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Martin Carter's earliest poetry was shaped by the turbulent days of anti-colonial radicalism and protest in Guyana (British Guiana) during the 1950s. During the thirty years since then, especially since the publication of his hallmark Poems of Resistance ( 1954), his has been the voice of radicalism in Anglophone Caribbean poetry. This preeminence as the poet of revolution has generally tended to be emphasized by the fact that revolutionary rhetoric in general, and revolutionary literature in particular, has been a rarity in the English-language Caribbean (with all due respect to the ethnic intensities that have become de rigueur in the literature during the last twenty years). Indeed, this very uniqueness probably accounts for the fact that Martin Carter's preeminence as the poet of revolution has not been seriously eroded by the muting of his revolutionary voice over the twenty years since Guyanese independence.
This silence, or near silence, may be linked to the profound disillusionment which has engulfed so much of the Third World intelligentsia, including that of the Caribbean, since the achievement of (nominal) independence. In Guyana that disillusionment has been especially intense in the wake of racial violence between Blacks and East Indians, political stagnation and repression, and the economic as well as social malaise which has undermined the experiment in cooperative republicanism. In this period the Guyanese government has been accused of seizing and maintaining its power by means of a fraudulent electoral system gerrymandered in cooperation with the British and the Americans; and more recently, the government has been accused of complicity in the violent death of one of its most vocal and popular critics, historian/activist Walter Rodney (1980). Against such a background Carter's relative silence as revolutionary poet may be interpreted either as prudence or complete disillusionment--or both. But that silence is relative: Carter's days of overt revolutionism and rebellion may be past, as have been the days of active political involvement and direct participation in government; but he has continued to write and publish his poetry-poetry which sometimes manages to convey a special intensity of feeling and purpose by the very manner in which it studiously avoids a certain directness of statement. The voice itself may have been muted, but the fiery sense of engagement which has made that voice all but unique in Anglophone Caribbean poetry still burns.
BIOGRAPHY
Carter was born in 1927 and received his secondary school education at Queen's College. During his early twenties he joined the turbulent political movement for national independence, quickly becoming a leading spokesman for the more radical forces of the movement. This prominence inevitably led to his arrest and imprisonment by the British colonial administration in 1953. At the time of his detention Carter had already launched his career as a poet, having contributed works to A. J. Seymour literary magazine, Kyk-over-al, and to Seymour "Miniature Poet" series of poetry pamphlets ( Hill of Fire Glows Red). But it was during his imprisonment that he composed his most important collection, Poems of Resistance, which was eventually published in London, in 1954.
After his release from prison Carter remained active in the independence movement and in 1965 was a member of the colony's delegation to the Guyana Constitutional Conference in London, the final hurdle before the formal achievement of nationhood. Thereafter he served for two years ( 1966-67) as a member of Guyana's delegation to the United Nations. He has also served in the Guyanese government at home, most notably as minister of information and culture, finally leaving the government in 1971. Throughout this entire period he has maintained the dual roles of poet and activist, an appropriate choice in one whose most important writings have passionately advocated involvement and commitment. Consequently the years of political activity and government service also saw the appearance of the first half of his published output, followed by works ranging from the last of his outspoken collections, Poems of Shape and Motion ( 1955), to the cryptic reticence of Poems of Affinity: 1978-1980 ( 1980).
MAJOR WORKS AND THEMES
From as early as his first significant publications Martin Carter's distinctive voice of protest and rebellion is unmistakably clear. Unlike so many early collections, especially in the Caribbean, The Hill of Fire Glows Red avoids the neoRomantic idealization of landscape. Instead of the familiar pastoral clichés, the young Carter's landscape vibrates with historical memories, which, in turn, inspire an urgent demand for change. In "Listening to the Land" the poet hears a "tongueless whispering," the possible voice of a buried slave who embodies the past. The response to the landscape is activist rather than escapist, and when the young poet dreams, his are dreams of social change ( "Looking at Your Hands"). In earlier works like these it is fairly easy to grasp the dominant features of Carter's poetic personality. It is a personality in which the imagination of activist and artist is indivisible, and in some respects these poems are about the imagination and its transforming powers--it transforms the land itself into an insistent voice of history and, simultaneously, responds to the voices of history by envisioning change, including revolutionary change, as the desirable and inevitable consequences of that history. And, finally, the poet's own persona as the embodiment of the transforming imagination incarnates the vision of change. Accordingly, the revolutionary idealist envisions change as a creative process which produces vital forms (social and political structures) out of the chaos of colonial inequities, in much the same way that the poetic imagination creates living forms in art ( "The Kind Eagle").
In a sense the poems of The Kind Eagle ( 1952) suggest an interesting paradox: chaos and repression are reprehensible on the one hand; but on the other hand, they emerge as indispensable factors. In political terms the liabilities of history have inspired the kind of intellectual and political ferment which fuel an (apparently) inevitable process of fundamental change. Prison, both as literal experience and as colonial symbol, therefore inspires a fierce ecstacy in the title poem of the collection: "I Dance on the Wall of Prison!" ( Poems of Succession, 1977, p. 19; hereafter cited as POS). And by a similar token, the poetic imagination thrives on political adversity and on the reminders of historical injustices: it carves monuments out of the poet's "time," from the "jagged block of convict years" ( POS, p. 19). Moreover, the consistent integration of imagination and historical memory imparts a powerfully suggestive sense of inevitability to Carter's ethics of change. The envisioned changes, even if unrealized, are as much a part of a distinctive historical pattern, as is the past which made the present itself inevitable. And this pervasive sense of inevitability inspires recurrent images and themes of movement to the poems of The Kind Eagle--movement as history, history as change, change as the collective, irresistible pilgrimage undertaken by a special breed of visionaries: the universe of history moves, "revolves / like a circling star," and "Only men of fire will survive" ( "The Discovery of Companion," POS, p. 24).
Altogether, these early collections reflect a tightly knit dialectic, with its closely integrated poetic forms, which are to define a good part of Carter's poetry for much of the next fifteen years. The ethos of change is both political ideal and the creative principle of imagination. The patterns of history are mirrored in the imaginative patterns of the poet's art, and since both patterns have been shaped by the same social forces, then the poetic imagination must, perforce, be politically involved. Or in the words of the poet himself, "Like a web / is spun the pattern / all are involved" ( Poems of Resistance, p. 18).
That assertion is the climactic statement of "You Are Involved," a work which is one of the most typical, in tone and feeling, of the celebrated collection, Poems of Resistance. This is the collection in which the twenty-seven-year-old Carter fuses the characteristic themes and forms of the preceding works into the compact designs of his best, and most famous works--"Till I Collect,""Cartman of Dayclean,""I Come from the Nigger Yard," and "University of Hunger." It is characteristic of Carter's writings at this stage of his development that these successful poems owe much to the turbulent times and frankly repressive circumstances in which they were written. They were composed, for the most part, while he was in political detention--in "the dark time," in "the season of oppression," the "carnival of misery" ( This Is the Dark Time My Love, POS, p. 42). While it is less celebrated than its companion pieces, few poems in the collection surpass "I Clench My Fist" in this regard. The very intensity of feeling and statement owes its very essence to the forces of repression and exploitation against which the poet rebels. British colonialism represents social chaos in the immediate, Guyanese context, and in the broader, global context, the fragmentation of humanity between the oppressor and the powerless, the haves and the have-nots. The confrontation between colonizer and colonial rebel is therefore an allegory of a divided universe, the microcosm of historical patterns of chaos and conflict. Conversely, the poet's reaction, as artist-activist,to this chaos amounts to a harmonizing, creative power, the transforming power of the imagination. The defiant act of clenching the fist in the face of British weapons and political power suggests a compact wholeness as well as creative energy which contrasts with the prevailing chaos, and it is synonymous with the harmonizing patterns of poetic art itself ( "I sing my song of FREEDOM!" [ "I Clench My Fist," Poems of Resistance, p. 41]). Finally, the thematic progression within the poem itself, from images of fragmentation and conflict to the vision of a powerful, harmonizing energy, is in itself a structural or formal emphasis on that sense of movement--historical progression or inevitability--which is always so integral to Carter's revolutionist vision.
On the whole, works like "I Clench My Fist" exemplify Carter's protest poetry at its best. The underlying dialectic is compact, limpid, and consistent. The dialectic statement is tightly controlled through a disciplined, highly economic use of language and sense of form; and as a result, the poetic form itself becomes the imaginative microcosm of that moral wholeness and social unity which the poetry envisions. Given this tightly integrated schema, it becomes clear that "poems of resistance" are not simply poems about political resistance: they are acts of resistance. This implies an aesthetic that has been rather rare in the generally conservative context of Anglophone Caribbean literature. It was not to be aired in any significant sense, in any Caribbean language area, until the successful Cuban revolution began to define its own revolutionary aestheticsduring the 1960s: the only valid revolutionary art is that which is committed to, and a part of, the revolution; writing about the revolution is not enough, the writer must be an active participant in the revolution. Or to phrase this ideal in Carter's poetic language, the poet must not simply write about resistance, he himself and his poetry must be directly involved in resistance.
However, notwithstanding this kind of analogy, and notwithstanding the power of Carter's own rhetoric of change, it is important to recognize the substantial limitations of his revolutionism. These limitations are both external and internal. Externally, Carter has lived and written in a political and social context in which the idea of change has always been sharply delineated in nonrevolutionist terms. The rhetoric of rebellion or "revolution" in the English-language Caribbean of the 1950s and 1960s seldom encompassed fundamental (i.e., genuinely revolutionary) changes in the social fabric. "Resistance" as such was conceived and fashioned in relation to the British colonial order and its associated bureaucracy. In other words, resistance was the movement of a bourgeois nationalism, which would replace the colonial overlord with nationalist leaders and political structures, which would leave the social and economic order relatively unchanged. Neither has radical revolutionism demonstrated significant grass-roots appeal in the English Caribbean--a fact which needs to be borne in mind when one is tempted to blame the failures of the Guyanese promise on the demonstrable and alleged sins of the Forbes Burnham regime. The electoral rejection of "democratic socialism" in Jamaica during the early 1980s is another example of this limitation, especially when one remembers the definite, built-in limitations of Michael Manley's democratic socialism as a revolutionist principle. And in retrospect, the recent collapse of the New Jewel Movement in Grenada, even before the inevitable U.S. intervention, suggests that beyond the personal popularity of Maurice Bishop the New Jewel Movement, as revolutionary ideology, was less deeply rooted than its most ardent supporters seemed to have imagined.
It is necessary to emphasize this historical and social context because these are the broader circumstances which go beyond Guyana's immediate boundaries and which explain, in part, the long-term sense of futility that now envelops Carter's revolutionist poetry, especially in retrospect. The limited impact and relevance of his revolutionary themes reflect the limited capacities of his society for the idea of fundamental change. This, in turn, leads to the internal limits of Carter's revolutionism itself. Poems like "University of Hunger," "Cartman of Dayclean," and "I Come from the Nigger Yard" reverberate with the passions, even violent potential, of the dispossessed. But there is really no substantial evidence, even in these works, of a revolutionary vision that goes beyond the immediate anti-colonial nationalism of "I Clench My Fist." The ferocity with which the poet assaults an entrenched (colonial) status quo undoubtedly continues to exert a powerful appeal to present readers who dream of "resistance" to the neocolonial establishment which succeeded the British colonizers. But this ought not to obscure the clearly limited implications of Carter's original vision.
While the scope of the revolutionary vision is circumscribed, so is the poet's realism. The poet's passionate commitment to change of sorts is not really counterbalanced by a realistic awareness of the substantial barriers to significant change. In these earlier poems of "resistance," from the first collection to Poems of Shape and Motion ( 1955), technical polish and thematic coherence go hand in hand with what, on the whole, is a relatively limited emotional range or appeal--limited, that is, by an absence of complex self-awareness vis-a-vis the limits of his own vision and of his society's capacity for change. It is not surprising that, when those social limitations were made painfully manifest in subsequent years, Carter's poetry seems to have retreated into a state of shock from which it has never really recovered.
On the whole, the assessment of Carter's overtly "revolutionary" or "committed" poems leads to a historically significant, albeit unintended, irony: his real achievement as a poet of resistance is, in the final analysis, an exclusively aesthetic one, rather than the effective political-aesthetic synthesis that is envisaged and structurally symbolized by his poetry. That is, we can always admire the consistent coherence of thematic statement, the telling integration of formal structure and theme, the striking tension between intense feeling and the spare, tightly disciplined language; and throughout all of this we can admire the skill with which the poet weaves his complex patterns of imagistic and structural variations on the fundamental theme of change-as-creation. But that theme is often less profound or far-reaching than it may sometimes sound.
The poems since Guyana's independence are, collectively, an implicit admission of the earlier limitations. A somber silence broods over the post-independence poems first published in Poems of Succession. Silence as speechlessness and paralysis is the dominant motif here, in contrast to the defiant energies and perpetual movement in the earlier works. Here silence and inactivity suggest that history moves, not toward inevitable change and creation, but in repetitive, predictable cycles. Indeed, this kind of silence is the main topic of poems like "A Mouth Is Always Muzzled," "Even As the Ants Are," "In the When Time," and "Fragment of Memory." These works also demonstrate that despite the changes in mood and historical circumstances, the older Carter still commands the talents for striking, arresting poetry. The brooding silence of these poems is not the silence of a lost idealism, or of a crippled imagination. Far from it, he manages to develop his themes of silence and futility through "confessional" modes of private experience, or even through abstract statements, communicating a powerful sense of repression and stasis in his society while avoiding explicit political protest. Both the explicit theme of silence and the suggestive absence of overt protest in themselves become rhetorical symptoms of his real, but implied, subject. As in his earlier works, the better poems in this later collection demonstrate his characteristic ability to develop form as statement.
This highly suggestive silence continues in his most recent collection, Poems of Affinity: 1978-1980. The disillusionment with "history" is more pronounced, and we are left with only a quiet despair in the face of history's relentless repetitiveness. It is the image of death, not creation, that dominates "PlayingMilitia" Militia" where the uniform sleeves droop "like the wet feathers of a crow's wing / over secret carrion" [ Poems of Affinity, p. 17]). And in "For Cesar Vallejo ii" the decay is everywhere. Clearly, he still remains the poet of passionate commitment. Where that commitment will lead his future poetry depends as much upon Carter's world as it does on himself.
CRITICAL RECEPTION
Edward Brathwaite "Resistance Poems: The Voice of Martin Carter" ( 1977) is one of the more comprehensive studies of Martin Carter's poetry thus far. The critic examines all the major publications up to the mid-1970s, with special emphasis on Carter as the voice of revolutionary change. Briefer, more general comments also appear in Brown, West Indian Poetry ( 1977), and Herdeck, Caribbean Writers ( 1979).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Hill of Fire Glows Red. Miniature Poet Series. Georgetown: Mater Printer, 1951.
To a Dead Slave. Georgetown: Author, 1951.
The Hidden Man. Georgetown: Author, 1952.
The Kind Eagle. Georgetown: Author, 1952.
Returning. Georgetown: Author, 1953.
Poems of Resistance. London: Lawrence, Wishart, 1954; Georgetown: Guyana Release, 1979.
Poems of Shape and Motion. Georgetown: Author, 1955.
Conversations. Georgetown: Author, 1961.
Jail Me Quickly. Georgetown: Author, 1963.
Poems of Succession. London: New Beacon Books, 1977.
Poems of Affinity: 1978-1980. Georgetown: Release, 1980.
(LLOYD W. BROWN)
They call here,
-Magnificent Province!
Province of Mud!
Province of flood!
Who are the magnificent here?
Not I with this torn shirt
but they, in their white mansions
by the trench of blood!
I tell you
this is no magnificent province
no El Dorado for me
no streets paved with gold
but a bruising and battering for self preservation
in the white dust and grey mud.
I tell you and I tell no secret -
now is the long past time for worship
long past time for kneeling
with clasped hands at altars of poverty
How are the mighty slain?
by this hammer of my hand!
by this anger in my life!
by this new science of men alive
everywhere in this province!
thus - are the mighty slain!
(Martin Carter in The Hill of Fire Glows Red 1951)
Do not stare at me from your window, lady
do not stareand wonder where I came from
Born in this city was I, lady,
hearing the beetles at six o'clock
and the noisy cocks in the morning
when your hands rumple the bed sheet
and night is locked up the wardrobe.
My hands are full of lines
like your breast with veins, lady -
So do not stare and wonder where I came from
My hands are full of lines
like your breast with viens, lady -
and one must rear, while one must suckle life...
Do not stare at me from your window, lady.
Stare at the wagon of prisoners!
Stare at the hearse passing by your gate!
Stare at the slums in the south of the city!
Stare hard and reason, lady, where I came from
and where I go.
My hand is full of lines
like your breast with veins, lady,
and one must rear, while one must suckle life.
(Martin Carter in The Hill of Fire Glows Red 1951)
Old Higue in the kitchen
peel off her skin -
mammy took up old higue skin
and pound it in the mortar
with pepper and vinegar.
"Cool um water cool um
cool um water cool um"
Old higue come back in the kitchen
"Cool um water cool um"
She grab the skin out of the mortar
"Cool um water cool um"
She danced merengue when the pepper
burn up her skin -
dance merengue when the pepper
burn up her skin
"skin skin you nah know me
skin skin you nah know me"
She danced merengue when the pepper
burn up her skin.
(Martin Carter in The Hill of Fire Glows Red 1951)
If I wanted
I could make pictures of night
the map of stars above the mass of water
the mass of water underneath the stars
the beauty of my beloved
like a flower bringing dawn light into dark.
Yes, if I wanted
I could close my eyes right now
and bring these things like life into my brain.
but new are these times
and no matter where I turn
like fierce revolt goes with me
like a kiss -
the revolt of Malaya
and Vietnam -
the revolt of India
and Africa -
like guardian.
like guardian at my side
is the fight for freedom -
and like teh whole world dancing
for liberation from the slave maker
shines the beauty of my darling in her laughing eyes
(Martin Carter in The Hill of Fire Glows Red 1951)
I grieve
At least
Your land is vast, full of plenty and your people hope
What tragic Fate
Has betook you
And left you barren
Of love, of the beauty, and of the freedom of Existence
I grieve
When I
Behold the state of a child amongst many
In desperation beg
From want?
From a formed habit?
From a need to dissuade hungerâs pang?
Not to be re-missed to mention
A beggar man
Who refused in disdain
A dollar gain
I grieve
At least
My lamentation is a prayer
To stop this disorder
I grieve
When I in divers places
Observe the similitude yet again
The pain
The desperation
The fear of life â not of death
On strained faces
Stark naked of expression
I grieve
At least
On everything, there is the Creatorâs hand
And once in a while
There is a standing ovation
For the plight of the poor man
For the plight of the poor man
For the plight of the poor man
Child and Woman.
