The God Of Many Masks Chapter 2 -- the chapters are short.

"Neat trick out there, setting up those snipers to shoot around you."  Jay and I are in a back room of the church.  I kept the dark motorcycle helmet on until we were alone, my face covered by the opaque plastic to hide the changes in my looks.   I take it off and look at James, the spy who acts like a sceptic who is not....   I never have understood why they gave him these orders, years ago, before we met...  though I have seen enough signs of his belief in me to know he watched the webcam with the others, believing a deity had arrived on the planet.    Jay is six seven, the muscles he pumped up with iron and steroids during his two tours in Iraq have lost their definition.   He still looks monstrous.  Classic rich boy handsome, blue eyed with curly blonde hair, a hard core Irish rebel at heart, proud his family starved during the potato famine rather than bowing before the British monarchy, he comes from one of the powerful families that once ruled the mid-west. 

Two of his uncles started in special op's and ended up doing work known only between them and the president, shadow warriors Jay had been pumping for information on how the world really worked since he was a kid.  He used to get them drunk and hear about the world behind the curtains;  what they didn't tell him he figured out with his 186 IQ and occasionally slipping into an aunt's computer that had a direcct link to CIA eyes only files.  He had been sent to me years ago, my first human contact with someone who outed himself as knowledgable about the shadow war;  before that they had sent me vague messages on the tv, occasionally muttered a message on the streets.   I was under heavy surveillance, knew as much, but not why.


 I was being worshipped by a group I did not know about, the CIA and others who I never heard the names of had told them I was giving them non verbal messages thru the way I arranged my apartment...    His mother had been hell bent on keeping him out of shadow war and he was all for it, a stoner like I was, a hippy kid who slept on the beaches in the summers in Chicago, until his family decided he needed to go into the army, straighten out his life, give him some direction.   He was fit for that life on the outside only.  Used to walk around the neighborhood with a kitten on his shoulder, Max...  they took out his family because of his association with me.  I barely stopped him from going out in a blaze of glory.  Just barely.  Kept him drunk and on mushrooms for a couple weeks with three hookers.  Not the conventional ways of a son of God, not that I fit any of the myths they attributed to me, for the most part.  A few had come all too true.

Vera has a wig made from the actual long hair that I was known for wearing, and hairs from my beard.  She  sits me down and begins  carefully putting the blonde/grey hair back onto my face.  She is going beyond the goutee I had, giving me a full beard to hide my weight gain.

Jay is become worried about me.   Knows that I have held the groups together, by my fame from the webcam, the favors I have done for certain groups, including saving a few of their lives. "Did you have them all killed -- sent for a reset, as you say?"   He thinks I set up the snipers who fired down on us while we motorcycled in.  One of the vet's had taken a bullet in the ankle.

"Jay..."   I have to play along with his cover, he has some reason for it, adds to my credibility I guess with those who are fighting with me despite how I am looked at -- one group had told me, ALL WRITERS THINK THEY ARE GOD, though they knew it benefited them to work with me...   I shrug, laugh as much as I do, short and fake.   "I would not have...   well, maybe they were just bad shots, you know how gang bangers are... they fire for some target and end up magic bulleting three year olds."

Vera is quiet.  She knows Jay knows I AM...  we talk around the topic, Jay's cover story intact as the cynic.  Vera herself grows more terrified of me by the day;  the miracles are convincing some that I am there to end the world, after defeating evil.   I cannot honestly tell them this is not true... or convince myself it is not true, much as I  wish I could. My Father will make that decision.   All I can do is fight the deluded elitists and pray that we win, usher in a new age that pleases my Father enough that he decides a mercy killing is not required.

Jay hands me a white robe  with a hood.   I rear my head back and roll my eyes, 
'Gotta hide that you've become a fat ass."
"Being told to eat a lot cake, man...  you get an order like that, you jump in.   A robe, though.... loose clothes would have worked."
"Not on me."
"Okay."   I take it and begin to slip it on over my clothes.
"Undress, man.  You gotta look all Mick Jagger for this show, like they know you.  I gotta say, man, you do look like a plain old man without all the hair, and fat."   Jay is the most blunt person I have eer met in my life, used to offend everyone in my family back in the day when the shadow war was being played out as a fight between sheperds who were afraid to let the sheep know, fearing the inevitable stampede.   I was sick with learning of what was really happening in the world, but  I look back on the time and know I had it so good that if I could go back... living a block from the beach, with a woman I loved, a husky who raised the cats.... just writing, smoking weed, listening to Christian music written for me.... and loving the feeling, the loyalty, the knowledge that some believed in my  leadership, even as the FBI interrogated me for crimes the CIA was trying to pin onme, and I was learning about the murder of peaceful protesters who came to Chicago, who I had basically ignored, writing in the voice of Jesus and knowing the words were the mission, not the protests...   a decisiion that proved correct, even though thinking of the agents beating young college girls to death on a golf course...   I have so many memories now like that I have to compartmaentalize them away to keep back the tears.  Had to show a front.  A hard warrior.  As I wrote in my Jesus trance, God's do not war.  God's slaughter.   And this has proven all too true..

I have a surprise for all of them.   When I went into hiding to change my appearence, a CIA defected scientist gave me two false eyes;  tech they have been working on for fifty some years, perfected and in use by the enemy, no doubt...       hooked up to the muscles surrounding my eyes, I had went thru two painful as all hell months learning to control the features;   I can focus almost like microscope -- close enough for my purposes;  I can now hear thru my skull from two miles away.  The reason the CIA had spent only God knows how many hundred millions plus on the eyes, I would be using on a human for the first time tonight...  I am fairly stoic about death, in the midst of battle, when I am wound up preaching to soldiers.   I am not a cold bloodied killer.   It takes the heat of the fire of God to change me from my usual soft spoken, half professor/half stoner sounding self;  tonight there would be traitors with equipment to track the meeting.   We have a damper going for a two miles around the church, no one was getting anything in or out electronically.   Two miles was enough for a nuke and they would try that on me if they could, though I knew I would be standing amidst the death unharmed, I have people I value too much in the area to sacrifice.

The blue lasers coming from my eyes would surprise the hell out of even James.  Learning how to control the features had been easier for me than any soldier they had tried it on, of course, and they kept trying to test me to figure out why.... there is not telling a scientist and a group of shrinks who I really am;  they figured belief in a reincarnating guide was something for the soldiers to spur them.  I have had a headache since the surgery.  I take handfuls of pills, which I did sometimes anyways due to the back surgeries, which they tell me resulted from the wings growing, and what they had to do to pull them out during the year they hospitilized me when I was five.... maybe I took too many at times, my little cross, though I tried to be careful.   The lasers had caused a lot of damage when I was training with it.... out in a field learning to subtly manipulate the muscles around my eye that controlled the features.  The eyes are connected to a computer placed in my guts, which allows me access to gps, infra red and night vision, the ability to contact phones, computers, ham radios...  They took out everyone associated with the surgeries, then each other.  Hard core groups.  I had no control over any of it though I accepted their deaths over the layers of dry blood on my hands, my arms, chest, face...  soul. 

"So, you know we are going to have hinkey assholes out there?  You're going to trust them?"   Jay sounds cynical, acts like I am an idiot a lot, too much at times, with his IQ it has come a bit too natural to him,  and I act like one enough to welcome someone around me who is not afraid to put me down, for the good of the soul.  Maybe that was part of why his cover included being sceptical of my divinity?   I knew he knew from a couple slip up's he made when he was either wasted, or seeing if I wanted to act like Jesus around him -- something I had never done.  The five years plus I had been worshipped, they kept them from me, or if we met, and they did bring a lot of people to Chicago who just wanted to be in my presence, see me in person.

 I have a hard time relating to people on the other side of the mirror.  I envy them.   When I was 24 and married, I had a prophetic dream while living in Toledo Ohio and having no memories of Chicago other than the art musuems our high school took us to every year, I was downtown on State street -- which I recognized years later when i saw it, and down thru the thin strip of blue sky between the skyscrapers, a cloud was approaching... and I knew Jesus was back.  I was euphoric, running throough the streets screaming out, "JESUS IS BACK.  Look into the sky.... see?"  Then I was in a Catholic church, telling my wife that no matter how many women I had been with since we split up, that she was my only wife...her clothes fell off, she rose up into the air and then backed onto my hard dick...   afterwards I ran back intot he streets, and watched as the thin could begam to descend right in front of me. The happiness was more than I have ever felt awake.   But when the cloud reached the ground there was simply a glam rock band playing, skinny and painted up, jammingon a guitar, drums...  That dream seemed like God giving me a slight idea of how people had once felt about me.

They forgot the part of my return saying the nations would be broken with an Iron Rod, that I would return with a sword.  Peace and love had been expected when they first introduced me... they tried to get me to go on stage with Yoko Ono at Wrigley Field, but a spy planted in my life, who I thought was a friend and was always there to front me weed, steered me away from going.   I was still half thinking maybe I had gone mad, that I was not who this voice seeed to make me out to be.  Jim.  He was among those planted around me to make me not believe in myself, so the CIA could manipulate me.   Another regret, the peace and love that I thought I was bringing to all inthe world, that my even existing was the proof of God I had always sought, and was forever changed by having...   universal truths had long been shattered by my post modern philosophy classes, truth something subjective nd ever changing;  but the first few weeks, anything seemed possible -- if a CHRIST existed.

