Category Archives: Update

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

 

 

 

 

Growing With Your Support

[MUST BE ADULT TO USE SITE] **Donate 4 FuckCancer Program HERE** 
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…WELCOME greened faith believers; Those that know WASU *The Sacred Seed* (Cannabis)! Here are our current church & farm Locations. Click for WASU (Cannabis) Weddings and related services. Here is the CO AG’s STANCE ON GREENFAITH for our religious cannabis (WASU) use. Click this link if interested in our HEMP SERVICES or here for Recent News or here for More Recent News.
…PLEASE Know and Distribute our CHURCH FLYER (Front) AND CHURCH FLYER (Back). Here is Our leader’s interview inspiring the First Church of Cannabis. This is our ONE and ONLY ONE Sacramental Herb Prayer. Here is our 2009 Press Releaseand 2010 Press Release. Our 1st CannaSacrament info (2003-06).
…REMEMBER Our services are funded through donations from patients, patrons and community supporters. Greenfaith Ministry is also a branch of the ONAC (for their religious cannabis use/training), and a religious charity organization. If on FaceBook go here for the CHURCH FACEBOOK Page.
**Dont Forget ALL donations to Greenfaith will automatically provide FREE Assistance to those in Need.Don’t want to send electronically? Mail check or money orders to: Greenfaith Ministry, PO Box 024 Nunn, CO 80648

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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!

 


Choosing your Monthly Pledge

Basic Membership

Monthly Pledge: $4.20
Six months: Church documents
One year: Special event invite (See “Preparing the Soil” for an invite to the Donor Party.)

Preparing the Soil

Monthly Pledge: $10
Initial: Church documents
Six months: Greenfaith T-shirt, special gift


Planting the Seed

Monthly Pledge: $15
Initial: Church documents
Six months: Greenfaith T-shirt & Electric Sacrament Device

Watering the Plants

Monthly Pledge: $25
Initial: Church documents, Greenfaith T-shirt
Six months: Special Gift & Herb Sacrament Device


Harvest the Herb

Monthly Pledge: $50
Initial: Church documents, Greenfaith T-shirt
Six months: Special Gift & Bubbler Sacrament Device

Trimming the Buds

Monthly Pledge: $75
Initial: Church documents, Greenfaith T-shirt, Electric Pipe
Six months: Special Gift, Special Greenfaith T-shirt & Herb Sacrament device


Healing the Sick

Monthly Pledge: $100
Initial: Church documents, Greenfaith T-shirt, Electric Sacrament Device
Six months: FREE WEEK Vacation

Protect Colorado Springs Home Grows

Protect Colorado Springs Home Grows by: Audrey Hatfield

How many registered cannabis patients do you think live in Colorado? How many refugees have given up their former lives to pack up and move here for access to medical cannabis? How many people in general utilize cannabis in some form or another in our state? There are approximately 108,000 registered cannabis patients and out of that many, how many of you have a clue as to what is happening in some city’s across Colorado regarding your rights as a cannabis patient? Very few.

Back in 2012 when the Amendment 64 campaign was rearing its ugly head, I was against it for several reasons. Not because I’m a selfish bitch that didn’t think everyone deserves access to cannabis, it was because, it was and is, a garbage piece of legislative prohibition, designed to benefit our government in the form of higher tax dollars, in disguise as “legalization.” We were all assured by 64 supporters that “medical would not be affected.” A64 was nothing but “legal lies” and too many people lapped it up as “progression” and “baby steps” towards “legalization.” “Regulation works,” “Regulate like alcohol.” Bullshit, all of it, as predicted! 

http://www.westword.com/news/marijuana-community-divide-on-amendment-64-deep-wide-often-nasty-5859203

  Let’s forget about Amendment 64 for a minute and before you chastise me for using the term “medical cannabis,” there is a difference. That difference is, Amendment 20 and those of us that rely on cannabis as our medicine. For us, it’s not about just “getting high.” And no, I don’t have anything against anyone that does. Cannabis should be available to us all, but not this way. Not thru Amendment 64.

 Right now, right under your noses we are slowly being made criminals once again. The MED is “recommending” to all jurisdictions to limit plant counts. One by one, city by city, slowly, Amendment 20 is being blown off by Colorado government officials, in part because of the fact that we have rec and rec generates more tax funds. You might think that it doesn’t matter because we “have A64”. But it does.

  In a recent article in local paper the “Gazette Telegraph,” Colorado Springs City Council proposed ordinance 16-52, on May 10, that was signed by Mayor John Suthers, just a few days after on May 13.

http://gazette.com/colorado-springs-mayor-day-of-reckoning-coming-for-citys-illegal-marijuana-growers/article/1577088 

In a nut shell, this ordinance (above,) is making it criminal to grow more than 12 plants per household without regard to the fact of ones plant count recommendation (Read above links). Yes, you heard it, it will be CRIMINAL! You will be a CRIMINAL, for exercising your rights under Amendment 20. Pay attention to what this will mean for patients here and eventually in the entire state.

https://coloradosprings.gov/sites/default/files/051016_personal_cultivation_ordinance_16-52.pdf

 Colorado Springs is a home rule municipality and basically what that means, is they can make their own rules. HOWEVER, when it comes to this situation they can not decide how many plants a patient is allowed to have! What the fuck? Why is this happening? Amendment 64. Why isn’t it being stopped? Greed and ignorance.

   All patients with higher plant counts will be affected, however, the patients that will be hurt the most are some of the many children whose parents moved here to treat their childrens rare illnesses with cannabis. Two of the families that will be affected and turned into criminals if arrested, will be Moms, Rebecca Lockwood and Marisa Kiser. Because of their childrens high plant counts and the negative impact it would have on their childrens health, Rebecca and Marisa, sprung into action. They decided to set up a meeting with City Council to get some answers and find compassion for all patients and spear headed an email campaign to Springs City Council.

  

Rebecca fears for the health and well-being of her child Calvin, as he has a plant count of 73 to treat his femoral retroversion, a debilitating abnormality, affecting the lower extremities.

http://www.aafp.org/afp/2003/0801/p461.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8OYxQq7mIE

 Marisa Kisers son Ezra, just turned 4 and went in hospice when he was just 3. He suffers from violent seizures and at one time, had an unexplained onset of dystonia so severe that he broke 8 bones in one year. He has a 72 plant count. These are just 2 of the families that will be affected by this bullshit. 


 It was in a May 31 meeting that the Moms were told by the council members in attendance that, “The limited plants counts are just the beginning, a ban will be placed on all home grows, not just here, but thru out the state.” This very phrase was confirmed the beginning of June from council members in a separate meeting between members of council and member Bridget Serrit, of the newly formed organization, Colorado Patient Rights Coalition

 108 million patients and only a handful of you are or have been getting involved with the blatant disregard of our rights. This is going to affect you! Understand what it means! Get off of your asses and stand up for yourselves or bow down to your rights being stepped on by our local politicians. We all need to come together in force and show them that this will not be tolerated! Coming together in numbers will have greater impact and that is what it will take. This WILL happen in your town next, you need to be aware and know your rights as a patient.

