Tuesday, February 8, 2011
old poem i wrote for Lakshmi
Monday, February 7, 2011
Box cutter Angst. Round one: When I heard that box cutters were involved with the Hijacking of the planes in 9-11 I thought...To me Box cutters will forever be associated with terrorism...Symbols of terrorism...But what the hell is terrorism a symbol of... Frustration, Fear? I set out to understand the anatomy of a symbol. A symbol that’s given its value by association with an experience. Branding...Marketing Psychological warfare whatever you want to call it. But branding is also a Phenomenon in nature. Any experience or level of understanding can be recalled by connecting the experience with a symbol. A drawn sketch, an existing object or an imaginary beast. Or like the sun which creates a unique reaction in every life form that we know of. The sun gives light, light lets you see where you couldn't just before. The sun gives heat, Comforting wrap. The Father and mother of the bloom, the kiss of life, and the sun also gives the imagination a symbol to associate with the sunning happening. When confronted with any other experience that can be described as being similar to the experience the sun conjures, the sun symbol can be perfectly utilized and understood as a reference. Yes. and it's true that the sun is simply the son of the source of light which is archetypal and somewhat unconceivable without an understanding of the wisdom and power of metaphors.
Round two: It occurred to me that the crucifix was one of the worlds most influential symbols. What if it were edible? Would people know how to respond to the possibility of consuming such a powerful symbol? I can imagine it given me, personally, a sort of charge knowing that I now had the power to redefine the meaning of Christianity by consuming the symbol in meditation. Would I bite off the feet and pretend to be forever consuming perfection? would I vomit regret and shame instantly? I bet it could have any effect I wanted it to…consciously or unconsciously. Its all how you define and how much value you associate with the symbol. Lending your faith and will to the meaning of the symbol to some effect.
TKO: Terrorism cannot be defined. Yet we live in a world were many powers that directly influence the fate of the planet believe somehow that they must seek out and eliminate all “terrorism”. By defining terrorism in flux. Which can make for no dam definition at all. Anyone can qualify or absolutely not qualify as a terrorist if the definers are conmen. I wanted to give my people the power to redefine terrorism. By making an edible symbol of terrorism I hoped to create a magical tool to take back our right to give or take life energy to or from such symbols of fear. To create an opportunity to meditate on and redefine the definition of terrorism as we consume the symbol. The Box cutter wasn’t born as a Symbol of the complete bloody up heave and burn in the world. Its necessary for us to be reminded that it is our experience and will, not the media, that give weight to definition. The chocol8 box cutter is my gift to the world. A magical, tangibly rendered sigil that can be infused with all of your fears of little men with box cutters and body bombs on public transportation, then eaten and overcome. Engineering Culture... It's fun and educational.
It’s not the crush of the new world order that terrifies me.
It's the promised assassination of the unfolding future spirit of humanity, tickled by creature comforts then tortured by disillusionment, til broken soaked in fear blood and tremble, spangled in shriveling obedient oblivion, Fixed on fallen wings without even a moment of refocus to regret the romance with apathy, nor the momentum to battle the death rattle choking plea drenched I's in hydraulic appease...
And the shame is all of ours to share.
The end of the world doesn’t bother me a bit.
In fact I intend to be the first to die in this apocalypse. So it shouldn't bother you either, just watch me.
The waters of chaos have risen to shock and cleanse a generation on its' knees.
One foot always blaming the other for not standing.
Maybe cause the soul knows that a stand takes forever, maybe cause the soul knows fear buckles understanding.
Fuck Fear the diligent dictator of this illusion.
Fuck the mediated undebateable paces built to keep you information not informed.
Fuck the hate bound vision of the officers of peace transforming their working class trigger fingers into the shivering claws of power swollen demons preying on the profiles of future faultless youth asleep in the manger of Maya.
The reactors under pressure over react.
The Poke paralyzing our spirits hard pressed to spout volatile.
