⚡️Oh the irony of swimming in an electricSea Of hectic memes and desperate screams Stepping into the trap that breeds A virtual prison of 1-2-3-a-B-c What I mean What I deem to be Imperative in this sterile fib Is unplugging from the falseCollective Masks that grasp the seed of inception Wrap minds in images meant for assimilation
This tribulation is scripted The prescription for complicity Is terrified ambiguity Masquerading as ingenuity In making it through this mess And somehow feeling blessed To have uploaded ones mind into a Hive Grateful that nature shall Survive To see her fruit trapped Zapped inside mapped out lives Homogenized and socialized into mediocrity
I saw this all in Aeons of Dreams Played it all out and rode the seams And still i'm slightly shocked At the rapidity Of the begging idiocy Demanding protection from the very blood We bleed That keeps us human Instead of a machine
The chessboard squares itself In 64 places The spaces between I Ching codon rings and DeoxyRiboNucleousity Drenched in disHarmonic frequency Quenching curiosity and breeding hypocrisy Oh what a world we meet When we lose ourselves to the SmartScreen And forget to walk on earth with our feet
You Are a Seed. Will you be Fallow? I Hug the wombMother who nurtures me And vow to remain her child that bleeds Vow to remain Wild like the weeds And stormy seas The dirty electricCity that rapes my genes Shall be one more take in one more scene the adventure is infinite And so are we
🔥🦂🔥:::WordsJustCameOutWrong:::🔥🦂🔥 (AfterFace of volume 6)
I like to say Words are Worlds......Words are also Wounds and Wounds are Worlds....and if we are perfectly honest, All Worlds are Wounds. And I am unraveling my World as I unravel my Wounds. I have been Wound so tightly around a core of Intensity, and overwhelming personal psychic interrogation for my entire life, that I have produced a ridiculous amount of Words in various forms, either to Cover over the Wounds or to Unwind the Covers. I am unsure which. A bit of both. But In diving back into the World Contained in this Tome of descent…..I have been reliving the emotions and confusions and I am emerging from this ritual as if from a Tomb. Yes, Words are Also Wombs.
My Words are often the result of entering the Portal of Some Other, either in the waking world or in the vast internal realms I inhabited. I have always lived mostly inwardly, with a rich and sometimes disastrous inner life. Some of these poems are written from the perspective of the many battling inner realities within me, with no mirror in the physical world. I have always been submerged in what I call 'Bleedthru-s of Other Lives'……Psychic fragments and scars and emotions from Characters I have played before in other timelines, seeping right through my seams. My inner realities have always been more solid and real than my outer reality. Some of the poems are written from my own witnessing of friends dramas etc, and writing from the perspective of the players in those games. Some are archetypal expulsions of raw material suffocating me endlessly. But most are mirrors of some outer reality. My protean obsessions and compulsions always dragging me one way or another. The repetition of the theme of Love and Pain and Misery and Darkness and bitterness. The depth of my own emotional life was never expressed to any person in those years, in fact, that theme has held for my whole life. I have always turned my psychic and emotional disintegration into Art. Not because I don't trust people. But, I believe, I learned way back then…and find it still true today…that most people do not feel as deeply. Are not so completely consumed by passing moods or inner landscapes and are not so tangibly sculpted like putty by their inner reality. Those who are, have left behind all the great Art and Writing and Inventions of our Collective World Stage. Or they have drowned themselves in addictions because there was no way to silence the Demon, and there was no leap from the abyss to follow the Daimon into Alchemy, instead of suffering the excesses that Demons love so much. Or they have been given any number of psychiatric labels and then pharmaceutically numbed out of life or locked away instead of facing the abyss head-on. Or they have simply, chosen Death head first.
"Thus I draw from the absurd three consequences, which are my revolt, my freedom, and my passion. By the mere activity of consciousness / transform into a rule of life what was an invitation to death-and I refuse suicide." (Albert Camus)
Mostly, people try to commiserate, if I actually let out some of the depth of what I am perceiving or feeling or living, or what I am making flesh. I have often responded, that if they felt and saw and bore what I bear, relentlessly, they would be, like me, forced to alchemize it in some way or to destroy themselves. The kind of charge, the voltage of energy I am talking about, constantly pressing in upon me, is not the kind of fire or electricity that can be safely tucked away behind a netflix series, or a bottle of wine, or endless shopping, or endless socializing, or even hobbies. It cannot be stored in a back room and allowed out when appropriate. It cannot just 'wait til a better time' to make itself known. If someone is able to 'basically get on with their life' by drowning out the voices in any number of ways, they are not in the heat of the kind of flames I am talking about here. One may say that it is the human condition. Yes, in many ways it is. But it is a particular condition that only some people choose to incarnate into here in the Playground. It is a particular wiring, a certain blueprint. And they either learn to dance with it, and create great beauty or alchemize it in some way, or they destroy themselves and others completely. I do not believe there is any middle ground. Not for this initiation. Nothing about this kind of intensity allows for a 'normal life'.
