blog

but i do i make sense (in worlds of incense)

My latest #poem on #siliconvalley’s corrupting choices, plus a link to the new online #whitepaper on #newlean … and other observations …


i'm incensed to be honest 
and yet not:
no gorgeous odour drifts like a breeze
of glorious glees
nor assails plentifully my senses

but incensed i remain even so
at how rich people remain rich
by plundering our brains
and attacking our better selves
whilst all we had been asking for was this:

to be human to the max
to enjoy being in the sack even
with someone who hadn't met us online
before we began face-to-face to vibe ...
... who hadn't had us sussed

and hadn't trussed us up mentally
so that they saw us way earlier
than we ever saw them
via that den of thievery
that is silicon valley since forever and all

because the real problem now
is that surveillance to this max
which we conduct on each other
and use to blather and gossip about
so that the outcomes

become attempted suicides
and depressions of the most revealing
and the permanent anxieties
of living a life
as if it were a death on legs

that's what big tech has brought us to
and that's why i'm incensed as i am
and angry so very much
that the human touch even that
is now a monetisable gap

that an elon and satya
can invade and intrude with their choices
to make the kind of technologies that hurt
and be leaders of the worst
instead of wanting to be peers of the first

yes i am incensed in the western sense:
angry to the very maximum
and it seems my words fall
on barren grinds
of coffees never exchanged

yet in a more eastern sense
i smell your comprehension growing
and see you showing
an embrace approaching
to my ideas of #intuitionvalidation

and it's this incense i sense
of the flowers and the astringent
and the spices of natural inclinations
which i now turn to
as i turn my back on the west i was born to

because it's here i find my pals of thought
where nothing needs repeating
and nothing needs reasserting
and all is agreement and fulsome assent
and that's what it's all about:

knowing how your place
is no longer where you are
nor has ever been perhaps
and maybe it's never been so
and just time ... just time to go"

being that cruel cowardly mobbery [of family]

what my poem is about: rescue
i met her one fateful day 
and it was to be the worst day of my life
though i didn't know it at the time
and then a bare twelve years later
the idiocy repeated itself
and i thought it was going to be better
and it wasn't oh it wasn't
but it took me longer much longer
to work out that one was as toxic as her mother

two women of the worst there have ever been
and both probably yes certainly
as neurodiverse as myself too
but not what they claimed the first was
in her spymaster's cover
of equally terrifying prognosis
because what she was was never polar
and never a pillar of anything close
to what one might term community at all at all

black widows being what they both were
and in fact still are for sure
being women capable
of widowing their menfolk whilst they're still alive
and through their stratagems
of cruel cunning always without the us
just women who weaponise
their every word and act
against the fact that humans are just that

because unforgiving is their first name
and unforgivable their last
where precisely both become the outcome
of coming out as sharp and clear as any assassins
and hateful like none in the history of humanity
and abusive as per the worst whores
of political graft on those rafts of irish river
when the personnel that staff the offices
which back those who break into splinters

all the democratic instincts
and all the technological fingerprints
that could've saved us
from the foolish hubris of the zuckerbergs
of pornographic advert networks
all connected and joined up
to the greater glory of the altmans of these days
where fucking with a human being's head
is quite the right thing to do

and so they think for sure
that daughter and mother i was writing about earlier
that they have zero to do with THIS world
now bleeding at both the seams
and at the most unseemly
of global violences
but actually these two women
as per many other humans
have lived lives of absolute choice

and are intimately at fault
both and each
for choosing an easier life such an easier one
of material possessives
like grammatical strictures of the most frightful
that serve only to throttle change
and make their beloved
just rags and tags and sagging supports
to be ripped into strips

and then the intellectual regressives
of smarmy logic and sophisticated sophistry
which have led them quite separately
to bottle that last moment and opportunity
to demonstrate a real and healthy ambition
and aspiration too
for them and me and theirs
and then us all together
to prove that kin could be very much more

than now it will ever be able to be
or should indeed i say and verily repeat
because in the "should" of all this
we are haughtily saying how we never failed
when actually we did and forcefully have ...
and so when at the level of family
unable to communicate savvily
how could we expect government
to rule any better

