THERE'S A CRAZY MAN UPSTAIRS WITH SOMETHING IN HIS HAND --- over 18 only please

There’s a man sitting on a chair
in the middle of an empty room.




He’s hearing various voices, and talking
to some of them. characters he’s drawn up - but very real to him…personalities he does not
wish to lose… that arise out of and return to
some plenum void of the unconscious. In his
head he’s got almost all the characters
for a Shakespearian drama
Characters all based on real people,
some of them still alive, many of them dead,
and echoes he has heard of voices in
the night… some of them coming from
across the sea.
What’s worse is… the people downstairs,
the very real people are plotting to have him arrested….And he can hear their thoughts
The wife in particular is getting
annoyed that Charlie is constantly crushing his
medications… and snorting them… and of course
Charlie begins to get paranoid.
He endures waves of paranoid
fantasies, especially when he
is high from inhaling too much medical fuel.
When he is high he has preternatural
hearing — he can hear for miles, with a clarity
he can’t explain…it is almost supernatural
what he can hear.
And he’s hearing too much of the moralistic, complaining wife, droning on about calling the police.

Charlie: (growls in his throat) Or maybe she’s calling a priest. A S&M hooker priest with high heels and stockings
Have her read the sexual last rites to me while
berating my name…Staring down at me
with that great ass… (Charlie loves his landlady’s ass)


She: He’s cutting drugs up,
there. That’s all he’s done for days

Husband: It’s not cocaine… it’s just
anti-depressants - he snorts
them. ‘Just to curb the hunger inside.’
That’s what he said when I asked what
the fuck was he pounding and scraping at…

Husband shouts:We hear it real clear thru the floor!

She’s shouting up at the ceiling: “We hear you
when you masturbate, too!
Can’t you take it easy with the grunts and pounding, and that slapping sound?
It’s like somebody kicking a heavy bag…
What the hell is that?”

Husband: It sounds like he’s whipping
himself!

Wife: Let’s call the cops.. He’s making
horrible noises! What is he puking
up… a lung?




Husband: No! No cops around here! Last
time you called the cops on a
tenant, they almost took me away!

She grabs for the phone…

WHACK!

Wife/she: OOWEEEEEEEEEEEE!

He: You can take a punch better than that! *

She: (crying, fondling a knife in her left hand,
the hand Shaky, the husband, can’t see).

He: “He pays his rent real regular and we need it.”

She: That crazy place up the hill pays his rent.

He: Naw, he pays it. He don’t want nothin more
to do with the crazy house. By the way,
They don’t call them crazy houses anymore.
They call them asylums…It’s more polite.

Brenda: swirls the olive in her drink, Says:
“It’ll always be the nuthouse to me.”
(pause…swirls the olive, one stockinged
leg crossed over the other, high heel shoe
slowly nodding in the air)

She: “I don’t care what they call it.
If you start hearing voices, you should be
locked up. These psychos can turn on you
at any time..Soon as they’re off their
medication, their dicks work again!
That fucker upstairs, he’s hearing voices all
the time!

Husband (Shaky): He’s hearing your voice!
You can bet on that!

She: He looks at me, stares right at my crotch
and he sniffs the air.HE SNIFFS THE AIR
LIKE SOME KIND OF ANIMAL!And he
stares at my ass…with those red eyes of his.
Like some beast in the forest at night!

Cassie, the wife,she continues: "Yeah, they get off their medication, then their dicks work again.
Then all they want to do is RAPE WHITE WOMEN!

He: I get it! I understand!

She: You should see the way he looks at me! And I can tell he’s got something in his hand!






2
2
He: Hell, I look at you that way,too!
You cut me off that pussy of yours
for a month, I'm running around with a tent pole
looking to fuck somethin’… anything warm.

She: Hey! Is that all you think I am
a warm pussy and a gorgeous ass?

He: slaps her ass, says: "I love that big ass
of yours. Right now,,, let me tongue your
ass hole.. Then call me a pig, tell me how
I’m weak, indecisive & obedient… and what a pig
I am. And how I have a small cock!
She: Honey, your cock is huge that’s why
I’m with you. It’s sure not your personality.
Ha! Ha!
He: Tell me it’s small! Go ahead, insult me!
She: "You’re a moron. You’ve got the job
of a moron! And the salary to match!”
He: Not like that! You know what I mean!
(He’s jacking off)

She: “You’re a premature ejaculator
He: That’s it! (he pants) What else?
She: You’ve been soft 90% of the time all
this year..!
He… yeah, that’s good! (beating off) Keep going!
She: And when you’re not soft, your cock
is too small to bother with…
He: YES!

She: I feel that beast upstairs staring
at me… I get all tingly between
my knees…
He: Yah?
She: I want him to beat me the way
he beats his meat. I want him
to beat my ass with a stick! Then
I want him to fuck me…

He: (panting)
She: I want him to fuck me 'til I scream!
He: (gasping. His hand is a blur it’s
moving so fast)
She: I can tell by his eyes that’s he’s
got a big dick…And he knows how
to use it, too. He’d have no trouble
getting it in me. All the way in me. Deep!

