These Spiritual Flows

I got these Flows, you know?
These beats inside that unseat deeply held beliefs. They cycle around in my mind, finding a space beyond time to query the metanarrational ideals representative of close encounters of the spiritual kind. So I conduct these drills, you know, diving deep into still waters to find the current rushing below. Again, I got that flow, you know?
But how best to express it in a way that doesn’t dress it in pretentious bullshit that shuts down understanding, that feels like someone prancing in ideological fields, flowering philosophies divorced from iconographies of force, pounding people into coarse miasmas of etheric plasma, divorced from the real, the material ordeal that binds hearts and minds in time and space, to a place of essential grace? But that might be way too abstract. Not enough facts, revealing a lack of grounding in the necessity of communicating with tact.
Words stack. One upon the next, phrases coalescing in stages building meaning, streaming intention through gleaming shards of light, information blasting edifices built upon blight, the detritus of institutions not quite visible as such, appearing instead as solutions to problems long sought, build here, not there, upon this rock. I’ve got the flow. I know.
More bullshit. More words, designed to placate the herd. To create hypnotic illusions of complacency, in lieu of a fundamental alignment to conceptions of decency. Perception creates more opportunity for deception. Misalignment with truth, logically bound arguments that demand external proof when the real answer is under your own roof. That’s a metaphor, for your head. Where your attention should be, instead of out among the walking dead, shambling zombies sporting Abercrombie and Fitch, complacent in their privilege, thinking their life plan is coming off without a hitch.
Ain’t that a bitch. Ask a witch, or Wiccan, to be politically correct, if language use is more important than context? If understanding is gained by using words laced with pain? Does it hit deeper? Does it find the flow? Awaken the sleeper from the dream, elicit anger and indignant steam? Are some conversations best held in the highest tones, strident accusations embracing convictions held to the bone? Call and response rhythms bracing emotional blows that shake bodies to the core, while the demands of belief ask for more and still more? What, still, is in store?
What is coming next? Can you see it? Feel it? Like a storm gathering on the horizon, rent by lightning and thunder, still faint in the distance as the sharks and squid plunder the depths of our collective despair. You can smell the ozone in the air. Feel the electricity tingling in your hair as it stands on end. That’s the thing. You can’t pretend. Angels with broken wings still feel the sting of God’s abandonment. The loss of that Flow.
That timeless coursing of love that comes from both above and below. That sense of being a part of something integral and eternal, infinite and both maternal and paternal. The yin-yang dichotomy of opposition where polarities unite and you realize that the fight itself is the illusion, the contusions mere bruises to ego and unfounded fear.
Silence is birthed in the place of an ever-present wall of sound and fury. The storm arrives with lurid intensity and raindrops begin to fall, tasting of sorrowful waste, tracing paths of contentment down my face. My heartbeat stretches into eternity, spiking reverberations looming imponderable and tall. From those dizzying heights, I then fall. Beyond all calls to internalize the need for redemption and false guilt. Pretention fails. Internal dissension is quelled. And I sail, outwards into skies of light, and into the Flow.
You know?
You know?
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Karmic Tender

Waste not the day,
the Way pays it forward,
karmic tender proffered
demoralized prophets buffered
by angelic hordes,
deplorable desecrations of nations
the evolution of civilization.

The Tao initiates bows
by the uninitated to those they deem
supreme,
genuflecting subjecting the Enlightened
to the worship of the unredeemed.

Seize moments in time,
life can never rewind,
reminding us of past moments sublime
sepia-toned remembrances
of street lights and picket fences,
innocent youth spent in unconscious exploration,
the commemoration of moments
the payoff of karmic debt foments.

Living in the Now frees
tortured souls to be despite the limitations
of their stations,
the documentation of genetic relations
the endless recycling of
instantaneous creation.

Time continues its remorseless dance
the days whirl, twirl, dip then prance
across the stage of spatial manifestation,
our honored relations observing
from beyond
as the Angels chime in with
heavenly song.

Distant Rumblings

Distant rumbling beckons awareness
solar storms awaken the earth.

Gaia’s skin shifts, tectonic forces remorseless
absorbing the love of Sol, fierce and true.

Electromagnetic emanations bath the world,
emotional currents flow through.

Terran humanity oblivious to the ramifications
as the planet below does sing.

Her heart and soul scintillating brightly
her dance so pure and filled with grace.

Civilizations fall as the world heats quickly
Oceanic consciousness prepared for change.

The Multiverse’s Tool

 

What is it within you that pulls, ever pulls, inexorably guiding toward some inscrutable outcome, that sets heart afire, steers life among paths, branching infinitely yet brilliantly lit by one, shining destination? Who lit the fire that inspires, releasing aspirations of potentiality unbound branching heavenwards, lightning-tongued whips of flame questing high like birds, the byproduct of alpha-wave conditioning, on the verge of total neural-network de-partitioning, synthetic holism realized, third eye, shining bright.  

It seems obscene to dream of such things. Opposition in full disarray, the battle stalls on multidimensional fronts, legions of angels and demons pray while humans slay each other like cattle, the wars between the gods providing context and the stall for us all. Dreaming wanderers ponder the mystery of the ages but the bills need to be paid, the children’s way lightened, examples provided in a changing world of ceaseless instability, as destiny unfurls and the nobility of soul shine amidst the bones of humanity’s savagery. The ability of human kindness to outweigh the depredations of the day lies in heart resonation, peace and prosperity the evidence of an enlightened nation coming into it own fruition.

As Gaia herself groans beneath our weight, consumption ever on the plate, gluttony and greed are the seeds of utter destruction sown, grown to monstrous size, behemoths stalk the earth rending nations beneath their talons, stations of sanity flourish as humanity’s vanity salts the soil while the waters and the air boil. Ruminations continuously coursing, flourishing discourses of force, grumbling uprisings of seismic proportions rumble forth, then … rebirth.

