tangled ball of black knots
a crack that breaths
a pressure that suffocates
a finger that hides the hole in the wall
these walls that surround me
this home of dead bodies
stuck to the floor
in patterns disguised…
my eyes sear the space
that once held me stainless
and my touchless mind
hiding from the stain
of my thoughts…
where I couldn’t remember you
the sound of your heart
into sky and beyond
into places bodies never formed
into voices never bled by my hands…
a grip around my throat
a gasping for your air
a picture of you dangles
like a dead autumn leaf…
and it’s ok
because I’m not looking for life
I’m looking for the eyes
that see through me
watching me die
in a pattern unseen…
on the other side of the room
where no one ever goes
but me and my hands
blood on my bended knees
hurts more than you know
these wounds made by me
and my family of ghosts…
should I fall into you
now and forget the before?
before this before that
before me made of guts…
chips in the porcelain cup
wrinkles in skin made of white
grinding teeth tongues that bite…
I haven’t found my home
in these pages of you…
reading slowly letters fall
it means nothing
but that sometimes things break…
you couldn’t roll my heart across the floor if you tried. You couldn’t slip something into my drink. You couldn’t ever fool me with your witchcraft.
I made where I’ve gone just for me
like a snake makes a hole in the desert. I’ve done what I’ve done like a snake who grows wiser with every scared mouse that he swallows.
Believe me, I’m not hungry anymore.
Believe me, I growl because I want to…
digesting the varmint
a snake blows the sheep
deep without you causing trouble…
I live in the place where mold grows
as I peel back the skin of your lies…
I sit and I stare at the words of the risen and I silently groan back at the dead in my life…
I found a way that makes it all ok
I found a hurt that is greater than the loss of my soul. I found the place that I fit…
where it doesn’t matter if you’re right
it only matters that my blood stays cold and my fingers remain digits…
and my scaled skin stays dry as I remember myself buried beneath the shallow grave of this fly ridden house…
where ghosts form from bodies made of smoke where skeletons dance in front of mirrors and where I wait to be seen by you, if ever again…
rotten and forgotten with only sockets and a pitchfork shimmer…
you haven’t see the end of me. I hang from every last word of your description and I eat shit like a demon…
Certain Death has a face my beautiful friend. And it’s not your heaven death, it’s my father. My father who built this house with my bare hands.
Thank you for your feedback, now fuck off…
mirror mirror on the wall.
Creative self expression is freedom of movement and accesses the recesses of our heart and our memory laden subconscious. The freedom of this alchemical and transformative movement is that we create beauty from pain and we transform our tears into streams of radiant soul light. I write the blog material in the manner that I do- not because I’m schizophrenic or need a place to deposit my self indulgent directionless ramblings- there is a direction, a point and a place. There is a story and a moral to the story- and there is a voice from the deep that is wise in it’s scope and ability to draw heaven from hell and inspire new growth.
It is these places that haunt us within that hold our greatest treasures. I can write literally and “teach” what I know based on direct learning and life experienced wisdom- but truly, the mood and feeling from the creative cavern of the ancient soul is of more value ultimately. Yes we all need to know the basic foundation that will give the clarity, courage and faith to open up the “sealed records” but believe me, it hurts and it’s
a “tangled ball of black knots” that need to be loosened and untied with skill- that’s the space my words enter- because “these places within” that all the greatest artistic masterpieces of all time were drawn from take the ability to “go there” and do something useful with the powerful and often overwhelming emotions that await you.
The fuel for our awakening is hidden in these depths- in the realm of her dark suction and yes, surrender- fall to your knees and rub your face into the dirt of this earth and smell the musky fervor of her devotion to you in the form of regeneration. From dirt into dirt we go. And when she loves you she opens the black hole and pulls it all up- the beauty then flows from the source of her- where nobody dare go- which is to the bottom of which there is no return without the sacrifice of the suffering and attachments that we cling to. We truly must “give it all to her” with appreciation because it’s inevitable- and so it’s a blessing if we have the words to say “I love you” in a way that is more meaningful than those three simple, durable, multipurpose words- but to mean it because we dredged it deep from the floor of our soul.