Whether you grow or not, what can you do? First, research and familiarize yourselves with Amendment 20 and any laws regarding medical access in Colorado. Send emails to your local government officials that are implementing these laws. Call and leave them a brief, yet detailed message. Stand up for your rights! If you are available during the day, attend any protest about the matter that you see being advertised. Protests are being set up right now in Colorado Springs in front of Mayor Suthers office in Colorado Springs, on a monthly basis. The organization also has started a petition that as patients, you should sign.

 https://www.facebook.com/events/266481020371172/

https://www.change.org/p/colorado-state-house-keep-it-legal-colorado

  If you have paperwork to support your plant count recommendation, continue to grow that plant count. If police come to your home, DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow them access inside your home without a search warrant. DO NOT speak to the police. Record audio if they are in your home or at your door. DO NOT be swayed by the scare tactics they will try to use to get you to take a plea deal if you are arrested. You can and will win your case! It has been done! Now more than ever, is the time to get involved! Strength in numbers! Stand up!

 http://www.westword.com/news/medical-marijuana-patient-bob-crouse-acquitted-another-wasteful-prosecution-5859198

http://www.dailycamera.com/boulder-county-news/ci_16965794

http://gazette.com/jury-returns-not-guilty-verdict-in-mmj-case/article/140056

Audrey Hatfield

Former Founder and President of C4CPR

Medical Cannabis Patient and Colorado Activist

Write to city council allcouncil@springsgov.com

5 years of spreading KiefAir

 Kiefair.com is 5 years old today

in its present incarnation, 7 years old if you count the time it was breedheenorilleykeefer.com

Each step along our individual paths changes us. Some experiences grow body, mind, and soul. Other experiences cause those same parts of us to shrink and ache endlessly. The trick is to let each step teach you even if it pains you. When you dedicate yourself to a task with little hope of recognition or monetary gain, many steps on the path are painful. No matter how much you give or how many you touch, there are still more in need. We live in a harsh world. My hat/cancer bandana off to anyone on the path to healing themselves and/or helping a loved one get relief in the most natural way possible. It takes a lot of courage and resolve to reach the end of the modern medicine road and only be left with options you may be logically against (such as chemo). It’s just as difficult to dutifully stand by and genuinely unconditionally love someone whose body is in decline.  

As difficult as those decisions are, being public about them makes those choices even harder, but the stories we tell and leave behind in this time when cannabis legality is in its infancy of revival are a testament to the plant, it healing and transformative powers, and the lives of those left searching for comfort when modern medicine can’t offer it. Each of us who has chosen to tell our tale in the public forum of our day (the internet, or public eye in general) is living history. My endless gratitude to all those out there playing nurse to a loved one so limited in physical ability. Watching the cannabis world work to change from prohibition to test markets for medical use to states defying the federal government to decriminalize for adult use has been a heart twisting journey every step of the road. Please don’t forget the chronically ill folks and their caregivers for each recreational bowl you enjoy or sell legally. We still have a long way to go to honor the people who put their entire lives and health on the line in order to create change. Let’s begin by more and more programs to help the low income patients among us.

After many years of dedication to the cause of cannabis education and healing, This is the greatest need I see in the movement today: Just too many folks with too little resources and too much pain while the price of cannabis remains a burden to their largely ssi/ssd funded existences while pounds of useable cannabis are grown in the name of someone suffering and sold elsewhere by their “caregiver” for a profit. We must do better by the low income legal cannabis patient if we ever hope to legalize cannabis for medicinal or recreational use across the board. But as an individual, I can only offer individual mercy. Lately I’ve been giving free oil to individuals legal in Colorado and to cannabis charities such as Greenfaith Ministries. We need to see more of this kind of mercy. 

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

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

Feel free to wander around Kiefair.com, wish the site a happy anniversary, comment on and share your favorite articles from years past. Also feel free to comment on this post for any improvements or changes you would like to see to the site. Moving forward, I have a project to preserve samples of products I make and products available in the market for future research. I imagine a time when we are looking back at this period in our shared history as the dawn of cannabis legalization. I imagine scientists wanting to know exactly what we were using. To preserve this history, the best, the good, the bad, and the ugly, I have procured slides and lab vials to make samples to carry on after us.

My next article covers making your own massage oils. As a preview for those eagerly awaiting the write up on that article, Let us have a look at the history of extracting healing compounds or scent compounds from various plants. This history is essential to understanding the next article from kiefair.com

History of Essential oil extraction and perfumery

I invite you to come and visit the site through a sampling of the most read articles. Scroll below the photo for the top read articles according to my site’s stats, 2014 reading statistics. Let’s take a look at what people are reading.

A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. ~ George Bernard Shaw

A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. ~ George Bernard Shaw https://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=955898141096862&id=100000300558421&set=a.321818131171536.80134.100000300558421&source=44&ref=bookmark

Now, some Honorable mentions.

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

DIY Cannabis Cure oil healing: The tale of Wren by Wren SmilingDeer, lady of the wood

The tale of one of many who has taken information they learned on kiefair.com and had the courage to use that knowledge to treat their own illnesses with it.

Hipgnotist’s High Crimes and Hi-jinks

Tolkien was a stoner… Was Lembas Bread made of Hemp Seed?

This post is not to debate with others about if J.R.R. Tolkien was a stoner or not. This post is for people who have already determined for themselves that he did like to suck on a weed pipe every now and again and who wonder about what is really in Lembas Bread.

Duke the Cancer fighting Dog and RIP Duke

A dog who teaches us that not every case is a clear success, but not every gift is wasted… we lost duke but ended up helping his owner.

Naphtha is not good for you!

Certainly one of our most controversial posts. Just check out the associated youtube commentary.

Phoenix Tears Healing a Diabetic Ulcer (the healing begins)

And  Phoenix Tears Healing a Diabetic Ulcer (updated Journey)

Fat Freddy has had a sore on his back for about 3 years and it would not heal! We started putting Rick Simpson Oil on it on November 23, 2011 then the next day we checked it and then checked it every 3 days afterwards, changing the oil and bandage every 3 days as well! I documented the process as long as I was the live in maid/nurse for the patient. (WARNING THIS IS GRAPHIC!)

Familial Mediterranean Fever ~ a Rare genetic disease

I do not look like I have a single drop of Mediterranean blood in me, so why do i care about this rare genetic disorder? Because the color of skin is only skin deep. Because despite the pale appearance of my exterior,  I have the genetic ancestor from that part of the world who handed me this recessive trait. Because I have this disease and have to live with it…

Now, The Top 10 Most Read Posts

10. Hannah Hurnard’s “Hind’s Feet on High Places” audiobook video series

I was rather surprised this one made the countdown because the video series is as yet unfinished.

playlist on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwc43UiVjiudD0DhoUELBfeHOamG_Hvtj

A set of videos in Tribute to the writing of Hannah Hurnard, “Hind’s Feet on High Places” to Art of Breezy Kiefair i just put music and art to a book that has been a favorite since childhood… my mother used to read me that book…. call it a tribute to her and an introduction of the book to an audience that may otherwise remain unaware of it. I recommend it for anyone with anxiety or PTSD

hind'a feet on high places

9. Remembering Westley Thorin Keaton Roberts, a child murdered… his murderer acquitted 

This is the tale of how I lost my only child and had to watch the individual who logically was guilty walk free. I was rather surprised it made the most read articles list. May Westley’s love and story live on. My maternal heart will never stop longing for what should have been.

