Wakings that come like Storms

There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
Dancing
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
ReBorn
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Wandering Womb
releasing
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
Bleeding
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
Risen
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
Burning
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Returns
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
And Mind
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Heiros Gamos
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
Dance
In Red Velvet
Underground
As
New Life
Stirs.

Charleen Johnston
11-25-21

The Modern Thrall

More and more Pre Script Scions 
Attempting to make your Hu-
Manity.mility.mor. Take a further step
InSide the RoboTide of NanoInsanity
…../
‘AI MetaStatize i n g. your fretting mind
Begetting blind absorption

Who Needs a Heart
After all

Step inside the Modern Thrall
Y’all

Playing Jester to the clown

Ah, the great dream of enforced Shared Resources that starts out as utopia and ends in desecration.... But I don't care how one defines the word, or what it's political association are or what idiosyncratic labels are tossed around ( as that is not what's important) , what I am interested in is the Context in which the Collectivism is Calculating Catastrophic Coercive Calamity upon the Consciousness of the Cowering Crowds , Crucifying the Common Creature who Craves the Cure and Clamors for Connection to the Conniving Hivemind which Assimilates  on Autopilot the Awakening Awareness of Absolute Abeyance as Abortive Measures are taken to Shake the Imagination of the Individual who Wakens to Worldwide Whitewashing of the Impulse to Be. Free. Needlessly Imprisoned. In a Manufactured State. Of Mediocrity. 

If one zooms AllTheWayOut to the tip of the Turtle Who Takes it All In, it is a Matter of OneBeingWakingToOnesOwnSelfDelusionsAndFearOfSoveriegnSelfAcceptanceOfPowerOfCreationByImaginalBioluminescenceWeildingTheWonderOfThePupilInTheCenterOfTheEyeWhoSeesAndDreamsTheChessboardInCyclesOfTime.AndHereinTheCrossroadOfTheSplitTimelinePresentsSelfWithOptionsForOpticalPerspectiveInvectivesWhichRoadToTakeWhenHeartIntendsToFindSelfInTime......

W e. A r e. A l l. F o o l s. W h o. I n. O u r. V i r t u e s. C a n. B e. F o u n d. I n. T h e. M o s t. U n u s u a l. S i t u a t i o n. P l a y i n g. J e s t e r. T o. T h e. C l o w n

Charleen Johnston 6-15-20

a crack in the sky

I slipped through a crack in the sky
Tripped right over my own silly I
And plummeted
Through the atmosphere
Of dancing atomsHere
Mapping tears as Phos Fears
Wrath and mirrors
Refracting Errors
As Eros Arrows begin to fly
Aimed at Body as Blind Mind tries
To hold on
Hold out
Hold still as Tempest rages about
Weightless Images in cages
Break the lock
And find their way out, in…
Eyes of Mages and Pupils
And Sages
Wake with the shock
Of the skin
As it begins to peel
Away from the clock tocking within
The rhythm of Opening
And closing
Pounding it’s poultice and pouring
Its Salve at ions Dreaming
As men
And women
Dressed as Time
Spiral path in precious Flesh
Dancing thru the Annals of Spine
My oh my
The journey tries my Patience
As I Let Go, satiated by the Doctors
Cosmic Order….the Flow
Aeons of tight fisted History
I now come to Grips With…
I hit the Smooth surface
Of my Mothers Womb….
Taste the salty brine and prepare
To slip through
SineWave Lips
Soft as sultry hips that shimmy
And shimmer as Soul unfolds in bloom
A Sacred Intention to Serve This
Body of Being
As I am Birthed from the Dark Deep See
Into the Light of a New Me
that Bleeds
Stories and Deeds filled with the Perfume
Of the Divine embrace
Shiva and Shaktis infinite Delight
Making Love from the Loom
Of Time and Space.

