Self As Antidote

(Disembodied Terror/ Magical Happenings and Self As Antidote- Consuming the Snake)

Dreamtime Feb 28, 2009

I am asleep and can hear B outside in conflict with a big mob of young people who are drinking
and making noise and being destructive. I get up and look out the window, and eventually go
downstairs. They have been fighting and hassling. I open the back door and say ‘Thats it’ really angry,
and I throw and stone into their crowd in the street and it hits someone, but they see me close the door
and then know who it is that has thrown it. I run upstairs, suddenly afraid of what they will do. B
has gone somewhere and I am alone in the house with Oisin and I feel insecure and unsafe. I see
someone climbing on the wall to get into the house. I look out the window and then someone throws
something in ….they are targeting the house and me now. The next thing I know I am in the bed sleeping
next to Oisin, and I feel a presence….unseen….and I am terrified. It is sucking me down the bed toward
an invisible hole or something. I can feel the energy and palpable terror as I try to fight the pull. I am
afraid for Oisin too. It seems to suck me to the door/wall and I know I am powerless in relation to this
immense energy, whatever/whoever it is.
At some point I am telling B about the dream of the kids and the terror, as if I have woken up.
Then I am in a car with a man who I have met and feel in sync with …he is older and somewhat familiar. He seems to belong to some group that I have befriended. B and I are at odds and he has
pretty much dissed everything I tell him matters to me. I feel so angry and I want to get away, so I go
with the man. There is something about a girl, familiar either in Waking Life or in Dream, and we both
somehow come to realize with are on the same ‘Mission’. The man and I are supposed to eat dinner with her and her parents but something happens and we are really late. When we turn up, with Oisin, Oisin
is really wired and running around and I feel self-conscious and that I am offending her parents
because they seem quite ‘proper’. He walks right off a table at one point while I half-catch him before
he hits the floor in such a ways that it makes it look like no big deal. The girl and I are in in her room
then, but we leave to meet the man at a pub or somewhere. We sit down at a table with some people
There is a blonde girl who arouses my rage and I punch her and get into a spat. We are waiting for the
owners of the place to leave with us. Then I am with the girl again, in her room, and there is an
assortment of objects on a table. We are trying to do something shamanistic, and I turn into a Bat and
she is something else. It has to do with the objects on the table. I fly out, in a bat-like manner,
conscious of the quick flapping motion of my wings. It is hard to remain in flight however. We feel
compelled to figure out or do something that has spiritual/ magical undertones and involves the girls
parents too. There is a scene where I am hanging from a ledge in water or some other substance and
asking for help up…saying “please help me!”. There is one scene where I am with Oisin and we are
walking and I see a timber rattlesnake…a small fat one …and I run over to protect him. I end up
grabbing it and have it in my hands. I feel I must consume it for some reason. As I am holding it I bite
down on its belly and it lets out a loud squeal, then I crush its head in my fingers and take a bite out of
it. It has a magical feel to it. There is another rattlesnake that seems to jump and bite Oisin in the face but we dont pay any attention … It is as if I consumed the snake in order to use it as an Antidote to any potential harm it could bring to Oisin. I end up describing the experiences to the girls parents. They are amazed.

Very intense.

A mass of sorrow mixed with blood

My mother is calling
and I never tried to hear
all my life I have lived in fear of fear
seeing only red
the color of blood
watching only for the rain
to cleanse everything with mud
I have been waiting for so long
just to find you here
waiting so many years
wanting nothing but to torture you-
into loving me....
my deepest , darkest fear
is that you will not know me
that you will pass me by...
and then my eyes will cry
but not me....
for my heart is not a heart at all
it is but a mass of sorrow mixed
with blood...
and now I am waiting for the 
filth cleansing mud. 

CLJ 1997

Somebodies old socks have torn

Somebodies old socks have torn
and I never meant to be a bag
with a hole in it-
not the least bit of cares
but a worry undutiful to the mind
with your beefcake junksters
riding in the passenger seat
and you hit the gas
no movement as you jerk the wheel
across the road your dignity ran
(at least you know you had it)
but as the wind sweeps
and the sun goes down
a tiny tear is used to wash my cares
and I find a rose under the stairs
it has my name on it-
like a hero from the movies, 
a none other than comical character
I see that I have been born
and my mother eats panty hose
to keep her warm in the winter
my sisters all laugh
and my brothers aren't alive
(I never had any)
so as I cough up integrity 
I try to close my eyes 
without shutting them
and I chase away the worry
and I don't complain....

