Thursday, March 26, 2020



         He was an old guy now, with a pot belly, huge shoulders, a drinking habit and horrendous breath. He sat talking to the young woman across the room from him.
        He said: " If we ever had sex ( and you could avoid looking at me for a while) I'd have you hooting and howling and scratching the walls with your manicured fingernails; I'd have you panting and screaming and begging for mercy - as I teased you right to the edge - about this time you'd be trying to bite me, but as I have right now... one hand over your crotch and the other over your mouth, the neighbours would not hear your mad, shuddering supplications...but the sensitive ones would sense the steam emanating from your silenced mind... deep into the tropical night."

She crossed her legs up high under her tight skirt, and she said:  "I suspected as much. And that's one reason I'm never going to get in bed with you."
            "It'll never happen," she said.
            "So you believe," said he.

(C)2020 by W.G. Milne

Sunday, March 22, 2020


there is a space
that comes
hearing old jazz
on a distant radio

station comes in
and out and when the station
there is the wind

licking the gaps 
in the wainscotting
holes that are
for the gods

wind licks the lake
in the silence
of its wisdom

a blustery day
and me on this roadway
sheltered by the pine
wind blasts down from
the granite ridge
whispers "winter
my son"

I decide not
to go
to town

but sit here 
on this sand bank
and listen
to the forest voice
of fall's last

(C)1970 by W.G. Milne

Saturday, March 21, 2020


In the inescapable darkness of solitary confinement, I learned the beginnings of meditation.

Remember the feeling of confinement in deep stone.

Nothing to come, no place to go.

Like the rock of the Laurentian Shield,

"I put my hand upon the stone and heard
   ancient memories."

Friday, March 20, 2020



       This is a continuation of my efforts
to share a manuscript of mystical writings
I call the Clifftop Writings.
       At the time of writing these passages
I was convinced I was writing the
New Testament of the Lord of Hosts.
        I ask you to reserve judgment
on what these writings might be. Even
though I have moved on in my life,
I have not moved that far along... I
know these writings are too fine
to be destroyed.


  (C) 1974 to 2015 by W.G.Milne and
         by the Author.
   The paragraph and word order is maintained
    on the typed page as it was in the manuscript,
    written mostly in pencil. Ballpoint pens
     often don't work in freezing or windy
             Most of the clifftop writings were
      written outside. I wrote in a variety of
       notebooks, keeping several pencils
       in the breast pocket in my tweed
       coat and vests. I wrote with a pencil
       in one hand and "The Nag Hammadi
       Library", edited by James. M. Robinson,
       in my other hand. I always started
        meditating on a passage on one of the
        fifty-two holy books contained in that
             When words became the Word,
       I didn't have time to go back inside
       the hut to get supplies. So I sharpened
       the pencils again and again on the granite
       rock of the Laurentian Shield. 

Clifftop Writings:

"The poet knew that he had
            tasted the Mind of God
He had been taught and schooled
             by the Lord on cliff tops,
promontories into deep lakes
and wild seas. In many such
places the Lord of Hosts revealed
the eternal presence of His seeing
in His holy light.
           The poet had been astounded
repeatedly and anointed as a prophet
of the Lord, through none of his own
doing, but by Grace only.
            That all things are of God:
matter and soul and spirit originate
in Him, and all returns to Him.

All is in the crystal shower
of the incandescent throne,
The holy fountain that erupts
and subsides again: the awareness
which is the eye of the seashell
And of the hurricane and the tornado:
The burning blaze at the heart
Of the atom; the restless charge
That leaps throughout the adhesion
Of molecules; the pure eye of the
Baby child newly in her cradle:
The leap of a bright butterfly off a
          summer branch,
The yellow eye of the sun
The eye for which all all time
                            is present
The past and the future exist
To the Mind of God:

"I see Moses in his day and
Adam and the birth of my son
In whom I am well pleased;
I am Alpha, Omega, and I am
the unity of the Universe."