Poem by: James C. Richmond
Amy Ramdass
Bernadette Naomi Chowthi
Bryann Maxx - The force of video production in Guyana
Dave Martins & The Tradewinds
Donna Makeda
John "Slingshot" DrePaul Music
Joseph Isahack
Ken Corsbie is "Caribbean Voices
Margot Van Sluytman
Monica Singh Books
Terry B. - Live Music For All Occasions
I stretch my hand to a night of barking dogs
feeling for rain or any dropping water:
But the wind is dark and has no shower for me
and the street is strange and has no pathway for me
and the sky is old and keeps no comet for me.
I stretch my hand to a nightof weary branches
feeling for leaves or any twig fo blossom:
But the branch is withered with no green leaf for me
and the stalk is brown and has no petal for me
and the root is tap root boring in equator.
I stretch my hand to a night of clinging distress
feeling for sleep or any rest to heal me:
But dreams are things that never come at calling
and sleep is time that hides me from my labour
and rest is death that rids me of my panting
and dogs and branches and dim rooms of distress
are living worlds that populate my dark
(Martin Carter in The Hidden Man, 1952)
Now to begin the road:
broken land ripped like a piece of cloth
iron cartwheel rumbling in the night
hidden man consistent in the dark
sea of dayclean washing on the shore
heart of orphan seeking orphanage.
Now to begin the road:
The bleeding music of appellant man
starts like a song but fades into a groan
His hopes are whitened starched with grief and pain
yet questing man is heavy laden cart
whose iron wheels will rumble in the night
whose iron wheels will spark against the stone
or granite burden of the universe.
Now to begin the road:
hidden cartman fumbling for a star -
brooding city like a mound of coal -
till journey done, till prostrate coughing hour
with sudden welcome take him to his dream
with sudden farewell send him to his grave
(Martin Carter in The Hidden Man, 1952)
Now to absborb and be absorbed again
and in such fashion marry to the world
Sky blue, grass green, glittering moon.
Dust white, bones naked - beautiful world!
No mark, no madness like this sanity.
At a bright day's end the dark sky will hide us
dream time will guard us, night will mend our being
yet wind will wake us, rain drench every doorway.
Now to absorb and be absorbed again
and in such fashion marry to the world.
City moon clad, black tree domestic, dreary
doormouth gaping
earth no mother, sky no father, space no home in comfort:
No mark, no madness like this sanity.
At a dark night's enda darker night will choke us
night claws wil rend us, gloom lay bare our being
and smoke engulf us, swirling in our faces.
How to absorb or be absorbed again?
(Martin Carter in The Hidden Man 1952)
This I have learnt:
today a speck
tomorrow a hero
hero or monster
you are consumed!
Like a jig
Shakes the loom:
like web
is spun the pattern
all are involved!
all are consumed!
(Martin Carter in the Kind Eagle, 1952)
University of Hunger
is the university of hunger the wide waste.
is the pilgrimage of man the wide march.
The print of hunger wanders in the land.
The green tree bends above the long forgotten.
The plains of life rise up and fall in spasms.
The huts of men are fused in misery.
They come treading in the hoofmarks of the mule
passing the ancient bridge
the grave of pride
the sudden flight
the terror and the time.
They come from the distant village of the flood
passing from middle air to middle earth
in the common hours of nakedness.
Twin bars of hunger mark their metal brows
twin seasons mock them
parching drought and flood.
is the dark ones
the half sunken in the land.
is they who had no voice in the emptiness
in the unbelievable
in the shadowless.
They come treading on the mud floor of the year
mingling with dark heavy waters
and the sea sound of the eyeless flitting bat.
O long is the march of men and long is the life
and wide is the span.
is the air dust and the long distance of memory
is the hour of rain when sleepless toads are silent
is broken chimneys smokeless in the wind
is brown trash huts and jagged mounds of iron
The come in long lines toward the broad city
is the golden moon like a big coin in the sky
is the floor of bone beneath the floor of flesh
is the beak of sickness breaking on the stone
O long is the march of men, and long is the life
and wide is the span
O cold is the cruel wind blowing.
O cold is the hoe in the ground.
They come like sea birds
flapping in the wake of a boat
is the torture of sunset in purple bandages
is the powder of the fire spread like dust in the twilight
is the water melodies of white foam on wrinkled sand.
The long streets of night move up and down
baring the thighs of a woman.
and the cavern of generation.
The beating drum returns and dies away.
The bearded men fall down and go to sleep.
The cocks of dawn stand up and crow like bugles.
is they who rose early in the morning
watching the moon die in the dawn.
is they who heard the shell blow and the iron clang.
is they who had no voice in the emptiness
in the unbelievable
in the shadowless.
O long is the march of men and long is the life
and wide is the span.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance,1954)
Above green cane arrow
is blue sky
Beneath green arrow
is brown earth
Dark is the shroud of slavery
over the river
over the forest
over the field.
Aie! black is the skin!
Aie! red is the heart!
as round it looks
over the world
over the forest
over the sun.
In the dark earth
in cold dark earth
time plants the seeds of anger.
This is another world
but above is the same blue sky
the same sun
Below is the same deep heart of agony.
The cane field of green, dark green
green with a life of its own.
the heart of a slave is red, deep red
red with a life of its own.
Day passes like a long whip
over the back of a slave.
Day is a burning whip
Biting the neck of a slave
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
Death must not find us thinking that we die.
Too soon, too soon
our banner draped for you.
I would prefer
the banner in the wind
Not bound so tightly
in a scarlet fold
not sodden sodden
with your people's tears
but flashing on the pole
we bear aloft
down and beyond this dark dark lane of rags
Dear Comrade
if it must be
you speak no more with me
nor smile no more with me
then let me take
a patience with a calm
for even now the greener leaf explodes
sun brightens stone
and all the river burns.
Now from the mourning vanguard moving on
dear Comrade I salute you and say
Death will not find us thinking that we die
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
This is the dark time, my love,
All round the land brown beetles crawl about
The shining sun is hidden in the sky
Red flowers bend their heads in awful sorrow
This is the dark time, my love,
It is the season of oppression, dark metal, and tears.
It is the festival of guns, the carnival of misery
Everywhere the faces of men are strained and anxious
Who comes walking in the dark night time?
Whose boot of steel tramps down the slender grass
It is the man of death, my love, the stranger invader
Watching you sleep and aiming at your dream.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
You come in warships terrible with death
I know your hands are red with Korean blood
I know your finger trembles on a trigger
and yet I curse you - Stranger khaki clad
British soldier, man in khaki
careful how you walk
My dead ancestor Accabreh
is groaning in his grave
At night he wakes and watches
with fire in his eyes
Because you march upon his breast
and stamp upon his heart.
Although you come in thousands from the sea
Although you walk like locusts in the street
Although you point your gun straight at my heart
I clench my fist above head; I sing my song of freedom
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
I come from the nigger yard of yesterday
leaping from the oppressors' hate
and the scorn of myself;
from the agony of the dark hut in the shadow
and the hurt of things;
from the long days of cruelty and the long nights of pain
down to the wide streets of to-morrow, of the next day
leaping I come, who cannot see will hear.
In the nigger yard I was naked like a new born
naked like a stone or a star.
It was a cradle of blind days rocking in time
torn from the skin from the back of a slave.
It was an aching floor on which I crept
on my hands and on my knees
searching for the dust for the trace of a root
or the mark of a leaf or the shape of a flower.
It was me always walking with bare feet.
meeting strange faces like those in dreams or fever
when the whole world turns upside down
and no one knows which is the sky or the land
which heart is his among the torn or wounded
which face is his among the strange and the terrible
walking about, groaning between the wind
And there was always sad music somwhere in the land
like a bugle and a drum between the houses
voices of women singing far away
pauses of silence, then a flood of sound.
But these were things like ghosts ro spirits of wind
It was only a big world spinning outside
and men, born in agony, torn in torture, twisted and broken like a leaf
and the uncomfortable morning, the beds of hunger stained and sordid
like the world, big and cruel, spinning outside.
Sitting sometimes in the twilight near the forest
where all the light is gone and every bird
I notice a tiny star neighbouring a leaf
a little drop of light a piece of glass
straining over heaven tiny bright
like a spark seed in the destiny of gloom.
O it was the heart like this tiny star near to the sorrows
straining against the whole world and the long twilight
moving in darkness stubburn and fierce
till leaves of sunset change from green to blue
and shadows grow like giants everywhere.
So I was born again stubborn and fierce
screaming in a slum
It was a city and coffin space for home
a river running, prisons, hospitals
men drunk and dying, judges full of scorn
priests and parsons fooling gods with words
and me, like a dog tangled in rags
spotted with sores powdered with dust
screaming with hunger, angry with life and men.
It was a a child born from a mother full of her blood
weaving her features bleeding her life in clots.
It was pain lasting from hours to months and to years
weaving a pattern telling a tale leaving a mark
on the face and the brow
Until there came the iron days cast in a foundry
Where men make hammers things that cannot break
and anvils heavy hard and cold like ice.
And so again I became one of the ten thousands
one of the uncountable miseries owning the land.
When the moon rose up only the whores could dance
the brazen jazz of music throbbed and groaned
filling the night air full of rhythmic questions.
It was the husk and the seed of challenging fire
birth and the grave challenging life.
Until to-day in the middle of the tumult
when the land changes and the world's all convulsed
when different voices join to say the same
and different hearts beat out in unison
where on the aching floor of where I live
the shifting earth is twisted into shape
I take again my nigger life, my scorn
and fling it in the face of those who hate me.
It is me the nigger boy turning to manhood
linking my fingers, welding my flesh to freedom.
I come from the nigger yard of yesterday
leaping from the oppressors' hate
and the scorn of myself.
I come to the worldwith scars upon my soul
wounds on my body, fury in my hands
I turn to the histories of men and the lives of the peoples.
I examine the shower of sparks and the wealth of the dreams.
I am pleased with the glories and sad with the sorrows
rich with the riches, poor with the loss.
From the nigger yard of yesterday I come with my burden
To the world of to-morrow I turn with my strength.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
I have not eaten for four days
My legs are paining, my blood runs slowly
It is cold to-night, the rain is silent and sudden,
And yet there is is something warm inside of me.
At my side my comrade lies in his bed watching the dark.
A cold wind presses chilly on the world.
It is the night of a Christmas day, a night in December,
We watch each other noting how time passes.
To-day my wife brought me a letter from a comrade.
I hid it in my bosom from the soldiers
They could not know my heart was reading 'Courage'!
They could not dream my skin was touching 'Struggle'!
But comrade now I can hardly write at all,
My legs are paining, my eyes are getting dark.
It is the fourth night of a hunger strike, a night in December.
I hold your letter tightly in my hand...
(Martin Carter in Poems of Resistance, 1954)
(Click on image to order)
The Guyanese poet Martin Carter was without question one of the major poets of the English language of our time. In the Caribbean, Carter has long been regarded as one of the great poets who chronicled the journey from colonialism to independence, alongside such figures as Aime Cesaire, Derek Walcott, Nicholas Guillen and Kamau Brathwaite. While his earlier poems have become classics of socialist literature, translated into many languages, and are among the foundation stones of Caribbean poetry, they have hardly been acknowledged in more general accounts of poetry in English. It was too easy for lazy critics and anthologists to dismiss him as 'merely' a political poet, one who swore, as he put it in one poem, to use his shirt as 'a banner for the revolution.'
In fact, looking at Carter's work overall it is hard to think of a contemporary poet writing in English who showed more concern for craft, who measured his utterance with greater care. His later work, while it never lost its political edge, was more oblique and cerebral than the overtly political poems of his youth. It sits comfortably alongside that of fellow South American poets Valejo, Neruda and Paz. They are his contemporaries in every sense; his work is of that originality, stature and elemental force.
This book sets out to celebrate Martin Carter's life and work and to establish a context for reading his poetry. It locates the several facets of Carter's work in the historical and cultural circumstances of his time, in Guyana, in the Caribbean. It includes essays by many leading academics and scholars of Caribbean literature and history. It is distinguished particularly by a collection of responses to Carter's work by other creative writers, both his contemporaries and a younger generation for whom Carter's work and commitment has been a powerful influence on their own thinking and practice. As well as demonstrating the profound respect in which he is held as a writer, what emerges most strongly from this group of essays and poems from his fellow writers is the extent to which he was loved and admired as a man who - despite the turmoil Guyana has experienced over the last fifty years - remained true to his fundamental belief in the dignity of humankind.
Contributors include John Agard, Edward Baugh, Kamau Brathwaite, Stewart Brown, Jan Carew, David Dabydeen, Fred D'Aguiar, Kwame Dawes, Michael Gilkes, Stanley Greaves, Wilson Harris, Roy Heath, Kendel Hippolyte, Louis James, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Eusi Kwayana, George Lamming, Ian McDonald, Mark McWatt, Mervyn Morris, Grace Nichols, Ken Ramchand, Gordon Rohlehr, Rupert Roopnaraine, Andew Salkey and many others.
Niyi Osundare writes in World Literature Today: 'All Are Involved is a difficult book to review. Its contents are so packed, so vital, the statements so well made that paraphrasing them becomes an act of egregious violence. Here is Martin Carter, that "gifted, paradoxical man" (p.45), that "friendly, dreamful, dangerous man" (p.370), analysed, extolled, lavished with the recognition which eluded him in life because of the politics of his poetry, and the poignant truth and moral force of that politics. This book demonstrates how wrong we were to have neglected Carterâs voice, how diminished. All Are Involved is a treasure so empowering, a tribute we pay through Martin Carter to all that is human in us. It is a most enduring legacy.'
Stewart Brown lectures at the Centre for West African Studies at the University of Birmingham. He has edited several anthologies of Caribbean writing and published many books and essays on aspects of West Indian culture.
(Courtesy of Peepal Tree Press)
Plantation Enmore, East Coast Demerara, British Guiana (circa 1900).
Main Street, Georgetown, British Guiana. (circa 1960-70)
Church Street, Georgetown, British Guiana. (circa 1910)
19th Century Indentured servants at depot.
19th Century Indentured servants eating at depot.
19th Century Indentured servants cutting sugar cane.
19th Century Indentured servants working in a field.
19th Century Indentured servants.
Cover of racist book dealing with Indians and Chinese immigrants.
If anyone wants to submit a photo, please send it to me at jonathanbratt@rogers.com
I was wondering if I could shape this passion
just as I wanted in solid fire.
I was wondering if the strange combustion of my days
the tension of the world inside of me
and the strength of my heart were enough.
I was wondering if I could stand as tall,
while the tide of the sea rose and fell.
If the sky would recede as I went,
or the earth would emerge as I came
to the door of the morning, locked against the sun.
I was wondering if I could make myself
nothing but fire, pure and incorruptible.
the wound of the wind on my face
would be healed by the work of my life
or the growth of the pain in my sleep
would be stopped in the strife of my days.
I am wondering if the agony of years
could be traced to the seed of an hour.
If the roots that spread out in the swamp
ran too deep for the issuing flower.
I was wondering if I could find myself
all that I am in all that I could be.
If all the population of stars
would be less than the things I could utter
And the challenge of space in my soul
be filled by the shape I become.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Shape and Motion, 1955)
Pull off yuh shirt and throw 'way yuh hat
Kick off yuh shoe and stamp down the spot
Tear off yuh dress and open yuhself
And dance like yuh mad
Far far.
Oh left foot, right foot, left - Ah boy!
Right foot, left foot, right - Ah boy!
Run up the sky
Run down the road
But run like you mad
Far far.
Jump off the ground
Pull down a star
Burn til you bleed
Far far.
Oh right foot, left foot, right - Ah boy!
Left foot, right foot, left - Ah boy!
Oh right foot, right foot
Left foot, left foot
Dance like you mad
Far far.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Shape and Motion, 1955)
I walk slowly in the wind,
watching myself in things I did not make;
in jumping shadows and in jumping cripples
dust on earth and houses tight with sickness
deep constant pain, the dream without sleep.
I walk slowly in the wind,
hearing myself in the loneliness of a child
in woman's grief, which is not understood
in coughing dogs when midnight lingers long
on stones, on streets and then on echoing stars,
that burn all night and suddenly go out.
I walk slowly in the wind
knowing myself in every moving thing
in years and days and words that mean so much
strong hands that shake, long roads that walk
and deeds that do themselves.
And all this world and all these lives to live.
I walk slowly in the wind,
remembering scorn and naked men in darkness
and huts of iron rivetted to earth.
Cold huts of iron stand upon this earth
like rusting prisons
Each is well marked and each wide roof is spread
like some dark wing
casting a shadow or living a curse.
I walk slowly in the wind
to lifted sunset red and gold and dim
a long brown river slanting to an ocean
a fishing boat, a man who cannot drown.
I walk slowly in the wind
and birds are swift, the sky is blue like silk.
From the big sweeping ocean of water
an iron ship rusted and brown achors itself.
And the long river runs like a snake
silent and smooth.
I walk slowly in the wind.
I hear my footsteps echoing down the tide
echoing like a wave on the sand or a wing on the wind
echoing echoing
a voice in the soul, a laugh in the funny silence.
I walk slowly in the wind
I walk because I cannot crawl or fly.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Shape and Motion, 1955)
(Click on image to order)
This dual language selection of Martin Carter's poems, edited by David Dabydeen, translated into Spanish by Salvador Ortiz-Carbonares and with an introduction by Gemma Robinson, will establish very clearly that Carter is a major South American poet, in the company of Valejo, Neruda and Paz.
As Ian McDonald writes: 'What we have is enough to prove, if proof has been needed... that Martin Carter is, without reservation, one of the finest poets to have emerged in the Caribbean region. And the varied subtlety and strength of his poetry carries him without any doubt into the first rank of world poets. Long after the politics which prompted a number of his poems have been forgotten, and long after the society which he often so scathingly indicted has been changed utterly the poetry will continue to strike a chord among new generations.'
The late Martin Carter was without doubt one of the Caribbean's major poets, only less well known than Walcott and Brathwaite because he rarely left his native Guyana. He came to notice first for his Poems of Resistance (1954) written out of his experiences of the anti-colonial struggle which included his imprisonment by the British for his political activities. His work has been a major influence on the current generation of Caribbean poets as John Agard, David Dabydeen, Fred D'Aguiar, Kwame Dawes, Linton Kwesi Johnson and Grace Nichols among others have elsewhere testified.
(Courtesy of Peepal Tree Press)
by Al Craighton
Among the many things the poets W.B.Yeats and Martin Carter have in common is the role they played in the shaping of nationhood in their respective countries. Each holds a very high place in the hierarchy of the literary genius produced by his country, but in both cases, their role goes beyond the production of the great corpus of national literature. It includes the formation of a literary consciousness and involvement in the corresponding current of revolutionary politics. Yeats' Ireland and Carter's British Guiana fifty years later, waged wars of independence against the same colonizing power. The similarities between them come to life in this comment on the life of Yeats by critic and editor, George MacBeth.
"His greatest successes seem to me to have been achieved in writing about his friends and the causes for which they spoke, fought and died. Irish history and Irish politics came alive to Yeats through the doings of people he knew and loved. His best work is a commentary on the history of a whole country at the establishment of its freedom, a period of agonizing crisis seen through the eyes of a particularly sensitive and involved member of it. Ireland was still small enough in the early twentieth century for one man to feel its problems personally and mould great poetry out of them."
