Homeless in Dublin! Fear & Loathing in the underworld!

Tonight a couple will consumate their marriage. I know! I saw the limo pass the backpacker I stayed at. Tonight someone will fall asleep piss drunk under some bridge. Tonight, some couple will have a romantic evening. Some will celebrate their birthday. Tonight someone will sleep somewhere in a hidden back alley. Tonight someone will end up in the drunk tank! Tonight, someone will be brought to the hospital! Tonight, someone will die. And some, the “lucky” ones, will find a shelter. Tonight, the tooth fairy will come visit a kid with dreams.

Crosscare is such a shelter. Right beside a back packers with neon signs and openness. Crosscare seems insignifigant in comparrison. Dark! Unwelcome! Yet it says St. Mary beside it. Right across the street, there is a garda station. The enemy is facing the old and new scum; The drunks, the homeless, the petty thieves, junkies, pot smokers, people whom once had something, are now one step away from a cell. They have lost whatever little they had. Their own fault?

That is arguable. Many instances that led them to the end of the world. The voiceless! And this seem to be the last stop before ending in some grave somewhere. Forgotten. They were forgotten while being alive, so there is not much difference.

Crosscare has a buzzer. You’ll have to wait to get in. Get your details confirmed by a few security guards. Once you are in, there is no going out again. Unless you wanna lose your bed. It is in every sense of the word a prison. All kept locked up, under surveilance, and “safe.” Locked away from the world. Hidden! The shame! There are cameras everywhere. Walk in, and you will see a bit of an Orwellian future. Where Big Brother is filming you while jacking off in your bed.

One of the night guards takes your luggage up to a storage room. Only they are allowed up there. I guess poverty makes everyone potential thieves. And then a locker for personal effects for usage during the night and day. My small bag of toilet effects were checked – for “contrabands”.

There is a sign on the wall in the hallway. «Please keep all your valoueable in your assigned locker! Thieves may be about!”

The rooms have the odors of human waste. Sweat, booze, manic desperation, hidden depression, wild talk, cigarettes and marijuana.

These people are not even hobos. These are human beings that the Welfare Queen would put in the “work houses” for committing the crime of being poor. According to the welfed establishement “leeches on society. Ahh! That sacred word! Society! These are the people that the Welfare Queen have stolen from for hundreds of years.

A society that seems to afford giant bailouts of criminal bankers screwing the economy, while taking tax money to give to themselves as bonuses. A society that can afford spending millions to recieve the biggest welfare queen in UK and Ireland put together. We can afford wars all over the world. Yet we cannot afford taking proper care of the ones living in the gutter. Not without treating them like criminals, or big kids. In many ways, they are big kids. Being watched every step, so they won’t step out of line. We can afford to keep people down! But cannot afford to keep people safe from poverty or the circumstances.

The staff is doing their best. And they all have good hearts. Taking care of people whom are too weak to take care of themselves. People whom survive in ways that would make a yuppie upchuck in fear and loating

So until tomorrow, I will be one of them. An inmate. Someone whom have to abide by strict rules. No booze. No weed. But maybe a meal in the moring. Some white bread, cereal, and the cheapest tea from Dunnes Stores or Spar or Tesco. Food that will keep people skinny. Food that is nothing but empty calories. Food that will keep you dumbed and down. Without the energy to even think about anything else but to survive the next day.

Meet the inmates!

An all skinny lad. Losing hair, teeth, and soon consience. He’s wearing the typical hooded sweater. Maybe he’s got some relief from weed, or maybe something else. Next to him, an old drunk is deep asleep. All dressed up in camo clothes. An older man all dressed in black. Quiet. Maybe he’s thinking about something. Trying to get things off his mind by consentrating on what’s on the telly. images of an imaginary world. Hell! Having a home of their own is an imaginary world for many of them.

Earlier, younger people were busy looking for something dropped on the floor. I can imagine what. Joints are being rolled, and tried to be kept hidden from the camera in the corner. Tomorrow, some of them will be out again on the streets. At least the joints being smoked won’t kill them. Something else will.

Goddamn! I forgot to buy cigarettes!

I’ve just had my last smoke of a rolled up herb. Thinking I could sit down, and relax watching something soothing. In comes some punk kids, I call them kids. And still full blown criminals. Practically skinheads, tattoos, sneakers and track suits. In a different uniform, like a zebra striped, you’d see a hardened capo from Buchenwald.

