.
Time turned round and the bottom rose up, to heavens, into the grace, while the Zbird kept their heads heavy in the scriptures, for better ways for a world to fall; light slipping in between the window panes, splattering strong against the walls, flashing thru the eye lids, flat unto the source, the creation, nothing could stop us now.

I awoke on the edge, grabbed a suitcase of stuff and headed towards the door, slammed it and felt the pressure, mask up, fit in, relax for a minute or two and then the noice, deep, inside, welting up, then, calm again. The fight was ready, waiting, you could feel it in the air. Tension, like a kite high, tight, twisting, turning, stuck into the light; held on, all could feel the grip, truth, slipping along the finger tips, to a sacred earth below.
In the cold night dreams of freedom wavered in and out of the minds along the streets. The capital under siege holding up its lies, injecting them thru the hot media, wired minds, working over time, ruled and regulated, like an app.

***In The Heat Of The Night – Merida Yucatan***

Thoughts piece by piece swell up and disperse out onto the cracked screens of my consciousness. The days fall side by side like some chess match between love and hate in another dimension. How can one species take up so much room, demand so much, step out so far from the nature of nature, and to insist on what is clearly insane? There lies the answer. Humanity has developed a warped demented outlook towards reality. There are theories upon theories of this stacked up like crushed vehicles in a junk yard. They will rust and return to the earth, of that there is no doubt, it is all in the matter of time.
I wander around this brain looking for a way out, a crack back into the realm of a soft embrace, a warm freedom thru this pale afternoon, a kiss from the heavens of love.
This strange focus of a whole world into such a narrow needle of control is tense at moments, to the point of a suicidal despair for so many. Where do we go from here? The afternoon wind is nervous, on the move. The sea is wavering over the horizon with a peaceful turbulence across the mind. I see you there, yes, questioning the clear winds, searching thru the swaying fields for answers, the thick rain, the heavy snow, some way fading off into another day.

Days passed, with a cold government, turning colder, delivering decisions of weak science and no science at all. The masses split with a slow flow to the freedom side. The main media crumbling in its lack of eyes to obvious lies with the outside world gazing on with various shades of curtains shielding alibis. The war of man is on the bridge of life and death, heaven on earth or hell in the mind and there is no telling whom will be left behind. No time left to squeeze the truth out in to the streets with strict doctrines or messed up plans to elevate human kind. The tension between the dreams are tightening and the tactics are sick and mean and there remains to be seen just how quick a truck can load, how long the boxed in minds can hold, before they burst into horror along the road.
There is a calm anger emanating a love into the avenues, the streets of entangled truth.

‘Where there is risk there must be choice’. This is the best line i had heard, it came from a trucker from the Windsor Bridge, protesters…. i didn’t catch a name. If there is absolutely no risk, go ahead make a law, mandate, do what ever is necessary, but if there is a risk, i want a choice.
Who cares who instigated the trucker convoy, the world government, a right regime, the whatever……it’s the sincerity and honesty of the people involved, no matter how they were lured in, the truth within them is still the truth within them. They’ll figure it out if there is ill intent lurking in the shadows..the whole world is initiated by crooks, so what, be free and live your truth, be empathetic, feel human. Transform your self and the world will change, stay on track, focus on love, there is no other freedom, truth is beyond the ideology of the day, the propaganda, agenda, narrations from one controller to the next will fall…….

You can feel the energy of freedom in the air, along the freeway, wind blowing in from the highlands, truth piercing bones. There is an undercurrent twisted and tangled throughout the low lands, but with truth strong and a foundation honourable the whirlwinds of change will propel justice clear through no matter how thick the walls. Along the highways, truckloads of brave hearts and loyal minds of a peaceful vengeance are exposing the psychotic ideologies, the disease of the elite heating up, fever breaking. Change is on the move, keep your eyes wide, your heart safe, freedom to the road…..choose truth, what is.

Images and Writing by Patrick Wey

Comment below or forever hide in silence….

Extra Images as of Late

**Kachi – coming in from beach manoeuvres**

***Good Friend Lili Gulliver who visited Chelem for a few days.***

**Tarantula found wandering around our kitchen…about 3 inches**

**Masked Fashion in Higher Altitudes of Merida**

Chagall – ***free*** ***exhibit in Merida***, (*i needed that shot of spirit*)

**Sasha Contemplating……..in a court yard restaurant in Merida**

Thanks for taking the time to stroll down the avenue of this blog…..

Place a portion of your mind in the space below…it expands as you flounder, blossoms.

B90 … sincere attention is the greatest respect one can give someone

Uncertain of where to go from here. Some road will unfold whether i like it or not. To be or not to be that is the question. To plan, map out, construct, manipulate the data of my present knowledge and walk on or follow that faint directive that we loosely call following the heart? I would like to say that following your heart is always correct but i don’t think so. Often when one feels they have listened to their heart they were in reality quite far from any true intuitive knowing, likely. Following your heart is more of an art than a science, but there must be a balance, i believe. But that wham bam slam me down with some enlightenment or a definite light shinning on a truth flowing thru my skull….well that is hard to ignore, a vision so definite it is without doubt of its inherent truth. I tend to believe most have not experienced a super clear vision but instead, vague concepts possibly precepts that linger and develop into major conclusions after the fact of the ‘truth package’, the intrinsic raw experience they may have had. They develop this ‘happening’, rearrange it, adjust it and carry this into life as a badge, a monument of their knowing and i don’t blame them, these visions are often, if not always, more important and more real than their ordinary, often almost boring life’s, it is that, that makes it hard to deny their significance.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Screen-Shot-2022-02-02-at-5.00.43-PM.png — ***Dead Apples Vision***

These visions appear to be the nature of the mind and what carries humanity from one circle-level to another. I have seen this many times from born again jesus fans, pagans, astrophysics, die-hard believers of almost any subject. Eventually they develop into more of the same or move on to the next mini-vision they may encounter from one subject to the next.

Seldom do you find someone that questions the validity of the very experience itself, since the experience is usually so significant from their ordinary mind-set, it appears to be without question, perfectly true. Then again, you do have those that just eliminate it almost from the very moment it may happen as an altered state illusion, or some phenomenon that they can’t explain or too freaky to consider further. I am afraid to say, these people often stay boring all their lives. I know many of these such people, almost totally locked into a mind of proclaimed factual conclusions for everything they hear, see, and feel and extremely afraid of the true state of not-knowing and endless investigations.

***Raven Man – A carving I did 45 years ago***

Ultimately, we are all lost children walking a path from nowhere to nowhere with a present presenting itself endlessly with data that can be concluded in infinite ways. To accept this not-knowing anything for certain is a freedom that always feels right, calm and pure.

When capable people that have been put into a position to govern the many, turn their powers into an unjust form, then eventually the masses will retaliate and attempt to take back the little freedom that they once had. The freedom to be clever in the mind, question, the choice to govern the brain, body and spirit in any way one wishes without adversely affecting others, the basic natural freedom. Our governments have allowed the mighty power of the dollar and all its attributes to rule their minds and push their self-serving agendas onto the masses. They themselves, controlled by a pool of families that own most of the world and dictate its moves, its wars, its agenda narrations. This information is easily available these days on the internet if one so chooses to investigate.

The truckers are the right vehicle at the right time for the erupting minds fed up with the way the world is being controlled. There are many that just want their simple freedoms to move as they please, about this earth. It was obvious to a few, of the overall plan early on in the plandemic and it always takes more time for the masses to wake up to see what is. No blame no fight. we all grow, move along at our own pace.

Now, the table is set, the meal is ready, the feast will begin. There is always a peaceful way to move forward, but the brain of man can not fathom the depth needed to truly become aware of ones mistakes, to respectfully apologize, to be forgiven and to move forward for the benefit of all. The super wealthy lives are at stake, the unfair distribution of wealth and intelligence is at a time overdue, exposed. There has been millions of deaths and there will be many more before humanity realizes just how beautiful this earth really is and what a true gift it is to be conscious of a simple love, a simple existence, to feel, see the beauty endlessly. That is the inner-road we are pursuing, a freedom to be honest, to care and love one another, little by little, one by one, alone, together, alone and we may arrive some day; this could be our true state of consciousness, vulnerable, caring, intelligent. Things are not at all the way things seem, here or anywhere. This is my opinion, shifting rearranging moving along as the day does.

I roamed the beach early this morning, looking for nothing. I found a calm horizon and a jewel in my mind, a crystallized ruby-red light floating thru my thought-dreams like a guide. Some movement along a ‘faith in everything‘. My feelings lifted into the free air of gratitude for being alive, my breath deep and full, my silence beyond all noice. I pondered across the long sea and felt the aeons of time soften my brain, the unwritten history of all creation shelter my soul. I walked with the ancient sand between my toes and the cool breeze of truth slip across my skin and i was alive, free, natural, in love.

Later i sat with a raw coffee under the thatched patio roof and wrote for the whole world to see. I am nothing much, not very important in the terrain of things, the hustle and busted city streets of mans inventions.

I own no one and no one owns me. It is my natural right to roam the world, to injest what i will, think what i may, believe what i do and as long as it does not adversely affect others, than not to be hindered by others, so i may fulfil my walk. That is loosely the code of man, to be free amongst the others.

I will be gone soon and i don’t have the undying desire to leave behind some great piece of art, science or religious doctrine. I simply have the desire to create for the sheer purpose to do, something, this, whatever. If it affects others positively, negatively, that is not on me.

I am grateful for the truckers that have helped to bring to light the tyranny that is occurring at an increased rate of late. There were many others long before they came along, people of integrity and honour and there will be many more. Their vehicle literally was of great timing and may help to turn the tides. Their delivery is more than a few strawberries or lawn chairs, tho most we could do without. The truck industry wiped out the more appropriate train system…there are a few conspiracies in that transformation i believe, but we shall leave that rust along the tracks for now. If it were not for the constant propulsion of humanity to want everything sooner, yesterday, the business world would have less to market and advertise and people would experience more freedom, calmness, humanity…………..a softer time.

It is an illusion to believe that all that went to war went to fight for freedom for the masses or all truckers are worthy honourable drivers of delivering the so necessary foods for survival. It’s a job for most and they have a right to make a living for their families but keep it in perspective which means attempt to understand the whole picture. The black and the white of reality is usually a pale shade of a beautiful grey.

‘A sincere attention is the greatest respect one can give another’. I often think of my friend Vern Harper for making me realize this gift. He would often lower his head and be in a deep focused concentration when listening to someone that was talking to him. It was the sweat lodge ceremonies and listening to peoples prayers and teachings that really brought the importance of listening to what one is trying to say rather than how i wish to interpret it. It was later that i realized that it is also the greatest respect a person can give to another. Of course each and everyone of us has a deep desire to be heard, to be understood, to be able to express ones deepest feelings, knowings. It is a true gift to really be able to listen, to really listen, to feel the essence beyond the words, to feel the heart tremble with the message of another. I feel i have failed as of late to really, really, ‘shut up and listen’.

It still astounds me of how many there are that still refuse to open up the doors to alternative media to become informed or at least, perceive another side to the news. It appears that most people are terribly afraid of altering their own consciousness to another way of seeing reality. But what really makes me wonder are the people i know personally that are extremely intelligent human beings, but trust so whole heartily in what they believe is a trusted source even though they have learned that those very institutions, corporations, governments have deceived humanity so terribly in the past. Certainly, this has made me wonder just what they were listening to when we were listening to the very same sources, as an example, Masters of War by Dylan, Senor, Highway 61, Only a Pawn in the Game, and numerous, numerous other examples from many disciplines. I suppose it has more to do with how they may have been affected personally by ‘authority’, in their lives

There are many reasons why i had mistrusted this Covid Agenda early on, possibly from the use of psychedelics, vision quests, many altered state experiences in the past; all which gives one a realization that things are really not at all as they appear. The numerous times of catching authority in contradictions to serve their own jobs, their money, their beliefs. I have understood the realm of thought to a greater degree than most and its validity and limitations. What does not always coincide with this knowing is how so many ordinary people from truckers to house men and women, to numerous people from all walks of life woke up also, to different degrees, no doubt, but never the less, realized we are on a route to having all of our freedoms taken away by some strategy concealed by main stream media for powers beyond. The simple right to determine what goes into our body and yet so many believe they would rather have multi-corporations determine our bodies fate. Yes, i know all the responsibility to humanity bullshit and the deceptions to have the majority turn against common sense and many tactics yet to be exposed and understood………….but it is my body, my responsibility to treat it as the creator, creation has taught me.
These teachings have come direct from the intelligence of earth itself. Believe it or not, i don’t care, but my trust is in the visions i have gathered along my path thru life. I don’t trust superior wealth, it is not of superior health. The earth mother has created all life and all intelligence comes from her womb, that is indisputable.. All the religions, science and art come from her form. Her form is the fundamental answer. It is prevalent everywhere. We have raped the earth in order to utilize an energy that depends on refuelling endlessly with grids of control for a few over the many, from the money grid, food chains to energy grids. Wake up, let her fill your heart with the truth and understanding to create with an ultimate living energy spirit.

Somehow, there was a creation of form, a miracle, ‘the creation‘. This form is everywhere, the vortex. Energy created from the outwards dispersing motion has to be refuelled constantly. This is the vast majority of energy systems created and utilized in all of our man-made world. Easy to control, the necessary fuel and the many people that are needed to refuel this grid. Now we have robots to take this responsibility and an access of humans. So therefore the reset.

***The Perfect Vortex Generator for Living Energies***

The inwards motion of the vortex as in a tornado needs only air or water and a form to direct a slight inwards motion to begin its journey to a much more superior living energy creation. This is the predominate direction in all life. Believe it or not, the super wealthy explosive energy corporations and their masters are very aware of this and have concealed this knowledge for centuries. All attempts to build, create these implosive systems have been destroyed; from inventors such as V. Schauberger to N. Tesla and others. The simple reason is that they are completely self creating and can be utilized anywhere on the planet without the grid of refuelling and the control of a few because they tap into zero point energy available anywhere in the universe.
This is not good business for the few that now own most of the world and have been in control well before the advent of this knowledge had been known. They have the news by the balls and most people are not interested in researching to find out and learn what is really going on. Easy picking for the wealthy, Easy to control. A few bucks and they have them in their pockets and that’s where we are at today.

But this is all falling apart. I believe they underestimated the power of the internet and before they could grasp a total control, the secrets leaked, and are leaking still, exposing them, backing them right up against the wall. It is not over by any means…they got a fuck load of money, power and control with tones of people willing to fulfil their wishes for bucks and ignorance. As dylan had said ‘money doesn’t talk, it swears’.

This is a big picture. There are bigger pictures, much beyond my knowing. For now the collapse of the reset will do and we’ll take it from there. We’re now rockin in the unfree world…..could get worse, much worse; goodbye neil and all your comrads, washed up along the shore, brain cells gone astray……..

Writing, Opinions and Images by Patrick Wey

Comment Please

Extra Images

***Kachi and her new pregnant beach buddy***

**Progresso Yucatan ..a day in the life of one**

B89 … no clear way thru the jungle.

***Vern Harper … Spirit Moments That Linger Still***

I never thought i’d be living here. Along the Gulf coast of the Yucatan. I usually imagined myself writing from some modest place in an older section of a city, a deep forest, a southwest desert, but never the shores of the Yucatan. While the world is struggling with deceit at the deepest levels, honest opinions condemned by closest friends and family, truth hidden by false saviours, death walking close behind veils of data, the world is wounded deep.

We are in our new place. A small casita behind the larger more elaborate beach house. Very nice, we think we’ll like it here as long as there are no surprises. The woman in the front will move in tomorrow with her little dog. We shall see how all that fits. The only sound at the moment is the strong breeze thru the palms and dogs that erupt into ruff verse then shallow out for indefinite periods of time. That’s Mexico.

