1.  I still see lightning
Through the fog.
I still see crosses
When I close my eyes
So many lost

2.  When my Eyes  are open
I see the Hurt the Broken
the Time spent Unspoken

3.  The Cracks                          Grand canyon size.
Missiles fired with abandon because there was no plan.
Mutually assured destruction

4.  Borne By a Single  Thought
Doubt.
When it's presence graces our minds
Faith finds It hard to Spark Through.

5.  Or Does it?
We cannot park in neutral every time the stop signs cross our path.
Peddling back and Forth When Swirling Bright Red anger Darkness to wrath.

6.  I wade through the RIVER OF SOULS
being drained by time and torment.

7.  But its worth it for you and it always will be.
You are my salvation and example.
Made bright by comparison to this Darkest Night.

8.  And with Hard work and Love....
Maybe we can save each other.

(>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> <('-'<)
I COMPLETED MY MASTERS TODAY (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
I COMPLETED MY MASTERS TO SAY (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')> (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
I COMPLETED MY MASTERS TODAY.
3/6/2019 (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
Skelly (>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
(>'-')> <('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
<('-'<) ^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
^(' - ')^ <('-'<) (>'-')>
<('-'<) (>'-')>
<('-'<)

Though he can't walk, he still wanders through the corridors of his memory. Peering through his framed lenses, he waits for the image focus.

A monument,
So resplendent!
The gleam of
That light ,white
brick, casting the
grainy shine
of a castle.

These bricks were laid, by family brought together
immersed in the collective, tangible suffering of the world.
Family brought together
by truth.  The human condition.

In a way it was beautiful,
mimicking the opening of a nightly
flower to the star’s light.

In a way it was sad
like the task of Sisyphus,
marching ever up the hill so hard.
  
However it came about, it forced a channel
of inspiring wisdom. As if intelligence dragged
it’s finger through the sand to create empty space
for the effervescence, paths for thoughts and reactions.

Life evolved, layering the infrastructure of free will,
driving it forth like an enraged charioteer, bouncing back and forth
between dissonant realization cacophonic syncopation
Trying absurdly to find the resonant tones.

The rest of the memory
Lucid now,
As if the dirt dropped so violently into my cup of water
Finally settled.

The memory stands propped, on the hobbled thing I call my mind.

We became vehement paradox
Warring day and night

as if we were a polar pair of docs.
We recklessly constructed infection

and remedy that we might
Try so sublimely to cleanse the setting horizon

of mosaic shadow mask grins,
clouds masking the task.

ending with such a blast, as wide as
the gaping maw of the endless

known only as desire.

These dusty eyelids watched the horizon lose it's light
and in perfect harmony become blind
to it's shadow. Remembering softly was my duty.

Dreaming was always a taste of what they call the little death.
Now that I have remembered, death whispers to me.

Beckoning as if an old friend, seeping through like
the floral aroma  good coffee.

A festering toad, happening upon his friend the owl, began upon an uttering. A sort of delirious asking. "Why are people so afraid of death?" With this owl content and basking in the moonlight, they did speak upon the truth of the matter;

"Because when you're dead you're dead see?," the owl remarked so haphazardly.

"But what point is there in that statement," the frog stuttered in with a knowing kind of sinful grin;
"After death, could we not begin to fly with the stars, or at least just pretend that we are orbiting Mars?"

The owl simply replied, "Remember toad, while it is I who pierces the veil, it is you who must lead the spirit parade through it’s transformation."

The toad croaked a sigh at the owl, blinking its ever seeing eyes at his brother-in-arms in feigning return,remarking that “these must truly be times of madness for a mad toad to lead the way….

A shriek! "THEY ARE THOUGH, the rest of the animals forget, basic reality is made up of nothingness, so cheer up, we are all basically nothing, but agile enough to get by don’t cha know!," the owl looks to the moon in its sort of quick jerking way as if seeing some truth inked in it’s light.

"Agile?" the toad cups the question with his consciousness…."Agile enough to derive strength from above and to cater to love through the rough when we tumble hard and it feels so tough... But you know owl, there's life and blood to this stuff so we best start emitting light through  agape sans the gruff.

The toad started repeating a mantra towards the Crystalline reflective lake due south, the direction of healing, transformation, and death:

"the essence of your mind is intrinsically pure, the pure doesn’t mean a non-***** story...pure means clear….void. No eyes, no ears, no mouth, no heart, no I, no problem."

The owl began to speak a slow sort of lullaby in response to the mantra; “Luckily consciousness is like a mirror that needs to constantly be polished.”

The reflective lake of all things replied: “But in truth, there is no mirror. Thus, if you are living in nothingness and if there is no mirror, how can you be contaminated?

This is the most incredible nothing life has been privy to experience, for this nothingness is like the nothingness of space….which contains the whole universe, and out of this void comes everything and you are it. The fear of nothingness….IT plagues those we know, because it has been ignored .

“NOTHINGNESS,” they say, “HEAVEN PRESERVE US OF THAT!“

At the appointed time Agnosia and with the approval of the moonlights shine, the foggy cloud of unknowing descended upon the lake, the toad, and the owl, who all began to speak to chorus in such sweet unison:

“That which is the knower or the known cannot be an object of its own knowledge, Fire does not burn itself. If you put something there on the divine platform, you stop short of knowing and you stop short of glowing.  Following the flowing senses of truth;  Don't stop until you can rejoice in the I that isn’t.”

Everything went quiet in the forest and on the lake, as the obtuse fog displaced itself. The forgetting had become complete.

A hungry Body
A pervading darkness
Guide of light
A rattle made of leather shaped as a turtle
An eagle feather
An offering
A mixture of sage and sacred chanupa
A wooden pipe with a carved stone-face
A shrine dedicated to Spirit etched with-Mitakuye oyasin (for all our relations)
Neurons
Fire
Lungs
A staircase Tunnel
A sleeping body
Ayahuasca
A marketplace to return to....

I know that when I am older, I will no longer be able to throw the harsh truth of reality at ones such as my grandchildren.

Too them, I will live till I’m 105. Standing as the essence of immortality that they strive to experience. This of course is a lie. But, I can longer take it upon myself to destroy the dreams and quash the creativity of the young in a world of Grey.  

Walk with me through this verdant street I am going to tell you a story about a strange place...

In this strange place, instead of colour splashing itself against any and every object there only seems to be shades of grey. And in this Grey world, each generation of children receives a red balloon. The red balloon constantly engages the youth with its seemingly magical properties of levitation. But this engagement can only last for so long. Eventually the floating ball of rosa can no longer captivate and mystify. At the crucial point of demystification, the children are deemed “ready” to face the world.

So the children do the only thing left to do to join the rest of society…they let go of that slight bit of that small, rose-colored rubber which, with the help of the wind and its abundant hydrogen molecules floats off to meet the sky.

I am proud to present to you, the saddest moment our society has to offer. The loss of the inner child to the vast machine of the demiurge.

