Just a Girl Lost 2

Just a girl lost~ Here I share bits & pieces of me, in poetry, prose, music & posts from writers who inspire me.


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The Blue Dream

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I promised I would write my dreams,

since I’m not inspired right now to write anything

about Love or Life or Living.

I have been dreaming lately and that is a rarity.

I mean that i am ‘remembering’ my dreams.

I know that we all dream, blah, blah, blah.

I just lately have had some memorable dreams

as in BRIGH COLORS

and STRANGE SITUATIONS.

In this dream, I’ll call it ‘The Blue Dream’, I am in a HUGE, MASSIVE, meandering house.

This huge house is apparently being ‘given’ to me and my children.

(my children’s ages vary and morph as the dream progresses)

In the process of moving in, the former tenants have left a LOT OF STUFF, weird stuff and the former tenants (picture The Brady Bunch times 10) the Brady Bunch are ‘helping’ me clean-up.

As they help me clean up they are also finding things they had forgotten and are happily taking them home.

This house is HUGE and one room has a red puppet theater and a white baby bed and lots of baby toys just lying around.

It’s night and the room is bluish in hue with lights dancing off the walls.

There are people pulling wallpaper off, sawing, hammering, nailing, taking paneling off, putting things in bags.

We move on into the kitchen.  The kitchen is a jumble of carpentry, hardware, sawdust, no table or anything, just a weird metallic, greenish, harsh, undone, uninviting mess.

There’s white stuff everywhere.

Like, that white stuff on walls and ceilings, crumbly and powdery white.

There’s drawers lying on the floor filled with CRAP.

You know, that junk drawer you just throw little pieces of crap into.  There are drawers scattered and tossed and filled with utensils and forks, knives, spoons, corn-cob holders, different colored rubber bands, tacks, tacks, tacks, little nails and all the little things you need to stick things to the wall.  BORING.

I march/slither/slide upstairs, downstairs, all around, seeing rooms with bunk beds, seeing into bathrooms with clothes hanging everywhere and toothbrushes, toothpaste, pictures, children’s paintings, all sorts of things just everywhere.  Stuff left behind, not worthy of keeping, but the Brady’s were realizing that there was some pretty cool stuff they’d left behind and so as I’m seeing into these rooms, I’m seeing the Brady’s picking up, sorting thru, laughing about, holding onto all this stuff they had forgotten about.  They’re finding treasure as I’m tearing down to move in and it’s a chaotic mess.  NOISE and MESS and NOISE and ripping and tearing and running thru the house.

I turn and step into an elevator.  It’s a brown elevator.  Wood with scratches in it.  I step in hesitantly, I know I’m going down, I know I have to get in, but also I decide in this dream that I am NOT going to be stuck in this elevator.  (I am SO CLAUSTROPHOBIC. As a child I wasn’t in the least, but as an adult, I am)

Suddenly, I come to a STOP.  I’m at a dead end.  No where to go forward. I step out of the elevator and am a bit relived because my lucid dreaming worked!

A cul-de-sac in the hallway.  I’m standing in a hallway.  I look to my right and I see sitting on a wooden crate a blond girl, about 5 or 6, wearing yellow shorts and top.  She has pigtails and is just sitting quietly, solemnly on the crate in the cul-de-sac staring at me. Not moving, just staring at me.

I need the bathroom.

I turn suddenly and look straight ahead.  I’m looking in a mirror.  I’m in a bathroom.

I’m standing in a narrow, white enamel on the wall, white sink, light bulb hanging down with a pull string, bathroom.

I look in the mirror and I’m COMPLETELY BLUE.  I’m covered in blue.  Painted blue.  A cobalt blue.  My hair is a mess, all frizzy and sticking out and BLUE.  My skin is blue.  My gown is blue.  My feet are blue!  I look at the girl and feel confusion, I know I have to keep going.  I look down the hallway.

I hear people laughing and I know there is a party going on.

I turn and find some stairs.

I go down these dingy, dark stairs.  The whole house is falling apart/being redone.  It’s got a 70’s vibe. The party room.  Paneling, blue and green furniture, not too well lit.  It’s dim, like a dying sun yellow.

