Paper Fiction - Word Majik - Paper Nation - Spoken Word - Music

I have been told a couple of times as a long ago student and as a professional that “if it is not in writing, then it did not happen.” I remember hearing that and something in me paused because it sounded ridiculous. But in my naiveté and inexperience I did not reflect much on it. Now at 55 I think I understand what that means. And I also totally reject it on its face. There is a paper world, a paper fiction, a construct that holds us bound to an imaginary reality. Our experience of it many times leaves us feeling disconnected from ourselves and the world and other people. The world of words and ideas and various constructs of belief is an enchanted land. It exists in two dimensions where things can be ex-plained, or put upon the plane. It is Majik in its most basic and profound form. To create a word it must be spelled. Then it is cast into a sentence which defines its terms. Sounds a lot like what happens in court where people are “summoned” to appear and claim that they are the piece of paper which has their named spelled out in all capital letters. This “corporate fiction” basically gives life to an illusion, a dead thing. In fact it is called legal fiction and it is the beast which currently rules the world.

While there is nothing wrong with the use of words or paper for convenience. They are social conventions we have agreed to use. Like the idea of time or direction or things like inches they can be handy to meet for lunch somewhere or to build a house. But these conventions are not the thing referred to. The word lunch is a far cry from the act of eating. There are no inches which exist in the real world. The idea of east or west is without meaning if you were sitting on the sun or moon. There is no circle with 360 equidistant marks in reality that accurately measures time. That is why the clocks have to be readjusted with leap years and the like. The convention of time is not real as most apply it in their day to day lives. Nothing wrong with them as tools but to some extent I think we as a people have been convinced that the paper world is Real and the real world no longer “matters”. Matters as in manifesting on the material plane. Is that a gerund?

I could write books on this but they would just be filled with more words and I am so sick of paper and words with no connection to the soul. I spent years reading words and writing papers so that one day I could exchange them for another piece of paper that I could frame and hang on the wall. Then I had to send in more papers along with mon-eye to get the government to give me another piece of paper that gave me permission to do real things but they only counted somehow if I wrote down what I did on even more paper. So instead of casting more words and sentencing you to its terms I will just talk and with the help of some friends have some music. Spoken words and well crafted written ones can at times undo the spells that have been cast upon us. The vibrations and frequencies and patterns can resonate with our own and we can once again re-member (put back together/make whole) the difference between what is Real, what Matters, and the illusion. If you have a few minutes click over to DTube and hear. Peace Friends.

Paper Fiction
Living out the Paper Fictions
Traps You in the Contradictions
Life given to the Corporation
Symbols now Rule the Nation
And the People have been Tendered
To pay the Debt they are Surrendered
Slaves on the Plantation of Mind
Eyes Wide Shut while Contract signed
Then Blame the One’s they put in Place
Fleeing Guilt, They dare not Face
Jousting Windmills found in Memes
Acting out the Programmed Themes
Turning to fight with One Another
Fathers, Mothers, Sisters, Brothers
All the while feeling Soul’s Despair
Mirror, Two Dimensions, Sorcerer’s Lair
Outsides are in and the Insides Out
Slaves now Masters feed the Doubt
While each One dreams of Liberation
Sleep Walking through the Paper Nation
Symbols, Sigils, hid in view
Paradox Lost, Forgotten Who
Yet Soul still yearns despite it all
Straining to hear the Maker’s Call
Eyes too blind and ears too weak
But trusting in the Grace we Seek
Turn from Form and seek it’s Heart
Open Grasping hands to Start
One must die so One can Be
Suffer bondage or Be set Free
Webs are all that hold you now
It’s all just bullshit anyhow
There is life and love outside the Game
Come join it now or there Remain
Became again that little child
Abandoned in the Storm tossed Wild
Go and See and sit you There
Rest and Watch and say a Prayer
Retreat you then, There for a while
And don’t return without your smile
Loose the knowledge that You gained
And Remember Now why You came
There is a reason for your Rhyme
It just exists outside of Time
The Game will go on round and round
But have no meaning till You are found
So let go your Life in the Paper Nation
And awaken to your Incarnation
So much more than Drive and Need
It’s already Alright, Baby just Breathe. . . . .
@thealliance