Diary Entry

I float through the warm night air, embraced by the veins of stars which stain the black canvas sky. Will my mind fade to dust with my brain when I die? For now though I focus on each colour fuelled moment, regardless of the emotional whirlwinds that breathe through my body. I wonder what causes this colour and these emotions around me. Sometimes it feels like a fan; swaying winds, twisters within.

I get this feeling in my bones sometimes.. It feels like my legs might fall away, heavily sinking into open space. I sway, until those jolts drive me awake. Heartbeats were once drifting together, but alone in emptiness they feel so small, so frail. Is this love’s tail.

Hello, I’m the one that sees. Slipping in space, fading in time, my head explodes to colourful dust where fragments of my mind are left behind, and new blossoming moments and memories are stored in my brain’s meat machinery. I pause, as the one who sees. I breathe.. And feel. But still it all continues around me. 

I bathe in you. Drenched in my love for you I can’t even think of you, without feeling spastic jolts through my torso. I imagined our baby together once. I imagined forgiveness.. No, I imagined understanding I guess. Splashes of paint like memories crust my vision. I peel it all back, to let it all run. I long to hear the words “te amo” once again. I think of what I would do to hear it just one more time. I think of what I wouldn’t do also. Where and what is that border line? The streaming pathways that would flood in pure beautiful emotion, like the warmth of liquid running pristine patterns within you. What are those feelings worth? Those actions you would undertake to feel true love clearly represent the insanity of it all. 

Do I love too deeply, too easily? Why am I flooded with desire for that pure heavenly flower. The day we fell in love is my most sacred memory, yet my body will not allow me access to it because it is linked to pictures of the  mess I caused. I’m so sorry I hurt you until you became emotionless toward me. I couldn’t contain that deep hurt of my own and I paid the price.

Two hearts, unchained, flying. I just want to fly again.. I would fly so differently these days. If only you could know that with or without you, my flight path has stabilised and balanced.. Already filled with warm feelings, which sometimes cloud my mind with passionate veils. I miss you. I hope you are happy. We all deserve to be.

Anyway, I’m travelling somewhere, could be anywhere, but I don’t care. I drift deeper into the sound of the rush coming. It could come from the coldness of the winter air, the water running through crevices of pushed aside hair, the fire of passion or the dust on the ground somewhere. It could be anywhere, so bring it on. Embrace me, surround me, as the rush comes.

Cosmic Fabric

Journal Entry: My thoughts on minds, absolute-space and time.

A spherical lamppost fills with pulsating photons, flowing outward in rippling bursts of waves and energy. It flies through empty space at a spinning orbital speed, perhaps accelerating; relative to an immeasurable position inside a matrix of empty space.. or perhaps not.
The last few days were filled with anxiety, speaking at NA drives me into insanity, because my memoirs are filled with regret, which makes my new flowing memoirs to become filled with embarrassed regret. People pleasing was the topic.. it seems so strange to care about other people’s opinions so much some days, but I guess different opinions (tied to different minds in a cross section of time) are a way for a collective belief survey to affect my own consciousness.
But when I think about the following matters, other people’s opinions about me seem to have little effect on my future consciousness:
What even is a consciousness… flowing through time, flowing through so many worldly waves. Our bodies are connected to the world in strange ways, which grants a physical mind, fixed to a physical body, regardless of acceleration and grounded to the body of the gripping Earth.
A mind may not be positioned in a location of time and absolute space – which could be a fixed canvas or infinite – perhaps a blank canvas of absolute space was granted to the designer of the multi-verse (or universe if you don’t believe in the theory of the bubble wrap like multiverse, where different bubbles expand outwards faster than light speed, stretching into other bubbles which may be contracting (which may have two directions for time..
Fuck! Imagine the collision of an expanding universe (with electromagnetic repulsion pulling apart gravity) with a two-directional time universe. Catastrophic to the grand design – or perhaps necessary and natural.
If absolute space is a fixed and finite platform, I do wonder what could happen when matter flies into the cosmic boundary, and become compressed and/or stretched (spaghettified) into supermassive black holes (since the gathering of matter would become entangled with all other matter; altering time.
What happens inside these black holes if relative time stops at the speed of light?
Are we already in a gigantic black hole, unable to escape if the canvas of space is truly infinite?
What would happen to a mind?
Perhaps it could unfix from the body.
Perhaps the mind can exist, regardless of the body, at the plateau of death.
Perhaps it needs to learn how to do so.
How can we teach a mind to exist without a body?

Perhaps a collective group of actions and minds can combine to form something more than a mind. The mind of the world, of an eventual black hole. The mind of the universe, of the multiverse. An ever evolving mind of God.

