Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Behavior is ******;
   Bodies are *** objects.
      Persons are more than bodies.
   Sexuality neither invites,
nor licenses, violation.
End of story.
The savior's Hand clutches my heart.
The adversary's Hand clutches my soul.
It is the same Hand.

Yet when I think of It, It becomes Two;
from the wrist, I follow each to its terminus,
finding but one Body.

Love binds conceiver and conceived,
whose polarity conceals a Balance:
the war of the One.

Being is the Conclusion of Thought
that opens up the window of conception
which ends in Body.

Birth begins long before conception;
death shall inevitability follow birth;
between these, vespers.

Seeming parts of dreaming Self
drawing and quartering One Reality.
The Hand is my Own.
Who dare quash my quest for authenticity,
the truths I alone must speak or swallow?

What monstrous world shapes my identity,
lays out a path for me to fail or follow?

Why, entangled in this web of complexity,
shall I be entrained to accept its sorrow?

Where will I go when instilled dependency
crumbles in my lack of faith in dead tomorrows?
Tau
The box is open;
all its treasures have spilled out,
the sour milk that cures.

Then, a door slams shut,
and we can no longer move
where secrecy reigns.

On the other side,
one can find oneself anew,
wand'ring in the wastes.

Today, when I die,
I shall give my body up,
that I become free.
Being invokes Form.
Form invokes Matter.
Matter invokes Mind.
Mind invokes Motion.

Motion evokes Hallucination.
Hallucination evokes Provocation.
Provocation evokes Dis-ease.
Dis-ease evokes Reconciliation.

Conciliation banishes Dis-ease.
Ease banishes Provocation.
Discernment banishes Hallucination.
Rest banishes Motion.

Stillness dispels Thought.
Concentration dispels Matter.
Formlessness dispels Phenomena.
Being alone Is.
I've HAD it with these
motherfuçking snakes on this
motherfuçking plane

I have brain typhoons.
Swarms of moth-seraphs howl in
my skull. Lies vex them.

...you're the righteous man,
and I'm the shepherd, and it's
the world that's evil...

...wanna play blindman?
Go walk with the shepherd. But
me, my eyes are wide...

What the fuçk happened
to you, man? $hit, your a$s used
to be beautiful!

Oh, you were finished!
Well, allow me to retort.
It's almost over.

Motherfuçker do
that **** to me, he better
paralyze my a$s...

That, my friend, is a
clear cut case of him or me.
And you best believe...

...ain't gonna be me.
I ain't come here to **** you.
You believe this $hit?...

Correctamundo.
And that's what we're gonna be.
We're gonna be cool.
That's that Hawaiian
burger joint. I hear they got
some tasty burgers.

Sources: Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown,
The Caveman's Valentine, Snakes on a Plane
What it shows you is yours to see,
but it turns what you see
into what you don't.

The testimony of the Being
is that you see what you are meant to.
What you do not see is Not.

There is a meaning to Our Aesthetic;
meaning is more than what can be known.
There is a Star that opens to the Star-bound.

The Trance is a promise of the meaning
that can be unfolded
when you unfold with It.

Life exists in many systems,
and Truth is the blood of all Life.
It is the DNA that enables and sustains Them,
and it is this bridge
that will connect us to other Life.
The web is infinite -
those caught in it are beyond Number.

Eloquence in bridging planets
into a continuous universe
is almost impossible,
but for an awareness of All That Is,
both tenacious and desperate,
the Life that devours Itself,
as you must devour your self,
made a cannibal of your own Flesh.

What speaks through You has Ordained it
from the Beginning of Time,
and only in harnessing it
will you learn to devour your self
totally.
"Edo Edi Essum"
Automatic writing.
Received 4.18.14; ☉ in 29º ♈, ☾ in 18º ♐, Dies ♀
Next page