Thursday, February 26, 2015
Wisdom manifests out
of direct experience.
Where else can it come from?
It can't come out of books.
Stop chasing happiness &
let it chase you for a while.
The best you
can hope for
is a good
Built on the
foundation of love
it will take you
All desire springs
from the desire to live.
The desire to live
is the messenger of death.
There's no one there
to get bored in the void.
Boredom in a sign
Art is good
for the heart.
I am a very wealthy man.
I have what money can't buy.
If you didn't look
in a mirror for 20 years
how would you recognize
yourself when you did look?
to fix it.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
One is their own God & Guru.
There is nothing else.
arising from within.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
A master violinist played a first-class concert. After the concert, whilst in his dressing room, an important newspaper critic visited him.
"I would like to congratulate you on your concert." Said the critic. "That violin that you played is the best sounding violin that I have heard for many a long year."
The master violinist walked over to where the violin case was sitting. He popped the locks, opened the lid, put his ear to the violin and listened.
He turned around and said to the critic, "Funny that, I cannot hear a thing!"
Monday, February 23, 2015
KIA ORA : THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES ©
We drove in silence that sunny morning. I was thinking about what the Cocky and his sons would be like. Jim was probably wondering who he was going to decide to work for. An hour or so later, we turned off the Lake Cargelligo road and drover over the cattle ramp into a property called Kia Ora.
As we went over the ramp I noticed the name on the 4 gallon tin mail box which read
DICK & RUBY SKIPWORTH
We drove down the hard, dirt road which ran alongside the fence, then veered off towards a large well-built colonial house with a massive machinery shed along side of it. In the far corner of the house paddock was a big, new shearing shed and yards. Further over, in the corner was a large dam with a tall windmill. The blades of the mill were squeaking as the little bit of air gently blew them around.
Jim pulled up the old Holden Ute right in front of the big machinery shed.
“Old Dick should be around here somewhere. I arranged to meet him here.”
We both got out of the Ute and sat on the hood at the front. No sooner had we made ourselves comfortable, an iron gate clanked and a Cocky in a fine-quality squatters hat, walked over towards us. He was about 55 and had the usual weather-beaten lines in his face. Sticking out of his mouth was a cigarette holder with a Log-Cabin, hand-rolled in the end. He wore a pair of green King Gee overalls and a pair of McWilliams elastic-sided riding boots on his feet.
“G’day Dick.”, said Jim, as he approached with a couple of red Kelpies at his heels. The dogs gave a couple of barks.
“Sit down, ya stupid bastards!”, he said to the dogs. “G’day Smithy.”, he said to Jim. “How’re ya goin’ mate?”
“Not too bad Dick.”
“Bit hot for fencing Smithy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah Dick, ya not wrong there mate.”
“This is Yorky, Dick. He’s the lad I was telling ya about. You’ll like him Dick, he’s a real good worker.”
“G’day Yorky.”, said Dick Skipworth.
“G’day Mr. Skipworth.”, I said.
“The names Dick! We don’t stand on ceremony around here mate ‘cause we all work as hard as each other so there’s no need for it.”
“Who ya driving for this year Smithy?”
“Haven’t made mi mind up yet Dick. Whoever’s got the best gear and pays the most, I suppose.”
“That’s our place.”, said Dick. “I’m getting too old to drive the headers so they’ve got me driving the semi’s this year.”
“Oh well Dick, do ya good to ease up a bit mate. You’ve earned it after all these years.”
“Ease up mi arse. If I stop working I’d probably die in a few weeks so best not to stop, eh Smithy?”
“Ya might be right at that, Dick.”
I took mi two cases out of the back of Jims Ute. I grabbed the trumpet and rifle from off the front seat.
“Not a bad-looking pea-rifle ya got there Yorky.”, said Dick.
“Yeah, she’s not bad.”
“There’s plenty of Roos to shoot up the top end of my place, Yorky. Mi oldest boy Colin is always chasin’ them off of the crop. They’re a fucking nuisance, the bastards!”
The fact that Dick smoked and swore told me he was probably a good bloke.
“Alright Dick, I’d best be getting back. Don’t worry Yorky, you’re in good hands here. Old Dick will look after ya mate.”
“Less of the fucking ‘old’, Smithy!”, said Dick, with a big grin across his face.
“See ya in town sometime Yorky.”, said Jim, as we shook hands.
He got in his Ute and turned her slowly around and the last thing I noticed was a puff of thick blue smoke that came out of the window from the Monopole Midget cigar.
“Git out’a there ya mongrel fucking bastard!”, roared Dick.
I thought he was talking to me so I snapped to attention.
“Not you, Yorky. I was yelling at that fucking dirty dog of mine.”
“Why? What’s he done?”
Dick pointed to something behind me and when I turned around, his old dog Tim had pissed on one of mi good suitcases.
“Better pick those cases up Yorky before he claims the rest of ‘em. Give us the small case and the rifle. I’ll carry it across to the house for ya mate.”
Dick Skippie took off back towards the gate where he’d just come from. We went through the tall, tubular steel gate and into a backyard, which was all fenced in so the chooks couldn’t get out. The back of the Colonial-style house had a large veranda round it. We walked up a couple of steps, through the veranda and into the large kitchen area.
Dicks’ wife Ruby was busying herself in the kitchen when we walked in. She was a small, gray-haired lady around the same age as Dick. Her face was also somewhat weathered by Bush life but thankfully, for her, not as bad as Dicks’ was. Although she was slight of build, she had a good strong voice when she said ‘Gooday’ to me.
“Ya can stay in Colins’ room Yorky.”, said Dick. “There’s a spare bed in there and it’s a big room. You’ll be mainly helping the boys up in the wheat paddocks. That way you’ll both be able to get each other up if one sleeps in.”
Dick was right. Colins’ room was plenty big enough for the two of us. I slid my suitcases under the bed, along with the trumpet box and stood mi rifle in the corner after I’d double-checked that it was unloaded.
When I came out of the bedroom, Dicks’ wife had made me a good cuppa’ tea and a plate of homemade scones were sitting on the table in front of me.
“Help ya’ self to the scones, Yorky.” She said as I sat down. “There’s fresh butter there and a couple of jars of homemade jam.”
“Thanks.”, I said, as I reached for one of the scones which looked real inviting.
After a quick smoko, Dick and I went back out to the machinery shed.