"I am  the living and fiery essence
         that burns in the light of the stars;
  I am the white light of holy dreams
         and realities,
The chastity of the bride
The white wedding of the Mind;
I am the poet's poetry
The prophecy of the sage
I am the potter,
You are my clay:
I give to you, even this
New heaven and earth
Born again in this page;
Verily I say
And listen carefully to
          this phrase:

'I do not send my Son
To be crucified among men:
Rather now, in this new age
Behold him in whom I am well
Even here, the fructification
          of my seed,
The Seed of David in this new age now
          men shall be
Crucified upon the Christ
In this age, and through these
The second coming has come,'
The father says.
So it is written
So shall it be."

The poet lay down his head
          and gave thanks to the Lord
For His holiness, His chapel of light
The sight of a star across worlds
          from a holy promontory
To another, sun beckons to intergalactic sun
           to son;
The poet thanks God, Lord of hosts
That he should live to see
            this day.

For it had been foretold by the
It had been spoken by the Father
That the prophet should not
             live to see
The flowering of this prophecy;
Yet the world would come to see
The blossoming of his poetry.



The fact of the matter - it doesn't matter what I am
- this talk about prophet or poet, it misses the
point. It's not about me.
I was concerned about the weight of the manuscript on my own shoulders,
that I had to finish it and share it before I died.
      I prayed to the Holy One and asked
what I was to do to protect the Grace
contained in this book.
        The answer that came, without a word
being spoken was this... the answer to my
prayer was:

"Grace is not contained in any book.
Grace is mine alone," sayeth the Lord.
" I am the Lord of Abraham,  I AM,
I AM THAT I AM.  I alone am the source of
Grace. I alone may bestow it."

        So I needen't have worried about my own
status. The best way to convey my status
is to remember the words also of the Lord God:


        This is what I am. And this also is what
I am not.

I know longer know what all of this
means - likely, I never did know.
For a wind blew through me,
And blew the cherries from the trees.

                              (C)1990-2015 by W.G.Milne

Monday, March 16, 2020


The search for a lover, the search for Christ, the search for Home and the quest for spiritual completion - all these things are closely related. This song: '"IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR AN ANSWER", It's about these closely knit needs.



“What you search for you have found,”
        the prophet said to me,
“You don’t know it yet but you will see;
That elusive place called home
        you so deeply need
Will appear when you attain 

Across the brazen sands
Beyond the forests of the deep,
The Gates of Hercules reopen 
        once again;
Sailing to the Hesperides
Where prized apple trees
And a tossing golden bough
 Throws shades upon the 

It is just before the full of the moon,
These are the nights I cannot ever
Heavy gusts of wind
Blow westward off the lake,
Memories of loved ones parade
        past me in my sleep:

Poseidon’s door’s wide open 
        and I see
The stuff of dreams and distant
         fabled seas,
A palace in the riverlands,
         pyramid to the sky
Across the Nile and through
         vast distant sands.    

(C)2016 by W.G. Milne  

Monday, March 9, 2020


964,444 views•1 Mar 2020
William Milne
753 subscribers
I'm going through a stack of tapes, and I pulled these two songs off one of them. This would have been the first time I sang the songs... just finishing writing them at the time. I betray a little intoxication the way I say "Belladonna" in A STORMY NIGHT IN A PLACE CALLED HOME. (a little?)
These songs are raw, right off the press years ago. In the song TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE/ And your foreign marmalade;/Take it all if you are able/ And lay it in a lonesome grave... There's some good writing in it. The tempo changes in "Stormy Night" are a piss-off. But we do what we can when we can. These songs are not throw-aways. So I'm preserving them here.................In fact, these 2 songs might be among the best I've ever written. Don't
let the fact that they were recorded in a closet fool you.
(C)1987-2017 by W.G. Milne and JOHN ROCK Corporation