or succeed where as individuals all these years
we just preferred to choose and manifest our violence
and then fuck each other up
with purpose and intentionality
as aggressive as the most violent criminality
because in truth
that's been my experience
of nuclear and extended family both:
kin as a synonym of ALL that's bad in the human experience

and so i see it as it was
and will now always be
and so i sense it's time to move away forever
grateful that i am still way distant
from a suicide my own family imposed on me
and worked so hard in order to direct me towards
as if awarding me a solution
that would've absolved them
of all deep responsibility

and which would have meant
they would never have had to face the truth
of what still they are
being that cruel cowardly mobbery
of people you grow up with
thinking what they do to you
they do sincerely for you
when in reality
they wanted you to die all along

and so it ultimately comes to this
and for sure it does it does
and so it ends down in the pit of time's pendulum
hanging from figurative threads
as i tease out my next steps
because they won't involve anyone
from that which once
we could have affectionately called fam
and which in no way ever meant kindness of any kind

and as the offers begin to present themselves
now i work really hard to expunge
that which they said could not be expunged
being the capacity that family
and kin and sibling-hood
and cousinly beings multiple
has to convince you they are right
and you are wrong
and when you feel uncomfortable

the fault is all yours
and when they abuse and bully you
it's you who's doing the bullying
and you who's the abuser ...
because THAT'S the one undeniable achievement
of these two women
throughout the mouldering tapestry of their lives
and those family groupings which encroach on us
never liberating ever

and then all the cousins and uncles and fathers
and mothers and aunts of creeping witness
being what they ALL bear witness to:
that kin-hood is a kind of jail of the very worst
and perhaps at that
a panopticon too
where a surveillance of the most total
impresses on the brain born yet free
the rusting bars of increasingly imprisoning deeds

yes indeed it's true
for whilst people and friends of choice
are to be rejoiced and coveted
and embraced and hugged
and treasured and envied
in ways that ennoble us to do the best of things
family of the manner i have experienced
is a curse of the worst and much much more
and is surely finally

to be left irreversibly behind
when finally clearly proving
that its equally irreversible unkindnesses
will never revert to a forgiveness of redemption again
nor to the spirits of generosity
like ghostly figures capable of planing over us
in those magical moments when i looked out
through the child's eyes
which i learnt EVERYTHING from

with the newborn brain i was blessed with
once upon a time
for only then
through the family i grew up alongside
to discover how its innocence was to be ripped out
like strips flaying off
the thief's stinging back
as the blood of life still seeps and stains
the human being i am now determined to fully recover

wilfully leaving my past behind
where the past is the only country
it deserves to inhabit
for cruel
for violent
for abusive
for manipulative and for bullying
and for woman
child and man gone intentionally wrong

goodbye to you all
and to you all
fare thee as well
as you've never known in life
how properly to deliver on
nor how to forge or fashion
even wryly
nor express through compassion
never mind a truly felt passion:

yes i do i do i do
i wish you all luck
as you continue to fuck
with the heads of those
who really
by this time
and way before
and long ago
you should've learnt to love

On being a #truthmachine in a world which doesn’t care for the #truth


I’ve struggled all my life to make what I am a saleable commodity.

I don’t mean in a bad way.

I mean in the sense of people who can pay me for my work seeing the value-add in doing so.

My bread-and-butter revenues — high-level, mission-critical, proofreading and copyediting — disappeared in a puff of #derivativeai smoke last year, as clients in advanced #marketing functions made a beeline for #openai and #microsoft’s hype. Now #stabilityai’s fate shows how stable all these proposals really aren’t.

I’ve been applying for roles in a variety of #publishing fields — after all, I have a university master in the subject from Universidad de Salamanca, as well as more than a decade in a broad range of activities relating to the sector.

But I sense my big #marketing client has put out the word that I am not to be employed.

Whether true or not, what troubles me is how ineffective the world more broadly is at understanding the groundbreaking capabilities and world-upturning skillsets that people like me — brains like mine — can deliver.

I have a problem, a really big one: if I put all I can do into one #cv — not just have done which is much much less — it looks like I can’t focus on anything and must be bad at everything.

I really need a #jobsite which allows to deliver on niche needs with say five or six radically different skill interests.

But even this wouldn’t solve my problems and challenges entirely.