EPSON MFP image

8. Dixie Elixirs, Dixie Script, Dixie Dewdrops and The Clinic Colorado Review

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7. Cannabis Oil Advocate Ronnie Smith Suddenly Dies from Leukemia

Please also read:  Cannabis Activist Roland a Duby’s Censored Wikipedia Article

Ronnie Lee Smith, aka Roland A Duby made much of Kiefair.com possible. In April 2014, he lost his battle with Leukemia after being falsely imprisoned by Yavapai county in Arizona. We got Ronnie out of jail, but only in time for him to die with a pipe in his hands. While Ronnie was alive, he tasked me to keep his oil making method alive. I have done my best to ensure I keep this task entrusted to me by making his method freely available to anyone willing to learn.

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 6. A few words on the properties of Isopropyl alcohol

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5.  Cannabis products and Colorado Dispensary Reviews

*****Note, I have not updated the review page in quite some time. Some of the dispensaries I have reviewed may no longer be in business. The quality at the locations I have reviewed may have changed due to a change in ownership, grower or extraction agreements. Nearly all of my reviews are of MEDICAL locations, so please check to see if they have a retail location before using any of these reviews for a vacation guide.

6/2/2012 after a feeding

4. How to make Cannabis Cure Oil without alerting the neighbors

Screenshot 2014-03-09 20.13.36 edit

3. Hemp Seed and Hemp Seed Oil ~ a superfood, but not a cancer cure

from wiki Sesame-Oil-Rice-Bran-Oil-Hemp-Seed-Oil

2. How to Extract Cannabis Cure Oil with alcohol (Phoenix Tears)

2013-05-23 0657 indicasativa leaves collage polished

1. FAQ’s about Phoenix Tears Therapy for the Beginner 

A Heart Filled with love is like a phoenix that no cage can imprison ~Rumi

A Heart Filled with love is like a phoenix that no cage can imprison ~Rumi

Here’s to another Great Year!

Grateful Dead Throwing Stones

Check out our videos on Youtube

Do you use Kiefair.com? Do you support me giving out info on cannabis oil creation for free? Do you support my free oil program with the colorado cannabis charity known as Greenfaith Ministry? Well, you may be unaware that one little lady pays for all costs associated with KiefAir.com. The way the site stays afloat with its mini library of cannabis related reference information is through sales of art and books. Each year, I must make $300 in PROFITS from the art at my etsy store and my poetry book sales on amazon.com.

Have a look at some samples from my portfolio, all of these images may be purchased to support kiefair.com 

Please remember I only make pennies per art print I sell, so I need to sell a lot of pieces each year. I was very worried about keeping the site open for 2015. The holiday season left me with not one sale. But People pulled together, and We are all set to keep the site open through February 2016!

This is the tale of how I kept the site open this time… previous years, the money had come from my medication budget. This year was different… this happened because a long time patron gifted me $100 to bring the hosting fee bar a little lower, but he was a special case, my first patron ever who seems to still want to pay more for some ceramic figures I did when I was about 14. He always sends me some cash during the winter holidays and on my birthday. In truth this anonymous donor has been more of a father to me than my own. One of the few positive male role models i have had in mu life. The rule is to spend it on something for myself. I misbehaved this year and give the gift to you. This year I’m put it towards continuing to give the gift of information via kiefair.com . Pebbles Trippet, a prominent writer for Skunk Magazine bought a clutch of 4×6 limited edition Maya Angelou memorial prints. Other patrons got posters or 8×10 prints and we made our goal to keep the site open! My thanks to all Patrons!

Each year, I allow you, the reader/viewer to decide if kiefair.com stays alive. If I get sales, all profit (save my usual tithe if 10% of all profits) will go to saving KiefAir.com.  I hope we can do better on those sales and keep the site alive. Remember the power is yours to make it live or let the library die. Any image from my please bogart my art page is for sale except the maya portrait.

Buy here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ArtofBreezyKiefair

2014-05-29 0420 cooking oil (1)

Portrait of Toni Fox image created by: Breezy Kiefiar

Portrait of Toni Fox by: Breezy Kiefiar Toni Commissioned me to turn one of her favorite digital images of herself into a canvas painting. Toni said she was so pleased with it that she has it displayed in her home office.

RIP MAYA Angelou

Appeared in volume 10 issue 1 of Skunk Magazine Read the article here: https://kiefair.com/2014/05/28/rip-maya-angelou-honoring-her-cannabis-connections/

Screenshot 2014-03-09 20.13.36 edit

more motin art here: https://plus.google.com/photos/108039434993096331483/albums/5958522508897641073

Image title: Maiden, Mother, Crone title by: Wren Déjà Vu SmilingDeer Image by: The Art of Breezy Kiefair source image: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=555469131139767&set=a.151763424843675.27293.100000300558421&type=3&src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-prn1%2F603947_555469131139767_1142977912_n.jpg&size=251%2C750 source image description:  Title: Banshee Breezy, Be afraid Title By: Breezy Kiefair Image by: Breezy Kiefair of The Art of Breezy Kiefair

2013-01-12 0651 dark-angel edit 7 august edit

remember that cannabis flowers are like roses... roses come in many colors and the right color given to the right person can open many doors... cannabis flowers come with many different effects and the right flower given to the right person with the right illness that flower is good at treating can ease much suffering. —                                                                     https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=530336420319705&set=o.154533251224064&type=3&src=https%3A%2F%2Ffbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net%2Fhphotos-ak-prn1%2F525999_530336420319705_1779578205_n.jpg&size=480%2C384

2013-04-02 tokin hills for rev b2013-04-02 Fire on the mountain in a Canna Colorado moonrise2013-04-02 caturday in the woods think i saw a lynx with my eye2013-04-02  Blue moon for a green moment

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Of Pain, Poetry and Pot [Kindle Edition]

Breedheen O’Rilley , Breezy Kiefair


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Book Description

December 6, 2013
A poetry book centered on pot written by cannabis activist and artist under the influence, Breezy Kiefair. “Of Pain, poetry, and pot.” Is a collection of cannabis centered poetry in a neobeatnik style. It includes updated versions of Allen Allen Ginsberg – Howls “howl” and “america”, along with an update on “to whom it may concern” by Adrian Mitchell , a cannabis parody of Rifleman’s Creed and many other poems that are all my own.


