face it, that backwards song is me.


I keep getting told something meaningful will come of all this, but I’m doubtful. l can’t exist out in the open of this, like an animal I am wise. So you bow your head and agree to the conditions. But this place has no conditions, only promises and pain. Promises written in ink, pain that wounds to the bone. This isn’t me, my profile is deception. But you don’t care, you buy me anyway. I do mean you, the one digging. This raw meat encased, this raw pain uneaten. This deception that anything matters at all. The reasons we write this, the ink that defines us, the tongue that betrays all our wounds oozing from mouth to mouth. Secret to secret. Wet bed to another body. Diseases with curves, meant to seduce anything that will lick itself like an animal licks blood and pus from a wound. He, the wise star man told me I was that guy that fell between the cracks in the Grand Canyon and had to saw off his arm to survive. He told me that was my life, my divine mission and duty. The thing I cannot escape. Self inflicted wounds. Searching for this body of pain. He said it was big. Size does matter and I intend to prove it. And so, since I am only aware like an animal is aware mysteriously that dawn is approaching as it returns to its secret lair to hide, I live secretly undercover with weapons. I wait in the dark. Seeking myself in various parts. Hurting. Finding the infection in the eyes of many, but me. Where did I go when I hid inside of you. The devouring of child into mother. Animals do this, as a source of protection. Something a human box mind will never understand and thus the species would die out unless the  ancestral demons did not have an incubation period. Wound, womb.
Same thing. Weapon, wisdom. Only those between the crag of two ridges with nothing but death left to hold them will know me. And so soon I’ll go because talking always must end as crying takes over- until all limbs have been severed. I know you’re holding on. I know corpses forget their names and yet still haunt those breathing. I know breath turns to gray and stays that way even for lifetimes. When the pain is the effect and not the cause. That is my message. Hurt, hurt everything breathing and clean the sky out of me. The wise star man told me not to be afraid. That even once it’s gone, it never disappears. The earth pain is what I’m talking about. Hard bone that wants back in. It’s not even you doing the fucking, it’s all your dead uncles and cousins. That’s what’s so sad. The deception of hands. I know nobody really buys my magic talk. Well in my magic silence I’m taking everything you own. Even me, piece by piece back to hole before the light rises in the east once again. Before the sky seems clear of my memory. When birds fly and sing to distract from the real song. Crying, weeping, searching for eyes. A way out, I see you above me. Noticing nothing but your own hunger. This is a very sick world. Possessing it’s inhabitants. I am forced to live hidden therefore in the humming of night. The star man told me I needed to start digging for gold to get back into balance. He said, “stop carrying men on your back…little baby animals who will deceive you with their open mouths. You. ” He said, ” you.” I understand him better than most. I was watching the river leave as he spoke and there was nothing in that water but tears, this earth is because of me. Not around and outside of me. This pain is because of you, not because I’m separate and available. These words are because I’m cutting my own body apart, limb by limb looking for stars that got stuck in the avalanche. That was birth by the way. The avalanche. I fell by accident, even though there really are no accidents only interventions…as an overlap of time that allows one more chance to escape…and now the only thing to do is sacrifice to be free. Enter the pain you create. Not because you want in, but because you want out. So the deception is like transverse writing, evil. And meant only for the killer to read…face it, that backwards song is me. Sharada Devi

37 thoughts on “face it, that backwards song is me.”

  1. Stop worshipping the devil she said…you’ll go to hell…but I don’t really like Christianity…you know…the religion itself…I hate it…I believe in Jesus…I don’t reject Christ…stay away from those buddhists…they’re deceived…but some of them are psychic…and…I don’t care…you won’t let me talk…because I don’t want to hear it…listen to me…if you keep doing what you’re doing…god will KILL you…and then you will go to hell when you die…pray to Jesus…and ask him to help you…but I don’t want to live to get old…I really don’t…no response…this is a fucked up situation…I don’t want to be cremated in an industrial incinerator…I don’t want to be embalmed and entombed inside of an airtight steel box…and buried…I want my body to be left alone…wrapped tightly in white cloth…laid atop a large pyre…and set on fire…like those heathens do in India…or I want to be left outside where vultures can pick my bones pristine…

    I don’t get the evil thing…unless you’re demonic and you’ve already been to hell…I don’t even like slashing the tires of people that deserve it…because when the man comes around…you’re going to be vulnerable to your own sense of guilt…I don’t understand hurting people and causing pain just because they’re alive on planet earth doing the best they can to survive…only relying on what they know…yeah let’s destroy them because that’s what being here is for…to be ground down slowly…but I’ve seen unnatural flares of demonic anger…I’ve seen it…it’s totally unreasonable and unnatural…and it’s essence is evil…and you like to own it as if it’s cool or something…

