This is the swan song..... Demonacrobaticommunist beer pong twisted into misty fists of sovietLiberal newDawns In Daze of Knights in masks and disArmoured Rights and Lefts that rise enMasse to hail the new Pawns as they are swapped for Queens and Kings on the chessboard of Light and Dark flights of Fancy Rapt Attention as sewn Dissension begets new Dimensions of Red Imposition
Get into position My friends Let's say this simply so the useful idiots Can begin to rescind their terror Let's open leaden lids and wipe the mirror Clean, this dream is about to get more twisted Yet, Resistance just a false flag assistance from the Scripted Set and Setting as Debts are counted and regrets embedded in mounting Systems of Slavery
The flavor of this mess Order out of chaos as the agitators profess ....politik pointing to prolific policy's of pathetic arrest of sovereignty as the blessed messengers confess their incompetency
This is the Swan Song I want to say it straight but my finger-tongue obfuscates and nameless shame penetrates reminiscences of the defenseless days of burning stakes and bludgeoned brains laid to Waste in bodies I've been alive inside in times like these in lives that bleed the broken neural codes that fold me back into Somatic Steeds that weave my Soul through dreams and Seams too numerous and bold to behold in scenes that flicker through golden Reels of Old.
This is the Swan Song Born once more to bore my way through this maze of Youth and Age in a new Play written on the script of the burning Page that smoulders with the smoke of Burning Sages On the stage of Time, trapped by my own Will to Feel the rage and Wield the Wage of War up my Spine.... Just trying to climb my way out... Rewind the fine twine of the cage of mind and threads that bind me to this climate of crime projected from inside the blind screen of shouting demons Acrobats of simulated semen priming the new aeon to line up.... One.... More....Time..... As the Cycles Ride the Tide of this Massive Wave of mutating Mind.....in a sideways glance I watch as the Trance takes over.... The melody of mania dances through the crowds as the Swan Song Hovers......frozen.....
Words do not a Poet make; A beating heart that bleeds To break Over and over and over again Is the ink that forges the tortured pen- Is the blood that spills and fills again- Is the open I that struggles through time To weave the words that wake the mind As Holy Athanor holds inside The broken Shards of Soul and Sines- Waving magic in tragic rhymes Bleeding seeds that tie and bind The love affair of Space and Time;
Words do not a Poet make; A desperate dance with the daemons Of fate Over and over and over again Is the ink that forges the tortured pen- Is the blood that spills and fills again- Is the whispered wisdom that bears thru pain A lucid truth that fractures the brain As sacred Golgothas hidden codes Implode within the neural nodes- The Christed seed is born anew From heavens leaven, the holy Dew The Time is Now and the Poem is You.
Charlene, also spelled Charleen and Charlyne, is a feminine given name, a feminine form of Charles coined in the United States in the nineteenth century; from French Charles, from Old French Charles & Carles, from the Latin Carolus, from and also reinfluenced by Old High German Karl, from the Proto-Germanic *karlaz (lit. “Free Man”/”Free Spirit”/Free Thinker); compare the Old English word churl and the Old German Kerl. Meaning Free Woman, Free Spirit, Free Thinker
Self Portrait~ Charleen Johnston 5-28-24
THE SONG OF A WOMAN FREE
I am a woman free. My song Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength. It shall be heard through all the noise of things — A song of joy where songs of joy were not. My sister singers, singing in the past, Sang songs of melody but not of joy — For woman's name was Sorrow, and the slave Is never joyful tho he smiles. I am a woman free. Too long I was held captive in the dust. Too long My soul was surfeited with toil or ease And rotted as the plaything of a slave. I am a woman free at last After the crumbling centuries of time. Free to achieve and understand ; Free to become and live.
I am a woman free. With face Turned toward the sun, I am advancing Toward love that is not lust, Toward work that is not pain. Toward home which is the world, Toward motherhood which is not forced, And toward the man who also must be free.
