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.
The road from intensity to greatness passes through sacrifice. ~Kassner
For a long time he attained it in looking. Stars would fall to their knees beneath his compelling vision. Or as he looked on, kneeling, his urgency's fragrance tired out a god until it smiled at him in its sleep.
Towers he would gaze at so that they were terrified: building them up again, suddenly, in an instant! But how often the landscape, overburdened by day, came to rest in his silent awareness, at nightfall.
Animals trusted him, stepped into his open look, grazing, and the imprisoned lions stared in as if into an incomprehensible freedom; birds, as it felt them, few headlong through it; and flowers, as enormous as they are to children, gazed back into it, on and on.
And the rumor that there was someone who knew how to look, stirred those less visible creatures: stirred the women. Looking how long? for how long now, deeply deprived, beseeching in the depths of his glance?
When he, whose vocation was Waiting, sat far from home- the hotel's distracted unnoticing bedroom moody around him, and in the avoided mirror once more the room, and later from the tormenting bed once more: then in the air the voices discussed, beyond comprehension, his heart, which could still be felt; debated what through the painfully buried body could somehow be felt- his heart; debated and passed their judgment: that it did not have love.
(And denied him further communions.)
For there is a boundary to looking. And the world that is looked at so deeply wants to flourish in love.
Work of the eyes is done, now go and do heart-work on all the images imprisoned within you; for you overpowered them: but even now you don't know them. Learn, inner man, to look on your inner woman, the one attained from a thousand natures, the merely attained but not yet beloved form.👁❤️👁
I am the pupil in the center of the eye I am the pupae in the center of the sky I am the purpose of the moon and the mind I am the purplepink lustre of the rotting rind.
I am moved not by your manipulation I am smoothed not by your capitulation I am removed from your observation I am soothed by your undulation.
But what does this mean, what does this mean Where does this lead me, the silver queen the rampant wanderer of time and rhyme the vagabond rambler through moistened minds?
And where does this take me, what forgotten land what does this make me, and by whose hand where will I lay my weary head my friend when the path that I tread winds to the end?
I fight the seizures that shake me make me into another plume it takes all I have sometimes to free the lines that have been subdued ...placed in tomb below layers of rotten cocoon. I am squinting, the brightness of the lightness and the tightness of the room seems too much to bear today in my grey... I am born of flesh, enmeshed and torn from the silvery star that beckons me reckons with me it'd be better where we are if we could find that place that face, that sunny stream of shining lace that surrounds the space inhabited by you...
Can you Spell it out for me, misterDream? Can you tell me how to open the twisted screen? In the back room of this microcosmic vacuum sits a dialectical demon with a face that looks like me... spilling simple satire with the fire of certainty.
Can the foggy mirror be wiped clearer, by the hand of the man who refuses to stand for the nearest and dearest hearts of the clan?
Let's see, let's discern the irony... The mires that we have chosen to believe that seed this dying creed of iron deeds locked in steal with grips of fear on fiery steeds ..... Twisting the plot and trotting thru electricFields that yield the knots and tangled spokes from the turning Wheel that broke the Seal between WhatIs & WhatIsNot. For Real. Man. What a crazy Plan . A Game of Planes and PassionsOfPan dancing thru the degrees of Am. PM me with the lowdown, whisper in rumors of what's going around, we can thicken the desperate drama and Play like Clowns.... Tricksters testing Paradox and Talking UpsideDown, we can rockAndRoll through Sight and Sound as the chessboard wavers on the merryGoRound.... SinEwaves savoring Light as the curtain goes down.....
Scene One is seen Thru, it was Planned Too.... Dangling Dialectic from the ceiling of this BleedThrough.... Hegel wrote the words to spell out the Game that's played in the dressing Room as the audience waits, debating the nature of isolation as Indig.Nations fates are flavored with States of Vexation as Altered Carbon caters to the next mutation.....
Shadows shadows shadows on the wall, good guys bad guys rise and fall, breath by breath and life by death and brick by brick we build the Wall, one by one and None by All.... Too mixed up to heed the Call.... Three times Charmed with shock&awe as For the record the Lines are drawn....... Phi.ve times LifeTimes Venus FlyTrap dines on Tangled EyeCons in the dance of Dreaming dodecahedrons.... Sixual Mayhem birthing through Us & Them in triangular penetrations of particulars in WaveWeaves of instinctual variations ... Sexagonal vibration as the Exact Middle Compromise of Creation interrupting Infinite Potentiation.... A rupture of the hymen that seeks satiation.... Virginal Seven in Deep initiation never divided nor multiplied inSide of TenTs of Mind that abide in Destin(ysAb)ation .....zen.... Within.... The W.Eight of the Gate of the Octave that initiates the Fate of the sacred States of Self inDwelling in Games of Play in Nine Lives ReWinding on hard drives and BytesOfTime spitting Neurolinguistic prayer in rhyming software that invites the Tribe to Dive Into the broken binary groove of Moving Truths .... Wholeness split into Ten threadBare bits of DecaDent Twists of the loom as looping recursion creates diversion in hateful versions of fleshExcursions as ELeven RightAngles Dangle from heaven as Self appointed gods&angels of the ArcOftheCoven In tangled tests of woven GovernMent....
