Oh To Be Black & Jew

Al Jolson giving possible birth to the notion that Jazz has its roots in Klezmer.

Al Jolson Singing Mammy!

Though someone’s perception of you is no damn business of yours, it does though matter when it is a whole people’s deliberate intention to demonise, vilify and portray a people as goddamn fools.

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At the time of Henry and Meghan’s royal wedding, there was a dearth of Jews commenting on social media about their union. There were no Jewish celebrities opining about how they thought that it was great that an American, an American actress was marrying into the royal family. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. There is more to discern in people’s silence than in exactly when they are silent.

The Woman Is Fucking Nuts. Who Can Possibly Find This Remotely Appealing.
Mic Drop President Barack H. Obama

Sorry Sweetheart, you are an inarticulate, embarrassment. STFU and STFD, Basta!

Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge/Princess of Wales by Paul Emsley National Portrait Gallery London 2012

Now that the Sussexes, Henry & Meghan, have massively succeeded in articulating their truth in the Netflix and Archewell Productions co-production, which to date has had 241 million viewing hours, the dynamic has shifted. The war campaign has now entered a new phase. To date, it has been the toxic Royal Rota hacks and their plants/sympathisers in America who have been flapping their dirty yaps at Meghan’s expense. All the lies that they have hammered away at the low-browed, knuckle-dragging cultist of the island kingdom have been exposed to Americans and the rest of the world.

Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge/Princess of Wales Wearing Jenny Packham in Jamaica, March 2022.

Just look at this 9 energy-bodied, self-toxic boor; she is vile. Most of all, she is the most inarticulate, mumbling, sarcastic, bitchy socially displaced moron imaginable. Let me make it perfectly clear, you think it nothing to abuse Meghan to the nth degree because she, after all, is just a mere goddamn nigger – let’s get real. Well guess what idiots, ever will I be most fuck-all indefatigable in defending Meghan’s honour. All of this for the simple fact that she is a Black woman. There is no greater symbol of structural racism than the British institution of monarchy.

The Crypt Dweller Giving Her First Speech As A Royal & Desperately Trying To Sound A Right Toff

The United Kingdom’s recent half millennium was caught up in the savage pillage of empire from the Orient, across Africa to the Caribbean and North America at the heart of that vast imperial expansion was slavery, cheap dehumanised labour, to get sugar, cotton, spices and all manner of commodities back to the heart of the empire, London. Catherine, to be fair, dresses up nicely but beyond that, she is a hollow, burnt out, inarticulate, mumbling, blasted embarrassment.

Here is the mumbling inarticulate self-toxic, 9 energy body boor, trying to look professional and upping her game in 2021 after Meghan had breezed through and showed this bit of sodden cardboard, who seemed to think that she was being cast for the role of Sleeping Beauty, how it’s done.

Windsor, Diana, Princess of Wales  July 1/1961<O>August 31/1997.

Michael: The fragment who was Diana Frances is a second level mature artisan and was in the passion mode with a goal of acceptance, a pragmatist in the moving part of emotional centre. 

She had a Lunar/Mercury body type. 

Diana’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a secondary, not of self-destruction but of self-deprecation. 

Diana Frances was first-cast in her cadence and her cadence is fifth in the greater cadence.  She is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod/node 380. 

This fragment’s essence twin is a discarnate artisan and her task companion is a discarnate sage, both of whom are staying near her, waiting for her to become oriented to her situation. 

Here we had an artisan with drama in her casting but also with a very deep need to serve both the common and the higher good, which she did with grace, charm and a good deal of conviction.

*One of the reasons why Diana, Princess of Wales felt so out of her depth amongst the royal family, is because she is from pod 380, most of the senior royals are all from the 400 series pods. She would have felt just as isolated as Meghan for being Black in a milieu where structural racism is deeply entrenched.

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The fact is, the roles of these persons are deftly validated by their behaviour and the choices that they have made to date. Diana, Princess of Wales was shy and guarded at the start of her reign as the most loved woman on the planet; however, when she found her feet, she was unsurpassed. Diana was an early mature soul artisan. Artisan souls bring a certain magical je ne sais quoi to whatever they are focussed, especially most alluringly so when female. Prime examples of artisan souls with this glamour effect and also persons who can magically articulate the message are: Marilyn Monroe, Martha Graham, Evelyn Hart, Whitney Houston, Ella Fitzgerald, Naomi Campbell, Judith Jamieson, Annette Bening, Billie Holiday and Natalie Cole. All these female performers add great death, delicacy, eloquence and beauty to their art, regardless the medium. The reason why Catherine does not have the charm and charisma that was Diana, Princess of Wales’s is because she is a warrior soul; besides her overleaves do not lend themselves to being soft and alluringly charismatic.

Windsor, Meghan HRH Duchess of Sussex 4/8/1981

Michael: This fragment is a mid-cycle mature artisan in the tradition of the deceased mother fragment who was Diana, Princess of Wales — third life thereat.  Meghan is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance.  An idealist, Meghan is in the moving part of emotional centre. 

Meghan’s primary chief feature is self-deprecation and the secondary of mild impatience. 

Meghan’s body type is Venus/Solar. 

The fragment Meghan is fourth-cast in the fifth cadence.  Meghan is a member of greater cadence four.  Meghan is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 — she is an entity mate of both her spouse, HRH Prince Henry Duke of Sussex with whom she shares 20 past lives and also an obvious entity mate of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. 

Meghan’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior. 

Meghan’s three primary needs are: expression, acceptance and expansion.

There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin. 

Incidentally, this artisan has been a member of the British royal family twice before.  Firstly, as Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, she was the cousin of King Henry VI and mother of King Henry VII.  As such she was the matriarch of the House of Tudor.  Her grandson was Henry VIII and her great-granddaughter, Elizabeth I. 

This artisan in that lifetime was involved in the sacraments of the church, being included in the newly established college system.  She founded Christ College, Cambridge and was instrumental with the founding of St. John’s College as well. 

Secondly, she was HRH Prince Edward, Duke of York and Albany and younger brother to George III, whose father the Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Frederick died before ascending the throne after George II.  In that lifetime, the artisan (now Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex) was interested in military structure.  He, of course, died young of a then unknown illness but which had to do with dysentery. 

Incidentally, in the current incarnation, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has suffered from gastroenteritis, which is related to the last-life health issues – this is the immediate past life and not that in 18th century when the artisan died aged 28.

*Two artisans, Diana and Meghan possessed of inordinate eloquence, star power and charisma. Both Diana and Meghan had/have a goal of acceptance; this is the great goal and all such persons have great appeal and are much loved. For less spiritually evolved souls, these persons with goal of acceptance can provoke suspicion and fear; they can even experience the opposite of their goal which is rejection and certainly, thanks to race and her unique role within the monarchy’s history, Meghan has proven a source of great fear and phenomenal rejection. She has mightily threatened the fair story and the White tribe’s sense of its superior blood’s purity and Meghan has caused many to feel truly displaced as their Caucasian blood/genetics is being threatened by the African/Black blood/genetics, which means no longer guaranteed blonde and blue-eyed offspring.

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Meghan, Duchess of Sussex Opening Remarks at One Young World Summit, 2022

Most of all, like Diana, Princess of Wales, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is an artisan soul and also an early mature soul artisan. Regardless of what one projects onto Meghan, she possesses magical qualities, like Diana did, when she takes to a mic. For Catherine, a mic is Kryptonite. Full stop.