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  • File Size: 1518 KB
  • Print Length: 31 pages
  • Publisher: Breedheen ORilley, aka Breezy Kiefair; 1 edition (December 6, 2013)
  • Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
  • Language: English
  • ASIN: B00FGF8WUY
  • Text-to-Speech: Enabled
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  • Lending: Enabled
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6 Reviews
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4 of 4 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Rare and Lovely, October 2, 2013
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This review is from: Of Pain, Poetry and Pot (Kindle Edition)
Would You Like To Pick Breezy’s Brain? This wonderful book is a chance to witness the creative process at work; author Breezy Kiefair (aka Breedheen O’Rilley) is the real deal, a gifted poet/journalist/activist on the forefront of the battle for medical marijuana patients’ rights and for truth in media. And speaking of truth, emotional truth is exactly what you’ll get here. Breezy isn’t afraid to take an open-eyed, unsparing look at society, at herself, at her illnesses, at the lies we tell ourselves and each other — and at the scintillating, breathtaking beauty which is more real and more powerful than all else. Highly recommended.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Beautiful., January 14, 2014
This review is from: Of Pain, Poetry and Pot (Kindle Edition)
Written by someone very intimate with pain on many different levels. Beautiful and honest. I can’t wait to find out more about this amazing young woman. I originally borrowed this book. I have now read it twice and I have to own it. It must become a part of my permanent collection, along with anything else I can find which flows from this beautiful author.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Passion and creativity fills these pages, December 27, 2013
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This review is from: Of Pain, Poetry and Pot (Kindle Edition)
The poems and rhythm that comes from the author’s feelings show you that she uses her medical cannabis passion and even frustrations to put her concerns into words we can understand. You can feel her pain – you can feel her pride. The transposed songs were a great touch.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Talented, insightful artist and writer,November 25, 2013
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This multi-talented artist and writer amazed me with her insightful and sometimes heartbreaking poetry. Her artwork is not only beautiful, but different from any I have seen. I have actually ordered several individual prints off her website to give as gifts this Christmas. I highly recommend this book.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Fabulous, February 8, 2014
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This review is from: Of Pain, Poetry and Pot (Kindle Edition)
As an activist,a woman and a HUMAN BEING,, I could feel the pain in Ms. O’Rilley’s poetry. Yet I could also feel the triumph. A must for all “pot’ lovers, I got it for 2.99 for my Kindle and it was MORE than worth it. I’ve read these poems over and over, you will too.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Of Pain, Poetry and Pot, March 13, 2014
This review is from: Of Pain, Poetry and Pot (Kindle Edition)
This is an excellent book written by a very gifted, unique woman Breezy Keifair. I loved the whole book and have read it a couple of times so far. She is an artist that does her work under the influence of pot for the pain she is in and you can feel that pain with her words. I could really relate to that and a lot of other things in the book. I highly recommend this book. She is also a very gifted artist besides being a good poet and writer.
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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)

House of Mirrors

From the El Paso County Jail. There may be glitches while i learn WordPress. http://hipgnosis21.blogspot.com/2014/07/of-mirrors-june-2014-el-paso-county.html

WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2014

House of Mirrors

House of Mirrors

26 June 2014

El Paso County Jail

Don’t freak out now, anyone. I’m still out of jail, pending appeal, as of today, 23 July 2014.

Sorry, no footnotes in the blogger. You can get them here
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1umk-RPyxoiQTPSS84Cp4sR80UAXFzsVRpuiRBVzrdNA/edit?usp=sharing

Pogo couldn’t have known the heft and resonance of his words: “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

I wrote a screed a while back, (Today’s Tom Sawyer), excoriating shitty Christian behavior. There’s still plenty to say about all that, and maybe some of it will come out here, but it’s not the point of this one. During that earlier rant, i promised to harp, eventually, about bad behavior on the part of pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, and some of my other natural affinity groups as well.

That isn’t it either. Or maybe it is. But not really. Not quite. I promised to write about the Fear, too, and nor is it that, though the Fear runs through it all. This is about a war.

Many members of of various of the groups on that funny little list i jotted just now recognize and will now openly state that there’s a war looming. They’re wrong about that much anyhow–the looming is all done and the fight is on. Right now. It’s been on for decades, (or maybe forever). I’m here “jotting” because that’s what one does in the county jail, where i am a political prisoner–a POW, really, though i prefer to think of myself as a prisoner of conscience–but maybe it’s a digression to say so. Or maybe not. Let’s explore this amalgam of notions a bit, and see if we can find out.

Here at the county jail one finds a  peculiarly refined microcosm of the way the dynamics of the variously conflicting groups involved in this bizarre  war interact, cleared of much of the dross of false civility that ordinarily circumvents the fight out on the sidewalk, at least here in the U.S.A.

I know Europeans here that want to skedaddle from this place and others afraid to come here because many of them can see the shitstorm brewing and it scares them. They often seem to see it more clearly than we Americans are able to do at least in part because our access to real news is barely over nil, of maybe because as outside observers they aren’t saddled with the cognitive dissonance we sorry brainwashed frogs that live in this hot-ass boiling lake must so often suffer. I don’t know. I hope they realize this pond holds us all.

Oddly enough, while the interactions at the county jail display some of the finer points of conflict in out absurdly labeled free society, they also show some reasons for hope. There are still lights burning.

“Fuck the Police!”

I don’t know how many times i’ve heard that phrase from some of my dearest friends. I’ve uttered them myself. Often. Sometimes at the top of my lungs. Sometimes it was far more personal: “Fuck you! That’s right, you, personally, whomever you may be in your opposition to me, my pursuits, my people. Maybe i should refer to the less common; “Fuck the Pigs,’ because the police are only a fractional representation of one segment, one camp of that particular overarching social entity the hippies were talking about when they began to disparage swine so badly as to label their opposition thusly in this odd existential war from whence the flesh and blood scrap derives.

“Battle lines are being drawn,” went the line from the Buffalo Springfield some fifty-ish years back. They’re pretty well drawn, now, though they resemble lines a three-year-old might scribble. The shit’s on. People are fighting. The skirmishes often feel like some kind of kids’ game though too, involving blindfolds and billyclubs. Maybe i can’t deny swinging a stick around myself, sometimes. Maybe that’swhat this is–a chance for me to look in the mirror a little, Maybe it’s because it’s hard to sit the game out when i keep getting hit in the head. Whatever. Let’s keep on through the maze and just hope we don’t smash too many mirrors.

During the Occupation we intrepids staged a few years back, (and some of us still engage–viva la revolución and all), my son and i traveled to Denver for the final push when the cops razed the encampment there. The scene that October of 2011 there in Denver was some shit this country hadn’t seen in over forty years maybe, where armored brigades of soldiers–not cops at all but stormtroopers–rolled on a huge, disparate group of unarmed citizens. It was tragic. And beautiful. Versions of the same scene played out all around the world that fall.

There at Civic Center Park, across the avenue from the State Capitol building, the Boy and i stood in the thick of it as those battle lines sharpened, and then blew apart as the whole outhouse hit the fan.