Don’t have anything for you, wish i did but i don’t. Maybe someone else will help you thru all this, i’ve heard there are answers down the pike, don’t know myself, never got that far. My ship is sinkin, my time is getting close to the end, just tryin to make some peace with myself before the last curtain falls. Someone else can ring the bells, blow the fog horns, write some rhyme, truth sits quiet as usual while the streets die. It’s closing time, it’s time to put and end to time, it’s time to say nothin, watch the last dance dance upon the shelf, burn the books, slip out the back door, quietly fade away.

***Sasha and I…in front of our new home, for awhile.***

The moon is shedding its light across the sea, wind is shimmering palms in silhouettes across the sky. I laid the broken hearts in tears fading across my chest, for a while i sat sad and lame and watched the pain nurture the last few stretches of wounds before they turned around and blossomed into something new. I spoke of this to no one, i suffered the loss quietly till it ended and now i will face this dark road and end it for good.

Today people know too much, facts are everywhere, confusion is frowned upon, the many need to be right, need to know…….this is disastrous. I feel the war in the heads along the streets, in my path people comment their definite beliefs about a virus situation so controversial it’s almost laughable at times if it weren’t so detrimental to our existence. We could loose the place we are living in, get kicked out of this country, not be allowed back to our country, not be able to cross a border…..be forced to take a number of jabs that i am certain is not what they claim it to be.

That’s the life along the trail 2022 on the coast of the Yucatan…you just flow day by day, live life.

There are many of the famous complaints that one might have down here. Noice, loud obnoxious music from stores trying to lure people in, speakers on top of vehicles advertising something or another. Little things that can irritate one out of proportion if you’re not careful. Fanatic expads, western tourists and there little dogs paranoid of my friendly Kachi free and running towards them hoping to play while they frantically pick up their little yappers or the big vicious dogs all on leaches yelling to keep my dog away, put him on a leach, ‘my dog is vicious’…….madness. I ran into an over weight couple today on the beach with three huge dogs on leaches while they were all trendy-masked up and yelling religiously to me to keep my happy tail-wagging dog away. The world is out of tune, caught in a groove of rules and regulations and bank accounts, investments and very little connection to the earth, the creator of their universe, the ultimate decision maker, and though just a few inches from their mind, they can’t hear, see, feel a damn thing.

The beauty surrounding this area is overwhelming and yet ……

I’m gonna be gone soon, i can feel it in my cells. All my friends, all my family will go, there will be nothing left, not a trace, so what the hell is all this confusion, this picking sides, these ridiculous walls, these troubles forced all around. Hey there, where you going with that big bag of nonsense, that ship load of stuff, that encyclopaedic train load of minds? Who you going to find along the trail to scrape off the shit from your boots? What’s a life worth, hypnotized to the glory holes of democracy, the death bed of pounding drums, the noisy silence of cathedral praise? Why hang onto your failing memory of your vague salvation? Go out and watch the setting sun erase your dreams, be strong, stop listening to your worn out prayers begging for security, set it all aside for a minute or two, live.

***Sierra, The Angel That Befell Into My Life***

I came upon an angel with a broken wing of the deepest forest as sweet as anything. She told me of the miracles of the mind that i accidentally left behind, almost forgot and cast my eyes into other realms that could never do me good. Just when i was about to leave she held my heart for me to see, that i had wasted so much time searching for so much, so many dreams that could never exist and just when i was about to surrender to my fate she left me standing at the crossroads, those laneways that are so difficult to decipher. I was brave but just not long enough before everything faded away and i was left facing the walls of my discontent once again but with the vision of her caressing my soul i walked on. I’m free finally of all this searching, there is nothing to be that can not be, there is no room for anything that doesn’t move, everything is free, she is all around me, alive, elusive.

***Rubin Hurricane Carter – Vern Hurricane Harper***

In the quiet of the night when it appears that almost everything is asleep, i remember you, your ways within the sweats, the heat, the humour the humility the humble words you placed upon the rocks, the moments of pure spirit splitting the darkness with love and soft affection. I remember the sweats in the prisons we performed, i as the fire keeper and you working the medicine, conducting the ceremony, helping the people, praying your prayers for all. Those were the days when we were best friends travelling in my westphalia camper van from here to there, from nowhere to somewhere, prison to prison, ceremony to ceremony, pow wows, sweats, reservations across the nations. I was in the inner circle with chiefs, medicine men and women, warriors, the ancient ones, the young ones. Sweats with famous people, Hurricane Carter, Floyd Hand, too many to mention; a few vision quests a year, four days no food no water. In those hours moments of great revelations took place, carved light in to my soul that lingers still. Vern would say, ‘you have done that, no one can take that away’ when i might have been feeling sorry for myself or confused of what things meant, these visions that led me from one conviction to another…………things have changed, but the truth still lays still across the plains of time. Possibly it is your spirit tonight that moves these words across the page. Possibly anything can be a possibility but i know there is nothing for certain in the mind. It is all nice to believe in this or in that but the truth is free from the mind, the indian way is a path that changes constantly, honour the way and truth will slip into your soul free to move as water does in and around the rocks of time.

It was one of those heavy hot ‘burn with Vern’ sweats. Hurricane Carter, Floyd Hand, Oliver Poille, all the regulars, the Canadians that helped Rubin get out of prison, it was a full lodge and i remember the splashes of water hitting the hot rocks and burning the skin sharp. Everybody was trembling with the last threads of strength to hang on, keep focused, pray, sing, chant, whatever one did to keep going, when Rubin yelled out ‘take it easy’ on us. I was glad someone yelled out but i was doin fine, could have gone on longer no doubt and Vern just ignored the plead and splashed more water on those burning grandfather rocks, skish skish. I realized in those moments, even someone that has endured so much in prison can be weak in other circumstances and to hold the spirit high for others is always our main job. We are one people, one race, one energy, one world. Those moments cut deep into the brain, leaves trails along the heart that only an empty mind can find.

We walked around Merida last night, beautiful old down town centre Zacolo area, less than an hour from our new home. Lots of activity on a Friday night. This is where all the tourists hide, expose themselves, buy stuff, dine out, wander about. I noticed a few things, hardly any dogs, we left Kachi with our new room mate whom rents the Beach House, Suzy. Katchi won’t be pleased about the few dogs down town. The other thing i noticed was that most everyone was wearing a mask. The few that were not were usually white tourists in the millennium age area. With all the restrictions being lifted in the last week or so in various places especially the UK, my theory is that the first to know are the ones that are social media savvy and that fits with the millenniums. The first to respond to new media knowledge and change will be the socially popular-media savvy groups. Things are looking up, or mask free possibilities coming soon to a town near you. Most are still quite conservative so it won’t be the conspiracy theory savvy group necessarily but as long as things keep moving into freedom, that’s good enough for me.

Merida will be our taste of city life for the coming months. Lots of galleries, art activities, museums, cool cafes, bustling streets, crowd energy, city vibes in a historic setting. We were glad to get back to our safe haven beach retreat, where things are slow, very slow.

The constant search and trying to be someone always lurking in the back of the mind. No matter how hard one tries to alleviate it, it is always there surrounding you with this thought or that. Best to busy oneself with gratifying work, art, science, poetry anything to excite oneself out into the realm of meaningful minutes. Somedays it just comes squeaking in, no matter how tight the lock, the camouflage, the pretty room, the paradise one has built, surrounded oneself with. Today, this energy hit hard, Knocked me off my feet, crushed my hidden dreams, threw me off into the thick of it. We all have these moments, these days. Shrug it off. Watch the sea, the waves endlessly scamper upon the shore line. See the flat earth from the edge of the horizon across the view. Stop questioning for more answers, for more knowing that never comes. Sure let it be, feel the wind brush up against your soul, caress the silence, hang on for a second or two. Notice anything that floats by, a pelican, a thought of love past, there where the pain hides…..The sun burst out and this is for real, kinda feels like it could smother me, but it doesn’t. I keep hanging on to something I’m not sure of, some turmoil agitating my inner strength, some weary warrior fighting for a few more drops of blood, life, love.

***Real De Catorse – Mexico – a few years behind***

A freind suggested the other day on my last blog that possibly this is what poetry is, a way to undue the weave that tightens the grip around your heart. A method to clarify what can’t be understood with words. A love that cries out for love. Words attempting to uphold the glory of life, of death, a way to fall thru to the other side and sense the beauty that surrounds. My tears keep falling across my heart and my love keeps begging for attention, all the while i search for nothing but the sound to take me away, to know what i can not know………i stop, watch the waves, the sun glistens across the scene. As far as my eyes can see the clouds sit soft against the sea-horizon and i feel love and this silent wind abasing my soul.

We left Canada because we felt the grip of insanity tighten the minds of the people. The freedom a sane person knows is a natural right. We have no certainty that things will change in our favour. We are conscious of what we inject and insert into our bodies as best as we can. We see many people everywhere cursing us behind their lips that we are threatening their lives by not taking these injections of poison they believe are their saviours. Insanity, we notice.

My own sister thinks my attitude is inappropriate, life threatening, dangerous to society, tho they would never say so to my face, that same sentiment is meditated amongst my relatives, brothers, inlaws, nieces, nephews, many friends, most i know are on the side of following the grand mandates, the global agenda, the mighty kings of the jungle………..all the institutions, billionaires, politicians, most all that i despise, suspect. That’s life in 2022, split people everywhere and all a page of a super plan that is so easy to read when you can see and understand how this world revolves. It is sad, lonely, disheartening for the world, the people, the future of humanity.

***Jessy – a good freind, died ten years ago….honourable man.***

I can handle the rejection most of the time. Today was difficult. A new moon possibly, some planetary unusual movements, at any rate, some ruffled energy in the air, some love falling off a cliff, dragging thought too powerful to breeze away in the turbulent wind. Detrimental disagreements for the family and friends around the world. The divide of the millennium, the biological trans-human evolutionary plan. I care, that is why you can push me ‘to the gates of hell but i won’t back down’.

I remember many great moments with friends and family, that will have to do for now. There are but a few that have remained close at hand thru this great divide, the premise for the hot war exploding in the cells of humanity.

I can walk out to the beach and swim my life out, it is early, the wind is soft, the birds know. I avoid social media especially the book of faces almost always, it just disturbs me knowing the house is burning down and most all are comfortable on their couches exchanging smiling faced photos in wonderful moments for all to feel. It all has its moments but now is a time for much more than sleeping at the wheel, i tend to think!.

I have spent most of my life with concerns about what goes into the bodies of humanity and beast. I have seen well educated people along the walls of social media express their views that they know not what is in so many of their foods and past vaccines and so what is all the fuss about, just take the shots, shut-up and trust the science. Need i say more……it’s complicated, but the plan has been to numb the minds with entertainment, manipulated food processes, the air, everything and more than one could possibly imagine.

***Jim Hodgson – friend for eons, still around…we’re close….always respected my approach to photography and especially my writing….that helped***.

I choose to walk and question everything especially the filthy rich, coerced institutions, religious fanatics from politics to religion and advocates for a science that is struggling at an octave too low. Be brave, kill your pride, step on board and breathe the air free and unite.

We are one people, wake up, get back to the circle. To understand silence is not to be silent, but to walk in the hand of nature and be free with a voice to sing your song, clear.

I might abandon canada but i will not abandon humanity, it’s in the nature of the brain. There are no borders that can’t be broken, hearts that can’t be mended. Rise up above the nations and the sickness in the head, live as one, be as one and one will be.

Beware of those thoughts that keep you sad, those inclinations that linger in your brain, those twisted bent ideas that never end, never let you breathe deep, keep you frightened, beware, it can get you and be your end.

There is no clear way thru the jungle. The obstacles are many. You may meet death lurking from a bush, or life in the mud. You may see almost perfect one moment and be blinded the next. Some say it is all worth it. I don’t know about that. One must do what one must do. There are hundreds of thousands, millions world wide now fighting for their democratic natural rights to be upheld by the powers that have been elected to serve them. Freedom and truth are siblings often in dispute. Brother freedom can be dangerous with out sister truths guidance. The war goes deep into the mind of humanity. Today is the day the super elite is exposed for their crimes but everyone is to blame, has a part to play in refining the edges of the heart. There has been blood shed and there will be more along the path to awareness. It all seems so cruel from the mountains but down here in the valley the dangers are real and deadly. Get your weapons in hand, carry that truth thru the doors to freedom because there are some unbelievable beliefs in the minds of the controllers that will not be changed without a fight to the end and possibly with some intervening from the higher spirits in the background. We shall see how it all unfolds.

***Too Late For The PostMan……Kathy Bechamp and Patrick Wey***

So much undue suffering is caused by the ones that feel they need to control, others and all life itself. From the peasant to the super rich the trend to have more and be better than the rest is a sickness that causes more than enough grief. Get rid of the elite and more elite will come. Wars are too slow to change the consciousness of humanity. I see no answer, the sixties, psychedelics, love was stamped out, not sustainable. One must walk alone, change alone. Native ceremonies are an answer for a period of time. Answers are often nothing more than disguised opinions. When doubt is suppressed tyranny spreads. This is my opinion. So Keep On Truckin – There Must Be Someway Outa Here.

Images and Wriitng by Patrick Wey

Comment please, it enhances the continuity of dreams.

A few additional iphone pics

***Kachi’s first tuk tuk ride…a little scared but not anymore***

***A Cobbler in the Progresso Market Place***

Thank you all, for taking the time to wander along my observations……….please leave a few words in the wake of your walk.…..

B88 … does love really bind this universe as one…in the folds of all matter?

The chance that life would get back to normal, a new normal, similar, was an illusion. They knew it and in your hearts you knew it too. There was nothing going to be the same as it once was. Doors had opened and there was nothing that was going to turn it around, go back, close the doors, seal up the cracks and force everything that escaped out into the light to forget what was now embedded into the new brains of humanity, virtual, real, organic or robotic. Not going to happen. These changes are so vast, they may be talked about in detail for centuries, they may have set off a stampede of change that will never be understood with absolute understanding. Possibly the poets of the future will disentangle the truth of the matter with words that pierce sharp to the heart but wander off in vague clouds thru fine lines shaped into bitter decisions as poets often do. Who knows is nobodies guess.

The ‘great deception’ will hang in the museums for millenniums as evidence for ‘the last transformation’ of humanity, the ‘humpty dumpty’ of the 21st century.

I walk down the streets of Campeche, the historic city of the Yucatan Gulf Coast. Curbs of water ways a metre high down cobble stone beds of centuries of memories embedded into streets. Words just flow out and over the cracked stone of archaic spirits assembling in the night air as i tread upon the web of memory that entangles the people, the wild ones, the earth, and the sacred waters of time. I am a witness of existence for a moment or two then the water ways of the mind fade into the darkness to where they lay silent once more for another soft observers eyes.

The wars fought here on this ground. The great sorrow and the wretched, sordid, mucky minds that shaped these canals into a future that now tends to forget the details, the horror of it all……….war, so praised, now hangs in the halls of museums and is now the entertainment of tourists of our day. This is the way of humanity, once love is forgot and a more prosperous deception as hatred persists, war surrounds the mind. Such is the life and death of man as the collective mind unfolds through the canals of time.

There is love in the air remembered in the petals of the flowers blooming in the streets, in the fields, the jungles and even the minds strewn across the globe. I am in this love some times.

There is no lock down here as back home in Ontario, Quebec and stretching across the nation of Canada. The madness persists, conclusions warping the trend, the fight between this side and that, these details and those, deception and honesty. The people are divided, real debates are hidden within the fears of death and truth sits camouflaged with broken facts and obscure intelligence. It’s a mess and the night is closing in.

***Kachi Pondering on the Chess Board of Life***

Day breaks into a heavy sun bright and free. Kachi is lonesome, i can tell. She is tired of the hot days in the car and no great adventures like the BC forests and the cold fresh waters upon its land. We decided to move on from here to Progresso in the Yucatan, booked a B&B for three nights on the beach to get our heads around the possibilities that face us.

