Last Thing On My Mind. part 4

To fail in those eyes that require so much from you. To feed those selfish desires that leave some other fool to prove that to try is doomed and the only place to aspire is the rank and file of all other lost triers sad hopes for a world beyond shallow thought and empty illusion.
The reality trap, what do you believe in? For what you choose will exist, what is sought will be found it will be generated from need. This power can build all that is required and destroy all that is. So be careful what you wish for.
Rage, the honest emotion, uncontrollable passion unleashed. It requires a reaction; it smells one out like a dog unearthing buried remains. Forcing the hands of dithering players, shaming the owner to move along, banned and barred from love, from friendship all in the name of that passionate truth.
Born to a life, required to remain.
True to my kin all harnessed and tamed.
So set in their ways like blood set to stone.
Wait in your armchair for mum to come home.
So what shall we do with the poor lad that sits.
He stares into the cold fire that spits.
Cold flames, cold memories, designed to remind me.
What a fool I have been for you.
Of what a fool I have become for you…
She died ten years ago, the last of her kind.
Eyes blue as ice, heart full of fire.
As lonely boy waits for the tea to come on.
In her armchair by the fire he watches her spin.
Just as she did for always she will.
Life’s little secrets we will ignore for now.
Till when the crows come calling and pecking at my door.
I shall fade from the hills to the heavens once more.
I will fade from the hills to the heavens once more….
Pendulous torpor
Swinging feet.
Defiant beauty.
Death meets.
Corrupt senses fed by greed, sold by the management to supply the need regardless of requirement….
When flowers bloom in unexpected places and provide light and life in dark moody spaces, division broken down, winters spell, a small offering goes such a long way, it will be passed from hand to heart that fiery baton round and round again she goes. Empty hands filled with twisted concepts, realigned, fear and hates feigned affect, dissolved, disturbed, removed. The void filled, hope born true life to hold and nurture all, all supplied by your simple gesture.
Shocked, awed and inspired, fuelled and filled with desire, taken twisted this blackened heart that breeds suspicion, sharp knife slices away the soft rot set by bitter experience, rekindled need to share the power, to use the gifts whilst they are there.
For why these hands can write?
For why this soul can feel?
For why these arms can hold?
Lesser mortals lost and cold
For why these legs can run?
For why this heart can love?
For more than building fences
For more than hating different faces.
For more than passing ill will…
Perception is as vague as a badly drawn picture, focus is everything, protect vision and protect hearing, senses equals all.
Silent tongues hold silent vows made to swear beneath a silent moon, witness truths so ignored for to share in life’s abode. Hold this hand and guide this soul lost within the silent crowd, separate, compartmentalized, suspicious and lonely.
Do as do and do as done so freakish fools we all become.
When these bodies entwine, with these senses joined, maybe just maybe we could be as one. Divisions blunted, minds shared, years bent to become one birth. Sea and sand held on the pitch of the tide, ebbing and flowing, giving and glowing, birthing and bowing and sharing the sun and moon and stars all being love, this is all I want from you… suicide is the last thing on my mind.
And when the days colour breaks across the sky, leaves me here lying next to you. The one I want to know, the one I want to hold. Pulled from these traitorous dreams, sub reality clashes break me. Drawn up from those desperate times by the smell of your skin, a beacon of love, the human flower perfect form, your siren song that rocks my fear and then awake and you are here….
Dawn hung around avoiding my gaze, I knew she was coming ready to dazzle and amaze, the longer I waited the colder she became, comfort only in the illusion waiting for the day.
To you a friend I bow.
To you the that one I know.
Whichever way the wind can blow.
There will always be a home.
Those precious waves that carry away fortunes lost beneath the spray then won with distance far removed who in discovery learned to love the world.
The spawn we spit our culture spread,
Seven billion found exponential dread,
We hit the hole then lose the thread.
Truth buried deep in fear. Ribbons blow, coffins flow.
