roles
so much beauty and pain the the world.
like bubbles rising to their role
only to all bust in the end.
-Jan.24th. 2009
Infinitely Spinning
no more lists
no more roles
no more wants
no more distractions
now i’m home
maybe the great shift & change that is upon us is man’s extermination of self*
(& planet). For we are selfish gods in a garden of greedy delights.
Are the good apples on the tree victims of the bad, or merely part of the whole?
A return to home, and return to earth. By wiping the slate clean, without intervention, without man the cycle can begin again. . .
If we inhabit such a fate filled world, strung out and hung out as we are, what is there to control but self?
What is there to force but stillness.
What is there to change but flow.
Be prepared for death by knowing thy self
be still and fear nothing cause nothing is real.
Do not react to fear but from the heart.
Do not be afraid to be afraid
smile in the face of illusion and follow your will pure crackling fire.
. . . and the egg shell surface shattered into an infinite universe
Abandon the god in the papers, the god in the churches, the god from our youth. . . Not the god within, not the conscious universe we so deeply sinked into. The universe was our vessel, god it self was and is within. I renounce nothing, The universal mind touched my temple as I lay twisted trying to escape my physical body. I became a divine presence. The gift, the search, the answer is us. And we are the living end.
Burn your books of knowledge, numbers don’t mean a thing. Your idols are mere imitations, limitations, abbreviations of true vibrations. The book is written through the hands of being, there is no law, we are the play, the director and the audience. .
This fragile egg shell existence, so thin to break, below above and around us became space,
eagerly – we tapped the shell..
we broke the glass and stepped through.
fragments
the angel and the stranger
shimmer in danger
________________________________________________________
baby blue’s shiny shoes
were as close as he got to singing the blues
________________________________________________________
at dawn the pawn became a man
________________________________________________________
you don’t need the sunshine
you don’t need night time
you just need no need
to make it right now
________________________________________________________
what she said to me – a fatal victory
________________________________________________________
smily wildly where ships sank and infinite rain breathed new life into us all.
________________________________________________________
fish sticks and cheap tricks tonight at 8!
________________________________________________________
the best it can be is the worst it ever is
the worst it can be is the best it ever is
________________________________________________________
freedom from all forms is absolute and necessary if i am to pass
through my next threshold of living.
Look at me
Look at me,
Who am I supposed to be?
Who am I supposed to be?
Look at me,
What am I supposed to be?
What am I supposed to be?
Look at me,
Oh my love, oh my love.
Here I am,
What am I supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do?
Here I am,
What can I do for you?
What can I do for you?
Here I am,
Oh my love, oh my love.
Look at me, oh please look at me, my love,
Here I am – Oh my love.
Who am I?
Nobody knows but me,
Nobody knows but me,
Who am I?
Nobody else can see,
Just you and me,
Who are we?
Oh my love, oh my love.
Oh my love…
- John Lennon | From Plastic Ono Band Album
typewriter excerpt
Below is an excerpt from a project my wife and I started. Similar to Burroughs & the dadaists, we leave a piece of paper in the typewriter and from time to time add whatever thoughts or free flowing words that come to mind. The aim is simple: A continuous flow of pure thought. Just what will show itself if self steps aside? In other words, pulling back the curtain of that third mind.
“sweet silver tongue how you rage in your cage, slung slumping over
humming along the railways, gazing city horizons through glassy
eyed bottles, left behind by the number 9.“
let go a’my ego!
the final illusion
This being my first entry. I suppose it is expected to get some sort of introduction to the man behind the screen…you will get no such thing.