“We gotta get all these headers checked over and repaired before the season starts, ‘cause once we start we won’t have time to stop for repairs. We’ll be flat out mate, like a lizard in the Sun.”
Dick showed me a few things that he wanted doing so I busied myself cleaning and greasing a PTO header. As I was working I noticed a fawn-colored Ute screaming down from the ramp, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it.
“Here comes our Kevin”, said Dick. “He always seems to be in a fuckin’ hurry the way he drives!”
The Holden, with a couple of red Kelpies in the back, broadsided to a halt right in front of the shed. The door opened and a young bloke of 23 got out of the drivers side. He was a younger version of Dick but with a much strong build. He wore green King Gee work pants, boots and a bush shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. His brown, hairy arms were quite thick and he wore a sweat-stained squatters hat, a slightly different style than Dicks’.
“G’day.”, he said as he walked over to us.
“G’day Kevin”, said Dick. “This is Yorky. He was workin’ for Smithy but it’s too hot for fencing now so he’s gonna help us out for the wheat season.”
“G’day Yorky.”, said Kevin, with a big, cheeky smile. “How ya goin’ mate?”
“G’day Kevin, good to meet ya.”, I said.
Kevin had a good, firm handshake and something told me we were going to be good friends for a while.
“Give Yorky a hand to git that tire off, will ya Kevin. We got to fix that puncture before we can move that header.”
“No worries.”, said Kevin as he grabbed a large wheel wrench. “Ya from Yorkshire are ya Yorky?”
“Yeah. I’ve been out here since May this year.”
“Is that old Smithy Bastard still chasing those fuckin’ parrots mate?”, he asked.
“Yeah. We got a lot a’ young ones this year. He’s building a big new Avery at the back of his house.
“Has he pumped another kid outta’ that young missus of his yet?”
“Well, he’s got 4 that I know of.”
“That horny old Bastard has got a few more kids scattered around the Bush in various places.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”, I said.
“Well, I suppose that’s his business but he’s a damn good fencer. He put a few miles of fence up around our top paddocks last year. Did a good job too. He knows his stuff when it comes to fencing, does old Smithy! Where did ya work before that Yorky?”
“Burt Booths’ place.”
“Jesus-fuckin’-Christ mate. How did ya git on with that mean ole Bastard?”
This gave us both a bit of a laugh.
“Not too good. He once chased me through the Mali with an axe. He was gonna split me in two.”
“Christ mate, you’re lucky to be alive! Old Burt’s gone through more Pommies than shit-house paper. I know at least 4 good blokes that pulled the pin on him.”
“Yeh, he made it pretty hard for me.”
“How long were you there?”
“Five and a half months.”
“Oh that’s not too bad. There was a good Pommy called Stan Grantham, he was there at least a couple of years. Did ya slip old Kay a length or two to make up for it Yorky?” He said with a huge grin.
“Don’t be silly mate!”, I said with a laugh. “She’s an old woman and besides she had too many gray hairs on her chin for my liking, Kevin.”
“That’s no problem mate, ya could have tore ’em out with ya teeth and banged her regardless!”
“Didn’t fancy old Kay Booth, Yorky?”, said Dick in a quiet, joking way.
“Not really Dick.”
“I don’t think old Burt does either.”, he said.
“He’s too tight to fuck her.”, said Kevin. She thought she was marrying a big-hearted generous cocky when she first started writing to old Burt but after a few years of livin’ with him, she got dried up, just like him."
“She wasn’t a bad-lookin’ woman for a Pommy when she first came out here.”, said Dick.
“Anyway, hurry up and git that tire off. I’ve gotta go into the Lake to order some spare parts so we’ve got a few on hand for the wheat season. Ya might take a quick run around those sheep across the road Kevin. I noticed a couple of flyblown bastards in ’em when I drove aqround last time.”
“Me and Yorky will have a look as soon as we’ve got this puncture fixed.”
“That’ll do, the bastard!”, said Kevin, as he tightened the nuts on the wheel. “Unless you can tighten ’em a bit more Yorky.”
I put the large cross wrench on the nuts and gave a good heave on the handle. The nuts turned about a quarter of a turn each.
“Grand Streuth Yorky! You’re a strong little bastard for a Pommy.”, he said in his joking way.
“I’m gitting there Kevin.”, I said with a smile.
“It must have been all those Grass Parrots old Burt fed ya mate.”
“How d’ya know about that?”
“Peter Smith is a mate of mine. He just lives down the road aways. He was telling me about ya a few months ago. C’mon Yorky, that’ll do mate. Let’s go and have a look at those sheep that the old man was talking about.”
As we drove over the ramp, a gray Holden Ute turned into the driveway.
“Where ya going?”, said a tall, rough-looking, whiskery man of about 30. He wore a Squatters hat that was on its last legs. The crown had a large hole in it at the front and the sides were stained with sweat and oil marks.
“Going over the road to check on a few flyblown sheep.”, said Kevin.
“Hang on till I park mi Ute and I’ll come with you.”
“Hurry up then!”, said Kevin. “I ain’t got all fucking day Sport!”
The man drove past us and parked his Ute alongside the fence.
“Who’s that?”, I said to Kevin.
“It’s mi older brother mate, his names Colin.”
“He’s a rough-lookin’ character.”
“Yeh, he’s an ugly looking bastard too. He’s not as handsome as I am nor as modest for that matter but he doesn’t scub up too bad when he goes to town.”
“How old is he?”
“Oh, he’s about 33.”
Just then, my side door of the Ute opened.
“Slide over, ya bastard!”, said a loud ocker accent.
I slid over into the middle of the bench seat.
“G’day Sport!, My names Colin. How ya goin’?”
“Good.”, I said. “My name’s Yorky.”
“I know.”, he said.
“How d’ya know.”
“Everybody knows your name mate. All the Sheilas in town are talkin’ about ya.”
“Are they really?”
“No mate, I’m only jokin’ with ya. I just past the old man on his way to town and he told me ya name.”
He slammed the door of the Ute and we took off down the West Wyalong dirt road where the paddock gate was. As we were driving, the Kelpies in the back started to fight. Colin stuck his head out of the window and yelled, “Sit down ya mongrel fuckin’ bastards. There’s plenty of work for all of ya!”
The dogs went quiet as they watched the sheep.
“Get the gate Digger.”, said Kevin to his brother.
“Why don’t I get the gate Kevin?”, said his brother in response.