This Is The First and Only Royal Foundation Meeting/Interview with Meghan Participating

Meghan performed handsomely as one can expect of an artisan soul with a goal of acceptance and an actor to boot. However, as is obvious from Prince William’s posture and his having had the last word in the interview, he was hawkish and Meghan performed too well. She, as far as William is concerned, upstaged not just his mumbling idiot wife but he himself. How dare she upstage him when he has been groomed from birth to be the star? She was a damn Yank and a show-off, trying to act as though this were the Meghan show. What kind of institution is that which would misogynistically want a woman to merely be an appendage. In the modern age, one has to be on and represent. Charles as with Diana and William as with Catherine have to realise that there are times when it is important based on the chosen charities that the wife has to go off and engage and make speeches to drive both attention and funding to chosen charities. If you have a blithering idiot for a wife who merely goes out and shakes hands but cameras are not allowed inside to see what an embarrassing zombie the damn woman is, then what is the point? There is no value for money there. And you can bet that William would have overbearingly been giving critiques and directives to Meghan as to what she can and cannot say or do. I cannot state enough how difficult persons with 9 mindset are to deal with. They do not listen and they never take anyone’s counsel. They know and no one is good enough to tell them anything. Just imagine that degree of conceit being exalted in someone with tunnelled vision for having a stellium in their birth chart and groomed from the word go to be sovereign.

No matter how persons here and now arse-kiss the current heir to the throne, history, the final arbiter, will dismiss William as one of the most woefully inept sovereigns, who was out of touch and a difficult prick and a half. This photograph perfectly encapsulates who these two 9-energied persons are. He is from another age and time, full of self-import and entitlement and she just another fake, gurning White female who wants the world at her feet whilst not giving a living damn. No other couple on the world stage embodies the myopia of 9 energy than these two. He will not be acceding the throne in the age of HM King Edward VII or for that matter that of HM George V when good old HM Queen Mary maintained the social rigidity of the Victorian Age to the hilt.

The Queen has died and had no assurances that the realm over which she ruled, is going to be in capably fantastic hands of a regal couple who will be able to steward the dynasty through the remainder of the century. Having been to St. Andrews and acquired an art history degree by the time of her fifth wedding anniversary, Catherine should have proven herself an asset to the Crown. All she did was an introduction to an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery about early photography, in early 2018, seven years into her marriage. At her disposal that archly lazy and socially discriminating boor has done positively nothing to uplift, inspire and proven herself a loved figure. Who gives a rat’s arse how insecure and rigid William is. Putting to good use her academic credentials, she could, by The Queen’s passing, have done three arts related televised shows per year. As arts patron of the Royal Ballet, she could have been ably assisted in hosting a television production, which would then be shown on one the BBC networks. Cameras would follow her around as she films a day at ballet rehearsals then at opening night she is attendant for a ballet like the Nutcracker so that children across the social strata are introduced to a world which could prove both inspirational and possibly lifechanging. That is a show that could then be sold internationally and those funds go to engage working class kids to become and be supported in pursuing careers in the arts. Similarly, another telecast could be mounted for the production of say the Royal Opera’s Marriage of Figaro.

Portrait of HM Queen Victoria With Her Family, Exhibition At Queen’s Gallery November 2018 Royal Collection Trust

Still another production could feature the young and capable academically accredited Catherine, giving a behind the scenes tour of some aspect of the Royal Collection Trust, which would in due course form part of the rotating exhibitions that move from the Queen’s Gallery, to Holyrood House and Windsor Castle. All that exposure garners more revenue as persons would come from across the globe to take in these exhibitions presented by the future Queen Consort, Catherine. Instead, she has supposedly been playing femme au foyer with a large staff of nannies and servants as though anyone is being fooled by the fact that their invisibility could be for no other reason than the couple being heavily engaged in their extramarital affairs.

This has never transpired because Catherine is too damn lazy and more importantly, William is far too snobbish to want to afford the little people access because such initiatives by Catherine would afford the social lepers, as his 9 mindset would see the little people, access to art to which they are not entitled. This same snobbery and bigotry is precisely why Meghan did not stand a chance. Working in tandem, of course, Meghan could have hosted similar telecasts which featured actors in rehearsal before the premier of a theatrical production. All this would usher in a time of great artistic activity, which would have its full manifestation during William’s reign and prove a hallmark of that era. That snobbery is why after the Grenfell Tower fire in June 2017, not far from where I was staying in Chelsea when visiting London that Summer, Meghan for 9 months worked with the ‘little people’ and produced the Together cookbook, for which she would have been resented by William and Catherine as it would be deemed to be showing them up.

Windsor, HM Camilla, Queen Consort 17/7/1947.

Michael: Yes, this scholar is at the mid-level of the mature soul cycle — third life thereat.  Camilla is in caution mode with a goal of growth.  A pragmatist, Camilla is in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Body type is Lunar/Venus. 

Camilla‘s primary chief feature is impatience and the secondary arrogance. 

The fragment Camilla is third-cast in sixth cadence; Camilla is a fragment of greater cadence seven.  Camilla‘s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 129. 

Camilla’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a warrior. 

Camilla’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and power. 

There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin .  (July, 2017)

*Camilla is an early mature soul, much as Diana and Meghan were/are. The mature soul cycle is where one makes/incurs a great deal of karma for fucking with others’ lives. This is what Camilla, the Courtesan Queen did in spades and what she has resumed doing with Meghan as she had with Diana, Princess of Wales. There is no greater conceitedly stubborn and interfering soul than a scholar soul. Camilla had a direct hand in Diana’s emotional distress and her eventual divorce which led in time to her being murdered. This has left the Courtesan Queen a very nasty piece of work and this you have seen acted out in her openly rude behaviour towards Blacks and taking lunch with known racists and attackers of Meghan at Mayfair’s Murano.

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Never mind Catherine, the real dynamic in all of this has been, all along both William and the Courtesan Queen. Both Camilla and William are mature Scholar souls. Scholar souls are the only souls which do not pair with another soul on a particular axis as for example: Slaves/Priests on the inspiration axis, Artisans/Sages on the expression axis and lastly Warriors/Kings on the action axis. For this reason, Scholars are very insular and do suffer from delusions and folie de grandeur; more often than not, they are archly prejudiced and like to put everyone and everything in its little box. Everything is anal retentively categorised into their rigid little boxes and they do not waiver on this purely arbitrary prejudicial perspective of theirs – each and every one of them. Also, as a rule, Scholar souls do not favour being Black and do not like Blacks – on the surface they prefer being in milieu and in societies where rather than the arts and creativity, knowledge is favoured.

Windsor, HRH Prince William Prince of Wales 21/6/1982 London, England

Michael: This fragment is sixth-level mature scholar – third life thereat.  William is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance.  A pragmatist, he is in the intellectual part of moving centre. 

Body type is Lunar/Mars/Saturn. 

William’s primary chief feature is stubbornness – death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, was the triggering event and the secondary arrogance. 

The fragment William is third-cast in sixth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence seven.  William’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 208. 

William’s essence twin is a scholar and he has a warrior task companion to whom he is married, Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales. 

William’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and security. 

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 3 with Merlin.

*Like Diana, Princess of Wales, his mother, and Meghan, William a scholar soul also has a goal of acceptance. However, unlike both women, he is moving centred; this means that he shoots his mouth off before thinking through things. He takes action without realising that he has not got a truly objective, clear overview of the issues in hand. Moreover, William was born with a stellium in his astrological chart which means that he can never clearly see the forest for the trees. His scholarly conceit means that he will act as though for being destined to be sovereign, he has a right to openly discriminate without a care in the world; this is what he engaged in at his brother’s wedding. William has become so corrupted that he is almost exclusively focussed in his opposite goal of rejection, which is what his campaign of opposing Meghan’s very existence is all about.  

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HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales & HM Queen Camilla, Queen Consort

As is obvious, Prince William is a sixth mature scholar soul. This is the most difficult level of any cycle, be it young, mature or old soul cycle. There is no peace for such persons and they can and often do create more karma than had been part of the life plan. In the case of William for being a scholar soul, he just had to be a shit-disturbing, conceited bigot and interfere in both his brother’s and his brother’s wife’s lives without a care in the world. I cannot express enough how very dangerous William is. More hired hands, more assassins and bullies are scholar souls than any other soul. There is positively no way that life within the institution was going to be smooth sailing for Meghan. She was too good to be true and most White scholar souls when they are prejudice will favour Whites, of course, and then Jews and Asians but almost never or very rarely Blacks – if the job requires they will go through the motion but they truly do consider Blacks not to be fully equal, fully human. Full stop.

