THE SWORD IS A DAGGER FROM 1034, repeat!
http://www.archive.org/details/WWII_News_19450506_Drew_Pearson
http://www.oldwireroadchurch.com/matthew-1034-37.php
...Possibly the most surprising of all His warnings is that He did not come to bring peace but a sword.
Obviously, Jesus did come to bring peace between God and man, but what He did not bring was peace among men.
The Greek word for “sword†is a short sword or dagger that was commonly used to sacrifice animals.
This indicates that the “sword†was the sword of persecution as Christians were sacrificed for the cause of Christ.
Even more surprising is that
this sword will come from a person’s own household.
This is further proof that Satan is the force behind the strong negative reactions to the gospel.
What else in this world would create this type of division within one’s own family?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo
Apollo has been variously recognized as a god of light and the sun,
truth and prophecy, medicine, healing, plague, music, poetry, arts and more.
Apollo is the son of
Zeus and
Leto...
http://www.poetrycritical.net/~R_Reid_Welch/
http://www.poetrycritical.net/~netskyIam/
http://www.bikeforums.net/showthread.php/733193-the-life-of-a-bicycle-lamp
Reviewer: Logical -
- August 24, 2007
Subject: Appreciated here
What serendipity: you present here a broadcast that aired on the very day that my paternal grandfather died (May 6th, 1945).
Coincidence: PB Welch was born the same year as ******, died suddenly one week after ******.
Coincidence: Pearson was my paternal grandmother's first cousin.
That makes him my first cousin twice removed.
I've never heard a Pearson broadcast before, so this is a treat. But it touches me to know that
he's speaking at the same time that my grandfather
had just died.
Their elder son of two sons, my uncle Paul, was in Europe at that moment. Letters did not get to Paul jr.
As late as the first week of July, '45, Paul wrote to his folks back home, "Mom, Dad, I'm coming home in August! I can hardly wait. It'll be so great to see you all again."
(He didn't know his dad was dead)
FIFTY NINE YEARS later, a call came to me from the current owners of that home that PB built,
"Reid, we had workmen here last month. They removed a faulty plaster section in the master bathroom. Something fell to the floor from the attic crawl space above."
Paul Welch Jr. had returned home from France in August.
He lived at home for year or so, taking care of his widowed mother (Pearson's cousin). Paul came home with the usual war booty souvenirs: a Lugar pistol, maps, etc.
How that Nazi SS knife ended on the floor of the bathroom, almost fifty nine years after Paul had hidden it? Why did Paul bury the dagger into the vermiculite up there?
I can guess, because I knew my grandmother's personality. She'd had enough horror. I just bet that Fern saw that dagger and demanded to son Paul,
"NOT in my house. No, you get rid of that dreadful thing right now."
And I posit that Paul put the dagger into that hiding place then and there,and forgot about it.
Paul died about the year 2000.
On May 6th, 2004, Beryl Fournier rang my home phone:
"...Reid, we think you should have it to give to your Uncle Paul."
"He's dead now."
"Well, then it should be with you. Can you come over?"
I visited my boyhood home again for the first time in decades. I came home with this thing I'll show you in the next form.
And so I close this posting, it was no review.
But, instead, another incredible confluence of dates, chance, history, kindness and rememberance
of the dead, of those (Pearson, our country's men, women, the people of the world who died in the struggle, the Allied nation's sacrifices;
for me, it all boils down to kinship with a symbolic knife that somehow has come to my possession,
I know not why, I am not at all spiritual.
I accept wonderful confluences of chance for what they are: rare mediums reinforcing a message.
The knife Fern Wolfe Welch would not have in her home:
http://img256.imageshack.us/img256/9244/screenshot214lk3.jpg
Julian Kreeger? I presume that your doctor associate will be examining these past postings of mine.
They were put here for just that reason.
Doctor X, I have no thoughts of "supremacy", nor do I feel "special",
nor do I hear voices, nor do I feel persecuted without cause.
Sir, fact is, I set the cops upon me, to hate me.
I did all this for a reason, to expose thug and mug cop activities.
I have found that the problem is pervasive throughout the political power structure of the USA.
All I get for my demands for ANSWERS, is SILENCE.