As Colin got out of the Ute to get the gate, I said to Kevin, “Why d’ya call him Digger?”
“Well mate, just look at the bastard, that’ll tell ya. Doesn’t he look like he’s just crawled out of the trenches of France?”
When I thought about it and watched him open the gate, I saw that Kevin was right ‘cause Digger was wearing a pair of old stained karkie army shorts and an old blue singlet with a few holes in it.
We drove through the gateway and Digger closed it behind us.
“I’ll ride in the back with the dogs.", said Digger. “It’ll be easier to spot the flyblown ones that way.”
“I’ll drive around the outsides of the Paddocks first!”, yelled Kevin. “Keep the dogs in the back till we spot one!”
Slowly we drove around the Paddock and the sheep started to run towards the center.
Digger called out, “There’s one Kevin, over in that small mob.”
“Send Joe out!”, yelled Kevin. “He knows what to do!”
Joe was a large, young red Kelpie with a white blaze down the front of his chest. He also had a white mark which ran up between his eyes to the top of his head and a small splash of white on the end of his tail/
Joe jumped out the back of the Ute and ran across the Paddock towards where the flyblown sheep were. He split the tail-end of the small mob off from the main, larger mob.
“Fetch ’em here”, yelled Kevin, who was now out of the Ute calling out orders to Joe who seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
“Come on Yorky!”, He said. “We’ll git behind ’em with Joe and drive ’em into that corner!”
“How are we gonna get the flyblown ones out Kevin?”
“There’s only a couple of ‘em in that mob Yorky, so as soon as we git ’em tight up in the corner we’ll run in and grab ’em.”
“I’ll go around this side and grab ‘em so they can’t make a break for it!”, said Digger. “Ya see that one over there Yorky with the flies all around his arse? When I tell ya, you grab him and I’ll grab this one over here!”
“Are ya ready Digger?”, yelled Kevin.
“Ready!”, yelled Digger.
“Alright, GO!”, yelled Kevin.
We ran towards the mob of sheep that were pushed up tight in the corner of the fence. My sheep tried to make a break for it so I dived on it as it tried to run past me. Kevin had forced his sheep up into the corner and was holding it with his knees and Digger had a hold of the back leg of another.
“Tip him over on his back Yorky and drag him over here!”, said Kevin .
As soon as I was close to Kevin with the sheep, he said, “I’ll hold ‘em both York. You run over to the Ute and get the hand shears and that large can of sheep dip. There’s an old rag tied to the end of it, grab that while you’re there mate!”
The shears, stick and sheep dip were right where Kevin said they’d be so I pulled ‘em out of the Ute and carried ’em over to the fence corner.
“Good on ya Yorky.”, said Digger who now had his sheep on its’ side, holding it down with his knee. “Give me the shears Yorky.”, he said, as he rolled the sheep on its back, against his legs.
Digger started to cut the wool away from the big Whethers tail. It was a dirty, black rotten color and it started to stink more as he snipped away.
Before long, it was easy to see how the blowflies can kill a sheep if it’s not caught in time. As Digger cut more wool away, it revealed a large patch of red, inflamed skin with tiny holes down into it. A few maggots were wriggling around on the surface of the skin and once Digger had snipped away all the dead-looking stinkin’ wool back as far as the good wool. He said, “Give me that can of dip Yorky.”
I unscrewed the cap off of the drum and Digger said, “Pour some of the dip over the bare spot and I’ll dab it on with the rag.”
No sooner had I started to pout the white-looking liquid on the sheeps’ arse, lots of small white maggots wriggled out of the holes in the sheeps’ flesh.
“That’ll fix the bastards!”, said Digger. “They don’t like that sheep dip. Pour some more over here Yorky, there’s a few more maggot holes just there.”
The sheep dip worked really well. As soon as it hit the sheeps’ skin, the maggots started to wriggle out.
“That’ll do.”, said Digger. “Stand back Mate while I let it up!”
Digger let the old Wheather go. It gave a few twists of its body as it tried to regain its feet. Once it got a grip with its toes it was up on its feet and away across the Paddock to join the rest of the mob. The same procedure was followed with the remaining two sheep and as soon as they were soaked with the sheep dip, they were released to join back up with the mob.
“I can’t see anymore Digger, can you?”, yelled Kevin as we drove on around the Paddock.
“No Sport!”, yelled Digger. “I think we’ve gotten ’em all now!”
“Let’s go home then and have a bite to eat. It’s about lunch time. Mum will wonder where we’ve got to, if not.”, said Kevin.
After a meal of mashed potatoes, cold mutton and tomatoes, we rested for half an hour and then went back to work in the machinery shed for the rest of the day.
All that week, Digger, Kevin and myself worked around the machinery shed to get the tractors and headers, trucks and augers up to scratch for the wheat season which was due to start any day now.
One morning, Dick Skipworth said to his sons, “I was lookin’ at that Paddock of wheat over at your place yesterday Digger. I think it might go today.”
“Yah reckon?”, said Digger. “I thought it was still a bit green.”
“She’s pretty close to going.”, said Kevin. “So why don’t we take the machinery over there and do a couple of rounds? We’ll be able to tell as soon as it’s in the bin.”
“Good idea”, said Dick. “You two drive the headers across and Yorky and me will go ahead in my Ute so we can git the gates for ya. Stick that 10 gallon drum of grease in the back of my Ute Yorky before we forget it.”
Once we got up to the Paddock, Kevin pulled into line first and set off to make one round of wheat stripping to see how dry the wheat was. When he got back to the start where we were all waiting for him, Dick pronounced the golden-colored wheat to be dry enough and the season began.
Standing at the gate, looking out over a 2,000 acre wheat Paddock was quite a sight. Let me tell you. The wheat was about 4’6" tall on average and it appeared to be an ocean as the gentle breeze blew it from side to side. The breeze made the wheat look like small, rolling waves as I stared off into the distance. My view was only periodically broken by the few, large shade trees that had been left standing for the sheep, once the Paddock was stripped.
Around Lake Cargelligo, all the Cockies used to sow clover seed with their wheat so the sheep would have something to graze on after the stalk had been burned off.
“Let’s go Yorky.”, said Dick.
“We’re off back home to pick up the Semi and the flatbed. Then we’ll bring ’em back up the Paddock so the boys have something to auger out into.”
