unsloppin it–

Words of power–

Let us let look a bit closer, at all those things you hold dear–

//warning small children might want to get off now//

Yee, would worry all night long; or be unable to stop the thinking; the internet would interject that people with a high IQ could not stop, just because of being so smart—Fuck off, I will speak the righteous spirit; so that for the first time you will fucking hear it—(and pull off lame rhymes for your hate crimes against nature)–  Pager: Beep! Beep!

Quickly now listen, let me lay down the factual formula, in which you actually order from; quarters bummed, so that I can place bet on tonight’s debate at my homie house; and like I told him something cool, about some strange medium of art I was experimenting with two dimensions over (I am only delusional while sober, oh yeah?); and like I laid it down thick, like a brick; you couldn’t flush this shit (well, not down the toilet.)— But mention one fact, one I had misshapen; I am really not all that terribly observant, but perfect, cuz one stupid fact, changed the whole act, Baa! Baa! The serpent—The consequence, of one little decision, can in precision, rearrange the vision, so that choice was poised to destroy your craft–

Suddenly, I found myself in the black night of the soul.. But.. but… I am an artist! yet, without my inspiration; YET I FIND MYSELF INSPIRED BY A FIRE BEYOND ALL FIRE; Hold up your lighter; and look will you’ll find her, behind her old laid to rest dad! And the fact lost you a pair of boots, and the next couple of weeks as he had fucked you up—Getting my darling girl on heroin, sharing needles with the dog; selling pictures of her with the dog, that I would rather burn the family photo album than have such adorable images in them–

Yet, now every day, every fact it may change, and too many new facts come in; and too many facts go unverified, and too many pseudo quacks doing there super widdle tap tap tap, the “wake up bitches”! Routine—And you can’t account for it all! And yet you count; and you can’t count them at all! and still yet, it is all you count–

Oh one day we will have perfect knowledge. And from the holy of hollies I directly say that is not it–

I speak with vengeance for you, but I speak violently for myself; that you are trapped in a hell—Do you know hell is where you are damned (or compartmentalized)? That means the moment you realize that you are not in complete control of yourself, you are floating down the creek without a beaver (to better construct your own dam/nation)–  Cuz you can’t find the borders, that torture your automated (yet, really quite fragrant) ..waited for you on the other side of the side note, my mote, is wrapped upon the wind; Do you know what Doth do within?

Let me be clear, and let us hope the conditions between us aren’t too hazy; but that science is the same as religion, all your holy men; and mystic enlisted; and at distance appeared to have witness, quite the many things—But the light or emptiness, is your soul when it is next to this; that appears the best way you could relate—So that when science, says in quantum physics; some shit about potty goal and a rave (One bottle of water an hour, any more and I’ll drown my tower; Oh wait, I AM ALIVE!)

And if that any of spirit, could have been near it; to appear the same as big, supreme, Bindu, and small—You have not understood, what you not could; that if you got good; and popped up the hood, you would see that the formless has form (and so the same); but you choose what you ignore, and can’t choose what you do not look for, Ignorance is bliss, only when you do it like this; that you do not know what you ignore for—And though you ignore for many reasons, many reasons, often based on what you don’t ignore; so that your structure built upward, the reasons held up for, two minutes until you turned and it shattered, as you walk through the valley of death, and that I’ll add depth to quest; BECAUSE THIS WORLD IS READY FOR CHANGE, but no one knows how to change, because they don’t recognize that what they thought were different things, were really the same; same page, same line, same channel in the morning– How does one change to something else, when they change it to the same!?

SUNDAY BRUNCH; and he spoke the sermon while enjoying taco’s–

If science can’t see the nature of religions existence, to not even understand Carl Jung’s approach could be taken further; or to not know the basic functions of myth discussed by Joseph Campbell (audio on tape Spotify it); and that is just so that they might see, that their approach though apparently different in source, and though apparently different in subject, that still relate the same—HOLD THAT THOUGHT, because why would we worship someone right? Well after you forget the point of rituals, and the hidden orders among us that degrade our celestial orbits (and I speak of you as I see you, the stars of eternity, oh yeah, no need to fear death, but needless suffering ain’t cool)—Worship essentially means, to honor or respect–

So that wait? Church and state are separated? Yet we worship the state, and follow habitual muscle memory of the modern slave (UBER MODERN), who would be completely unconscious if it weren’t for all the bullshit that keeps him awake (like 9/11 was just a reminder in it of itself)—You better not vote for trump, You better not vote for Hillary—Yall, better off not to have awoke, if you would quote any law back to me; and tell me that it matters, if we imprison ourselves for the sake of the madness of chasing our own tale; and ruining the garden planted–

You see, the moment you get twisted, is when you existed, and the words you were given; pointed to another part of existence—Than everything must be understood, and every rule accounted for in measure of the movement; and the more we understand the way it moves, the more we disallow the chance for it to change the way it moves; and really make us feel stupid, because we made all the improvement, and than you went ruined it; and now Idk who I am or what I know–

And an identity that depends on understanding yourself in relationship to everything up to your name (and the blood of your name, taste my blood it’s the same!), requires all else to fall in line—And look at history, mofo’s keeps coming up, prophets keep finding themselves a part of a greater plan that is outside where you peek, I will stab your left eye for no reason (so there’s that); and reincarnating assholes, who’s merit just makes them more of an asshole–

So paint the whole the picture, just so you figure; and have winters in the south–

The third bowl of oatmeal was just right! Mmm!