It’s a party and everyone is happy and laughing and talking, but the colors and smell and feeling all say dank, dark, slime, oppressive.

I step into the room and see everyone dressed in groovy polyester pantsuits and dresses, chunky shoes and puffy hair.  I see our neighbor from across the street.  Miss Bea.

She and her husband, Mr. Andy, were my second parents.  They had 4 kids, the youngest girl was a year younger than me and my best friend, my sister almost.  We spent everyday together. Our mom’s would drink coffee and talk and we would play.  We practically lived together. 

Miss Bea.

She looks beautiful.

She’s smiling and laughing, wearing a lovely dress and she’s young.

I’m surprised to see her there because she’s dead.

She tells me that she’s with her daughter.

Her first pregnancy was a miscarriage, they named her Susan, and I’d always felt a sadness from her when she thought about Susan.  I loved Miss Bea.  She was very quiet, tiny.  Didn’t drive a car.  Her husband drove her everywhere. 

Miss Bea, my sweet, mysterious, very kind, never raised her voice, LOVED romance novels, smoked like a chimney, my mom’s best friend, my second mom was telling me she was happy and with her daughter. 

I was uncomfortable the whole time, of course, I’m in disarray.  My hair is a mess and I’m covered in blue! I turned to look around …

I woke up.

That’s it.

That’s my Blue Dream.

 

*image, Death and the Mirror, James Christensen

@justagirllost2

 

 

 

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When a Lifetime of Reality isn’t Real, then what…

I was perusing my drafts tonight, looking for some snarky poetry for a friend, and I came across this. 

I know I wrote this.  The strange thing is that I don’t remember writing it.  I usually remember everything I write because I only write when my emotions are all emotional.  I’m either up, up, up or low, low, low.  I’m not an inbetween writer.  I wrote the title, When a Lifetime of Reality isn’t Real, then what… 

So, as I’m reading this, I’m thinking, “What was I going thru?  dealing with?”  It must have been something epic because like I said, I only write when compelled to do so, as in COMPELLED.  hmmmmm… I’m seriously curious.  I don’t believe in split personalities, yet it feels like someone else wrote this. curiouser and curiouser

Lately, I haven’t felt much like writing.  I’ve been dreaming a lot though.  A LOT. 

Maybe I should just write my dreams when I’m uninspired.  Huh, LIGHT BULB MOMENT!!!  lol   

I will be doing that. I’ll start writing my dreams on here.  Starting tomorrow!

Until then, I’ll leave you with my mysterious missive from last March.

Peace and Love to you all, even the haters (as our Marvelous President Donald Trump likes to say)  😉

Niki

 

 

 

what am I supposed to feel?

Numb  Stunned  Shocked  Disbelieving

Disillusioned   Duped  Distraught

Anger  Rage in Dreams Betrayed  Pain holds sway, a dirge to play, fast fading, Faith torn stripped tattered sways fast against Mind, Flesh & Bone.   Pain, like a Hawk, Claws Sink Deep Beneath Bone & Flesh, Spellbound Screaming Mind Blown Feeling Bits & Pieces Flowing Fleeing Gently Bleeding every Poisonous Drop of Pain.

No more crying in the rain.  No more Fantasy Falling to the Pain

Washed Up Brain Dead  Soul  Fucked  Back Run

Unfind

Rewind  Ahead my Steps No Turning Back  Time’s  Destined Path to Find  Life  

Unbound Unblind to Truth  this Life Unblind I find  Heart  I See  I Know

I Breathe  I  Soar  Beyond the Veil   I See Black Sky I Know It’s Name

UnBlue Pilled   Eyes  Wide  Open   Black Pitch  Death Trap  Matrix

 

Hopeless   Betrayed  Played

Lost

Sickened  Saddened  Broken  Ashamed

Hollow Hurt

Afraid  Exposed  Alarmed  Haunted

Wide Awake  Wired  Electric  Chaotic  Alive

Murderous  Livid  Repulsed  Revulsion Burning  Hate

White Hot  Hate

….