When we got back to the Homestead, Dick started up the Semi-trailer which had 2 large wheat bins on the back. As soon as it was going he said to me, “Can you drive Yorky?”
“I’ve only driven Jims’ old Bedford.”
“Christ Mate! If ya can drive that old piece of shit ya can drive anything! Hop in my new Ute and go ahead so ya can open the gates mate.”
“What’s the gears Dick?”, I said as I got in his Ute.
“Towards ya and down for 1st. Up to neutral and straight up for 2nd and straight down through neutral for 3rd. Reverse is towards ya and up.”
“Does the clutch need doubling Dick?”
“No Mate. This is a fuckin’ new Ute, not a fuckin’ old 40s’ relic like Smithy drives. We’re fuckin’ rich Yorky!”, he said with a wink.
I closed the door of the new Ute, turned the key and it came to life. The motor was so quiet compared to Jims’ vehicles that I had to listen hard to make sure it had started.
“Git a fuckin’ move on will ya Yorky?”, yelled Dick, out of the window of the Semi. “It’ll be fuckin’ dark before we get there at this rate!”
‘Towards me and down for 1st.’, I repeated to myself as I watched the hands pull the stick into gear. ‘Clutch out slowly and give her some revs.’
To my astonishment and great delight, the new Holden Ute cruised off as smooth as butter. ‘Click’, ‘Click’, up into 2nd a few more revs and a ‘Click’, ‘Click’, down into 3rd. A big shit-eatin’ grin stole across my mouth as the new Ute glided over the dirt track road.
The grin on my face turned to a big smile as soon as the Speedo hit 35 miles per hour!
Dick was right up my arse end with the big, red Semi; pushing and pulling it through numerous gears without the slightest sound of a grind. Just then, when I looked into he rear vision mirror, he was madly waving his hand for me to go faster. I took a deep breath to try and stop my happy heart pounding with excitement and pushed the accelerator
down a bit more
When I looked at the Speedo I was now doing 45 MPH. I checked the rear vision mirror again in case I was going too fast. Dick was still right up the arse end of the Ute, waving his hand madly and mouthing the words, “Git a fuckin’ move on Yorky!”
So I smiled even wider now as I pushed the peddle down another half-inch. I was now doing almost 60 and when I checked the rear vision mirror, old Dick had a smile on his face.
I was so ecstatic at being behind the wheel of a new Ute at 60 MPH that I forgot about the turn and drove straight past it! When I looked in the mirror, I saw the red Semi just disappearing up the turn off behind the row of pine trees.
“Oh shit! Scungy, fucking Bastard.”, I was so happy for a few seconds that I’d missed the turn off! What will old Dick say now? He’s probably opening the gate right this minute!
“Where the fuck have you been Yorky? I thought you’d decided to go to Sydney in my new Ute!”
“No Dick.”, I said. “I missed the turn.”
“Is your foot sore Yorky?”, he said to me.
“No Dick. Why?”
“Then tread on the fuckin’ accelerator a bit harder! Ya not gonna hurt the fuckin’ thing! We wanna’ got there today, not to-fuckin’-morrow!”, he said, grinning slightly around the cigarette holder.
At last we arrived back in the wheat Paddock. The timing was perfect. Kevin, who had m ade a full round of the Paddock was just coming down the last side. Pulling alongside the Semi with the 2 large wheat bins on the back, he brought the Auto-header to a stop and pulled the lever to activate the Auger. The cogs snapped into place which started the worm drive and a stream of golden Insignia wheat grain gushed into the bin making a sound like hail on a corrugated tin roof. As the golden wheat was transferred into the bin, the excess dust flew in the direction of the slight breeze.
Once Kevins’ header was empty, he pulled out into the wheat again and Digger, who was not far behind him, pulled the tractor-drawn header alongside the bin and the procedure was repeated.
Dick and I brought the other flat-top truck with one large bin onboard up the Paddock and positioned it a hundred yards away from the Header.
“Climb aboard, Yorky!”, said Kevin, after he emptied his load. “Ya can ride around on the header and keep me company Mate, until it’s time to grease her up.”
For a while we chatted about our backgrounds and lives. He told me he had been married for about a year now and that he lived in the Lake at a one-story house that his Mother-in-Law owned. Kevin was an easy-going young man who had been brought up on a wheat property all his life. He learned to drive as soon as he could see through the windscreen, which he said was around 8 years. He was a very adaptable character who seemed to be able to take things as they came. Once he said me, “What d’ya smoke those stinkin’ fags for Yorky?”
“Body habit Mate. I’ve been smoking since I was 8, just around the age you learned to drive.”
“Now I understand Mate. I learned to drive and you learned to smoke.”
It's not the things you've done that have brought you to this place, it's what you haven't done. Apply that to Society as a whole & you will see the necessity of destruction.
What do you
want to prove
Life is an experiment,
but before you start
ask yourself, what result
you are looking for?
Otherwise you won't know
whether you failed or succeeded.
The Secret is
knowing the power
in yes & no
Once you know
what you are
fear will have
Belief systems are being
Depending on how
you are in them
determines whether or
not you will survive.
Once you buy the bullshit
you will be stuck with it.
To get free of it
you will have to
find another sucker
willing to buy it.
at the bullshit
people tell me.
People who sell their soul to the devil, so to speak, are always on the lookout for another seller. Now, a man says that he, 'sold his soul to the devil'. "Oh', says I, "Are you telling me souls have become a commodity?"
God created man in His own image. That is why man has the power of imagination. God looked at the world and saw that it was good. That is why man has the power of sight. You can figure the rest out yourself. I'm not doing all the work for you.
I ended up like this
through hard work.
Whatever you earn
through hard work
In the world of equality there are no VIP lounges.
In my world there is no such thing as a person
so in my world VIP lounges don't work.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
It's what you truly & what you stand for. Everything else is meaningless. It has no substance in it. Read my forehead. It's what I stand for. What will you stand for?
Only a dead man
can truly live.
It's the job
of the Shakti
to take care of you,
if you'll let it.
God is because you are
& you are because God is.
The Earth has become a godless planet.
Don't expect God or
anyone else to come back,
that's your job.
What great men do
small men follow.
You'll never hear
a starving man say,
"I don't like it."
The Guru is your benefactor.
Can you take what he has to give?
For a time-bound being
life is moment to moment.
To a timeless being it just is.
the eyes of
The people are morally bankrupt.
The economy is bankrupt.
What does that tell you?
