Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 50
Sign: Leo
State: California
Country: US
Signup Date: 9/21/2007
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January 31, 2010 - Sunday
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Current mood:  creative
Category: Writing and Poetry
 .................... Chapter Three.... “Oh God, I have wanted an d have tried to do right, to maintain the order; to keep my people on the road to reason and righteousness. You have kept me and my family safe all these years. Until now, you are the only one to have shed blood for me; now I am willing to be or do what you see fit. Protect our Willow, I beg you. ” Walter Morgan lay flat on his back; looking upward toward God and thoughts came and went about his arm, but his mind never left his daughter. It was indeed gone, but as though it had never been there. He could not be so patient concerning her. .... “She was the natural order and it must be given to her!” he cried out. ....  His eyes drifted to the cavern ceiling and sort of looked  through it, as his mind peered through time while summoning back his recollection of his thirteenth birthday. It
was then he, just like his beloved little girl, Willow, had embarked
upon his newly-found understanding of who he was and what his great
responsibility would be to the Neph, as the keeper of the Realm.
 “That’s
why I buried it here in the first place; so it would be far enough away
from me that I couldn’t give it up no matter what the consequences
would be.” Then, his father’s voice seemed to invade his thoughts. ....
 “Young
man, this is the time to take hold of the Scepter; to let it take hold
of you as its protector, its bearer and its crown. It is the sign of
the covenant between our kind and the Creator. We were an aberration,
Walter, outside the box, not according to the plan, but The King has
great tender  mercies. He made a way for us to have peace with Him, but only a part of our lot has bowed before the King. It
is for that this Scepter was given to us, not as an idol, but as a
visible sign of our submission to the one who made the way with his
blood. Now, hold out your right arm, Walter.”....
~~~....  “Why didn’t you tell me your name was Melek?”....
“Miss Willow…” Melek saw Willow cross her arms in disgust. “Yes, I mean Willow. You are a persnickety one, aren’t you, but it suits you. Actually Willow, I do not recall your asking me my name, but I could be wrong. We are not perfect creatures. The
dark thing we just cast down was once my dear friend, but he chose the
way of his master. He is proof enough that we are frail like your kind,
and you got the same frailties on both sides.” Melek said in a
half-hearted jest. .... Willow rolled her eyes and Melek continued. “Anyway, this is not about me. And, you will soon see that the things you shall encounter will make you either a queen of g reat deeds and service for your kind, or a vassal of a dark ruler who shall never allow you an ounce of freedom.”.... “But you said my father was in danger.” Melek nodded his head. “Well, we had better get our cool selves over there then, don’t you think. I have to save my father.” Willow insisted with tears in her eyes. “Father…”.... ~~~.... “I’m afraid.” Walter Morgan heard his younger voice travel through his mind again..... “Yes,  and it gives me peace to know it too, Walter.” his father said with a positive and victorious voice. “That
means you have taken it sincerely, for indeed becoming the Supreme
Leader of a countless number of Nephs, of which many are, as of yet,
unaware of their difference, is a bold task, my boy. There are many who have never yet sprouted their wings; a phenomenon that no one can explain. And, the number always stays the same, too; one hundred and forty-four thousand, Walter. ....  “What you are taking hold of and the role you shall now play, to say the least, my son, is no easy task. But, I have great confidence in you. You are a strong one, as will be your kin. Yet, have no confidence in your strength. In
that, we are no different than the humans around us. We and they must
all trust in God, and to uphold His covenant, which was sealed in pure
blood.” Walter recalled the unforgettable expression of pain,
determination and fear that overtook his father’s face, at that moment.
....
“My
son, there are only three things that I have determined that I would
relinquish my life for. Two of them are your mom and you. Since we lost mom last year that just leaves two hug e parts of my life I am prepared to die for.” .... Samuel Morgan got down on one knee and peered into his son Walter’s eyes. “You know, I would not even think about it, Walter. If
you were in danger, I’d die to preserve your life, without a thought or
regret.” Samuel hugged young Walter Morgan and a much older Walter
Morgan saw it in his mind as he lay on the cave floor still going over
all the things that had brought him to such a low point in his life..... “Walter, I am proud of you and so proud to be your father. Yet, there is one who is over you and over all. It is He who forgave us, transformed us and set us free. To him I can yield all, because I know he can do no wrong and is pure and holy. You can be no less sure of your fate, for trouble shall follow you and you’ll need to know when to make a cry for help…” .... Walter opened his eyes and stared, for a moment up at the cave ceiling. His brain told him to move his right arm, but it was gone. He pushed himself up with his left arm and got on his one hand and knees. .... “I only get one of these in a lifetime, so I had better make it good!” ....  He heaved and shook and his skin opened across his back as great shimmering black and purple and blue colored wings unfolded. He
rose to his feet and his face began to shine, and he reared back and
hurled a deafening cry, heard by no human, but which wailed in the ears
of every Neph alive, sprouted or still in hiding.....
“Willo w, help me!”.... Throughout every nation, in every city and into the ears of every Neph, Walter Morgan’s cry blasted forth causing some in certain parts of the world awaken in fear and terror while
others, in other areas to scream in fear at the sound that no one else
around them had heard, including Willow. Many of them instantly
sprouted their wings, leaving them in shock..... ~~~....  “Dad!” Willow cried out. Her head turned almost instinctively to the sound and she knew where it had come from. ....
“Angel, Melak, what was your name again?” .... “Miss
Willow … whatever! That is how you use that expression, isn’t it?”
Willow looked exasperated, but she answered him patiently. “Yes, that
was pretty good, in fact.” Melek smiled and was obviously proud of
himself. ....  “I think I am finally mastering it.” ....
“You mean the language?” .... “No, I mean you humans.” .... “Well, it appears,” Willow looked behind her and caught a glimpse of her wings. “I am not exactly … human.” .... “That is true, Miss Willow, but you act just like them.” .... Willow
wondered if that was a compliment or a cut-down. She determined it was
a mixture of both. “Anyway, Malachi, I heard my father’s voice come
from down below in the caverns. I know them well, but you cannot tell my father. I’ll get grounded for sure if he learns how many times I went wandering around. I certainly don’t want grounded, now that I have wings.”.... “It’s Melek, and he knew every time, Miss Willow.” “Knew every time what?”.... “Your father knew where you were every time you escaped without his permission, because I told him.” “You are such a loser, Meleki!” She smiled because she knew she was getting on his angelic nerves each time she wasted his name.
....
“It is Melek, quite easy actually, if you just try. That was your father’s voice you heard. He has exercised the rite. As the King of all Nephs, he can hurl one time only.’ Melek looked at Willow who had a very worried look across her face. .... “Then, that means he’s in big trouble, doesn’t it, Milton?” In spite of her fear, even Willow laughed..... “I am so happy to be a Watcher.” Melek responded. “That took away any possibility of ever being your father.” They both laughed and leapt into the sky..... ~~~....  Walter
Morgan fell to his knees and his wings folded up into his back and he
raised his one arm toward the Keeper of the covenant.....
“Oh God, I have sought to do what your word told us. I did not do it to find grace with you, because I found that grace through your deeds, and not those of my own. I
have sought to please you, but look at me, now.” He thought about
Willow and the danger she was in. He remembered his father’s words when
he had told Walter he was willing to die for his son. Walter knew he would do no less for his Willow..... “Oh God, I should have been more responsible. My
father even warned me about Kassadia.” Walter shouted with tears in his
eyes and heard his father’s voice again, in his ears. ....  “Yet,
Walter, my son, even now a new lord of the dark-Hearts has been
decreed, this one will grow into the most ruthless and heartless of all
the black-Hearts and he shall stop at nothing to get this symbol forged
in the same blood as it was with all flesh. He
shall seek to corrupt our kind’s peace between God and the Neph. This
dark warrior is only different than us because of a plague of darkness,
which all humans and all the Neph have as well, except for our faith in
the one who cleansed us and who was wounded for us all, which the Dark
Hearts have rejected. His name is Kassadia.” ....
Young Walter Morgan played the name through his mind and it even sounded frightening to him. His face turned a bit ashen and his father saw it..... “Walter, it is OK to be afraid sometimes, and deathly dangerous at others. Fear can  be your friend in keeping you on the right path. To fear Him who formed you and pardoned you is the very start of the understanding needed to defeat Kassadia. .... “Don’t let the name scare you. It is but a name, and he was not always so … dark. He failed at what you are hoped to achieve, and darkness spread throughout all the land of humans and the Neph. If he wins the Scepter, The Neph will be eliminated. .... “As
Kassadia’s hand spreads darkness, it will grow and our kind, and those
we live amongst will become more and more accustomed to the dark magic
of the Dark-Hearts, and the covenant of blood will be abandoned. He will become clever and ready to stop at nothing to get what he wants; your power and your authority, this scepter. ....  “He
will be your greatest adversary with but one call upon his leadership;
to wage a never-ending struggle to get to the top where he intends even
to defy God, as the master he seeks serves did long ago. It is his
unction to get the Golden Scepter and to use it for wickedness.”....
Walter Morgan saw his younger self hold out his right arm. ....
“Walter Morgan, will you uphold the truce with the dark-hearts and will you always seek to be a peacemaker?”.... “I
… will seek peace with those who can be peaceable.” The boy said with a
quivering apprehensive tone. “I will make war with those who seek to
break the covenant.”.... “Your
word has been given and your word is believed by your sacred honor. You
have acquired the needed knowledge through the four lessons. “Now, my son, take this Scepter from me, as I give it freely without remorse. It has now released my claim, having willed it to you and I now pass it onto you.” Samuel Morgan looked at his son Walter for a moment and smiled and spoke softly.” .... “Now, take hold of it and become a man after God’s own heart.” ....
 Young
Walter Morgan looked down at the pure golden Scepter his father held
out for him to take. The base of the Scepter was round and the precious
metal, which was engraved with leaves from the tree of life, shimmered
in the light. A long ornate stem, embedded with rubies, and emeralds,
rose up from the bottom in a manner that was twisted into a beautiful
design that told the bearer of the Scepter that what lay ahead of them
was a call of intricacy, uncertainty and reliance on the King of Kings. ....
On
top of the golden stem was a round design that resembled a golden,
jewel-incrusted sun flower that had thin, long, golden needles all
around the design that naturally drew the eyes to the center of the
round top of the Scepter, which held a huge red diamond, the worth of
which had to be inestimable. There was an inscription on it that showed
the ancient quality of the symbol of peace and power. It read, “Then the king extended the gold scepter to Esther and she arose and stood before him.” Walter’s father realized how awestruck his son was..... “Yes,
Walter, this is the same Scepter that was given to Esther when the King
of Assyria chose her to be his queen more than three thousand years ago. She, of course, was no Neph. Yet, she was willing to be the queen of a foreign monarch to save her people from their enemies. Are we not doing the same thing? We are not Watchers. We are not humans. Still for the sake of our people we maintain our secrecy and we only act when called upon for good. Now claim it, and never let it fade away and preserve it.”  Walter’s
mind painted the picture before him and he recalled grasping the golden
Scepter. He felt like it was almost magnetic as it seemed to pull his
hand toward it and the small hairs on his arm leaned forward toward the
Scepter. ....
Walter’s memories showed the young boy reaching out to grasp the scepter. He heard a rumbling sound and he felt the windows rattling a loud pounding sound seemed to fill the whole house. He
looked out the window and saw the face of an angry young man, around
Walter’s own age, peering inside with a furious expression across his
face. He was hitting the windows as hard as he could even though he knew he could not take the scepter in that manner now. His would have to be of a more sinister nature, sometime in the future. Walter recalled his feelings of fear and confusion. ....  “He is your nemesis, my son. Kassadia is enraged. He
is too late, and he knows it, but he will not fail to disrupt your
rule, to break the covenant and to rule the Dark Hearts with evil
intent and destruction. Son, after lots of study and direct talks with God, I have come to the conclusion that the Dark Hearts are spiritually insane. They should know the could never overcome the maker, lest everything simply cease to be. Yet, they refuse to yield their souls. They hate to be controlled, and they will do anything to win their power back.” Samuel
Morgan looked at his son and flat on his back inside a cave underneath
an ancient temple, in the land of cave-dwellers, Walter saw it clearly
in his mind. The words his father spoke to him in his memory from the
past meant more to him now than when he had first heard them.....