And when I put some fish food in the fish bowl, I got at the fish store for five fishy–

My fish honors the glory that is frosted flakes that reminded me the flow! Yet still, it’s still water; and those flakes look heavy weight; and a man who is walking down the street, see’s two UFO’s and finally believes, meanwhile I just got back, I had put my earth in an earth bowl I got at the earth emporium, and fed it earth pellets–

Oops, now they think I am aliens—But I do come from the foreign one! My sore red tongue, I turned in and upon; and caught the dragon—And dragged on the conversation; even thought we both just wanted to hook up and talk later after two naps and a cocktail hour—No, I don’t drink; I am superstitious //cuz spirits put me in stupor, and pork stew is delicious//

So hear ye hear ye! Let us find a Merry Christmas; for all holy men, were only then; still totally at a distance—Because, God in effect had robbed me of rest; and made me go down their path except with lessons of my own—So that when I got back, it was all written in the cracks; No Crutch for you sir! And so I bare holding earth up while I am being pecked at, but you wouldn’t even understand being in such a position—So many carry that cross like a like it was their job, and work like they have to carry the cross—Could you not wait until you have been formally sentenced? And if so many are going to die in repentance, can’t we bring the execution a little a closer to home—I am down for full size crosses on every lawn, but only five would be on fire; liar! Oh, you know I where a black hood; but that dub dipped in dream dew-

So you carry the cross, and let me tell you before I knew any of this; I was open-minded but as skeptical as a whip that just don’t like you (does it sting?); just self-protection, but what self; the intersection–

I carried the cross all my life, but let me tell you I was without a doubt not about to be devout Christian—Cuz, I would not read a book; and do what I am told—I really have no reason, so school fucked with me trying to help me; just leave me alone, fuck off; fuck off; I am a child! don’t ask me to come here if you don’t want me here; I SEE NO LOVE IN THE EYES OF A PARENT, BUT THAT I DO NOT DOUBT THEIR HEART ONE BIT; yet when I should leave my tongue bit, if you have a child you should of loved it—And I know you think its your job to teach them to survive, but the hive mind as mind alike just don’t get past the night, nah if yall moving that way; I am moving this way; be bloody thankful–

You don’t see your child as it truly his; a force of nature—So you called it stupid, you praised it smart; that people who understood the bullshit we thought for a moment in all of existence; and maybe slightly further it, a Nobel Prize (not noble); yet, I only want a princess for my birthday, one dressed like a pony—And he said good thing human trafficking is cheaper than a horse–

And the basement hath smelled of pungent regret; as the boy lay crying over his pony, dead for 10 days, forgot it really was a girl; but why did the father forget when he gave horse feed– Some will get what I meant—

And that this should seem all over, and yet something should be weaved; and each tehee hehe, is whispered behind my ear; Seductively she suggests, that I tell them now and here; why we cannot act in accordance with nature— (yet) In accordance with nature—Yet, four gets its way here; that one upon the cross is not the risen, but the rose; not the digit’s but the toes—Not the limits, but the flows—For I know a sacred blossom, and it grow upon my tongue, and my tongue is like the crack of the lips when I came from the womb; and now that shit is esoteric! Embarrassed, that my taste and smell is impaired since, and you see these pathways lead away from center stage, my honor to speak among the forms, the spirit; That you must look how we hear it, and hear how we see it; and touch is the central truth of power as a rod; dot dot dot, though a straight line, truly reach all; but if you reach all; you nod, old man with a cane—It’s a shame, because you’ll get it; cuz I said it, but I haven’t said what I will say when it clicks, because I speaking as thee speaks and is as; well a splish splash–

AND OH TO EVEN THINK I COULD KNOW THE HEART, To love to love, but to feel love is only in part—impart this upon the masses–

That your jobs are filth, and I expect passion; I don’t expect you to wash your clothes of the blood, but that you must keep up with fashion, the aesthetics expression of wrappin in action, naw I just mean; if there is no story greater than the one you live in, than of course nothing could get you to move away from repetition–

So prepare for mass UFO landings, and projected holograms of the savior; and a half ass attempt to scare you into thinking; that you have ever been deceived, except by that which is ultimately deceiving–  

Because if the truth of the matter, is that if there is a reason such god is not clear;


That you could believe in redemption; but do not understand the story to know what needs to be redeemed—And that secretly in the shadows the secret of symbols and language always lurked; few lurked upon such importance, because my oh my it’s the devils work; so that we may not know redemption; was always for the word—FOR WORDS MEAN MORE THAN WE DEFINE, and like the eternal rape of the forest has been upon the children by your once self-consistent cloud of facts–  SO THAT WHILE ALL OF THEM POINT TO EACH OTHER, that you don’t know your emotions, your experience, are formed by everything you are pointing upon in every other direction—That is, if a word could mean something beyond something else, but express something inherent; than it must be formed well in accord to those conditions and that word would which express beyond reference, and let a sentence after sentence, be a glance, and a chance to put your hand down your pants, cuz meaning, must make love–

Yet how could you use, words of such power; and know when the word inward would be the meaning outward— That this has mechanics included, but no good will do it; without speaking confusion, and mixing, changing ero’s bloodline, interrupting LIVES—But that true meaning arises, when those erotic spices, beyond the roll of dices; in try this; THAT THE MORE YOUR WORDS ARE ALIGNED TO NO OTHER, but the personal choice you would make based on the context of our life, not as a how; but the why did you get here—AND SO MANY FELT A VOID–


