Spencer Pigeon's Blog: 1st August, 2012
A few day's ago the presidential candidate for America said that he wold not blame
Israel if they decided to attack Iran over its attempts to build up a nuclear arsenal
aimed at Jerusalem. This targeting of the Israeli 'capital' cold fulfil the scripture of
'Jerusalem under siege' at Zec 12v2 and Jerusalem being 'a burdensome stone' as it
affects the U.S.A. in so far as what happens to it and in such a way draws America
in to every dispute And with America becoming involved so then are all its allies.
Yesterday 600 million were left without power in India after one person left a lite on,
apparently, so overloading the system. Jokes aside, the issue brings to lite Man's
overuse of dwindling resorces. The disappearance of oil and gas in the world, via
too much use of it, shold be a clue to the Earth's longevity and God's plan to bring
it to an end when it no longer stands, so concluding his covenant with it.
A few weeks back I also remember the homing pigeon that, far from finding its
way from Africa to its home in England, ended up in Canada instead, 3000 miles
away. I feel that this cold be a clue to the Earth's falling from its axis and the
magnetic poles shifting by which the birds fly by. We already have the broken
jet stream that now covers the land instead of the frozen arctic ocean, so leaving
lands for a long time in drout or flood. The concertinaed broken line of the jet stream
means that on one side of it lands experience continual dry weather and on another
side of it lands are always dry.
Thousands of dead marine life, of dolphins and pelicans, continue to be washed up
on the world's beaches. I feel this is due to their food moving north or south to the
new waters that now house the old temperatures its required to exist in. The dolphins
and pelicans then find themselves in warmer waters full of other marine life's type
of food that is meant for those hotter seas. When the animals washed up have been
injured they will have been in a food fite between themselves or with other sealife
over what little food still remains.
Spencer Pigeon
Prime Minister
on behalf of Jane's Detective Agency
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Sunday, 29 July 2012
Two
The crisp morning drew the cold breath out, only it must have been warm
because of the cloudy smoke, stealing like the drag on a cigar when the
conoisseur tries for air again. The free things all adorned the morning, the
bird calls competing with the car horns that pushed thru the gluey snail
lines of London traffic.
Matlida could have been going to the park for another secret rendezvous
with Robert or she could have been going to Buckwheat Barn to check up
on the situation at the squat. Whatever it was, it was always one extreme
or the other, either to meet a landed gentry confidente or to confide again
with her artist types surviving on bread and butter.
She passed Euston and she passed Kings Cross. On cold mornings like
these it was her wont to walk, to where she had not decided just yet. She
passed all the landmarks she had read of in books, some of those not
landmarks anymore for the books were old. Stll, the derelict relics of
streets were still dear to her.
Even the cafe's were named after the characters in the ancient periodicals
when the newspapers purveyed literature amongst its curios pages. The
cheaper the cafe the more likely it would bear the name of a famed one
from the tales of London's grime.
Streets that now had no houses on still bore names as if once the settings
for the initial inspirations for the works of the penmasters. Some were mere
alleys that conveyed nothing in them but lurking memories in the minds of
the penny faithful who still picked up priceless copies for peanuts in the
illiterate now markets of Petticoat Lane.
because of the cloudy smoke, stealing like the drag on a cigar when the
conoisseur tries for air again. The free things all adorned the morning, the
bird calls competing with the car horns that pushed thru the gluey snail
lines of London traffic.
Matlida could have been going to the park for another secret rendezvous
with Robert or she could have been going to Buckwheat Barn to check up
on the situation at the squat. Whatever it was, it was always one extreme
or the other, either to meet a landed gentry confidente or to confide again
with her artist types surviving on bread and butter.
She passed Euston and she passed Kings Cross. On cold mornings like
these it was her wont to walk, to where she had not decided just yet. She
passed all the landmarks she had read of in books, some of those not
landmarks anymore for the books were old. Stll, the derelict relics of
streets were still dear to her.
Even the cafe's were named after the characters in the ancient periodicals
when the newspapers purveyed literature amongst its curios pages. The
cheaper the cafe the more likely it would bear the name of a famed one
from the tales of London's grime.
Streets that now had no houses on still bore names as if once the settings
for the initial inspirations for the works of the penmasters. Some were mere
alleys that conveyed nothing in them but lurking memories in the minds of
the penny faithful who still picked up priceless copies for peanuts in the
illiterate now markets of Petticoat Lane.
Saturday, 28 July 2012
One
Matlida, on her return from Boston and her visit to her friend Anorexia, sout some
ground, some solid earth, even some soil after her jorney so long thru the air. The
London streets were full of all sorts of commotion, some great event she knew not
of bringing the shadows of people onto the roads of the city, or rather, rimming their
edges. She saw them as ghosts thru the corner of her eye as she scouted out a corner
of Hyde Park, seeking the solace from where she could hear the birds sing.
