Category Archives: First Nation

It Kills Cancer | Greenfaith Ministry

It Kills Cancer | Greenfaith Ministry

http://greenfaithministry.com/blog/cannabis-kills-cancer/

It Kills Cancer
[MUST BE ADULT TO USE SITE]

FREE PDF BOOK about CANNABIS AND CANCER.

Breezy Keifair is a patron and has as much experience with Cannabis Oil as the Rev. She has given us permission to embed her tutorial works here if interested in healing on your own. In addition to being an oil expert, Breezy is a longtime cannabis activist, artist, and writer. Show some love by heading over to her blog and leaving some thanks for her work!

First, for beginners, here’s a FAQ:
https://kiefair.com/2012/10/29/faqs-about-phoenix-tears-therapy-for-the-beginner/

An In-Depth Look at Making Cannabis Cure Oil Easily at Home (set to The Wall!)

The “Large Batch” Method:
https://kiefair.com/2013/05/25/how-to-make-phoenix-tears/

How to Make Cannabis Oil Without Alerting the Neighbors!
https://kiefair.com/2014/03/10/how-to-make-cannabis-cure-oil-without-alerting-the-neighbors/

A powerful Youtube Playlist full of good info on Cannabis Oil / Phoenix Tears!

7 Responses to “It Kills Cancer”

BY BREEZY KIEFAIR FEBRUARY 13, 2015 – 8:43 PM

I am so honored that The oil making method I perpetuate (taught by Ronnie Lee Smith {RIP 2014} was awarded athishigh honor by having these links to the method added here as an outreach education for anyone with the will to learn to make the oil.
The #1 topic I get personal messages and calls about? My oil making methods and questions related to the treatment.
I have been with Greenfaith for many years, sometimes a quiet supporter, sometimes I donate, but in the beginning I was among the needy being helped by the good folks at Greenfaith. These links will lead you to my website and much more information. tons of links within links to read. The information is free to anyone willing to read it. Get some raw materials, and make a batch. You might just save the life of a loved one, give them more time than the doctor thinks, or at very least increase the quality of life as its quantity dwindles. I am honored by the words on this page that speak about me of course, but what really matters is passing on the method. Anecdotal evidence is so important in a climate where little real research is being done. This group of whole plant compounds is a healer of many ills. Learn to make it, feed your soul, then feed the oil to a sick loved one and watch them come back a ways from the precipice of death we all must fall from one day.

Pebbles, thank you for your kind words. It’s been a long hard road for me personally, but if the fruit of that road is giving the method I learned to empower the sick, then every step was worth it.
Thanks to Bill Bartlett and Rev Baker for honoring my oil making master, his method and my changes to it to customize it for smaller batches.

Reply

BY REV B BAKER FEBRUARY 14, 2015 – 3:35 PM

Yes breezy is a good oil maker, we have been donating material to her on and off since 2008; for her to make oil for herself and others! Praise and blessings through greenfaith!

Reply

BY DAVE CASSELL JUNE 5, 2015 – 3:36 AM

i love the lord and his people…i will be visiting now that i know he’ll be there…he always shows up in the smoke

Reply

BY HARRY HOUSTON OCTOBER 26, 2015 – 8:13 PM

I had an opportunity to spend some time with Rev Brandon Baker And several members of the Greenfaith Ministry; it was a true honor to meet people that are so dedicated to helping the sick that they put their personal freedoms on the line to do so.
The good people at Greenfaith Ministry make Holy Healing Oil derived from the Holy Cannabis Plant. And give it to the people who need it. The good people at Greenfaith Ministry have an impressive list of healing ranging from simple scratches to cancer.
How can this be anything less then Gods work?
I urge you to check out the Greenfaith Ministry and all the good they are doing.

Reply

BY BREEZY KIEFAIR NOVEMBER 19, 2015 – 11:15 PM

Yes, I’m a patron of greenfaith, I’m also fragile with my health. I’m willing to help anyone who needs it. It’s best to connect with me on Facebook, same user name or through my website kiefair.com

Reply

BY DIANA SEPTEMBER 29, 2016 – 2:57 AM

Such a good cause in life, to do the right thing to help and heal the sick. Thank you so very much for your courage and faith.

Reply

BY SANCHO GRACIA PEDRO JANUARY 29, 2017 – 6:14 AM

I want to specially thank Rick Simpson for saving my wife’s life with his healing oil. some years back my wife Rose was diagnosed with a deadly disease cancer of the lungs, we try all medication all to no avail, we also try to do the oil our selves but we were doing more harm than worse. until I saw a post on face book on how the cannabis oil had cured a cancer patient, I quickly emailed the mail: rev.420@greenfaithministry.com from that very moment we just have to give it a trier, instantly we got a reply from him asking us what the exact cancer problem that my wife Rose has….. He calculated the dosage for us, i think the dosage he calculated was 60 grams of the oil which we ordered plus 30 grams maintenance and also have body lotion and soap. He told us that if we need the donation we must meet the church elder(s)/leader(s) in person then pick it up or have it delivered, my wife Rose started the medication immediately just after a month of using Rick Simpson cannabis oil (FECO, RSO, HOLY HEALING OIL, etc), Rose is now free from cancer problem, she is living a healthy life my utmost priority of sharing this short testimony is for those that are suffering from my kind of cancer diseases or if your friend or family members are suffering from this deadly disease, please don’t die in silence there is a cure for your cancer today don’t waste anytime further you have to email some one for Rick Simpson Oil directly and save your live and the lives of others
Email: rev.420@greenfaithministry.com

 

 

 

 

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The Greenfaith community supports a wide range of outreach programs, including:

*At this time, these programs are available only to members in Colorado


Special Gift for those pledging $100/mo

The Church thanks all who donate at this level with a retreat in Avon, Colorado, right off I-70 in the middle of the ski resorts. Yes, there are smoking rooms available. 😉

We supply the lodging at our time-share, you do the rest! Thank you so very much for your support for our Church outreach!

 


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Talking to Your Doctor, Support from Social Media, and Living Green in a Red State Part Deux

Talking to Your Doctor, Support from Social Media, and Living Green in a Red State Part Deux

By: Verde LoneOwl

2014-11-20 13.46 Verde Loneowl author pic edit z

When it was time to talk to the doctor about my decision to try the Cannabis Oil as a treatment for the “C” diagnosis was not sure how it would be accepted. Was so thankful that when we talked she told me many of her patients with HIV/AIDS  here in Texas are already using Cannabis Oil! As an Internist with a very large patient base from around the country I was so glad she was positive! Was laughing as I was leaving had to just turn and say “I wonder how much THC I have in me?” She smiled and said “I have those numbers.”  There have been many Urine tests.  Having a doctor who understands cannabis does no harm is a wonderful thing.  It is sad to read people who are trying to talk to the doctors about Cannabis Oil when the doctor’s are not encouraging Cannabis as a treatment option.  It’s not really the Doctor’s fault it is the “Lie” of Prohibition.

Medical students follow strict studies to become a Licensed Physician. Specialist’s are required even more stringent rules and studies. The problem is most of the “Drug Education” is provided by large pharmaceutical companies. This limits what the medical students are learning. This results in keeping American Doctor’s dumbed down. These are the Country’s brightest and best who are accepted into Medical School.

Another area where American doctors are falling behind is in Nutrition. From my understanding most Medical Schools only focus on limited numbers of Nutrition Courses required. So these learned persons do not learn about Nature or the benefit of food.  In the Bible Belt we have few.

Back to that strong Southern Baptist upbringing we learned “you are what you eat”.  My mother also said “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”. My mama was right but she did not know about Genetically Modified Food (GMO) Products are being fed to American’s. Those who are poor it is hard to get food that is not GMO.  Improper nutrition results in higher rates of Cancer and other serious illnesses on the residents of the South.

Southern States are used to doing what they have always done. The elected officials have used the lies, bigotry and fear mongering in the Media to sway the feelings of the people. It happened here when Reagan was running for President. The only thing is we have not changed since Reagan in the Southern Bible Belt. These traditions are deeply seeded in our ‘roots’.  Doing the same old things in the name of God. The South keeps Union’s out of the South. This keeps most of those living in the South ‘poor’. By spending less on Education and giving huge tax breaks to lure new business to the area they dumb down all children in the Public Education System.

What is really sad… is the fact they do all this hating of others in the name of God.  They talk about ‘Abortion is Murder’ yet when the children are born into poverty in Texas in 2011 was reaching 26% or 1 in 4 children in Texas are living at or below the poverty level. When the state refuses increase funding in Education the children suffer. Those children who are being taught in Private Schools have a better opportunity to advance to Higher Learning. Those children in Private School are not in Public Education.  The red voters think they are highly educated people who love God. That is why it is so hard for them to see the damage their actions are causing. The ‘white people’ do not even understand the premise of  ‘white privilege’.  There is no love in the hearts of those who hate others because the sins are different. Being a Southern Baptist we do not have different degrees of sin. A sin is a sin. One as bad as another.  We are no longer a giving loving people taking care of other human beings but are mean and angry if we must help those in need.

http://tfbn.org/rapid-reaction-poverty-in-texas-cities/

Texas spends an average of $8,998 per student this school year, 46th among the 50 states and the District of Columbia, a comparison by the National Education Association shows. That is well under the national average of $11,674.”  This is evidence of how the State of Texas is harming all the children in Public Education.  This is what is hurting Texas and it has been happening so many years in a row now it’s just the way it is.

http://www.dallasnews.com/news/education/headlines/20140325-texas-improves-school-funding-but-still-trails-most-states.ece

While educating myself I learned things which made me upset!  Finding out how Hemp and Cannabis was removed from American’s in 1937!!  Texas Lawmakers failed to provide safe access to the plant for 5 – 10 sessions or between 10 and 20 years.  As Texas only meets on odd years.  Change is  imperative for Texas as a pro-life issue.

People have been trying to get the ‘Word’ out but there seems to be a problem dispensing the information. People who ‘read’ ‘educate’  ‘question’ and do not just take what they throw us as crumbs, begin to gather information from various reliable sources. There is evidence of  Legislative items on file,  the Pharmacopoeia, and other government agency documents which could be requested under the Freedom of Information Act.  Books were read and written documenting these facts.   Would our government really do this?  Yes they will and yes they did!!! A whole bunch of Laws made totally on lies and continue today across America and the World based solely on Greed of certain men.

Activists who saw Personal Freedoms being illegal for no reason other than money began to write books … about this horrific coop made by the USA on its’ own citizens.  There is history of this in books and on the internet on the federal government web sites.  I try to use .0rg or .gov as reference sites in my education. There are many activists. There are also many crooks.  In the sixty’s we used to say ‘know your dealer’ same is true today.

Well, continuing in 2013 with doctor visits and having things frozen off … the last one was the worst and closest to my brain and spinal cord.  It was scary.  So would share going to the doctor and why on Facebook.  Coming home and waiting for the cancer to do what ever it was going to do … as I was not in the right Zip Code to do anything else. Texas Lawmakers failed to provide a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texas in 2013.  There was a Committee Meeting in 2013 but those on the Committee were rude and made fun of those who were there to provide Testimony.

So here we are. Fixing to go into Texas next Legislative Session 2015.  We did not Turn Texas Blue.  We did not change the make up of the Lawmakers of Texas other than to add some more red ones.  Texas only meets every other year so Texas must Legislate in 2015 for us to have any relief.  Texas has had some kind of bill every session for over a decade.  2013 we got in Committee.  Some of the Committee members came to the witnesses and advocates who were at the Session and said they had no idea.

