FRED SAID, “You had everything. Why’d you throw it all away. What was the cause of this madness? You could have relaxed the rest of your lives and eat women and strawberries…”

       WG: “Well, that sounds like a great life…but,  what set me off?  It was when I realized that we had been lied to with regard to spirituality and religion. 
      Religion’s a bad word nowadays.
Most people don’t want to go anywhere near
the churches… And you can’t blame people.
People understand about empty promises.
       The Eucharist used to mean something.
Because it used to BE something. Now you get half-assed wine and a nasty cracker. In the old days (1000s of years ago) you got real wine
and a piece of the sacred mushroom.
       So when God said: 


He was speaking LITERALLY! The flesh of the sacred mushroom really is the flesh of Christ.
Now this was secret knowledge. It was not spoken of publicly.
            But the propaganda against this truth
has been massive, erroneous and cleverly
managed. We’ll believe any bullshit if it’s
expressed often enough.
            People bought it – what the priests said about the excised, castrated Bible…

            Lie about anything you want. That’s on
you. But when the fuckers lied about the very
nature and essence of our being, IT WAS GOING TOO FAR!
           There’s only so much shit I’m willing to eat, and this was just too much.
            I guess I was an idealist when I figured
this out. It made me deeply angry when I understood that all these self-righteous clerics
and people that followed them – they had poisoned the well!
            And the well was the source of our spiritual being; it was of that well we drink in order to apprehend the meaning of the universe, and the soul at the core of us.


Now these words are the real deal, not the pap
the established church has been feeding us.It is the
central truth of the earliest Christians (also called,
           “He shall be as I am, and I shall be he,” the words
of the Christ… Know yourself and you will know me,
see yourself and you shall see me. Drink the waters
of the True One and redeem your identity. Small “i”
identity becomes capital “I” Identity. The Christ is
as near  to you as your very breath.
             The church that became established burned and
threw out a lot of important passages, texts and Gospels
which are essential to knowing the original message
of the Christ. Luckily for us, some of these texts and Gospel
were miraculously preserved in a large jar in a cave above
the Upper Nile River. They were discovered in 1945 near Nag Hammadi,
Egypt about 2000 years after the death of Christ.

When I learned all this, I was pissed! So I’ve been working hard to set the record straight. One of the beauties of the internet is that ideas leap from treetop to treetop, like a fire blown forward by the wind.
And the basic truths as to the core of Christianity… I have sown the whirlwind, and the fire has spread to other teachers and preachers. And they are teaching now.

        My life has been a success, not financially,
but because I have achieved this aim. People are catching on to what has happened. Our civilization and culture has been stunted
from its very inception, because of the lies of the Empire church.

To quote Bob Marley:


Yeah, well I didn’t bomb any churches. Yet
I was damn well determined to get to the bottom of things – to eke out the real Way. And in all humility I must say I accomplished
this task. And I sure didn’t get paid for it.

        I’m not just talking about the mushroom.
I’m talking about the whole emphasis and direction of Christian belief. It’s present focus is awry.  If you’ve read my book and articles  on  the subject, you’ll know exactly what I mean. I haven’t eactly been quiet on the subject.
             If interested, see “THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST,
                                                  MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW”
You can find this book at under the name
William Milne in the kindle and e-books section. You don’t
have to have a kindle, you can just order the e-book.
It costs $2.99.

            It’s not about me. It’s about seeing the
real path to liberation.And it’s about leaving
signposts along the Way for our children.

                                                         Gospel of Thomas

                                (C)2016 by W.G. Milne





In the immaculate heaven of the Lord of Life,
There is neither gain nor loss;
To we fools lost in mundane wandering
Each day seems the same.

Those who seek the Ultimate
Have nowhere to turn for guidance;
In the West we are bereft
Blinded by materiality.

It’s just one small step to lift the veil
So that the sun will rise within you;
The Son will rise within your mind
And you’ll be One and not two.

Words can mar most things,
Names are a great deception;
The names for God, the devil’s names
Have been wrong from the inception.

The names of poets matter not,
One poet only has blessings;
One Name disguised as many names
Only the nameless can undress you.