Now I am hated and hunted, actually turned a lot of people away from religion, drove others to kill innocents, leap from skyscrapers to protest my jailing, form into an army, taking over the white house...   nuke outside of Japan and cause a tsunami that shattered a nuclear power plant, which was slowly killing the pacific ocean -- unintended consequences.  Killing the English Royal family....  various actors who played characters based on me that mocked me.

That all came later, after I knew how they were looking at me, after the years of feeling like I was being taunted by more powerful people on tv...  and was surprised anytime something I did came up on a show, or mentioned on the news, always coded enough that other than my wife, who witnessed it all, I was afraid to bring it up with anyone...  I once wrote that they should do their worst and burn me with jokes, because I would them... having no idea the next week the tv broadcast practically nothing but shit about me.  I was stunned by how people saw me, humiliated...   my first taste of the humility that was to come when I learned there were cameras even in my toilet.  Saturday Night Live did a show bout me that even mentioned the church I went to, not even funny just practically a list of things... talking about how poor I was, pretending my dealers were my friends and mocking then, showing me they even had cameras there.   Afterwards I learned how deadly my supporters were when   I had to step in and stop the entire cast of saturday nght live being put to death.  The CIA was keeping me isolated from all the acttion, so my life seemed normal, even poverty ridden.  The schizophrenia of one world goingon the tv and then going out into the streets and everything seeming normal, other than the occasional strange words uttered to me by people I did not know, I felt entirely alone. I was alone, no one around in my life.    My day to day life usually seemed normal, a guy whith a broken back who wrote a blog and kept himself stoned from morning to night, ate handfuls of pain pills.  IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN...  is a thought I have had millions of times it seems, but God had not wanted me to know.  I opened the bible seeking a random passage, which was a game the Father and I played, where he usually gave me what I needed, not what I wanted.   The passage talked about how God would beffudle people at times to get his way.   I also found the passage talking about how the women following me would become barren the same way, after being told the same thing on the tv. 

'Yes, well, I think I know how to figure out who is with us, and who is not.  In fact I have a little surprise for you all tonight.   You stoned?"
'You want a bowl?"
"Nah, I just think you'll like this better stoned."

Part of my training with the eye was to focus in on others flesh, looking for signs of distress like sweating, flushing;  hands for the slightest shaking;  eyes for fear or cunning;  basically to note those who were playing a role, or reacting in ways incoherent with the situation.   I would use the eye to identify them first, before I said much of anything, then....  show them the brutal power of the son of God.

The gathering does not know I am going to be here.  Most of the world thinks I am in a bunker underground, on a submarine in the arctic...  all the places they tried to get me to go in the beginning, when they thought they were protecting me.  My resourcefullness in protecting them was nothing they would ever understand.   No life I had ever lived fully convinced anyone 24/7 what I am.  I understood, the doubts...  I had them once, on a cross, when I thought I was going to win a revolution and instead He made me a symbol, the day I took the worlds sins as my own and knew what it truly was to be human.  The day a God's son was humbled, and a Father turned away from the pain and the cries of his son...


"I have a surprise for the enemies in our midst, Jay.  Trust me for a change, alright?"
'Yeah, right.  I'm trusting these."  He waves over at the small arsenal he has been travelling with, ak-47, grenade launcher, a shoulder held anti-aircraft missile...  I know nothing about weapons.  Never owned one.  When you can pull lightening out of the sky the only reason you would need a gun is avoid over-kill.... and over-kill kind of goes along with what I do.   If I did not know all souls go to Heaven, I would not be the most deadly creature in all of creation.  I do.  And I am.

"I will have a hit off that bowl."   Jay hands me the bowl he has been puffing on since I came in, I take a long harsh hit and hold it until my heads go light....  blow out the little bit of smoke that is left, take another, do the same...   "Alright, let's go."
"You want some visine?"   Vera has been quiet the whole time.  She is terrified even with the valium she pops like candy.  
"Uh...  No, they all know I smoke."


Jay picks up an ak-47, slips an uzi over his shoulder...  opens the door and waves and looks down the hall both ways.  There is plenty of security in the church, though he has stayed alive by trusting no humans, a line from the bible we shared a great respect for.

The First Thing That Dies In Battle Is The Plan

"Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God."
1 Corinthians, 18, 19

Too much thinking over the past...  too many faces of the dead.  Too much blood encased on me to even move.   Tonight there will be more. More grieving.  More loss.  More souls finding out it is better to be dead than alive, that their fear of death was just more of the foolishness of the survival instinct.


The plan is to use a boat to get me up the lakeshore, along with anyone else I can identify who is going to be a target.   The only one I have heard yet is the national guardsman, and the cop who interviewed me when I came into the camp.   I insisted on this.  The cop I have no idea how to get to...  they are being hunted because of me.  They made mistakes, still...  they were on mission for awhile.   My people are only worried about my safety, which I know is ridiculous, but try telling a human who has seen the death they have that God will not let anything happen to you.   There is always the doubt, the belief they have more wisdom than God.   I learned that I would be a fool and God would do what He planned no matter how much it hurt me, humiliated me, or killed.   Time and time again in this war I have thought I made a mistake, only to discover I had done exactly what needed to be done to subvert the enemy.

They are going to hit the four entrances,, which are loosely guarded.  We are miles behind enemy lines, the southside of Chicago is pure chaos, with the gangs banding together trying to hold turf, which is not going to work in the end, like any seige, because they are going to run out of food.  We have people among them recruiting, getting those who we can use out of the city, into the small units we are using, groups of five who communicate only thru carvings on trees, each spot known only to the units directly around each other, so no captures can bring down them all.

I wish there was a clock, know the time is close.   They have silencers, should be able to pull this off without alerting the authorities held up inside Soldier Field.   Our area is closee to the lake, the wind always heard hitting the building, the waves crashing outside white noise. I feel it start.  The bit of the psychic powers I am afraid to explore, that come unbidden from time to time to save me from trouble, and have my entire life.   I am supposed to get up and walk to the door when I see a siloutte there.   I see the door open, the black outline of a man holding a pistol at his side, then he steps away.   I get up and start walking toward the door.   From the four corners of the room men get up out of their beds.   Silently begin to come in on me.  I whistle and the door opens and the soldier steps back in, another follows behind...  

One of the men closest to me pulls a phone out of his shirt.   I act defeated, looking at the ground, arms by my side.  He is taken by surprise when I throw a round house into his temple, put him down,  stomp the side of my boot into his throat.  Hear a grotesque gurgles as his crushed larynax attempts to gasp precious air.   The other three are taken down by silent shots from the soldiers.   People begin getting up, asking what is going on?  I tell them in a loud whisper, "QUITE.  We have captured three insurgents.  Lay back down and stay calm or you are going to be considered accomplesses.   You,"  I point at the national guardsman, "are coming with us.  We need trained soldiers.  You have nothing to fear from us."

God gave me a voice that can terrify or sooth, and taught me well how to preach what sounds like THE TRUTH, even when I am telling a lie for a greater goal.

We make it to the boat with no problems, it looks too small to deal with the waves, a thirteen footer, open.   Ten heavily armed vet's are inside.   We start off down the coastline and lighs start coming on in the dorms, shouts we cannot make out come from behind us.   Everyone is dressed in black except me and the ex guardsmen.  I duck down out of sight, motion for him to do the same.
"Who are you?"   He asks, his voice terrified...  they have all been terrified for years now, all trying not to show it;  trying to pretend what they saw all around them fit the government narrative, no matter how incongrous.

"I am."   My response widens his eyes.  They have heard of me, saw me thru their internets and tv's when I was being filmed, when the enemy was trying to use the man who grew wings to jump start their world take over.   I kept my hair long back then, wore a beard...  stayed skinny as a rail.  Aged ten years by getting rid of the hair and gaining the fat, look like a balding, handsome middle aged man now.  Non descript.  They loved the rock star image of the boy who grew wings, which was  God's joke on them, my ironic father.... they cut the wings off, radiated them out of existence during a lost year in a hospital when I was five.   A ploy on the part of my father.  I am no angel.   I distrust angels.  Angels fall.  I cannot fall, no matter how close I seem to be hitting the ground, He is always there to pull me back up.

Lights begin sweeping the water.  They expect us to move out into the lake, as we knew they would, and staying on the coast line gives us enough time to reach an empty park down the shore, where motorcycles are waiting to take us to a church where the faithful have gathered, along with some they trust enough to attempt conversion.   I am not trying to get them into a religion, I am here this time to fight.  The religions of man, mostly started by me, all influenced by my presence, earlier religions I started, are meaningless to me...  how people behave is all I care about.   I am not the God that man makes up.  The Son of Man...  The Son of God.   A scizophrenic existence below, on the planet, and above, where I greet the souls, send some to a long moment of hell, welcome them all in the end to the knowledge, however fleeting for them, that the earth is a coccoon and they are all going to heaven.