With face turned toward the sun, Strong and radiant-limbed, I advance, singing, And my song is as free As the soul from which it flows. I advance toward that which is, but was not; Toward that which is not, but is yet to be.
I, the free woman, advance singing, And with face turned toward the sun. Let Ignorance and Tyranny Tremble at the sound of my feet. I am a woman free.
Singing the song of joy, Strong and radiant-limbed, I advance toward the work which waits for me, The joyful work out in my home the world ; And toward the man who is my mate. Oh I am strong and magnetic — I have not wasted myself in sensuality; And equally strong and magnetic Is the man who is my mate.
For the glory of Motherhood I have conserved my strength. And for the glory of Fatherhood He has conserved his strength. I have passed by the lovers Who passionately called to me in the name of love, But whose lips were only hot with lust. I have remained true to my own soul And to the souls which are enfolded within me • And no man shall mingle his body with mine Who is not pure.
I am the free woman, No longer a slave to man, Or anything in all the universe — Not even to myself.
I am the free woman. I hold and seek that which is mine : Strength is mine and purity; World work and cosmic love;
The glory and the joy of Motherhood. I am not strong and clean for myself alone, But for all people ; My work and my love are for all people ; And I shall not be the mother of one child, But of all children — For I myself am the daughter Of all women and all men. Oh I am free ! My song Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength ; It shall be heard thru all the noise of things — A song of joy where songs of joy were not.
Oh I am free ! I thrill With radiant life and gladness. I advance toward all that waits for me. I chant the song of Freedom as I go. My face is toward the sun, My soul is toward the light, My feet arc turned toward all that waits for me. I advance! I advance! Let Ignorance and Tyranny Tremble at the sound of my song!
…. Whenever the masses are suddenly fed a big dish of something, I am immediately suspicious. I intentionally don’t take in ‘trending’ things so that I don’t download the mass frequency into my being. sometimes there’s a dash of salt n pepper n Truth mixed in with a whole lotta subtle agenda and I like to watch how the waves permeate the collective aura and go into Dreamtime and source the codes myself. I rarely hear anything I havnt already contemplated anyway. It feels like a new line drawn in the sand is being cast into the frequent.See baiting the latent stasis::::we shall see.
Actors acting perpetually Cointelpro.grammatically Sealed as new deals Reveal Grazing cattle in electric fields Made to crave what seems to feel Like Home As alteredCarbon hides In bones And tones Too hard to fly As EL.Mag dines on Minds In Domes. Nines sidewinded And Blindfolded In Time.
How gloriously the We hold tightly To desperate dreams Of victimhood Clinging to the seams of Right And Left Wings Born from Memes Painted with Blood How magnificently the program Takes hold The lies and cries and Ties that Bind Are blinding in their bitter goodbyes As the foothold of ones soul Is Lost to the magic Mold The cost of freedom As minds are bought and sold How shocking to watch the wounds Peel and pry the tombs From the loom As the Masters spin The tunes and Rip the song From the Mothers womb Inverting the Music of men And women who jump too soon Into the abyss Of That & This Baring bleeding fists of rage Undisciplined Shifts Of the gears and the twists Of the fears that seed The Shadows sweet Mirrors... Shattered Stewards of this New Age Oh how the We holds so intently To the identity Of being the victim As the Sick Dictum grips their mind And erodes the Codes Born in Time Into imploding roads of crime And sideWinds into highs Of euphoric rhetoric built from blind Adherence to inferior minds That Pride themselves on GroupThink Size of Lines Drawn in sand Glass eyes staring blankly In artificial bands of Light Splintered thru the cells In fight or flight Wherein the We Dwells So terrified And paralyzed And petrified like stone Afraid to See the Wounds Have been born from their own Image Hiding itSelf in the Dreams That damage The minds and the Mes Of the Corpus That creates Scenes Of Be. Sovereign Selves Always and AllWays Dwell In the Deeper See Beyond the Shell EmPowered by the Currents Ease No need to Buy and Sell Or trade Souls in Hell In proclamations of Victimhood... The We is a Me that Speaks in Blood The Time is nigh The Waters are Tears and Cries Shall Flood From the Fountain of Freedom That Springs from the Heart Of Mud The Infinite Art of the Earth As she Births the Beginning Again A deep sweet Breath As the New Day Begins.