And guide you to the holy place
Between the forehead and the breast bone:
The crucible is right here
To transmute lead to gold.

Only one Cosmos, just one Mind
At the core of the holy fountain;
There are ten thousand paths to dawn
At the peak of the silver mountain.

Words cannot, will not express
        what is worth expressing;
The magic circle of the Mind rests on the
         eternal stone
Rock of ages, rock of the soul
The world resides on a river of stone;
A friend will take you hand and lead you
To the magic temple.

This very night as the full moon throws out
        dancing angels,
10,000 spirits in their dreams come
        to swirl around;
The holy source of everything will accept
        no names
The changing Spirit won’t be called
         anything but change.

There is a genius at the core everyone 
But marred, distracted by commercial games
No one sees the Way;
If I can’t penetrate your mind
What will you ever see?
In the lineage of Osho
The fields are ripe for planting.

There are 10,000 paths to dawn at the peak
         of the silver mountain.
But you will never see the Source
          deluded by so many passions;
No name will persuade you; no name
           will set the mark,
 A billion new illusions will keep us
            in the dark.

                               (C)2015 by W.G. Milne

        I just spent three days on an island in the middle of Lake Nipissing, a lake that is ninety miles long at
North Bay, Ontario. I was on a friend’s property. Obviously the Spirit of the place is quite strong for these words just poured through me
at 4:00 A.M. when I had no thoughts at all in my head.
        The silence was unending and magnificent. Only the sound of lapping water could be heard, and the sound of birds and wind in the pines.

                                        Thanks,    Tim and Greg.





the deer hunter does not

see the mountains

the ambitious man does not

see men


lusting for societal position

I did not see

the flower in the courtyard

I hurried past my own heart                ***



The spring flowers, the autumn moon;

Summer breezes, winter snow.

If useless things do not clutter your mind,

You have the best days of your life.                               **


When you realize what the real is,

You will see we pass from one husk
to another

Like travelers stopping for
a night’s lodging. **


Only listen to the sound of
pines and cedars

When no wind stirs.


There are ten thousand paths to dawn

At the peak of the silver mountain.     ***


**  verse by Mumon

*** poem  by WGM

compilation and poem  (C)2015 by W.G. Milne

Friday, December 25, 2015


Thursday, August 25, 2016


1.      The war on drugs has been a sham from the beginning. We should legalize all drugs and medically monitor their use. You say that things would run rampant, that madness would ensue.
          Have you looked carefully around at our inner city streets? Drugs run rampant now – just not clean drugs.
           By doing this we’d empty half the jails.
Would it be expensive to do this? Yes, it would be expensive – but not nearly as expensive 
as is the situation now. And we would have
a more humane society.
             This approach would put a large number of police out of work. It would also devastate the Drug Industry (the illegal one).
Many of the dealers I know would be out of work…
            But then there would be a legal industry.

            Canada and the USA have the largest per capita incarceration rate in the world.
           Does this make us the land of the free?
            Not exactly.

            I’ll touch upon all the points these cultural heroes make. But there’s really no need. They express the situation exceedingly well themselves.

(C)2016 by W.G.Milne  





For years I lived by the lake. On an island,
or on one or two other sites.
I lived in houses, too, but I had to
stop that. I couldn`t hear when I lived in houses.
        People visited me when I lived in houses
and some people told me what a beautiful home I
had. But I couldn`t hear the pine tree behind the house.
I couldn`t hear the pine speak to me,
so I left the house.
         Now other people live there in that expensive
house. Now I don`t, but now I can hear
the pine again.
                 I had a tent on the island near where the
old cottages used to stand, behind the sand cliffs.
There I could hear the wind in the trees
and the sounds of the waters on the shore.
The island was an old place, and my
grandfather kept the forest safe for the
last century . So the trees on that island
are more than 100 years old, the white
and the red pine.
. There used to be lumber camps on the
island, and trees were cut from other lakes.
But my grandfather didn`t let them cut
the trees of the island. That`s why the
island is called Camp Island. There
used to be lumber camps there,
but the trees were never cut.

