Call unto me and I will show thee great and mighty things which thou knowest not…
~ Jeremiah 33:3
Mother Goose: Thoughtful or Thug?
The goose is a powerful animal whether you focus on their gracefulness or their formidability. They’re at home on land, in the air, and in water and most certainly on any property one may have mistakenly considered their own. This is why they are often considered pests. Because of their abundance adjoined with their ability to thrive where we do (how DARE they), fitted with their ferocious parenting tactics, unsurprisingly there have been reports of serious bodily injury and even death due to these silly common-enough birds. However, to uncover the bird behind the beast perhaps we must revisit our childhood to recall and cherish what fuels their volucrine hearts.
Dependant on weather conditions geese can fly up to 70 mph and their annual migrations cover thousands of miles. If a fellow goose falls ill or sustains an injury during one of these daunting expeditions it is ensured that at least one will ALWAYS remain behind to stay with its fallen comrade. They not only stay behind to let the ailing goose know he or she is not alone, but also remain in limbo until the victim has recovered or died. This noble commitment to one another ensures no one gets lost, left behind or simply forgotten. No one, not now, not ever. Mother Goose really does love her own brood quite fervently and uniquely especially considering nature’s varied and often grotesque gallery of behaviors. And by some perhaps supernatural feat us as well (or at least most certainly our inner child). And always will. Forever and ever, no matter what. So perhaps we should dedicate generous handfuls of overrated golf courses, a few thousand or so barely used swimming pools and just a shitload of people’s “land” to these guys. Your kids may just thank you.
The Truth: Neither Beautiful nor Ugly (But Honestly A Little Concerned With How Caught Up With Looks We All Are)
The Truth has been described, declared, defended, degraded, defamed and detailed in many ways over the course of human history, yet one thing is certain: the Truth is in no way affected by how human beings define it. It is already the Truth.
The Truth is not apologetic; especially by the mere fact that it exists. Nor is it deterred when it is snubbed. Public opinion and compulsory polling means nothing to this often elusive force. It has no preoccupation about your race, class, creed, genitalia, pension, or perversion. Those are all your issues as far as the Truth is concerned.
The Truth cannot be abridged or rushed but it sure as hell can make you go at any pace it damn well pleases. The Truth expects you to keep up.
The Truth cannot be destroyed, obliterated, demolished, drowned or decimated- but it can walk on water, reincarnate and come back to life. In fact, the Truth is Resurrection.
The Truth cannot be watered down, blown-up, by-passed, or filtered through. It excels at being swallowed and absorbed; changing one from within and becoming a part of the consumer as much as the belly or breath.
The Truth can be massacred in the most horrifically imaginable ways, but again (to much of the dismay of the maniac) it will reanimate. It is Resurrection. And remember maniacs, it will have learned during its death a thing or two about the enemy’s tactics and will be reborn again and again and again with greater strength to defeat each and every simple d’esprit foe. Truth and death go way back… like further than clansmen or college roommates. So in other words, the Truth does not fear death; but it knows you do.
The Truth does not fear time either. Rather, it is refined and revered by it. Truth ages well. It sees wrinkles and hunched postures as beautiful testimonies of its mercy. It finds the worship of youth extremely tacky.
The Truth is not necessarily beautiful or ugly. The Truth can take any form it wishes. But in all honesty, the Truth is a little concerned with how caught up with appearances we all seem to be.
And Truth cannot be pigeon-holed by space; it is a master of dimensionality and the engineer of creation itself. It finds our exploration and explanations of these matters cute (most often).
Truth is the most skilled of all lovers, despite many blaming their misconceptions and denials of the heart on it! They are, of course, mistaken. It is not the Truth’s fault we are messy, uptight and fickle creatures. The Truth finds this to be an odd combination for a species, yet undeniably enchanting too.
Truth is incompatible with what most choose to see, feel, and touch. The Truth cannot be changed- it can only change you.
The Truth does not worry, although it does experience twinges of pity for those who neglect, persecute and attempt to control it. The Truth’s heart is so big yours would burst into flames if you could fathom it for even the briefest of moments. But you would die happy. But the Truth doesn’t want you dead… It loves you and knows you are capable of so, so much.