I’m Blown away by the the ease with which we hop, skipped & goose stepped into a red, white, and blue Looking Glass of Hell on Earth.

I’m more like ‘a-ha’ , ok, this must be ‘IT’

‘IT’ is finally here, for me at least.  ‘IT’ has always been waiting for me to ‘See’

I do now, I finally see…

I felt ‘IT’ about 16 years ago?   It’s hard to remember exactly.

I just know I felt it one day.

Like a quiet sonic boom, deep in me.

I felt like everything was real, but temporary.

Like a way station, forever fated and planned, an in between purgatory of sorts.

That’s how it felt, a purgatory, not deprived of anything, just my pride and being able to call anything my own.

It was grey, miserable, yet I had my family, my children, all that mattered, except for my own identity or home.

The second time I felt it was about 13 years ago.  Chloe was a new baby.

I was standing in the middle of the kids and my room.  Just standing there in a funk.  Single mom, living at home, sharing a room and way, way off the mark of where I thought my life, our lives, would and should be.   Feeling angry, mad, disgusted, embarrassed, ashamed, guilty.  Like a great, big L O S E R.  A disappointment to myself, dependent on my family, resentful at the shame time, bratty.  Just a mess of poor me and A LOT of growing up to do.

I felt it, this feeling like I was in a waiting room.

I’ve always had a nagging, uneasy voice, a whisper deep within me, within my soul

It sounds crazy, but it’s been there for so long.  Telling me to wait, just wait.

God, sounds bizarre reading it, but I swear, the voice was there.

I ‘heard’ it telling me something was coming, in the far, far distant future,

but IT was coming and life would never be the same as anyone knew it.  I FELT it, it never went away.

I let it go.

I don’t obsess over things I can’t change.

I didn’t feel anything but a complete certainty, a truth inside me, a calm

and I just said, “Ok.” and moved on with my days.

Have you ever had that happen?

I don’t know what they would call it.  

I know many people believe in psychic abilities, mediums, esp, etc.   I don’t.

I’m Catholic and I was raised to never mess with any kinds of occult things.

 

I don’t even read my horoscope.

 

@justagirllost2

*photo mine

 


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George Soros is a part of The New World Order

I first posted this in November 2016, during the U.S. presidential elections.
Soros was gunning for a Hillary win, but by the grace of God, she lost and now things are in motion to bring down a worldwide cartel of sex traffickers and criminals beyond even his evil control.
Unfortunately, evil never sleeps and neither can those of us fighting for good.
I’m reposting this and hope that it enlightens and informs.
 
Have a blessed day!
Niki 💕
~
 

The Media Has Scrubbed The Internet Of This Video Exposing Soros

This old video exposing the real George Soros has been virtually scrubbed from the internet. Until now.

Spread this everywhere.

Soros is directly funding the anti-Trump protests happening right now across the country. This treasonous bastard needs to be arrested. Let the people know who is really pulling the strings behind the left’s relentless attack on this country.

“I cannot and do not look at the social consequences of what I do.”

George Soros

 

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*CLICK link below and read

George Soros Can Be Charged With Treason and Sedition

 


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Be Ashamed of Being Ashamed of being an American 🇺🇸

The only thing that I am ashamed of are Americans who say they are ashamed of America, so that they can be ‘PC’ or fit in with the current fads of society.

Why succumb to the herd mentality?

How about you use your brain for good reasons, with reason and to reason?

How about you try that for once?

Brave men and woman DIED for YOU so that you can call yourself an American.

Never be ashamed of your country or what it stands for.

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instead…

Be ashamed

of those who trample on the Constitution

Be ashamed

of those who denigrate the great men & women who fought and fight for your freedoms & rights.

Be ashamed

that through your own ignorance & apathy you have allowed the corrupt, the evil, the despotic, the immoral to turn this country into a cesspool of inhumanity

Be ashamed

that you are so busy living your ‘perfect’ little lives

that you are blind to the Truth staring you in the eyes

Be ashamed

that you let your children be indoctrinated with Lies

that you call Free Speech, Hate Speech and Free Thought, Intolerance

Yes,

be ashamed of being ashamed

of being an American.

