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;

THAN YOU SHOULD KNOW A GOD CAN SPEAK, SO NO LOT CAN’T HEAR– And yet hear it all–

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–

Because THE MORE YOUR WORDS SPEAK TO THE TRUTH OF THE SITUATION, THE MORE EVERYTHING IS ALREADY IN AN ORDER TO POINT TO EXACTLY WHAT THOSE WORDS MEAN; and so you see the words, purely confusion of the tongue–

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