“Do not try to negotiate, to make; there is no peace to be made with him, for his peace is only for his own selfish ends. Your
battle shall never end with him or with his line after him. The battle
between light and darkness is an eternal one and you have been entrusted with the battle of the ages. Hold
the scepter and rely on your creator, the one who came amongst us and
showed us how to live and then gave his life to save ours. That is love, my son. Kassadia will attack you on all sides, but the Branch, he will never give you more than you can handle.” .... “I believe you, my father, and I take this upon me to bear the burden of saving the covenant of the Neph.” .... Walter’s
hand wrapped around the precious golden symbol and he immediately felt
its force invade him and fasten itself to Walter’s being. The two, he and the Scepter became as one and each would eventually become dependent on the other. ....  Walter suddenly felt a sharp, jabbing pain shoot through his back and shoulders. He felt his insides tearing or more like something that had started working for the very first time. He
cried out in pain as his bones repositioned themselves and the skin
across his upper back tore open and something like feathers unfolded
and then, the pain was gone, and Walter Morgan felt them, the wings his
father and mother told him he’d one day sprout, which he had always
thought was a joke. ....
“It only hurt for a moment, and then it was gone.” Walter recalled..... “Yes, my son, that was my experience exactly. Tell me, was it worth it?”.... “You mean the tearing flesh, my bones being shoved around and feeling these enormous beautiful things crawl out of my back? Yes father, it was worth it and so much more.”....
 “Walter, you took on the Scepter before you came into your wings. Your daughter will sprout before she claims the Scepter.”....
“My daughter? I am going to have a daughter?”.... “That’s
but a just a detail right now, my son. It only means she will be
exceptional in our history. You, take great heed to protect the Scepter
well. Wherever you place it, there is where it should be. If
you choose to honor another Neph with this gift, you shall be released
from its devotion. If it is claimed and taken by another, without your
knowledge or agreement, your arm will crumble into sand and over the
next twenty days, you shall turn to dust, unless the Scepter is
regained. My son, it is a great honor to take on
the Golden Scepter. With the privilege comes great responsibility and
personal sacrifice to maintain the covenant’s order…” ....  A sound that resembled twisting metal filled Walter’s ears and his reflections of his childhood were suddenly forced away. He only heard his father’s last words that day as he came back to his present predicament.....
“Kassadia must not get the scepter. He must not find it. He must never have the Scepter.”
....
Beside
him, all around him, the Dark-Hearts had surrounded him and were about
to assault the King who had once subdued them. He felt his fall en brothers’ presence, even if he could not see them. Then, it was right there, and appeared suddenly in front of Walte
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January 24, 2010 - Sunday
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Current mood:  awake
Category: Writing and Poetry
 Automated Response Patriot Acts Part 3
A New Line Emerges ............ Chapter 2 Edgecombe County, North Carolina September, 1969, 1:52 p.m. “Just deal with it.” was the last thing Peter Barlowe’s father had told him, before he died.
Peter had walked into his home in Edgecombe County,
North Carolina just as he had as far back as he could remember. There,
to the right, he saw his father, Marshall sitting on the edge of the
couch with his face buried in his palms, shaking and weeping a torrent
of tears.
“Dad, where’s mom?”
Peter
Barlowe looked at the various things that were scattered around his
father, on the couch and the floor. He saw pictures of his childhood,
his mom Betty and his dad’s great-great grandmother Winnifred Atkinson Barlowe’s portrait, who had lived in Edgecombe Co. The floor was littered with old folders everywhere; all of them opened with their contents spilling out.
What’s he looking for? Peter wondered. “Dad, where’s mom? You’re starting to scare me.”
Marshall Barlowe looked up at his son with a face that screamed out disaster and guilt.
“Mother, you want your mother? Well, boy, you ain’t got no mother. Not no more.”
Young
Peter Barlowe took in the words from his father. The pitch, the
expression across his father’s face and grave sound of his father’s
voice, and most devastatingly terrible thing of all was the words
themselves. It all told this young twelve year old boy that his life had been drastically altered and was in permanent disrepair.
Marshall
Barlow sat on the edge of the couch with his eyes weeping into his
palms. He raised his head and gazed at the son he had always loved; an
affection he had rarely attempted to display.
The
expression he saw on his son’s face made him hurt so badly that he had
to hold the gun in his left hand down with his right lest he raise the
barrel to his head and pull the trigger earlier than he figured he’d be
forced to.
“Peter,
I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t; I swear I did. Everything about
that damn place is automated, and it’s only the beginning. Don’t try to
run, cause they’ll kill you.”
Peter
looked over at his father and took in the words that even he, at his
young age, realized would be the last ones his father would ever say to
him.
“Son, I love you, I always have. But, you cannot give up what’s ours and what was started by our kin, our blood.”
Peter walked slowly closer to his father and saw the gun in his hand.
“Dad,
what’s wrong? I know about the lost colony and the stupid shooting over
a stolen cup that was to have killed off all of them, and I know about
the SPU. I’m not afraid; tell me what I have to
do.” Tears rolled down the boy’s face and he felt as if his knees
wobbling under him. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
Marshall looked at his son, Peter with serious etched all over his face.
“My boy, Michael O’Rourke has taken the line; he stole it from Eldridge Harrison.”
Marshall saw the confounded stare in his son’s eyes.
“Peter, I know, you’re young, way too young to endure what has happen here today. I …”
“What has happened? Where is my mom?” Peter demanded.
“Son,
listen to me, you can’t run! If you run, they’ll kill you, and I can’t
stop it now. Once a thing like this gets rolling, there’s no stopping
it. This will never be far from you, Peter. Once they take you …”
“Take me, take me where?”
“You have to grow up fast and stop the system. The new line will build it, and they’ll use it too.”
“Dad, I don’t understand anything you’re talking about.”
“That’s
not important. They’re going to take you, son and when they do, you’ll
be chipped. No one knows the things we’ve done. No one even comprehends
how many masters we’ve served; all the while exacting all the power,
funding, technology and information they took as their booty. Every
president since Wilson’s been our puppet, and that was all under a
civil leadership. When this crowd gets their claws on the codes we have
from every nation that’s anything, no one will ever be able to stop the
SPU.”
Peter
mouthed the letters S.P.U. “You’ll forget these things after they block
out this day, and God knows how many others from your memory. But, my
only hope is that if you hear the words, ‘automated response’ they will
force this day back into your mind. That’s the best I can do, son.”
Marshall Barlowe stared back at his son and rose from the couch.
“Peter, listen carefully, they’ve built a system that will take down the whole thing down. Just deal with it …”
Young
Peter Barlowe turned his head toward the shattering sound of breaking
glass and then saw a hole appear in the center of his father’s
forehead. Blood shot out of his dad’s head and splashed over Peter’s
face. Peter dived to the floor and heard the back door fly open and
slam loudly against the wall. He lay silently and exposed on the living
room floor and saw four sets of feet enter the room. He saw them
walking over to him and then they grabbed him and lifted him up.
“Peter, we got here as soon as we could. You’re dad’s had a nervous breakdown, I’m afraid.”
“Mr.
O’Rourke, you just killed my dad. He told me everything. I will not go
with you. Did you kill my mom too, you lying bastard?”
“Listen,
calm down. I didn’t kill anyone. Your father was about to kill you too.
Come on now, you’re delirious, and I’ve got just the thing to help you
forget all about this.”
Michael
O’Rourke walked over to Peter and put his arm around his shoulder.
Peter pulled away from him and punched the much larger man in the ribs.
O’Rourke felt it, too.
“I don’t know what to believe.” Peter said in a child’s manner that seemed to pretend it all away.
“Of
course you don’t, Pete. That’s actually good, in a strange sort of way.
In fact, I fully intend to tell you what to believe, my boy.” O’Rourke
looked at his men.
“Get him outta here. And, one of you get back in here and clean up this mess.”
Michael O’Rourke, the new chief of the Strategic Perception Unit could not believe it had come off so flawlessly.
“Finally, it’s all mine. Now, I’m the real most powerful man in the world.”
............
Three large men picked up Peter Barlowe and cuffed him and led him
outside. As they walked him out the back door that had been kicked off
its hinges, Peter saw the lifeless body of his mother sprawled across
the blood-splattered table, with a large knife protruding out of her
chest.
“You killed my mom! You bastards killed my mom!” Peter screamed and fought to get away from his captures.
Two
of the men carried twelve-year-old Peter Barlow out of the house and to
a black car with US Government plates. They jostled him into the car
and he looked to his left at another young unconscious body next to
him, in the back seat.
“Fish, Fisher is that you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him; he’s OK. As a matter of fact, why don’t you join him?
The
SPU operative placed a mask over his own face and closed the backseat
divider and pressed a button his on his dash board that sprayed half
the normal dose of gas that he’s have administered to an adult. The
young boy pounded on the divider but soon, he felt his strength give
way to a sleepy, foggy haze and everything went dark.
Falls Church, Virginia inside SPU Center March 7, 2011
“I
remember.” Peter said quietly, but more loudly than he had intended as
the darkness of 1969 fade and his eyes gazed into the darkness of 2011.
He fine-tuned his ears to the sounds of soldiers as they walked down
the huge Falls Church facility corridors.
“It’s
an automated response.” Memories started flashing and streaming through
his mind and he saw what this horrible system would do.
“Peter,
listen carefully, they’ve build a system that will take down the whole
…” his father had said. “Just before they blew him away.” Peter
whispered. “…if they take us down, everything goes with us.” He had
heard so often since he had become part of the SPU. The memory shot
through his mind and he grasped the sides of his head. “We’ve chipped
every soldier, Marine, Seaman and Airman since 1988, and Reagan,
Clinton nor Bush knew a thing about it. Even Tate didn’t get that
information.” He groaned in mental agony.
“Your dad killed himself!”
“No, you killed him.” Peter Barlowe, heard his mind silently cry out.
“Your father killed your mother; stabbed her in the heart.”
“You lie.”
He screamed out loudly and looked down at his watch. “Only two
minutes.” He told himself. “I have to stop it.” He heard the sound of
heavy footsteps voices approaching his location. He stopped breathing
and listened carefully.
“This O’Rourke guy is dead.” One soldier said to the other. “Yea, Harrison’s not gonna take any shit!”
“Jaime’s dead? That leaves only me to take all the heat.” Barlowe realized.
He
positioned himself with his back to the wall of the cleaning room and
switched his flashlight on. Peter looked down at the chameleon suit he
had put on. He pulled the mask over his face and pressed a button on
the inside of his jacket. The suit came to life and he took on the
colors and blended into the room, but the suit’s one flaw was the
initialization process that produced a whining sound that the SPU techs
had not managed to rectify, and which the soldiers policing the
corridor could hear.
“Did you hear that?” One soldier said to the other. Barlowe heard the soldiers walking toward the door.
“I have to get to the chamber and reset it the failsafe.” His watch told him he had forty-eight seconds.
He
heard the footprints coming his way and saw light break through the
darkness as the cleaning room door slowly opened. He pulled his legs
back prepared himself.
Two
US Army soldiers aimed their weapons into the room and looked inside.
They saw nothing and walked into the room. When they came close enough
to trip over Peter, he drove the force of both his adrenalin-laced legs
into the chest of one of the soldiers. Peter leapt to his feet and
rapidly raced down the corridor, firing as he ran as fast as his legs
would take him.
The
Army advance soldier was one of a team of ten sent in to conduct code
enforcement and to shoot anyone on sight who threatened US Forces in
any way. The soldier ran into the corridor and saw him. The one soldier
still left breathing ran after him and radioed his commander.
“I got him, Peter Barlowe …”
“One second…”
“One second, I ain’t got one …”
“Who are you, what company?”
“Taggart, sir, Advanced Infantry Clearance.” “Give it to me, soldier.”