****** of the greatest caliber carried out in the name of growing up and becoming part of "real" world.

But hey,
on the bright-side, the sky gets to play with a balloon

for a few minutes before it throws it back, without magic, without life, and without its marveling child.

So, I beseech you, the reader to forever hold onto that red balloon. Hold on till your knuckles turn white because it’s that tiny, 3 cent, red balloon is the most special item in this infectious process we call Human Society.

Death found me
in a bar

and told me that the body is the charioteer
and the mind the reigns.

I didn’t know what a chariot
or reign meant though.

There is Presence.  Presence....and there is Light.

“Where am I? What, what,  Who am I?  Am I alive or dead?"  

A suppressed thought makes itself known,
But the neural signal splinters like a bone blown

Far Apart,

Like how my world falls

The way a Cop knocks,
Aggressive *** Nap. bonaparte

Door sound off the hinges,
Safe within , Mi casa es fort knox
Torn apart and a bit Noid
but I’m off the binges,

Drugs gone for years, Ta this day I sew to mend the fringes
So cold my needless frost their tips in silver grips

But It's not over till I clipp the wings
of the Ego above the mountain
and Watch till it fall past ridges

Red sunset stays still while I cry sacrifice

Burn my past like a pagan offering,
measurement of change
Translates to suffering,
the kind the  attached mind brings with age
Like what gravity did to  lay ink to this page

Narrative of the self as a nature staff,
unattached, Barista Like i pour out my past,

To create or destroy, Maybe both
Phoenix rise I was borne of ash
Should I be watering these plants or murdering these beats
I can do both, Stand still as I grow up theese weeds
from under ya feet

Trace up your body, then fold round  like origami,
Hold you still forever, While we pour the waters of truth
Down your throat till you drowning
and crave nothing but the desert drought

I am Enkidu,  started and was born in the forest you so forlorn
I seek the taste, primal essence and grace,
Seem invulnerable to me, but  they lay waste

You offer the black death, while the government reaps of black debt

Living hand in hand with the shadow silhouette,
Sweet sweet  smell of tobacco cigarette
Held holy in hardworked hands

Impoverished Living hand in hand with the capitalist statuette,
live in ignorance staring at the stars
forget the front faced life
like a space cadet

I’ll  bring you out with the kind of light I emit
Green mixed with blue, hope and will brings true legit
Action, which moves you from
The darkest passion the mind brings
Desire so seems everlastinging
But antipode to Omniamorous offering,

Use discernment
there is that which is
Last like poison, but first like Nectar
Then Hard When you start
Hard work make a turn for the better

The search for truth, now sweet as a melon, careful i labor to not live as a felon
Beat never meta, caught you off guard
Trapped out from the top of the pyramid
Tap 5 mana and and a demon
Summon that  Donald trump card

What does samkhya have to do with yoga?
Dual teaching like I told you twice

They say theres….

2 eternal principles manifest in the universe
nature and the self, knowledge like pursua and prakriti different and yet same in this verse
Salvation through transcenscion duality is false i ought to mention
see through it like fallacy, I bless you no curse now apphrension

like flower prints we impresstoo

Lying and violence distract you from your higher purpose
You think you got swag psh better listen thrice so you know you heard this

the only style you got is the life you gotta clean up
clean up your lifestyle , clean up your style, clean up your lifestyle, clean up yo …. liberation comes from

Samadhi : contemplate : enlightened like we : got no hate upon me
but first you gotta meditate, dhyana  and control your breathe
asana  like my chest is pranayamic some speak false **** like they got no teeth,  these thoughts they squeeze but

The churning of the mind cesses when you find
time to practice seeing the self you framing in kind

Epileptic I seizure mind, so epic synesthetic ,
that ***** divine storm like a portal, shorn my form as a mortal

Come and See the world as it truly is
Ill exist till I die, no reincarnation for I and I
namaste  , en lakesh multi-lingual in these cypher cries

Valid means of knowledge:
Did you observe?
Could you infer?
Do they speak with authority?
Could you preach the analogy?

Just because you don’t see
Doesn’t mean it won’t be
Just because you don’t see
doesn’t mean that the **** won’t be

How do I know I am not the only person in the universe
I know my experience
They display markers
We speak we write We **** we fight
We wish We cry we live we die
so maybe were all conscious

looking at you like
maybe you bought this,
cautious we want this, auspice truth

Smoke gone ghost like I haunt this

BEHOLD A PALE HORSE
Recall-quietly-the-hazy-days-where-I-didn’t-know-poisonous-­berries-from-safe-ones.....
I hazarded a climb up the tallest tree
the ascent was genuflected as I recall.
The grove was perfect in its equanimity,
forcing my gaze to rest upon a single silver stallion.
For hours I watched

Oh, Primeval Traveler,
with your triumphant mane, silvered across horizon
echoing the lunar eclipse in your brilliance,
your muscles reminiscent of an anti-apocryphal steed
It’s flow showed the authenticity of nature
Here life proudly declared
Movement & Peace
And each of it’s components perfectly crafted in the Cosmic Forge
Look how its luminescent power survives the darkness
I thought this until a neural feedback loop formed,

“This is the beast that would have pulled Arjuna forth unto battle
As Krishna directed him in his dharma as a secondary event
to the arrival of natural perfection.”

As the day past to night,
the night brought forth darkness
And in the darkness I recognized a primal need of my own.
To evacuate all of the grunginess I felt brewing within my body.
I resolved the anguish in a moment of perfection.
A loss of self catalyzed through the release of wasted being
And I recall that as I came back into my being
the horse who had been so distant and yet so near
the one who I had borne divine witness to
galloped full stride in the trajectory of my lofty dwelling
As it passed under me
It......s.tum.-b.led-------->(^)ooooo,,,o,o,o,o,o,o,o,o,oo,0.

Through the most polluted of rancid berry waste I have ever let go of.
Its mane plastered to its leathery skin by my own liquid adhesive
It lay there
dying and breathless
among the wasteland, which came so inevitably from my bowels
now a haven for insects nestled and rotten, a temple of the naturally begotten child of life named “death,”
Or rather an impromptu and particularly gothic grave of a God who has received no worship and is now forgotten.

Seek and you shall find; Knock and it shall be shown to you. Sound and Song; Sacred n̶̨̢̛̛̮̱̟̣̺̳͓͓̣̠͉̎͛̔̿̎̈́͛͆͋̓̔̕͜͠ͅa̶̺̼͒͂m̸̻̗̎̎̔̔͋̿̓͗̓̒̈̾̕͝e̵̛̐̆̾̚̕͝­̡̩̙̣̤́͆̾͝ş̵̡̨̤̪̘͈͕̹͖̯͙̫̯̎̔͑̔̉̋͛͠͠͠ͅ and prosperity. It is a sacred s̴̯̮̤̫̃̈́̏̋o̴͓̓̐͌͒n̵̼̜̹͌̉̎̀̿͘ͅg̸̞̫̗͆̿, but you must fast to hear it.