Some thousands of us had marched boisterously through Denver’s business district, pausing for a special visit at the Federal Reserve. After completing a wide loop around downtown we mounted the Capitol steps for whatever confrontation the Denver planners had planned. They, (to claim a thing–we), had been warned explicitly beforehand to stay off that particular edifice, so the moment we took the steps and began railing through one of our ubiquitous bullhorns, the shock teams appeared, as if the bearded-Spock Enterprise had beamed them to the scene.

Honestly, i was pretty fucking nervous at that point. It’s not as though i’d never been beaten up by the cops before, but that stuff is kind of a young man’s sport, and i was never really all that much a fan anyhow. Besides, those had always been cops, not armored sci-fi gladiators. But the main thing was the Boy. He was fifteen then and down for plenty, but he looked pretty worried too, and, (the mainthing, actually), i knew i’d never live through my next conversation with his mother if i allowed him to be beaten and busted by the police. I suggested we pull back to the park and we did, but i felt pretty spineless for having done it, really.

The Boy and i had a quick consult: “You see what this is going to be, right?” “Yeah.” “Are you down, or not?” Nervous but firm, “Yeah.” “Fuck it then…God damn it; your mom is gonna kill me. Let’s get some lunch.”

The park itself  was packed with crowds of Occupiers, some having returned with us from the march and probably harboring thoughts similar to mine. The encampment had been there for a good while by then, and the Black Flag Anarchists’ Free Kitchen was in full flight. It had already been dismantled more than once as a special preparatory project for the cops–kind of a warm-up. Knowing well what was coming, the no-nonsense scrappy men’n’women in black behind the table were all assholes with elbows, flying around in a frenzy with grim serious joy in their eyes as they did their level best to sling as much great tasting free food as possible before the inevitable hammer fell. Those guys were freaking awesome sauce with motherfuckin’ cherries on top!

Rather than spark an actual and possibly justifiable war on the Capitol steps, even the most radical and adrenaline-blinded of the group holding that position chose to retreat and quickly joined us at the park. The scene was oddly festive, with tents and art projects and folks dressed for carnival. The mid-autumn day was one of those beautiful Colorado Indian summer affairs with pristine blue skies through which flitted happy and blissfully oblivious birdies merrily on the lookout for delectable kitchen scraps. But wait! What the hey!!? The second the steps were abandoned and that contingent joined those meeker souls at the park, the rest of the cops in the danged known universe materialized in a huff and began setting up for some sort of paramilitary invasion. No shit–we all saw pretty quickly what the Denver PD had in mind for all those fun military vehicles and equipment they’d been collecting.

The scene changed dramatically there on the sidewalk where the Anarchists’ Kitchen was set up. There was plenty of action before then, but the top-gun radicals had been at the Capitol along with most of the cops. Now a phalanx quickly formed four deep with armored, shielded, armed, dangerous, implacable, and apparently stoically unflappable police stretching all around, up and down–all over the fucking place. Where the Boy and i stood a few sidewalk squares south of the Kitchen the scene was still like a carnival spreading away and outward into the park in every direction save the east, buy more like something Ray Bradbury or John Clifford might have dreamt up. Moving east to west one would have passed through four rows of cops in a formation that i’d only seen before in movies about Fascist  takeovers where American patriots saved the day by vanquishing some identically clad and positioned foe as we occupiers faced that day, armored only with our damn-the-torpedoes ethical certitude. Stepping by the entrenched police if one were to dare it, one would have passed a modest tree lawn, an ordinary sidewalk crowded with dark festival-goers, and could then step up to the folding table that served as the Anarchists’ ordering counter and serving table set up facing east from the immediate western line of the sidewalk across from the antiMayberry lines facing the stubbornly unaltered scene in the Kitchen.

The cops just stood there for what seems to memory like hours, but it couldn’t have been all afternoon or anything. Maybe so. The Boy and i milled around a bit getting a look at the overall scene and scoping out the various sections of the park. Behind the Kitchen to the west were the bulk of the tents, say a hundred or more, though others were scattered about. Further  west a concrete round with maybe a fountain or something hosted a bunch of info tables, some artsy hippies working on various projects, a triage setup, some chanting Hare Krishnas. More cops surrounded the camp, even more moved to close off the farthest reaches of the west side, We all saw we were utterly circumscribed and our physical position was hopeless. There was plenty of Hope, mind you, but all of it founded on our spiritual position, see.

As we awaited  what everyone knew to be inexorable, not so many of us remained quiet, (by “us” i mean Occupiers here; the most visible government employees were silent). I did mostly, and so did the Boy, he for his reasons and i for mine. The whole scene produced its own racket, but the most noticeable volume arose from the collection of spirit-moved Occupiers working the lines of eerily insensate gendarmes. Each was moved by his or her own personal spirit, few of which were very friendly toward the collective juggernaut we faced. More than one strode frenetically up and down whichever line was convenient  hurling f-bombs and spittle with as much force as he could muster. You know: “Fuck the Police!!!” and,“Fuck Yoooou!!!” from distances as close as the collected officers’ gear would allow. The pointillistic rows of cops, each in his own world, stared into space, eyes forward and directed at some Unknown, refusing eye contact. Only God and each man in his solitude knew what blackness filled his vision, (and possibly anyone operating one of those guv’mint mind-reading gizmos, if you’re into that sort of thinking).

Sensibly, few of the “non-violent” protesters were mad–that is crazy–enough to attempt to get physical. Those that did were promptly stomped, smashed and removed from the game. Otherwise with many pushing the envelope right to its most extreme limit, the arms-down-and-rigid-face forward-inches-from-any-nearest-random-cop’s-shielded-face stance of extreme and barely checked agitation rapidly became familiar. I for one was amazed at the extraordinary and rather creepy restraint the beleaguered police were displaying, though few shield-screened eyes could keep from betraying internal turmoil. Virtually none of the cops would assent to eye contact.

As this scene played itself out, a few Occupiers attempted to convince their fellows to mellow. In the midst of the very front and most electrical line of all this, there in front of the aforementioned Kitchen, one lone Occupier was working the line of gear-laden men, moved by a different spirit indeed. He was preaching it, baby. Pleading. Begging. Beseeching. As near to tears as i am now as this scene spills its way from my fingertips, fluid in his expressive motion to and fro as any practiced Sunday morning crowd-pleaser can i get a amen. “Don’t you see it? You are us! We are you! Please, stop this! We are one–we must stop fighting!” And in some brilliant, divinely inspired voice, “Lay down your shields! Join us! Put down your clubs and have some lunch!”

And then …right there in front of the Boy and me…with the scene in the actual Kitchen production area behind the table unchanged from before the lines formed…one of them did exactly that.

There was actually a fat queue at the Kitchen counter that parted like the Red Sea, astonished, for this newborn brother of ours to step up and claim his serving. He ate his food in silence and retook his spot in that other line which remained unaltered as his fellows stood unmoved, apparently in both senses. The Boy and i collected our portion of genuinely bomb-ass risotto and began to  eat with more on our minds than i can possibly describe. Before we were half through our plates the order came and we found ourselves dining amidst a police riot, our rice flavored by tear gas. (I got off the hook before, when the story remained vague. I suppose his mom is going to kill me now, after all).