Shame on you…

~

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@justagirllost2


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Obama’s Poetry

Although Barack Obama is one of my least favorite humans on this planet, I found this article about his poetry quite fascinating.  His two poems are very different in style.  The poem ‘Pop’ definitely seems autobiographical and I felt it to be a bit disturbing also, some people may not see it that way.

I hope you enjoy this post of an article by Dr. Eowyn of The D. C. Clothesline and that you find it as interesting as I did.

@justagirllost2

~

Obama’s disturbing poem on man-boy relationship

When Barack Obama was a 19-year-old student at Occidental College, he published two poems in the Spring 1982 issue of Occidental’s literary magazine, Feast. One is the cringe-worthy “Underground” about “apes that eat figs.” The other poem, “Pop,” is much more interesting, biographical, and disturbing.

“Pop”

Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken
In, sprinkled with ashes,
Pop switches channels, takes another
Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks

What to do with me, a green young man
Who fails to consider the
Flim and flam of the world, since
Things have been easy for me;
I stare hard at his face, a stare
That deflects off his brow;
I’m sure he’s unaware of his
Dark, watery eyes, that
Glance in different directions,
And his slow, unwelcome twitches,
Fail to pass.
I listen, nod,
Listen, open, till I cling to his pale,
Beige T-shirt, yelling,
Yelling in his ears, that hang
With heavy lobes, but he’s still telling
His joke, so I ask why
He’s so unhappy, to which he replies…
But I don’t care anymore, cause
He took too damn long, and from
Under my seat, I pull out the
Mirror I’ve been saving; I’m laughing,
Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face
To mine, as he grows small,
A spot in my brain, something
That may be squeezed out, like a
Watermelon seed between
Two fingers.
Pop takes another shot, neat,
Points out the same amber
Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and
Makes me smell his smell, coming
From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem
He wrote before his mother died,
Stands, shouts, and asks
For a hug, as I shrink, my
Arms barely reaching around
His thick, oily neck, and his broad back; ‘cause
I see my face, framed within
Pop’s black-framed glasses
And know he’s laughing too.

The poem reads autobiographical — about a young Obama’s relationship with a much older man whom he calls Pop. In his article for WND on March 7, 2012, Dr. Jack Cashill singles out this passage from the poem:

“Pop takes another shot, neat/ Points out the same amber/ Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and/ Makes me smell his smell, coming/ From me;”

Cashill writes that the most innocent explanation for the “amber stain” on the shorts of Pop and young Obama or “his smell, coming/ From me” is that Pop got the teenaged Obama drunk, and they both spilled whiskey (Seagrams) on themselves. But that interpretation does not explain why the spill is specifically on their shorts and not on their shirts or how Pop’s smell is also on (“from”) Obama.

 

Obama_Occidental

A marriage and family therapist who blogs under the tag “Neo-Neocon” senses a darker relationship. She writes:

“The lines that begin ‘points out the same amber stain…Makes me smell his smell, coming/From me’ may be describing outright sexual abuse. But perhaps not; we don’t know, and we’ll never know. But there is no question that the poem is describing a boundary violation on several levels: this child feels invaded—perhaps even taken over—by this man, and is fighting against that sensation.

[…] The poem describes a boundary violation that is both physical and mental.The physical is obvious: he is forced to hug the man who repels him, and as he does so he feels himself shrinking. But the violation is mental, too; earlier in the poem, Obama has described “Pop” as a person who has actually gotten into his brain, and whom he wishes to eliminate from it:

as he grows small,
A spot in my brain, something
That may be squeezed out, like a 
Watermelon seed between
Two fingers.

This mental and emotional usurpation of the young Obama is echoed in the last image of the poem, in which the boy sees his own tiny image framed in ‘Pop’s’ eyeglasses.
 The poem describes a struggle against an attempt at identity takeover, a rejection of being reduced to a reflection in the eyes of the stronger, older, more experienced mentor, who has tried to make Obama over in his own image:

I see my face, framed within
Pop’s black-framed glasses…

The sight is chilling to Obama, who is trying to break free. One wonders if he ever fully succeeded.”

