I twist into these mournings, daylight saving me from the burning flame of darkness swallowing my emptiness while waves of irony wash over me i am toppled by the days and silently i sit hovering… wondering if i can float this time wandering thru wastelands of my mind picking up the book written by me on the other side of the dream the other side of the dream where it all spins into me… i find all the lost notes and all the lost tones and all the lost fractures of all my mended bones
I am painted the color red. I am tainted, the mother has bled
we D R I P together thru the weathered web, creating worlds in our head, to spew out into the ethers, to want neither this nor that nor wonder where its at, but to birth the beginning again…. knowing we are just seasons of rhyme
flowering in our own time chrysalis, wrapped up in a fairytale of all that is and was and wasnt for sale…
Across these moonbeams, these split seams, these written clingings to the dream…. across all these we call to invisible bodies that are singing in their invisible moments that are bringing their soulstuffs into existence to balance the tension of the desire to Be, and to not Be….
“We think in between the joints” Entire universes spread out like Time As Space hides Selves lost in sockets And held in rhyme, woven…wrenched From the mind and hidden in pockets Within the spine, the hips, The Shouldered relationships That bear the burden of Other Ways, to know here, to feel, hear And peel clear of stagnant flesh… Just one. More.Deep. Breath. Laying prone in a sea of flesh Held together by pure force of Will In a dance with past Feels and Reels That loop and tangle and twist As The feedback strangles the bliss Of Letting Go into the abyss Of the Space between The floor and Me As Self is reCentered in between The open Doors and open Seams Of I and Thou And dancing dreams. I release…. The tight grip That has ripped me apart For 41 years Held together by pure force of Will In a shifting atmosphere Of dizzy atoms here Playing tricks of light In a mind held so tight The body rebels… Swelling with the trapped rage In masked pages of the Word That Stages the painful dichotomy… Seams so loose It all spills out of me Chaotically I seem to lose autonomy Christened by the insistence Of my Fascial Lobotomy incised By internal programs That overRide Who I Am And climb thru the cavernous Space Between the Fleshy Creed That plays at Being Me…. It Dawns so suddenly The force of Feeling bleeds As pounding Heart Seeds frequencies Illuminating The maze that traps me…. Dramatic release…. A lifetimes unEase freed As the iron grip can no longer hold I leak right out of the mould And gather In a puddle of matter And Mater and Mother And matrix Of Self & Other And Open to the Fugue As the Swoon subsides…. And There I Am Peering In From Outside the Lines Where Dark matter Claims the Mind And Patterns The Play Of Somas Shame As it falls into the rhythm Of psyches Game.
A visceral reflection of how over muscled and controlled my Soma has been as a lifetime of the threat of puddling right out of my skin Has overcompensated To keep the chaos out( or in?) Hippos are meant to be soft And buoyant As they navigate the waters Of the emotional realm But mine has crystallized And been trained By the Martian masculine To grip so tight There is no room For darkness In the light Of Being. This I Know And See As I Do Now What is beginning To come Naturally. Let Go Into the Flow Of the See of Me Sew Seamingly slow And free.
Tik tok tik tok Thick sick crowds in wicked shock The jabberwockys devious mockery Blocking the neural cacophony As the Stage is A Set For The Sacrificial Offering Loud crowds face down On the ground As the hell Hounds snarl and froth And drown out the sounds Of the Gathered And Lost
This Is The Cost Hollow
Of your subservience Tik tok tik tok take stock Of implanted deviance Roll up your sleeve Again For these devious ingredients That lead to expedience As the kith and kin Decay within
This. Decadent. Dream
Just a part of the Play The curtain Call The Mass offering softening The Skin As the Thin membrane Crawls With awful parasitic alms Embalming the deoxyRibo Engulfing the light codes And rewriting The script Reworking the machine And beckoning the crowds To join the mosh Pit
Trampled Crushed by the weight of the Black Mass The frequency Blasts tearing The masks right off The beast The Feast of souls Sold Out and Sunken In The Needle needlessly punctures Skin Penetration Perpetration The Silent Weapon On Violent Stage Enters with Rage In Concert With plagues of waged war Against the brethren
CLJ 11-8-21
One year later….. how we feeling now, tater tot? Still the blind rot peels from the cloudy Eye Of what is… and what is not….. aLive
As I woke in the middle of the night, tangled in hypnagogic bleed-throughs as Previous Me~s in Cyclic read-throughs…. I came back over and over again to myself being Drawn-and-Quartered…. As well as ‘DisMembered’ ….and variations of such….As the crowd looked on. Literally Pulled Apart. I’ve been doing intense Somatic Trauma Work lately ( again) as my inner Blueprint is pushed by the transiting Planetary Gods into Letting Go… Letting Go of the Stories deep within my Cell.ves that keep my body and mind in a State of PulledApartNess. Stuck in the Kinetic Underworld where I’ve locked away Memories so disIntegrating for so many lifetimes and fractal LandMines… that this Entire Incarnations Intention is bound up with Putting MySelfs Back ToGather aGain.
