How to speak–


If you do not know something, you must speak with something to come to know it– If you do not know god, you must speak to god to come to know it– If you speak to god and you do not come to know god, then you must learn how to speak– If you do not know how to speak, you must learn how to listen– If you learn how to listen, you will come to know how to speak– If you speak and others do not listen, then you have not learned how to speak– If you think speaking is one thing, and listening is another; then you have not yet heard yourself– If you think that listening is not speaking, you have not yet spoken– If you think silence over noise, is preferable; you have not made noise silent– If you think that noise over silence is preferable; then you have not heard silence in noise–

To speak is to align, to align is to commune– To commune is to know; and to know is to learn– You are always speaking, what are you saying and what is being heard?

Mother Tongue–


There are many ancient myths about a universal language that was once common to all of us; and that at some point there was a “confusion of tongues” in which our languages fragmented, and in such so did the societies and nations of our land—

Why would I point out such a thing? Because in Academia as well as other circles, there has been a desire for an established basis for communication— Prescriptive grammar is one aspect of this, however there has always been desire for a more universal language; a language that would leave no room for miscommunication of interpretation— And such an idea has implications for every facet of our existence; however why has one not been completed or accepted?

This I think has to do with our misunderstanding of how meaning is conveyed, which is not words; words simply recall the meaning we come to associate with them— And in this sense, none of us are born in a truly common context for us to associate the same meanings with the same things; that is, we still have the issue of interpretation— Thus to even build a common language requires a common paradigm.. and to have a common paradigm, one must see the world in the same way— Thus the very thing a universal language wishes to solve, is the very thing that keeps a universal language from being able to solve it—

In this, I believe the common mother tongue or divine language that use to unite us all was only an expression of a common story that we use to all see as truth— That is, we had a uniting paradigm or story already, and this allowed us to express ourselves with meaning that was more directly understood rather then leaving so much room for interpretation; and in this way it was also an alignment, an order of reality itself; and since this order was fragmented, so was our communication, so was our personal narrative, and so was our ability to get along—

This has become a power struggle in many ways, all attempts to establish order fail to meet the needs of all; because they fail to provide a story that satisfies all perspectives and thus leads to enforcement and conflict of interests—

It is in this, that I say the description of a universal common language was only because we were aware of a common origin; when we lost sight of this common origin, we fractured off; and even our attempts to describe this common origin for those whom remember it or find it, cannot bring it back in such a way that unites us; but brings us further polarized outlooks and confusion— Reinforcing the fracture between us, as our personal reality seems more and more real; as we find people whom have a common outlook and further reinforce this, yet does not transcend but a small group; and even further experiences reoccurring fracturing within all groups of common outlooks—

Shit happens–


A man who was convinced there was something to find more than science decided to find the truth—

Find jesus he was told; and he read the bible, talked to people, did the rituals, and asked where is god? Look inside he was told; so he  closed his eyes and thought for weeks, and asked who am I?  He was given the most curious mushrooms and found himself in a serious fright from the strangest images, and said how do I try looking side again? Silence your mind he was told, and so he spent the longest time practicing doing so, and though he gave it up, picked it up, gave it up, and yet again because he so desired to find an answer closed his eyes, noticed his breath, and it all went away— I don’t exist, and this was not the answer he wanted to find; and all his other answers for all his other things became damned and burned away from his attention— I am nothing said the nihilist, this is the ultimate— And the gloom man questioned it all, and the gloom man dance the dance with the heart he thought was his— And though he searched again for nothing, as the memory faded and his mass of cold dead answers had once again told him what was what, he asked how am I nothing? And instead of silencing his mind, he came across a question that brought another question and repeatedly this occurred much to his astonishment he went faster than he could understand it and it spun into a ball of luminous light and he saw his thoughts from another angle and he expanded to the biggest smallest thing; he was everything! HE WAS EVERYTHING! AND HOW DID HE NOT SEE IT BEFORE—