    1. Shane, do you do this 24 hours a day?
      It’s obviously a haunting!
      Write on through the ghosts and the tears.
      Laughing to light…😂😜👍🏻⛳️

  2. as a person who has good ideas…and to know many things that most people don’t know…and as a total failure at 38 years old…I examine what I believe to have happened…depending upon which area of failure I examine…one in particular…its execution…I often suck at execution…sometimes things get in the way at the wrong time…the iron is hot…but you don’t have your hammer…and other things like the subconscious psychological desire to fail that sabotages…it blankets the subconscious like a curse of sleepy grey snow…ensuring that you can never make the right moves at the right time…when your thinking is clear your hands will be tied…when you’re impulsive and not able to consider everything…you act and lose…

    theres a tall fat man with a janitors uniform on…a big key chain attached to his belt that rattles with every heavy step he takes…he’s not friendly at all…he has a blank stare as he stands there eating a sandwich…his belly hangs over his belt through his tight button down janitors shirt…he has a fat wife and 2 kids…he eats a lot and has very little empathy…he likes to take his shirt off…put on a leather mask…carry a double bladed axe…and throw the switch that opens the door that leads to your demise…he’s your case worker…he decides whether you get to live or die…he doesn’t talk a lot…he doesnt talk about his feelings because he doesnt have any…he had surgery on his spine and now hes perfect…he didnt have to lose weight or stop eating gmo…why do that when you can just have surgery…and he doesn’t understand why you are the way that you are…he gets irritated if you look at him…try to appeal to any sense of humanity that he may have…he’s fine…and he hopes you’re not…he just goes to work and goes home…women like him for some reason…and he likes them…but the smile from his face fades quickly when his eyes turn to focus on me…the women don’t see what I see…and this is after all largely a popularity contest…so he wins and you keep losing…those are the rules…its life on life’s terms…as harsh as those terms are…his look says its time for me to leave…I guess because the fun is about to begin…

  3. I can hear the war cry. My blood sparking
    The thumping of the hunter who was being
    hunted. Survive with dead stare- This is obviously a war. The masses and the lone Survivor Who knows like roots deeper than fire Where you hide

    I was seeing, last night, as I was walking out into the cold, The small warrior, questing. In my head. The one who was walking, knew that he had to, let the quest happen. To the heart. To bow, be brave. It’s cold.

  4. The warrior doesn’t have a home. Will fight with nothing to lose. Like the ground is open to accept blood-so that he can lay his head in peace. Let the sacrifice spill. All of a sudden the night is quiet. And I can hear the stream trickling like that’s enough for today.

  5. God,
    There is pain. There is loud. Quiet loud, can’t breathe. There is the one letting rain run down his face. There is a storm. The storm is violent. The sun, the sun is not. The sun, I burn to be warm. To let my blood, flow free. My blood is what is sacrificed.

    So I can hear my heart pumping until it all stops. I will be free because I will. die. It’s just a matter of time, and I can wait. Like no one. I am placed in fire, now.

    “How Can I Love You”, the song, as if it were one, playing inside my heart. Back to the blue man, in the rain, with an invisible smile☀️for you._

      1. I was feeling firey. Like I could take it. And harden like a diamond.

        Left wondering
        What happened to fatal attraction.

        “My heart… that’s where I will go.”
        Is what I was left with

        1. Sorry I just wrote you back but I thought
          you were Shane. I don’t think you’re on fire. I think Shane is on fire. His writing
          is flames shaped like letters…

        2. I’m kind of tired of the the riddles
          that don’t intrigue…that’s firey?
          try harder ok. You said you would and
          the cold Metallic Obama energy is obsolete

        1. I don’t get it, again…it’s like
          your own language or something…

          So I will never miss direction?
          Or do you mean misdirect…or
          maybe misfire?

          So I will never misfire or miss Fire…
          but you just said you wanted to be cold,
          so ????? no time to decipher. Shouldn’t have to, can’t play along, I keep saying it…
          sorry but I hate cold and fire burns.