I wish I could get across to them Heaven, the golden light, the souls basking in a love that they are incapable of even beginning to understand, a euphoria that is not in their chemical make up.   God glories in the souls, the souls glory in God.  In heaven, there is no motion.  Perfect stillness.   My planet is named Heaven, and humans became confused thousands of years ago on this point, so I let them hold onto the name.  We are the closest planet to Him.   My kind feels blessed to be close to Him.   We could go to God, into the golden love where all is explained, spend our lives in euphoric celebration of all God has created, tap into....   I cannot explain anymore than I have been told.  I am mobile, once a watcher of creation like all of my kind, doing the job of mercy killing the coccoons, forever heading from one planet to another.   The rest of my kind go home for long periods, thousand and thousands of your years, telling their tales to the others.  Not me.  God's presence is for those I send off.   They are drawn to His love from all places in the cosmos.   I am drawn to pain, a need to try to stop what I can of it... the gift/curse of the one being who amused his God, who gave the creature his first and only laugh, when He who was never meant to have free-will witnessed it too often not to have it wear off on me, and asked him if I could let a planet live?

I am thankful for my role.   I am humbled by His love and trust in me.  I am amazed that I get to do what seems more important to me than satisfying my own needs.  Angels are those who try to follow what I do, but they all eventually fall...  or head off to Heaven.  Either way I am not disappointed.  There is only one of me, and I would have no other live this life of eternal pain.

Our passage thru the gang terratories has already been negoitiated.  We drive off west to Ashland, go south to the First Trinity Church.  The darkness is in stark contrast to how light they were keeping the predominantly white northside.  Water, power, gas -- all shut off down here.   The leaflets dropped daily telling the people here to come to the camps to be taken care of.  The blacks have been more wary than the whites during the war, which has served them well, and why the revolution I started so many years ago was offered to them first, and the oppressed of all nations, eventually...  the elite who were backing me had no idea my words were not like their Machiavellian Svengali rap, until they had given me too much power to take it all back, no matter how much blood they shed.


I sense the snipers before the first shots begin to hit the pavement around us...  just as quickly I hear the soldiers I had surrounding the blocks around us moving in, battling with whichever group was trying to take us out.   I wave my comrades on toward the church.  Stop my bike and turn it off.  The shots zero in on me, letting the others safely pull around behind the church, where guards are already surrounding the perimeter. "You cannot kill me, "   I scream into the night.  "Surrender now and I will prove this to you."   Bullets rip through the tires, hit gastank a quarter inch from my leg and gasoline begins to pour down my leg.   The fighting goes on.  They will not listen.   My own people are either yelling at me to come to the church or just standing stunned, watching me make a target of myself.  I know as long as they are concentrated on me that my soldiers around them can take them out with fewer causalties.   I can see flashes of white.  Hear the shots, see the gravel spewing up, hear it hitting my helmut, smelling the gasoline.  

Finally there is quiet.  They are all dead.  I hang my head and wish I could cry.   Think to myself, 'We will need to learn to cry again.  This stoicism will be the end of us.'   They saw me crying when they were filming me and made such sport of me that I lost the ability....  inside of course the damn was always close to bursting open, though I had only to hide my face for a moment, continue.   I let the bike fall to the pavement and move toward the church, barely hearing the reports that nine were killed, a gang hired by the ISIS factions to take me out.   They are torturing one of them and I can hear him screaming out that they knew they would be on bikes, and that is all.  Another shot tells me the interrogator believes him.  The brutality we have come to live with...   makes me think for a moment of the stoner comedy writer who they came for.   How little he would have believed anyone who predicted his future, let alone tried to tell him he was the son of God.

WHAT YOU DO NOT KNOW... CAN GET A LOT OF PEOPLE KILLED.

    The routine at the camp was mind numbingly dull to most.   I had always lived mostly in my own head, or other people's -- at least their books...   After the visit from the 'ghosts,' my life dimmed more than I thought possible.   I thought I knew depression, having written plenty of adolescent-esque poetry about lost loves and death in my high school years, after losing my best friend to suicide.  He was picked on, and me and my brothrs, all five of us, had protected him all our lives, best we could.  My parents divorced, we moved across the country, and six months later he was dead.   I blamed myself at the time.   Now I was responsible for thousands of deaths, and did not blame at all.  I could hardly blame myself for killing the ghosts.  They asked me, explained to me that the world was going to be on my shoulders one day, proved their seriousness with a Christ like martyrdom to hide their secret -- and to instill in me how deeply I had to hide my own.   I went back over it all during those weeks, a conscious life flashing before my eyes before my death, or the distinct possibility of my death.  Setting off the nukes, to take out the concentration of Federales in the city, and elsewhere, was  a job I would not live through.  That was why I was in the FEMA  camp.  I could have been in the mountains somewhere, or on a submarine..  those who thought of me as a Holy man wanted to preserve me...  could not understand why I wanted to make Chicago my stand.   I wasn't sure either, really... just something I declared I would do when they finally came for me.

Per the shadow war nothing is said literally, and nothing is chance.   I was doing okay, forty five years old, had an apartment on Sheridan Road over looking the lake, and was writing a journalistic blog, with a comedic edge that was popular, though not making me a lot of money.  I had been with the same woman for eight years, and she had stood beside me through the thick and thin, did not care that she made more money than me, put up with my cats, helped me host a literary reading once a week...  and smoked as much weed as I did.  Or even more, at times. 

I was friendly with everyone in the neighborhood, which was the most integrated hood in the most segregated city in the country.  Walking my Husky Ruby made saying 'Hello,' and 'She's friendly,' to everyone.  She was a lover who looked vicious with her mouth full of fangs.  They were said to be a terror in a fight, though jovial otherwise.  I could relate, of course.   I talked a lot with a 'musician' who worked at the carry out across the street from me, Tom Jones nephew, looked welsh, with black hair and blue eyes,  six seven at least, chubbed out enough to look threatening to some.  He was soft spoken though something about his eyes...   I was too into my own world to think too much about other people back then, to be honest.  I would later find out he was a spy, as was the woman I was with, and the one before...   Jimmy Peace he claimed was his real name, though I would later find out he lied reflexafly, like most spies, and this was just a stage name.   He worked at a place called Sonny's.   Only much later would I figure out the entire neighborhood had been planned for Operation Bluebeam.  There I was the storm itself, with no knowledge at all of the lightening inside of me.

Jimmy called me up and said, "How would you like to make all of your short stories into movies, and do a comedy radio show?"   The electric euphoria that came over me-- something like being a teenager and finding out the woman you loved from afar loved you back times ten....   every dream suddenly fullfilled in a phone call...  Dan Milano, Greg The Bunny creator, wrote me saying sometimes the clouds did open in the sky and reveal heaven...   I had the usual dreams in my youth of being a famous writer, fed myself on them in the darker times of my life, when I made a drunken fool of myself and lost the respect of a friend...  when people treated me like a loser in the cab I drove during my stints at universities in Toledo, Ohio and Chicago.  The feeling had almost went away by the time I was 45, as did the ghosts coming to me...  for the first ten years I expected something to happen almost every day...  then another decade passed.... and I began to think the plan they talked about had never come to fruitition, per my prayers, and the dread that came over me when I looked around the city and imagined everything I loved burning into an ash, turning the gorgeous lake front city into an unihabitable radioactive waste land.

The first meetings with the radio show executives they talked like me and the two other hosts were going to huge stars, that there would be tours...  I announced on my blog that I had gotten the call of a life time, and my one famous friend, evidently let hollywood know and suddenly my readership in southern California shot thru the roof...  then Gwyneth Paltrow mentioned me on Entertainment Tonight, something about pot smoking, which was a big deal in my writing, fighting for legalization.  The excitement did not die down though... became a manic feeling like I imagine speed out be.  I was not myself.  I thought I was just excited but I could not stop my racing thoughts...  later I found out they had begun drugging me when they offered the radio show.   My first steps toward fame, becoming known to the world, were well on their way.   My blog was read in over eighty countries, and the internet station they were putting the show on was huge, downtown Chicago, with a huge picture window where people could watch us do the shows....

The manic feeling was growing worse, I was walking the dog down at the beach, out onto a small pier, when it struck me without any evidence at all that I was being watched.   I had the idea of leaving the dog behind to see if it was true, and tied her to the pier and walked down onto the beach, ranting that I knew they were watching me, and I had no idea why, but I was sure of it...   A memory of the bloody  holes in the foreheads of the ghosts, the mist of red behind them that they fell through into the dark stream of water...   I cannot remember now everything I said.  A woman walked up with Ruby, asking if she wasn't my dog?   It seemed to confirm I was being watched but I was still lucid enough to know this could be a co-incidence.

Three hours later I had a seizure out of nowhere, from the drugs, which they later told me were in the water bottles we kept refilled in the refrigerator...  M would fill me in on what happened next later.  She called an ambulance and when they arrived I refused to go with them, telling M. they were going to kill me.  The paramedics called the cops, who I guess I tried to fight, though M. was there screaming at them that I had just had a seizure and was not myself... I woke up without any obvious bruises, three days later, with notes scrawled all over my body, telling M. that the tv had been talking to me.   I was nowhere near normal.   I felt as if some transition had happened though I could not begin to tell what.

