“Where You Coming From?”

The following is a True story about myself, Max Nichols Cook-Meredith-O'Brien. aka Omaxa bin Eartha - OUTLAW, for GLOBAL Land, Tax, Cult, Drug and Work LAW REFORM.
Just one story, which I put on paper recently, to give to those who assume the right to employ supernatural powers against myself. Me, who has been secretly 'built' from 2 generations before my conception, & since mythologized as 'master of the world' by the Theosophical Society, a 'returned messiah', by my mother and her Catholics, as 'merlin', by the Freemasons and Mormons, and as the 'merovingian' by another group of western European Christians, and yet more, as the anti-christ by another collective of anti-religious Brit-Eurapean idiots.
I am none of the above. I am a “Democrat, not a theocrat”. All of the above groups, which include ALL of today's religions and political parties ex-Britain, Eurape, USA, Australia, etc., are quite insane, thus, even if I were a leader of their mold, I would NOT lead, nor save any of them. Australian and Brit-European police and secret services, zionist and Christian, have been messing with my life for decades, because of this rubbish, both as supporters and as detractors. It's ironic that they have also been ensuring I do not die. Just 'suffer'. The reasons are complex and not for this moment.
The supernatural forces on this planet are many, and, indeed, many are terrible and evil, even while they and their mentally ill (that-is hypnotized) minions, 'think' they are good. The 'western, first world' 'Christian' capitalists and societies, are in the main of this latter group.
All who employ their own supernatural powers to satisfy their own excessive selfish and or cultural beliefs, are dangerously stupid, “hypnotized” in-the-main. To submit to the demands of today's dominant supernatural forces, the “magicians” of Britain and Europe, is unworthy of any Human Being, and makes the person unfit and unworthy of life. Beyond the Supreme Spark within ALL Life, you must be master of your own minds, hearts and Souls. You can only attain to this by obeying and living completely within the Great Law of the Land. Occult force upon another's Soul, mind and heart is not being that Human Being, you or anyone else believes they are. Arrest your own chattering, idiot-mind and stop harming the world's future chances. The ONLY Method, is “Silent Mind Meditation”, for hours each day.
As the majority of 'modern' Humans will not stop abusing/misusing their own Soul, thus this Natural World, refusing to break-out of the hypnotic spells of an old and extremely psychotic British and European zionist, Judeo-Christian elite, they, their families and this planet, do not have a bright future. A curse upon all the “forces” who protect this white, “Christian abusive 'western' culture, and upon all who profit from it. Feel free to pass this on to your cult and corporation leaders and management.

Omaxa bin Eartha.

“Where You Coming From?”

He spent most of his life asking himself that.
A few times he'd asked his parents, who told him something, or another.
When he was a child, in his bed, he thought he was hearing voices, as if they were calling him..., from deep underground.
Ominous they were, though he didn't know that word then.
As an eight year old, he told himself he was imagining them, and let 'em go.
Forty-five years after, he still remembered them, remembered them as if they were here and now, calling, muffled, in pain, as if a great injustice had occurred, and as if he was the fella who had to set it right.
From beyond the grave, he thought they were.
For forty-or more years he got on with what he figured was “life”.
Drinking, taking drugs, riding motorbikes REAL fast. Writing poetry, going to night school, writing essays in his spare time. Reading newpapers and following politics.
Going to hospital with broken legs, ribs, nose, jawbones. Loving women, making friends, breaking-up, fighting, drinking, trying to think.
Over thirty years of this he had plenty of time to “think”. Alone, in bed, on his motorbike, in hospital, in psyche wards, in the bush.
Like most people, he asked “religion”, found them wanting, then studied deep, eclectic Philosophy for 20 years. Still does.
Thinking was what his “Dad”, his step-Dad really, urged of him. “THINK! MAN, THINK!” he'd retort to the boy's pesty questions.
A brick onto the back of his head, head-first onto a submerged tree in a creek, a split skull, several concussions before he was 25, gave him time to “THINK, MAN THINK!”
Dreams'd make him think. A dream of riding his motorbike home REAL fast passed a bright light, made him think.
A sign! A sign?
He kept drinking, smoking, riding REAL fast. Going home alone, pissed, stoned, not remembering most of it.
One day he was inspired to find the meaning of his name.
He serfed the internet and found out.
He got drunk, then drove 2,000 miles to ask his mum, who laughed and told him he needed to see a psychiatrist.
So he did.
They told him and the cops he was delusional, and locked him up.
Too hard. So, after, he kept smoking and drinking and getting pushed around by all and sundry, Christians and anti-Christians, and the cops.
Curses flew left and right. High and low.
Hate was his retreat. Humans were his enemy.
No forgiveness. No mercy.
Doom, for those who made that their bed.
Christians said he was Jesus. To anti-Christians he was “the Merovingian”.
Freemasons called him Merlin. Atheists just callously laughed.
He shunned all of them.
Fools! Evil, hypnotized fools.
Gods? Spirits? Ghosts? Demons? Angels? Didn't know or care if they existed or not.
Fifty-four years of being victim to strange occurances, made him sure, to himself, that they did exist.
But he was fifty two before he knew whose that voice was, calling from deep underground..., for justice.
Grand-Pop! Step-Grand-Pop. Murdered not four feet from where the kid had slept almost every night of his first twenty years.
Murdered by the kid's mum! His mum, “stolen” from her Aborigine Dad by St Joseph's Catholic convent when she was 9 years old.
Grand-Pop murdered, in the same room, in the same hour, the kid was being conceived! By his own mother, as his REAL dad, her extra-marital lover, a bloke from the same convent, lay in her bed and watched!
“Just remember to forgive!” she used to say, sitting, staring at him, as he writhed in pain on his childhood bed, night after night. “Forgive WHO?” He'd ask again. She'd yell “SHUSH! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE!”
And at 54 years of age, the brainless, sick, gutless cops and their snitches, call him “mentally ill”?
“Where You Coming From, Catholic shrink? Catholic copper?”
He likes the camp fire, especially on cold winter mountain nights, in the bush where he stops. The tiny birds, the Rosellas, passing his spot in the day. The growl of the passing Koala, late at night. The stars! The stars!
His old classical guitar still makes the air “twang” here and there.
His mum, and a swathe of idiots keep haunting him from the world of shadows 24/7. She, changing her story each time he digs-up another tragedy.
Now the whole world wants him to forgive them. Wants him to “come back!” His magic was making them all rich, and now he's gone, they'se worried where their 30 pieces of spoilings are going to come from.
“When it rains fire...”, he says to them, from the forest. “For now, you've all received your reward. It's comin' th' time, when you're all gonna have to swim for it....”
Then they will know, where they have been coming from.....
No air conditioners,' fans, fire hoses, grog shops, down there.....