Please, No More Faithless Kisses

Cafe Locked Out

In this tiny Tasmanian town, besieged by sideways bush so thick you can’t walk through it, their pharmacist dropped dead. SADS, sudden adult death syndrome. He was not alone, another young man died suddenly too, their stories kept to whispers haunting the impenetrable forest. Back down the road, in a town built on a rabbit warren of mines, from a time when everyone was digging for silver, a young miner told us how several people in this town had gotten really sick all at once. It was obvious what it was, he said. But no one talks about it. No one. Their stories I guess are sinking into the mines.

Another woman, in yet another remote town, who runs a café, told me her kitchen hand, a young woman didn’t want to have it but the peer pressure was too much. The young woman felt odd after the first two but kept going until the third one saw her spend a night in hospital gasping for breath. The young woman knows what caused it, but keeps it mostly to herself  for few will listen.  And if she perished, it appears few would hear about that too.

The Henchman of this current narrative is silence. And silence’s greatest victory has been to convince people, family and friends, loved ones, to bury or cremate those they have lost in a lie. “We don’t know what happened but it wasn’t the jab.”

A lie that the ghosts of those who have left us too soon, will struggle to escape from, for few autopsies are completed so there will always be doubt and silence loves doubt.

Yet with their culture under pressure from all sides, astoundingly many Australians are yet to reach a line that they cant cross.

The Grandmother who was pushed over by police and then pepper sprayed, twice, was not that line.

The shooting and pepper spraying of unarmed peaceful protesters: well they deserved it.

Last Christmas where families ostracized family members was acceptable. And those that struggled with this, well silence controlled them.

And then ANZAC day, where the veterans who had not complied were banned from the dawn service and the RSL, passed as though nothing was wrong.

I was in Perth then and watched Kim Beazly  put his hand on his heart as the soldiers marched passed, and I watched one old digger storm off and while doing so he didn’t just take off his mask, he ripped it off. An image I managed to capture.

And on it goes. The Doctors publicly stating how they are baffled by the 20% or more rise in all deaths causality. Another esteemed obstetrician fired when he came to a rally and stated that miscarriages were up by 70%, a claim echoed around the world, and these claims come from the hard cold data. Loads of women are having menstrual issues and still the silence. This is our species' fertility. Is that not a line in the sand we should at least consider pausing for? 

No, because this is a chosen silence. One people have wrapped around themselves, as if they believe, or hope, that by remaining quiet they will weather the great storm full of whispers of a coming economic collapse and food shortages.

And it’s a silence supported by social media who bans anyone who shares any information that challenges the narrative. But they couldn’t do it alone. Everyone knows that those who censor others are never the good guys, and yet still the majority allow the censorship to continue.

The majority who remain mute as the entire force of the main-stream media vilifies those brave enough to protest.

Are we a beaten people? Do we deeply believe that when it comes to our culture, our future, and not only our liberty but the freedoms of those yet to come, that we have no power to effect change? That we are merely third class passengers on a runaway train, formally known as Australia, knowing full well that those in the first class carriages are not following any of the rules they pass down like decrees.

Our constitution is now a museum piece, and we said nothing. Cash and free speech are destined to become its neighbouring exhibits, driven there by a need for safety and a love of convenience.     

I know you know that we are all building our own prison. That handcuffed by a mortgage you justified your choice as just locking the other cuff around their other wrist, as the bureaucrats try to hide your disconsolate frown behind a mask, a simple gagging tool that protects the silence from your most powerful defensive weapon. Your ability to question. To actively search for the truth.

I know too that your soul is hurting, for privately you can’t ignore the fact the compass embedded deep in your soul is reminding you constantly that you’re heading in the wrong direction.

Some say that only God can save us, but that compass is God, and this is our greatest test.

A test many of us are failing as we betray not only our children but the Christian values we were born upon and were meant to defend, by action. By stating to the world that this is my line in the sand and my soul not only refuses to cross it, but can’t.

And there are warm rewards for being a part of the struggle. The greatest of which is gaining access to the strongest and freest version of you. The hero in you who, around the campfires of the afterlife  will see exalted by the angels. For they will know that in your own personal battle, you succeeded, despite all the odds,  to remain sovereign. That you retained or rather reclaimed the nobler aspects of your humanity.

And you can always reclaim this. Inside you, right now, your own cheer squad is waiting for you to rise. To join the ranks of your ancestors who fought for freedom, or believed they were.

A few days ago Sutton admitted that the vaccines don’t work. A truth that the dissenters have been

chanting for a year.  You have been duped by those who should care for you, and you have turned on those who still do.   

That’s why you feel lost.

But you are not lost, for we are waiting for you to return and join the ranks of those Australians who are fighting to create a better Australia. One where the generation, yet to be born, will be free to be themselves, because we defended the  freedoms they need to do this, Freedom of Choice And Freedom of speech.

And if you won’t believe me, then put down your phone, switch off your TV and take some time alone to listen to your own voice, maybe it is God or maybe it is your own deep yearning for freedom, that’s calling to you , like a rescuer searching for someone trapped in the dark.

A rescuer who once you let them find you, you just might realise is the point to your life. For one truth none of us can ever escape, until death decrees it’s too late, is the  fact that your only liberator is yourself. And that by saving yourself  you become a  soldier with the courage to save others. Perhaps your loved ones.

For how will you face nearing the grave knowing that from this period on, all your kisses were tainted with silence, with lies, for the only kisses a voluntary prisoner can offer their child, are  faithless.

Join us brother, sister, for with your help the path we are on will lead us all to the new dawn, and whilst we may not be the generation to reach it, your commitment and courage will light that way for those who will.

Cafe Locked Out is a self funded, growing community, so if you would like to helps us with fuel and other costs, please donate here: https://cafelockedout.com/donate or https://www.patreon.com/cafelockedout

Michael, Wendy and Kret.