There are two other very important parts of the puzzle to factor here. Not only are William and the Courtesan Queen on their third life at their respective soul ages; however, both scholar souls have the exact casting in cadence, cadence and greater cadence. They are both in the third (warrior/combative/interfering) position in the sixth (priest/megalomaniacal/Napoleonic/god-complex delusionality) cadence. As if all that were not enough, both though not pod mates (Camilla 129 and William 208) are also in greater cadence seven (king/dictatorial/bossy/abusive/vindictive). Of course, this would have left the Courtesan readily obsessed with fucking with Diana, Princess of Wales just as much as it has left William obsessed with fucking with Meghan, using his obediently pegged and bothered sex slave, Jason Knauf. Camilla and William are as though one and the same personality as they are singularly focussed on fucking with a more popular royal. Scholars are readily threatened by sages and artisans because both soul types are on the expression axis and have a ready wit, appeal and theatricality that scholars almost always find threatening as it highlights their own sense of dullness and lack of mass appeal and sexiness. Obviously, there are exceptions to all such basic personality types with regards to the roles; however, when you look at both Diana, Princess of Wales (Lunar/Mercury) and Meghan (Venus/Solar) body types both Camilla and William would respectively be threatened by each hugely more popular royal. Venus/Solar body type means that no matter how the collective consciousness tries to invalidate and demonise Meghan, more than all the current senior royals, she will transcend time and be the most powerful and popular royal from this age. People well into the future will be astonished that anyone had to endure so much bullshit merely for being Black and marrying into the royal family.

William and Catherine socialising whilst on duty. As a rule, Scholars souls are not touchy-feely types; this is why at times, Catherine has to be the one to initiate tenderness between them. Of course, this is totally opposite to the Sussexes who are warrior (Henry) and artisan (Meghan) souls which are very simpatico and when it works is a very dynamic, sizzling relationship with lots of touching and empathetic communion of souls. Whilst Catherine and William are task companions, unbreakable bond, Henry and Meghan are entity mates and would be deeply bonded and simpatico.

HM Queen Camilla, Queen Consort & HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales

The second oldest soul of the senior royals, William is at the difficult six level of the mature cycle. What makes William singularly problematic for the Windsor dynasty, is his chief feature of Stubbornness. The chief feature is the fatal flaw which causes one not to achieve one’s goal and leaves the life in disarray; it is also the most difficult chief feature to overcome. William’s stubbornness means that though he can be as charming as are all persons with a goal of acceptance, he does though almost exclusively come from a place of rejection the opposite of his goal. People in stubbornness are difficult, bullying and under no circumstances do they tolerate change or anything that is different – this cannot be emphatically stated enough! Under no circumstances did Meghan stand a chance with this difficult individual. There is never a single instance where William is photographed being warm and inclusive of Meghan, not whilst on the balcony at trooping the colour or at any other time. There is the infamous Christmas at Sandringham where when Meghan looked back to speak to William, he stopped turned away and began fidgeting with his scarf. It was a snub and was deliberate. Of course, for the White tribe the most powerful word when dealing with Blacks, to whom one owes enormous karma, is NO! Scholar souls are devoid emotionality and as they do not pair with any other soul type, they are loners and innately reticent snobs.

Simply Beautiful Jennifer Hudson Kennedy Center Honors Al Green 2014

Yes, you are Diana! Yes, you are Meghan! Simply beautiful, you are Diana and Meghan, and those who know nothing of beauty, fear you most!

Just as the Courtesan Queen scholar, Camilla made Diana’s life miserable and triggered her emotional and mental abuse, so too has the Pegged Bourbon lovechild caused Meghan emotional and mental anguish by having the Fleet Street abattoirs and the palace leakers, especially that nez brun queer, Jason Knauf, REJECT, demonise and racially lynch Meghan, leaving her the most hated Black woman in history. This notion that Catherine and William have played no role in the Sussexes’ departure is sheer bullshit. They are guilty as sin. Catherine would have hated and been rude and dismissive of Chelsy Davy and Cressida Bonas, especially like Meghan, Chelsy and Cressida are better looking than Catherine. Catherine is ridiculously insecure and her 9 energy body would have her bullying and treating any wife of Henry’s like a dog. Catherine is a displaced commoner, which is all the more reason why she would be power mad; she does too have a primary need for Power which is a mark of megalomania.

You Bring Me Joy, Yolanda Adams Tribute to Anita Baker, BET Awards 2018

Let’s send some love for both Diana, Princess of Wales’s beloved son, Henry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex for the abuse they have endured at the hands of grudging, interfering, racist scholars. Sing it Yolanda Adams!

Windsor, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex 15/9/1984 London, England

Michael: This feisty fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior -– fourth life thereat – to his sixth-level mature brother, William.  Henry is in the power mode with a goal of growth.  A sceptic, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Body type is Mars/Saturn. 

Henry’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness. 

The fragment Henry is first-cast in second cadence; he is a fragment of greater cadence three.  Henry’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 – Henry is an entity mate of his paternal grandmother, HM Queen Elizabeth II. 

Henry’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion. 

Henry’s primary needs are: freedom, adventure and exchange. 

There are 9 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin. 

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Where Camilla saw Diana as too ‘showy’ and a threat that had to be eliminated – remember, more guns for hire, assassins and saboteurs are scholar souls than not, William also saw his mother and her emotionality as a bit of an embarrassment. Had Diana survived, he would have been just as cool towards her on becoming a parent as he was towards his father, HM King Charles III. Though HM King Charles III is the oldest soul senior royal, seventh mature warrior soul, like all such souls, yours truly included, they do not do drama and have no patience for confusion. Where it all gets interesting, is the other warrior soul in this mix, Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex who as a fifth mature warrior is going to be drama on an operatic scale which is precisely what is unfolding. Do not for a nanosecond think of Henry as a mental case, he is a source of deep fear for the senior royals as he has the shrewdest most Machiavellian overleaves; no matter what, Henry will triumph… know that. As he was Black in his immediate past life, Henry will fight to the last man standing in defence of his wife and children, persons of Black African heritage. Henry’s having been Black in his immediate past life is validated by his connection to Africa, Black Africa and his work with Prince Seeiso of Lesotho, his AIDS charity, Sentebale and deep connection to Botswana and the ease with which he has always been in his skin when in the company of Blacks, unlike William and Catherine who clearly cannot or choose never to mask their racial animus towards Blacks.

Fifth mature lives are all about being expansive and such persons do accomplish a great deal; coupled with that, Henry has a goal of growth. Such people do not stand still, they will be born of humble means and end up living on New York City’s billionaires row in a penthouse. They will be the first to sign up to go into space, the Moon or Mars; they are daring and will always take that leap of faith that others would think horrifying. Furthermore, Henry has an attitude of sceptic, this is the most complex and most powerful manner in which to be focussed intellectually. It is the attitude of the master strategist and as rigorously shrewd as a chest master. Regardless of how Henry is portrayed by the media, he is the most intelligent royal and infinitely more complex and smarter than both his father and brother; HLM Queen Elizabeth II knew this as hers was a goal of dominance and a realist, she saw everything and everyone as they truly were. This is why during the Netflix documentary Henry’s description of what happened at the Sandringham Summit, is precisely what would have happened, William would have been a yelling bully, Charles dithering and lying all over the map and the Queen relishing watching Henry come into his own in a most tense power struggle. Topping it all off, Henry is in power mode, these people are operatic in the scope of the lives they lead and they do accomplish much. They are able to attract into their lives only that which they desire. There is no way that Henry could remain a part of a dynasty, wherein his brother he knows to be both stupid and clueless. Most of all, William is an anti-Black racist and there is no way Henry would be able to either tolerate or support any such Sovereign. This was never about stepping away and abandoning The Queen, it was about telling his brother to go fuck himself – for a sceptic, Henry knows that his brother is an idiot and neither holding his tongue nor kowtowing proved an acceptable proposition to Henry. Also, Catherine and William are in the 200s pod series whilst HLM The Queen, Henry, Meghan, Prince George and Prince Archie are all cadre mates in the 400s pod series. The current Waleses do not get it and Henry was not prepared to stick around and tolerate the abuse or participate in his brother and his wife’s clown show: pegging, love children, philandering, perpetually rowing night and day. Thus far, the Waleses have been adulterous which has likely resulted in a lovechild between them, Damian with Ben Ainslie and a daughter with Rose, Countess Rocksavage. Mature souls prefer mating for life and running stable households, unless of course that mature soul couple are miserable with their partner as is abundantly clear with William and Catherine.

