FOR CENTURIES WE BELIEVED LIES, AND I'M PISSED-OFF!

        FRED SAID, "You had everything. Why'd you throw it all away. What was the cause of this madness? You could have relaxed the rest of your lives and eat women and strawberries..."

       WG: "Well, that sounds like a great life...but,  what set me off?  It was when I realized that we had been lied to with regard to spirituality and religion. 
      Religion's a bad word nowadays.
Most people don't want to go anywhere near
the churches... And you can't blame people.
People understand about empty promises.
       The Eucharist used to mean something.
Because it used to BE something. Now you get half-assed wine and a nasty cracker. In the old days (1000s of years ago) you got real wine
and a piece of the sacred mushroom.
       So when God said: 

"EAT THIS, THIS IS MY BODY"

He was speaking LITERALLY! The flesh of the sacred mushroom really is the flesh of Christ.
Now this was secret knowledge. It was not spoken of publically.
            But the propaganda against this truth
has been massive, erroneous and cleverly
managed. We'll believe any bullshit if it's
expressed often enough.
            People bought it - what the priests said about the excised, castrated Bible...

            Lie about anything you want. That's on
you. But when the fuckers lied about the very
nature and essence of our being, IT WAS GOING TOO FAR!
           There's only so much shit I'm willing to eat, and this was just too much.
            I guess I was an idealist when I figured
this out. It made me deeply angry when I understood that all these self-righteous clerics
and people that followed them - they had poisoned the well!
            And the well was the source of our spiritual being; it was of that well we drink in order to apprehend the meaning of the universe, and the soul at the core of us.

Jesus Christ said: "HE WHO DRINKS THE BUBBLING WATERS FROM MY MOUTH
SHALL BECOME AS I AM, AND I SHALL BE HE, AND THE HIDDEN THINGS WILL BE REVEALED TO HIM."

Now these words are the real deal, not the pap
the established church has been feeding us.

Man, I was pissed! So I've been working hard to set the record straight. One of the beauties of the internet is that ideas leap from treetop to treetop, like a fire blown forward by the wind.
And the basic truths as to the core of Christianity... I have sown the whirlwind, and the fire has spread to other teachers and preachers. And they are teaching now.

        My life has been a success, not financially,
but because I have achieved this aim. People are catching on to what has happened. Our civilization and culture has been stunted
from its very inception, because of the lies of the Empire church.

To quote Bob Marley:

"AND IF FEEL LIKE BOMBING A CHURCH, NOW THAT I KNOW THAT THE
PREACHER IS LYING."


Yeah, well I didn't bomb any churches. Yet
I was damn well determined to get to the bottom of things - to eke out the real Way.
And in humility I must say: I accomplished
this task. And I sure didn't get paid for it.

        I'm not just talking about the mushroom.
I'm talking about the whole emphasis and direction of Christian belief. It's focus is awry.  If you've read my book and articles  on  the subject, you'll know exactly
what I mean.

            It's not about me. It's about seeing the
real path to liberation.And it's about leaving
signposts along the Way for our children.

"FOR THE SCRIBES AND THE PHARISEES
ARE LIKE DOGS IN THE MANGER;THEY HAVE THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM AND THEY DO NOT ENTER, NEITHER DO THEY ALLOW ANYONE ELSE TO ENTER."





                                (C)2016 by W.G. Milne

STRANGE POEM FROM WAIT-A-BIT!

THE RAVENS
     In the few summer months, they have it
easy... and they like to fly and hoot and honk over
a herd of caribou... And the strange sounds the
birds make,  they'll spook the herd and make
the whole herd run across the grasses. One
 mischievous bird - and there goes the whole herd.          


                                 *

      The air is sharp and pure. It 
bites into the back of my throat,

 as I breathe it on the wind -

THE WIND

                            

 great, lonely restless wind...

wind that knows the whole continent, 

covers it, swirls over, fresh and clean, 

then blasts down the valleys, across the plains  

into the red eye of the setting sun. 

 Always the feel of distance, always

the sense  of interminable distances, 

the vastness, the sense of massively long unending

trails, trails that no one has walked entirely.

