We sculpt clay into the things
we cannot force our bodies into
we string the alphabet
into stories we are afraid to live
we paint with colors we cannot see
and we ignore the music
inside the beat of our hearts

as we forget what it means to live
we muse on what was
once beautiful about being alive
and forget our thoughts
as we stare emptily to the sky

and the night swallows the day
and the day murders the night
and prayers become graveyards
for dead gods
and our beds become coffins
for dreams

round and round the clay
of the earth spins
and slips through our fingers
as time is something we waste
and our reflection
is a ghost of once was
and what could be

if we could only remember
who we were before
we became prisoners inside
our own minds and found shame
in the shape of our flesh

before we needed the alphabet
to speak of love
and metaphors to hide behind
and fairy tales to mend our wounds

back when the music
inside the beat of our hearts
was all we needed
to know that we were beautiful

everyone thinks,
but not enough

everyone acts,
but not enough

everyone makes a choice,
but not always the right one

everyone lives,
but not the right way

the key to life is
living

I'm all over the internet,
but you won't see me.

March 16, 2018 / 11:01pm
When someone is
brighter
than the
sun
and
stars,
you don't even
look at the
sky as much
anymore.
Unless,
there's a
sunset,
then you
want to
share the
aesthetically pleasing beauty
with them.
When
you guys enjoy
your
favorite foods
together,
you'll never
want to
eat it
alone
ever again.
When
you're in a
Queen sized bed
holding each other's
bare skinned
bodies
under the
warmest blankets
shared with
body heat and undying love,
when they're
absent,
you'd rather
sleep
on the
hardwood floor
shivering.
When the
sound
of their
laugh
is the
greatest vibration
that travels
through the air,
you'll never
want to
make contact
with another
individual
as long as your
life continues.
When you're
attracted and attached,
you will never
lay eyes
on
anyone
like you do
when you're
appreciating
their
existence.
When
you're so scared
to lose
someone,
you'll show their
mom
a substantial amount
of love,
for being the cause
of you being
so lucky
for having
them in
your life.
When you've
opened up
your past
to that
special human,
and they have
opened their ears
to all your
ashamed
secrets,
mistakes,
and struggles,
you'll never even
think about
having another
friend.
When
they've ripped
your clothes
off your body
and have
witnessed
every
raw feature
of your skin,
you'll never show
your insecurities to
another
set of eyes.
When you split
an
extensive amount
of
compassion,
and practically
tear out
your hearts
full of all the
love
you have to offer,
and
gently
but,
without hesitation,
put it in each other's
bare hands,
it will
forever
be their
treasure to hold.
"I love you"
in the sound
of their
addicting voice
will forever be
what you
hope to hear
every time
they
open their mouth.
No matter what
location
you stand in
or however
long or short
you're apart,
their arms
are where
you'll want to be.
Their
private parts,
which you're the only
VIP member to,
is what you will crave
in your aching bones.
Their deep affection
will be
your drug
and not
endless amounts
of
rehab
will ever help you
stop using.
Every flaw
they admit to having
will be
invisible
to your vision.
Every breath
they take
will be
your reason
to fight through
every obstacle
you stumble upon.
They'll be your
oxygen
and
every beat of your heart.
They'll be your
everything
the other and better
half of you.

A.R

Im back! and front as well!
here I am incarnated in the living flesh!
tapping one fingered at my brand new keyboard.
Writing strings of meaningful associated fine sounding words
with the sole aim of lifting you and you and you out of Mind
and its operating system ,the Multiple Conditioned Identities
that have plagued you all in every lifetime you've ever had so far--and taking you into temporary Union with the Isness of the Universe.
Let me tell you one aspect about how it feels to be incarnated in this body--charging around soft machine--this walking running distinctly stunning ATV.
Seeing the world around me through the organic mini-cams
mounted on either side of the nose that I,the individual Isness,
use to smell through--chikkens a fuming in the oven--sage and onion stuffing is on the table.
Hearing the world through the shell like sound collectors
mounted on either side of the head I am seated in--Amber the sheppie grunting at the thought of bones to come--plates to lick.
I know that we,my companion and I, can take you out of Mind and MCIs--Ive been taking people higher since I first blew Alto Sax at Jimis shoulder in 1967.
I know that we can lift you if we play our horns for you live--
but we are here and you are there--time zones and distances away--
so maybe not today-- who knows what the future will bring.
Last night--(9pm our time in the UK)-we played an absolute blinder --
of Mull of Kintyre--you would have floated free--we walked upside down on the ceiling--we flew in and out and through each others bodies.
We could guarantee that youd float free of Mind..
She played very close to the melody but with twiddly bits
making it sound as if she was composing it as she played it,
as if she were so far away by a lonely lake listening to waterfowl honk and chatter.
When she opens up on her Mike Tobias 4 string Elec Bass
even the Isness of the Universe stops what its doing and listens!!
Through her Fender Frontman the 60 Watts of resonant sounds
become like the sighing of the midnight winds--elegiac and haunting--
like so many Causerina trees swaying in the warm breezes.
Me?.
I blew my brains out,as usual,
on my Selmer Paris Alto Clarinet--
hand made in 1967 in Paris France(as the yanks say)-
fabricated out of African Blackwood--
lugubrious and burbling---keening and bagpipe like.
I played it backwards--sideways--upside down --in and out--from the middle to the edges--and yet?--and yet?.
When we blended we merged!!.
When we separated we talked in tongues.
We became two instruments played by one Isness--
playing for the Isness of the Universe because no one else was there
to hear--to listen.

www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk