Happy Birthday Peter Gabriel

shel90 said:
Oh my gosh, a total flashback! I remember that group!!!
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They were one of my favorites in High School. I saw them in concert at the Houston Summit!
 
Because of Peter Gabriel, Amnesty International is a den of brutal and violent pedophiles.
 
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deaftears said:
He's obviously too busy to pick up the pieces from his terror campaign.
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You should write a script for movie about Peter Gabriel. I would watch the movie. Even buy a movie poster. And dvd/blu-ray.

You should also write a sequel to the film.

It would be awesome! The title should be: The True Story of Peter Gabriel.

or, The Hidden Life of Peter Gabriel.

or, Peter Gabriel's Dark Secret.

I can even help you write the script if you want. I'll direct the movies. But you will have to act in it at firsthand... Because you knew the true suffering.
 
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It is better understood now by my readers the way that Peter Gabriel used neuropsychiatry on the injuries of torture to fabricate the idea that I was potential date rapist or hiding something from fear of self-incrimination when, in reality, I was in traumatic amnesia, and thus fulfilled Yoko Ono’s sickening quest for revenge on my house over a crime I knew nothing about by having me brutally castrated by police authorities working his rampage.


The Walrus was written as a rock opera about the disabled man in Section 8 daring to have poetry and dreams to his credit and certain key elements were deployed to strait jacket legal services so that Hollywood could exercise folkways license without interference. A central example: saying I used inhalants does not factually mean I did it to myself, not when a nerve agent, brutal beatings, and powerful hypnosis are known to have been “forces impinging on the persona’s experience” to quote Greg Karl, arch-tormentor and assassin of little Jimmy Crary.
We are talking here about a hostage, battered, badly traumatized child. Obviously Nancy Reagan’s judgement was scurrilous and her errand one of fascist political victimization. The very idea of attacking Marie Moore’s grandson in childhood psychosexually and then justifying it! All I’m doing is trying to keep a straight record of Nancy Reagan’s war scam.


The point was to damage the victim into pliability as a curiosity shop specimen. To call such a crime ugly is obviously an understatement and it is a shame that Seattle has contrived to be party to it by physical intimidation, psy meds and so on. All that’s left is public opinion which it is my intention to try and influence with information so that it is possible to work through the shocking confusion sown by Gabriel and Reagan’s deceit and deception. Gabriel is a sneak from the military religious cult behind the AIDS Onslaught and the was he engineered their getaway is well known among America’s militias.


What the story of The Walrus illustrates is that Hollywood is at the root of an out of control police state. There was and always will be a rivalry about how to tell the story. Gabriel sided with President Kennedy’s assassins to use teenage confusion about deafness-related rejection to reshuffle the board around Lennon’s murder when the time was ripe and to distain the trauma and tragedy visited on me in childhood in favor of making a curiosity of peer jeers and immolation object, which is exactly what Gail Burstyn hoped he would do. My hitch-hiking from Pittsburgh to St. Louis just to hear Robert Fripp play guitar in a record shop the Summer after I graduated from high school had no impact on this assassin’s incessant death wish upon me and all that I love.


That is the legacy that they chose, one of instigating in favor of child molesters. It can’t be changed. That it is to their discredit is as sure as Richard Roehm is dead, one of the few people who vocally supported me and wanted to help me find refuge.


Let that be a lesson in turning to British perverts for help or believing their absurd peace rhapsodies. We know the umbrella of Gabriel’s framework was the superstructural digest, the golden key of Ming Na Wen from Pittsburgh going to Reagan not with the sandwich given to me with a rusty nail when I was seven years old but the claim that he was being framed. He then used this claim to work with the people he claimed shot him on an AIDS testing guinea pig experiment on Mt. Desert Island giving some depth of field to the idea that life isn’t fair, such is the slipknot Reagan’s claim of being victim affords the AIDS Combine.


If they were framing him why did they shoot him? To make him all the more determined they should prevail? It was the same people. They had me there in D.C. for the show. Reagan waved to me the night before. It may seem illogical but his support for them was the outcome and to do it he and Pitt Chancellor Wesley Posvar covered for child kidnappers by inventing the hack, sickening, klan-inciting doctrine that Leslie Katz’s virginity was proof of rape. Don’t laugh, they insisted. Mike McGough certainly knew that the wound Leslie administered to Jimmy Crary’s psyche was at the root of all the satire going around when the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette put my father on public trial for lese majeste after he was killed.

Gabriel’s black alliance are backstabbers who just wanted Black people accepted as members of the new Ku Klux Klavern through separatist thug groups like Nation of Islam and the Black Panthers. Martial law culture is always a big factor in drug traffic and pimpology.


If Reagan was shot he still sided with the gang that produced a partnership between those who shot him and those who started AIDS, backed them to the hilt. Abira Ali and John Hinckley had Miles Kirshner and Will Zell in common. The whole treacherous Pittsburgh and Philadelphia saloon behind Mt. Desert Island were organized by Peter Gabriel for impugnity. If he wasn’t really shot he made it look that way through Hollywood to confuse people with the line that he was a victim. That is strange for an explanation as to why he let Gail Burstyn go free and red-baited my father after he was killed, but this is the churning and churning of Peter Gabriel’s far out lifestyle and method of war.