I only lead the way. I only mean to encourage the entry into her domain. What takes us closer to the edge of her spotless, crystal blade is the undying love we offer through the death of our “self” through the sacrifice of control, through the helplessness we embrace, knowing that her wild flurries of inter-dimensional chaos are actually the jewels of absolute non dual clarity even if it makes no sense to you at all. It’s only because you’re stuck in a terribly confining intellectual rut, but even then, a deeper you knows something way down low was struck in a way that forever changes everything you held onto…
which is the point, let go of conceptual reality…
be free to move through the many worlds and be a creator of beauty against all opposition. Anything and everything can be made beautiful through creativity and the angle with which we view negativity. And so this is how we brighten and clarify our minds in service to our hearts -we give a voice, a color, a nuance and a tear to the “ugly, shameful or abhorrent” to the “forgotten, disowned and taboo” within us and we come out transformed by our own selfless actions- because feelings and experiences are not yours alone- everyone has rage, addiction, loneliness, frustration, regret, and loss. We have been blessed with these fractures and we have been wounded so that we are compelled to seek the means of release which heal and rebirth not only ourselves, but all beings fractured by these same wounds- and so we create art- the lasting beauty that stems from suffering and reveals the divine flower.
Words are magic when used wisely and they have the power to move anything in a new direction. Negative emotions conjure certain words and we lash out without clarity. At these moments of obscurity of consciousness if we could but go within and listen to the truth, the spark of pain that bleeds the light of something from before, we could take our anger or grief and create something uncensored and prolific from the grace of her darkness. This darkness is where all beauty hides waiting to be noticed, heard, articulated- through song, dance, poetry, painting- anything that takes us deeper into the primal wounds of humanity and pulls the myth from the seemingly insignificant emotional baggage.
No, it’s not insignificant, it’s the reason God came here, because the water is divine. The water at the bottom where it’s warm and alive with all the bacteria of our souls. If you go through life contracting- becoming tighter and tighter- disinfecting, deodorizing, clenching, blaming, projecting, acting out- disowning your potential through self sabotage and settling for mediocrity in the name of security and so not ruffling any feathers or entering the fear of the unknown- than you might as well be dead. You are here to live within the chasm of your emotional kingdom of angels and devils by turning them into poignant gods of creation through the movement you embody- word, hand and deed.
A very famous writer was once asked what was the criteria for becoming a great writer because it didn’t seem an “education” was enough- but how to become the greatest of the great so that your words invoke deep moods, tears and smiling eyes- so that your words take someone on such an inner journey that they are “there with you” and forget the dry world around them…to which he replied, “intense suffering.”
A voice from within once said to me,
“God gives the gift of tears to those who would endure.”
And so we must stop feeling dejected and realize that this is why we are blessed by suffering so that we are compelled to transform and create- so that we can make something we feel good about because we touched our deep soul light and we know it- but that is only when we enter its realm with awe and gratitude of the profoundness of our emotional intensity and we just know we can take this “feeling of grief” and make something beautiful out of it. All experience is grand when we claim in and create our own from the subtleties it engenders.
I write to make life colorfully sacred- and give a voice to the voicelessness of unspoken places. The mind has no idea what’s going on or what really happened. The heart is the real knower and therefore the chosen abode of the deity. The heart has magical words that conjure memories, images and feelings and mysteriously explain the unexplainable, meticulously define the formless and thus contradict all stability of linear movement.
We are beyond the constraints of intellect and I am not bound by appropriate means. I will travel to hell and back again bringing you heaven because this is who I am and I love you and if you don’t understand the significance of my words- I don’t care…because that would only mean that your head is up your ass- and yet even then, I know your heart still hears me. All hearts hear beyond the fear of “making sense” nothing makes sense- stop defining the illusion and start creating the one that invisibly feels without tangible sight and that knows without any answers at all.
I do what I do with a massive agenda. I am not going off or getting off “on paper” this is another world, a better place than the homelessness of no understanding. I do understand. I am here and I am drowning in my own tears and I hear them falling and I imagine how much I love you and will miss you once the water takes me for good and so I dream of a more beautiful way to say, “I’m dying and I can’t stop a thing” I write it in the words, I draw it in the sky- and I hope you find my swan song before you too must go…
we are the revealers of the jewel. They say the “jewel is in the lotus” so then why aren’t you embracing its multi-faceted light? This jewel is the totality of the motherlight, not another feel good failed attempt at survival. It’s all or nothing should her light truly shine. Emotions are disowned due to lack of courage, and so the light is dingy and dull- it’s depressing to waste the precious richness of the emotional abyss. Get inside the stickiness of life with courage and sit, listen, create- define the beauty that you are and transform the unspeakable taboos of the forbidden abyss into the miraculous rainbow of the blissful pure land- without changing anything at all but your own angle of perception.
Nothing and nobody is “ugly” or of “low moral character” you are simply misunderstanding your role in the myth. Go within and create something out of the insurmountable and incurable suffering. Don’t leave more rejected pain behind for the next person to deal with- instead leave trails of crystal light in the form of your all embracing creative expression of life’s beauty- that someone else who is also suffering can follow back to their beloved pure heart- because of you and the alchemical light you cast by your very existence. Write it down in a poem and send your divine blessings to everyone you will leave behind, including yourself my dear.