Fueled by desperate unspecific anger.
And the shame is all of ours to share.
The side effects of poisonous slurs, slipping through uncultured fangs, pumping pores with viral malice.
Homeland security the fascist fatass stuffed in the booty shorts of patriotism
and it's not sexy.
But within each patriot is a riot with wings
and the imagination to entertain the possibilities of nurturing a global perfection, an
Fuck that nobody’s perfect talk leading to that nobody’s perfect walk. Which leads to the persecution of the spiritually diligent.
That’s why we don't care for our spiritual people anymore.
Why artist starve and entertainers thrive.
We'd rather medicate genius with chemical demons.
The soulfully sane, the indios wisdom initiated, dictated by nature recorded in the wrinkled wounds of these ancient souls. served capsulated decay to silence to ghost within the soil of the soul.
I say fuck animal rights until there are human rights.
Fuck going to mars to search and research for the answer to a question that’s rich in our own blood.
Fuck the Grammy’s Emmys and all Iconic weights added to the consciousnesses of the malleable masses seeking to be as real as this month’s reality fad.
It's not that the history of humanity may someday be possibly erased by us or some other galactic street sweeping.
It's the thought of losing our spirit, our essence to a smiling paper toothed fear and mediocratic nemesis.
And yes muscles must be torn hearts broken, spirits crushed before new muscle, will and meaning are born.
But I won't wear fear and pretend to flourish.
Because it's not the militarization of police in every nation serving the sinister intentions of the CIA at a mutilating pace defacing faith and infants to protect the interests of corporate beasts while bullets bash innocent flesh in the devilish dance of blasphemy courtship...
Cause it's much deeper than that...
and that doesn’t even bother me as much as the cynically senseless perversion of the soul severed from purpose.... to pointless.... to buy this.... consuming pleasure principalities until death do us nearly retarded
before the grave.
It's the excuses we all make to not be NOW. It's the mental gymnastic we all do to avoid any threat to our egos posture.
Cause egos bruise easily
and bruises can hurt if they don't kill you.
Unity is our revolution.
The great primitive exo-psychologist William Blake posed the question:
"Tyger, tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"
The answer is DNA.
And what enduring intelligence burning bright in the forests of the night-time sky designed DNA?The genetic code is surely not an accidental adhesion of molecules. It is an instrumental message, an energy directive created by a meta-biological intelligence.
For Beauty is nothing but the begining of terror which we are still just able to bare. but we love it because it so serenely seeks to annhialate us.
Over Naked rules. ego senses crush the childish eyes of cosmic innocence with ideas of the new LO
VE...the dark light of desire...Violently ravaged, stroked and spun as expected by the
Embrace of a becoming, Our civil fresh Eyes see not...Enough is never enough
For true lessons will be known like love..when love is known fearlessly
Undefined by think but bred to dance as free as She'll do. the love we've all inherited is young and fragile
Collected fragments of an ancient
Knowing. spilt from a breath made out way before the flesh became our intoxicant and soul a type of Music... the deep hum under the new
Sickness...the fallen love. Love is the only enemy?...ignorance is bliss.? bliss is comfort.? Love Fucks
it's a proven fact that it is the sensitive who survive. it's the sensitive who are strong. Awareness is a cold blade bath. I say bring on the pain...bring on the absolute. This life is a gift that has never belonged to anyone..I refuse to run from the fiery womb and pressed black void that made me. There's a crack in everything thats how the light gets in. Love Fucks...it's our initiation. Smile ;)
R.aise A.nd P.resson into your name name, into your new body.
Let this be a message of psychic guidance and confidence sent to comfort all who've gone before us.
I think it was pythagoras who is credited for documenting his thoughts on the relationship between sound,color and geometry. But I´ve never seen it in this way. Kinda makes me want to sing.
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What does a perfect relationship look and feel like? Is marriage an 8 track way of showing reverence for a connection or partnership between two individuals in a high frequency cosmos?