Monthly Archives: March 2013

COINTELPRO & the Truth About Organized Stalking & 21st Century Torture

 Organized Stalking Protocol

“The dead only count when they leave a testimony.”
–Joel Filartiga, father of a son who was brutally tortured to death.

This blog is my testimony and, if I die, I want this blog to remain open and public.Blog Author

August 2, 2014 UPDATE:

My blog is continuously monitored and altered by the government as is my online presence on Google+, Youtube and ALL of my email accounts. This post was originally much easier to read prior to its being changed as it didn’t have the annoying black stripe on the right side of the post, which has made it harder to read. Today, I have enlarged and made the print red-type and fixed the spelling errors (which were not there before) to help those who wish to read this. I have not been able to fix the problem with the script going…

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Ramblings of a Targeted Individual

Due to secret remote mind control technologies and lethal microwave weapons successfully experimenting on unsuspecting families and communities, through the past few decades, all of humanity is in critical danger…I used to own a nice country home. Now I’m homeless and facing this alone.

http://sharonpoet-ti.blogspot.com/


2013-The Year Of Action-The Covert War On British Citizens

http://www.targeted-individuals.com/


I love the song even though I have been miserable for more than one year and counting still… This blog, is a good pick me up, I think even though sometimes the things that we undergo in life are not completely all our fault. But it is OK.

A is for

“Tragedy may have shaped me,

but it will notdefine me.”

-R. DeArcos

_____________________________________________

We all know that life isn’t all unicorns and cupcakes (though wouldn’t it be awesome it if was?), and you could probably count on one hand the people you run into  who haven’t had anything terrible happen to them. Basically, what I am saying is that most of us have brushes and full on crashes with tragedy. It can come in the form of losing a love one, to financial ruin, all the way to an accident that leaves you with a disability. Whatever form it chooses to come in and no matter what the outcome, it has inevitably shaped your life in one way or the other. However, no matter how terrible the tragedy, we know that moving on is the most important part that comes out of an ordeal. No matter if it left you with a ding…

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“Inhale”

INHALE

By mstmha

A blue, mirrored sea

Khaki colored sand sinking beneath my feet.

Fans of algae-green palm waving heavily

Cooling me with a need for

Filagrees of gold warming me.

Streaming down from textured skies

Hanging artfully, majestically

Like a Picasso without form

So relaxing

As I savour my world adored.

 

I inhale the salt scents skimming my cheek

As swells crash against a garden of coral reefs

My linen dress flapping sheerly

Against my body, clinging playfully

Soaked with a fresh mist.

Body accessorised

With only a lae

As I stand barefoot

And pray amongst the dunes.

 

Necked in wild orchids,

Aromatherapy inhaled from the breeze

Hanging happily naked

Exposed but unobscene

As my mother earth speaks to me.

 

“Do not cry,

Only smile, my sweet.

And look beyond the un-free,

To a wedding of

Seas, leaves, and no reprieves.

Your sanctuary

Lies dutifully within me.

Your Mother natural.

Your inhale to breathe.

And so breathe.

And so breathe.”


‘That Mountain Peak’

‘That Mountain Peak’
By mstmha

Unpredictable is the life that I belong.
Obstacles of blinded chance
run through my world like an off-beat lyric
to a song.
Nawing away at a candid understanding
that in my heart I carry a dream;
that remains nestled
in close proximity.
Never did I guess many trials unforeseen.
In my wake to increase my self-identity.
My life dictation, uncertain as it may be,
Has lured my mind into an oblivion;
But not too far away that I cannot praise His Majesty
for guiding me through the ridged edges
poking at my side.
Climbing that mountain in hopes
that my path will not be my demise.
With surety I rise, struggling,
Head raised high,
Eyeing that mountain peak above;
Awaiting success beneath blue skies.


‘The Old Weeping Tree’-Original

‘The Old Weeping Tree’-Original

By mstmha

A poem in dedication to a cousin who died of breast cancer at a very young age and a metaphoric teardrop for myself.

 

Our memories haunt me as I sit beside you,

 

on a bed of green, beneath our weeping tree.

 

Leaves heavy with laughter though obscure,

 

and those damned white cells we endured.

 

Scalding diamonds burn trails from my eyes,

 

shapeless by moonlight as I cry in rage

 

to that unseen cloudy mass far away,

 

and I ask them why. Why did I have to die?

 

The envelope of night inflicts misery,

 

sealed above us incasing memories

 

of winged ghosts guiding me

 

to the lights of death.

 

Black curtains of pain embrace your face,

 

like a midnight fog above the sea.

 

HIS word I keep like water to willow leaves

 

that someday together our breaths shall

 

meet as I cry with you beneath our old weep tree.