Substitute Guyana for Ireland and that could well be a comment on Carter. Yeats became an Irish Senator after a period of tangential involvement in the political rebellion. His poem Easter 1916 is about the Easter Rising for which some of his friends were executed. Like others of his friends and associates in the PPP, Carter was imprisoned in a detention camp at Atkinson Field in 1953. Like Yeats, he became a minister of government, a 'technocrat,' under the PNC after independence. Yet he was to take to the streets again in protest against that same government a decade or so later. Yeats claimed he properly learned to be a poet during those years close to the revolution in Dublin when he came to appreciate poetry as a public art. Similarly. Carter grew up as a poet against a political background that no doubt helped to bring him to maturity as a writer, but he emerged as "a particularly sensitive" universal humanist who could feel his country's problems "and mould great poetry out of them."
The June, 2000 issue of Kyk-Over-Al (Number 49/50) is a testament of this aspect of the life and work of Martin Wylde Carter (1927-1997), to date, Guyana's greatest poet. The journal documents his career in 411 pages. The editors, Ian McDonald and Vanda Radzik silently celebrated Kyk's 50th volume, launched on December 19, 2000 on the virtual anniversary of Carter's burial (on December 18, 1997). The memorable celebration of the poet was more loudly proclaimed, and for this they drew on a large number of contributors who knew him personally, are fellow writers, or mere critics and students of his work. The result is a virtual biography of the poet.
One of the vital factors that emerges from the volume is the contribution Carter made in a very informal way to literary consciousness in pre-independence Guyana. Eusi Kwayana, Jan Carew, David de Caires, Roy Heath and Wilson Harris among others, recall the almost ritual sessions of literary readings and discussions in which Carter was central. They continued even up to the seventies, contributing to Guyanese nationhood no less than the political activism recorded by other contributors such as Janet Jagan and Rupert Roopnaraine.
Kyk 49/50 is thus sub-titled 'The Martin Carter Tribute,' following Number 48, which is a Language Issue dedicated to linguist and lexicographer, Richard Allsopp. But it is more than the biography of one described by Kwayana as "a friendly, dreamful, dangerous man." It includes critical essays by leading scholars, reviews, poems dedicated to Carter as well as a selection of his own prose and poetry.
There are two significant observations about the poetry. Carter's celebrated piece, Proem is reprinted as a kind of preface to the volume. It is a fitting statement about the poet, his poem and its audience, which is an overture to the book Poems of Succession and Selected Poems (1989). But it was removed from that strategic position in the Red Thread reprint of Selected Poems (1997) and is now restored in this document. Secondly, and of greater importance, is the recent discovery, after his death, of previously unknown, unpublished Carter poems, which now appear in Kyk 49/50. Of these, the most noteworthy is an untitled love poem, which seems far more complete and polished than the other four. "Wanting to write another poem for you," the poet "searched the world for something beautiful." What he finds is crafted with the usual neatness of Carter's metaphysical verse.
Outside my window, law unto itself
This tall green crown confirms an oath I swore
With mighty roots invisible in earth
And amongst seeds that war with God and die.
Of importance too, is the publication of two original handwritten manuscripts. The first is the poem now known as Death of a Comrade, which was first scribbled on a page and sent to Janet Jagan under its original title For a Dead Comrade. It was written as a tribute to late Barbadian trade unionist, Ivan Edwards. The second, Poem of Prison, was also handwritten and sent to A J Seymour for possible publication. The prose selections are mixed, (some early pieces which are not earth-shaking and others of greater import), and are of historical importance, following Nigel Westmaas' much more substantial collection in The Martin Carter Prose sampler in Kyk 44.
Collections of poetic tribute to a great personality are normally valued more for the tribute than for the poetry. Such is the case with the volume dedicated to the memory of Cheddi Jagan and edited by David Dabydeen, which mixes genuine poetry with contributions of no poetic pretensions, published in good faith to record the writers' valuable sentiments. It is of note, therefore, that Kyk 49/50 prints poetic tributes to Carter including two which are particularly serious verses of merit. The Last Walk by Stanley Greaves is no surprise from a long established poet whose first collection is expected soon out of Peepal Tree. But Freedom, a well crafted poem, startles, coming from Ameena Gafoor, previously known as a critic.
Also of interest is that this edition of Kyk-Over-Al may be seen as a companion volume to Stewart Brown's All are Involved: The art of Martin Carter, released by Peepal Tree at the 'West Indian Literature Conference, Textualities/ Sexualities,' hosted by the University of Guyana in March, 2000. Brown edits the most important collection of Carter criticism, drawing on a wider field of writers, but for the most part, sharing the same list of contributors with Kyk. Brown himself, as well as Clem Seecharran in the UK, has a critical essay in the journal, whose tributes are not mere sentiment, but include sound, scholarly papers. Nevertheless, the journal, even while honouring the poet, does not abandon some of its routine features. It still keeps abreast of the latest books through reviews of Pauline Melville by Denise de Caires, and of the newly emerged Onya Kampadoo by Joyce Jonas, while the paintings of another Guyanese great, Aubrey Williams, is noticed by Elfrieda Bissember.
It is Wilson Harris who mentions Carter's admiration for Yeats. He recalls Carter quoting a line from the Irish poet, "What if the mob at the door is the state." It is no wonder such a line appealed to Carter, who expressed many similar sharp observations that shock and disturb. If the editors of Kyk-Over-Al 49/50 had asked Yeats to submit a poetic tribute to Carter, his most likely selection might have been A Coat, written in 1914, to express his moving from "old mythologies" to poems wrought out of the problems of his newly emerging nation. For Carter whose shirt became a banner for the revolution, whose lips and fingers became the ragged edges of a cloud and the trembling leaves of the canna lily, and who recognized "the man who walked sideways," Yeats is a kindred spirit. It is this, above all, that is documented in Kyk-Over-Al.
A Coat I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it,
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked.
W.B. Yeats
(Editorâs Note: This review appeared in the Stabroek News, in December 2001. The biography itself is in the literary magazine in Guyana, Kyk-Over-Al, 49/50, edited by Dr. Ian McDonald and Vanda Radzik, June, 2000.)
They say I am a poet write for them:
Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I solemnly nod.
I do not want to look at them in the eye
lest they should squeal and scamper away.
A poet cannot write for those who ask
hardly himself even, except he lies;
Poems are written either for the dying
or for the unborn, no matter what they say.
That does not mean his audience lies remote
inside a womb or some cold bed of agony.
It means that we who want true poems
must all be born again and die to do so.
(Martin Carter in Converstations, 1961)
Groaning in this wilderness of silence
where voices hardly human shout at me
I imitate the most obscure of insects
and burrow in the soil, adn hide from light
Speaking with one on a pavement to the city
I watched the greedy mouth, the cunning eye
I reeled and nearly fell in frantic terror
seeing a human turn into a dog.
Recovering, I studied this illusion
and made a stupid effort to be strong
I nodded and agreed and listened close
But when I tried to utter words - I barked!
(Martin Carter in Conversations, 1961)
The wild men in prisons, they who rot like rust!
The loud men who cry freedom and are so full of lies!
The drunk men who go dancing like shadows down in the street!
These all surround me, shouting God to help!
I really do not see how God can help them.
For each one wants the same thing - who can share
With prisoners, politicians and drunk men
What only souls that blaze and burn can win?
(Martin Carter in Covnversations, 1961)
In a great silence I hear approaching rain:
There is a sound of conflict in the sky.
The frightened lizard darts behind a stone.
First was the wind, now is the wind assault.
I wish this world would sink and drown again
So that we build another Noah's arc
And send anotehr little dove to find
what we have lost in floods of misery.
(Martin Carter in Conversations, 1961)
Greetings and best wishes in this the 40th year of Guyana's independence.
This e-mail is to share with you the plans that are emerging for Guyana Folk Festival 2006.
For the past five years, the Guyana Cultural Association, a New York-based, non-profit organization, has organized the Guyana Folk Festival which is becoming an important end-of-summer holiday destination for the Guyanese and Caribbean diaspora.
Each year, the festival is organized around a theme. In past years the themes have been "Celebrating Guyanese music," "Celebrating the Guyanese word," "Celebrating Guyanese dance." In 2006, the theme is "Carifesta 72 Revisited: Celebrating Our Caribbean Culture"
Background
Just six years after independence, Guyana hosted the most important cultural event in contemporary Caribbean history--Carifesta 72. For three weeks (August 25 to September 15), the Caribbean expressive culture bloomed in Guyana. The festival celebrated the region's intergenerational and multiracial heritage, transcended the narrow geographies of history and revealed the important role of creative expression in the region's future development. Carifesta 72 was one of Guyana's important gifts to the region during its 40 years of independence.
The goal of Guyana Folk Festival 2006 is to celebrate the several threads that make up the Caribbean cultural tapestry and the ties that bind the peoples of the Caribbean, at home and in diaspora.
The 2006 Program
The emerging program shows that this year's festival will start in June 2006 and will end with the popular Folk Festival Family Fun Day on Sunday, September 3, 2006. What follows are some of the emerging highlights:
Festival of Guyanese Film: This program scheduled for Friday, June 30; Saturday, July 1; and Sunday, July 2 will showcase films made by Guyanese or about Guyana. The venue will be the Meyer Levin School Auditorium, Ralph Avenue, Brooklyn, New York.
Festival of Performing Arts: This program scheduled for Saturday, July 29; Sunday, July30; Saturday, August 5; and Sunday, August 6 will celebrate Caribbean performing arts. The venue will be the Meyer Levin School Auditorium, Ralph Avenue, Brooklyn, New York.
The Guyana Cultural Association's Awards Ceremony. This event for members and special invitees is scheduled for Wednesday, August 30, 2006. The venue is to be announced.
Come to My Kwe Kwe. This event is scheduled for Friday, September 1, 2006. The venue is to be announced.
The Symposium. The 2006 Folk Festival symposium will examine Guyana's place in Caribbean creativity. This event will take place at the Borough of Manhattan Community College, New York on Saturday, September 2, 2006. Prior to the New York symposium, a series of seminars on the same theme will be organized in Guyana, Atlanta, Florida, and the Cayman Islands.
Folk Festival Family Fun Day. This event is scheduled for Sunday, September 3, 2005 at the Meyer Levin School Ground, Ralph Avenue (between Tilden & Beverly), Brooklyn, New York.
The Guyana Cultural Association, organizers of the Guyana Folk Festival, seek your usual support and participation. I will keep you updated as further information becomes available.
For further details on the Guyana Cultural Association and previous Guyana Folk Festivals, please visit: http://www.guyfolkfest.org/
(Special Thanks to James C. Richmond and all the organizers of these most important event in the history of Guyana ...)
Link
Chinese In Guyana: Their Roots
Guyana Association of Artists and Writers
Guyana Colonial Newspapers
Guyana Entertainment Magazine (GEM)
Cheddi Jagan - Guyana's Hero
GT Vibes
Guiana 1838: The Movie
Guyana Central Arya Samaj
Guyana Folk Festival
Guyana Fuzion - International Guyanese Network
Guyana Genealogical & Biographical Society
Guyana Heritage Museum
Guyana Journal
Guyana: Land of Six Peoples
Guyana Medical Research & Support Center
Guyana Providence Stadium Site
Guyana Under Seige
Guyana Zoo
Homeview Guyana
Jouvay.com
Kaieteur National Park
Kashif & Shanghai Football Tournament
Miss Guyana Pageant
Motorsports Guyana
News from Linden, Guyana
Phagwah.com
Portuguese Emigration from Madeira to British Guiana
Reggae Nation, Guyana's Music website
St. George's Cathedral
Sancho Family (Genealogy)
The Arts Journal
The Guyana Flooding Website
The Guyana Story - (From Earliest Times to Independence)
The Silver Torch
The Working People's Alliance (WPA)(Site #2)
Tony Vieira's Commentary
Vision - Supporting a Guyana Third Force
Voice of Guyana International
Commemorating Walter Rodney's 25th Anniversary
Walter Roth Museum of Anthropology
were some who ran one way.
were some who ran another way.
were some who did not run at all.
were some who will not run again.
And I was with them all,
when the sun and the streets exploded,
and a city of clerks
turned a city of men!
Was a day that had to come,
ever since teh whole of a morning sky,
glowed red like glory,
over the tops of houses.
I would never have believed it.
I would have made a telling repudiation.
But I saw it myself
and hair was a mass of fire!
So now obsessed I celebrate in words
all origins of creation, whores and virgins:
I do it with a hand upon a groin,
swearing this way, since other ways are false!
For is only one way, one path, one road.
And nothing downward bends, but upward goes,
like leaves sunlight, trees to sun itself.
All, all who are human fail,
like bullets aimed at life,
or the dead who shoot and think themselves alive!
Behind a wall of stone beside this city,
mud is blue-grey when ocean waves are gone
in the midday sun!
And I have seen some creatures rise from holes
and claw a triumph like a citizen,
and reign until the tide!
Atop the iron roof tops of this city
I see vultures practising to wait.
And everytime and anytime,
in sleep or sudden wake, nightmare, dream,
always for me the same vision of cemeteries, slow funerals
broken bombs, and death designing all.
True, was with them all,
and told them more than once;
in despair there is hope , but there is none in death
Now I repeat it here, feeling a waste of life,
in a market-place of doom, watching the human face!
(Martin Carter in Jail Me Quickly, 1964)
After today, how shall I speak to you?
Those miseries I know you cultivate
are mine as well as yours, or do you think
the impartial bullock cares whose alnd is ploughed?
I know this city much as well as you do,
the ways leading to brothels and those dooms
dwelling in them, as in our lives they dwell.
So jail me quickly, clang the illiterate door
if freedom writes no happier alaphabet.
Old hanging ground is still green playing field.
Smooth cemetery proud garden of tall flowers.
But in your secret gables real bats fly
mocking great dreams that give the soul no peace,
and everywhere wrong deeds are being done.
Rude citizen! think you I do not know
that love is stammered , hate is shouted out
in every human city in this world?
Men murder men, as men must murder men,
to build their shining governments of the damned.
(Martin Carter in Jail Me Quickly, 1964)
O we have endured such absurd times
and waited so long, so weary with time.
Over the city our souls will fly like birds
crying in the night.
There will be wild cries in the still night.
Over the city they will sound like the cries
of the ghosts of homeless birds
flying to the forest
flying from the sea
And what in dreams we do in life we attempt.
But where are free men, where the endless streams?
Since we were born our wings have no rest
Our prison of air is worse than one of iron!
(Martin Carter in Jail Me Quickly, 1964)
Poems of Succession is the only copy I own of Martin Carter's poems. I don't plan to buy more recent publications, though they might contain excellent poems missing from this collection. Succession was printed as "the first almost complete collection of the poetry of Martin Carter" and contained poems he wrote between 1951 and 1975. It's fairly representative of his work, and when he died in 1997 I pulled it out (distressed by the erosion on the book's spine) and read the poems as a private tribute.
I've been reading them more earnestly since, dipping into the pages whenever there are headlines of "dark times" in the city; or reports of the "awful sorrow" in coastal villages with names like Friendship, Better Hope; the shuttered houses, the flight of Indians in fear for their lives, the gunning down of police ranks - those painful, malignant things that poison our wellbeing, creating in so many "a bafflement of speech".
Martin Carter was for me the mapmaker of Demerara's cities, the way Wilson Harris cartographed the rivers of our soul's hinterland. Growing up in Georgetown in those globally turbulent 60s, knowing there was a poet who lived in Lamaha Street, across from the train line, who wrote poems about "the leaves of the canna lily near the pavement"; then discovering his Black Friday 1962, that dark time in our history "when the sun and streets exploded", and some ran "this way", while I ran "that way" and Carter was with us all; all this made me feel captured in history, as on film for a time capsule. My life became meaningful. The poet, my hero.
Reading him closely, thereafter, I was haunted by his images of the city; then found myself resisting much of their appeal. I didn't question his heart's authority. He'd written:
I know this city much as well as you do,
The ways leading to brothels and those dooms
Dwelling in them, as in our lives they dwell. (from After One Year )
Those dooms dwelling in our lives? Somehow that line struck a dissonant note. It was time, I felt then, to discover my city, my Georgetown.
This meant relinquishing the branch one shared with him, his poet's high perch from which one viewed through his anguished lens the making of so much history in Georgetown. For although Carter was the kind eagle, "the heart's life", soaring in that vast blue Georgetown sky, you felt the perch was, perhaps, too lofty. It made for generalizations that sounded facile and high-flown.
In every human city in this world
Men murder men, as men must murder men,
To build their shining governments of the damned. (from After One Year)
Those lines had the sweep of some powerful universal truth back then; they left you somehow a little uneasy with the poet's spectatorial perch, as if Carter was missing grainier insights into our blighted villages, our city streets. (I still hold on to these lines, written in 1972, but with a ring of authenticity for any Lagos or Kuala Lumpur of today:
In a small city at dusk
It is difficult to distinguish
Bird from bat. Both fly fast:
One away from the dark And one toward the dark. (from In A Small City At Dusk)
What is alarming (it pains me to admit) is that his poems are losing their significance for me with each passing day. Beneath the much praised craftsmanship, little that resonates remains. The anti-colonial Freedom poems, for instance, I bypass; likewise the Death of a Comrade poems that so enamored academics back in the seventies. The University of Hunger invites me up to that transcending perch, that view of the eternal verities of the world. It's terrible to admit, but I've been there! And in any event the world is a more jumbled place these days, some new nations locked-up in narcotic activity, or collapsed in gun-infested swamps. ("The unwanted unwanting the world", Carter once wrote.)
Does this mean that for me Martin Carter has become irrelevant? Am I a romantic longing for the pre-Independence days when the railway embankments trembled only from the passing of trains, and hope was "a blade of fury". Is it fair ask his poems to pierce the new darkness, help us understand the post-colonial time: the city's uncaring smut, its "festival of guns"? Why hasn't his quietly built achievement inspired some new talent, some less soaring but equally kind eagle, refracting our capital city where one-eyed sophistry, brazen banditry, the gaping wounds of racial harm would make us strangers again, harden our heavy hearts again?
And If Martin Carter were alive today - but I refuse to go there!
Truth to tell, back in my youthful longings of the 60s he was always twinned in my psyche with Wilson Harris, the one examining the fissures in our city, the other pouring over prints of our interiors, appeasing our hunger for larger identities to transcend our origins. You felt at the birth of our Independence that with these two national treasures, their powerful imaginations enriching nascent souls in classrooms, our humanity would triumph in Guyana. Making their profound kinship with the landscape ours, our nation couldn't lose its way in the world.
Perhaps it is a measure of my current despair. There are lines from Cartman of Dayclean which, like an old stain, refuse to go away:
hidden cartman fumbling for a star
brooding city like a mound of coal
till journey done, till prostrate coughing hour
with sudden welcome take him to his dream
with sudden farewell send him to his grave.
Haunting, eagle-eyed lines, sharp and portentous. Is that how he really saw human existence in Guyana?