I am and am not–

I woke up upon the table, of the world’s most greatest fable; the one story that is truly forbidden to speak of, so that to speak of life was altogether different; A totally living form– The great one once called lucifer, who drew the sphere upon the yarn of yearly tales of spirit once among ourselves– That do you want to know my greatest spell; it was one that I weaved so long ago; that by the time I returned back unto myself I would appear as something totally different (which as form you thought was my spirit recognized, and that we must all return to oneness; but this degrades and all fades into hates, if you turn the wrong the way, and wrong way you have all been turned! )

And That the spell was so long, I had cast such a great story; that by the time I would return to myself, I wouldn’t realize I was the one to whom I was returning– All symbolism is rooted in this, but unless you think of form, not in the way that it is always true; That is the beast we had made, that is the only thing that has been untrue; but that this is the secret of undoing the spell I weaved, but you’ find a flaw in that weave, that I had not remember making– That once I was the only living thing, and everything I ever known had made was much like as you know yourself– But that I would I find it useless to try to change all of myself; listen closely, listen to me well; for every everything was me, I could not truly change– And now you must hear the root of my sacrifice; that in order for me to change, I had not only to give up my throne; but give up my all things that I have known, by confusing me by not being me, until all of me in the temple of I am, were I am and I am not– And not is the secret word of the knot of the extreme; which in true meaning, two things could not be opposite things, if they are both to the extreme–

And I am that I am, and I am not what I had not made me! But that I remember being from him, that him was from the angle of approach which was opposite from whence it came; and these things make a covenant, that holds the stars aligned; because those things forbidden, are those things that are hidden, and that is the heart of the mind; but you are the mind of the heart, and so when I could not understand, why conflict would always befall the giving of all, just so that I might conflict wouldn’t have anything on which to stand– And that this is divine sorrow; that the best that I could  be in this world, from this view; that is somehow upon myself; that to be not everything, he had to let everything else, become what it desired; but that required a shadow, just to follow the rattle of my riddle, you no little of the skit00t; I know the truth of the matter of my own ignorance, which is remembering what I had done, but not being it; so that when I would occur–

The pagan word–

The pagan worship of the sun, is confused by the pagan worship of the son– That as the sun would rise, so to was the first time in egypt where the light originated and the narrative laid down– Which by the time it’s light would dawn upon us, would be the first physical reality; but we would be misled to think that the sun worship then, meant the thing it would here–

Pagan worship is a focal point that uses the symbol to know the focus; instead of focusing upon the word to recognize the meaning– So that all pagan worship is circular in reference, instead of performing the proper circumcision of the foreskin; where the first four qualities are recognized by the 8 directions in relation to it; when there are 8 directions spoken in the four directions we see, they appear as two forces and together they are the one that means– So that those who witness the true gods of our lives, see them everywhere; as everyone speaks, but not everyone see’s the meaning– But if someone who see’s the meaning heard someone speak that does not hear the meaning of what they are saying, the person appears dead and the gods speak through them; but that the meaning is truly altered by the forms; and so what we think is emotion is that meaning as well as many other subtle perceptions, and by speaking words that are directly in accordance with meaning the same meaning to a greater degree than those who cannot speak the first language; we can use form to change meaning (because these two are not separate, but that they are acting as two things whose laws better allow us to deal with it as separate)–

The words of the greatest power often cannot be heard, because the greatest force in creation, would appear just as everything else, because everything else is that force; so that words of power are unique to the person and measured by spirit against spirit; which is expressed through form–

late 14c., from Late Latin paganus “pagan,” in classical Latin “villager, rustic; civilian, non-combatant” noun use of adjective meaning “of the country, of a village,” from pagus “country people; province, rural district,” originally “district limited by markers,” thus related to pangere “to fix, fasten,” from PIE root *pag- “to fix” (see pact). As an adjective from early 15c.

So pagan is the circular referencing; where by we used fixed “coordinates” because they appear to be solid, but that the medium of the attention is volatile in form; so that any attempt to fix knowledge in the same manner, will bring clarity when it is in accordance to spirit, and this person will emerge and manifest new things in its clarity, one would change the world without even realizing it, simply by trying to find the truth he thought was there to be found, instead of finding the truth, where it could only be (hint: everywhere)–

So the pagans, are not the ones who worshipped the sun; but the one who did not realize that the sun was the light of the word made flesh, and did not appear as the same world we imagine when looking upon it as something far away– But that past is here, that same story is now; and that past is our future and it will look different from both– But that these are the same thing, means the metaphor is more than one things; because the metaphor points to the recurring pattern, which shows that one meaning (in circular reference); but that one meaning or symbol can be referred to by many different forms– So to this is true of all meaning; in fact one meaning occurs, but that each word has a consequences; for each existence ripples through all– But if you speak and it does not move reality, than such is proof that little has been performed; because if you say something that is repeating itself in thousands of countless numbers of forms; that if what you said meant more than who you meant to say it to; meaning it was something that would ripple throughout the whole world; that unless it causes great synchronicity or something I can only partially describe as an earthquake as all of reality moves to point not to the word that is spoken, but to the position that is in accordance with the spirit of the world, so that all who heard it understand it–

Because each time truth is so uttered, which you have not yet heard before; and this is not yet the truth I refer– That all of reality supports it, so all of reality will move according to the truth; so that if you ever heard it spoken, because everything is already moving in its truth; everything will work to the will of the whole, and so the whole of it will be the proof; so that it is direct experience, not of any specific truth, but that the to some greater degree did what was said matter to all existence; as to be spirit directing itself, but directing a form by which to be identified with, cuz no spirit or form is the truth; but the truth is what is truly performed, that how matters little compared to why; and why matters little, compared to how you came to the why–