They transfered me to St. Anthony's Psych ward for further brainwashing.  I had been in a psych ward twice before, during the depression and drinking that followed killing the ghosts...  this was nothing like that. One woman kept holding up her hands and saying, "Cameras!"   Other than that she was perfectly sane, gorgeous, slim with milk chocolate skin.   M and I had been having problems for awhile, and I grew a tremendous crush on Gem, the cover name she was using.   In twenty twenty I know she was trying to tell me I was being filmed all the time, but that would take forever to sink in... and when I found out the extent, the humiliation was...  I am getting too far ahead of myself.

I spent a week in the psych ward.  The classc sign of being brainwashed is not thinking you are someone else, it is knowing you are not the person you thought you were.   I knew something spirtual was happening, began to think the supernatural was the only explanation...  I asked for a bible, and this being a Catholic bible, that is what they brought me.  For reasons I still do not understand, I recoiled at the thought of reading the green covered tomb they offered -- and even though I was raised Baptst, I asked for a Mormon Bible..  I was beginning to suspect I was the Christ, and they had predicted my return in the states... this thought meshed with a South Park episode, a comedic cartoon that was huge back then, where everyone went to heaven and the Mormon's were told they had the right religion... and other, more mystical reasons that I leave up to God to understand.  Later they would tell me that this one decision had caused thousands of Catholics to convert to Mormonism.  The belief they already had in me out in the world, a belief nurtured by the miracle of my growing wings, and living thru situations that would have killed a normal person many times over....  and the brain washing, or whatever they did.  I was a moral person, used to look at life as a way of service, and aa had me volunteering wherever I went, trying to do good deeds.  Just the way I was raised in a small town, without prejudices that I knew of, and those that were around were burned out of me by t the thousands of enlightened minds I had read over the years. 

I had no idea that from then on my every action would be seen as the work of a deity.  Again, if I only knew then what I know now.



  When I left a nurse came up to me and told me she was very honored to have met me, which was not exactly the kind of send off one expects after a week in a psych ward.   A doctor had come in and wanted to put me thru treatment, which I refused, because I had quit drinking years before, and did not consider the poet a problem, and in addition, I was in chronic pain by then... and they wanted to take me off the pain pills...  the thought that people thought I was faking pain after six surgeries was a touchy one to me.   A friend, also named Jim, though the radio host went by Jimmy, came with M. to pick me up on the last day...  His words as he slipped my coat over my back would come back to me when I learned everyone around me of any significance, and quite a few strangers and neighbors I had never spoke to, had been planted in my life.  World wide domination, planned out for over half a century, at least, had given them plenty of time to recruit and plot and plan.   I should have been on the watch for such things, you think I would have been... but cognitive dissonance, not wanting to believe there is a world behind the world;  not wanting to believe what you thought was true is all a lie;  the God-awful realization that are at a fly trapped in a web of lies that flows from horizon to horizin, had kept me from doing anything about the predicted future.   I had put it so far out of my mind that even when the evidence became overwhelming, the anxiety and horror that filled me would make my mind recoil from the truth...  anyways, the words he said as he slipped my heavy, lamb skin aviator jacket over my shoulders -- a jacket of course the Russian Spy I loved had steered me toward, were... "'MY LEIGE."

Now I had been thru being looked at as a king, a fraud, a racist, a betrayer of his race, a pervert, a celibate, a mass murderer, a God, a Demi-God...   I went home from the Hospital and began writing in the voice of Jesus... poetry like nothing that had ever flowed from my fingers.  Enough that I filled a book, and would later publish under Waking Up Jesus.   A chronicle of an angry God trying to reshape religion, working on very little knowledge of what was really going on in the world.  I was a hostage, did not know it...  I was from a family or associated witha  group that was racist, did not know it...   I was considered a king, did not know it.   I felt powerless the years after 07, when we moved into a tiny, roach filled apartment.   I smoked weed all day, painted on my little porch, wrote prose in the endless voice of Jesus flowing thru my mind.   I would see signs something was going on, occasionally the television made half secret references to me.  I remember ordering a play station, and John Stewart showed a clip of a long haired guy eating nutello, my then recent love, playing playstation.  They thought I was ignoring the world going to hell....  I just had no idea.

The fighting, a description of the life, prophesies, all the  questions you want to ask of God...  these are the sum of the recipe for this word stew.  Or is it merely Hobo Stew, water filled with a few rocks that are all I have to offer?   I was like that once.  Now I know too much.

Laying on the bunk listening to the people around me....   "They will have ISIS under control, no matter what they have'ta do.  I know it.  I was in the National...  well, my brother was in the National Guard."    Someone has made a mistake.  I intentionally do not look, but I know everyone else is.  Everyone who had served in the armed forces were supposed to report for duty.  None of them were heard of again and as much as cognitive dissonance stopped them from actually dealing with the thought, the suspicion that they were shot down, like the thousands, maybe millions of others considered Homeland Potential Security Risks was strong, if unspoken.   I wait a full minute before pretending to turn over.  I hear the same voice and look at the man.  He is in his thirties,  looks worried.   There is a food bounty for turning people in and most people had half starved families.   People had long before quit thinking of anyone except the few they already loved.  No one wanted to feel anymore death,   You kept everyone at a distance.   This is impossible for me.   Something has opened up that makes me love even my enemies, though I have had no problem having them murdered time and time again.   I am not human.  They told me I was all kinds of things, all the reasons they thought a child might have grown wings as a child... the wings they cut off, then used a year of chemotherapy to get rid of.

Thinking of the wings reminds me of seeing a doctor, when I was running out of pain med's all the time and ending up at emergency wards...  I told him about the treatment for my spondalolathesis, and he started saying, 'They do not treat...."  Caught himself, remembered who he was talking to....  the chosen one, back then.  Before they learned what they had really done when they took a man who grew wings and tried to brainwash morality into him.

I was already moral.  Too moral for them to understand, beyond the ideologes too far for them to see me.   Like a Bushka doll, they kept taking them apart until they got to the smallest, and inside found a cross of fire.   God had set them up.  They wanted to use a man to take over the world, operation bluebeam, start a one world religion around a being they documented growning wings, then march them into a one world religion.  Instead of a false God, they got me... the Real Thing.  Nothing like the actor they wanted.  A moral person unbuyable.  They were unbelievers, most of them...  I took a lot of them to an understanding of who I am until they filmed me masterbating, and sent this image out to the world saying it was my plan.   I was too humiliated to respond...  six months later I figured out they had been filming me and my fight was back.   Never has left again.

I am the most wanted man in the world, but they have other concerns, pockets of militias and homegrown lone wolves and groups of neighbors and families who listened to the underground ham radio broadcasts, before they were shut down, and know what was really happening.  That a fascist coup was fighting their way across the country under the guise of being an enemy of the state who was winning.  A brilliant and stupid idea, like all of theirs.  They took out the human element of their planners, of themselves, my enemies, and this made them underestimate how hard the animal fights when all they love is threatened.  They had cornered humans.   Now they were finding what on paper looked like a route, an easy march across the country killing everyone they did not need as slaves, had become a guerilla war they were fearing they would lose.

I provided the inspiration.   Still wrote my sermons in my head, the poetry that started the world looking to me for leadership....   every four months I surface and get messages out.  They tried to make me a general when this began, a non de plume among many I made for myself was gangsta general X.   I did not know enough about what was happening back then to be a general, and was not trained to be one.   I always thought my role would be like Thomas Paine, a writer who spurred on the revolutionares, the soldiers, who would take it from there.  The lesson that he died drunk and hated because his beloved revolution allowed slavery was lost on me, until now.  They had tried to use me in a race war, one of the many distractions that kept the real enemies, the zionists and a psychotic group of noble supramists, and billionaires...  mostly inbred over the years from a few bloodlines.   I am in the Scottish one.

I am watching to see which one looks like they are going to report the young man who blurted out he had been in the national guard.   I look for the skinniest, the most desperate, the men and women with the largest families.   I see two who look like parents talking quietly among themselves, the woman waves at the children and the husband, a ferret faced man with red rimmed brown eyes, his face creased and weathered from the ever more dangerous sun -- they had stopped the chemtrails that were keeping the greenhouse at bay to use the planes in the war, and the conspiracy theorists who had been talking about them for years were vindicated, sort of... the spray was not supposed to kill them, it was preserving what was left of the atmosphere from going full blown greenhouse, the self-perpetuating process that was going to turn the atmosphere to acid one day....   the man gets up and theatrically  almost looks around, then settles his eyes on the blonde haired guy who said too much.  Their eyes lock for a minute.  I think there is going to be a fight for a second, instead the young guy starts for the door first.   He probably believed them when they were told at the entry to the camp that they could leave at anytime.

FEMA CAMP V... the beginning.

     The FEMA camp is located near the lake, a series of Quonset huts set up to process the cities remaining residents.  The southside is now ISIS territory.   The internet blasted out their channel for a few days, before the government cut off all electronics with an EMP.   I guess they didn't want the panic fueled, though the effort probably did more to cause the feeling of apocalypse to rise in most.  The Christians were sure the end of the world had arrived, and I was the bringer of the lightening and fire that would do away with life on the planet, leave nothing for the souls to return to, remove the gravity of animal and plants that swept us back into the endless cycle.   I cared less for what was to come than they did, had no idea what it would be like to think there was a savior out there.  I was just trying to survive for now. 