The pattern conforms to Robert Fripp’s military doctrine of sowing confusion so that people turn to logos rather than reason. For the AIDS Onslaught to work, an irrational charm of confusion and acceptance was necessary. The irrationality is a mask that all of the suspects put on to make themselves identical.

Confusion as censorship is part of the mental health stricture in place as well, it creates a conscription to conforming with the idea that these events SHOULD NOT BE EXPLAINED. This method of censorship and conscription was developed by Gabriel and Reagan so they could play out their war game of figment entertain (911 was your imagination) the gods must be crazy style while convincing people it was some sort of found art melodrama rather than the planned mayhem by an assassin lobby that it is. Obviously the odiousness of the issue is Nazism ad nauseum, while bringing in Black lopers like Colin Powell as The Fifth Column of The Fifth Element, love as a brutal swastika.


What my writing here may help do is bring into definition the confusion that the criminals in King Crimson have sown and what their terroristic goal has been ~ advancing a very malicious and vile vendetta by Yoko Ono towards my house, heaped in her curses, and the ultimate trophy which is the victory of Gail Burstyn. Gabriel coached Leslie and Gail while he got the crowd enthused by the chemistry involved.
Underwriting all this we find in the homeless dens of Pittsburgh Vince Eirene and his friend Martin Sheen burning the cross of a Louie adultery while waving the war flag of Midori of the ARK while the queers spit nails. Naturally it didn’t matter to Gabriel, Sheen and Reagan that they had destroyed innocent lives. That’s what they set out to do. Their method is a tiresome mask of subterfuge allowing a tryst between Reagan and the AIDS Combine on the strength of the idea that they shot him, too.

Admitting I was tortured continues to elude the queers and Nancy Reagan. Who would have believed in all those tears of despair that Jimmy Crary shed crying for help from Robert Fripp the only answer would be Fripp’s sullen rifling on his urge to do castration of a molested person.


Who needs a big, dumb deaf guy who can’t even make love?

I think the issue belongs in Midori Goto’s faculty resume because she is the one who set me up with Rosa Monteleone, their pretext for insane bellicosity despite being uninjured, when she came to Pittsburgh as errand girl at Duquense University in 1992 for HitlerReagan, raping deaf Jeannie.
 
Simply beautiful. You make a top-notch erotic poet.

Please work with me on a movie script.
 
Water of the Damned

We are all the same.
The spirit of the water
is private for all.
Only by sharing
can we no longer see
the spirit of the water.

Water of the damned, how could you
have washed away my dreams?
She is the first girl
that I have ever loved
who I gave up without a fight.
Yet still, as the colors drop around me
and I sicken with masculine weeping
how could you know
when I dream of your inner candle?
Let no harm befall
my favorite stupid girl.

The malicious fact of life
is a prison under clouds
a shroud of human folly.
If only love were as easy as being drunk.
If only I were drunk instead.
I want to be drunk when I get shot
First get me drunk
mother's day
day I was born.

I want to be drunk when I get shot
we'll kiss and cry
you take the children, the groceries
and my glass eye.

Did you get the note I left exclusively for you
pardon but I blasted it on National TV
don't spread your legs for me.

The sun
that big, beautiful orb
determined to light up the day
is my long, lost Chinese sister
who was kidnapped and sold into slavery.
When will the clouds go away?

To sit on the bridge and stare into
this elemental force of everything
both the vicious and the forgiving
the hammer of the carpenter
that crazy lucid brook of rapids
one of the arrangements
of unceasing fascination
living everywhere forever.
It was really hard not to say I love you.

Watching the rapids
of the wild growling brook
pregnant with Summer waters
She, water, he said magnificently
the significance of me is you
and of you is me.
That feral tributary
so familiar with a stranger
beckoned me with white waters
come sit with me.
The laughing folds came to dance
playfully at my sneakers,
as one old rock wore a funny frown.
Where is Mindy?
Where is the child who jumped to her death?
Where are you?

The white, white, white
of the water's mane
is none other than gold.
Unburnable, yet
more easily torn than silk,
a touch on my hand
It reminds me
(and air teases me now)
of the touch of your untangled hair.
Cottonwood fluff fills the story
landing on the waters of the damned.

Do you want me to write you a love letter?
The love would be easy
but I'm not sure I could sustain the theme.
You have too many years ahead
and I too few.
Old man, young girl,
Grandmother said it's gotten more common.
Even if you wanted me to write you a love letter
for both of our sake
at least I didn't.

Indeed, I fear accuastion,
but it is not for this that it is you I accuse
I accuse you of trying to get me to fall in love with you
when I am already in love with you.
Such is the power of my downfall in the making.

So, don't say I didn't ask you out
because I didn't love you.
Besides all that I am looking for
is my long lost Chinese sister
who was kidnapped and sold
into slavery.

Can you imagine
the shivvering of a thousand kisses?
How the water ruffles with pleasure?
It is my kiss, my kiss, my kiss
my sordid, taking, foolish, murdering kiss
engulfed by the girl who lives
in this frenetic amazing, avenging creek
of charity raising hell
writing bye bye
when I really wanted to write the Bible.
See you later
have a nice time
everything is too fast
impossible to focus
Defiance!

The water
white and brown
how ravishing!
The curse of pleasure
fountaining with every furrow dashing by.
As bugs come flying with their portents of itchy disaster
and the sun,
my Chinese sister
is found.
 
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