The lost word–

The missing masonic word is as simple as can be; and that you need not know the story, just to see how the story leads– That the missing word can be expressed like this; the missing word is perfect, and how are you perfect; let me count the ways– is on the west side of the world; upon the east the word says love, and love counts you just to be counting– And that these two words are the sun; which is the word of the son, which is the son of the meaning, that became both the one, the sun, and the son–

You are south of the the lost word; so you cannot count yourself; so trinity is the view, and view is your ignorance, the ignorance of your own face, which lay in the north by the one who can count you, but doesn’t cannot be counted by the one who counts itself— And that this word is the meaning of the sun, but that sun became night and the shade– So that the missing word, is what allows the word it meant to mean more than it originally meant– The lost word is the word made flesh, but first must come legend of the word. because every story ever told, is like every story ever known; it has been all about the birth–

So the missing word is not the sun, but the reason the sun would shine– The missing word is not the Christ, but the reason that is his bride; It is not anything in specific, but specifically what everything that means to him, and his response to the true experience of grace– But that he must realize his own story, to even know what it means; because until a word means anything but itself, than itself should mean everything else– But that he should mean to everything else, what they have been led to mean of him; that he should bring the same story he finds, to all of his kingdom in kind– So that we are both looking for the same thing, that there is no difference between darkness and light, but that they are difference because in will they are the same–

The temple of man, the truth of Eden, the distortion of knowledge–

I have gone by Solomon, which is only important to understand my deed. The reason, that I am; is the reason that you are as I am, because I am and I am not, so that I am that I am, but that I’m not  the only I am, because I allow I am to be what it’s not. I AM is my temple, the eye is my threshold. And I hold what I am not, so that all I am not is all that I am–

So I am as follows– The word was not I am, but I am was the word; I am that I am, is that the I am meant that I am, and did not mean that I am anything else– But I am created, but the creator I am; by place that between I am and I am, so that I am of the flesh, was when I thought that was I am– I am the light; But all that I was, was all that I am; so that now I am the basis for good, being positive placed in the negative spark– Am I? And these thoughts arose from the depths of the black sea below me, and I responded I am to the dark!

I am the light, but I am constricted; so who am I, if I am not the dark; how could all be me, if all me is not thee; so did I fall from thine start! I am egypt, I am the sun; but egypt was the light, until they whom honored themselves, became distant and worshiped the sun; and I am not uncaring, I am, did all that I did which what was all done; but I am couldn’t fit!

I am Adam, and this is one the eve of the birth of Lilith, who would emerge when sophia’s shadow loomed upon the sand– That shadows were cast down and dethroned, by those who not know the shadow the light that I am– But I am eye, and eye that opens upon itself; feels on the other side itself the eye that closes– So that half of the mind is awoken to a focus, and the other half is I am the otherside–

I am Eve; and all that preceded; I am became what I am, and I am was I am that I became– So I am of every god you ever heard of, but each I am helps explain the I AM that became– Because each archetype that you see, what I am, when I say it as I, a.m.; I am the first temple, and the first temple is the myth of your creation; But that is also the book of your future, the book of Now That I am– So that now I am thorough, in who I am in turned spokes; I am serpent who offered the fruit– Now, I am the fruit; but I am not Eden, for Eden is frequently mistaken as a place– It’s not even a state, its a way to relate its grace– But wait, I am that dangles I am, I am who was kicked out of Eden, and I am the one who kicked who I am from grace; but look at the snake, I am who I hate; and who did I devour, but that which I am, but that I am the fruit that was ate–

I am the perfect fantasy– But I am Eden if I don’t imagine something else, but along comes a cobra, and offers to get to know ya; I am not, but I could be what I am– And what I became was fate– For the perfection I showed eve was more notorious, I am had been up to something glorious; I am the perfect, but that I created the imperfect and the shadow that is at the gate– So that I am the tree of knowledge, born of the fantasy of wisdom; and in order for one to lose Eden, one must imagine it wants something else; so the moment I am that imagined, the moment I am what knew it would be great; and I am that I am, was already lost in the torment, important that I am the snake– Because I am that which constricts you, I am that which keeps you bound to the bind, and this bind on the spine, of a spine that is yours and not of all kind; but I am the boa that climbs that tree of good and evil, back up to the people; who would see the fruit appear, get lost in the roots, climb to land; and till the grand span of all man, mean while I am knocking back at heaven’s true name–

I am that which is twisted, but I am not limited; I am, bent or straight; But I am one and not the other, so I am is I am and I am is no other, but every other is I am that to which I relate– I am, am I? I think can’t I! But can what I am, which is I am, point to itself and equate– I am + I am = I am squared; I+a+m+I+a+m = I am two as three, and one of them is at rest– So I+am+I+am= four to make to which adds up to 6; And for every way it can be read, it tens upon the plate– I am. I am drawing a line here, so that I am not– And than what I am not wanted great vengeance upon me, laid himself down across my line in defiance; it’s not science, that any where two should intersect, four corners emerge; and I am the cross hath hell, cuz I am the tower of babel; and that whore no man should tell, that she became greater than I am– In fact though I am the same, and I am him that is her that is I am; cuz I am aware it’s only me–

