Canocanayestatetlo

Here comes, the rain.

Karst topographies part waters that flow through carboniferous daughters who long ago wooed husbands of flame, seeking the same seed that life breeds, the marriage of oppositions portending the same, hydrostatically charged masses of liquid immerse metamorphic birthings of outcroppings that drip stalactites across speleothemic forests the ancient lore confirmed by astronomical dates confirming the highest of fates. 

Bursting, rising, spiraling through flowering branchings of rock, limestone passages stocked with vibrant life, the building blocks of creation present abounding formations crowning haloed by whirling clouds of light, brightly speckled orbs of reflected sight cycling endlessly with the darkness of silent night.

River wild, joyous fountain of spirit burst free unconfined, refined through storied histories bubbling, frothing sprays of jubilant song quantum strong entangled quasars and quarks approach the fork in the road and carry their load both ways, subtly ethereal rays permeate the harmonious abode, God strode through brilliant hallways of light, benighted humanity a brooding thought, encompassing the totality of all that the multiverse taught.

Cascading bubbles of foam, the gloaming beckons souls home, crystalline clarity entwined molecules colliding polarity uniting, spiraling exciting bursts of freedom in light, sinuous might of a river enshrined by God’s sight chosen, sacred waters whirl, swirl with the intent of creation, water spirits demand oblations, claiming divine right decrying humanity’s plight.

Who is awakened, tonight? The river calls, her ponderous flow so slow, while banks grow, supplicants row over ancestors below, while crows scream recriminations regarding dreams of murdered nations, of college stations perched precariously atop remnants of a sacred sea through which ancient batholiths emerged, withstanding the surge of time sublime records of endless creation entombed in bone.

The earth mother grumbles, her irresistible urge to purge, turn inside out no doubts rising to compete her need to witness her seeds grown to fruition an intuition of alchemical fission, the perdition of human-centric conceptions of progress and growth, civilization and technology, hubris betrothed to rubrics of paradigmatic constriction masked as truth, the proffered proof prideful and aloof, ponderously remorseless revolutions of soul.

Sacred spirits of lyirical wonder, soaring above still waters the thunder of time refined through space, the falls of grace fill the lagoon of hope with all the tropes of spirit, aspirations and desires, afire with the burning need to be, of creation freed, eternal spirals gone viral in the cauldron of human greed and belief. 

Placid, her grace. Stately, her pace across space, chuckling to herself sublimie mysteries of life, her depthless void a sanctuary beyond strife, beyond pain. 

Here comes, the rain.

 Photo: Canocanayestatetlo NaPoWriMo 2/30 2014

Here comes, the rain.

Karst topographies part waters that flow through carboniferous daughters who long ago wooed husbands of flame, seeking the same seed that life breeds, the marriage of oppositions portending the same, hydrostatically charged masses of liquid immerse metamorphic birthings of outcroppings that drip stalactites across speleothemic forests the ancient lore confirmed by astronomical dates confirming the highest of fates. 

Bursting, rising, spiraling through flowering branchings of rock, limestone passages stocked with vibrant life, the building blocks of creation present abounding formations crowning haloed by whirling clouds of light, brightly speckled orbs of reflected sight cycling endlessly with the darkness of silent night.

River wild, joyous fountain of spirit burst free unconfined, refined through storied histories bubbling, frothing sprays of jubilant song quantum strong entangled quasars and quarks approach the fork in the road and carry their load both ways, subtly ethereal rays permeate the harmonious abode, God strode through brilliant hallways of light, benighted humanity a brooding thought, encompassing the totality of all that the multiverse taught.

Cascading bubbles of foam, the gloaming beckons souls home, crystalline clarity  entwined molecules colliding polarity uniting, spiraling exciting bursts of freedom in light, sinuous might of a river enshrined by God's sight chosen, sacred waters whirl, swirl with the intent of creation, water spirits demand oblations, claiming divine right decrying humanity's plight.

Who is awakened, tonight? The river calls, her ponderous flow so slow, while banks grow, supplicants row over ancestors below, while crows scream recriminations regarding dreams of murdered nations, of college stations perched precariously atop remnants of a sacred sea through which ancient batholiths emerged, withstanding the surge of time sublime records of endless creation entombed in bone.

The earth mother grumbles, her irresistible urge to purge, turn inside out no doubts rising to compete her need to witness her seeds grown to fruition an intuition of alchemical fission, the perdition of human-centric conceptions of progress and growth, civilization and technology, hubris betrothed to rubrics of paradigmatic constriction masked as truth, the proffered proof prideful and aloof, ponderously remorseless revolutions of soul.