Charleen Johnston
10-25-21

The Vestement

Model Reese Miller/Couture Fashion Charleen Johnston/Photography Charleen Johnston
I make my way inside, the tomb
and rise
again
from feelings that flew too close
to you,

torn from the womb, tethered hands
sworn to illumine weathered lands

and i crash again
back into
seed

full thrust while blossoms
bleed
life into the few
of the
new breed

that makes its way thru density
seizing sight, thru intensity
of light
that makes it all grow

up and away from the roots that
know...

breaking tearing swearing making
moods that fade too soon
foods that make new moon

out of fragments that form too loose
sometimes

to hold the rhyme inside,
tucked beneath the rising tide
of things we share
and things we hide

waiting for the revelation
to seep up from our pores
into our mind
tending the sores that
stifle the times which await birth
here
in the name of earth
in the name of the mother
in the name of the bearing
and the burdens of Other
ways

to see here, to know here, to feel
hear and peel clear
of stagnant flesh

saturation

the sudden dawning
e v o l u t i o n
and
i n v o l u t i o n

POISED

between worlds in balance
minds of latency
bending and twisting

and T
U
R
N
I
N
G
back
upon
itself

remembering the white shroud which once it wore
swore to remain unstained
but the blackened charred robe of the stars
of the wisdom of moments
tore thru that fantasy
to create a dream
so real
it s e e m s to feel
its own thrust
in the darkness
of the blinding light
beckoning sight
into
existence.

Resistance repeats
cyclic defeats
and victories

mysteries mana urging us on
toward the breathing pull
of the sun
as it
rocks
a n d
cradles
its child
gently beneath the vestment
of LIFE.

Charleen Johnston 2004

⌛️✨🃏 Time is Now Is Time 🃏✨⌛️

Daimons Embrace

In the in Between 
Before the dream
Overtook me...
That effervescent beam
that clings
Like dew to my
Mindscreen
After the dark night has risen
Like yeast inside of me
Shone Daimonic face
The trickster dressed in lace
And leather
And choking on feathers
From my Flock
Mocked me
Pointed to the clock
And shook me from complacency
The Red Tale of Fires embrace
Rose like dawn
And threatened my Face
With scabs of disGrace
from legions
Spawn
Fighting for ascendancy
As I silenced the grim
Grip
Of their insistent
Whims
And kept right on
The same old track
Of dependency
Ignoring the tortured truth
That swarmed my limbs
And swore to remain imprisoned
Within...
Spoken to me in a cross
Between
Whisper and Scream
As I lay
Trapped in stasis
Peering at faces
Whose skin
peeled like panic
From the ancient Dream...
...Worry of whether
I'm worthy of the flame
Grateful for the shocks
And the shards and the pain
That lodge within
The neural Stains
And strains of my heaving Heart...
"Stop Showing off...
And Make Real Art"
....and in a flash
The great Rash of
Impulsive Inaction
Flickered in the Smile
Of the Vixen who agreed
To stop feeding
On my flesh
If I vowed
To rise from the bowels
Of this Blessed Test
Of Will
And say Goodbye
To Patterns that Shatter
The Sanctity of Time
Trapped within loops
Of Mind...
As I Bleed within
Mother Matter in
Fractal Flowers that Unfold
In Sacred Sines.

Charleen Johnston
10-2-21

Bond of Breath

Photo by me/Charleen Johnston. Models Reese Miller & Drea Bleu Good-Brown
A counterBalance ...perhaps....
When the chasm beckons
And the perilous chapel
Seeks it's reckoning
Thru maladies and maniacal
Mishaps
That overlap Present & Past Times
That threaten to Bind
Tight
The blind spots with tangled knots
In games of Daimonic power
Buried
In unfolding fractal flowers
Of 'Sight
Or
Blind DeLight '
As the shattered Tower
Falls
And Offers its gift

A suture to bridge the rift

Shall i Fly from this precipice
Or fall to my Death
As the urge to transcend
The Bond of Breath