We arrived to a quaint little apartment a few miles from Progresso. There are a few other guests, a couple from Hungary, the owners are British and have lived here for ten years. Chelem is a small fishing village with nothing much other than a few stores and lots of small fishing vessels.

After talking with Mila the Hungarian young woman we learned that in Hungary hardly anyone wears a mask anymore. She feels as us that there are tons of opinions based on little truths and many lies intermixed to a structured media-brew for the masses. Everybody is truly confused whether they want to believe it or not. The owner here, Tony, seems unconcerned about masks. That’s all i know, for now.

The first morning here quiet and thoughtful. Went for an early morning swim in the gulf, ran, exercised, felt the energy of the space upon my face, the mind went quiet for a time, there was an attraction laying out its tentacles; something was right.

We went to see the town a couple of miles down the road and an adventure of looking for a longer term home began. We met a few locos that showed us a few places, either too small, decrepit or to huge and glamorous but we were set on the right track. Accidentally found a cool cafe and our first gringos we happened to meet whom were having breakfast, were from a little town north of Qualican Beach which is an hour north of our home in BC. The Mexican Hombre owner of the restaurant taught at the Quelph University my home area in Ontario. We were surprised to find a cool cafe let alone people from our past spaces. Magnetics of the heart, i suppose, connecting. We gathered lots of info concerning rental prices and other data of interest for expats attempting to smooth out the edges of fitting in somewhere here.

There is too much to be said concerning the many things that happens in a day to a mind travelling new territory that questions too much and can never say enough. That’s me, not unlike many of us questionable humans.

Night time came quick today. It was a good day. Hardly any covid news and just about ready to tune into the data from around the world via my trusted sources, and i don’t trust much and that is exactly the type of mind i trust, those are my preferred sources, those that don’t know more than they do.

It appears to me that the masses that continue to follow the planned narrative will stay stuck until they realize that the multi conglomerate pharma industries are not their friends along with all the other super rich industrial giant minds. The main stream media is now owned by them and their news is simply propaganda to continue your views parallel to execute their plans. Until such time there will continue to be a war between the heart and the mind, the conscious and the structured, the slaves and the freedom warriors. I am unsure of my purpose here but it is not to lay out the facts to prove these thoughts, there are plenty of slicker minds than mine that are exposing data and varifiable facts that convey these opinions, to show in detail how humanity has been manipulated strategically to a very foul end. I will leave it that. There is so much arising in the minds of the fighters with thousands of hours of videos and literature exposing these truths. It is up to the individual if you really want to know what’s happening or just be a part of the foul narrative. Humanity is waking up, humanity is falling asleep. This is not my problem, my mission, my job.

***Scenes along the Streets of Campeche***

We here, Sasha, Kachi and I are looking for a place to lay our weary heads for a few months and take it from there. I will say this one last concept on this topic, the reality of what is really happening is so far out of reach of most of us that eternity seems like a minute in a month of this world.

Man is not a free thinker, a free thinker does not think, but allows thought to think itself out, freely. The controller of thought is the thinker caught in a prison of his own making. Us mind travellers weave in and out of this plane, but we are all caught to a degree.

We found a place month by month, on the beach, modest and the cheapest we could find……this shall do. We have been putting up with constant hammering from the next door construction for the last week, morning till night. Tomorrow, Sunday, the Sabath, the day of rest, and we’ll be gone.

Such is life, noice, light, mind pollution, there is no place to hide, micro-tech is everywhere, in everything, gmo humans walking with the dead and flourishing…….‘what can ever stop this wheel from excelerating out of control’ is the question of the millenniums…….does love really bind this universe as one, in the folds of all matter or is this simply just another illusion?

Sometimes, i have to admit, it just seems to tear too sharp along the sentiments of my heart, all this madness, everywhere, better to punctuate an end with a last period. Sadness too heavy to hold, loneliness so far from home, no purpose worth a moment, kick the last can down the street and call it quits…………….so far, this air has blown thru my mind, one day, it may not.
Things change, the mind moves and before you know it there is light against the walls.

***Streets Upside-down Exploding in Beauty***

images and writing by patrick wey

B87 … Thoughts along the way, mixed up and out of state

Thoughts along the way, mixed up and out of state

WaterColoursByMotherGaia (future book in progress)

Reflections, refractions, and reinventions; mother earth is the master painter of all life and beauty. Nothing can compare to the wonders, the colours, the form and sensitive movements of the eternal moments water creates. I walk around with my head in the reflections everywhere, everywhere i see light skimming across the heavens of my mind. A single tree in the waves of my lens, the stunning beauty wraps itself around my skin, my eyes collide head -on with the textures in my heart, my soul feels form right through to the deepest crevasses of my mind.

Beauty sits still as it moves about in the twists and turns of light upon the glistening shadows across the surfaces of water, air and the delicate illuminescence of spirit within all things.

I am a documentary photographer of the master works of mother gaia and her undying strength to create beauty everywhere. She is my love. She is the love that guides my every move. She is the silence in my mind. She inhabits every breath i receive. Without her i am nothing. My short insignificant life has been to see this beauty and to attempt to capture her wealth for a flash of a transient moment of her forever changing eternal beauty.

There is an endless stream of light reflecting down thru the tunnels of molecules, atoms and unknown infinite dimensions. There is where i ponder, as often as probable ………. patrick wey : photography

Back In the Journal

We arrived in Veracruz City today for a look, see. We have a 5th floor hotel room over-looking the bay. After a walk here and there along beaten up streets to the main zagalo, we sat in another amazing patio for a great locally grown coffee. The terraced patios around the aged treed square makes you want to just hang out and watch people and ponder about your existence or what have you. We did that, then moved on. After a short time in the hotel room we took Kachi out for a run on the beach. She went nuts, she loves the water, the beach sand, digging and running wild as a happy dog.

Walking by a young Mexican couple i could here, ‘How does if feel, to be without a home, like a complete unknown, with no direction home, like a rolling stone’. Wow, i hadn’t heard one of my mental master pieces for a month. I stood there listening to all four verses watching the setting sun and feeling feelings my heart hadn’t touched for a long long while. I especially focused in on the stanza, ‘You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain’t it hard when you discovered that
He really wasn’t where it’s at
After he took from you everything he could steal’………..how does it feel, all alone, no direction home, a rolling stone.

The symbolism hits so hard today if you let it, with people like Gates, Fuchi, and the many other billionairs with their puppets and pawns locked into the pharma-industry, the injection vacs-scam and yet with so many that have heard this song thousands of times and yet hadn’t understood a word of what dylan and many others have been saying for centuries. The super wealthy are scamming us, ripping us off, making fools of us, and we are letting them, honouring them, condoning them. ‘Steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king’, (dylan) and i am suppose to feel sorry for the ‘patriotic scoundrels’ that keep the repetition wheels rolling and than when the few of us speak out, yell out, we’re condemned, silenced, sensored, crucified, beheaded. Respecting the wrong values, this holly-world has got most of us by the dream-balls, and we love it, want it, repeat it, fooled by it and fool others into it, coercing the many into the same ditch; they don’t want no jonny ‘out of step’, jonny, jonny ‘be good’.

No, it doesn’t feel all that great to realize that we’re a billion light years from home, but it’s an honest feeling to hear words that pierce your heart to the soul, leaves you stranded, lonesome, on the road, but real.

The day moves on whether you want it to or not, sometimes it leaves you behind, longing for things that just no longer exist.

And also, to confirm that being open to discuss anything is not anti anything, necessarily. Not allowing open discussion puts you in a position of being anti-information, anti science, anti logic, anti intelligence, anti human. To eliminate and remove videos and information questioning all the variables of this Covid Scenario is not science; it is control, bulling, down right anti-democracy and i will not abide by these rules…..do what you will to me, but nature is my boss and she says, ‘don’t trust them, their science is an octave too low, flawed and sinister’.

I have lost most of my friends and family due to continuing to being open about all aspects of life in general and especially this Covid affair. There is more than enough information that is being suppressed to open up real scientific philosophical discussion. Look around before more disappears; if you don’t want to end up in a much much stranger world, join the investigation. IMO.

*Dream Walkin – Down the Halls to Something New*

Back In the Factory Palace

The car ran like a charm. It was nice to have a few swims. Kachi enjoyed it the most, i’d say. She got noticed around the whole length of the beach for her excitement and manners. So many commented about her behaviour. She is one happy dog, makes me ashamed at times, so much to learn from her.

There was a balcony right beside our room over looking the beach and on christmas eve after returning from the beach we thought we’d wash Kachi’s beach-sanded-feet before we let her into the room. I don’t know how it happened but when we closed the sliding door it slammed and locked us out on the balcony. We slightly panicked. We had thoughts that we’d be sleeping on the balcony with no blankets and a hard floor. There was a young man standing on the corner six floors below and with our fake spanish we kept yelling to him. I presume he thought we were just a couple of drunks. After fifteen minutes or so i finally convinced him to go inside to the desk and tell the worker our situation of however it appeared to him. After another fifteen minutes or so we finally saw lights coming from a staircase down the hall. Well, that was a taste of a Christmas Eve that could have gotten out of control, thinking thoughts of jumping to the next balcony and other ridiculous inclinations that ramble around a half panicked mind. Kachi sat there scared knowing this was all serious business. Feliz Navidad

Down the road the play continues, the museums are filled with well formed facts, artifacts, warm facts, cold facts but nothing can speak of the real truth of the times that passed thru the moments that still linger down the halls along the walls of eternity. Almost everyone it seems needs to hang onto a few smells of glory, a couple of loves lost, a basket of caresses, some taste of sweet skin and many more than one definite conclusion burning away in the heart of the mind.

God knows there will be a time when space is one again, but in the mean time the road will play on, down the line within the conscious mind.

The hot sun and the jungle terrain lays a mellow feeling on my brain. I wonder what is waiting down that path of freedom, whether it’s worth the gamble, will there be any truth there i wonder, or am i bound for another round of servitude. I escape for the time being and head on down another trail. Free for awhile from the turmoil in the north and the constant battle with logic, stupidity, facts and lies. It’s speeding across the globe, the plan is tight, well designed, playing on the hidden and obvious desires of the crowd. Who’s gonna win is anybodies guess, the prophets are in our favour, the profits are in theirs. I got my head on straight in this noon day sun and I’m just gonna go with the wind, the slight breeze down through the Rio Blanco canyon….some say the answer’s blowing there…i’ve caught a glimpse a few times, never could describe it across the shifting plains.

A Full Haystack
the first one was acceptable
the second debatable
the third very questionable
and all the while, big lock down coming in quick
gonna push you to the limit
bundles of boosters on order, sliding in
and off in the dim shadows
a chorus is singing low, ‘just say no
and it will all fade
fade away’.

What
who are our ally’s
who can see the war
who is the enemy
what are they fighting for?

Nov. 11 2021 – It’s about time
Time to listen, time to rearrange the mind, the mind of experience in desitute. Time moves about like some misty landscape in an early morning light. Sun whipping around corners, trees, grass and high sky scrapers shadowing ancient seas. Waters flowing across the night, thru walls of memory like a knife, crashing aghast against the cruelty. The days break along the empty canal full of scenes of history like a breeze, harsh and sweet.

I stumbled in asked for a drink sat down and looked about, pictures hanging off walls like tombs expressive impressive and long long into the eons of time. I glanced back along the canal once again and wandered for awhile then moved on.

I followed along the busy streets like a hollow-being stuffed with conclusions of most everything. There wasn’t a topic under the sun that didn’t have the mark of opinion etched inside its roots. Masked and frightened walkers strolled by heavy on their limps whispering magnetic lullaby’s into the ears of the virgin sheep. Bookyards were full and over flowing with facts, fiction and syllables scraped off the heals of saints and warriors whose chance had bypassed the future into vague forsaken dream scapes. Nothing was going to end simple, every move was complicated into realities previously unheard unwanted and tender like a silent night.

Opinions tightened up, scientists, lawyers and worn out artists kept the maps moving always one step ahead of terrains too harsh to be believed. Books were writing, blogs kept tract, videos documented judgement and the sentiment for views on every corner. I walked by the old shadows and felt the light of the night tingle into my brain, caress my directions and tangle the dance into oblivion. That was sacred and there was no sense in explaining. The people kept the score and wavered from side to side, nothing was resolved, many died, power kept control, the hidden escaped once again, the world moved forward over the millenniums of burning clay into another dawn.

Like a swarm of locusts the masked walked on.

October 26 2021 – I can see that more and more people are questioning
I can see that more and more people are questioning the validity of the situation that the so called ‘Virus19’ has thrown us into. I know that some will feel great shame in what they have done. Once the realization sinks in further and further they may get angry, quilty that they may have convinced others to take a jab that is life threatening. Don’t be too hard on yourselves. We thought we could trust in the system that had conditioned us into believing they would look after us. Some were well aware that that has not been the case, possibly for so far into the past that the winds of change had erased the evidence from view.

The very few that govern this world have one major fear. That is the fear that the masses will become aware that we do not need them and that they affect our lives in so many adverse ways that we would eliminate them if we could. Well we can. This is their last attempt to control us with technologies almost too complex to believe and understand that they could exist, but they do and they are on their last legs. More and more of us are waking up to these facts. Cover your shame, your guilt, stand together. This is the only way. I am not your enemy, you are not my enemy. This is what they thrive upon, it keeps us busy fighting the wrong enemy. Come together, a great Lennon song, over me, over us, over them, just come together and stop complying to the insane rules and laws they are constantly ramming into our veins.

Wake up and trust in your brothers and sisters, be very leary of any billionaires, multi corporations, governments. We have the technologies, we built them, we know them, we can change the world, we don’t need them, they are ripping us off, making our lives unbearable, creating sciences that this earth can do without. We can be without poverty, we can decide intelligently what we want, what we need, we can hear nature our creator for guidance.

Why has it that some were quick to ask the right questions that led them to mistrust the whole validity of this of what we call the 2019 pandemic? I have questioned this many times and found no exact answer but fragments of truths along the way. I derived at a formula for consciousness about 35 years ago on a 10 hour trip back to toronto from chicago with a close friend Jim. The revelation was that ‘consciousness equals information times games squared’. I have corrected that to ‘information times clarity squared and that clarity is equal to focus times intensity.

Let me explain. I have personal friends that come from different backgrounds from bikers to doctors, to composers, lawyers, artists, experts in media, construction, nurses, travellers, and more. Some trusted the media and the pharmaceutical companies and the governments to be telling them the truth, simply that there is a pandemic and ultimately the only recourse is to take this injection they called a vaccine. This included, belief in masking, distancing and all the main stream media propaganda. I would say that 90% of friends and family bought into this scenario. I had talked to many and there answers were all based on what might be called common knowledge that vaccines worked in the past with small pox, polio, etc. and that they trusted the typical sources of media for their conclusions. Most could not conceive of a possibility that this could be falsified to such an extent to include the common store clerk right up to the top officials in the government worldwide. No such plan could possibly be in accordance to reality.

With a wide variety of people mostly in favour of the agenda and also the few against it, where was the commonalty. Early on i deduced that it had something to do with an individuals respect for authority. This could include their undying respect for educational degrees, prestige and success in the form of equity (money) over inteliigence, investigation, knowledge from the soul.

Oct 20 2021 – People walk upright with masks tight
People walk upright with masks tight, beauty hidden deep within. The distance between them is silent and warm like a sun hit wild rose unnoticed of a perfume so fragrant honey bees delight. They are busy thinking about things, about futures, rearranging the past and desperately demanding pleasures from a crowded space. The cool afternoon autumn streets are wet and shallow. A crow passes by, a man with a cane touches the pavement with his eyes and a young girl is dying in the heavens with love from below.