=I was a life-long atheist.
=Now, Doctor, I do not know. I have presented numerous facts,
all of which add up to a mystery, at worst, and a ringing condemnation
of thug cops and a killer cop on the force at Miami Police Department.
The cops do not know, now what to do with me.
They cannot kill me.
The shrinks I have seen, will not read my life history,
but only observe my person, that I am a damaged, "shell shocked" man.
I ask you or your associates to read and study my life history, as expounded here,
on this page, in this long thread, and in the links to my various writings.
I inhale propane, to lower my BP, to relax, and to experience "visionary" thoughts,
which, I can paste together into a cogent whole, see the story of the dagger,
and of my first cousin, journalist Drew Pearson, above, in broadcast?
I am a journalist, too. I can write and sort, and have no answers but for these evidences
of an entirely clear mind, made of something other than just gray matter.
http://www.poetrycritical.net/read/61359/
Doctor, if you were to analyze a sui-generis personality, such as a Warhol, a Picasso,
an Einstein, a Belushi, what would you think of their various personality aberrations?
Would you label any of them with the usual, psycho-babble labels?
Am I to be labeled in some slighting way?
(Robert) Reid Welch
D.O.B. 05 22 1954
305 999 7522
3901 Hardie Rd
Coconut Grove, Miami, Florida
33133
Doctor? "The depth of field is very shallow"...Doctor, I felt pain for the early photographers,
from boyhood, when my dad gave me some antique cameras, which I taught myself how to use,
and how to develop the films, and make prints...The depth of field, Doctor, I gave him a voice, sir,
=PHOTO REJLANDER= R_Reid_Welch
O. G. Rejlander never wrote
1 a poem without the agency
2 of light and silvered paper.
3
Here we find a carbon print
4 made as if by Oscar Gustav
5 "Speaking of my good friend
6
Lewis (that we are) alike in our
7 wishing poses on young girls
8 delicately—chastely.
9
I translate from life as I do best;
10 I dodge the shades when there is sun
11 inside this cone-shaped studio
12
where a Rosewood Cyclops eyes
13 my cat that's set in the big-end
14 to serve as the exposure meter.
15
Eyes are slits if you're the cat
16 placed near to where the sitter's at
17 and if your pupils narrow, good
18
—sufficient Sol to make a poem
19 better yet than Lewis could.
20 And Carroll does his best to cheer
21
though casts as slight as mine
22 are mere cat eyes in the gloom
23 —for few will pay for portraits
24
to take home little girls un-done
25 in
mimsy shadows where
26 the light is fading. Where
27
irises dilate as wide
28 as baby oysters opened
29 yet uneaten."
30
13 Feb 06 [!]
31 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_Gustave_Rejlander
_____________________________________________
PS: my bruised or cracked rib, hurt when I collapsed again recently (the heart, apparently, does not like full sun, heat, and biking),
is healing quickly. I sure would love to do some volunteer work. I already asked Miami Dade County if I could be a volunteer
teacher of reading, but...I got zero reply, per usual.
I would like to help children, in particular, say, at the Coconut Grove childrens' activity center.
I can read and I and write and am known to be gentle with innocents.
Recited,
=Poets ARE Black B'rer Rabbits & do HIP HOP= R_Reid_Welch
.
1
X X
2
"Oh, puh-leeze, B'rer Fox! Eat me and kill me
3
—butt—whatever yo do
4
(feigned shivers of fear), jes
5
doan trow me inter that thar BRIAR PATCH."
6
Now—
B'rer Fox just thinks, thinks he
7
"I
WILL do jes that—and Br'er Rabbit
8
he will be no more!
N a s t y ol briar patch!"
9
SO:
tossedy-toss and with a great heave
10
B'rer Fox flung B'rer Rabbit inter that
11
thar briar patch—
which we all-us knows is
12
THE NA-CHEW-RAL
rab-bit-tat
13
of all B'rer Rabbits!
14
! !
15
So away he scooted—callin out
16
ovah his shoulder—back to B'rer Fox
17
who could not dare to chase B'rer Rabbit
18
inter dat patch. Said B'rer Rabbit—sez he
19
"THANK YOU SIR!"