As I tossed and turned unable to fall back into Dream, my mind kept ruminating in my wrists, and the pain, of all my joints and connective tissue, a lifelong issue of Hypermobility and mutation of CollagenCreating which means all my joints sublux constantly, slip in and out, trying to DrawAndQuarter me over and over again til I finally look deeply enough to ConnectTheIssues of these Fascial Tissues and Put mySelfs Back ( literally) together again
My flexibility a gift and a curse… my joints held together by pure force of Muscular Will… which equates to constant muscular tension and alignment issues….when I stop doing the bodywork I need to do, every day, to keep myself Flowing and functional…. I pay. The Deep Trauma Memories stored inSide, are now asking to fully reLease. And bleed throughs of All kinds of Tangled Lives and Times are Arising. Deep, Intense Self Trigger Point work is my Grace…. Going into the pain and buried strains…. Seeking it out, and pressuring with pulsation to Let Go. It’s a religious experience for me, sometimes 5 hours at a time of Trance Trigger Descent, to complete the whole body, entering hallways and mazes of Soul, the Underworld where Fragments of My Being are Held….
All these things passing thru me in the middle of the night, and I realize I need to look at my last nodal cycle transit… 19 years ago… when Ketu last passed over my Sun/Uranus(trauma) conjunction in the first house( body) ….and I suddenly jump up, and go to my journals. So many transits affecting me in this very moment, all Related to a LettingGo of some serious Stuff.
I grab a journal somewhat at random.
It’s the exact time period I was thinking about. Haven’t looked through it in a long time. Opened it up, and the first page Felt like a message I coded to myself years ago, for this very moment of reMembering. Literally. putting my Members back together. Gathering my Appendages and reSeaming myself. To stop the Somatic Pulling apart, the Center Won’t Hold, as long as these memories are buried.
Drawn and Quartered. In front of the Crowd. Among other things. ‘Yet for a time my hands were crippled’ . The panic ( ah, the God Pan when he is not Faced and Fluidly Friended) of my wrists subluxing completely and losing my ability to create.
The following photos are from the Journal, and my Soul insisted on my reading it at that very moment. In Pans Night.
As Ketu moves into the 14th gate….edging over the next little while toward an exact conjunction with my exact sun/Uranus conjunction in Scorpio 1st house… this dream from last year on this date is so prescient…as I am been catapulted into an in depth intense and CATHARtic journey into my own Codings and Woundings, serpentine spine Wound Round by Time as Mind implodes.
Ketu always brings release. If one doesn’t give willingly, it will rip away in whatever way it needs. It’s time. Remembering is just as painful as the DisMembering….more so if the original trauma/s were Blocked or Disassociated from. But to Feel is yo Become Real. Said the velveteen Rabbit.
*the number 14 has been synchronously penetrating into my world over and over and over in the past 6 months. It’s in key 14. 14 is the key.
{Last nights Dreamtime: while handling many rattlesnakes and attempting to remove them From a room in someone else’s house….I analyze the connection to the stargates of the 64 Codons I.e hexagrams I.e squares on the chessboard …. and in particular my own internal relation to the 14th hexagram I.e Gate and the amino acid lysine. I find myself overlayed then in two different Dreamtime spaces at once, as if the intense focus along with the very ‘handling of the serpents’ creates an Opening into the gate itself. I awaken repeating over and over ‘it’s in key 14’
BlissNinja 