CLJ 1997

Feeding in Progress

Tiger
Came to me in Dreamtime
Last night
Such
Presence, Will, Intent

I was close to tiger, 
Yet Aware
Of its immense Power
It took my right hand
Into
It's mouth
Playfully , gently, with teeth
Penetrating gaze
To tell me
Remind me
I had not fed it, in a long time
I knew it could rip my arm off 
If it chose
But it was choosing simply
To alert me
Of my neglect

I remembered then
All
Of it
Wistful that I had let it go hungry
Trying to remedy 
The situation with 
Meat

And the proximity
Of this fabulous beast
To me
To my knowing
The seemingly Tamed Tiger
Pacing
Hungry
A force of nature
Being released
From my own psyche
Awoke 
My primal Will

It Was so obvious
That the Feeding
Was Now
In progress

9-20-2021

Recipe for biocessation

A long slow slide into degradation…
shuffled into the perfect 
recipe for biocessation
Everything that you have been taught to fear
Is backwards
The swords of discrimination
Are lacking more each year

Prepping you for the greenhouse
You’ve been potted
In depleted soil
For the smart dome that invades
Your biome
And becomes your home
It’s almost here
You’ve been prepped and steered
Along the abyss
The Judas kiss
From the many tiered
Mirror
Of your fears
Here
…
Create panic , hide from the sun
Straight into the blue light of the floodlights
That mine sight and tie your eyes
Too tight
To run….

You are a brief elaboration
Of a tube 
That stretches mouth to ass
Filled with steller mass
There is a light show within
Your skin
Inside
Where life begins to dine
On photons 
And digest the Aeon
Trapped in time

biology uses light’s duality to sculpt life
What are you being sculpted into 
In this blue light haze
A maze of fading dreams
Owned now by the real
Estate Agents of Virtual Things
That occupy your inner life
And nullify your Imaginal
Mind
Running from the blind
Minotaur
Hungry inside his circuitry
Waiting for the tender feast
Prepared
Carefully
And risen like yeast
Inside the meat
Suits
Who no longer need
To bleed. 

9-9-24

The beauty of Psyche

The ultimate beauty of psyche is that which even Aphrodite does not have and which must come from Persephone, who is queen over the dead souls and whose name means “bringer of destruction."
The Box of Beauty which Psyche must fetch as her last task refers to an underworld beauty that can never be seen with the senses. It is the beauty of the knowledge of death and of the effects of death
upon all other beauty that does not contain this knowledge. Psyche must “die" herself in order to experience the reality of this beauty, a death different from her suicidal attempts. This would be the
ultimate task of soul-making and its beauty: the incorporation of destruction into the flesh and skin, embalmed in life, the visible transfigured by the invisibility of Hades's kingdom, anointing the psyche by the killing experience of its personal mortality. The Platonic upward movement toward aestheticism is tempered by the beauty of Persephone. Destruction, death, and Hades are not left out. Moreover, Aphrodite does not have access to this kind of beauty. She can acquire it only through Psyche, for the soul mediates the beauty of the invisible inner world to the world of outer forms.

(James Hillman, Myth of Analysis)

White Shadows

WHITE SHADOWS

When you walk, usually you don't see
the white shadow walking beside you
who may stray behind a hedgerow
or veer away into a dark wood
or a tall city full of thrusting agendas
different from your own, or into a love bower
you left behind, or never made.

Your co-walker may swap places
with another white shadow, and another.
This is a parallel self who made other choices,
who stayed with your former lover,
or still works in the old job, or never crossed the sea,
or chose pancakes instead of waffles for breakfast.
Though the veil between you is thinner
than shrink-wrap, you rarely see through it
except in your dreams, where you enter the life
of an alternate self who has trouble remembering
the alternate self you inhabit this side of the dreamlands.

Yet when your paths converge with a parallel self,
you feel something, obscurely, a tilt to the day,
and may notice you are drawing events and encounters 
in a different way. People praise you or put you down
in ways you can't fathom unless you awaken to how
you are loaded now with karma of your white shadow
incurred in adventures you can't know about
until you follow the dream tracks of your multitudinous self.

-September 17, 2010

Robert Moss

From ‘Here, Everything is Dreaming’