The city meets the country air along a narrow path that leads to the cliffs of a jagged shore. The people are more solemn there with the waters, pleasant and sad. I have a thought that keeps roaming around the landscape of my mind. ‘Is it possible to be unattached to the thoughts that sail across my sea and be free from the continuity that has programmed itself within this mind i call me’, and then a wave crushes the shore line and touches the veins of my soul, silent noice fills the room.

This is the beauty one finds when one is not looking, when one is open as a vast sea scape, long like an endless cloud that passes through the horizons of the known. This is where beauty slips into the mind, when time falls off the cliff into the sea and the heart sores high above the pleasures of love. Beauty is what is when love is silent.

I look out this window across dying leaves of autumn colour to the misty mountains hardly visible. It is early here. People are no where near. I have nothing to be. There is no fight but to breathe. I don’t believe you, i don’t believe me. I act when i act and leave it at that. If i carry any thing at all it is because i do, not because i want to. I don’t own this body, this mind, i am i, an illusion but i do believe, tremble and walk, escape, repeat and will end. There is very little sacred but this view across the valley. The world will continue to force power control upon one another for no good reason. I fall in there for moments when i have nothing better to do or have forgotten to forget or care about the dying souls. Nothing serious, just life living its patterns upon the disintegrating space of time of a deeper space. Nothing comes to an end and to nothing again. I look back across the valley across the multi coloured leaves falling from high trees, the rain caressing my heart against the harsh metal roof and i sigh, beauty, silence again.

Up To Date
I don’t know where i’m goin, hardly know where i’ve been. Been flying low along the avenues lately. Can’t seem to get it right, the world just keeps drowning all around me. People thinking they know where it’s at, throwing severe images along the ditch expecting me to listen, to react, to follow some vague mixed up twisted concepts and say thanks, thanks for the lift into your brain, your dark light, your chamber of confinement and obedient claws. No thanks, i’m outa here, on the run again, out into the streets, the hard rain, the sleet, the bare truth, the raw screams, the way out of this world.

Jan 8 2022, Left for the coast this morning. I suspect things will change in this mind of mine, less, ‘all over the place’, and more observations of my daily existence in the the surreal. I sat across from the main zagallo in the Orizaba Cafe the other day watching ‘mostly’ masked people go in and out of the main cathedral and wander around the park and busy themselves up and down the streets living life. Masks and covid running thru my mind i wrote this:

Across the Streets The Rain

Cathedrals are over flowing with grief
patient lambs praying for more time in heaven
all else seems bitter and cruel
along this hot and damp avenue
The world is in turmoil
burnt out and crawling
the time of hard cold facts
erupting thru vague cracks
it won’t be long before death takes its toll
masses dying for apparently no reason at all
and no answer fit to express all this deceit
it’s the time of man on this pedestal seat
there is no telling how it will all unfold
nothing but time is carved in stone
take every breath you can of tender love
truth come raining down from the highest above

Comment please, it enhances the continuity of dreams.

Images and writing by Patrick Wey

Like a Rolling Stone Lyrics as written by Bob Dylan
Sweetheart Like You
Artist: Bob Dylan
Album: Infidels (1983)
They say that patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel clings
Steal a little and they throw you in jail
Steal a lot and they make you king

B86 … Out in the Avenue

Out in the Avenue, it’s early Friday night, a small town which was a jungle a couple hundred years ago. Civilization had spread its love across the globe. You can hear here, the high loud long squeak of the brakes of the autobuses, and the flapping mufflers of the young kids in their first cars, the tar jungle sounds of diesel engine tappets against the reverb radios, beeping horns, and congestion in the air; this new jungle breeze will blow for awhile and disappear along with the astecs, topecs, and the others. This is the way the world moves, in and out of time.

The cappuccino smooths out the squeaks so loud at times it hurts the ears, long and slow. Some people call this paradise, most don’t call it anything, just life, the people grew up here around the factory, the textile industry of a hundred years ago or so. We are staying in the palace of the factory for a few more weeks. The spirits are hiding within the walls. They talk of great labour and long dreams that were woven into the weave that spread across the land, was sold and bought and gave human life to this jungle. Things have changed. People walk by in their indifferences with little memory of the fabric that wove this town alive but just enough to remember where they came from and to respect the unseen spirits that float around their brains in the gray nights of the silent noice from within the streets.

These are the times of the famous epidemic, the great lie from the astronomically rich filtered down through the repetition machinery to the people. The people suffer, they have suffered, they will suffer, suffering is the sad way of the masses, the seduced intoxicated crowd.

The dark home of the ones confined to the principals of light will walk on forever through these shadows of the past, for they are the saviours, the warriors of freedom sketched into the future as prophesized. The walls will crumple, the filthy rich will evaporate, the jungle will return, the people, they say, will love with truth in every breath.

Friday night cafe and the noice is shallow now, the cool breeze down thru the tunnel of the Rio Blanco is sending a thick chill thru the skin of my mind……….it’s time to move on.

Morning sun across the green and flowered lawn. Here i sit with a soft mind and and a troubled soul. I have been thinking about this for some time now. How come so many have fallen into the trap of the vacs syndrome and have stayed? I have known for decades that so many have an unsubstantiated respect for authority, wealth, capital letters attached to names, minds with facts for everything, metal-hearts full with sentiment, and gurus that know too much.

But the ultimate fall from grace for anyone is their undying belief that they can not fall. Far too many people think their thinking can resolve any issue they are presented with. How did people become so arrogant to feel they can know anything and they can never be manipulated into believing what is false? Possibly it is the altered states that have taught some of us of the vulnerability of the mind and to doubt everything?

The slow conditioning has programmed the minds of humanity into believing that reason is the language of the gods, the truth of the universe and nature must abide by these laws. Inferior logical conclusions are rampant in the brains of humanity and therefore condemned to need an opinion; they rely on their superiors, experts whom many have sold their souls. A strategy well observed by the elite, so as to shape their will into the world. The masses are to blame, the wealthy powerful are to blame, most of humanity is asleep, we all have a hand in this mess.

To wake up to whatever is, is the only answer, investigate, use your brain, your mind and your heart, balance out the light with reflections of sincerity and the way shall follow.

I don’t know very much but neither does one need to know much to know that ‘knowing’ is transient. Understanding, comes and goes as well. So it is best, in order to truly have a glimpse of understanding one must surrender to the silent mind as often as the opportunity arises. There you may develop a taste for being aware without knowing and that alone, may pull you through those dark moments whereas too much knowledge may have torn your soul apart.

The evening has slipped into view and in a couple of hours we will go out with Alexandra and Juan to his uncles pizza restaurant and eat supper with some of his family. We had met a very lovely lady a few days ago whom has helped us in so many ways to establish ourselves in the community. Marianna had lived in Canada, Alberta and also China for a spell. An entrepreneur of sorts with a good heart and lots of tips to move us forward as we attempt to buy a car, find an apartment, we might even teach english. We are open to anything and welcome the help and friendship.

By the morning, rain had dampened the landscape and i was feeling slightly off, knowing that i had over indulged. The food was one of those rare occurrences of the best pizza, pasta of a lifetime. The restaurant is in the heart of Orizaba, a very Itallian looking place, busy and with an authentic small home town atmosphere. Juan’s family were warm and made us feel at home, even with our lack of Spanish, this is the tradition of the Mexican people, friendly and accommodating. There were cousins and aunts all laughing and talking and sharing a great time. At one point a thousand or so motor bikes rode by on an adjacent road on a pilgrimage in honour of Our Lady of Guadalupe celebrated today Dec12 all over Mexico.

These traditions don’t happen in Canada. Canada has too many cultures all mixed into a low populated land cept for the large cities like Little Italy in Toronto and others and of course the province of Quebec but that still can’t compare to the vast uniformity of celebrations that occur here across the vast country of Mexico.

Went out and took some puddle pictures of the surrounding area and ended up on main street of the little town here of Rio Blanco at a cafe for a coffee. Sat there alone pondering over my life and thought back to thirty-five years ago when i was just down the road in Fortin De Las Flores, a beautiful little town with Rosa whom became my wife a few months later and soon after we headed for Canada, which is where she still is in Kitchener Ontario.

***From Below The Grounds Of the Factory***

Here I am, here, strange the way the world turns always impermanent, always a fresh twist to the view to make it new.

Back in Mexico City

Came here to find a car. Long story. Not important. At Juans parents. They are gone away. Huge condo on the outskirts. Sasha and K are back at the Palace.

I am grateful i don’t have to travel around by bus and knapsack. Hopefully i will find a car tomorrow and get out of the city back to Rio Blanco. We will be there alone for a couple of weeks in the huge palace with Kachi our dog and one of their dogs Pito Porte. The two of them get along like siblings, off and on.

I have to admit that there is an underlining unsettling atmosphere in my mind. I can’t quite pinpoint it but it feels like what i might call an existentialist aungst. Some weird hidden fear of the unknown, out of the nature of the normalcy of my mind. I don’t pay it much attention. Things like this come and go, just another shedding of the infinite layers of skin the human mind has build up just to tear down. The collective thought-mind has developed eons of imaginary dimensions of endless terrains as real as reality. I met my mother last night in one of those dreams and we hugged each other so beautifully, so happy to feel each others presence. I awoke feeling warm in the soul. I don’t put much weight on this as anything else. I feel like an infinite wave brushing up against an eternal shore forever. I come and go, believe, discard, walk-on as far as the eye can see and than some.

In my best moments, i am free from the known. I walk with no truth dangling off my shoulders, no conclusions in the heels of my shoes, no fingers to point anywhere and a silent calm breath pure and perfect in every step. My worst moments finds a strangled up mind twisted around concepts weaving in and out of consciousness at warp speed with intense fear forming in every move.

Time passes always, nothing stands still for long in an open mind. Possibly that knowing keeps the dark-side tainted in some light. Sometimes the mind forgets and it takes a while for it to get back on the trail. Faith is all that exists in a mind that is free from the known.

Faith is a knowing that is beyond or rudimentary, an understanding that is primordial, pre-thought, pre-percepts, akin to instinct with a conscious knowing, a faith that guides the inner-mind, the way of the spirit. Faith can not be described with a tool that can not comprehend it. It is before and after words. Faith is all that exists in a pure perfect mind. That is as close as i can get. This is so far from the truth, no more than a quarter of an inch of eternity.

Time, space, mind, thought, form. Is there a parallel source? Faith possibly!

A few days down the road….

Went to Mexico City with Juan and Alexandra to see a car to buy. With their connections and a lot of time and effort on their part i road away in a 2013 Renault, one owner, low k’s and a gem of a car for a very reasonable price. After an all day scenario i escaped the city from the north-west end of town, Friday mid-afternoon with a manual shift, low gas and my iPhone battery collapsing. I never made it out of town till close to seven pm, almost ran out of gas and couldn’t find a gas station and a OXXO or 7/11 to get a cigarette lighter USB to charge my phone for google maps. I hadn’t been in this kind of traffic for 35 years since i lived here in my wild youth with nothing but a few wrinkled up maps…….wow what a rush.

There was a segment of the highway on the outskirts of town that was four lanes and i was in the second from the left with many motor cycles whipping by on either side of me, weaving along the line that divides the lanes, crazy, but fantastic drivers. You had to be careful not to swerve to one side or the other as to cause a fatal accident. I just focused on sticking to the middle of my lane and let the nature of the Mexican drivers do their thing. I made it to the Factory Palace in Rio Blanco by 10ish. I passed, i am a Mexican driver again.

There were a few moments whereas you could see a sea of lights in the hills and valleys to make one aware of just how many people there are strewn across the globe in every nook and granny of this sacred earth. And with the devastating relationship that humans have caused the earth and as an example, our poor elephants, from observing a doc i had watched the night before, makes you almost sympathize with those super-elites conclusions to get the population down to 500 million with a 90% loss, dead, eliminated. I don’t know the answer really, but certainly it is not to play god and direct the world in some programable method. What insanity!

I tend to watch and swerve in and out of reality as a coyote does in and out of town and that’s good enough for me, for now.

It’s late and i awoke wondering about things. Will we stay or will we go, here or back north. We have time for now for the virus to settle down in the imagination and the real reality that seems so difficult to pin down, too nail to the journals of solid facts; i’ii just let it play out its will.

I remember loves that once sheltered my heart from the storms that swing in from the west and those blizzards that had clouded my head at times. If i could i would go back there in a flash. Let go of everything that seems so dear and travel once again free down that weary road of adventure. Possibly some might think that that is exactly what i have done and am doing. Not so, i say, not the way i see it. If you could feel my love, you would know, i’m a million light years from home.

I wish i could tell all the ones that were so dear to this mind of mine that i had loved them more than they will ever know, that i cared for them enough to spend days without food or water on mountains and valleys praying for their health, for their sanity, without them ever knowing of my trials and trails. I wish in vain for my enemies to know what love there is in a free mind, a mind that cares for all minds, all things, all of the unturned stones, the grandfathers and the mothers of all life. I wish for just one moment that i could feel this love, forever.

It’s late, it’s time to put down the pen, let the ink sleep awhile, possibly there will be a new day in the morning.

Images and writing by patrick wey

Comment please, it enhances the continuity of dreams.

B85 … The Textile Factory of Rio Blanco

Things have changed. We have moved into the Factory. This is where the Mexican revolution began back in 1907. This property is enormous with humongous vacant textile industrial spaces. Raul owns the property and his daughter Alexandra and partner Juan are in charge of making it sustainable without giving into the typical sell-offs to large corporations that may destroy the historical ambience of the buildings.

We live in what may be described as a palace with long corridors of tile floors, wood trim and solid doors rising up into historic high ceilings. There are many rooms and we here occupy a very small portion of the overall space. The balconies extend the length of the two stories on both the front and back with high white pillars, wavy glass window panes and delicately designed plaster and cement work through-out. It is surreal. The five meter cement wall encapsulates the entire beautifully treed land excluding the beautiful cathedral across the street that once was a part of the property. Trees with dangling flowers, surrounding pastures of wild flowers and a serenity in the air that can own your breath.

Outside the wall is the world, the people, controllers, the masked, the mighty kings of the jungle and the town of Rio Blanco……

We are living in a form of a dream. Not sure how this happened but we’re here and that’s that.

Out in the streets most are wearing masks. I don’t wear one unless asked, which is usually on entering an establishment of sorts. I am surprised at the high percentage of masked and i have not endeavoured into the situation here in Mexico and to what exactly the people think. Most are followers i presume like everywhere else on the planet, locusts of various design. Some just don’t think about much other than their daily lifes, others don’t have the time or will to investigate, some find it too difficult to stand alone and many just move into whatever the world places in their wake. Sheep, locusts, lemmings; most of us find ourselves in this category at times within our life, a few break out and fall back in and attempt to convince others to do the same and fewer still, stay out. This epidemic partially planned and still in motion has strategically separated humanity in groups interchanging like waves on a sea shore, characters on a chess board. Confusion and chaos the ultimate weapon developing deep within their minds.

It is the same the world over. The truth of the situation is simply too bazaar for most to wrap their heads around and being preoccupied with their personal lifes they just accept the camouflaged propaganda of main-street-media and keep on following down the funneled path of compliance as days turn into weeks and months and years and more and more of the natural human freedoms are lost.

The majority of people self hypnotize themselves into what seems logical enough but eventually turns into a mind of confusion seldom experienced and that’s it, they’re stuck, they have to see it thru, argue their stance thru the nitemares of chaos.

We are inland, a small river flows thru the area, the white river, Rio Blanco through Rio Blanco. I have documented much of the territory here at the Factory in photographic images. There are possibilities of maintaining some work on the premises with various skills i have developed through-out the years. We shall see.

