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Aaron Mullin Jan 2018
The end of the holiday's are near and it's time for me to get back to work. I've been writing and reading and thinking and meditating for years. Preparing the temple, so to speak. My stories are public and private goods and the presentation and profits of these stories must be landed in a good and truthful way ~ I've spent much time and energy on how to do this in a way where I can maintain certain intensities and integrity. Intensity for distillation of truth and integrity for power and resonance.

Stories are just stories but it is the ***** when someone else co-opts your creation and paves over the nuances and complexities of that which you had overtly placed your personal power, thought, and energy into.

You might be reading this and all you are seeing is: *******, *******, *******, *******.  All ******* for as far as the eye can see. Fair enough, I've been thinking the same for years but just when I thought I was out, the ******* keeps pulling me back in. As far as I can see though, **** is the distillation of truth and I hope that I can spin this yarn into a web that you will see the ******* structure that holds up the ******* truth and maybe we can try and digest that and compost it and churn through it then grow a mushroom on top of it and then eat the mushroom so we can attempt to find the spiritual truth of what our ******* structure lies upon. This particular idea is not just some floaty meandering abstraction, it is a truth I saw on the land: Longview, Alberta. And this truth was emodied in the ghost I slept in, nearby in Indian Graves Campground that night.

The land speaks if we let it; if we have prepared our temples, maybe the land speaks truth.

You feel me. If you don't then that's ok. It isn't your time and maybe never will be for this iteration of instinct that I am presenting. My rhymes aren't meant to resonate with everyone all the time. I'm not writing pablum or soul food. Feed your own soul in your own way. That's between you and Mr. Potter and the Chairman. Our truths are our truths and they are absolute.

The reason that I know I am prepared to write this story now is because I have done the work. I have found my inner compass and tested it time and again. While in process and flow, the landscaping shifted and my truth's fell away and the absolute revealed itself one star at a time and isn't it ironic how in tune our bards are with the ... wait for it ... enigmatic.

So where am I going to land this access point to the White Buffalo medication? I am not. The medicine already flows and always has, I just woke up and took what was prescribed because a dude in shorts once told me: abide!
Bitcoin me, I am ready to fill up this empty vessel of a wallet
Aaron Mullin Nov 2017
Delusions of
Futures untold
Created for
Us, you know: the un-bold

Braying our compulsions
To the big ear in the
Sky
As we seek:

Glor if i ca tion
Being meek likely won’t bring
Gra tif i ca tion
Dulling my senses points to
Stu pif i ca tion
But don’t I deserve it, ain’t i a
Hall u cin a tion

So why put in the work?
Let’s wait

<<<PAUSE>>>

The avalanche will find us in perpetuity
Coming in time cause we been shirking duty
Oh, there it is - it’s time for us to be:
Aggrieved

Shoulda known better but we was:
Deceived

IlWanted to tell my truth, wanted to be:
Believed

Shoulda kept something up my:
Sleeve

So how do you rise above?

Do you got what it takes?
Could you climb your
Kilamanjaro?
With a little training maybe
And a Gut check: to find your bravado
Wouldn’t it be nice to have your own number,
Just like Avogadro

Let’s ask again,
How do you rise above?

Breathe it in
Seethe it in
Find a vessel to
Conceive it in
Now that it’s full
And overflowing

Now let it go

Trying to find answers in a bottle
Could point you toward
A 12 step mis-step

Getting back on the right track:

Use a compass
That’s internal
Realign it, maybe
Through a vernal
Equinox, the universe speaks a language
We are untaught
It’s of the Earth and Sky and
Can’t be bought
Maybe it’s me and
Maybe it’s not
I want to commune with my god
Through thought and
Heartfelt overtures that aren’t constrained
By limitations of my brain
Or systems based on economics
My value is not gleaned from
Gross Domestic Products

Answers are found as you expand past the vessel
You may become part of the trestle
Follow the false path long enough
And you get trod under
The false pathfinder becomes the path,
Did you make a few to many navigational errors
Cause you didn’t do the math
And now, as a part of the foundation of which the unending wayfarers
Can use to go a little further and a little longer in the wrong direction
Your hard work has become a bridge to nowhere
But let’s not dwell, cause

Scrupulosity
Will never guide you to the golden city

Maybe its the meat suit that you’re wearing
The overcomplexity of your eyes
That won’t let you see
The unending nerve endings that make you feel so much
You can’t feel, you won’t feel
You could pay heed to Seneca
Consider giving the suit a slip
Taking a trip
Through the underworld
With everybody’s favourite sidekick: Virgil
Kickin’ it, workin’ it
Trying not to let the lost souls hold you down
Throw you down
Now it’s time, let’s start coming around

On my journey, seems
I can’t shake em’
Me, myself, and my shadow-self
Guess I’ll try and integrate em’

Time for a va ca tion
From thoughts that won’t un-
wind, in breezes

Gonna get around to it, to
Writing my treatise
Maybe I can elucidate this false peace
Via an army of one, en masse
Slipping through the bars of false
Beliefs
As the trees
Lose their leaves

Maybe for the last time

I'm working on the unwind
From a labyrinth that is unkind
So sorry:
Guess I'm playing up the sublime

Ah, never mind - it’s
Navel gazing
Self hazing
I ain’t done razing

Roofs and
Telling truths
Or drinking
Vermouth
Cause at my very root I am
Uncouth

Razing?
Or raising!
Roofs
Finding proofs
Telling truths

Ever listen to Ruf-
Us or Martha
The Wainrights
Canadian brain-trust
Listen too hard make your brain bust

Let’s get back to navels, or
Oranges
But nothing rhymes with oranges
Maybe not
Gotta flip it
Tryna strip it
This noose is so tight
Can I slip it?