 Sacred spirits of lyirical wonder, soaring above still waters the thunder of time refined through space, the falls of grace fill the lagoon of hope with all the tropes of spirit, aspirations and desires, afire with the burning need to be, of creation freed, eternal spirals gone viral in the cauldron of human greed and belief. 

Placid, her grace. Stately, her pace across space, chuckling to herself sublimie mysteries of life, her depthless void a sanctuary beyond strife, beyond pain. 

Here comes, the rain.

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.

The Perfection of Peace

The perfection of the process of living is so sublime we’re constantly in danger of underestimating its nature. We go through our trials the best we can and put off our analysis till later. But that time never comes, because we’re beset by everything under the sun and our minds are constantly in play regretting the past and ignoring the day. If we’re not thinking about then, we’re thinking about tomorrow, if we don’t embrace Zen, we choose to embrace sorrow. The Buddha said that suffering is guaranteed when desire becomes need and the scions of sin are freed to wreak havoc indeed. We’re not even clear enough to plead with ourselves, to delve beneath the momentary thoughts, to seek the Truth beneath the things that we’ve sought. And continue to seek, thus the course of our lives becomes more and more bleak. We continue to turn the other cheek tweaking aspects of self till our egos then swell and the illusion becomes complete. Jesus was in tune with Eastern runes, his words of wisdom were hewn from the edifice attuned to the ultimate Divinity. He was one expression of the spiritual Trinity encompassing the expanse of the All presented to sinners in thrall to what in effect amounts to the rejection of Sects, the various Cults that misappropriate vital energy creating synergy that siphons the Soul that diverts our true goals that energetically feeds Monsters and Vampires and Ghosts, doses of Christmas’s future, the remedy a spiritual suture that closes the wound bringing emotions in tune silencing minds that won’t still allowing space for good will. It all comes down to taking the time to silence the mind. That’s it in a nutshell, the Bells of Clarity can only ring if we can hear them. The Heavenly Chorus can only sing if we listen. Glistening Pearls of Wisdom glint in the gloaming, bubbling like froth foaming and bursting on the shores of the sea, each droplet a Worldling, each atom within hurdling through infinite voids, each potentiality employed in the manifestation of the All. Sadly to say, we make the choice to stall. We make the choice to fall. And that is all as it should be. Becoming more aware of the moment we notice the magic, we notice the tragic often leads to more blessings, the depressing and distressing expressing our progression. Mind becomes clear as compression becomes dear as mental control leads to peace recognizable as cheer. It’s not, really, it’s no state of Being it is being in between when your slate’s become clear. Peace becomes the norm and you no longer react to every storm, you realize thunder and lightning are good now that the storm within is understood. And, eventually, you begin to notice the moments again. Like we did when we were kids. The beauty of breath. The good will that kindness foments. The inevitability of death. The Perfection of Peace and the onset of emotional and spiritual surcease. This is the goal that was ours from the start. We paid the heavy price of life so that wisdom might impart itself unto us in the meantime. This is the whole reason we left the Divine. Not so sublime, once you remember what to do. The question then becomes, can you?

The Zombies Beehive

I can’t tell the difference sometimes between a nightmare and the things I see. Things like reality TV for instance, dramas instantly created for Prime Time, prana dissipated in anger and hate, the state of the common mentality a brutality of directed fate. Courses chosen along the trajectory of pain, the stains of lame choices coloring future’s stilled voices. There’s nothing that’s sacred anymore, acres of desolate landscapes, the paucity of true amour. It’s all for the ratings and the dollars, home-girls in Atlanta hollering while housewives of Beverly Hills style the most recent outfits from Rodeo Drive, it’s a Zombie’s Beehive, the drones zoning out while the sky’s falling beyond a doubt, the Queens bloviate and bombast as their subjects deviate from the true path.

Everything is relative, nothing is absolute, good is expressed in shades of grey while everyone jumps without parachutes, the ground far below, safety a myth, giving their all for the show, then afterwards pleading the fifth. Wasn’t me becomes the refrain, I wasn’t there, what are y’all staring at, whassup, you got beef? The inevitable gasps of disbelief, the thieves of souls grasping ignorance’s scrolls, the goal seeming to be the whole nine yards of success, as defined by the quote unquote best, those who’ve passed the mandatory psychopathic test.