A House Is Not A Home Luther Vandross 19th NAACP Image Awards 1987

And above all else, we own the music, we bring the music. My eldest sister who now permanently lives in Nevis came to town in recent months, for having been in lockdown for way too long; she just wanted to get away. I was last in Nevis in 2000 to introduce my wife to the place who thought it was the most far out trip imaginable; personally, it is way too bright in the Tropics. I who have collected art since my teen years, have preferred working at night time and living with windows heavily draped at all times. With a collection that is more than 90 percent works on paper, I can ill afford to have my art being subjected to sunlight. All windows boarded up, affording me more space to hang art; besides, Sol is too damn bright and furthermore, it belongs the fuck outside. In any event, my sister began talking about family and who had gotten married, died and had babies; she is the encyclopaedic font of the family’s history. So then she began sharing all the chatter about Covid lockdown funeral etiquette, when she mentioned that she attended the funeral at which scary spice, Mel B. (Brown) of the Spice Girl gave the eulogy. That was news because I knew that only few persons were allowed to attend funerals. So Mel B. gave the eulogy for her beloved grandmother who happened to have been a cousin of my mum’s; my sister was invited to represent our family. So who aren’t you related to, my wife asked and off my sister went.

Meghan is Black so naturally out of the woodwork comes all this hate and animus from persons who have no business being in this lane.

Like seriously. Look METHenny what the fuck has this got to do with you and why are you being so goddamn ape batshit crazy? When were Black people jumping up and down and acting like the sky was falling when Al Gore announced his running mate, Joe Lieberman? Go educate your 20 million zombie followers all about the Falasha genocide in Israel. No, you don’t know about that? Why don’t you go back and stay the fuck in your lane, shut the fuck up and stay fucking lost? Honest to fucking g_d!

Then along comes this racist freak, Joanna Weiss. Hey Donkey, what gives? Hate Meghan all you want, it will never change the fact that Catherine is a blasted inarticulate dud. She is lazy and the only thing she is capable of doing, is working with toddlers because she is not expected to make speeches to persons sucking on pacifiers and wearing diapers. This need to make inroads into America, pushing this negative narrative about the Sussexes is transparent. Most of the persons engaging in this hate campaign are disproportionately Jewish. This woman’s article made positively no sense whatsoever; however, it is a known fact that once ‘one’ is being shrill about Blacks, one must be right. If no one can so much as look sideways in your direction why must you persist with always demonising, vilifying, racially preying on Blacks?

Jon Sopel BBC Presenter

Reporter throws back to Sopel in BBC studio on the day that the Sussexes’ firstborn was named; he smugly stated, I’ve a friend whose dog’s name is Archie. Smug born and bred little bigoted boor. Of course, there were no consequences for his vile remarks. What gives?

Constantly yammering away with the shrill hatred, inciting anti-Black racism and does so in the smug conceit that they will never be challenged for being Jewish. Yeah Tom, why don’t you, since you do not exclusively write royal biographies, turn your unbiased eye and tell the story of the Falasha genocide in Israel. That’s right, the forced sterilisation of Black Israeli Jews from Ethiopia who had their numbers reduced by 50% because they were Black and for no other reason. As for Angela Levin, she has seriously insulted the Sussexes in print time and again, whilst claiming to respect the House of Windsor. She has repeatedly referred to Henry & Meghan’s daughter Lilibet Diana as Lilibut. You fucking crass anti-Black racist Jew. Having grown up in the Caribbean with three maids with a very proud mother who fiercely instilled pride and inner fortitude in her six children; looking and sounding every bit my mum when displeased, I have been known to flatly shoot someone a look and brutally demand, Since when the fuck does being Jewish not make you White?

Adrien Brody Winning Best Acting Oscar 2003 Academy Awards

In 2002 Halle Berry became the first Black actress to win the Oscar for best actress. Chances are had 9/11 not occurred six months prior, she likely would not have won. Certainly, she had not been favoured to win. She grudgingly won and broke a Hollywood taboo; Black women are not good enough, beautiful enough, too beautiful to be threatening White actresses by winning a best actress award. To date more than a fifth of the best actress awards have been won by White British actresses; that’s right, an American award being afforded Britons instead of Black American women, or for that matter Latina American actresses to say nothing of other non-White actresses, Asian and Native American among them.

There she was dumbstruck with disbelief, gave a great speech but though that night the doors had been opened, up onto the stage walked Adrien Brody, grabbed her, stuck his tongue down her throat and sexually assaulted a Black woman before a global audience and thereby putting her back in her place and slamming the door, which ought never to have been opened, shut again. Adrien is, of course, Jewish and had any Black actor gone to the stage and done what he did to a White actress, to say nothing of a Jewish actress, their career would have been summarily lynched. Black men were lynched, murdered for looking at White women, accused of sexually assaulting White women, at times when in a different state at the time of the alleged assault, yet the ultimate double standard was being demonstrated. Adrien for being Jewish could do no wrong. At the time, as I watched the show live in Montréal where I then lived, the Jewish men at the party I attended were wildly celebratory and thought that it was a stroke of genius when Adrien did what he did. It was code, Adrien was telling Halle that all she is a damn cheap cinematic whore and should not have risen above her station. The clapping of the three Jewish males at that viewing party was hostile, degrading and lethally racist. There is positively no way that Adrien Brody would have taken to that stage, grabbed and shoved his tongue down Nicole Kidman’s throat thereby sexually assaulting her. That’s what you get for deferring to, fearing and never challenging persons who do not think your humanity of any worth.

Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Judy Garland Everybody Sing, 1938

Never let it be forgotten that this is how, you, perceive Blacks. End of discussion. How many biopics of Blacks displaying their creative genius in Jazz has Hollywood bankrolled? Precisely.

Tree I Planted At Age Seven In Back Garden in St. Kitts

When I was about six years old, at a time when I had multiple boy and girl friends in the neighbourhood, I had a rather rude awakening whose lessons have ever impacted on me. My then boyfriend was months older with the most beautiful smiling eyes and dimpled. We would always kiss when playing hide and seek and engage in intercrural sex, making passionate noises and kissing on the lips whist I’d breathlessly declare, “I love you, I love you, I love you, my darling.” One day, my childhood lover who passed last March, came by with a friend whom I had ever dismissed as an absolute oaf. He was dull, shy and frankly stupid. Could never be part of my little racy theatrical events and sexual romps. Then, my darlings, my dimpled lover had the shy oaf unsheathe the goods. In that moment my baptism as size queen was thorough. At once I fell to my knees and as though calling on past-life memories, the poilued and über thick beast was in my mouth. I was ravenous like a sexually ravaged nun. Before, I knew what next, life’s elixir shot warmly into my mouth. I got up, trembling and wanted this to not end. Oaf that he was, he quickly tidied himself. Imperiously, I dismissed my dimpled lover and callously told him that it was over between us; I had after all found love! I simply refused to speak to the dimpled scorned lover. He courted me, giving me a toy plane which I took but still demanded that he return with my throbbing bit of ecstasy. Days later, the little dimpled charlatan showed up at my house accompanied by his aunt with her embarrassing my mother when she demanded that her damn thieving son, return the toy plane that she had gifted her nephew. I was aghast. Naturally, I could not have blurted out that he was jealous because I had dropped her nephew for newfound, real, big loving.