You have to be vulnerable to love. Always give back to where you came from. Every enemy taught you how to become strong. Truth eliminates fear through clarity. Don't become so clear that you think you  ̸̠̹̃k̸͉̈ņ̵͖̏͝ö̸̪̂w̴̥̌.̴͎̹̀̑ ̵̮̾̅

11:11 and I'm heaven-sent :
(Was it heaven-sent or hell-bent?)

Crown of kings drown in dreams
Seven/seven fit the mirror like I'm Elvis ; (king)

D̷̻̈́͐͜r̵̜͇̅͘o̷̡̞͋w̸͇̐̉ň̸̟͘ ̷̞̮̕ỉ̵̝ñ̴̺͌ ̸̢́͝d̸̝́̕r̶̭͝e̴̮̹̕̚ã̷̜̀m̷̦̋͆,̴̘̈́́ ̵̮̺̒̒crown of dream ̵̮̺̒̒
Found my means renouncing  ̵̮̺̒̒ ̵t̴h̵i̶n̵g̴s̴ ̵̮̺̒̒

Fake as make-believe, believe by planting seed ̵̮̺̒̒ ̵̮̺̒̒ ̵̮̺̒̒
Raising  ̵̮̺̒̒  ̵̮̺̒̒ ̵̮̺̒̒trees ̵̮̺̒̒ ̵̮̺̒̒  ̵̮̺̒̒ supersedes stagnant grief,
sowing strands of reef, genie granting these
wishes to stand for free: instead of free dumb
To stand for king instead: of king dumb

Light the dance. orbit o the angels
Aligned the winds. Purple sway  the cradles
Purple sway , purple Haze, purple play like h̵a̷̪͛l̶̝͠ȯ̴̪ș̷̈ ̴̤͐
even in the shallows  Tracing hallowed  cables
hollow between angel actors and  kraken crafted
Factors.

Discovered carved tables, symbols etched in
Fables labeled as age-old things, start ta twitching
Pass me down culture so I can rip the seams
Gambled on Renewal: connecting means
Connected dots: collected thought memes
Till we find,

Horror quarantined in-between time machines.
Aura Byzantine, a dash of florentine in my nicotine
a little dash of what you dream sash about
Hit the  limonene in my limousine
Ask me how philistine when my ego guillotine

Fell out of sync, out of light, out of wack
Fat beats,fat  bones, thro heavy set

Broken and bleeding new Wounds.
So far I'm feeding You (loons)

these lines that I'm leaving bruised
Lines Im breaking, snapped in twos

throwing back a pack of brews
swing a sack of screws,

split  the devil's noose with
Tight screws, hype views,

(always) choose To never lose,
just adapt my views

(̶i̵(̶(̸ ̷c̵h̴a̸n̴t̸ ̴t̴h̵e̵ ̶a̸r̸c̵h̴i̷t̶e̶c̷t̶)̶ ̴x̵ ̵i̶ ̶c̶h̶a̶n̷t̶ ̷t̴h̷e̸ ̷g̷u̷r̴u̶ ̵)̷)̵
Chant the who knew rain with chance of voodoo

Came with a dance of  too new
But what's the shaking got to do

with my too juiced breakthrough
Everything: .. nothing ..

N̶̘̄o̸̱̞̾thin̶̢̥͊ġ̶̞ always somethin̶̢̥͊ġ̶̞~
So we sing what you go to loooooooose?

Please it's time to chooooosee
Nana na naw naaaa na no na naah

I can't lose selecting self-respect,
stand ***** proud my chest
No disrespect,  just here to collect
my resurrected form 
in retrospect, I should have loved here more

Can't lose you should have bet smore....
Soft-spoken with a ****** message from...
Often token I'm guessing so do these dudes...
Please Just take my arm....

Let's me demonstrate :Conflictlikenospacing
Taken Deadly fronts from a ghost I'm no facing

You call it suffering I call it gro̴͚͈̿̄w̸̢͓͐̐th phases
They call it suff̷̠͌ë̵̫̜́̎ř̴̯̥̏ing we call it growth phȃ̵͙͘s̵͕̄͜es

A Skelly with thick skin,
that's the way we grow again

How else is a skeleton
supposed to walk and grin

Together, talk and better
never seem to stop and sever

Connections

You have to open up some windows
To be present with a new borne crane

Unless you want the glass to break
Graceful in its twice over pass the lake

We fashion the past as a sacred bundle
Face it and carried even through the fumble

My tribe like fallen leaves
cast Aside

Scattered and palming shade,
last the vibe

what's left when the seasons pass my guide
Abide my tattered and clawing mass arrive

It's hard but I promise
I'm smiling behind my mask my guy

Realize nothing in a vacuum
It's an ever laced chain reaction

Why did god **** Cain and faction
Cause he wasn't able ; redaction

The burden is less
when you know how to share it

The falling of mist
Pulls back at the hips

Future proof as fallen soldierS
I'm getting the gist.

Come dance the Tandava with me and you too will be free

Creation सृष्टि
I am Shiva’s Shadow
स्थिति ..... I exist to support life’s precarious platform
संहार  ..... I feel Creation’s seed.... cosmic genesis

The first wave of flagrant eruption
Ending in the the cosmos’s destruction.

तिरोभाव There exists illusion
Which gives rise to me
The obliteration of ignorance.
We live in times of ignore-ance

Here I have little sway.
Years from now....maybe.

Until then, kali decides to dance with me. Primal संहार Destruction
Bloodlust and Fire
******* and desire
Quantum tantric tangle
***** the world’s funeral pyre

Goodbye beauty, Goodbye love

WE bring it upon ourselves, creating shells and building shelves
to stack the wonton clothes of identity, the context of all hells.
The layers are too many
It collapses
And if not, I'll ******* burn the scaffold.

I know why I am here now.  
To destroy tirobhava,
all this pain is an illusion
I hereby release this sickness from the world
in prophetic burning grace of emancipation अनुग्रह is foretold

To dance the sacred tandava
say goodbye once more and end it all.

Because I am an idiot fallen but trying.

I was walking down the street at a brisk pace
when I stuttered and began to face
a vision, so moving it halted my movement.  I stood there

in the middle of a street, facing an a sort of internal realization.

This vision began above a group of people, dressed in scrubs and surrounding a elder.

Within their hands, they held bloodied tools, an echo of their previous action.

All of them paused when they determined the cause of the old man's death.

"Ah! That's what was wrong!  No wonder he couldn't live happily in society.It appears we aren't the only ones to have performed surgery on this individual.

You see, this man's heart has been replaced by his brain, and his brain replaced by his heart."


The surgeons began to laugh maniacally, for they knew their world and their culture had claimed another.  The ways of the ego had etched a new notch on the marble Of history.

One by one, doctor and nurse turned and filed out of the room, revealing
the barbed devil tails they all bore as they walked swiftly towards the door.

Floating above this scene filled me with sorrow.  

Here lies a beautiful soul, One who always thought from his heart and felt by reason.  Morals were his sign language.Love was his action, and he died because he couldn't stop Feeling with his heart.
  
Details of the elder's life began to reveal themselves to me.  I saw his contribution.