“I got Barlowe. You know, like the number two … sir.”
“You’ve got a shoot to kill on that dirt bag, Taggart. You Copy?”
“You better believe it … sir. Target is racing around into the left corridor.”
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January 5, 2010 - Tuesday
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Category: Writing and Poetry
All Fall Down
Patriot Acts Part Three
Ramallah, Palestine
June 6, 1995 1:58 p.m.
“The
Two minute window is closing.” The operative reported perched high up
inside a bombed out building in Ramallah, Palestine that had once been
filled with families who had been forced to flee Israeli tanks, mortars
and laser-guided bombs. With an uninhibited view, he looked out at the
indescribable ruin and carnage that had already been inflicted on this
people whose leaders had passed up every opening for peace.
“Copy that” the operative’s base contact affirmed.
There,
with his precision fully automatic .50-cal. Barrett M82 ready to
accelerate the conflict into a full-blown war, Colonel Fisher Harrison
took in the complete and utter destruction of a society literally
crumbling around his location. He looked to the left and saw the
barricaded windows with camouflage material shrouding the soldiers
posted there, ready and willing to fire at anything that moved.
Fisher
raised his eyes and looked straight out ahead. His view was good enough
to look into the Calandria refugee camp. It was a cauldron of vicious
plots and miniature bomb making factories, which made ad hoc missiles
and jackets designed to be used only once. He glanced downward and saw
a mother with her scarf removed and wrapped around her three small
terrified children’s eyes. Hoards of terrified city dwellers were
crouched down, never glancing upward, and fleeing through the streets;
trying to stumble on a loaf of bread and a few bottles of water during
a lull in the barrage of attacks.
The
world had condemned Israel for its attacks, but Fisher had determined
it was justified and obliged, just like the validation screaming in his
head for the killing of the evil terrorist he was about to blow away.
Every street was strewn with blown up cars, dead bodies and silence,
only cut short by the frequent short volley of gunfire in every
direction.
Smoke rose
high into the sulfur-ridden darkened sky. Throughout the capital city
of the land of a people without a country, old men, young women with
children in their arms and in their wombs hid and prayed to the god in
whose name they were fighting. Fisher doubted they deserved a country.
Then he realized that his job, his own people deserved scarcely more
than these who had been constantly lobbing missiles and sending suicide
bombers into the heart of Israel.
Inside
the so-called governmental zone, every building belonging to the
Palestinian Authority was flattened except Arafat’s own presidential
headquarters, but Fisher knew that the only reason the structure was
still there was because Israeli forces had allowed it to remain. Arafat
had been allowed to live, but with stipulations. The former leader of
the Palestinian Liberation Organization who had carried out and ordered
the torture and murder of hundreds of thousands of people was now the
only hope for peace and survival for this war-weary people.
 Arafat
only left his compound twice a day to greet his followers and to speak
with the press, which Fisher knew was now and which was why he had
placed his very steady eye peering through a chamber that would place a
beam of light, invisible to others, but very clear to Fisher, in the
center of the President of the Palestinian Authority’s forehead. As
soon as the clock struck two o’clock; as soon as the clock signaled the
last breath for an elected leader who Fisher Harrison regarded as a
terrorist, it would be time to unlock, pull back on the trigger and
then get the hell away.
Fisher
glanced constantly at his watch and thought about the SPU
superintendent’s words before boarding the El Al flight to Tel Aviv in
Chicago. He had travelled as a civilian and when he arrived at O’Hare
Field, he was not allowed to board the flight until the next day. He
knew that wasn’t a problem and that the SPU was impeccable in its
ability to cover every base.
“It’s
only a shaky finger or a call that can stop this murderer from meeting
his 70 virgins.” Fisher quietly amused himself. “And the recall is
almost over.” Fisher told himself.
Almost
every mission had left him in a kind of obtuse, morose feeling of
remorse and sorrow, but not this one. For Fisher Harrison, this was
simply code enforcement. He was cleaning up the neighborhood. He was
doing what he was trained to do, and he didn’t even have to convince
himself, this time.
“Hey
Yasser, here’s hoping that all them virgins are men.” He almost laughed
out loud. Then he remembered the superintendent’s orders and outrageous
words. “What was it again?” he asked himself with his eye still staring
out the end of a scope at the extremely exposed head and face of one of
the twentieth century’s most ruthless terrorists.
“The war’s not getting the attention it needs, Colonel.”
“War; what war?” Fisher truthfully didn’t know what the superintendent was talking about.
“The
war that your new mission is going to start. There’s never been a
conflict that the SPU hasn’t had its hand in starting, since the
founding of the nation. Now, I need you to get your ass over to that
cursed place and blow the bastard away.”
“Blow him away; which one? That could be any number of bastards’, as you call them. Could even be you … sir.”
“I
don’t care; just kill’em, Arafat, I mean. I want him dead, dancing with
those virgins. I need a war, Colonel!” Fisher Harrison turned slowly
with an unconcealed scowl poignantly stretched across his face.
Without
ever taking his eye away from the scope attached to his M82, Fisher
touched his face as he realized that his thoughts had produced the same
expression of unbelief and anger in the present as in the past. He
returned to the present mission at hand and glanced down at his watch.
Only fifty-two seconds remained. His palms felt uncharacteristically
wet and he wasn’t certain if he were afraid of the result of a
successful mission or if he was exaggeratedly gleeful at once again
meting out a guilty killer’s just recompense.
“What you need is to be shot on sight, Barlowe.” Fisher recalled
telling his boss. “And, I hope I’m the one who gets to do that too.”
The superintendant looked puzzled at first then his face took on an
expression that told Fisher that his SPU superior knew Fisher would do
it. “I can’t wait till that directive comes down …sir!”
“Colonel Harrison, I think the odds are more on my side than on yours.
Just stay useful and you won’t have to forfeit your retirement plan.
Anyway, it’s always been this way, and it won’t be changing anytime
soon.”
“Then the country’s nothing but a lie and never existed at all.” Fisher blurted out.
“Well, Harrison, one day it is going to be just you and me, mono et
mono. We’ll see then who has the biggest package, don’t you think?
Anyway, we both have a boss. So, give me my war, Colonel Harrison.”
March 9, 2011, 3:23 p.m.
Outside Washington D.C.
Suddenly,
Fisher felt himself shaken by explosions erupting in the distance and
very close, and President Fisher Harrison felt his whole world start
quaking. He leapt forward from his bed, but he was forced right back
down on the mattress he was strapped to around his wrists and feet with
a needle forcing a steady stream of sedatives into the veins of his
left arm.
Fisher felt a
throbbing, stabbing pain shoot through his head each time he tried to
recall how he had gotten where he had suddenly awaken.
“I
was speaking … yes, President Tate’s funeral…yes that’s it. Then …” He
shook his head as the throbbing in his head became almost unbearable.
“… then all hell broke loose.”
He
could barely recall it, but he could still hear what had to be the most
deafening sounds even he, a man who had been battle tough, had ever
heard in his life. He began to mouth the words to himself. “The
sanctuary shook, the ground seemed to pound and then it all came down
and … Margaret … Nate? Oh my God, Margaret! Nate.” He screamed. “Where
are they? I can see it in my head. It just came tumbling down on all of
us. Yes, I remember”
Fisher
tried to get a hold of his fear and rationally wondered where he was.
He lifted his head off the bed and looked around the dark room. It had
a musky odor and seemed damp. Slowly, he brought all his skills to bear
and tried to understand where he was. He recalled the dream he had just
had. One set of words he had heard in the dream filled his mind.
“Well,
Harrison, one day it is going to be just you and me, mono et mono.
We’ll see then who has the biggest package, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Fisher told himself. “He wasn’t there! When we took the Falls Church facility, he wasn’t there! It had to be Barlowe!”
Fisher
heard clapping behind him and a spotlight flashed on forcing Fisher’s
eyes closed from the light that had killed the darkness all round him.
A voice spoke out behind the bed he was latched to.
“Bravo,
bravo, you are a tough one, President Harrison. We knew you had been
inoculated many years ago. So, we thought you’d not be under for too
long. We needed just enough time to get you out and under control.”
“And my family, where are they?”
“Well, let’s talk about that a little later, why don’t we?”
Fisher
began jerking at the straps and shouting and trying to rip his arms and
feet loose. “You will tell me now.” Fisher screamed.
“Mr.
President, though that title hardly fits you any longer, we have to
bring some sanity to the situation, as it is right now; so, first
things first. I did notice that you recalled my words, mono et mono.
That was impressive, to say the least that you remembered them and even
in a drug-induced stupor, those words, from so many years ago, rang out
in your mind. You either have a very well-tuned mind or I made a mighty
impression on you. It’s probably a bit of both, don’t you think? We had
you plugged in Fisher. We saw everything you saw, and I was proud of
you. You haven’t lost a bit of your style, Mr. President.”
“Barlowe, if you hurt my family, I’ll kill you.”
“Now,
Fisher, you’ve said that one before, but just as I told you in nineteen
hundred ninety-five, I have the upper hand. It seems easy to conclude
that now, don’t you think? But then, how could you know? The cat was
away and mice did play. Fisher, you guys made us invisible and more
lethal than ever. Did you think we put all our eggs into just one
basket? Fisher, you know us better than that. You were one of us, and
now, you are nothing; not SPU, not a father, not an operative and
certainly not a president. You don’t need to get used to it, actually.
You won’t be alive long enough to worry about it.”
“What have you done Barlowe? The nation can’t take much more right now.”
“Nation,
what nation would that be? The new one or the old one? The one you
never got a chance to lead, you know, the one I just destroyed? I do
understand you, though. It will take some getting used to by the … what
were they called before? Ah yes, the American people? So, stop with all
the threats.”
Barlowe
walked over to a door behind Fisher’s bed where he was secured. He
waved his hand and closed the door and watched through a window as a
mist filled the air and President Fisher Harrison fell back silent and
motionless to the bed.
“Mr.
President,” Barlowe said. “Don’t waste your breath. You don’t have too
many left anyway. There will be more than enough time for killing
later.”
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley .. ..   Where is Patriot Acts available?
No unconditional Talks – Just patriot Acts!
Author Steven Clark Bradley
From The Mind of Steven Clark Bradley
Steven Clark Bradley @ Inspired Author
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Steven Clark Bradley @ Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley @ Word That Work
Steven Clark Bradley @ Goodreads.com
Steven Clark Bradley @ Myspace.com____________________________
Steven
worked a number of years in various countries in Europe, Asia, and
Africa. He has been to 34 countries and has worked extensively with Kurdish refugees from Turkey, Iraq, and Syria. Steven also established a school by correspondence for African students in the African countries of The Gambia and Senegal West Africa. He is the founder of a Cultural Center for refugees in France,
where he lived for six years. Speaking fluently in French and in
Turkish, Steven has been in 34 countries. Before returning to the
United States in 1995, Steven worked as an instructor of English and
Business skills for four years at Bilkent University in Ankara, Turkey.
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December 21, 2009 - Monday
|
Current mood:  adventurous
Category: Writing and Poetry
Homeless Like Me
 The
premise of this book is something I have thought about doing as a
writer, myself. I am by no means a wealthy man now, but there was a
time when all I built up just was wised away and I wondered about
researching the homeless plight and try to get into their heads and
figure out what drove them to such depths.
In
my younger years, when I had not yet met the many rigors of adulthood,
I thought all homeless people were mentally ill and worthless. I know,
that's pretty harsh and, it was not until I faced the ruin of what I
had worked for that understood that most of us are but a few missing
paychecks out of the homeless shelter. So, my outlook widened and my mercy
grew and I understood that so many made a decision, one day that they
had bucked up against the system long enough and scre w it all! I saw that and made a conscious decision to fight back and never give up my dreams. So, it seems is Brian, the main character of the novel, Homeless Like Me by Donald James Parker.
I hope you will read the description below of this fine novel. I think of the words of the Psalm of David, King of Israel "Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there."
