Currency: Concentric Flights
Rivers, oceans & even ponds understand the tasks of depth.
What is it these bodies of water see which humanity cannot?
Living in a bubble of distraction, we are unaware of worlds
which exist w/in & w/out.
Stepping outside that bubble is to willing drown one’s self
for awakening. A death after which you go on living, just
in a different shade of light, perhaps.
Death came to me as a pinprick, bursting my bubble. W/ no
release, no mercy, just endless flights of inverted
madness, but outward we flew into the freezing blue of
a love unknown. Having not been fully realized beforehand
the position w/in the crucible between
universe & humanity.
Humanity___ the lucky bastard,
blinded at birth by the dead hands of god itself.
I am shadow only, as I waltz never fully alone or w/in
the company of him. Our eyes met & I witnessed beginning
& end in one. All else is blur of maze;
we follow the shock & scent of cheddar, all for what
is unknown.
Seeing now, I understand there is nothing to be seen.
Besides,
the cold ticking of the ever-present functioning
solely on the energy of time alone. & when
I look into his eyes, I see life swaying in wait as the
pendulum of a long case clock.
Death is beckoning, saying I am no longer woman, nor
am I human.
*
Humanity clutches to the idea of self, like a newborn
suckling at the mother’s nourishing tit. Unaware that
inevitably they will be weaned from the poison of birth
of flesh, only to recognize identity as a temporary
fragment in the growth of self.
Glory comes then w/ self-awareness only to be shot down
like a lame bitch, no longer able to produce a drama
of pups. & then what? ___
Still another bitch & another litter of cognitive growth
unaware of the mandala rugs beneath their feet. One rug
after the next will be pulled, & w/ each yank comes
further awakening; & yes,
death & the long case clock still patiently wait
for the time of the upper house.
In the upper house we see the body as a throbbing
pustule in particle form, waiting to burst.
Rivers, oceans & even ponds understand the tasks of depth.
What is it these bodies of water see which humanity cannot?
Living in a bubble of distraction, we are unaware of worlds
which exist w/in & w/out.
Stepping outside that bubble is to willing drown one’s self
for awakening. A death after which you go on living, just
in a different shade of light, perhaps.
Death came to me as a pinprick, bursting my bubble. W/ no
release, no mercy, just endless flights of inverted
madness, but outward we flew into the freezing blue of
a love unknown. Having not been fully realized beforehand
the position w/in the crucible between
universe & humanity.
Humanity___ the lucky bastard,
blinded at birth by the dead hands of god itself.
I am shadow only, as I waltz never fully alone or w/in
the company of him. Our eyes met & I witnessed beginning
& end in one. All else is blur of maze;
we follow the shock & scent of cheddar, all for what
is unknown.
Seeing now, I understand there is nothing to be seen.
Besides,
the cold ticking of the ever-present functioning
solely on the energy of time alone. & when
I look into his eyes, I see life swaying in wait as the
pendulum of a long case clock.
Death is beckoning, saying I am no longer woman, nor
am I human.
*
Humanity clutches to the idea of self, like a newborn
suckling at the mother’s nourishing tit. Unaware that
inevitably they will be weaned from the poison of birth
of flesh, only to recognize identity as a temporary
fragment in the growth of self.
Glory comes then w/ self-awareness only to be shot down
like a lame bitch, no longer able to produce a drama
of pups. & then what? ___
Still another bitch & another litter of cognitive growth
unaware of the mandala rugs beneath their feet. One rug
after the next will be pulled, & w/ each yank comes
further awakening; & yes,
death & the long case clock still patiently wait
for the time of the upper house.
In the upper house we see the body as a throbbing
pustule in particle form, waiting to burst.
Yet another bubble about to blow, as the mind is
contained w/in the house as
a nerve center from which all emotion & sensory
come forth, exposed in the lower world of lost logic.
Beginning the death of self, leaving only
awareness & pain.
Awareness negates self & mind w/ intent to
fully merge, yet again, w/ the transparent contents of
the upper house.
Once identity has crumbled, the mind is possessed as tool
for the master of self.
One must locate the hidden corridors w/in
the upper house to come to terms w/ self, & w/ master.
*
In my short time, as the pendulum sways, much patience
has been exercised. Having seen more than hell, more
than heaven, & still I sit in wonder of what comes next.
At least there is grasp of the pieces to be put in place,
this takes forward pace for progress though, & I am
only just beginning to build w/in the locks of an unsolved
puzzle, which may take forever, for all I know.
This is it though.
for the master of self.
One must locate the hidden corridors w/in
the upper house to come to terms w/ self, & w/ master.
*
In my short time, as the pendulum sways, much patience
has been exercised. Having seen more than hell, more
than heaven, & still I sit in wonder of what comes next.
At least there is grasp of the pieces to be put in place,
this takes forward pace for progress though, & I am
only just beginning to build w/in the locks of an unsolved
puzzle, which may take forever, for all I know.
This is it though.
(I've got cold feet posting this piece, because it's something I've been working on for several months. Odds are it will be re-worked, since cognitively...I just can't take it any further than this right now.)
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