Chop wood, carry water,
Overtones over the undulations of Nun,
where the first man stood quite
apart from his father.
The cattle of Ra poured forth from his eyes and
thus he ruled over what he made.
Red frequencies in the dark are
strung outside of time -
the mana by which energy makes art.
I cannot look toward the Black Octave…
bad cymatics in the Red Resonant Year.
I’m barking at the Blue Tetrad.
The indian guides couldn’t tell if it was
Comanche or wolf.
They remained still for quite a long time.
By: Jordan Gee
all of it in frequency
Never ask "Are you a happy mirror?",
I did this mistake once,
Now I brush my teeth in front of smartphones.
love is a symbol
words are symbols twice removed from reality
and they are road signs,
pointers if you will
to that which lies beyond and
between and behind
and you can see it in the light
and Nietzsche saw it in the void and
Hamilton saw it in the venom.
you can see it in the white noise in the Lo-Fi.
you can hear it in the Vajrayana pearls.
drive behind the Diamond vehicle and ride inside
the slip stream.
sit behind the Bon funeral Priests and it says:
“Children of the Hologram - do not make me a martyr.
your kings will make of me an effigy
it will turn the Diamonds into paper but that is not my Will.
you’ll chew on discs of gold and that will be your King.
Children of the Hologram - my words are not my own.
it calls to us from the place of light.
when energy is at rest it is dark and the dark is good and time is a 1000 petal lotus.
at times you’ll encounter evil.
Remember: that is your own self you behold before you.
she is afraid and he is alone and its timepiece is a flat circle and round and round it goes.
only you can see him because only you made her and you made the light in which you see
but images cannot see.”
there are signs
there are those who have been before.
heed their warnings. Feed the Bodhisattva
your kings will burn them and your
kings will make effigies.
look to where the words point
you wrote them
you’ve been here before
there is light coming through the leaves and the branches.
the Japanese have a word for that
my heart is on fire
one half cup espresso, a vape
and a song that drapes my heart in a purple fire,
with the same purple glow inside the go go bar
where that dancer handed Bukowski a dried lily
But only for a moment.
lesson #104 and the
music rides a sine wave into
my left ear.
I sat upon a lotus pad and kept
a straight back
the Angelus Novus couldn’t (insert link)
close its wings against
the winds of Paradise so
elated were the Gods by the
progress of man.
so high the rubble of the wreckage the
view from its summit rivaled the
vantage gained from
standing atop the Six Grandfathers within the
Four-headed Dog from across the pond.
national broadcast in the jungle and
all the box would do is
and all the cockroaches would do is
and all the machetes would do is
and all the bodies burned
and Felicien Kabuga was kindly granted asylum by the West
and remained at large for over 25 years.
THANKS A LOT SWITZERLAND.
may all the kings be strangled with the entrails of all the priests
Ok ok, I may have skewed the details
Like how you were digging the deep weeds out
And giggled as I fainted from the heat or when
I said that if I had bigger **** you wouldn’t have
Me doing this type of work
But you did say: Keep on talkin’ like that and see
I gutted the gravel and sand bags as you spread them
Out on the yard who knew leveling the ground
Would be this ******* hard
At some point, I guzzled a can of ale and almost
Hit you with the shovel digging for any type
Of emotion I admit, maybe it was just my fault
I was crying
Your face and clothes were drenched with sweat and
I was so angry that you hadn’t called me
And girls like me we don’t get that
I didn’t hear you when you asked for
That the past doesn't dictate your future
How do I advertise myself to you in that sense
Whatever story I have to tell
Is buried in the footprints
I left on the way here
I hear the frogs are singing,
meadows anointed in lyrical
In a golden hour the fields are
sacrosanct - waiting for the hard water in a
keep your sights between the swirling moons -
the terminals extend to where we know not, for
the moisture may never come.
The song unfolds upon the face of
all the waters, the
fire apart from its origins and exiled -
something man may recognize within himself.
Sudden genesis and then divided, strewn
thin across the planting rows.
in the womb a germination abiding in peace
under the shadow of the Almighty.
then a birth into this world:
We heard the frogs were singing,
and saw the dogs were bleeding and
worrying the bones.
The gravel in my heart is enough to build
houses for worship without sacrifice.
So I sat upon the setting sun
counting my mistakes and
crossing my heart, for
long and hard is the way that from out of hell
leads up to light
and right now
all I smell is gun-smoke.
But the Heavens, they pale and deepen and pale and deepen,
and I recall that the devil hid the Trinity inside my heart.
I really did believe my destiny lay at the end of a braided rope.
But I remembered there is no
resurrection without a crucifixion.
Somewhere up ahead in all that dark and
all that cold
my ancestors are waiting by the fire.
are you going to **** me?
that depends, can you see me standing here?