At the grass root level we are more organized for the 2015 Session. The DFW Norml chapter has Organized Poster Children for the DFW area.  We have 4 children who might benefit from Cannabis Oil.  These families are representing over 80 other families across Texas.  If you are in any state with out a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act please take the time to Contact your Elected Officials by phone, email or personal visit. Let them know there has been a tragic mistake made in 1937 and we should not put people in jail for a plant.  The law is a lie.

click here to find your representatives at the local and federal levels

Team Alexis is the group which represents the families recently announced a meeting is set with the new Speaker of the House for Texas Joe Straus along with  DFW Norml.  We all can see that a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act is being seriously considered for Texas 2015.  Bi-Centennial should be able to also introduce a full Legalization Bill for Texan’s as well!  No need for people to be flying to Denver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco or Anchorage to partake of a plant substance. The Cannabis oil was used by the ancient cultures of the world with out a worry about a ‘high’. Do not fear the plant.  The law is a lie.

Texas passed no Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texans in 2013.  Yet I still longed for the Cannabis Oil to treat my Cancer my self.  I began to search the Internet for stories and people.  ‘Low and Behold’  I found someone with the same diagnosis as me!! I was thrilled!!!

Suddenly, I was in a Movement that I know nothing about except Cannabis is Medicine. Cannabis oil kills cancer cells. Cannabis oil is ILLEGAL.   Texas is certainly not the best place to be physically when you have Cancer and choose Cannabis Oil as an Alternative Treatment. There is no Safe Access.

You may recall from my previous entry that I became ill with pneumonia in 2010.  As I remember this is what happened….

Upper respiratory infections had always been part of my existence.  Nebulizers, Pro Air, AdvairSpiriva, Albuterol, Nasacort, the list goes on and on and on.  Breathing medication regularly prescribed by the ‘White Coat Pushers’ and there are many.  The boy and I had moved to our new home near the school. Was just the two of us here hubby was in Austin and came home on the week ends.

Was laying on the couch .. not sure of how many days I had been on the couch but it had been many. A friend dropped by to see me but stayed just a few minutes. Quick enough to say ‘You don’t look good’ then leave!! This alerted me that I might be sick.

Picking up my cell phone I sent the text message … “I think I might be sick”.  That was all I got in the message. I continued to remain on the couch.  Some time after dark he came in the back door.  Bless his heart I must have looked bad.  Quickly he said he would take me to hospital … explained I was not clean as I had not been able to shower and I could not go to a hospital so dirty.  So he allowed me to sleep here on the couch.

In the morning he went out side and got a plastic chair and put it in the shower.  He had to help me to the bathroom. He brought me something to tie up my hair.  Sitting in the white plastic chair he cleaned me up, dried and dressed me.  We got in the car and off to the hospital we went. I forgot to call my doctor and tell him we were on our way to the Emergency Room.

Getting to the hospital I do not really remember. The Emergency Room personnel were top notch. There was not question I was quite ill.  Off to Radiology and on fluids immediately.  They were so nice.  In  2 hospital gowns and was placed in a room.  Hubby was there with me.  Not sure of what they did but remember more than two bags were hanging numerous times.

Poor hubby … as I would come to this world would think of something that was not at the hospital. He was so sweet. He would go to Wal-Mart or Beall’s the only two choices then in the small town where the hospital is located and lovingly search for the item I thought I needed.

The boy was only 14 then and was worried something might happen to me. He has always been afraid he would loose me.  Hubby came home at night to fix him supper and return to the hospital after he went to school.  That way he was not alone.  The  hospital stay was 7 days before release.

Pneumonia, is physically draining.  Had no idea how little energy remained after that illness.  As a Chronic Fatigue, Fibromyalgia (for more information on fibromyalgia and cannabis click here), Lyme, and other syndrome since 1995 my immune system was compromised to say the least already. The Cancer diagnosis was already in place as well.

Hubby returned to Austin, the boy and I remained here at home.  He was 14 and the freezer was full of things he could cook for his self.  Had a good friend then named Bea and she helped care for me during this time.  Was well enough to move back to my bedroom and no longer on the living room couch.  Was thankful to have a caregiver during that difficult time in my life.

Being in your bed with 0 energy and still on antibiotics … my friend Bea introduced me to ‘Farmville’ by Zynga on Facebook.  Began playing the game on the computer while my body could do nothing else.  Hubby would call and ask ‘What are you doing?’ my answer ‘Petting chickens’.  As I write this now … it sound pretty silly to be petting chickens with a mouse on a computer screen … but I did play the game.

The recovery is long for Pneumonia.  As I healed I continued to play the games on Facebook to occupy my days and nights as my hubby was in Austin and I was here … at home.

The games continued and friends on the social network were made.  Anyone who uses a Social Network knows you get friends by getting to know one person … then you see other friends post and you like what they say or you agree you send a friend request.

Always, a Marijuana friendly person I began to make friends who were in the Movement sometime during 2013. That is when I knew about Cannabis Oil and Cancer and knew Texas Lawmakers had a Bill! 2013 everyone who is anyone knows Marijuana is Cannabis. Cannabis is Medicine.  Cannabis kills cancer cells.  USA has a patent.   That makes it pretty simple! The law is a lie. Texas Lawmakers would have the opportunity to change the laws in 2013!!

During these years when a skin lesion would appear would call the doctor, go in to the office, have it frozen and return home.  I did not keep the records of lesions but they did begin to come more often during 2012 -2013.  Would sling out ‘Going to doctor to have another one removed’ on the social media site each visit to the doctor.

Texas Bill stalled in Committee in 2013 with the gop Lawmakers laughing and making Cheech & Chong jokes while people were testifying.  It was not a happy time.  I could not understand how I knew about Cannabis as a medicine for 18 years in California as well as other states.  How could Texas Lawmakers not let Texan’s have this Cannabis Medicine?  How could Texas Lawmakers not understand that Cannabis has always been medicine?  The Lord they taught me about in Sunday School, also Anointed people with Oil.  How many times has a Religious leader used Holy Anointing Oil?  How could this be happening?  These Lawmakers were all ‘self proclaimed Believers’ but they could not believe in a plant given by God/Creator for the people of this planet?  How could this be?  It was making me doubt my own belief in God.  How could these people proclaim God in one breath yet be so full of hate? The hate continues today even worse than before.

All during 2013 I was posting how stupid the Texas Lawmakers were for Failing to provide Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texans.  Also, Texas had Battleground Texas a Political Effort by the Democratic Party to Turn Texas Blue in the November 2014 Elections. Facebook became a device for me to say things I would have never had the opportunity to say to anyone!  There was an audience.

Many Fear changes which are coming but those of us who understand are not afraid of Cannabis.  We anxiously await the Gift to us from God to not be an act that may result in a long long Prison Sentence. God intended for this plant to be used by all His creatures.

Unknown to me … as I am new to the Movement. There are people who are willing to risk Personal Freedom to help people who have been diagnosed with Cancer or other terminal disease, to receive free of cost Cannabis Oil.  This is done as people who can grow may not have use for the trim called ‘Sugar Leaf’.  This is the smaller leaves which are on the buds when the Cannabis Plant goes into Flower stage.  Many throw this part of the plant away.  It has many medicinal properties.

I am sitting at my laptop one day when someone sent me a message on Facebook.  Someone sent a Private Message to me on Facebook and said they had medicine for me!  I’m like ‘What I’m in Texas’!!  They said ‘You have cancer don’t you?’  Well yes I did … so now what happens?  A message comes across saying ‘It’s your Turn! All you need to do is join a Facebook group called Cannabis Oil Success Stories and tell your story there’.  That seemed pretty easy!

Having just had my worst experience ever with the last lesion I had frozen.  I did not know what to do.  I did give my full name, address and zip code to this person on Facebook.  I tell the Shiner ‘God Bless YOU!!’ The reply ‘I’m an Atheist but what ever makes you feel good.’  Just like that!  An Athiest was sending me free cannabis oil in Texas!!! Tears of joy ran down my face!!! How could I be so blessed?? Thanking God every day!!! Thank you God Thank you God Forgive them God they know not what they do!!! I was being given a gift of Cannabis Oil!!! An Atheist was giving me a gift from the ‘Tree of Life’.  The Texas Lawmakers have no idea what God is doing in this Movement.  Yes the Movement is full of people from all walks of life … doing what ever they can to bring this healing gift to all who are in need.  My belief is God is in control He sees us suffering.  God did not intend for us to be here and be unhappy or unkind.  ‘Be still and know I am God’.  That is one of the hardest for me always amazed when I see His works becoming evident.

It was the end of  January 2014.  Waiting … for the package to arrive.  Waiting for the package to arrive. The package took 8 working days to get to me!  Anxious to see what happens I tear into the package with anticipation. Dosing for Cancer I had already learned was 60 grams in 90 days for most cancers.  So  I knew how to dose and begin immediately!

Now came the time to tell my family about the ‘secret’ kept inside so many years.  The thing I had hidden from them so well.  I had to tell them why I must have the Cannabis Oil which is a Felony carrying a sentence of up to 99 years in my state. I never hid the fact I was a burner … smoking when ever I can.

Hubby is the one who is most concerned.  We both understand if they want me there is nothing he can do to protect me from the law.  Life as I know it could change.  Having been disabled and dependent since 1995 almost 20 years this is very frightening.  It’s not like burning a joint.  Texas has loosened up the flowers … under 4 oz can be a misdemeanor. Cannabis oil is not the same in Texas Law.  Asset Seizure is another concern for us.  The option to let the cancer continue doing what it is doing and die. Or choose to disobey a bad law.  A law I know is based on lies since 1937.

How can I not commit Civil Disobedience? I could no longer wait for the Law to change and live.  I had to treat or die.

I was on the West Coast  during an R&R in Nam.  I loved Huntington Beach, California during Nam … I’m sure I would love it today!!  It is a place on our planet you can stand on the ground and see mountains, Pacific Ocean and lovely landscape!! California was always the place for the Movers and Shakers.   It was the first time I saw a Mall with more than 1 level!!! Wow, bought an Orange Velvet Mini Dress!!  Was ready to have a blast!! Too bad I did not know about Cannabis it was alcohol for me then. 

Never having acquired a taste for alcohol … spent most of my evening walking on the beach at night talking with them.  They were all drinkers.  Beach House in Cali all night!  There were many of us there! I had ran into a girl friend from Junior High School.  She was living there and took me into the California night life. Staying with my Uncle Oscar Hook (Was at Pearl Harbor, my dad’s brother) and his wife Aunt Hera was a blast. There were a bit upset the 17 year old Texas  girl who stayed out all night.  We all know girls just wanna have fun til the sun comes up over Santa Monica Blvd.  California was wonderful and I enjoyed that trip in the late 60’s very very much.   A life memory BC (Before Children).  

 

 

Further articles by Verdeloneowl

Green Living In a Red State (part one)

Green Living in Red State 2014 Election

 “Green” living in a Red State after 2014 Elections

2014-11-20 13.59  Green living in a Red State (2)

2014-11-20 13.46 Verde Loneowl author pic edit zBy: Verde Loneowl

As a 5th Generation Dallasite the youngest of 3 girls. Life was good all was well with the Earth. Daddy, said when General Eisenhower was elected .. don’t ever elect one of those Republicans, “you can’t make any money when they are in charge” was what he said … It has always stuck. The Fear of the GOP was instilled into my brain at a young age.

Sick and disabled since 1995 with some sort of AutoImmune disorder after our Vacation to Lake Tahoe .. the cancer followed after a long IM injection therapy for Lyme Disease with Rochephin. The IM injections were about a year in duration. If you have no experience with Lyme disease, I encourage you to watch the documentary film

“Under Our Skin”

About 8-10 years ago I went to the dermatologist in Bryan, Texas, Terry Jones, MD, to have a biopsy on a bump on the nape of my neck. A few days later I went in to have a mole removed from my back. The new doctor in the practice called to give me the lab results. “The mole on your back was benign. Oh but the other one is Squamous Cell Carcinoma.” Thanks so much. Never returned to Dr. Terry Jones’ office.

