The piece before this entry, I know it's full of things that needed rewritten. It was hard to write and I think you get the jist, ya? I'll edit it one day maybe

Don't you see?
You have to experience
Acknowledge
And let go of everything that you are not if you ever want to understand
What you are

Waking from a nightmare
Staring into a reflection now
In everything I see
I see me

It becomes so natural
Extension of yourself
Extensions of yourself
It is not done
It simply is
I do not practice archery to ****
I practice to live
On planted feet
Finger and kiss point
Meet under pressure
Focus
Release
It is not done it simply is

It's in their nature,
To live a little more like god.
Always giving always, taking care of,
Always..serving.
A blessing upon all women
That their natural instincts
Lead them into the foot steps of Christ
Christ, god, got down and washed the other people's feet saying that this is the example I leave to you, a servants heart

Its a busy night
A time to drink and write
A wonder where the moon is cause
Tonight she ain't in sight

But what I really mean is
I wonder what sign she's in right now
And which stars are tugging
On my heart tonight

Flicker goes the flame
Frail or insane
You know, given the circumstances.
Sometimes I feel the same
The honesty of flame
You could extinguish me or
I could burn a Forrest, I could
Keep you warm and
Ward the dark off by my light
Or burn
I could cleanse the world in rage
But balance
That's where we are the same
The shaman and his spirit
Tending his own flame

I wonder what it means
This reoccurring dream
I keep having
Hell, I wasn't even fifteen
And the girl I was too afraid to kiss
But danced like we were one confused
Teenage body
Timeless
The kind of beauty that never fades

Can my center really stay
A peaceful place?
Against all odds
Against the stream
Against the spin of the world
And galaxies and black holes
Hurricanes and bathtub drain whirlpools?
No,
Not even the gravitational
Constant of the universe
Will be enough to stop me now
We already broke
Solids and stripes abound

I used to use Facebook a lot.
Thankfully now its deleted
And my connection to the endless staircase of misinformation is severed.

But I would get on there,
Looking for something, almost obsessively. I would write clever poems and prolific pieces of philosophy, to be met time and time again by disappointment. I felt like just a mad man out rambling on the streets, no one taking him seriously, and even more just trying to avoid him.

So I left social media behind
But the longing for spiritual
And intellectual connection remained

Until I found myself here
Joined by like minded, thinking,
Feeling, people. And I take such joy in reading their thoughts, their joys, and their pains because I know its all real. Its all honest. So rare.

Stupid crap.

Not intoxicated.
Not my first run in with the law

They tortured us while we were in there. What happened to me may take a long time to write.

Pure sadistic satanic torture
I've never felt so broken

As mentioned, this isn't meant as an artistic piece; I'm just wondering everyone's opinion on posting other people's work as long as you give proper credit to the author who wrote it. Cause sometimes I want to say how I feel but someone else has already said it perfectly. For instance "Jesus Christ what did you do those three days you were dead? Cause this problems gonna last more than the weekend" - Brand New

They can never touch me again
My body will endure trials
But my soul will be untouched
Lock me in a cage, throw away the key. Still they can't take my heart from me. If I don't die, I will rise again, capable of loving. The light still within me.

The sky is busy tonight
Flashers and low flyers abound
Moving around
Their touch and go dance
Someone's trying to say something
And I'm not any closer today
To understanding them
As I was when all this began
But what a beautiful thing
They've chosen to share

Twenty years ago if you
Wanted to be truly individual,
You wanted everyone to know your
Name.
Now, today, we all know everyone's
Name.
And it seems the only way
To preserve true unique individuality
Is by practicing selfless anonymity.

this is about confronting internal fears in the physical experience
this is about strength and courageousness
this is about opening your heart to love
this is about clarifying your logical mind to a point
where it is no longer clouded by your own ego
this is about disciplining the physical body
fine tuning it
this is about creating high frequency energetic balance
in your spiritual body, your logical mind,  and your physical body.
this is about how to create your merkba.