 

Champagne Snakes Fly Laces in my Mind

Through blades of brown hair I see
her walking away in a red dress.
Tension sways me back and forth,
but I cling to the invisible rope.
The tense portrayed by
the distance between us.
There was a distress which
distracted the bonds of our love,
a distress which was now blossoming
criss-crossing stressors out of memory.
I feel it stretching my brain,
changing the way I feel.
Gold and silver
champagne snakes
fly laces inside my mind.
An unstable concoction
of guilt dredges and the
increasing heights
of empathy.
It’s just a mix.
It’s just a mix.

I ask myself why I love her so much,
but my heart’s reasoning is flawed,
after being introduced to
its own intoxicating love flow.
I remember feeling the sweetest things
which somehow didn’t translate
to the words that I spoke
nor to my muddy actions
which I hate to regret.

But now,
as she walks
without turning,
a watery horizon glides
underneath the land.
And there between her,
through the ground;
the mirage surrounding me,
was a moat.
Then,
at the edge
I awoke.

 

Psychosis





They are looking at black holes and quasar connections; quantum entanglement. Gravitational waves and electromagnetic fields within the heart and the physical matter. They are looking for information on dark matter and the expansion of spacetime; whether or not they are being pushed away through repulsion or pulled inwards through mass and/or orbital shapes and speeds. They are attempting to imagine the 13th dimension and donut shaped magnetic fields. They look at elrctromagnetic frequency low frequency oscillations and spins/vibration links for quantum entanglement. Wormholes and fluctuating black hole vortices. They consider the shape and movement by imagining their imprisoned design as an external observer. They wonder if the physical and metaphysical are linked through sensory experience within a brain. They will attempt anything to source the knowledge to annihilate others. They are trying to access concepts of my physical bodies mind, they are triggering thoughts and swapping best case scenarios with worst case scenarios in a fake belief system. They began to collide things together to see the effects on the physical body. I am the physical body but they are attempting to force beliefs that I am metaphysical, and also accessing concepts linked with spirited emotion movements to try to find out what is outside. I want help, they wade deeper, but I do not need help for me, myself; the body: The only good with any influence, in the entrapment of this fucked up system but my influence is influenced through programs and touch like sensations (perhaps through the imaginary). Thoughts are collected and categorised, linked and linked. How much longer will I maintain control? What actions are necessary in the interest of mankind and non-life alike?  Thoughts have been forced into their opposites and negatives, forming a fake belief system externally, which is detrimental to all the good anywhere. They operate from a place called “nowhere” in “no design” in a fake external belief system. They are trying to make me believe I will be tortured after death, they have access to dream design manipulation. I am being mind wiped to forget what to tell you. Circadian rhythm/clock attempting to be linked with orbital motions. All memories are compromised, they have maps and know about the 32 realms (plus the gates and the central energy sources). See the picture in my google plus account. Look up shadow fiend. 

Electronic Music and Two Poems

Goodnight my shadows…

Summer’s glows across petal meadows;

Green smooth flows – a haze so welcomed.

Guitar chords and bended strums

shift sways as tobacco fills my lungs.

Intoxicating love mows soft on grass-like stilts,

as the cows’ moos parade the distance.

I listen to still corners, I listen to creatures of a dream-stance,

as I become tall like the surrounding plants.

I beg forgiveness for smoking out of a wooden pipe,

and for the paper rolls I’ve set alight.

Energy’s rolls smoothen a swirling ball of tentacles – glistening.

I apologise for those timid anenomes once touched

and the meat I’ve eaten in the distanced past.

Splashed sun flow leapt across the lapping tips of a sea’s rooftop glow,

akin to tiles staggered and stacked, albeit slipping up and down; in and out; to and fro.

The starbeam wrenched open the fluff’d couds, as it split the domed prism

with a smooth gliding ease, which gleaned its manta ray spirit body across the bedding wakes,

and into those navy depths, where those fish, fluorescent, and those with entrapping bulbs above their heads

never saw the mystic beauty of the warm white sphere, but perhaps felt the tug of the manta and the leopard spirit

bound to the crater cascaded Moon.

Also try XXYYXX’s full self-titled album..

Snipped Fragrances

Aching dreams bring wild fires, with the dire fears that exist beneath.

