Star Seed: The ancient breed

Star Seed: The ancient breed

Nights
Soulful seeds breed
Half-remembered memories
Of distant Eons
Disturbs dreams
Evoking Fantastic Visions of
Superhuman Pantheons
Third Eye awakenings herald
The onset of pineal potency

Of Gods and Goddesses making love
Beneath purple-hued skies
Multiple moons gliding by
Sighing and whispering as
We dance to the beat of ethereal tunes
Echoing The Music of the Spheres

Harmonic runes ring out
Chanted with solemn glee
Galactic progeny burst from the womb
Of Creation Herself while
Giants and Heroes war against
El Eloheem becoming in time
The Fallen Ones
Heir to death disease and
Warfare

The bass contusions of
Dark Matter Reborn
Rumble subsiding grumbling into
The nether regions of
Spatial inconsistency
Dark energys synergy with love
The key to understanding the
Tantric magic of
You and I

Serpent-fueled Kundalini rises
Formulating emotionally liberating
Connections that burst like convection
Upon the surface of Amenta
That which underlies Creation
The Void of Potential formed by
The desires and dreams of
Divinity Incarnate

A Nation of Stars
Fallen into the flesh
Risen from millennial crypts scripted in
Stone and silt headed full-tilt toward
Evolution of the Soul
Bones formed by crystalline veins
Of pure energy become viscous breaking
Free into skin and breath

Life pulsing then streaming in
Oceans of blood and DNA
Vivified by times immeasurable flow
A visceral experience bounded by
Nothingness

And yet
Everything is retained
Contained within The All
Cresting in heightening tides of
Awareness

The Holy Word spoken
Creation Become
Those memories are truly
Slipstreams of Incarnation
Fantastic voyages into the Souls
Declination beyond the Ecliptic
Beyond conceptions of propriety
And Society

Love shared
Beyond boundary

You
Me
He
She
We

Remember
Times beyond mind
Journeys of the sublime
Dream-like states
Wherein Souls in Synch
Approach the brink of
Conscious Awareness

Accompanying one another upon
Adventurous essays into Oblivion
The goal

Transcendence

Knowledge
Awareness
Remembrance

Memory becomes certain knowledge
The constraints of the flesh only
Ephemeral chains
As Eons collapse into
The Now
Awakening Genetic Cellular Databases (GCDs)
Programmed for Perfection
Overriding lifetimes of defection from
Our innate connection to
The Godhead

Chanting voices thrum
Ringing through my dreams
Tribal Nights contrast with scenes of
Technological Ascendancy presented
In multiple frames of fantastic
Visual potency timeless but vivid and
The Mantle of forgetfulness falls
Once again as dawns bright light
Erases the night and I awaken to

A brand
New
Day

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macrocOsmosis

battles fought above and below

all there is to life
is loving slow
and living without sin
from alpha to the end
only then shall we begin to fly
upon eagles wings
astral minstrels cry
while crooning soulful lullabies
to the moon and angels up on high
Ephemeral chariots
cross emerald skies by day
like judas escariot’s sire
was betrayed in every way
by base desire and the denial
of a liar who walked with feet of clay
my soul has grown deep
like a river
langston said
ethiopia cried out
we must give unto the dead
not with a whisper but with a shout
without doubt
ancestral souls fine-tune genetic goals
while double dutch b-girls
skip lifetimes in one trip
commit high crimes tight-lipped
demonic phonics rap like stetsasonic
bombastical fantastical beats freak
like mystikal out on the street

feral crackheads lie
in search of the next high
flying by on bat-wings
drenched by the stench of corruption
lynched by the mention of destruction
lust and pride take a dusty ride
through death valley
and dark urban alleys
a baby’s wail signals travails
wafting upon the night’s breeze like
seeds of death and disease that
freeze the leaves of skeletal trees
stilling breath and
slumber’s ease