That's what they're calling me now.
I can't seem to produce their language.
But that's what the elder sprits
Have been calling me.
I guess it freaked them out at first lol
Sure as hell rocked my world..
But they see the stability resuming,
As I feel my strength return.
Now everyone wants to know what
I'm going to do next.
It's obvious, is it not?
When a shaman is having big big spirit troubles, then it's time to meet a smarter shaman. I've already been making calls.

A lot of people think I should check into a psychiatric ward. Maybe they're justified in thinking so. But this is burning in my chest. I will not subdue it under a blanket of antipsychotics. No..that would make me truly insane, or worse.. **** my heart with my body still trapping it.

No, my friends, this is a spiritual matter. A matter of heart and honor and such. Satan himself is the enemy
And we are on a mission from God

In a burning pine forest
Burning ash falling about
The devil and god are raging inside me
Does anyone recognize what I'm.. No,
Probably not

I been sleeping so strange at night
Side effects they don't advertise.
I been sleeping so strange with a head full of pesticide

Didn't figure I'd ever find myself
So far down again
So desperate to stay numb
Its just easier than
Dealing with the pain
In circles
Kick the can down the road
You can do what you want to
Whenever you want to
Big nothing

September's stars are creeping in
Mocking me for my latest sin
I'm only human
I can begin
Again if that's in store
And the stars only know what
May lay ahead
But they never speak a word
This time of the year

September's Stars are burning me
Alive
I
Have no planet no root no ground
Beneath my feet
I'm unprotected
Blasting through space alone
Being irradiated by September's Stars
Over and over
Until the end of time

Wet pavement and orange street lights
The sound of distant tires
Cutting a path through the moisture
Laying in the cracks of the highway
Wet and thick
Breathing in the fog
A record playing in my head
pops and cracks, jazz, singing out
Some lonely saxaphone

Buzzing
Humming
The entire world is black but orange
Sitting on a curb
Smoke another one
I fit so perfectly in this performance
Yet I've never been so detatched

Alcohol should be
Alcohol should be
Alcohol, one would think,
No?
But each has its own
His own
Or her own particulites
making them truly
Of the earth
Unique

This white wine for instance
Has a certain
How do you say?

I shot three arrows today
A triangle spread around the bullseye
Was close enough
With the smell of grass
And setting sun

I was born once.
An odd experience, to say the least.
Having all my memories
All my wisdom and acquired insight
Wiped clear in the womb,
And made a clean slate.
Born suddenly, or torn violently,
From oneness to duality;
From belonging
To bitter isolation.
Brave, brave, souls we were,
Courageous for choosing to come here,
To see if we could solve the puzzle.

The clean slate we are born with
Is built upon a foundation; a keystone,
If you will.
There is a code written
Deep inside what science has dubbed
DNA
The memories we lost still belong to us
The soul does not know time
Only experience.
Somewhere there's a place
Where emotion meets logic
Somewhere there's a place
Where science meets the human spirit
And the truth that everyone seeks
Is right there in the middle.

And to draw from the great Edgar Cayce,
"There is a river :)"

A moment of his peace
Is greater than
An eternity of suffering

In a world where
Its all been done
Every words been spoken
And every songs been sung
Where many see this place
Becoming something bleak
Where every stars been outshined
By what had made them all unique
Me?
I'm finding freedom
From every ism or osity
That I've ever foolishly
Let define me
See?
It truly is a new age for those who
Can think about their thoughts
Without using the thoughts that
Created those thoughts
Grow, children
Beyond everything they ever told you
You could be

They chose me
I don't know why
Maybe the ****** Mary
Hanging from my neck was enough
To raise their ire
And surely in a ****** it did

I've taken hallucinagins in my life
Good ones
Bad ones
Beautiful magic mushrooms or
Lsd laced with stric 9 leaving your
Best friends siezing, begging god with
That very same emblem, "bring him back" and with a gasp and some *****
He was back

I've also had a history of  depression, anxiety, and the abuse of substances to self medicate. I'd say I've been close to being in a psychosis but never lost touch.

