Thursday, December 31, 2015



I flew down to the Big Smoke this month to make the annual booze

purchase for the entire village.All of us have been drinking entirely too

much, especially the preacher.

Once again we had voting day. One more time the entire village

choose to buy alcohol rather than install electricity or plumbing. I
agreed totally. If I'm too weak to make it
to the outhouse and I
can't see well enough to shoot some predators on the way... well then,

you'd better just shoot me.

I made a recent discovery. If you're walking out into the savage night

and you're not wearing any pants under your long coat - it improves  your eyesight and focus. If you fear a weasel or a wolf, or even our
own 'domestic' dogs, if you fear something's gonna bite yer balls off.
by surprise - well, shit! You're gonna pay close attention.

I'm lucky in that I've got good periferal vision. And I can sense
if somethin's gaining on me in the night. And I'm real quick with my
gun - can shoot a surprised rat, nail him every time. We don't have to

eat rat up here any longer. but we did have a few tough years
after that motherfucker incinerated the town. I still think of that fuckface now and then. And if I catch him one night when I'm
drinking, I'll show him the meaning of the word, "SORRY"!



        I'VE HEARD of wolverines that are angry, pissed off,

and malevolent already. When a trapper's gone, they've

been known to break into his his food and piss

all over his blankets. What food the wolverine's too full to eat, he'll

dig a hole and bury it - and he'll piss all over that, too,

before he covers it up again with sand and leaves.

           The piss of a wolverine some say is worse than  the spray of a  skunk.

           One thing we didn't need was to get these fuckers

meaner and smarter with human D.N.A. They were

pretty smart already, trust me.






There is your normal big weasel. Then there is your abby-normal

big weasel or grizzly... I've heard tell of a GMO experimental

lab to the east of us, perched on the edge of a cliff near the

site of the Cave Bear People, doing experiments on

your basic wolverine.

Now, that was five years back I heard those stories.

The rumour was they were doing those experiments

for military purposes - mixing human DNA with the DNA

of fierce animals (as if they aren't fierce enough).

       The native folks already call 'wolverine' "THE DEVIL."

Now the wolverine is bigger - 150 to 200 pound wolverines

exist now. There never used to be devil beasts that big. But with

the human DNA in the big weasels...well...

                 "Don't tell Artie this", I tell Hank but the human DNA might   explain the devil-beasts raping humans in the northern

villages, including our Foxhole Village at

Wait-A-Bit. Savage creatures indeed! Hard to imagine

what a mix of those two devious minds might produce,"

Triple bee-screen Frank says.

                "Hey, don't tell me any more!" Hank says.

He's  hiding his head under a blanket. "We

really do need to get the fuck out of here! But

there's no bloody way out."

                 "You might be able to hitch a ride out

with the annual transport that brings in

our liquor  each year. But it won't

be cheap. Bruno's a cheap prick," Frank says.

        "Who's Bruno?" Hank asks.

        " He's the pilot, you fool," says Frank.

                "Look, Hank, really don't tell Artie

about the D.N.A. military experiments. He's already

spooked as hell about being taken up the ass

twice by a big weasel. He won't leave his bar. He's been

reinforcing the walls. H e won't step outside. The possible human-wolverine DNA
mix, the very thought of it would freak him right out.
Put him over the top... might make him suddenly try to
sprint right out of here."

        "Bad things happen to those who break into

a panic and try a sprint. I mean, there's a billion trees

you can sprint smack into. And there's the muskeg

you can sink in... And a mad leap into the Mackenzie River

has never been healthy for anyone," Frank says.

"Do you understand?"

               " I understand we're trapped in our foxholes,"

Hank says. He walks into his tunnel and starts

shoveling towards the east. "I understand we're fucked!"

he shouts back at Frank, over the sounds of  his frenetic




(C) 2015 by W.G. Milne



Monday, December 28, 2015




To the journeyman within
There are points of life
Round the curve of this planet
In the psyche’s dark;
Lights glow over oceans
Beyond mountains, across harbours
And through seas, and these
Lights are conscious points
Where realized minds, saints,
Monks, teachers, masters, sufis,
Bodhisattvas, across the cosmos
The light of knowing, pervades
Penetrates the distances, glowing,
Piercing the heavy mists with
Such soft lights through fog,
Through starlight and the centuries
Lights of compadres who die not
Whose minds surround the globe
In the night never viewed
By those lost in commerce
Buying and selling, getting and spending,
Women and men imbibing temporal pursuits
Never see these friends, these
Luminous globes through the night
These brave ones who have gone before
Who do not abandon us
But who wait patiently for our
Liberation. They reach a hand to us
And wait, patient as spring rain.