After the induction process, the fed's assigned bedding and passed out meal tickets, two a day.  I lay on my bunk silently staring up at the cross hatch of metal separating the upper mattress from mine.  I could hear the wealthy already trying to buy meal tickets, but no one was sure enough of the worth of paper or coins, even gold and silver, to part with their food.  That did not stop them from trying.  My urge was to beat them to a pulp, but the last thing I needed was for the fed's to see I could fight.  Being able to fight made you suspicious in this day.  Too many soldiers were in civilian clothes trying to survive, cops as well.   I knew back in 2015 when the federal soldiers outnumbered the marines that they were ready to make their move...   I think about when this started for me.   I was ignorant as hell of the secret world behind the world, let alone that they had plans for me.  Going to college, wanting to be a journalist, back when I still believed the tv lie that exposing corruption and the ills of society would bring in the Calvary -- forgot the lesson of the Native Americans about what happens when the Calvary comes.

I think back to the first day I knew my life was no longer mine....

They approached me, five men, buff, military haircuts, with a story that I did not want to believe.  Telling me my grandfather was a spy and that I had started to grow wings as a child, and one day the USA was going to try to use me to start a world wide religion, then a one world government.  They were serious, secretive.   Told me I was monitored though not watched every second of the day, that they had a man inside the 'family' as they called them, who told them when it was safe to meet me.

We would be sitting in a lounge area at NEIU talking about topics that were almost too much for me to believe.  They explained that they did not know much, other than if I went along with them when the time came, there would be a general genocide, and that only a few hundred thousand would live, a chosen few underground.  I would be the one who marched the religious to their death, earned their trust enough to get them to all come together in communal living spaces, where they would be easy targets for poisoning.

At the time I believed them that they knew only this much.  Later I realized that if they had told me what I would really go thru that I would have headed for the jungles of Borneo, or anyplace other than Chicago, where I just happened to end up, after a woman who convinced me to leave Toledo, who they told me was a double agent between Mossad and the Jesuits.  The upshot was they wanted me in charge of a series of nuclear bombs they were setting up in strategic cities, set to go off if I hit the button in Chicago.  They told me to just go on with my life....   I met with them three times, then they took me down into the mass of tunnels under the city,  Dark, rat infested, sewage stinking tunnels that seemed to run on forever, and practically did.

     "You have to prove to us that you know how serious this is."   There were no names involved.  He was about my height, the same short, military cut as the others.  Maybe mid thirties.  The others were slightly older.  All of them had the same serious expression, all the time. There was no play acting that they were normal.   I assumed they had all experienced death too much, and now that I have, I know I was right.   He handed me a pistol.  The first one I had ever held.  Black, heavier than it looked.  Showed me how to hold it with two hands and fire.
    He took out another gun, later I would recognize them as .45's...   he aimed into the side of a blonde guy's head, who did not even flinch as the blast filled the tunnels... echoing down thru the darkness over and over...    I suppressed an urge to scream, then fell to my knees and vomited. 
     "We are too identifiable, traceable.  They will figure out sooner or later, or might, who took the nuclear devices.   And we need to know you have it in you.  We have your psych profile.  You don't give a shit about your own life, but you care about other people.  They selected you carefully, or they would have taken you out."
     They had explained to me earlier that I would be presented with a book about my family at some point, showing I was the end of a line of Scottish Kings, same as my grandfather, and my father before him.   My father was a drunken disappointment.  My grandfather the architect of operation bluebeam. 
     He pointed at the side of his head, then waved at the others.  We were on a concrete platform running alongside the small river of sewege taking Chicago's filth out into the lake.   One of them knelt down and tied two concrete blocks to the dead soldier, then they began tying them to themselves, around their chests...  explaining if they tied it to their arms or legs sooner or later they were erode off and their bodies would come up.   They were not sure how many years I had before they would come for me.  I was 24.  I would have almost twenty years to wait, long enough that the day became a bad dream...   A time I did not want to believe had even happened.  Even a mistake they had made.

By then I was committed...   and I they had explained to me I was going to see a lot death one day.  More than I wanted to imagine.  I saw that as a future eventuality.   More of the dream.   I was a story teller, or planned to be, take my step into journalism and maybe take a stab at fiction.   A romantic still.   That ended as they explained I would be killing all four of them.

I knew I could do it.  I grew up fighting and wanting to kill people over shit they did.  Fantasizing about it, not obsessively, just blowing off steam.   The first stepped over to the edge of the water, his face still showing no fear.  None of them seemed to care almost.  Like they were already dead inside.  I would learn that feeling, too...  though the deaths on my hand would surmount anything they had seen in intelligence, which is now where I knew they would have had to have been to learn anything about me.

I wanted this over with and to back in the sunlight.  There was no question of our being friends.  They had not been friendly to me.  Just effecent.  The only thing I learned about them was that the were Christians, and could no longer go along with what they saw as a great sin, a judgement on humanity only a God was fit to make.   Later I would figure that they thought I was a God, or the Angel of the Armeggedon... back then I did not believe in such things.

They tossed the first body into the water.  I watched him sink into the blackness.  The current was such that he barely made a ripple, just went down.   I took aim on the first one and he stared me in the eyes. "Try your best to forget this...  as long as you can, as much as you can."   Then he smiled for the first time, and added, "God blessed you."  I took aim and fired, took a step to my left, aimed and fired, another step, aimed and fired.   The gunshots sounded like lightening and thunder eminating from me.   They feel backwards and disappeared like the first.   A part of me hardened, already compartmentalizing the event away.  I was now in charge of turning cities to dust.  The weight of that seemed too surreal to carry.   Now, laying in my bunk, I wondered again what it would take for me to do away with everything I had come to love.  Looked around at the people laying on cots, most half asleep after the days of processing, being rounded up, laying awake hearing the gunfire, watching their tv's and computers as a threat they had no idea existed took over most of the USA.   I knew there was no ISIS, that the elite had mercenaries and federal soldiers wearing hunjabs and decimating the population.  All pockets of resistance were known, and taken down first.  My people had been careful with me.   I was well known by then, though cutting off long hair and a beard had seemed like massive plastic surgery, took me from a young looking hipster God to a middle aged man with a paunch.  I was usually skinny as a rail, so they fed me around the clock as part of my disguise, got me up to the weight of the clerk they had found who looked enough like me that altering his ID would draw no suspicion.

IN THE TIMES OF.... THE FIRST PROSE FOR CHAPTER ONE...

IN THE TIME OF

Today · Public

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The first day the camps were filled, we were let out of dorms and found official notices on the kiosks saying that our internet use had been examined, and the trials to determine which camp we would be disseminated to depending upon our views would begin that afternoon. I had spoken to no one since the ISIS threat was declared to have made the cities uninhabitable. I pretended I was mute, giving a hand sign pointing to my ear and mouth and shaking my head no to any questions, then gesturing to my lips and theirs, conveying the universal symbol that I could read lips. My cover had no facebook account, and anonymous, deaf stocker from a 7-11 who had never voted, married... I chose well before I committed myself to his murder.

 

 As I watched the camp begin to break down into pockets of terrified people trying to comfort one another, and others claiming they had nothing to hide, that they had been good republicans/democrats their whole lives, I thought of all the little lies to the IRS they thought they had gotten away with, the affairs and the desparaging remarks toward the government they said in what they thought was the privacy of their own home... inside there was a part of me that recognized another part of me that thought a laugh would be apropriate. Laughter like tears were all in my past, left with the person I had been before the revolt -- the real reason for the camps, though no one there who was talking knew about them.

 

The media had always been on ISIS mode, since the supposed fighting on USA soil was instigated by immigrants and undocumented workers, who had in truth been the first to be murdered by the great machine which was consuming the earth, with parts that did not know their function better than any bolt in any machine. Those who had been conspiracy theorists, or as they called them now, Oppositional Personality Disorderred, per the psychiatric norms that had begun in 2012. I walked past the different groups, listening to how they rationalized this latest affront to humanity into something that made sense in the big lie they had been raised within. To the man, they all seemed to think they would be alright. Again, that part of me that once laughed came to mind. The one group had never used facebook, or any social media, and assumed that facebook was the government's only source of intelligence on their lives. Another group had merely sent jokes to their friends, though admitted commenting on their favorite politicians, and discounting others.

 

  I knew from my work that the politicians were all one unit, called the eagles in the underground, predatory birds, of which there were few left. I was not called in until the third day. They had us in a large dormitory, empty except for long tables with computers set up on one side. We were kept in a fenced in pen until our names were called, then sent to sit opposite what the announcer kept calling our 'Government Host.' I sat down and made my sign that I was deaf. The man sitting across from me looked nervous, depressed. A certain darkness under his eyes spoke to his lack of sleep. I noted a slight trembling in his hands when he reached for a glass of cloudy water by his side. Balding, mid-fifties, hot in his brown suit. The first words he spoke to me made me sit up straight and struggle to keep my face impassive, 'Don't bother, we know you can hear." I did not know if he was bluffing or not, so I tilted my head to one side and looked at him quizzically? "You did right by being afraid to talk to anyone. I have your file here. You do not seem like the type to know enough to take such a tact. I understand, though... you were afraid." He sounds sympathetic, friendly.