Sovereign exploration of the Self InDignation that forces the faces of contortion of Space&Time to confront the Mirror of the Mind and gather the Fragments scattered Inside as Self ReMembers It Turns Its Own Tides and inJoys The ride of the Twelve archetypal Primes as the Rhyme subsides and the Waves enGraved in playful Mazes Fade into GroundZero .... The center of the Spindle of the Core Processor.... the chessboard squares dwindle and melt in predecessors of Jesting Jesters inGesting Lessons from Gestation .....
Ahhhhhh.....the Spell is Broken.... A simple Token as the spoken narration nestles into a quiet corner of this newly Woken Nation.....
Jezebel paint yourself, a picture leave nothing uncolored- a mask, a picture of hell. “Rid yourself”- they shriek “the demon must fall” around my body they swarm casting their hatred like stones to bury me. I am Jezebel. I am your sin. I am the demons within. Caress my solitude with those soft, delicate hands- father time? Mother earth? Holy ghost? …haunting the world and its hells I beckon you master divine to let your lips meet mine. I'll swallow you in lustful kiss and wrap you in sinful bliss. You cowards, afraid to create your own heaven- but willing to cast me into your hell.... How cruel my fate- to be Jezebel.
The twitch of Dreamtime As stitched open eyes Find Time To cope with Spaces deep inside
I am full with Child Ripe with fruit Nerves on fire With the desire To open the womb And carry thru This seed of truth
Where and when and how Did the germination Take place? I can’t seem to remember The breath of Grace That spoke to me That broke the hymen And woke the seed
My belly is swollen And round The active fractal Of self within The shroud Tumbles around with forceful Kicks As I wander thru psyches Maze of bricks Trying to be found
It is Time
In this Space
Just like in waking life So many moons ago A nodal cycles synodic flow
Sudden fear For just a moment Can I open wide enough To deliver the Numen Can I bear the terror Of this movement As the veil tears And bares The burden Of Being Human?
Do I push It thru Or does It Split me In Two Into New Moons And Minds As Daimons ride The wave with me… Cry out in pain with me… Wade thru stains Of bloody chains That break when the waters Pour out of me ?
Breathe Let go It’s so Real I Feel It burst thru Huge Alive Wide eyed And thriving Outside Of Me
My Goddess….! ….The Beauty The Wonder the Wisdom Of Womans Body Alethias forgotten Melody My God…..! ….My God Thou hast christened me Theos unLoosed From crystalline Seams.
Now to nurture At the breast Turn blood to milk Like water to wine As I climb inside The feathered nest Of the divine
I remember Then The Name of him From which This body Born from me Was given the spark From electric seed
Full exposure Nowhere to hide The sight of the light And the scope of the size Of this daimon in dream This daimon in me This playful parade Of uncertainty Birthing me From within
A mirror of matters magical Twins As Mater and Pater Outside and In join At the hip And dance and spin Deliciously tangled In SineWave Grins.
The Stitch of Dreamtime As twitching I~s Rewind Time In Spaces opened from Inside..
Charleen Johnston 7-26-2024
(Based in last nights vivid dream of pregnancy and giving birth)
Patterns patterns on the wall HumPty Splattered from the Fall Broken Shells are cloaked in veils Of masked mouths in modern sprawl Twisting tales and telling lies And pointing Fingers at the I's We build the burden of our own demise Fill the garden with Sown Reprise With complicit cowardice we cast the Die And wait for Fu(h)ror to Rise the Tide Oh sweet Souls who hide enDemic Panic Beneath the ruse of false compassion We Wove this World and Play within It Keyholes In Cells we Formed and Fashioned
A witch I am not, nor sorceress, nor Magician manipulating thought and mind No wizard am I, nor priest divine, nor Queen in the temple of space and time… Instead, in red, and black and white A jester playing with alchemical sight A fool whose tools are broken rules That twist and turn in spools of light… A psychopomp that swims thru veils A trickster telling twisting tales That provoke the nodes and neural codes To waken from their Prizm Cells
The mind points out it’s own precision The pen tip presses upon the page The blank sheets are washed and dried as bleeding crimes in tangled lines Are hung to dry with dripping rage
The mind draws lines with its own decisions The desperate drama of dreams debate The Carpet rolls out the curtains rise The Callosum opens its Myelin eyes As actors weave axioms upon the stage
The mind circles round its own confusion The neural nodes nap within the cage The fasciculus finds and hooks the hive The fissure formed from space and time Is stitched to heal with macrophage….
….the ritual bell, the wafting smell of Burning sages in prizm cells, Hanging from the dangling nous, The heart bares scars from tearing youth From the of searing truth of heaven and hell…