Tough in their faces. Almost abusive. Wonder what made them that way. These dogs either bite, or just bark a lot. Challenging. What a contrast! At the back packers, there was courtesy. Politness. Down here, they bark at you.

Keep asking me how much my weapon cost. I call my laptop my weapon. And the words I put in my ammo.

“What are you looking at” the “toughest” bit on the block asked me. He was going over to the window to smoke a joint. I just saw the punk take something out of the pocket of the sleeping wino. Laughing and joking at his expence. Right! I guess it’s the pecking order even here!

One were making fake “karate” kicks towards the poor bastards head while he was snoring. And then he came over as to say “you didn’t see nothing!”

Snatching my six-pence, prouncing around. Again showing off his “karate” skills.

“Hah! Funny!” I smirked at him. He could be the Jackie Chan of bums! I don’t know if he ralize that he is in the same situation as the old wino. That we all are in the same boat. I’m just the new “kid” in town. I have no say here.
And when I look at this oldie with the cammo, I see the future for the pick pocket. If he lives that long. I wonder if I will survive the night. This is not the haven of Kinlay! This is a dog eat dog world. Just as Wall Street and politics. Just as inhumane. But in a much smaller scale.

And they seem fascinated by my laptop. I’m glad receptionist have assigned me a locker. I will take nothing of value up to the room tonight. I think I have changed my mind about what I think of security camera in every room. This is a different world. A different reality. Something uglier…. I fucking hate it here!

I survived the night. The room was filled with the same jackalls and pick pockets. And their «humor» was of the anal character. Like any other pimple would have. They kept fretting me about things. I brushed them off. Why? You don’t feel like sharing your life story with punks whom need a hearing aide. The splif was sharedc though. For the first time, a joint of hashish made med sleepy. And soon I was drifting off. So was the rest of them. It’s what I say, people with clear ADHD symptoms like these had, with the next score on their mind for pills and other modern chemistry should be stuffed their gills with weed.

I’m sitting at a coffeeshop just around the corner now. I think I got what I needed. No more shelters for this traveller. So I think I will settle into the back packers the next door. At least there would be people I have more in common with there. 10 Euros a night for not having to worry about being robbed blind is worth it.

And I recommend for any politician and power broker and banker to test a shelter once in a while. It wil boraden their horizon. The inmates of the shelterss have their own horizon. And seems to be stuck in their own bubble of reality. So does the power brokers.

When I got back to pick up my luggage, I had a little chat with one of the employees in the reception. The only thing they could do, was to keep things safe. Many of the people whom are in there, are not well. In many ways, toking up a splif helps relief a hopeless situation. And there needed a paradigme shift all over. Yet the politicians would not listen. They would not change a thing unless they would gain from it personally. Their first priority is themselves, and their sugerdaddies, not to solve problems; Not to actually practice democracy. But to keep things in status quo….



A Message to Jim deMint!

As I am more into getting into the Irish illness, and many other things, you just caught my attention!

So I suggest you take the potatoe dirt out of your ears and pay some attention!

Jim DeMint! Are you listening?

You keep talking in samples again! Samples that is cheeper than a can of Coke! And more disgusting as a Goebbels speech on the speed!

Your values are theocratic fascism! Your values resemble the dictatorship of Saudi Arabia! Your values are of 1984!
You do not believe in freedom! You do not believe in integrity! You do not believe in Goodness! You believe in corporate control! You believe in indoctrination; rape of the human mind by religious garbage! You believe in corruption! You believe in theft! You believe in war! You believe in murder! You believe in greed!
You have a moralite of a slug! And we know you rigged the S.C election! You are a criminal whom should be put in prison!

I have one suggestion for you before Revolution will be rammed down your throat and up your ass! Crawl back under the rock where you came from! Sun will soon rise! We all know what happens to trolls whom stay out when the first ray of light hit trolls, don’t you?


Obamanation in Ireland


Two days ago, Obama came to town. And boy was the circumstances different from when the welfare queen was in town. Last week, my street was completely shut down by police. Heavy security measures, and clamp downs on all protests. This time, it seemed as there was a rock star coming to town.
Now,things were different. My street was jam-packed with people. Whether they were waiting to get a glimpse of the “Kenyan” or to get a glimpse of Westlife and the Jerkward brothers is hard to tell.
Both irritated me immensely. Because I hate boy bands, and I wish I hade a press pass and a smart way to ask Barack a few questions. I was also irritated because I couldn’t get access to my favorite American diner called “EAT”.
And I was getting the munchies after my fast, and my morning joint.