So who was Pop?

There were two older men in teen Obama’s life:

  1. His maternal grandfather, Stanley Armour Dunham, with whom Obama had lived from age 10 to 18 in Honolulu. When Obama was ten years old, his mom, Stanley Ann Dunham, had sent him back to Hawaii to live with her parents while she remained in Indonesia.

2. Frank Marshall Davis, a black long-time friend of Stanley Armour Dunham, whom Dunham had introduced to young Obama to be the latter’s African-American mentor. Davis was a member of the American Communist Party, a writer of poetry and books, including the pornographic novel, Sex Rebel: Black, using the pseudonym “Bob Greene.” Cashill states that there is no doubt Davis wrote Sex Rebel because Davis admitted as much in his memoir, Livin’ the Blues: “I could not then truthfully deny that this book, which came out in 1968 as a Greenleaf Classic, was mine.”

During the presidential campaign season in 2008, I read Sex Rebel, which is out of print, by borrowing the book from the library of the University of California, Berkeley. I therefore can testify from having read the book that Sex Rebel is an account of the unorthodox sexual exploits of a black man “Bob Greene”. Those sexual exploits included marrying a white woman (just as Davis himself did, which was uncommon in the 1960s); “swinging” or wife-swapping with other couples; picking up prospective couples in public parks; sexual orgies; voyeurism; exhibitionism; bisexualism (Greene wrote that “under certain circumstances I am bisexual”); and the seduction by “Greene” and his white wife of a 13-year-old girl named Anne.

(It is the pedophilia that has prompted increasing speculation on the net that “Anne” was actually Stanley Ann Dunham, Obama’s mother; and that Frank Marshall Davis had sired Obama. That’s the reason why Obama conceals his birth certificate. This is the subject of a documentary movie that will come out this summer. For more information, go here.)

Joel Gilbert, the maker of the documentary “Dreams From My Real Father,” has uncovered handwritten letters by Davis to Margaret Burroughs, the well-known African-American artist, in which Davis refers to his book “Sex Rebel: Black” as his “thoroughly erotic autobiography.” Davis had a sexual affair with Burroughs which, Davis explains, was included in the novel autobiography. [Read more,here.]

In the introduction to Sex Rebel, an alleged Ph.D. named Dale Gordon goes further. He describes the pseudonymous author, Bob Greene, as having “strong homosexual tendencies in his personality.”

There are those, like Rebecca Mead of The New Yorker, who say “Pop” is a “loving if slightly jaded portrait of Obama’s maternal grandfather.”

But both Jack Cashill and Neo-Neocon point out that Obama, in his memoirDreams From My Father, called Stanley Armour Dunham not “Pop” but “Gramps.”

There are other reasons pointing to Frank Marshall Davis as “Pop”:

1. “Pop” wrote poetry: Dunham was a life-long furniture salesman whose literary efforts, if any, were confined to making up dirty limericks. In contrast, Davis had written several books of poetry — Black Man’s Verse (1935), I Am the American Negro (1937), Through Sepia Eyes (1938), 47th Street (1948), Awakening and Other Poems (1978).

2. A line in Obama’s poem “he switches channels, recites an old poem/ He wrote before his mother died” also points to Davis as “Pop”. Dunham’s mother died when he was 8 years old, whereas Davis’ mother died when he was 20 and already established as a poet of promise.

READ MORE  Patriots Protest Obama’s Nevada Land Grab near Bundy Ranch

3. In his memoir Dreams From My FatherObama’s description of a seedy and dissipated older man named Frank is strikingly similar to “Pop” in his poem:

“…by the time I met Frank [Obama was around nine years old] he must have been pushing eighty, with a big dewlapped face and an ill-kempt gray Afro that made him look like an old, shaggy-maned lion. He would read us his poetry whenever we stopped by his house, sharing whiskey with gramps out of an emptied jelly jar. As the night wore on, the two of them would solicit my help in composing dirty limericks. Eventually, the conservation would turn to laments about women.

“They’ll drive you to drink, boy,” Frank would tell me soberly. “And if you let ‘em, they’ll drive you into your grave.”