 

 I begin to wonder if he was a police officer before... then the memory reminds me the police had rebelled early on, and were said to be in hiding. If he was a police officer, I would never find out... and would never turn him in, regardless, unless my survival depended on the matter. I was intent of surviving. My mission was the only thing to live for in these times, and I had orders not to die... or I would have gone out fighting long before letting them bring me to a camp. I had no desire to see what was to come. No desires at all, really... well, that is not true... I still had a desire for love making, still had a desire to get too snort some blow and drift out into a nod where no nightmares sleeping or waking could touch me, still had a desire to be with family I had lost, my pets... I stopped them from getting my attention though, thankful as always for the years spent meditating, learning to clear my mind of thoughts. There is too much noise in the room for everyone to be monitored, I think... I am never sure. Perhaps they could hear everything now? See everything now? The cities had become like that, long before any of us realized. Even after I had been told I had a hard time believing. Now I was erroring always on the side of caution, and this had kept me alive.

 

 

   Three seats down a man who is being interrogated, in the nicest, most beuracratic -- just getting my license renewed way possible, suddenly kicked his chair back behind him and started screaming that he had just been venting on Facebook, that he did not always feel that way... I took the opportunity to lean in close to my interrogator, whose attention was on the freak out a few chairs away, and throw my voice without moving my lips -- a skill taught to everyone in the underground, I assumed... we were too compartmentalized to know, of course. . . but it had come in handy too many times for me to think otherwise. "I can speak, and I know you used to be a cop. I keep silent for a reason, and I think you want me to continue so, eh?"

 

He is good, keeps his interest seemingly on the man who is now being approached by the black dressed security guards with their ever present stun guns. Throws his voice back at me without moving his lips, something they evidently had learned as well when their purge had come -- as was reported at the time as taking great losses while they valiantly fought the ISIS invaders in the city, who were reported as having grouped with the gangs... "Deaf and dumb." When the commotion was over, I began to realize the risk I had taken and fought to control myself... my fingers wanted to start tapping on my thigh. I could give away nothing. Nothing... I used the word to calm myself, repeating it over and over in my mind, 'Nothing... nothing... nothing.' He might now assign me to a camp to keep me silent. Then I realized he would know if he did this that I would report him, and began to calm, as much as I allowed myself. "Well, just thought I would check, to make sure. You had no involvement on computers. I see that you got your GED. Worked at the same company for almost twenty years, helping with the stocking of shelves at night. I did not know they hired the handicapped. Good thing, that."

 

I made a show of looking at his lips and occasionally making expressions of slight puzzlement then seeming understanding. At this I nodded, 'Yes.' "Says here you are physically healthy, is that still true?" I held my arms up like a muscle man and flexed my bi-ceps, showing I was strong and healthy, I hoped. One truth afloat on the river of lies that flowed from me. "I have a lot of questions, you can just nod yes or no to them, understand?" He emphasized 'Understand.' I nodded, 'Yes.' The questions were telling, and that he allowed me to merely nod yes or no when I heard the others down the line giving lengthy explanations told me he was allowing me thru the process. I wondered how anyone could trust anyone now... and marveled that this stranger and I had agreed to trust one another, even if out of mutual survival. He had no choice, but I could tell as the questions went on that his trust of my ability to keep my emotions in check, to play along to the exact right clues, was causing him to trust me. The police had stopped hiring people with IQ's over 125 years ago. I wondered if lack of intelligence caused this, or if in his former life his trust for his fellow cops, those who stood up to make the thin blue line that protected their quasi-criminal, and not so quasi at times, ways, had caused him to fall into old patterns of behavior. I told myself this was a lesson I had better learn -- NEVER ASSUME THE OLD WAYS WORKED IN THE NEW TIMES. WATCH FOR BECOMING THE PERSON I WAS... who had been too trusting. The questions seemed innocous almost, to the uninitiated: 'what political party did your parents belong to?'; did you have a garden?; when ISIS invasion became apparent, did you stoke pile weapons and foods?; what are your favorite colors?; is there anything you hated about the government, be honest, now, we all hated something?; where are your loved ones now, do you know?; did you keep pets?'

 

   I knew why they were asking some of the questions, like these here, they were finding out basically if they were dealing with a survivalist, or someone with any tendencies there-for, the pet question involved a certain holy man who had arisen during the revolution, who told his followers to get dogs and learn from them... that man was me. This is why I had to survive. My people still existed out there.... not that I considered myself a holy man, but that others did, and that this brought them hope, and a reason to fight, was enough for me to leave such things up to God. I was always suspicious of anyone who considered themselves holy, regardless. How this man would have been rewarded if he identified me -- the might, just might, have even ignored that he had been part of a revolt-faction, though from my experience they took no chances what-so-ever.

 

The interviewers' whom I could hear ending their interrogations around me all said that there was a place for them, and they would be assigned within the week, and there was nothing to worry about, all the bad seeds had already been identified, and ISIS was not operating in the area. I could tell by their lack of inflections at the end, or how hard they faked inflections, that they had this memorized. I expected to hear the same and was surprised when the now visibly calmer man across from me said the same spiel, though he added in the middle, as if stuttering for a moment, Farmer... I did not react and he seemed to grow even calmer. Perhaps he felt that I was a police officer as well... that he had somehow connected with someone and would be able to sleep better that night, saving a fellow blue? I was not sure. I had worked with the Blues as allies, they had even provided me with security for a few years, before the overt war they called a battle with ISIS began. My enemies had soured the relationship with propaganda, their speciality since the days when the FBI used the technique to sow distrust among the Black Panthers in the sixties.

I know everyone goes to Heaven.  God gave me this knowledge to make me the most dangerous creature in all creation.  The humans had figured this out long ago, at least the ones in power.  They had spent a lot of time and money protecting me when they thought I would go along with their fond dreams of fullfilling the prophecy and bringing the Son back to earth.  They did no know I have been here all along, living lives under different guises, guiding the prophecy that would lead to this time, when I would save the world, or destroy  the planet.  There is no in between.  All God has shown me so far is the destruction.

Another day, laying in my  apartment, the bugs on, knowing by then that they were all watching, believers in the New Christ, haters of me....  for the things my followers had done, under the guise of commands from me... that never were.  I was trying then to be kind, to give them something that would bring hope back into the world...  make up for things there was simply no making up for.  I let my mind wander, seeing souls around the planet... always they were golden and white sparks...  facebless and far away from me.   This afternoon behind my closed eyes a woman approached, a spirit, then animals -- I had never seen them before, did not even know if animals went to heaven or not...  the woman and the animals seemed to be imploring me not to destroy the planet...  the woman told me she was Eve, the first creature I had embued with the Holy Ghost.   I had incarnated as all types of animals, though I had never procreated, had been filled with disgust, anxiety, the signs God the Father sent me that told me I was not to do something.   After eons of this, I was sitting under a tree feeling lonely, angry, pitying myself in a way that I do sometimes, regretting being the first to question God....  despite his laughter and loving me most of all for trying to save a planet I had been sent to destroy....  the Gift he gave me, my journey from planet to planet trying to steer them away from the early destruction that took so many...  I was already becoming the son of the animals, in a way...   I stood up and reached inside myself, tore out what they call the proverbial rib, threw it to the ground and created her.

She was black as night.   A creature closest to me, by design of God I know, from the species that would become the Great Destroyer...  an early ancestor of the chim/ape/man.   She knew the same loneliness and longing I felt, came into my arms...  we were never able to procreate.  Like her kind in that time she went off with others and had offspring, which we raised as our own.  They were different...  the Holy Spirit embued into her filled them with the same Golden Light I had seen.  This light I mistook for their soul until that afternoon.   She showed me life after life we had lived together, growing up together, falling in love, having children...  our Children would eventually rise into the eceholns of leaders, prophets, saints...  most.  Some became what you would consider Luciferrian, as if the the humanity and the holy spirit struggled.   Later I would learn more of this.

She told me that she had incarnated this time into the earth itself, and this was why I had sought her in woman after woman, as I had done before.  I was free to love without her...  though not free to love as we had.  The Holy Spirit is univeral now, she told me...  she said, in a melodic voice that was music, not word, from a vision of green with yellow outlines of animals and Even..."I did not want to tell you what I had done, until you made the decision not to destroy the earth."   She was speaking of nuclear war, which I was close to ordering.  We had already used them, to seal the DUMB at the White House when we took the president and the UN hostage.  I talked about the vision as it came, knowing the cameras were listening to me, and hoping to stop them from the hellish thought of the world ending... 

This was what terrified them most about me, I thought.  Movies and tv shows were coming out about how the world was ending, and instead of the jubilee this should have started, people were terrified.  Hollywood has made the apocolypse the work of evil.   Almost every movie is about somehow stopping it on the edge...  Buffy The Vampire, one of my favorite shows for a time, before one of the actresses on it turned on me, after doing atrocities in my name, and believing the bullshit that Ferrel was made to spread...  and thinking I wanted people to live like me, walk my path.   They were supposed to live like Jesus, not me...  I am a writer who is in chronic pain.who does nothing, follows a mission to kill everything I have ever loved.  Why would anyone want to live like me...