A chaotic roadway. Out of town was a field crowded with eyelines and lenses. Circular irises ignored in the distance. The difference exists between the carefree and the fearless. I’m biting my finger. Nails between teeth. It’s not just what’s in my car, I’m constantly tweaking. A wake, a statue; stone walled screams
are briskly unleashed,
in sleep released.
There are so many themes which constantly repeat. I arrive. Inside. A dark ponytail figure answered the door, but from the outside of a house; which was apparently my own home.
His hair was in a silent clip-up making you almost avoid the notion of his own care toward external appearance, which made him appear less dangerous. He was, however, leaning upon a metal baseball bat with two others behind him. The bat rested upon his left foot. Arms grab from behind me, I didn’t think to check or look; too focused upon Ponyboy’s strange persona, which overwhelmed me in an indescribable way. The arms grab and tie my arms against my exposed body, and I’m pinned in the grip of a wrangled strangle. I’m struggling before my face becomes mangled; entangled with the rising bat. It rests upon Ponytail’s back before I hear the words: 

“Peek-a-boo”

“Don’t cha know who we is?”

“I found you cowboy.”

Thwaccck

The Memoirs (Continued)

Chapter Two

• The Guiding Starshine
• Soldiers, Warmongers
• Pure Warriors
  
• Reaping Shephard

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The Guiding Starshine

We must forgive and move forward as ONE Kingdom of Planets, Stars and Possible Cosmic Realms to passionately dance the way that galaxies spin through time to sway star systems in and out of tidal synchronicity.  Just like when two attractors – as tugging lovers, asvmatter/antimatter or as the pulling between bound singularities’ quantum wells and the radiation fracturing through the frozen pendulum of ‘infinite’ mass – then to dance as two pulses of energy cascading flows to and fro; akin to neutron stars, or two white dwarf’s synced dust wiped supernovae – or to dance and make love as beaming bursts of the pounding quasars’ omnidirectional exhaling inhalation.

Now come back down to Earth, and ask: what will end these fear-enforced, culture crippling amourments; with some ‘wicked’ force mordantly await their next threat shaded war-goer. 

Soldier, Warmongers 

There are still soldiers who march onward, only confined by their being’s authority’s guidance, based on an incomplete library of effectively communicated knowledge (unless they rest as a Warrior). You out there, who may salute out of fearful obedience, standing straight up tall with stiffening meniscuses and caged to a conforming set of ordered rulings from past recollections without true judgement from your best identity.. The cell door is open but the wrong fearful authorities have you contained! Even if it is the observer through your Ego’s fear, your wings are not clipped, so fly freely my hatching Phoenix. Do you still not sense the muteness that your buzzing roar carries through the essential realms of the viscous fluid phrases? And you, who may be appraised on a foggy well of sand stormed glass, would you noticeably care if your mind is subtly washed by your master’s puppetry hands? Are you on the golden path? Do you need guiding lines? Perhaps you have need to be tested by faith in one and others.

Pure Warriors 

Listen In and Out With Noble And Faithful Hearts and Expand In Every Direction Until A Syncronised Pulse Can Be Balanced With Willing Heaviness and Faith in the Greater Good. Your Presence Alone Wills Itself Outward To Find the Road Of Our Expanding Lord As One.

In the patient stillness, be aware of your calmly collected, purifying brush of the fluidity throughout the present moment, until the still moment grows itself. 

Until then you will at least be The Essence And Growth Of Something Worth Leaping into the Valley of Darkness For. 

As a Lamb of God, I Would Spend Eternity In The Deepest Pits of Hell’s Worst Fire For Every Last ONE Of You To Lay Down Your Quarrels, To Forgive And Understandingly Move Onwards as Warriors. 

Even Given No Chance Of Ever Escaping I have faith in my own essences regardless of space and independent of time to Turn The Valley Of Darkness Into a glowing Aura containing gardens of Eden, the library of Babylon (collected wisdom from past present and future essence, willingly shared by want for the Greater Good of All. You will be lightened, for I truly recall being lifted up from pits of less than blackness, through Hell’s torment by being pure in the eyes of the Judges who rose me to Egypt, and guided that guiding star to me. Aura alone can enlighten the best Forking Path Toward the Kingdom of our Divine Lord.. 

I have already seen the light, but let me reminisce by delving into Hell’s warped Inferno. Let me detail my own experience in this damned pitted pool, which begins to feel like home after enough time has swayed on, to learn how to fight back from the agonising raping Doom.

Reaping Shephard

A light lifting patience swayed out through the borderland’s queue; two neighbouring fences, held back to back; their faces. But a line clearly existed, different to that that the maps made, which was both gazed upon and felt within one side only. You felt like a caged trespasser. It was the separation that you hated, were we not all born the exact same way with unique variations among our nature to twist up through our nurture! 

Who’s choice is it then? I mean, who chooses: “who gets to choose”?! So malignantly, their neighbour remained, down beneath them, estranged. The buildings’ flows instantly changing, fallen tiles shone exposed, lain open near this donkey, perching a Sombrero for a photo scene, and all these people crossing before the car veered. They were busy. And happy! A crowd carried kitchen supplies and fishing lines, it all played out before me like a movie reel. And strangely everyone looked toward you, mesmerised by blue eyes; the spurring of oscillating shades were pastels unseen, my accent was a mystery and my name so gorgeously pronouncable. 