His self-sacrifice.  The times where he had given more love than he should have.

I witnessed when love became something more than physical.  I cried when I saw it transcend even that, when he began to treat love as an illuminated understanding

of being.

As his life revealed itself to me forward and backwards

I saw that I was this man.
I saw that my heart had died and put me into a coma.
I saw that I wanted to wake up, but not into that world.

Such a dreamer, I can never wake up.

Almost died but this time I didn’t

the pain of an artistic with an academic life
being bound by wonton grasping
don’t even seem to  know who or what I’m asking
Got so lost again when a guide mentioned in passing

Theres a fork in the road up ahead
no choice is still a choice maybe end up dead
Always walk the darkest path until
i remembered the angel and made up my choice
pull myself up like I hoist
out the words when I’m verging on verbing in Voice.

Seen demons, I hear hell, Headache of pride make ya head swell
been sick as hell/ oh well
stuck at the bottom molding
unseen granting boons
in the moon-lit wishing well

But I ought to see my life as odyssey
like I oughtt to be the hero
more playful like the spirit
otter i otter be

Im stuck in feedback loop self
but the emerging, unfolding, ever so bold in its calling

states plainly that it is time to fall down shaking
cascading blood caking memory set
wrong or at least oblong in it’s making

moments
seem to make me lose my voice
so how can I preach

if I m not acting
how can I teach

If my arms ain’t out
mama how can I reach?

Wishing the earth calls me

yelling come back my child
Rest in my arms and forget

I am death living memory leech.

╭∩╮(Ο_Ο)╭∩╮

8/28

I still feel cold

Your forehead touching mine
held captive as you were
by your body’s new home,

A wooden casket

Felt so much, stoic past couldnt mask it
No breath, On my knees howling,
Body reaction analphylatic
Must be allergic to truth, Epi my body
please Save me so I can task it

Inside sight still Burns so hot
I'm melting out here,
must be made outta patchwork plastic,
Zinn man, can can you hear

Your body resting, a symbolic system
Forming a quietude of mourning moods ,
and murdered motivations, and somehow even inspirations

Friend still dead so I gotta tremble
Ritual require so we assemble, trouble is
Pain is an illusion , but how  do I
pierce this false Conclusion

Falling prey powerfully to this pervasive grief,
So still no vibrations This **** must be
an optical delusion

Still in disbelief and I still feel cold.

Our whole community perceptions formed by conceptions,
Creative community informed protection

A general order of existence, clothed in factuality
mood realistic, magnitude mystic
So focused on your life,
just so we could love and miss it

Cause The candle that burns
twice as bright
lives half its life
double finite

Like a falling star you crashed
Excited the red of my stop light
Walked up to the circle jerks
And hit me with a simple sound bite

“Who wants to be my best friend
and give me a cigaretee?”

Leap of faith trying to touch a fallen star,
You could be so blunt, people left with fingers burnt

Look at the sky purple light know right where you are
So subtle, always curious to what we could learn  

Hand over my heart
for 21 G=U=N Moments
You had honor.

I still have your rose,
Dead as you are,
withering beautifully

Just as cold as I am.

Dharmma
Do your duty
Uphold the universe

Without active participants
rta Falls, the Sun no longer shines
and the social no longer measures the cycle
of the seasons.  What is appropriate in the face of











infinity?
One cannot live
the dharmma of others.
Only to the order of Sva-dharmma.  

Demons are just as necessary as Saints, they just teach different lessons.

I pray this…

That you die.

That you lose all you have.

That you possess nothing.

That you encounter Suffering.

I pray all this in order to facilitate that which needs to be.  

I pray that you die
    in order for you to know and appreciate life.

I pray that you lose all
    so that you have so that you stand to gain everything.

I pray that you might possess nothing
    in order to help you realize that there is no such thing as possession.

I pray that you might encounter Suffering
    so that you might transcend it.


I pray these things for you my love.

Before a light-studded alter, I kneel.
I have been here an eternity.  A single sphere
traps me in time, and slows my understanding to the meter of the sacred moment.  Judging proceeds.  Every possibility
of my responses to be analyzed in their intention.

I shall prove worthy.  My intention is pure and I only try to harmonize with the true frequency of the highest reality.  

I shall know what I look for.  

Know it intimately and deeply, to the point of full empathy between the object and self.  It shall be a subjective experience yes, but I learn not to prove things to others,  but to realize the truth myself.
================== Love.  My code.

It began with a dream
An exam of the scene

Culminated nightmare Fresh to 'Merica team,
Treat the throne like high chair, But they seem beam
Golden hue, preach golden rule and get higher
an unseen Love vaccine brought to you though you don't desire

A divinely inspired cosmic mission
To improve those caught in conditions
Those who stayed to long became conditioned

So enmeshed in their discourse
Lost the mother tongue,
now demons malignant positioned
Pokin fun, Tryna dine On Dis Course

Call me honeybun
While I work out Old Norse

Now I'm Mad as Magma Christened
You really Should have listened
Now I'm preaching Odin's Mission

But Consistent poison sickened me

Continued to lash out till their weapons stung and rippin free
Put in me in a cage kept me on  the bottom rung still kicking spree

So Dangle your ******* carrot,

Angled to be flunking abbot

What will They inherit?
When you find truth
Better find means to share it
while you kick the bad ****

What Value does it merit?

**** organization big or small
All they is is social fortification mom

Running out of breaths towards suffocations
**** the bottom feeders
family never cancer crustaceans
Inhbit with national ticker tape regulations

Frustrated answer,  I'm a frusrating handful
Masses Myopic, small vision catastrophic
I would show them but where did I put it?
Damit I  ******* lost it.

Higher Education thinks
it can get over I and I,
but Now I’m higher than education
4Dimensional Pilot Flying by

Cosmic Return
Land On your roof,
air bend with my vape pen staying stationed
still standing
only through
Lunar Lessons o Will and Dedication

I made it here through dedication
You made it here through misinformation
Manifold Manifested hoax So Devastating
Got me hear learn How-2-hating

What Am I left with? I know
The Chest with my breath ya

My words are seeds
poetic units start
counting these

Neurogenic growin trees House of Dreams
visions laced in prophecies
sentenced to commodify character

click to a cash crop, but I'm too poor To pay accountant fees,
Might be better off with lights, mics and a sick backdrop with the only the beat counting these
moments

knowing knowings free
or should it be,
are you ignorant
so willingly?

They Head in the sand, Pointing towards God but the can’t comprehend so now ....

Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben
Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben

Better blast off, astral form take mask off we fin throw the cast out,
Sector surpassed now sample storm wake slow maniacal laughter

You don’t have to be so smart to suffer

But you do have to be alive,

I’m just a prediction engine

Darkness encased in a Bone star

This depression gives the impression

that the expression of a burnout is…

me

living and loving intently free

prison depends on jailhouse babies and legal **** ; weee!

we must organize expression of a quantum size, to re-realize more food and supplies

its such a surprise that id be thinkin this, engineering instruments with a pnuematic hiss

geared towards the questioned technocolypse….