Kachi loves it here. She has four other dogs to interact with and she gets plenty of walks/runs in the towns and cities we visit. She has a pond she swims in, acres of land to run about and aromas that she has never smelt. A happy dog. We, on the other hand have our moments of discontent, uncertainty, and with the strange future unfolding around the world we are forced to put plans of returning to Canada on a close watch.

There are so many levels of understanding that cross the borders in the mind about what is and what is not going on. In this mind that somehow i have some odd control over, as little as it may be, there is enough to convince me that nothing like this has ever happened on this planet. This magnitude of insanity, psychopathic plans to eliminate enormous quantities of life for an outcome so against the nature of nature feels so very wrong, absurd, and so tragic on such a beautiful planet, with all this life, love, life one could ever need and desire.

A madness surrounding, making natural freedom difficult. I choose, when possible, to be open to the vast possibilities that come streaming down the avenues of the mind when the calm silence of the breath of life over takes me. This is not always possible.

With the close possibility of being forced into camps for not abiding to injections of a slow death, shunned by our loved ones, condemned for attempting to stay anonymous, for being sane, life becomes very, very uncertain. We shall see as the waves of thought turns its focus within the silent stampede of the herd, what may lie in the fields of destiny.

*Board Room In the Textile Factory Palace*

There are those like us that rely on the intelligence of the creator, nature and and all her gifts to show us the way. If only one would listen, there is there, all one needs to know. The many tend to believe in the abstract of thought that is so convincing and if you are not careful you can fall into any one of the infinite traps that can drag you into realms bound to destroy the mind with a bang, exploding chemistry thru canyons of fear and deceit. Thought is a tool, a photograph is not the terrain, concepts are virtual, abstract, a tool can build you a house but only a heart can be at home.

Eventually we all will get it right, that is thought thinking at its best and if not, that’s ok also.

Here at the factory, life is slow at the moment. The air is kept fresh from the constant wind blowing thru the canyon of Rio Blanco surrounded by mountains that have shape themselves into a tunnel.

We have been sick the last few days with the curse of montezuma. Today we are much better, a replenishing of the cells, a little weak but feeling stronger. That is to be expected, the body has to adjust to the foreign bacteria, viruses and what have you. If one has kept your most important task under control, the health of your body, then one can flow thru these changes with an uncomfortable ease.

*The Palace & Offices of The Textile Factory*

We have all been conditioned to believe it is our responsibility to do this or do that and yet when the sun comes streaming down into my weary eyes awake, it doesn’t tell me that, or force me into any condition other than the heat of the moment. The search itself is the lie. If the world needs to fight over control it can do it without me. Today i am free. I walk soft along, the mind is calm, the air fresh, there is nothing but adventure along the path, a curious observation into the day.

Till next time…adious

images and writing by patrick wey

PS: there are more and more images to come as the days shall melt into the future, the link from any image of the blog or here . I sincerely thank all visitors and remarks are extremely welcomed…..patrick

B84 … Exile in Mexico

Nov 26 2021 : This is our second day in Mexico City. We began preparing two weeks ago. It is hard to believe that i sit here writing about our escape. By the end of November 2021 Canadians will not be able to exit or enter Canada without the infamous vaccination jabs that i refuse to call anything other than an experimental injection along the insides of a long tube of carefully planned deceit and control of a needle of power and evil intent.

*Portrait of Patrick and Sasha* – Mexico City

The world has gone madder and yet more awake than a psychedelic trip along a paradise trail in a sixties kids mind. Complacent minds shower the heavens of this earth of sacred beauty with trust for mechanical science and digital intelligence misplacing the comprehension and likeness of earths universal solutions.

I sit here in the shady sunlight of the oldest neighbourhood in Mexico City, Coyoacan. Possibly the Coyote brought us here. I have very slight feelings of evacuating a responsibility to a cause back in BC. I had done my part. I had helped the beginning of organizing a group to lead an Action to the Supreme Courts still in progress and to be ready to submit in a few weeks. Possibly United Effort, Bernard, Dean and Team will get an injunction stay on the madness from the Supreme Court of Canada, the mandates, the planned-demic put to a halt. There is no doubt that this is a world fraud not experienced since the times of Atlantis or the land of Mu. Nothing can compare. There are numerous prophecies expressing these times, all which show a new world thru times of destitute without the silly control the elite so much pursue.

I have no one to answer to, but the fate of my own doing. I lived here in Mexico City 42 years ago. I was a young man. I am very close to the neibourhood of which i lived, a life time ago. I have returned to finish my end as it may turn out to be.

Sasha, my partner and our dog Kachi, all safe in the home of Raul. A lawyer, from a very preticious family here in Coyoacan. I met him through his daughter and her boy friend, Alexandra and Juan. We will travel to Veracruz State, Rio Blanca which is where they live in a few days, to live for months and develop plans as the road unfolds.

Only two days here and already i am feeling some form of connection to this land. I have a long history with Mexico and its people. I had done peyote for three years in a row in the lands of Wirikuta, Real De Catorse and taught english in Tuxpan Veracruz and Mexico City years ago. I married a Mexican City woman Rosa whom now lives in Canada, Ontario. This land, tho foreign has some deep form of connection. We shall see how things unfold.

I am happy for the freedom warriors back in Canada and all over the world fighting this tyrannical insanity. So far i have experienced little detention towards not wearing a mask, tho a large percentage do in the streets and cafes, there is much less negativity towards the non-masked at this point in time here in the city.

I will continue to acknowledge the attitude here; towards the injection, masking, alternatives such as ivermectin and just the general feelings towards the illusions and realities facing this world wide dilemma.

I am thankful that somehow we escaped the ongoing conditions the people of Canada are facing. I know my mind will slowly melt into the atmosphere of the present landscape and the thoughts of northern air will diminish as the streets of Mexico conquer my mind, but in my heart the strong water-memory of my birth place in Ontario will surpass even the time/space that has honoured my stay here upon this earth.

There will come a time that all whom have caused and supported these terrible crimes against humanity and all the species and living cells upon this earth. All of us have a part in this crime whether it be minute or horrendous, the price is upon us all. No one is exempt from allowing complacency within the corridors of the mind.

There are those that appear completely insane to project such order upon the free air of this earth, the pure waters polluted with selfish chemistry and land raped to the very veins of life itself. Each, it is said will be punished for their part, their sins within the territory of the sacred.

Mexico has an ancient atmosphere hanging off the walls of the streets, the ripe culture and the historic air surround the taste of the Mexican nature. The feeling of calm caresses my mind from the agitation lingering in the air back home. There is no right or wrong surrounding my thoughts as i write about what i perceive. I am what i observe, nothing more, nothing less; this reality is surreal and i see clear in this dark night as i write alone thru the silence falling upon the city. It is time to close.

.Nov 29, 2021, A few days on and we are settling into the much slower pace of this neighbourhood in the heart of Mexico City. We feel estranged at times but the softness of the breeze brings us back to the present, here and now, this is where it’s at. For better or for worse we had made a decision and now it’s getting on with getting on. I still get emails exposing the corruption going on in the northern borders and the mass extinction secretly floating thru the vibrations from the western front, world wide. We shall see how it all plays out.

The food here is great, fresh fruit, vegetables, markets. The hospitality from Raul was much more than we could have imagined. We are grateful for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us. I plan on letting my spirit fall into the abyss of the earth and let be what may be. Life is so enormously short and, ‘the rules of the road have been lodged, and it’s only peoples games that you have to dodge, and it’s alright ma, i can make it’ B Dylan from It’s All Right Ma; these lyrics have been lodged into this brain from years and hours upon hours walking thru the poets of the past. Till later, adious for now.

Future Posts:
Awake in Mexico
Asleep in Mexico
Mexico on silent streets
Mexico near the end of life
That Can’t Happen Here

Next days coming soon

Mexico City Cafe – Sasha, Kachi, Morning.

Raul, Professor of Law with Students all now Lawyers

writing and images by patrick wey

B83 … i don’t believe you

I don’t believe you, why would i? I can hardly trust myself to verify truth. I have no special gifts that anyone could not obtain. Simply to walk without fear spreading your legs into complacency. There is no other sane way to be. There is an intelligence that only the sincere sacred noble mind can glimpse in timeless moments. There is no point in attempting to change anyone with a few words. It is hard work, integrity and perseverance alone that elevates one into spaces that others can hardly dream of.

The day breaks into nights that can caress the most heartless in ways that only an artist might feel. Pain is the temple of the throne to creativity. God must have hidden feelings beneath the waves of torment like a sunset. Beauty slips in to view just at the moment discontent slides between the shades of light sparkling like crystal figures dancing in the night. I have found dreams escape into my life like surrealism does when i’m alone, an object observing all space from no specific place. Separate attached disconnected twisted around a reality like a sculpture owning the middle of a room.

One can only know so much. Knowing everything is knowing nothing and no one can live knowing nothing. To be human is to be destined to live in a mind that is vast and yet contrived to believe as belief deteriorates endlessly.

How absurd to be condemned because to refuse an injection from a train of conspiracies so obvious, so clearly a setup for a scheme so venomous that one would have to be completely numb not to see a speck of its plan.

I am a citizen of the earth. I have no country, i am of no race. My blood is human. I am not genetically modified, I will not comply to the insane that wish to control the nature of nature. You have no right to tell this mind, this body what it does or does not need. I am sane, intelligent enough, caring according to the nature of this humanity to make my own decisions. I walk within my skin as a solemn soul upon this earth free. I will not be trapped within your propaganda. I will question every belief that finds its way into this mind. I will not follow anything, anybody, any doctrine, any science, corporation, religion, god, fantasy, any form that has not a crack within its confines. I will walk until walking ends.

woke up early this morning
everyone else was asleep
made a coffee
whispered a conversation
with anne frank, we said
‘what’s going on
nobody sees it coming’
i could see a dying kenedy
in the distance lecturing
to a malevich and a mayakovsky
while most everyone else still slept
how absurd i thought
this place don’t make sense
a lone tv on a bench
stacks of i d at the door
and this foul murder
right before our eyes
and only a few crawl out of bed
to this night time dance
to witness this death
within the head
….it must be ‘past one o’clock’.

*Highlights for Warspot: Malevich and Mayakovsky’s War …*

images and writing by patrick wey

B82 … conspiracy in my soup

Joe, he went to a blues concert, he doesn’t wear a fucking mask, but his girlfriend Sara does, but they still kiss in the alleyway to music that likes to slam up against the walls. Gary’s retired now and he’s been vaccinated 3 times but still wears a mask religiously and keeps his distance perfect, he loves the blues but it gives him a contagious throbbing throat. Danny’s an air head but thinks he’s full of heavy water and imitates so well people think he’s a genius; oh there’s one of his songs floating by now, just like a cliche on steroids; what a ‘wonderful sorry day’. He brags about himself being spiked with some pure protein apparently programmed to dim your lights. He’s not to blame tho, it’s just the way the road winds. Christine’s sitting in a cafe on a vacant boulevard, keeping her distance, in the distance the masked are walking to and fro talking thru some wifi about the conditions of their skin; the rules are posted everywhere, changing adjusting coagulating posting orders from somewhere vague, over there. Everybody deserves an opinion; it’s wrapped around their skull like a warped wheel. You can hear them scream their stories muffled sincere like a hustler hidden by the heat.

The world has gone weary half awake and divided by their own minds too real to escape. Tim wants you to do this and Tara wants you to believe in that, while the common media is demanding that you follow something entirely different for the benefit of them all, and then there are those that question everything from the lies between their ears to the questions themselves; dusty on the shelves. Certainly love can’t unite us all, as if it ever could, ever would; though, where the imagination is involved, anything is possible, for a moment or two.

i found a conspiracy in my soup, some enemy bacteria surrounding my heart, there were theories bouncing off the walls of my veins and i lost all inclination to discuss anything much down thru the corridors of all those social gossiping networks. I got a trillion viruses in my brain explaining the truth about our deadly sickness, drowning in conceit, lost in vacuums of beliefs hanging onto dreams of manufactured falling flakes of nothingness and then the day begins.

Friends, enemies, real and unreal from heroes to villains tossing names here and fro, selfish killers, sheep lips, critical stinkers, fat chequers, terrorists, while the few percenters continue shovelling trips of guilt and shame down the well preserved paths of civil obedience; the loner tries to escape.

They refused free energy, that exists everywhere, for decades in honour of the unsustainable short rope with control and dominance. Tesla, Schauberger and many others exposed discoveries that could have set man free with unlimited energies alive in a free world. The masses divided in their flaws are played and played until they’re blind, deaf and dump and then turn around and praise those very few that are strategically controlling their madness.

That’s life, down here around the garage of twisted minds.

Amy’s got her shot now but she don’t eat GMO’s, she’s a natural gal in mind but modified in body.

To my friends and family, real and unreal.

I am not a murderer, a terrorist and certainly no more selfish than the rest of us. I tend to believe in reason as far as it can go before lifted up into some eternal understanding beyond the armour of logic, some call that intuition, prophesy. Therefore, i caress the knowledge of sound science, its data and experiments to prove its place in the limits of time and space. I mistrust the human minds capability to be fully honest. From pawns to kings and queens the purest of minds become tainted with the pleasures money and power can provide. The super wealthy simply, should not be. The world has wound itself terribly out of control. The conceit deceit dishonesty of some minds is simply so surreal, and yet, they are in fact the few that rule the life of the many. They have become psychopaths sociopaths narcistic entities that must be stopped if we are to flourish as the loving human beings that our minds are capable of. That, is up to us. When will we stand up and say no, we don’t want this world of imbalance any longer. We have paid our dues. It is time. Each one of us on this planet must take our stand and say, i will listen to all, i will help in any way i can to stand up for justice where ever i find injustice in any way that it is presented to me. I will not force my will on anyone.

I will not take an injection that is controlled by madmen without verified scientific proof of its necessity without true voice being silenced. I want to see all the verified evidence and all data openly. It is time to crush this insane imbalance of one pinned against the other. It is our right to grow.

The law makers are calling us exactly what they are, ‘terrorists’. Questioning has become against the law, our natural immune system is irrelevant, they have divided us to implement their inhumane rules and agendas. Time will tell, that lies can stay hidden, and good deeds unnoticed. We fool ourselves to stay smiling and old Joe still walks alone down that path of blues into the dark light.

This time around we won’t be going just for the hitlers and the pawns, we’ll be putting an end to the hidden ones, all of them will die. We have found them, we know them, we are awake.

Images and Writing by Patrick Wey

B81 … to the conformists

I truly pity the scared citizen whom voted for the wrong king and followed popular messengers.

….

We never did see eye to eye, but today the division is dangerous, reckless. I refuse to take what is being called a covid19 vaccination. At this point my research has shown me that it is a gene therapy experimental injection with very dire results.

The main stream media, social and traditional, has censored any information that appears to be adverse to an international agenda and that should be obvious and a red flag to all. You may have your reasons for agreeing with this narration and they may seem sound, logical and the only way to move forward. I simply suggest that you question everything including your firm beliefs and investigate many other media sources before you condemn us as selfish murderous terroists and separate our differences to the extend of more mental and physical abuse for all of us. Most anti-experimental injection concerned citizens i know personally are from all walks of life, mothers, farmers, lawyers, doctors, scientists, artists, old and young and as yourself, good sincere people.

There is more than enough information behind the main stream media that is questioning this situation. A variety of scientists, virologists, doctors, nurses, reporters, artists, philosophers, people in general are exposing data that is being strategically hidden from the masses…….WHY?

Certainly some of the rabbit holes can take you into territory that may be beyond your comfort zone and some just too extreme to believe……….so leave them. But don’t create a war with your sisters and brothers calling them dangerous names that may injure them mentally and physically for life.

The enemy is not us, we are all victims of a much larger situation that has always been close at hand.

‘Steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king’. Dylan.