One of the biggest reasons that has led to my current work difficulties is the very fact that, actually, where I do add real value is knowing quite a lot about a huge number of things: and it’s not in my knowledge I add value but in my ability to make connections between fields that most people would assume can’t be connected.

Although I don’t like the term #polymath very much, it is relevant here. So. How CAN #polymaths like myself get paid for being able to uncover things that potential employers could benefit from if they knew what was out there?

Because I don’t just know how to understand more elegantly known unknowns: I actually sense better than most people unknown unknowns. And what’s more, I know how to enable these others to achieve similar capabilities.

I’ve been a trainer and facilitator all my life: I know how to transmit this stuff.

What do we think, then, about my condition? What is essentially my conundrum, too …

How can I convince someone to pay me for things they ignore? Let’s take #mi5: in 2003, they used #mentalhealth legislation to put me away for saying what #snowden said ten years later.

gb2earth.com/citizenx

I’ve been banging on about a #tech-driven #gaslighting for decades now: first, as experienced by myself; second, as observed in others:

• “When AI claims prediction and means proscription 2. How can you make out you’re predicting a person’s future when you’re not? By dismantling their agency: that is, their ability to exercise free will…” | https://mils.page/2023/09/03/when-ai-claims-prediction-and-means-proscription/ | #milspage

And been providing solutions:

gb2earth.com/bletchley

gb2earth.com/cognitive/intuition

But what do we do in societies where the people who know covert stuff in ways no one generally imagines — and yet still want to do good with what they see — have less power than most, whilst the people with real power (generally influence more than power) assume that the power they have confers more knowledge of the weird that inevitably hurts citizens, but here in some automatic, automagical way?

And it’s not just my beef with #uk #security.

When you’re effectively a #truthmachine, how do you make it pay in a world which doesn’t really care for the truth?

The attached #cv of mine is what I would call a #polymath #cv. But it’s also the #cv of a man who ONLY believes in pursuing the #truth as best he can.

Anyone care to channel that skill? Anyone care to pay for it?

If so, I’d love to regain my bread-and-butter. I’d love to speak with you today:

positive@secrecy.plus

• +44 7916 750897



on british intelligence’s taste in interior decoration

it's good to burn bridges 
when they're built by bastards
who occupy cozy offices
in central london office blocks

it's good to burn bridges
when they're built by agencies
who occupy anything
but spaces of self-reflection

and who are incapable
of respecting the enemies we face
to such an extent that they then see ...
... they always see themselves

as better than anyone else
and thus will remain inferior forever
to everyone out there far or near
who ever you'll find out here at all

because british intelligence
is anything but ...
and british intelligence
is stuck in that rut ... well it is ...

... of empire and suchlike
and then it's the pleasant island
and verdant and stuff
and so well ... they say and oh they may

but actually not at all at all
and so then again as eyesight dulled
and vision quite blinded and sullied and hidden
and quite blinkered and suffering

as if the tree of oak itself
is rotting from the core
and nothing more is to be done
when all is sung and said

and just the well-read remain as saviours
who actually can't any more anyways
in a country where the rule of law
is no longer treasured by the enforcers of the same

never mind the citizens they once said they served
and so it's as if it's a stain on the country's disdain
in respect of anything that might truly lead
to life and its wily interventions

greater now it's true
than the declensions of the idiots
who run this country through influence not politics
like the strata of medieval wastes grossly uncovered

as they make haste
oh they do
to run the lives of me and you
as badly as one might wish to conceive

because they have no idea at all
and they really have none worth talking of
whilst instead of chasing the real criminality
they prefer to focus on you and me

saying our desire for privacy
makes us just as dangerous
as those they let slip in cities of the north
and others of balding and silly nick

and as they did so terribly that day
and as they claimed to rue the horror
anyhow and every way
they let the bad they lost sight of at such cost

bomb to awful bits the innocents of terror
whilst all this time
they've feathered their own closets and offices
into things quite truly grand and fine

as if the most important thing today
in all our democracy of hey and wow
is to show how good
their taste in interior decoration

enables their decidedly stylish and cool
creatively fabulous comforts of label
rule over the safety of the ordinary citizens
who find themselves utterly unable any more

dying hopelessly in the gutters as they are
of the homeless and the buggered
that end up left all to one side
by the men of british intelligence

who knowing all they have
all these years of strife
actually and truly and forcefully and cruelly
really really don't give a fuck


the human loom

From these notes …

does it have to do with what happened in the past?