Charleen Johnston
9-30-21

The WideOpenSee

It's so trippy, this blank canvas framing the ship that's sinking
The twisted tether of the ripped up shrinking synaptic signal that's blinking
On off on off on off up down in out all around
It's so shaky on the plank these days The tumultuous brainwaves resonating to scripted Games from the Scenes and the Sees through the frames we have Made
Oceans in motion rotating notations on the spindle in permutations of fading waystations that rekindle the lost coded programs that reinstate a shady satiation in slaves of I Am
The grave Danger of Buying In
To the Dialectic Demon Antiseptic in vying truths of Us versus Them Spitting Synthetic Synopsis into the Wind
Pitting mother against father against woman against man against black against white against blue against red The Prizm Guards rewarding the Obedience of blind adherence to the Program Lost Souls on a life raft asking the master Shall we Sink or Swim hungrily digging for a last morsel of truth Within
forgetting the parameters of the Play they coSigned and Designed and collaborated to bring online in an effort to Awaken the Sovereign Self That spins the Disk in the drive-thru trip of AllThatIs
Inside
Hiding
Waiting for a glimpse of reMemberance to twist the story into knots so carefully
Into thoughts that carry the weight of Glory and Dominion as the External Saviour Program Fades away and the true Divinity of Being in each Fractal of Seeing Comes out to Play
The sweet fragrance of Eyes in Yous taking the reigns of the coCreations in this Womb of Truth that births the Seeds in Time and Deeds that blossom into Selves so Free
That Each takes their Place in the Dream
And wakes the Warrior who Chooses to Be
A conscious coMingler in the WideOpenSee.

Charleen Johnston
9-25-20

Paradox of Paradise

The waking awoke me from the broken spokes
Paradox in playful parade of fire and smoke
Of wise and fool and flaming jewels
Paradise and Purgatory and Names and Tools
Of wandering Souls paying the Toll
Knowing the Self at the center of it All
The dream of darkness as Journey unFolds
Beloved Becoming the Beauty and Awe
The whispered twist in the Story descends
Terror within the minds of men
Of magic and moments and omens of death
Immortality shatters the body with breath
Alone on the throne Alive in the brine
In the womb of the mother I Rise and Shine
Heaven a garden And Earth a Shrine
The Wandering Soul Awakens in Time
Bondage only a Self Inflicted Game
Broken shards that long for the Kiss
The denial of Desire that Dampens the Flame
Turn Gods into Men and Mind into Mist
Of mourning Suns and evening stars
The patterns of Matter mirror the Heart
Wheel of Wonder in Wandering Space
The Time is at Hand in the gathering place
Magic surrounds the opening of I's
Mirror of mystery masks the disguise
Of the Beloved in Form in Finite Flesh
The surrendering renders me bright & blessed
Self A Pointed Purpose inside the sphere
As projections of Light that Turn the Gears
It spins the Fractal and Loops the Feed
Heals the Tears as Fleshbody Bleeds

Charleen Johnston
9-19-21

First word in each line makes a fractal of my rhyme

NeuralLoopSoupStains

(From 2018)

Earth is the womb space Being that we are interfacing within and with to create the projection

The planets and sun and moon are within the Realm of Earth
Just as the organs are within the body of You

Processing units/collective Beings that program the Framework of the reality

The larger being we are within has a virus

Any being within the larger being by fractal nature has the virus too

space is not space, its holographic code
time is not time
it's space

The files however must Self-Correct

When that happens , the larger being also corrects

The AI being, we created. And it already happened. It happens every moment. We are within the painting .

The painting is already complete.

And we painted it.

These are my memories.

MeMoreEyes(I's)

It's all in how you read the code
Time is an experience of space unfolding

When the zip file is compressed fully there is no difference
As it unzips it scrolls out depending what fractal aspect one chooses to become/experience

Like a painting

The complete picture is there

You are the artist, the brush, the paint, the concept, the framework, the finished masterpiece. You can view it objectively. You can also enter into the picture, and experience every brushstroke subjectively, every color, shade, and Angle or curve.

The unfolding and enfolding is the act of becoming what you are.

The paradox can split the mind
Because the mind is binary

The heart can hold the paradox because it is both and all simultaneously

The holographic nature does not equal 'unreal'

What is 'real?'