The rest of the action went down as one would expect, with ample blood, outrage, and pepper-bullet injury and indignity and tears and drama. It was all on the news, with much expansion available on YouTube. You can look it up. None of that is the point.

I heard that one cop was fired perfunctorily that night.

We were there. Right fucking there. It really happened. It was so surreal i almost have to ask the Boy if it actually wasn’t some kind of dream.

Those two guys, though. That cop! When we all do what he did, just maybe then the war will be over. He looked up  and noticed he was looking in the fucking mirror.

The thing about all this is that the crowd of Occupiers was a full-on quorum of average joes with representation across several spectra. There were Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, Democrats, hippies, neo-hippies, and chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas, The cops were disguised as an invading foreign force but we all know they were really just a bunch of Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, and Democrats. The only groups lacking representation really were the hippies and the chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas that stayed with the rest of us till late into the night serving free food as a replacement for the Anarchists who had been quite the hell shut down. Oh yeah–there likely weren’t too many Anarchists on the cops’ side of the lines. I’m pretty sure  those differences are significant. Maybe the cops would be better if they got some of those groups they were missing. The janglier the better.

Back here at the county jail where i’m still Occupying, there’s lots of conflict, though not nearly so boiling hot. The old standby, “Fuck the Police,” is scrawled or carved around and about and plenty of folks on either side of whatever line each has drawn are fully prepared to swing  clubs at one another. Many of the sheriff’s deputies and sad, paycheck-to paycheck “detention specialists” are happy to evoke a very dark spirit indeed in their efforts to control us inmates who represent Other to them. I have been struck by the observation that these obnoxious fucks are the respected  representatives of a society that so many of our deluded citizenry expect us of the criminal class to emulate.

Ha! I may be an asshole myself, but no thanks: I have no interest in joining your obnoxious and shitty club.

Meanwhile, virtually all of us prisoners, including myself sometimes, react…”Grumble grumble fuck the police why i oughtta etc. etc. ad nauseum” Various of us slink around and steal or fight among ourselves or in general practice a sort of blindfolded subservience to Self. (Marco! Polo!…Ouch! Motherfucker!!!). We’re fucking obnoxious. We want the cops and the guards and judges and bankers and presidents to act differently but…why would they want to join our obnoxious and shitty club? When they do we wind up with a spectacular clusterfuck like the found at the Denver county jail last month, where a dep was helping a banger sling dope and administer beat-downs. Happens all the time. In every kaleidoscopic variation you can imagine.

Pogo couldn’t have known the heft and resonance of his words: “ We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

I wrote a screed a while back, (Today’s Tom Sawyer), excoriating shitty Christian behavior. There’s still plenty to say about all that, and maybe some of it will come out here, but it’s not the point of this one. During that earlier rant, i promised to harp, eventually, about bad behavior on the part of pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, and some of my other natural affinity groups as well.

That isn’t it either. Or maybe it is. But not really. Not quite. I promised to write about the Fear, too, and nor is it that, though the Fear runs through it all. This is about a war.

Many members of of various of the groups on that funny little list i jotted just now recognize and will now openly state that there’s a war looming. They’re wrong about that much anyhow–the looming is all done and the fight is on. Right now. It’s been on for decades, (or maybe forever). I’m here “jotting” because that’s what one does in the county jail, where i am a political prisoner–a POW, really, though i prefer to think of myself as a prisoner of conscience–but maybe it’s a digression to say so. Or maybe not. Let’s explore this amalgam of notions a bit, and see if we can find out.

Here at the county jail one finds a  peculiarly refined microcosm of the way the dynamics of the variously conflicting groups involved in this bizarre  war interact, cleared of much of the dross of false civility that ordinarily circumvents the fight out on the sidewalk, at least here in the U.S.A.

I know Europeans here that want to skedaddle from this place and others afraid to come here because many of them can see the shitstorm brewing and it scares them. They often seem to see it more clearly than we Americans are able to do at least in part because our access to real news is barely over nil, of maybe because as outside observers they aren’t saddled with the cognitive dissonance we sorry brainwashed frogs that live in this hot-ass boiling lake must so often suffer. I don’t know. I hope they realize this pond holds us all.

Oddly enough, while the interactions at the county jail display some of the finer points of conflict in out absurdly labeled free society, they also show some reasons for hope. There are still lights burning.

“Fuck the Police!”

I don’t know how many times i’ve heard that phrase from some of my dearest friends. I’ve uttered them myself. Often. Sometimes at the top of my lungs. Sometimes it was far more personal: “Fuck you! That’s right, you, personally, whomever you may be in your opposition to me, my pursuits, my people. Maybe i should refer to the less common; “Fuck the Pigs,’ because the police are only a fractional representation of one segment, one camp of that particular overarching social entity the hippies were talking about when they began to disparage swine so badly as to label their opposition thusly in this odd existential war from whence the flesh and blood scrap derives.

“Battle lines are being drawn,” went the line from the Buffalo Springfield some fifty-ish years back. They’re pretty well drawn, now, though they resemble lines a three-year-old might scribble. The shit’s on. People are fighting. The skirmishes often feel like some kind of kids’ game though too, involving blindfolds and billyclubs. Maybe i can’t deny swinging a stick around myself, sometimes. Maybe that’swhat this is–a chance for me to look in the mirror a little, Maybe it’s because it’s hard to sit the game out when i keep getting hit in the head. Whatever. Let’s keep on through the maze and just hope we don’t smash too many mirrors.

During the Occupation we intrepids staged a few years back, (and some of us still engage–viva la revolución and all), my son and i traveled to Denver for the final push when the cops razed the encampment there. The scene that October of 2011 there in Denver was some shit this country hadn’t seen in over forty years maybe, where armored brigades of soldiers–not cops at all but stormtroopers–rolled on a huge, disparate group of unarmed citizens. It was tragic. And beautiful. Versions of the same scene played out all around the world that fall.

There at Civic Center Park, across the avenue from the State Capitol building, the Boy and i stood in the thick of it as those battle lines sharpened, and then blew apart as the whole outhouse hit the fan.

Some thousands of us had marched boisterously through Denver’s business district, pausing for a special visit at the Federal Reserve. After completing a wide loop around downtown we mounted the Capitol steps for whatever confrontation the Denver planners had planned. They, (to claim a thing–we), had been warned explicitly beforehand to stay off that particular edifice, so the moment we took the steps and began railing through one of our ubiquitous bullhorns, the shock teams appeared, as if the bearded-Spock Enterprise had beamed them to the scene.

Honestly, i was pretty fucking nervous at that point. It’s not as though i’d never been beaten up by the cops before, but that stuff is kind of a young man’s sport, and i was never really all that much a fan anyhow. Besides, those had always been cops, not armored sci-fi gladiators. But the main thing was the Boy. He was fifteen then and down for plenty, but he looked pretty worried too, and, (the mainthing, actually), i knew i’d never live through my next conversation with his mother if i allowed him to be beaten and busted by the police. I suggested we pull back to the park and we did, but i felt pretty spineless for having done it, really.