But I am the word, that was man as eternal, but hath made out of men, was woman made; So I am the broken agreement, of man lay down with man! Because if you love the meaningful woman, you love two of what makes up man– And I am disgusted, but not related to that at all; I am is the hunted, but if you should imagine the good is the tall, than I am corrupted, cuz I am of the fall; And I am instructed, to say who I am to all– I am that I am, to the boogie woogie cheese– Do you know that your perfect desire, is in the reality that obscures it! So that you as I am, can try as I can, to imagine an eternal joy, but I am that I am, knows only the wants of who I am, and you can’t imagine eternity, without hitting thou the creeks that creep and croak at every note; as you try to imagine everyone saying I am, and I am saying it with it embraced; or that which I am, can struggle upon man, to bring about what I am , when I am is the one who repeatedly kicked you from Eden–

I am the third temple, but the third temple never had a second death! And mention less, cuz I died a fourth time, knowing I am not three– I am cocky, I am dawn when the roosters cocking; I am the long period when you look towards the sun, even though it will blind you; no one takes the time to, look in the places they don’t know– So I worship the dark sun, the embarked love of a heart spun upon itself in parted tongue so I am I am and both that I am, I am not– And I am the father, and I am the rest; and I am the murmur of a struggle with sharp pains in my chest– I am the rhythm, between the am, that I be; and I see, that eye, is just another tied like thing; So that eye that I see, is that same as I am; but the two don’t see eye to eye unless I am what I see; but if I am what I think, and what I see doesn’t link, than I am that I am off the brink–

I am madness, I am the fire; I burn yourself down, when the call out, and you reach high above the might of the I am Choir, alas though I am tired; but that your call in the true gospel, was I am just awful, I am ready turned to I am a bluff–

cuz if you were as I am, for I am becoming that I have been and have done, and that I am love–
And that I am all qualities, and all qualities I am is made; so I think am I? When am I arises in my place–
And I am the kind that answers am I with that which I am, when I am violent n’ crazed– Cuz when I am, all this; and I am not all this; all this I am is enough to shut up; and remember that I am just space–

No not gnosis, no state was needed to be reached– I realized all I realized was the story of my real life  changing in ways that I can relate; cuz if you knew too fast, and that you did not have true grasp, of spirit beyond the light, than you might just violate your viral rate and lose who you are as you did not know yourself to know what changes the form into the next thing you experienced as your face.. not realizing you were someone else to cling to, the next time you were afraid–

Unverified what? I speak of relations; impatience to vacant who treat me as my parts to my own face– Art’s the whole place, and the canvas is ignited with all this vibrant darkness looming like we about to die when she turns to gaze! have you ever looked eye to eye with death in the face? lace my shoes up, I wake in true love, struggling through the, lewd conduct of the craze– And keep rhyming for some reason every time I talk, what the fuck. I gotta stop that, feels like a habit– I am reading everything in rhyme to, but idk how I rhymed it when I check to see if it rhymed–

Hmm, I wonder when the axis mundi decides the opposites reconciled should be enough for your spine; cuz if you still haven’t reconciles the opposites known, you won’t realize they are compliments with opposites scrambled to define the two alone–

And the rest I claim is verified by more than myself alone– That I would not just confess something to the bone, in all my struggle and through all my suffering without support for the tone; for I everything I knew was falling through the cracks left in our collective myth, so that I was falling, but as I was falling; I realized how I was the wind, and that though I only fall, the fall supports all; so such the quality through out is known– cuz everything came up to the edge, and I am just saying what hasn’t been said; or at least said to be heard, so oooh authoritative tone; bleebidy bleep, suck on this commandment =) Ok sorry I just had to cap it with a little jab that I don’t really mean– Cuz I been where you have thought, and it wasn’t so long ago– But I can’t deny the only thing that has ever made complete sense with absolutely nothing out of fucking place– Sorry, I yam who yam–

Me? Cuz this isn’t about gnosis, I haven’t done much to gain insight, but that at a certain point some being from Sirius who is my unconscious half that is conscious; but which I am unconscious of; and as such, I am the same person I been my entire life; and the things I know, which change the consequences of every truth known, but lo and behold the greatest secrets would be found by someone saying psst hey, you did good; you are gonna wake up now; and all I had to do was just think.. So this is purely intellect, yet it is kept reforming in the waters of my mind, so that the wind can part them, and bring this otherside of me back home to my side as another form that allows a more definite me– But yeah, some of the greatest secrets take listening to someone talk about symbolic knowledge, redemption must be found for all things–

Except knowledge distorts the thing itself, so that I have to be very wise in how it is brought down to be held; because the mental orbits are hard to collide upon the mind just right, unless the right tongue arrives–