Take your jam off the table
And your foreign marmalade
Take it all if you are able
And lay it in a lonesome grave

Lay there those pictures of your boyfriend
The ones you used to save
The pictures of your boyfriend
And the faces that he made
(alt. You don't need 'em anymore)

Take your eyes off the sunset
That screams into the night
Take your mind off those cigarettes
You smoke with all your might

I left my door wide open
One night into the rain
I thought I could close it long ago
But I've never been the same

Your eyes are young and lovely

Your rivers are shining blue  (through)
Lately I've heard the stories
They've been telling on you
None of them are true
None of them are true
They're not stories of you

What the priests in the churches
        didn't tell you
And the headlines in the smoke
Among rumours of gossip and war
From minds that have lost their hope

There's a place that's for you
On that further shore
You can end your lonesome journey
       to the truth
Right by your kitchen door

Take your jam off the table
Keep it set for two
Set a light in your window
I'll wait there for you.

Category see the William Milne Channel on You Tube

Friday, March 6, 2020


so you stole
from me
my finest Persian

I had it 
covering the
oak walls

but now I see
the oak wood
in the logs
is more beautiful
than any

for what you
have taken

(C)1983 by W.G. Milne

Friday, February 28, 2020


Sweet nightingale calling
        dark in a deep wood.
Your voice has sounded ages
         in the forest
Kings and clowns of empires past
          have known your song,
Sweetly sung in passing                            generations.

And is it then for men to fret and            die
Forlorn in solitude in the singing
           of this song?
Empires fade, the ages come and             go, as do nightingales,
Yet it is the song of all days.

And is it for men to die a solitary
Hear birds sing
And know not the ageless inner    Song of human being?

Immortal as the deathless                        nightingale that dies
A song of all days.

(C) 1978 by William G. Milne

Tuesday, February 25, 2020


fairy grail

there are horrendous
negative influences
in my life
dwarfs and gnomes
who wish me ill
*I heard the owl
call my name
the owl said:
“run! the bad 
queen is after you
not to mention
the police!”
*I didn’t feel 
like running
so instead I went
to the Paradise
bar and grill
and there
*my sister too
had joined the
evil horde
for a time her
mind was taken
over by darker
*hate and rage
echo down the
halls reverberate
against walls
*I put on my science
shoes and step upon
the immaculate
*see visions of
primordial truths

*o   o   o

*what do I do
with this jewel
I bring back from
the nightstream?
*the rulers and their
daughters are asleep
or at the
or purchasing
this year’s
*the chapel of the
night was dark
the skulls
frightening until
you saw their
infinite carved
*Miranda gave her
song to me
and whispered
“sing it!”
*I passed on
through the woods
and saw
the ruined
*drank the cup
by the evergreen
and tasted the
*took the fisher
from his boat
and served him
“here these
are oranges from
the south and 
lemons from the
east here are
mushrooms from the
grove and words
from the
*I burned a
knife hot and
cauterized his 
*shot the dragon
of the night
with an
*saw pure
motionless light
in the chapel
*took his daughter’s
hand and
*went north to
the new land
and stayed there
with the
of the bay.


       * * * * * * * *

(C)1980-2017 by W.G. Milne

Tuesday, February 18, 2020



CASES FROM THE FEMALE ORGASM CLINIC     _______________________________________



                  Soon as I can get to a scanner, I`ll
scan some of the “Roving Reporter in the Bush” tales,
and the comic sketches drawn by Ernie Taylor of me inhot pursuit of various stories.

(He got the “mad intensity” which is hard
to get, I`m told.  Soon as someone points a camera at
me I smile like an innocent schoolboy.)