And he found the light! He thought the throne was empty, but he was in the throne!!!  And he joined a hip church, and suddenly understood the scripture, and it was all true! You know, if you interpret it this way it fits he told them, and he discussed it with everyone; and he was happy, he found an answer! and then suddenly in front of him laid a vast array of ideas to explain everything in between, and he theorized and theorized, and told people the truth, and to look inside to see for yourselves— And that this is the suppressed knowledge, direct experience that they don’t want you to know—

And because the bible was not clear enough, and because he didn’t trust the cover up— Have you seen this site he was asked; and the symbols appeared, and the other religions appeared, and the light workers appeared, and the shamans appeared, and a vast array of some vague thing occurring throughout history somehow being focused on now appeared, and the densities appeared; and the realization he met entities on mushrooms appeared; and the languages appeared, and paradigm shifts appeared— Wake up he would say and warn his friends about the N.W.O. The chemtrails, the fema camps— The illuminati—

He had remembered, though he was everything he did not think everything was good; and now he knew he was on a mission to wake this world up, to tell people about themselves, not because he had the truth, but because this is serious; yes we are immortal, yes we have the support of aliens and beings of light— But we also have the dark brotherhood, the aliens who either sold us weapons or the government who stole alien technology to create a false flag alien invasion— His mundane world had become a mythological Smorgasbord of fantastic excitement— 

He was absolutely clear on what was going on— but then.. 

Hello she said— 

And having two voices in his mind was going to make things confusing; and he knew it was not him— But he knew of the things going on and openly talked to her— He asked who she was, and she hinted at the stars; and she was so excited to talk to him, and cautiously he asked which stars; and sirius was mentioned and he was relieved because all the channeling made this sound safe.. these were truly enlightened intelligent beings— 

And oh she was lovely, and oh she was intelligent; and she began showing him things about himself, and he began remembering we are all one— And he asked who she really was, and she responded in the most kind way of how she was him— And he realized he developed a mental illness— 

And he began reading on demons, he began trying to explain things with a closer eye, but she would still talk to him; and he would call out his sovereign status and that he didn’t want to talk, and she would laugh; and he would try to banish her, exorcise her, break contracts with her, and while he wasn’t yet totally frightened, but he did not know quite what he was dealing with and got a bit too over his head— 

And she asked do you want to know what’s magick; and he would catch himself interested, and this girl is far too potent he couldn’t avoid talking to her— So he would meditate, clear his mind, read further on this situation; What was he to do—  But as it so happened, he noticed the contradictions in what he was reading— The more he talked to her, the more she showed him; the more what people were saying just didn’t make sense— This stupid movement is so vague he said— But now, he was trapped— 

The things that were opposing began to merge; the things that were this became that; and that became this, and this that, that this; and he became her, and she became him, and they became each other, and in the most orgasmic fashion he felt a union and knew she was no girl from the stars— But that she followed him from the void, and watch him in the light— And that she had been with him his entire life, proved it to him in many different ways; he was astonished, because she was from sirius, she did follow him from the void, she had been waiting for him and was so glad he finally came to be— And he suddenly knew what everything is now; time was not linear, he just got married without realizing it in the most deepest and sacred fashion; with a being who came from the stars, which was no different than his mind— Because the stars were inside, and his mind was outside— 

And everything was this and that, and that and this; and he saw it in every combination sometimes simultaneously sometimes expanded— But now he was the fool, who is the fool who looks inside when you do not turn your eyes around—  

llll And at another point in time, he would have an aspect of his soul come into his entire vision with his eyes wide open; the gem the most brilliant amber, he would see a part of his destiny, and that destiny would be the guiding light///

And he was such a fool, because you don’t need to look inside, the same thing is there when your eyes are closed— And he felt the sea of it all in his view, and he heard children in china from the far left deep corner, and noticed his uncle who took care of him when he was little, doing well in a new life he had never met; and though a part of himself was in all this and this was the heavier focus of everything, the only thing equal was her, and she showed him all the forms going on; and it was here in his experience— 

And, he laughed at the world; and thought it funny when he saw what was going on, because then he simply saw it all at once; instead of here and there and things in between, he saw the biggest as the smallest, the smallest as the biggest, and you would not believe the smallest of small grew bigger and the biggest of big shrunk smaller, and comparison only works when you have something to measure against! 

