The Beloved lies fallow beneath
her Lover’s touch

Distracted by detritus his mind

Elsewhere enamored
of pain and suffering, torn by two Loves

One of Eternity
the other of the Daily Grind.


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.


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.

Star Seed: The ancient breed

Star Seed: The ancient breed

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

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

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

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


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



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


Given god’s dependence upon the turn of the moon,
the cast of stars set too soon:
as true to Truth as any tale can be,
fate and fortune eased in upon the wind, transcended sin,
sending thrumming chords drumming across astral coasts.
Judges coalesce; shimmering ghosts progress into Being,
gathering in the Between
scenes from a life’s full stream…
we Sankofa birds fly free of human need.

Omni-dimensional dreams bless unreflective lives,
counter all guesses and unruly messes
with Truth,
reproof at wasted opportunities and willful
delusion, the fusion of broken illusions
crumble Soul’s pride;
afraid of goals set beyond the highest heights.
Ego slides by on red tides bearing ravenous death
breath, by poisonous breath.

Blessed moments crest in orchestral harmony,
timpani’s boom, life’s promise of doom
by joyous occasion,
the harmonic accompaniment of heaven-sent Souls
present fated journeys past all impossible goals.
Dark mountains, treeless plains and dusty city streets
mark space, reveal traces of karmic debt
just in time to collect the bet regarding the outcome of
the Revolution,
the Final Solution
and, or, as the case may be,
the Alpha and Omega Resolution.

The stakes of pre-life agreements
countered by imps and demons well aware of the plan,
willing ever and always to lend helping hands
to a stumbling, bumbling and weak-minded man
held aloft by Souls mate in Salvation;
timely arrival, mutual survival, a synchronistic revival
against the night, benighted frights and unholy delights;
the Divine resolution, the sublime and humble solution
of countless lifetimes
together, forever

Heart screams.
Tormented, torturous trials and tribulations,
the Stations of the Cross bear stark witness
to the relief of godly bliss promised in the afterlife;
after all this pain and strife there better damn well be a prize.
Souls realize that in god’s eyes the willful sty is life-spans wide and
dimensions in height,
all the while Omniscient sighs preside over terrific times,
soothing silence within precedes the arrival of the Divine.
Pentecostal Spirits sing songs awakening god within,
the twin to ego’s excess, the Omnipotent eternal,
the diurnal wanderer bears witness against
weighing deeds and intentions,
life’s companion bows down to
the beautiful and wondrous crown of Omnipresent renown.

Tones resounding joy pierce
hearts, rending agony
as Soul diffuses in subatomic resolution
regarding the metronomic dilution of a lifetime’s pride
cosmically-encoded and rendered obsolete.
Life-mode ends, Spirit sends for us
without fail,
true tales end with nothing resolved;
no agreement or dispute of content need become
Each Soul’s path to Light,
our personal and spirit-centered Calls
and Passions mask the similarity of task.
And yet, the shared sense of destiny and Becoming became and
all our stories are, were and will always be,
the same.


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

Reflecting on Forever’s Momentum

Reflecting on Forever’s Momentum …

… driving time blindly into the future
reveals mimes as tarot-reading
diviners of mind and soul,
any street-corner rendition
the deepest morality tale of perdition
in mortal form,
a fool clowning for the crowd
the gods appeased by
inner cries screamed out loud
by broken minds and spoken souls,
living moment to moment
with hidden intentions and secret goals.

No one knows Self like ego
whose dedication to the
“Here we go again” syndrome
is infamous and intimate both,
speak low and don’t gather a crowd
too close, don’t boast, don’t roast a fool
and don’t toast to those who broke
the rules to reach the heights they sought;
dance with the one that brung you
and don’t smoke the drugs they brought,
fight the wars they fought
or love the way they’ve taught.

In other words, let time do that thing
that lets you soar on broken wings
filled with the light of inner sight
that tells you who you are and what
you want, despite the taunts of others
that haunt your dreams, still your aspirations
and dull your motivation to reach
that higher station,
that goal that you and only you can see,
that you and only you
can be …

… fly free at a moment’s whim
life’s not so grim.

Steal a second of pleasure’s time
to find that place and space
of the Divine.

Remind yourself of beauty whenever you can,
try to stand away from your life every day –
look away to seek within to find what lies
beneath the skin and connects you to
what is beyond sin, what is true
and lies beyond every clue
left by gods and men.

Pretend … that this moment,
right here right now, is

the End.

That time stops …

… flip flops and twists space

into another place beyond the

limited confines of your mind

and spirit soars …

… time’s grasp lessens and brilliance ensues,
peace enfolds perception and deception ceases,
motivations become clear and utter truth unleashes
the soul from experience and life no longer flies by

… life …

… simplifies.