Monthly Archives: September 2012

Like Remnants

…something left behind?
Do you see it?
Open your eyes!
Life is BUENO!
The road never ends,
and the birds always sing.

Life is a dream.
No choice but to live it boldly
until we wake up.

Count on the sun rising,
count on time flowing,
count on the journey
ever moving onward.

Count on
Everything
and
Nothing
expelling us into our destinies.

Sometimes paths never split.
Sometimes home never stays in one place.
Some futures are made
by groups of individuals.
Count on that
Brothers and Sisters.

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The Reality of Fantasy

Scene Three:

Missy: I wish that life were a fairy tale.

Sigmund: You mean you think it isn’t?

Missy: Of course it isn’t.

Sigmund: Why not?

Missy: There is a line between fantasy and reality, you know.

Sigmund: Oh really?

Missy: Yes. Really.

Sigmund: The only lines are the ones we create in order to construct reality. It’s a collaborative effort on everybody’s part… an unspoken agreement of sorts that a tree is a tree and a glass is a glass and a cigarette burns if you put it to your skin. And those who can’t accept that, well we have special little places for them. But, if everyone were to suddenly decide that they believed without a shadow of a doubt that all humans had huge feathery wings sprouting from their backs and cars weren’t cars at all but were really a species of flightless land dragon then-

Missy: I don’t believe that for a second.

Sigmund: Which is exactly why it isn’t true.

Missy: I don’t believe that either.

Sigmund: Well then I won’t tell you what it’s like to be in two places at once.

Scene from “The Devil and Tom Jones” by Jason DeGray

Everybody has some concrete belief and a measure of faith, which are embedded within the reality in which they exist. They act as a cornerstone on which a person’s entire reality is constructed. To shake such faith or beliefs is to unsettle a person’s very notion of reality. Most people are not mentally or spiritually equipped to handle such a degradation of their world.

Throughout a person’s life, their view of reality is conditioned by external influences and internal perceptions of experiences. People construct realities based on societal, cultural and familial influences. “Reality” is dictated to us and ingrained within us from birth. We are trained to perceive reality in a particular way. We are taught the unspoken rules like “This is a tree” and “This is a dog.” As we get older we are infused with morals and values. “This is right, this is wrong.” And we are all victims of this type of reality conditioning. It is necessary in that it allows us to function on a physical level in which we can communicate with each other and react to the world around us. In essence, it allows us to gain experiences. And brilliantly, just like snowflakes, no two people experience the world in exactly the same way. The “world as you know it” is exactly that.

Everything within the “world as you know it” is real and what you consider to be fictional or unrealistic notions, beliefs or ideas are rejected. The cycle has begun. You begin to only experience what strengthens your already preconceived “truths” or “laws.” Things not known or misunderstood simply cease to exist. And so the rational mind has no room for God and vice versa.

Oral Traditions

I’ll whisper to you
the delicate sagas of
a world before its fall.
The charming sonnets sung
by voiceless choirs of birds
will make the willows weep.
Hear the epics told with a zealous ferocity
by the warm summer breeze.

I’ll enchant you with the hopes and dreams
of a caring mother nursing a tiny life
to superior health.

Lady Gaia Moves beneath the
down-trodden hearts of men.

I will bellow the frustrations
of a raging storm bent on destruction.

I’ll tell you of the legends of
angels and men caught together
in the chaotic cycle of
God’s eternity.

I think you know…

It was in the way she touched me. I tell you, that was the act pure and erotic. Surrounded by a most Tantric energy we submerged ourselves in the passion of the Touch. We could have become Buddha, but to free ourselves from desire was an act as useless as it was impossible. Instead, we simply became.

Whatever it is that our deepest, most erotic fantasies require in order to achieve that zenith of erotic metamorphosis. We danced with words. We sang with sensual caresses that stimulated the explosive mind-play of sleeping goddesses. It was easy to write her history in fairytales and legends. I became her willing tool as she became mine. Oh how we experimented on the fringes of maddening passionate pleasure. It would’ve been lust if it weren’t so holy.

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