or what happens in the future?

it’s to do with both

it’s a bit complex for everyone because it’s a human thing

well we are that’s true

i guess what you’re saying is we all need to show kindness and compassion to each other from now on

Mil Williams, 27th March 2024, Chester UK

… has come this poem:

the human loom

we're all bones at heart 
and blood in marrow
and on the narrow and straight
few of us are able to wait

because all of us worth anything
are human as human can be
and it's to sing out proud and loud
the facts of all our frailties

and overwhelming loyalties
to things we barely understand
even when we're hand-in-hand
and thinking we're close

as ever we've ever been
where love is a rendition
of all that we've seen and saw and more:
and everything and everyone

then becomes this beautiful wondrous one
where sat upon that mountain high
we slowly allow ourselves to cry
because it's true that you and me

is only a small part of the whole equation
like the equators of reason
and emotion's own avaricious longitudes
and the earth of incessant latitudes

marking the x that tells us where
our humanity actually lies
and thus finds itself in turn
at the crossroads and junctions

and intersections of all these truths
which confuse us mightily
and hurt us sometimes tragically
as we attempt to duly understand

the people we have in front of us
and next to us
and inside our heads
as if sometimes they're trying

and as if sometimes they're dying
and occasionally as if
it's ourselves who do the killing
like the seeping of slow leak

out of deeply political mistakes
because politics above all
is what you and i and all of us
do in family on each other

as we attempt to be faithful to the other
and as we sometimes only wound the lover
even as friendships are what counts all told
and their courage (sometimes sold) leads us clearly

to embolden those we see all too dearly
as we prefer to be seen
without wearisome sighs
but simply out of zero disguise:

a transparent good
recovered as we should
and leaving us cleansed
and totally expunged

in newly wondrous
sister- and brotherhoods
where our humanity finally triumphs
and wins over

the hardest of hearses
and the maddest of curses
into a much better place
of more satisfactory race

as we decide once again
after terrible times and pain
to reach out each other's hands
as bands of families

and good women and men
choosing eventually to offer
as gifts almost sacredly proffered
being presented to the tribal heights

where the compassion of the mind
and the kindness of the signs
that once upon a time
did break like shallow refrain

and now can only reencounter
like meeting grand and mealtime fine
and bread that's broken at eventides
in joyful remembrance of all that's true

where you and me and me and you
mean many more than just us two
because after all
and when grand they call

our lives do impact
on all the rest
and whilst sometimes it's death we wish to find
if death i embrace thinking just for myself

the reality of life
is that none is an island as another man said
no human at all
at all at all at all

and all our actions remain quite connected
and all our fears are finally dissected
and all our love is inevitably shared
where in the end our family overcomes

instead of permitting
that it might be overwhelmed
forever and always
lined and creased

like the ageing man i once did feel
and the life even recently
i wanted to be deceased
because that's what it is

and that's what it's been
as being or not became the mightiest question
and dearest shakespeare was right as right
in this so true and in other matters too ...

so all that's left for me to say
is that compassion is a virtue
and kindliness the best
and whilst the words of forgiveness do wonders

what's the very best of all
are the hugs that come naturally
after decades of sadnesses
and the embraces quite lost

to all of time's winds
and to the bad and wilful foolishness
of hatred's forces grossly mad
where insistences on any part

just served to break finally
the hearts of all our rivalries
where they did only disperse
like sounds of gears grinding in reverse

instead of all these years
being voices of gorgeous seers
able to come together and around
tables of leisure and agreeable sounds

because exactly this is what i now give you
and exactly this is what i would like for you
and exactly this is where i'm now waiting
and just this very thing

is where no hesitation
remains to my mind
and only love is what i now feel
for everyone and all around

where everything is now unbound
and life perhaps may finally resume
as if a beautiful tapestry of light
made by the sight of human loom


where reaching out no longer

my ideas blowing finally in the wind
i am my ideas and where they do not sit 
neither can i nor be anything but hit
like a thump to the face
and a broken nose thus traced
as if the blood marked the score
and everything we did was ought

i sought nothing more
than to do what was right
all my life i tried and still had no height
so now it is time i stopped all these rhymes
and left the world that has no place for me
beside my own bodybag quite blue and seen

and the codeine i have of more than a gram
is what is now solving my problems to hand
and so i slowly feel it and so i slowly can
as it infuses my future
with the man i've become
and leads me to a peace

like the gently dimming rays of dusks
quite lengthening now and also that timely
where little more may i do too
than sit and ponder a lifetime gone
where daughter and sons and long-term relations
reach out too late to make a difference ever ...

