Mother, all my life I cast my aspersions in secret,
never vocalising them for the angst of being
subjugated by the follies and manipulations of
evil; until one fine day I said ENOUGH! And
my reservations all broke loose like a stream
that suddenly funnels its way out of the earth!
I have never been a broken man despite the ignominy
done to me; nor have I been frustrated by my
bottled up convictions. You know the cocktail of
inflections in the order of the day quite sound like
a mocktale of seemingly imminent but unappetising choices!
I just feel beveraged by the hypocrisy of it all in my pained
but deluged astuteness. If compulsion was the only choice?!
But my soul may just as well be caffeinated by necessity,
a little , not toxicised! Must not the leader by example
have to drape the sardonic robe to protect his own value-
and belief systems. How does the endemic lie stigmatising
our civilisation bring upon undeserved retribution on
the Knight errant for his justified deviancy; and not
the perpetrators who abused everything for ages? Or must the hero
be branded an insane sciamachist? Or does Don Quixote face
the ordeal of death and defeat for taking on the wicked institutions and
entities! Must I be a furtive journeyperson between one evil and
the other; so that I cannot seek out any truth or justice without either
crutch? Weren’t evil Saint Paul (JPGS) and selfish Ananus ben Ananus (ANA),
both, responsible for the stoning to death of Godly James the Just? Weren’t
pervert Philip the Fair of France and creepy Pope Clement V, both, not
responsible for the torture and burning at the stake of inviolate Jacques
du Molay? Why must I be accountable for my seeking out truth and justice,
Mother, when the real criminals accrue corrupt power over me?
I have sublimated myself for a sacred purpose; do they think that I
have no other option but to tolerate their callousness, or resort only to
subterfuge? I am a Grandmaster, much too greater than a Prime Minister(!),
do they not see that? There is the soul of the machination (Geodeter) in me!
Did the Church, I founded, that was hijacked from me, not then hijack you
Mother, to take you away from me with their lying scrivening, that
they called me Lesser to Jesus, John the Baptist and Saint Paul and
scrumpled me into an oblivion! And did they not call you Queen of Heavens,
Mother, while jerry-branding you? Who are footloose in this Universe,
Mother, if not the perpetrators? Should they not be dangling on the cords
like puppets to meet their end on the backside of the stage; and not be the
demanding puppeteers anymore? Are they not reprehensibly trying to hijack
my truths for their own benefit over mine; and worse, seeking to punish me
for lying (to protect my own convictions from their treachery)? Mother, my love
is like a trapezing act, so not to be holding on to any swing that is foreclosed
by these evil perpetrators who want to continue their wanton destruction of
integrity! So the trapezing be my avowed rejecting, if I have to do it for eternity!!!
Can I seek refuge in love then, Mother, if veracity is a failure because of dupe?
Can I give you the deserved love and honour, Mother? Or can I rescue my vulnerable
siblings? Or can I ever have my True Love as truly mine?…
montes-musings.blog 