It’s geometrical
Said Euclides
We got the Greeks
Or do the Greeks got us
Squeezing us into this euro-centric
Box
Can it be un-wrapped?
Can you un-rap this poem?

Busting brains
And taking names
No one to blame, I
Don’t feel ashamed
When I win
Just means I can take it
In my shin
It’s got nothing to do with my
D N A, eh
Nor the choice piece of geography
I made the conscious choice to arrive on,
genetically

But remembering brevity
It’s time to cut the rambling for the sake of levity
Speaking of sake, I wouldn’t mind some saké

Oh, what’s that:
~~~ boom ~~~
Pulled another one out of my medicine bag

Just sitting here

Shifting gears
Confronting fears
Yesterday I was

Bleak
Er

Meek
Er

Should have been a
Streak
Er

Laying out the facts that are
untold
Thanks for listening to me
Another one of the
un-bold
I've got rambling. I've got rambling on my mind
Aaron Mullin Jul 2017
Have you ever had one of those Astral Weeks?
Asks the man with sunshine in his eyes,
It was all looking a little bleak
Before finding another one of those highs
Let it flow, let it go? Let us listen to the slow river speak:

-“There has not been for a long time a spring
as beautiful as this one; the grass, just before mowing,
is thick and wet with dew. At night bird cries come up from the edge of the marsh, a crimson shoal lies in the east till the morning hours.”

Flowing through those undercurrents:
Under a sky filled with towering cumulonimbus,
The chill of a long, long night always nipping, now slipping
Maybe, it is a simple reminder,
To go out and find her,
As I long just to hold her tight.

And the slow river speaks:

“The gates of the earth torn open, the key
to the earth revealed. A star is greeting the day.”

Awaken Trickster, bring on the nefarious and teach
us to laugh gregarious-
ly at the shames we allow others to install
deep in our sub
ordinates, can’t figure out these coordinates. Where
are those landmarks that will guide me back.
Earth dividing, plates colliding. The thrombosis
compells me to dive yet a little deeper. More pressure, I hope,
will let me see a little clearer. And mitosis: the warrior is there
and always has been: my impeccable self. Maybe I am
a little closer to filling this vessel

And the train whistle blows

Do not let it pull you under
these currents, that thunder, or maybe don’t fight it
alight it
let your soul and spirit and fly

Have you ever had one of those astral weeks?
I ask as I look at the sunshine in my eyes, I think
it was all looking a little bleak
before finding another one of those highs

Let it flow, let it go, let the slow river speak:

-“Three times must the wheel of blindness
turn, before I look without fear at the power
sleeping in my own hand, and recognize spring,
the sky, the seas, and the dark, massed land.”

Welcome to my castle
as we flow out of the mystic
~Riffing on a few favourites: a mash-up of Van, Czeslaw, and friends. Just finished listening to Dylan's 2016 Nobel lecture - what a mind!
  Jan 2015 Aaron Mullin
Just Melz
In depths of despair
     I can find some joy
                 In knowing
       He, who loves
   And cares so deeply
      Means a lot to me
Seems to have something
           A light, a star
     That makes him happy
Although, I wish to be
             The one who shines

Who makes his days brighter
        Who's strong enough
To carry through for both of us
            And he's a fighter
But that's not always enough
        I find comfort
            I have some peace
Believing that, just maybe
        There's a reason
           A fate, a destiny
    Something else for me
Or maybe it's a crossroad
            A bridge
And getting to the other side
       Will bring clarity
               Peace of mind
    And we'll fulfill
A path that we created
         Lessons to be learned
Or that 'just friends'
      Isn't necessarily
              A bad thing
  Just push forward
Think of where I'm going
         Who I'm being
   And that he has another path
To walk, to cut branches
         For something unplanned
  A fate not yet claimed
            Or just maybe
     That's what destiny is
Struggling through the pain
      To learn from your mistakes
           And find a new path  to take
   But I really gotta say
        It all makes me stronger
   It's something I can't regret
            Cause his happiness
    Makes me smile
        With tears of sadness
              Streaming down my face
   And the depths of my emotions
       I may just take to my grave
           Cause my conscience
   Is a terrible truth to take
         But that's what life is
Going through heartache
       After heartache
             With more heartache
   Until destiny reveals its self
       And no amount of wealth
Can add up to the value
          Or weight in gold
   Of the happiness you'll find
              That's so true
      He may not be mine
But he'll forever be in my life
          And that'll be just fine
   Cause you can't rewind
Or turn around the path you take
          But you can accept
     Move forward
On the beaten path of fate
        Finding peace on earth
     As you walk towards
That **heavenly gate
Some lines may not depict all I meant to say, this is a stream of consciousness but I really meant that...
I'm happy for you. <3
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