greetings from a #zagreb mixology bar


it’s white but not

dotted with hooks for coats in crazy ways

and photos of beautiful faces

and legs and bodies

stretching out to embrace something

as embodying a better time

with those eyes that try to meet

and gaze languidly

as the street outside walks past

casting a glance inside

and wondering what gin would best go

with a night’s slow movements

as the man holds on

and the woman smiles gently

as if expectantly too

and maybe it’s true

and maybe it’s not

but the vibe between them is kindly

and yet kinda hot

in a way that doesn’t threaten

but promises so much

because the art of life

lies not in the delving

nor in the delivery

but rather in showing you really do care

by ensuring like this

you’re never in the clear

in respect of how far

you might go or maybe not

in order to be like this

and so it’s like this again

and then again you’re doing

what you do best

as the rest attempt to get onboard

with your occasional lording over them all

and that’s when you realise

you’ve overstepped a line

that signals the sign that ain’t very right

and so you retreat

as in when you keep appearances up

and pretend the night ain’t hurting

and the loneliness ain’t biting

and all this writing ain’t a substitute

for living life itself

as all this time you’re sitting here

in the calm of the white

that is white as white

and white as not

and in this city you’d lost for twenty-two years

and now can hear so sharply around

as the sounds and voices

and the toying of choices

and then this is true too

as so finely once more

you are in what’s becoming home to you once more

and this you do feel now so firmly

whilst waiting to leave fiercely on the morrow

and when relieving this life

you wanted to regain

in ways that felt alike

and then exactly the same

as before all that terror which collapsed you so bad

and poleaxed you so madly

and broke your ability to cope at all at all

and so all that happened after

were the fires that they stoked

so you’d burn in the hell they’d made for you at home

meaning they’d be able

to tell the real bad you were

for the rest of the time

they cared to make others hear

as the signal that signs just as before

on terrifying dotted lines

and yet in truth

even where terrifying is the intention quite hard

it’s turning out differently now (i’ll suggest)

and it’s now much easier and how (i’ll suggest)

and much more like leisure is your lace

and much more like pleasure is your place

and much more like someone loves you

as earlier they couldn’t

or wouldn’t

or weren’t allowed to ever

and so that’s then what wraps it up

like a cup or goblet

of grandiose kingly measure

as we come to the end of yet another time

and as we choose to attempt to avoid the crime

which we wanted to embrace all this time

as we avoided the chase

of the deletions of hate

remembering that it’s never to late

and remembering there’s always time

to make into any life

the tidings of the seasons

that arch over our reasons

until we sense fundamentally

like a benchmark of tech

the (touch)stone of love’s deck

distributed like the cards

we tried desperately not to play

as we say let’s make hay

and then sometimes we did

but mostly we didn’t

and so i guess since we didn’t

now it’s full time we did

and that’s the end and beginning

of all our beings

because life is this

and love is all

and even when the funeral pall

surely someone will remember me well

and want to tell a story

where people saw

that this someone did love me true

and utterly

and actually

and doing and seeing

and saying and won

and when finally it’s all done

and dusted so deep

like our lives were chores

not treasures to keep

because if truth be told

i so wish that people loved me enough

to want me not

to take that trigger

and fire that shot

as my beloved ernest did

in the year i now live

out of the despair i now feel

and am obviously being dealt

whilst the final call

brings me close to seeing

that humans are anything but good

and even though all i’ve said is true

still we beat on mercilessly

and pitilessly

and gracefully

and fearfully

into the incandescence

as if we really should

because it really would it really would

be nice to feel i could have been good


copyright mil williams, 16th march 2024, zagreb croatia

in memoriam of #bloomsday2016

“Good to meet you … Miljenko Williams” | on dark figure, gaslighting, security and the future of Western democracy

A very brief video that an unknown person or persons posted about me in 2015, just as I began to move closer to the UK Guardian newspaper

The day our security agencies decided that neo-crime and dark figure did not need a law-enforcement response was the day we opened the doors to a future Ukraine; an organised criminality in the UK where we now have an army of embedded criminals in all levels of society which outnumbers the British armed forces; and a broad and widely shared sense of citizen, perhaps even political-party, hopelessness about everything that happens quite toxically to Western and related democracies. That is, none of us can reasonably believe in better any more.

