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.
Me and fellow Hostel dwellers from SF travelers inn summer 2000My first poetry reading at the Brainwash Cafe in SF
“Beyond a given point man is not helped by more “knowing,” but only by living and doing in a partly self-forgetful way. As Goethe put it, we must plunge into experience and then reflect on the meaning of it. All reflection and no plunging drives us mad; all plunging and no reflection, and we are brutes.”
💀Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death💀
🌟 I had just Plunged again, running from the madness of incessant reflection trapped within the refracted essence upon the stage ….. ran off into the unknown and ended up after 3 1/2 days of greyhound bus adventure, to the jungles of San Francisco, eventually landing at the skeevy Travelers Inn on 5th street. These were some of the wildlife also passing thru, and I ended up doing my very first ‘poetry reading’ escorted by Aussie Jeff, at the Brainwash Cafe; Beginning of July 2000 just a few weeks after arriving to SF and plunging headlong into another adventure…..
🌟One of the poems I read on stage was this:
Ah, my stage! Everything always falls into play! Action to action- day to day I’m making my living in the same old way- Ha! Taking my giving and tossing it away! I can see them watching me; I can feel them contemplating me and what I bring; They know I know they are just actors on my stage- players in my game. Things happening so fast I can barely pass my own tests, let alone manipulate the world for the rest! From their eyes I see the glow- the burning, itching desire to know- and in me they see that flame- unperturbed by that sick sad game; And, oh my stage! How petty yet brave! How genuine to feel the time as it shrivels up my human mind like a prune awaiting the prime. Is it here on this wooden plank, dark and dank with musty space, that all my dreams are made and forbade? -All that commotion I’ve shut out… Ive crept up into the attic where I rest. Ah, to pass the test! To crave the crest of the unbroken tide! Always willing to go along for the ride. And yet again- My stage! My stage! Everything always falls into place- action to action, day to day I’m living my making in the same old way.
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…
…the eye of the hurricane is on its way, to ransack and flapjack the core of all our brains, speeding up the rate at which we perceive the perforation, the fate of which could rip and tear a nation, a station, a fusion of minds incoherent redundant grasping for meaning but dormant fleeing the feeling of torment peeling the rots from the dealings and knots from the zealous run leper run
run leper run its all just for fun on a level so deep its not understood does it make it less Real does it make it less concrete does it make it worth the run the gun the gripping of the sun in attempt to hide defeat
SMILE on the periphery it is a storm, a chaos, an insistence on resistance but at the core, it’s unchanged, it neverwas and neverwillbe, and neveris, but still existing giving us the balance to create lands in time hands in line to co create with malleable laws
implicate order enfolded within each explicate experience shooting out from the source in fractals of difference and intensity and vibration and density till the impulse reaches completion loses its thrust coarsens its vibration yet mimics the One and then begins its evolution back to the Within with all the cohesion of experience and lessons and soulsparks and mouldings holding on to Awareness as it ascends back to the heart of the hologram to enrich the totality of all that is with each divine perspective as it returns and ReTurns the wheel as the cycle continues and spins out again the impulsion the force the flickering light of love to enforce the dynamic dance of desperate dreams……………
Shhhhhh…… Don’t write so loud- They might hear (Prying eyes that hide Inside Minds that fear…) These words tiptoe Down stairs Under where No one else knows… Somas Rose So full of Charge I fear I am larger Than Life can hold…. Lead into Gold As SunLight UnFolds Me From this bed Of salted tears I made As Dream wakes me Into playful prose Disguised inside These fleshly clothes…. That only a Poet Could Know.