Seesaw goes up while the other one is down
To take the turn
The Swing goes Backward to move Forward
Then Back & Forth
You go up the Slide just to drop back down, again
To learn about Playground Rules & Physics
I will not work for Physicality
I will work for Experience not Things
Things are nice, but useless
Because they all end up disappearing
In the Wrong Hands
The Light that disowns the Evil Places
Inside each Vessel
Is your obsession based on Love?
Who is your Authority?
And to acknowledge the Dark is to bring to Light
To face Yourself in bareness
That was absent of The World before
Naked thy enter
Naked thy depart
Naked thy return
Mixed media by MMM
I have been maintaining that the day I turned 30 was the first day of my life. I felt my first 29 years of life were just about me getting my feet wet and learning the systems of my culture, of metaphysical realms, of behaviors and relationships – and age 30 was when I began applying all that I’ve learned in order to morph a life I want to live.
My unraveling and deconstruction of forced constructs like judgmentalness, monogamy without commitment, feminine behavioral expectations and racism is just something that is going to have to be worked through with conscious effort.
The confusion only comes when I try to apply myself to analyzing these major constructs with idealism.
It all isn’t going to happen in one day, and I believe this realization comes as a benefit with age. I am not as hard on myself, and I have learned that other people’s mess has very little to do with me. Karma comes when you immerse yourself and intermingle with the spirits, realities and consciousness of others. If someone is behaving oddly and you know for a fact, that you have no desire to or have not even inadvertently tampered with someone’s reality or emotions, it is best to not take their drama to heart.
Adult life is a tangled web of complexity if you choose to be aware, and if you work to be aware, you can work to create peace in your reality by sidestepping the attraction of inner and outer turmoil. This is not to say that life doesn’t at times, grab us by the hair and whip us too and fro without our existential permission…
At this point, I don’t even care for the word “permission” and have been slightly avoiding the word “decision.”
Permission and Decision
You get old enough permission becomes a bit of a moot option when it comes to relationships. Permission turns into conversation, understand and compromise…hopefully. And decision can turn into intuition.
I am not wise, I’m just trying. There are a lot of people in this world who give up trying to better themselves, to understand themselves, their environments and relationships. I hope I don’t ever get to a point where I don’t try to get by, to get along, to grow, to chip away at the crust of normalization and the force of the status quo in order to live more comfortably in a very tense and terse world.
…but maybe, if I moved to Figi, and buy a bungalow and cook what I grew and fished for, I would not be living in a tense and terse world. Life is what I make it…maybe a part of me is clambering to find nature inside and out.
Satan’s in the sole of my left shoe
We are having a confetti conversation now
The words from your lips are bursting in colors of blue, yellow and red
Floating pieces that never hit the ground
Zenu is my mother
Her ship will be here any minute
To drop off money just in time for the birth of my baby Jesus
The CIA is onto me, they hear and see everything I do and say
Are you listening?
WE ARE NOT CONNECTED,
WE ARE NOT CONNECTED
There is a funeral every evening at the head of my bed…
But no one cares to bring flowers to diffuse the stench of blood that seeps out of both my ears.
And I’m born every morning at the foot of my bed….
But no one bothers to bring me a blankets for my wet, cold, sopping body.
So how many times do I have to tell you doctor before you put me out?
Satan is in the sole of my left shoe
So please, take me out…
Take me out.
This hell road that goes on into infinity
This hell is desolate, deserted and noisy
This veil between here and there
Has already thinned.
When will someone fly me through the rosy scented moon door
On a blanket made of orange stars and black skies with my little baby Jesus?
It will happen you see because we are all connected.
WE ARE NOT CONNECTED,
WE ARE NOT CONNECTED
“Oh, Silent Night
Oh, Holy Night
Not all is calm
Not all is bright
Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace” and don’t feel as though you have smile
Mixed Media by MMM