The Boy and i had a quick consult: “You see what this is going to be, right?” “Yeah.” “Are you down, or not?” Nervous but firm, “Yeah.” “Fuck it then…God damn it; your mom is gonna kill me. Let’s get some lunch.”

The park itself  was packed with crowds of Occupiers, some having returned with us from the march and probably harboring thoughts similar to mine. The encampment had been there for a good while by then, and the Black Flag Anarchists’ Free Kitchen was in full flight. It had already been dismantled more than once as a special preparatory project for the cops–kind of a warm-up. Knowing well what was coming, the no-nonsense scrappy men’n’women in black behind the table were all assholes with elbows, flying around in a frenzy with grim serious joy in their eyes as they did their level best to sling as much great tasting free food as possible before the inevitable hammer fell. Those guys were freaking awesome sauce with motherfuckin’ cherries on top!

Rather than spark an actual and possibly justifiable war on the Capitol steps, even the most radical and adrenaline-blinded of the group holding that position chose to retreat and quickly joined us at the park. The scene was oddly festive, with tents and art projects and folks dressed for carnival. The mid-autumn day was one of those beautiful Colorado Indian summer affairs with pristine blue skies through which flitted happy and blissfully oblivious birdies merrily on the lookout for delectable kitchen scraps. But wait! What the hey!!? The second the steps were abandoned and that contingent joined those meeker souls at the park, the rest of the cops in the danged known universe materialized in a huff and began setting up for some sort of paramilitary invasion. No shit–we all saw pretty quickly what the Denver PD had in mind for all those fun military vehicles and equipment they’d been collecting.

The scene changed dramatically there on the sidewalk where the Anarchists’ Kitchen was set up. There was plenty of action before then, but the top-gun radicals had been at the Capitol along with most of the cops. Now a phalanx quickly formed four deep with armored, shielded, armed, dangerous, implacable, and apparently stoically unflappable police stretching all around, up and down–all over the fucking place. Where the Boy and i stood a few sidewalk squares south of the Kitchen the scene was still like a carnival spreading away and outward into the park in every direction save the east, buy more like something Ray Bradbury or John Clifford might have dreamt up. Moving east to west one would have passed through four rows of cops in a formation that i’d only seen before in movies about Fascist  takeovers where American patriots saved the day by vanquishing some identically clad and positioned foe as we occupiers faced that day, armored only with our damn-the-torpedoes ethical certitude. Stepping by the entrenched police if one were to dare it, one would have passed a modest tree lawn, an ordinary sidewalk crowded with dark festival-goers, and could then step up to the folding table that served as the Anarchists’ ordering counter and serving table set up facing east from the immediate western line of the sidewalk across from the antiMayberry lines facing the stubbornly unaltered scene in the Kitchen.

The cops just stood there for what seems to memory like hours, but it couldn’t have been all afternoon or anything. Maybe so. The Boy and i milled around a bit getting a look at the overall scene and scoping out the various sections of the park. Behind the Kitchen to the west were the bulk of the tents, say a hundred or more, though others were scattered about. Further  west a concrete round with maybe a fountain or something hosted a bunch of info tables, some artsy hippies working on various projects, a triage setup, some chanting Hare Krishnas. More cops surrounded the camp, even more moved to close off the farthest reaches of the west side, We all saw we were utterly circumscribed and our physical position was hopeless. There was plenty of Hope, mind you, but all of it founded on our spiritual position, see.

As we awaited  what everyone knew to be inexorable, not so many of us remained quiet, (by “us” i mean Occupiers here; the most visible government employees were silent). I did mostly, and so did the Boy, he for his reasons and i for mine. The whole scene produced its own racket, but the most noticeable volume arose from the collection of spirit-moved Occupiers working the lines of eerily insensate gendarmes. Each was moved by his or her own personal spirit, few of which were very friendly toward the collective juggernaut we faced. More than one strode frenetically up and down whichever line was convenient  hurling f-bombs and spittle with as much force as he could muster. You know: “Fuck the Police!!!” and,“Fuck Yoooou!!!” from distances as close as the collected officers’ gear would allow. The pointillistic rows of cops, each in his own world, stared into space, eyes forward and directed at some Unknown, refusing eye contact. Only God and each man in his solitude knew what blackness filled his vision, (and possibly anyone operating one of those guv’mint mind-reading gizmos, if you’re into that sort of thinking).

Sensibly, few of the “non-violent” protesters were mad–that is crazy–enough to attempt to get physical. Those that did were promptly stomped, smashed and removed from the game. Otherwise with many pushing the envelope right to its most extreme limit, the arms-down-and-rigid-face forward-inches-from-any-nearest-random-cop’s-shielded-face stance of extreme and barely checked agitation rapidly became familiar. I for one was amazed at the extraordinary and rather creepy restraint the beleaguered police were displaying, though few shield-screened eyes could keep from betraying internal turmoil. Virtually none of the cops would assent to eye contact.

As this scene played itself out, a few Occupiers attempted to convince their fellows to mellow. In the midst of the very front and most electrical line of all this, there in front of the aforementioned Kitchen, one lone Occupier was working the line of gear-laden men, moved by a different spirit indeed. He was preaching it, baby. Pleading. Begging. Beseeching. As near to tears as i am now as this scene spills its way from my fingertips, fluid in his expressive motion to and fro as any practiced Sunday morning crowd-pleaser can i get a amen. “Don’t you see it? You are us! We are you! Please, stop this! We are one–we must stop fighting!” And in some brilliant, divinely inspired voice, “Lay down your shields! Join us! Put down your clubs and have some lunch!”

And then …right there in front of the Boy and me…with the scene in the actual Kitchen production area behind the table unchanged from before the lines formed…one of them did exactly that.

There was actually a fat queue at the Kitchen counter that parted like the Red Sea, astonished, for this newborn brother of ours to step up and claim his serving. He ate his food in silence and retook his spot in that other line which remained unaltered as his fellows stood unmoved, apparently in both senses. The Boy and i collected our portion of genuinely bomb-ass risotto and began to  eat with more on our minds than i can possibly describe. Before we were half through our plates the order came and we found ourselves dining amidst a police riot, our rice flavored by tear gas. (I got off the hook before, when the story remained vague. I suppose his mom is going to kill me now, after all).

The rest of the action went down as one would expect, with ample blood, outrage, and pepper-bullet injury and indignity and tears and drama. It was all on the news, with much expansion available on YouTube. You can look it up. None of that is the point.

I heard that one cop was fired perfunctorily that night.

We were there. Right fucking there. It really happened. It was so surreal i almost have to ask the Boy if it actually wasn’t some kind of dream.

Those two guys, though. That cop! When we all do what he did, just maybe then the war will be over. He looked up  and noticed he was looking in the fucking mirror.