(Psalm 139 verse 8)
 Wherever
we go, God is there, and He is not silent. This book very profoundly
demonstrates God's care in the deepest and most entrenched broken
lives. You should read it. It will speak to you.
 Steven Clark Bradley
Author of Patriot Acts Nimrod Rising StillBorn!
Probable Cause
Brian
has a dream of writing the great American novel. He knows that without
a gimmick to set him apart from the rest of the pack, he'll never
succeed. From reading Black Like Me, he gets the idea to masquerade as
a homeless man to get the material to write the saga of those suffering
from poverty. During his first visit to the local homeless shelter to
gather facts, he is accosted by Zeke, one of the subjects of his
research.
In
order to save his skin, Brian spills his guts to the huge black man.
After hearing the story, Zeke sees value in the project for his
homeless brethren, and pledges to help the wannabe paperback writer.
Also on his first visit, a vision of loveliness, aptly named Angel,
takes away Brian's breath and subsequently his heart. She turns out to
be a fanatical Christian who is waiting for God to reveal the identity
of her future husband. Brian decides to write a novel and make Angel
the heroine hoping to win her heart in the process.
About The Author
Don
is a 1968 graduate of Madison Central High School in Madison, South
Dakota. He graduated from Dakota State University in Madison in 1972
with a degree in secondary education. After moving to Washington State
in 1981, Don studied computer programming and turned his writing
efforts to software.
After
twenty-five years of IT work, Don's passion for writing flared up
again, and the doctors couldn't do anything to cure it. The outcome is
a five book series involving two generations of the Masterson family
and four stand alone novels to date. The main focus of his work
involves entertaining while educating through the struggle of his
characters to find truth. Rather than avoiding controversial subjects,
Parker seeks out to shine a spotlight on issues of life which cause
conflict.
What Do Readers Think?
A Compelling Read From Beginning To End, November 29, 2009
by Apex Reviews (Durham, NC USA)
In
his efforts to write the Great American Novel, Brian comes up with an
ingenious idea: in order to depict the plights of homeless people
struggling against poverty, he decides to masquerade as a homeless man.
That way, his story will not only be convincing, it will also be based
on the genuine, authentic experience of being homeless. As his journey
unfolds, though, something quite unexpected happens to Brian: he falls
for Angel, a vision of pure loveliness with a heart as big as the Grand
Canyon. The only problem: Angel is an impassioned Christian soldier
determined not to marry until God delivers her husband to her - whereas
Brian has no use for religion at all. As his literary efforts evolve in
an effort to win Angel's heart, Brian is little prepared for the ways
in which he himself will actually be changed when all is said and
done...
Homeless
Like Me courageously exposes the reader to one of the more often
ignored aspects of the human experience. Deriving its name from a play
on the title of the familiar work Black Like Me, author Donald James
Parker's insightful tale chronicles a similar journey through the good,
bad, and ugly experiences of a particular subset of the greater
population. Without falling into hyperbole or exaggeration, Homeless
Like Me provides the reader with invaluable insight into how
devastating homelessness can be - as well as just how easily it can
happen to anyone, regardless of the stability of your current
situation. Despite the heaviness of the subject, though, Parker's
trademark humor adds just the right touch of levity, providing an
effective counterbalance to what could be a decidedly difficult subject
to explore.
A
compelling read from beginning to end, Homeless Like Me is recommended
reading for anyone unfamiliar with the specific trials and tribulations
that accompany life as a homeless person. Sure to inspire an increased
appreciation for the plights of people from all walks of life.
Latonya Franklin Apex Reviews Homeless like me: A review, October 31, 2009 by A. Liu "Artimus"
Homeless
Like Me is a novel/e-book published by Sword of the Spirit
Publications, a small Christian publishing house set up by the author
and a few others interested in spreading the word of God. I was
approached by Donald through Book Blogs and invited to review one of
his books.
Homeless
Like Me has taken inspiration from the international bestseller Black
Like Me, written by John Howard Griffin, a white man who posed as an
African American for six weeks travelling through the more racially
segregated areas of America in the late 1950's.
Although
Homeless has taken its cue from Black Like Me, it has gone off on a
very different pathway. Brian, the protagonist, is a guy interested in
making a quick fortune by writing a book about what it is like to be
homeless. As part of his research he visits the local homeless shelter
posing as one of those down on their luck but things get hairy when he
is busted by Zeke, a big bear-like man who doesn't take kindly to
Brian's covert mission. However, they soon find that each has something
that the other needs and an uneasy friendship is formed and their
journey takes them to some very unexpected places, both physically and
metaphysically.
This
book contains a lot of different strong themes: homelessness,
homosexuality, Christianity and the global economic crisis - which
makes the 200 odd pages seem very crowded and a little confused in
places. In the first half of the book, I felt that the narrative relied
too heavily on character dialogue, mainly between Brian and Zeke, but
the flow improved greatly in the second half.
As
readers, we join Brian and Zeke, two non-believers as they struggle
with their skepticism about God and religion in general. The spiritual
struggle that they go through, Brian's in particular, was very
effective and realistically mirrors a lot of people's internal conflict
about God. With the help of Brian's love interest Angel and the
perceptive Soaring Eagle, Brian and Zeke eventually resolve their own
struggles and take on the struggles of others.
Being
not of the Christian faith myself, I have to admit that at times I
found this a highly challenging read. The evangelical religious content
of this book is very clear and holds no punches - something not often
found on the bookshelves of your local bookstore.
The mission of Sword of the Spirit publications is, according to their website: to distribute uplifting, inspirational, exhortational and challenging literature, both fiction and nonfiction, that will help non-believers understand and embrace Jesus and solidify the faith of the believers and aid them in the quest to live a Godly lifestyle.
I think this book meets that mission with (spiritual) guns blazing through this interesting and compelling story.
Written by Kathryn Liu http://kathmeista.blogspot.com
Get your copy of
Homeless Like Me Here
At Amazon.com
Homeless Like Me @ Barnes and Noble
Go To
http://DonaldJamesParker.com http://SwordOfSpirit.net To Learn More About
Author Donald Parker
And His Writing
Here are a few of
Donald James Parker's Other Books
 Cheri
is an innocent fourteen-year-old raised in a small town in Nebraska.
Her father lands a promotion, demoting her to a status of 'nobody' in a
much larger and inhospitable city. One of the few people she connects
with in her new school spills the beans that Cheri is still a virgin.
Some of her cool schoolmates exert pressure on her to unbuckle the
chastity belt. Faced with the loneliness of the new environment and
coupled with relationship problems with her father, Cheri finds the
temptation growing strong. When her father recruits a sixty-something
babysitter, she is ready to rebel. However, she finds that Jean
Macalester is no ordinary woman. Jean's womanly wisdom, background as a
flute teacher, and love of God provide a counterweight to the peer
pressure of Judy Green, the girl who goes on a crusade to convert Cheri
to modern morality. When Cheri and Duke Williams, Cheri's new crush,
discover the church youth group plans a chastity pledge, they have to
decide whether to join or fly solo.
 LOVE
BECOMES A REAL SCIENCE For Jeremy, a high school senior growing up near
Seattle, there are five seasons: rainy, dry, football, basketball, and
baseball season. Jeremy`s world has always revolved around his father
and sports. Now there is a new Heavenly body in town whose gravity is
pulling Jeremy away from the orbit around his dad. Maria Masterson, the
new girl in school, is on a mission to make her voice heard in the
debate over the theory that man evolved from lower life forms. Jeremy`s
father adamantly believes in Charles Darwin`s theory. Who will win the
tug of war over Jeremy`s heart and mind?
 Jeremy
has studied the theory of evolution and its inherent weaknesses. His
conclusion is that the world itself is a testimony to the existence of
a creator. He decides to throw himself into studying religion to find
out if he can determine who that creator might be and what such a
powerful entity desires of him. His motivation is strong due to his
love for Maria, who introduced him to Christianity, but Jeremy won't
sacrifice truth even for the love of his life. He must find
satisfactory answers to all of his inquiries, in order to pave the way
to a mutually dedicated relationship based on common ideals.
 Maria
Masterson and Jeremy Dillon are innocent kids whose world is altered
drastically. Their decision to engage the culture they live in and
battle for truth in the debate concerning the creation of the Universe
and mankind leads them into conflicts in which their adversaries do not
always fight by Queensberry rules. A reminder that Christians are to
overcome evil with good halts them in their tracks in an attempt to
fight back with similar methods. Their only weapon is the Sword of the
Spirit of Truth. Their dexterity in the use of this weapon increases as
the two are pulled into a battle that they can't win in their own
power. This novel could serve as a primer on how to stand tall in a
world that wants any person of faith in their Creator to lay low. This
book presents intellectual and moral handholds and toeholds for those
not afraid to do some spiritual rock climbing.
 The
saga of Bambi continues as the young basketball player steps up to the
college level. Later, the end of his scholastic days brings new changes
and challenges as he enters the playing court of adult life. He
discovers his enthusiasm, energy, and talent aren't always enough to
win this game. A new friend introduces him to the Evolution debate, and
Bambi begins a new chapter in his life as he becomes a truth seeker.
Track and cross country are featured through the exploits of a
delightful new character named Maria.
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley .. .. Where is Patriot Acts available?
No unconditional Talks
Just patriot Acts!
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December 11, 2009 - Friday
|
Current mood: awake
Category: Writing and Poetry
    Have
you ever felt, when all around you seemed like only hurt, that there's
just one thin strand to cling to, when all your friends just desert?
Just like that old woman, left crying out in the dirt. She knew she
only need reach out to find mercy by simply touching his skirt, She had
tried all the doctors so what would touching him hurt?
  She
was weary and burdened and was drained and so thin But, she pushed and
she cried as she reached out further to Him. The crowd was too big; she
believed His power from within. If she failed on this day, only a grave
she would win.
She cried, 
I believe!   The
throng had no mercy! They all had lives in need of healing in the land.
She would not be denied, for there she would take her stand! Only this
man could save her, right there in the sand. She knew he was the
Savior, so she stretched forth her hand!
 Though
the masses were pressing, she would never give way. For the moment was
fleeting like on no other day! So, she cried out, "Messiah, will you
please look my way? For, I believe," and, she cried!
"Jesus,
Oh Jesus, do you hear my strong plea? Jesus, Oh Jesus, will you too
have no mercy on me? I come here now seeking; now, I know I believe
Only you ever will be who you claim to be!"
I believe! 
  The
power, and the light, the lowly healer turned toward her worry-strained
face. "Tell me who touched me," He cried "for I have never seen greater
faith! It was not that you touched me that made your pain now erase It
was because that you sought me. It was because of your faith!"
 "Jesus,
Oh Jesus, do you hear my strong plea? Jesus, Oh Jesus, will you too
have no mercy on me? I come here now seeking; now I know I believe Only
you ever could be who you claim to be!"
 "I believe!"
"Now,
as I crawl here in the sand, I beheld the form of this man It was just
to touch His tattered garment that sent power through my hand. My body
defied death and now here I will stand! I am redeemed!"
"Jesus, Oh Jesus, you heard my strong plea? Jesus, Oh Jesus, you had mercy on me? I came here not knowing, but now, I know in whom I believe. Only you ever will be who you claim to be!"
"I am set Free!"
Steven Clark Bradley
  
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December 5, 2009 - Saturday
|
Current mood:  curious
Category: Writing and Poetry
  Author
Danielle Rama Hoffman describes herself as having worked as a healer
and an instructor of metaphysics since 1994. She studied with Nicki
Scully for 12 years in his Shamanic Journeys.
She is a member of the lineage of Thoth and a specialist in Egyptian
Temple Mysteries while also leading tours to Egypt's sacred sites. She
resides in Seattle, Washington.
The
Temples of Light serves as a guide to the wisdom sought by the Egyptian
people of old. It reveals many of the secret rites of passage of the
sacred temples in Egypt. Author Danielle Rama Hoffman offers guided
meditations and rituals that connect to the ancient power of the Flower
of Life, the Djed Pillar, the Ka, the energy body.