The start of a new day. The deepest contemplative forces reveal the void.On the cusp of despair and joy death is deployed, scythe fixed in place, his thousand-yard-stare a glare of utter disdain, the harbinger of pain, darkness and light combined. Dark night of the Soul, fetal ruminations untold rise to the surface unfold as dreams and nightmares, personality patterning, spatterings of psychic detritus fly by us.

The bias of many heart-centered the horn of plenty resounds across clouds of bounty, shining stars of destiny’s unfoldment beam down. Frowns turn to smiles, night to day the interplay of chaos and order displayed as leviathan’s rage desolates the stage. 

Is there a better way? As many as the stars scattered afar, guiding forces of impenetrable inscrutability, infinite creations, universes, the mind of God beheld. The angels fell to hell to be like us, collectivities of consciousness, progressively higher dimensional equations of zero-point oblation.

How do you share this with others? What is this, burning down deep in the soul desire, no fire of questing intensity, this imperative to seek, to know, to throw fortune and future to the wind on a whim, the fool.

The Multiverse’s tool.

Forever young in spirit and soul, boldly facing demonic stations of the cross, tossed by fate and whimsy upon the wind as the world batters about and shouts of elation and fear portend the End.

Then the Beginning.

Infinite, eternal, spinning vortices of intentionality burble quantum fluctuations of potentiality into existence, pulling, insistent. Hypnotic spirals gone viral, the centers yawning down and up into the iris of God’s eye, paradox implied, truth undeniably pliant and presented to the societally-determined demented. The Awakened, those tasked upon levels of knowledge and understanding slaked. Coursing with a tide unquenched, forcing minds wide with wonder, the plunder of the Akashic realized.Third eye, shining bright. 

Song_of_Shambhala-

Conceptions of Self

Difficult days typify the ways
Of the soul
It is said the strongest spirits
Experience the greatest trials
Tribulations through time
The woes of Job
The death throes of conceptions of Self.

Troubles arise and fall
Arising from someplace beyond us all
A wall of sorts seems to exist
Separating our perception
By means of deception from some
Deeper font of Wisdom and Truth
The proof we ever seem to seek
Indicative of the futile ruminations of
The weak.

Seeking existence of the Divine
Ignoring the times in our lives
When strife has risen like a tide
Engulfing our entire conception of Self
And purpose
Conveniently forgetting our soul-felt
Prayers soon after
Returning to blissful ignorance
Pride and hubris the restored face
Despite the willfully ignored response
Of the Master.

Coincidence, we proclaim
As we continue the game of denial
Projecting ego through space
Blindly unaware of the blessings
That took us there
To that place of self-destruction
Of reticent self-deconstruction
The seduction of personality
Soothing fears
Whispering lies
In terrified ears.

There is a Way to Find Love

There is a way, to find, Love.

There is a way to find Love.

We face the demons in the night
We scream out loud then run in fright
Til we find the loving place
Illuminate and shine our light!

There is a way to find Love.

There’s nothing in between us
but the walls we put in place
We live our lives in search of dreams
and find ourselves in outer space.

There is a way to find Love.

There is a way to find Love.

Mystical magical wonderful beautiful we are full of light and love we’re bright our second sight shinin through dimensions pretensions of soul as psychos like pyros light fires of tires and buildings come crashing down they clown we don’t care we are flying higher and higher the fire burning planets like manic depressives we dip and dive flowin thru life livin like Ballas we follow synchronicity our paths shinin electricity climbin levels and levels ascension burnin skin yearnin we brighten and heighten third eye risin we out in space yeh the place of our birth this earth no hidin place we gone we out no doubt it’s on …

There is a way to find Love.
We face the demons in the night
We scream out loud then run in fright
Til we find the loving place
Illuminate and shine our light!

There is a way to find Love.

There’s nothing in between us
but the walls we put in place
We live our lives in search of dreams
and find ourselves in outer space.

There is a way to find Love.

There is a way to find Love.

There is a way to find Love.

There is a way to find Love.

There is a way, to find, Love.

Pure Beingness

Lush dreams of verdant swaths of forested mysticism,
brilliant orbs of misty light waft upon breezes of starry night,
the darkness cloaks distance, a soft embrace soothing skin
burnt by the Sun, melanated bronzen against the black ether,
camoflauged against sight, embraced by the night …

Eyes dart upwards and then down, the soft carpet of cool grass
confiding in skin shimmering under the soft moonlight, steps
slow and purposeful as the forest sings, the chorus of natural
sounds uninterrupted by conscious thought crickets saw
cacaphonic songs in perfect harmony while the lightning bugs
dance, patterning intricate geometrical shapes in the soft air,
the breeze carrying intimations of water, faintly luscious,
caressing nostrils warm with life’s breath …

Heart beating in tune with Gaia, breath taken, released, a cloud
of love billowing forth, embracing Being, encapsulating consciousness,
melding with the respirations of the forest, Oneness manifest …

A burst of movement, black life fractally dispersing as bats take
flight, high notes of exhiliration greeting the night, leathered wings
flapping, their voices exciting movement as insects flee, life’s promise
broken in the instance of their consumption, the gift of sustenance
promised before Being became, the neverending tale of ebb and flow,
beginning and ending, life and death …

Where then does belonging cast an anchor of desire, within the web of existence all creatures find space to live, firing time through sublime presence divine, casting will and intent into the void without promise, without pact, each moment a completed dare, a leap into the unknown, bold existence the challenge taken up, transcendent evolution the goal.