Of course, looking at me these days, I`m
not fooling anyone.
Maybe I wasn`t fooling anybody when I was
a schoolboy. I had one Grade 2 teacher who hated me
on sight!  Maybe she got a glimpse of the mind behind
the mask – the innocent schoolboy act…

I wrote for 2 hours the other morning – a great
true scene of whipping my 2nd wife atop a cliff, near
a waterfall in the spring – with 20 tourists approaching.  That girl sure did have a set of lungs!
I had to wrap things up fast….She was screaming…
like I hadn’t told her what I was going to do to her…

Ah, but some of the tourists were running like
they were trying to “save” her.  They should have
saved me.  I was the one married to her…                                      *
The problem with people who want to try S&M,
they hear it`s sexy… that the PAIN turns to PLEASURE…
if you get caned in the right spot…       They’re right, but NOT RIGHT AWAY!
It`s going to hurt a lot first… And that`s when you
spend a little quiet time alone and tell yourself
how sorry you are for all the evil things you`ve
done… (No!  I`m kidding!)
Anyway Melissa was losing it, and tourists
were almost making it to the crest of the hill,  so I did the
only logical thing.  I put Melissa in the trunk of the car.
Out of sight, out of mind…
Then later I went on to describe my use of Mindshocks,
working with a trained psychologist, to cure tortured
women, tortured by their familial repressions… how
Mindshocks help to set these ladies free – by scaring the
shit out of them, if they need it.
Their knees are not pressed so tightly together
after that. And if the women have a tendency to look
at the floor – they don`t look at the floor so much
after the first Surprise.
No, it`s too dangerous to look at the floor.  They
look behind them and all around them, and then they see
my trained assistants with notepad ,
padded handcuffs and a short cattle prod, which
is easy to hide when you tuck it up the sleeve of
your white labcoat…   when they see that…
Some of them try to run, but they don`t get far. It`s
rare for anyone to get away, like Alice. After all, she`d already paid the fee.  Also, there`s the fact that I`m the
only shop in three cities who performs this sort
of high-intensity, quick-fix psychological procedure.
Hell, I might be the only clinic anywhere, who promises to
cure your orgasm problems in ten days, or you money
back guaranteed.
After several years, most of the women who have
after a year or two, I get thank you notes… sometimes
the letters are long and the thanks are effusive;  sometimes they even try to find me!
But right off the bat after the procedure, they
usually   hate my guts…  That`s why I have to get
the money first.
In my one unsuccessful case, out of 19 delighted and appreciative women I got a letter
that was not a thank-you note…It looked like she had
a lawyer or  an expensive secretary type it.  The words,
“a long and enduring hatred” appeared.
I`ll be seeing her again, but it might take
years, and, all flippancy aside, she has a serious problem,
which will not get better on its own – even if she shoots
her father, or her uncle, whoever she`s sure has caused her such difficulties.                                           *
Speaking of shooting, TRANSFERENCE can be a problem in this specific situation. When she turns her
compulsive spotlight in my direction, it`s quite likely
she`ll try to shoot me. This has happened to me with
members of the fair sex before, but never in a professional relationship.
I can feel her now, prowling the side streets and
parking lots around my old place, a rifle with a scope in her trunk.               I should never have taught the lady to shoot.
I  had nothing but her best interests at heart. However –  it might appear  different in her mind –  in her enraged,vindictive an extremely pressured state of mind.
I`ll have to be very careful
when I leave the compound, any time soon.
is an extremely attractive, wealthy, apparently stable woman… But she’ll be trouble for any husband.  Until she is cured, that is.  And she is so very close to a cure.  Just give me 3 more nights with her in the clinic.
You see the husband, when he gets naked with her to have sex – and when sex turns out to be a disaster –it`s hard to maintain an erection if you are staring into the
eyes of a woman who looks suspiciously like a black
panther, preparing to eat your spleen.


I have my assistants. Gentle Doctor Laura is
available to placate patients – Laura`s services are  always necessary after the initial Mindshock.
The women naturally think they are in the
middle of some weird Machiavellian Nazi experiment
after I lay the electrodes down to tender parts
of their bodies.
It`s almost all for show… Almost!
Thinking again of that poor naked man
before Alice’s glowering onslaught.
Without my instruments I`d feel naked, too.