The Truth is not tolerant (although far too many still mistake its kindness for weakness). It demands you succumb or be destroyed (subtly). And again, it does not wish this for you. It is but its nature. It has trampled over more carcasses of ego-surrendered flesh throughout history than you or I could ever dare stomach.
Truth is the ultimate survivor. The Truth expects nothing of us other than to seek it, acknowledge it, and endlessly pursue and defend it with our very lives. Perhaps expect is not the right word. The Truth expects nothing. The Truth just knows that without this adherence, mankind will squander everything that is good and pure and unlike the Truth, we cannot survive this. You wouldn’t want to survive that.
If you truly know love, you truly love Truth. If you do not, the Truth will not spare your ignorance or betrayal. The Truth attends every funeral; it is up to you if it weeps or not.
If you kill the Truth it will haunt you. If you sabotage it, it will go back in time to avenge your ancestors so that one day, you will sabotage the Truth. This is humorous for the truth. The Truth loves to laugh. It is a comic’s comforter because the Truth knows how absurd it can be. The Truth is not bothered by contradiction. This, again, is our problem. The Truth knows what it is, and is unashamed.
The Truth will set you free, but beware. Loneliness cannot be cured by the freedom its companionship ensures. Until more of us learn and practice trusting, cherishing and fighting for Truth, one may find freedom a solitary sentence in a land that is quickly becoming emboldened by the ideology of prisoners. That is the Truth.
But take heart! The Truth is not hopeful- But hope is always truthful.
Life is a Stage; Get an Acting Coach
“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts…”
At this juncture, it seems that the clouds and stars and birds and trees and wind and sea are all murmuring the same thing:
“Play your part….”
Occasionally you’ll catch a “…better… or else…!”
If the tide is too unseasonably low
And the beauty of that present presence isn’t caught Up
all at once,
in the bat of a lash,
sparkling with indignation through and through,
Before it breaks into
gentle laughter,
a
reminder of
kaboo.
Then a long sigh
floats aside our
ego savior-
faire
How long before our parts are played with the beauty and precision
for which they were written 2 dare?
When exactly will we accept the magnificence of these roles,
scripts, parts; all already cast,
already ours?
Though perhaps our delivery is languid
in the turbulence of something so
allegedly far.
***
DIRECTOR’S CUT:
And what are we to make of the Director’s Cut of our tele-Vive
that makes us weep for all the assassinations
the television war has made us grieve.
If life is a grand show
that inevitably has the curtains shut,
Wouldn’t it make sense
to watch the Director’s Cut?
I, this mysterious Brilliance, in charge of every last detail
Says your line is as follows:
“Fret not my dear, your script reads ‘Prevail’ ”
So seek out your coach once the play itself has been studied absolutely true,
For eternal are His precepts,
Though only She acts as if they were
new.
So as you read your lines, watch to see,
why is your role {if at all] lacking in dimension?
In utter originality?
Like any true artist knows it is in the love of the craft
that ultimately renders the villain’s role
indubitably daft.
So rest not in their pension of blood and disarray so concord,
4 it is in the destiny of our drama and performance
that will eventually move us Upward.
Selah*
The Organic Conspiracy
Conspiracy theories are a dime a dozen these days and most aren’t worth a quarter that. That’s why I only go organic these days. You haven’t heard? Regular conspiracy theories are ladled with the kind of toxins that make mercury look like chamomile. Only organic conspiracy theories are good for you. They are harvested from the same fields of imagination, but these conspiracy theories cover the good that is going on so covertly we never would have dreamed it possible (right?) S0 the next time you read online, or hear from an acquaintance, or stumble blindly across a conspiracy theory that makes your insides slither just remember to go organic and see the world for what it truly is: A maze of wonder and creation so beautiful you dare not know it to be true. 😀
Fractals & DNA
THIS is your DNA.
THESE are FRACTALS.
THIS IS YOU…
Fractals are infinite
And so is the essence of you.
Experience yourself in all your grandness,
By speaking, envisioning, and recognizing the great
Hatching!
Don’t think chicken or egg,
Believe, knowing
you are now the swan.
You’ll be amazed
by how amazing
your genetic make-up
makes-up reality.
Look into your own fractal/genetic code
and you will find the spiritual astrophysicist
Who will do wonders
for all.