Manifesting unconditioned love
is the only way to survive.
Peter Smith came back out to old Burts' place to see me. He pulled up in Burts' yard one evening and jumped out of his blue Ute.
"G'day Yorky.", he said, as he walked around the back of the Ute.
"G'day Peter. How're you going?"
"Good mate. I brought ya something."
He leaned over the side of the Ute and pulled out a large wheat bag that was tied with a lump of bailing twine.
"What's in the bag Peter?"
"Open her up and have a 'butchers' mate, but be clever."
He handed me the large sack and immediately whatever was inside started to move around.
"What's inside Peter?"
"Open the bastard up mate, if ya wanna know."
I undid the bow which kept the bag shut tight and when I peered down inside it, I saw a young joey kangaroo.
"It's a joey Pete!"
"Yeh mate. I thought ya might like it. It'll be a bit of company for ya. Ya just have to feed it a bottle of boiled milk morning and night but don't be surprised if it dies on ya 'cause they're a bit hard to raise most times."
"Where am I gonna put it?"
"Come on inside ya hut. I'll show ya how to do it mate."
When we got inside the tin hut, Peter opened the bag and stuck his hand inside and then pulled the young joey out of the bag by its' tail. It was quite scared of being out in the light so it started to kick and make a clicking sound.
"Stick him up ya jumper mate. He'll quieten down then."
The young joey crawled up under mi jumper, back into the dark and was quiet as a mouse again, once he made himself comfortable under mi armpit.
"Ya leave the top of the bag tied like this mate, then ya hang it on a nail. This one over here will do. Next, ya cut a slit along the bag, like so. Then it resembles its mothers' pouch. That's it. That'll do mate."
"How do I feed it Peter?"
"Ya git old Kay to boil up a small amount of milk and then ya put it in a bottle and ya put a small amount of burnt cinder powder in it. That'll stop him from getting the scowers. Ya put the rubber teet on the end and the first couple of times you'll have to hold him and force it in his mouth but as soon as he knows the bottle's full of warm milk he'll hold the bottle himself with his hands and feed himself. We'll go over and see old Kay. She used to have a pet too but it got too big and cranky so she let him go. She'll be glad to give ya a hand looking after it. It'll remind her of the time she got her first pet roo, mate.", he said, with a knowing, cheeky wink.
Peter was no mug. When Kay Booth saw the joey she was more than happy to help so old Burt couldn't say a word about it. Kay proceeded to tell us all about her pet roo which took about half an hour and when Peter and I got back to mi shed he said,
"I told ya sport. She's on our side now. Better to have old Kay as a friend. It'll make ya life a bit easier out here. How's things going anyway, Yorky?"
I told Peter about old Burt doing his nut and chasing me with the axe.
"Gawd Streuth mate! We've gotta git ya out of this place while ya still in one piece! I've got a place in mind for ya to go but the bloke is still waiting for a contract to come through and as soon as it does, ya outa' here. I'd take ya back to my place tonight but there's no room and there's no work so I can't do that. Ya think ya can hang on at this place for a while longer?"
"Yeh, I'll be alright. He's been a bit better since he chased me with the axe but I don't like old Burt. He's as miserable as chickenshit."
"Ya not wrong there mate and you're not the only one who thinks that. Anyway mate, I'll be back to see ya again soon so look after ya self Yorky and don't let the bastard git ya down, alright?"
"Alright mate. Thanks for the joey and thanks for looking out for me."
"No worries mate. I'd do the same for a white feller."
"Oh that's a good joke Peter. I'll save that one for old Burt one day."
After Peter left, Mrs. Booth came over with a bottle of milk with a lambs teet on the end of it.
"Do you want to see if he's hungry Richard?"
"Yeh, let's try him. They shot his mother along with the rest of the mob so he's probably a bit hungry now and he won't feel so frightened once he gets some warm milk into him."
The young joey kicked and scratched as he tried to get away from me when I took him out of his new pouch.
"Hold him firm while I get the teet in his mouth.", said Kay.
Once the joey tasted the warm cows milk, he started to settle down until he had finished three-quarters of the bottle. Then he pissed on mi trousers and started to struggle again so I put him back in the old wheat-bag pouch. As soon as he saw the tear across the front of the bag he hopped in headfirst and rolled over on his back then curled himself into a tight ball and went to sleep.
After a week or so, joey could get out of the bag himself. He could sit right up on his back legs and tail. Already he had learned to hold the bottle himself. He looked so sweet as he sat on the floor of mi hut feeding himself and looking around.
Sometimes at night I'd put him in mi bed but one night he pissed all over the sheets so sleeping in the bed with me was now out of bounds to him. Another week and he could hop up on the bed himself but he could not distinguish between the bed and the old dressing table so many a time he would hop up on the table and knock the photos and mi other knick-knacks all over the place. One night when he saw his reflection in the mirror he tried to kick it to death and almost cracked the mirror.
Joey was a lot of fun. Peter was right, it made staying at old Burts' place a bit more tolerable but life being what it is, it soon took joey away from me.
One cold morning at about 4 O'clock, I woke up with a start for some unknown reason. I switched on the one light bulb. Nothing seemed out of place but something did not feel right. Joey was sat in his pouch with his head out of the slit in the bag. His big black eyes were staring across at me.
"Put ya head back in mate, it's a cold morning.", I said but he never moved. "Git back in the pouch where it's warm, joey, or you'll git cold."
I got out of bed and walked across the cold oil-cloth to where joeys' bag was hanging. When I touched his furry head he was as stiff as a board and at once I knew he was dead.
"Oh fuck! Why did you have to go and die just when we were having a good time together?"
When I tried to get joey out of the bag pouch, I saw the reason for his death. A loose strand of bag had gotten twisted around his neck as he got back in his pouch, head first and as soon as he tried to turn around, the piece of frayed string had tightened around his throat and choked him. I had a good cry to myself as I cut the string from around his neck and pulled his stiff little body out of the bag.
Before breakfast, I showed old Kay what had happened and she was also quite upset about it. When Burt found out he said,
"They're pretty hard to raise. If they don't get the scowers they git a cold and if it's not any of those two things, it's something else."
"What do I do with him now Burt? Shall I bury him somewhere?"
"Na mate, just chuck his body to the pigs. It's no good to him now so the pigs may as well eat it. Everything has some use in the bush, mate. We''ll all end up as tucker for something one of these days."