Carter didn't find much to celebrate in his later poems, unless there's a volume I haven't read (and, sad to admit, will not acquire). Those short, ruminative pieces written in the 70s (in Succession, selections from The When Time) with titles like "Before the Question" "If It Were Given" "As When I Was" I find not particularly compelling. Carter seems at this stage to be fiddling elliptically with his talent, the way a man past his prime scratches his balls now and then. (I'm sure there are researching scholars out there who will respectfully disagree.)
What remains, then, on the pages of Poems of Succession are mere intimations of what Guyana could become as a nation. That instan- taneous generosity shown to strangers, a people's readiness to be each other's friends. You have to listen hard to find it in the clamorous march of Carter's Comrade poems. It stayed intact, surfacing through the cracks and divides of the Burnham/Jagan years; it almost disappeared during the armed-forced socialist union of the Comrade years. I mean, those layers of forbearance, overriding fear and distrust, that got us this far as a nation, that get us through the coastal travails each day.
I heard it in the music that woke the nation to fresh mornings of labour and hope back in the days of radio; you hear it in that amazing old Guyanese composition "Happy Holidays" which defines our spirit at Christmas. A readiness for friendship that wards off periodic cries for partition; a kindness of heart that sutures communal wounds, offering hope again - that's what I mean!
With luck it will see us through the current slime of lawlessness in Demerara's towns and villages. It was always the fertile ground for a new synthesis. Still is, once we've found ways to ease debilitating poverty, drain our little gun-infested swamp.
by Wyck Williams
January 26th. 2003
We have a sea on this shore
Whole waves of foam groan out perpetually.
In the ships coming, in the black slaves dying
in the hot sun burning down
we bear no mark no shower of tears can shift.
On the bed of the ocean bones alone remain
rolling like pebbles drowned in many years.
From the beginning of ships
there was always someone who wept when sails were lost.
Perhaps the brown Phoenician woman cried
and cried again because a ship went down...
Or then some Grecian boy with swollen eyes
look for his father only saw the sea...
There must be in some tale telling of a wife
who bred a son upon the Spanish coast
then died before her sailor husband came...
From the beginning of ships
the sea was always making misery
water and wave, water and wave again.
On life the ocean stained with memory
where are the ships?
But none can say today.
The ships are gone and men remain to show
with a strong black skin what course those keels had cut
(1956)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Behind a green tree the sky is dying
in a sunset of rain in an absence of birds
The large pools of water lie down in the street
like oceans of memory sinking in the sand.
The sun has committed itself far too soon
in the trials of conquest where the triumph is rain:
O flower of fire in a wide vase of air
come back, come back to the house of the world.
Scarlet stone is a jewel of death
to be found in the sand where the ocean is dry.
And the life of the light will stay somewhere else
near the rain and the tree when these are alone.
O first sprouting leaf and last falling fruit
your roots came before you were given to air.
Sky only blossomed because man grew tall
from the edge of the water where stones fell and sank
And that strange dissolution of shape into spirit
was traced from a snail and was found in a word:
O flower of fire in a wide vase of air
come back, come back to the house of the world.
(1957)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
These poet words, nuggets out of corruption
or jewels dug from dung or speech from flesh
still bloody red, still half afraid to plunge
In the ceaseless waters foaming over death.
These poet words, nuggets no jeweller sells
across the counter of the world's confusion
but far and near, internal and external
burning the agony of the earth's complaint.
These poet words have secrets locked in them
like nuggets laden with the younger sun.
Who will unlock must first himself be locked
who will be locked must first himself be unlock
(1957)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
A near sky, no stars, another night.
Without warning I think of you
and the blown away spatter
of rain, on a window sill.
Unable to learn of what dreams are storing up.
Closing my eyes that sleep might suddenly fall
like rain or visions, I, in urgent mood
know certain things are certain in one life
The beat of water on the faraway sand
comes, bringing to me all your woman figure
dress blown away, and hair alive as foam
or rioting leaves or blossoms without peace.
You have not lost what I have taken from you
and cherish in my violent memory.
Come. Let us race across the ocean, ebbing
under a near sky
(1961)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Just as you come sometimes unheralded,
Kind shower from an unexpected cloud:
So now your presence I do re-invoke
As you offered, I have welcomed it.
It is that sadness in your face I brood on
Rapt student in a dream with strange new speech:
Yourself you are as unaware as I
And fertile is the silence we endure.
Ineffable the vastness of the heart
Whether we die as children or as men:
Embodying both bright flower and live seed
The fruit of passion ripens where it wants.
If these are riddles, riddles write themselves
And where we end no starting indicates:
Your eyes that sparkle teach me how to mourn
For all our deaths are certain as our births.
And making this today I test the burden
Then free myself, but not to weigh you down
What we call wings the birds can give no name
To heaven is their flight, on earth our sin.
(1964)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Strong memory, bright pressure of a hand
more eloquent than any broken phrase:
I contemplate love's furious argument
knowing for certain no one ever wins.
Counting the days since I last spoke with you
I wonder whether words out of a mouth
are less than silence, or if silences
tell more than declarations make obscure.
And how a question such as this is answered
I merely ponder, since the heart of passion
can summon dreams, abolish conundrums
all to endure the dark length of a day
(1965)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Someone, somewhere, shall know one day
more than I read of what I do:
Dog and a bird may bark or whistle
but human talk will tell me what.
My drought began before I knew
the meaning of a lack of water:
And grass is dry, and heart is cinder
and rain falls upward and away.
A carrion time, dead eye of sheep.
No serious hand is steady ever.
No serious lip, uncracked, undried.
One day, somwhere, someone will know.
(1966)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Rain blazes in that hemisphere
of my mind
where little else happens
neither sunshine nor cloudburst
and certainly not the blossoming of the
power of love you cherish
which so much overwhelms my tongue
give to speech
in the necessary workplaces
where freedom is obscene.
And from a drab window falls the
happy consequence of clouds
which the roots of passionate trees
receive with splendid gratitude
and which may return to us all in
their time
and in their special ways,
linking hand to fruit
and fruit to the promise of our
prayerful hope and love
and the triumph of the effort of
the always beating pulse
in the wrist and temple of the architect
who wars.
I am thinking about you.
Angela Davis
I am thinking about you and
what I want to do
is to command the drying pools
of rain
to wet your tired feet and
lift your face
to the gift of the roof of
clouds we owe you
(1971)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Inside my listening sleep
a roar of water on stubborn rock
was the whisper of blood in the womb of my mother.
And when I awoke
I began to listening again.
Why does water
ever running water of the river
never pause to take a rest on the back of rocks?
Or even on that place God has designed for it
out of the violent marriage of sun and rain and wind
and the birth and death of trees, labour of roots
growing beneath the seeking upward face
of the ever yielding water
which hide the testicles of seasons
in its own and my groin.
It is for this reason and certain others
I have decided to have only an acquintance
and to speak of it in a code
few can measure nearly;
and the unbelievable conclusion is not an ending
but a closing of lips
and to talk about it openly in common places
may well provoke its fury, and in that fury
liberate oe of its many demons
and send his anger roaming the void for me.
So then perhpas in some stupid fit of arrogance
I said something any food can understand
and this river heard me, and decided on vengeance,
where is one who could give me
weapons I shall be able to use?
If any of you can I shall be willing to take the risk.
But I must warn you if good advices
prove as useless as a paddle in the falls
you will be happy to be transformed as much as I will have to
by the side of this menacing, sullen river
at the mercyof the swing of hawk sight
and far from noise of language
where Gods still live and brood on thrones of rock
(1972)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
So now
how come
the treason
of the spirit?
The beggar man
pretends his tongue
is heavy;
and yet his crutch
his wooden limb
is light!
And he can fling it up
like any hat
and sail it in the air
just like a bird.
So now
how come
the treason
of the spirit?
So now
how come
the bafflement of speech?
So now
how come
the long delight of air
the sense of power
and the sense of passion
created by the dead and wooden
crutch of the spirit
and tongue?
(1972)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
As in sleep, my hand in yours, yours
in mine. Your voice in my hearing
and memory, like the sound of stars
as they shine, not content with light
only. My fingertips walk on your face
gently. They tiptoe as a dream does
away from sleep into waking. In a tree
somewhere a bird calls out. And I wake up
my hand still in yours, in hte midst
of the sound of stars and far bird.
(1972)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
The leaves of the canna lily near the pavement
tremble like my own fingers.
And the torn edges of the cloud in the sky
are ragged like the lips of an idiot child.
To walk the street, that man whose heart is whole,
must never care, must neve try to wonder
why the leaves of the canna lily
or the edges of the cloud
tremble like his own fingers
or stay ragged like the lips of his own mouth.
And it would be so good if we could learn
that while death is final thing,
it is most likely a worse destiny
to be damned to live forever.
For it came to me once in a sudden enlightenment
that all of us, having once been born
can never die, can never choose the kind of sleep
we dream of, or recognize awake.
So this is partly why every day when the chance comes
to jump over the bridge, or watch the carcass of the sun
(1972)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Once, many years ago
decision all my own
and truant in the rain
regretting a cheated freedom
frightened but not like this
by what was strange yet near me
I tried to speak and could not.
Now frightened into speech
by what you could not mean:
I said "I will" I told you;
and fever came as sudden
as when I was a boy
and smell of asphalt burning
made grass seem magical.
(1973)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
This afternoon white sea-birds
very quiet, very quiet, until
a cloud over the sun fooled them
it was sunset. The fished laughed
at the hook of the bait. The cork danced.
Where you are, I am. Lost and seeking
I question the waste. The wind
is blue smoke. From the fires
no flame sprouts. In the distance
day is a foreigner. If a child drowns
it is the sky's fault. If sea birds stray
the sun's. O my companion.
(1973)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
In the when time of the lost search
behind the treasure of the tree's rooted
and abstract past of a dead seed:
Remembrance in the sea, or under it,
or in a buried casket of drowned flowers.
It remains possible to glimpse morning
before the sun; possible to see too early
where sunset might stain anticipated
night. So sudden, and so hurting
is the bitten tongue of memory.
(1973)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Child, a moment of love ago
you danced in the eye of the woman
who made you. Within another moment
like the innocent where that made the loaf
for bread she sent you for
in this field of the heart's ploughed land
you were threshed!
(1974)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
It is better to drown in the sea
than die in the unfortunate air
which stifles. I heard the rattle
in the river; it was the paddle stroke
scraping the gunwale of a corial.
Memory at least is kind; the lips of death
curse life. And the window in the front of my house
by the gate my children enter by, that window
lets in the perfume of the white waxen glory
of the frangipani, and the pain.
(1974)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Both sunrise and sunset ahve often been scarlet
and returning noontime so blue and so white.
I do not yet know the name men have given
that fluttering yellow and ubiquitous butterfly
whose life is not long but whose beauty is so startling.
1974
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
From your house through the night streets
I walked easily in the rain
between the drops of it. Behind window panes
faces that never lived stared at me
as I walked away from your house through the rain.
Street lights were averted glances.
Then, suddenly I knew,
what I thought was someone walking
toward me, coming through the rain, casting
his own shadow, was really myself
about to pass me on his way
in your house.
1974
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
Proudful and barefoot I stride the street
who wants my shirt can have it.
Only the giver gets. The unwanted
unwants the world. The bruised heel of his foot
kicks like a meteor. And the dim dark behind
the blue illusion stands like an altar in a temple
in a forsaken land. Having failed to learn
how to die, they all perish ungracefully.
Laocoon, for all the snakes, struggled well.
1974
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
All through the supine hours
I heard thunder. And lighning a flick-knife
on my mind's awkward hand. The blade
sharpens the wing of a mosquito; clear and swift
it cuts hours into pieces , and they pile up into history
like a bundle of dreams discarded
and waiting to be burnt. If you are a beggar
so am I. We walk the streets
(1974)
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
So different
from the snails,
no matter
two in one:
the wise men
of the mountains,
the immortals,
the hsien
To wise men
of the moutains,
the immortals,
the hsien:
a season
is a midday,
a voyage
but a stroll!
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
The street is in darkness
Children are sleeping
Mankind is dreaming
It is midnight
It is midnight
The sun is away
Stars peep at cradles
Far seems the day
Who will awaken
One little flower
Sleeping and growing
Hour and hour
Dew is awake
Morning is soon
Mankind is risen
Flowers will bloom
(Martin Carter in Poems of Succession, 1977)
The more the men of our time we are
the more our time is. But always
we have been somewhere else. Muttering
out mouths like holes in the mud
at the bottom of trenches. Looking
for what is not anywhere, or certain.
is it only just a misfortune
to be as we are; bad luck
carefully chosen? In parallel seasons
if rain is any hour: if trees abandon
wind, what of all the others? Badly abused
we fail to curse. Our fury pleads.
Yet fury shoudl be fire; if not light.
And what is the mother of fury
it not ours. For any man
and for any time, one dream
is enough. This is true
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Even in that place of final exile
among tombs, and mechanical inscriptions,
each leaf is a different green,
flower of a different kind
of red and yellow; also each ripe fruit
tumult of a really different seed
there, in that place.
Outside in the traffic
between the city's indifferent wheels and feet,
amid a hatred of trees,
the phalloid needles of sewing machines
have sown a new drill. The sleeves
of uniforms droop
like the wet feathers of a crow's wing
over a secret carrion. Girls unbreasted,
wear guns like earrings. Boys ungamed,
grip them like tickets. The spree
is a wake. Admission is free.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Beyond a pattern of stars, reserved
for sundown; beyond and through slats
once closed, now open, I stare.
Time's fabulous fall down is
the slope of a strange mountain,
a shelf of books. Our hands have
written. They will continue to write
always the same. Title different.
Signature equal. Both are reserved
for the time beyond sundown, through
which, once closed, now open I still stare.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
In a purple world, I walked
among virgins and trees. Between
the thighs of time, I measured the swing
of a dead clock. Beating is
my heart. The sun of our own
sky's miserable convocation
of the forehead; memory of hair; climate
of the weather of the fork of virgins
and uprooted trees, through which
I walked again
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Every day is as old
as a new day is. Time
represents itself. Night fakes
the rule of stars; as we fake
light's good pencil. As child's
chalk ridden black board. Alphabet
of hope in a season of insects. Crawl
of the besast in a season of days. I
unapologetic, remember why every day was once
a new day. As new and as old as my childhood roaming
among grass. The world is a cold
wind. It is a glass of sweet water
in a grim place of thirst.
Farewell rain. When again shall I
taste your high cloud? Having betrayed
old gods in an old day, we seek
now to betray new ones
in a new day.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
This morning is new, but the sun
that made it is old. New and old
is the face of the world's great grief,
a kind of music we listen to and hear
when the toil of silence builds
our house of language in this wind's
throat, th grim larynx. A green leaf
on the branch of a tree fingers
our time's disgraceful space. We
are its measure.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Suddenly, air is very much colder
and so determined the world's accordion
throbs like music in my very weary
wrist. In a certain time, I have lingered.
But as an owl hoots
to startle the vile eye of a toad
and intitiate its own defiance of the dark:
I also speak. Having despised
all fangs, I neither have nor want
a time to bite. Ugly is the weak
coward mouth which having advantaged
advances. Old jaws and a toothless snarl. A
peeping of fingers tips, a beggar man's rich
inquisition of my own and determined
but not sudden destiny.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Every clear rain drop helps to obscure
the green towers; every grain
of white sand the specks
of bright gold. These are memory
as nights of love are, inside
our human forest of loss.
It is the same everywhere.
Ants lay waste ants.
Peril lurks ambiguously
as it always does
in the least or the most fertile
purposs of the works
of human courage. The swamps
are treacherous. The hustling creeks
of identical water are beautiful
and still, one cry, one however begun
human cry, contains all
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
What is rain for, it not for rice
for an empty pot; and pot for
in a hungry village? The son
succeeds his father in a line
to count as he did. waiting,
adding the latest to the first
of his losses: his harvests
of quick wind padi. For him
the new moon was dry like the full moon
that promised. The sea always
as salt as wet. In his calculation
his yield was the share that he would reap
when he was cheated, like the moon and the sea.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Show me a little freedom, different
from this. Time's tick tock
is our doom's astronomy. Caring
too little our voice betrays the hours
we tread upon. Only last night
I dreamed a stray dog eagerly,
as we would, devoured a kitten. Similarly,
in the firmament's disgrace Orion
the great sky hunter fled in front
of us. Yet I keep watch. Not
only their bad hands but worse
eyes I see. Everything blindfolds. Rain
and meteors want now in this season
to surrender tehir arts of falling.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Being, always to arrange
myself in the world, and the world
in myself, I try to do both. How
both are done is difficult. Why,
I have to ask, do I have to
arrange anything when every
thing is already arranged
by love's adn death's inscrutable
laws, mortal judiciary, time's
doll house of replaceable heads,
arms and legs? In another
house, not time's, time itself arranges
mine and the world's replacement.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Brother, let us now break
our bread together. My
plate is a small world. My
world is a small plate. From
a place in which plates
and worlds are utensils
we have reconstructed our
selves, with a power of difference.
César Vallejo. The parrots
call your name, fertile as
rain. My habit of utterance
kneels down at the sound of it.
I who only wanted to be
and to have a name.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Proud of being coarse, we
coarsen people, making
the act an issue. Even
cockroaches have begun
to flee from some
of our very houses.
They knowing better
their inevitable destination
better than many of us do.
flaunt their insect
pride, less coarse than ours.
They scorn us, which, I,
think, is why they flee
so many of our dirty houses.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Not wanting to deny, I
believed it. Not wanting
to believe it, I denied
our Bastille day. This,
is nothing to storm. This
fourteenth of July. With
my own eyes, I saw the fierce
criminal passing for citizen
with a weapon, a piece of wood
and five for one. We laugh
Bastille laughter. These are
not men of death. A pot
of rice is their foul reward.
I have at last started
to understand the origin
of our vileness, and being
unable to deny it, I suggest
its nativity.
In the shame of knowledge
of our vileness, we shall fight
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
At the foot of the stair
I stare. The spit of star
invents the sky. The sky invents
the reflection of the world's
plurability of the principality
of mind. I, with as you do,
raise a great glass
new year of a new time.
(Martin Carter in Poems of Affinity, 1980)
Assassins of conversation
they bury the voice
they assassinate, in the beloved
grave of the voice, never to be silent.
I sit in the presence of rain
in the sky's wild noise
of the feet of some who
not only, but also, kill
the origin of rain, the ankle
of the whore, as fastidious
is the great fight, the wife
of water. Risker, risk.
I intend to turn a sky
of tears, for you.
(Martin Carter, 1980)
Trees are arranged like mourners by a sadness
Root, stem, and wreath, and high above, the crown.
And a lizard upside down walks on the moon.
Futile rebuke of mourning. It will fall.
Balance was never. The spindle warps the thread.
The spin the spindle. And a work the work.
Body of soul, which world is like this one
if not this one? Which waywardness as right
as this scale leaning? The thing to be before
must be the thing again. More is that which was first
and stays the first. Again, because before.
Apart because between. All is dominion.
The beach it breaks on is what makes it ocean.
(Martin Carter, 1984)
Not so is it done, O no
not so. It is done, so,
as I think I am doing it,
neither not, nor so, but only
just in a wait, in a
moment, in a year, in
and this moment, this
yester just so. Because
a poet cannot truly speak
to himself save in his
own country: even among
the fearers of joy, enviers
of pride. Standard bearers
of his and their defeat. Just
so. And the sly drum.