(C)2014 by W.G. Milne







the deer hunter does not

see the mountains

the ambitious man does not

see men


lusting for societal position

I did not see

the flower in the courtyard

I hurried past my own heart



The spring flowers, the autumn moon;

Summer breezes, winter snow.

If useless things do not clutter your mind,

You have the best days of your life.                               **


When you realize what the real is,

You will see we pass from one husk
    to another

Like travelers stopping for
    a night's lodging. **


Only listen to the sound of
         pines and cedars

When no wind stirs.


There are ten thousand paths to dawn

At the peak of the silver mountain.


**  verse by Mumon

compilation and poem  (C)2015 by W.G. Milne

Friday, December 25, 2015


                                           - 2 -

           I was starving. I put my hand on the pizza box.
I went out on the porch and smoked some Jamaican herb.
I began hallucinating just a bit. That stuff is too strong for
me - I don't need the flowering tops, the marijuana buds -
I'm more of a mushroom and chemicals guy. I like to keep
a clear head. Ho! Ho!
          Well, some of the time...
           Anyway, I was getting the munchies real bad.
I stumbled into the kitchen. I put my hand on the box.
The pizza box was still warm... Goody for me.
I tasted the wet spot on the corner of the box.
It didn't taste like pepperoni.
            The light was too bright. I had to focus. I turned one
 light off. I opened the box. And what did I see? I saw my
own face staring back at me.  What the fuck!? Is this some
kind of a joke?
            It was my face, all right.  But it looked twice as
wide as my face. And it was entirely flat - twice the size
of my head. The eyes stared up at me with no expression
in them.  Dead pizza eyes. Some weird
sick attempt at painting my portrait  I picked up a
piece. It was crispy and hot...
            I noticed the oven door was open behind me.
The oven was hot. I turned it off and shut the door.
I had a bite of the strip of pizza. It didn't taste
like pizza.
           I had a horrible thought. No that couldn't be
true. I've been accused of having an over-active
imagination. I splashed cold water in my face,
then I  went back out of doors and looked out
into the night. Still the wind howled and moaned
in the windows behind me.
          I shut the door of the house. I went for a drive
by the lake. I had some thinking to do. 

          I got out of the car and walked out onto
a wharf into the lake. The lights in my rear view window
had blinded me.
          I walked about 100 feet onto the wharf. I looked
across the lake. I heard footsteps behind me on the boards 
of the dock. There was a large, athletic looking guy
walking up behind me. I thought, "There is no way off
this dock without running into the guy behind me."
          I turned and started walking back. I saw the man
more closely. He was wearing an orange baseball cap...
On the cap were written the words, "SPLATTER PIZZA."
I could see the guy more closely now. He had mad eyes
and a big crazy smile on his face. He was grinding his teeth.
         In his right hand he held a samurai sword.

                                                            (C) 2015 by W.G. Milne

(Note: My daughter Abby Rose told me she liked reading
          stories on the site: "Creepy Pastas." The idea
          appealed to me.  So I wrote this.)


I learned this the hard way at four A.M. on a windy winter night. The wind was shrieking at my windows, howling and moaning as if was trying to warn me of something.
I didn\’t pay any heed. I was too hungry to worry about what some spirit among the trees might have to tell me. I looked in the phone book. All the pizza places were closed at that hour –
It said, \”Just enter your phone number, address and order, and you\’ll never buy pasta
from anyone else.\”
I was about to make the worst mistake of my life. I filled in the empty spaces of the order form shop on line. In almost no time there was a loud pounding at my door.
I was upstairs in the shower. Fernnie, my twin brother, he answered the door. There was
a lot of sounds like scrambling, scraping,tackling, run and a thump…I thought I heard a scream
as I was drying my hair with a towel. Then the door slammed.
I went downstairs. The delivery man was gone. There was the box of a
pizza, extra large on my kitchen table. On the box was written, \”SPLATTER PIZZA !\” in big red letters. The corner of the flat box seemed to be wet. It appeared to be dripping.