Don’t get kicked off the island, lie and scheme to by, the hardest heart gets the fastest start, gets the best parts, gets the highest scores on the charts. Don’t be the biggest loser, the Bachelor is the best chooser, doesn’t matter the marriages don’t last and the weight comes back fast. Class is so past generations, the veneration of knowledge not even for those who go to college and wisdom? That’s for old folks and those New Age freaks, steeped in weirdo lore and bleak outlooks of doom and gloom. The lies that they tell on TV are all people really need, because everybody lives in fantasy worlds anyway, their stays a choice, the myriad ways to escape reality the voice of disengagement, a rejoicing in perceptive banality and cultural minutia.

Voting in absentia the masses speak, the peak of consciousness raised, but minus the will to seek higher and even further afield, to spark their own inner fire, daring the void until their souls are truly healed. The Queen Bee revealed, the last honeycombs of wisdom unsealed. Perhaps it’s really going to take a total end to this world, to finally see the ripples of Divinity’s flag unfurled. An Armageddon event, a Zombie Apocalypse of pent-up need spent in an orgiastic conflagration of energy, an adiabatic catalytic of pyroclastics, fiery and chthonic, Iku’s fell tonic a breath ectoplastic. More simply imparted, hell on Earth, hell, it’s already started. Just check out the TV and take what is seen to heart.

The Circumvention of Fate

Desperation is in the air. Can you feel it?

It’s in that thousand yard stare you see sometimes, walking down the streets, gaze fixated mostly upon your own feet but looking up sometime, catching a glimpse of gazes, phases of mental gone medieval, often wild and feral, telescopic scopes above a cocked gun barrel, burning above tightened and frozen lips.

A sublime trip into the mind of the divine. You can see it in the eyes of many lost and bewildered members of the human tribe, hearts tendered upon alters of greed, frozen screaming, lost in the tribulations of their own half-unconscious but transcendent need. Almost everybody you pass is ass out, minds elsewhere, worrying about cash, about the job, about making ends meet. It’s that mad dash into the future we’re on, trying to appear strong while inside we’re quaking and outside we’re shaking, more or less, tested to the extreme, worry and regret struggling in the middle of life’s turbulent stream.

Time seems to be passing way too quickly, it’s sickly. Choices being made that we regret almost instantly, surrounded by temptation we forgo the mandatory oblations, giving in way too freely, it’s a mess. Really, it’s a damn shame, tested, like Cain, caught slaying brother Abel we swang, private parts in the wind, buffeted about by our own sins, looking around for someplace to hide, but we can’t pretend, there’s no solace from the wrath of God’s eyes, in the end.

But, we try. Finding those hidden corners in our minds, caught out, we gesticulate wildly, babbling like some kind of hideous street mime. Lies attempt to win the day as we play the game of life, causing strife, as if this is the only way to be, as if this is the only way to see through the illusions, trying not to fall, catching yet another contusion on the brain, half-lame we stumble through the mist of half-forgotten crimes, committed to do the time of life on earth, forgetting that we’re really here to experience a rebirth, of spirit, of soul, the goal almost beyond grasp, the sacred asp of the ancients the last gasp of mortality slipping from lips agape, awed by the utter immensity of Creation’s fell maw. A truly unenviable state.

And, by the way, maw means jaws for the uninitiated, open wide, our hearts pounding inside, words not accompanying intentions, our misguided actions necessitating the Circumvention of Fate, the intervention of a higher state of being, seeing beyond the mundane, the limited visual capacity of the temporarily insane. How inane is that? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, all the while pretending to be an adult.

And so it goes. And so we grow, deep in the throes of potentiality, creating reality with every breath, evolving as spirits of light with every test, committed until death.

That desperation that you see? It’s really a call to action for you and me. We are indeed our brothers and sisters keepers, street-wise sweepers of the detritus of life, we clean up our acts to move higher. Going through the dark night of the soul, hearts catching afire, becoming the phoenix of the dark morning’s dawn, harbingers of spiritual desire, becoming the angel that lost souls count on. Exemplifying the higher aspects of consciousness, forgoing the prideful excesses of pompousness. Yes, that’s the answer to it all.

The answer to our fateful and often inevitable fall.

Choose differently. Live gently, being kind to yourself. Release the pain and gain the clarity of peace, find your center and witness the turbulence and drama cease.

It is indeed possible. A choice to be made like any other, the choice to overcome any obstacle, to find the solution in the soluble, that which dissipates in nature’s flow, synchronicitous instances of life’s journey that cause us all to grow.