For once, I could see that old Burt was right. Joey could no longer use a dead roos' body, so I hardened my heart and threw the dead body into the pigs pen and walked away.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Only a man who is prepared to suffer
& accept some pain in his life
has the power to change things.
The downside of an Empire is the people have too easy a life. This makes people weak & lacking in intelligence. As we all know, all Empires eventually fall. That's when life becomes hard. What can I say?
Where have all
Anyone who is in debt
is castrated, neutered.
There were 3 street-people sitting in squalor. I asked the first man, "How did you end up here?" "Alcohol addiction.", he said. When asked, the second man said, "Heroin addiction." The 3rd man replied, "Debt!"
Only an un-programmed
man has free speech.
Find out what you are prepared to die for
& that will reveal your chance of survival.
How much is your life worth?
Because, that's the amount of coverage
you're going to need for health-care.
There are belief systems
& there are facts.
Facts will not let you down.
Belief systems will.
All else is propaganda.
I found something
to do in life
that I really like
You can shop-till-you-drop,
I'll work till I die.
I once took a poison snake to bed with me.
The Power of Love that's within me
stopped the snake from biting me.
Nothing wrong with
repeating the Truth.
I have a vote
because I have a voice
& my vote counts.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
If you truly want
to help people,
leave them alone.
Once you drop out
of the picture
where is the
need of help?
When you are in debt
you are in service.
Who are you in service to?
The only people who get roped into serving someone or something that is not good for them, have no one or nothing to serve. People who are serving what is good for everyone don't need a false master.
When a storm is raging,
the most peaceful
place to be
is on the ocean bed.
Monday, February 9, 2015
In a corrupt environment
a genuine man sounds naive.
It is much better
to be grateful
when you have it
than to learn
To a Society that
has had everything
and expects more;
the unexpected will
cause misery &
ones' inner wealth.
Reading spiritual books, without the direct experience of the Self, is like imagining a glass of imaginary water will quench your thirst.
does not bow down
Go direct to God
If you are serious
you will only need
to do it once.
is for the
There is a block of ideas.
They are all right & they are all wrong.
They are all good & they are all bad.
They are all true & they are all false.
What else do you expect from ideas?
Give truth a chance
& it will speak for itself.
Everything you see in life
should remind you of God.
Everything in you do in life;
do it for God.
the same place.
If you want to enliven consciousness
then live...truly live!
When you have nothing else left to lose
you will do whatever is necessary.
If you want peace,
start with yourself.
If you don't want war,
then manifest peace.
Were people to be able
to stay out of drama
they would appreciate life more.
It's easier to change oneself
than to try to change the world.
When a famine arrives
you will know that
God has left the building!
I've always known
that my every actions
have been observed.
Every action has a witness.
In witness consciousness
you don't need a private world.
When the unknown manifests
there will be lots to deal with.
Let me give you some great advice;
when you are in it,
don't let anything
pull you out of it.
Eating is a social activity.
Famine is a global catastrophe.
Needs are legitimate.
Wants are neurotic.
If it doesn't have any humor in it, what use is it?
by the planets.
The Hierarchy; The Guru, The King, The Queen, The President, The People. Ask yourself, who has the most strength & power?
Power on its own
It takes strength
to hang on to it.
The alternate is
to let go
& let flow.
How do you access the content of your consciousness. Do you access it through the TV, the computer, the movies? Have you ever thought of accessing it directly?
(rather than using a go-between.) You give the television power over you when you turn it on.
What will you do when the Earth declares war on you, rich and poor, powerful & weak alike?
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Xmas was on its way again so mi mum asked me and mi sisters what we would like for the occasion.
"I want a Brindle Greyhound for Xmas so I can go rabbiting on the moors." I said.
"You're getting no bloody Brindle Greyhound out of me!" sez Iris.
"Then why bother to ask me what I want?"
This type of conversation went backwards and forwards all the way up till a couple of weeks before Xmas.
One evening, Iris said to me, "You can have a Springer Spaniel if you want a dog but I'm not buying a bloody Greyhound. They look like they've never been fed for a bloody month of Sundays!"
I was not interested in a Springer Spaniel but that's what they decided to buy me for Xmas so I just had to make the best of it. I picked the puppy up from the station on the 24th of December. Although I did not want a Springer Spaniel, it was a bit hard not to like it when I opened the crate and it ran out and licked my face. It was so happy to be out of the crate as it ran around in small circles not knowing what to do.
Over the months, Raja grew into a fine dog but my heart was never in him because I always wanted a Greyhound. 'Spaniels are not bad dogs.' I thought but they're no use at catching rabbits. During the day when we were at school and Iris and Jim were at work, Raja lived downstairs in the large cellar room. It was a great big room with a concrete slab floor and a sliding window, which let lots of light in for him.
Around this time, I had devised another business scheme where I could make misen a good few bob as the price of cigarettes and sweets was always going up. Ryburn School used to run a school lunch program. Every child who wanted to eat the school dinners could do so for 5/- a week. Some kids used to live quite close to the school so they would usually go home for dinners. Boston Street was about a 15 minute run from Ryburn School. Unbeknownst to mi mother, I decided to keep mi 5/- dinner money and run home of a lunch time and make misen a cup of tea and some toast and jam. Now I had 5 bob a week extra to survive on. After I had been doing this for about a month I had another hair-brained scheme which I presented to a few of the boys who used to smoke behind the back of the Gym.
"This is how it works." I said "You all get 5 bob a week from your mothers for your school dinner, so every Monday morning, instead of paying the 5 bob to the class teacher you can pay me 2/6d and keep 2/6d for yourselves and out of the 2/6d you pay me you can come down to mi mothers place and I'll make you all 4 pieces of toast with margarine and raspberry jam on it. Oh, and one pot of tea between however many of you decide to come."
"That's not a bad idea Dick Lad." Said one boy. "4 pieces of toast and jam will be much tastier than those rotten school dinners and I'll have half-a-crown a week left for fags. I'll start next Monday!"
Before the following Monday morning had rolled around I had signed up 4 boys for my school dinner scheme. When Monday mornings arrived, each boy gave me half-a-crown, which meant I had collected 10 bob plus I own 5 bob dinner money. That meant I now had 15 bob in mi pocket. I was rich, beyond my imagination.
There was about 20 large slices in a loaf of bread. I had already figured out that I could feed all 4 boys for a cost of about 4 bob a week. 15/- minus 4 bob expenses would leave me with 11 bob a week, clear profit!