For a while I lived in the City
two hundred and twenty miles to the south of the
lake. I went to school in the city and to
university there, too. But there were so many
loud sounds in the city that I couldn`t
hear a thing, so I returned to the
lake, where there were no loud sounds, and
where I could hear everything.

In the city, everything was so loud
that I started drinking whiskey to shut out
the noise. Then after a while I couldn`t
hear the noise. I just wanted
more whiskey.
I took the train back north, and I walked
to my cabin by the lake. Someone had burned
the cabin down. I bought three more bottles of
whiskey and I drank them on the floor
of my old cabin, which wasn`t there anymore.
Only the wooden floor remained.
It was October, late in the autumn; I
sat on the wooden floor and drank all
the whiskey.  All I was wearing was
a pin-striped suit from the city.  It was
a summer suit. There was no
warnth to it. But there seemed to be
warmth in the whiskey, so I drank all
of it.
I fell asleep and I started to dream.
I woke up in the night and tried to drink
water from my tin cup.  All the water
in the cup was frozen, so I couldn`t
drink it . I went back to sleep.
I slept all night, and in the night
I really started to dream again. I dreamed
all the waters had pulled back from that deep
lake.  In my dream, all the waters
had withdrawn, revealing all the rocks
in the bottom of the lake, the hills
and cliffs that the waters had hidden before.
In my dream all the bottom of the lake, its
small cliffs and many small sharp hills –
they all were made of garnite… like glowing
rubies, all the bottom of that
lake was deep red, crimson sparkling gems.
The paradise that was the lake revealed
itself to me.
I woke up frozen. My mind was
awake but I couldn`t bend my arms
or legs.  After a while unable to move, I managed
to sit up. As I sat there in the cold
I realized I was sitting by a sacred lake
and I didn`t want to leave it again.
I got a small light canoe and I paddled
around the lake, time and again. No one else seemed to
live there,  I paddled down to Camp Island,
where there was plenty of warm sand and beach.
The sand was warm in the sun there, when the sun
shone, so I paddled down to Camp Island,
one dawn… and when the
sun rose, I sat on the sand, where the old cottage
stood.  And I let the sun warm me.

I smelt smoke, so I walked through the forest
of tall  straight red pine.  Someone had built
a small log cabin on the east-facing shore.
A woman was sitting outside the cabin. A deer was
standing beside the woman. The woman was
sitting on the ground.  Several squirrels
sat by the woman and a muskrat was sitting
across from the woman on the ground.
I watched closely. The woman was talking
to the animals. I could see her lips moving
as she was talking, but I could hear no sounds.
The animals could hear her, though, and they
stayed beside her and watched her and listened.
I sat on the pine needle floor and I watched
her talking to the animals and the animals listening…
I fell asleep. When I woke up later,
leaning against a white pine, I smelt coffee.
There was a cup of hot coffee right by my hand.
I drank the coffee.

The woman was sitting in front of
her cabin, stitching something. When she
saw I was awake and drinking the coffee,
she waved at me. I waved back and walked
over to her cabin,as I drank the hot
sweet coffee. This is how I met
the woman who talked to the animals…

I noticed she was stitching a symbol
into a bead shirt…. I asked her what
the symbol meant….
“This is the symbol
for the deer who was here,” she said.
” The deer is gone, so I stitch the sign of the deer
in the shirt… until he returns.”

I noticed there were hundreds of symbols
in her bead shirt. I asked her what the symbols
“These are the symbols of all the animals,”
she said, “Even the ones who have not been here
for a long time… I keep them here in this shirt.
Here I keep them safe,,,,Until they
return again.”

It was a strange story but it was
a true story, too. There was
nothing I could do but believe her.
I knew the animals were in the beaded
symbols of  her shirt, and I knew the animals
would return.