So Barry, if you should ever read this, I have some questions for you!
Do you think that war is peace, and waging more wars have made you deserve your peace price?

Why have you not closed Gitmo?

Why do you still have Bradley Manning in custody while the real criminals is still at large?

Why is he in prison while Scooter Libby is living it up despite the fact that he is a recorded traitor?

Why are you still clamping down on marijuana patients and kids, making them criminals?

Why have you not put Wall Street in front of a Grand jury?

Why are you still imposing the Orwellian “Patriot Act”?

Why did you waste almost 18 months trying to please a rabid GOP whom are openly hellbent on destroying you no matter what you do?

At least you were sport enough to accept a Guinness in your ancestral pub in Moneygall as the welfare queen declined. I call that dark gold as mothers milk. Excellent warm-up for a joint!

Can we play poker sometime?
I need the money!


No! I didn’t bother listening to your speech. Politicians giving speeches always makes me cringe. Politicians giving speeches have a tendency to fuck up my day…

My hopes for Ireland!

During my formative years, I was always in love with Scotland. My uncle loved Ireland! It happens with our genetic code, we both have sharp tongues, and sharp minds with a love for journeys. However, I have always thought of my uncle as a bit of a nitwit in certain cases. In cases we disagree, we threw insults to each other with a smile. It was when an Irish bartender in Oslo whom recommended Ireland to me that I started pondering Ireland.

It took me three years in Belfast before I moved down to the republic. A republic just as schizophrenic as any other banana republic. As most people in Dublin seem to be tourists, foreigners, wage slaves, sheeples, drunks, and welfare queens, I have had some of the most intriguing conversations with people whom I consider being the soul of Ireland. Not mainstream, not the run of the mill power broker, not the brain-dead. Last night an “old grannie” at the age of 49, looking like a housewife was sitting in the middle of my new favorite bar in Dublin, mingling with young potheads, freaks,emos, punks, tattoos, rockers, immigrant workers from all over Europe, geeks, and what many would social outcasts. The true soul of Ireland. My hope! My people! She proudly showed a picture of a niece of hers being stomped on by the riot police. All cameras were apparently forbidden at that moment. This particular picture was saved from the hands of the police. Great journalistic work!

This time they gave me a warm welcome! One of the regulars remembered me from my first time there. The bastard called me Hans Chr. Andersen. My favorite story from him now comes to mind. The Emperors New Clothes! I am the punk kid whom yells out that going naked is not very fashionable after all! Then he called me a Swede. Now THAT is an insult. I think I will call him an Englishman or a loyalist the next time I meet him! All in good humor off course. He serves excellent mary jane!

As my mind wandered off in the haze of ganja, their stories was fascinating. About protests. About freedom of speech! About blasphemy! About weed and the hypocrisy and draconian drug laws!

These are the conscious of Ireland! And I love them!

More voices need to be raised! Writers! Raise your voices! Artists! Raise your voices! Freethinkers! Take no shit anymore! In peaceful protest! Grow more pot! Do blasphemy! Say to your government that their politics of corruption will no longer be tolerated!

Put priests, Brian Cowan and his companions in prison! Strip all the power of the church of its hands! Take back your country! It is not England or Scotland whom are your worst enemies! It is your own politicians and your priesthood! Just today one could read that yet another priest was arrested and charged with possessing a staggering number of child porn!

One parliamentarian have gone openly out and said that he not only smokes weed, but grows it as well!

One youngster in his early 20’s with a light cerebral palsy said that cannabis is the best medicine he could get. I believe him. All pot smokers whom stick to the plant knows better than anyone about it’s therapeutical properties.
Marc Emery keeps popping up in my head. A true hero and dissident whom is now rotting away in an American prison for selling seeds across the border from Canada! He was never afraid of what might come.
We need a similar strong voice in Europe as well!
Grow more pot! Take away the income from the seedy characters whom smugles and sells shit!
Tell the religious fruitcakes that the dominion of their dogma is soon over for good!
Free speech, humanism, true spirituality will take over after the dread of the rule of Anal characters is over.
May it start here in Ireland.