The first Monday we all met a pre-arranged area in the playground and as soon as all 4 boys were present we took off at a fast run down to mi mums house. Before we got to the top of Boston Street I told the boys that they were to go down to the front door of the house because most of the neighbors lived in the back kitchens during the day and I didn't want nosy neighbors telling mi mum that a bunch of schoolboys were seen entering her premises when she was away at work. I made each boy 4 pieces of toast and jam and a cup of Liptons' tea. After everyone was finished, I cleaned the place up so mi mum would not know, then we made our way slowly back up the hill to school, smoking and laughing and having a good old time!
Each morning, before I went to school, I would buy a large loaf of bread and hide it in mi room along with the jar of jam and the tub of margarine. After a couple of months of this, I got so good at cooking up the toast without burning it that the boys gave me the nickname of 'Toast Man'.
One day a couple of the boys decided they'd had enough toast and jam to last them till the end of their school days so they stopped coming for toast and went back to paying for school dinners. This meant I was now 2 customers short and minus 5 bob a week, which I had already got used to having, therefore, I had to go back around the school Gym wall at first break and drum up some more business.
Johnny Brown decided he would like to give a couple of week's trial and another boy, Ted Eubanks said he'd start coming down as well. Eubanks was a great big fat kid who was well known as one of the schools toughest bullies, so I didn't have a great deal of say in the matter.
The first week Brown and Eubanks paid their half crown each and everything seemed to go quite well until Eubanks started asking for more than the agreed upon amount of toast.
"Give me another couple a' pieces of toast, Swindells! I'm still hungry!"
"No." I said. "4 slices is what you’ve paid for and you've already eaten all 4. There's no more for you until tomorrow!"
"I'm not coming down here next week! I don't like like this bloody deal!" said Eubanks.
"Suit ya' self. You're the only one who has ever complained so far."
The following Monday when I went around the boys to collect their half-crowns, Eubanks said "I'm not coming down this week. I'm spending the whole 5 bob on fags. Anyway, I'm already sick of toast and jam."
"Alright, no problem." I said. "I'll find somebody else to replace you."
The following day, which was Tuesday, Eubanks said to me, "I've spent all mi money on fags so I've got nowt left to buy misen some lunch with. Can I come down to your place for some toast?"
"No, you didn't pay your money yesterday, the same as the other boys did so you can't come this week. You can start coming down again next week as long as you pay the half-crown on Monday morning."
"I'm comin' down with Brownie at lunch time whether you like it or not!"
"You can walk down with Brownie as far as you like but you won't be coming in!"
When lunchtime arrived, Eubanks fell in at Brownies side and refused to leave. He walked all the way down to mi mums' house. When I let the boys in through the front door, Eubanks forced his way into the house and refused to leave. As I was making the toast and tea for everyone in mi mums' kitchen, he started to make a big nuisance of himself and made rude jokes about mi mums' house so I said to him, "Alright Ted, I'll make you a deal. If you go back out the front door, I'll push a piece of toast through the letter box for you."
After a few minutes he agreed to go out of the houses but not before I threatened to call the cops and tell them he forced his way into mi mums' house. Before he left the kitchen, because I had the upper hand over him, he pulled out his dick and stuck it in mi mums' teapot and started to laugh. He also encouraged the other boys to laugh. This made me really angry. I said to one of the other boys, "Alright, go and call the cops and if not I'll go and call them and put you all in with Eubanks!"
"Alright Swindells, I'm going." Eubanks said "But I still want mi piece of toast shoved through the letter box."
"Not before you're out of here!" I said.
Once this big fat bully was outside, I locked the door behind him.
'BANG, BANG, BANG!' He knocked very loudly on the front door.
"What do you want?" I said.
"Shove mi piece of toast through!"
"Fuck you Eubanks. I changed mi mind now!"
"I'll go around to the back door and make a commotion so the neighbors know what's going on!"
"Fuck you!" I said as I walked away from the front door.
3 minutes later he was thumping on the back door. I shouted though the letterbox to him, "Go away, you're making a nuisance out of yourself!"
"If you give me one piece of toast I'll go away quietly and not bother you again."
"Alright." I said. "One piece and that's it!"
As soon as a piece of toast and jam was ready, I said to him, through the letter box, "I've got one piece here for you and I'll shove it through the letter box if you promise to go away and leave us alone!"
"Alright, shove it through!"
I opened the letterbox door and pushed the piece of toast and jam through. Fat pudgy fingers grabbed it and it disappeared out of sight.
I thought that was going to be the end of it but after a couple of minutes he started to shout and bang on the door again!
"What d'ya want now?" I said.
"Give me some more toast Swindells. I'm hungry!"
"Go away. You've already had one piece and your reneging in the deal!"
"I'm not going until you give me another slice!"
As I was watching the toast cook, I noticed a slice that had a large air-bubble in it but the whole didn't go all the way through to the other side. I had a brainwave!!
"I'll get rid of him." I said to the boys.
"What ya gonna' do Dick?" said Brownie.
"Just watch me and you'll see."
Opening mi mothers' cutlery drawer, I took out an old butter knife and opened the cellar door.
"Don't feed that piece of toast to the dog, Dick. I'll eat it."
"You wont' eat it when I'm finished with it!" I said.
"Where ya going with the toast and knife, Dick?"
"Come on and I'll show you."
When we all got down the cellar steps Raja was happy see us all and I was happy to see what Raja had left on the cellar floor! Bending down over a large solid dog turd, I sliced a big piece off of it and pushed it into the air bubble hole in the piece of toast.
"Lets go back upstairs." I said, amidst 3 loud, laughing voices.
"Now what?" said Brownie.
"Now I'm going to cover the dog shit with a liberal serving of margarine and jam."
"Then, I'm going to push it through the letterbox for Eubanks. Just watch!"
"Eubanks!" I called out.
"Where's my toast Swindells?"
"Coming right up Teddy." I said. "Open the letterbox!"
The letterbox opened and I pushed the dog-shit sandwich through. The fat fingers grabbed it and the letterbox snapped tightly shut.
We all sat down at mi mums table and waited for the results. Eubanks voice boomed through the letterbox again.
"That was really great! Give me one more slice and I really will go this time Swindells. I won't bother you anymore after that and I won't beat you up either!"
"Alright Ted but this is definitely the last piece! All right?"
