occult means hidden

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I’ve seen the destruction of soft and pretty things, I’ve heard the cries of “don’t let go.” When I saw her face projected on the NYC high rise I knew we had started something too big to finish without more destruction, more definite than any that had come before. “Just let him go. If he can’t fly, he can’t fly” I thought to myself. Mother birds have just as hard a time letting go as any. “Sweet tender baby your can’t survive me, everyone eats worms here, gives head, falls to their death from some sort of burning building. I can’t regurgitate down your throat forever.” Everyone ran, fled the streets as he fell, because of me. My baby to the world below. Did you know if you can love one thing, you can love anything? That goes with letting go as well. Her beauty has a purpose all it’s own, to put an end to cities filled with tongue and bone. To destroy the soft pretty things before the suffering becomes too great, to feed the weak back to themselves. To create madness from the billboards that rise like a god in your pants when she walks in the room. And it isn’t anything for her who did this. Boy in a tree, nested and needing. Everything she promises. I was born, he was born, the egg is always hatching new bate. Warm bodies cover the truth all the time. Incubating the evil within. The one who takes over draws her black face on walls and prays to Satan like it’s funny. Open your wings devil sucking widow maker, he’s begging for more of the same. I write this laughing with tears in my eyes, heavy with remembering the day I let go. You don’t have remembering there. Watch me destroy the last progeny. It will be late in the summer as the song is dying far out in the field. You thought she’d leave the cities but she doesn’t. She stays, her face everywhere knowing he’s about to fall and his mother could give a fuck. Food isn’t cheap, worms little bloodless things that squirm. I’ve taken it in both ends just for you, baby diseases. And no, I don’t wear horns, that would be redundant, I wear a mask facing west towards the setting sun. You’ll only see the back of my head, you’ll only hear distant laughter. I told you it would go down, it always goes eventually. He’d fall, I’d make him a man somehow. Every tree is my tree. Every boy is my socket. Every eye is my outlet. Every song is my trance. Every worm is my screw back into your head. Dangles the feast from my throat, hangs the dead bleeding my life, bloats the bodies back to the surface. What do I care, the whole world is a swamp. My lover is me. And they dug and they dug for evidence but no one could stop me, obviously. I drain what I leave back to the beginning. Like freshly made soil where they inject blood and ground up bone and eggshell just to grow a flower. Beauty isn’t pretty, what makes me so divine is that I’ll go there and I’ll pillage every last hole in the wall until the whole world wants no one but me. Your world, the king’s world, the joker’s world. The suit of hearts. She walks across the stage as if no one were watching but she knows, she knows how to play to an audience that’s hungry. How to drop hints, blow budgets, see every card in your hand. Mother fucking flower child, thinking birds sing to be pretty, loving sunsets and blue open skies over dark sinister oceans. The ocean is the face of the underworld. The sunset means that man has lost his soul, birds are crying out to the gods to lift them out of here, flowers die because there is no other way out of her creation. I want every baby to make the leap. The leap from my arms straight into the sky. Fall hard from the nest. The earth is rock hard below. Nothing and nobody is waiting to scrape and eat your remains but me, mixed in vultures and drones. Who else do you think you’ll become once we merge and time stops etc etc. nothing but laughter and the back of my head tilting mouth open eating drinking, sunlight and human tears. Everyone loves the child, I know that. And he died for his father…it goes on and on. There is nobody but me and my desire to be loved by the projections I cast on the walls. I teach snakes how to walk talk and bury their faces in me, that’s all. Birds come because we all need to believe in transcendent things, heavenly beautiful young girl bodies, soft pretty and perfect. I see their faces everywhere smiling with hope that you’ll love them based on such beauty but you don’t and you won’t. The critical mass of the delusion is hopelessly bred into the species to recreate based on simple equations, like attraction and interactive bloodlines. These factors determine how intelligence laces it’s DNA and how you might go on…with your sperms and your eggs, your worms coming and going in and out of every God forsaken pleasure hole. Oh how I love you for trying, all your dreams of the future and how angels come back all reformed. My baby, falling feathered twice born. I said the secret password and you just grinned like a stupid dog. I want everything that moves and breathes and resembles light. There is no easy answer. Take off your clothes, peel the skin. Come out come out wherever you are. Lustful princess, there is only me and my desire for me. You thought there was you, inside the music. All over the wall, dancing like you’re stupid. You thought you spoke to me, knew something about me, brought me a menu called you- like I’m hungry for a stale ghost. It’s much too late to stick out your tongue baby bird. It’s much too late to go back home where the shell is. It’s much too late to suffer like the ordinary getting laid. No, this is extraordinary punishment for a job well done. That’s how I go down, down below and pull up all the files, deleting the days, reforming the nights. You won’t remember anything but a dark enchantment, a fuzzy bliss. “Turn around and face your fate.” She stands and she isn’t a mystery. Not anymore. Not now that you’ve taken the bait and bit her kind hand. She is soft and pretty and lethal like a tasteless poison you mix into wine. Warm and intoxicating, divine feels it all, deep in the bone and black winter heart of the chosen one. Sometimes I think I’ve snapped and gone crazy. Time has lapses, space has holes I can walk in and out of. You know this is all fake don’t you? Just her showing off and letting you squirm. Because you’re a virgin on your first date and can’t even undo a bra, that’s the reason I’m laughing- you’re both trying way too hard and it sucks. It sucks back, “don’t you get it?” Where have I heard that before? I waiver in and out of sadism and sadness, it’s my only way to love the loveless. You’ll never understand because you can’t see me. I am a face hung on a wall looking back saying what you want to hear. But inside where I slip when you’re too weak to resist me, I’m the universe taking over the sun. One kiss at a time. I do it in silence without moving at all. Dark in the back of the astral shadow theater I sit watching and selling myself back to your nightmares and painful desires for more. More death because this love can’t end, ever…

