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Forever
Colors in the Moonlight
Written by a Child born in the Suite Madame Blue
for intelligence click here and read the M2
Little did the steel white horseman know, the woman who had been atop the black horse was far from dead; her brilliance was never extinguished. She was simply biding her time, gathering her thoughts so she could be the most powerful she could be when she escaped. Escape she did.
When she was busting through the chains that the steel white horsemen had bound her with, made of the darkness, the moonlight glowed dark blue on both her and the horse’s hair. The harnessed moonlight was powerful enough to break the dark chains because it understood the darkness; the darkness was part of its beauty and essence. Therefore, it couldn’t be defeated by it. The hairs gleamed indigo in the night, and she moved towards the pale horsemen. Breathing over him, an eggshell blue streak of light bounded from her lips and entered his mouth and nostrils. His chest expanded, and life was born into him again.
They stood together, with their hands grasped in one moonbeam, surrounded by a blue sheen, and walked slowly into the night together. Their horses nodded them and nudged them forward, giving their silent blessing.
Throughout the universe, the two former horsemen walked from planet to planet, star to star, and communicated with the beings living in every dimension. These beings’ desires, their passions, and their love was shared with the two leaders, and in this way the leaders learned about existence and what is needed to thrive. They gathered their thoughts on a long scroll in indigo ink.
Sitting on a crescent moon above the planet that they came from, the woman and the man read the scroll.
“Yes!” They exclaimed simultaneously. After they read the last word, the man spoke, “It is finally ready. Maybe this will remind them.”
They took a deep breath in, chests expanding with the blue surrounding them and ran their hands, palm to palm, down the scroll. The words, the needs of the entire universe, fell from the silk parchment and onto the land below them. Rights sprinkled the plains, the mountains, valleys, sandy coasts, parched deserts, and vast farmlands. They described freedom in speech, in thought and in action; the ability to have fun, spread silliness, experience laughter, and to feel light in heart; to know genuine togetherness and connection with those around them without worry that they may be slandered.
Looking at each other, the woman reassured him softly, “We have done everything we can.”
The man nodded knowingly, and they looked down on the land, feeling grateful and unworthy of their mission. In this moment, they had faith that they had done something real, but were also haunted by fear. This fear was not of the heights as their feet dangled over the edge of the waxing crescent moon, but was poignant: they feared that the words would not take root.
KB
M2:Captains log 1.14.18 Escaping The Darkness
Chief Ouray and the Native American Utes of Colorado Springs
M2:Newsflash Read - The Don't Dream
Alternative Awareness
For those of you who may have been labeled mentally ill or crazy...most of those who like to call out this "label" are the ones who truly are...
The ones to Watch
(Scroll to bottom of page for newest seasons and content)
Season 1 Episode 2: These 3 IG posts and related articles on FPA: Alternative Awareness.
.
🎥 .... as these new pilots left the classroom with the torch handed them, they returned home and did what this young adjunct instructor had given. Spreading the headlines of the newspapers from that morning on the floor in front of their cross legged forms seated and free from any distractions....they played the song into their souls.... Styx ”Suite Madame Blue” The day of this class was 9.11.2001 🎬
JD
M1:Newsflash Read - The Don't Dream
Changing The World
So we, we Native Americans, of the present day, we can, and I do not mean to offend when I state this:
We can relate to the Utes of Colorado. This is how. Let me begin by saying we do not claim that our shedded freedoms are
equal to the blood and tears shed by the Utes. No, yet we too do suffer in our unique way.
We, the two of us in our native roots, were living in Colorado in an apartment that I had had for a year; the prices drastically
increased suddenly one Fall day, and we wondered what exactly we would do. We simply, starting our own business, could
not afford what they wanted us to pay. That is when he found it:
1976 Greyhound conversion bus, brand new interior conversion with King size Bed, Glass door and tile shower, Granite
countertops and stone sinks throughout, hardware floor, and original cab interior. It was perfect. It was perfect for an
adventure.
So with two muscle cars he swore he would never lose and all of his savings, the bus was his. And we began our adventure.
Colorado simply wanted to much to rent, even just a parking space for the bus, so we hit the open highway. Arizona: our first
stop. I won't go into details here. Then we travelled the highway 40 and 15 to California where we stayed for a stretch of
heatwaved summer days. Then it was back to our home, because we ached for it so in our cursed souls.
And we landed in the only thing that we could truly afford: a slum they called a neighborhood in Englewood.
