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 (11-8-22)
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.
Four Hours in this waking reality Time-frame Of intense Somatic Trigger Point Pain Bodywork and Descent Into the Inner musculature and armature And inPrizmMent Of my StoriesInTimeSpace Trapped and held In my Shape Navigating landscapes I had Forgotten But which had not Forgotten Me Twisting into the aching pain Of the waking strain Of aeons Of Trying to See And Dying to Be Free To Bleed The Agony and the Ecstasy Of nonLinear Destiny Wrapped around the core So tight We cannot fail To recognize The Fight We locked away In Prizm Cells In Somatic Shells that protect The Seed As dramatic deeds and Infected Dreams Plead To be Released from these Semiotic Seams
I cried as the Memories of Me~s I’ve tried to hide Spoke again From the infinite fractal Face of wide-eyed Time In a Space I created In Order To wake the blind Embryos Of Selves in Sides Of Chaotic crimes So they could swim free In rising tides Of harmony As I unBind them In this fugue of MyStory Mysteriously unfolding Before Me
BlissNinja 