The
Temples of Light guides the reader into a spiritual journey through
thirteen of Egypt’s sacred temples. Hoffman seeks to demonstrate how
each sacred site can reveal ancient wisdom and how modern-day pilgrims
can apply this knowledge in everyday life.
Hoffman shows how she
views love, goals, finances, and health issues can all be positively
affected by enlightenment. Danielle Rama Hoffman’s book ,The Temples of
Light, brings out into the open many of the sacred rites that have,
historically, been kept secret.
 Though
I myself do not possess a shred of faith in these pagan mythological
rituals, it was very interesting to read the historical information
that not only reveals the religious ideas of the ancient Egyptian, but
also reveals a lot about the ways this great people thought, worshiped,
lived and died, and, having traveled a fair piece, myself, I found Danielle Rama Hoffman tours of these sites very tantalizing and interesting indeed, from an historical perspective.
Therefore,
even if you do not believe in the rituals described in this
well-written book, you can still gain tremendous insight into the lives
of those who made up one of the greatest cultures in the history of
mankind. If you like history,
if you are interested in the way people lived thousands of years ago,
if you want to know more about a civilization that
was the envy and admiration of the nations of that day, then The
Temples of Light by Danielle Rama Hoffman will be an interesting and
great read for you.
Review of The Temples of Light by Danielle Rama Hoffman
Awakening the wisdom within,
November 5, 2009 by Friedemann Schaub
 As
a molecular biologist and physician I was always fascinated by the
innate healing power within. The Temples of Light is an extraordinary
book and different from anything I have ever read. It masterfully
combines ancient wisdom with innovative knowledge.
As a reader
you feel as if you are in the Egyptian temples with the ancient priests
during sacred ceremonies. However, the powerful information you garner
addresses the questions and challenges of our modern day lives - such
as how to be present in the now, how to stay neutral and how to tap
into our birthright of unlimited abundance. Egypt holds the keys to
access our origin and the Temples of Light offers support and wisdom to
each of us on our personal journeys as we own our power as creators,
transform limiting beliefs and complete repetitive patterns. The
Temples of Light creates an ascension spiral along the DNA ladder of
consciousness, offering the opportunity to recalibrate our cells to our
highest potential.
This is a must read for anyone who wants to
grow personally and spiritually and for anyone who is interested in the
life-changing and heart opening power of a sacred pilgrimage to Egypt. - Friedemann Schaub Here’s What Readers Have Said
About The Temples of Light
“The
Temples of Light opens the Egyptian temple portals for anyone on our
planet, and you don’t even have to travel to Egypt! By taking these
journeys, you can align your heart with the wisdom keys of the temples,
and then the wisdom of the temples awakens within.”
(Barbara Hand Clow, author of The Mayan Code: Time Acceleration and Awakening the World Mind )
“Danielle
Rama Hoffman’s The Temples of Light reveals the great spiritual
sanctuaries of Egypt were built to honor and embody the transpersonal
forces of the Universe. A great read from a modern mystic!”
(Hank
Wesselman, Ph.D., anthropologist and author of The Spiritwalker
Trilogy, The Journey to the Sacred Garden, Spirit Medicine (with Jill
Kuykendall), and Awakening to the Spirit World (with Sandra Ingerman)
“Danielle
Rama Hoffman has brilliantly brought forth a beautiful initiatory
process that assists humanity in reconnecting to a sacred forgotten
truth. These powerful processes of healing open the doors to the
Temples of Light within and move the energies of love and wisdom into
our hearts as we connect to our divine selves and remember who we
really are.” (Linda
Star Wolf, author of Shamanic Breathwork, coauthor of Shamanic
Mysteries of Egypt and The Anubis Oracle, and founder of Venus Rising
Institute)
“The
Temples of Light is a good read; inspiring, and thoughtfully written.
Danielle Rama Hoffman makes you want to climb the ladders of light.” (Lynn Andrews, author of the internationally bestselling Medicine Woman series ) “The
Temples of Light is one of the most profound books of experiential
integration that I’ve ever encountered. Embrace it, live it, and The
Temples of Light will shift your life. A journey with this book is
about embracing living energy.” (Rev. Marj Britt, senior minister, Unity of Tustin, California)
Take a look at the the available tours to the ancient Egyptian temples:
On
December 4 to December 9th, we will have a virtual book tour in
conjunction with an Amazon best seller campaign for The Temples of
Light: An Initiatory Journey into the Heart Teachings of the Egyptian
Mystery Schools by Danielle Rama Hoffman. We are scheduling hosts for
this tour and would like to share more details with you about this book
and the author.
Please click the link below to read more about the details of this Virtual Blog Tour.
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley .. .. Where is Patriot Acts available?
No unconditional Talks
Just patriot Acts!
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November 18, 2009 - Wednesday
|
Current mood: adventurous
Category: Writing and Poetry
 Chapter Two
Four Lessons For Willow Morgan Part Two
The Preservation Of The Neph
Goreme Caverns, Cappadocia, Central Turkey
.. ..
 “I can’t believe the years have passed.” He thought. Another
voice filled his mind, as Walter Morgan took a large pick and swung it
hard against the cavern wall. The loud thud was the result of
thirty-five years of falling rock and debris that made it so hard to
get to it.
 “I
know it’s here. I put it here myself.” he thought out loud as he swung
the heavy pick-ax again, and it collided with the stone that separated Walter
Morgan from retrieving what he had come there to do. Then another voice
filled his mind and the sound of it made him lower the pick and listen
intently.
 “Wally? Where’d you get off to? Walter Aaron Morgan you will get to this house this instant!” He smiled at the sound of his mother’s voice. “I loved buying those bugs.” He laughed and heard his mother’s screams. “Walter Aaron Morgan, I am going to kill you! I hate those things!”....  His
kind and studious face took on a great childish grin as he remembered
how those plastic bugs had made his mom so crazy when she pulled the
blankets down and saw them planted right on her pillow. ....
 “They looked so real.” Walter told himself. He pulled the pick into the air and swung it hard against the stone wall. “They looked so real, those bugs.” He heard a definite crack this time and reared the pick back behind him again.
“The tomato worms were the ones she hated most.” He reminded himself again. .... He yanked the heavy pick forward and crushed the remaining wall and a pitch black hole was suddenly flooded with light, and Walter Morgan’s mind was flooded with his father’s voice. They were the same words that had often made him stronger and afraid to ever give up. “Walter, you get in and get back out fast! It doesn’t take power to do what you must. It takes speed, accuracy and a determination to survive. It is our heritage, rarer than gold and of inestimable value.” Walter’s mind saw his father wrap an arm around his son’s shoulder. “My boy, it will all be clear. It
is here that you will understand your significance and how to possess
it and hold it with humility and to consecrate yourself to helping all
men and women without respect of person. It is the way of the Neph.” Since then, it was what drove him, just as his father had said it would be. It was Walter Morgan’s duty to pass his birthright on to Willow, just as his father had deliv ered it to him. It was that drive to preserve their unique and hidden difference of his line that had shed its insatiable appetite for evil and instead had yielded their kind to God.
 Walter swung the tool around one last time and the opening grew large enough to reach in and take back what he had placed there thirty-five years earlier. He reached in and felt a large box on the tips of his fingers. He pushed in further and dug his fingernails into the wood and pulled hard. He pulled it out quite easily. ~~~ 
....
 “Miss Willow, you shouldn’t squirm so much.” Willow looked down and saw the flickering lights of the valley farmers who lived off the land in that part of Turkey. ....
She
saw the rock spires of Goreme just out ahead. Willow spotted places
where there was light and then darkness until another little patch of
light appeared, with pitch blackness overta king the land of Cappadocia. She kicked her legs with excitement as they soared above it all and screamed out in pure enjoyment mixed with fear. “This is what I was born for, isn’t it?” ....  “I am but a created creature myself. We too have demonstrated our capacity to go the  wrong way. You will meet many Black Hearts on this excursion to prove my point.”....
 “What you’re really trying to say is that you are not perfect and could drop me, right?” she confirmed.....
“Not in so many words.”.... “What? You
used twice as many words as I did.” Willow wrinkled her brow and took
on a half-perturbed, half-inquisitive look across her face. She looked
at the great beast and was sure she had seen a great smirk or smile or
something that told her he was messing with her.
“You are, aren’t you?”.... “And
what would that be, Miss Willow Daisy … um Willow?” as the Watcher
descended and landed on a ledge carved into one of the spires that had
clearly been someone’s home a couple thousand years ago. The Watcher got down on one knee and placed Willow on her feet..... “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” Willow told the Watcher. “But you are hiding something from me, I know.”.... “Smart of you to say, Willow. You Nephs are all different. Seems that …”.... “What did you say, and no angelic hocus-pocus, OK? What’s a Neph?”.... ~~~ 
 Walter
Morgan looked down at his own hands that were tugging on the box that
should have been almost fossilized by the weight over it and the thirty
years that had past. “It’s too light.” He said loudly with a strong hint of real fear. “We will not survive without the scepter of truth. It cannot be done.”
 Walter looked down at his trembling hands that held a urn that was far too light to contain the scepter. He unhooked the latch and opened the lid. “Gone? Perhaps stolen; either way, it’s just as gone. Walter reached into the urn and pulled out a letter. He
held it up and tried to open it but his hand shook, trembled so badly
until it seemed to dry out and then his whole arm crumbled into dust.
.... “Whoever owns the scepter rules the Neph.” Walter recited to himself. He held the envelope with his left hand and pulled the letter out and unfolded it with his teeth and began to read it. .... “Now, now, you needn’t be so frightened. You’ve had a good run, but nothing lasts forever. Walter, you know the rules of the challenge. The
house cannot refuse, and I think that just might be you. I admit to you
though, it’s hardly a challenge, since you know longer have what I’ve
just taken from you. “Whoever own the…”....
“Yes Kassadia … whoever owns the Scepter rules the Neph … yea, I know! And, I know there is nothing resembling a Neph in you!”
Walter screamed while crumbling and crushing the letter in his only
hand and looking at his right arm that was no longer there. “When I put my hand to possess the scepter, it took possession of my arm. I have to get it back.” he shouted. “Willow!”
~~~.... “Lord Kassadia, they’ve been spotted just over to your right, there on that ledge.” .... “Where do you mean? I can’t even make them out with these binoculars.”.... “My lord, please forgive me, but you half-breeds are of a more frail nature than we Watchers.” “I am not a Neph nor a Dark Heart, oh fallen one.” Kassadia told the dark Watcher. “You do know how to get on my nerves.” .... The fallen Watcher sneered at Kassadia. “I am an original. I have not given my will to the maker, like the Neph. We are of a more pure race. We didn’t take the name. It was given to us, but Dark-Hearts just stuck.” Kassadia reflected. “I guess it’s true, but I like me that way. Take a message from me.” .... ~~~.... “Miss
Willow, you make my lights sputter and my wings quiver nervously with
your persistence.” Willow giggled that she was able to drive an Angel
so crazy. “Though, Miss Willow, I can surmise that by human logic, you think you have a right to know.”.... “See, I told you that you were smart. So, tell me, what is a Neph?”.... “For this purpose we are going to such lengths. But we can talk about it as we continue. Your family is special in the ...”.... “Wait! Did you hear that?” Willow stood silently frozen and listened for the sound again. She heard nothing then saw something there, but transparent and swirling over her and the Watcher. .... “Willow!” She turned her head at sound of her father’s voice..... “You heard that, right? You had to have heard someone calling my name!”....  The watcher didn’t respond to Willow this time. He
sensed the presence, one of his own, gone bad and no time to tell her
even to get down. He reached down and took Willow by the hood of her
coat and left her dangling in the air while he scanned all around.
“Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” The words did not give her the feeling of safety that they once did. This was all too real to let mere words give her hope. There was an adversary there that got the Watcher’s attention. “Put me down! I insist.”