 Miles rolling endlessly on, 

the white blank snow-blind vastnesses...

the travelling wind blowing on over incalculable wastes,

 rolling on and going forever.

 endless...endless...endless

                              *

           I keep trying to describe it in my
notebook, but I always fail. I came close once
a poem. 

(C)2013 by W.G. Milne

WORDS OF THE TRUE ONE - THE POET'S TESTAMENT

ILLUMINATION ON MAINSTREET

          This is a Knowledge within 
a man, whereby he may come 
to see himself, realize his true Identity. 
And then will he  see the meaning of 
the Words of the Christ, saying, "Come to Me." For what men shall realize themselves to be shall first astound and terrify them, 
before they find the peace of the Kingdom.
*
         The Word has been given that each man
may Realize his Identity, and Know himself,
and thereby walk the halls of Peace. But first
it is necessary to die, in order to see. And then
the Resurrection may be. This is the mystery 
at the heart of  Christianity, death and resurrection in this life while we live and
breathe, it is possible to see the realms of
Eternal Peace.
*
          If these Words have not the ring 
of Truth about them, ignore them, and this 
the Father's second Testament, which is indeed the first. For the Words of the Father shall always speak. This is His Legacy... That he
shall never leave Thee.
*
        And that you may be his true and living
Sons,* receive His Knowledge, and you shall 
see the True One. For only through the 
True One may any person come to the Father,
and there is only one True One, by whatever
names he may be called, by whatever systems
of hierarchies He is worshipped, it matters not.
But this is Christianity which bears a strong
and lasting Fruit; which is the Truth, which is the only Fruit of the True Vine which the Father planted at the beginning of time,
that beginning which is the end.  
*
(from page 106)




Jesus said:  "If you follow tradition, you
shall be lost. For the church that has
come to be speaks not of Me"
        "The dogma of unquestioning belief,
this is the dogma of the thief."
         "But they shall stand as solitaries
as they seek Me."

   
          For the Lord has mercy on those
who have given everything: on those
who travel bereft; on those who have 
nothing left.
         The Father is most forgiving:
it is we who condemn ourselves.
*          
         It is for this reason that He may
be described as the Father. Because He
gives birth to everything; because all
things that come to be He is creating.
The creation is not a part of history.
It proceeds daily.
         "And it is today," says the voice of
the True One. "It is today, always today,
where you must find me. Do not search
for Me in books or in churches; but
outside and within yourselves."
*
          "I greet desperate men, widows and
orphans; those who are well established
tend to ignore and fear Me. They see
Me as a threat, that I might take what
they have."

(from page 116)






*("sons" implies also daughters,
  It was the terminology of the age.)

Note: I have left parts out, even from these
passages. There are valuable parts missing.
I simply don't have the strength to present
everything to you.
          The text of the Testament is 200 pages
long. It is dense and single spaced.
          There is no way I'll be able to edit
it all in my lifetime. But I will make the
manuscript of the "Poet's Testament"
from the Clifftop Writings available
to you.
         Now with the advent of scanners,
this is possible.

         

All the best to you and cheers to you
from William G. Milne.
          With the help of the saints and
bodhisattvas who circle the globe.
I have no strength of my own. It
is the strength of the holy Father, Lord
of Hosts, Lord of Isaac and Jacob, Lord
of Abraham, holy of holies, Lord of the
Meeting Rivers, Lord of Israel and Albion,
and all the lands beyond: the Father
who speaks from the skies and whose
words are heard within us.
          Thank you for your gifts. Thank you
for your strength. Thank you for the Grace
you give to all of us.
  



(C)1980-2016 by W.G. Milne

A FEW PAINTINGS

NORTHERN TOWN SATURDAY NIGHT

                     
                           CLOSEST MOON IN SPRING

                                WINTER BERRIES




       To be honest, I can't draw very well. But
sometimes something magic happens with
the colours.






                                                 W. MILNE

Smooth as a Lady - Johnny Alexander Live @ Sound Academy April 24, 2009

         This is Johnny Alexander  (Milne)
headlining his band @ Sound Academy.

          I know how much work and means
it takes to organize such a show, to write
a fine song and to stage it and sing it.
And to help keep a band together.