Addressing the innate/fractal/genetic resonance
you give off just by recognizing it within yourself.
To Those Who Write In Disappearing Ink
To write in the darkest ink
Upon onyx page
Spells words of hope blind men read
Though black and white letters
Kiss the pupil now
With simple remedying
They’ll lose their easy glow
For lights will flicker
And oculus form Cat’s Eye
Stars burn bright and enlighten
Red Candelabras
Blossom the fire flowers
That drips their goo of waxy
Dew onto our quilled
Parchment of scribing when pure
As cosmic beacons collapse
Upon their own weight
A super nova clean slate
Time now lurking in shadows
During those blackouts
Leaving behind only thought
Many transform paralyzed
With contagious fear
When all is wrought with the dark
But there is a class apart
A misfit breed true
Persevering by design
Pocketed armament deep
Tethered tablets low
To conceal when others glow
For their marrow dictates truth
That putrefying
Princesses produce bouquets
And sweet kits at play surely
Slay sleeping mothers
Atop nests of golden eggs
Coffins low take you home high
Ripping orchid flesh
Seraphs blow kisses goodbye
Scriveners ex or cross check
Your hatched demise
With irony spilling spit
Ye see,
Thee
That frolic only
In Summer’s sweet
Glare
Can never win the battle
Of precious everlasting light
Because, remember now
Night can simply never be bright.
To write in the darkest ink
Upon onyx page
Spells words of hope blind men read
Though black and white letters
Kiss the pupil now
With simple remedying
They’ll lose their easy glow
For lights will flicker
And oculus form Cat’s Eye
Stars burn bright and enlighten
Red Candelabras
Blossom the fire flowers
That drips their goo of waxy
Dew onto our quilled
Parchment of scribing when pure
As cosmic beacons collapse
Upon their own weight
A super nova clean slate
Time now lurking in shadows
During those blackouts
Leaving behind only thought
Many transform paralyzed
With contagious fear
When all is wrought with the dark
But there is a class apart
A misfit breed true
Persevering by design
Pocketed armament deep
Tethered tablets low
To conceal when others glow
For their marrow dictates truth
That putrefying
Princesses produce bouquets
And sweet kits at play surely
Slay sleeping mothers
Atop nests of golden eggs
Coffins low take you home high
Ripping orchid flesh
Seraphs blow kisses goodbye
Scriveners ex or cross check
Your hatched demise
With irony spilling spit
Ye see,
Thee
That frolic only
In Summer’s sweet
Glare
Can never win the battle
Of precious everlasting light
Because, remember now
Night can simply never be bright.
To write in the darkest ink
Upon onyx page
Spells words of hope blind men read
Though black and white letters
Kiss the pupil now
With simple remedying
They’ll lose their easy glow
For lights will flicker
And oculus form Cat’s Eye
Stars burn bright and enlighten
Red Candelabras
Blossom the fire flowers
That drips their goo of waxy
Dew onto our quilled
Parchment of scribing when pure
As cosmic beacons collapse
Upon their own weight
A super nova clean slate
Time now lurking in shadows
During those blackouts
Leaving behind only thought
Many transform paralyzed
With contagious fear
When all is wrought with the dark
But there is a class apart
A misfit breed true
Persevering by design
Pocketed armament deep
Tethered tablets low
To conceal when others glow
For their marrow dictates truth
That putrefying
Princesses produce bouquets
And sweet kits at play surely
Slay sleeping mothers
Atop nests of golden eggs
Coffins low take you home high
Ripping orchid flesh
Seraphs blow kisses goodbye
Scriveners ex or cross check
Your hatched demise
With irony spilling spit
Ye see,
Thee
That frolic only
In Summer’s sweet
Glare
Can never win the battle
Of precious everlasting light
Because, remember now
Night can simply never be bright.