(C)2013  story by William Milne


RED WOMAN enlarged detail

When I was living in small rooms all through the City of Toronto, I started to have
visions of paradise – and not a future
Paradise, either – but a present time living every day paradise. 
        I saw it in the grass around me, in the flowers in their beds, in wild growing plants in the bush, in the stars in the sky, in the blood red
wine in the  crystal goblet, in the swellings of
a beautiful girl. All was part of One all-embracing paradisal glory and Grace that suffused the green shoots of everything.
        I had had that ego annihilation experience,
and I walked in the parks and streets for three days and nights, absorbed in the divinity
of all things. Dark glasses had been removed
from my eyes, dawn was coming, and I saw the chastity of  our Father, the Creating One,
in all things.
      After my Realization ( foundation experience) I walked in a new heaven and earth. The immaculate cosmos shone forth
everywhere… I guess it was my eyes that had been new.
       There is no explaining such events. I can only say that the Liberation experience is here,
and it can be found by anyone who is willing
to give up enough in the inner search, so as to find the meaning of Identity.

      During this experience I wrote a chapter in what I’ll call The Poet’s Testament. The fact of the matter is – I though I was writing a New Testament with the guidance of the Father.
       I’ve been to jail several times. I thought I’d be killed or jailed again if I called the book,
THE NEW TESTAMENT, so I backed off
and reduced the name.

       In this period, also, I wrote “The Father Poems”, which I have just discovered in my files once again.
       I’ll publish one of these poems here,
if I may.

Here’s one:

        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems
       Let me find the poems

of the True one.
         For as you are the Father, Lord,
         I would be your son.
         And as you are true, Father,

I would be a true one and

write the Word of Truth.

         There are many spirits,

Father, in the Psyche’s Dark.

But I would lift your light high,

Father, if I am worthy…
        If it shall be, Father, Father let it be.

        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems

        Let me find the poems

of the True One.

(C)2016 by W.G. Milne



Saturday, August 13, 2016


There is a cricket who lives with me now. I like 
the sound of his cheeping. It reminds me of the tropics. 
Last week it felt like the tropics in northern Ontario. 
I would have gone to the bush, but it was too hot.
        Anyway, two days ago the bush came to me
 in the form of a cricket. He’s a fairly big bug and 
I would have stomped on him until I realized 
it was my little buddy.
        Now he moves from room to room with me. 
When I play music in the front room, pretty soon 
he starts to sing along. When I go to sleep (at any time 
of day or night)I move to the bedroom. He comes over
to the bedroom and sings me to sleep there.
        I had a thought:  “Gee, this cricket must be getting
hungry.”   So I looked up what crickets eat. I found out
they eat anything. Fruit, cabbage, leave a little piece
of meat out for them, they’ll eat meat, too. Or chicken.
Crickets are real scavengers, but then, so are we.
          You have to leave a little water out for them.
I’ve done that, so that’s OK. If you leave crickets
in a cage together and you don’t feed them, crickets
will eat other crickets.
        I’m going to play a few songs on this recent video
I’m putting together, give my little pal something
to play along with.
       The music starts up and in a minute his singing
along. It’s a very pleasant sound.
       “Good boy,” I say to him.

                                                        (C)2016 by W.G. Milne
SELF-LOGO THREE****Screenshot from 2013-12-08 21:56:39



         We were visiting the Temple of Love in the holy city of Varanasi one morning about dawn. The sun was filtering down through the leaves as  we climbed the stone steps up towards the temple. We arrived there

in what can be described as a large canoe.

            In the canoe there was a priest, a bramin, a rabbi, my sister

and I. We reached the temple at the top of a high hill. And I remember

the gasps of the others when they saw the temple.

                  The entire outside of the temple, all four walls were

covered in explicit carvings of people screwing. And not ordinary people

either. These people were so well-endowed and they had such stamina, they must have been

gods and goddesses.

             Indeed, the attendant pointed out one woman who was very busy indeed absorbed in her carnal pleasures with about four people. He pointed to her butt and said, “Kali”.

                    Now the worship of Kali is no joke. She is referred to as, “the dark one”. She is the one with about ten arms and legs. And it’s not unusual for one of her hands to hold a human skull. One arm makes the sign meaning, “It’s all right.”  The hand at the end of another arm holds a lethal knife.

             Anyway, on the outside of the Temple of Love, Kali is having sex. And the rest of the religious crew who were visiting the temple with me, they were so disgusted by the exterior walls covered by this continuous carved sex-fest that they wanted to leave immediately.