The thing about all this is that the crowd of Occupiers was a full-on quorum of average joes with representation across several spectra. There were Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, Democrats, hippies, neo-hippies, and chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas, The cops were disguised as an invading foreign force but we all know they were really just a bunch of Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, and Democrats. The only groups lacking representation really were the hippies and the chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas that stayed with the rest of us till late into the night serving free food as a replacement for the Anarchists who had been quite the hell shut down. Oh yeah–there likely weren’t too many Anarchists on the cops’ side of the lines. I’m pretty sure  those differences are significant. Maybe the cops would be better if they got some of those groups they were missing. The janglier the better.

Back here at the county jail where i’m still Occupying, there’s lots of conflict, though not nearly so boiling hot. The old standby, “Fuck the Police,” is scrawled or carved around and about and plenty of folks on either side of whatever line each has drawn are fully prepared to swing  clubs at one another. Many of the sheriff’s deputies and sad, paycheck-to paycheck “detention specialists” are happy to evoke a very dark spirit indeed in their efforts to control us inmates who represent Other to them. I have been struck by the observation that these obnoxious fucks are the respected  representatives of a society that so many of our deluded citizenry expect us of the criminal class to emulate.

Ha! I may be an asshole myself, but no thanks: I have no interest in joining your obnoxious and shitty club.

Meanwhile, virtually all of us prisoners, including myself sometimes, react…”Grumble grumble fuck the police why i oughtta etc. etc. ad nauseum” Various of us slink around and steal or fight among ourselves or in general practice a sort of blindfolded subservience to Self. (Marco! Polo!…Ouch! Motherfucker!!!). We’re fucking obnoxious. We want the cops and the guards and judges and bankers and presidents to act differently but…why would they want to join our obnoxious and shitty club? When they do we wind up with a spectacular clusterfuck like the found at the Denver county jail last month, where a dep was helping a banger sling dope and administer beat-downs. Happens all the time. In every kaleidoscopic variation you can imagine.

Sorry, reader; a glitch is preventing the end of this from displaying just now. I’ll fix it, but meanwhile, this link is better for the footnotes anyway. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1umk-RPyxoiQTPSS84Cp4sR80UAXFzsVRpuiRBVzrdNA/edit?usp=sharing

Although those of you that have read or will now read the other stuff here on hipgnosis will easily recognize the common ground that one may imagine stands to be found on the lawns inside the moats of our adjacent castles in a neighborhood full of loons, all built on air, i am deeply indebted to Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason for some of the truly fine and beautiful language i snatched more or less wholesale to help me build the last four paragraphs here. Even though their book,The Rule of Four is a best-seller of a popular genre, i highly recommend it as the best book i’ve read produced during the twenty-first century. I wish i had written it myself, (while noting the title of this piece). Everyone should read this book.

POSTED BY STEVE BASS AT 9:45 PM

Homeless Colorado Springs man emboldened by Occupy effort appeals jail time

from the Colorado Springs Gazette

http://gazette.com/article/1534440

By Jakob Rodgers Updated: July 28, 2014 at 2:07 pm

Nearly three years ago, Steven Bass’ tent led to a police ticket – a ticket that led to a trial, an appeal denied and 160-day sentence in El Paso County jail.

Bass, the first person cited under Colorado Springs’ camping ban, remains mired in a legal battle backed by a University of Denver assistant professor working for free.

He represents a small segment of the homeless issue – a man on a personal crusade against the camping ban emboldened by the Occupy Colorado Springs movement. His case is not emblematic of others who have been cited for camping on public property; rather, it is more of an outlier.

While people ticketed for camping typically include the chronically homeless – people whose only home is a tent, and who often rebuff police officers’ offers of secure housing – Bass wants to make a point.

Right now, he is free while appealing the jail time. Bass lives with a fellow veteran of the Occupy movement and blogs occasionally on what he sees as injustices in the world.

“I contend now that this thing has burgeoned well beyond the camping ban itself, and has now become a giant discussion of principle, and just what the hell we’re doing here in the United States of America, and the whole world,” Bass said.

Police issued the ticket in October 2011 when he pitched a tent on a sidewalk in Acacia Park, despite warnings from police that doing so would lead to a citation.

For Bass, the ticket and the Occupy gathering proved an opportune time for a stand against the city’s camping ban – an ordinance passed by the City Council in 2010 that outlawed camping on public land. He said he has volunteered at soup kitchens and for other homeless services for about 30 years, and he lives homeless – usually by couch surfing.

“Just because they don’t have any money, poof, they are made criminals,” Bass said of people affected by the ban.

Eleven tickets have been issued under the ban through June 5, with the majority coming in 2014, according to the Colorado Springs Police Department.

The ban came as camps swelled along Monument and Fountain creeks amid the Great Recession in 2009 and early 2010. So many people lived there that bystanders dropped off donated food and clothing along the creek beds – philanthropy that proved overwhelming to the point of concern, some homeless advocates say. Sanitation issues also arose.

City Council member Jan Martin said she voted for the ordinance for the safety of people using creekside trails, along with concerns about the image that such tent cities would create for the city, she said Friday. Proponents of the ban said it is a tool to get people into more stable housing.

“In my opinion, it’s not a matter of out of sight, out of mind,” Martin said. “It’s just trying to find resources that can help people get back on their feet.”

Because of Bass’ indigent status, a judge decided against a fine in favor of a 60-hour community service sentence for the citation.

Bass said he almost did it – he planned on helping Pikes Peak Habitat for Humanity – until a DU professor offered to help. With the pro bono advice of Christopher Lasch, who teaches at the university’s Criminal Defense Clinic, Bass appealed the case.

A district court judge upheld the municipal court’s decision – a blow to the notion that the ban is unjust.

A subsequent appeal to the Colorado Supreme Court was denied in March, said Rob McCallum, spokesman for the Colorado Judicial Branch.

Through it all, Bass contemplated his 60-hour of community service sentence. And in an April hearing before Municipal Judge Spottswood W. H. Williams, Bass said he will never complete the requirement.

Identifying himself as an Occupier, Bass wrote to Williams that the camping ordinance is “effectively status-based incarceration,” because forcing people into shelters could be another form of incarceration. He also said he already does community service but railed against the court forcing him to do so.

“Therefore, i (sic) am here in front of you forcing your hand,” he wrote. “You must now either acknowledge the ethical poverty of the ordinance, or prove my point.”

In June, Williams answered Bass’ statement with a 160-day jail sentence for contempt of court.

Bass is appealing that sentence with Lasch’s help after having served more than a month in El Paso County jail.

Lasch said the jail sentence was excessive because jail time for failing to pay a fine is usually half of what Bass has served.

Even if he serves all 160 days, Bass has no plans of completing the 60-hour community service order – a requirement that remains.

Lasch wants all of it thrown out.

“The fact that the government would go to such lengths to punish this activity certainly supports Steve’s position that this (ban) effectively punishes being homeless,” Lasch said.

“In this case, it certainly punished him for speaking out against the ban.”

Contact Jakob Rodgers: 476-1654

Twitter @JakobRodgers

Facebook: Jakob.Rodgers

Read more at http://gazette.com/homeless-colorado-springs-man-emboldened-by-occupy-effort-appeals-jail-time/article/1534440#TIqUcdEm4KE8udlJ.99

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