Salacious thoughts help dig the whole
Greed over need, fat cats must fall,
To share what we have on this bountiful world. Traitorous parents pack their sons to the front
Believe what they read in the propaganda sun.
Oh the spires stand tall as they reach for their god
Whilst the wild oak of England is lost.
These shores they provide for all we could want
With no need to fight and no need to hunt.
Yet natures own gene holds us all stupefied
Born to believe in all of the lies.
The route we carve is always down
Down past the shadows held by the dawn.
She.
I desire her
I am looking for her
She is looking for me.
She is beautiful and slim with eyes that melt my heart. She is hard working and intelligent, willing to muck in and respects our monogamy. She loves adores and wants me as I do her. She loves music and to dance and sing and read, she is a cultured woman. She loves to cook and is healthy and nurturing. She is younger than me by ten years or so and willing to work with me. We make love all of the time and always satisfy each other perfectly. She recognizes my shyness and insecurities; we balance each other in all ways. She will not judge me for what I am not.
Uric acid, in shrank alkali at high P.H.
The Dalmatian dog has a genetic defect in uric acid uptake so they excrete uric acid, not allotonin. Theacrine – a purine alkaloid found in Chinese tea “Ku Ding Cha”. Digestion of nucleic acids thymidine mono phosphate, nucleoli bases- ribose, deoxyribose… Guanine can be isolated from bird shit; uric acid can be converted to guanine. Guano… bat shit in Spanish. Droppings from Japanese Nightingales… also spider and scorpion shit.
Prolific in caresses and betrayals.
A very simple way to control vast tracts of imaginative creative people is to complicate their intuitive thought process by introducing fear through protective confusion.
For me, it is now the norm to trust nothing I am told, only what I witness, so in order to prove my own worth I must witness my nature as much as possible.
“NO JUSTICE…NOPEACE”
Such a simple statement, one that will strike fear to those that know no mercy. Tonight I learned so many lessons. Friendship rules time within our span… and that passion rules friendship… I love these people…
“NO JUSTICE… NOPEACE” When will the walls come falling down for you?
“NO JUSTICE… NO PEACE” When transparency exposes all of the truths.
“NO JUSTICE… NO PEACE” The war on drugs is a war on me and you
“NO JUSTICE… NO PEACE” Where pride and love will do.
Trust nothing told, witness your worth and witness the lies…
It is the emotional traits that form the conscience where justice is born.
Are the days of chaos passed? The new order shoving its weight against the mass, subtlety lost, the art of surprise gone. Some subjects will become believers, some atheists, some free thinkers, they that accept that change is always required that the balance can only ever be temporary and shifting elastic readjusting. Denying this, to become pious and lost in the surety of permanence is to be the dead weight that always needs countering, a mostly useless waste of energy grudgingly bestowed shifting rocks from one place and back again.
How long before so much contradiction turns self-doubt into stupidity? When opinion becomes objective and fact becomes the vestige of the stubborn. Where the reflection becomes the entity and the mirrored existence doubled to infinity.
On a sentient level the gauge of where the balance of yin and yang lie is through empathy, to want to believe in what I see, hear and intuit. Will my silver owl pay for this, my wife the leaf who calms me and puts me to dream in my sleep walking life, fought to be filled or forgotten?
If I doubt the meaning of a word, then I have to take the meaning from the intent behind the word. The powerful word becomes nothing more than a semantic wrangle. The spell broken…
Serendipity is a good guide. Imagine the best-case scenario in detail; allow the senses to be transported to the future to this, the very best variation of possibilities that suits our needs. Then forget… so that expectancy diminishes to be replaced with the certainty that everything will be appreciated as and when its time comes. This vision spell once cast, will displace the future past and replace the present with the gift of serendipity, the gauge of which is kindness sympathy and empathy.
Energy is fluid, guided into a purposeful form where one altruistic act begets another where a shoot of life force will grow.
These basic tenets that require following are the same needs as nature… warmth, food and light. This equation triptych should be applied to all life experience one wishes to develop. The simplicity can be pivotal and therefor easily confused and manipulated.