My sister didn’t want to leave but she escorted

the holy gang down to the boat. Deborah was

was being polite; she was also holding the boat for me.


        The early morning outside the Temple of Love, everything grew very quiet. All the offended chatterers were gone… At this point I got down on my hands and knees and tried to find the interior of the place.

            Out of the trees surrounding the temple came a man dressed in white robes with white hair and a white beard. He looked ascetic.

In fact he looked exactly like our idea of a Christian saint. Someone who

spends a lot of time fasting, in order to attain the visions that fasting will give sometimes… if you have great patience.

                Did I conjure this guy up? No,

impossible!  Did he come from Central Casting? Nope, he was real. He was carrying a staff.

He led me around to the other side of the temple. He gestured with

his staff towards an arched opening.

         I looked inside the Temple. The inside

of the place was immaculate. The floor was polished. At the center

of the floor was a raised rounded off phallic stone. Behind me the holy man said: “Yoni.”


          Outside of the Temple was this mass of carved coitus. The inside of the temple was

immaculate. “There’s a lesson to be learned here,” I thought.


The boatman had said a curious thing to me earlier when he was paddling up the river:







       I went back down to the boat. Everyone

was mad at me, except for the boatman and my sister, who had been trying to maintain order among this unruly crew, who were all deeply offended by the so-called obscenity of what they had seen.

                The boatman was laughing and I was

laughing, too. I had just made a discovery which later in my life was to become quite important to me.

            I tried to hide my laughter by looking out across the waters of the Ganges, gleaming in the morning sun.




(C)2016 by W.G. Milne




RED WOMAN enlarged detail


These are the words of Jesus, the Christ, the

holy or Anointed One.

          The  words in the title of this article comes from the Gospel of Thomas, which many scholars  have concluded is the Source gospel of the gospels that appear in the Bible.

          The fact that Thomas is older is apparent

as soon as you  first read the gospel for yourself.

There is no finely honed narrative line about the

life of Jesus.

          Not much of a story at all, compared to

the Bible gospels. As Northrop Frye kept

repeating to our seminar group – “The narrative

form is a later literary form.”

          In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus speaks

most of the parables we come to know later in the 

Biblical gospels. But there is almost no

 story-telling narrative

          The narrative line that fills the later gospels,

Matthew, Mark. Luke and John,

 scarcely exists in the Gospel of Thomas.

         What you have in Thomas is a series of

question and answer sessions, rather like the

sessions we read about in early zen books.

The monk, the seeker asks a question. The 

master makes an answer – but it is never

an intellectual answer.

           The teacher might give you a slap,

 hit you with a stick, or say something that sounds like nonsense at the time…But he’s not about

to explain anything to you. He understands

very well that the “truth” can never be

explained: it must be Known ( not thought

about). It must be experienced.

          It is the same situation with Jesus Christ

and his disciples in the Gospel of Thomas.

For example, a disciple asks: “Master, 

where is the kingdom of heaven?”

          And the teacher answers, “If you go to the sky,

the birds will precede you. If you search for heaven 

in the sea, the fish will precede you… …  

But the kingdom of heaven is within you.

 And the Kingdom  is spread out upon the earth, and men see it not.”

          Quick and to the point. It is difficult to

misinterpret many of the statements made in the 

Gospel of Thomas.

           Of course, those  who insist on

pushing forward their own point of view can

misinterpret anything.


           The emphasis that the Empire Church

has put on the message of Christ is that Jesus

Christ is SO SPECIAL  none of us can be

like him.

           Well, it is said he was the son of God

and he came from a virgin birth, and he performed miracles, and there was a star in the East. The

same thing was said of Mithra and too many

other god-kings to mention…

             But why is it stressed that the Christ is

so ‘special?’ For this goes exactly against His


              Why? Why did they re-create the attributes

of the Christ so as to make him unattainable in our minds,

unreachable as the basic goal of meditation.

               You can’t REALIZE THE CHRIST within you…  If he is made to be  a water-walking, storm-calming,

from -the- dead- raising, demon-expelling heroic

action figure. Like GI Joe. 