We don't know that when we are young, however. We think if we just condemn ourselves enough for our Inner Fire, we will eventually settle into some typical way of relating to Self, in a controllable world of other people doing people-y things. We think if we just stop doing A, B, or C, or if we just Try Harder to be setted and content within our skin, we will alter the program. If we just make up a bunch of rules for ourSelf and stick within them, or follow someone else's rules of virtue, we will be free. But I have learned over and over, that there is something innate to certain people that will never allow for that. There is an inner prod that has no care for our human proclivities or our body's limits. It will not let us rest. Every moment is lived in absolute Intensity, whether that be the heights of the Manias we find ourselves in, when the blood is quickened within and we are a tornado of exuberance and god-like arrogance behind a bright and radiant smile of possibility. Filled with endless ideas that stream out like a broken water pipe and saturating everything and everyone in the vicinity. Or when Icarus' waxen wings melt and he falls from the sky in a dramatic display of descent back to Saturn's humus, humbled by the tumble from the lofty perch of our own ideals and effulgence.
What else but absolute obsession can make a person spend hours upon hours upon hours of days upon days upon days upon weeks and months and years focused on bringing to life some particular little nuance of their perception and participation in AllOfit. The Daimon drives us. And not All of our Daimons are playing the same game. And I have, after 44 years in the Playground, found a way to dance with that realization. It no longer destroys me and everyone in its path. I know a great many people afraid of being hurt, in Love. I am bass ackwards. I am not afraid of being hurt. I am incredibly reluctant at this point, to allow another to be hurt by me. I saw these patterns even back to this earliest poetry and was aware of the various warring selves within me. The Fire warms but also burns. It lights up a room but also sucks all the oxygen out of the air. Not all things and beings can handle the heat and intensity of a Being who is able to exist only at full throttle. At least not in close proximity for any length of time.
I have learned to create vast amounts of Space for myself, and vast amounts of Time for myself, to make of my life a sanctuary where I am fully aware of my strengths and weaknesses, and thus able to now use my gifts in Service, and minimize any fallout from my own perpetual emotional instability....(which all things considering, is very mild compared to the bulk of the prior 30 years).
A testament, these 600+ poems are, to the desperate restlessness of an unfolding psyche, that could only vaguely intuit, at the time, what lay right around the corner. It was only one full year later that the major confrontation with Self and the dissolution of everything I had begun to believe was me, was to take place. (See Volume 5)
I see in these poems all the foreshadowings that came to delineate the myths of my life, in germinal form. I have simply unfolded the tapestry through time. And now, as a ritual release, and as a precursor to Drawing My Stories on the Skin of this World, these Words Made Flesh are the final recapitulation of a long Poetic journey that has led me to this point in time. And I am casting off the garments of the old life, again, this time to be born anew without carrying the weight of these juicy nuggets of my Living Experience screaming into my psyche constantly, to be birthed into Flesh. Word Made Flesh. So Blessed. This Journey.
"Every time I tried to tell you, the words just came out wrong, so I'll have to say I love you in a song"
I'll have to Spell it out in Rouge, the Red from the blood thatl bled as birthed myself anew
"There's something that I just gotta say, I knew you'd understand…...”
Charleen Johnston 3-6-2025
"Words are like pillows: if put correctly they ease pain."