One of my friend’s Judy Greer, RN, her dad was being treated for Squamous Cell Carcinoma at the same time. Chemo was extremely difficult. My choice … let it kill me and tell NO ONE. So to spare my family the pain of knowing cancer was diagnosed decided to live what was left on God’s time. God’s time was very important to me as my daddy was a Deacon and my mom was an Officer in the Women Missionary Union of The Southern Baptist Church, Pleasant Grove Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas. We were a strong church family. This was the only decision in my mind. As I knew the chemo killed you and radiation causes cancer. So I decided to quit cutting my hair.

So we all went on about our life as if nothing was wrong with anyone in my family. When a sore would come up a trip to the Family DO and get it frozen, no more biopsy’s … as the little bumps are quite painful. squamous Cell Carcinoma is inside the blood stream.

In 2013 hearing that Medicinal Cannabis would be given in the State House of Representatives (to find your local representative’s contact information for Texas, please click here). I anxiously awaited the Texas Senate Committee hearing live feed for Medical Cannabis for Texas! The Cannabis Oil would cure cancer! The Federal Government had a Patent! Many who are sent home to die are not dying!! Oh my goodness!  Soon I could begin treating with Cannabis Oil!! The doctor’s in California had been on the Morning Shows saying juice the leaves for the health benefits since 1995 … what was happening … the elected officials were so rude to those there to testify! How could this be? Not voted out of Committee?? They did not know Cannabis Oil cured cancer? Oh no now what?

Screaming out loud at the television … my husband awoke to ask “What was wrong?” I explained no way would we get Medical in 2013. My heart had sunk. The death sentence was looming closer. Still my family did not know cancer was inside me. My hubby was about to find out but did not know how to tell him.

Medical Cannabis denied by Texas Law Makers. Texas has no way to put anything onto the ballot by Petition. All laws must be done during Session and they only meet every other year! Oh my goodness … what now? Educate.

(Need to know how a bill gets introduced and passed in Texas? please click here  http://www.house.state.tx.us/about-us/bill/) how a bill is done in Texas the People are not involved only those elected.

As Facebook connections were already available using those connections of people who were already in the states who had medical Cannabis and by January 2014 we had states Legalizing Cannabis for Recreational use! Texas was 20 years behind! Oh my goodness!! Networks started happening .. Noticing people were sending me Friend Requests connecting with people who were using this plant across the Planet! Not just in America but around the world people were making Cannabis Oil. Some of the stories were not happy endings, many have died while waiting to be Legally Healed. Some are being Illegally Healed. More about that another day. Once my story of Cancer came out on Facebook … along with my story about Cannabis was medicine for over 100 diseases until 1937… “they” found me. Not sure how “they” found me but “they” did. So many have taught me so much! First thing I didn’t know Sugar feeds Cancer. When they do the PET scan to see the Cancer… they shoot sugar-water into you and it lights up the cancer. Thinking Sugar was be the most difficult for me to give up. It was not. 1 week off sugar. Now I use Raw Honey in my coffee. Buying Organic food only when I can find it. We are not too healthy in my area. We do all we can to do it correctly.

If you would like to read up on the how and why cannabis can heal so many things, please click here

I can’t remember how many lesions or how often. I remember the last one … was very painful .. up above the hair-line on the base of my neck, it took a long time for him to get that one. It was frightening. It was close to the base of my skull closest one to my brain and my spinal column.  I knew my time was getting closer to leave my family.

2013-2014 was spent learning the good and the bad things about this Highly Unregulated Industry. Many countries are growing hemp. The Stalks and roots are left and these are sent to China as Industrial Hemp Waste. The Chinese processed the hemp stalks and the roots into industrial hemp waste paste and pack it into drums and sell it this product.  Desperate parents unable to get medicine for babies and the medicine they were using was Industrial Hemp Waste Products from China should be no THC high CBD no high for the babies oh NO!! It takes time to expose people who are doing things wrong. Right away seeing this people desperate for medicine were being railroaded into trying snake oil. Babies were sick and hospitalized. At that time my own illness had to be placed on the back burner and someone had to save the Children! It had to be me! Oh my goodness!

 http://www.projectcbd.org/news/hemp-oil-hustlers-a-project-cbd-special-report-on-medical-marijuana-inc-hempmeds-and-kannaway/

full pdf: http://www.projectcbd.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/ProjectCBD_Special-Report_Medical-Marijuana-Inc-HempMeds-Kannaway1.pdf

I Found myself on a forum Children using Cannabis, CBD, sites on Facebook or Scam sites to protect as many as could be protected. Names are found quickly and you may no longer be able to see what is happening in the bad part. The Stanley Brothers in Colorado Springs area are using the Federal Government and the Hemp Farm Act to try to provide CBD Hemp Oil to children with seizures.

More information on the scams of the “Realm of Caring”

Charlatan’s Web: A CBD Debacle

Snake Oil: History repeats itself

Problem not enough THC the oil quits working for the children and they begin to have break through seizures.  The parents in Legal Cannabis States can supplement the THC that is needed. Those who allowed CBD Only or Limited bills are not BEING SERVED! It is broken and not working!  Even the high CBD comes from the leaves and flowers of the Cannabis Plant not a hemp plant. Each strain has different ratios of CBD/THC/CBG/THCa there are hundreds of compounds. Cannabis  makes flowers and leaves … Hemp provides very little useable compounds as there are no flowers for industrial products hemp oil, hemcrete, cloth, paper, art, and other industries. The new Charlotte’s Web has changed from Cannabis hybrid with R4  hemp to get the CBD up and the THC down. That was then! Now the Stanley Brothers are providing Charlotte’s Web HEMP OIL! Please you must educate and protect as there are no safeguards other than each state’s laws. Right now not one of the bills in the CBD only states are currently working, at this time to my knowledge. Know many of these parent warriors.

an article on THC and THCa Helping a little girl with her seizures click here

Texas Parents and Patients have no laws are really in better shape going into Texas Senate 2015 Sessions than all the states who had someone from the Stanley camp go in and understand what they were doing during 2014. So not one of those states are really working this gives Texas the opportunity to not make the same CBD or hemp Oil mistakes. When you limit number of Compounds you limit patients ability to use the medicine effectively. Most patients have a Cannabis Consultant to make your job easier. Many know strains and number to help cure many illness. We have documented cases with X-ray and Labs which is science based cancers gone. Secondary Cancer from the Radiation Treatment appear to be the most difficult to treat. The Oncologist in Washington, Oregon, California, Michigan, Colorado, New Mexico and others see Cannabis Oil patients are stronger than the ones who are not using Cannabis Oil with Chemo! Some Oncologist are asking can we have them call you! Yes you can! We are about doing God’s Business. It’s His gift to us! Cannabis Oil was used for Thousands of Years, dating back to Egypt. They found Cannabis in the mummy tissue. It’s medicine and our bodies have an entire system to process all the compounds in the plant for use in our bodies. Everything you might know about Cannabis is based on Lies, bigotry and Fear Mongering. That is the hardest part to understand. For years some of us have been made to we are a little less human or worse for having understood all along that something about this no matter how bad the lies, bigotry and fear mongering was .. it felt good and it must have been like that Santa Claus story … or the Easter Bunny … not it was a DEVIL STORY! God, Creator, Spirit Being gave us seeds. Like a tomato. Like a herb. Like a Rose. It’s a plant and it is a great spiritual healing plant provided to us for our health. The only real problem is will the governor we elected help the people of Texas? We must turn that over to God. 

 First let me assure you the high is … you feel good. It is not like a drunk. If you have not experienced a “high” you should try  it before your worry about your child might be high. Many parents should be reading the “Side Effects” of the Pharma… Phenobarbital (INN) or phenobarbitone (BAN) is( a long-acting barbiturate and the most widely used anti-seizure medication globally. It has sedative properties, but as with other barbiturates, benzodiazepines are more commonly used for this purpose. Anyone else think these lab created, doctor prescribed drugs are a bad idea for children? Some of the AED Seizure meds can cause DEATH as a side effect! Cannabis Oil, ZERO deaths. You can not die from too much Cannabis it never passes the part of the brain that controls your heart or lungs… Just how smart is that??  God made this plant perfect in every way! The Plants come from Seed and it is here for our health and well-being. Sun Grown is the best method as it provides Oxygen in to the air for us to breathe! But if you can not grow legally you can use a closet and grow your plants for your medicine! It is so important for everyone who can grow to please grow and share this gift with others, in a safe manner.

A new study suggests alcohol is more harmful than heroin or crack MOST people would agree that some drugs are worse than others: heroin is probably considered to be more dangerous than marijuana, for instance. Because governments formulate criminal and social policies based upon classifications of harm, a new study published by the Lancet on November 1st makes interesting reading. Researchers led by Professor David Nutt, a former chief drugs adviser to the British government, asked drug-harm experts to rank 20 drugs (legal and illegal) on 16 measures of harm to the user and to wider society, such as damage to health, drug dependency, economic costs and crime. Alcohol is the most harmful drug in Britain, scoring 72 out of a possible 100, far more damaging than heroin (55) or crack cocaine (54). It is the most harmful to others by a wide margin, and is ranked fourth behind heroin, crack, and methamphetamine (crystal meth) for harm to the individual. The authors point out that the model's weightings, though based on judgment, were analysed and found to be stable as large changes would be needed to change the overall rankings

A new study suggests alcohol is more harmful than heroin or crack
MOST people would agree that some drugs are worse than others: heroin is probably considered to be more dangerous than marijuana, for instance. Because governments formulate criminal and social policies based upon classifications of harm, a new study published by the Lancet on November 1st makes interesting reading. Researchers led by Professor David Nutt, a former chief drugs adviser to the British government, asked drug-harm experts to rank 20 drugs (legal and illegal) on 16 measures of harm to the user and to wider society, such as damage to health, drug dependency, economic costs and crime. Alcohol is the most harmful drug in Britain, scoring 72 out of a possible 100, far more damaging than heroin (55) or crack cocaine (54). It is the most harmful to others by a wide margin, and is ranked fourth behind heroin, crack, and methamphetamine (crystal meth) for harm to the individual. The authors point out that the model’s weightings, though based on judgment, were analysed and found to be stable as large changes would be needed to change the overall rankings

chart courtesy of: http://www.economist.com/blogs/dailychart/2010/11/drugs_cause_most_harm

This movement started decades ago. In the meantime we will be dreaming of another place where we can have the Right to Pursue Happiness and Freedoms while healing my body of cancer and disease! We have several Groups of Texans who want to see Cannabis Medicine.   Connecting together on Facebook to be ready to go into Austin when the Session begins 2015. We have circled the Wagons to get our selves together and we are waiting for others to join us!

As more main stream news agency’s are interviewing these parents and patients who are healing across America. Hoping those who read this story will contact Texas Elected officials … if you use this medicine you can not come to Texas. Children and adults must leave Texas in order to cure the illnesses with Cannabis Oil. My goal is for Not One more Texan have to move away for Cannabis Oil. Hoping we can gather more help from the Grass Root efforts.

Choosing to be a Non-Dues paying member to anyone’s group. I dab (pun) some from all of the Facebook groups. Just not sure which ones to trust and which ones to not trust. Many are “Grass Roots” until you get on the Cash Cow … as Cannabis … Marihauna … Pot … Weed and other products can change your outlook.

For those who understand Extraction Methods … my personal preference for Cancer treatment is Flowers and Leaf with a full Organic Grain Alcohol Extraction.  The cancer treatment is hard and fast but nothing like Chemo. People usually sleep, eat and enjoy life. Please if you can Grow do Grow and share this wonderful Cannabis Oil with others often!!

Extractions, grows, and other illegal activities are not being conducted at my home. Waiting on the laws to change. We must be ready!

It’s been a short 12 since the Elections … Much is happening in Texas and America … as we get ready to head into the 2015 Session. Texas only meets every other year so if Texas is doing anthing like a Compassionate Care Act Texans must unite regardless of party lines. Compassion knows no party lines.