I was intrigued by the old Frank, with his books and whiskey breath and the hint of hard-earned knowledge behind the hooded eyes. The visits to his house always left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable, though, as if I were witnessing some complicated, unspoken transaction between the two men, a transaction I couldn’t fully understand….”

4. Davis fits the “seedy old man” description more than Dunham:Born in 1905, Davis was 56 years older than Obama and would be 66 years old when Obama was ten. Born in 1918, Dunham was 43 years older than Obama and would be a youngish 53 years old when Obama was ten.

Here are some photos I’ve found of Stanley Armour Dunham and Frank Marshall Davis. Decide for yourself which man better fits the physical description of Pop in Obama’s poem: “dark watery eyes”; “ears that hang with heavy lobes”; “thick, oily neck”; “broad back”; “black-framed glasses”.

Stanley Armour Dunham with child Obama (l); Dunham with 19-year-old Obama (r)

Frank Marshall Davis as a young man (l); as an old man (r)

Whether Pop was Davis or Dunham, this much is certain: His relationship with young Obama, as the latter described it in the poem “Pop,” was creepy and disturbingly suggestive of pederasty.

~Eowyn

Dr. Eowyn is a regular contributor to The D.C. Clothesline and the Editor of Fellowship of the Minds.

*Links below to more articles about Obama’s poetry.

The first is from PBS.org., the second from The New Yorker and the third from the Huffington Post.

I always try to present other sources when one source leans more left or right politically.

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/government-elections-politics/choice-2012/artifact-one-barack-obamas-pop/

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2007/07/02/obama-poet

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/steven-barrieanthony/obamas-poetry_b_44271.html


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Sun Tzu’s 31 Best Pieces Of Leadership Advice

This is a very interesting article about Sun Tzu. 

I think #21 is the most important & perhaps the most difficult.

Many of these I learned the hard way…

@justagirllost2

~

Sun Tzu’s 31 Best Pieces Of Leadership Advice

There was no greater war leader and strategist than Chinese military general Sun Tzu.  His philosophy on how to be a great leader and ensure you win in work, management, and life is summed up in these 33 pieces of advice.  They can all be applied by you in your job when you go back to work next week:

There was no greater war leader and strategist than Chinese military general Sun Tzu.  His philosophy on how to be a great leader and ensure you win in work, management, and life is summed up in these 33 pieces of advice.

    1. A leader leads by example, not by force.
    2. You have to believe in yourself.
    3. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
    4. If your enemy is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.
    5. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.
    6. Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.
    7. If the mind is willing, the flesh could go on and on without many things.
    8. Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.
    9. To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.
    10. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
    11. Can you imagine what I would do if I could do all I can?
    12. Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will eventually rust.
    13. Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment — that which they cannot anticipate.
    14. If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
    15. Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory:1 He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.

      2 He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.

      3 He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.

      4 He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.

      5 He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.

    16. Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent’s fate.
    17. Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.
    18. There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.There are not more than five primary colors, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever been seen.There are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet combinations of them yield more flavors than can ever be tasted.
    19. Opportunities multiply as they are seized.
    20. When the enemy is relaxed, make them toil. When full, starve them. When settled, make them move.
    21. Know yourself and you will win all battles.
    22. Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.
    23. Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.
    24. When strong, avoid them. If of high morale, depress them. Seem humble to fill them with conceit. If at ease, exhaust them. If united, separate them. Attack their weaknesses. Emerge to their surprise.
    25. All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
    26. There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare.
    27. The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.
    28. Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley.
    29. Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.
    30. All warfare is based on deception.
    31. When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.

 

https://www.forbes.com/sites/ericjacksonSun Tzu’s 31 Best Pieces Of Leadership Advice via @forbes/2014/05/23/sun-tzus-33-best-pieces-of-leadership-advice/#3486baa35e5e


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Fascinating Food For Thought ~ 🐰

An article that sums up quite nicely what has been taking up my spare time…

Enjoy  

(more to come if you’re fascinated by rabbit holes…)

❤  Niki

“you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.” 
Lewis CarrollAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland

🐰

“Have I gone mad? I’m afraid so. 
You’re entirely Bonkers. 
But I will tell you a secret, 
All the best people are.” 