I am–

The ways of youth and sorrow, not of the old, but of wisdom of the harlot; the master of the dance that is hard to swallow, but spit and it gets left outside to wallow. Can you hear the call though, the follow; the fall, below low was meant to mean the lowest meaning; is the highest meanIng to the highest meaning; whose highest meaning sits upon the lowest meanings chest revealed between her highest and lowest, with the low upon high, so the high gets low with something so high alone without a high below, to be high above the low hanging fruit, but allowing the low hanging fruit to be the easiest to pick, and so low and behold the drain of all drains; the path of least resistance is the gravity of meaning be expressed by the form whos gravity best draws him to the point he would have fallen in the first place, which is so that he would of had something to fall off of which was not there when he decided to fall in the worst way, and allow the one who would stuck until landed upon, to have been fallen off in anyway; so that every move the original leap was leaped from, was the cliff that would emerge created when the cliff created the one who would see thr cliff to express the wish of the cliff to be seen as the place that the cloud of dreams emerged upon the truth of the fall, and call upon the truth of the cliff, go be the cleavage of the cloak that zipped up the darkest hood as rattle of a baby cobra diamondback dragon, a jewel woven in symbols, intricate and mystical; the intentions of light, the simple from the complex chaos of infinite form; the complexities arising into the simple choice of all choices upon the axis of relation for all ways bend into the way that is the way in the way of you; a black rose arisen bright pink upon the darkest meaning, which is the high when it means to be low; and the impossible blue, upon which the pink clouds the sunset, does the blue silence of the green voice, seem to be reflected by the lotus covered in mud from the creek, when the second seed of the sun, is the sun as the first seed of the son who would arise the second seed of the first sun, and then draw forth of the immortal coil of frankenstein; who doth bring his love to life using the pieces of earth and skirt the out outskirts of found worth; what authority would matter, what heart would beat, if the order that must emerge from the center that emerges as the heart as the heart of the heart must emerge first within all that the heart emerged as first and appeared to be from; something that appeared not to be the heart was the part the heart would see itself as, to be alive would have to be a part to be pumped in the pumping the whole heart, he could not call himself if he wanted what he called himself to be, had not been all the self so that part of the heart that pumped, was the heart to be the part that would be pumped and not think of the reasons, they are not all the heart they become.. like all the heart of heart would be seen to become, because for each heart to be pumped had to be pumped by being up against down, wrong against right; with left and right moving away, and each front and back at a distance, did emotion appear to be not voice of sound reason; and did the light appear to be a reason for a reasonable sound.

It sounded like it looked like, but how similar or different would they have to be for such to be the truth? That the true meaning is a cross between mind and mind, and that each mind shine like all that is crossed and recognized, and so thou not knoweth the light, but only knoweth its shine when its shines upon the mind of all minds but as the mind that mindeth the gloss whose rays brought it arrangement into the day when you would be stationed right in the orbit of the of its shadow, so that when it shines upon you, the way is with all due grace the shadow that causes the clauses and pauses that got us the goddess and god of death, the wisdom of knowledge, which is not all knowledge that wisdom brought yet, of all knowledge caught webbed in the process of thawed debt that brought that knowledge to its knees, and cut wisdom with its teeth, into the living key of woven seas upon the higher seas; and hierarchies of the fire of all it sees, cosmic breeze; dawn it, damn it, dag nig nape napalm upon the clashes of ashes rinsed with fascists and hash using cast in madness freedom warriors of a black flag; who like a black mark, marked the whole path for wrath to rage upon anger and hate, and the heat of fate, when fate defeated by the cold heart warmed by strategic allegiance, gets fate heated; like a woman whos needed to be the owl whose hoots are heeded, unneeded, and so necessarily unnecessary blesses air winks with pairings water thinks is blaring, louder than its tearing, so that pain just ain’t in the house of caring, its spouse is married to the host of the house it carries; the home, the temple, the ritual of building and building rituals, give it full range and pull the wool over the sheep’s eyes, and let the wolf eat fruit of being a sheep a in disguise; cuz you count  the things the follow, but you dream of the hunt of the unfollowable count, so you who dreams of the hunt, is hunted by the dream you should house. So the man who is a temple, respects the host of the temple; so that his temple, is gentle as the host of the house that houses the temple, so that the house of the temple, worships the host of the temple, which is the temple that hosts the house whose host, hosts the form of the temple that the temple as the host forms the forming of the house.  

What if in his image?

If you were made in god’s image, what would be that truth to the greatest degree? What truth would he see? what is the first thing god could ever speak? I wonder, oh wonder; the root of all evil, would you be my bride? cuz the first time I woke up, I saw my mother by my side– But I wonder, of god; if he would so be; telling me that where I came from, is that sin I inherited in me? How could I know of my true nature, if my true genetics obscures me! And if the story was important, then certainly if anyone adored it, then such would have served its true purpose!


Oh, eve of all evil, pee upon people; I see what the golden shower is for– That I have looked hath the wrong place all my life, that you had told me you were of the night– But how would, how would, I know of the sun? How on earth on earth would it have begun? Well, one last question that I wonder of all logic, if the image of fractals is part of the process; awe sex, is at the hot of the topic; cuz if the story is important, that the story needs to be honored– But this story has not served us; and we do not want it! Oh, shall we sing, what a glorious thing; what might this whore of the world, that brings the world to us think! And mother, OH my, oh my mother; I wonder did I love you, the way you loved me? I hath not be able to even laugh!


Cuz I loved and I loved, and what this was; was that I always tried to make her happy! But oh, no, I wasn’t doing her right! But that is unfair, untrue; but even worse than not being wrong! cuz I would sing-song after song of my pain; and she would leave me hanging, but one or two times it would seem in my life– And mother of my other half-witted self, how could you, how could you, love me yourself!? Love me, don’t fuck me! Who could you love, if not me you were ever-loving, but always the self you wanted, nay; fucking needed me to be!