          1. You are calling me from a mountain peak.
            Or above one.
            I fly when I think about telling you what I want to tell you, though there are no words, so I make them. “I won’t settle for less” was my theme yesterday, and it carries on. And on, my heart,
            Is real because I can feel it growing out of my chest and my throat. I am keeping it down with my determination, more than desperation. To be heard, like I said. Again and again until there is nothing left to give.
            I think about what I can give and it is only love and things to break apart. So I am glad to hear of my failures for that reason- to break apart. So I can fly. For real, with my feet on the ground….
            I tune into you and it’s like you are far away, in a cave. And then the cave is down in me. In my belly. This is why I think of fire… because I know it takes more than what I have been, to burn through the comfort and habit. BUT I AM, and maybe even it is coming through, my eyes…
            I dont want to be a talker.

          2. The heart growing out of the chest and throat part sounds creepy. Like a bad sci-fi movie.

            I’m so far away….you can give love? Maybe you need to write a book about what that really is then…because that’s the all talk part. Furthermore if you want to be heard- I’m
            simply asking that you make sense. That’s all.
            Communication -and heartfelt should come thru as warmth in the words not some word aquarian splatter. It’s not like I don’t keep repeating myself.

          3. but I do like the “things to break
            apart” part and the what to give- but breaking isn’t fun on my end- just more work… I prefer beauty and flowing light.
            I told you that last night – Krishna remember and how they won’t let me stay…with him.

          4. Thank you.
            I want to communicate clearly.
            I want to honor you, and that I feel. I can’t fathom where it comes from: I honor you deeply and every day, will work to show it.
            Thank you, for your being, the ways your clearly communicate and live in this world.

          5. That’s terrible. (That they won’t let you stay with him.)
            I’m sorry; god help me, feel the light. So I can let it spill
            What I mean is, I hear you, I have seen you, and I am your friend

          6. I’m at the river. I can’t help it, the first thing I think is how pretty and mystical the black flowing water is. How empty the leaving is. How hilarious because the water keeps coming. You have changed my world
            To a river
            What I’m talking about is the mystical flow that you made happen and the reality that keeps coming. These feelings are real. And I am grounded.
            Coming back now.

          7. I like it all but the word “hysterical.”
            Maybe instead- how “enchanting” that the water keeps coming. That’s krishna.
            I keep telling you and showing you seduction…why can’t you see where this is going?

      1. Yes! That’s what I’m talkin about. 🔥! No time to stop.
        New day, fresh pain, I can take it
        All the same. Don’t you remember me. Something blue. The sky reflected on my stone
        face. One that moves. Like rain falling. Through

  6. we lose cause we’re dumb…when you’re dumb you think you’re smart…so figures in nature seem to mimic conceptions in your mind only to be misapplied resulting in an outcome that wasn’t the favorable one we intended…we land on our head and not our feet…because we calculated wrong…and it’s impossible to always do the opposite of what you know to be right…minimize losses verses maximizing gains…glow worms cry and pee to be free…I sliced my finger open with a razor carelessly today…deep…on the verge of stitches but instead opted for cloth tape…the immediate aftermath I realized was only an instant…just a little stun and it’s over…a jankity inspector…a milk bone detector…the upstairs dog break dances on the floor over my head…I can listen to tripping music when I’m normal and become insane in an inspired way…for a little while…like waves i can catch…I turned a shade of dark blue…a skeleton with hair playing the piano under the stars having left my cat face down below…you have to wait to catch them…to not wait is to grow roots into the lake…hum drum old man tree face…roots slithering down into the rippling crescent wane reflecting off of heavens dark mirror…earthworms plead and breathe life into my torso…i pepper the earth with rainbow sprinkles and grow a dream to the sky…my giant green hands…scattering stardust fades Egyptians to the maze…not corn though…he said cheese in his sleep…I murmured it hurts right there…waking up to the ethereal darkness…once again as a child to endure…being a child once again…time slows down then speeds up as you accelerate into settling down…if I don’t do my time my time will do me…from an angle only petals could bend…emanations grow now…like silent desert rumbling…before a frightful repentance in the bright light of his grace…bowing in tongues…eyes rolling white…

    1. You do this perfectly. This writing is magnificently creative, captivating and
      therapeutic. You are doing the pen to the paper like I taught you? You are really really a good charismatic writer and this will cleanse you as deeply as any thing ever could…not to mention how much your words seem to love to see you smiling at them.♥️

  7. mother light burning bright with all your children following behind you like little ducks in a row. you show the point of the sword
    Om AH RA PA CHAN NA DHIH the flaming sword cuts the darkness like flashing lighning bolts of pain. crystal bones are singing to me…….. the tone is the zone…..listen to the breath, being here now……..going in and out. before the thought……the space of AHH.

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