on the other side of light
wonder marks the sight of
brighter days and mighty waves
in a towering fury of utter purity
all-encompassing love
accompanies the dove
rising ever above heaven’s gate
tupac told us it was too late
to try to change the hand of fate
no slate is clean of mortal sins
nor are we free of thoughtless friends
the heart senses trends
we can’t begin to hear or see
nor can we pretend that we are free

little things matter most
but like embittered ghosts we
refuse to toast life
the sweet moments without strife
the sight of a child’s
wide-eyed smile
the delight of living without denial
trials and tribulations
face our nations
stationed on the brink of disaster
the master calls and faster we ride
through torturous hell we slide
losing sight of the real so
precious moments we must steal
from alpha to the end

only with ourselves must we contend

aquarius rises

medium to light brown
sable red
blue-black or ivory-toned
vermillion-skinned beauties
slender and fey short-statured and tall
thickness on display
round curves and wispy hips undulating
with the rhythm of nature’s blessings
gazelle-like gracefulness captures this
man’s fancy
ebony raven shades of
brunette and ash blonde
kinky wavy or straight
short and long haired sirens wail seductively
rotund breasts fecund in their bounty
or perky perturbations
taut aureoles with nipple-thrust visible
through sheer cloth
is like broth to a sick man’s soul
high-cheeked wide browed Women
with almond shaped eyes
green blue brown and black
inviting sensual delights
so pleasing to my sight
smooth skin soft and so sensitive to the touch
passion’s heat whispered with the
oooohs and aaaaaaahs
of Love’s breath

all Women are mysterious
with the capacity to make men delirious
beauty so sublime both in body and in mind
the penchant for today’s society to underestimate
the depth of Woman’s wisdom is sinful
the style of a young Girl’s wiles
the elegance of a Woman’s statements
the earthiness of a Mother’s worthiness
the reality of a Sista’s mentality
all i can do is write the truth
these words fall far beyond reproof
witness to the fear that men retain
the distaste they relate to a Woman’s brain

multiple conversations held simultaneously
meaning gained stored and synthesized
new threads broken from original thoughts
returning intact to create a tapestry of interaction
far beyond the ability of most men to grasp

the birth process
holy invocation of Sun Moon and Stars
gentle thrumming of life’s first gasp
within the womb
growing coalescing in mysterious harmony
feeding and molding the Feminine Principle
into mood-shifting paradigms of depression delight and anger
lust/love-filled and ravenous for sustenance
willing to kill or be killed to fulfill her biological imperative

ecstatic multiplications of orgasms
astound the single/double/triple-shoted stud
thrusting ably into soothing wetness and warmth
mind alight with visions of baseball games
and statistical problems
intent upon prolonging the moment while realizing
that his ability to perform is entirely dependent
upon the Woman
beneath/over/beside him
coaxing and cajoling his sperm
calculating his endurance
cooing and cawing her approval or disdain
imperious to his overwhelming need for
success

thrice-born vixens
Goddesses in conception and form
Women hold the key to eternity within them
protected by magical spells and ancient invocations
passed down through centuries of persecution
awaiting the dawning of the New Spiritual Revolution
men sense this truth with trepidation decrying the soulful
desire for completion in favor of the material need for
subordination

Beauty defined lies in the eyes
the Perception of Perfection is subjected to the mind
neither form nor feature creates the spiritual mold
broken after each cast
with infinite variations of ear and nose lips and mouths
breasts thighs and soulful eyes
body types abound
each perfected upon the shining wheel of the Divine Potter
intent upon her art she casts poetic clay far and wide
in her conception of Eternity

through these fields of Beauty i wander
my artists eye capturing the essence of purity and wantoness
evident in glances held too long
appreciative smiles coming on too strong
hips swaying seductively in tune
pronouncing the inevitability of my Sexual Doom
to continuously fall in Lust is an invitation of damnation
a destructive occasion to any relationship’s foundation
a denigration of God’s purpose
a remonstration against lack of focus

the veneration of Woman’s perfection
can be achieved through the acknowledgement
that She is Heaven-sent
meant for man to worship in the form of Divinity
the Holy Trinity of father Mother and child
a representation here on Earth of an eternal principle
that knows no boundaries despite the prognostications
of patriarchial elders long passed to dust and infamy