Earlier this week Rice Univsersity’s, Baker Institute department of Drug Policy provided a Program called “Is Texas Ready for Medical Marihauna?” It was very informative but was a bit weak … sometimes when you work in an area so long you loose sights… Like at the very beginning the news source quoted “Texas Tribune” is a gop rag ran by the very attorney’s representing Governor Perry in a Felony Indictment in Texas. It is definitely, a red rag flying and spreading the news of the gop around. Not a reliable source but are there really any reliable sources?

It’s almost 2 hours long. Ann Lee, with Republican’s Against Marijuana Prohibition has more going on in the Houston area! We are so thankful for Ann who is works long and hard to End Prohibition.

Florida which received 58% of the vote for Medical Cannabis Initiative but 60% was required for a ballot to pass. Florida also had filed a limited bill! Thankfully, it lost in court so it’s back to the drawing board for Florida! Saving states from more bad law is very difficult with people like the Stanley Brother’s from Colorado. The science is in that CBD only does not work without THC. So more bad laws are in place for 2014 and not one is working. The only Compassionate Acts working are using Whole Cannabis Plant based medicine in 23 states and DC.

http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/os-charlottes-web-rules-tossed-out-20141114-story.html

Educating those in the Republican Party who hasve taken such a hard hard stance against Cannabis as Medicine will make it hard but not impossible. Texans state wide must make an effort to contact their elected officals if we are to Make it Happen in 2015!! We are working at doing just that in Texas! Texas is a large state and networking together regardless of our affliations must be bipartisan! The Compassionate Cannabis Care Act will be over one of the largests numbers of people to date! We have many in Texas who will benefit from this Legislative Action. This is about Personal Freedom. Freedom! We can no longer allow the Republican Party to use Religion to Stop Cannabis when Cannabis is a Gift from our God/Creator. You can not be Pro-Life and be for Prohibition. It just does not work.

http://www.texasgop.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/2014-Platform-Final.pdf

Alexis Bortell, age 9 is one of DFW Normal’s Poster Children for Medical Cannabis. We have 4 in all but they represent over 85 families not counting the ones we have already sent into other States for Compassionate Care. Alexis’s dad is a Disabled Vet and her mother is as well! Whole Plant is all we can accept in Texas after seeing every bill in 2014 fail to work with a CBD only and no THC or limited amounts.  Alexis has already been to Colorado and has her Red Card for treatment. She is a Texas Girl and wants to stay in Texas. She does not want to live in Colorado. Quite frankly wonder if some in Colorado are a little tired of us sending our sick and disabled there! Texas is losing money every day we do not have laws on the books in Texas for Full Compassionate Care as well as Legalization for Freedoms.  Alexis, spoke at the DFW Marihuana March in October. They estimated over 5000 people in attendance, during the Ebola scare! Thinking that was a good thing. The police departments in both Dallas and Frisco had no problems with our Peaceful March’s to bring about the truth! If you are not on the Cannabis’ side you are on the wrong side of History! End Prohibition Nationwide and Free the POW’s. Leaving no one behind.  As you can see from this video the Employee’s of the State of Texas working for Represenative Scott Turner, appear to have little regard for a young 9 year old girl. They shot the finger at her! A 9 year old in front of TV Camera’s from Channel 33 in DFW area.  Someone said the Video put up by the station when shared was removed from Facebook. As I live a long way from the DFW area was not there in person. This video pretty much sums it up … we are peacefully asking for our Freedom and being ignored by the Republican Elected Officals. We see this as a Public Health Issue which is not being addressed by our State Legislature and across the Bible Belt. Pleople must Stand Up with us! Contacting your elected officials at both the State and National level!

The saddest thing is Cannabis … never hurt anyone. The Lies about this plant have harmed many! If you can grow … grow and share with those who can not.  Onelove

 

Remember in Texas you can only effect change by swaying your legislators!
Find your state representatives: http://www.house.state.tx.us/members/find-your-representative/

Find your state senators:
http://www.senate.state.tx.us/75r/Senate/Members.htm#FYI

Find your Federal Level Senators and Representatives
https://www.govtrack.us/congress/members/TX

Do You Have Greenfaith?

Do You Have Greenfaith?

an Interview with Reverend Brandon Baker

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Breezy: Please tell us a little about how greenfaith ministry came to be. What is your mission?

Reverend Brandon Baker: We came to be after 3 generations of cannabis cultivation and persecution. Starting with grandpa’s family farm and hemp (grown legally), to my dad and i’s illegal growing and issues, to legal use by church practice to legal use again incorporating medicinal needs as well as spiritual. Cannabis as part of everyone’s daily life (not simply everyone smoking, but every aspect). You can read more about what greenfaith is here.

Breezy: How has fulfilling that mission changed in the past few years? How have the regulations
on medicinal cannabis changed how you fulfill that mission?

Reverend Brandon Baker: The only change the regulations have brought is many more in need and seeking our services along with losing many of our donors (as connected to mmj businesses)

Breezy:  What are some of your concerns and hopes for the legislative sessions ahead regarding cannabis?

Reverend Brandon Baker: Just to finish their bs so we can fully implement our exemption to all the BS, every time they take freedom away and we go to assert something else comes up LOL.

Breezy: I understand you are raising funds for a new building to house your work. How do you
plan to use it to serve the community better?

Reverend Brandon Baker: It will have service for all faiths needing a cannabis friendly place of worship, it will provide a cannabis related kitchen, community garden, sacramental garden as well as a venue for any cannabis related event and all church events

rev B church church

more info about the building:

HELP US GET OUR NEW BUILDING! Please Donate

BY VISITING US AT THE DENVER 4/20 & 4/21 RALLY or the HighTimes Cannabis Cup, just stop by our booth (to get a prize with your donation) or you can:

Contact me or Donate online HERE if you want to be involved directly.

You can also purchase one of these shirts there for 20-30$ to help further the cause!23409_208473592624207_1446008617_n (Our charity papers)

We are trying to make this our new congregation, We need a  10% cash deposit of $225K. *Once we get the property there is venues, kitchen and etc available. So PLEASE feel free to help all you want.

If you have a facebook account, GO here for information on this months event!

church

New Building Looking to purchase

Breezy:  Anything else you would like to say?

Reverend Brandon Baker: We are non denominational and welcome all faiths so we can help them all implement the holy healing sacrament in their daily practices

Breezy:  Could you explain for folks how joining a cannabis as a religious sacrament church
makes their cannabis use a first amendment rights issue?

Reverend Brandon Baker: Anything that is a true and demanded part of your religion (must be able to show history, need, custom and such of the use and religion in connection with each other) is protected (as long as you have proof and history before any denial cant be done expost facto) as long as it does not harm others (public policy and the reason we demand consumers be 18 unless with a DR note to cover the cannabis healing under western law) the mmj and decriminalization laws across the nation defeat the public policy argument

First Amendment to the Us Constitution

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Breezy: How can people join your church, make a donation or get more involved with greenfaith?

Reverend Brandon Baker:  In colorado where we physically practice we are open to all adults who support us and claim us, to use our defense your actions must past our test to be backed in court (we are not a get out of jail free card for any cannabis user) if not in colorado we strive to find you congregation and community in your area or help a local church become a greenfaith outreach or volunteer donations can be made online or in the mail all info is on the web sites

More about Reverend Brandon Baker and Greenfaith Ministry:

I have ordination in four different religions and run two congregations, I have extensive training in counseling and addiction with extensive internships and employment with the Wyo. state legislature and a law firm in Colorado and Wyoming. I have 86 credits at LCCCmainly in Law classes and Public Administration/Political Science rounded off with Business electives. Currently I am working on my BS and Juris Doctorate enterance.

CONTACT ME ANY TIME brandonbaker@student.lccc.wy.edu

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 for more information, please visit any of the following links:
Kiefair.com has donated some art to benefit Rev Baker and Greenfaith Ministry. The Bleow pieces will be sold on April 20, 2013 at the 28th annual 420 Rally In Civic Center Park in Denver. For more information on the event, please click here: http://420rally.org/

FREE and OPEN to the PUBLIC

20120420__420_hyoung_denver~p1[1]The Worlds Largest 420 Marijuana Rally is FREE and OPEN to the PUBLIC.  Establishing the Marijuana Cultural Identity for 23 years+.  Developing confidence while educating the community through marijuana music, speakers, booths, attorneys.  This will be a two day Rally!!!  Working towards laws that are inclusive, engaged with all, who work for equal business opportunities for the victims of the war on poor/drugs.  Also those who suffer(ed), march and rally.


2013 Rally

20-denver[1]Saturday April 20, 9am-6pm
&
Sunday April 21, 9am-5pm

Civic Center Park
Denver, CO

420 Responsibly

First Edition Prints donated by Kiefair.com to benefit Rev Baker and Greenfaith Ministry

 2013-04-02  Blue moon for a green moment 2013-04-02 caturday in the woods think i saw a lynx with my eye 2013-04-02 Fire on the mountain in a Canna Colorado moonrise 2013-04-02 tokin hills for rev b

Shall We Call it Wail Oil or Phoenix Tears?

Its the bitter watches of the night and I wake. I ask myself what it is that has rousted me this day from my slumber. Its not near my body clock’s time of 4am…. There is a wailing in my mind and I must ask myself “whose pain is this?” for I know it is not mine. My body is aching with the storm on the peak, but I’d just found my center and there was no wail with in me like this to speak.

So trying not to wake the other in my bed, I sit quietly and listen to see what it is this wailing voice has come to seek. Its victims so many victims… victims of war, hungry ghosts of a corrupt system, victims of the human butchers and legal poison vendors, victims of industry and victims of hard work, being eaten alive by cancer and bodily disorder of so many shapes and forms it makes me shudder in vibration with this wail. And within me I hold an answer for so many a gift from above that I try to spread without regard to a patient station in life….. It is a wail of responsibility. It is a wail of the profiteer’s victims. It is the wail of prohibitions ugly head……

I light a candle to guard my heart from a wailing so deep in the thick of the night and I still listen to the voice in my mind reminding me of their plight. I sit a while with the lamb in my breath asking that higher than I to step in and take this wail up with my smoke to the sky. I ask for the means to bless those wailing with even a few grams of healing and hope cause I believe in doing what my creator said. And I know that this life and this path I have chosen for myself has never been easy but its not about self.

I give honor to the earth. I burn sacred sage of the earth and cleanse the darkness from my mind until light only remains. I light incense and honor the air. More candles glow and I honor the firey spirit of the soul and I soak in salted and perfumed waters and try to scrub away the victimization of these beautiful souls. Lambs breath fills my pipe and lungs and mind and I try to send a shining beacon of the creators light to these wailing in my mind and in the dark and in their own lives and pain… Dressed for the day I inhale organic tobacco and ponder quietly.

Then another presence comes upon my mind…. and I am taken back though the years and back in time. To a place and time where my body was not constantly sore…. Its boulder its Ginsberg its 1994. Its a little bookish Jewish dude who howled for his time and who brought me to his feet to sit for a time… You see he was my own personal poet willy wonka who saw a bit of my poetry and brought me on up to the Naropa factory to sit at his feet for the anniversary of his beloved school. It was Allen Ginsberg day in Boulder and I was with the master and yet a child myself….. I remember how he opened my eyes and smoked a blended herbal cigarette with me in an intermission…..

What dreams I have of you tonight Allen Ginsberg as you dreamed of Walt Whitman…. with sick people wailing in the night and my soul howling at the moon of my own inner madness.

I wonder where you are tonight while I feel so small and so responsible. I imagine you my zen master in your own nirvana or perhaps your here again in another body and another life… But from wherever you are I seem to hear your voice reminding me of the power of my pen and of the ideals to which you and I both try to keep. You wanted freedom of the plant and so do I. I’m trying to be a willy wonka for others where you were willy wonks for I… and so my musings and prayers and light intercessions complete I turn to what I can do for those wailing from where I am and put actions to the light that I keep.