To write in the darkest ink
Upon onyx page
Spells words of hope blind men read
Though black and white letters
Kiss the pupil now
With simple remedying
They’ll lose their easy glow
For lights will flicker
And oculus form Cat’s Eye
Stars burn bright and enlighten
Red Candelabras
Blossom the fire flowers
That drips their goo of waxy
Dew onto our quilled
Parchment of scribing when pure
As cosmic beacons collapse
Upon their own weight
A super nova clean slate
Time now lurking in shadows
During those blackouts
Leaving behind only thought
Many transform paralyzed
With contagious fear
When all is wrought with the dark
But there is a class apart
A misfit breed true
Persevering by design
Pocketed armament deep
Tethered tablets low
To conceal when others glow
For their marrow dictates truth
That putrefying
Princesses produce bouquets
And sweet kits at play surely
Slay sleeping mothers
Atop nests of golden eggs
Coffins low take you home high
Ripping orchid flesh
Seraphs blow kisses goodbye
Scriveners ex or cross check
Your hatched demise
With irony spilling spit
Ye see,
Thee
That frolic only
In Summer’s sweet
Glare
Can never win the battle
Of precious everlasting light
Because, remember now
Night can simply never be bright.
Made of stars, moon and the Sun
I
Without my eyes on you Panthera onca
Your play is as pure as the torch’s touch;
A lamb in fleece upon the snow
II
Weighted pads of worn romance red carpet silt,
Clay seas parting for oily Moses’ musk
Priest one two, pyro three four,
You, Jaguar, must walk alone
III
Sun and moon fight endlessly for Jaguar’s starry eyes
Their only requited gaze
IV
Her rosettes must tutor leopards
Tigers, tooth and nail
Lions get the silver screen
But Jaguars guard the gold
V
When you are black your mysteries run deeper
And you become the stone of the meadow
VI
Your pelt is where pixies hide,
Loved by Saks and the ransackers near and far,
Cars too calloused and women too eaten and starving
To know just what they possess
VII
In reptilian nurseries your legend
Makes pretty little crocodile tears
Scaled fights of flight, Jaguar teaches
The cold-blooded how to fear.
VIII
Supple chlorophyll coitus into her arms of vine and bark,
Slit-throat life purveyor I long for you like breathes of eternal spring;
You were not made to look back
Hearts in tulip shade tuft twitch – parabola switch,
VIIII
I will try to tell them about you
And how when you are gone
There is no need for another dawn.
Why Should I Be Responsible?
Before reading please take this 1-question
poll on responsibility.
The words divine, angelic and transcendental are designed to make the heart flutter, whereas the word responsible has a weight to it that seems to linger in the air like a bad smell. Suddenly the ethereal world of lightness and acceptance is dependent upon a real-life circumstance… and by “real-life” I mean the soul-crushing gravity of our world that seems so intent on blocking you from Oneness.
So why should you be responsible? To make money, to avoid future problems, or simply because you’re supposed to? To be loved? Your brain will exponentially expand with justifications, citing numerous causes for the knots in your shoulders and the sidewinders in your intestines. It will respond to these things as mere side effects of “responsibility”… yet quite often the flurry of neural activity sparked by such a notion can stop the flow of the essence of responsibility~ to respond.
We all respond to outside stimuli all the time. So therefore, we are all responsible. The question is how do we respond. Does our response enable us to be happier or merely more intwined in questions? And which is ultimately more beneficial to our hearts, to our souls, to our higher purposes? To be responsible is something we all do whether or not we choose to so why all the stress? Somewhere along the way we all interpret that to be encapsulated in led is “responsible”. We learn that to be an adult we must lug around hearts like a steamboat dragging it’s anchor. And we learn that if we do not respond as others expect, want, or believe we will be the most irresponsible creature created. We live and grow and die in an irresponsible world. Respond accordingly beloved.
Simplify with Praying Mantis
The praying mantis has much to share… but for today let us hear of it from the heart. As a treasured dispenser of wisdom and wonder the praying mantis would have us consider the importance of deep listening. Praying mantis hears with only one “ear” and this singular hearing mechanism is located in the lifeform’s chest.
Today maybe take more time to focus on listening like praying mantis. This doesn’t mean you have to block out the world around you, but perhaps just try to tune into the one within you a little more. You could be missing out on a serenade too beautiful for words that sings just for you, or a long forgotten favorite that has only sweetened with time.
YOU ARE ROCKET SCIENCE (A Brief Guide to Fueling the Fire)
They know you hold the key to what makes the stars sparkle in the night and since they can’t bear your heat or your heavenly sight, know they work diligently to keep you from your inevitable ignite.