 The watcher did even glance her way but squatted down and placed her carefully and firmly on the ledge. Willow ran to the side of the stone dwelling and hid in the dark..... A black thick shadow seemed to hover and swirl in the air. The Watcher saw it coming at him and drew
his great sword and swung it at the black leathery Watcher. It suddenly
appeared and the sound of their swords’ colliding was deafening for
Willow, but she knew that victory was not certain. “Bu t, I have a good idea what a Neph is.” she said. “Because I feel like I want to fly.” .... A sharp pain shot through her sides and she fell to the floor and screamed and then the pain was gone. Willow rose to her feet and felt behind her back. “Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” Then she smiled broadly. “Are
they real?” Willow felt them. “Oh my goodness, I’ve got wings!” She
decided to use them when she saw the black shadow thing coming at her. .... Willow leapt into the air and just knew how to do it. Her wings responded instinctively and she moved perfectly. The watcher saw Willow leap into the air and yelled out to her. “Get down!”
But, as soon as he did, the dark leathery Watcher swung his sword and
struck Willow’s Watcher in his armor sending him crashing to the floor. He landed with great force. The dark Watcher heard him hit bottom and dived toward the Willow’s protector. She took a large rock in her hand and dove toward the dark Watcher.....  The
dark Watcher smiled to think of what his master would think of him if
he killed a King’s Watcher. His face turned grave and serious. The
King’s Watcher lay on the floor waiting to recuperate. He saw the dark Watcher drawing near, but he could not yet move. The
Dark Watcher pulled his sword back and readied for the kill. As the
dark Watcher got in striking distance, Willow threw the large rock and
hit the dark Watcher in the chest sending him crashing to the ground as
well.....
“HaHaHa! Loser!” She screamed. The
King’s Watcher had now fully recovered and had to subdue his dark
brother before his regenerative powers kicked in as well. Willow’s
protector had needed some protecting from her. The Watcher was grateful
for his life, and Willow was happy to have lived the moment. She felt so much older now..... ***.... Walter Morgan knew that he had pass on the Scepter to Willow before the end of the night. If Kassadia could keep the Scepter till midnight, his line would then rule, and the covenant between the Neph and the King would be broken, and it was 6:23 p.m. now. The shadow of the dark hearts would then again dominate the minds and hearts of all men and women, and like
a great Pandora’s box, every hidden evil thing that had been forbidden
to grow and the dark tentacles would take root would infest the whole
world of humans. “Willow is the next in line.” Walter said out loud. “Today, she shall grow into her wings.” He shouted again. “Willow!”
***
....  The
King’s Watcher jumped on top of the dark Watcher’s body. “Who sent you?
We have the covenant, and you know the transition that must happen to
keep the agreement that was sealed in perfect blood.” ....
“The realm is hers no more. It has been removed and you will do service to Kassadia,  after the transition.”
The King’s watcher grabbed the dark Watcher’s neck and squeezed strongly. “What are you talking about? She is here and ready to...”.... “It belongs to another now.” The dark Watcher found the idea of Willow’s father lying in a cave in Goreme with his right arm turned to sand amusing. “It
really was quite a chore to find where he had hidden it, but nothing is
impossible if one’s life depends on it. Nothing personal, but they are
half-breeds, and now, their lives depend on us.”.... “Wait I heard it again. Did you?” “It was your father, Willow. He is in great danger, and so are you.”.... ***....  Kassadia
placed the binoculars to his eyes and he saw Willow crying and giving
the dark Watcher strong blows to the face. Kassadia found it all so
entertaining and laughed every time a fist came in contact with the
dark Watcher’s face. “It’s going perfectly. There are myriads of others
who will serve me, if this one dies.”....
***.... Willow
reached behind her and felt her wings. She told herself to make them
disappear and she felt them fold into her body and she knew she was
different, unique, and special. .... I am Willow Daisy Morgan, constantly changing and very much alive!” ....
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November 12, 2009 - Thursday
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Current mood: rebellious
Category: News and Politics
   JAIL FOR NO INSURANCE UNDER PELOSI BI LL The nonpartisan Joint Committee on Taxation reported that the House version of the healthcare bill specifies that those who don't buy health insurance and do not pay the fine of about 2.5 percent of their income for failing to do so can face a penalty of up to five years in prison! * Section 7203 — Misdemeanor willful failure to pay is punishable by a fine of up to $25,000 and/or imprisonment of up to one year. *
Section 7201 — Felony willful evasion is punishable by a fine of up to
$250,000 and/or imprisonment of up to five years." [page 3]
 That anyone should face prison for not buying health insurance is simply incredible. And how much will the stay-out-of-jail insurance cost? The joint committee noted that "according to a recent analysis by the Congressional Budget Office, the lowest-cost family non-group plan under HR 3862 (the Pelosi bill) would cost $15,000 by 2016."
Obama's
bill provides only subsidies to help pay this enormous sum after
families making about $45,000 have paid 8 percent of their income for
insurance and after those earning a household income of about $65,000
have kicked in 12 percent.
The Joint Committee on Taxation noted that, although the Senate Finance Committee
version of the bill did not include criminal penalties, "The House
Democrats' bill, however, contains no similar language protecting
American citizens from civil and criminal tax penalties that could
include a $250,000 fine and five years in jail."
Remember
that simply buying catastrophic insurance, which may be all the young
uninsured family needs, does not constitute having adequate insurance
under the Obama bill. It has to be total, all inclusive insurance for
one to avoid the penalties in the legislation. That is because Obama
wants to use these premiums from the currently uninsured to subsidize
his program.
  So
Pelosi is requiring Americans to pay these steep premiums, or a fine of
2.5 percent of their income for not doing so, or, potentially, go to
prison!
Anyone
who is familiar with the U.S. prison system can attest to the large
number of people incarcerated for similar white collar offenses. That
the House bill would treat failure to carry health insurance or pay the
fine as tax evasion or willful nonpayment is amazing!
 And
where is the constitutional basis for requiring everyone to buy
insurance? It is OK for a state to make drivers pay for automobile
insurance. Driving is not a right, it is a privilege, and the state may
regulate it by demanding insurance. Banks can require homeowners to buy
insurance as a condition of their lending. But how does the federal
government get the right to require a family to buy health insurance or
face a civil penalty and, failing that, to face either a criminal fine or jail?  The
tough penalties in the House bill are designed to keep insurance
companies from opposing the bill. It was the relaxation of these
penalties in the Senate Finance Committee version of the legislation
that led the companies to reverse field and come out in opposition to
the legislation. The insurance companies want to see their coffers
swell when tens of millions of new customers are required to buy
insurance. The more draconian the penalties for failing to pay them
large sums of money to pad their bottom lines, the better.
The more you read this bill, the worse it gets.
What Would They Say?
 America, turn back to God before it's too late.
It's not religion; its relationship.
He is waitning for you.
 Willing To Risk It?
 It Will Not Have Been The First Time
 Though, it could be the last
 
  Want to read a novel that is so real
you'll swear it was Obama's biography?
Ride the storm of Nimrod Rising!
 Have you ever felt that the world was guided in ways that are beyond man’s control? The constant changes in the world since
the time of Nimrod 4000 years ago until today and all the events that
have shaken the world have been to bring the universe back into the hands of  the Prince of Darkness, Lucia, a world that he had ruled with his Watchers before it was all ripped from his grasp when man was created. Nimrod Rising paints
a diabolical picture of how the Prince of Darkness executes his evil
plot to take the world back by force and destroy civilization in the process. From the Great Builder Nimrod
in 4000 BC to today, 666 generations later, you can ride the storm of
Nimrod Rising and experience the death of a world and the birth pangs
of another. You will swear it is really upon us!Watch Nimrod Rising Video Trailer
You can read more of Steven Clark Bradley's work
at any of these blogs listed below:
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November 1, 2009 - Sunday
|
Current mood:Determined
Category: News and Politics
  We
have all heard about and watched the Obama Administration pass laws,
writing executive orders and creating a shadow government that is
literally breaking down the cornerstone of our existence as a nation
different than all others. A nation takes on the image of its
leadership. Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and a host of others regard America as simply a nation in a planet-full of them. For them, The United States of America possesses nothing special, nothing unique and they are dead set on impoverishing this nation to put us in our place, as they see it. Liberty, as enshrined in the Constitution of the United  States of America is that cornerstone that holds up a once proud and determined people. Take away the cornerstone and the whole house of cards will come tumbling down.  Perhaps,
you have asked yourselves, “What can I do?” Yet, perhaps we should draw
a line in the political and social sand and declare the things we are NOT willing
to do. I have asked myself this question and there are many things I am
NOT willing to do as America stumbles down Barack Obama’s long and
winding road into Communist failure and totalitarianism.
 1. I am not
willing to be forced to accept a government health plan or a card with
all my medical, legal, educational and financial records held in its
memory.
  Just
such a card will become mandatory if Barack Obama’s healthcare plan is
signed into law. I will say right here, if this becomes law, no matter
what penalties are imposed on me, monetarily or imprisonment, which is
also prescribed in this bill, I will not purchase an insurance policy
until I choose to do so, if ever. I will also not accept a government
smart card regardless of the difficulties or dangers I will face. What are you prepared NOT to do?
   It
is time to insist that the constitution be imposed, once again, as the
law of this nation. Think about it, my fellow patriots. If Barack Obama
can continue to impugn the rights and the limits that are set forth in
the constitution, he can do nearly whatever he wants. Where is it said
that the people have the right to speak out, demonstrate, petition,
demand and refuse? It is in the constitution. Take a look at Nancy
Pelosi’s distain and loathing for the constitution in a recent CNS News
interview after being asked if she thought the constitution had any
provision to force the American people to purchase insurance, and if
not, what gave her and congress the right to force Americans to buy
anything at all.
  “Where
specifically does the Constitution authorize Congress to force
Americans to purchase a particular good or service such as health
insurance?” CNSNews.com asked the speaker's office.
“If
it is the Speaker’s belief that there is a provision in the
Constitution that does give Congress this power, does she believe the
Constitution in any way limits the goods and services Congress can
force an individual to purchase?" CNSNews.com asked. "If so, what is
that limit?”
  The
answer given by the Speaker’s office is very telling of her complete
disregard for the constitution she is sworn to preserve, protect and
defend.
 CNSNews.com:
“Madam Speaker, where specifically does the Constitution grant Congress
the authority to enact an individual health insurance mandate?”
Pelosi: “Are you serious? Are you serious?”
CNSNews.com: “Yes, yes I am.”
 Pelosi
then shook her head before taking a question from another reporter. Her
press spokesman, Nadeam Elshami, then told CNSNews.com that asking the
speaker of the House where the Constitution authorized Congress to
mandate that individual Americans buy health insurance as not a
"serious question."
  “You can put this on the record,” said Elshami. “That is not a serious question. That is not a serious question.”
Pelosi’s
office also told CNS News, “If it is the Speaker’s belief that there is
a provision in the Constitution that does give Congress this power,
does she believe the Constitution in any way limits the goods and
services Congress can force an individual to purchase?" CNSNews.com
asked. "If so, what is that limit?”
 Elshami
responded that Congress has “broad power to regulate activities that
have an effect on interstate commerce. Congress has used this authority
to regulate many aspects of American life, from labor relations to
education to health care to agricultural production.”
I am not willing to let the government tell me what I can drive, eat, say, watch or disagree with. Are you?
These
Marxist thugs are clearly out to rob the America people blind and
unless the constitution is followed by this cabal of evil men and women
called the United States government, they should all be impeached and
imprisoned for looting the people’s treasure.
 It
has been a depressing sight to witness the nation going down the failed
road of Mao, Lenin, Stalin and Hitler with this President. Barack Obama
swore to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United
States of America. Yet, I cannot think of one thing this socialist
president has done that could be construed to be something that has
helped America follow the rule of law. Now, America has even been
called a ‘Banana Republic.’ The definition of a banana republic is a
government that passes laws for the rest of us and expects obedience
from the rest of us but contravenes the very laws they pass any time
the conniving thugs in Washington wish to do so.
Here’s another writer’s opinion:
 “After
30 years of trying to defy economic gravity, the US is well on the way
to becoming the world's largest banana republic. If the current level
of government mismanagement continues, within 20 years the US economy
will be comparable to that of Mexico. With a more modest level of
mismanagement, this will occur in less than 10 years but under much
better economic circumstances.
