MAMA Says by Pine Cone

Rage Against the Machine Theory:

For every physical-role Anxiety Maya we let go of on the Vatican’s Mother Earth, we experience ten times that forgiveness-Delight inside gender-free ONENESS Spirit Conscience Heaven, but if we want to see MAMA Earth Power-over hubristic control, just roll over and die, would that we be Kind, letting go of our dumbed-down Mother/Mama physical-sex Karmic-habit mind-control, exponentially measures how much happier any Mother will become in their, own next role-reversal Karmic child’s miracle-lifetime by the speed of Light to the power of Kind-thoughts lighter-speed, to make all Demonizing-need for Dark Cabal MAMA ‘reproduce/consume/compete; reproduce/consume/compete; reproduce/ consume/compete’ child-sacrifice switchback Blackmail get run over by MAMA Law’s Wheel of Kama’s need to crush the whole “MAMA-Says” Mother Earth-mother Low-down makeup Evil-low dressed-up fake-lies paradigm.

Mother Earth Mother-role Mama Says Personal:

The little girl next door, Vicky, smiled at me when we were five, and coaxed and teased out of friendship and curiosity, as well as me; to somehow explore and deepen our trust even more to down there, and ‘down there is different’. “What’s that bump in my shorts and does it tickle like mine”, she asked, and we shy-ed away many times; until one day the sun shined just right you see, and thoughts led to activity so very gentle did we proceed to explore the ‘difference’. We talked about, more than looking, and finally dared to touch when we almost ‘peed’ and lost our breath; and only our shared innocence saved us from losing our ONENESS and Spirituality.

I wonder sometimes if we didn’t have so many beatings and pain from our alcoholic parents, that we may have abstained, instead of being needy to feel something good to relieve us and feel closer. So gentle was the breeze that warm day and yet we nearly cried from the level of honesty, and oh so trusting and deep was our shared commitment and intimacy; as our eyes double checked every tacit subtlety.

Long shadows from out of nowhere darken my mind, even now, as I remember my Mother spanking us and carrying me to the house by the hair. I lost all my clothes except my little T-shirt in the prelude to, even more violence in the kitchen, where she beat me with a ball bat while she held the phone near my loud spit-grunting and crying. Vicky’s Mother was on the phone, and it seemed this all was for show at first, and then her target was my privates and she neutered me for a better guarantee that the “Devil” would never come back to me, and bother sweet Vicky.

Vicky was the victim of something evil/bad I had to learn that was in me, and as I came to, many times she ordered me to never see Vicky ever again, and then brutalized me over and over, Virgin Mary religiously. Many pictures prove we stayed friends as we lived next door and grew up together, but I honestly never saw her again in my mind, that was now my Mum’s. I made sure her reality was true for me and pretended she was the boss of me; “Mama Says”.

The next thing I remember forever proves my mental illness total surprise to me when I was sexually excited at the age of fifteen dancing and rubbing nylon-legs with a girl I didn’t know before. I was told that I had killed Vicky and that I was guilty of rape and murder, and it was proof that I never saw her again living all those years right next door. Maybe it was the sensual feelings again that woke me up before I started crying to see that Vicky was alive and well and, even kissable to me that glorious Dark Halloween-teen party night of innocent Light-miracles.

At the age of fifteen I was starting to develop enough independence to escape from Mama’s mental hold on me. I startled Vicky when, all I could exclaim over and over was “your alive, your alive” and I cried and cried in the truth of my new Awakening reality. Mama kept me to herself and had many crazy motivations, the least of which was not her rage and jealousy, and the secret of our sex, and control over my mind, and talking. As I forgive her every day for killing me and trying to censure/bury me in a gravel pit, I am led to the above new soul work, that seems diminished compared to attempted murder.

At the age of seventeen I tried again to ‘love’ and I guess it is likened to “First Love”, if that is possible with so many traumas and 40 Near Death Experiences to my credit by then. I loved Joyce so much that I was, even studying to become a Catholic and the little pee pee priests thought I would make an even better one, perhaps, because I was choosing. We talked and walked and danced and parked in sight of her caring parents, and after months and months even my Mother knew well how famous was our “True Love”.

After I made a sea shore mobile out of my best pieces of driftwood, I wrote a Love poem to celebrate our obvious Love, all tucked in a box with tissue paper to give to Joyce. Love is so special, I thought, and this is True Love, I thought, and God is so good, like Love, I knew, and I am free to Love at long last. Joyce, never saw me or talked with me ever again for twenty five years, because my Mother threatened to really hurt her if she didn’t let me alone and stay completely out of my life. When I asked Joyce at our 25 year High School reunion why she rejected me after I gave her such a nice gift, she explained what had happened, because I never knew.

After a dream this morning about cheating on a wife or someone with Joyce, I realized I have had this dream many times before. Really, I had, never ever seen Joyce in real life again and I knew it was a bogus dream of ever having an affair with her, not possible in real life ever. Then my therapist said that the dream made sense that I had had an affair with Joyce on my Mother, and that I had real guilt about my emotional and sexual betrayal of “Mom”. Guilt about sex with my Mother and added guilt now, about having betrayed my ‘love affair’ with Mom is humiliating, and explains my terror about sex and intimacy, fun, touching, and hugging.

The Vicky experience was when I was five and had become the structure of my formidable years, and wields power and main highways in my mind. The Joyce experience taught me never to get close again, as Love is related to rejection and abandonment. ‘Love and sex’ and ‘Love and God’ are equated in my emotional body as evil and violence and separation. I remember getting really close to God and cringing when someone first told me that ‘God is Love’. What Mama says goes and what’s going is what Mama says, and I will be forgiving her for this, as well as attempted murder, once I get over the shock of my confusion and get really angry as well, we should.

Hate Forgiveness-fun Clinical:

Talk about Grammy Wolf-curve Red-Hood balls riding-high in sheep’s baseball double-reverse hardly-any-Satanic-red-dress-clothes-at-all victim-role high-heel-shoes clothing!#$%&*+?.com/MotherEarth@sheep-dip minion-loathing self-hate sex-shame-has-an-angry-face Lost-soul man-hate dancing scissor’s joy fake spring-training email mirror double!#$%&*+?.com/Marine-Admiralty diamond-titted Maritime-studded Santa-mermaid cold-hearted narcissism-north Dual-pole Acts Lizard Queen-reptilian Law MAMA-SAYS, Hitler/Hillary/Merkel generational circle jerkal, “I hate all men and women” human excrement eat-their-ears cookie-triangle deafening justice slave-catcher cop, Cabal judges eat ’em all up for dessert on the desert of undead life Mother Earth Intention Major-sting Medical MAMA law American Murder Association Bullshit-think-positive, for Who, exactly-exorcism in reverse mind f***, Motherf*** MILF-grown-up “No Boys Allowed” mirror-miming “No Girls Allowed” gender-bigotry denied ‘front door of our churches are the back door of our malicious Government’ Kill `em all-‘stab the Mother role in the back’ eventual last-in-the-gas-chambers good ole huge Peasant F U Ghetto line too.