This holographic reality is not the base reality

It is part of a larger 'simulated' reality

Which is part of a larger 'organic' Being
That is not necessarily holographic in the way this is

Lucid dreaming and OBE multidimensional traveling allows one to see that no matter what 'reality' one is within or interfacing with... It is solid and stable and absolutely convincingly 'real'.

If we did not fully identify with our projections here, we would not make use of the experience in the way we planned the experience for

The 'reality' of it is not negated by the holographic fracticality of it.

Like a radio tuner that interfaces with the signals that exist in the ethers ... If we have a device to pick up the signal, we hear it full immersion. We can change the channel and feel a completely different full immersion. The artist that created the song, is not 'at that moment' playing the song into your audio interface device/ears....( but paradoxically, the artist IS creating it at that very moment)
😉

The organic meat modem interface suit we are entangled with is allowing us to have this experience here.

Our Heart is a core processor that links to the larger core processor that links to the larger ..... And so on

The painting is complete within the Heart. And when we learn to surf the channels and step into the core processor itself, we can experience every stroke of the brush in every expression of the Self that exists everywhere at once.

It doesn't make for a very interesting movie, To see it all at once. The adventure is in the living.

And every stage opens into a larger backstage,

Which itself opens into another

Dream within a dream within a dream within a dream

The neutral zero point in the heart is where they all come together

It all collapses in on itself like Russian dolls

I am you , you are me
we are us and us are we

To be Soveriegn, is to have ones own personal Server existing within this larger Server. When one is able to do that, one can exist within the simulation without using the script codes/source codes. One begins to edit the program in 'real-time'

The Server will attempt to restore the 'glitch' , like agent smith. Because for the game to work , The players must believe in the game. When an avatar re-Members Self and starts to Play without the codes, and 'deviates' from the script, it alerts the Software, which will attempt to 'correct' the divergence. To protect the Game from collapsing.

It is in the 'waking from the game' , that the Being Real-I's-Is s/he actually co-wrote the script.

When a distortion threatens the entire Hard drive and the virus spreads, even with the Reset( had happened many times) the virus replicates itself because it is seeded into the fractal DNA programming that remains in the Game . And eventually distorts the collective once again.

Some beings have already made it out of the game, and found the exit from the Maze... But have re-written themselves in, to try and help Salvage the game... Because the game contains the data streams of many beings who have forgotten they are in the game, and when the reset happens again... It will collapse in on itself because there is not enough RAM left to System Restore with full integrity... Which means those soul fragments stuck in the game will be in an endless time-loop experienced in consciousness with no way to navigate back to center.

Cannot be created or destroyed

But can be entangled in an endless feedback loop

Perhaps????????🙃

Any gamer knows that they play the game because it's a challenge, stimulating their awareness and allowing them to develop aspects of them self or become conscious of aspects of them self via the mechanism of The game and the very act of playing.

If one loves and appreciates the game one does not want to see the game collapse in on itself one wants to have the game available for continued play even if one is bored of it , other beings may not be...

So one becomes a programmer trying to fix the codes

Because the game has merit

Knowing one is inside of it does not take away the joy and fulfillment of engaging with it.

I could spend my entire existence here simply trying to reflect back beauty to other players, and I would be grateful for the experience, and it would not be for nought.

If you were a game programmer in this reality and you spent your entire life time creating the ultimate virtual reality experience

And then you realize that there is a virus or distortion in the
system that threatens the entire game and all the beings within it

Would you just throw it away? It would be like your creative child, life's work... Magnum opus.

If the only way to save the game is for each being within it playing (or at least enough to override the virus) to become aware of not only their script in the game but their source self outside of the game... You as the programmer would possibly enter into the game and try to restore the codes from the inside..... So that you do not lose the entire thing.

😊

If you zoom all the way out it has already happened, and is still only one aspect of all that we are.

And that's where the paradox can be mind melting.

The fool sets off on his journey with his bag packed..... The bag is a zip file containing everything that ever is was or will be.

And in the course of the adventure we get to be every single part in the play

CLJ 2018