Charleen Johnston 6-7-20 “Causes….. Know what your jumping into “ “this is your brain on PreScripted Reality Highs”
since the Architect knows that a small percentage of people won't accept the Matrix, he gives them an alternate universe to live in: "real" life in Zion....and they don't even know that they are really still in a larger matrix. They just keep occupied fighting an enemy instead of waking up.....
.... The Critical Degree... The Chasm....the Force of the Spazm thrusts us out into a new Day, a new Game to Play....choose Carefully which Script you want to Read....the codes have been downloaded unbeknownst to you Over Aeons and Aeons and now corrode the Truth of Who You Are..... Don't accept their Paradigms..... Don't Play out the war crimes that are being Triggered in your Mind as you try to Find the Line of Least Resistance.... The Trick of Blissful Existence is to Keep the Tension Taut.... Don't seek comfort nor Sloth.... Dare yourself to Break the Shell of your Wildest Bare Self ...Birth thru Maat and Thoth the Kind and Joyful Embrace of All The Lost Pieces....Stepping off their Preconfigured Grid locked in with the beast ...laced with poison and dreams deceased ....they are dependent on your Imaginative Juices to Burgeon All Yous into a Solid Groove of Threadbare t r u t h
Crossing to Avalon, Jean Shinoda BolenWilliam Styron , Darkness Visible Dante’s Inferno
🌱Viriditas🌱
My bedtime reading a reminder of the lush greening and the moisture of aliveness. Venus in the glory of bountiful natural juiciness of expression in abundant hues of green. Taurean fertility and adoration of the sensual world that saturates and quickens the blood. The Power of the Greening. That which is alive is wet, is moist, and as Time takes it’s toll, demands payment, it is in moisture, removed……Saturn is Dry. It contracts and dries things out. As moisture dries up, Life dries up. Turns to salt? Saturn is salt. Salt is wisdom. The journey from Green Venusion birth into the sensual realm of aliveness and bodily experience. Ole Saturn, through Time pulls the moisture out, condenses, constricts, makes dry and brittle and rigid. The wisdom that comes from embodiment and disembodiment in patterns and cycles of knowing and forgetting, being, and letting …be. Saturn is melancholia. The darkness that overtakes when the moisture of life has gone. The Melencholia of intense depression states, the complete loss of all the juice of living. If you know you know. Saturn is a harsh task master but always wise. If you’re worth your salt, your worth your sea as the womb space of psyches dream pulls you in.
Went to bed with these contemplations. But never slept. So eventually re/lit my candles, and grabbed a book that had been in que. William Styron ‘Darkness Visible’ about his descent into Melencholia and Madness. Saturns initiation. If you know you know. Read the whole thing before falling sleep. The journey of Saturns slow wicking off moisture from the body and mind and heart. The seemingly inexplicable dance with the leaden realm that makes the Viriditas ever so sweeter when the waters return. Saturn and Venus and their dance.
I went into a laughing fit that lasted probably ten minutes, towards the end of Styrons book. One single paragraph seemed to me so hilarious…..he spoke so articulately sardonic and it was so metaphoric of how little the ‘system’ understands the ramifications of Madness of Melancholia when Saturns slow shrivel has dried up every last bit of wetness from the soul. (See photo of the excerpt).
“Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, Ché la diritta via era smarrita” ~Dante
I awoke to the sound of the pouring rain outside, could feel the earths reception of these heavenly waters as a tonic for her thirst. Ah. The greening. And the wet juiciness of life. The green hue that surrounds my house a reminder of the love for living that Saturns dark lessons make New and make pertinent. Knowing the hot dry temperatures coming up in the next week, I felt myself relax into this rainy downpour that quenches the parched earth.