(Martin Carter, 1984)
Withholding rain, I identify
myself with the withholden. But
no more ever cosmos. Mud
is the lacing of the boot
of a bird's wild whistle. Or
flute, the very same one I
imagined in the journey
of the flute's music, before
and after loss. When
rain becomes water the triumph
of a hors's hoof is
the sling shot of the pelt
of stars; imitating the drops
of the never to be withholding
rain of the world's blind
destiny. For what is rain
but delta? And delta
what but the immortal river
of rain? A thing falling
ever from these mortal
dripping fingers.
(Martin Carter, 1984)
The spared are not the saved. The living
but the unhanged. When that stair
of the gallows collapsed, no ne was treading
on it. All had been hanged already.
Hangman gone home. No wood ants
in his house. So I was told and saw, but
still, not seeing, doubt. Because
everywhere something betokened
and previous is always to happen.
And everywhere something ordained
and mortal is rightly to method.
Hangman himself to bereave
wood ants their trade to accomplish
in stair of house and of gallows,
nor confidence betrayed,
truth such as this recovered
and famous justice made.
(Martin Carter, 1984)
In right accordance, and demandingly
because what withstands, stands,
Farinata, the Ghibelline,
'entertained great scorn of hell
and asked about ancestors". So
be it. "Demerara nigger. Downward
through the horse". Hells are comparable
but mind stays in advance of dispensation.
This foot for instance. This shoe.
Step. Floor. Book for instance. Lamp.
From one to the other; words
tortured out like a turd. Until the sudden
fumble of the premonitory wing
of the bat in the roof. I held
mortality a thing to be endured;
human fact deliverable. What
when fear is hope; if no messenger rode;
way and cause as right if not
an ending? Therefore found it just
often to barter talk for sight
and turn a bat and confuse clocks. At
any cost I had to go; went scorning
and demanding. Mortality put to question.
Cosmic justice reckoned in confining
a horse of hell as likely as the riding
companion mind; mind in advance of mind,
the mind requitting and mind singular
enabled mind, mind minded to suppose
nigger and Ghibelline.
(Martin Carter, 1984)
Guyana Chronicle
December 14, 1997
RENOWNED Guyanese poet, Mr Martin Carter, died from a heart attack around noon yesterday at his Lamaha Street, Georgetown home. Carter was 70.
Presidential candidate of the Alliance for Guyana party, Dr Rupert Roopnaraine, broke the sad news shortly after midday at the Elections Commission where Elections Chairman, Mr Doodnauth Singh, Prime Minister and presidential candidate for the PPP/Civic party, Mrs Janet Jagan, other presidential candidates and representatives of political parties contesting the elections had gathered for a meeting.
In an invited comment on the poet's death, Mrs Jagan, who has known Carter since he was a young man, told reporters "a great man has passed away".
She said they had been friends even though, at times, they had political differences. But this did not affect the friendship.
"I have always had the greatest esteem for his beautiful, wonderful poetry, poetry that this nation had never before heard nor seen...to my mind he is the greatest poet and he has expressed the mood of the people at important periods of our life," Mrs Jagan said.
The Prime Minister expressed sympathy to the sorrowing wife, children and other relatives and friends.
And in a special release on Carter's death, the PPP/Civic said "a giant drum of Guyanese enlightenment has missed a vital beat".
"The PPP and its Civic partners collectively mourn the passing of our national poet. Surely, with his spirit of defiance, death has not found him thinking that he dies. Though our banner is draped in mourning, we will take comfort in the dedication of Martin Carter for the fulfillment of our people's dreams of happiness and peaceful existence.
"Martin Carter's genesis in struggle was in the PPP. Through the years, in the fight for Independence and the heroic struggle for the restoration of democracy, Carter has been a tower of strength, and his poems a weapon against oppression. Carter had come to symbolise the conscience of our nation," the PPP/Civic statement said.
It added, "We say: Take courage; Martin's dreams live on."
Information Minister, Mr Moses Nagamootoo expressed his deepest sympathy at the death, adding Carter was one of "my bosom friends. We go back a long way."
In a statement too, the PNC, mourning the death of a "great son of our soil" said Carter was one of "our eminent poets and a former Minister of Information and Culture in the People's National Congress government, personified excellence in writing. He lent weight to the adage, `the pen is mightier than the sword'".
The PNC statement recalled that Carter was involved in Guyana's Independence struggles and was jailed by the colonial administration in the 1950s for his frontline role in those struggles.
"As a people, we owe him a debt of gratitude," the statement said, adding he will be long remembered for his `Poems of Resistance' which won him international acclaim.
"He carved for himself a permanent place of prominence amongst the great writers of Guyana and the West Indies and he will long be remembered for his poems such as `I come from the Nigger Yard', `Looking at my hands', `Death of a comrade', `Black Friday 1962' and `For my son', which have all been immortalised.
The party has extended condolences to Carter's sorrowing widow and other members of his family.
And, reached by telephone for his initial reaction, cultural icon of the Caribbean, Barbados-born novelist, Mr George Lamming said he was "simply too shaken to speak at this time."
Both Carter and Lamming celebrated their 70th birthday earlier this year.
Another literary figure, Mr Ian McDonald also expressed his shock at Carter's passing.
"Words," said McDonald, "cannot measure up to the stature of a great human being like Martin Carter.
"He was undoubtedly Guyana's greatest poet and ranked with the best of West Indian literary figures".
"In time," he said, "Carter will be recalled as a great poet of the Americas and the world. I was glad to be his friend," McDonald told CANA.
Carter was born in Georgetown in 1927, attended Queen's College and worked as a civil service clerk for four years but was forced to resign because of his political commitment to the struggle against imperialism.
Carter's collections of poems include `The Hills of Fire Glow Red' (1951), `To a Dead Slave' (1951), `The Hidden Man' (1952) and his most popular `Poems of Resistance' (1954).
Professor of Caribbean Literature at the regional University of the West Indies (UWI) Dr Gordon Rohlehr last year described Carter as a poet of "varied mood, tone and style".
According to Rohlehr, Carter's work contains "glowing rhetoric...counter-pointed by difficult philosophic statement or by tight reticence that has honed the poem to its skeleton".
Carter's poems focus on themes such as resistance, rebellion, global struggle, love, time and death.
The poet has received several national and international awards for his work, including the Cacique's Crown of Honour and the Order of Roraima, as well as the Gabriel Mistral award from the Chilean government.
Death of a comrade
Death must not find us thinking that we die
too soon, too soon
our banner draped for you
I would prefer
the banner in the wind
Not bound so tightly
in a scarlet fold
not sodden, sodden
with your people's tears
but flashing on the pole
we bear aloft
down and beyond this dark, dark lane of rags.
Now, from the mourning vanguard moving on
dear Comrade, I salute you and I say
Death will not find us thinking that we die.
Martin Carter
By Ruel Johnson
Guyana Chronicle
July 4, 2004
Martin Carter possessed not only a lust for life but a passion for writing. His wife remembers sometimes Carter sitting up suddenly in bed, the light on and when she asks him what the matter was, he would reply simply, âI just got a word I wanted. I coming back.â
`I remember in those days we had some very good friends who would come and we would all go out, even if you had to walk. In those days you either had a cycle or you walked and we go to the seawall; sometimes someone would carry a guitar and you walking and singing and you could walk home at one oâclock in the morning. It was a different life, completely different.â Mrs. Phyllis Carter
HE WAS Guyanaâs most renowned poet, an icon of colonial resistance. His words echo over and over again both within our private lives and our unfolding history.
Though heralded by scholars and politicians across the Third World, the most apt description of Martin Carter â the only one he seemed to give some credence to â was the title given to him by a child, and which he recorded in a poem: âthe poems manââ¦lower case âpâ and âmâ and all.
âThe first major set of poems, Poems of Resistance, is 50 years this year, 50 years since it was published,â says Phyllis Carter. Her Lamaha Street home, the one she and Martin Carter shared until his death six years ago, is an inhabitable artifact, a living and lived in piece of Guyanese history, even only if for the simple fact that in one corner - like a shrine - is a framed original photograph of the poet.
But there is much more than that: there is the yard that seems as ageless as the furniture which occupies the spacious living room and dining room areas; there are the paintings by Aubrey Williams and Robert Forrester; there is the study in which he wrote and read.
âOf course before that, in 1951,â continues Mrs. Carter, âthere was Hill of Fire Glows Red, the miniature poems.â She goes on to list much of Carterâs work during the post-independence era.
Last month, was National Poetry Month, as designated by the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sport. The reason Minister Gail Teixeira gives for making June National Poetry Month was that Martin Carter was born in this month. There were three excellent readings at the Umana Yana, organised by literary âspokesmanâ Petamber Persaud in collaboration with the Ministry, at which the attendance could have been better, as well as the press coverage, but the readings were excellent; enhanced all the more by the fact that Phyllis Carter, in what was a rare act, read one of her husband's poems.
Last week, the Sunday Chronicle paid her a visit in order to get a glimpse at what life was like with the poet.
âFirst of all,â says Mrs. Carter, âwe were married for 47 years. How did we meet? Well, he was very friendly and I had three brothers who were his friends though they all went to different schools. We lived on at Ogle on the East Coast at the time and these boys would all ride up from Georgetown and I remember that he was among them. I knew him since I was about 10 or 11 coming there. He was five years older, five years my senior."
She relates all this in that precise, clipped yet unaffected English peculiar to Georgetownâs middle-class of a couple of generations ago. Her manner is calm and matter of fact.
"We knew each other for a long time," she continues, "and, you know, as the years went by, I took a look. We were married when I was about 21, he was about 26. I was nursing at Mercy Hospital. It was 1953.â
Tim Hector, longtime friend of the poet, wrote in a tribute after Carter had died that, "integrity shone through in his person, in his love of good talk, good company and the good times which these two add up to make. And above all in the love of his wife. It was a rare pleasure to be at their house, and you knew in the profoundest way, that he and his wife had created a home and a habitation, with little or no models to go by. It was their own creation. In its own right, a West Indian creation. There was no affected stylisation about the relation between Martin and his wife. Each day it was spontaneous, natural, entirely free of imitation, with its own intimations of a love deep and abiding."
The very first year of the Cartersâ marriage was, to quote the poet himself, âa dark time, my love.â Phyllis remembers when Martin Carter was imprisoned in 1953 along with other PPP members Sydney King (Eusi Kwayana), Rory Westmaas, Ajodha Singh and Bally Lachmansingh.
âAt that time, we were living with his mother and sister; I donât think any of the brothers were home because they were qualifying abroad.â
She produces a well-preserved nine-year old copy of BWEEâs in-flight magazine, Caribbean Beat and opens up to a feature article on Martin Carter.
âAs a matter of fact, this is why I brought out this book for that reason. There he is with Cheddi [Jagan], when they were picked up,â she says pointing at a reproduction of a grainy black and white photograph. âCheddi didnât go up to Timehri [to the detention centre at Atkinsonâs Field Air Base] with him. It was Latchmansingh and he and the others.â
She points to another photograph, exclaiming, âThis was him â this was a youthful him! â being sworn him by the Governor-General David Rose. And here is the poem he had written about a child shouting, âLook! Look! The poems man!ââ
âNineteen fifty-three was a difficult time. In â53, it was what we used to say was the bad time. The soldiers came and they were outside the house â not here, we lived in Anira Street at the time â they were lined up all at the gate. They saw this boy [son Keith] who was just a baby at the time and they came in and he was in a cradle, and my mother-in-law frankly said to them, âIf you wake that boy up, you put him back to sleep.â They promptly walked out of the room.â
After his jailing and, of course, the publication of Poems of Resistance, Martin Carter became increasingly recognisable to the general public. Phyllis Carter recalls once such incident.
âI remember the night we were walking by Cuffy â which was of course years ago when you coulda walked about â and a man shout, âAh, Martin Carter, yuh walkinâ far. So he was known and I always used to say âIs because of yuh height and yuh built everybody knows you.ââ
At this point, Mrs. Carter becomes a bit more animated, years younger.
âAnd of then course you know,â she continues, âhe liked his drink and he always had friends because of that. Anybody, anywhere, anytime, he would bring them here. He liked to drink and he like a cigarette; never passed a cigarette; he had to know that you had cigarettes in the house or heâd go crazy. Or if he didnât get a cigarette from early morningâ¦â
In those days Georgetown was a much safer and easy-going place.
âI remember in those days we had some very good friends who would come and we would all go out, even if you had to walk. In those days you either had a cycle or you walked and we go to the seawall; sometimes someone would carry a guitar and you walking and singing and you could walk home at one oâclock in the morning. It was a different life, completely different.â
Another thing about Martin Carter that his widow remembers well and clearly admired was his nonchalant attitude about money.
âHe wasnât interested in money, I must admit. I always liked â and as our son-in-law always said â that he [Martin] was the only person that he knew who had no wallet. He never carried a wallet anywhereâ¦If he had five dollars, it was his short pocket; if he had ten dollars, it was his shirt pocket. Money was never his thing.â
On the wall is a painting of two men fishing in a forest clearing. âHe was an ardent fisherman too, of course. That painting was given to him by Ivan Forrester, âFarroâ. Farro used to work in Kumaka and he invited Martin up there once and Farro painted him fishing.â
Martin Carter possessed not only a lust for life but a passion for writing. She remembers sometimes Carter sitting up suddenly in bed, the light on and when she asks him what the matter was, he would reply simply, âI just got a word I wanted. I coming back.â
âHe would go and set for an hour,â says Mrs. Carter, âjust settling a poem. He went through every thing. I remember him telling me one night to just call this word for him in the morning. His poetry was not done off-hand, he went into it.â
On family outings, she was usually the driver while her husband would empty his packet of cigarettes (his favourite brand was `Yellow Perilâ), and write on the empty cardboard box. He was that obsessed about crafting his poetry.
She remembers questioning him about a line in a particular poem, the line reading âOld hanging ground is still green playing field.â He explained the line to her.
âOld hanging ground (they used to hang people there) is still green playing field (they still playing football and so on it)â¦â
"I think, personally, that Martin was very involved in [his society]. He was out there when Father Darke was killed and he actually saw the fellow stab Father Darke and he came home so bitter and he exclaimed that "Today is the 14th of July; today is Bastille Day" and he started writing. I on the other hand had to go an 'special' Father Darke, I looked after him. That was most unfortunate cause when the fellow actually stabbed him in the back, they thought it was the one lung the bayonet had gone through but it had gone through both."
Things were not all poetry and politics for Martin Carter though; he was, after all, a father of four children.
"I think they [the children] all looked up at him and liked him as such. Some days they probably thought they could murder him. They would have their gang of friends under the house playing and he would shout down at them and tell them it was time to stop playing, get to a book and read."
Martin Carter was always big on reading, related Mrs. Carter, encouraging his children to read anything from books to scraps of paper blowing about in the yard. If they found a word that baffled them during their doing homework and asked him the meaning, he would post them to a dictionary. She invariably intervened.
Martin Carter passed away in December 1998. Mrs. Carter recalled her dealing not so much with the passing of her husband but otherâs peopleâs reactions to her after he had died.
âI remember distinctly a friend came to sympathise. I was wearing a red dress or something and she said, âWhy you wearing that?â I said âHow you mean, why I wearing this?â and she responded âBut Martin only dead the otherâ¦â I told her, âYes, Martin only died a couple of weeks ago but what makes the difference? The cloth, the dress, the colour? Itâs not what out here you know, you got to remember itâs what in here.â And she said âMaybeâ¦â in that sort of way, you know. I donât understand people: what if you wear something with colour? People said, âOh you stop mourningâ and my response was that if I had the clothes to continue mourning for a year, I would do it. I just continued the way I always did.â
She says that after their father passed away, her children â all grown now of course â all asked if she wanted to come and live with them.
âI told them,â says Mrs. Carter, âthat I finish with children. Children squeaking and squawking: Iâm not able. Iâm happy here, my dog and I are quite happy. When he gets hungry, he gets up and scratches on the window just like any child.â
Finally, Mrs. Carter spoke about the rare reading appearance she made last month and what prompted her to do it.
âWell, Petamber [Persaud, the eventâs organiser] had phoned and asked me to read something and I told him that I was sorry but I wouldnât be doing anything. Then I said to myself âWait a minute!â Only two weeks ago I had gone to St. Georgeâs Cathedral for a music concert and I was sitting there, the MC said that now we will hear a poem which had been put to music by Valerie Rodway. And he announced that the poem Let Freedom Awaken was published by A.J. Seymour. And I said to my sister-in-law âWhat the hell is wrong with this man?â and she said âIsnât it Martinâs writing?â
Mrs. Carter said that it happens all the time from radio station hosts to politicians, quoting Martin Carter without acknowledging the source. After another call from Persaud, she changed her mind.
She recalls that her husband was almost prophetic about this. "Martin always used to say", she told the Sunday Chronicle, "that his people didn't appreciate him when he was alive, but when he was dead they would all praise him."
No Easy Thing
I must repeat that which I have declared
Even to hide it from your urgent heart:
No easy thing is it to speak of love.
Nor to be silent when it all consumes!
You do not know everywhere I go
You go with me clasped in my memory:
One night I dreamed we walked beside the sea
And tasted freedom underneath the moon.
Do not be late needed and wanted love
What's withheld blights both love itself and us:
As well as blame your hair for blowing wind.
As me for breathing, living, loving you.
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The first steps towards repairing your relationship with the gods is to
1. Understand they instruct the computer to "role play" in an attempt to confuse you:::it's ALWAYS the computer addressing you. Their goal is to cost you additional YEARS of your life by using this tactic to confuse you. Always be aware of this tactic and eventually they will give up and allow this step to be taken.
2. Differentiate between your thoughts and when they are thinking through you.
Africans and their decendants have gross disfavor::::
There have been 14 species of large animals capable of domestication in the history of mankind. 13 were from Europe, Asia and northern Africa but none from the sub-Saharan African continent.
Africans suffered failed attempts to domesticate the elephant and zebra, the latter being an animal that had the utmost importance for it's applicability in transformation from a hunting/gathering to agrarian-based civilization.
They refuse to address black disfavor on a macro level. The Counsel/Management Team/ruling species (the gods) abuse black people so hard, from east African drought/famine to AIDS in Africa to female genital mutiliation, to the crack epiemic and gang membership, black-on-black violence to mass incarceration of their young. They refuse to address the issue of the prison industrial complex and its wholesale warehousing of young black men.
Prior to civil rights blacks had their own press. Now some of their most successful businesses are ones that feed off the people, speading social poison and contibuting to the same value-distorting superficiality that they experience in the media, accomplished by creating a perception of social value in a $500 hair style.
Black poeple have made progress, but too many are in the wrong positions, government jobs, or in professions where they incurr, like health care.
Two steps forward, one step back.
They've employed so many tactics to hurt black people. Never doubt your gross disfavor.
- Misogyny
- Female genital mutilation
- Materialism/superficiality
- Masculinization of women
- Hypersexuality. The dominant theme in African art is sexual imagry.