Possibly we all have much too much respect for the puppet authority and the very few that own a ridiculous amount of ‘stuff’ and control way too much and it is obvious we have lost our simple respect for the creation that has created everything. Man versus nature!

I have honoured and kept my immune system very healthy and strong all my life and now you are asking me to sign it over to a science based in politics and corruption. No thanks. Kill me if you will but i am not convinced.

I care as much as anyone and i don’t believe you. Erase me from your site, but i won’t go away. I know it is the ‘great mystery’ that is in charge and this is all just a passing scene.

This agenda is dangerous and foul, let us continue to wake up and save some peoples suffering and the future children from this sinister new world unfolding.

You are being very naive to think that all anti-injectors are naive, selfish, idiots. They are concerned with a much larger picture which apparently you are not considering to the details necessary. Big pharma and governments are pawns in a game and do not have our best interests at heart. We are leading towards a totalitarian society and we can see that as plain as sight. I am afraid you are so far behind and until you steer away from main stream media you will continue to be a part of the problem. You may have a lot of support from the minds that surround you now but in the end these injections will own you, destroy you……wake up, we are all special and sacred.

I truly pity the scared citizen whom voted for the wrong king and followed popular messengers.

Some Evidence – Some Facts – As in Most Information

David Martin Patents…. https://www.bitchute.com/video/ZUVtNa9xdBnW/?fbclid=IwAR3gy_o_jI-Ah4JVRvSeed3NJQpY5ilXIyqSHGBwo_MXy5YaIGLXu9Ewu-E

Sars covid19 is NOT new, was patented 1999

A former Pfizer employee and current analyst for the pharmaceutical and medical device industries, came forward with indisputable documentation proving that GRAPHENE OXIDE NANOPARTICLES is the key ingredient in Biotech’s Covid-19 serums

Covid19 is a bioweapon Plandemic

https://ambassadorlove.wordpress.com/2021/07/28/graphene-oxide-the-vector-for-covid-19-democide/ April 2021, when Health Canada recalled over a million KN95 face masks containing the highly toxic industrial chemical called GRAPHENE.

Vaccines(injections) are causing the Variant spikes… https://www.facebook.com/shurland.g.tv/videos/188426793354533

Concerning the Canadian Election and Democracy…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPcHw5yQhwA

That’s just the tip of a tip of the largest iceberg on record….

writing and images by patrickwey

B80 … scraps of words on: ‘The Fear of Ending and The True Way To Be’

Unfortunately many more will suffer and die before people may wake up. There is more than enough information to express how our science has been manipulated and main stream media implemented to convey an agenda that is ruthless, a lie and foul. The masses of people have grown to trust a system that has been strategically taken over by power hungry psychopaths. Still, a large segment of our society can still not fathom the possibility that the majority of the systems around the world have been infiltrated and manipulated into following an agenda that seems too extravagant to believe. The majority choose to continue to ignore the camouflaged truth and accept well tested systems of mass hypnotic procedures to uphold the lie with an army of regulators from the local shop keeper to the rulers of presidents. Ignorance is no excuse in these times, the internet is easily available for most.
The greatest fear that has encouraged the masses to accept the rules is the fear of dying. A virus to inject the full world and you have the buttons to do what is beyond the common folks imagination with scientific tools to control the very cells of our bodies, the thoughts of the mind.
How many more scientist, politicians, doctors, nurses, teachers, reporters, professionals will be fired from their jobs for speaking out before people will wake up and try some alternative news sites to investigate for themselves? We shall see!
Are people so afraid of the obvious, death, that they will do anything to exist in some form of comfort within their minds to ignore the pulse of the planet, to feel that something very serious is happening, separating society with but one alternative……..GET THE VACINATION… and all will be fine.
Wake Up, there is more than enough data to prove that society has been fooled, figure it out, but please don’t force injections into this world…you’ll be so, so sorry………….. this is truly insane.
You must question a little deeper than what the main stream media has to offer; a tool for propaganda strategically camouflaged as news.

Most of humanity, certainly in the west have not taken care of their precious bodies. Most do not exercise properly or at all, most have eaten terribly thru out their years. Most rely on the institutions of hospitals and doctors for all their health needs. Most rarely go out of their comfort zones, live in heated temperatures, air conditioned air, take all kinds of pharmaceutical drugs for everything imaginable, and many are on psychiatric substances. This is most of western society which has spread its artificial HollyWorld around the globe with multi international takeovers everywhere.
It is easy to see why so many accepted the great fear of a virus and its remedy over any natural immunity. Most simply do not trust nature, don’t know where their water or food comes from and certainly have little respect for natural remedies. That is most people, so of course it is not difficult to implant the fear of death with a deadly virus looming over the very air we breathe.
There are a few of us that have eaten mostly organic foods, drank energized waters, kept our junk food to a minimum, made a habit of exercise, biking, walking, swimming, work-outs and trusted our bodies to tell us what needs to be done as best as one could.
We the few are appalled that society now wants to dictate what our body needs to protect the world whereas after all we have been walking our talk most of our lives.
I am 73. I have fasted at least once a year for over 35 years. I eat mostly organic foods because i don’t trust our scientifically GMO altered foods. I am not and never have been on any psychiatric drugs. I exercise everyday, walk, hike, swim. I have taken cold showers for over 30 years. I have started to go in the freezing waters all year around. I attempt to walk straight, sit up straight, think clear. I have been in hundreds of sweat lodge ceremonies, many many vision quests of 4 days and 4 nights with out food & water. I have taken psyceldelics all my life at appropriate times, alone and with medicine people. My immune system is now against the law. The body is the closes thing to the environment, if you don’t take care of your body you should have no right to talk about the environment and certainly not to dictate what i can or cannot inject into my body.

I don’t trust billionairs, multi national corporations, world institutions, governments to always do the right thing. I am suspect of most of their procedures but i do listen and evaluate as best as i can with the information at hand.
I found it very easy to question the validity of the procedures of a very questionable virus and early on in this lockdown i sensed maliciousness and was very apprehensive of the procedures being implemented.
I am now much more convinced that there is an agenda known by a few and wound into our society so strategically that it seems so far fetched that even small amounts of information seem to bazar to be true.
The religion of vacinators is like a nite-mare in a bad dream. Kill me if you will, but i will not take your injection. That is completely insane and i know the truth knows.
This is just a theory, ‘The conspirators are making it illegal to theorize on conspiracies and have outlawed the natural immune system’.

i used to believe in this until i fell into that
then i believed in that until i discovered this
now i know that all belief is make-believe
so maybe this or maybe that
is exactly where it’s at

……………………………………………………………………………….

the jabberwacky is back in town
tryin ta shoot everybody down
from the saint to the clown
tryin ta dig them underground
the jabberwacky, back in town

……………………………………………………………………………….

wasted walls of pretty pictures as poems falling into nothingness, the crowd maneuvered into the plan, governments, institutions, disciplines manipulated towards an end, money king lured into the minds with promises beyond death. the queen of hearts herself lying silently in fields of grace and pleasure surrounded by the mad dreams of immortals and the stench of decay deteriorating in the blessings of the lord, the world falls with a crushing and meaningless hand and nothing can save the horror from itself but the thoughtless wave of love smothering in the heads of man.

They’re not the chosen people
they’re the frozen people
caught in a space of time
and all the world religions with their perfect doctrines
keeping the masses in line
hidden from the plan
past on from one generation into another hand
without so much a whimper from their own land
secrecy from the top walled against the far below
that’s the name of the centuries long show
one pitted against the other for the ultimate goal
one world led by the chosen
frozen in their space of time

i sit in the silent forest waiting for nothing
listening to the visions as they caress my cells
every dream dreamt blowing thru the trees of my mind
free from the word and precepts on their way well behind
this in the true religion without plan or man
this is the way of the warrior
the simple life of living free
without the turmoil of destiny
this is the only true way today to be

Words and Images by patrick wey

B79 … A BOY CALLED HORSEbun

When you’re a young boy there comes a time when you just might want to have some weapons available and ready for war; just incase. Things can get tough at times, out there in those young and restless streets. Neighbourhood bullies, older hoodlums, even comic-book character-enhanced ruffians, you name it, it’s all in the realm of ones imagination and some kids go all out, you need to be prepared, you need weapons. I wasn’t really all that sophisticated, i just liked the idea of trying to scare a few terrorists in my immediate domain, even those few friends that got out of control at times.

*I remember just learning the two finger sign for HorseShit, so I slipped it in the photo with my right hand. Some Conspiracy Theorists say it means you are a member of the FreeMasons…You Choose*

In my day, mid fifties, they still delivered bread and milk by horse and carriage. I couldn’t have been much more than six or seven when it dawned on me that there was this unique weapon right there in front of my eyes. I could smell it, it was that close. If you have ever had the opportunity to experience horse dung, it is unique. I noticed that after lying in the hot sun, by mid afternoon it can bake a nice crispy crust while the insides will still be quite smooth and mushy; different blends, depending on how long they are left to bake in the suns oven, the best weapon, for free, right there on the streets of paradise. The perfect texture and the perfect size, cap guns were so useless, these worked. I really don’t remember all the details of my conclusions but there is no doubt that i used these buns on a few different occasions to ward off perceived enemies. I believe i had even imagined a neighbourhood poster if times got really dangerous; a sketch of a pile of buns flowing out of a horses behind with the title, WANTED: WET or DRY.

It was my oldest brother Dave’s friends, precisely Bobby Dietrich, Whitey, and Donny Shady whom must have thought that this was worth notice and gave me the handle, ‘Horesebun’. I think it must have been Bobby from a few houses down on Bismark Ave that came up with that obvious name. It stuck with him as the years passed on thru the loads of horse-shit floating down thru the avenues of america and he knew no other name for me, Horsebun, that’s the name that stuck like muck in his late-teenage brain.

At first i thought it to be an honour. For older kids to notice me was exciting so i lived up to my name and used these weapons whenever i could, when the right conditions and availability were in play. I could tell Dave and his friends thought it weird for some young kid to handle this dung so professionally, but really it was all dry on the outside and the smell had a strange sort of sweetness, an edge to it, when you really observed it, like a delicate ladies perfume. Quite honestly i don’t remember how often i threw these raw bullets at my enemies but i do remember hitting a neighbourhood kid in the face once; an inside juicy one. That was a revelation of sorts because i not only hurt him physically, if only a little, on the other hand i could feel it injured his dignity large. I recall not liking that feeling at all, the loss of dignity in the height of battle, wow, how humiliating.

Anyways, long after the weapons fell to the way side, the name hung like dung in a few circles; precisely with my older brothers friends but also a few of my own friends, though they would only call me with a lower case, ‘horsebun’, just to irritate me as kids do. It was mostly Bobby that kept this title alive with dignity. My friends never really carried on all that much about the name. Perhaps they were sub-consciously worried that they could eventually be nick named names like ShitHead, DungFace, ManureMouth if they got me pissed off enough to load me up with my personal weapons and plaster them with the essence of the horse, the buns.

At any rate they mostly left that name die like many nic names tend to do. Thru out maybe forty years, i only heard that name a few times, which i was secretly somewhat proud of, simply because it was really a very effective inventive weapon. They were plentiful, no one else dare use them and they not only hurt the enemy physically they had the power to shame them for life. No one in the neighbourhood shared my philosophy on this subject and still to this day i have never heard of any other living soul carry these weapons forward. I was the boy called horsebun.

Years later when i walked into Heer’s, a local Camera Shop, where i had been going for years, only to find out it was closing its doors for good that day. I was talking to the owner whom i knew, knew my eldest brother Dave. I found out that day, after years of going in there, that he only knew my brother as an acquintance but new Donny and Bobby Dietrich well, the three of them were protestants and went to protestant schools. My bother Dave and Whitey were catholics. That all made a slight difference back then and certainly from friends at school to friends around the neighbourhood that you would hang out with, until you got older and escaped the confines of the few blocks surrounding your home. Out of a strange coincidence he was on his way to see Bobby whom was dying at a place we called the Freeport Sanatorium, cancer i believe. Every time when i saw Bobby Dietrich thru out those forty years, which was less than a hand full of times, he was the only one in this universe that still said, ‘hey Horsebun, how ya doin’. I asked Mr. Heers to please please please say hello to Bobby from Horsebun. I am sure Bobby’s heart lifted a few thousand miles on hearing that name.

Mr Heers died shortly after that, guess he had cancer also. I never heard how Bobby reacted; that’s just the way life slips into the night some days.

This is the end of the story and consequently of a young boy as Horsebun.

FootNote: Since those earlier times, the horse and buggy, milk and bread delivery systems, have evaporated and have been replaced with the more efficient gas panel trucks and that, has since, also long been removed completely as a service within our society. The super markets have our bread and milk these days, but online you can get home delivery for just about anything and soon it will be delivered by drones, right into your privileged hands, even if your home is a tent.
I miss the beauty of the work-horse and the slow pace of life that blended so perfectly with my youth and my simple imagination.
Today, somehow, I see more horseshit strewn out between the streets of paradise than i could ever have imagined yesteryear and it does make me stop and wonder, ponder, sometimes, with all this extraordinary super-unnatural modified horsebun energy goin down, ‘how come there ain’t more flower children around’?.

Archival image – writing by patrick wey

B78 … The Real Pandemic

Oh, ev’ry thought that’s strung a knot in my mind
I might go insane if it couldn’t be sprung
But it’s not to stand naked under unknowin’ eyes
It’s for myself and my friends my stories are sung
But the time ain’t tall
Yet on time you depend and no word is possessed
By no special friend
And though the line is cut
It ain’t quite the end
I’ll just bid farewell till we meet again
Restless Farewell – Bob Dylan

The mind of the poet, artist, philosopher, scientist, critical thinker, is being banned/censored as in the days of lennin, stalin, hitler, mao, castro…..and many, many other fresh ones on route.
The continuing war of the unnatural against an intelligence that created all we see when our eyes are clear and open is here in full force now separating things. The unnecessary patented GMOwned seeds to genes, tomatoes to humans; the war of power, control, greed, madness is being injected digitally into humans and the very nature of things.
A few conspiracies of past to recall: DuPont’s plastic molecular take-over of the hemp industry, the pharmacological industry dominance with their patented molecular manipulations of natural plant medicines, the fossil fuel and atomic energy smothering control of technologies of point-zero natural off-grid living–energy systems and an extremely dangerous modern scientific arrogance over the very natural-laws that govern pure healthy life-forms on this planet of mother earth.
Conspiracies make this world go round mostly mad. Theories are just some people thinking, clear and not so clear; but there is more than enough evidence that there have been and are some very foul agendas lurking in almost clear view. The future is sucking this world into artificial biodigital hands. This is ultimately selfish reason claiming more, for nothing more than having more, an endless battle causing enormous unnecessary pain, death, extinction, onto a very wounded beautiful planet.

Today, bio-robotic intelligence continues to take control of all seeds and food supplies, energy sources, human naturalness with a matrix of wireless communications to the very spiked altered cells of life everywhere.
Our world is controlled by psychopaths, liars and thieves……the real pandemic is us ‘self blinded hypnotized’.

*‘only a few well hidden bullets fired*‘…

Mass world round-up experimental injected insanity is here now.
More and more people are waking up to fragments of deception, lies and manipulations. We the people out number the main-controllers a million to one and we have the technology today; the internet, immediate decision and response to change this human madness, possibly. People are waking up around the world; a probable new dawn appears to be rising on the long dark horizon. The greatest hoax of all, in recorded times is falling apart. If you have fallen with the crowd into sleep and have had your cells altered thru injections, stop the process immediately and get on a natural trail. There may be a way to reverse the situation, but if not, do the right thing, listen to your heart, it is always your best choice and don’t mistaken paradise for that science that has gone astray.

Don’t you draw the Queen of Diamonds, boy
She’ll beat you if she’s able
You know the Queen of Hearts is always your best bet

He said, “We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969”
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say……..