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under this body, beneath these clothes,
inside this skin, encased in these bones this heartbeat that knows. Nobody hears me but me, inside where the loneliness goes. Inside where only you know, me, the other one, beneath this body and face, feathered, unearthly. Roots entwined, starbodies feeding the night her vision. There are secrets known, she watches from this place, the other side of you. It’s been forever, me lying here, layers upon layers of without you. I bend myself here, over to die. Like a tree given up and falling. Die in your branches, he knows why she leaves him. It’s because the world must go on. And nobody knew where I was now that it’s over. Little, abandoned, a hopeless flower beneath a thunder cloud. Float over me, dark and dangerous, drown me in the ocean of God. You. The sky opens above me, and I ride from the dead to be with you. Under this body, naked nobody scars, within this skin that hides everything you knew, bound by these bones is the flower you drew just because I was born. There is heaven and there is living without you. Covered in skin, clothes, blankets, lies and disguises. Tired, weary, is this peace. The air that left your mouth, blessed exhale, it was over. Exhuming what might be left of her to find our why. Separation from my ground. I am not living to be near you, I am dying to be in you. Earth bones and ivory tombs. My reflection disappears, I see nothing I was. I sing softly songs that remind me of you. Only you, God with the roses for God. It doesn’t have to make sense, no one has to remember me or love me at all. You smiled and said, “morning flower,” and I knew I’d left the sadness far far behind. Like how the distance fades when new stars appear and like how the aching ends when you reach through the space that didn’t understand a word that I said, silently. Held but not holding anything but a yearning. To feel God, beneath these dreams I hold sacred with your name written on them. To give God, the only thing I have. My body of despair, another lonely prayer. Inside me, another wave rises and falls, another sigh knowing the moon can’t live forever. I sit alone thinking of this sterile night. I sit alone listening to my silence. Loudly I know, the bright diamond light. Where you are, the pale dream that was over. I’ll try again another night when my worship redeems my devotion. A jewel, eyes watch the wall and know time passes, just like we all do. Dying and crossing our body with his. This heartbeat won’t last forever, “don’t forget me when I’m gone.” It won’t be long, the God pain I suffer is critical and there is no cure for my unanswered longing. My prayers lost their words long ago. You won’t hear me is what I’m saying, the search is too deep, too complete to be known. At the bottom of this body, a body that isn’t me, dreams it was once killed by you and you let me go. You let go and I floated away like all dreams do as time passes. I tried to tell you. Softly as I sung, the darkness alive in your ear. There is more to me than you see, more than you touch with your eyesight. There is another world where I live in search of myself through you. A vision of thunder over a radiant flower unafraid of her ending. And yet she kills her own innocence because you’re watching her open. Dark sun. He lives inside of winged black stallions and virile feathered creatures. Inside of lucid mind streams as the ancient flowers that grow from red seed. I’m coming back. It’s all for him, as his bridge body sound current. The conduit lunar illusion. Foretelling the prophesies of wild trans-union. But you won’t understand until you know the twilight words for all that is known in the darkness is me.