And so I begin to wail for these folks online saying with my writers voice and my mighty pen:

I begin with this blessing: Virtual early Sunday morning tokes to all of the Rastafarian sacramental strain lambs breath. For me this strain quiets fears and calms my mind. It clears my mind and puts me in a space where i can enter my creators holy throne room with gratitude and peace instead of chaos and turmoil. It makes me still enough to hear the still small voice of my soul. It points me to currents and springs of strength and reminds me of the good i do. All of this i have for me i extend to you virtually and in energy and prayer.

Note***** There are two sacramental strains to the Rastafarian religion. One is called Lamb’s bread (I have never had the pleasure of smoking this strain) and it is said to have cola’s so large that the buds are sliced up like slices of bread. This is said to be more for dancing and rejoicing before the Lamb. Lamb’s breath is characterized by smaller dense highly resinous buds that are mellow, mind clearing and good for quiet contemplation.

I am still looking for new raw material sources to meet demand. I will pay $100 a pound for quality trim. I know a lot of you usually process your own trim but who cant use an extra few dollars around the holidays that the transaction goes to save lives? Call 719 480 0238. you must be in Colorado. I need bulk i need it quick.

I will travel anywhere in the state and negotiate on price for the right weight of the right stuff. I need trim that bad. I am trying to get people served as quickly as possible while longer term sources Relationships are in the works. Call 719 480 0238. A portion of any and all trim purchased goes to provide free phoenix tears to those in need that is why i need good prices. To put goodies into financially challenged cancer and severe illness folks hands. Lets get those free folks their Christmas presents and the paid folks what they deserve. It will make you feel good to give some people tears of joy.

The rest of you who cannot help with actions you may offer you energy to the task. Never underestimate the power of prayer in intercession for someone else. If we focus good vibes on those free peeps and paid peeps their lives can improve exponentially by far more than me just getting Their oil delivered to them. I invite you to join me in that intention…. No, i challenge you to.

Where is the heart that used to beat in this state for the less fortunate? Have you all gone mad with greed? I am willing to pay a fair price so i can give meds away for free. Will no one support me in that cause? Are you all so rich you can laugh at thousands of dollars? Are you all so unmoved by the plight of the less fortunate? Is there no one who believes in me filling hands where mine once needed filled? No one thinks its good to repay kindness by paying
it forward to others?

I just gotta get these people taken care of. For some it means hope to try for another year. There is a couple who lives on the street. One partner has bone cancer and has all but given up. When my oil is there they live as good as they can and enjoy what life they have. Without the oil bone cancer boy gives up. They cant pay and i don’t care. I wanna give them both some hope and quality of life.

There is a writer whom many respect respect within our community whose belly aches him to no end and he cant sleep among other serious issues that are more private. He works hard for our cause but cant afford oil. He is the very picture of a starving writer and artist with a good soul and I wanna get him some rest and comfort so he can continue to serve us all so well.

There is an awesome bud-tend who works for far less than he is worth. The shop he works for sells oil yet it is out of his price range. A grain of rice a day would stop him from needing a diabetic needle yet his pancreas is far overworked. I wanna be sure he can keep giving patients the strains they need with the brain in his head. I have never left his shop with anything other than a strain to treat exactly the conditions I am concerned about that day mostly due to his knowledge that keeps a wide variety of strains for a wide variety of ailments on the shelves and getting into the right hands.

There are Numerous ladies and gents with tumors praying to avoid chemo and folks hoping not to need their noses scraped off their faces Who cant pay and need mercy. How can anyone deny the value of what i”m trying to accomplish? will no one sell me the raw materials i need to enrich these lives. I have shared but the tip of the iceberg.

Someone calls these folks I’m trying to help jewels in my crown. I bristle at the suggestion. I don’t care about jewels in my crown. If the creator blesses me as such that is incidental. I give because i know need better than most and to repay the kindnesses done for me by good people when i had nothing.

I do it because someone needs to and far too many are far too concerned with profit. I do it because these are victims of a corrupt system each and everyone in one way or another.

And i do it because it is in my nature to do it. And to make my murdered son proud of me from where he sits waiting on me in the afterlife and to make his wait have meaning. Help me make these sick people’s wait have meaning too.

So if you have some trim and a heart call me at 719 480 0238 And lets bless some people together. If you have a heart and no trim please just keep these good folks in your thoughts and prayers or however you communicate with the universe offer some strength in the direction of one or more of these people. Don’t direct it at me please. The sick need your love and light far more than i do.

I ask again! Where is the heart that used to beat in this state for the less fortunate? Have you all gone mad with greed? I am willing to pay a fair price so i can give meds away for free. Will no one support me in that cause? Are you all so rich you can laugh at thousands of dollars? Are you all so unmoved by the plight of the less fortunate? Is there no one who believes in me filling hands where mine once needed filled? No one thinks its good to repay kindness by paying it forward to others?

And so I move from being woke in the night, to prayer, to action trying to get some help to those who need it most. Won’t you please help me? I want to buy raw materials to make them medicine. That’s all.

Some Raw Materials images purchased after this post:

This is some sugar out of one of our big bags of trim

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

virtual tokes from my bag to your bowl.....some bud from an oil making bag of raw materials that came from an awesome friend — in Denver, CO.

virtual tokes from my bag to your bowl…..
some bud from an oil making bag of raw materials that came from an awesome friend — in Denver, CO.

You Can't see my pain with your eyes. The only thing that relieves my pain is Cannabis! You could never imagine the pain I suffer, yet you deny me my freedom.

You Can’t see my pain with your eyes. The only thing that relieves my pain is Cannabis! You could never imagine the pain I suffer, yet you deny me my freedom.

2011-11-05 “Howl” By Allen Ginsberg remixed by Breezy Kiefair with video reading

2011-11-05 “Howl” By Allen Ginsberg remixed by Breezy Kiefair Part 1

Text:

I saw the best minds of my generation valiantly struggling to destroy the madness, starving hysterical educated,

dragging themselves through the occupied streets at dawn looking for a fix to their righteous anger,

angelheaded hempsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating class warfare,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El train and saw First Nation spirit guides pale and staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with perscribed narcotic hazed eyes.. desperatley trying to conquer physical pain inside the dream of Ginsberg’s school whilst Debting Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war and peace,

whose doctors with the stroke of a pen excluded them from the academies for weak immune response & too many hospital visits and too much time off required…… and so retired to being a ghost in the machine publishing controversial essays on the benefits of cannabis therapy for the sick.

who cowered in rotten canvas tents in long dirty clothes, burning their resin, paying their land bills and heating canned goods on a candle in the absence of an indoor stove whilst listening to the Terror echoing still today and through the years,

who got busted for their sacramental pipes returning through Maine with a story of hope for Cleveland, Michigan and Colorado.

who grew fire out back of low end hotels in their RV or drank resin tincture on Paradise Mesa, dug in until death, conditions and the cold of hell in their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, cannabis and lack and endless wails,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Mexico and the whole prohibition world, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote spirits haunting the land of no halls, backyard green tree cemetery falls, canna-bliss blowing over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teapotparty joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusk’s of the valley, ashcan rantings and kind cannabis on compassion makes you light of mind,

who chained themselves to their occupation. for the endless ride from park to holy jail on love and hope until the noise of mace and sticks brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the fear light of the memory of the dead man from the Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of the capitol building and when riot police came floated out and sat through the stale beer/coffee house dawn in desolate 16th Street, reading the crack of doom scroll across their social media news feeds.

who posted information continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Twin Towers onto of the moon

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, gifts for the Sacred place just cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen horizon mirage above reality’s plane. leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of the beauty of the world.

Who found it better suffering sweats and bone-grindings and migraines of junk-withdrawal in an MMJ state’s bleak furnished room, with the comfort of a pipe in hand and the knowledge they could use as much of this as their pain required and not worry about an unintended death.

who wandered around and around at midnight in the occupied parks wondering where to go, and remained, leaving no broken hearts except for their own, and even it, scrawled across a bit of cardboard and peacefully expressed for all of the anger and stress madness within their breasts.

who lit hash filled cigarettes at truck-stops truck-stops truck-stops racketing through snow toward lonesome freedom Maine in grandfather night,

who studied St. Jude, astral projection, and bop kabbalah, Rastafarian, the Egyptian book of the dead, the epic of Gilgamesh, and more because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Nebraska.

who longed through the streets of Ohio seeking visionary First Nation guides who were visions themselves

who thought they were only mad when they have every right to be mad and their righteous indignation gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in pig cars on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight small-town blizzard Maine,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through ‘Mosa seeking meds or heat or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to the safety of the horse-lands,

who disappeared into the underground leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the rocks we gathered for the house and ash of my heart scattered on the land, self sustainable American dream in ashes because I cant fund it beyond the empty land, and even that is for sale for survival’s sake.

who reappeared on the East Coast investigating the medicinal cannabis programs in other states in purple pure gift scarf and with big pacifist eyes sexy in their pale skin passing out information and stories in exchange for housing like a true bard of old.

who cold turkey-ed cigarettes repeatedly protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism (and picked them back up again in PTSD coping mechanism to throw them back down again and again),

who screamed in favor of the Cannabis haze of capitalism…. who distributed Congressional Supercommittee petitions in Universal Online square weeping and exposing the secrets of their hearts while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the severe weather sirens also wailed,

who broke down crying in protest parks as if they had been left naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who used their whit to strike at detectives and shrieked with delight in police-cars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and duty to protest.

who howled on their knees in the igloo and were dragged off the sidewalks waving signs and screaming valid points,

who let themselves be maced in the face, and screamed with joy for truth exposed,

who believed in equality for all, caresses and hints of unconditional love

who occupied in the morning and in the evenings and sent messages to delegation rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their opinions freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a public forum when a small & vulnerable woman came to hear their wailing song.

who lost their loves to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom, (DEATH!)

Video 2 text”

who shared themselves ecstatic and insatiable and fell off the net, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate hope and prosperity eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, and a lighting a fire of self sustainability desire

who sweetened the minds of a million hearts trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the image of the sunrise, flashing truths under sad eyes and naked in the soul,

who went out traveling through Colorado in myriad stolen rides, A.G. secret hero of these poems, poet and activist of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable fingers given to censoring conformists and cigarettes shared with corrupted youth in Naropa writing work shop breaktime day. I sing to you on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside debates & especially quiet help in dreams.

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden nightmare, and picked themselves up out of heart sore despair… not drunk yet hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Wall Street’s iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their souls full of dread on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the 1% to open to a room full of steamheat and and lack of worry,

who created great suicidal dramas on the appeasement of bankers of the Stock market under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build revolutions in their parks, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the acid rain skies surrounded by orange crates of theology wishing for wide open spaces,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, rambling and unpublishable without a proofreader’s eye

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for a banana,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next century,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were tortured alive in their innocent flannel suits on social security disability amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, your government docs say your too sick to work, your government says your life is worth $17.42 a day. Make that work you sick lady in the wild all on your own.

who were trapped on the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of the protests, not even one tagline

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the dream’s window, jumped in the filthy Greyhound, leaped on haters, cried all over the street, danced on broken glass pipes barefoot..

who polar bear-ed it across frozen mesa to prove a point to psychopathic husband…. smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz screamed it was 1929 again, finished the joint and still stumbled down the hall just in time for their disease to make them throw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal auditory sensitivity.

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch a widespread panic incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loaned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to the social media class,

who retired to MMJ state to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or France to teach medicine or Southern border to live cheaply or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the feds of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw Knowledge at political pundits and gave lectures on history to representatives and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous reversion to the constitution,

and who were given instead the concrete void of mainstream media, refused electricity, cold-water hydrotherapy long before the dawn, applications for protest trademark names, occupational therapy in the for of police brutality & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic table, resting briefly in catatonia as the peaceful prepare their souls for pain.