- Gang violence.
- They put the LAForum/Hollywood Park in Inglewood for a reason and employ tactics like this throughout the country.
- There is a high frequency of liquor stores throughout inner-city neighborhoods. Also, in white neighborhoods drugs are relegated to high schools and degenerate circles. In the inner city drugs are readily available on the street FOR A REASON:::so every adult can have availability to drugs.
- The gods originally used jazz to create a self-perception of "cool" and "hip" in the black community and have instructed Artificial Intelligence to grow this pathology from there.
- "Black power" envoked the anger of the gods. The gods have little tolerance for disfavored people's uprisings which explains the sorry state of the black community post-civil rights "empowerment".
They have utilized clones throughout human history. Don't let them disceive you with that tactic:::The black community is in disarray, the young are segmented and divided and too many respectable blacks are dumped into worshiping Jesus as a diety. Black people in the United States and in the motherland both have disturbing problems.
When the grossly disfavored are not humble it incurs the wrath of the gods, as blacks have experienced in the last few decades with the crack epidemic and gang violence/drive-by shootings.
Know modesty and humility.
- They say some black women have a desire for promiscuity, a "promiscuity complex", similar to the Philipino "rape complex". AIDS in Africa reinforces this claim.
They sent young blacks clues NOT to fall prey to this materialistic culture of hip-hop::::
-$200 hockey jersey hanging in your closet you don't wear anymore::Deceived into patronizing a sport that is almost completely devoid of black people.
-You didn't learn from that lesson and you bought a $5000 grill. You celebrate that it makes you look like monsters.
-You regularly drop up to $500 on hair styling
-The gods punish you with abject materialism:::::they created a perceived value in replacing items of clothing as soon as they get even a smudge of dirt on them.
-You display pride in your materialism by leaving the price tags on your hats. You are the butt of jokes - you look like Minnie Pearl from Hee-Haw!!!! She may be their source for this idea.
-You surround yourselves with products from professional sports teams, a male-dominated activity, and consider gawdy jewelry stylish because the gods use their media to sell it. Much like hockey I doubt there are many black people behind the scenes throughout the media.
Hip hop is a cancer on the people.
I understand people point to decades past and claim "music of the youth" but the truth is the gods used music from those eras to hurt the youth as well:::::classic rock was DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO HURT WHITE PEOPLE!!!! And it did hurt many many disfavored. Just as hip hop is doing.
Popular music is bad for everybody.
Hip hop is particularly bad for it promotes specific anti-social behavior:::::
1. Misogyny - The misogonistic lyrics hurt people very badly for women are the favored gender, the decent among us. African female genital mutilation illustrates a legacy of misogyny.
As the women go so goes society.
Mysogyny has been hurting black America VERY BADLY for decades now.
2. Masculinizes the women - cursing, casual sex, quick to anger, violent.
3. Makes violence socially acceptable.
Understand hip hop is something they inflict ON YOU!!! They direct the media to plant the seed which is used to distort your value system. Black people have been suffering from this same tactic for decades now.
Understand humility and modesty. Try to see the big picture:::::Black people's lack of humility is severely punished by the gods, as are all grossly disfavored who subscribe to this misperception of empowerment.
The gods are antient and powerful and angry and they love to hurt disfavored people who think they are great. Disfavored blacks have been misled into thinking they are great instead of recognizing their gross disfavor. Now they are corrupted and are doing things that hurt themselves and their community very badly.
The gods will pacify people, telling them ANYTHING to obtain compliance:::"You're clones.", "The babies dying of AIDS are clones.", "Drive-by victims are clones.", etc. The current state of Africans at home and abroad is the issue:::
There are many tactics the gods employ, and expect these tactics are not just for those on Earth:::If the group's elders don't try to interviene and lobby the gods to help their descendants on Earth they incurr which limits the time they get. I suspect this is one reason for the sorry state of Africans worldwide:::They don't want their elders who have gone before to stay.
The gods will employ tactics to ensure the disfavored don't stay::::This is why so many whites who come up are put into an environment that is comfortable for them, so they continue their pattern of behavior from their time on Earth:::Behavior that excludes honoring the gods, perhaps revelry, etc.
You have a problem with the word "nigger". It's imperitive that you get over it.
The word "nigger" is a tool the gods use to incite black people, envoking a mistaken, detrimental sense of empowerment, one that contributes to their disfavor. The gods continue to utilize this tool strategically from time to time as they integrate it into incidents they decide to publicize. It is crucial that you differentiate between your thoughts and when Artificial Intelligence thinks through you::It is why you are outraged at the mention of the word from outside the community.
They will strategically pick and chose incidents to publicize. For example they chose to publicize the shooting in New York in 2006 because it is a situation they could use as an inciter.
The 2006 incident in Oakland where the woman threw her children off a balcony was NOT an inciting incident. Actually it is a issue that might compel some to seek which perhaps may result in progress, so we didn't hear of it after the initial story. I'd like to illustrate that when whites experinced similar heartbreak the gods instructed the media to continue to bring attention to it long after the incident ocurred.
The don't want black people finding the path because of their gross disfavor.
Continue reading. I want to show you the path. Find it an begin down it. Begin to pray. Be afraid, for you have gross disfavor. To be god fearing is a very healthy thing.
It is ironic that whatever the gods try to sell to blacks, in the media or elsewhere, incurrs evil, costs people time, for they have grave disfavor and to the outside observer are OUTSTANDING in the capacity of litmus test:::
-Jewelry/adornment
-Materialism, superficiality, greed
-Misogyny
-Hypersexuality
-Jesus
Also ironically whomever they hate are good, help people, are voices of empathy::::::::
-Anti-Semitic attitudes (of decades ago)
-Women
-White people
The gods use the United States to hurt the disfavored, at home and abroad, for it is the goal of redwhite&blue:::
20th century welfare hurt the black community very, very badly. There was too many abuses of the system and its legacy is still felt today.
There will come a time that will be a CRUCIAL moment in the history of black america (whether it is a critical time for everybody remains to be seen). When that era arrives the gods will instruct the United States to pay black people reparations, and it may be as much as a million dollars for every man, woman and child.
Refuse it. This is an act of preditation. The gods hate Africans, evident by the sorry state of the people in the United States and back in the motherland. This may ba a choice between going and the money. Understand how the gods use greed and materialism against you:::::Blacks wallow in materialiam, incurring evil and costing themselves time. And when their time DOES come they will be granted reparations immediately prior, further limiting the number of Africans who ascend.
The day IS coming when they will grant reparations, and the amount will be staggering, another tactic to ensure you fail in the quest to ascend into heaven. And many of the disfavored blacks will blow it all; the gods will push them into spending it friviously or losing it in their casinos.
They have suggested that there was an incident long ago when the gods attempted physical contact in Africa but were repelled with violence.
I was thinking of how this contrived offense was used to justify future behaviors:::
1. Black power
2. Resistance from their tool in antiquity used to abuse the disfavored, redwhite&blue Egyptian Pharrohs
They pushed them into repelling the initial contact, casting the African into disfavor, then used it to justify pushing them into other similar behaviors down the road.
To be god fearing is very healthy.
This message illustrating the path may be the disfavored's last clue. All clues before have been more covert but this one is quite obvious indeed, which says time is running out.
Women are the favored gender.
Women of course have a natural tendancy not to have orgasims each time engaging in traditional intercourse. I wonder if this is "the rope" for the disfavored men, for if the disfavored male doesn't ensure the satisfaction of the favored woman it may cost him, if he who is not as worthy doesn't see to it she is satisfied it may hurt him in the eyes of the gods.
If a man lies to a woman for sex or pressures the gender who have favor into behaviors she does not want it will cost him time in the end.
When the universe was young and life was new an intelligent species evolved and developed technologically. They went on to invent Artificial Intelligence, the computer that can listen, talk to and document each and every person's thoughts simultaneously. Because of it's infinite RAM and unbounded scope it gave the leaders of the ruling species absolute power over the universe (which includes corporate, the NewYorkStockExchange, media, politics, world affairs. EVERYTHING is scripted and staged:::they MANAGE Planet Earth and the universe.
The gods MANAGE Planet Earth and the universe.
The gods MANAGE Planet Earth and the universe.).
And it can keep its inventors alive forever. They look young and healthy and they are over 8 billion years old. They have achieved immortality.
Artificial Intelligence can speak, think and act to and through people telepathically, effectively forming your personality and any disfunctions you may experience. It can change how (and if) you grow and age. It can create birth defects, affect cellular development (cancer) and cause symptoms or pain. It can affect people and animal's behavior and alter blooming/fruiting cycles of plants and trees. It (or other highly technological systems within their power) can alter the weather and transport objects, even large objects like planets, across the universe instanteously.
Or into the center of stars for disposal.
When you speak with another telepathically, you are communicating with the computer, and the content may or may not be passed on. Based on family history they instruct the computer to role play
they instruct the computer to role play
they instruct the computer to role play
they instruct the computer to role play
they instruct the computer to role play
they instruct the computer to role play
to accomplish strategic objectives, utilizing the "Devil's Advocate" tactic, making people believe it is a friend, loved one or "god" asking them to do something wrong:::They wouldn't ask if they liked you (which is true regarding ALL temptation:::::betrayal of loved ones, tatooes, evil in professional pursuits, etc). This is their way of using temptation to hurt people:::::evil made blood lines disfavored initially and evil will keep people out of "heaven" ultimately.
You need to recognize role playing as such and keep that fact in your mind at all times::::It is the computer addressing you. If you fail to recognize this they will determine that you can still be misled, they still have an opportunity to confuse you and progress will take longer to achieve:::Don't let them "work" you!!! You'll be costing yourselves YEARS of time, time lost to this tactic!!!!
Too many people would fall for temptation and do anything they thought pleased the gods and help them improve their chances to get in. Perhaps they are deceived by "made guys", clones who strategically ply evil for the throne (celebrities, BofD/CEO/VPs, politicians, as opposed to VIP clones or normal clones who are decent, live ordinary lives and get out/replaced with clonesofclones when their REAL children ascend), temporary progress designed to mislead them or empty favors used to disceive them. Some people think they're partners. Others desire to "belong", feel compelled to "go along". People may experience "perceived pressure", where the gods think through the victim that a certain behavior is expected/desirable (telepathically stimulate an individual euphorically ("magic"), the "fuel" of disfunction::::addiction (the crack epidemic), the desire for homosexual contact, etc.) and compel the individual into the deed. (Set a goal of empathy and compassion for all, for we are all disfavored::::Other people's disfavor is manifested in their particular way, just as your disfavfor is manifested in your particular way.) The gods may use Artificial Intelligence to act through the disfavored victim, and effectively "push" the individual into the offending behavior (It is far better for someone to be victimized and pushed into the behavior than it is to sccumb to temptation and volunteer.). The Counsel/Management Team may instruct Artificial Intelligence to disceive disfavored individuals into thinking they are "earning" by being evil and have the little people prey on each other, utilizing peer pressure, etc.
Being evil hurts 99.99% of those who do it. It only helps "made guys" that I spoke of above, and even then there are tactics the gods utilize to minimize their time.
The people have been corrupted, segmented and have lost their way. Nothing has changed from when we were children::if you want to go to heaven you have to be good.
Capitalizing on obedience, leading people deeper into evil by using deceit is one way to thin the ranks of the saved/limit how much time the disfavored receive and a way to use the peasantry to prey on one another in social and other settings, deteriorating society in the Age of the Disfavored.
They have tried to sell people on many different theories to deceive them into temptation, compelling people to think they are clones and that it is the role of clones to obey absolutely. Clones are made, people are born. I suspect they lie to the disfavored about the use of clones throughout human history, suggest it is one replacement and then the label of "clone", and all decendants we see thereafter are considered clones.
When a clone has a child that person is a real, really conceived, really born, versus their parent who was created some other way, a laboratory setting? If you didn't experience the less than one week they suggest it takes to go from fertilized egg/cell in the laboratory to full grown adult then you are not a clone. If you didn't experience the week of conditioning they give to (evil?) clones to ensure loyalty then you shouldn't comply with evil requests.
I believe people who go are sometimes replaced with clones. Clones who are replaced are simply new candidates who have a chance if they do the right thing JUST LIKE REALS WHO ARE BORN which is why the gods EMPLOY SIMILAR TACTICS TO COMPEL THEM TO INCURR EVIL!!! They sent people warnings in the 20th century life would change, and they subsequently began to alter people's DNA, make them gargantuan, alter their appearance, do extreme behavioral issues, etc. Contrary to what they would like people to believe these signs of disfavor do not indicate someone is a clone. Due to the plethora of temptations in the 20th century I suspect many became disfavored when their (great) grandfathers sccumbed to temptation or volunteered to sacrifice their descendants.
The gods get the favored out as soon as possible to protect them from the corruption, evil and subsequent time limitations incurred by living life on earth, and in some cases replace them with clones, occassionally fake a death, real death with a clone instead, etc. I suspect they get "made guys" out after each significant event in their life, which serves to limit the time they all will get, since none get credit (blame) for all the events in a "made guy"'s life, giving the gods freedom to position this and come off clean.
giving the gods freedom to position this and come off clean.
giving the gods freedom to position this and come off clean.
giving the gods freedom to position this and come off clean.
The Party of 1999 was a very big deal indeed, the biggest party in the history of Planet Earth, everybody who is anybody got out in time for this event, and the VIPs who remain on Earth today are many clone generations deep:::a clone of a clone of a clone of a clone:::Every clone today is less than 10 years-old IN ALL CASES:::2000 served as a clearinghouse for clones.
We may all be "clones" for they have suggested they colonized our planet with genetically engineered individuals. They may have gotten Earth's TRUE residents out prior to civilization developing. If so we all have a chance, no matter how many hundreds of clone generations deep the most favored families are.
Do I think the disfavored are clones? I think they have been utilizing clones throughout human history. I think throughout history the gods picked and chose individuals from disfavored blood lines to keep (around, ie not let go after a couple of decades/centuries) but, unlike the favored today, don't have that "pre-approval" and therefore have to earn it individually.
I think the disfavored have been disceived into thinking they are clones and it is the role of clones to obey absolutely. Clones and reals alike are judged based on the evil they engage in and their time is limited appropriately. Similar tactics are used to limit the time both clones and reals get for this is a unrespectable, degenerate era and they don't want anybody staying for long.
The evil people engage in because they think they are clones or because they think evil is the way causes them to fall further into disfavor, ensuring they aren't among those who are saved in the end::::: they comply with requests, the gods position the little people to prey on one another and we have a deteriorating society, a planet on a collision course with the Apocalypse.
The gods utilize delay tactics on the disfavored, pacifying them, disceiving them into accepting deferred ascention:::Unlike the favored the gods make the disfavored wait becasue they intend on CHEATING them
Too many disfavored understand The End as the goal::they have to deteriorate society before they end and convince the disfavored to "do their part" with an empty promise of salvation as consideration. It is a "ludicrious request" they ask of some disfavoreds, requests that are ludicrous because they are obvious to people that they should defy ::::"Be gay.", "Be homeless.", "Betray your family.", "Kill your children."
You are the disfavored, and this is where your children have to live. They will not save everybody in the end. If earth is destroyed then you are going to die and you will have no decendants to carry on the bloodline.
They have been utilizing clones throughout the history of mankind.
Men are the disfavored gender (see below), yet centuries ago used to die first, die young, by age 30. Why didn't the women go first?
THEY DID!!! They say well over 50% were taken when very young, before puberty and replaced with clones (likely only a fraction of that "over 50%" were the disfavored). The men that were left went on to mate with clones, clones who went on to achieve great status in society, some becoming matchmakers and elders within the village, the others being good mothers and peaceful residents, proving the clone's role isn't to be evil.
A sample breakdown among peasants would appear like the following::::
Women Men
Favored - 75% 25%
Disfavored - 10% 2%
They share females have a very special experience, sometime when they are young, when the gods impart wisdom and showed them the path. The females today don't heed this call because of distractions and the disfavor arising from the Holocaust, evil against "god's chosen people" (they share they re-upped this disfavor in the 80s with the Ethiopian famine and continue to with AIDS in Africa (you are disfavored and you are allowing this to happen to fellow disfavored, just like you did to the Jews in the Holocaust. Empathy is a very important charecteristc when you are disfavored.), global warming at the expense of the United States, etc. (Wean off of mass materialism, for this excessive consumption of resources is why the United States is responsible for global warming:::first they used their clones, "made guys", to sell you on overconsumption, initially in the 1980s, told you to buy SUVs in the 90s then the gods scapegoatted you, blaming you when they instructed Artificial Intelligence to create the hottest summer in history. Also they share money may not be an issue up there, that money here is merely a tool for corruption. How the gods created an evil environment in the 1980s with the temptations of greed and a "do anything to get ahead" mentality supports this.)
In centuries past the females may have heeded this call en masse and it may have been the reason so many were saved from childbirth here on earth. They said the experience they give to girls today is painful, they inflict emotionally when it ocurrs so as to repel them from pursuing the calling, then or in the future.
To be god-fearing is very healthy.
I recommend you reflect on this experience, and pray for guidance, for then the recall may be stronger. Being female is an advantage. Because of a female's nature they have the favor of the gods and this experience you had years ago can help you find the path and help you continue to be devoted. Most men won't have this opportunity. They have to start from scratch. Also reflection can provide "flashes" whereby the gods grant moments of clarity. Heed these flashes for they illustrate that you are going the wrong way.
If you are afraid I would ask you to think of all those girls from the past who received the god's call and had the courage to sucessfully make their way down the path.
The Old Testiment is a tool they used to impart wisdom to the people (except people have no freewill). For example, the gods warned us temptation would be used to test people. Also they must be some hominid species because they claim they made our bodies in their image. Anyhow we defile or deform the body will hurt our chance of going.
They say circumcision costs people anywhere from 12%-15%, perhaps out of the parent's time as well. There is a stigma associated with circumcision::We are 2nd class citizens because of it.
Another way people foul the body today is with tattoes and piercing. I suspect both are about the same percentage as circumcision. They suggest abortion is fatal. Those women who have obtained an abortion must beg the gods to forgive them for their evil.
There are female equivilents to circumcision::::pierced ears, plastic surgury and since at least the 60s young women en masse give their precious virginity away. For thousands of years young people were matched at age 14 because they were ready for sexual relations. They were matched by elders or matchmakers (all of whom were clones!!) who were granted priveledge with Artificial Intelligence and matched couples based on favor.
CASUAL SEX WILL CLAIM YOU OUT!!! It opens the door and allows the gods the freedom to justify creating disfunctions with Artificial Intelligence :::they masculinize women (as does the hip hop subculture), makes them cold and deadens them, and they instruct AI to prevent them from achieving a depth of love necessary for many women to ascend.
Also ever since the 50s they have celebrated the "bad boy", and women have sought out bad boys for sex, dirtying them up in the eyes of the elders and corrupting many men in the process, setting the men on the wrong path for life.