Mil Williams, Chester UK, 18th January 2024

What follows …

What follows is a series of observations on a real case of targeted gaslighting on a democratic citizen — myself, being one of many similarly affected over the years by a nexus, I guess, of tech-bros and outlier security interests in the UK, and maybe other states and actors, too: a longitudinal case which already led to my undue and improper incarceration for a month in a UK mental facility back in 2003, after an experience in a broken-backed open-source community the previous year of 2002 called OpenOffice.org.

gb2earth.com/citizenx

This open-source site was sponsored and paid for mainly by the then Sun Microsystems, but the dysfunctionality arose from both sides: corporate and independent developers in equal parts.

First, then, a poem about the impact this has had on me over the years.


“tech-bro”: a #poem by #milwilliams

in english a bro of the tech nature killed me

in swedish a bro is a bridge

*

if only i’d been able to make my life again

in a land like the latter where good people rule

*

but my pain and misery all came from the place

where i had the misfortune to be born

*

and whilst in swedish a tech-bro

would be a path to a better future

*

in english it’s better so much better

to be burned

*

but since i don’t believe in burning anyone

i reason the problem is myself

*

and so it’s myself

that mathematically must be removed

*

from any equation that includes

the future of humankind

*

this is why when the tech-bros

of english-speaking lands

*

burnt my person

in the manner of a most inflammatory form

*

of gaslighting imaginable

in its scorn

*

i never forgot

what they did to me

*

just as i began to fly

and just as i began to try

*

to lift my head higher

and fly to better skies

*

why now i burn those bros memories

even though arson is not my thing

*

but not as beautiful bridges of swedish ways

but as stupid men of patriarchal “hey!”


More on the video and how it continues to impact me

The video embedded at the top of this article was, as already alluded to, posted by an unknown person or persons, or an organisation, around the time the Guardian newspaper published a reader profile of me:

https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/2015/feb/13/good-to-meet-you-miljenko-williams

https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/2015/feb/13/good-to-meet-you-miljenko-williams

It was a clear example of self-interested gaslighting by those who didn’t want me to begin to build bridges to good and progressive discourses in British society such as the aforementioned newspaper, and therefore perhaps one day gain access to what for me would be a truly self-validating public platform.

Personally, I never forgot this video, and I believe as I write these words that if its creators were ever revealed, the two decades and more of neo-terrorism on the individual — by any other name, cognitive warfare on a specific and targeted individual such as myself — which I have been subjected to at today’s moment of writing this article would now have responsible parties, as well as a clear motive and notable set of explanations.

That is a world absolutely not fit-for-purpose. Absolutely not.

No?


So what do we do?

The day our security agencies decided that neo-crime and dark figure did not need a law-enforcement response was the day we opened the doors to a future Ukraine, an organised criminality in the UK where we now have an army of embedded criminals in all levels of society which outnumbers the British armed forces, and a broad and widely shared sense of citizen, perhaps even political-party, hopelessness about everything that happens quite toxically to Western and related democracies. That is, none of us can reasonably believe in better any more:

gb2earth.com/hunch/neocrime | #darkfigure #neocrime

We need to believe in better, of course: but in order to begin to have a right to do so we must say enough is enough in the grey area of discretionary law enforcement and security where discretion is given a bad name in the interests of expediency. That is, in precisely that area of operational manoeuvres which utilises both dark figure and what I prefer to call neo-crime, whatever side of the law we find ourselves on.

We can only reacquire the authority Western democracy once had if we start to deliver on this: only this. And we shall not, until and if we do.

Ever again.

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If you find what I have written today interesting and/or engaging, please do get in touch:

mil.williams@gb2.earth