The Neutral Zone is the Creation Zone I am a chosen Enemy Of The State Of Mind That tries to tug at my I And keep me Blind To NeutralEyez is to surf the Callosum I call it stepping into the Center of the Spindle of the Core Processor The zero point The jester is the fool who has come full circle Creating worlds Taut InTension With Time & Space Words are worLds We fertileyez EL.ectromantically Sealed In Mag.Dalenes Vas Ben Clausum
Neither HemisPhere Will win the War Of Fear Within my Mirror
I Play in the Zone Of Zero A fancyFool Looking InWard To And From center
The voices captivate me Elevate me Even try to concentrate me But they can't endure This mind is pure Eternal door of the nothing more
My third eye is on fire Opening higher and higher Til even my mind Is the liar And now I don't know Who to believe I smile though while I know I am being deceived
They try to talk to me Preach to me Thinking they make sense to me But their mind is on the Green A viral sickness Caught in-between The here and the there Don't they know the Here is There? It doesn't matter where
They run from life They run from death What else is left? Some in-between? A placenta sunbeam Orange sherbert ice cream For the healthy daydream? A prism of nothing's and somethings That don't mean a thing 'Cept the words that define them Contain them Like an ass caught in denim Blue Genes to split your seams It's all a three-ring Circus full of shiny things To make the eyes squeam Feign Sell their souls for the American Dream Dripping like ice scream From the high beam Of the American side-street
The Freak show comes and goes They can't say No They get disgusted but they still go 'Cause their afraid to see What their own lives mean Chasing the Green They do a double take When they see me They're afraid to Be What they want to be And won't admit They don't like what they see When they open the Screen To the in-between.
The strangest thing is, how quickly one part of the herd attempts to silence another part of the herd, as soon as that part of the herd attempts to understand something from another perspective.
It's knee-jerk.... It's almost malicious, almost like a dopamine kick ....
The moment a person questions 'what they are told' ... ( regardless of their exact question or their current standpoint)... This flock of vehement vultures descend to rip the tatters of flesh from the face of the Issue At Hand.... Demanding the Insolent Questioner to crawl back into the warm comfort of their ConsciousnessControlledCave.... So the Virulent InterNet InQuisition can ImPart the imPosition of the Accepted Ideas and Ideologies and keep the Chaos of Confusion Safe in its Cozy Little Cage, where Curiosity has been Castrated and Laid to Rest.
Actually it's not so strange, the Range of most Herds is preArranged by the Gates and the Shepherds that Lie in Wait....
The Irony that so many get terribly Defensive when they are called the Herd, in relation to Words that Infer a Reality at Variance from what is Preferred by their Neurological DisPosition..... And yet their Insistence that 'Herd Immunity' is a Resistance against disEase , justifying Injection of Conjecture that threaten the Whole Structure..... in that case the Self Implied Herd TagLine can be used without assumed Abuse of their Intelligence.
It's a strange Paradox this Game we are Playing, the only Dragon worth slaying is the one who guards the Gates to the Way In, to the Way to open the I's and Thines and Mysteries of Time. The Polarized Embrace of the Mystic and Mime encases the great Race through this MindField, the maze of days that chaos craves, the fertile ground above the Graves that give rise to Forms of Future Players and slaves to systems and games of hide and Seek with Hands and Feet Tied to cycles that build to climb their way out, by going inside......
It's strange..... Indeed.... The herd. Grazing and awaiting.... kept in check.Mating. Dismayed by Waves in the Field, that make blank the Yield of perceptions of Real Living, while the Wild Raw Primal Claws of the Untamed Soul watches beyond the forest knoll, never safe from the Perils of Life, but Alive in the Senses and unpenned in the Fences of the farmers safe spaces....
The Wilderness of Wonder can only survive inside the hide and skin of the kin of the wide open skies, and the unfettered forests of an Uncaptured Mind.
I can make a short story long in no time at all. So here are my thoughts:) ( from a comment on a post elsewhere)
Whenever it becomes trendy and ‘leave this platform now for your own good’ starts to get passed around, it’s still just another game being played. Those who already truly know it’s all a big labyrinth are not really afraid of being analyzed or algorithmicized, those who don’t really understand it, are never going to read someone’s post about it and suddenly grasp all the fundamentals of how this neurolinguistic reality creation works. Anything can be a tool and be useful, depending what the intent is. If people in general havnt by now been creating and sustaining living flesh body networks of support and friendship and play and community, leaving fb or any other social media isnt going to magically bring sudden connection and wonder to their daily immediate life. It’s starts from the inside out. And it starts from every single choice one makes from the time they wake up til the sleep. If every choice isn’t made to reflect a devotion to one’s integrity , there is a Gap in the ‘vas bene clausum’ that allows manipulation from the outside. We are about to be tested on a level that is going to frighten many, but there will be plenty who rise to the occasion and feel alive for the first time. Buckle up:
There’s so much information overload right now, by design, and it is not for ‘lack of knowledge’ that keeps people incapacitated, but an over saturation of the nervous system which is unable to filter out the noise or discern what is practical applicable or usable. Intentional overwhelm of the system is a NeuroBioWeapon and is working wonders. We can’t save people or fix a system by talking more and more on social media, but by living what our words are attempting to convey.