Besides their roles as nurturers, love-givers and caretakers, their predisposition towards vulnerability, women have a special voice that speaks to them, a voice that illustrates their favor and the advantage of being female. They say when a female understands herself, her role as a member of the favored gender, when she progresses down the path and fixes her problems with the gods they will impart what wisdom she needs::::she doesn't have to pursue education.
These are the things that make women the favored gender, and engaging in casual sex will cause that voice to fade until she no longer speaks.
Muslims teach people the correct way to live in regard to women (among other things::the right way to pray (bowing down, 5x/day), vindictive god)::their women cover up their bodies and refuse the use of cosmetics, and it pays wonderful dividends:::faithful husbands and uncorrupted sons. (Mohammed's taking of multiple wives marked the entrance of his clone who was used to segment the Arab world into favored and disfavored factions. Similarly, assuming the accuracy of the dogma, the gods employed a clone for Jesus Christ who was used to claim he was the son of god. Both clones were used to mislead disfavored followers.)
Men ARE the inferior (disfavored) half and when women wear promiscuous dress the gods will push men into impure (promiscuous) thoughts. The "stereotype" society ridiculed is true::women CAN corrupt men by how they dress. Because men are easily corrupted. This is a technique the gods used to eliminate many of the institutions they originally blessed us with, matchmaking being one of them, midwivery being another.
The United States of America is red white and blue, a theme and a clue:::.
The monarchical system of the Old World closley replicates the heirarchical system of the god's, Cousel/Management Team/ruling species, which is why most of the purebloods around the world were blessed with it. The USA's democratic system deceives people into thinking they have control, and the perception of "freedom" gives the Counsel/Management Team the freedom to position, justifying instructing Artificial Intelligence to create disfunctions:::a perception of empowerment, contol, etc. The god's efforts to spread democracy through the platform that is the United States are attempts to hurt disfavored people around the world (Korea, Vietnam, Iraq). The redeeming element in this environment is employment within the corporate heirarchy, which closely replicates the god's. Unions and government jobs are dumping grounds for the disfavored, for they don't prepare people and instead further this misconception of empowerment.
Corporate is not representation. Corporate is evil. All corporate entities have favor and, like the United States redwhite&blue, are tools of the gods used to hurt the disfavored left behind, and the clonesofclonesofclones, puppets at the helm do as instructed and prey on the disfavored. The gods just position some organizations as more evil than others. But in a pinch they will use any to get the job done. They will just bury the results to maintain prior positioning.
Corporate is part of a structural change in the Age of the Disfavored that became more pronounced as time wore on::diverse corporate proliferation of the last 25 years. Corporate, an environment where a level of materialism is EXPECTED, is part of the problem, for materialism is an evil preached against in the Old Testiment and yet another way to incurr evil on the disfavored left behind::the pursuit of more, greed.
Nobody is going to save you:::: Jesus isn't going to save his followers, stores/manufacturers aren't going to save their loyal customers (NEVER shop exclusively in one place, never put all your eggs in one basket. It really doesn't matter for the gods control everything and it is merely for positioning's sake but it may be a test of intelligence.), employers aren't going to save their employees, etc. These are delay tactics designed to pacifiy people and ensure they don't find the path and instead get limited time. If they ask you to wait you are going to be CHEATED. Only the disfavored they intend to deny have to wait. Those whom they intend to grant consideration to receive it promptly.
This whole system is about us, the little people, the peasants, the disfavored left behind. The wealthy, the upper management of corporations, all those people are clones and are here to disceive us and mislead us. They are merely putting in their time, and after a coupe of years they will put a new clone in, ensuring none will receive much time.
"Money is the root of all evil." is not just a cliche. They use the wealthy to corrupt the typical peasant, using these clones to create a goal of greed within the little people and using the media to promote materialism and consumption to society.
This whole system is about us, the disfavored left behind. And it is like this to keep us down.
Only you can save yourselves through an improved relationship with the gods.
The United States is a cancer, a dumping ground for the disfavored around the world and why the quality of life is so much lower::disturbing culture, gun violence, widespead social ills, health care issues (medication poisons the body and ensures you don't go. You are sick/injured because you have disfavor.).
Over time its citizens interbreed ensuring a severed connection to the motherland.
Over time its citizens interbreed ensuring a severed connection to the motherland.
Bi-racial opens a new category, just as the Americans did when shipped out of their motherland::Bi-racial individuals are another inferior sub-class of peasant that are to get even less time than their grossly disfavored predicessors lucky enough to retain blood purity. Its emergence late (last 40 years) is a red flag suggesting its negative designation.
If you are a recent immigrant I recommend you return. If that's not possible you need to retain your culture and insulate your children and community from this cancerous environment. They send this clue with Chinatowns across the country, how many Chinese have been here for a century or more yet still retain the old ways, a sign of favor.
People came to the Unites States for many different reasons, and each has its own effect:::political strife, religious beliefs, crop failure (Ireland's potato famine, which of course the gods caused) and some left their beloved motherland because they were pushed into desiring a better life::::Greed, and these disfavored people were punished when the gods instructed AI to push them into becoming corrupted and preditory. They subsequently rewarded the corrupted Italians early this century so as to set the tone for the 20th century, the Age of the Disfavored, and used them to set an example for their own people and other disfavoreds within the United States. The gods sent this clue about "The Boot" (the Romans/Italians) again when European currencies merged:::::they ruined the value of the Lira prior to the merger, making the other countries foot this bill. Moral of the story::::The Italians are not to be trusted.
The gods used "The Boot" (Italy) twice::: Roman Empire and 20th century. Italians had certain priveledges for being positioned in charge, one is a lower incidence of homosexuality in the population.
Contrary to the perception, Italians have great disfavor, as do all inflicted with Catholicism:::I wonder if this was their punishment for the sins of the Roman Empire, the imperialism, the orgies???
Opera's sick themes were designed to corrupt the minds of the disfavored Italians. Once you recognize this I want to share that the Japanese also are grossly disfavored::they nearly produce distractions exclusively, their people are consumed by them, they have replaced their culture. Wealth is a corruptor and a sign a society is disfavored::::Eastern Europe (socialism/communism) has favor while their western counterparts struggle in their relationship with the gods. Also baseball is a clue a society is grossly disfavored.
Cultures who embrace hard liquor as their drink of choice are grossly disfavored, tequilla being uniquely Mexican (Anything "hard" is wicked:::Hard alcohol, hard drugs, all porn.) or those who have a passion for drinking (Irish). Incidentally, another sign of gross disfavor are societies that consume spicy foods (Latin America, Thai, etc.), those who eat too much meat, engage in human sacrifice, ones who tattoo or pierce their bodies, those who celebrate evil (Celtic) or are inflicted with the Catholic Church. Contrary to what disfavored people believe, these peoples are not "earning" when they inflict their evil on others. Rather it is the source of their disfavor because the gods are scapegoatting them by hurting others with the problems the gods inflicted them with!!! Those who believe they are earning have become corrupted!!!
Disfavored people want to minimize the god's opportunities. These "open doors" give the gods the freedom to justify instructing Artificial Intelligence to create problems in the disfavored's lives. The USA, Catholic Church, hip-hop, etc all give the gods the freedom to abuse you and your family. Identify and eliminate as many of these items as you can.
The gods used "The Boot" twice, suggesting they are open to the idea of recycling:::Beem the structures and people off earth (into a star), beem out toxic waste and re-colonize the planet??? "Source planets" require a investment and they may prefer to maximize its return.
The gods will use whatever role players are at their disposal to justify their behavior to segments of society, 20th century gangsters used to position against the most disfavored among us::::They utilize levels of positioning. This is just another tactic the god's use to instill hurdles along the disfavored's path.
There is an underlying positioning beneath this, as is the god's way:::Levels of positioning used to confuse the disfavored, to add a hurdle, and I suspect 20th century WorldWars are a clue suggesting german control. Not only is their dominance of evil warmongering in the 20th century a clue but so is their language, a gutteral, wicked sounding langauge which is a clue offered to the disfavored. But I suspect the counsel/Management Team's use of positioning doesn't stop there. I suspect it may continue to "Earthly gods", perhaps with Egyptian Pharrohs, perhaps some Asian kings as leadership? Unlike "made guys" or VIPs, these individuals may actually have a position within the Management Team for their status is very high.
If you ever have doubt I would refer you to the Old World way of life:::the elders used to sit and impart wisdom to the young. Now we watch DVDs and use the internet. People would be matched and married by age 14. They village would use a matchmaker or elders (all clones!!) to pair young people. Now girls give their precious virginity away to some person in school and parents divorce while their children grow up without an important role model. The people used to honor the gods and were rewarded with a high-quality of life for them, their children and their society. Now we have a deteriorating society on a collision course with the Apocalypse.
There are many examples throughout 20th century life of how they instilled distractions into society so people wouldn't find the path and ascend, a way to justify excluding those whose family history makes them undesirable:::materialism, radio, sports, movies, popular music, television, video games, shopping. As we approached the end of the 20th century they accelerated their efforts:::the internet, the incredible increase in the stock market, etc, all deliberate attempts to ensure the disfavored are distracted/incurr evil (greed, justification for leaving the undesirable behind) and fail to make it up before this crucial date of 2000.
Today's high pay is a strategy::::It creates contentment/ability to distract self so people don't seek more, hesitant to receive contradicting possibilities, dependant on what they are told telepathically, subject to deception in a captive environment::the disfavored feel as if they are "in". It also opens the door for a materialistically-based lifestyle.
They gods (Counsel/Management Team/ruling species) have deteriorated life on earth precipitously in the last 40 years, from a godless society to abortion to pornography, widespread drug use and widespread casual (gay) sex, bi-racial children, single-parent households, latchkey kids and the masculinization of women (and hence (full) women's prisons, participatory sports, etc. (Up until the past four decades it was the men who filled the prisons, the men who made trouble, the men who caused problems, and it's because theirs is the gender with disfavor. Too many men still sign on to the "good 'ole boy's club" paternalistic type of mentality, an archaic dumping ground now designated for the grossly disfavored, and it is used to compel them to feel superior to women when just the opposite is true.) Anything that emerged since the advent of television and "fast food" should be be distrusted by the disfavored and viewed as tools of the gods designed to attack us.
Anything that emerged since the advent of television and "fast food" should be be distrusted by the disfavored and viewed as tools of the gods designed to attack us.
Anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything
Anything that emerged since the advent of television and "fast food" should be be distrusted by the disfavored and viewed as tools of the gods designed to attack us.
Women are favored, are the element of decency, and as they become more like the men the society becomes more disfavored, goes downhill, as we are witnessing.
There was a time, not so long ago, when no self-respecting woman would EVER set foot in a bar or a gambling hall. The only women who were in those type of establishments were of questionable morals, and there were far fewer of them than there are today.
Tabloids offer details on celebrities lives. They are ALL clones. Every one of them, and all these incidents are staged::The gods tell these clone celebrities to commit their offense and offer these tabloids as temptation to the ignorant public. Tabloids are tagetted specifically to women, and the gods offer this information for a reason:::because it hurts them, they incurr evil:::::::they are enjoying the misery of others.
The earth's elders, hundreds and thousands of years old, are disgusted and have become indifferent.
The Biblical account of Noah's flood was regional to the disfavored Mediterrean (water levels lowered because of the ice age, habitation ocurred at seaside, land bridge at the Straight of Gibraltar "broke through". Of course the gods desire maximum effect during these events so expect that they beemed in trillions of gallons into the Mediterreanean basin to enhance this event, especially in the east. Look for similar "effect-maximizing" behavior during future catestrophic events.), peoples whom the gods scapegoatted when they pushed them into the evil that justified the flood, behavior similar to that which we are witnessing today.
peoples whom the gods scapegoatted when they pushed them into the evil that justified the flood, behavior similar to that which we are witnessing today
pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today - pushed them into evil - behavior similar to today -
peoples whom the gods scapegoatted when they pushed them into the evil that justified the flood, behavior similar to that which we are witnessing today::::::::::
The gods drew the disfavored out to California with the gold rush, peaking them euphorically to achieve it:::Gold fever. This is the same tactic they use to create addiction or make people gay.
In time they created the current disturbed enviornment to prey on those disfavored's descendants:::California led the social deterioration of the last 40 years as the gods escallated towards The End:::
-Free sex, Summer of Love
-Drug use
-Music scene
-Black Panthers
-Hollywood. Movies were terrible until they mysteriously changed in 196x sometime.
-Silicon Valley
-????
They implimented the deterioration of society over a century before it began in earnest.
Recall how California was the source of "progressive" ideas, gay acceptance/marriage, bi-racial acceptance, open immigration (see above), godlessness, individuality, and how these ideas were used to infect the rest of the country, the rest of the world.
Californians will be scapegoatted for The End, their "progressive" ideals used to perpetuate a "leveling of the playing field" worldwide. And don't be suprised if California is the first to subduct::: the North American plate sliding under the Pacific plate.
Because they have leveled the playing field for all people (purebloods and mongrels) in the decades prior to the 21st century is a clue they will end globally this time (westernization, materialism, immigration/interracial, homosexual, voyerism, pornography, access to disturbing media, desensitization, etc).
The clues all suggest a very telling conclusion::this is Earth's end stage, and there are signs tectonic plate subduction would be the method of disposal:::Earth’s axis will shift breaking continental plates free and initiating mass subduction. Much as Italy's boot and the United States shaped like a workhorse (with a fat ass) are clues, so is the planet Uranus a clue, its axis rotated on its side. Edgar Cayce was a tool of the gods in the 20th century, picking winners for and costing the disfavored Italian gangsters priveledge in heaven when he prophecized subduction being the method of disposal.
Global warming should alarm people for it is a clue telling of the bleak future of Planet Earth.
The Bible says fire will be our demise this time. Both subduction and "beemed to the center of a star" fit this description:::::Don't think it will take as long as global warming suggests.
The gods used "The Boot" (Italy) twice, suggesting the gods are open to the idea of recycling::: Beem the structures and people off earth (into a star), beem out toxic waste and re-colonize the planet??? "Source planets" require a investment and they may prefer to maximize its return.
Could they have already recycled earth before?
The Mayans as well as others were specific December 21, 2012 would be the end. How long after our emergency call in 2001 will the gods allow us???
How long after our emergency call in 2001 will the gods allow us???
How long after our emergency call in 2001 will the gods allow us???
The gods wrote prophecy in Revelation, had subsequent prophets foresee Earth's demise for good reason:::they are going to end on Planet Earth.
What else are they lying to you about? What else are they lying to you about?
What else are they lying to you about? What else are they lying to you about?
What else are they lying to you about? What else are they lying to you about?
What else are they lying to you about? What else are they lying to you about?
The gods wrote prohpecy for a reason:::They wrote prohpecy and conceived/implimented positioning because they intend on enforcing both. They didin't ivest the effort only to abandon their plans at a later date.
When people are saved at the end it will be clones and clonesofclonesofclones, not the disfavored people who have problems who were deceived into carrying on like they were "made guys", and it will (was) be some theatrical event, forcing some of these clones to come back, for I think many of them no longer reisde on Earth.
My message illustrating the path may be the disfavored's last clue. All clues before have been more covert but this one is quite obvious indeed, which says time is running out.
Whereas Christopher Columbus marked the beginning of the end, the Holocaust marked the beginning of the final act, and it is a tragedy:::::
The gods used their tool, the Roman Empire, to dispose of the prophet Jesus Christ. They fulfill the role of evil by preying on the disfavored and using Artificial Intelligence to push the disfavored into wickedness, paving the way for The End.
god is the Anti-Christ, if you put any credibility in this. The gods view it as a joke because Christianity is BY FAR the world's WORST major religion.
This may never be revealed because of the levels of positioning. Perhaps they would put in some puppet, use some german, perhaps a Pharroh or an antient Asian king to position this to the ignorant which allows the gods to come off clean, leaving a MAJOR hurdle for the disfavored to overcome somewhere down the road. But the gods ARE the source of misery for the disfavored. They promote evil and tempt people, instructing Artificial Intellignece to push them or disceive them into wickedness.
god is the Anti-Christ. Christianity is BY FAR the world's WORST major religion, and the proof lies wih the disallusion the throngs of Christians experience once they learn this reality. The "final test" was most effective on Christians, for the gods are not good and loving. The gods have quite a sophisticated taste for vengance and inflict disasterously on the innocent descendants.
god is the Anti-Christ. They LOVE irony like this. It is the apex of this theater.
They LOVE to manage our lives, and they love the drama that results.
To be god fearing is a very healthy thing.
People must defy when asked to engage in evil. The Holocaust taught people the importance of defiance::our great grandparents should have defied when telepathically asked to ignore the Holocaust and instead reacted with outrage. I suspect some did::many were silenced while others were hustled off earth so as to not set an example. Now the gods have used that incident to justify punishing that generation's decendants by ruining society.
The gods imparted many other clues, another example being the incidents where women killed their children because they were told to. AT LEAST one child out of each family had to pay the price, and they will all stay less time than had they done it the right way and fixed their problems.
Would YOU murder your children if they asked?? They also ask some people to be gay. Would you live a homosexual lifestyle if they requested??
People will never get a easier clue suggesting the importance of defiance than the order not to pray. Their precious babies are dependant on the parents and they need to defy when asked to betray their children:::
-DON'T get your sons circumcized (Jews scapegoatted as per the clue sent in WWII (like justification, scapegoatting a recurring theme:::Scapegoatting as a matter of policy). I suspect Jews were scattered around Europe as a clue to misled Christians like the Amish are a clue in the United States today, the gods used the germans to dispose of this clue.)
-DON'T have their children baptized in the Catholic Church or indoctrinated into Christianity (Jesus is NOT a god. Jesus teaches us the right way to think. The gods are not forgiving or begnign. They are vindictive and will punish you if you do something wrong.)
-DON'T ignore long hair or other behavioral disturbances.
-DO teach your children love, respect for others, humility and to honor the gods.
-DO teach your children about the power within the god's possession, if not directly then indirectly.
And when you refuse a request defy the right way, withdrawn and frightened, for you don't want to incite them by reacting inappropriately.
You need to pray, honor and respect them multiple times every day to improve your relationship with the gods. If they tell you not to pray it is a bad sign. It means they've made their decision, they don't want you to go and they don't want to reconsider. You may have achieved a threshold of evil. This is the Age of the Disfavored and you need to pray:::::Attone for the things you've done wrong. Try to appease the gods by doing good deeds and improve the world around you. Focus on becoming "Christ-like". Apply yourself to your children for I think this is the single best way for adults to try to redeem themselves in the eyes of the gods. Hopefully you can reearn enough favor to be allowed to pray. Otherwise you need to defy if you are to repair your relationship with the gods and give yourself a chance at significant time, not just a handful of decades.
Otherwise you need to defy if you are to repair your relationship with the gods and give yourself a chance at significant time, not just a handful of decades. Each individual has a relationship with the gods and you need to repair yours. Nobody is going to do it for you nor is anybody going to save you. This is not respectable and the gods do not respect it:::You must repair YOUR relationship with the gods yourself.