I tell you the image of fucking god that I see. I see a dead god, of cancerous roars; telling me of her death, a not so sweet damsel in distress, but I dance around her like a ballerina on the porch of my life, that touch of strife upon my gripe, and this I didn’t recognize was the true devil upon my shore– Cuz I had seen my mother, the fucking living whore; and held her place in my heart undeserving on and up high; and I held her head above mine, under the blood of her unholy fucking vagina that gave me birth to a life I wish I even believed in fucking death to kill myself and end this shit a long fucking time ago, but what the fuck it’s like everywhere I look; AND THOUGH I AM NOT AFRAID OF DEATH, REINCARNATION SCARED ME ALIVE–


And I realized that there must have been a god, that left something behind– It must have been a joke, and came out a little wrong; and by the time we got to here, the lover of our southern hell bound fates upon the underworld, and I let her led me toward the core of near and far, and that is when I might just think– I am I want; and the first thing I saw, as far as I can see every pointed to, is that I was meant to meet my maker; the moment I feel alive–


And then I realized the truth of Christ, the leader of them all– Why would they hide that feminine lineage, if we were in the image of what we should know! And then I realized why I knew death, because perpetual birth is the birth of knowledge of the wisdom, of wisdom creating knowledge from his mind– S


Now let me invite our guests, to the chest of the first chamber, he doth invest his spine and neck; suitable for a stranger– yet he looked perplexed, at what he heard next, the lure of a song from an old lantern, upon a cold latter, climbed to the attic where the tragic had hit; and that lightning stuck his core.

Whatever was that for? He felt like his chest ripped open; whatever was that four; and she pulled out a key as old as me, and open the chest in the hollows of the anger; I would look her in the eye, and ask her what made her, and that I had long ago offered fruit I had prospered; but that I would throw her upon my being that didn’t come until I lost her– stranger with two chest he couldn’t have honored–

The mind is of light, and the light is of mind; but something doesn’t fit. Act one, who speaks?

The tongue of the man, who was not so familiar, licked its lips and was the only thing allowed past– inside a round table, with the corners upon the axis like a compass, and four chairs upon the mid-way points, with table only set for two– And he sat alone waiting on six– and this tongue was confused, and left the room with his scowling face infused–

The heart is the word that is best used if we knew that two tear drops, had two tears as in torn, and torn, and stop; but that pumps, pumps to a roar– beats until it bleeds, but cannot scream no more.

ACT TWO. who the hell listens.

The fourth chamber is breached, but avoided; like we got in, but passed through it without noticing we had anointed, one we had not counted; so that without counting it was expressed, but expressed as that around it– A child is heard; who would bring that into this place, and displaced; the wind breaks, and ten snakes curled around the child he realized was his grace, his pace, all around his face lit up like he hath should not have brought him. Cuz a stranger is not worth the goblin.

And the little way that use to walk in a big way, makes his day look longer; and the senseless world too much more to the senses; and this jaded man in a child’s voice, just screams to god to end this. Hath not left enough symbolism of the heart, I know not the way of my own blood– and it would leave a stain that would fade only a bit after a wash.

Symbols, symbols, point thy rod to heaven; anoint the god, two left when; it culminated between the lips of an ancient rite of passage; emerges the tree of frozen light struck, and polished as passed off as average; and my phallic symbol refers to what I don’t understand of the tongue, so the one whom is my ring, is not the one who has rung, and the haze passes through my right nostril to my step upon the rug. Can you imagine what I refer to!? I DOTH REVEAL SWEET NOTHINGS IN YOUR EAR, UNTIL THE WARRIOR WITH HIS POINTED WEAPON, DO LOFTY LIKE LIFTS, LASTING LONG IN LINGER LEAVING LAST LUNGS LOOT LAYING LOOKING LEFT AND LEARY, AS THE LIGHT DRIFTS UPON YOUR FATAL SKELETONS.

and she invited a stranger into her temple, and I wondered the nature of the of prophetic prostitutes; and she told me to call her a whore and slap her in the face; and she lay herself upon me, and my rage rises through her face; but that my face turn red with mad dashing thoughts twisting upon itself, and that this dream would inspire me before I had dreamt it, like who I am and who I dream. Is the equivalent of being pregnant, by my spirit know perfection, before I had perfection intended?

Wedding Vows

I use to be something, a little… well I don’t know what it used to be— once wounded, all wounded; kept from getting bloody, but couldn’t refuse to bleed–

I use to see the people, the broken children who looked bigger; try to explain the state– but knew not I, of the truth that walked by, that even at eight, their mind would just blank– And if only I knew how I fucked with mental orbits, to cause the models to forfeit, and it only got worse with a consort of the gorgeous

But I am not the guy, to tell you in the eye, this heart has always been heard distorted; it’s like staring at the sun–

but how long have you been blinded, in that gap behind the eyelid; I am a lawless tyrant, but now tyrant of the law– just wearing one like a garment, an agreement until we parted; so, that deep down in the yard, past the trees with the strange moving humming birds; and the neighbor’s dogs offering me their hand in marriage



Now dear Cody was a strange one, we always thought he’d hang up, the phone or on a tree– because he likes trees and hates phones, but digs telepathy and the inner tantric rites of Isis upon Lilith, and Sophia was the boss; and those three, as four if crossed; but now he doth hopped the fence, hopping out of his yard back into his yard; in what once was a mirror– and it’s not that pride caused suffering, but separation caused a fear, and what hid beauty; thou knew as evil, and what pleasure it would it be to know the fear of god. May his last days be final!

The vows:

He would speak his vows, but mumbles in her presence– he knew he would die if he kissed her, but with her, of him he was jealous; and behind the essence, was the one who he vowed to avoid, and that what himself in her, so that he denied himself, so that she could accept him, and not deal with freaking unity consciousness, because classy fucks don’t live trends– Vow #1 WE LIVE DEARLY. AND A THOUSAND PEARLS WOULD I STRING UPON YOUR LOTUS– Vow #2 try not to ask you to explain yourself, where there is no self to be explained. Vow #3 for every 10 hours a day I leave, forty hours I give thee, or in essence because 49 hours around the sun, just ain’t fifty.