I hoped the vision was true.   James, a spy sent to be my friend -- he showed up right around the time a movie came out with Steve Carrol, titled A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD.   His show the office had shown me a few things, nothing I can repeat to keep a few of my friends in this world hidden as long as possible, who were acting on something I said in ways I would not have done.   He came stumbling into my apartment as the vision ended, mumbling about THE VISION, THE VISION...  I think he expected me talk about it, but I was so used to having two different lives, one with the spies and others communicating in their secret languages on tv, the bugs... and no one in my life, except Mary Ann, who also saw the tv changing to say things we had, showing things we did.  I had no idea she was as heavily involved as she was, always wondered why she did not react with the same horror as me... and the night I confronted her on this she put on an act later like she was freaking out.  There was nothing I could do.... for awhie I thought about leaving her...  but there was no where to go, and I do not love lightly.   

I ASKED James what he meant by the visions, and he seemed to sober up instantly, said he had been doing mushrroms all nght.  Another day, when I had been messaging back and forth with a very open sexually native american girl. and he told me, DON'T LEAD THE WORLD INTO SLUTDOM...  he knew they were watching me, though we both pretended he didn't.  James knew how to live a cover life, had come from a family involved openly in the shadow war.  I instead was kept in the dark, and surprised as hell by what came down.  Even with the warning of the Ghosts...  who I hated for awhile when it first started for not telling me more, but like I wrote, then I would have tried to run form this fate.

Those days seemed another life.  Now there was open fighting across the country..  My peoople were all over, so were theirs.   I had ordered them, on good advice, to not hold any ground.  They didn't listen to me at first.   Gathered on the east coast trying to arrange a conventional army with all the vet's who flocked to our side when they were told that the country was going fascist, and they were going to be slaves in a feudal system of sorts... or genocided.   The result was what I feared,  three mushroom clouds taking out Boston.   After that the war was all about finding the heds of the snakes and cutting them off.  We had tremendous God like luck getting those they had abused all their lives, their servents, to kill their slave masters when we showed them the list of those who loved.  The elite had not bothered with a list of those who died -- what was the point, there would be 7 billion corpses.  They would live underground for a few years, while nature took it's course, and the smell of rotting flesh turned to dust to dust.

I think about the memory of Eve as two soldiers come into the barracks, excorting the national guardsman, telling him to get his things, that he was being transfered..  They were always careful in front of the sheep.  Did not want to panic them before the gassing..  The more normal things seemed, the more they would contact their families, welcome them, have them join the lines coming into the camp, rather than taking up guns and joining the fight against ISIS... which they still had the sheep convinced were foreign invaders.  My group had the backing of China and they tried to call us communist/socialists...  we were a mix of everything, waiting for the day we could start voting again, and people could be whatever the wished....   I told them a mix of small businesses, socialized banks and utilities, no monopolies...  In my world people could choose, their free will intact.   I was about the only leader left who spoke of free well.   They scoffed at us on Radio Free American, the last station broadcating, saying they were protecting free will.   Typical ass backwards world.

My job was to lay low and determine how the camps were being run.  I figured two days and I would have enough intel, then we were going take over,  show the sheep and the guards and the soldiers the films we had of what was going to happen to them, what was happening all across the country, offer them guns or sanctuary...   the smart one would realize the guns were the only sanctuary, the rest we were sending into National Parks, like yellowstone, which was lage enough for them to hide, for now...  we could not allow them to back into the civiilian population. That would lead to violence I abhorred... killing the innocent to save the innocent.   I could not allow a stampede.  They would come in and nuke the city if they thought we had them all on our side. 

 The thinking  was it would be easier to save them from a camp then convince them on the outside to join our cause....   already they were paranoid -- the only ones left alive at this point were paranoid, pretty much.   I still had a stupid dream of freeing Chicago, making it the base of our country...   so we were starting here with the FEMA camp attacks here.  We knew the turf, had hidden caches of weapons, and the extensive layers of underground tunnels gave us plenty of room to keep people hidden from ISIS.  
 

WHY WE MUST REVOLT... one way or another.

War after war enslaves countries to the world bank, so they can rebuild what they had BEFORE the one percent used the MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX TO PROFIT FROM ANOTHER WAR; countries broken and torn and bleeding from the western bombs we drop then must borrow money to pay for what we have destroyed while setting up a dictator who will bank with the Rothschilds... and then of course, before they can even rebuild one country, the war profiteers lobby for more destruction day in day out, buying every politician they allow us to elect. . . "WAR IS A RACKET," said the honorable GENERAL BUTLER SMEDLEY... who was also the man who FORD, THE BUSHES, and many others tried to lead a COUP AGAINST ROOSEVELT, who single handedly stopped this country from becoming fascist. Roosevelt, they say, was afraid there would be another depression if he prosecuted the heads of industry... so the traitors were allowed to continue to amass fortunes and power, preparing for their next attempt... which they did LEGALLY THRU THE PUPPET REAGAN... and since that traitorous, alzheimer addled puppet switched from a democrat to a republican when ORANGE COUNTY BILLIONAIRES decided to run him for president, the middle class and the poor have suffered as the ONE PERCENT has sucked all the wealth to the top.
WONDER WHY WE SUPPORT ISRAEL WHEN ANYONE WHO LOOKS INTO THE COUNTRY IS APPALLED BY THEIR TREATMENT OF PALASTINIANS AND RACIALLY SEGREGATED SCHOOLS, AND USING THE US ARMED FORCES FOR THEIR WAR IN THE MIDDLE EAST, WHICH WAS STARTED BY MOSSAD BLOWING UP THE TWIN TOWERS AND BUILDING SEVEN????? Forty eight percent of the BILLIONAIRES in this country are Jewish. Look at Adelson, who has never even lived in Israel, who donates millions to candidates in both parties... then read the PRINCETON STUDY SHOWING THAT NO MATTER WHO YOU VOTE FOR THE SAME POLICIES ARE FOLLOWED... and you will begin to understand why the media applauds sarah slut silverman for making a living slamming Christians, and black lists Mel Gibson for one drunken slur when he was being arrested for drunk driving.
Why does the media NEVER COVER THE PROTESTS OF JEWS WHO ARE AGAINST ZIONISM, like the hundred thousand plus in NY three weeks ago, or the ones who shut down Tel Aviv a month or so ago... The problems in this country are ECONOMIC. They are not religious, they are not racial, they are not whether you vote for the genetic hybrid elephantass.... though there are issues in all of these areas, if we had a level economic playing field most of these problems would be self correcting. HOWEVER, anyone with any sense knows that those who hold the high ground do not want a level playing field at all. This is why the racists in the thirties went around burning successful black towns and communities and slaughtering thousands...
I cannot help but wonder how different this country would be now if ROOSEVELT HAD JAILED HIS IVY LEAGUE SKULL AND BONE AND MASONIC BUDDIES, and invested in small businesses rathe than the WPA.... there are ways to correct the problems in this country. The lack of actual law enforcement in this country when it comes to the wealthy and powerful has allowed corruption to fill the upper echelons of every branch of the government. Look at Hillary Clinton, who by the grace of satan had the man who was set to testify against her in congress die from a fall the day before he was to go in and bring her to justice... look at the man who kept her computers and took the fifth for every question asked... they are going to let a criminal become president because they are criminals.
WE MUST BE THE LAW, OR THERE WILL BE NO LAW. Where are the veteran's who took an oath to challange all threats domestic and foreign? Well, we now have more federal troops than marines... and I used to work with the marines, and know they have honorable intentions. Yet they have been maligned, and the Navy was gutted last year of all who dissent with the NWO policy... some were fired months before their retirement. PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS AND ACT... because there is no justice in this country for the rich or the poor at this point, yet the prisons are filled with more blacks than were enslaved on this continent, working jobs that pay them twelve cents an hour... Yes, this is a rant... but I am tired of the cowardice that permeates this country.
I have put my life on the line over and over, and after being used by intelligence, and having been blamed for decisions that I did not make, let alone have the intelligence to make a rational decision about... to the point that they have effectively disembowled the greatest movement the sheperds of this country have ever tried... while the sheep kept grazing on the pittance of grass the one percent allows them, just enough that they can fleece them a few times a year.

ANGEL COLON... an entry about the shadow war, out of character, and true....