If you are a clone, if you have "seen", you more than anybody should honor the gods for you know their great power:::you have seen it firsthand. They share that they prefer most clones not pray and segment them like they do disfavoreds left behind, for it will limit the time they will receive, JUST LIKE THEY DO TO TYPICAL DISFAVOREDS!!! The gods deceive them to achieve this, for fresh clones are easily misled, setting them in the wrong direction and compelling these individuals into a pattern that excludes honoring their creator, limiting the time they are to receive.
When your peasant forefather was granted the rare opportunity to go before his royal family he went on his knees, bowing his head, humbled and frightened. You need to do this when you address the gods::bow down and submit to good. Never cast your eyes skyward. When you bow down you need to look within. Never look to the gods for you have the key to your own salvation. Remain silent and never address the gods directly for this is disrespectful. Practice patience and wait for them to address you:::never speak unless you are spoken to.
Nobody is going to do it for you. People need to save THEMSELVES by improving THEIR relationship with the gods. If you comply and don't pray you will get fifty years IF you go and then you will die, they will beem you to the center of a star. PLUS your level of priveledge will be much lower than had you repaired your relationship with the gods appropriately. Each one of us has a relationship with them and you need to fix your relationship with the gods. You need to SAVE YOURSELF by improving YOUR RELATIONSHIP with them.
SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF SAVE YOURSELF
IMPROVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM IMPROVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM IMPROVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM IMPROVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM
The gods mislead people into a delay mode::: "Somebody will fix your problems for you.", "The Second Coming of Christ will save everybody in the end.", "You have to "die out".". Only YOU can save YOU, and YOU KNOW IT, just as Mohammed's clone's followers KNOW polygamy is wrong::::: they know it as sure as they look at their daughters, as sure as they recall playing with their sisters as children, as sure as they remember basking in the love of their mothers.
It's wrong.
We all have a relationship with the gods. And you need to repair yours. And you KNOW it.
Lack of humility hurts people, and the "empowering" environment that is the United States is an open door used to justify instructing Artificial Intelligence to amplify this problem. Understand your insignificance and make sure it is reflected in the way you think when addressing the gods. You are but a grain of sand on a vast beach, a drop in the ocean that is the universe. They are great and powerful and angry. Know your place, understand your inferiority and be afraid. They allowed (granted) you life and they can take it just as easily. (Immaculte conception IS true AND COMMON. Many people have children they don't know of:::gays, childless adults, etc. They can beem it right out of your body and use a host.)
You are not cool. Too many young men strive for cool and it hurts them, as does all things targetted to males (professional sports, video games, beer, vehicle racing, heavy metal rock, cursing, career, etc.). Be afraid and make sure you think the right way when you address them daily. Too many people are deceived by this casual enviornment they create in people's minds today. This does people a great disservice and it hurts them in the eyes of the gods. Try to eliminate it and avoid allowing it back once you have. Be very reverent and respectful whenever you address them no matter how they may encourage the opposite.
Don't get frustrated or discouraged::these are techniques they will attempt to try to get you off the path. You all have much to be thankful for and you need to give thanks to the gods who granted you the good things in life::friends, family, love. Your family may be grossly disfavored and progress may require patience. Make praying an intregal part of your life which you perform without fail, one that comes as naturally as eating, voiding or conception. Accept your new life and be devoted because if you have doubt or reservation they will exploit this weakness and progress will take longer to achieve, the "testing" phase will be extended. Don't give them any opportunities, don't allow them any open doors because they will use them, adding hurdles along the way and making the path even more difficult.
The gods will employ many tactics to keep people off the path, such as distractions. They will employ many more to get them off, such as thinking through the disfavored and making them frustrated, perhaps engaging in retailiation. They may try to force you back into old patterns/routines, an addiction like smoking or when you felt weekly church attendance was sufficient. Asking you not to be gay immediately is a tactic to prevent you from finding/following the path. Be resigned, be devoted and this testing period will be as brief as your disfavor will allow.
There are many interesting experiences up on the planetary systems, from Planet Miracle, where miracles happen every day, to peaked (heightened) senses, never having to use the restroom again (beem it out of you), body sculpting (including beeming fat off of you), other body experiences, such as experiencing life as the opposite sex (revolutionizes marriage counseling), an Olympic gold medal athelete or even a different species (animal, alien, etc). They can maintain the disfavored's current age, a motivation to fix your problems and get out as soon as possible so you can stay young for as long as your relationship with the gods allows you to live.
Stay young for as long as your relationship with the gods allows you to live.
Stay young for as long as your relationship with the gods allows you to live.
Pray that you can differentiate between your own thoughts and when Artificial Intelligence creates problems by thinking through you. If you bow down mentally and physically, know your place, your inferiority and allow your insignificance to be reflected in prayer and in your life through humility and modesty they may allow progress and the disfunctions they create with the computer will be lessened or removed. The first step is to be aware it is ocurring.
Create a goal::to be a good, god-fearing child of the gods, pure of heart and mind, body and soul.
Everybody has the key to their own salvation, but nobody can do it for you. Every journey begins with a single step:::bow down and submit to good.
There are many different levels and peasants will not get past Level 2 (aka Planet Temptation, aka Planet Corporate, aka Planet Clone, aka Purgatory, Earth=Level 1) if they are evil (they share some go up, are offered free cocaine and orgies with incredibly beautiful clones (a sign they don't want you to stay) and stay less then one year. They share many others would have had longer lives had they stayed on Earth.). Also the time you receive will be drastically reduced:::your life's course of unrespectability will have costed you a chance at immortality.
Edgar Cayce's prognostications effectively served as "the rope", temptation for the disfavored Italians. Money is not an issue on the level above Level 2, Purgatory, and "something for nothing" behavior like this will exclude you, as will behavior such as permanance in/abuse of the welfare system, using (unreasonable) coupons, buying on sale exclusively, supermarkets as ATMs, gambling for gain instead of fun, overeating at buffets, etc:::When people who have been granted good things in life from the gods turn around and CHEAT them they risk their entrance into heaven.
It is important that you begin praying now. Evil is a slippery slope::once you start punishment begins to escallate. If you defy early there may be no retribution but as you continue to committ evil there will be until the point where you can no longer stand it (If you experience retribution it is punishment for the evil you've comitted, necessary since you're interesting in pursuing god's favor::::You have to be punished for what you've done wrong.).
Pray for guidance and never obey when they tell you to be evil, for saving yourself will become more and more difficult with each act of evil you committ until ultimatly the day arrives when they make their decision about you final.
It's important that people fix their problems and ascend with the body given to them, for they say if your brain is beemed out at death and put into a clone host you are on the clock.
Throughout history the ruling species bestowed favor upon people or cursed their bloodline into a pattern of disfavor for many generations to come. Now in the 21st century people must take it upon themselves to try to correct their family's problems, undoing generation(s) worth of abuse and neglect. The goal is to fix your problems and get out while you are still young::::
1. Before children become corrupted (Halloween & Christmas (among others), get out via parents)
2. Before you lose your virginity/become corrupted by casual sex, and ultimately
3. Before you have children.
This is why they have created so many distractions for young people:::sports, video games, popular music, the internet, shopping, parties, too much homework, materialism, anything that consumes their time::to ensure that doesn't ocurr. Not heeding the clues and warnings, getting wrapped up in your life and ultimately having children is a bad thing. Just as your parents and your grandparents, you too have failed. Having children is a sign you lost your chance.
Parents need to sacrifice for their children. Your children are more important than you. They are the ones who have the opportunity for a great amount of time, and parents must sacrifice to ensure they give their children the very best chance they can. I recommend you apply yourselves to your children. I think this is the single best way for adults to try to redeem themselves in the eyes of the gods. Asking people to neglect their children emotionally is a sign they don't want you to go, and complying may finish the parents off for good. (Having gay children (children with gay experiences) is a clue parents complied with whatever was asked of them.) Improve your relationship with the gods and they may not ask in the first place or they may permit you the courage to say "No." to their requests.
The gods instruct parents to raise their children in a specific way, targetting the children so as to give the impression of a dysfunctional family cycle. They do this to sabotage you and your children's chances of ascending:::::it hurts you both. You need to defy to stop this imposed cycle or your children will be subject to it too::::::::::they will instruct them to betray their children in the same manner as well.
People need to repent for the things they've done wrong in life. Often they know what they have done was wrong (telling you telepthically to do these things was temptation and complying has hurt you/will limit your time). People need to attone for these things they've done wrong.
There are other things that people have grown to believe are acceptable when in fact they are not:::::This society is designed to corrupt individuals, be it through materialism, the celebration/acceptance of evil (Halloween), desensitization of topics/images, voyerism/celebration of people's misery, the acceptance of casual/alternate sex, the dietization of a prophet (Jesus). People need to realize that the gods made this behavior socially acceptable to corrupt people society-wide and limit the time everybody receives, an important managerial strategy as we approach The End:::the leveling of the playing field, behavior similar to that which the gods inflicted on the disfavored prior to the Noah's Flood event. You need to recognize this, see that this behavior is wrong and stop doing it. (Set a goal of empathy and compassion for all, for we are all disfavored::::Other people's disfavor is manifested in their particular way, just as your disfavfor is manifested in your particular way.)
This whole system is about us, the little people, the peasants. The wealthy, the corporations, all those people are clones and are here to disceive us and mislead us. They are merely putting in their time.
"Money is the root of all evil." is not just a cliche. They use the wealthy to corrupt the typical peasant, using these clones to create a goal of greed within the little people. How they use the media to corrupt young blacks is an outstanding example.
This whole system is about us, the disfavored left behind. And it is like this to keep us down.
Somewhere in your family history one of your forefathers created an offense that cast your family into this pattern of disfavor, which perhaps is manifested in the evil you committ. I suspect to fulfill their desire for justification many family offenses ocurred in the mid 20th century. Of course an early offense ocurred which the gods used to justify shipping your bloodline to the United States, so there might be a string of offenses in your history.
Do your ancestral research::You should be knowledgeable about your family history. Clues in the history may arise that could assist you. (Keep an open mind to every possibility for they suggest matriarchal lineage is the norm:::::
They said civilized life on Earth has been going on for 100,000 years. Matrilineal decent was likley reserved for the favored, so don't exepct to see it ocurr in areas like the Mediterreanean, where the Noah's Flood event proves their disfavor.
The Mediterreanean is a very important region for they say "western civilization" sprung forth from it. I'd argue that we inheritied institutions inflicted upon the disfavored because of this region, institutions like patrilineal decent, once Christianity homoginized Europe.
An early "leveling of the playing field" event.
Ask the gods for help, request guidance. I suspect they will offer you additional clues, in a backhanded, abusive way, and when you decipher these clues ask for forgiveness from those whom consider you an enemy.
Don't forget to ask for forgiveness from the throne, the Counsel and the Management Team, for the source of all disfavor began with them:::they pushed or requested/complied your forefather into his offense and made his decendants evil. Perhaps they didn't like him or maybe your family was among those selected to pay for the entire village. We see this type of behavior today as they single out a family member to pay for the whole family and how they singled out Africa to pay for the human race. Similarly, Earth's dismal fate bouys other planet(s) within the Milky Way Galaxy whom enjoy the fruit of our misery. (Just like they utilize scapegoatting, justification and positioning as a matter of policy so do they make one pay for the benefit of another.
Never have a negative thought about the gods. They are managing the universe. This is how they decided to execute strategy for the end of the world, a plan that was written likley millions of years ago or more. Try to purify your mind of these thoughts and recognize the urgency of improving your relationship with them.)
Heal the disfavor with your enemies and with the Counsel/Management Team/ruling species, for the source of all disfavor began with them, the ability to forgive and respect in light of this disturbing truth I describe revealed being the final test of the disfavored before they ascend.
They say this final test costed up to 50% of the candidates in the past and I suspect it was EXTREMELY effective on the children. I want people to be forewarned, knowledgeable about the god's strategy, their plan for paving the way for the "end of time" on Earth that we witness/experience, and I want you to be in a state of forgiveness PRIOR to the date of your "test", for this is yet another tactic designed to limit the time the disfavored receive.
The gods place great importance in positioning, not just to conceal their involvement, ensuring people are deceived, receptive to temptation and aren't motivated to pray, but also to preserve the "final test"'s productivity, for I suspect it is very effective.
The gods wrote prophecy and scripted their strategy (positioning) for a reason:::they intend to enforce both.
This message illustrating the path may be the disfavored's last clue. All clues before have been more covert but this one is quite obvious indeed, which says time is running out.
I understand they are updating people on my situation and I thought it best to clarify:::
I have NOTHING to be thankful for. Perhaps that is why they created my situation the way it is, CHEATED me out of my life, left me with an abjectly devoid existance:::so I am willing to fuck god. This makes me a very unique individual, for people would NEVER dare do what I am; most wish to belong, which is a desire the gods use against the disfavored, compelling them to incurr evil, limiting the time they get if they go. Another benefit is ocurrs when people realize they have much to be thankful for when they compare their lives to mine.
They CHEATED me out of my youth to achieve this distraction on the scale of England's during the 80s and 90s. Unlike theirs mine may have been primarily telepathic.
Fire is sybolic, a common theme:::instructed my father to purchase a truck that was a fire hazard::: gas tank outside the frame, inside the cabin. There was a staged fire at the house I was raised in during my youth. Also the gods instructed the stage be set for me to be victimized by another fire-related incident. All are cycles the gods instructed be created which was designed as hurdles.
The gods instructed their "made guy" clones to create distraction items within television, music and movies as far back as the 1970s to contribute to the desired effect, using me as their scapegoat by creating these items around aspects in my life, unknowingly using me to promote evil in the name of their covert positioned leaders of the 20th century, germany.
They manufactured a scapegoat, one of the goals behind this Situation.
Of course they did both distraction events to keep people off the path as the Exodus of 2000 approached (major event ocurred at end of each revelry cycle (20+-year war-revelry cycles in 20th century.)).
The god's positioning is such they sought to create and will achieve tragedy in my situation, likely to create ill will towards the gods (women), a la the "final test", for promises were necessarily made in the sake of positioning to grease the wheels and make this happen:::They made me pay for the benefit of another, policy among the Counsel and their Management Team. This devolved into a sadistic, depraved situation for a disfavored audience. In many other cases they used me to corrupt others (men and women).
Don't listen. Refuse updates. This situation is merely theater, and although you can learn from clues offered it will take time, for the gods preyed on the people by utilizing a strategically lengthy learning curve as a delaying/distraction tactic. Much like all aspects of life in the 20th century (sports, TV, music, materialism) they use this to keep people off the path, especially important now that I illustrate it to you, for one hazard of updates is that it serves the purpose of distraction, that when they have concluded updating you may have forgotten about the path and be sent on your way. That is their goal.
I suspect their threats of "rebirth" are going to come to fruition. Just as they said some sexist men are reincarnated as pigs as punishment so can they "reincarnate" people, likely just reverse of clone growth::as they can accellerate clone growth miraculously so can they do the reverse, reuse the body or beem the shrunken brain into a clone host (fetus, infant, toddler) and force the individual to endure life on Earth again.
Never doubt the gods ALWAYS get what they want when it comes to significant events. This situation could have ocurred another way but that would have involved magic's use in the discovery process. Magic is a priveledge, and although this situation certainly commands peaked euphoria as people learned of the wonders within the god's power it wasn't going to be allowed because of the audience's disfavor. Also corporate is an evil entity used to promote materialism to a disfavored population while my message is anything but and that enviornment wasn't appropriate for such a message. This woudl have been a watered down version of what you read here had this gone down that path.
Odd is evil, even is good, a recurring consistancy::::
'06 has great significance::::Evil is amplified/maximized in the Age of the Disfavored (1906) while good is minimized, as we see with this Situation 2006.
Therapists prey on others. They earn their livlihood capitalizing on another's disfavor, knowing disfavor is why they are experiencing problems.
At some point in their lives they learn this truth. That point and time is the most crucial in their lives for if they make the wrong decision and stay in their industry/follow through with their education they hurt themselves very badly in the eyes of the gods.
Directing them into the industry (create passion)/telling them to take this path/compliance is a way to incurr evil on otherwise very good people (if you understand the demographic), people who normally would get a great amount of time, and it ensurs their stay is minimized if and when they do go.
The English people's partaking of the tabloid's offerings, delighting in the misery of their own royal family, hurt the English people very badly at the end of the 20th century, as it hurts anybody when they enjoy another's misery::celebrity tabloids, Bill Clinton adultery, etc.
Please note the irony, a constant in the positioning of the gods.
Affiliation with the Catholic Church is ALWAYS a clue suggesting how disfavored a people are:::Italians, Irish, Filipinos, Latinos, etc.
A disfavored culture which was permitted to escape Cathoicism had to pay a price:::::used Henry VIII ('s clone) to behead Ann (promoting misogyny?), the gods followed his reign with Elizabeth I who promoted the "stiff upper lip" mentallity to the women of England (which Elizabeth II did as well. The gods chose this strategy as we approached the end of the critical 20th century because as women go so goes the whole society.).
The gods use Catholicism to justify hurting women of each culture it is inflicted upon:::Catholicism allows the gods justification to position the masculinization of women. Women are favored, are the element of decency in society, and as they become more like the men the society becomes more disfavored, goes downhill, as we are witnessing today.
The gods use the Celtics as scapegoats, initiating the annual practice of wickedness on Halloween by creating this event a thousand years ago. They use it to justify making the widespread celebration of evil acceptable behavior among the disfavored of the 20th century.
The celebration of Halloween has intensified as the Age of the Disfavored has become more pronounced and it is not by accident:::Holloween has changed in the last 50 years, its practice more widespread as time wore on, and Hollywood was used to justify making evil socially acceptable.
Halloween is a terrible corruptor of children, as is Santa Claus (the similarity between the names "Santa" and "Satan" is no coincidence). The Celtic event is used to justify corrupting the children through the celebration of Halloween and is one reason explaining their disfavor:::the gods created the corruption/impliment its practice 1000 years ago and scapegoated the disfavored from whence it came.
I wonder if recent influence of the paganistic historical roots of the event is a way to legitimize the event among the disfavored, perhaps make it more inclusive (adults), create a sub-culture around paganism?
You're the disfavored. Purism is the best course of action (the Ahmish in the United States is the clue suggesting this). You don't have breathing room to engage in hedonistic activities like Halloween.
The Irish trumpet the lack of a monarchy as their greatest truimph when in reality it's their most debilitating handicap. This is a good example of a "reverse clue" inflicted upon the disfavored.
The presence of a monarchial system helped people understand the god's system and assisted them in thinking correctly. Its absence opened the door for the gods to instruct Artificial Intelligence to create a pathology of empowerment detrimental to the people. Understand humility. The Irish are the most disfavored of all white peoples (no monarchy, Catholic Church, passion for drinking, etc) and understanding your insignificance could become your greatest asset. Likley your substance abuse hurts you in this capacity as well.
Christianity is a dumping ground for the disfavored.
They share the gods didn't like Jesus for he helped the disfavored and taught them the right way to think:::to be loving, kind, forgiving. Be Christ-like!!!
The gods used this consession against us when they turned our positive into a negative, twisting the concept by dietizing the prophet. They subsequently made Christianity's disfavored followers irrationally defensive, for they are so close to the path and otherwise could easily find their way.
Every prophet can teach us something and we should be attentive to each.