He: (… …)

She: He might be crazy,
but some crazy people have huge cocks!
I just bet he’s one of them… I want him
to fuck me with his huge cock!

He: (breathing hard) Don’t stop!
She: Those rare times when you get hard…

He: yah……………..?

She: You last about a minute…

He: "urf!" (he’s masturbating wildly… making
high-pitched hooting sounds …. as if he’s
being goosed repeatedly)

She: "What kind of a man are you? You crawl
across the bed towards me….

He: (panting)

She: You try to mount me…. but you’re too
pathetic to achieve penetration…. you
know what happens…

He: (He knows what happens, all right. It’s
beginning to happen now…. his dick is
twitching, throbbing up and down… the
eye of his considerable schlong winks
at her, before)…. just before…
his member which he’s pulling at with
both hands… begins to spurt in all
directions, especially hers…

She: You came on my stockings! Just now!
Once again!.. you didn’t make it
did you?

He: Noooooo!
She: You didn’t achieve penetration!
You’re pathetic! You came on my leg!
She: You know what you have to do now,
don’t you…
He: Yes. ma'am, I sure do.
He crawls over between her legs,
pushes his nose up between the lips of her
labia.
He knows all right. Yes, he does.
He sure does. He slips his tongue deep
inside her and allows it to happen.
…The gasping… The quivering…
©2014 Walker Ballantine

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WHAT CHANGES THE ORDINARY INTO THE DIVINE?

"While we are in this world, it is fitting for us to acquire
the resurrection, so that when we strip off the flesh we shall be
found in rest and not walk in the middle."
(Gospel of Philip)


Jesus said:"He who drinks the waters from my mouth
will become as I am. I myself shall become he,
and the things that are hidden will be revealed to him."
(Gospel of Thomas)


Where to begin? Unenlightened people in the early days
of Jesus were called "the dead". It was necessary for those
who are dead to be awakened. One must go through the
Great Realization in this life, in order to experience
the Resurrection: one who has gone through 
this experience is called, "risen from the dead".
Realization is a mystery in which "the two become one",
the seeker and the teacher become One in the same.






There is NO EXPLANATION
for these things. For what happens and how it
happens is God's own mystery. What we must do
is prepare a place within, a space for God's Grace
to enter in.



The disciples asked: "When will the Kingdom you speak of,
when will the Kingdom come?"

Jesus said:"What you look forward to has already come,
but you do not recognize it."


Christ is important, not because he was a highly special God-
man who performed miracles. No, these notions just make the
Christ a hot property which the church could monopolize for
incredible profit, cash, and respect in the community. In fact,
the Christ is important because he is so ordinary: that this
wondrous Vision of God came out of the poverty of the ordinary
man.

 It might take
blind faith to get to the place where the Vision exists; but it
takes a knowing experience in order to realize the Vision.
Christ is more important as a state of Mind than He is as
a particular person who lived two thousand years ago.
I put capitals on words pertaining to Christ, because
once the Mind that is Christ is realized, it is the Vision of God.
Out of the ordinary soul, there is thisVision that is divine.

what is indeed miraculous is that this Heart-Mind
that spans the centuries comes out of the most ordinary soil.
And what changes the ordinary into the divine? This is the same
question as, "What is the Meaning of Life?" Or, "What's
going on?" Let us call the agency that transforms the ordinary
into the divine, let us call it, "the Eucharist."
But it is not the eucharist you will be offered in church.
Or at least not in what passes for church in this day and age.
The mystery has been taken out of our religion. The Bible has
been emasculated.
And it has gotten so bad that the church has negated
the very existence of the Great Realization.

THE LORD OF HOSTS WALKS WITH ME sometimes

       

        WHEN I was living on the clifftop, I became aware of the Lord's help.  When I wrote, He  was finishing my sentences. I became
aware of it, because... after "I" stopped writing my hand kept moving along and down the page. I was understanding the top of the page - my hand was writing the bottom of the page.
        This sounds freaky, I know. It sounds like a magic act, I know. Only I wasn't performing
the magic. And I was the only one there

        We were in a holy Place of Power. Now this I knew... I chose the place --- and, trust me, it
wasn't easy. I went to every hilltop, clifftop, and mountain peak in the area. I sat down and meditated in each of the places. It took days because I was walking. Finally I found a place
where I felt at home.
        Why did I feel at home? Because I had found the altar of the Lord of Hosts.
         Trust me. These thing happen.

          I worked in this place for several years
It didn't take me more than a few months to notice what was happening with my hand and the sentences. After I was stumped. After I couldn't think of anything else to say, my hand kept writing. As I say, someone else was finishing my sentences
          It took me a while to know who was finishing my sentences - what my hand was writing... whoever was doing this, He was saying
things I wouldn't have had the courage to write
myself - I wasn't able to think of such things or to imagine them.          