Aquarius rises in her eyes
the delight of inner sight reveals what is oh so plain to see
that all are worthy of Divinity
that Beauty is the sum of all that’s in me
that i apply to you in lieu of objectivity
i see flames of understanding dawning
on the horizon of man’s rule
as inevitability becomes reality
and true relationships transcend
the structures of meta-narrational fractures
that have divided Humanity for too long
sight unseen we ascend
attendant upon the fruitful Tree
of the Goddess of Perfection and Peace
and though the rotation of Universes never cease
i shall acknowledge Woman’s Beauty
until we are Free

Dark Angel

Lord, bring us light.

Her bright soul
called to him and
in turn his called
to hers.

He felt her
deep.

I’m sorry.

Souls in synch
they soared across
skies soaked with
blood … rent by
broad strokes of
thundering
cumulus cries.

Sympathetic angels
watched and
wept softly their
timeless knowing
heralding the
inevitable.

Is this what was promised?

♥★☯ Dark Angel ♥★☯ - dark angelMalignancy masked as
love seared
their souls
boiled the soil
of a landscape torn
by desolation.

Bright balmy dreams
coaxed them forth
sharing laughter and
love upon
whispered promises of
furtive
future love.

Take this pain from her.

Dark dreams lay beneath
the veneer of light
nightstalkers and ghosts
of pain past never
far from thought
the ides of life beckoning
death lurking
just … there
beyond the pale
of morning light.

Open hearts crying
tears of silver shards
pierced heartache
leaving chasms of sorrow
in their wake.

I couldn’t stop her.

Her heart lay broken
a million times
no words of solace or peace
served.

Poignant cries overpowered
by sirens and concern
leaving him lost
listening to silence
love hanging by a single
thread of desperate
longing.

Nothing I said was enough.

Free will rules the
dark and the light alike
lives torn asunder by
the choice of one
leaving him bereft
contemplating love
and solitude.

A single path
then appeared
twisting into distant
and treacherous heights
the abyss lurking
to each side
promising oblivion
to the unwary.

My love could not hold her.

Step lightly
knowledge beckoning
the path beyond pain and
heartache
the mortal coil left
behind.

He left her with a
single kiss
to cold
pale lips
his eyes turned to the
heavens
his feet drawn by love
into the life
beyond.

I pray that she finds peace.

Technotronic Tableaus

TAKE 0

The near-past-future-present day after yester-morrow. Technotronic tableaus abound; binary worlds and zip-driven dataverses of ever-increasing cyber-connectivity. Positing the thought-processes inherent to such subjective meta-narratives approaches madness. intently stalking perceptual reality upon digiglass-encrusted claws.

What would such a landscape – such as it could be – be like? How would it manifest the cultural discourses of a vibrant and widely-diverse population? How would childhood be defined, in such a venue? These questions lap against the endless nano-shores of wildly chaotic facades, leaving the depths unremarked upon, dark and cold, reflecting the uncalculated vagaries of the human soul.

TAKE 1

technotronic tableaus task the temporal theme, causing confusion and clamorous calamity. planets collide, driven by lust and anger. gods rule the virtual omniverse, wretched humanity unbound in time and space. cybernetic lives, lost in loneliness and digital damnation.

thoughts take on substance in the virtual void. from the vantage point ofamenta, osiris observes odin, steadfast in valhalla, only dimensional portals distant. the valkyries fly, to be met by gargantuan falcons, eyes alight with the divinity of horus’s flames. isis rises as mermaids and sirens capsize europeans while trolls and druids rock to the smooth, mellowy soul of elvis as aretha and lauren look on, weeping, from the apollo and james plummets over the balcony, ‘good god’ screaming from his lips.

the sun also rises; the transmigration of souls on carnival, touring the virtual reality of their choice. vast, wave-like crowds ebb and flow on pleasure planets devoted to the darkest debauchery: the highest goals of humanity corrupted by the foul stench of tainted meat, the flesh underlying the dream.

for even in the dream-state, a certain sense of unreality permeates every thought. every action, ever gesture is laden with double meanings, every engagement, stolen moment of passion ruined by the clammy certainty that nothing is real. the gods cavort, distorted in gluttonous ecstacy and painful tragedy, the soul of steel revealed, enraptured, captured by the flesh, the bones of the world aeons deep and rivers old.