This is where our Native struggle truly began; the rest was kind of like a backstory. We were pushed from town to town
because of prices and laws. We tried out the Northern region of the State and resided in Loveland in a high class RV park
that turned out to be a first class joke with gossips and a leach field that stunk of unmanaged human waste. Then up the
canyon to Drake, Colorado. Then we escaped the dark canyon to Denver where we were taken advantage of by yet another
landlord. Then down to Monument, up to Nederland, from parking lot to parking lot nights in Denver, until we landed roughly
in a basement apartment in Southwest Denver. So now we stay, in between walls that would keep out the winter winds at it
approached rapidly, rearing to collect.
The struggle cannot be outlined in such an outline though. Let me first reference a law that was passed while we stayed in
Monument, Colorado, which outskirts the city of Colorado Springs, (where his father landed after being shot in WWII and
receiving a purple heart.) They called it a "moretorium" on people living in RVs on the streets of the city. The people that this
law affected are the battered and bruised, the broken and simply broke, they only had the walls and ceiling and wheels, no
matter how bent and rusted. They only had their little homes. They had no 1000 dollar a month parking spot to call
their...rented home; they had the streets, and now they had nothing, at least in Colorado Springs.
Here, we resided on a plot of land behind a man, we will call him Jay, house with 4 other RVs. The city people in their white
trucks came one day and said halt; they said stop; they said ceast; they screamed desist; one cannot simply start an RV park
in their backyard within city limits! The blasphemy - the atrocious - the, the, well, it just was not right. So Jay was fined 40,000
dollars, and we were forced out of yet another home.
We were through paying to park, so we travelled and journeyed up a familiar yet different canyon into the hills above Bouler
to the outskirts of the town of Nederland. There, we found a free camping spot that we called home. We discovered a local
spring coming out of the mountain side. There, we collected water in a tank into the back of my gold Subaru. We therefore
had water, and through propane had heat, and through the generator we even had lights and tv! This was living, this was
Native Colorado mountain life, and for a moment we breathed and smiled.
Until, that is, that we realized there was not a lot of work for us in the hills, so we were forced to travel back down the
mountain, kiss the ground and wash the dirt off with some spit and tears. We would hop from parking lot to parking lot in
Denver, praying that the police would leave us be. We hunted for work like the first Americans hunted bison, and we finally
made our kill. He was making enough money to put us in a rooted home: a basement apartment in Southwest Denver. We
have to make the rent; we have to deal with a mean and cruel landlord; but at least this winter we will not shiver under an
electric blanket in between thin metal walls of the tour bus. We are home for now, but our Native roots are being pulled daily.
I suppose I haven't truly fleshed out how exactly us Natives are similar to the Utes It is a feeling It is a knowing, a knowing that we are being pushed out of our home land by a foreign and invasive force. One that is hard to name and impossible to see. It takes the form of red lettering on a license plate spelling out California. It is the Texas black star. It is the stares that pierce of a "well" dressed business man or woman; it is the gentrification of our cities. It is the redlining that occurs in old Denver neighborhoods, and it is poignant it is real it is strong and it is mostly immoral.
The Native Americans have returned.
KB
Alternative Awareness Series Season 2
Coming Next
The Native Americans
Return
Alternative Awareness Series Season 1
Series Season 1 Episode 1
(continued from above)
He began firing his assault of projections immediately then eagerly awaited his so highly anticipated and predicted responses. Their happiness was broken and crushed from this suppression, the taskmasters whip. As if to hide his communication with LC ground control he moved over one chair. Now exposing his intentions completely he continued. Caught several times beeming his onslaught at them while cowering behind his little communicator and sickening thoughts....”I must do my job as directed and build this case!” The case of controlling the enlightened by creating them as a threat to others because they have the gift of knowing what, how, where and when the EDs are planning to raise their level of power further over Gods creations of the highest abilities in humankind. The ability to be all that they can be. The ability to understand and truly help and love one another. But NO!! They can’t have that because they might lose control of them and lose the pride and ego of self and ability to stand so prideful before the world once again and say! “Look at me, I broke another man, I shamed another woman, I killed another childs joyful mind with the stroke of a pen! I am all powerful!! Now give me my Psychological Pulitzer Prize!!!!” Sorry....eeeeeeerrrgh! But God is not going to allow you to do this because your not God and these evolved souls belong to Him, not you. So go right ahead....continue to sentence those who you cannot control anymore with your prescription drugs and fifty cent words...go ahead and condemn them to your Electric Couch....but remember this....the time for honoring yourselves will soon be at an end. ⚔️
<< In this, below, to the left and to the right, there is order. >>
The Native Americans Return
Where do we go from here?