Sunday, December 20, 2015






A whole new horizon for my life now, must learn how to pace

myself in a new way - exercise, eat spinach & the other

"super foods"...

I don't know how to adjust. But I feel

good, better than I have in a long while. Now I'm not

DOOMED as I thought I was.

I have no coronary artery blockages.... but I

suffer from coronary spasm. This is a much better situation

than I thought was the case.

New pills, nitro glycerine patch... a new horizon.

And a different mind set. A growing sense of possibilities.

Oh, what a relief it is!

THIS is the first writing I've felt like doing in several
months. I just didn't have that zing, that effervescence...

I didn't have the joy in life ... As I say, I felt I was DOOMED. I was going to croak at the same age my father had died. It was
genetic, my heart was going to explode at any time.

It wasn't much fun, and I wasn't much fun thinking that way.

Now after spending several days in the reality

of a heart and lung clinic: heart failure = fluid in your lungs. You die by drowning in your own lungs. It's
a hellish way to go. I don't recommend it.

I was with people who were facing the same

uncertain diagnosis. I watched each of them walk

into the operating room; then I watched as they

were wheeled out flat on their backs on the stretcher. They were told not to even raise their head, or they might burst
their cut arteries open and spray the walls.

Eight people went to the operating chamber

walking and they returned on stretchers.

Finally, hours later, the doctors came for me. The good news?

I have no arerial blockages. My diagnosis is

coronary spasm - which is no joke either. But

I have some days ahead now to finish some of the manuscripts I started: there are eight of them.

And also I have some time, if the bombs don't fall and the rivers don't rise, I have time to publish the four or
five manuscripts that are finished.

    HALLELUJAH!!!! Praises be to the Lord of Hosts who thunders and ignites the clouds, praise be
to the Lord of the Meeting Rivers, O praise the Lord of Abraham and Jacob, the Lord of Israel and Albion. You lift us up in your wings!

      You allow us to create and see and meditate

until we are reflections of you in the mirror

of our soul.

          The Gnostics (earliest Christians) called this
mirror the chaste Bridal Chamber, sacred place, in which a baptism of light occurs, clean, chaste and  holy place where a man is wed to his God.

These people I saw - so courageous and silent

in their suffering. I saw the reality of the spirit

of our  people there, and I am so proud of


        I give thanks to the light that dawns each

morning, a reminder of the Light which

may fill us all, so that we all may be blessed.

I give thanks, also, for the kind people who

prayed for me.

          People want to avoid me when I write

"spritual" passages like the above paragraphs.

But it's a writer's job to tell the truth, however

unpleasant that truth may sometimes be.

         There are ugly holes of utter lust, places

where only desire and greed exist, places

without an iota of trust. There are hells on

earth. Most people know what I'm

talking about when I say this.


       But when I talk about the fact that we can travel in our minds, that we have vast resources of trust, telepathy
and E.S.P. within us, places that we can journey to through 
focus in our imagination: then people get sceptical about
what I'm saying.

The truth of the matter is we are being trained by a mechanistic society to disregard the power of our inner imagination, to disbelieve the infinite resources
of our very own minds. We are being fed
persuasive propaganda. And we believe this errant elephant shit!

          After baptism by fire and light in a chaste and holy place, the magic occurs and mind becomes Mind.

The mind of the egoistic individual becomes the
Mind of the cosmic "I AM." God becomes man in the
chaste mirrored chamber. This is another
wedding, one we don't usually discuss, one we are led to believe doesn't exist - a redemptive feast and  a refuge, a place we are told that we cannot access.

But we can travel many places with the
use of the inner Mind - what you are able to imagine,
you can achieve - with the help of all the spirits
of the earth and skies.

                                                (C)2015 by William G. Milne

Thursday, December 17, 2015


These days comics are too bummed out to play the Universities,
because they are booed when they crack jokes that are not politically

This movie comes from more than a decade ago, from
a time when a rude belly-laugh was still permitted.

I recommend the whole movie!

Thousands will not agree...
Merry Christmas  to all!

p.s.  The man can sing!