Last night reminded me of my best days in Belfast. Where I could escape from reality in Lavery’s Bar. It reminded me of why I still love Ireland! Last night reminded me of why I came here in the first place!
Finally I have the City under my feet again! Now relaxing in Darkey Kelley’s pub! Having had breakfast at the hotel restaurant! Life is exactly how it is supposed to be….

City of Joy goes on!


The big difference!

I have the City under my feet again! Power brokers and bubbled writers have not! They walk on red carpets!

The end of May, there will be a Pagan marriage on the beaches of a windy Ireland I am invited!. As soon as I’m about to give up the whole project, people talk to me. They tell stories. They show me pictures of kids being stumped by the police during the welfare queens visit! Cerebral Parleces patients talk to me about how the Herb is getting them better!

Real people do not walk on red carpets! Real people will not be denied their way just because some fucking queen needs to be carried around the whole town! So have a safe journey back to London Grannie!

I think nether me or anyone else in the vicinity of Dublin will miss you! As regards to the writers here, you should have been in front of an attack group instead of living it up on homegrown weed in your own ivory towers!

I plead to any writer with a brain in their heads to start doing what is right.

Have you been bought by an ounce of luxury, recognition.. the small glitter of fame? Botox?

That has never been a happy fate of a Writer! A writer lives his writing, while carrying his home on his back, looking for a dry place to sit with his pen to write another line! To live throug memories! To relive them as Ground Hog Day!
Or to drop everything down the floor to run away once again from what is your destiny! The choice is simple! Yet so hard! How can you choose away something that was chosen for you a long time ago? Kill yourself? Become a politician? Try to survive under the petty rules of some corporation?

Or tell the truth no matter what the consequenses?

There lies the big difference!

I live in the real world! Yet I long away from here! Trying to teach you punks anything is like throwing pearls for hogs!

Where is the adventure if your wallets are stuffed with dollar bills and a ticket to the next ride for free, eh?


Warning Dublin – The Welfare Queen is in Town!

Make sure she will not apply for funding to heat her castles in England!

Right outside my hotel, there is a huge gathering of police forces. The street is shut off. Protestors are gathring, trying to get near the castle. That would require a few tanks. What would they say or do if they got in touch with the old granny anyway? Say she’s a bad person? Representing an ancient institution whose wealth rests on a world of labour and servitude?

For the first time since the year dot, when kings and queens of England was using Ireland as one giant plantation, an English queen is coming on a state visit to Ireland. A visit that is bound to create a certain extent of controversy. Personally I couldn’t care less.

Though many would disagree with me. Specially the Irish nationalists whom still cannot let bygones be bygones. I equate these “nationalists” something similar to Sarah Palins Teaparty.

Ireland is in the shitter. Multinational companies have their safe tax haven. Political crooks are being punished by losing elections. Corrupt businessmen is living it up somewhere else with someone elses money. And what does Ireland do? Spend millions on the visit for a welfare queen whom once applied for funds from a poverty foundation to keep all her castles warm! And now, she is putting a burden on the police, the Irish state, and the people itself. And rousing up emotions still lingering from the 1920’s.

Personally, I couldn”t give a shit. But as an American expatriot told me, most Irish are sheep! They don’t need a foreign queen to blame for their own misery. They should blame themselves for putting in the same political drones each and every election.

Maybe that’s why writers like James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw and others left the island.
Why Patrick Kavanagh never left after being barred from half the pubs in Dublin, while being shunned in the small towns he lived in every now and then is beyond me…

Today, there is a welfare queen in town, making a whole city stand on its head, shutting down public areas as in a police state. Eating at the castle at someone elses expence.
Wonder how much this cost, and how much of that the inept bankers are willing to pay to kiss her feet. How do majestic feet from a jurassic age smell after being kissed by corrupt politicians and corporatists?

I would raize my eyebrows if W.B. Yeats rose from his grave to great the oldie…


All plants should be legal!

For many thousands of years, mankind have been a part of nature. Only the last millenias there’s been a war on nature .First in the name of organized religion, then in the name of metal and wheels, and we distanced ourselves from nature as if it was something evil to be shunned. For many thousands of years we have come in touch with ourselves, nature, the universe and the mysteries of life and death. Until laws, prohibition and prisons came to enslave the free human mind.

Do any of my “faithful” readers need an insight in this?

We are living in a world and a consumer society that is not sustainable for the human race. We are being drugged down by pharma pills, numbed by alcohol and cigarettes, and officially denied plants from nature that is medicine.