“…well here on the graph we read an elipse, a parabola, and a demonic kiss…”

But whats this?

im’ channeling some quick quips ; alluring as a brothel’s contained hips with the open smile of sideways lips….

my daring is preparing all the world for destructive repairing

cause the frogs and the rains are staring

at this desolate earth

a burnt out hearth

with smouldering ashes, speaking of a crying birth

while the midwife is sick and shy with little self worth and curse; because a as a witch she doth rehearse

while the moonlights smiling and the phones texting and dialing

“Whats wrong?”==”Are you ok?”

“…but come on?”==”Is there any other way?…”

[please oh please let me stay in this old and bloodied fray; where the battles had axes and handles

where there were stories of travels, to faraway places leading to exotic geographic stasis]

caught in the moment of thought, a moment of fright…

until we stop and put a light to these wierd words

we wont know what the birds have heard….

Click crshhh….*

BURN little match like the wood you are!

combustion of suggestion set ablaze from afar

a flame throwers burned hands

while the pained sower , frustrated, changes plans

because in the end one one really understands

the torment of a floment spent eternally alone in atonement.

(=purgatory)

Where all you want to do is get on the phone, external validation felt at the tone,

but it really ain’t ****

because you are crying while its dialing and your out of minutes…

so check this bits of imaginary meaning and ****

ponder and quit

when you seek to make amends and introduce fake men to our imaginary friends

i keep on thinking…keep on blinking

wishing for emotion to extend

SO I think the words

AND I write whats heard

but haven’t YOU heard

from the little ittie birdie whos been certainly flying, singing and free

that im not mentaly sturdy, quirky, and ******…

LOGICALLY

iknow

sophistry

ishow

emotionally

Hol…………­……………loW

I guess it just goes to show that when you at home your never reallly  alone, because to you, the voices do drone
about

how much sandpaintings and ***** can be blown,….

away with a CLICK…BoooM

beaten with a stick….AH

shoed a away with a kick….

START my heart! I know better than this!

so I better think quick

before i stay mentally sick

as an alien who has forgotten it’s world

got on a roller coaster; spinned and whirled

till im spun and twirl’d

on this game we call life, with simple **** and complex hype,

hives of concepts meanings and thoughts….to derive daily quit failing

i miss haley :( , even phailee….

so I ask little voice in my head , since everyone has left will you stay instead?

come a little closer and hop into bed

so we can share the warmth of one last self-referencing infinity loop….

…..BEFORE i wake up and forget whats ashore

because im out at dream sea with clouds free and galore

but as soon as i stop thinking i know ill return to the me that i abhore

with pain and saddness deranged

omit school so classless and strange

as a failed out actress sick with mange.

but i know these negatvie moments are just flashes , to make me appreciate self motivated happiness…

so here you go

its me on the page, skelly the sage….

i just hope to god that I could set the stage 4 nirvana or heaven, we reach zion in seven

6

5

4

3

2

1

I love you.

Its over

i won myself over

like a sad kids redrover

thanks for letting  m3 share these freestyle thoughts i kant bear

im  alone no more, i seem to have exhausted my sadness store

and after venting i realize…. its a lot ******* bettor.

“Isn’t it eeeire howletting yourself feel sad

can make you feel soo much better?”

There was once,
A pretty colour, so vibrant as it attempts to bleed itself
out in your name. A petty tyrant, in whose talons your life and death
are gripped.  Caressed even, by the sharp attack of an avatar of self-importance.

"Speak back to me!" it screams as if a trap. This may be a dangerous p0rtal
towards necessary frequency.
Maybe,
The moment can speak
if you let it.
Jump in.

OH! To tune in when someone is trampling
bringing such impetuous force to the fore-
-play. Such violent noise, hastily moving towards
your space.  All of this reminding
of control,
blessed like a desert rain.

However such patience is not easily bled from this raging heart.  What then is
forbearance in the face of such solid, personable disgust attempting so sanguine a victory?

The room, though it is darker
now.  If you're careful
you might see the outline of the colour's scream;
A sin wave sculpted in fury
and projected in great hurry, as if a fisherman stumbling
to throw his last net around a future pet.

Though at this moment, you are
patient

as the hidden moon behind the clouds
waiting in simple joy happily holding its light back
until timing,
such a beautiful quality
governing the release of all

makes it’s move.

In this room, while the colour is fading to grey-scale
you make one last attempt to scale the dam

constructed as it was through control, discipline and forbearance
searching as if you had eternity

for the Achilles heel of the pinches tiranitos,
knowing that time is the gate of that dam.

If you focus ******* the stone
you might be able to read

The mossy inscription, round
about the frame's border.

"Don't worry
Mama gonna
wash it
all away."

Your steps

Soft.

Each an embrace,
as you walk

towards the setting sun.
Waiting for time
to end.

I'm Outstanding in a field
While out standing in a field

....with these teachers
C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵̒­͖͚̿ and prophets

You'd think its an easy hike,
but its more seagoing

I see, means my ego pre-going:

Just Color coding as another motif to talk with
No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit

Of Sirrus winds and summer loving...
Was it other living or utter loathing?

No component, Native I'm Buffaloing
Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin


We've got the water  ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?

Got the mother-loving
is it dear or turtle-dove?

Talking in terms of
inhaling foxglove

Stuck in the mud asking:

What's the size of....
What are we in the Light of?

Still:
Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̑͋͘­̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̔̎̀͗ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠

Growing like my Day Be
more than Dimebag lately


Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃


Standing tall // Just Massing Nation
Is it all in my Imagination?

Fountain passion Claim free
Mountain Fashioned hazily

Passion Painting with Green Sea
Ripples passing freely through the sword

I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ẽ̷̑­̧̞̹̮̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒
(Pfu du duu do duuuu)
Tougher than....
~imagining

All the rougher
when we matching wings
Most people here
~just gather things

Always stuffing torn like here we go:


(̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͌̂̌­͚̺ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜


Come and tumble
Hear how can it sing...

All the colors, Smatterings
Can't muck with my energy

Mastered the art of astral projection
Grinding rice with mortar and pestle

Just to Vortex the best view
Motor no next to you

Torn from the best of true

R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you.

Rolling free with no potent fees
Taking liberties with the energies


Got the water      ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?

Got the mother-loving
is it dear or dote?
More like do or don't.

Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go.
Blowing on a horn with Gabriel :






(̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝­̨̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖ͅͅ  ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠­͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥   ̷̢̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅ­̧̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲ḑ̶͇͎͖̝̠̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝­̧̢͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd­̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ­ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̕͝͝͠­̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓͘͜͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝­̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̛̛͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̕̕̕͝­̨̡̧̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩̀̐̃͑̕͝

There is Presence.  Presence....and there is Light.

“Where am I?  What and Who am I?  Am I alive or dead?"  