‘Things are about to get extremely turbulent
with foul crimes against humanity
nature cursed with broken treaties
the ultimate creation violation
and self hypnosis rampant and whose to blame
your pop art idols with their multi-part harmonies
main medias leading you thru tainted-dust of time
with false hopes and fake beliefs
your gods your reason your broken science
your programmed dreams from a surreal interface
best caress your last vain hysteric whimper now
there’s gonna be a long hard hard rain, fall’.
patrick wey

At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what’s true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden
Gates of Eden by Bob Dylan…. last stanza

NOTES – FROM BENEATH THE FEET: It appears that the most difficult aspect to understand is how could it be possible for so many great minds from scientists, government employees to citizens to be fooled into complying to systems unprecedented; masks, distancing, injections, without clear evidence. What kind of intricate agenda could be so well hidden from the most trusted individuals in government from the top down to allow a suspect pandemic to manoeuvre science, law and media thru-out the full planet and to a large extent, succeed. How is this possible? How are most conceivable adverse concepts just thrown under the rug, beyond the rabbit holes, condemned into the underground of conspiracy theories?
Keep thinking, doubt your own intelligence and let the truth slide out into open ears…..primordial-intelligence picks away at false walls uncovering truth brick by brick no matter how thick. Let us not be divided by the curse of words and labels. Let us stay human with open hearts, this land is not our land, the water belongs to all, truth will not die in a ditch of deceit and fear. No matter what the program of your belief, it cannot alter what truly is, and though you may never know, these lies will die. I am sure of it, just before the last door of the moment.

Images and writing by patrick wey
Lyrics by the Eagles, Hotel California, Desperado (Bold, Italics)

B77 … Get up – there’s work to be done.

This is the most informative, honest, to the point video i have come across since the beginning of this evil virus. It is not allowed on facebook and mainstream media. Attorney and MD, Dr. Simone Gold – Exposes Dangerous LIES About (Fake) Covid Pandemic.
Copy and Paste into your browser: https://www.brighteon.com/4ed6c6b2-370f-4ff6-9089-94423d1c1c1d

“***ain’t it hard when you discover that you’re just another laboratory specimen experiment to spread altered genetics for an elite agenda sinister and foul***“

I believe it pays to have developed a strong connection with the gut for that feeling about things that are not ‘yet’. Some call it intuition. Often when it comes to governments, large corporations, the super wealthy you can depend on distorted facts, manipulated interests and sheer lies to pad their greedy hands in unbelievable wealth. This grid of control affects the very nature of nature itself, the relationship between right and wrong; the line between health and wealth.

At this point in life i really don’t care whether anyone takes this/me serious or not. History will find its way along the narrow trail towards the future with or with out me.

I do hope that more and more people begin and continue to question everything, all we think we know; follow that deep gut feeling that keeps us on the right natural path. This is probably the biggest turning point mankind has ever faced; human or other, natural or virtual, love or not-love.

It does continue to amaze me on just how certain so many feel they are, about so many topics, so many disciplines, facts that float in thin air, science that relies on gossip, and truth confined behind bars. We don’t need a scientist to tell us we’re trapped inside a petri dish.

Waking up to the fact that we have been fooled is not easy for many but necessary, swallow your pride, join the truth, no matter where you find it. Everybody is needed, truth matters.

Attorney and MD, Dr. Simone Gold – Exposes Dangerous LIES About (Fake) Covid Pandemic.
Copy and Paste into your browser: https://www.brighteon.com/4ed6c6b2-370f-4ff6-9089-94423d1c1c1d

writing and photo by patrick wey

B76 … shut down locked up, on the way out

We been shut down locked up manipulated and confused. Time dangling off limps like false exits. Division honoured like a king. The whole world crumpling like a wooden tomb, wasted and ruined. The narrative, the script as old as the lazy canals. The cut, deep as a knife to the heart, a needle of plastic, a serum unhuman and foul. It has been prophesized in every language, every book on the earth, made of mud and made of word. Trees do whimper in the eyes of the fools, rivers bend slow across your neighborhood, songs disappear in the chill of the night, everything just isn’t right. Your head in a hat made of fresh skin and the door knobs stolen, the walls cavin in and you walk straight thru like you know the next move but you’re dead wrong, stuttering, frothing and stumbling along, warped into the wasteland. You wonder if maybe you have been mistaken, if the truth was just a string of facts smothered by a great lie. You question your words as they fumble out across your tender lips on through the black musky mask shielding your every breath, stretching out into the sequence of orderly conditioned minds, it fades. The night is growing darker, the chance of escape more slim. The rules are bouncing off the streets, the silence is growing louder, death is sliding in across the wounded air. The herd of tainted souls are moving closer to the wall, the entrance to an end.

For a few, light is hiding in the night and the way is certain thru the uncertainty of form. A simple trust in a faith beyond the turmoil of time and the destruction of life, a knowing that nothing really matters along the trail of pure sight, nothing but the walking, the walk into the timeless space of discovery, the frontier of song, the simple moment for now is the only way out.

He left like a night into the mystery like a man walks thru a door and fades along a deserted highway and that was that. People went on, suffered to the end, their cells contorted with an unnatural biology, a foreign metal, a transmitter, receiver, a brave blue odour of regulated life, deteriorating along a path into a lost world.

writing and images by patrick wey

B75 … Imaginary Reflections of John and Bob in conversation

Bob sings, ‘You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks’ and John remarks in song, ‘And you think you’re so clever and classless and free
But you’re still fucking peasants as far as I can see’

‘Well, the last thing I remember before I stripped and kneeled
Was that trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field
A gypsy with a broken flag and a flashing ring
He said, “Son, this ain’t a dream no more, it’s the real thing”.’

Dylan said that and John said, ‘well, let me take you down, where nothing is real and nothing to get hung about’, and Bob sang out, ‘it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’ a hard, its a hard rains agonna fall’. They both left arm in arm humming off into eternity, ‘two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl’.

Lyrics from Masters of War by Bob Dylan, Working Class Hero by John Lennon, Senor(Tales of Yangee Power) by Bob Dylan, Strawberry Fields Forever by John Lennon, A Hard Rains a Gonna Fall by Bob Dylan, All Along the Watch Tower by Bob Dylan

a conspiracy busting down the doors
it’s the masked third world war
patrick wey

Images and Concept by patrickwey

B74 … I Dreamed I saw St Augustine

Posted on March 19, 2021 by admin

I was walking along alone thru the mad streets of the empire. I could hear you, your stained voice, i fell, into that same place, that hollow space where echos sleep and walls weep and time turns in on itself. There must be somewhere out there to keep us safe from harm, some paradise left for us weary souls. We tried, not to hide, to give it our best dream, to save ourselves and any others along this twisted trail. How could it get this far, outside of the perfect garden, out of the sacred lands and now so hidden, out of reach. They say, it’s always right there beside you, within arms length, but it don’t seem so, from around here, this lonely cafe on an island of arguments of captivity and prisons. No sense in attempting to gather thoughts, to lay words on the tombs, to say what’s been said a million times, to linger any longer inside these cursed ruins. What’s the point, what’s the worth, what’s the use St Augustine …….. all my love’s crying out, head soft and low against this window pane.

……

….

words and images by patrick wey

I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine

Bob Dylan

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine
Alive as you or me
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold

Arise, arise, he cried so loud
In a voice without restraint
Come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own
So go on your way accordingly
But know you’re not alone

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine
Alive with fiery breath
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death
Oh, I awoke in anger
So alone and terrified
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Bob Dylan
I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

B73 … Sometimes i am so lonely….

Sometimes i am so lonely, not the shade of loneliness that makes one want to cry, whimper. It is different. A deeper, more subtle, distant uneasy feeling. When one knows what one believes one thinks one knows, it is there, a gnawing, always in the background, on the edge of life, near the horizons of death itself. When you have arrived to the terrain of the absurd, the meaninglessness of life, it is somewhere around there that this vague spirit resides. At the point where you know that what ever you tend to believe you know, is simply relative, changing, never absolute and never perfect; never really true, nothing more than an example, a reflection of reality; it is there that this loneliness tends to surround you; like an uneasy night that preys on you after a glorious day.

I mean to say, when you really grasp this reality, you are alone, totally alone, no one knows you, you know no one and you can not know yourself, there is no self to know, nothing to hold onto, nothing but new uncertain realities floating thru your being like a single leaf dancing across a vacant lot alone, separate, you come and you go and that is it. It is there that this spirit of nothingness is everything.

Possibly a sadness for all that you obtain is for not, not the way you wanted things to be. This feeling is not one to ponder on for days, or even hours. It can tear you apart if you are not careful, depress you, crush you, make you ignore the beauty that encircles you. Though it does appear to be important, almost necessary to always know it is there, keep it close, for it is where you must go, but not to self-praise it endlessly, but to honour it with the light air of passing thru, a form of observing without question, without the radiation of thought destroying its nature. It is called by many names. I call it the ‘pure wind’. Many are depressed, scared of this energy and in vain attempt desperately to escape this clear mist, most all of the time through-out their lives, they shield themselves from the beauty of its silence.
It is not your enemy. It is your friend in the end. It is behind the beauty of the sea, the scent of wild flowers blowing across the plateaus of experience, it is the root whereas much thought attempts to escape, avoid, understand. It is the way, it is within the gates of eden, out in the magic garden, deep space, the way of the heart.
One can camouflage it with imaginary forms of paradise, visuals of heavens and hells, the sounds of silences; one can deny it, hide it away in misery of worthless architecture of the mind, but it is your friend in the end, embrace it, this void, this mystery, and let it kiss your heart, be your soul.
This is the way to die.

Images and writing by patrick wey

B72 … in times as these

in times as these one must hold gratitude high
and surrender to the night light
the world will be as one as one disappears
the leaves will blow gentle across the lane way
the old street lamp will shiver in the wind
memories trapped within them selves
will scamper across the heavens
your white face and lace like limps
are still falling across the horizons
with the arm in arm solitude we left for each other
and all the undreamt dreams that waver in the waves
surrounds us like time does when it is still
i loved you in your pure whisper
with the glow of your soul beating in my heart
almost certain to last forever
as death split us and left this empty void
revolving around this head now that owns me
for one last kiss from your vacant lips

writing and images by patrick wey

B71 … The Largest Social Media Platform Censored Me For Saying ‘Crazy’

A few days ago Feb13 i put up a video of my partner rolling in the snow for health benefits. In my comment i said ‘Crazy Russians’, and of course any real normal human being would know it was all in fun; she is Russian, well Belarussian to be correct………….well the AI censor board for the largest social media platform on the planet, (i am being somewhat careful not to mention names) had a different idea and i was black listed and my screen went black for a day and i could not list any comments or posts etc..
I have had one warning for my ‘hate crime’ and if i am found again hating something, someone, anything, i will be removed for who knows how long, possibly forever. Free America.
I find it amusing since this platform was created because of the hate the owner had for some woman, whom acted against his desires, back in his university days…ironic…we know who i am talking about. Mr. Zeee………this could be the last time you will hear from me, my friends, you may be next. Now that he is a billionaire, he is of course extremely well respected by so many. It brings to mind an appropriate Dylan line, ‘steal a little and they put you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king’.

It is possible that i was being watched for posting alternative news media that is not a part of the main stream narrative. They were all opinions by others, some experts in the field and other alternative researchers loosely labeled as Conspiracy Theorists. Reguardless of what one believes, these actions should raise a flag tinted in the more low frequency hues. And it may be noted that many of these alternative scientific views are now being much more observed by many from many countries across the globe. Things are changing, the tide is turning. People are simply waking up to the ways of the world, the corruption runs deep and is expressed by very well meaning individuals and institutions that do really believe, for the most part, the narrative they are being presented with. Others are outright liars with their pocket books well secured. There are many pawns interrelating on this grid, some true, some not, many in-between. Where all just pawns in this game, but to be blacklisted from the modern telephone communication system called social media for calling someone anyone crazy is truly crazy.
Seriously, how much more will we accept before the freedom we have had and have is a ‘B’ movie on Netflix. ‘Kafka on the Run’, staring the People directed by the Hidden.

It is less likely to be AI searched by posting a Blog post, tho the (Independent) Fact Checkers are busy busy as their budgets and mandates will allow…..we shall see how the facts roll out and how well they embrace truth. I could be gone in seconds never to return, at least from this grid.

writing by patrick wey

B70 … Friends from here and there.

Click on any Image and find the ‘Slide Show Button’ and place it on ‘Large Screen’, put on some appropriate tunes, have a toke, a tea, or all two or whatever, sit back and walk down some memory lanes….almost a thousand images for your viewing pleasure and many more yet to come if the response makes it worth my while…..courtesy by patrick wey

Friends are like almost everything. They come and go. Some stay around thru the tough times. Some betray when situations cut too deep. A few stay around a life time and some end just when you thought they never could. Some you have never met in person. These days friends are collected like a collection of stamps, faces from every corner of the planet, you can just stick-um on a page, trade-um, sell-um when you have enough, advertise them, exchange them, morph them and caress them from anywhere. And yet a few great friends came through the virtual realities.
True friends stay around thru all the stadiums of political persuasions, the entrance and exits of gods, the change in spouses, the scandals and beyond your last breath. They are few, rare as snow in June, true love, but they are there, always ready to caress your weary heart, to say a few real words when the sun is high or the sky is low. They are the ones that make life worth living.
Some friends are weak and need more attention, some are strong and hit the road when times are weird. Some you only see a few times in your life and others are around almost too much of the time. Some are dead, dying, some are living. Some never quite get you but still hang around and others think they know you better than yourself; some have an answer for everything and others know mostly nothing at all. The best friends are the ones that attempt to understand where you are coming from and attempt for insight to what you might be striving to be, even if they don’t understand they listen from a heart that has been cleared, a space in the mind where love gathers.

I have loved as best i could my friends thru-out my life, been misunderstood and misunderstood, loved and despised. I have always considered friends on the highest plain. If a family member was not a friend i didn’t care all that much for them, blood wasn’t a big deal, love was. A friend presents a stepping stone to a greater space, a stream up into to the highlands of caring, to the head waters of love, empathy, the real compassion, and there is a ‘knowing’ a ‘faith’ of sorts that one may receive as a gift for the journey.
The search is the lie, there is no way to truth, there is no procedure to be a true friend. A true friend appears when the need is expressed and heard clear then developed. Love is everywhere, in the streams, the coastal lines; the tears of love are the smiles of gods, friends feel this.
I have had many friends of all shapes, smooth ones, hard ones, fancy, free, crippled, weary and beautiful loving friends. Friends from all races, gender, class, intelligent, kind, selfish and deep and shallow. There were artists, businessmen, lawyers, doctors and slaves, clerks, house wives, factory workers, musicians, artists, shamans, gurus, saints and devils. From all walks of life we walked our short distance together. Some saw the sacred and some defied it. It makes no matter in the end, we are all one separated by mind. We have walked this earth in the way we have and we shall rejoin the mystery when we’re done, possibly there is a judgement, possibly not; there is no certainty there and i am not concerned.

If i could i would erase all the moments i was cruel, insensitive, arrogant, selfish and unforgiving and replace this with the honour, caring, honest helpful energy entwined with the respect i have shown in my more precious moments; that i would do in a flash, if i could. What is done is done, what will be will be, a salute of gratitude for us all, it has been quite the trip.

These are images of some of the friends and acquaintances i have known, some better and longer than others. Reminiscence of what ever once was. There were a few close friends that had left abruptly without any reason why, that i could ever detect and i never saw them again. That is life. Most are fond memories floating around in this brain i falsely call my own. Thank you for being in my life and for the opportunity to walk along this path of life with you all. Thru the storms the sunsets the gentle moments the whole shebang. I trust my presence was worthwhile, insightful, humorous and helpful in one way or another. It is not over yet but i hear the drums in the distance, the cool shade of silence sweeping over the plains. It won’t be long now, i can see the mountains of my heart entering the dark light of the long and endless night, the journey is curving around the last bends, it won’t be long, time is grinding down into the endless silence and then some.