A few days ago I asked God, "Is there anything I have not done?"

          The answer came a day later:
"YOU HAVE NOT PRAISED MY NAME."

            "I praise the mercy of the most high."

            " I praise thee, O Lord of Hosts, I praise thy name. I praise your name in the heights. Upon mountain tops, I praise thy Name.
O Lord, you have been most gracious unto me."

         I asked you for strength, and you have given me your strength. In fact, I have no strength of my own. I am powerless. I kneel before Thee. It is you who have carried me.
          And for this and the infinite chaste glory of thy works, I praise Thee.
          You have seen me - desperate at the foot of your altar - and you picked me up. At the cliff-top, you had me rise into the dawn light and the mercy of your Grace.
           
            Yesterday, I prayed for your aid, your help when I was at the end, drained of all strength and all faith... Today you have opened
your doors to me, the doors to my own soul. Today you have opened my eyes. I have opened
my eyes in your clarity.
             I see now the possibilities that were hidden to me before... just yesterday.


             O holy One, Lord of Hosts, you are among us. I thank you for your gifts and for your Grace and for the strength you give to all of us.
              I praise they name to the heights, I praise thee for thy holy Word, with which you have led me here.

 If we can assume that Christ, the Anointed one, that He is One with God, the Lord of Hosts, the Voice over the waters, the Mind that rides the clouds, the Lord of the Meeting Rivers, Lord of the red earth and the islands of the seas.. that Christ is the son, and God his Father.. and that the Son of man is within us... once we taste the Mind of Christ, we taste the eternal Mind, the Mind that sees beyond birth and death... once we Know this Mind exists, we arrange our sittings so that we travel to this Mind and become One with it.

                 Because of this, I praise Thee.

DO NOT SEEK THE GOAL, RELAX INTO THE JOURNEY

Angela Hoffberg Some of us can't relax until we are liberated.

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  Walker Ballantine That's very true, Angela, I was like that... I was driven - forcing myself through endless intellectual puzzles -- until a woman crying right beside me --- got me down to serious business. An absolute concentration on one phrase in the Bible... "IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD"

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  Walker Ballantine Compassion won the day and the Breakthrough was made. My life has been utterly changed since that day. And my woman friend no longer is crying.

+

• Angela Hoffberg Walker Ballantine, only now do I see what you're saying. You really helped me.

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  Walker Ballantine I'm so happy to hear this, Angela

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN: MOON-BLIND BITCHES OF A  SICKLE TOWN  _________________________________________      



JUNE, 2019   ----- i WROTE THIS ten years ago ... approx 2009.... and I have a busload of witnesses!!!!

                                                  ...

A STUDY

Distinctly Odd

______

Now in tatters he walks the boulevard
In a decrepit pair of running shoes

And his armpitssmell of last month's bar

And his breath smells exactly like a fart
And when he coughs people sneer and avoid him
And when he laughs, people cringe

Those in the restaurant beside him.
              *****

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JUST A TRACE

I found a piece of driftwood
on the beach at
Bosphoral;
and a brush that
did the colours
on the signs
in Spanish Town,
but found there
not a trace
not a trace
of paint.

I see implements of torture
on the Serenghetti plains,
leaving not a taste 
of anger or distaste
leaving not a trace of hate

I find weapons of
destruction
by the towers
that burned down;
and blood and smoke
and damage mile
after mile
and leaving not a trace
of lies;

I see a mother's hairbrush
down the chapel in the back
and her favourite yellow
dress
and best shoes for the
dance;
and leaving just a
trace
of love;

I find a toy soldier
by the genocidal pits
and seeds and pits from an
apple
and a silver spoon with it;
and finding just a trace
just a trace
of gold.

I find a silver locket
on the Salisbury Road
I see a picture of a
mother, and child's sister
and two sons;
and leaving
not a trace
not a trace
at all.







(C)2019 by W.G. Milne

my favourite old coat

infinite salvation
     must be sought
in finite things

two clear mirrors
     reflect
each other

I thought of all the leaders
     fighting to be free
and  I thought about you
     hiding from the mystery

in my annihilation
     Mu appears

a guitar without strings
      a sound
      blown by the

      wind



my favorite old
      coat
is worn today
threads loosely
      hanging 
shreds  blown away
      to the clouds.








(C)2019 by W.G. Milne

A LAND BEYOND THE SEA

Hearing  new discovered songs
From millenia ago
With wild disturbing tones
And strange unearthly notes

Down neon rounds downtown
From deep within the smoke
This syncopated stroke
A bass and rhythm sound

Out of darkness do we bring
Notes to waking souls
Chords that make a whole
Dance the ocean sings.

And now may dream upon
Silent trumpeting
Fields that no one sees
Resting on a song

Melissa weeps to me
That all she loves is gone
Like stars that seek the dawn
In a land beyond the sea.





(C)2019 by    W.G. Milne