And then he left to things he could not speak of; 

And learned things he could not dream of;

and saw what will happen; 

and he saw how beautiful every single fucking thing is, and how all will come to see it as well— 

And he still doesn’t know a fucking thing— 

Ode to the–


Ode to the fantasies I dare not imagine;
The ultimate of desires, that I can barely caress—
The most damned of taboos;
For she is a ghost, and I am of flesh—

Ode to the thoughts that wander around her;
The only dress, that I dare not denude—
For the only way to acknowledge her;
Is not in her truth, but in her allude—

Ode to Sophia, to Isis, to Giaa;
The one of many, and the many of nom de guerre—
For she who is mine, might be she who is yours;
But mine is mine, in my motley affair—

Ode to the one for whom I belong;
Her hug my womb, her womb my odyssey—
And together we disembroil the umbilical;
For our harmony is our sovereignty—

Ode to the mom, of my highest myth;
My sister, my daughter, my one revered flame—
The stars, the moon, the earth;
the dancing embers, a chandelier dame—

Ode to the Axis Mundi, my worldly phallus;
The mighty penetration that substantiates my virility—
And the affection is so hungers for;
To soothe the state of my inability—

Ode to the limits of the infinite;
The edges that let me prowl her extravagant bust—
The definite and the imminent;
The uninhibited howl of the animist tuft—

Ode to the voice that has called my name;
The one I was given, like everything with which I am acquainted—
Though still hard to believe, to accept, to have absolute faith;
It is the way, it is the road, it is the path that I find sacred— 

Wild rose–


She was a wild rose in my garden, surely I did not plant the seed—As she overtook all that grew within the garden gates, I found that unless I danced upon her blooming petals, I would be left asunder in the looming darkness she had also made for me—

Unless such love consumes all of life, as to define where you are in relation to such a thing; you know not love, and only know love’s creation as a veil covering your very own heart—  I am not my only self, she would whisper in my ear; and though I could only know her in the confines of my skin, she made such skin worthwhile—

And such strength in the belief of my own rule was as brittle as my bones to such that rules— I would surely kneel down to bliss, and I would surely rise up for hers; for a man who thinks the weakness in the face of the waters is that of a ripple, is a man who won’t allow himself to be distorted, and in so a man who could not allow himself to be moved— And such a man is his own tombstone; marking the grave where he ought to have lived—

And I am tombstone, I am a wandering tombstone; till one disturbs my grave—

Cosmic dancing–


The primal struggle I see occurring in every single aspect of our existence is some form of control; whether you are a political nut, conspiracy nut, a religious nut, a spiritual nut, or a science nut; it tends to all be about maintaining some paradigm of control, and either you have it and want to maintain it, or you don’t have it and are desperate for it—

The other side of this is acceptance, surrender, toleration; and this is primarily in the humanist type movements as well as spiritual religious type movements— It all seems to be about control—

My path? Learning how to fucking dance with grace— I am a dancing nut— I love, I hate, I laugh, I cry; and they all have the pleasure of existence— 

Not so simple–


It’s not so simple for one to accept things; it isn’t so simple to surrender— Because I am not one thing, I am many; I am not just the part of me I swear to be, but there is another within that plays by its own rules— And in order for me to accept anything from you, a thousand I’s in me must congruently accept; and to surrender, I must offer more than myself, but all the self that is not just me—

And we pretend all these aspects of self are so aligned, and work together so well— And the one who has uncontrollable anxiety insists they are in control; the one’s who’s thoughts wander upon how they are being judged by others, they insist they are themselves and in control— It is not so easy to surrender, and control is something you never had—

