Born American Again

Birth is something our souls create to enter this game, this tennis court of choices where we choose to pitch our will-power.  It’s a rare sport in the universe as the human race is increasingly unconcerned with forgiveness as it was designed; for we all are tested one way or another.  Whether it is with fire, guns, sex, and even mind boggling (females know what I mean but it’s one of their secrets they will keep till death).  Some tests fail, and those fallen create a network of groups, as we now suddenly see prop up in masses LGBTQ or #MeToo Movement, too many MADD foundations that cause more trouble and effects true societal evil the Bible calls wicked. It is a hat trick to keep face for those who failed the lord’s test.  When the test is shown to them they stop to understand the ritual of its choice to go further or to stop and find the path again.  Those that act have now gone off the path and participate in the wicked acts that can’t be forgiven; for they won’t forgive themselves.  These wicked minds seem to find a community that creates a legion of heathens. When these MADD groups discover one that has passed the test and is on the journey, they strike and force that individual to commit suicide; now this effect is pop tart food to the wicked.  It is frosty bread (not many will catch this meaning but if you do thank you).  Now in our age of awakening this is a major concern to the rest of us that help those unprivileged because they awakened in a house of flame. Some parents, and the few they are, are becoming aware to try prevent this in kids of today. Those parenting in flames that play out as if they are a normal family now generate most of the States’ communities.  This hate crime keeps the mass of the wicked alive and very well financed in our societies.  Families with wicked blood try to poison this in their children especially those indigo. They try it all from setting them up with foul friends, mind boggle into hate acts even into sexual acts to plant the wicked pill in their vessel.  Those that stay true see friends change after a while. Also, these friends in red now become doctored to manipulate into this wicked affair after the incubation from the hospital and pulled in the house of those possessed with the secret hate.  Secretly wicked mothers persist in destroying the success of infants through the logos of mom’s word, and all dad says is listen to mom.  Some children have twisted rivers; others have red rage in the house, some even go stagnate from these evil families.  This primal energy of rage, hate, and confusion shatters the paths of many children’s as if aliens did it. These alien families break indigo, break the light of progress that should have been would have been to build better world.  Some people get what needs to be done.  Yet those that don’t, in this world of choice, choose to help the network with the wicked take advantage of those indigoes, successful minds pass the test. Plus, if those smart children that are living with those parents lost to the understanding of nature’s progress may be in danger of their well being causing a domino effect for those children’s children falling into darkness. Hope is not all lost.  Yes, some kids are mischievous because of their natures, but that’s the mind-boggling wicked pressure.  Once I read while having sex with love, that a child will love; but if you have hate sex and a child is born from this energy, it may have that energy possessed in it; there is an answer for this. For instance, my father womanized mother, and these two entities had no education that would have natured my indigo ability to resist these peoples wicked way. In short, sex was their demeanor, but with no definition to true thrust of this energy. Thrust and shut up was their motto.  What should have been simple pleasure by two individuals to form a child of success produced a fire child.  Those children chosen by a higher power for progress can help life be better for those chosen to be the nature’s wild fire parents.  It is possible to be American again…

When a baby was born in the bicentennial year of 1976, he didn’t know anything of this special date. Nor did his parents inform him of such synchronicities for they were not informed themselves.  All they knew was how to be accepted in this wicked community.  Whether it be a flock of gangs or Banditos from the Sierra desert that has been infiltrating the Americas for such a time when possibly a new age revolution started to reform, in the 1900’s.  Then later on, spies and hippies were the same, yet the cartels were invading like aliens. Then by the 70’s the indigoes had a pass to come to earth and find the path for their test, if they had the right guardians to match their light, their energy, their investment in these being of their life in these times, it would be wonderful.  Not all born in these portals had the luxury of finding their place and light on earth; at least not right away, since some were born to nature’s wild fire beings.

The baby boy was born but not to guardians that knew what “I am” stood for.  They were already in their own agenda with how they perceived existence that was in the cartel way.  That was there culture.  How they came to be involved in that is beyond the boy. His life was chaos; it was difficult for his soul to adjust as he grew in this town, house, and dimension of confusion.  What mess he was in this yelling, screaming, hitting, having to buy water at a grocery aisle, when he really wanted a soda with sparkles.  As a child nothing gave him resolution. But one day it happened: they took the kid to see the stars come to life.  Star Wars was the release the young lad needed from the chaos of these parents of cartel kin, dirty mouth, and loud confusion.  Although captivated in the cartel energy something gave his heart hope watching these figures in the first Star Wars.  Thoughts from another world gave his young mind auspicious thoughts of some past he had in another life; hope. Something that the words “I am” is about…

Many years have passed and now the kid’s a little older. He received much abuse over the years, but in his youth more hope came to him in the form of comics.  Eyes favored to read bubble after bubble of dialogue to find the stories in the paper back issues.  Time, time and time again he read them.  He thought people were just of hate and yells but when he saw Stars Wars or the comics, he knew there was something more.  Something instead of listening to poaching parents that burn cigarettes holes on his head calling them accidents; or a sister examining bodies for the pleasure of the skin, who didn’t care if he needed a break for food or drink. His sister was once a great athlete.  How she changed.  What made her change?  Who made her change?  Mind-bogglers of the wild fire parents, most likely, again damaging the success of a being.  Nevertheless, he read and read comics every day to day keeping the foul spirits away in the house of fire.

Now eight years old in Florida and still no one tells him of the cartels’ way; they think he should have known by now to grow better in the days of the female’s Bible’s ways only and not fall like Sampson.  Yet his mind got through, and he finds his way till one day an eighth grade teacher tells him you can write a good story for anyone to see.  Once that episode happened everything turned upside, now without knowing why.  If only one knew how reality of parenting is truly being.  Parents have to focus on being guardians to keep their thoughts on making this writer achieve his wealth once they find out the truth of the children’s wealth granted to them by the teacher.  For they don’t support the writing they fear he would write about them and their cartel culture of this youth, only wicked ways unbound to drugs, gangs and runaways come about on the paradise false flags wicked lots have come to harvest; un-achievers.  We can get over this and achieve…