Lewis CarrollAlice in Wonderland

🐰

It was much pleasanter at home,” thought poor Alice, “when one wasn’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down the rabbit-hole–and yet–and yet–…” 

Lewis CarrollAlice in Wonderland

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“The simple step of a courageous individual is not to take part in the lie. “One word of truth outweighs the world.” 
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

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QQQQ

It is the fantasy, dare I say wet dream, of all Hillary-haters and all Trumpsters everywhere.
Donald Trump is going to take down the deep state.  A stunning military coup. Truth.  Straight down.  As you read these very words there are over 1,000 sealed indictments for Hillary Clinton and other deep state operatives.  Further, the US courts cannot be trusted as they are riddled with bought and corrupt jurists, so military tribunals will be used to try these enemies of the state.  It’s going down… 

So says Q.

Q is an anonymous poster on 4chan.  Q began posting in late October.  His posts are in the form of questions, short statements, long lists of connected important people/things, obscure acronyms, and occasionally random series of characters and symbols.  Q refers to these clues as “breadcrumbs” and claims they are releasing the “biggest insider drop in the history of the world”.
Here‘s a pastebin that supposedly has collected Q’s various postings

Depending on what side of the political minefield you are standing on Q is either a raving lunatic of the conspiratorial bend, or Q is sheer genius, an insider telling the world that the deep state is coming down.

“Puppet masters”, Rothschilds, Soros, “bloodlines”, Putin, New World Order, International Banks, popular political party members, POTUS, random codenames, every US government agency with a 3 letter acronym, Merkel, Clinton, JFK, are all found in Q’s breadcrumbs.

Now, in this wide world of cyber, why would Q rise to the top of the truther/Trump/conspiracy world? There have been a number of international & national happenings in the past several weeks that seem to draw some vague correlations between “Q’s” claims and recent news. Things that get the troops all riled up and are really of some consequence.

One is The NY Times released an article on November 12, titled “Security Breach and Spilled Secrets Have Shaken the N.S.A. to Its Core”, in which is written the following paragraph:
Fifteen months into a wide-ranging investigation by the agency’s counterintelligence arm, known as Q Group, and the F.B.I., officials still do not know whether the N.S.A. is the victim of a brilliantly executed hack, with Russia as the most likely perpetrator, an insider’s leak, or both.
Until now “Q” had been just another conspiracy theorist, but with this article “Q” is claiming the NY Times is attempting to directly attack their credibility by claiming they are part of the NSA.  Conspiracy theorists (or people who see through the propaganda of the corporate controlled MSM) are putting together the pieces of the puzzle and finding a lot to hang their (tinfoil ?) hats on.

There is the matter of the +++ that Q signed off with, he wrote on November 6, “Nothing is random.  Everything has meaning. +++”

Seven minutes later Trump wrote a tweet and ended it with +++.  Now, even for those who know for a fact that Q is a larper, this is a pretty weird “coincidence”.

Then there was the airplane.  Q keeps posting these little weird breadcrumbs that tend to be kind of true.  There was the photo from an airplane posted by Q, and someone figured out the angle from the photograph matched the coordinates and exact piece of land Air Force One was flying over, at pretty much the exact time the photo was posted.  Leading one to believe Q was on Air Force One.

Then there have been breadcrumbs about Saudi Arabia and indictments that have proven to have  some veracity.

The MSM has been utterly silent about Q.  Pravda may be the biggest news source to break the story other than “Metro” with a poorly written story debunking Q, however, it did put it out there.

So, who is Q?  Anyone’s guess.  Could be a larper.  4chan are anonymous forums. You can hide behind a username. LARPing is Live Action Role-Playing, where you pretend to be someone else in real life. A LARPer in this context is someone who claims “I am a high level official in the Department of Justice” without providing evidence and then say something like, “The DoJ will announce charges against the CEO of Comcast tomorrow.” Because no proof is provided, some people will say that the poster is role-playing as the person they claim to be.  However, there is just too much insider stuff for Q to be a total zero.

