ST59 Jerry and i return to the no-beginning....

flyin high across the nation

Flyin high across the nation in a jet liner he thought about his destination. He hadn't been home for a number of years and great changes had taken place in the structure of the city. He was also dubious about certain friends and family that had seemed odd at times through the few years blessed with a pandemic that he was now quite certain was much more planned than an accident.

There are many tainted relationships thru these differences of opinions, beliefs, and tragic misunderstandings, misinformation from all sources, agendas beyond the imagination, wars within the very architecture of humanities biology, psychology and all its intellectual disciplines.

He sat there watching the glossy waterways strewn across the lands miles below thru sparsely spaced fluffy white clouds and marvelled at the sheer beauty of this planet. Why are there so many minds bent on knowing more than they do, controlling more than they can, wanting more than they deserve? What happened to the humble understanding that 'life is a gift', a short time to love what is given by a creator that will endlessly remain a mystery? A way to be in and a part of nature with a joy and love enough for everyone. A way to hear the winds of change speak, to walk a path full of courage and caring and to see clear what is real.

The descent was slow and he was ready, ready to focus, to listen, to be with his loved ones. Southern Ontario is a big land, big changes, big dreams tearing at the core of our earth. This is the way of humanity everywhere. Mankind has created its successor, all 'mind'. Artificial Intelligence is taking control of the planet, owned and governed by a few of a blood-line that recedes into a distant past. The war between natures human heart and the crown owned machine is on the precipice of the battle field. Something is bound to fall. It's all going down. They are coming at you at every angle where no one finger can point. Confusion storming across the globe where everybody's set on an answer that dies just before the last ceremony as the curtains fall.

Jerry was going home, a visit into the past and loves lost, renamed, regained.

He was burnt out, miles and time and too many thoughts cramped into that space where thoughts go. The mind can only handle so much. It is made out of thin air, molecules of thick mud and eons of abuse and care.

Jerry settled in at his friends and crashed for hours… let the clock adjust itself, weave around the waves of zones differentiated by measured distances. 

I could see the new spirit within Jerry's eyes. He was not about to change anything. People were what they were, believed in what they wanted for a conglomeration of reasons. He had been thru it so many times, he wanted out, got out and was staying out.

The streets had changed, the pavement was fresh, the brick was new, the people were all different and exactly the same, and from other parts of the world, every race of souls trampled down boulevards for something, some piece of the pie, some dream stretching out its tentacles to exist.

A few days along….

The details of the scam, spam, agendas and mis-dis-information is surfacing in the minds around the world. This is happening. I feel it, see it, hear it from friends, relatives, strangers. The world is waking to the bullies of the mind, the beliefs of stagnation, the rules of their road are falling apart. We are coming together with the silence of our hearts speaking loud, louder and that simple love is softening the ridged conclusions separating the minds of humanity. 

There are more than enough facts sprouting from the selfish lies of the 'few', 'them', 'they', the ones of sick blood lines and insane perspectives for humanity. The internet is turning them inside out. They can't win in the end. Nature is on a path of novel symbiotic relations of diverse intelligence with an unequal balanced foundation of cooperation, love and mystery. Truth, beauty, love, the sacred, the spiritual path of the mystery, is ….nothing can stop it, halt it for more than a flash in the illusions of eternity's time.

A few more days

Jerry had seen many friends now. He could feel the winds of acceptance of the unknown emanating from their hearts. Something had changed, a shift in the air, a realignment of the spirit, a new path was unfolding for humanity. It was strong, unbendable, an attractor clear and stern. Possibly, he thought, 'it was only me that sees this'. Possibly another illusion playing tricks to exist.

Many more days on…..

Time was bouncing off the bricks across the streets of memories bending around the reflections of a past, uncertain; definite moments melting in the long roads of life. Jerry visited two older sisters rowing thru dementia's alzheimer's towards there last days ahead. Segments of realties interspersed with love's caring and pleasant memories fell upon their hearts. Jerry was the youngest in a large family emanating over the tormenting winds of the second world war. It was all coming to an end ahead. Jerry was melancholy with fingers tapping over a key board sitting in a little cafe on a street he visited many times thru out his existence along lifes world.

A little town in the north of Ontario, Renfrew. At one time you could say things don't change in these little towns, not so anymore. The world is shoved along by the new modern movements of condensing all belief and patriotism into a single path ruled by hidden agendas of the most insane minds a species could ever produce. The ones of love and simplicity are being molded, forced into a box. It's a strange world, a beautiful earth, his love for his family was held together by something beyond the shells of memories and hopes, something beyond the selfish eyes of the energies that corrupt. He felt the connections in the beautiful haze of meals and talk, reminiscing and touching each others hearts.

The visit was short north and it was time to head south again to the twin cities between Toronto and London, KW area. A couple more weeks and he could feel the long goodbye slipping into his soul but nothing was for certain, he knew that.

There were many he visited, from all walks, from all the streets of modernization, minds filled with main mass media wars, green lies, propaganda slick and straight, had most by the balls. Jerry slipped by the debates and turmoil of what was brewing on the platter of the day. His focus was on the nature of the mind, the tenderness hiding, surfacing from the heart, eyes looking for something uncertain fixed away in securities. He found it in so many. Love hesitating for recognition, found its way between the differences everywhere. 

I opened up, i placed Jerry aside. I hid my cover. I was the brother, uncle, friend i once was and walked thru the past with an eye on the present and a secret pushing me towards the horizon of the future. I would move on, everyone does, aware or not.

We struggled in a pleasant way over broken memories and ancient tears with relief inside our hearts swimming thru our beings. Eyes glossy and soft embracing the last train passing thru the station, i held them dear, then let them go.