A suppressed thought makes itself known, “You were once Enkidu....” The simultaneous recognition and brilliance of the place kept Enkidu awestruck and unable to act.  Suddenly, sounds. As if they were coming from somewhere inside Enkidu rather than off in the distance.  They funneled into each other, a chorus of voices both alien and familiar crescendoing finally into an empty silence from which the most clear whisper he had ever heard trickled forth.  Its reverberations vibrating his form as it spoke:

*“This is the Kingdom of light, as it is, which no city on earth can equal.  See how its network of light points provide the foundation for the most masterful of physical world’s architecture.  Climb the undulating, gyre staircase, built of alternating circuits of thought and emptiness.  Go! And approach the dwelling of your true Self, sacred to the all that is, and equalled by no earthly aspect that could ever be.  Make your way through the kingdom of light and follow it through to the end.

Realize the equanimity of its presence, examine the truth that creates this platform of existence and see how it pours itself constantly into the construction of the physical world; its palm trees, gardens, orchards, the glorious palaces and temples, the shops and marketplaces, the houses, and the public squares.  This is the dwelling of the infinite presence pervading the universe as an imperishable and unchanging force.  Welcome to that which is beyond both is and is not...."

Take your first steps and do not refuse the heart taurus calling of of this journey.

Enkidu contemplated for a moment [seemingly eternal, but flowing into itself for a new moment of ‘now’ as it continues] how could there be a before in this equation?  He couldn’t remember.  “You have died, but are not yet done Enkidu,” The chorus continued  His name, those voices, all of them coagulated into a recognition of the past in a weighted epiphany.  

Welcome to the Divine imagination, it is here that you will truly be tested.  Your life on earth, that was simply the practice period, here is where you literally put realization into action.  This may be a place of light, but you are in a transitory period.  In order to find yourself you must achieve the wholeness that you were unable to achieve in life.  However, You are not alone in this journey there will be guides as there always have been.  IT is up to you to not miss them, it is up to you to truly listen and realize, it is up to you alone to act.

“You may have thought you were a hero once,” the voices sang, “but this is the true forge of heroes.  This is the cosmic smelter through which you will be folded and folded in such a way that you might fulfill your potential and help others to do the same.”

Instantly visions of Enkidu as a King welled forth from the surroundings.  The environment began to take on a similar substance to whatever he was thinking about.  Concepts became steps and Enkidu saw himself standing once again with Gilgamesh facing the Great walled city of Uruk, the masses chanting the brother’s names, and in his hand a rather grotesque piece of the great monster Humbaba!  

He wanted to look Gilgamesh in the eye, to cry to his brother how much he missed him, but...he forgot why.  Had he been gone?  Surely, this was the present moment as it is, and presently Enkidu and Gilgamesh were showing off their Great accomplishment.  A serpentine whisper projected from what sounded like Ishtar made itself heard, soft and clear though the crowd’s roar was shaking the foundation of the city.  

“Look what you have done!  Look how you have succeeded.  Gaze into the eyes of these assembled adorers.  Can you not feel the power that such recognition brings?  You can have all this and much, much more.”

The lure of accomplishment lingering in the air quietly preparing to harpoon Enkidu with the its’ concrete & possessive tendrils.  Something innately prompted him to not look into the eyes of the roaring crowd or to the eyes of his brother, Gilgamesh. Instead he squinted through the pupils as portals to the truth of their being.  In each of the eyes he saw a subtle poison.  In each was a yearning to possess the power of Enkidu, the aching delusion that they too could own such an experience as felling a demon and the riches that would follow from such an event. 

A lone pair of eyes shimmered behind the crowd’s edge.  They were the only pair of eyes empty of delusion empty of desire for what he had.  He was confused by this.  WHY would someone not want what he had?? They alone in the crowd saw the truth as it was.  They eyes spoke to him as a voice never could,

“Let go of these delusions.  You have already finished your journey for accomplishment, this journey is for truth.  This is your duty.  Remember to do your duty and let go of the results, if you hold onto the results you will be lost in your own hell and we will be unable to find you, let alone save you.”

As soon as this was understood the poised and now scorpion and serpentine tendrils of accomplishment made to strike at Enkidu’s heart and eyes.  To take his chance at immortality.  Enkidu became still and saw that the city, the people, and his accomplishment were illusions; complex, detail laden illusions, but illusions nonetheless.  Sand paintings which were constantly created and blown away.  

Understanding manifested as a chest piece of armor and a helmet both crafted from the light of the heavens.  The hooks of the tendrils found no hold on Enkidu’s spirit armored as it was.  And the light of understanding poured through the armor to foil the strike.  The illusion was thus illuminated through understanding. The environment faded back into the infinite light that was his existence before his journey back towards delusion....

The only thing that remained after the experience were the pair of eyes that had instigated his realization.  What appeared around them was a resplendent chariot with an infinitely beautiful being making itself manifest, first its structure shown through a light-lattice grid, then its frequency fell into form.  Krishna spoke to him through his eyes.  The speech was an invitation.  

**“Join me on this path of authenticity and duty.  Be a true hero and come aboard the chariot this moment.  Do not refuse this call my love.  This is a call to see yourself as you have yet to witness it.”

He moved forward through the darkness towards the light of the chariot.  But as Enkidu moved, he remained doubtful.  Was this another illusion?  Is this the right thing to do?  What will the result of this be?  Will I lose myself as I know it?

These doubts and questions there born, changed his trajectory and led him away from the chariot and towards a staircase.  Schismatic thoughts confined to conflict served as a remembrance of the unsolved.

Being moved to the top of the lighted staircase he heard the voice of a woman calling to him.  He passed through the doorway at the top, being lit as it was with brown and green hues, seemingly shimmering across a liquid to be reflected upon the door.  

The scene dissolved and he found himself starting to make out the edges of a forest, a place that he felt a certain resonance with.  

“Why is this so familiar?”

He wondered....Instant realization took hold of his form as he saw the place of his birth....but not from the same time that he lived.  There seemed to be an overlap between the realms of the jeweled garden of the gods, with the cedar forest.  

This was a place untouched by time,
as though its vegetation aged and made wine.

The wilds had been  ushered towards instant life and growth after the creation of it.  The woman's call to him gained a lower octave of tone, as if a man was joining in the song.

A thought spawned from elsewhere initiated recognition within Enkidu.

Humbaba had a consort!  

The voices were so similar, as if from the union of anima and animus with the exception that the male voice was half as dense as it was supposed to be.  The thing giving most of its weight seemed lost, as if trying to come from a place that wasn’t.  

It was the death song of Humbaba, as sung along by his consort's chorus.  
        
The environment changed
its form once again to replicate the moment
Gilgamesh slayed the great monster Humbaba.  

This however was actually a transgression of the divine order of things, the demon being a way to help keep humanity from putting the world out of balance and destroying or forgetting about nature.

A large many armed and many winged being with a leonine face appeared.

*“Do you remember why you died hero?...Yes, it was because you incurred the wrath of the gods, and the unseen womanly wrath of me.  You took my consort before he could plant his seed in me.  You took my present and my future, so we, the divine, did the same for you.  You broke my union and yet you know nothing of union...Of a sacrifice of self?  You know nothing ...but I can teach you.  In order to learn though I need you to do but one thing...The only fitting thing.  Join me, lose yourself in me and empty yourself of yourself of fear and into my womb. Be the other side in a divine love circuit, and in this way I may birth another protector of the realm, one born of the originals murderer, and one of divine order.  Fitting no?”