 “The
US government has been following this same path due to ever-increasing
balance of payment problems. It has managed to give away, or allowed
and encouraged US multinationals to move, manufacturing facilities from
the US mainland to foreign locations. These industries previously
provided the backbone of US exports to the world and the reason that
the US had be come
the most prosperous country in the world. These industrial losses have
resulted in the almost unbelievable current account deficit seen (much
less contemplated) in the history of the world.
  “But,
because the US government apparently believes that the economic factors
that have ruined Mexico do not apply to it, the government has done
nothing to remedy the situation. Consequently we find ourselves now in
the beginning stages of an inevitable substantial devaluation of the
dollar and decrease in American standard of living. The recent rapid
drop in the value of the dollar with prospective further devaluations
are simply an unavoidable consequence of these cavalier government
policies.”
America, The Next Great Banana Republic - January 29, 2008 by Richard Backus
 2. I insist on knowing how the money I pay in taxes is spent.
 Since
the end of 2008 until now, congress has raised the debt limit by a
lofty 120 percent and since that same period the America’s national
debt, that what we owe the whole world has grown to105 trillion
dollars. Such breaches of trust of the United States Government only
cause the American people to more fully distrust the lunatics sworn to
protect us. Such comedy and lunacy brought down all the great powers
throughout history, and it shall be no different with America, unless
the obviously lethal dose of economic, social and political poison is
purged from the nation’s veins.
 The
process of taking a great nation into such a dishonorable
classification as a debtor nation does not happen overnight. In fact,
no one will ever convince me that the almost flawless takeover of the
nation’s economy, the coupe d’état of the constitutional limits of
power was simply planned and executed over night. It is clear that the
takeover of 1/7 of the nation’s economy in their healthcare charade and
the government’s takeover of the automobile industry, the proposed
silencing of dissents through what has come to be called Internet
Neutrality and the government’s long-armed reach ultimately into every
business boardroom, thusly dictating what one does at work and how much
a company can pay its  workers
are all more than individual decisions made in a vacuum. This is an
orchestrated implementation of a well designed, masterfully nurtured,
impeccably implemented plan to end American power and to merge us into
a powerful force with the world, over which Barack Obama will rule,
manipulate and gain control.
3. I will not submit to the Copenhagen treaty which is to be signed in December, 2009
 It
has all taken place over a period of time; softening up the people and
changing the way we think from early ages. Such has been the
decades-long transformation, which has only culminated in the nation’s
first socialist president who seeks to instill fear and dread and to
take any measures he deems necessary to bring about the world according
to Barack Obama. First, we impose taxes that have never been approved
as constitutional. Over time, we overlooked the things that this
nation’s government has said were prescribed in the Constitution of the
United States of America. Prayer was abolished in  public
and blamed on the constitution’s establishment clause separating Church
and State. Every American will say you should believe as you want in
America. For, it was the founding fathers’ will that we have a
‘God-honoring’ society but never a Godless one. Listen to these very
informative videos to see what is just around the corner, the end of
the United States and the establishment of a one world government.
 
Salient Features of the Draft Climate Treaty
1. 1.Proposal of a Global Carbon Budget.*
2.
1.Envisages a Zero Carbon Action Plans (ZCAP) for Developed economies
and Low Carbon Action Plans (LCAP) for Developing countries.
3. 1.Designs a new institutional framework – the Copenhagen Climate Facility.
4.
1.Governing body of new institution to have fair regional
representation including members from intergovernmental and
non-governmental stakeholders.
5. 1.Seeks a firm commitments and binding targets for Newly Industrialized Countries like Singapore, South Korea.
6.
1.Demands more financial and technological support from developed
economies to ensure a low carbon path development in developing
economies.
7. 1.A tougher financial penalty regime for members which fail to meet their binding obligations.
*
A global carbon budget for 2020 is hereby defined as no higher than
36.1 Gt CO2e (11.7 Gt CO2e for industrialized countries’ industrial GHG
emissions; 23.5 Gt CO2e for developing countries’ industrial GHG
emissions and 1.0 Gt CO2e for emissions from land-use change) and the
budget for 2050 shall be no higher than 7.2 Gt CO2e.
Source: Draft Copenhagen Climate Treaty
Sir Christopher Monckton: Copenhagen treaty eviscerates U.S. sovereignity
By: Mark Tapscott
Editorial Page Editor
10/20/09 8:14 AM EDT
 Sir
Christopher Monckton is a global warming skeptic. Former Vice President
and Nobel Prize winner Al Gore has for years refused to accept
Monckton's repeated challenge to a public debate on global warming.
He's
also a very close reader of the proposed UN Climate Change Treaty
President Obama is expected to sign along with other world leaders in
Copenhagen in a few weeks. Monckton says that 200-page treaty cedes
U.S. sovereignity to the UN, mandates a massive transfer of wealth from
the U.S. and Europe to pay our "Climate Debt" to the Third World, and
creates a new enforcement mechanism to make it all happen.
 Is
Monckton right? I don't know because I haven't yet read the treaty (But
I soon will be). Here's his warning about the Copenhagen Treaty, and
here's the draft text of the treaty. Judge for yourself. Here is my pledge. I am an American.
I have been to many, many countries on this planet and appreciate
Europe, Asia and Africa. Nevertheless, I am an American. I will not bow
to any man or woman. I w ill not seek to impoverish any anyone. I will not seek to belittle a fellow human being and I will not submit to any force that
works ill against my nation, including this president. He is a traitor,
a communist and a force for evil in the world. If you love this nation,
I am sure you feel the same, for your freedom is hanging by a thread.
4. I refuse to accept that my taxes will be once again used to kill unborn children
 The
killing of more than forty million of our children, yet unborn is
nothing less than American society’s version of honoring the gods as
the world of antiquity did when they made their children pass through
fire as appeasement sacrifices to the gods of pleasure, debauchery,
lust, greed and power. Plentiful are such examples of American
governmental abuse of  power
and it has been the imposition of the view of the constitution as a
living document that has made the cherished document to approve of
things that the writers would have never imagined nor condoned. This
interpretation of the Constitution has allowed us to mold the cherished
document to our liking, while refusing to pattern our lives and
behavior according to it. This is the rule of anarchy.
 American
leaders, both past and present, in the Congress, the White House and
the Supreme Court, have made the historic parchment to say that it is
correct to kill unborn children, to take over major industries, to
force us to take government-sponsored healthcare and to limit Free
Speech as well as many other obtuse things that the founding fathers
had never env isioned and which Barack Obama is doing with impunity.
Little by little, the excusing of presidential usurpation and disregard
for the Law of the land has encouraged un-American leaders just like
Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and Barney Franks to abuse and
breach the clear and well-defined limits of power set forth in the
Constitution without interruption. If unchecked, it will spell the end
of the United States of America.
5. The now signed hate-crime bill will not stop me from declaring that I believe homosexuality is wrong and that Same-sex marriage is immoral.
 It
is only logical that every crime we face is a hate crime. The only
thing this new law creates is yet another way to limit free speech. So,
whether in church or in any venue where I choose to state my belief, I
will do so regarless of how much difficulty it might cause me. Nothing
will stop me from saying what I wish, even you, Barack Obama.
Obama signs 'hate-crimes' bill into law
'It's a very sad day for America and for religious liberties'
By Chelsea Schilling © 2009 World Net Daily
 A
"hate crimes" bill opponents claim will be used to crack down on
Christian speech, even the reading of the Bible, was signed into law
today by President Obama.
“The
Senate approved the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes
Prevention Act by a vote of 68-29 on Oct. 22 after Democrats
strategically attached it to a "must-pass" $680 billion defense appropriations plan.
“Most Rep ublicans,
although normally strong supporters of the U.S. military, opposed the
bill because it hands out federal money to states and local governments
in pursuit of "preventing" hate crimes. The bill creates federal
protections and privileges for homosexuals and other alternative
lifestyles but denies those protections to other groups of citizens.
“Obama
signed the 2010 National Defense Authorization Act at a White House
ceremony today. Prior to signing the act into law, Obama spoke briefly
of the hate crimes bill.
  “American
Family Association President Tim Wildmon warned that the new law
"creates a kind of caste system in law enforcement, where the perverse
thing is that people who engage in non-normative sexual behavior will
have more legal protection than heterosexuals. This kind of inequality
before the law is simply un-American.
“Wildmon
said the legislation creates possible situations where pastors may be
arrested if their sermons on sexuality can be linked in even the
remotest way to acts of violence.
"It threatens free speech and freedom of religion and is totally unacceptable," he said.
“As
WND reported, U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder admitted a homosexual
activist who is attacked following a Christian minister's sermon about
homosexuality would be protected by the proposed federal law, but a
minister attacked by a homosexual wouldn't be.
“The Alliance Defense Fund blasted the "hate-crimes" bill, calling it "another nail in the coffin of the First Amendment."
 "All
violent crimes are hate crimes, and all crime victims deserve equal
justice," ADF Senior Legal Counsel Erik Stanley said in a statement. "This law is a grave threat to the First Amendment
because it provides special penalties based on what people think, feel,
or believe. ADF will be on the front line to defend those whose free
speech or free exercise of religion rights are violated by this
unconstitutional law and to ultimately overturn this attack on freedom."
Obama signs 'hate-crimes' bill into law
http://www.jillstanek.com/archives/first%20amendment
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October 20, 2009 - Tuesday
|
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry
  There
is nothing more important than imparting strong values in the lives of
our children. It is tougher and tougher today with parents giving up
more and more of their authority and responsibility to the schools and
the government. Yet, nothing can do more for a child's future than
teaching them about honesty, good choices and hard work when they are
still young. That is why I have started this little book called Four
lessons For Willow Morgan.
This
is a story a story about decisions, wise judgment and strong
convictions about that which is right and that which is wrong. I am
writing this a bit differently than I have in the past. This time, I am
writing it together with my 9 year old daughter, Selin Alicia Bradley.
She is a bright, sweet and very smart young lady and loves to read. So,
this is a two-fold project that gives my little girl lessons in
creativity and which can stimulate lots of children who may venture to
read it. Willow is a little girl who is gowing up and who feels urges
of rebellion, disobedience and disrespect starting to take hold in her
life. Her mother and father recognize it and want to instill some true
life lessons in her young heart.
Read chapter one, (the only one
I have written thus far) and it may make you recall the times you were
faced with decisions and how hard it was, at times, to do the right
thing. I hope you enjoy it. The young lady playing part of Willow Daisy
Morgan in the blog is my beautiful daughter Selin Alicia Bradley. I bet
you'll love it!
