‘BORG Saints Of Arts

Much like himself, his selected and mutual selected abiding support-system, also known as friends, were ppl who had a family while growing but it never stuck, much like a metaphoric postage stamp upon an envelope they being the stamp that somehow detached now blowing in the wind, alone by default not by design. 

Their moral clause would be upright, cable and intelligent, firstly. They would be high producing inherent high Artists from birth with a Muse who are always on in high awareness reaching every minute towards perfection althewhile’ knowing that it cant be obtained. Health in mind, bod and soul in all they do is a lifestyle sister to their high Arts lifestyle of the unseen not yet explored approach to thinking in each new day unlike any other day clarity.  They will have high IQ’s, feminists,  have saved at least one person’s life, died at least once, believers, pacifists who fight w/self-restraint, hate bullies defending the weak and who dont know the concept of capitulation while prepping everyday to walk upon everyone’s grave, to survive until 110yo. They are profusely talented and only practice perfection and their calling’ when awake reaching towards the 12thD, truer reality as life-conquest and their quest, of, where is peace on earth, and who are passive warriors who take no prisoners. Wisdom as their intimate friend, understanding as their sister with kindness and truth around their neck they walk. Together as a group collective they were BORG genius inherent Artists that can assimilate an entire room, an entire society. They are BORG, we are BORG and we will not stop, ever bc we cant. They are all children of the same mother, BORG of one mind, equality freedom.

Grasping gratitude of mind and heart,  no matter the so-called pain, that is more likely than not unreal mind-conditioned MATRIX pain or subconsciously searching for pain and sorrow of state of being, and/or searching for what you dont want, or walking volatile society of would-be dangerous MATRIX blind zombies that mainly only respond to harsh demands and s-work for mindless weak-minded slaves w/out souls, he pondered . Thinking upon all things wholesome always his friends often popped into his noodle helping to comfort, sooth and heal his soul and it is not good to be alone but what saint isn’t. 

Some sell their talentless bodies to the devil being soulless from day-1 and do so intentionally and be damned all, f-all. Yet, the Saints of Arts with child-like-hearts are most always shanghaied/tricked into ‘Mozart Contracts’ with brains and hearts of 50% female/50% male minds of fair equality nor gender bias now made an imprisoned/stolen-life upon an iron-fisted corp scalawag ship somewhere in far-off frozen seas from h, trapped like a Dorothy in a maze scary dark castle of man-eating goons thought never to be seen again, bc, well, after all who really cares or gives a s. And few have empathy for nor help the great to become greater.

Rescuing many saint Artists, God’s chosen fav’s, upon scattered across the sea corp scalawag ships and brought together as a fam army of the Unstoppable refusing PTSD would be a challenge but his friends were all BORG where anything is possible. Together in one room or walking sidewalk no State, Kingdom nor army on earth dare reproach them in a group bc it is true, their collective power as one, and all beautiful and gifted Top 10% Thinkers on earth. 

Inherent Artists are no one and at the same everyone and anything, ppl who cant be labeled as one thing, like the weather that is many things and moods of mind, and direction as soft, in between, and harsh while unpredictable, mostly.  They are 1 in 10 thousand traditionally ostracized by the majority in monkey-world for being different or exploited by the Great to stolen or forfeited lives of total merciless servitude in un-empathetic cold golden-cages with wealth that they cannot eat from locked in cells w/out walls. And the majority, the jealous wag their heads passing by mocking  in cruelty, saying, ‘if you are so great come down from the cross on your own accord’, meanwhile you are bleeding out helpless due to life circumstances beyond your control.

Hanging on a cross as a lone saint in an exclusive out of the way golden-cage ever-forgotten entertainment bc no one cares in monkey-world who wouldn’t know a saint from a fat sow with a gold ring in its piggy-snout is most unsettling to some who live outside the notorious clinically immature violent h on earth bizarrely childish sandbox, also known as monkey-world. High Artists are a precious thing, he pondered his free and somewhat unpredictable mind of their own motley inherent genius Artists friends legally bound to the beast with seemingly no way out. They need help from the outside  to help slip their bogus Mozart Contract chains of life-servitude, choking off society's artist-heart via gifted Artists' insightful ever-evolving art-ism' towards society's evil downfall, like a dying plant that's deprived of sunlight, also known as freedom, he pondered deeper, and despot states kill journalists, artists and horses, dont they. He checked his security camera and made sure that all doors and windows were locked.

‘BORG Saints Of Arts’, their round-table set will takeover the world overnight

The Arts, the Arts media and inherent free thinking high Artists are the most feared, most coveted thing on planet monkey-world other than weapons of mass destruction both monitored by SS iron-fist as any fool knows.  Like a Rose scorched but not burnt and never out, being BORG himself metaphorically he knew that his gaged friends on shiny crosses waiting to die slowly on stage for monkey-world entertainment were indeed alive and growing in self-strength enthusiastically alive to escape still, from a glass bubble with no doors nor windows with a card attached to the top of their cross reading ‘Do not pass go to jail card do not receive $200.00’.