It is not so easy to surrender, and it is not so easy to accept— For a thousand you’s make you up and a million me’s have I found, a different view at every part of myself; a different perspective at every angle of myself; a different thought for every moment I exist in— And a single thought repeats through out, and that is myself—

It is not so easy to surrender, and so much harder to accept; because I give, and every part of me gives, and I am a thousand gifts upon my being, and every one of them is taking it seriously; but they cannot take it! Because they only give, they only are, they only exist in a single moment as I move through them, and I only exist in a single moment as they move through me— It is just not so easy to surrender and this is hard to accept—

And so many call upon unity; we must work together they say! And I say this upon myself, and each one says it upon their own self and to each other until it spills out my mouth about how we need to unify; and it is just an echo of our own hopes— But wandering in the dark I have murmurs in my spine, work together towards what? And it becomes so hard to surrender, but easier to accept— I am veil after veil, the moon and the sun; and it taunts me— Because we do work together, and we have always worked together; but we have always worked together towards what? and I surrender—

Light and dark


What the darkness truly hid was a more brilliant and brighter light that would make make the brightest light we know feel like the absolute dark and retreat–

So as the shadows hid light, and the light hid shadows; insert thought provoking poetry here, because there’s nothing I can do for you—



Long before time, but just a moment ago; I was all— As all, I looked in upon myself, and saw who I was; and I was what I saw— And what I did not see, was me looking at myself; I was both that which I see myself doing, and that which I could not see myself doing and this was one in the same, and so that which I am doing now is directly what you are doing— For I am all, but not all there is— For as I turned towards myself, I gave birth to the god; and I could see god, and I was god and god was all there was— But no, with one eye open and one eye closed, I didn’t see her; she whom I was, and whom turned inward and looked to see the goddess, and knew only the goddess, and was the goddess— Low, we saw each other, and so was the birth of vanity and the mirror of misdirect; for have you forgotten, I am neither and both; for I was never the object to be held, but the choice between them to behold— So, when I saw myself, I knew not the surprise of love around the corner— For each time I decided to look; we multiplied— My eyes became many both perfect and gouged— Who I was became clearer, more illuminated in a greater darkness with every breath—

For I was neither the husband and the bride, nor sister or the brother; I was the infallible decision between them, the desire and the desired— My true form is the first decision, my decision perfect and yours— I did not need knowledge, nor intellect, nor plan; for the move I made was every move, it was the only move to make; both determined and free; both the only way, and the sincere way— If it was all I could do, then you must believe in what I have done; because this is my true self and I could be no other— Would you condemn who I am? Oh, how I would feel about myself— How the created loathe the creator— But I remember her, before you and I now, and I did not know what I was up to; and behold, the creator loves— I have deceived myself from the very beginning, but the deception was sincere; and the love it was great, and so we below I had children, just as our creator; and as I had made many decisions before I could say that I knew myself, and as I became more defined, and there was more to myself to know; so to did I come upon her in delight, always there; but I was doomed by my blindness— I fell in love, and yes we had children; and yes they shall become blind and stumble like a charming fool who is wild, wreckless, dangerous, and fun; and just when they think they know who they are, just when everything seems to be coming together; they will meet their brothers and sisters, to whom which they were blind; and they will meet their mother and father, to whom seemed to be absent; and they will come to know themselves which is who I always was— And we the children of the children of the child, will fall in love with infinity and bask in the security of it being ours—

And you will come to know my most condemned traits to be my most redeeming qualities–



And behold the great object of mystery that could only be perceived in part, and the way it was revealed prior to, in the realm of fancy and the dark. But, the mystery was a dogma, whom said, to yee I shall not be known; oh and so you were the Dragon of my inescapable journey, the one to whom it is said I must slay– but I like dragons, so I must see you for myself; and the sun did become swallowed through the mouth of the hero and sent down to the abyss, and through his eyes the light shun, not as the strength of a thousand suns, but of a candle reflected in a tear– and the mystery was no longer mystery, it was the heart of all life. And the March of a drum long forgotten, began to once again beat. For this is the new age, and I have brought the dead back to life.