Elton John knew what was up: our truest self is much like a candle, providing illumination and warmth in an otherwise cold and dark world. Our spirit could be considered the flame, our inner light that spreads brightness all around; and giving sight in the confusion of blackness. But what about when our flame dwindles and all we can think about is the ultimate extinguish? How can we not consider this ultimate blackout, given our advantage of being able to know that like wax and wicks our own flesh and bone will one day disappear from the world we now inhabit? Although John created a beautiful analogy of the troubled soul and the wind-plagued flame, he only focused on the moment of demise; the climax of all those blustery days and nights that the darkness swore it would overtake, eventually doing so after bluffing for a lifetime or so. Wind also spreads fire. If your candle would venture out to the lands of brush and lightening, the vast belly and breast of the wilderness where fire is both enemy and lover then your chances of becoming extinguished would increase, while your probability to spread and grow would exponentially rise.
Something to consider, especially when the artificial aspects of your life began to feel more like a dull death than a liberating convenience. Going outside, and especially to places still retaining the instruments of ecology: grass, bodies of water, flowers, trees, rocks, etc. could be surprisingly healing for you, not because you’re a far-out vegan or even one who enjoys hiking or camping. The peace and roundedness you gain from planting yourself in the unspoiled natural world for even a few minutes is, I assure you is nothing but basic chemistry. How are we to feel our purest and most potent when living in a foreign and pseudo ecosystem?
And water? Sure it puts out fire, but speaking of artificial environments let’s not underestimate the adaptability given in the oddest circumstances to every creature. The upside to the chemist-gone-rogue venture that is industrialized living is the wildcard factor. Sure water extinguishes regular fires, the kind our troglodytic ancestors huddled about. But like themselves their fires were simple and uncomplicated, consisting of detrius and not much more. Today things are not so simple, and not so hard; a variation of safety and apathy, cosmic enlightenment and suburban sprawl. If one used water to control a chemical fire or electrical fire or even combustible metal fire it may only become greater and more powerful when doused with H2O. The real question is what kind of flame do you have? Is it seeped in chemicals that behave unpredictably or is it infused with lightening-like energy that is as mysterious as it is ruthless? Or could you even burn in the newest fire category D that is represented by fire professionals as a star? This category consists of combustible metals usually only used by those shaping our lives by innovating our technologies. Sometimes the simple overuse of blankets can kill the fire, and other times a man-made chemical soup will do. Then again there are times when there is nothing left to do but let it burn itself out.
But isn’t the point we’re trying to increase our self-contained glow, making our mini-brilliance brighter and bolder? Well, if that truly is the case then we have to ask ourselves how big of a flame is too big? And how luminescent do we wish to become? And are we concerned with how fast our waxy shell survives? And if we do increase our tea light to a tiki torch can we adjust to the heat? To conclude I’ll propose that an appropriate analogy it may have once been, we are now in an era of gas grills and communal fire pits. Our light is more easily merged with others and not so easily contained, while the winds have increased and the rain comes in sheets.
So DO NOT FEAR wind or water because YOU are NOT your mother’s candle. That would be like saying a chariot is the equivalent of a Chevy. No, today you are something far more vast, far more dazzling, and far more equipped to deflagrate. Yeah, times are tough in a doomsdayie sort-of-way, but don’t you dare fool yourself into believing that so are you. A candle!? Ha! Is it 1842??! You, dear one are a product of the best of old and the greatness of new. You are an alchemy gem, an electrical light show and yes, you propel expansion because YOU ARE ROCKET SCIENCE; metallically born to explode and propel even the weightiest of objects into the vast reaches of outer space. They will try to convince you your inborn photon blaze is small, separate and scared of a breeze or dewdrop. DO NOT LISTEN TO SUCH NONSENSE! They despise you since they have not that sacred spark. They are like lightbulbs and there is no mass lightbulb awaiting them. Their only hope to avoid the void they chose for themselves long ago is to stifle the true beacons in an attempt to separate them from The Father Flame. They know you hold the key to what makes the stars sparkle in the night and since they can’t bear your heat or your heavenly sight, know they work diligently to keep you from your inevitable ignite.
Jaguaressprophetess111 