Our modern society lives in a place of non-fluid stagnant energy, purposeless and self-consuming for those born into decadent circumstances. The energy used to protect these comfort zones should be transferred to a more modern constructive creative form.
A ripe fig, plucked from a tree, found at a time of hunger and voraciously eaten, is as satisfying an experience as any. Is this a complex thing? No! It is a fruit on a tree willingly given from nature’s loins. This is a truth; one that cannot be denied by anyone and anyone that has appreciated this experience would make it their duty to protect the source, and with the same altruistic energy as the fig was given, this mutual worship being the balance of the light and the dark, the balance of nature.
The fact that a truth is known makes it a reality, a datum for other potentials. Balance is the place where nothing exists, where equality creates ease and freedom. The peace within this vacuum is the original thought, it is redemption and forgiveness, it is birth and death, it is all, in one perfect moment.
To harbor a sense of balance, then all must be considered simultaneously, redressed and activated. All must be accepted as all possible outcomes.
This is the quantum world where parallel possibilities exist, the choices are made here; these choices are the futures potential they are the difference and they are our collective duty to redeem in to the light.
So as more information is collected from this perspective by the free thinking beings the picture becomes clearer, a purpose arises from the considerations and debates.
The picture being the aurora sky, the constant change.
Optimism comes with clean information and technology manipulated purely to create self-sustaining societies and medical advancements. A simplex law of reductionism to rule all must fail.
Clean information will make it possible. If our present knowledge is not absorbed, accepted and used to its fullest potential now whilst it is here and active it will be wasted and lost, fear mongered into superstition and traded once again for corporate greed.
We can all be educated escapists in search of a better way. We can all recognize the failings of our society and we can all opt for positive change…. Our future depends on imagination and toil to maintain it, our freedom depends on strength and empathy to protect it and without freedom no pleasure is secure….
Reduction contraction and containment; To fear release is as to fear the release of death, to be in fear of death is as too not appreciate life.
We have so many embedded protection fears; each created for a purpose each fear a contagion. When I was denied something as a child, I created an emotional memory around that denial, this memory then carried into adulthood offering a rational reason to react in a certain way… but still just from a continuation of a distant unresolved feeling. My soul then carries this ill begotten emotion as it carries all ill-gotten memories of my ancestry. They then cannot channel their truth through me until I can relieve my soul of these extraneous burdens as the living entity of my ancestry. Each emotional baggage is a sump, collecting similar inertia creating a blockage, which needs to be removed before a pure flow can be resumed.
I sit here now on a rock beside a beautiful river, the sun playing the leaves shadows like a harp, acrobatic dragonflies dance in the rays, whilst their unsuspecting counterparts are about to feed them.
As I sit I think about baptism and forgiveness. I know that the power of life flows with the water and she remembers all that lives, for in all of her forms, she is the common denominator that has touched us all. So I shall sit with her and ask her to release me of the unnecessary burdens I carry… she acquiesces and carries on her way…
Knowledge versus information;
Information is subjective and always will be, just information, every perception is different. We are collectively fed information as a method of containing belief and polarizing false hope. Information is not knowledge and needs to not be trusted. Intelligence is the ability to operate with little information and lots of intuition, the master of the senses, the governor of our fears, the bitter cynicism evolved, grown opportunities taken with professional theft, subliminal side line behavior, long-term games sucked in and played out again and again.
Colours flow, all colours from the darkest black to the whitest white and all in-between, spectralized, rubbing shoulders with only the neighbors. Some weave creating new colours, weave in and out of the purple to the blue, ecstatic hues ensuing diversity in the myriad of possibilities. Staying hooked on the one, tugged along behind the boat, awaiting the net, then the block.
So be wary, be swift, eyes all around, know your friends and avoid your memories/enemies. Be the strongest, be the hunter, stalk everyone as prey, climb the ladder, use heads as rungs. Obsolete process, there is only one number one and then there is zero, over the top they go, one by one, each a hero, single file, impatiently waiting their turn…