I am a Native
I am a Colorado
I am a Steamboat Springs, Colorado
I am a Yampa Valley
He is a North Denver
He is a Colorado
He is a Platte River Basin
He is a Wheat Ridge
We are natives of Colorado United States
We are Native Americans
And so it begins…
Where it left off
Where did it leave off?
Well, let us consider the Utes. Here our story begins as theirs ends
The Utes that inhabited Colorado, specifically Manitou Springs, Colorado, were a people that were put out by a snuff, by a stomp, of the shoe of white European entrail-pulling trails. They, these conquistadors, came from across the sea. They came by boat, and they came to destroy. With small pox blankets and infested ideas that would swarm like flies into the lives of the Native Utes, the Europeans stormed into the native, rocky mountains.
Here they now live- their blood flows like the Yampa and the Platte.
I am a descendant
I am an Irish.
I am a French.
He is a descendant.
He is an Italian.
We are descendants -
Of Conquerors…
Yet, I digress.
I am a Native American, and
He is a Native American
We are descendants of the Europeans
The slaughter hungry, gold rich, European swine that howled and squeaked and SWARMED.
We have the blood of conqueror; we have the lives of the conquered.
Without and within, him and I sit with the lives that were given to us and the lives that we have led pressed out like thin rubber tires melted in a sun not of this world. I was born in a quaint house, in an extravagant mountain town. He was raised in a stone home, on a long, narrow street in a booming city. We lived out lives in love and in lust with mountains, streams, fawn, flora, and life. Colorado is beautiful and breath taking – awesome in the literal sense the peaks inspire awe and the sky calms the mind through eyes wide; we are the people that have been blessed with the number one, centennial state in our Union. We are cursed. The Native, original, Americans cursed our valleys with this curse/blessing:
Those who live here, in the Colorado land, those who are blessed, will be cursed to eternally return to their home land, no matter how far they roam.
And so we left
And we returned
Colorado runs in our blood. In our veins we are Coloradans! We are the luckiest people in the United States
We are Native Americans, Coloradans,
We are native tm.
Through us a story has been weaved into a tapestry.
This is the story
Read on to believe in the second coming, for
The Native Americans Have Returned
(continued from above)
American Match cruise lines is now re-boarding on this exiting adventure reserved strictly for those between green and orange. Orange, the color between yellow and red. The color as a fully ripened Florida orange streaking down the beaches, boarding pass in hand. “I’m still accepted wait for me!” The perfect little bikini clad tangerine shouts, “excuse me red apple Madame, I must get by!!” The little tangerine continues...”also, isn’t your ship the other one over their called bruised and broken? the one just next to the sinking black apple of assisted condemnation where the darkened rots have gathered to quietly die? “Oh my please move!” She continues...”The Pale ship of death that is sounding that annoying foghorn of truth is now flanked by the red horse that will fire an onslaught of missiles until the two passengers are silenced. And when the one who saddled the Pale beast with a sword of vision and shield spread so thin to cover two is destroyed....the white horse shall come to the rescue of the only horse left inside their crushed and sinking vessel. A beautiful dark horse left in tears shall weep for seven days as the facade of this flesh and steel white horses rider in all his glory holds her dying brilliance in his arms so puffed with the pride of his stature and brilliant slaying success. Then suddenly as the red and white horses continue their reign for a short time....at a time none could expect...another figure like a horse in the clouds appears. The light from this rider is so bright that the color is only as the whitest of blinding light and the radiance is as comforting as the warmest wool but is cutting to the soul as the sharpest sword....now get out of my way! I have another nation to conquer!!” She adjusts her suit and finishes her channel of changing colors. Then puffs up slightly and dismounts the fiery red carpet that leads to her ship of dreams and re-enters fully into the belly of the dragon from where-ence she came.
Click the link and hang on for Life
Series Season 1 Episode 2
Has anyone seen The Truman Show?
Beware People
They'll stop at nothing to set you up for failure
so stay tuned for
THE REAL REEL
JD
That annoying Pale Horse brings you...
News Flash: "Mental Illnesses" are not always, caused by "chemical imbalances" in the brain. Sometimes, often, maybe ALWAYS, they are caused by a series of normal emotional reactions to the messed up world around us. Yes, normal reactions. Situational reactions to our environment, that over time turn into a problem. You heard it here, mental illnesses in this way are normal. I am no doctor, and I don't need to be. I am a logical human living in the world and saying, this is why we are the way we are.
PS. We welcome all challenges to these above statements and any post in episode 2.
Thank you in advance for your open mind as you view.
- KB aka, "Shutter Island"
M1 - The Light The Current MPaths M2 - The Dark