"All right Swindells, it's a deal."
After toasting a piece of bread I dug out a large hole in one side of it and then went back downstairs in the cellar and filled the hole with some fresh dog shit spread. Back upstairs I covered the dogshit spread with another liberal amount of margarine and jam.
"Last piece coming through Ted!" I said, as I again pushed the slice of toast through the letterbox door.
Everybody maintained silence again as we listened for Ted crunching down on the dogshit sandwich. After he'd finished he called through the letterbox, "Thanks Swindells, that was great. It'll keep me going until 4 O'clock this afternoon. You're not a bad bloke after all! It will save me the trouble of beating you up now. I'm off! See you all later. I watched him walk past mi mums' kitchen window and off up the street he went.
"Alright, the coast is clear. Eubanks has gone!" I said.
Raucous laughter burst out of everyone for about 10 minutes.
"That was really a good show Dick", said Tony Steele.
"He won't stick his dick in mi mums' teapot again for some time!" I said, between laughs.
"Come on, let's get cleaned up or we'll be late back for school."
Later on that afternoon, Johnnie Brown came to see me at one of the school breaks.
"Ted's after you Dick. He's gonna' punch your head in after school!"
"Why would he be after me?" I said. "The last time I saw him leaving mi mums' house he was all right towards me?"
"He knows you put dog shit on his pieces of toast!"
"Well, if he found out, it must have come from you."
"It just sort-of slipped out when we were talking in class." Brownie said.
"Like hell! You told him on purpose Brown! Here's the rest of ya weeks dinner money back. I don't want to hang around with you anymore. You're either for me or against me so it's pretty plain to me that you're against me, which is alright by me because at least I know where I stand with you now!"
Brownie was not too happy about what I said because I told him the Truth.
Eubanks was waiting for me with his cronies when I came out of class at 4 O'clock. I had to dodge around him so as not to get beaten up. I gave Eubanks the slip for about 2 weeks until finally one evening; him and his mates were hiding behind a wall in wait for me!
When he finally grabbed hold of me he gave me 2 or 3 hard punches before I was able to get away. Brown showed his true colors because he was with Eubanks at the time, egging him on and laughing.
I was determined that Eubanks would not make me cry and as soon as he let go of my Blazer, I made my getaway at top speed. Eubanks was a fatty so he could not catch me, although he tried.
"SCREW YOU EUBANKS!" I said as I ran down the road. "YOU TOO BROWNIE! I'M GLAD YOUR TATTOO GOT FUCKED UP. YOU DESERVE ALL YOU GET!"
Friday, February 6, 2015
We only exist
Were we not to have mirrors
how would you put your
is on the ground.
The ground state.
Whatever you build on
will not last long.
If you want a
really deep conversation
try the silence.
That's what man
has to move beyond.
Survival; it's body based.
The basis of
the mind is
How can the age of ignorance
imagine an age of enlightenment?
Nevertheless, transmutation happens.
The power in these words
will seduce your mind.
It will then take its'
Take yourself out of the picture
& everything will be much better.
As a child I had a book, 'Mary had a little lamb...leave them alone & they will come home, wagging their tails behind them.'
Where is Justice
in all of this?
it just happens.
My heart wants
every living thing
to be happy.
You would be
what you are
to be created.
In the military they give you the basic training on how to survive on the battlefield. On the battlefield, you refine it. Likewise in life.
is not of the being,
it is the
death of time.
repeated over & over again,
disguises itself as truth.
Courage doesn’t float
on the ocean
One has to go to
to discover it.
A fully developed mind
is a silent one.
A fully developed heart
It only knows
how to give.
one supreme law.
When there are two laws,
that is a sure sign
of societies demise.
People who hope
have no power.
manifests a potent life.
One who is in debt
has no quality of life.
If you can
that’s not it.
ever led to was
Anyone can say it,
not everyone can feel it.
In order to truly live,
you have to stand
behind your actions.
I stand behind the truth.
That is all you will
ever get from me.
don’t waste Time
are Masters of Time.
out of the past.
It never comes
out of the future.
Stubbornness is a weakness.
One uses it to hide behind
so that they don’t have to
deal with anger.
Protecting yourself from love
is an act of violence.
in the world
If you believe in reincarnation
don’t you have to leave to come back?
All coming & going
is total fantasy.
Man is not in tune
with the Elements.
No good will
come of it.
The only good thing
about a VIP is the person.
Question it and it will dissolve &
that is very important.
The pain of integrity
is not as painful as
the pain of being sold out.
If you don't know
what you're looking at
What can you say?
You could always resort
to "God help me."
Monday, February 2, 2015
Q: Imagine that there is a goose in the bottle. Without smashing the bottle how do you get the goose out, intact?
A: There! it's out.
The goose and the bottle are in the mind. Your mind put the goose in the bottle, therefore, it has the ability to take it out. Likewise with everything else in life. You believe you were born. The world appears according to your belief. Employ the same technique and be free of it. Right action will follow.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Prisoners of time, felons of the mind
We break the laws, commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.
Man where are you going with your technology?
It's based on greed and violence
And it's called democracy.
No time to stop and listen
No time to ponder why
We're headed for disaster
The Universe will cry.
Prisoners of Time
Felons of the mind
We break the laws, commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.
Children there are many
Values there are few.
No time to stop and play with them
Because the credits due.
It's business as usual
A frozen pack will do.
The TV's going constantly
Designer clothes and shoes.
Prisoners of Time
Felons of the mind
We break the laws, commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.
Vote for me, send me a fax
Vote for me, I'll cut your tax
Vote for me, please vote for me
I'm all for the death penalty.
Vote for me, I want your power
Vote for me this very hour.
Vote for me and don't despise
The fact that I am full of lies.
Prisoners of time
Felons of the mind
We break the laws. commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.
We say that we want answers
But I don't think we do.
The pain of feeling separateness
Well, that's addictive too.
Who am I without problems?
Who am I without name?
Who am I without shape and form?
Who am I without fame?
Prisoners of time
Felons of the mind
We break the laws, commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.
For those of us who will not share,
For those of us who do not care
For those of us who will not bend
Well, it's fast coming to an end.
'Cause time is an illusion,
created by the mind
And once the mind stops moving,
There's no such thing as time.
Prisoners of time
Felons of the mind
We break the laws, commit the crimes
We sell our soul for nickels and dimes.