No, that's not what happened in that
Small town southern jail cell
Someone opened the gates of hell

From a young age I was claiming to see angels, aliens, elementals, sometimes god himself walking in the sun. I remember surprising my teacher at age four by explaining infinity and drawing a figure eight for her.
I'm telling you these things, and other parts of my background because it all just feels necessary, if I'm to have any credibility for rational thought when I somehow find a way to explain what happened in there. It's been almost a week, I'm still jacked in the head. One thought, one memory, one feeling and all I can do is sob.
I digress. My point is that I've always been a highly spiritual person. What started as a Catholic would travel through taoism, Buddhism, the Cherokee and Hopi, the Hindu.. I've learned their Kung Fu, their Asana yoga, their healing through chi. I can say with no ego or shame, I am a shaman.
Christ, coming full circle, now amazes me the most. From that short line, "for through me all things are possible."
It's funny, but it took all that eastern mystic learning for me to come to understand the truly timeless nature of the cross, of God, and of ourselves.
I also, from age fifteen, was frequently hypnotized, and used an array of other advanced tequnique therapies meant to increase sub concsious brain hemisphere communication speeds. Remarkable stuff. From there I taught myself how to meditate and heal, and my colleague and I continued our experiments on into my early thirties.

I'm writing all of this because I want you all to know what I mean when I say "I am extremely in tune with my body and often sense things intuitively."

Eyes closed
Let go
Be aware but don't stay there
Inside of you
Discomfort here
But relaxation over there
Just be aware
But don't stay there
A thousand thoughts
The speed of light
Just be aware
But don't stay there

We use words like god or devil
To describe things our limited words
Lack the ability to verbalize
God, I suppose, could be described as
All that's good in the universe,
From all of creation, beauty,
And simple love
The devil? Quite the opposite..
Destruction, fear, despair, hate.
And in this world of duality,
We humans ride the line
Which divides the yin and the yang.
To strive for something means literally
''To suffer for"
And truly we must strive to be
In the light
For the more good you create
The more evil will attack you
Strive, strive, I say to you
Nothing in the universe moves faster
Than darkness
Yet the smallest amount of light
Sends darkness fleeing.
We are in a war.. A spiritual war
And only love can save our souls

I wrote something once
It wasn't a poem, a song, or even free verse.
Somehow chronos gave way to chrios
And I wondered
Can I think about my thoughts
Without using
Any
Of the
Thoughts
That created the original thoughts
It wasn't a poem and I wasn't a writer.
It was..
We were..
Something else.

The moon and I
We once were one
A lady and her man
But time has torn
Us each apart
Left me broken at her hand
And now I feel a stranger here
Lost in a foreign land
But My home away from everything
Is anywhere I stand

Its getting kind of late
And I've had my share of drink
I'd just like to write you
But you need to rest
I feel your tired bones
Baby just sleep
Sleep in the arms of some dream
That I pray for you are sweet
And tomorrow we'll be new again
And once again we'll meet
For the first time
That day

Numb
All I know to stay sane right now
Take another sip
Burn another one
What was it? Xanax?
Doesn't matter
Numb
Unsustainable

Insane
Im wondering if I'm
Going insane again
Vertigo is
Ship no rudder
Haunting hollows
Have no values
They just..

Insane
I'm wondering if I'm
Going insane again

Time passes slowly
But it begins to fade,
As dreams often do
But I knew
Even then
That I was not having a dream

I remember the light yellow shade
Of the cold brick walls, matching
Fittingly to the slowly inward
Sloping cement floor.
Two pads on the right side of the floor.
A small rectangular with bars across it, seven or so feet up from the floor, directly in front of me as I entered the
Room; a cold steer door slamming shut as I turn around seeing the key
Turn the lock, click.
Before I could sit down or contemplate
The situation, dinner, a baogna sandwich with a cup of water was
Served on a white foam plate.