These are names that have been thrown out as possible Q authors: Trump himself,  Roger Stone, Steve Bannon, Dan Scavino Jr., Anthony Scaramucci, Michael Flynn, and many think it is the ex-CTO, Nash Borges, of the Global Engagement Center who resigned this September.

“The Obama administration established the Global Engagement Center in 2016 to counter ISIS’ various online messaging efforts, directing the new office to use data and to work with international partners in a bid to undermine extremist propaganda more effectively than State’s previous such unit, the Center for Strategic Counterterrorism Communications. GEC’s toolbox included various outreach efforts, including highly targeted ad buys on Facebook.

Last year, the 2017 National Defense Authorization Act gave the GEC an additional mission: fighting “foreign propaganda and disinformation directed against United States national security interests and proactively advance fact-based narratives that support United States allies and interests.” The Act, which became law in December, allowed the Global Engagement Center to ask the Pentagon for $40 million, bringing its total 2017 spending to about $80 million. About $60 million of that was to be used to counter Russian influence operations; about $19 million was aimed at ISIS.– Defense One September 2017

This little baby can manipulate the MSM anyway it wants, and perhaps Borges no longer wanted in on that game.

However, it’s probably someone on the inside playing.  Even if it is all fantasy, there is a certain seeding of consciousness that is occurring with those who “believe”.   There is a visceral yearning for the take down of the deep state.  Greg Grandin writes in The Nation:

The deep state may be …”an almost hereditary covert caste, running from the men who in the early days of the Cold War set up the modern national security state to the elite who make up today’s “intelligence community.” In 1964, Random House published the bestselling The Invisible Government, by journalists David Wise and Thomas Ross (here’s the CIA’s declassified review of the book, which takes exception to its thesis). More recently, Michael Glennon’s National Security and Double Government updated the argument.

Peter Dale Scott was the first, as far as I know, to use the phrase “parapolitics” and “deep politics” to discuss what is now described as the deep state, and he’s the author of numerous books on the dense connections between illegal drugs, covert action, and finance… I remember that Iran-Contra really did happen. As Michael Parenti likes to point out, conspiracies do in fact exist, both in legal theory and in politics: Watergate, Iran-Contra, the savings and loan scandal of the 1980s/90s, “described by the Justice Department as ‘a thousand conspiracies of fraud, theft, and bribery,’ the greatest financial crime in history” (that we know of).”

Q’s opus magnum is about the war between the deep state and the people of the United States.  It is about the corruption that has rotted the core of our politics.  It is about the pedophiles that get away with unspeakable crimes due to the elite status.  It is about the intrigue that surrounds the connections of Saudi Arabia with the Clinton Foundation.  It is about voter fraud.  It is about draining the swamp.  It is about the rogue, evil nature of the CIA.  If nothing else it is a fascinating read.

And, a rallying cry for those of this conspiratorial persuasion.  A place to go to learn, to puzzle, to ruminate and to dream.
Random Q questions
1.    What is money flow disruption?
2.    List the Billionaires.
3.    What family history goes back pre_WW1/2?
4.    Why is this relevant?
5.    Why did the Bush family recently break silence and attack POTUS?
6.    Coincidence pre SA arrests?
7.    Who audits the billions paid for war?
8.    Who audits the billions paid for environment policy (side note)?
9.    Where do the funds go?
10.    Offshore?
11.    To who / which entity and/or org?
12.    What slush fund was recently terminated by AG Sessions?
13.    What is Fast & Furious?
14.    What is the underlying theme?
15.    MONEY.
16.    Who controls the FED?
17.    How did political leaders/talking heads accum assets in excess of $5mm+?
18.    What was the net worth for each prior to taking office?
19.    Reconcile.
Nancy O’Brien Simpson

Ms. Simpson was a radio personality in New York.  She was a staff writer for The Liberty Report.  A PBS documentary was done on her activism for human rights.  She is a psychotherapist and political commentator.

http://nancyobriensimpson.com/
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http://www.pravdareport.com/amp/world/americas/23-11-2017/139239-military_q-0/

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