Fall into the melody...
Fall away from the felony...


M̵̧̞̦̪̦͈̖̭̣̃̋͗̈̓́͆̓̈́͌̃̈́ͅḿ̵̢͖̟̩̱̯̦̮̜̘̮̰͎͈͊̿̒̔͐͛̔́̊͋͜ͅ­̠h̵̛͚̦̙̻̙͕̲͈̻̹̃̑͌̊͂͊̇̎̂̐͗̔̕̕̕͠h̵̡̳̹̼̯̙͔̞̯͕̽͑̈́͐͗̈́̀͗̀͒͐̓̚͘̕ͅm̶̟͗̀͐͝­͚͎̲͎̳̳̰̳̤̮ͅͅh̷̨͉̙͚̱͖͔͈͖̼̠̮̟͆̂͗͛͐̽̓̿͊̊̚̚͠͝ę̸̛̘̮̘͔̳̰̟̐͊̑̌̀̓̌̓̽̎̒͘̚­̨͎̯͎̭͎̝h̷̨̪̖͍͚̩̣̼͍̲̲̜̻͒͛̈͐ ̸̨̨̛͙͈̝̦͙̺̪̹̘̫͇͕̩̫͋̐̋̚͠m̵̨̛͔̰̹̬̯̦̥͇̰̺̖͔͆͛̐̆̋̈́͒̈̍̎͗͜h̸̡͇͍̫͈̔͆͗̇͛͜͝­h̵̢̥͇̼̟͙̗̪̺̹̖̞̾͑̈͑̓̍͛̂̍̋̌̚͜h̴̛͖͎̦̳̪͔̮͍̫̯̯̜̱̹̐͑̄̃̉̽̂͒̏͗͝ḩ̷̲̭͈̜͜͝ͅ­̮͖͜h̷̭̥̜̜̙́́̈͛̎̏̃͘͠ȕ̴̙̰͔̞̄ú̴̡̹̮̦̠̐̈́͆͂̀͌̚͜ͅŭ̴͓͙̗̍̑̿̀̽̇̊͑̅͘͘̚͝͠ͅ­̝͔ͅͅu̵̖̰̱̗̬̳͊̇̈́̀̂̿̃͒͛͐̇͐̓͠h̶̡̛̜͉͉̥̻͈͓̱͉̣̀̿̀̊̇̐̈̀̽̈́͗̕̚:̴̛̎̇̂̎́͆̐͐­̢͇̤͕́̅͒͠


Following fine lines
But still, find myself

Lost in the trees
Following these

Rivers of difference
Babbel between

Deliberate peaks
Slivered and scattered ships
  
Littered literates spread
through splattered ṣ̵͗t̴̩͛r̷̲̓ị̵̋p̶͔̑ṡ̶͈

Saying goes:

Man Move Mountains
  Man move ounces
(Tilled forests raise foundries)

Alex Taught to push :
  Immortal as Icarus
Legend so rigorous
Now we all Sisyphus, ****.

(̴͖͝Ď̵̫è̴͉a̵̝͑d̵̝̄ ̶͙͗n̵̞͋ẹ̴̌v̶̡͋ę̵̈́r̸̩̀ ̵̗͝d̸̮͝e̷̳͂a̷̙͊d̶̰̉ ̵̢͝ț̵̿h̶̹̑ê̴̥ ̷̨̿l̷̲̍e̵̘̓g̸͉͑e̴͚̊n̵̜̕ḏ̸͌ ̸͖̿å̶̞c̷̬͐c̷̹̈́o̵̹͐ú̵̩n̶͇͠ṭ̴͋ ̶̹̇f̵̫͋o̴̙͛r̴̮̾ ̴̲͠t̵̫̊h̸͓̾i̷͓͒ś̸͙ ̶̛̣)̶̛̯

Still find people weird...

Times where clowns
Seem see-through.

Where seams of seas
and deeds for these

Grow Seeds from Scenes
My Gurus breathe through.

Winds sweep up
as the Moment pounces

Bullet quick
through Money pouches

Still indigo here too remind that :

We
Is stronger than I

****
is stronger than high

When hearts are aligned
Lead song from the mind

Never seem to last forever
Got em all  waiting for a blast of clever

Listen close :
Hard  to dine and dash in error

Oh god of media ×
just trying to cash in terror

Oh god please raise me up ×
The stairs from Saint to Sinner...

Or was it Sinner to Saint?
Call it trial and error ×

With Mystical p̴̩̀a̶̺̓ḯ̴̦n̸͚͒t̸̪͝
Expert alchemical bearer

I'll be the standard I bear up
Of owning all my moments
This sin that I tear up

Putting my palms feet,
(My hands, words, my deeds)
Towards all souls atoning

Raising grace like the moments laced
God on my tongue, Just
Keeping pace with the aftertaste

I'm a blinded Ace with a savage case
So the doc says hydrate
till the drips replaced

Better stay braced
cause we laying waste ( **** )
Spiky v̵̥̆ḭ̸͆r̵̰̂u̵̙͋š̸̟ covid space (fuuuuck)

Now:

I may pace in place considering vagrant states  
Dey don raised a case to obliterate mental waste

But we ****** up with them Crowley ways to play
Blood, ******, Mag̵͈̕ḯ̸͓k̵̳͠, *** for  days

Corrupted plays....
So far from grace

Figured Paradise Lost
So we prayed through sprays

Blinded by Lazer Raves
While (we) Distract for daze

When The chemical stays
But I called myself a hero,
A chemical Brave...

More like brazen youth
Surrendered
my mind eye and tooth

Question, am I denying truth?
Jesus was I denying you?
Why it takes the loss of a youth
And you saving him for me buy in to ...
The weight of a soul, that's the buy-in foo.

So we:

Mostly Replaced grass with gratitude
Replaced *** with attitude
Replaced mind with knowing you

Looking outside for help
ain't betraying true
We can't know it all
that's just the lay man's


t̸̢̗̞̣̟͕̣̹̭̟̻̬̒̍̒̐͐͛̆̈́̎̅̔̾r̵̺̯̞̩͕̳̘̗̗̗̝͖̯̝̾̒̀͒͆͗͘u̵͔͂̈́̽̐͗̎͐́̉̑̓́̕­̢̢͖͔͍̤t̷̨̛͇̻̙̻̖͔͕̪͍̣̟̜̰̙̉̉̏͗̎̊̀̒͆̊́͋h̷̛̗̙̟̟̠̫̳̦̽̈̀̃̊͋͌͆̀̚͝.̶͍͕̩̘͑­͎

There's a stranger at the door
Eyes are blurry and sunk to the floor
its the middle of the night and the noise causes fright
you open the door and fear what’s more

grabbed by the beard
assailed in the night
tribal lines feared
by the victims of tonight

They cut off my manhood
they cut off my might
Fanatic terrorism
Is the cult I must fight

But I would have rather died
sleep through the perils I’ve eyed
than to have this beard of mine cut
my manhood, my pride

This ego has fallen
by the hand of slandered, misguided pride

-Sam mullet must be tried
-sa fool that must be tried

When they stole my hair they stole my story
This beard was much more than identity allegory
They didn't steal it all though....