About an hour passes.
I pace back and forth,
Thinking of the trouble I'm in,
Worried about my wife.
Boredom.
I sit on one of the **** pads,
Wishing I was sleepy.
Then,
Things began moving.

It came on like a drug.
Little trickles
Patterns in the wall, becoming
Little communities filled with
Activity and life,
Then death came upon me.

Twisted and depraved
The darkest desperation my soul
Has ever known
I was broken down by terror
My heart shattered and replaced by
An unending black hole

Memories
Where am I?
Are my parents going to get me out of this place? Where am I...?
Looking out my little square window to the world, a reddish tinted plastic
Separated me from the rest of the world.
Distorted faces
Some smiling devilishly
Some ordinary
Some, I began to recognize.

Voices, talking in the room to the left
A football game on TV and people laughing, carrying on..
My dad hates football.
I hear his voice mixed in with the others. Where am I? Is this some kind of privately owned jail? Is this someone's house?

They're talking about me. It sounds like they're friends, but the guy who seems to be in charge sounds like a ****. Looking out the window, I see family and friends looking in on me. Suddenly, I sense they're in danger.

Hurry back to the wall on my right
Ear pressed to the cold wall
The conversation is turning sour
My dad sounds frustrated, the warden
Sounds nervous and annoyed.
He doesn't want to let me go.
Something about power..
Something about quote "swinging his **** around to remind people who's in charge.
A gun shot
Panic
I have to get out of here now
I don't know who's hurt
But it's a fifty percent chance it's my father who was shot
I was desperate to get out
Beating and clawing at the door
Screaming
Crying
This isn't right! What are you people doing to me? This is wrong..
I remember screaming this is wrong.

Looking out the window, I realize my family is trying to free me. They're outside, in some sort of garage area half open to the outside. I try to direct some of them where to go, where to hide. An ar-15 rifle appears in the back window. I need it, maybe I can shoot through the lock, but it's no use.

My ear to the wall
I hear sadism being planned
The warden and his family? Who are these people? The woman says she wants to be the one to **** the blabber mouth, talking about me. Terrified, followed by horror as I hear them planning out the torture and ****** of my family members in front of me before finally killing me.

Trying trying feverishly
To take apart that lock
How did I find this metal?
A zipper?
Doesn't matter is a tool. Some of the lock is actually coming apart. I look out the window and people are trying to help me open it!
And then they were gone,
Replaced by a man staring at me through a rifle scope, grinning ear to ear. Three men appear, holding my dad captive. He's hurt but alive. Suddenly the blonde curly haired greasy redneck nearest him violently
Pulls his hair back and shoves his tounge down my father's throat. I go absolutely insane, striking and kicking the door with all my might, destroying my knuckles, leaving small dents in the door. Two guards bust in and threaten to beat me and restrain me if I don't stop damaging their $5000 door. I thought they were there to **** me. I said nothing. Time passes.

Waves of violent rage
Absolute terror
And the deepest coldest place in the universe. Cold. I am alone. Whatever they gave me had shifted gears. My ear to the wall one last time.
Is that someone drowning?
My father being tortured again
Water boarding. " Just put the bullet to me"
Nothing.
No more sound
No more visions
Only basic human desperation
I begin digging the piece of metal into my arm, holding it up for the camera to see. Cut after cut. Noone ever comes. Bloodied, hurt, and exaughsted, I collapse and pass out.

My eyes open and the room is clean. The lock is repaired and I'm neatly in the corner on a pad. Totally confused, I was reintroduced to the general population. Talking crazy, I believed everything I had hallucinated was real.
The cops keep me for another day, thinking I had a psychotic break
But it just doesn't feel that way. Not in my heart, and surely not in my gut.
I never see the health care professional I was promised.
Please guilty to the judge so I can go home. What difference does it make?
I'm broken. Everything is broken.