He had to find a way to physically get their bodies to international waters, or borders where their bogus Mozart Contracts have no enforceable hold nor authority. Perhaps a villa or a massive yacht  w/helipad paid collectively via the group as a whole, equals about $50.00 day a head. There establishing boundaries and camaraderie as fam one for Saints Of Arts round table for the People for society and culture. For now on they travel as one group, a small army that cannot not will not be denied nor reproached by any authority bc they can and certainly will. BORG free. Only those fearful of learning something fear rubbing shoulders with these motley friends of mind, who will assimilate you and who take no prisoners.  

In his super turbo charged sports space-craft with blackhole 12thD technology abilities exploring, scanning the earth’s surface on screen from afar, he said, computer, lock GPS local for all hashtag-Artists and cross-triangle longitude-latitude their location as one group in free international waters and air-space as projected target point with calculated cost and timeframes. Copy same, Captain Marvel, the female computer voice replied to his command. Your request is ready for review and download, Captain Marvel, she concluded in monotone, he imagined, and imagined that anything is possible.

Refraining from teleporting his Artist hashtag friends to the affair they instead arrived in small local taxi-boats from the mainland all holding the Alis, of, ‘Martha’, nothing else just Martha. The whole Island thinking that there are a lot of Martha’s in that family reunion who all wore face disguise huge sunglasses and brimmed hats of all sorts to the huge villa on the sea where one of the mammoth ball-rooms was cleared for a volleyball net. Boat-taxi for Martha, the cardboard sign read. There was every kind of art studio of every kind of art medium with god-like panoramic views where an Artist’s mind has no ceiling nor walls. Affordable but gourmet was norm and everyone dressed for whatever occasion from brunch, to dinner, dancing, swimming, boating, performing or drunk in BORG bonding to rule the world, Saints Of Arts. Tomorrow after 2-weeks they were leaving to NYC for a collective bit to do a city lounge walk-about and for no other reason before disappearing again back to the secret villa, he imagined.

A judge, police, preacher, therapist, lawyer or ruler

Who you gonna-call. HA. Intelligent, upright and capable high Artists, of course, who else, he imagined, they cant lie with lil reason to lie like a 5yo. Soon Artists will take center stage as highest affluent title in monkey-world over the life-detracting proven notoriously untrustworthy titles of old grandeur of lawyer, doctor and banker position in the food chain of humans, now wealthy not discarded and discounted struggling bum Artist of society’s bent past, he pondered further. And female equality in rule follows hand in hand with an education and culture based society, like any fool knows and who are divergent to despot states, he imagined.

Does life matter if alone or even if with someone but still alone. Does it matter if no one knows or much less cares about you in any given fleeting moment. Other than the obvious of loving God, what to do, what to do, what to think, what to be, hm he floundered in not knowing nor caring much that he didnt know rn. All will be revealed in time, Watson, a one-liner popped into his head like Performing Artists do. Dont walk with fools lest you become a fool, and saints are lonely, he lazily imagined while watching raindrops roll down a windowpane with easy quiet grey fog whiteout skies beyond and no doubt a disparate wolf somewhere in nearby bushes lurking, always lurking.

Monkey-world fears boredom more than anything, as eternal-nothingness is hell an indescribable boredom forever and a day, a Spektor might say, according to high theology way beyond man-god-rule organized antifeminist religions. Gambling/loan-sharking, prostitution, and drugs detracts mainstream’s life on earth’s boredom but to what ends, he pondered, and does anyone care. And who with means moves to a poverty state so to eat like royalty at exclusive shiny places with untold hoards of dirty, starving children out the window begging with tears hands reached out, trying to sell you gum through a wall of glass as you stuff your face to your fill. If Jesus was the saddest person on earth high Artists with high awareness come in 2nd, he imagined. Beam me up, he said to his computer. As you wish Captain Marvel, the computer replied back. 

Not fully understood by far, reality, the 12thD, he knew that there is no present moment traveling too fast to capture but past and future only, and that are the same.  Hence the present is really the past hence the past effects the future bc what you are looking into rn in the mirror is the past, and only a reflection of the present what-was. By doing the next thing you do in the past creates the future that can never be fully experienced nor the past bc it is gone and the future has not happened. Welcome to I am nothing I am everything no past no future no present but one time and space full clarity.  A spirit thingy not bound to the 3rdD physical like a 3 dimensional image on a flat two-sided sheet of paper ever-bound, stuck. It’s his rainy day-off, he self-talked, I’ll figure life out latter, he imagined, and who knew, and who cared.

There is no conclusion. There is no climax. There is no relief. But long endurance. A saint considers it all joy if not hanging by one’s feet, boiled in oil and crucified upside down. SURVIVE b’es, walk on everyone’s grave, he imagined, and if he could only follow his own self-advice to rejoice, this too shall pass, he feathered-on senses in tow and fitness of heart who’s sleep is always sweet.  Prime video binging was called for and there was ice-cream in the frigg, and warm lasagna, and fine garlic bread in the oven but still, he said, beam me up computer. As you wish Captain Marvel, he imagined.