Robert was already there when she arrived a little early, she thout, for their appointment,
their heart to heart, since he had expressed a preferance and had so arranged to meet her
on the conclusion of her travels. All the time she had been traveling the decision line
too, wondering if he were deserving a dalliance with, however much a darling he seemed.
In outlook he was starchy and grey and of the political class that her father's career had
pushed her into. But with her interest in the Barn, the survival of the squat, and with her
bedecked in the new fashions of cropped top, leggings and boots she had to wonder if
he wasn't a shadow too old for her who mite cloud her existence at the moment her
flower was seeing the lite of day.
He walked forward to her, on seeing her, acrossed the crust leaf carpet and then they
rejoined the bench he had just bequeathed.
'I'm so glad you could see me so soon; I was afraid I'd been a little too forward the last
time we spoke.' He watched her all the time on saying this, like someone observing a
bird or a butterfly on a branch or a leaf, fearing any moment it mite fly away.
'I sensed your resolve to still the revolution; of events, I am speaking. I thout you had
wanted to tie things up.' She looked at him with a look as if traversing a volcano that
is due to erupt.
'You know, I do have Lady Gravely to think about. I am kind of holding her off, for yor
answer.' He looked abashed as if realising an error. 'I know you can't give the answer if
I haven't yet asked the question,' he continued.
She strainted the slant of her top and mused on a small piece of cotton fluff that was
resting on her green knee. 'I had thout to let you down gently,' she mused, 'but I find
that you interest me,' and she flicked away the piece of fluff in an experienced fashion.
'Well, that interests me also,' he returned without delay.
'O but there is Lady Gravely,' came back Matilda's conscience, 'she IS such a dear. Can
she realy bear yor desertion?'
'In that we've never been a team as yet, so to speak, I think that she can.'
'Ah, but Robert, do I love you in that you're unobtainable. I wonder.'
She allowed him to walk her back to the gates and then, within site of number ten she
stopped short from entering.
'You have given me a lot to talk about.'
'I have hardly said a word.' She was charmed by his honesty.
'It is the beauty of what yet mite be which I must muse over,' she breathed, her eyes
resting on a single cloud in the sky. 'Its the mystery to be uncovered whereby we will
meet again.'
'So we will? Its settled?'
'We will,' and she disappeared thru the gates that closed on him.
ground, some solid earth, even some soil after her jorney so long thru the air. The
London streets were full of all sorts of commotion, some great event she knew not
of bringing the shadows of people onto the roads of the city, or rather, rimming their
edges. She saw them as ghosts thru the corner of her eye as she scouted out a corner
of Hyde Park, seeking the solace from where she could hear the birds sing.
Robert was already there when she arrived a little early, she thout, for their appointment,
their heart to heart, since he had expressed a preferance and had so arranged to meet her
on the conclusion of her travels. All the time she had been traveling the decision line
too, wondering if he were deserving a dalliance with, however much a darling he seemed.
In outlook he was starchy and grey and of the political class that her father's career had
pushed her into. But with her interest in the Barn, the survival of the squat, and with her
bedecked in the new fashions of cropped top, leggings and boots she had to wonder if
he wasn't a shadow too old for her who mite cloud her existence at the moment her
flower was seeing the lite of day.
He walked forward to her, on seeing her, acrossed the crust leaf carpet and then they
rejoined the bench he had just bequeathed.
'I'm so glad you could see me so soon; I was afraid I'd been a little too forward the last
time we spoke.' He watched her all the time on saying this, like someone observing a
bird or a butterfly on a branch or a leaf, fearing any moment it mite fly away.
'I sensed your resolve to still the revolution; of events, I am speaking. I thout you had
wanted to tie things up.' She looked at him with a look as if traversing a volcano that
is due to erupt.
'You know, I do have Lady Gravely to think about. I am kind of holding her off, for yor
answer.' He looked abashed as if realising an error. 'I know you can't give the answer if
I haven't yet asked the question,' he continued.
She strainted the slant of her top and mused on a small piece of cotton fluff that was
resting on her green knee. 'I had thout to let you down gently,' she mused, 'but I find
that you interest me,' and she flicked away the piece of fluff in an experienced fashion.
'Well, that interests me also,' he returned without delay.
'O but there is Lady Gravely,' came back Matilda's conscience, 'she IS such a dear. Can
she realy bear yor desertion?'
'In that we've never been a team as yet, so to speak, I think that she can.'
'Ah, but Robert, do I love you in that you're unobtainable. I wonder.'
She allowed him to walk her back to the gates and then, within site of number ten she
stopped short from entering.
'You have given me a lot to talk about.'
'I have hardly said a word.' She was charmed by his honesty.
'It is the beauty of what yet mite be which I must muse over,' she breathed, her eyes
resting on a single cloud in the sky. 'Its the mystery to be uncovered whereby we will
meet again.'
'So we will? Its settled?'
'We will,' and she disappeared thru the gates that closed on him.
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