View Northwest to Sandy Point from Brimstone Hill

Days later, as I made my way across the bridge to the grocers, I had been tormented with vile looks by my abandoned lover’s grandmother who sat on the stoop, smoking her pipe as West Indian women enjoying their senectitude are wont. Fearful of her, I managed to call out as one is expected to of elders, ‘Good afternoon…’ Faster than a bat at sundown, she shot back, “What? Fire your wayward lil arse. You blasted catamite!” I was so stunned and ashamed that I hurried to the grocers which by the time I arrived, I was crying my eyes out. The matriarch, whose granddaughter was a classmate and in time would become high commissioner in London, sternly told me that I was not to fear anyone. “Listen to me, you go back and let her know if she ever talks to you that way again, you’ll tell your mother!” Indeed. On my return instead of walking on the opposite side of the street, I paused and hissed at her, “You ever talk to me like that again, and I will tell me muddah!” She trembled and fell silent and that was that. I never thereafter lost sense of who I am and whose son I was. Fear no one could best describe my mum than anything else. Most of all, I learnt that day that shame merely gets in the way and is an utter waste of time.

And now, we eagerly await voraciously devouring its 400 plus pages and in the next blog, I shall give a most thrilling review of SPARE, Prince Henry’s ennobled defence of his and family’s honour. Go on Henry, justly tell them to fire their wayward arses, you are Diana’s son and wife of the very indomitable Meghan who previously was Margaret Beaufort.

Henry & Meghan, Duke & Duchess of Sussex, June 2022 St. Paul’s Cathedral

Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, Massey Hall May 1953, Toronto Seminal Live Jazz Recording

Dizzy Gillespie – Trumpet

Charles Mingus – Bass

Bud Powell – Piano

Max Roach – Drums

Charlie Parker – Saxophone

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Fuck you, Jazz is Black culture, the hell with you!

As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Utterly Beautiful… Frame.

TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge

Simply stunning; the hue of the wood suggests an agedness as though it were centuries old; rather than the expectant lustre of bright gold, the subdued golden hue alludes to the agedness of the British monarchy which is in its second millennium. So then, the beauty of this portrait, the frame; now to everything else.

Princes Harry & William at Unveiling of Diana, Princess of Wales Statue, July, 2021

This photograph deftly betrays both princes’ true posture. Harry a fifth level mature warrior – same soul age and soul type as Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge – is always going to be proud in stature and not given to slouching. William a sixth mature scholar soul and task companion of his wife, Catherine, slouches, partly for towering over most persons at 6.3 feet tall. However, William has hyper-extended knees and as such, his body naturally counterbalances that stance by bearing his head and chest forward and in a concave manner rather than not. Though evocative of regal portraits from times past, in Jamie Coreth’s painting, that posture simply is not innate to HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.

Admiral Viscount Horatio Nelson, Alexander Hamilton, 1st Duke of Wellington, HM King Charles I, HM King George III, HM King George IV, Napoleon Bonaparte & SM Roi Louis XIV.

All these portraits depict the historic figures standing, weight on one leg with the other leg’s foot forward and turned out. It is a commanding position. Of all historical portraits HM King Charles I’s is my favourite, partly because his death was so comically tragic. More than that, Charles I’s swagger and pride remains unparalleled. I am also partial simply because those magical eyes and goatee of HM King Charles I’s are not dissimilar to Merlin, my task companion’s, look during his most recent past life.

Prince William is made to affect this posture; however, it is obviously foreign to his persona. He has a goal of acceptance which is the great goal and such people are always warm and open; however, with a second number of 9, mindset, he is anything but warm. He has unequivocally demonstrated that he is archly bigoted and a rude dismissive snob. To make matters worse, his wife, who happens to be his task companion, also has 9 but in the first/energy body position. Both persons have primary chief features of stubbornness and secondary of arrogance. Stubbornness would most definitely mitigate his being open to anyone when he was born and groomed to be the ultimate snob. Furthermore, persons with a primary chief feature of stubbornness are persistently shit-disturbing, obstreperous and infuriatingly difficult.

Catherine’s resting face as ever is no oil painting. Catherine is possessed of an energy body of 9 and such persons, especially so when born female, are toxic in the extreme. They are also bitingly sarcastic, difficult and unrelentingly unpleasant socially. As a mature warrior soul in perseverance mode with a chief feature of stubbornness, you could not find a bigger shit-disturber and conceited bully. Couple all that with having to be wedded to an equally difficult mature soul and both equally insecure, Meghan, self-made and vastly more intelligent and articulate plus unacceptably of Black blood, did not stand a chance with these two.

This masterful oil on canvas, Paul Emsley, which permanently hangs at the National Portrait Gallery, perfectly captures the essence of who Catherine is; it is full of nuance and dark undercurrents, which readily betray the complexity of spirit that she and every mature soul know during the course of each lifetime. One of the lessons of the mature soul cycle, is having to learn pretty tough life lessons for being spiritually stagnant. The accompanying photograph, taken whilst on royal tour in the Bahamas, March 2022, captures the woman’s true nature. In the case of Catherine, and William, they have been gifted with Prince Louis. As everything is choice; they could have chosen not to have a third child and a third child could have been born to them without obvious mental/emotional issues if during gestation, Catherine was not engaged in such racially toxic behaviour towards the Sussexes. It does the Cambridges no favours that everyone in the kingdom has painted the drama surrounding the Sussexes as though it were completely one-sided and that the Cambridges were not at the very heart of the rift; regardless, how this is all made to seem a one-sided affair, it does still take two hands to clap. Not only is the Cambridges’ conceit encouraged but their glaring stupidity has been exposed, regardless how the British media and society blindly choose to act as though the Cambridges are in no way culpable for or play any part in the affair, at its heart centre this whole mess is all about racism. Since it is too damaging for the Cambridges, just let the Sussexes fuck off and stay gone as this is the only only way to save, in due course, the Cambridges’ reign.

No matter how much these two row in public, which is increasingly ubiquitous, British media simply pretend as though it does not exist. In point of fact, the Sussexes have largely been used as a smokescreen to deflect attention off the Cambridges’ very turbulent marriage. No matter what, at least for now, the Cambridges cannot be seen as anything other than a loving couple, adored throughout the kingdom.

BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas, 2019

This whole affair has brought to sharp focus how the White tribe simply fabricate reality as they would have it. These past few weeks of watching CNN’s coverage of the January 6th commission hearings on Capitol Hill, the Trumpian perspective is a poignant exposé into the White tribe’s collective psyche. One boldly tells a lie and for repeating it loudly and long enough, it becomes fact. Thriving almost exclusively on negativity, that vile liar, President Trump, was been able to incite an insurrection and for merely being a moneyed White male, he has not only been believed but he has commanded fierce, blindly unwavering loyalty. Though he is as guilty as sin, the Democrats are utterly paralysed with fear to arrest, charge, prosecute and imprison a President who for the first time in over 250 years attempted a coup d’état. Trump epitomises the White tribe’s zeitgeist: at all costs, we win, we are always right and no one gets to be perceived as being better than us; more importantly, we can never be perceived as either being wrong or having failed.

What I love about this masterful portrait, is how cleverly the artist makes a reference to King Juan Carlos, the Bourbon King of Spain, as the nose is decidedly neither the Spencer nor the Windsor nose. As the saying goes, when you know, you know.

HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge by Dan Llywelyn Hall

This succinct painting is of a gormless-looking Prince William by Welsh artist, Dan Llywelyn Hall, in which the painter masterfully captures the essence of William’s persona. William is neither the swiftest of souls nor the most emotionally august. From his open ridicule of Black culture at the Sussexes’ wedding to sanctioning the recent seating arrangement at St. Paul’s Cathedral during HM The Queen’s platinum jubilee, neither he nor his wife can claim ignorance of racism within the royal family. They are at the very heart of the racist campaign against the Sussexes; nevertheless, within the kingdom and beyond its shores, the golden royal couple are universally deemed a paragon of superior, racially pure virtuousness in a land where the royal propaganda is not dissimilar to the blinding sycophancy afforded North Korean leaders.

In the couple’s 40th birthday portrait, they are seen to be closing ranks, as well they have. More importantly, they are neither looking at each other nor are they smiling as they are deeds done between them and against the Sussexes, for which they would rather remain mum. The Cambridges or for that matter their propagandists do not have the ability to whitewash the truth neither indefinitely nor beyond their kingdom’s shores. True love as alluded in the recent photographic portrait of the Cambridges does not bear tarnished fruit as is obvious with their third-born, Prince Damien. There is a direct result between the Sussexes’ treatment as a consequence of the Cambridges’ machinations and Prince Louis being the damaged goods that he is.

