more short­ly

The Y chro­mo­some is impor­tant in deter­min­ing a per­son­’s bio­log­i­cal gen­der. But it has much less of a say in some­one’s genet­ic make­up, since the X chro­mo­some like­ly has more than 1,000 genes where­as the Y chro­mo­some has few­er than 80.

X           Y

Woman                     Man

XX                       XY

A few inter­est­ing notes, I shall note as we begin ( yet again).

a pearl of Truth behind the look­ing glass, look­ing back on a mas­ter illu­sion  called the mon­key­ma­trix and it’s matrix­mon­keys.

1, alpha­bet­i­cal­ly X comes before Y
Aleph Bet A and B in Hebrew Aleph and her house  Bet. (Beth)

2,  Woman con­tains all of Man but man does not con­tain all of woman. thou­sands of genes ‑80 genes ..no won­der women like to buy heaps of jeans they have many to put them on.

3, Y can­not make X. It came after X, it is a fur­ther devel­op­ment of X and not the prime.

4, The Prime con­tains all of the prod­uct but the prod­uct does not con­tain all of the prime.

5, Woman can pro­duce man but man can­not pro­duce woman  XXY  XY. The two pieces do not even mir­ror each oth­er. There is no jig­saw fit and con­nec­tion able to be made.

6,   Man is miss­ing the third defin­er to anchor and mul­ti­ply.
eg; XXY  1 2 3    XY 1 2

7,  Man Y is miss­ing Limbs from X  = Mankind con­struct of a WORLD with the L tak­en out (The Light spark of cre­ation) MOTHER.

8, The Jew­ish Tribes “appar­ent­ly” despised women so much there is no X in the hebrew alpha­bet. The Kabala or Hebrew Alpha­bet is a 22 dig­it sys­tem that enclos­es both let­ter and num­ber asso­ci­a­tions. (K Kaph 20 is used instead of the miss­ing Female X but that is a loose asso­ci­a­tion.)

“com­ment” .. well !! Jesus, or did I mean ISIS.

Manyone have heard talk of the lost word.

 Many­one speaks for it’s self even if it has been “lost” from out vocab

Many­one do already “know” that word.

It is logos, it is truth cre­at­ed to repair a lie

no — any — some — many — every

Noone Any­one Some­one Many­one Every­one

Nobody Any­body Some­body Many­body Every­body

Think back to when you are describ­ing a sit­u­a­tion

where there is a gen­er­al con­scen­sus of opin­ion ..

for exam­ple a new flavour drink that tastes hor­rid to most.

you would state
“every­one says it tastes like crap”

GOTCHA

You have just opened a can of worms because there is always some­one that will of like the drink so they will dis­agree and start fight club because you said “every­one” and they are not every­one.

The root of how many argue­ments through­out time

“every­one says” “every­one thinks”

but not every­one does.. DIVISION begins.

Had you of said
“many­one thinks it tastes like shit”

the answer would of been “yeah nah not me” and we move on from it.

You did not direct­ly chal­lenge them.
You did not direct­ly accuse them of some­thing.

You did not put them in a bas­ket that they did not fit in.

“We are one we are many”

Manyone

The Word

use it!!!!

it is here to stay to fix that errot of every­one’s Many­one will be hap­py with the self explana­to­ry cor­rec­tion to our lan­guage

Manyone not Everyone
because there will always be Someone that doesn’t

I Am Aus­tralian
(1987 — Bruce Wood­ley, The Seek­ers and Dobe New­ton, The Bushwack­ers)
I came from the dream­time from the dusty red soil plains
I am the ancient heart, the keep­er of the flame
I stood upon the rocky shore
I watched the tall ships come
For forty thou­sand years I’d been the first Aus­tralian.
I came upon the prison ship bowed down by iron chains.
I cleared the land, endured the lash and wait­ed for the rains.
I’m a set­tler.
I’m a farmer’s wife on a dry and bar­ren run
A con­vict then a free man I became Aus­tralian.
I’m the daugh­ter of a dig­ger who sought the moth­er lode
The girl became a woman on the long and dusty road
I’m a child of the depres­sion
I saw the good times come
I’m a bushy, I’m a bat­tler
I am Aus­tralian
[cho­rus]
We are one, but we are many
And from all the lands on earth we come
We share a dream and sing with one voice:
I am, you are, we are Aus­tralian
I am, you are, we are Aus­tralian.
I’m a teller of sto­ries
I’m a singer of songs
I am Albert Namatji­ra
I paint the ghost­ly gums
I am Clan­cy on his horse
I’m Ned Kel­ly on the run
I’m the one who waltzed Matil­da
I am Aus­tralian
I’m the hot wind from the desert
I’m the black soil of the plains
I’m the moun­tains and the val­leys
I’m the drought and flood­ing rains
I am the rock, I am the sky
The rivers when they run
The spir­it of this great land
I am Aus­tralian
[cho­rus]
We are one, but we are many
And from all the lands on earth we come
We share a dream and sing with one voice:
I am, you are, we are Aus­tralian
I am, you are, we are Aus­tralian.

This is the first time I am pub­lish­ing this piece pub­licly.

It was writ­ten in 2009/2010  and placed on pri­vate jour­nal entry.

On the 14th of Feb­ru­ary 2010, I answered a knock at my back door. Stand­ing there was 3 fed­er­al police offi­cers, two on the sides point­ing tasers at me and the one in the mid­dle point­ing a loaded gun at me.  My heart dropped. It was the last time I saw my youngest three babies for two years.