               We all know these TV action figures do

impossible feats, which are fun to watch but which

we never try to do ourselves.

                But G.I. Joe is a plastic doll…. a toy that

kids can play with at the kitchen table as mother is

making breakfast…I’m surprised they didn’t make

their version of the Christ into a plastic hero doll…

… Oh, no! I forgot… they did!

              What happens if the Christ is made out

to be such a hero? Well… then he can beMONOPOLIZED

and  sold as you  sell a product. Christ, as he

has come down to us,  He has been packaged,

shelved, and given a brand name –

he has been patented. And you’d better not infringe

the patent!


              You see the point?

               Now a certain smallish group of

people have been restricting access to this unique

big time hero doll that no one else can hope to emulate.

Because he is so unique, and also He is the Source of Truth, which the whole world wishes

to partake of….and if he is so special, so

unique…  …   … well, people will pay anything

to get a piece of the action. 

          It becomes a mercenary situation.

          You wish to attain forgiveness. You

must pay for forgiveness… and I could go on

for a long time about the different ramifications

of all the wrongs that have been done.

            OK! OK!  But this kind of belly-aching doesn’t help much. What helps is if someone lays

down how it really works… what is the essence

of what this great healer emerging out of the Essene community, the Teacher of Righteousness,

what is the essence of what he is saying?

             The essence is this: “When you

realize ‘what it is’, what I am.  this truth that I embody,   when you come to Know me, you

will know yourself.  For what I am you shall be,

and the hidden things will be revealed

to you…”

             In other words, there will be nothing

hidden to you.


               Another way of putting it is: 


      This is the important point. This is the truth that is told in the earliest gospels… Christ: “I am as close to you as your very breath.”



These are  some of the earliest recorded

(copied down) words of Christ.
       The saviour who says these words is not an

action figure.  And He doesn’t exist in the past.

 He exists right here and now. And this very moment he sits right beside you, “As close to you as your very breath.”

        It is important that in this country we get

these basic facts right… that we get the straight

goods.  We have been told a fairy tale for too


          This is serious business!  This is life or

death… of our people and of our culture. 

           We rise or fall as a people in so far

as we attain this basic realization.


             When you go into the woods with your

close friends and you light a fire and you drink

some wine and you eat whatever mind-rocking

indigenous plants are available, and you look

into the fire….and you clear your mind… this

is the voice that is speaking out of the fire.

             The voice is here and now. God

is within you. Christ is your ultimate nature.

Come to this voice inside yourself… and you

will have found the Key to life eternal.



           The I AM existing in  

            I AM THAT I AM 

This is the voice that speaks within you.          

The  I AM in: 


This is the voice that speaks within you.

And if you listen very carefully, and if you

discard all your preconceptions, you will

Realize this voice… And the world will change

for you.

              When we touch the sacred nature

of the holy path of the real God, when we hear

His voice, when we taste him in the smoke

of the peace pipe of your circle, when

the sanctity of the One who is 

creating all things caresses you… you will not

need any other caress, for you realize

that all affection comes from the same Source…


             And I praise thee, O holy One, you

are the source of all our strength.You are

 all our love…I praise thee…

the God of Jacob, the God of Abraham, 

the One who rides the clouds, the One who speaks from

on high, the Lord of the Meeting Rivers, the

Lord of all the countries of the earth, like sands

of the seas, this is the ancient holiness that you

partake of. This is the holiness that is immaculate

and new.

          This is the gift I bring to you.

          “He was nailed to a tree and he became

the fruit of the Knowledge of the Father. The

fruit did not, however, cause destruction

because it was eaten, but to those who ate it,

it gave cause to become glad in the discovery.

and he discovered them in himself, and they

discovered him in themselves.”

                                           The Gospel of Truth


          There really was a Teacher of Righteousness

emerging out of the Essene community. The

Essene people were great healers, and this man in particular was a great teacher and healer. This

man was crucified  in 65 B.C.

           This is a true, historical figure.



             Taste the vision of the ancients,

the vision that is holiness, the vision

that manna gives to  wanderers in the desert.