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the corruptions and small-town censorship of infanticide in the East,

Pueblo State’s mountain views and Excelsior’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with bio-family finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination— yet in the mind hope still remains

ah, working class, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

whose written dreams made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel citizen in Time, unknown, yet posting here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

video 3 text

II

What Harpy of regulations bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Inequality! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Inequality! Moloch! Nightmare of Money! 1% the loveless! Mental Moloch! State controlled Media the heavy judge of men!

Class Warfare the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Super-Congress of sorrows! Wall Street whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Money for the stunned governments!

My country whose mind has become pure machinery! My Country whose blood is running money! My Country whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! My Country whose ear is an unknown and smoking tomb! My country who adopted me and is therefore my parent.

My parents whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! My parents whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! My parents whose factories dream and choke in the fog while paying down their carbon footprint as if the damage was undone! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities making my body ache!!

Moloch is My father whose love is endless oil and stone! My father whose soul is electricity and banks! My home whose poverty is the specter of genius! My home whose fate is an uncertain roller coaster based on regulations that keep shrinking my resources! Freedom’s only home now whose name is the Mind!

Moloch is My home in whom I sit lonely! My home in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Crazy Bitch in Moloch! Lacklove and friendless in My home!

Moloch who entered and attempted to own my soul early! My home, in your information superhighway I become am a consciousness not bound so much by a disabled body! My father who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! My parents I abandon! Wake up in my country! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! Corporate Persons! invincible house or representatives! granite senates! Corrupt lobbyists! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting their country to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American Dream river turned to flushing toilet!

Dreams! adoration! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of bill of rights constitutional BULLSHIT!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and revolutions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the the edge! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street! Were the 99%! This is what martial law looks like! As they are beaten back but do not submit.

III

Breezy Kiefair

Occupy Together! I’m with you on Wall Street

where you’re louder than I am

I’m with you in Oakland

where you must feel strange

I’m with you in Saint Louis

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I’m with you in Michigan

where you’re brother murdered a baby so you covered up the archives and put him to work as an administrative assistant.

I’m with my regulars

who pick apart and you laugh at this invisible humor

I’m with you in Denver

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I’m with you in Colorado Springs

where your traveling protester’s condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I’m with you in my heart

where the faculties of the skull admit the worms of the senses but only in shades of pain

I’m with you in Nederland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Indica

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you sell nugs with the bodies of your nurses

I’m with you in Facebookland

where I scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of actual chess of the abyss

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you bang on the catatonic newsfeed

What’s on my mind? “the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse”

I’m with you in Facebookland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we accuse our doctors of cruelty, insanity and plot the revolution against the bankers influence and unequal distribution of wealth..

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you will split the heavens and find the beauty where you are, resurrecting your living human freedoms from the superhuman tomb

I’m with you in Facebookland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the songs of their youth all saying there is hope and we rebel.

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and whose problems won’t let us sleep

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ chemtrails roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop censorship bombs the digital hospital illuminates itself   imaginary walls collapse   O skinny legions run outside   O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here   O victory forget your underwear we’re free

I’m with you in Facebookland

in my dreams you drive from the story of your-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night to build a life here with me away from such woe.

 read source poem in its entirety and more edits here 

https://breedheenorilleykeefer.wordpress.com/2011/10/30/america-and-howl-by-allen-ginsberg-updated-for-the-occupation/

And now the master reading his own work…

“Howl” by Allen Ginsberg updated for the Occupation

Howl

Updated by Breezy Kiefair

For my friends, fans, and fiends

I

I saw the best minds of my generation valiantly struggling to destroy the madness, starving hysterical educated,

dragging themselves through the occupied streets at dawn looking for a fix to their righteous anger,

angelheaded hempsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating class warfare,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El train and saw First Nation spirit guides pale and staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with perscribed narcotic hazed eyes.. desperatley trying to conquer physical pain inside the dream of Ginsberg’s school whilst Debting Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war and peace,

whose doctors with the stroke of a pen excluded them from the academies for weak immune response & too many hospital visits and too much time off required…… and so retired to being a ghost in the machine publishing controversial essays on the benefits of cannabis therapy for the sick.

who cowered in rotten canvas tents in long dirty clothes, burning their resin, paying their land bills and heating canned goods on a candle in the absence of an indoor stove whilst listening to the Terror echoing still today and through the years,

who got busted for their sacramental pipes returning through Maine with a story of hope for Cleveland, Michigan and Colorado.

who grew fire out back of low end hotels in their RV or drank resin tincture on Paradise Mesa, dug in until death, conditions and the cold of hell in their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, cannabis and lack and endless wails,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Mexico and the whole prohibition world, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote spirits haunting the land of no halls, backyard green tree cemetery falls, canna-bliss blowing over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teapotparty joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusk’s of the valley, ashcan rantings and kind cannabis on compassion makes you light of mind,

who chained themselves to their occupation. for the endless ride from park to holy jail on love and hope until the noise of mace and sticks brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the fear light of the memory of the dead man from the Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of the capitol building and when riot police came floated out and sat through the stale beer/coffee house dawn in desolate 16th Street, reading the crack of doom scroll across their social media news feeds.

who posted information continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Twin Towers onto of the moon

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, gifts for the Sacred place just cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen horizon mirage above reality’s plane. leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of the beauty of the world.

Who found it better suffering sweats and bone-grindings and migraines of junk-withdrawal in an MMJ state’s bleak furnished room, with the comfort of a pipe in hand and the knowledge they could use as much of this as their pain required and not worry about an unintended death.

who wandered around and around at midnight in the occupied parks wondering where to go, and remained, leaving no broken hearts except for their own, and even it, scrawled across a bit of cardboard and peacefully expressed for all of the anger and stress madness within their breasts.

who lit hash filled cigarettes at truck-stops truck-stops truck-stops racketing through snow toward lonesome freedom Maine in grandfather night,

who studied St. Jude, astral projection, and bop kabbalah, Rastafarian, the Egyptian book of the dead, the epic of Gilgamesh, and more because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Nebraska.

who longed through the streets of Ohio seeking visionary First Nation guides who were visions themselves

who thought they were only mad when they have every right to be mad and their righteous indignation gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in pig cars on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight small-town blizzard Maine,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through ‘Mosa seeking meds or heat or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to the safety of the horse-lands,

who disappeared into the underground leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the rocks we gathered for the house and ash of my heart scattered on the land, self sustainable American dream in ashes because I cant fund it beyond the empty land, and even that is for sale for survival’s sake.

who reappeared on the East Coast investigating the medicinal cannabis programs in other states in purple pure gift scarf and with big pacifist eyes sexy in their pale skin passing out information and stories in exchange for housing like a true bard of old.

who cold turkey-ed cigarettes repeatedly protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism (and picked them back up again in PTSD coping mechanism to throw them back down again and again),

who screamed in favor of the Cannabis haze of capitalism…. who distributed Congressional Supercommittee petitions in Universal Online square weeping and exposing the secrets of their hearts while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the severe weather sirens also wailed,

who broke down crying in protest parks as if they had been left naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who used their whit to strike at detectives and shrieked with delight in police-cars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and duty to protest.

who howled on their knees in the igloo and were dragged off the sidewalks waving signs and screaming valid points,

who let themselves be maced in the face, and screamed with joy for truth exposed,

who believed in equality for all, caresses and hints of unconditional love

who occupied in the morning and in the evenings and sent messages to delegation rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their opinions freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a public forum when a small & vulnerable woman came to hear their wailing song.

who lost their loves to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

who shared themselves ecstatic and insatiable and fell off the net, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate hope and prosperity eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, and a lighting a fire of self sustainability desire

who sweetened the minds of a million hearts trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the image of the sunrise, flashing truths under sad eyes and naked in the soul,

who went out traveling through Colorado in myriad stolen rides, A.G. secret hero of these poems, poet and activist of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable fingers given to censoring conformists and cigarettes shared with corrupted youth in Naropa writing work shop breaktime day. I sing to you on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside debates & especially quiet help in dreams.

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden nightmare, and picked themselves up out of heart sore despair… not drunk yet hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Wall Street’s iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their souls full of dread on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the 1% to open to a room full of steamheat and and lack of worry,

who created great suicidal dramas on the appeasement of bankers of the Stock market under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build revolutions in their parks, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the acid rain skies surrounded by orange crates of theology wishing for wide open spaces,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, rambling and unpublishable without a proofreader’s eye

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for a banana,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next century,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were tortured alive in their innocent flannel suits on social security disability amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, your government docs say your too sick to work, your government says your life is worth $17.42 a day. Make that work you sick lady in the wild all on your own.

who were trapped on the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of the protests, not even one tagline

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the dream’s window, jumped in the filthy Greyhound, leaped on haters, cried all over the street, danced on broken glass pipes barefoot..

who polar bear-ed it across frozen mesa to prove a point to psychopathic husband…. smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz screamed it was 1929 again, finished the joint and still stumbled down the hall just in time for their disease to make them throw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal auditory sensitivity.

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch a widespread panic incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loaned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to the social media class,

who retired to MMJ state to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or France to teach medicine or Southern border to live cheaply or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the feds of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw Knowledge at political pundits and gave lectures on history to representatives and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous reversion to the constitution,

and who were given instead the concrete void of mainstream media, refused electricity, cold-water hydrotherapy long before the dawn, applications for protest trademark names, occupational therapy in the for of police brutality & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic table, resting briefly in catatonia as the peaceful prepare their souls for pain.

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the corruptions and small-town censorship of infanticide in the East,

Pueblo State’s mountain views and Excelsior’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with bio-family finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination— yet in the mind hope still remains

ah, working class, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

whose written dreams made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel citizen in Time, unknown, yet posting here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

Howl

For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

II

Breezy Kiefair

What Harpy of regulations bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Inequality! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Inequality! Moloch! Nightmare of Money! 1% the loveless! Mental Moloch! State controlled Media the heavy judge of men!

Class Warfare the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Super-Congress of sorrows! Wall Street whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Money for the stunned governments!

My country whose mind has become pure machinery! My Country whose blood is running money! My Country whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! My Country whose ear is an unknown and smoking tomb! My country who adopted me and is therefore my parent.

My parents whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! My parents whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! My parents whose factories dream and choke in the fog while paying down their carbon footprint as if the damage was undone! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities making my body ache!!

Moloch is My father whose love is endless oil and stone! My father whose soul is electricity and banks! My home whose poverty is the specter of genius! My home whose fate is an uncertain roller coaster based on regulations that keep shrinking my resources! Freedom’s only home now whose name is the Mind!

Moloch is My home in whom I sit lonely! My home in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Crazy Bitch in Moloch! Lacklove and friendless in My home!

Moloch who entered and attempted to own my soul early! My home, in your information superhighway I become am a consciousness not bound so much by a disabled body! My father who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! My parents I abandon! Wake up in my country! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! Corporate Persons! invincible house or representatives! granite senates! Corrupt lobbyists! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting their country to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American Dream river turned to flushing toilet!

Dreams! adoration! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of bill of rights constitutional BULLSHIT!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and revolutions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the the edge! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street! Were the 99%! This is what martial law looks like! As they are beaten back but do not submit.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

III
Breezy Kiefair
Occupy Together! I’m with you on Wall Street

where you’re louder than I am

I’m with you in Oakland

where you must feel strange

I’m with you in Saint Louis

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I’m with you in Michigan

where you’re brother murdered a baby so you covered up the archives and put him to work as an administrative assistant.

I’m with my regulars

who pick apart and you laugh at this invisible humor

I’m with you in Denver

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I’m with you in Colorado Springs

where your traveling protester’s condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I’m with you in my heart

where the faculties of the skull admit the worms of the senses but only in shades of pain

I’m with you in Nederland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Indica

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you sell nugs with the bodies of your nurses

I’m with you in Facebookland

where I scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of actual chess of the abyss

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you bang on the catatonic newsfeed

What’s on my mind? “the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse”

I’m with you in Facebookland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we accuse our doctors of cruelty, insanity and plot the revolution against the bankers influence and unequal distribution of wealth..