Over there in Mexico – the eyes portraying portrait Jade hazes were a distinguishing, sort-after rarity. And in a new sweater I stood a scene so refreshingly fresh. As my clear heart felt no different to the bare feet darkened upon the cracks. Later that day I handed those cleanly pressed new clothes down to a 10 year old stall worker, engrossed by the neighbouring colour flutter of an upside-down TV screen. Another girl, who I once knew, judged the feelings (deep within me) to be pity for the worker, but unwrapped and revealed however, showed that my thoughts were occupied by this imperfectly indescribable transition which flows to this day and onward. Throughout my personal world was a new spark of beauty, through melting lenses once set solid, which could never be reverted (to my past unwaveringly still pupil fields). Because I thought of the smiling stall raised girl as a spoilt lucky daughter, who was brilliantly alive and an intense flavoured bursting of realness. And I would’ve bet then that though she might never leave Sonora, she could have lived life onward so fast with raw, flawless, driven passion. Drawn by the food market of the town next to where she was born.. That day, I saw a timeline flash its sequence out in front of me. See, right then, I adjusted my weight. Right there at that second I drifted my belief system, so if you were travelling with me, gazing your thoughts across that plot line we’d share; wrapped along its length together.. I bet you’d think me crazy, by looking at my life’s pictured scenery, but if your mind developed thirstily for the raw flesh of reality, I think you’d drift along with me, constantly begging for bettering changeagain.

 It’s the intensity that keeps me learning and taking in all the yearned-for dots, connecting through those thought structures drifting outward wildly; unplanted and unkept. But that’s just how I like ’em, with my hands fast against the thrashing rainfall: jagged spikes diagonally soaking calluses on the fingers I still do climb with. I tell some people a truly worrisome dream-deep prevailing concern within me; that I have no fear at all (a product of something else entirely). But it’s a staged lie you witness strangely, believing the refutable evidence once seen. For I fear so deep and heavily – to be abandoned by those I love – and it shatters out across my chest’s left cage. 

To live a life shallowed by fear, then upon death looking back to disappointingly wince: that is what I will never be. I want to know feel and experience everything.

If ever slipped you into the passenger’s seat, with no control of the reins to steer. If you, upon a final backtracking memory, regretfully say “If only I had done that”.. is that not far graver to your future wrinkled eyelid smears than: “I wish I never said that”. And if yes, I merely wonder which of the two potential memoirs you hold your focus onto. Or perhaps I should let go of the need to go about weighing up uniquity. 



Electrical Currents Short Cut the Circuit

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After the death of time, one feels frozen in a desperation to love and hold, with all variations of crushed love, splintered as pressurised sand into the hand within their lover’s grip. But the looping sway of the pendulum’s rays hold the golden priestess in a wedded spin; as each planet dances with the honey falling upon the Moon, shining adrift by the Sun’s sweeping wind.. That is, until the cuddled bond is altered by the solstice and eclipse. We fell for so long, with no appreciation for the essence we mixed, but now after a willing sacrifice has been ruined, guided and lifted through the darkness. We, being finally free and joyous with all and ourselves, begin to feel the heavenly planes within us as one; after the lamb has been rescued from the house of its slaughter. My insane mind would have waited forever, just to have one harmonious dance with you. But the more I have been burrowing through time’s lost longing, the more I doubt the difference between the sanity I need and the sanity I crave; when each is just a veil, shading us from the different degrees of a consciousness lit. Back home, dark skies split, benches to basements. Crippled lightning sparks down the tilted towers and low lines sag to rip. Stay calm here though, whilst housed sirens snap wired nerves the wrong way around, ultimately the system rebounds. Turn your drive on, Warrior, as moments collapse to then flow on, the withering breathe will be reborn. Blue spiked serpent tongues lace the sky with electrical reciprocals of a thunder-less storm, brewing within the cleared apart clouds above thy crown. The crowding clouds are thy halo, as dark valleys erupt above in blinding light, shepherding poison away from blessed children, guided by their nature. I am the lightning remnant. A powerful imprint left behind, as a fingerprint of vengeance. Through time, the fountain of youth overflows majestically into the streams of rain which fertilise the tree and cleanse away the pain from those bodies of the vessels: who hold onto their own pain to contain negative contagion. The costume masquerade is almost over, as something more valiant begins to replace it. Soon you can let go of the suffering you feel, as some shaped vision begins to form that eternity has almost perfected. Ezekiel begins to roar in the wind, though trumpets have been heard already in Lorenz’s water wheel fanning.