TAKE 2

technotronic tableaus task the temporal theme, causing confusion and clamorous calamity. children weep and sleep, awake to play all day in fields of green and dreams of castles and steam-engines, heroes, cowboys and injuns, dolls, child goddesses creating mental montessoris, minds flying in wonderous amazement, no impossibilities, rules or anomolous homilies to abide by, free to be and do as does please the law, such as it is not. minds unbound sound quite like chaotic flight at night, creating worlds to bat about like so many marbles.

profoundly utter narcissistic tendencies, encouraged from the youngest age, virtual lives lived in the matrix as AI covertly alters the fabric of our dreams, creating reality based upon its remorseless needs.

planets die – cracked to the core – to feed the burdgeoning populace, automation of nations demands plans set for eternity awash upon the shores of peace and tranquility. the body’s deception denied by the inquiring mind, connected, brother to mother to friend to enemy.

TAKE 3

technotronic tableaus task the temporal theme, causing confusion and clamorous calamity. deserted wastelands, continental crust cracked, fissures of fire add soot to the blackened sky. whiteness beacons against the dark, manifesting as walls of ice, kilometers high, continents wide as the sleepers sleep, lives lived elsewhere.

planet after planet after planet. glutinous disaster, ecologicalplundering, consumption and waste at the galactic scale. raw materials continously feed the useless eaters as the universe spirals and destinies merge and dance in conterpoint harmony to the music of the spheres, vibrating beyond light and matter, into the darkness of primeval creation.

these are the dreams of the soul-lost, tossed between despair and gratuitous affairs, a population of vampires, suckling, buckling beneath the blood-bloated belly of the beast. dreams become reality when mindscombine in time and space, technology’s face turned within.

the possibilities are unlimited by the laws of material spaces as egoism unbound explores infinite realms and inner places, the multitude sighs, faces alight, as demogogues realize that GOD, after all, does play dice.

Technician of the New World Order

I am a technician of the new world order. My face is legion. I am soul-lost. My heart beats with the cold, mechanical precision of a computer chip. I am digitized. I see in stereo-vision and hear in surround-sound. Currency is the lubrication for my joints and multi-media driven information overload comprises the detritus of my mind. I have no original thoughts. I am vapid and void of creativity. My life has no redeeming social value or portentous, cosmic meaning. Rather, I am an automaton. A scion of the future. A creature of the new millennium.

I dream of violet and azure seas, capped by frothy, pirouetting waves. The mirrored reflection of midnight skies – awash with the sparkling flames of the great, white, milky way – confound my vision, splashed across the dark formlessness of the watery void. I dream of sands, brilliantly white, and coconut-laden palm trees that rustle gently in the salt-tinged breeze. My dreams mock my reality. My days are spent in endless repetition. The fruit of my labor is redundant. My skills and expertise are negotiable. Daily, I recreate myself as a simulacrum of myself. My true state of being is unknown. Illusion is my reality and reality my dream.

There exist in this world others like me. Our work is endlessly opposed to that of the archetypal Other, the eternal. The dark, muddy formlessness of primal creation drives our hatred, our lust, our fear. We are charged with the implementation of the future by the extrapolation of the present and the obfuscation of the past. Now is my only reality. We toil within small, gray cubicles; teh maze-like cells of a vast, tetragonal matrix. Each engaged in the same task, each working towards the same goal.

Our goal is the total annihilation of independent thought and action. Our way is the way of the future. The way of linear, time-driven progression. Only through technology shall my personality be saved. Only through technology shall I reach the utopia of my own creation. Only through technology shall I behold the face of my God.