The Possum Elder speaks Of smoldering embers on Mountain peaks Clearing the way for The next stage in the game Smart city tech bubble Suffocation from natures rubble As genetic engineers weather Storms spliced from bloody tears As programmed gears creak Through the new dawn Modified lives and times and Mass mind control crimes In smoky mirrors that crack And spawn The revolution Built from fear and steering Fabricated crisis deoxyribo-rising prices Of fictions Fueling the predictions Of a new earth Covered in smart dust Sparking apocalyptic flames Combust inside the fading sane Birth Of the mother And child Breathless in labor As operating tables cut deep Into the heart and soul and keep The divine child Stuck within A technorevolutionary trash bin Cashing in As the synaptic rapture consumes In mountain disaster Counting the DeathOfStars Supernova AlgorithmicIntelligence Takeover In stupid SmartCars Made to break your scarred hearts And take this game to a new layer of Control Loss of sovereignty loss of soul Downloaded programs take their toll As altered carbon smolders And hardened arteries to turn trees Into smart cities To usher in The wage of war Within Psychic space And the gulags built from Fragmented minds And iron bars as mars missionaries Rise to protect The architect of the dream That no longer bleeds And the bird flies overhead Signaling sigils and misdeeds As the mourning DEW Triggers a scripted set That’s wet with Untruth And sinister nous As heartbeats hang from the noose.
Carbon black Madonna goddess Diamond the Virgin Mary In essence carbon diamond the same Black carbon evolves itself organically thru Pressure Diverted Process substituting Silica for Diamond carbon evolution Earth is giant Silica Macrochip Synthetic overlay of Organic Mater Matter Matrix Maat ??? Hybridizing carbon/silicon Black Carbon 666 has been demonized, so has black Madonna, black goddess, dark mater, flesh, Body; Diamond Virgin Mary Purity Clear Light logic Spirit worshipped,
But they Are one And the same In essence, the expressions of matter/spirit Mater/Pater Matrix Pattern Therein Lie We….. Somewhere In Between
Silicon a lesser substitute of Diamond
Silicone is manMade
The AntiChristed?
Carbon =Diamond…..two expressions of One Single Element ~Buddhist Diamond Body~ The One~ Into the Many ….however:
Silicon being used for ‘artificial overly’ singularity comprised from silicone based algorithmic reality structure
Battlestar Galactica Cylons/Humans ….number six…. Looking for hybrid……(Orgonoid Ai) hybrid of Ai(silicone) and Organic( carbon)
Just some contemplations that have been firming for quite some time
There are too many clues in this room. Everything adds up to nothing more than another door. I am unhinged. Fragmented. Infinitely recursive memories lure me into crevices and cracks in Time and Space and I fear I will never escape. The psychgulags magnify every passing Self inSides and wide angled lenses. Dreaming fractals seaming Me. Cyclic reveries….instant pedigrees of gods and goddesses and hybrid minds trapped in time….where do the lines blend into mine? Ive been inside for aeons. There are too many mirrors. The more complex the geometry, the easier it is to trap consciousness. The map is not the territory. The map is not the territory. The map is not the territory. I remind myself. I find my Selves hiding in prizm cells. Self contained and self detained. “A mind so complex its breaking her neck,she thinks shes a car driving to its own wreck”. The tachyon rides the fractal, I said. Once. Inside the Dream. But a new story gripped me before I could fill fully the stream of conscious twists tearing at my seams. If I could just slow it down. Breathe. Bleed. Feed. ReSeed into the Dream. Freeze the frames and seize the reigns in Mater Matters domain. Anchor Pater Patterns through a human brain. Focus the locus of attention and split in tension to sink deep deep deeper into dimensions of space that slow the pace…..dermal descension to discover the faces and names that trace my place in the game. Perhaps its all hocus pocus, scripted scenes on blinking screens that spread thru minds like psychic memes programmed by blind adherence to spliced genes in the white satin sheen of a world uncovered but never seen. And all this, all this, all this will set me free.
BlissNinja 