So there you go.

Choose wisely, and slow your roll.

Synergetic Woes

Agreements made beyond time

Awaken memories replayed beyond mind

Over and over,

Spiraling into forever, moreover

The Times demand a sign,

synchronicitous seekers of the Divine

communicate telepathically in rhyme,

melding minds, coalescing galactically

beyond the limitations of squares and trines,

planetary alignments fracturing spirits lost to incarnation,

oblations to Ancestors, gods and goddesses,

communion with Christ at each station of the Cross,

too many souls remain lost

yet some seek to be found,

grounding into Gaia, eyes wide and heavenly-turned,

the body an urn, a template of creation,

burned, ashes scattered to the winds,

seeking eternal friends of incarnation’s blessing,

blending sins, of God’s infinite testing.

Relativity

It’s a commonly accepted Truism in these the Last and most Fateful Days
that all Truths are Relative that nothing is Real except for what we
feel and think about the things we do and say this way is that of the
World of the Purveyors of Lust Unfurled of those who hate life enjoy
strife and the fight against all that is right who delight in the sight
of our pain their feverish games are played to win who is the Judge
those who possess the most sin or those whose ethical boundaries are
tossed upon the wind the Soulful Journey of Truth begins all Spirits
must rise and realize that tomorrow is unclear the Now is all that we
fear living in the Past the Future’s promise a deadly dream of steadily
eroding standards of life and increasingly prevalent panic and strife

I’ll break it down even further for those who don’t know casting stones
deals a fatal blow to any claim upon the Truth I know this having lived
most basic lesson a mundane blessing upon those with eyes to see and
ears to hear and the sense to keep those who truly love them near if
the cause is right then the fight is light released upon the darkness
of Death’s fell blight the plan is was and always will be to Conquer
and Divide I said to Conquer and Divide hide the Truth by sliding lies
and subtle misinterpretations within the Cipher of those who would be
Friends when spiritual power is witnessed by droves of eyes alight with
jealous hatred and subtle crimes of a zealous nature they dislike
the sight of Elevating Consciousness and do all within their power
including glowering upon flowering Souls shining with the Sublime
Divine I’d be remiss if I didn’t diss the spreaders of gossip and
untruths in the attempt to raise themselves but its Human Nature and
the lowest of emotions to brew that heady potion prepared for crabs in
a barrel clambering slandering and devouring one another when instead

it should be said that Elevation is the Key but those involved can’t
see that this is the Final Cause the belief that will set us free to
loose the chains upon our souls and cast our Truths to the furthest
shoals the pain and desperation within will wither and die without a
cry if we allow Relativity to rule the day it is not true what it
is they say those Philosophers Scientists and even the Novices that
play at social and political engineering they be steering visions
of equal pay in the Karmic Debt of cobwebs unswept in corners of
subconscious yearnings and desires that arise from the fire of
decisions made in the moment of passions awakening but all share the
burden of emotional hurdles no one being above the next the test
applied to us all we fall further into the Deep whilst awake and during
sleep our dreams disturbed by heavenly verbs and nouns that astound
wearing Ethereal Crowns like unto Ceremonial Mounds that gird our words
the fight is Now and here in the Real World or in Virtual Space we must
be True and realize our place beyond these games that people play the
Poet’s fate is to awaken the Day of Comprehension’s Dawning to know
that Truth is Eternal and all-encompassing that Nothing Is Relative

All is Real and you are responsible indeed for those sinful seeds that
you thought you’d left behind sown instead of blown by the Dead into
Headz without Dreadz but they will come back to haunt you and taunt
you with unrealized ambitions concerning the replacement of God with
worldly Perdition the defacement of Love in the placement of boundaries
meant to keep Souls from singing in syncopated harmony but all this too
shall pass as the last gasp of the Damned heralds Time’s forecast and
the Judgment of Relativity’s Reign will depend upon the pain suffering
and heartache caused to those True Souls who kept themselves pure and
immune to the lure of Babylon’s fatal call it’s difficult y’all to
write these words knowing that my fate may lie far from these shores
I implore those of Faith not to judge in broad swathes but to realize

that in time all of these things shall be known whether on the Day of
Death or the witnessing of God’s Breath total Translation from the
Physical Station in Contemplation of the Creation of a Poetic Nation
Equals the End of Relativity and the Birth of a New Earth on this Day I
Pray Amen-Ra.

Take that. And the beat goes on….and on…and on…on…on.