              We are walking in the desert,

even know. For life without the Knowledge

of God is a desert, make no mistake.

               Without this Knowledge

We walk in the valley of death, alone.

We walk in the wilderness, far from our


             Until Vision is awakened

within us… and when vision awakes

within us, we see we are in the holy city

and we have always been in the holy city.


         When things become wrong,

evil, lost… this is when we are living in

ignorance. We have forgotten that the holy

altar  exists. And there are meanings to

be achieved within it, within the circle

of the holy tabernacle of God… 

          Meanings that have been with us

from the beginning.

            This is the Second Coming of Christ,

            “And he shall be as I am, and I shall be he.”

       The  NEW  Christ Consciousness arising from the miraculous find  at Nag Hammadi, Egypt, in 1945… 2000 years after the crucifixion: He has come again.              

            “Whoever finds the explanation of these

words will not taste death”

                                       The Gospel of Thomas. 


This is the promise our Christ gives us.


 *                            (C)2016 by W.G. Milne             





       Bert, the shit-kicker, has been coming to Artie’s bar for the past week… ever since the  women showed up in that war canoe.
           I didn’t name him, “shit-kicker”.  A few of our native brothers were paddling upstream and they stopped at WAIT-A-BIT! for a shine brew and a rest. They sat outside on the knoll of a hill. (In fact, that hill is all that’s left of the former A&P store, after the flash and double-blast we call Incineration Day.)
         Bertie’s trying grow a garden… and the soil is thin and rocky…so he got an old burlap sack from somewhere. (It’s quite a big sack).
And Bertie’s a smallish fella.
        So he puts on his pair or green rubber boots and he travels around with this sack and he takes to picking up all the mounds of shit all around the district.  Then he raked out the shape of a garden, more or less flat.
       Then he empties his bag of shit onto the patch he figures will be a garden next year.
        At this point the five native fellas are sitting on the knoll and they stare north in time to see Bert kicking the shit off into all directions.          Bert kept at this for quite a while because it’s a pretty big bag of shit he’s collected. And Bert is a determined man.
         I watched as the guys started to snort with laughter as they watched him. Then the laughter got louder and louder… until they were slapping their thighs in  hilarity.
       This didn’t distract Bert. He just kept on
kicking the shit in all directions over that flattish piece of land.
        They couldn’t stand it. Joe and his friends were laughing so hard they were rolling down the hill…hooting out of control.
         Needless to say, this is how Bert got his name.
         Bert never really gave a damn about hygiene. And after the women arrived, he got sweet on Sharon and started coming to the bar
every day.
        He was trying to make small talk with Sharon, who is new in town.And she was responding well, after all Bert isn’t a bad-looking guy, apart from his little hygiene problem.  So they were talking happily. 
      But during a lull in the conversation I guess she noticed something… she heard  a little buzzing sound,coming from right below her bar stool.
           She looked down and she saw about thirty flies on Bert’s feet and sandals. Bert kicked out his feet. The flies left for a second and then they got right back to work on Bert’s feet… He kicked out his feet again and they flew and they were right back on his
toes and nasty looking sandals . 
       He even tried slapping them away with a small shovel, but the flies were too fast for him. At least twenty of them landed right back down on his feet and between his toes each time
           Sharon had really noticed the flies now:


 she said and  quickly  moved down the bar about as far as she could get from Bertie.
           That was the first time I laughed all day.

(C)2016 by William G. Milne


Screenshot fromSANTA'S URBAN SURVIVAL GUIDE 2014-05-17 17:54:38



      One thing about getting a little older
       you don’t feel a need to impress anyone
        not some boss
         not some 1/2 insane woman who hates
      you with a black and abiding hate
       then in the morning
        she loves you again

       there’s no need for this stuff anymore
       no need to bestir yourself
        no need to play the game

        no need to cut my hair
         or wash my clothes
         no need for a flashy car
           or other trappings of success

       No need for this
        no need for that
         I’f someone gives me advice
         or tells me what I “should”
      be doing… I don’t bark 
       or bite or whine or moan…

       I just hang up the phone.

(C)2016 by W.G. Milne