Blackness is everywhere that I look. Engulfing me, overwhelming me. Oozing with psychic potentiality, within and without. The ebony shades of darkness – drifting, haunting – of sleep. Of dreamless slumber that threatens to consume the whiteness of my consciousness, of illumination. Only by courting sleeplessness shall I persevere. Only by denying my essential being shall I achieve true knowledge of self. Only by denying my past will I know my future. Only by embracing the material shall I approximate the spiritual. Only by becoming the white will I sublimate the black.

I am a technician of the new world order. My fear approximates totality. Clammy sweat nourishes my body and the viscera-encrusted talons of gibbonous madness tear at the essence of my being. I am afraid of the creature I believe myself to be. I am afraid of the creature my dreams tell me that I am. I am afraid of the creature my dreams tell me that I can be.

Within my mind lurk phantasmagoric vistas of panoramic delight, wonders to engage the senses and engorge the carnal appetite. The pleasures of the flesh beckon me. Tender tragedy. Painful ecstasy proffered with heartless abandon. Tempting, physical delights exemplified by the myriad full, creamy thighs and deep, moist caverns of lust filled by colonnades of primal passion. Open pores, sweat blinded movement pinioned by sighs and the sound of wet flesh slapping, sliding, fingers groping, grasping, caressing, holding.

My need is all that is real. Infinite eyes, receding into whiteness, lust-filled, heavy-lidded, somnolent and hypnotic. They bat provocatively, possessing feather-like lashes stolen from the carcass of a maggot-eaten bird of paradise that tickle me shamelessly. I suckle upon the earth’s nipple, vast and bloated grotesquely with the blood of the unborn, the milk of malignant narcissistic existence. The flesh is everlasting, saturated with satiation and perverted compulsiveness. Nothing outside of myself is real. All else is illusion. Only my need is undeniable.

The world we create by our very existence reinforces the unreality of true being. The paradox is inescapable. For if my life has no meaning, then the meaning of all life is in question. The cell within which my reality is bounded is representative of the collective grid within which we, the technicians of the new world order, lie fallow, awaiting the fertilization of a spiritual seed. The futility of independent or creative thought follows naturally from this original conception.

My life is without intrinsic purpose or ultimate goal. Therefore, identifying exterior purpose has become my goal. With that realization, my purpose is clear. To obscure the purposefulness of life from those who would seek and embrace it. To reinforce the reality of my perceived surroundings in empathetic resonation with the beat of my own soul-lost heart.

I am a technician of the new world order. My mask is that of a clone. My soul is unknown. My heart beats to the vibration of the world’s soul, for it knows no beat of its own. I see the world through dark and accusing eyes because my own are colorless as bone. The dreams and aspirations of the Other are the lubrication for my joints and their lives, the stimulation of my mind. I have no being other than that created to nourish my inner purposelessness. Rather, the light of my whiteness is sustained by blackness. I am a technician of the new world order.

She Equals I

She equals I
like the Earth
equals Sky
eternally distant
yet joined as One
the light of the Moon
reflective of the
Sun.

Co-created
yet twinned
Obligated to sin
Experience deepens
the Truth
that my heart belongs
to you.

Wakening to the Dawn
Celestial spring
Life is drawn
bursting free of all
Constraint
Angels sing to the
Saints.

Open hearts
open souls
from the start
love has been the
goal
restless energy to
bound from the Heavens
to resound.

Peace and joy
are promised to all
who heed the call
as souls evolve
beyond the mundane
lives of pain
beyond the stain of
Earthly gain.

She joins me
in skies so free
of human frailty
to see the infinite joy
of probability
the blessing of
stability.

We cross seas of
possibility
we dream dreams
of our
shared destiny
aloft upon a heavenly
breeze.

Our souls tickled
by the branches
of the
soul’s tree
joined as One
we are freed of
desire and
need.

She equals I
as a tear is
to a sigh
open hearts
open souls
open eyes

Love’s the goal.