I’m with you in Facebookland

where you will split the heavens and find the beauty where you are, resurrecting your living human freedoms from the superhuman tomb

I’m with you in Facebookland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the songs of their youth all saying there is hope and we rebel.

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and whose problems won’t let us sleep

I’m with you in Facebookland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ chemtrails roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop censorship bombs the digital hospital illuminates itself   imaginary walls collapse   O skinny legions run outside   O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here   O victory forget your underwear we’re free

I’m with you in Facebookland

in my dreams you drive from the story of your-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night to build a life here with me away from such woe.

III

Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland

where you’re madder than I am

I’m with you in Rockland

where you must feel strange

I’m with you in Rockland

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I’m with you in Rockland

where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries

I’m with you in Rockland

where you laugh at this invisible humour

I’m with you in Rockland

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I’m with you in Rockland

where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I’m with you in Rockland

where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I’m with you in Rockland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I’m with you in Rockland

where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I’m with you in Rockland

where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss

I’m with you in Rockland

where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I’m with you in Rockland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I’m with you in Rockland

where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I’m with you in Rockland

where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I’m with you in Rockland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I’m with you in Rockland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep

I’m with you in Rockland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself   imaginary walls collapse   O skinny legions run outside   O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here   O victory forget your underwear we’re free

I’m with you in Rockland

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

Footnote To Howl by Allen Ginsberg

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand
and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an
angel!
The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!

Who We are, How We Came to Be, Why we Give back

Article I wrote that was published in Cannabis Health news Magazine February 2010

need proof that it was published (i know many of you do…http://cannabishealthnewsmagazine.com/PDF/CHNM_Feb2010_small.pdf )

The below piece is to be published in the next issue of Cannabis Health News Magazine whose editor is Jason Lauve. Jason was acquitted of all charges by a jury on August 6, 2009. He has been a tireless advocate for Medical Marijuana patients in Colorado before this date and since.
Kiefair Keepsakes…. How we came to be, Why we give back

Copyrighted material All Rights Reserved see message at the bottom of essay

I tell you this story, not for myself, but for those in similar situations without the strength or ability to speak.

The government of the United States and the State of Colorado (as well as other states) are all saving a ton of money due to the growth in the medical marijuana industry and so are the dispensaries and caregivers. As a patient caught in the middle, I decided that I may have a unique perspective on this issue and have decided to throw my two cents in on the topic.

If you listen to the news, it seems to be the government officials vs. the dispensary owners. here in Colorado. This should not be the case. The patients needs should be at the heart of this discussion, particularly the needs of low income medical marijuana patients on Social Security Disability and Social Security Income (SSD/SSI)

I posted much of the content you will read here all over the internet in an effort to help myself and others in my position. I sat in the online forums begging:

“Is there someone, anyone out there who hears my plea and wants to help me actually do something other than sit in online forums and complaining about the problem and hope someone does something”

I was heartbroken to find little positive response and a lot of negative/cruel responses by persons who clearly are recreational users and not medical users. The treatment of women in some of these cannabis forum rooms was often appalling. I finally decided to stop beating a dead horse and set up a store front to help me get the funds I need for my own medicine, food and other needs and to donate 10% of our profits to provide medical marijuana for free to low income patients in need. Currently we have only one dispensary signed on with us, GreenBelly Co-op LLC in Eldorado Springs, Co.

We encourage other dispensaries and caregivers to join with us in this effort. The funds to be donated will be held in trust and dispensed when/where they are needed according to the needs and location of the patient in question. A patient from your area would contact me, then I would contact you to confirm you have the stock necessary for the patient and to confirm availability of time, I would then deposit money for their medication into a paypal account owned by your dispensary. The patient could then come in and pick up their necessary medicine. I require no investment on your part. Patients would report on the quality of your medicine and I would then write their reviews and forward their recommendations (no names attached) on the net. Everybody wins. People who wish to provide money for the trust can purchase anything in my online gift-store or my personal catalog. 10% of my profits go to this fund. Hopefully a larger and larger percentage of profits will got to the trust when my personal finances allow me.

When I began to write the essay that I posted in the online forums, I decided that my joining the Medical Marijuana Registry was my Christmas Present to the American Taxpayer for the year 2009. And posted the title as “My Personal Christmas Gift to the American Taxpayer.”

Now, you may imagine me as the stereotype of a “stoner” that has been created by the media. Let me correct you
First of all, I am a female over 25 and under 40 with severe and debilitating Fibromyalgia, the kind that forces doctors to shake their heads and prescribe one ineffective man made medicine on top of another while I waste away and my quality of life diminishes. The onset of my symptoms began almost instantly after my birth in Canon City, CO and I have been fragile ever since. I’ve even been told by a doctor or two that may well have one of the worst Fibromyalgia cases on record. I was a ward of the State of Colorado until I ran away when I was 16 due to horrid abusive conditions within the state foster care program and completed my high school in another state.

My sole health insurance is provided to me is under medicare/medicaid. This is because I am completely disabled and the doctors do not allow me to work, or even to attend school. I assure you that this is only for the time being… I am getting stronger all the time!

In 1994, I was awarded Ginsberg Scholarship up at Naropa during the 20th anniversary festival. I dreamed for years of attending, but my health prevented it. I finally got stubborn and bullied my doctors into letting me go. I was accepted into and attended Naropa University for two semesters in 2007-2008 school year in an effort to get a degree that would give me access to jobs more suited to my bodies abilities, and was pulled out by my doctors both times. Naropa wanted me there, I wanted to be there, but government programs required I be enrolled a certain amount of credit hours (beyond the abilities of my body) in order to keep my funding. I attempted a semester at Grand Canyon University online in Fall 2008 to the same effect. Now I have many thousands of dollars in student loans I can’t pay because I attempted to get a degree so I could get a job my body could handle.

I was forced to be on government programs like Social Security Disability and Social Security Income (SSD/SSI) at a young age. I was in middle school when I was put on SSD/SSI for the first time while I was a ward of the State of Colorado.

Let me clarify, the first time I was put on disability, I was a minor and the State decided as my sole legal guardian to place me on disability. The state “adopted me” in a sense.My name was changed legally and my parents rights to me as a child were formally, legally and permanently terminated. None of it was not my choice (except the name change after years of foster care), it was not discussed with me, I was a child. My medical care as a child was much as it is now, with the exception of the fact that kids get a bit more coverage. Being on the program at a young age, I did not accumulate much in the way of work money in my SSI account, although I did attempt to work several times. Unfortunately every time, an employer or doctor would get tired of me being sick and put a stop to it one way or another. That is why my monthly amounts from SSI/SSD are so low, not because I am disabled, but because I couldn’t work to pay into the system like the people who receive these benefits only when they reach retirement after a full life of paying in. Also did you know the government actually Penalized people for getting married if you are both on disability? They treat you as one person and give you one person’s pay! For love, and for spiritual reasons I decided that was a risk I would just have take. So, I married my love who happened to be on disability also anyway.

Now I ask the members of the Government of the Great State of Colorado, if you had an adult child who was sick and suffering would you leave them to languish in pain and poverty just because it was no longer your legal responsibility? Of course you wouldn’t. You would do whatever was in your power to make your child as comfortable as possible.

As an adult child, I now boldly but humbly step up to my adopted parent, the Government of the State of Colorado, and ask, “Guardian Colorado, do you it intend to focus on the dispensaries who are the money in this discussion, or do you intend to focus on your citizens whose LIVES are being saved by this plant? You discuss care giving so much in this debate, but the treatment of patients on the part of many in this debate has proven differently. I know you have hearts, please use them as you consider these policies. This shouldn’t be a partisan issue. This should be a people issue.

Before I was placed on the Colorado Medical Marijuana Registry in June 2009, I would have to visit a doctors office several times a month, sometimes several times a week, sometimes with several appointments booked the same day with specialists and tests, painful and difficult physical therapy that seemed to harm more than hurt, etc., and there were to many trips to the emergency room to count.

I went to the ER out of sheer desperation, I went just so I could get comfortable enough to have a bit of sleep after a week or more of lingering in a painful place that seemed to be located in deep within the realm of a narcotic distorted pain haze, a no-where-land that seemed to be somewhere between life and death. The doctors in the emergency room and elsewhere often treated me as though I was an addict, and not a pain patient, AND I WAS MISERABLE!

Since I was approved for the medical marijuana registry I haven’t needed near the amount of services from the medicaid/medicare program. In fact, I’ve had to see a doctor twice since June 3, 2009 when the doctor signed my forms.

Once to have 14 teeth pulled, a little bit of dental work made necessary by a combination of years of no dental benefits unless my teeth couldn’t be saved and needed to be pulled, being on narcotics for almost a decade, and dealing with severe nausea/vomiting/malnutrition.

The other doctor visit (and medications that followed) were for a bad cold that I caught at the dentists office. I haven’t seen a doctor at all otherwise, although I do call my family doctor to check in and let her know I am doing well.

Before I was on the MMJ registry, I was on so many medications (20 plus medications taken at various intervals though the day) that I felt like I was taking a pill every 2 minutes…. Number of traditional prescriptions I take daily now – ZERO.

Now the government was paying for all those medications I was on before through medicare/medicaid, plus all the doctor visits to get, maintain, and change dosing on those prescriptions right? Some of those medications by themselves cost the government thousands of dollars a month! Many could not have refills on them by law and required a doctor visit every time I needed more.

I always felt guilty about my personal burden on the American Taxpayers. But now I don’t have to feel guilty cause I have given a present to the American Taxpayer. I got on the MMJ registry. Now I do not go to the mainstream doctor unless I need antibiotics. I am off all prescriptions. I had tobacco quit (been trying for 20 years to quit) until I was without medicine too long and got stressed out, but I plan to quit again.

I and am well enough to manage a website as well as volunteer and be an advocate for others in need. I have regularly traded my services in clerical/computer work either from home or in the GreenBelly Coop LLC office for medications when I am strapped for cash. All of these things would have been impossible for me nine short months ago when I was all but bedridden and and in so much pain I had to keep myself from overdosing.

The government is saving many thousands of dollars a month on me alone, and yet I have to struggle to obtain this money saver for the American taxpayer. That much cut in government spending on the part of an individual… I should get a medal or something. Now think how many individuals are saving the government this money in the State of Colorado alone…. Let alone the other 13 states and the District of Columbia! We all need medals or medicine at the very least!

How many others are there like me? Meanwhile, the price of my medicine increases as the MMJ movement grows. My family and I have been stuck having to make really hard decisions like, do we pawn our wedding and engagement rings to get my medicine? Or do we pawn them and buy some food? Or do we keep the rings for sentimental reasons, lay here and just starve and have seizures from pain and lack of medicine/food.

I ended up pawning all the rings, having already sold else of value to the pawn store and bought both medicine and food. The money I received for my treasured bands did not buy nearly enough of either medicine or food. We promised ourselves we would get them back, but I ended up crying my eyes out when I realized I just can’t afford to get them out of hock. The deadline to get them back passed weeks ago. I live in a Winnebago and have been in real danger of starving to death at times. Now don’t get me wrong, my life has been profoundly changed by this medicine, and any hardship I may have to endure is truly worth the benefits of this plant. I will not compromise and go back to the narcotics and other prescriptions just because I can get them paid for or for any other reason. I would rather be in pain when I am without my medical marijuana than take a morphine and get sicker.

Sometimes family members and the community can make it very hard to be a low income medical marijuana patient too. I have heard many stories of people not living with family/friends any longer because they are shunned for their medicinal use. I’ve experienced this shunning first hand myself. The stereotype of the “typical” marijuana user is further damaging these people with no where else to turn!