Oil, gas and coal industry, bankers, stock brokers, politicians are screwing us up while they have the military industrial complex and the legal system to keep us down. And they have criminalized us for using plants to see through their lies, deception and crimes.

When I grew up, I was indoctrinated to demonize a plant. Even the symbol of this plant was frowned upon like it was a Swastika.
Just like the Swastika, the symbol of Hemp have been distorted into its complete opposite meaning.

It took me a trip to India to realize that the roots of the Swastika came not from Germany, and it was not hatched out of the mind of a mediocre painter and megalomaniac and his ilk.

It took me many more years to realize that the illegal symbol og Hemp is a symbol of medicine. Of growing plants. Of nature. Of getting deeper into the core of things. It takes not any biblical verses, nor the beautiful lines of poetry to understand a bit more. It takes the knowledge of this plant to teach you. On both good and bad. We learn something about ourselves and the world by using this plant. And many other plants!

Salvia Divonorum! All psilocybin mushroom! Cannabis! DMT!

Hell! They subverted the mushrooms into simple LSD! Don’t get me wrong! LSD have done good things for me! It hasn’t done anything bad at least! The result of my LSD trip was seeing colors and love! A poem that ended up in a gallery in Belfast!

To use the pure plant should not give any worse than this!

Salvia Divonorum opened new doors of perception of reality for me. You are seeing yourself sitting in an old haunted room open up like an accordion. The portals are open. Now you must muster courage to take that step inside all these new doors. The world have become four-dimensional. Now, if you dare to walk through that first portal, you will see it all from another side. Lie down and shut your eyes if you need, you are in no danger. Relax, and let it all pass through.

You will wake up later, and see the world just like you used to. But with one experience richer. Native American tribes in mid Latin America used to chew these plants. That is how they got their visions.


The most benign medicine of all plants. And the most useful. As some would call all cannabis users for egocentric bastards whom only want to break the law and get our high, the high is a bonus! For the hundreds of other uses for this plant, the medicine in it is unprecedented. Both recorded as well as anecdotal.

I have never heard of any manic-depressive complain about the effect of cannabis. Drug one down in a half a dozen pills a day and use music therapy, does not necessary make one happier, or getting improved cognitive skills.

I believe that a cannabis therapy would work a lot better than most drugs that are being dealt out to helpless patients.

Coca leaves!

For the sake of all! This is a plant that has been used by Indios for thousands of years in South America! And by Papillion! When running from the police and prison guards from Colombia, he learned th eat those plants to get endurance! Today, it’s been pulverized into something ugly! CIA have smuggled tons of this pulverized extracts from this plant into USA, and probably many other places.
Amphetamines is the poor mans cocaine. And it’s all synthetic! It’s a pure pharma drug!.Many housewife and American up and coming business mans favorite drug. Keeps you all up until you all come down. Too much self-confidence can be harming. Amphetamine is the bastard drug of Coca Leaves. Fuck the nature, eh?

Heroin!/ Opium!

Every single hospital have many opiates. They chose away heroin, and created some pretty pathetic bunch of petty criminals, whores, homeless, and gutter rats, did they not? They created patients into these scum by a stroke of a pen, and a hell of a lot of scare tactics. When Lord Byron was chasing the Dragon in his own castle, writing poetry and screwing girls, England was fighting for free trade of opium while they punished poor people in England for having a dram of Gin. Now, people are dying on the street, being punished for actually being patients! Not criminals!

The hypocrisy is staggering. And very few, if any in power dares to speak up the truth. More and more government pid experts are turning sides. For me, it has been a long journey to become pro legalization.

Using plants for own use is not a legal issue. It is a human rights issue. legality should not even be in the picture. Can someone deny you to smoke your own grass that is growing in your back yard?

Only if that grass would make you high they would! They only want you drunk, aggressive with hyper tensity and nervousness from the coffee! To keep you submissive for your boss!

Perfect key for explosive crimes! Like wars! Gang rapes! Power abuse! Voter fraud! Paranoia!! Anxiety!
Which will lead to more patients, more inmates, more depressions!

On top of that, governments around Europe and the world wants you to smoke weed, and cultivate it. Is this a scheme to stop unemploymence of inept police officers?

They want you to be lobotomized zombies.

Instead, I want to introduce you to a true wise man!

My next journey into psychedelia will be Peyote and DMT…