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.