A Lockheed Martin fighter jet flies very low over farmlands. He can stake his claim with those 'stick around' waves of pure energy. We love the fumes of a fighter jet. An F-16 speaks to my heart. We always try and attach some half a dozen words out of the sound waves - some good dialogue, but never have yet. Tonight though, I have to go to the farmhouse and shoot the bum that hangs around the dumpster. We here have always tried to keep war from entering through the front door, but I believe humans will always wage war. Similarly, advances in technology must be accompanied by old fashioned war. An F-16 is scary enough by itself, but tie a man to the jet with rope or chain - in plain sight- and now you've got horror. FA-LA-LA are the lyrics. The guy tied to the plane says ouch, ouch, ouch. You say tornado, I say tomato and when can we throw? Just a few too many at various people, their precious property or at the college age ten or so years ago 28 and up.
In many, many cases you will see that adults are dead in the body and dead in the head. It is so difficult to get through life and keep all your stuff. Americans, some lose their niche. A delicate balance exists between spirit and intelligence. There is no way an American can be armed with everything he will ever need. Trivial slogans don't have it - not at first glance. The institution provides a set of rules, good walls, and provisions, also privacy. Some grapple for structure and form rhyme and reason, and they constructed it all themselves. Almost as if nobody can help anyone. Every person has to put it all together differently like there are no set of rules in the cosmos. Others invoke divine properties before lunch. I myself have done that exact same thing, however no entity could be at the end of the obvious - I'm talking about any meaning found in the probabilities of one letter i.e., Poe Poet. Americans have new names. At this point, it may be likely that several careers are the anti-Christ to its genre and sprouts contempt again and again over time. The conservatory teaches how not to play music. The archeologist hates instructions from a one supreme Creator. Over time in sandy countries, he catches wind of any higher purpose and disparages. I saw Warsaw during WWII -the Polonia Hotel of Poland, twisted steel and rubble made of concrete for several miles in radius. Above, the sun settles on the new reality of it. It is unsettling were it not for the birds that came down to investigate their Warsaw, and they are large in number. The morning bird does not show up anymore - the heavens get murky and the spark of war returns to that place - time and time again. Evil accrues and snowballs seemingly un-changed. A king snake's colors are red, black and white- could he be the Christ as spoken of in the Old Testament? It is possible and seemingly unchanged over time. In the military it is radio, radio, radio. Paulus Grillandus gets the order to hit Warsaw again. Firing an (M-16) and taxiing as slow as possible- receives the finished order. This time it is fun - all cut in half and rubble. I think it is for research by the best scientists of war torn areas. If I was that pilot I would send a request to my superiors to let the paranormal group check. A pilot knows that he can kill them once but not twice. A seasoned pilot turns back when he is finished without any sight-seeing. He knows the jet plane is expected on camera, and it needs refueled and parked.