I escaped

To tell a story of fear in a horse and buggy ride
To alert the media and to simply confide
We never locked our doors before
you wondered “what violence” you s3nseless *****.

Schism between the mainstream and Mullet
and the scissors cut/divide communities apart
like a cook does a cutlet
Never forget the scissors that took my bucket-list ,
TerrorEYEz; learned helplessness, cult leader...****-it-quick.

.****.youSamMullet.

They say i’m creative as a reversed mime;thinking outta the box
my minds found a way to rehearse time while it stops the clock

tick tock
what time is it?

prison block – on some infinite minute ****.

neurons firing

pew

change of management declared- archetypal hiring–whoo
“Do you specialize in living positively?”
{I can try}
“Will you try to stay away from virus compositories?”
{oh me oh my!}

I live different lives as the same people:
go to the same church with different steeples.

Question the voice from my bed; oh **** am I dead?
tryn to lift my arms, but they filled with lead

where am I going and who have i led, to wander and ponder in the land of the dead

its this chilly necropolipse; filled with empty soul ships.

I can’t get warm here and so I fear

stricken by a paralysis , caught in the mists of myr

influenced by infected cysts, sickness adhere…

better deal quik through love metamorphosis
but I kan't…..—————-says who?
great big king boo!

he haunts me and taunts me into less than mediocrity

but its simplicity, don't deal with me, simply leave and then you’ll be free

of me and my moaning, *******, and pathetic groaning

but I’m simply freeflowing,

I guess I'm like an emo chick, dip in quick , then get out of it

like a quicksand pit you’ll stick quick – I do my job a bit to legit

while you sit and feel …………………………………………

……………………………this is some straight simple ****:

1+1= 2

but in my equation, I'm still left with none, no you'd think , but this ain't fun

“So leave!” I yell
“Get out of here!”

I’m lost and confused like a catholic queer
Am I sincere?

maybe

what morals appear?

when your without another and can't find your brother
simply steer clear quick!————————————————–>away from that skell *****

with his nonsensical lycrical pains

and paradoxical ego feigns

from left to up
side to side
always quik to hop
and hide n hide

non-attached….*******!-^-–<>re-attache these b-r-o-k-e-n__bits& p.i.e.c.e.s

so maybe one day you’ll do better than me

Just don’t listen to way i say and get away from me

EMO thoughts brought to light

need some ***- I think i might

oh wait , is this just a way for me…the pages in the journal get away from me

a psychiatrist in the pages….paid for free.

****, thanks ink, thanks journal, thanks ego and funeral

I just killed my ego , and it was the death of me.

We here to teach people

Agency

trying to turn the world
into super agents
see
climbing ladders quickly is great and all
except when they leaned against the wrong wall

Thats why you ton't catch me saying any ****
that's not worth praying
more like catch me screaming
that's some super-saiyan
saying ****  some super way laying  split
over 9,000, thats crit.

Mumble rapper
more like spray and pray

I̵̲͔͇͕̱ͅ'̶̲͉̯̤̲̞ͅm̮̬̱͠ ̠̯̫͙̩͟á͖̹̱̹̣ͅ ̨̖̲͎̮͖̤ẖ̺̤͚̣̙͠ͅo̖͖̬l̙̘̘̱y̟̰̻̦ ̧̬͉̪̬ͅt͎a̟̕g̛͕g͇͓̱er͓̯̫̭ ͕̝̪̩̦̦͕,̷͍̞͓͙̟̪̼ ̲̞͈̭c̜̣͡a͇͍͇̱̺͡ͅl̺ļ̲̲̩̻̲ ̧͎i̺̳̦̬͔͜t͏̜̠ ͙̠̣̟p̝͍̜͓͜r͔̜̖̹a͎̹̙̯̗̞͔y͙̫̱͙͓͝ ͕͎͕̝ạ̭͟n̤̣͚̠͈d͈̹̠̼͎̥ ̱͎͕͔ ̣͉̳͉͖̙̫͟s̺p̤̝̟̹̪r͕̝̫͉̝a͎͍̥͝y͞

I pick a bone like U picket sign
I pick a rhyme you just pick a side
call me pickle rick pest with blood tide
never needing rest that’s just the test side..

Lets just take it back to Sally with the shells on the B side.

Even a Yogi *****.

I
have
my
moments

and

my
moments
have
me,

that's for dam sure.

Grammar
That never needs inoculating
I'll be your vaccine
Portal stable oscillating
I lead through this dream
Dissolving all this obfuscating
I say "Come and see what I've seen"
Resolving all this complicating
Maybe start to be more than you been?

Please, just breathe
I've tried to be accommodating
Awoke and now we congregating
Life is humble as is thought-provoking
We just tumble on words
Doesn't matter whether written spoken

All that matters is a breath
Pixels, ink, and now....friend.
From the bars, we find the stars
Line breaks
beautifully though it mars;

I don't care that I just rhymed mars and stars because somewhere in-between I wrote these lines that changed the tide when time made my mind frozen, crooked, and broken...

Humbled and fumbled my ****, till I broke out with a decision
that Lotuses rise farther than anything I previously spoke man.

This is my mission, to hold the gates open, that each voice finds its rhythm and tone crafting into a unique token, between beatific smiles and dread moan, I'm a dreaded clone of who I used to be; Bone Headed and prone to zone I still keep my mantra.

Day by day in every way I am getting better and better. Join this celebration with a thought, prove it with an action, and don't forget......to let it breathe.

I was raised under shield and gun
Looked in my fathers eyes and grew under thumb

Theres awes for mah stalls
Hug and hold you in our paws
for the cause
we pause for this applause

I make friends
I get blown
I make friends
I go home

I make friends
and get shown
the Dark side
of the moon

skip tracks
forget facts
neural lightning
get stacked

I end my cigarrete
and grab my beer
Wander in horror
Its my self that I fear

Salty frozen pearls glimmer
in the passing, fading carlight
I keep rooted in the shadow
and stay running from mah fright.

It knocks in my head
never alone
it follows my steps
crucial loss of character
in need of a seraph
some sort of
charsimatic actor
some sort of
emblematic factor

All alone,
tilted head.

God’s vines fall
around what’s said

Entrapped in rapture,

Jungian shadows
wrap my stature

as

dreamcatchers hold
concepts captured.

Safety in this
sacred space.

Aromatic,
mystic scents

Pressure though

as psychonauts

try to find some


sense.

I may find myself

Playing with the moving expense of
changing past, present and future tense


I fear however

That I’ll waste my time on the fone
with the secretary of Offense

When all I really want to do
Is be singular as the mystic tense.