Charles Mingus Sextet Concert Rehearsal Stockholm, 1964

Charles Mingus / Bass

Eric Dolphy / Alto Saxophone, Bass Clarinet

Dannie Richmond / Drums

Jaki Byard / Piano

Johnny Coles / Trumpet

Clifford Jordan / Tenor Saxophone

As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Oxford Circus. Pimlico. Barbican.

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Bright and early Tuesday morning and it was off to Oxford Circus in search of more art.  

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No faking this; the hustle is fucking real. 

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As I poured through this joint, I recalled my advice to the London cab driver whilst crawling along Pall Mall two days earlier.  

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Well if Daddy Warbucks’ little girl ain’t toothless, what is one to do but vacuously laugh with every breath.   

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As though I had just walked in on the most malodorous dump, I was out of this dive in a New York minute.  

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As I came up out of the Underground, I felt as though I had just endured a room whose stench was dirty ashtrays, liquor and coffee.  Once at Hyde Park Corner, I made it to Apsley House, only to discover that it was not open during the week.  Took the time to breathe the crisp – though not cold like Canadian – air with Hyde Park’s trees’ transitioning foliage predominantly apricot-coloured.  

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Vauxhall Tower (St. George Wharf Tower.)

Arrived at Pimlico and the air was comfortably cool; so nice to have a brilliant sunny day for a change.  Nonetheless, you can bet your bottom dollar that I was protected by my extra thick-lensed black shades. 

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After working almost exclusively at nighttime and since before that when in the theatre, I have developed a genuine sensitivity to sunlight.  You cannot convince me that we are not much too close to Sol for comfort.  So to Tate Britain I was returned.  After the scam that was the Klimt / Schiele, I was not rolling the die on Turner Prize 2018.  

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I went into this exhibition with zero expectations.  Like the British Museum, I love the gift shop at Tate Britain as opposed to Tate Modern’s.  I was on the hunt for unique gifts to purchase; this ticketed event was a gamble.  

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You cannot begin to fathom the degree to which I was wowed by the breath of this artist’s genius.  

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Remarkably, there was no end to this genius’ vision.  

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There is, throughout his art, movement and fluidity with the greatest grace and attack.  

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This is a colossal retrospective and his talent was unmatched.  

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The sensuality is breathtaking.  

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Every painting was a newly discovered masterpiece.  

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The breath of his work is astounding.  

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What a truly marvellous discovery.  

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His work left everyone moving through the exhibit in a state of harmony.  There was such peace and serenity in each salon and every salon had some wow moment masterpiece.  

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One key element of his art was that each work was hung in the spot-on perfect frame.  

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Masterful!

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For me, Edward’s genius epitomises where dreams and genius merge and produce the most uplifting art.  

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Quite simply, there are no words.  

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Besotted.  

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The moment that I laid eyes on this tableau, I immediately thought of Francis Bacon.  

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Breathtaking…

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Now, this is Art,  Next-level tapestry.  The fluid sensuality is overwhelming.  

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This is everything.  

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I would gladly have paid thrice as much to view this exhibition.  

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This was like nothing I had seen before and it far exceeded anything that I had expected.  Truly beautiful.  After dining on a late lunch in Pimlico, it was back to Bloomsbury for a nap before heading out into the evening.  

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Though I was rather looking forward to hanging out at Ronnie Scott’s, the idea of listening to Charlie Parker and John Coltrane (an entity mate) being butchered by some Israeli appropriationist was not exactly high on my must-do list.  

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Happy was I to be in the comfy seats at Barbican Centre Cinemas to watch a LIVE relay from Covent Garden of that evening’s performance of La Bayadère, which at week’s end I would be attending.  By far, this was the most glorious of cinematic experiences.  I could not believe the sight of Natalia Makarova when she appeared on screen. 

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She was now full-bodied as we mostly get on ageing.  Last time that I had seen her was during a class we took together at NYC’s Harkness House ballet school during summer 1983.  That late spring was the last time that I had also seen the ballet live; it was May 19, 1983 and my favourite dancer, the dimpled, shy and oh so sweet, Fernando Bujones was dancing the role of Solor.  

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As ever, thanks for your ongoing support and dream as lucidly as you want to… 

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

The Remains of Armistice Day.

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Strangely, though the major part of Armistice Day celebrations were long concluded, there were still more persons moving westward towards the Cenotaph than easterly towards Trafalgar Square.  My companion, a spectacled, freckled guy in his early 30s, was keen on having me come back to his flat in South Bank – We were headed towards Charing Cross Station to take the Bakerloo Line towards his place.  

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Stalling for time, as I really was not feeling him, I firmly suggested that we go tour Banqueting House as I had never been, which was the truth.  Of course, it did not help that the only thing at Banqueting House was the great ceiling art and the throne; the rest of it was just as empty as clearly, James, my “Mate” was dense.  Long years ago, a channeller of dubious skills stated rather imperiously that I would meet someone named James, who would prove rather loyal and a long-term affair.  

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Somehow, this nebulous bit of arcana seemed to be the only sane reason why I was suffering this oaf overlong.  His constant bitching about “Nutmeg,” as he referred to the Duchess of Sussex, was not winning him any favours in my books.  I had hoped to have found much more archival fare associated with the spot where HM King Charles I was executed.  Alas, there was nothing save a throne and an impressive ceiling.  

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With the toilets at Banqueting House fully occupied and alarmingly foul-smelling, back outside we dashed in hopes of finding a toilet.  A pub, whose name I did not even catch a few door towards Trafalgar Square, proved the right spot.  He ordered a couple of lagers – I never drink beer, and off I went to the toilet to relieve myself.  I waited overlong, waiting for him to possibly come in then use the stalls so that I could make a mad dash for it.  No such luck.  However, on rejoining him, he lustily talked about what he wanted me to do to him.  Never one to miss an opportunity, I suggested he go unclog his plumbing so that I could give it to him good, long and hard when we got back his place.  

Naively quick to take the bait, out I dashed into the larger-than-usual crowds when he eagerly bolted to the toilet; once outside, I then caught the tail end of the latest regiment to go moving from the roundabout as they made their way from the Strand and onto Whitehall.  With that, I swiftly made it across Pall Mall, crossed Canada House and made my way to the new entrances to the National Gallery – this James clearly was not the one.  

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Taking the time to avail myself of the museum’s free wi-fi, I sipped on a boost of Pret A Manger’s little magic, yellow potion, Hot Shot.  I then decided against the Bellini show – Italian art is way too religious for my liking and it strangely enough has never once addressed the fact that the Church of Rome has, in its role as civiliser, proven the most disruptive terror group this planet has thus far known.  For me, there is something alarmingly dangerous about a culture, which would completely and utterly eclipse this rather crucial aspect that has decided their place in the world – but enough about that for now.  

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Having dodged James, I decided to do the Courtauld exhibition as it would beat having to attend the museum on this trip.  Whilst standing in one of two long queues, along came Ms. Thang, who simply looked at us and grandly walked up to the next sales rep as though she had exited St. George’s Chapel on Ginger’s arm on the gloriously sunny early afternoon of May 19, 2018.  

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As I was next in line, I just as imperiously declared to her and the rep, “Take you, the weave and that blasted fake channel handbag to the back of the line; there are not two lines of invisible persons waiting to buy tickets.”  Before she could turn nasty with me, the lovely Dravidian lady informed her that I was next in line and, more importantly, she intended to serve me next.  Fake boobs that looked like flotation devices and feet that were too big to fit any glass slippers and, of course, there was a bulky turtleneck to hide the Adam’s apple.  

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Though “she” was prepared to do drama, I came to do me and look at art and that I did.  I was really wowed by some of these works, which I previously had not seen.  

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Naturally, this Degas masterpiece only warmed my soul.  Straight away, I was left humming the music from the grand pas de deux in Act II of La Bayadère, which I could not wait to see at week’s end.  