I do not in any way wish to desparige the dead, or pretend I know what really happened at Prism, a gay nightclub where 49 people were killed this last week, and 43 wounded.  I also read about another shooter in California, who said to the local police who found him in a car filled with automatic weapons and HALF the makings of a bomb;  he claimed that he needed protection from the CIA, who had ordered co-ordinated attacks on gay events, by five people whom they had trained in Virginia.  He further claimed that the shooter in the PULSE attack was supposed to live, and that there were two of them.  There were reporters that someone was holding the door closed when people tried to exit...   regardless of all of this, I do know that the only person who they are showing who was wounded, and who is getting the bulk of the media attention, was shot in the hand, and his name is supposedly Angel Colon.  The group that I worked with, in the mania that followed my initially being brainwashed, I called angels.   I even said Gays are angels, out of anger at the prejudice toward gays, more than some scriptorial message, but I was being taken much more seriously at the time than I knew...  at first, when this started in 07, I was filled with love for all humanity, and believed a new age had dawned, that as the returned Christ, as everyone was telling me I was, that the world would stop warring, and a new age would begin.   I had no idea at the time of what was transpiring around me, of the ones who had all this planned for years... without telling me.  I have been told different reasons for this....  after having started to grow wings as a child, due to one of many things, none of which I can confirm -- perhaps this was part of the ploy to convince people I am an angel, or perhaps it was operation bluebeam, or perhaps I have alien dna, or perhaps I am Christ.   I do not care what is believed by whom anymore.   What I do know is that I was very drugged and confused and at one point even said Tom Cruise was an angel...  it was also thought at this time, because of something I said about Kafka that was misinterpreted, that I hated Jews.   Nothing could be further than the truth, especially at that time.  Presntly, I am against what the zionists are doing, and the Palastinian Genocide, as well as their banking manipulations, etc... there is an attempt going on right now by certain billionaire Jews to basically control the world.  Their monopoly on banking thru the Rothschild family is a truth that I cannot ignore.   I thought for awhile that I might become Jewish, before studying the religion further, and finding out the Talmud has Jesus burning in a vat of shit in hell, and I disagree strongly with a lot of their writing, as I do Christian writing as well.  Old Salt that is held onto.   Many religions think theirs is the only way to heaven.   I am here to open the door wider, and say that while it is true that I am the gate keeper to heaven, in a way, believing in me comes in many ways that do not even have to involve being a Christian,

During the shadow war, the gays were always on my side.   I had a good friend who killed himself over his sexuality and other matters, knew people who died of AIDS, and had plenty of gay friends, and a few sexual experiences with men many years ago, that have been blown all out of proportion by the press and especially my enemies, but also my allies.   I still stand for gay rights, and believe that God does not create gays to be condemned, more than likely, with the view of women, the writing in the bible that condemns them is homophobic and ladden with the prejudices of men who wished to have power over women....   I also support feminism, and am not the mysoginist that people thought ... the very things I came here to change about religion, were stereotyped onto me....

Why I am writing all of this is because the CIA may be behind these attacks on the gays.  The CIA has become my enemy in this, and possibly always were, though I was confused at the beginning of this, and ill informed to this day, though now not quite as bad.  They send messages in the media, often with mass killings, so they will be reported across the country... there are various reasons they do this.   One is that so many people are living cover lives, and everything is tapped and survailled, that they can use to tv anonymously to get out messages, which when I was the center of their focus for awhile, many shows were about the activities I was involved in...  the mistaken thought that I was somehow giving orders with my life, when in reality I had no idea why I was being filmed, and resented it enough to be abusive to the cameras to the point I wanted to do about anything to drive them away from me...   which led to many deaths.  Mistakes.  And a hatred for me that some will take to their graves.  The person they described as me was so vile that I told them, quite truthfully, that I would have tried to kill me if there was such a person as they described, though killing me comes with grave consequences for them, so they know better.  Regardless, it is possible that the CIA is declaring war on the gays thru these attacks.   Many whom they have dubbed THE FALLEN ANGELS.

THE angel business never should have been brought into this.   I do not know who is an angel, or even if angels exist.  I would like to think they do, but until I meet one, that is not scientifically valid to my way of thinking.  I was very confused at first, and being used by factions I did not understand, often saying things I barely remembered.   I kept begging them to let me go find some kind of counsel, etc....  but they had other uses for me.

I do not know if the CIA is sending a message, but a person named angel, with a last name that can be taken as an asshole, is about the childish level they work on.  I was always stunned by how stupid and petty they were, but that is the kind of propaganda that evidently works on the stupid and petty, and they are the kind of people who the CIA and others most easily are able to manipulate to fight in these horrendous, secret wars.

I do not know if there is anything I can do to protect the gays...  I was angry at everyone for years over what was happening, going from trying to win them over, to hating them, with the passing of a breeze.   My confusion is what I keep coming back to, as if that is an excuse for what happened.  I do not feel that way.   I do feel that I vowed to keep my private life, whether I was being bugged or not, because I thought only my enemies were being effecteed by my bile.   Now I know differently, and my regrets are endless...  my if I had only knowns.... endless.

I tried to ignore what was going on in the outside world to a degree, because I could not believe the difference between my daily life and the references to me and other matters I would see on the television, which at this point has almost universally turned against me.  That I understand why they would be angry at me is beside the point.   I was not told vital facts that I needed to present the persona and professionalism that were required for the position I was given.  For this puppetting of me I have a hard time controlling my hatred...  but it is pointless to spend my life filled with hatred, though I will admit that if I ever get a chance to set things right, I will do so by as brutal means as neccessary... and I mean that, and those who know what I mean by brutal should quake in their boots at this thought.

I do not want to give away too much top secret intelligence in this blog, I want to write a book, but there are some entries that I do not care to put on facebook, where I primarily write about the events that took place in my life, as much as possible.   Here I wish to write fiction, but to be honest without a strong outline, which I give a lot of thought to but am not quite there yet, I am hesitant to start the prose...  THIS IS COMING.  When it does this blog will change quite a bit, and be the story developing into a book, and when you come in you will just find the next chapter of the book.  For now you are seeing the development of the idea....

I am not sure what all I am trying to say here.   I am sorry I lost a lot of the allies I had when a race war tore this movement apart.  That should never have happened.   I know many of you are involved in this, and you think that the population needs to be controlled by nefarious methods, rather than just being honest with the world, and requiring forced sterilizations after the second child, or whatever method you need to do...  this did not work as planned in China, but with the proper law enforcement, and the inability to choose the sex of the child, we could make this work.   It would require a lot of convincing, the backing of a sane, scientific religion, and other things that I hesitate to even contemplate... there will be blood.   I would rather people have a choice, to use their own free will, but the way of the elite is to depopulate certain sectors, whom they just call the feeders, without allowing for the idea that all sorts of people deserve a chance to live....

I do not know how horrible this war got... what little emotional stability I had left and destroy it for awhile, but I am back now.   I am the person I was before I was tampered with, though I have learned much, and my spiritual viewpoint on the world, creation, myself, and humanity is much more informed.

If the gays and the CIA are indeed going to war, I can only pray the FBI understands that everyone was duped to some degree, and this was never a criminal affair to most of us, it was about survival and making a better world.   The leadership that was stolen from me by keeping me ignorant threw me off mission, forced me to improvise each new fact into what my goals are... which are fairly simple.  

If the CIA is going to try to take on the underground gay movement, my prayers are that the blacks will be able to forgive what has happened during this race war, and the whites as well.  We must have a unified force if we are going to take this world back from the tiny elite that wants to genocide most of the planet.  We can only do so by uniting.  Civil disobedience, etc... none of that has ever worked.  We must fight fire with fire... and we must start our own fires, and leave them the momentous task of putting them out.   I cannot legally tell you what to do in a public forum, but if I were you, I would work first on unity among those who the CIA has targeted, because that group is large enough to stop them from nefarious actions.   I need the FBI to be the sword.  I pray that they are Godly enough to do so.   I know many of you are Mormons, and I have not forgotten that God told me to pick the Mormon bible as the first one to read thru.   I believe there are many valid ways to find God, and I believe that the more you allow judgement to be God's alone, the better off you will be.

I do not give orders, please never let them convince you that I will... I am not knowledgable enough about tactics or the shadow war to have more than a moral compass.   I would like to be taken from Chicago to somewhere that I can assist this country.   I do not believe that is Washington.   I also do not want to believe that the entire governnment is my enemy, or even everyone in the CIA.  The people who ordered the slaughter, the theft, the cutting off of limbs, should be more than fired.  They should be stripped of their standing.   I believe all of this happened for a purpose. 

I also believe that you have yet to understand the wrath of my father will befall on all who harm me, whether I forgive you or not.   If you have not seen this play out already you are blind.

I wrote out of desperation that I wanted money to just go off and live my life... and the next day saw a message back to me, saying THE FALLEN ANGELS ARE ASKING FOR MONEY.   You think I was involved in theft.   I was not.   You think I wanted various people killed who I did not even know exited.   I did not.   You think the idea of someone like me saying give me money to go live a life away from this madness is the height of hubris after all the trouble I have caused you, I get it... the problem is that you have still never even given me a chance.

Anyone who is watched by people they think are their enemy for five years, or however long you did, and they will fight back if they are brave, and accuse me of many things, but I am brave.   I thought I was watching you act in ways that had little or nothing to do with me, because they were so far from my way of thinking, living, etc...   when I realize now I could have done so much.   I keep remembering someone once saying WATCH WHAT YOU SAY... and being so pissed that the people watching me without my permission would say that to me....  and here you thought I wanted you to watch me.  This tells me just how sick this world is, just how much you have people wanting fame so you can make them sell out once they have it, and play either republican or democrat, like good little lapdogs, when the truth of the matter is neighter of them are true philosophies, they are merely vehicles for the wealthy to get their way....