Images and writing by Patrick Wey

B69 … THEY

They come from all sides concealed, masked, the ones whom run the show. The leaders, the executives, the teachers, the authority, all the pawns playing the game in an established system spread out in a well controled grid, the food, the energy, the movement, taxes and all.

We have all learned that reality is much more bizarre than most of us could ever have imagined when one discovers the details in peoples minds. The they are unique, they have been in control in various ways and forms for centuries. They know the procedures but nothing is full proof especially when you’re dealing with overly selfish intended pursuits. The system is in constant flux, always being tuned, rearranged, shifting power, but it’s there, has been there and will stay there until removed but likely improbable and definitely dangerously life threatening.
You don’t have to make up your mind in the absence of evidence about their existence, but if you look hard enough you will in fact find lots of evidence that They do exist and They do have very sinister concepts about the rest of us and how to deal with us. The question is not so much if They exist but how much to they really control of our world, what is their motives, how can we stop their endeavours to strategically trace, track and dominate every move we make; this appears to be their intent. Is there a point of no return before it may be mass termination.
Who are they? they are them over there, hidden in clear view, the ones mysteriously pulling the threads of humanity from some secret realms for more of what they already have, to maintain what had been passed down from their ancestors, to carry on the tradition of power and control. They are the ones that maintain the ultimate intricate finances on the planet, the deal makers, the bullies. They are the ones some consider the planners of the 2020 pandemic, ‘the plandemic’. This may be true, partially true, mostly true, many believe it is a fantasy, a crazy theory devised by angry writers, thinkers, theorists, poor souls with nothing much better to do.
It is obvious that the majority of society prefers to live in the dark. It is too depressing to be aware of what is really going on. For the most part people can get away with this attitude, but things are very different at this point in time. We stand at a major turning point for humanity. The technology today to track and control masses of humanity has never been more possible, is in place and happening with the many the masses and the crowd following according to plans. The masses refuse to believe something so sinister could fool their analytical minds but once again they are being stunned into cohesion like a self perpetuating mould.

They are the mighty kings of the jungle, the masters of war and peace, the manipulators of the mind, the directors, the leaders, the rulers.
We are the pawns in the game, the worn out workers in the middle of an artificial intelligent new-world takeover, the ones forced to follow the rules, mask their identities, think inside their box. Many of us have become obsolete, the elderly, the crippled in body and the slow distant minded. The planet needs a shake up, fewer people, less friction from the peaceful lover type, the sane human free thnkers.
They are the ones that everybody talks about..they did this and they control that.
Whistle Blowers come in many forms, various sizes, at different times, hidden, obscure, out front. If the whistle is too loud at the wrong time, they will eliminate them, if hush money had lost its silence, the missing, the killing, the torture will endure for corrections. This is all a fine art perfected thru the years. The best pawns paid well for their philosophical psychological evauations and if they pick up a whistle down the road, the road ends, severed, repaved, glossed over with golden carrots across their backs. The people are fooled and fooled till they think they’ve out smarted outwitted the They with their bread crumb luxuries glistening in the sun.

You better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a changin

Dylan is not the only one that has attempted to wake up the masses concerning these issues with song and word. This mentality erupted in the sixties with the sentiment of ‘anti-establishment’ a movement against the whole direction of man everywhere across the globe. They and their unconcern for human life, the environment, the spirit. The big difference is that the kids of the sixties could drop out, turn on, tune in, to only turn around in a few years and rejoin the Big Shinny Wheel and become a proud owner of stuff, which is exactly what the majority of the hipsters did. Security, comfort, prestige and power followed. Most of what they disagreed with became their home their security. Today we are facing a much different scenario. If it is true that this is really a plandemic, then much more is at stake. The freedom of our lives, the control of our children, the order imposed by a very few that they will own us from top to bottom with little possible escape. If this is unfolding it may be incredibly difficult to turn around. There are many others with much more data that support this view but everyone must have some inclination that there is much more going on than what they are allowing us to see.

You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you’ve been with the professors and they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well-read, it’s well-known
But something is happening here and you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

Power fills the hole where love once was. It is easier at first, then it becomes and endless battle to maintain and conceal the edge created over the less fortunate, the weak minded, the lovers. This is the fortress created and protected at all cost. It is crazy, they are crazy but physically comfortable and to defend this security is a matter of life and death. They are the super wealthy and this mentality is sold over and over in numerous varieties of packages that one must choose, tho none of them are what they say they are. From a life with christ or buddha to a comforting warehouse of facts about anything, life is good. From the top to the bottom the development continues. This is civilization but it got out of hand, difficult to control with a few friendly kings so racism of one form or another has replaced the good chiefs with power level forms of authority made from sacred feathers, crucifixes to guns, nations, to the full world all in one. This is the time of the world control. How can it not be seen by the masses. They continue to be entertained ignoring the wake up call. The open doors to information is relatively free but still there is not enough people to care, understand and support this fight against the very few. They have convinced nations, armies, worshippers to be calm, avoid looking, live within the system expecting it to last forever when if you look close enough you can plainly see it is doomed to self destruct.

Senor, senor, do you know where we’re heading?
Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?
Seems like I been down this way before
Is there any truth in that, senor?

How it is going to play out is not just anybodies guess. If you look close enough, there are some signs and obvious possibilities. There are many that have figured out some of the strategies that ‘they‘ have worked out. I personally don’t accumulate all the facts necessary to portray and convince the public let alone my loved ones to get ready, be prepared in whatever way it presents itself to you. ‘They‘ are coming, they are here, they are everywhere. They have been tightening the loose, concluding for years on how to play this out. Eliminate some of the population, track everyone. Keep this world under control as best as they can. The old, crippled in mind and body, the revolutionary/lover type, natives; get rid of them.
I’ve heard ancient prophesies, been in sacred secret ceremonies. The signs are not intricately spelled out. We know if we plant a seed, the plant may grow, depending on water, air and multiple other possibilities of a complex system that we can use statistical accumulated facts to prophesize the probabilities of its existence. But we don’t know for sure how it may play out. If the plant begins to grow we can tend to it, enhance its life with what we have discovered it needs but we don’t know the many aspects that may change a future that is ultimately uncertain.

Senor, senor, I can see that painted wagon,
I can smell the tail of the dragon
Can’t stand the suspense anymore
Can you tell me who to contact here, senor?
Well, the last thing I remember before I stripped and kneeled
Was that trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field
A gypsy with a broken flag and a flashing ring
Said, “Son, this ain’t a dream no more, it’s the real thing”

Business man drink my wine, plow and dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of this is worth

If my thought dreams could be seen,
they’d probably put my head in a guillotine
But it’s alright Ma, It’s life and life only

Winter time is coming, the windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody but i just could not get it across

Italic lyrics by Bob Dylan (from various songs)

These are the Problems… winter 72 / Patrick T Wey

Don’t cha know people
You been hypnotized
Don’t cha feel you’re missin’ somethin
Fightin’ for those lies
There’s all kinds of problems
but i ain’t got the time

Wish i could tell it
And you could understand
Wish i could see ya
Lendin’ a helpin’ hand
There’s all kinds of problems
but i ain’t got the time

If you avoid this burden
You’re never gonna see
You’ll just end up wanderin’
That crowded empty street
There’s all kinds of problems
but i ain’t got the time

It’s not so hard to see it
The road ya gotta go
But ta go ahead and do it
Well that’s another show
Those are the problems
that lie inside my head

If you ever looked close enough
Through that thought up mist
There’s a place where even tragedy
Ceases to exist
Those are the problems
that lie inside my head
Where you never have ta worry
about tryin’ to think ahead

winter 72….Thomas P Wey

writing and images by patrick wey
Italic lyrics by Bob Dylan (from various songs)

B68 … everybody’s fighting

everybody’s fighting, trying to proof their point
some drinking authority others cursing the joint
i’ve seen the angels everybody talks about
i’ve sat in the board room with the saints of love
and when they tied me to the chair
and hung me with their stench
you didn’t say a thing
in fact, you tightened up the wrench

so now i’m out on the road again
with no where left to go
most have shone crazy
and speak much too slow
i’d ask you what you think about it all
but i’ve been waitin for another call
one from the master of time itself
and one from my broker account
and if i make it thru all this
and see you on the other side
i’ll walk right thru you
and expose the greatest lie

writing and images by patrick wey

B67 … you see a man standing in the rain

You see a man standing in the rain wearing a mask and you immediately ask him ‘what’s this all about’ and he says ‘come on man you must know by now the world’s in siege’ and i say ‘no i didn’t realize that this was the end coming on so strange’ and he just talks himself away carrying his throat in his hand and his eyes glued to a screen. Some woman from another side comes over and says she’s got the answer and then crawls away singing with her hair all tangled up and her tattoos melting into her soul. Everybody’s talking about some president and the nature of some facts breaking down across the boulevards and just how true’s the hot needles goin to be anyhow. The day breaks just as planned and the straight lines and signs keep moving thru the haze and just when you thought you had something worth a look another masked man appears and slips back down again to whence he came like it was normal and sane. You got no place to hide so you slip on a shield and join right in like you belong to just exactly what’s happening and hope you won’t be noticed as you dance in and out of the debates and scary air. The angels are hanging off the glazed architecture and the flames keep shooting up higher and higher into a real pretty red sky. Nothing seems dangerous to the crowds and the bands are all forced to separate inside. In the evening when all the nails and glue are asleep and the views are readjusted the climate dangerously changes from a hot money energy forced around a grid. Sacred visions enter silently until the night air disappears and the long big picture assembles once again with a smile hidden within the wind and the waiting dawn emerging awake and it all continues back on down into the front lines and the counting continues like clock-work made out of stainless steel. The experts got it all under the scope and the packaging is perfect for the digital facts and the answers have all been rehearsed for the dubious minds and for the ones left in the ditch that don’t give a damn and for the ones that know, know you’ll never figured it out with time. The only sound that’s left after the angels disappear are the jingle jangles from the dangling signs and sirens inside the weary lost souls and the slow whispering from the calm and peaceful winds. Flesh and crystal metals takes love into another unknown dimension and life travels much further from the natural gardens and birds sing their praise for the day and time stands still once again.

images and writing by patrick wey

B66 … Let Them Eat Covid – dream nitemare fiction vision….early 2020

I woke up, thankful to realize it was just a dream, but that changed. In the twilight of this dream i was in the middle of a long fast.
I was attempting to extract from my cells the nano particles inserted with the mandatory vaccination to apparently stop the spread of the popular viruses. I knew from my life long fasting practice that i could cleanse and purify my cells with long specific fasting which i had learned thru-out my years. Hopefully that would work. I didn’t know much about nano particles inserted into cells but i figured if they’re unnatural for a healthy body, the body can eliminate them with the best detox system that exists for man, beast and bird; the fast was the hope.

Mandatory vaccinations became a reality a few years back. Most of the planet had been vaccinated and it was compulsory to wear masks in public. You could not move around on the planet anywhere without a vaccination certificate, a licence to move freely confined. Most of the smaller businesses had gone, bankrupt and replaced with the worlds multi-international companies with everything needed to survive, a consortium of needs and wants controlled by a few, from underwear, food, to vehicles; they had you covered. Everything, every person and every movement was closely monitored by the ‘AI Centre for Humanity’, address unknown. Many people just disappeared. This was a new world ordered from the virtually unseen.
There still were small groups of people that revolted against the lock-downs and the mandatory control over their bodies but they were suppressed and when found-out, eliminated. Millions of people had died from new forms of disease that they stated were unrelated to the vaccination and the strains of covid they had been vaccinated to fight against.
In my dream I was on the run with a few others aware that the G5 and other new technologies could activate the nano-particled cells of vaccinated people to cause various issues in the body and mind and ultimately death. The variation and intensity of the micro-waves could control whole groups and societies from afar without being detected for hours days weeks and by that time the people, animals, birds, insects could be eliminated. A world control system was in place and it seemed that there was absolutely no way to retaliate against it.
That’s when i discovered fasting to eliminate the nano particles and therefore be invisible to their grid of control. I was in the process of teaching whole groups of people when i was found out and on the run.

I awoke in a cold sweat and at first i was glad it was just a nightmare until i quickly realized that the ‘dream’ was likely a vision , at any rate, definitely much more than a standard dream.

Fasting was the cure.
What insanity this world had developed and into the minds of the majority of the people with the masses themselves forcing it upon themselves, a perfect willing embrace. A tightly gridded system of control……….and for what……control, power, insane madness on such a beautiful earth.
I got up, did my routine, took a few deep breaths, thought gratefulness into this borrowed mind, put on my mask and hid in the shadows for another registered-day on a miraculous planet filled with strange people of distant beliefs.

Modern Times
One big camouflaged lie with a bouquet of little exposed truths piercing precisely within thru-out the grid of trust and authority for the ones that demand to belong, that was the new-reality. One big lie with a school of little truths swimming frantically to survive….

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
“Rip down all hate,” I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now
My Back Pages – DylanB 1964

writing and images by patrick wey

B65 … somewhere, there must be

Herds of warped opinions rolling around the ditch, she stumbled into the love wrapped in dull words and wandered off naked into the sunset without a worry in her head. That was my mistress, that was yesterday. I’m back on the road with a head full of ideas and boots waiting to scramble off somewhere, anywhere, just out of here, somewhere nice, where the trees kiss your heart and the sky is high and the birds speak the truth. Somewhere where i can find her again, fall into her arms and end this madness out here in the streets.

But it is too late, i’ve grown to weak, the shelter is all i want. Somewhere to hide from the masked men and to escape the toxic needles, somewhere in the past where the air is fresh and the water is pure, somewhere where you don’t have to act out, play roles that can’t exist, be forced into submission, jailed with the nitemare of the masses and their destructive dreams, somewhere, there must be a somewhere.

writing and images by patrick wey

B64 … Headless lady banned from facebook

Headless lady banned from facebook for not wearing a mask; walks her nuclear dog thru the highlands of the era of covid and carries no arms for the world to see but with a still long chill she emanates purity in her belief and is a saint amongst the shadows in these silent lands of the absurd. Kachi dog shunned for association.

writing and image by patrick wey

B63 … world – war – belarus

**one chimney one family – thousands of chimneys – hundreds of villages – millions of lives**

Only the chimney remains, the burnt flesh and the cupboards, the walls, the floor and ceiling are nothing but dust and ash. The few photographs of loved ones from special moments are crumbled black fragments along side the melted tin cans and the locked door knobs, the kitchen chairs, tables and cabinets are all now dead memories; everything felt the heat of hate on their way thru to the majestic gates of heaven. That was world war in Belarus. Thousands of homes hundreds of villages erased, children, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, locked in with their burning hearts, eliminated, burnt black in the most foul manner.

It carries on everywhere with new and unique narrative created and dispersed by the people from the top to the bottom, war is made from the interior panels of the mind of humanity. One against the other. Power, control, the disease of conceit lives well in the healthy and the decrepit, the rich and the poor, the pretty and the ugly; all the colours of the rainbow find their way into this shelter of tangled belief. Respect in authority, in competition, in privilege over the unfortunate, the distain for the weak and stupid, the different ones. We are the believers that walk our brothers and sisters to the chambers of gas and needles. We are the ones that claim we love our sons and daughters and with shallow views we lead them into a world of half human dimensions, into a future we claim to despise. We are the android creators of our destiny, knowingly and blindly we fall in line with the lies. We are the new order creatures of virtual love and fake dreams. We are the chosen ones whom create, enforce and obey the signs towards nano-particle freedom.

images and writing by patrick wey

sculptures by valentine of belarus

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