As for privacy, we already know where this next stage of mutation for the collective experiment is going. We’ve been there for a long time and ‘activism’ and ‘changing laws’ isn’t going to give anyone privacy back. Hiding from it all won’t work either. Gone are the days even of moving out in to the wilderness and forgoing tech and escaping the giant Eye of the Panopticon.
One must first remember Who and What One truly is. And that only happens when for whatever reason, they are forced into the abyss and make the choice to leap.
It is actually possible to communicate with these frequencies , which are being emitted and used as a technocratic prizm prison infrastructure , consciously and personally, in the same way one can interact and communicate with ‘the invisible powers and spirits and angels and other-dimensional beings’. There is little difference. Is that perhaps the real challenge? To make of one’s vessel a neuroSpiritual shapeshifter which can interface with the both the Organic Grid and the Synthetic Grid, and be outside the Game of Control?
Any stuck energy in the fascia crystalline matrix of the template will keep one stuck in the ‘trigger points’ gathered for lifetimes(s). And this controllable: controlled by Fascia-ism;)
For me, I decided long ago I would play the game with humor. I’ll be so many selves the system can barely keep up with which face is which me at any given time; the ‘internet’ is a ‘living’ system and what is put into it is there for good whether we have a computer to access it or not: just like the ‘Akash’ or living etheric databank of all Life and Memory. What we put into it is importantl for reasons that have nothing to do with altering other peoples thoughts or beliefs etc.….
and since I have made it my life mission to turn myself inside out, and become utterly transparent in the act of telling all of my private mythologies as an alchemical ritual of unraveling the skin bit by bit, so that when I shed this serpentine skin as a Seed back into my Mother Matter Matrice , I will create a condition in which the Soul will grow again with less of the ‘past’ to drag back thru the Measured Maze of Maat ;
I don’t fear exposure of any kind. Perhaps that is how the panopticon retains its power, the fear and the shame and the inner conflict within each.
We can only dismantle the prison from the inside……. If one is not even free in one’s own psyche and embodied temple, how can one expect to Free the Collective?
That’s the issue though, falling for so much division on the outer world stage that the individual is glued to the screen bouncing from one reaction to the next, while their nervous system and DeoxyRibo is rebuilt bit by bit by the very hand that plays the puppeteer .
I personally do not believe that a human spirit that is truly in touch with its own sovereignty can ever be overcome by any govt or other so called ruling elite or hidden hand. There is a magic and mystery to this adventure here that is very irrational and fears not Chaos, it is the heart of the dark feminine wisdom itself, and it cannot be harmed by the deluded blind intellect or those who try to arrange life in its patterns.
To open lids that bear the weight Draw the blinds of heavens gate The freedom of the soul at stake Map divides and rides the fate With open fire and open raids Different masters gather slaves Lines crossed and lives lost To pay the boss of HollowCost Build the golden cage of WAN The Magic Sigil mocking Man Future timelines spreading thin On tangled drives that hardly spin Fiery flames that speak in tongues Crimes of war on old and young To bind the hands and steal the land Lock the grid with invisible bands The frequencies provoke the nodes Grid of lies and spoken codes And human minds on overload Close the blinds as I~s implode The marionettes dance and sing Bars and towers ping and ping The cells and souls of everything Splintered by the tyrant kings Mind is fractured and mined for ore Is tied in twine and torn some more Prism sanctions and signals of war Guard the hearts that swim to shore Electric shock as flocks are fed Fence of fire as bodies are bled In majestic hues of blue and red Magnetic murder in the marriage bed Fields manipulated by deoxy lies The earth is scorched far and wide Herd is ushered back inside Is hushed and censored and left to die Murdered by masters trapped in the game As disaster manufactures by flood and flame Foundations that crumble and tumble again Built from the bones and the burdens of men For a new infrastructure to trap the souls Smart cars and dumbed down roles Cities built upon wiped files of the old In virtual prisons as decisions unfold A new catechism for the new hybrid minds Stupid little lies for the deaf and blind Game is reset as the players decide Whose spirit will remain trapped inside Time for the sovereign to reclaim the throne Has to be done by the Self Alone Come to your senses and reMember your oath To be a beacon of beauty and truth Burn in the fire of initiation and seed The holy secret of hearts that bleed Stage has been set lights have been dimmed ..::::…the Story is a glorious Trick of the Lens…:::..