He's my son and I'm proud of him.
Hell of a show, hell of a song and
a great band, also.


                signed: Johnny Rock and
                              W.G. Milne

HEROES WHO SPEAK THE TRUTH

1.      The war on drugs has been a sham from the beginning. We should legalize all drugs and medically monitor their use. You say that things would run rampant, that madness would ensue.
          Have you looked carefully around at our inner city streets? Drugs run rampant now - just not clean drugs.
           By doing this we'd empty half the jails.
Would it be expensive to do this? Yes, it would be expensive - but not nearly as expensive 
  as is the situation now. And we would have
a more humane society.
             This approach would put a large number of police out of work. It would also devastate the Drug Industry (the illegal one).
Many of the dealers I know would be out of work...
            But then there would be a legal industry.

            Canada and the USA have the largest per capita incarceration rate in the world.
           Does this make us the land of the free?
            Not exactly.

            I'll touch upon all the points these cultural heroes make. But there's really no need. They express the situation exceedingly well themselves.




(C)2016 by W.G.Milne  

POEMS OF THE TRUE ONE

Sunday, August 21, 2016

POEMS OF THE TRUE ONE

        When I was living in small rooms all through the City of Toronto, I started to have
visions of paradise - and not a future
Paradise, either - but a present time living every day paradise. 
        I saw it in the grass around me, in the flowers in their beds, in wild growing plants in the bush, in the stars in the sky, in the blood red
wine in the  crystal goblet, in the swellings of
a beautiful girl. All was part of One all-embracing paradisal glory and Grace that suffused the green shoots of everything.
        I had had that ego annihilation experience,
and I walked in the parks and streets for three days and nights, absorbed in the divinity
of all things. Dark glasses had been removed
from my eyes, dawn was coming, and I saw the chastity of  our Father, the Creating One,
in all things.
      After my Realization ( foundation experience) I walked in a new heaven and earth. The immaculate cosmos shone forth
everywhere... I guess it was my eyes that had been new.
       There is no explaining such events. I can only say that the Liberation experience is here,
and it can be found by anyone who is willing
to give up enough in the inner search, so as to find the meaning of Identity.

      During this experience I wrote a chapter in what I'll call The Poet's Testament. The fact of the matter is - I though I was writing a New Testament with the guidance of the Father.
       I've been to jail several times. I thought I'd be killed or jailed again if I called the book,
THE NEW TESTAMENT, so I backed off
and reduced the name.

       In this period, also, I wrote "The Father Poems", which I have just discovered in my files once again.
       I'll publish one of these poems here,
if I may.

Here's one:


        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems
        
       Let me find the poems

of the True one.
        
         For as you are the Father, Lord,
         
         I would be your son.
         
         And as you are true, Father,

I would be a true one and

write the Word of Truth.


         There are many spirits,

Father, in the Psyche's Dark.

But I would lift your light high,

Father, if I am worthy...
         
        If it shall be, Father, Father let it be.


        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems

        Let me find the poems

of the True One.





(C)2016 by W.G. Milne

Friday, June 12, 2015

CLIFFTOP WRITINGS... THE POET'S 

DON'T BLOW KISSES AT THE MOON - an old time country song

                                           (C) 2013-2016 by Bill Milne

Walker Ballantine

45 mins · North Bay, ON · 

          This is a song I wrote and recorded while sick in bed. I got one foot on the floor in a boot

 to tap along. One mike that was incredibly noisy once I boosted the volume. But good song, 

tearful story. And I will produce this one, if the bridges stay up and the ocean don't rise.

              I've always liked the country classic,
"HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY."
              Saturday afternoons I'd drift over to the Bellmont Tavern. They always had a band playing on Saturdays. And when that song was played, I'd often have to wipe a tear from my eye, after my 4th or 5th draft.
             The lyrics are just about perfect in that song.

             So I decided to write a similar song, a song that tells a story. What came from my efforts is this one: "DON'T BLOW KISSES AT THE MOON" (C) 2013-2016 by Bill Milne.
            It's not perfect, but it's getting close. It's a tale about a little guy in black clothes and cowboy hat -  Eddie Logan. He falls in love with Sara Thompson, who is the tall blonde Honky
Tonk Queen, who works at night on a corner of Larabie Street.
           Eddie assists at funerals early mornings at the graveyard.