20
X X
21
And, ole B'rer Fox—he jes FUMED and SLATHERS
22
and said—oh sez, said he—
as if he has power ovah torns:
23
"Am gwan to get yo yet, B'rer Rabbit!
24
(hippity-skippedy)
25
"Hah! You has done had yo chance
26
dear B'rer Fox; I does spect
27
the sunny sun will come up an go down
28
bout a
towsand-towsand times
29
fore you has den met
30
wit even a hair
31
of my hare-y tale
32
evah a
gin."
33
!~!
34
This is my favorite work of all, "Whimsel" is a fractal-analog of myself, of course,
=WHIMSEL BROWSEL= R_Reid_Welch
.
1
Whimsel
2 affirms to children
3 the value of good cheer
4
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=(color indigo)=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
5
I
6
Whimsel Browsel, the philosopher—
7 you've likely never heard of him.
8
Relatively figs—to Newton
9
he was
Light
10 and loved
Impossible.
11
II
12
Late one
lack of starry night
13 Whimsel rolled about
14
in one of his fate's shorter sleeps.
15 Whimsel's—appetite for light
16
woke up Whimsel—gnawing
17 —jawing him to state aloud
18
"I'm famished for a snack of light."
19
III
20
So—Whimsel Browsel
21 (wrapped in a
towsel)
22
shumbled to his humble kitchen
23 where there stood
24
a cupboard—
25 is it yet clear this story dates
26 near as old as Mother Hubbard?
27
IV
28
In the cupboard Brousel bared:
29 "Wh
yyy, not a speck of light's left here."
30
Whereupon, our Whimsel Browsel
31 laid his towel
in the cupboard
32
and waxed a candle on it there.
33 "I'll restore my stock of light
34 by Natural Re-genesis."
35
V
36
(hear the children of today
37 shouting, warning:
38
Beware, Whimsel, oh, oh, noooo!
39
~~~~~~~
40
We're
so sorry—
41 —Whimsel Browsel cannot hear
42
—he was deaf you see—besides
43 —this was
all so long ago
44
a cuckoo clock could never count
45 nor cuckoo Whimsel ears.
46
VI
47
Return there now, now with our Whimsel—
48 he has glided back to
Nodders' Zzzzz.
49
Thank goodness for inventions—his
50
nose alarm has just set off
51
VII
52
Ka-choo! Ka-Koff!
53 rewakes our Whimsel
54 whooping, whalping:
55 "Oh my stars! The house! On fire!"
56
VIII
57
Recall, please, our Whimsel Brousel
58 lived on loosened light?
59
This was to be, and how it was
60 one
very well-fed night.
61
Not to worry, not a whit—
62 Whimsel Brousel healed
just fine
63
and later could be found a'snooze
64 in our stumped alder's living-time
65
lying on a bed, right here,
66 of towels, given him by—
67
children—Whimsel
is a well-liked man.
68
IX
69
"Joy! My new cupboard's never bare.
70 All the world is in it here above and near
71
my stars—the days—
all lights
72 delight for me—that I may live for
Ever now
73
to remind the young, as real as
Life
74 no-one should be hungered in the
Light."
75
X
76
fin?
77
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=(color green)=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
78
10 Jun 06
79
Doctor?
Patient?
http://www.poetrycritical.net/read/16193/
(it is a tableau of ca. 1930 England)
Doctor Patient netskyIam
Doctor, please, say what is all of this
1 thready stuff in my stream of ****
2
The Doctor replies in calm disdain
3 "I shouldn't be sleeping with
her again"
4
Doctor, please tell, what is the matter
5 with my urgent but never emptying bladder
6
The Doctor bows low, without alarm
7 "Check prostate. Here. Don't mind my
arm"
8
Doctor, please note that my veins varicose
9 and my arteries throb if I blare bellicose
10
The Doctor winds up his prognostic distaste
11 "Your clock of life tolls half-past
late"
12
Doctor! Please!... do you think I might ...die?
13
The Doctor like Death glares in silent reply
14
Doctor...(oh!)...
do have some kidney pie
15
The Doctor prescribes at the dinner table
16 "Oh...
do come to my office when you are
able"
17
24 Apr 05
Doctor, may I come to your office when I am able?
Reidy