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Shades of Canada’s Group of Seven, to be sure.  I like the fact that the artist did not include the entire tree in the portrait.  

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Ah yes, and who doesn’t love the sublime soulfulness of a Gauguin tableau.  

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Trees, trees and even more trees.  What’s not to love!  

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After having been greatly inspired by the Courtauld Impressionist show – well worth the price – I bailed outside; there were too many parents using the free admission to the museum as a place to come in out of the elements and babysit their way too young children.  Once outside, I hailed a cab, though, not the above – wrong day and time of day.  This cab proved one of the most memorable journeys.  As The Mall was closed, we took the roundabout from in front of Trafalgar Square and headed along Pall Mall.  I wanted just then to get to The Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace but did not want to use the underground; it was way too glorious a day out. 

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Finally, I laid down the law to the driver, who was a burly soul and looked like the quintessential slave soul.  Soon enough, we got into a conversation when we began chatting about Canada, which I shared that I would give anything to flee in hopes of living in London.  Soon, the topic turned to sex and whatever one would have to do to get by.  Ha!  Said he, he would give up this gig of 22 years and counting by marrying a fat, ugly rich broad to which, without so much as missing beat, I chimed in, “Don’t stop there, if you can find rich, fat, ugly and toothless, now you’ve got it made.  To paraphrase Frank Sinatra from The Best Is Yet To Come, you ain’t been blown until you’ve had a gum job!”  Never in long ages had I heard a grown man laugh so hard and for so long – a fellow cab driver going in the opposite direction even honked at him and asked what was so funny. 

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After having sat in traffic for far too long, though the metre read 12£, he asked for a 10£ note and thank me, saying he ought to have paid me for the company and humour.  With that, I dashed past St. James Palace en route for The Mall which, of course, was closed.  Finally, I made it up to the Queen’s Gallery and took in the Russia: Royalty & the Romanovs exhibition, which did offer some truly inspired gems from the Royal Collection.  

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Well, of course, he ruled something.  

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I was reminded in this portrait of Tsar Nicholas I of the 1970s when the goods were readily on display; however, along came AIDS and all that display and ogling readily evaporated.  Instead, men were morphed into true peacocks with long blow-dry locks, which really did become tiresome after a season or two.  Now, of course, it is the great and truly civilised age of the Internet, which lest you forget, is saturated with more than 80% pornography.  

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The Vladimir Tiara which is not dissimilar to the Cambridge Lover’s Knot Tiara, which always looked truly handsome when worn by the ravishing, Diana, Princess of Wales.  

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Set in the green drawing room at Windsor Castle, where on May 19, 2018, Alexi Lubomirski took the official photographs of the wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex, you cannot possibly begin to imagine the overwhelming scope and grandeur of this tableau.  Truly, one is left in awe of the fact that HM Queen Victoria was a tiny acorn who matured into a mighty oak who, through her womb, extended her empire far and wide across the continent.  This was a ravishing exhibition and one of the most stunning paintings that I have ever seen from the Royal Collection.  

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After all that inspiring art, I needed to ground anew; thus, I opted to take a brisk walk, cutting through Green Park where the light fast shifted and danced below the horizon… never to be experienced again.  With that, I hopped onto the Piccadilly Line at Green Park Station and made my way back to Russell Square Station; there, I resorted to my hotel room and took a lucidly awakened, dream-sodden nap before getting on with the final celebrations of this poignant Armistice Day.  

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Before making it to Barbican Station on the Circle Line, I had had the most awakened flying dream, which had me spirited across the spiral arms of Time to a past life in London.  

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To reflect, celebrate and give thanks, how could I not indulge in an evening of music and song with the London Symphony Orchestra.  

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Nice, plush comfortable seats with a troika of gay Jewish dancer/actors seated ahead of me.  The evening was beautiful, the singing stellar.  

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As there was an empty seat on either side of me, I offered to move to the left and afforded the lovely young couple from Paris to sit together – she had been sat a row ahead and away from her spectacled, fey lover – he had more than a passing resemblance to Merlin.  Leaning in, I whispered to him, “The universe always conspires to accommodate lovers…” he blushed, they both blushed sweetly and were pleasant company that added a certain magic to the evening.  Here’s to lovers… indeed.  

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En route back to the hotel… a little late night smoothie snack was in order. 

As ever, sweet dreams, don’t forget to push off and start flying and as always, thanks for your ongoing support.  

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

Finding Centre (Redux) A Life at Court.

King_George_IV_when_Prince_Regent_(1762-1830),_by_Henry_Bone

The Sun is the source point for the causal and astral planes.  The Sun’s rays, indeed all stars’ rays, are the conduits along which the soul reincarnationally interpenetrates the planes.

This I learnt whilst in flight, directly above Sol, in the black void of space which was a very massive and heavy dimension onto itself.

A star’s electromagnetic frequencies, vibrating outwards, serve as the facilitating conveyance that enables the soul’s light energies to effortlessly move back and forth between the planes.

During this entire experience, I was so expansive that I felt as though limitless.  I really had no sense of being in a dream body in a projected out-of-body state.

Rather, there was no body, there was just pure intellect.  Absolutely liberating and superb was this dream experience.

Whilst I was on a nighttime sidestreet, I saw Dean Pulliam.  With no one about, he slowly rode on a white bike; he was cruising.

As I walked fast to catch up to him, he saw me and stopped, looked back then turned left onto a paved alley.  With that he rode off in a mad dash avoiding me.

I then got on a white bike myself and saw two 1970s, brown Pontiac Camarros or Firebirds.  They came down the alley towards me cruising along at a leisurely pace.

The first made a sharp left, at the back of a large house, going into an open yard.  The rear car made such an abrupt turn that it skidded and then broke loudly screeching.

They proceeded to the right of the house, in the alley, going towards the front.  Thinking that this was certainly unusual, I stopped to look.

The front car then stopped and out came a dark-haired handsome man.  He was screaming at the driver of the car in the back,

“Why are you following me?”

The other driver was a silent, deadly heavy type.  Getting out, the man said nothing in response whilst emphatically slamming his door shut.

Next, I was in a house at nighttime, as a thorough review and investigation was underway.  They were trying to find out why the devil the man was being pursued.  A very beautiful candle-lit salon it was here.

There were lots of crystal wares with marvellous-looking rich spirits filling them.  Food was exquisitely prepared and presented before the regally dressed guests who themselves were a fairly urbane lot.

The same dark-haired man was the centre of the drama here.  He was being celebrated as this apparently was the eve of his wedding.  Beautifully dressed, he was draped with a blue and gold sash.

Six-foot-plus, he was handsome, in a vaguely regal manner.  He took a handful of spaghetti, from a gold-leafed bowl, ritually tossing it to the kitchen and the chefs there.

Everyone gloriously roared whilst enjoying the drink of this man’s magnetic personality.  He was rather powerful and intimidatingly so to boot.  He was also a tad unpredictable.

*Obviously, this man was a Knight of the Order of Garter.  Perhaps, he was a royal prince whom I knew during my incarnation at the court of King George III.  At the time, I was a male singer at court and my accompanist was then female and Merlin – my task companion; she played the harpsichord.  END.

At that point, he hurriedly took his leave of the party.  Here there were lots of dark woods – exposed wooden beams, panelling and parquetry.  There were lots of details in the woodwork.

I then went to a rear salon of the house when the man’s pursuer showed up.  He banged on the front door demanding to be let inside.  Pandemonium soon broke out as everyone in attendance panicked for their lives.

Rushing from the salon, I made my way to a rear door.  Here the doors were rather large dark wood and easily eight-foot-plus in height.  There were a series of hunting bas reliefs in them.

A stout older man, a cardinal or bishop – some such clerical figurehead, went to the door to try and get rid of the man.  No such luck as the pursuer simply forced his way into the residence and overpowered the fairly frail and old cleric.

Again, not wanting to become ensnared in this scenario in any capacity – especially the detrimental, I bolted.  I did not care to be savaged by this man.  If he did not find the princely bachelor, of whom he was in hot pursuit, I felt that he would simply target me or anyone else.