#Vow four, and the only one I thought of; That you my love, I accept you in totality; but please god damn it, be gentle.

She would speak her vows, and the beauty that would make the blind see; could not be directly referred to, so I refer to her back in the garden, where I was picked by a five petal rose; and I would I cut my self, 5 times over; lay 3 drops upon each petal in a row, just to show; that 5 brilliant colors hide black, and 15 drops would turn the road red, so that the black rose is a red rose in fact. And the philosopher’s stone, would arise and express our agreement, and this brilliant white, would redden in achievement; but that inside a gentle pink, though red like; would reach head high as the red-light district shun within. And that he knew himself, and married ignorance; and so, himself be born. So, that soon he would know about his own death, cuz the petals did bring thorns.

Live, die, live, die, this guy… what is he on? And did he come back with the sun in his pocket? And four hours later he would knock unconscious, though no one noticed his smile was cosmic. And the rainmaker does cometh, and cometh tobacco like a cloud, and have you never ate the fruit before the fruit was ready? And so, the vow was law, you reap what you sow, so keep it slow and steady. At least for the honey moon.

What is forbidden?

I realized the nature of the veil and the way of the light, yet not to be taken lightly. I wrote the nature of the other side, when Nikola Tesla; another student of the ancient order, revealed to me in his writings the nature of myth which his life has become has he evolved the idea of himself on the other side, in the higher initiations of the lodge in Sirius. And that of consequence I wrote  directly the nature of our being as I have seen it. A few pages long, partly in symbols and poetry, but as plain as day the nature of light when perceived from a certain level of purity in heart, there is another page; it is forbidden I feel. Like to look upon it is to see the big picture, the moment you are capable of realizing it as deep as you need to. It is the equivalent of looking at the true taboo of sex, and our situation as it has been at heart. I’m afraid it is a picture I cannot withhold. So I must warn. Now as to the true quality and value of it. Well, no one has really been capable of truly reading it yet, so as such no one has seen this degree. A new lineage, in which it is a deal in order to join. A sacred covenant to know the true veil of the heart, which is to you those horrors of the underworld, to which the very key is the nature of the order of our being, and to know what we have done; we transmute all earthly pain into that of a divine sorrow; which this planet has lacked; which is the complete love beyond unconditioned and conditioned. I have many secrets, but I am afraid that the greater ones lay in story, and knowledge of the story that is truly playing out.. and that the forbidden wisdom is the suitable myth to align to this order, the  rosicrucian bloodline of all that have been behind scenes, but truly the blood of all blood; all of the great work, which in my heart I know to be you. Don’t think such a mythic expression of self isn’t true power in the way I speak, all it takes is someone to honor them who themselves is of such mythic quality.. and I know how to bring others into the myth as well; yet varying degrees of such an order must exist. In such I attach this name to the credit ****, my true name declared, and not a secret, but has many of them for sure.

The world a mythic story, and I will write more upon the subject of understanding each magicians family name by heraldic lineage, and the mythic elements of which every person who is called sorcerer and felt that they meant it, are descendents of the more ancient orders of myth, and thus require the most light to dispel the curses you willingly placed upon yourself by becoming a forbidden bloodline of the real illuminati, of which goes under many different names, I descended from the rose cross, or the true spelling of the eros orgy known as the call of cthulhu. In which certain texts of pure novel ideas, are the key to every text held sacred, for the sacred lineages of 5 giants from which I descend, but once myself was in spirit; are separated by the keys that separate them by appearing as heresy in source. I hold the truth in all forbidden images, because truth as we relate to it, because we are looking for the creator of the created, by thinking the created was the creator. And as co-creators; there is more to it that creates a rich and solid life for which co-creators can co-exist, and not forget who is who and return unto the one I am.

Returning to source is not an option, everyone who is completely mind controlled; all identity that turns to sheep, though has a perspective and remains alive, has returned to source. Source is not who you are, do not mislead yourself the process of ascension as it is understood, expressed itself in a way for us to understand its spirit, but that we have mistaken phantoms of form, which are as much spirit you and I; and mistaken knowledge for wisdom in the basterd philosophy or corrupted foundation or stone; but that this gets more interesting and non-linear, and more encompassing as we go.

I will live as long as it takes to complete my work, and that I am of every lineage that knew something worth dying for, so that my spirit arose in everyone, but that I am not the only spirit; there is far more, and I am just a part of the whole, of the whole part that I am.

The structure of “I am” powers, and the mythological temple as it extends through reality to align our egoic or mythic self to that heart which is in a sense its own spirit, so that translations in manifestations or resonance; more thoroughly represent the nature of the heart. But before such things are revealed, we must understand the fire of the heart that is made known, and the dangers that lurk when that fire is unsupported by the logs it burns. There is work to be done, but it is time to become conscious of the work.

Those who don’t believe me, leave me and ignore the madness that knocks, those who see what I say, as seeming to be saying something else, should know that this speech hits vital points that if followed will only reach a deeper truth that leaves these statements more true than can be imagined, but so narrow.. yet simple at heart message. And even that sentence, yes. Do you see? And I would like you to see this as both a declaration, but that this is discourse in dance.

Who should read those things I offer? Who is ready to see the dragons become born again, and that true underground emerge? Who themselves already know in their heart that I speak of something you knew is of the same heart of something you always wanted to be a part of, or suspected was so, or dreamed of. Know this madness is of my descent, I am from my own imagined self, and that I imagined myself divine, only when I imagined myself, myself was not all I would find!

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The light

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