I use well-fashioned and durable sexual implements… An electric pulse and probe are frequently necessary… and of course there are canes and crops. Electric cuffs may be needed… restraints…prescribed stimulants… padded restraints.
Sometimes I bring in professional studs,
sometimes  distractions…    Sometimes I use power tools…                                        *

My team are pros at quickly
treating any medical difficulties


               Sometimes after the
first surprise PROBE and ZAP, the patient starts to shriek…
and the words LAWSUIT and CHARLATAN often come up… and she`s right.

With the amount of  of electrical
and medical lab equipment we have assembled here…
not to mention the powerful prescription drugs. She’s right

that all my methods are not approved.
When the patient starts to shriek “LAWSUIT”
after the first blast of  current up her ass, I hit her with the


And soon as they awaken and she`s having
breakfast in her green backless johnny gown, I hit her
with the blast again….. ZOWEEE!  MINDSHOCK!
delivered to her lower unit…
I have doubled the current going thru the
electric probe this time ..  .
I told you, I get results, and I get `em fast!
I must break down all resistance. And we’re

experts at my lab.
I`m the one who drafts the MEDICAL RELEASE
FORM, and if I do say so myself, it`s a beauty.
I lost one lovely twisted soul 13 months ago… I
happened to spot her sprinting across the lawn.
Sometimes you overdo the initial shock –  but really the
shock has to be administered in a closed environment.

An intelligent woman can often sense something
coming.   Maybe it`s the snickers of the queer male nurses.
(I keep calling them gay – they insist they`re not gay;
they`re Queer. I`m not sure what the difference is
and I`m not sure I want to know).

         William S.  Burroughs wrote the book, “QUEER!”

 and we all respected him.


I hired the male nurses because they did such a special job of nabbing fleeing patients at the research hospital –
they showed such gusto and skill.  (They nabbed
me more than once and I can run like a rabbit when
I`ve got a good head of steam up. Of course, with my
knees strapped together they had the advantage…)
Yes, I make fun. But these women suffer.
And, understand something about my methods:
I claim to cure you quick.  And I do.  I will.
My team hasn`t had a failure yet.(With one exception
and I`m not finished with her yet.) If my
methods appear to be more like theater than
medicine, well so be it!
I`ve always wanted to get into the theater,
but this is a hell of a way to do it!
As I`ve mentioned before, my clinic is not
sanctioned by the A.M.A. or even by the F.D.A.
I do get referrals from some doctors, but
it`s always on the Q.T.    That should be enough
initials for one article.

Word of mouth provides most of my trade –
people who roam the City late at night in the
black-walled darkness of the more unknown bars,
red flickering candles, vampire suits,
and laughter and shouts and confidential talk
when the band stops playing.

“It worked for Alice.   She feels a whole lot
better now… She says he was brilliant, a genius.
She said he quoted Dr Wilhelm Reich and his
orgone therapy as well as Mesmer and the Marquis
de Sade.
” Now she wants sex as soon as she sees a
white coat, or hears a certain song
only the doctor knows…”
” You`re kidding, Alice – that has to
be unethical – keeping a hypnotic trigger secret!”
“It`s certainly better  keeping it secret –
than telling everybody what it is at the cross-roads!”


Alice laughs out loud and slaps her knee.
“Actually, Jo,  that was a joke about the secret
song.”   She pats Jo`s hand.
Johanna:   “What`s gotten into you?
You haven`t been snorting that drug, inhaling ha! ha! gas again?”
“Relax!   I feel fine.  I feel great, better
than I have in over a decade. He not only
showed me how to orgasm, he cured my two
pack a day smoking habit….

“My God! How`d he do that?”


Madelaine looked down… along the line of
her leg and boot:


            “He showed me how to put something
else in my mouth.”