This man seemed possessed of an equally deadly rage and appeared to be equally, predictably violent.  I then went to hide behind one of the tall oak trees outside; it was fairly dark outside.

Alone, I began willing my vibration to intensify.  In this way, I had hoped to make myself light thereby being rendered invisible.  As the process began, at will, I instantaneously began seeing my aura.

It was a large oval orb that fanned out, a good four-feet-plus, about me.  I then became light, fully invisible, in order to avoid a messy confrontation with this boor of a thug.  However, the pursuer had been able to catch some aspects of my aura as I hid behind the tree; though he had not captured me in the process.

All the colours of the rainbow were visible in my aura.  The white light shone so brilliantly as to have appeared as if platinum.  Being in this state was truly blissful.  It was as if being totally at peace, levitating and yogically centred.  Harmony…

Whilst the Moon transited both Pisces and my tenth house, I rather intensely, lucidly dreamt the preceding dreams.  Sometimes, the only way to escape chaos is by spiritually ascending to a higher octave – if only this were readily possibly in the waking state.

The dreams in question occurred, on Thursday, March 2, 1995.  As such, they are the first and fourth dreams lived during that sleep cycle.  

I would just like to add here that I never believed this to have been King George III.  Of course, after much research I have come to realise that it was the then Prince Regent, George Hanover who would become King George IV.  

To the point of being almost frightening, this man was immensely mercurial-energied.  What’s more as Merlin and I, plus a whole host of entity and cadre mates were present at court at that time, I have had many dreams which are focussed at that time.

Too, I’ve recently done both King Georges’ Overleaves.  Also, it should be noted that a couple of dreams had of that past life involved the first Viscount Nelson who was at court.  At the time, Horatio Nelson was known to both Merlin and I and he was a rather engaging personality whose tales of his travels were rather fascinating.  

I think that it is safe to say that Admiral Nelson’s accounts of Nevis were the trigger for me in that past life at court which eventually led to my choice to reincarnate in Nevis in this lifetime.  Too, at least one sibling, Pericles da Braga was also known to Merlin and I.  He was then a tailor of high-end clothing whom we favoured and he also would have known Admiral Nelson.  

I will say this much about the Prince Regent; he had a wicked wit and his arrestingly cutting observations were much feared.  He was utterly unpredictable.  The Prince Regent also appears in the previously submitted dream:  

https://dreampoetica.com/2015/03/02/skeletons-in-the-reincarnation-closet/

The future King George IV is the witty, sarcastic and dashingly polished man who sat across the room from Merlin (then Francesca) when she was older and at that point, I was also the snobbish male bore and lover of former Merlin (Francesca) who much reminded me of the late Canadian actor, Tom Kneebone – a man whom I truly loathed.  Of course, knowing that I was equally as bigoted a boor as was Tom Kneebone suggests that this is why I found Tom Kneebone such a vile piece of work – I positively could not stand the man.  Of course, I was merely responding to aspect of a past life which I found mirrored here in this incarnation in Tom Kneebone’s vile bigotry.  

In any event, King George III, King George IV, Horatio Nelson and Joseph Haydn’s Overleaves I now know; as court musicians both Merlin and I in that past life lived at court in Regency London/Windsor knew all these persons and they do factor both in the dreams Finding Centre and Skeletons in the Reincarnation Closet.  

Also known at that time was George Frideric Handel whose overleaves appear in the original Michael book by Chelsea Quinn-Yarbro: Messages from Michael.  

One interesting side-note to all this; when a child growing up in the northern shadow of Brimstone Hill Fortress in Sandy Point St. Kitts, in preparation of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II’s state visit to the newly independent state of St. Kitts, Nevis and Anguilla at just past my 7th birthday, they played Handel’s Zadok the Priest on ZIZ radio station.

As long as I live, I will always remember how startled and out-of-body I felt on hearing this glorious music for the first time in this lifetime.  Of course, I would have heard it performed live at the coronation of King George IV whilst at court in London, England.  I had actually felt dizzy and laughed teary eyed; to me, it was the most gloriously exciting discovery to have made musically.  This music still remains the most glorious sound imaginable.  

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King George III

Hanover, George III 4/6/173829/1/1820

King_George_IV_when_Prince_Regent_(1762-1830),_by_Henry_Bone

Hanover, George IV 12/8/176226/6/1830

Viscount Horatio Nelson

Nelson, Viscount Horatio 29/9/175821/10/1805

joseph-haydn

Haydn, Joseph 31/3/173231/5/1809 Vienna

George Frideric Handel

This is a fourth-level young sage in the observation mode with a goal of dominance, a realist in the emotional part of intellectual centre with a chief feature of impatience. 

This fragment was the composer George Frederick Handel.  

*These Michael Overleaves are found in the Chelsea Quinn-Yarbro book, Messages from Michael.

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Art: King George IV when Prince Regent 

Oil on Canvas

c. 1800s Henry Bone

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© 2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

J. M. W. Turner: Painting Set Free.

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Last Thursday, I ventured to the Art Gallery of Ontario to attend the much anticipated J. M. W. Turner: Painting Set Free exhibition.  Nice it was to have run into an old colleague during the members’ preview, when it is then not overrun by tourists, whilst wondering from salon to salon being bewitched and inspired.  This show did not disappoint.

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Mercury Sent to Admonish Aeneas

Oil on Canvas

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

This is one of my favourite Turner’s in the exhibition which I will return to at least once weekly for its duration.  You can never be too inspired by great art.

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The Departure of the Fleet

Oil on Canvas

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

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Regulus

Oil on Canvas

1828, reworked and exhibited 1837

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

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Whalers

Oil on Canvas

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

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Sunrise with Sea Monsters (detail)

Oil on Canvas

ca. 1845

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

Without doubt, this is my favourite J. M. W. Turner painting in the exhibition currently at the Art Gallery of Ontario.  So sublime yet soulful.  

J. M. W. Turner self-portrait

Self-Portrait

Oil on Canvas

ca. 1799

J. M. W. Turner

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England

This self-portrait is not in the current exhibition, J. M. W. Turner: Painting Set Free at the Art Gallery of Ontario.  Gosh, I wonder what his Michael Overleaves were.  Based on this self-portrait, I am getting a Scholar/Sage or Artisan kind of vibe off him.  However, since I have never channelled the Michaels and would never think to be a bold-face fraud, I haven’t a clue what his overleaves could possibly be.

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Of course, there are more exquisite paintings in the exhibition but it is not my place to include them all herein.  However, one of the most glorious parts of the exhibition occurs on exiting the final salon.

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You are magically spirited back in time as though on the set of the masterful Mike Leigh film, Mr. Turner with the able Timothy Spall in the lead role.  Every attention to detail is spot-on.  This gift shop ought to be awarded some design/curatorial award for getting it just right.

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From the wallpaper, to the rug the choice of colours; indeed, it could only be topped by having had a live fire going, candlelight.  Goodness, even one of the salons had music and a swelling seascape projected onto the salon’s walls.

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By far, this is one of the best exhibitions that I have seen at the AGO since returning to live here from Montréal more than a decade ago.

http://www.tate.org.uk/

http://www.ago.net/

Photo: All photos, Arvin da Brgha using Samsung Galaxy Note4.

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© 2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Snow Storm: Hannibal and His Army Crossing the Alps.

Snow Storm: Hannibal and his Army Crossing the Alps exhibited 1812 by Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851

Oil on Canvas

146 x 237.5 cm

C. 1812 J. M. W. Turner.

Provenance: Tate Museum, London, England.

http://www.tate.org.uk/

Today, thanks to Mike Leigh’s deft and masterful vision, as if in a lucid astral plane dream spanning the spiral arms of time, I vicariously drank of William Turner’s very soul.  What a gloriously fitting work of cinematic art is Mr. Turner.  And what a rich artistic era, too, working with a cadre of giants like, John Constable et al.  More than that, thanks to his creative genius, Timothy Spall thoroughly ensouled his role; his truly was a masterful turn.  Joshua McGuire’s performance was riveting.

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© 2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.