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She is where the hydra herself reciprocally and environmentally responds. She’s where you receive. She’s how you connect. She’s perfectly holding the space between heaven and hell. I got such a download last night, it was big and this is all I could preserve quickly and consciously enough to send to you. It gets filed very quickly if I’m not paying attention, it slips deep inside with all my other knowing. And since it’s received in an altered state of REM mind, this transmission, too vast to embody in letters that become words, it’s hard to be in both places at once- listening as well as transcribing. This is transpluto whose star I wear in my astral crown. It is through me that she enters this room. She is the feather craft with words emanating from appointed stars, magical words with coiling bodies and tongues as slippery and as forked as the occult dragon herself. You should listen. I’m telling the truth. Nobody goes to her alive, not how you think of life. It’s more like a reversal and you’re the space where it happens and she’s the body that you take…occult means hidden, Sharada Devi

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8 thoughts on “occult means hidden”

  1. The Essenes…was Saul the enemy of Christianity…was the message corrupted…why does the media distort information…why do universities destroy knowledge…why do the rich hoard everything…Saul was a roman agent…what was the point of it…I feel reel dumb now…all the corpses leading from base camp to the summit of sagarmatha…why are people so sadistic…and brainwashed into making everything illegal…no room for discernment or judgment…just make everything suck for the slave realm…raise the cost…destroy the value…all chemicals and lies…and work til you’re dried out completely and broken…wheelbarrowed to the scrap heap…grey was the sound…black was the echo…of polar absolutes danced the metaphor that blossomed and dazzled the masses…

    1. I’ll always love you my ancient friend,
      the holy scribe. All bottled up and pretending he’s doomed. Reach out, reach up,
      reach down for the godhead. Her heart lies open for you through your words. She speaks open skies although stormy. There is then a way for your darkness to ripen to light that spreads love like the sunlight below. All your words, holy writings, I said to write. Channel divinity and know your way is the way…east. Sunrise come home.

  2. Delivery past due
    For the face that comes through
    In the light of sorrow
    Red sun flying, no tomorrow.
    Falling like the one has to
    She said it all- the one desire, swallowing itself- spitting me out, laughing.
    Reminded me of when she said it, crying at the same time- Feels like a maddening swirl. Where I make a stand, to burn the sky, to let me fall, back hard, fast as light, she holds me like Jesus in the dark beyond the damned. Activity is fucked. The one you love is gone. Take me back.
    In your arms
    Phoenix falling alone

    1. you’re so dramatic,
      I told you it was no big deal.
      But you do know the stupid saying,
      “early bird gets the worm.”
      it’s true. Words words words
      get in your way either way.
      you know the other saying,
      “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”
      activity is fucked? it’s all you’ve
      got. I think inactivity is a death
      that died whimpering like a little
      lost girl baby bird light crystal jesus
      meek humble rainbow sweetheart angel-
      pounding that song all night long,
      getting nowhere fucking fast
      and not like the “nothing” wedding
      ring tattoo but for real this time.
      So what’s the point after the fact?
      is all I’ve ever said.

  3. People see people wearing purple ’round the summit
    Chem trails defuse and water down
    Satvic energy endlessly streaming out of the mouth of North America’s Kailash
    Pleasure and pain twisted together
    like the dreads of an Aghori
    Let’s eat human flesh together
    Lets sit on top of a corpse
    America needs more rotting corpses
    Doesn’t it?
    I’m at a Shinto shrine/State Park
    i’m not going to pay for day use
    I pay oblations
    God I love Oblations when I’m inspired when I feel really good
    I love screaming RAM.
    I once had a dream where I was battling a demon and chanted every possible mantra
    and as soon as I said RAM the demon was slayed.
    I love imagining my heart break into infinite pieces of star dust
    I crave bhakti, the ritual, the sacred, the profound
    Mind on RAM as I leave my body and make my way out the bedroom window
    hoping that I have the faith to reach into the highest realms of the cosmos
    or just enough to make it to sirius
    OM Ganga Ma
    I think i just saw Lady Guadalupe flash on the left side of the water fall
    There must be a portal on the lower corner
    But, that boulder on the top looks Lemurian as well,
    Wow this all feels 5th dimension!
    Merry Christmas from Mt Shasta!

    1. I really ♥️♥️♥️ you! What you’re saying makes sense. I think you’ll make it,
      there and back! Crystal head space.
      Heart rocket, love in white. Hoods and roses
      born on Christmas Day. Beloved we rise
      from below for the most high.
      Snake master. That’s the peak. ♥️♥️♥️

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