There were too many encounters in the last three weeks to mention. All in all most were satisfying. There were a few moments of tense distance attempting to be honoured, to be understood, but as they surfaced, the absurdity and exposed petty childishness eliminated further investigations. We tend to ponder admits the windy fields but eventually the calm stretches across the mind and the walking-on, over the rugged landscape of the world continues.

Family is nothing more than memories attached to blood cells intense and pure and secure. I travelled through the love full of contradiction and beauty as a being swimming in a pool of warmth with escapism weaving in and out along the shore line.

So many friends in a short span of time, so many memories surfacing thru the swamp of time. Moments stretching into realms of pure pleasure, discomfort, slight quilt, moments of endless worth breaking up over the entrance of the here and now always showing up for a melancholy sigh of relieve towards the unknown. Yes i was there, so it appears, so it was, now gone and moving on further into the abyss of the past. 

I walked down the streets of my childhood with a childhood friend. We have changed, nothing much in common but the backyards of our youth, a love that will hold us to death, nothing much can break this bond intwined into the very fabric of our souls.

I spend time with nieces and nephews, greats and sisters hanging onto memories twisted around broken cells scattered around their minds like ripped and stained pages from a love novel. Definite seeing entangled with confused scripts of a soap opera, eyes of delight and distant love looking into a space clouded with no-certainty. We felt love together.

I watched people, mostly brown faces on streets of white desendents taking over the terrain, bending this new world into their likeness, their programmed ways into the new modern follyworld. The indian, the menonite, the german, the european, the new brown race, the future….Sandy Hills, Little Berlin, Kitchener - Waterloo, the order of the new world in-line along the streets of heaven gone.

I watch my mind move thru the structured space, tangled, untangling, breaking attachments of thought as memory and gliding into the air moving out into the light years of the universe. I am good, i am fine, i am ok with it all. This feels like the ending of this chapter, a long long chapter with missing pages and broken text and dreams moving slowly over the edge of an unknown horizon, a new frontier blanketing me.

patrick wey

ps: this poem has sat silently on my lips since i was a young man…

The Traveller

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,   

   Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses   

   Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,   

   Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;   

   ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;   

   No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,   

   Where he stood perplexed and still.

But only a host of phantom listeners   

   That dwelt in the lone house then

Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight   

   To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,   

   That goes down to the empty hall,

Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken   

   By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,   

   Their stillness answering his cry,

While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,   

   ’Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even   

   Louder, and lifted his head:—

‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,   

   That I kept my word,’ he said.

Never the least stir made the listeners,   

   Though every word he spake

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house   

   From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,   

   And the sound of iron on stone,

And how the silence surged softly backward,   

   When the plunging hoofs were gone.

BY WALTER DE LA MARE

All in all my mask Jerry, the name of my father, and the unreal real me Patrick had just visited the land of my youth, my old friends, some of my family, ancient streets, new boulevards, sky scrapers, suburbs, an invasion of brown skinned students, slick railed transits…..the world is changing, fast, streams of filtered truths warping themselves into patterns of self-lit desires are entangling the minds of man. The order of the new world is slipping into place unnoticed by most and welcomed by the numb of heart, the innocent, the workers, the new modern gmo man.

I'm back in the air. The landscape below is receding into the mist of the past. It will take some time before it has scribbled itself into the pages and text of chapters before. It all happens at its own pace, the mind has a mind of its own, time owns it, time is its master. I am memory. I am going, going and someday up ahead gone. I am a traveller, we all are, some on the short roads, some on highways of pleasure and deceit, some made of love and caring, some like myself, trails over-grown with silence and mystery.

I would like to thank all my family and friends that made this journey to the streets of my past a pleasure. Many conversations from covid conspiracies, wars with no borders, memories of pleasant and beautiful moments to slight regrets of actions misused, abused. I was surprised at the openness about topics of the ways of the world by us programmed pawns running towards the finish line and waking up to the unknowns with eyes opening. I think the masters of war, the mighty kings of the jungle are on high alert. They are being exposed. They are out numbered a million to one, they're scared, their time is bleeding.

I need to move on to new adventures. There are wars on the go.
Special acknowledgements to Annie and Bruce for their home and vehicle and love and Sheila and family, Rosalyn and family.…brother and sisters, inlaws, - Francesco & Maryanne, Joanne B, Sam E, Jim H, Bruce G, Michael L, Alan K, Terry & Rika, Ted Saj, Mehgan, Bernie C, Charlotte, Joanna, and many others that made my visit and life worth its time thru these terrains of the heart. There were so many others that i had wished i would get to spend some time with… life just doesn’t stop for anything or anyone. Possibly another time, another space, another life but probably not this one. We walk on.

I caught an invisible bug on the plane home and after a couple of days i got sick for almost a week; flue, cough - treated it with little-food, lots of good natural liquids, saunas, enemas and rest. I’m back, stronger and re-energized.
This was the longest span between posts since i started four of five yeas ago… to be resumed immediately.

A simple coffee

WeyWord Times / All Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

Hang Me Up Somewhere…. Images

Sam E, Bernie C, Jim H, - Ted Saj, Bruce G Mother Jean, Sister Rosalyn, - Brother Allyn, Theresa Double T Gallery, Francesco Annello.

Niece Shiela, Niece Lisa, Sister Trudy - Niece Sherry, Niece Susan, Sister Carolyn & Niece Shiela - Michael L, Alan K, Tom G.

Charlotte, Kevin D, (Coral A) Joanne. Les K, Marci Ruby, Karen - Rolan H, David F, Rika & half of Terry C

Joanne B, Wey Grave & Sister Rosalyn, George D - Christine, Bruce G, Darlaine Sister Inlaw - Meghan, Annie T, Gone

A simple coffee to keep us awake….