           The production is not so hot. I sang and recorded this song when I was sick in bed.
Sometimes the lyrics are a little hard to hear...
if so, I'll add lyrics to the video eventually.
           Hope you enjoy the song.

The White Stripes - Ball and Biscuit

Oh yeah, man can play...

very old blues song, but reborn thru our pal here.

OhOh

CRICKETS ARE GOOD FORTUNE

        There is a cricket who lives with me now. I like 
the sound of his cheeping. It reminds me of the tropics. 
Last week it felt like the tropics in northern Ontario. 
I would have gone to the bush, but it was too hot.
        Anyway, two days ago the bush came to me
 in the form of a cricket. He's a fairly big bug and 
I would have stomped on him until I realized 
it was my little buddy.
        Now he moves from room to room with me. 
When I play music in the front room, pretty soon 
he starts to sing along. When I go to sleep (at any time 
of day or night)I move to the bedroom. He comes over
to the bedroom and sings me to sleep there.
        I had a thought:  "Gee, this cricket must be getting
hungry."   So I looked up what crickets eat. I found out
they eat anything. Fruit, cabbage, leave a little piece
of meat out for them, they'll eat meat, too. Or chicken.
Crickets are real scavengers, but then, so are we.
          You have to leave a little water out for them.
I've done that, so that's OK. If you leave crickets
in a cage together and you don't feed them, crickets
will eat other crickets.
        I'm going to play a few songs on this recent video
I'm putting together, give my little pal something
to play along with.
       The music starts up and in a minute his singing
along. It's a very pleasant sound.
       "Good boy," I say to him.

THE REAL DOPE NOW

 August 8, 2016

THE TEMPLE OF LOVE

        We were visiting the Temple of Love in the holy city of Varanasi one morning about dawn. The sun was filtering down through the leaves as  we climbed the stone steps up towards the temple. We arrived there

in what can be described as a large canoe.

            In the canoe there was a priest, a bramin, a rabbi, my sister . The brahmin leans forward and says to me:

"The boat's in the water. There's no water in the boat." 

 We reached the temple at the top of a high hill. And I remember

the gasps of the others when they saw the temple.

                  The entire outside of the temple, all four walls were

covered in explicit carvings of people screwing. And not ordinary people

either. These people were so well-endowed and they had such stamina, they must have been

gods and goddesses.

             Indeed, the attendant pointed out one woman who was very busy indeed absorbed in her carnal pleasures with about four people. He pointed to her butt and said, “Kali”.

                    Now the worship of Kali is no joke. She is referred to as, “the dark one”. She is the one with about ten arms and legs. And it’s not unusual for one of her hands to hold a human skull. One arm makes the sign meaning, “It’s all right.”  The hand at the end of another arm holds a lethal knife.

             Anyway, on the outside of the Temple of Love, Kali is having sex. And the rest of the religious crew who were visiting the temple with me, they were so disgusted by the exterior walls covered by this continuous carved sex-fest that they wanted to leave immediately.

My sister didn’t want to leave but she escorted

the holy gang down to the boat.

        The early morning outside the Temple of Love, everything grew very quiet. All the offended chatterers were gone… At this point I got down on my hands and knees trying to find the interior of the place.

            Out of the trees surrounding the temple came a man dressed in white robes with white hair and a white beard. He looked ascetic.

In fact he looked exactly like our idea of a Christian saint. Someone who

spends a lot of time fasting, in order to attain the visions that fasting will give sometimes… if you have great patience.

                Did I conjure this guy up? No,

impossible!  Did he come from Central Casting? Nope, he was real. He was carrying a staff.

He led me around to the other side of the temple. He gestured with

his staff towards an arched opening.

         I looked inside the Temple. The inside

of the place was immaculate. The floor was polished. At the center

of the floor was a raised rounded off phallic stone. Behind me the holy man said: “Yoni.”

            Outside of the Temple was this mass of carved coitus. The inside of the temple was

immaculate. “There’s a lesson to be learned here,” I thought.

       I went back down to the boat. Everyone

was mad at me, except for the boatman and my sister, who had been trying to maintain order among this unruly crew, who were all deeply offended by something.

                The boatman was laughing and I was

laughing, too. I had just made a discovery which later in my life was to become quite important to me. I tried to hide my laughter by looking out across the waters of the Ganges, gleaming in the morning sun.