Almost two years lat­er my legal aid was stripped from me, with the gov­ern­ment excuse that I had “used to many resources” I was then forced to rep­re­sent myself in mul­ti­ple juris­dic­tions to fight for my chil­dren.
lat­er a Judge apol­o­gised to me, say­ing, we are sor­ry Mrs Swan, a judge can only made deci­sions based on the evi­dence we have in front of us. We now know from your cross exam­i­na­tion of the appli­cant today that we were not in pos­ses­sion of the facts.

moment of hi five, Yay I stood there with­out a lawyer and crushed him with truth. ..  It was too late though,  it was torn, the dam­age was irre­pairable and I have been pick­ing up scat­tered feath­ers ever since. There was no hi five, but there was the burn of injus­tice in my heart.

no, it was the burn if injus­tice.

At the time I could not share my pain. I couldn’t share any­thing. i could only wrap myself with­in myself and scream inside.

Today in some ways i am still scream­ing inside

I have learned one thing. one very impor­tant thing

to endure

 

it is a deep despair inside, a rest­less­ness borne of not know­ing but a the same time hav­ing to bear the con­tem­pla­tive thoughts of what will be and even worse what can be.

It is the real­iza­tion that noth­ing, not even your chil­dren are tru­ly yours, they belong to the state to ban­ter and pass around like mar­ketable goods.

These are my chil­dren, I chose to be a mum, I chose all that came with being a mum. I am not per­fect and per­haps in the God’s eyes I have failed, or found to be lack­ing but to be judged by a stranger?

to have soci­ety and some one far away from the real­i­ties of our fam­i­ly, sit­ting in such high judg­ment of us who holds the abil­i­ty in his hands to take all from under us, to take from us all we have , all we have built, and all we have planned and all we are is I guess to feel the ulti­mate loss. The loss of life, the loss of free­dom, the loss of hat should be

The pain is unbear­able, every minute I stop and heave a deep sigh, as if some­thing is trapped and held with­in my very soul,  burst­ing to tear it’s way out to cause the ulti­mate pain a moth­er can bear. The loss of a child or the threat of the loss of a child.

I just tucked Kahleah into bed …I do feel my heart break­ing with every breath. I watch their angel­ic faces as they begin to bloom again, only to face that it all might be ripped from us again. The tran­quil­i­ty and heal­ing shat­tered, our fam­i­ly frag­ment­ed and for­got­ten.

My babies.  The pain is too much too keep writ­ing, my tears beg annoy­ing­ly to be wiped away as they run in a con­stant stream down my cheeks unheed­ed. My vision is blurred. my heart is so heavy. I can’t  stop the waves of pain that rip through my soul.

it is the worse, it is rock bot­tom, it is the dev­as­ta­tion that only a par­ent could dread. The mem­o­ries flash like replay in full Tech­ni­col­or wind­screen through my mind of our life togeth­er, of our dreams, our hopes, and of our fear, of our night­mare.

Yet that night­mare, it was noth­ing, it had noth­ing  on this night­mare. This is the ulti­mate pain, the ulti­mate sequel to end the saga. The final con­trol, the final cut.  and yes, it is the deep­est, far deep­er than I have evr endured from him before. Far worse than too much, it hurts so bad.

what reg­is­ters is my babies, of my bond with them

of B as he says, “I hope you bought a hug with you mum” or “I know what you bought me home from the shop mum­my, you bought me a kiss”.

Of lis­ten­ing to S’s oper­at­ic tones pierce my head in per­fect pitch as she mer­ri­ly dances around the house and her smiles at

me the love the bond between us as moth­er and daugh­ter. Of K, my lit­tle sun­shine, Her earnest blue eyes look­ing deeply into mine as she tells me one of her sto­ries.

We are just now only begin­ning to find each oth­er again. We are just begin­ning to mend and learn­ing to walk all over again and now it is threat­ened with a destruc­tion that i am pow­er­less to stop.

and it hurts ………. bad….

I’m sor­ry i just need an out­let for this pain and I can’t pub­lish this pub­licly….. I hurt

Alone in the dark, alone with your thoughts
over­come with deep feel­ings of dread.
all of your hopes and all of your fears
are flow­ing ran­dom­ly around in your head.

search­ing for courage, the spark that’s inside
to stand up and face what the fates bring,
sup­press­ing inside you the need to be free,
as slow­ly the voice stops to sing

when you final­ly stand up and step on to the future,
from the tears that are all done and all cried,
fac­ing the fears of all that is unknown,
that takes courage born of blood and of pride.

the torch­es of knowl­edge which light up the way
will help guide you to take one step more
the light may grow dim and flick­er about
but the spir­it comes from deep in the core

The book of today has already been writ­ten
the pages are num­bered from the days of your life
it’s signed in your blood and then sealed with the laws
ready to cut through your soul like a knife

Look deep in the mir­ror at you star­ing back
you see time etched and marked on your face
inno­cence gone from those eyes which now turn away
a know­ing deep far­away look in its place

Anoth­er day old­er there is no going back
no chang­ing the past with a pen
the les­son is learned reac­tion to action
it is time for the deep wounds to mend

A red dawn breaks out from under the dark­ness
as nature waits for the new day to begin
Con­scious­ness wak­ens and stirs from it’s sleep
the world has turned on it’s axis again
Mayet