This herb is profoundly changing lives! It is healing people, body, mind, and soul. Yet its legal users get treated as if they are using it for recreation. I believe recreational use is a VALID use of the plant, further I feel it be legalized and would be an important source of revenue for America if it were to be legal once again. However, that is not why I personally NEED this plant.

This plant allows me to eat, to sleep, to get out of my bed, to manage my pain enough to have a job, to be involved with life instead of living in a nightmare world just praying for the end to come soon. If you happen to be a Fibromyalgia patient praying for the end, you can be praying for a long time as this is not a terminal disease.

The Mayo clinic website (see footnote 1) describes symptoms of Fibromyalgia as including

Signs and symptoms of fibromyalgia can vary, depending on the weather, stress, physical activity or even the time of day.
Widespread pain and tender points
The pain associated with fibromyalgia is described as a constant dull ache, typically arising from muscles. To be considered widespread, the pain must occur on both sides of your body and above and below your waist.
Fibromyalgia is characterized by additional pain when firm pressure is applied to specific areas of your body, called tender points. Tender point locations include:

Back of the head, Between shoulder blades, Top of shoulders, Front sides of neck, Upper chest,Outer elbows, Upper hips, Sides of hips, Inner knees

Fatigue and sleep disturbances
People with fibromyalgia often awaken tired, even though they seem to get plenty of sleep. Experts believe that these people rarely reach the deep restorative stage of sleep. Sleep disorders that have been linked to fibromyalgia include restless legs syndrome and sleep apnea.
Co-existing conditions
Many people who have fibromyalgia also may have:

Chronic fatigue syndrome
Depression
Endometriosis
Headaches
Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS)
Lupus
Osteoarthritis
Post-traumatic stress disorder
Restless legs syndrome
Rheumatoid arthritis

And a whole host of other conditions not on the Mayo clinic list.

Moder Western medicine can’t even agree on the causes/mechanisms of this disease because they don’t understand it.

It has been suggested that this is a psychological disease only, a psychosis created when a hypocondriac hears about fibromyalgia. The advocates of this theory say that the symptoms of this diesease are all in the patient’s head. I do not personally believe in this theory, but even if this disease is all in my head, the medical marijuana still helps.

Other sources on Fibromyalgia suspect that this disease has been around for all time, a genetic disease with a trigger, and its symptoms are found even in individuals of remote tribes of Africa and the Amazon who have no contact with the west. So why should I use new untested man-made medicine created by people who don’t understand my disease and possibly believe it doesn’t exist? Especially when that disease has been treated with herbs known to posses pain relieving qualities for many generations of humans?

Personally, my last completely “pain free” moment was around 3:30 PM on August 21, 2002. I know because I keep a detailed pain/medication journal in an effort to regulate my condition. I am confident that If I had the proper medicine, I would have pain free moments again. This herb doesn’t just treat pain sensations, it helps correct causes. Perhaps with the right regimen, daily pain could be a thing of the past for me.

This disease itself may not kill you, but it can certainly make you wish for death. There are near epidemic levels of Fibromyalgia patients and pain patients in general who are hurting so bad they are suicidal, or worse succeed in taking their own life. I have a brother who died as a result of a doctor who wasn’t paying enough attention with his pen and prescription pad. After years of pain and suffering following a head injury, my brother died of a drug interaction prescribed by his doctor.

Dispensaries are necessary, but not without a social conscience
Now the other side of the coin. It is no secret that the people who own dispensaries are making money on patients like me too.

We need these dispensaries for a variety of reasons.
1)What would a patient do if their caregiver had a bad crop and was without medicine? If that paitent was restricted from seeing other caregivers they would have no where to get their medicine but the street.
2) Our caregivers are restricted to a number of plants they can grow for you, thus if you become tolerant to the genetics of one strain of medicine quickly and need to change the genetics of you medication often, it may be difficult for your caregiver to have/maintain the variety you need.
3) Competition strengthens customer service and prevents patients from being in a form of bondage by their caregiver. If we restrict patients from going to other dispensaries, how are they to know if the medicine they are receiving is the best quality available for them. If we restrict the number of persons a dispensary can serve to a tiny number and prevent patients from seeing other medical marijuana providers, and in addition the number of times a year they can change their caregiver, then patients must settle for whatever medicine a particular caregiver is giving them whether it is effective or not.

We need a program to help low income patients get their medicine!
If you are low income and can’t afford your “mainstream pharmacy” medicine, you can go to various organizations and they will help you to buy your medicine, sometimes even on a regular basis if they are necessary and not covered by insurance, but that doesn’t include medical marijuana.

If you are brave enough to speak up and ask for help getting your medicine at these organizations, you will probably find the door closed firmly in your face. You may also find that other services from the organization become difficult or impossible to obtain as well. This is out and out discrimination in my opinion. If your medicine is MMJ no one is willing to help you unless you happen to be lucky enough to find a care giver who actually gives a care if you have medicine or not! I just put my medical costs on a new food stamp application mailed 1/13/09 to Boulder County. We shall see what happens.

“So what,” you say? Well let’s look at this… The high price can force a person in my position to go back to buying their medicine off the street where it is less expensive, but also less potent, less safe.

1)You never know what has been added to you herb to increase the genetically weak herbs potency artificially with other street drugs or various substances to make it seem as though there is more weight to the medicine.

2)It is much more dangerous to obtain, and the process of obtaining it can be a risk to your health in many ways. Long periods in the cold and encounters with strange germs can put a person right back in their sick bed or the hospital.

3) The money spent on street grade medication often goes back to fund gang and criminal activity. This is something that most medical marijuana patients do not want to support and got on the registry to stop supporting. I personally counted avoiding purchasing on the street as one of the largest pluses to getting on the registry, and yet I see people like me being forced back there.

4) The price of cannabis on the street directly influences the costs of Medical Grade in the Dispensaries. In this respect, Cannabis is a commodity like any other, and as such is subject to price fluctuation when artificially influenced. It doesn’t really have anything to do with how much it costs to grow it and transport it to the patient. It has to do with how much it costs on the street.

What is to be done if you have no medicine? Where can you go?

There are few funds or organizations willing to help people like me get my medicine when I can’t afford it, and you have to really dig in your need to find them. When I did find them, they could only help once or not at all due to the demand. Many patients do not have the strength for this search when they are lacking appropriate medication. It took me months of daily web crawling to dig any up organizations up. Now people who wish to help provide medicine to people in this position can buy something for themselves or someone else, something they may have bought anyway and someone gets medicine.

If someone who has medicine/money wants to help a person in my position, likewise there is no way for a person who wants to help to donate money to people in a position similar to mine. Right now low income persons only relief seems to be individuals/churches/caregivers being kind. So I created this gift company, and here we are.

One church I know of is greenfaith ministry. The Reverend of greenfaith ministry is also known as the 420 Reverend. I have had contact with Reverend Brandon Baker from this organization who is a great man. He drove over 50 miles to get me some medicine for free. Unfortunately he is one man and the demand is high. Rev. B Baker is quoted as saying, “Tell the (Denver City my edit) counsel a majority amount of local churches support un-regulated access for all needy mmj patients, give them my name and number if they say they want to meet with any of the spiritual mmj community church leaders!”

Meds for free? What about Caregivers and Growers needs?
Now, I have no problem with the idea of paying for my medications… The person who grows it provides a service that a dollar amount really can’t be placed on and should be compensated, and so should everyone involved in getting the medicine to me. That is only fair. But I want know the money I spend helps others like me or at very least the movement in general. I also don’t need to be paying 50+% of my income to stay barely comfortable. I’d like to be able to pay a reasonable percentage of my income and have all the medicine my body requires. I know that may seem a little unrealistic, but a girl in pain can dream. lol

Here in Colorado it is the wild wild west right now. If I happen to have to go somewhere other than my primary caregiver, my $ will probably end up in a growing bank account of some green gold rush eyed caregiver who could really care less if I have effective medication or not. In fact, it seems like the only green anyone cares about is dollar bill green and the green of greed. Yet the right to visit a dispensary other than your caregiver is a necessary one. What happens if your caregiver loses a grow? What do you do if you need a different strain of medicine than what is available that day? What if they are out of the product that helps the most? Would you refuse to let me go to W@(m@rt if W@lgr33ns was out of my prescription?

So the government ignores the money it saves, and many (not all) of the dispensaries in the area seem to have little social conscience about the price a person like me can pay to have their medicine.

A Big social Problem, and Yet We aren’t the Issue, money is.
When your total family income is at or below poverty levels, you can absolutely be forced back on the streets to get your medicine. My medical condition requires a minimum of 1/8 oz of smoke-able every 2 days to just to keep me off narcotics and other prescriptions that do more harm than good, not crying, not having seizures caused by pain, and not be stuck in bed.

This dosing by no means keeps me comfortable it is important to note.
I have NEVER had the pleasure of having enough medicine on hand to decide on what a good “comfortable” dosing schedule would be, even though I do have a compassionate caregiver. I just don’t want to put my poor caregiver out of business taking care of my needs.

What I am trying to say is that there is something fundamentally very wrong with the fact that there are so many people who are to poor to even know what the appropriate dosage of medication for their amount of pain, yet the government is saving a bunch of cash and the Medical Marijuana industry is getting the “lion’s share” of the rest of their income.
It is frustrating to feel like you and others are falling through the cracks even further. Many in my position were barely hanging on before the economic downturn, and now see no light at the end of the tunnel. SSI/SSD keeps you far below the poverty line if you have been unable to work enough many living on $1000 a month or less for their whole family.

It is frustrating to see others get wealthy off of you and others while your tier of society starves. Sometimes I feel invisible, and I know for a fact I am not the only one out there feeling this.
Why do the out of state interests get a louder voice than ours?
I was born in the State of Colorado. My family has lived in this state for 4 generations (or more.) My grandmother owned and operated the Historic Stirrup Ranch near Canon City, Co. for many years. I love Colorado, but I live in an RV and am so desperate to be in a place where I can have food and medicine that I am willing to move to any state with a registry because the climate here is so difficult for patients right now.
I have a plan so that if I were able to obtain some land, I could be self sufficient (NO MORE SSI/SSD and I could actually contribute to charities instead of needing help from them!) and never have to worry about being hungry or without my necessary medicine. In time, many others could be helped with food and medicine grown on the land. I could be fulfilling needs rather than begging to have my needs filled.

Kiefair Keepsakes, stepping stone to a dream

My dream is to be able to get some land and set up an initial grow op in earth ships (a growing movement of building practices with an all environmentally friendly building/management philosophy.) This initial grow op would end up growing into a Nonprofit Medical Marijuana retreat/community/caregiver for patients like me to be able to get their medicine and/or live in a more affordable and kind setting, using their personal talents and abilities to benefit the community. I want to focus on what a “disabled person” can do, not their limitations. I want to create a place where it is safe to be sick on a daily basis with no fear of hunger, lack of medication, or fear of the loss of a job/home due to illness.

While I have the heart and the ability to do this work (given time and medication), I unfortunately have no capital for such a venture and am praying the universe will see fit to make it happen.
I have researched many aspects of this and it is very feasible, however getting investment in such a venture is not my forte. This kind of setting would be great tool for a “for profit” dispensary to use. It would be publicity, demonstrate social conscience, and you could also offer my nonprofit medications cheap to their own low income patients. inquire further at kiefair.keepsakes@gmail.com

I just wanna say Thanks to all the people out there helping to make it possible for people who need this medicine to have it. Whatever you celebrate this or any season, may it be meaningful and may Blessings come to you all!

footnote 1 Retrieved from the Mayo clinic website 1/12/2009
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fibromyalgia/DS00079/DSECTION=symptoms

Copyright 2009,2o10 by Breezy Keefer, owner Kiefair Keepsakes All Rights Reserved
Please copy and redistribute with attribution of source!

hey, vote me up on miss high times please!!! 10 is high, 1 is low

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