Skip to content
American Intelligence Media
Christians Addicted to Truth
  • Home
  • About Us
  • Truth History
  • Audios and Videos
  • Contact Us
  • Search
Anonymous Patriots
by Our SpiritDecember 8, 20174:15 pmJanuary 23, 2018

It’s not tyranny we desire; it is a just, limited federal government.

Alexander Hamilton

2Comments

Add yours
  1. 1
    Dorothy De Christopher on December 8, 2017 at 8:25 pm

    Crypto curriencies confuse me. But here’s this from Reuters “Hackers Steal $64 Million From Cryptocurrency Firm NiceHash” Dec 7
    https://www.reuters.com/article/us-cyber-nicehash/hackers-steal-64-million-from-cryptocurrency-firm-nicehash-idUSKBN1E10AQ

    Your newsletter made me feel patriotic tonight and I really liked the song about the War of 1812. So, here are 2 songs from our Pres’ Campaign.
    “Donald Trump (Unofficial Campaign Song): The Ballad of Donnie T”
    By Uncle Sam & The Patriots

    https://youtu.be/VgzWQohLsFw

    “ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?! Make America Great Again – Republican National Convention” July 21, 2016

    https://youtu.be/Be6Jd7Wcq1M

    And to prove I’m an Equal Opportunity Poster – here are 2 songs about Obama.
    “Johnny Cash Sings the Obama Blues”

    https://youtu.be/Q2O1G1cCD6c

    “The Devil Went Down To Washington”

    https://youtu.be/KlyelYetLAM

  2. 2
    rockpicker on December 8, 2017 at 10:38 pm

    Whistleblower

    Up the gully past the end of a dead end road
    in my mind a hound goes on alone in hills
    like sounding boards, resolute and compelled
    to tell what he knows is true. Who strains
    to hear his muffled oath is no concern to him.
    Though a little wind will carry his voice away
    a little while, he will stay nose-to-ground
    and sounding from inside the deep tangle
    consensus has become. I went out

    once with a huntsman’s horn to warn him off
    and call. I learned he will not come to me, bleeding
    and happy to be carried home. Bitch or dog,
    the dogged can’t resist corrupting musk. A whiff
    informs the DNA, inflames the nose; the voice
    explodes, an acoustic rainbow in sodden hills.
    There is no spent fuel pool. The kid in the boat,
    framed. I squint into a slurring wind. I hear
    the soft scrape of running paws in rotting leaves
    and know this running in my bones. It’s in the blood.

·Comments are closed.

Search

Translate

Follow AIM by email

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Note that Gmail, Yahoo, and AOL will block most emails to you.

Begin typing your search above and press return to search. Press Esc to cancel.