~~~
Chapter OneCappadocia, Central Turkey  “Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” “Sounds cool.” she mumbled with a twinge of mischievous glee. Willow
looked around the place and thought it felt a little creepy, but she
kind of liked it. “I was stupid not to want to come here. It’s…” She
paused as her eyes darted around the room and her clever little mind
formed her ideas as to why something was not to her liking and how
other things were just right.  “It’s
obviously something clearly … cool.” Willow thought out loud as her
mind drifted back to a moment that had actually seemed to carry her to
this rustic, old beautiful place with ancient old monuments of a people
who lived and survived in the caves of Gorem, Turkey. Four Weeks EarlierCappadocia, Central Turkey She
wondered if it was really all her daddy’s doing, getting her to that
place. “Ridiculous!” she always told herself. But she had developed
some kind of ritual about asking herself why her father had brought her
all the way to Central Turkey. “He’s
an Archeologist. It’s what they do.” Willow reminded herself sternly as
she was getting herself ready for a perfect day, though not quite,
since her daddy would not be with her; he’d be too busy on a dig
somewhere in the ruins of Goreme, she knew he was special. He had a
knack for reading people, sometimes perfectly sizing them up before he  really
knew him. Walter Morgan had not been stingy with his talents and had
passed a portion of his gifts to her; things she was only now learning
about.“He’s somewhere watching me, I just know it.” she laughed. He
had told her it would be good for them to be together, but Willow Daisy
Morgan was sure that she had talked less to her dad than she did in
between his world-wide journeys. She had been almost under lock and key
constantly, but she understood it was dangerous and it didn’t make her
upset. What it
did do, though was to make her probing mind try to put two and two
together without the needed information. She was sure the one man she
loved completely and trusted without doubt had brought her there for
some reason other than he had said. “So,
it has to be good, then.” Willow reassured herself. “He’d never do
anything bad to me. I just know my daddy. And my mom, she’d kill or be
killed to protect me.” Willow decided to play along, and, today was
different. Willow had a free day today, and she could go out and wander
in the caves of Goreme and see how people lived in a time when her
habit of comfort was very seldom lived. Willow heard a knock at her
door.“Miss Morgan, you know it’s your free day. Your guide is here.” the house Butler kindly shouted through the closed door.“Hi Franklin, I’ll be right down.” She shouted back. Willow
pulled her boots on and her jacket. She just knew something big was on
for today. It was the strangest feeling she had ever had, and it
animated her ... energized her. She zipped up the jacket and put her
Cubs hat on her head and got ready for … whatever. Willow walked over
to the door and saw a picture on the wall suddenly tilt to the right. “That
was weird.” Willow admitted. She walked over to the picture and reached
up to straighten it. Crooked things, half-closed doors or drawers
closed with bits of clothing sticking out of them made her a certain
kind of crazy. It was a compulsion, but she didn’t fight it.
 Willow took hold of the picture and she felt
a gust of wind brush across the left side of her face and then on her
right and it seemed to swirl around her. She was afraid and wanted to
scream, but instead used the words she had made herself believe would shield her from any danger.“Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.”She
felt its touch and then saw it swirled into a perfectly pure white
mist. What scared her was that she wasn’t scared at all. “It’s too
beautiful to be bad, but she knew that way of knowing if something or
someone was good or not did not always work. She decided to let it show her. The mist moved, more slowly and it took on a shape. Willow was sure she saw
wings and it was massive and peaceful and had a glow that was not from
power but purity, like something that had never done wrong. “That’s better than me.” Willow told herself. A face emerged and smiled at Willow. It stretched out its arm and touched her and it spoke. Willow knew it wasn’t speaking English, but she understood it.“Are you Willow Daisy Morgan?”“Come on now, you’re telling that you just barged into my room and appeared so coolly, and you’re not even sure of my name?” “Well, I was just told to ask you that.”“Don’t worry.” Willow said. “I know it was rhetorical.”The white beautiful beast looked a bit confused. “It means you were being polite, right?”The white glowing image livened and looked more confident. “Yes, that’s right. I was trying to … connect with you; I think I read your age group says that to each other. Willow rolled her eyes. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” “I am a Watcher, Miss Willow Daisy Morgan. I guess that is one type of Angel, according to humans.”“Well,
I think you’re cool, so just be yourself, cause I always am. I think
this is what my teacher called a cultural teachable moment or something
like that. But you really are very beautiful.” The Watcher’s wings
glowed a bit brighter, obviously appreciating Willow’s words. “And one more thing.” Willow said. “You can just call me Willow. It’s a lot easier, don’t you think?”“Indeed, Miss Willow.” “I didn’t say Miss Willow. I said just plain Willow.”“But,
Miss Willow, there is nothing plain about you at all.” The Watcher
looked at Willow and wondered. “Oh my, none of my brothers told me I’d
have one of them.”“And what do you mean by ‘one of them?” Willow wondered. “You know, one of the stubborn ones who know everything.” “You mean there’s bad luck in heaven?” Willow asked.“Not until today.” the Watcher replied.Willow looked frustrated and then they just laughed.“I hope you’ll come back and see me soon again, but I have to go now.”“Indeed, Willow, you do have to go … with me.”“With you? No way! If I am not downstairs in a couple of minutes, I am going to get so grounded.”The Watcher touched Willows forehead and she rose up off the ground.Willow looked down at the floor below her and started trying to protect herself again. “Willow
Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” She shouted with her feet dangling
in the air. “Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.”  Willow
was flaying her legs and kicking at the white beast and it shook its
head and smiled. Franklin was again knocking on the door. “Miss Morgan, are you Okay?” Willow looked over at the door and then hers and the Watcher’s eyes met.“Willow,
no one shall compel you. It is you and you alone who can decide what
you wish. Doesn’t a life of greater importance interest you?” Willow
stopped throwing her feet around and calmly looked at the Watcher. “Willow Morgan, can you hear me?” Franklin asked while pounding on the door. “Guess it’s now or never, huh?” “I wouldn’t put it that way, because it is never too late to do good, but I know what you mean.”  “You sure are a strange angel.” Franklin was giving the door body slams now. “Open the door, Willow!”
 “And
how many Watch…angels have you known that would give you the ability to
form such an opinion of me?" Asked the Watcher as he leaped into the
air.
"Come down here." Willow demanded. "I don't have time for this. Franklin's going to kill me if I don't get down there."Franklin pounded again and again and took out his cell phone. He pressed a key into the lock.~~~
 Willow's
father, Walter Morgan was up a hill on one of the caves; digging in one
of the ancient homes and collecting an ancient treasure of information.
He had a cell phone to his ear and a small pick in his other hand
pounding a certain stone that looked like nothing but which was
precious to his professional eye. He felt the other cell phone in his
pocket vibrate and threw down the pick. He took the phone read the name
of the caller and spoke into the cell already pasted to his ear.  “Honey,
I am sure this is about Willow. No, don’t worry; she’s going to be
fine, just like you and I were. With significance comes risk. I’ll call
you back. Love you too.” He closed the cell and opened the other.“This is Walt.”“Sir, Miss Willow has locked herself in her room and refuses to open the door. Should I…?” “By all means, Franklin. You can open the door.”  Willow
heard the key enter the lock. She extended her hand and the Watcher
took hold of it. Franklin turned the key and suddenly, she felt herself
racing upward and saw the ceiling getting closer and closer and then it
was gone. They flew low and towards Israel. Franklin
threw the door open and stepped quickly into the room. He heard a noise
above him and looked up and saw nothing, but he was sure he saw a shoe,
a boot that was there and then … not.
“If
I get grounded, I am gonna tell God and he’s gonna … demote you!”
Willow said laughing with her hair flying backward and the wind
bouncing off her face. She was very much alive and loving it.  The
Watcher looked down at Willow and she smiled with great excitement. The
Watcher did as well, but knew the entire journey would not bring her
joy. “Not one with her type of personality.” Some things had to be
learned with difficulty and sometimes pain. Walter
Morgan’s phone rang again. “Betty, she’s going to be alright, I
promise.” He looked up and saw what only those like he, his wife and
his daughter could see. Out in the horizon, headed South East, Walt
Morgan saw his daughter zooming through the sky; held up by a watcher
of God. “Honey, believe me, she’s well on her way.” Willow’s
eyes again saw the present world again and left the past behind. She
looked down and saw the book neatly fitted inside the box. She picked
up the card again.“Wow, that day made me a believer.” She thought.Willow
was changing. At thirteen, she was, “not a kid anymore.” She blurted
out. She looked up at the ceiling and really liked the magical way the
nightlight shined into the rafters above that held up the whole place.“People
are smart” she decided. “Sometimes.” She added. Willow knew that meant
she didn’t need her mom and dad to tell her what to do anymore.“I can figure things out just fine for myself, anymore.”  Being
a ‘good little girl’ at church three times a week was just not her
anymore. It had all become so routine; so boring. The world just seemed
so big to her now with so much to learn, both good and bad for a
thirteen-year-old who did not want to play the game of being who she
was not. It would be a moment of discovery. Her attitude made her feel
guilty, but it was a journey she had to take. Willow
glared out the window into the dark night sky and saw the distant
flickering lights from homes down the hill of some who were not as rich
as she was but who probably had more peaceful hearts than she did. She
looked around the room again and walked over to her bed. Willow got
down on her belly by her bed and reached under it for the box she had
shoved under there right after she and her parents had arrived earlier
in the day. She pulled it out and gazed down at the box that she just
knew had something magical about it, because it was the only thing she
could think about all through dinner. Willow knew that she had not
found it by chance; the treasure, which is what Willow called it and
what she thought it might lead to. “I
just had to open it.” Willowed said quietly out loud. She recalled how
her fingers sort of tingled when she touched the box, and how her hands
were not her own; reaching and just taking the cover right off. It
seemed … “Unavoidable, really inescapable.” Just as her fingers were
doing right now. Willow
pulled hard and the top of the box was sudden in her hands and she felt
suddenly frozen; not with fear. It was some kind of understanding that she’d never be the same after this adventure. It was the kind of quest had usually only imagined or dreamt. Willow pinched herself to make sure it was real. The not to pleasant feeling shot up her arm that told her it was the real deal. Willow placed the cover on the floor and saw the same envelope on top she had not been able to muster
up the courage to open the last two times she had ventured this far
into whatever it was that awaited her. Then, both times she had managed
to hold
it up to the light and see a watermark image of the massive estate that
her mom and dad brought her to on the card through the envelope. It was
then that Willow knew she’d be there, somehow. So when her mother and
father announced this little summer getaway, she wasn’t shocked one
bit. In fact, she even pretended not to want to go so they’d make her
do it all the more. She had them figured out a long time ago, but she
loved them that way. Willow also knew that her mom and dad had her
pretty well figured o ut too. She was
sure they knew of her pretend life, singing, going on young people’s
outings at church, but not really because she liked it. She had
actually snuck away
three times from church, but her mom knew it, but had not told Willow’s
dad and Willow was sure her mom was smarter than her young mind liked
to admit. Willow
took the box and again held it up to the light, but felt a powerful
urge and ripped it open. Willow’s hands were shaking a bit, but she
still pulled out the card that was inside and seemed, in her mind, to
be clamoring to get out. She took the card out and turned it over and
read it. The message started with, ‘Dear Willow’. The thirteen-year-old
was so rattled by seeing h er name there that she dropped it to the bed. Willow looked down at the box lying on the bed and her name was no longer there. That seemed to replace her fear
with intrigue and disappointment, especially disappointment, in fact.
Willow picked it up again and her name appeared there once more. “Isn’t
that amazing?” she almost shouted. She opened it and let a scroll slide
out. She unrolled it and began to read.“Good evening to you, you’ve decided
to open the box. Your interest has peaked that could not stop you from
looking inside the box. You’d still look in without delay if there had
been ten thousand locks.
"You’re off on a journey of discovery
and an unbelievable tale. Be careful who you talk to and do watch out
for their sweet and evil spell.
"You are going to see what many
have not. You’re going to know, don’t forget to ask ‘what.’ I cannot
assure you that you’ll come back here exactly as the same kid. Yet, it
is known that if you do not take the journey, you’ll forever wish that
you actually did.
 Beware
of the black hearts, for they will make you the same as all of them.
Look on with a full heart and become someone you have never ever been,
and by the way … have fun!” Willow
took the words into her mind and thought about the poem that had
gripped her heart and mind and tantalized her. She read the rest of it. “Look to your right at the window and be ready to take a dive, it’s a voyage of faith that will make you know you’re alive.”“Wait
a minute!” Willow said. She got off the floor by her bed and walked
over to the other side and looked down at the box and scroll card. Now
it read, “Look to your left at the window and be ready to take a dive,
it’s a voyage of faith that will make you know you’re alive.” Willow
chuckled and giggled. Isn’t that the most awesome thing you’ve ever
seen.” She almost shouted again, both a tad bit scared and totally
amazed.Willow got on her bed and looked down at the card again. “Look straight ahead at the window and be ready to take a dive, it’s a voyage of faith that will make you know you’re alive, and stop
playing around and pay attention.” That frightened her a bit and she
dropped the card, but her curious heart made her quickly pick it back
up, and she pinched herself again. She was awake alright. “This is why I’m here.” she told herself. So, she read the rest.
"Willow Daisy Morgan, about to change and very much alive."
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley .. .. Where is Patriot Acts available?
No unconditional Talks
Just patriot Acts!
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