Muerte soldiers skateboarding on the streets of I Luv NY (heart) through the cement hell flying on wings of death through the streets to another Gil Scott Heron encounter with The Devil of America Today. Winter is coming. Keep warm and safe. Fly thought the streets on wheels of no fear trailing behind the flapping wings of the angel of death, of La Mort. Very close in tone to L'amor. I want my cat returned alive, La Moux Lamour.

 

There are some artists or people, mostly artists,.exactly like Gil Scott Heron who put me in the mood to float with an inspired poetic license *(that has been discounted as a vote in the general election of society's Mandate of who gets to hold office in the public opinion monopoly of being published, able to get access to media expression, able to get any notice of funding, blocked due to these monopoolies held by Mr. Devil and corp., GmbH, Ltd, Conglomerate incorporated Death. A-list celebrities put there by Mr. Devil and Death, inc. GmbH I have no access therein except to be tortured and stolen from. However, the deceased and perhaps "eliminated" Gil Scott Heron inspires me to write kind of "blank verse" but it all is interconnected and has great meaning, at least to me, personally. However, as I continue to write and hacking worsens and my brain is blocked to a greater extent by this tech interference with my brain, I get lost and have to backspace and retype instead of go forward and acrtually write. 

Rhyming under hacking and mind control while fighting to float above the wingspan of my constant companion, Mr. Devil and his side-kick Death, blocking my keyboard and brain functioning via the seemingly human terrorists disguised as people but really are pig apes underneath who represent the goon squad of Mr. Devil, GmbH, Inc., et al and his partner Ms. Death.

And here is another not pop music video of plastic fascist feminist Me too lesbian rapist enabler macho men performers doing their grinding sexualized 'activism"--no, these are peeps who appear to be not apes or pigs but who knows when the make up is removed what they really are like (as I have to see in these "experiments" of being teleported and "gang stalked"--these hideous death mask faces are the "REAL" faces of the famous infamous pig apes you all love and cheer on and on and on until they become politicians you cheer on and then hate after your decisions backfire upon your brainwashed mandated asses, like dumbasses every four years every decade every score every centennial every millennium...

10101010101010101010--computer code you are ruled by

*please note, as I wrote earlier, this is "poetic license" not insane rambling, just in case you are judgmental as you all are. I am very aware of the distinction between 'Normal" prose and wild stream-of-consciousness style---

and p.s., hackers not only are blocking function of the keyboard, but they just highlighted the entire page and deleted all that I had written thus far. I retrieved it, but still it's at the point that my brain is in a kind of "stop and start" mode as if someone is pressing a button on and off so my brain skips conjoining words and thoughts. This happens every time I get on, and as I progress with struggling to simply type out, the brain wave attack worsens and I become more dizzy, nauseious and unable to write or think to the point that I am in a floating kind of daze while fighting to write in any coherent fashion as the tech affects my brain like an exponential algorithm of blockage to functioning--the "mind control" tech I mean. This is not due to any malfunctioning on my part.