Charleen Johnston 1-8-25
(First word in each line makes a fractal of my rhyme)
mobile formatting may alter this and mess up the spacing
It’s called ‘ the nervous system is wired differently’ and likely compounded with trauma and suffocating in a ‘system’ designed to stifle. I like to use astrological terms, but whatever the words you use, there are absolutely differences in the way people process information and stimuli and hence how they experience daily life.
Aurobindo would consider it an evolving stage of the supramental body, astrology would call it
‘ heavy Mercury and Uranus aspects speeding up the electrical field along with Pluto creating hyper focus and mars stimulation seeking novelty and new sensory input. Whatever way you choose to speak about it, there are vast differences in how one experiences reality, and by medicating and stifling and pathologizing it, the ‘system’ is attempting to subdue an evolutionary imperative and divert its creative gifts. In every group, even in animals, some are born to maintain the status quo and keep the group stable and safe and maintinging boundaries, while a small
Amount exist to push those boundaries and use the innate curiosity and novelty seeking to engage differently and thus keep the group moving in bounds towards new developments.
And there are all shades in between. Without them all, any species or group would fail utterly.
Especially herd animals.
As a person whose neurological wiring is as described above, and who was and is incapable of existing within the parameters of
‘mainstream society’ in the typical fashion….I thank all the Daimons and sprites and generous souls who have helped me to carve out my own life in a functional way so l can use my gifts and thrive instead of flail. If it weren’t for the very stable and solid and calm friendships who are and have been my rocks thru the years l’d be in a very different place indeed. Blessed beyond measure. The price the individual who is sped up and operating in multidimensional thought waves constantly pays for that nervous system is dear, if one expects ‘peace’ or
‘calm’ from life. But nature knows what she is doing, in pairing the frenzied, manic, exuberant soul with those whom they can inspire and activate and excite and keep fresh, whilst at the same time giving that person those whose calm and gentle and stable presences can help to keep the world from spinning completely out of control. In my experience, the profoundness of being Seen Fully and yet Accepted Completely, has led to a complete re-birth after nervous breakdown and utter dysregulation for many years: what a blessing to see and appreciate all the diverse ways this Universe Plays with Being, Through Us.
“Happiness is strange; it comes when you are not seeking it. When you are not making an effort to be happy, then unexpectedly, mysteriously, happiness is there, born of purity, of a loveliness of being.” ― Jiddu Krishnamurti
🌹⭐️🌹 the biggest gift I could ever have given this reality , is the devotion to my own healing and awareness both before, during, and after becoming a portal for the deliverance of a Child Of the Heart into this fleshDream…. How can we help to heal this fractured schism of a world if we do not undertake the Great Work and then emit that Seed into the fertile Soul of a Soul who will carry on the blessings we bestow through our devotion to Integration?
I know the extent of how much of my own lineage of trauma and pain has been cleared thru my own participation in the dance of alchemy, by watching my son become a man…. By seeing how different he navigates and how few ‘holes’ he has to fill , and how ‘whole’ his mind and heart and body is; I am grateful beyond words that I dug so deep into the underworld, even if the only result were to be that my son did not have to spend most of his life undoing the patterns and poisons and dysfunctional inheritances we bear from our ancestral lines. We are the forebears, each and every one of us who choose to alchemise the vessel, of a different way of coCreating reality here in this Realm. It’s starts with Us, and with what and how we Birth our Fruits into this Womb, for we are a womb just as the Mother Matrix is a womb, and we can only produce seeds from the particular fruit we have grown.
We CanSeed this Dream Consciously
There are many ways to alter the design and help raise the veils to see the beauty of creation and the dance of selves at play; the absolute miracle of the process of gestating and birthing a new Being into this playground is so beyond scope , and is an absolute wonder to behold.
Have we forgotten what is at play when we participate in this adventure? Please don’t forget, find the magic and majesty in this engagement and watch the seeds become mighty oaks ❤️
BlissNinja 