What For We Be - Words Art & Music True & Free

130121 What For We Be - Words Art & Music True & Free

58 this year.
What Value has flowed from me?
Is any of what I've come to believe I learned, Knowledge? Valuable? Sensible? Wisdom?
Have I answered any worthwhile questions?
Have I given to a higher cause, or merely been part of the problem?

But of problems, what are it's opposite?
Cures? Solutions? Answers to stopping the atrophy?
Is Atrophy the correct state of “life” on earth?
Inevitable. The down of the up? The low of the high?
The dark of the light?
Surely yes, yes, and yes?

Amoeba to Empire to Self-Extermination!

Surely yes, yes, and yes?

The living core is apparently eternal.

So life after self-extermination goes on.

What new form does it take? If it has form?

Or is it all back to the Unity? To the Primal Light!

If then, does choice exist? Can we return, resume, where we left off?

Taking only the good bits, the fun stuff?

Leaving the neg's to not exist, ANYWHERE, in any time frame, time zone, time-space continuum?

Rhetorical qvestions, born of the shortage of answers. Of the curious mind.

Alas! The insatiable mind!

The root of insane-ness!

Out of the now, dragged back by insane untrue culture, of qvestion qvestion qvestion, into the frantic future of paranoias, while the mind stays chained to loose mentations of the undisciplined, deceit-filled, chaotic past, of, conditioned, cultural, demonic elite's enforced uncertainties of ?FOOD? and a roof? laughter? and Respect??? today - tomorrow - in 9 months - 10 years?

O? For that illusory security of “No Worries!” today, tomorrow, in 9 months, 10 years?!

Who can tell me, not me, US, where to find that security - NOT - illusory, that REAL Perennial Security?

White Fella? NYET!!!

Christians? GAMMON!!!

Indian? Bleck Fella? African? Amazonian?

O! YO!

Let's GO!!!

And here? Stuck in the land of the slain Immortals, surrounded by mindless zombie remnants from the warring culture of the northern death?


Sound! Words! Music! Art!


Into The Eternity, Perpetually, Presently.

Not hungering. Not craving. Not thinking of then, to or fro.

No past. No future. No foe.

Rhythm. And Blues. Harmonies. Currents, and True.

Vibrations, of the Didgeridoo.

Soft, Strong, urging in through the belief-barriers cemented by shallow traditions, traditions all built to cover the fundament, to uphold lies, to keep blind our - Hearts', our Souls'..., eyes.

But back, back, back, before the violin, before the tuned-up strings, the Didge', sang True.

Right through the stone walls, straight through the rock of ages, unnerneath... the drumssss....

mi-ama-mi-ama-mi-ama, YUP - YUP!
mi-ama-mi-ama-mi-ama, YUP - YUP!

deep deep talking down into True You.

Art, don't need words. Spirit don't need painting.

Sound of the Original, of the Aboriginal Light goes right to..., the True You.

As the world winds down to a perceived sad end, scientific reports confirm long-held suspicions, that we've blown it, we whiteguy egomaniacs.

We whiteguy crazymind egomaniacs, so mad we can't begin to look into our True You, True Me, True Us, and start dissembling the madness, the covered-over, ignored chaos in our own minds.


The devil is full of tricks. So clever she/he inhabits the soul, fools us to thinking we are sovereign in there.

So when something sparks a question inside, about this, about how sane we may or may not be, up he/she fires the programs to distract us, deceive us, inspire us with false confidence that WE are sane, OK, well, good, everything HE/SHE is not. Or to send us into a rage.

Hohohohohohohohohoho! And-a-hehehehehe!

Centuries of having no Wisdom in the mentors, in the clerics, in the governmentors, in the font of the culture forced on us, turns the mind - in fact a collective of individuals, who think they're individuals, but are really just particles of a mass of inculturated delusions - into a mud of slippery deceptions.

Each one of us now chaotically slipping around and along on the common slime of a warped and pernicious culture, long knocked right off the path of simple pure clean living and self-disciplined, satisfied minds, enjoying the Collective Pure Dream.

Words. Art. Music.

Words, once Sacred. Respected. Refined and clean, attached to the Soul of the Truth, spoke no ill, no evil.

The mind, the Shaman, the Gadjiki, the Doctors, knew well of the darkness, but knew as well of the Way, to stay safe, Pure, Clean, in the Present, by not going to, not referring to the darkness, but by talking in “opposites” thereby alluding to it, thus, giving it no cause, no sense that it exists, thus that it therefore has a place to activate it's tomfoolery.

The True You, True Me, True Us,
is Wisdom, Knowledge, Consciousness, Bliss, and rests, lives, plays, laughs far above the darkness of negativity, so is ahead of it, and gets the advantage everytime a play begins where the fools are inspired to be foolish.

And..., when the path is so lost, and war comes to the fore, seemingly as the only option, the True You, True Me, True Us, is still there, here, ahead in time and in space, awaiting the battle with fearless joy, waiting for the fools to pop their confident heads above the trench, above the parapet, ready to swing the sword of truth swift and decisively, decapitating the fools before they even see what they face.

But, shun confidence! Shun, hubris! Shun assumptions of VICTORY, until after the mess is cleaned up, the souls buried, and the music of mourning has played the tunes of Respect.

Forget the war. Forget the fallen.

Return 1st, to the True You, True Me, True Us, in the Natural Silence of the Mind's Fundament, to restore the Core of the Self to it's High Place, to It's Throne, to Your Crown.

And, let the Music Play.

Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r.... BRYUP!

All Praise the Immortals!
All Praise the Warriors who have fallen
Fighting for a Just World!

from the Traveling 4x4 Tent of

aka Max Earth


Outlaw Junction


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