Black Sheep

Dream but don't sleep
Your eyes are many.
Counting the sheep.
Counting on many.

They sigh and they seek
A dream long forgotten.
To turn the other cheek
Til the day that they stop them
(The ghosts of tomorrow,
The despots of sorrow).

Their worries are many
Their problems are few.
Not knowing they're making
Boulders out of stew.

They chew and they chew
Pretending to suffer.
But deep down right under
Their heart chants their real colour.

They sweat in the dust
And cough like a smoker.
But once it's all over
They'll tire in water.

They sleep, oh, they sleep
On the dusk of their slaughter
Don't you want to see
How they'll kill all my brothers?

Terence Mckenna

"The imagination is the goal of history. I see history as an effort to literally realise our collective dreams."

"Matter is not lacking in magic, matter is magic."

"The artist's role is to save mankind; anything less is a dithering while Rome burns. If the artist cannot find the way, then the way cannot be found."

"We tend to disempower ourselves. We tend to believe that we don't matter and in the act of taking that idea to ourselves, we give everything away to somebody else, to something else."

"You have to take seriously the notion that understanding the universe is your responsibility, because the only understanding of the universe that will be useful to you is your own understanding."

"Nothing comes unannounced, but many can miss the announcement. So it's very important to actually listen to your intuition, rather than driving through it."

"There is a spiritual obligation, there is a task to be done. It is not, however, something as simple as following a set of somebody else's rules."

"I think we have a very narrow conception of what is possible with reality. We're surrounded by the howling abyss of the unknowable - nobody knows what's out there!"

"Who is to say what is real and what is not? 'Real' is a distinction of a naive mind. I think we're getting beyond that."

"Our ability to destroy ourselves is the mirror image of our ability to save ourselves."

Creating Who You Are

“And the principle is that any time you voluntarily let up control, in other words, cease to cling to yourself, you have an access of power. Cause you’re wasting energy all the time in self-defense trying to manage things, trying to force things to conform to your will. Once you stop doing that, that wasted energy is available. Therefore you are, in that sense, you are having that energy available, you are one with the divine principle, you have the energy. When you’re trying however to act as if you were God, that is to say you don’t trust anybody and you’re the dictator and you have to keep everybody in line, you lose the divine energy, cause what you are doing is simply defending yourself. So then, the principle is, the more you give it away, the more it comes back. Now you see, I don’t have the courage to give it away. I’m afraid. And you can only overcome that by realizing, you better give it away cause there’s no way of holding on to it. The meaning of the fact that everything is dissolving constantly, that we are all falling apart, we’re all in a process of constant death (…), that fact that everything is in decay is your helper. That is allowing you that you don’t have to let go, because there’s nothing to hold on to. It’s achieved for you, by the process of nature. So once you see that you just don’t have a prayer, it’s all washed up, and you will vanish and not leave a rack behind and you really get with that, suddenly you have the power, this enormous access of energy. But it’s not power that came to you because you grabbed it, it came in entirely the opposite way. The power that comes to you in a opposite way is power with which you can be trusted.”
- Alan Watts

Sound

My phone scratches the table

While an apple shrinks on it.

I tickle my cells with curious joy.

I blend in perfectly.

Connected like Wi-Fi

Sound.

I am reincarnated already.

In sound.

Bing, bong.

My laughter immortalizes me.

And friendship breaks time and space with a spatula.

What’s cooking?

The universe in a boiling pot.

God didn’t forget it, he just went to help the neighbours.

With their car.

God is a good mechanic.

Knock, knock

Who’s there?

Bing bong

Bing bong who?

Bing bong the mirror.

Pending

The parks turned to cemetaries

The office buildings, lounge bars

9 to 5 chilling,

Wearing slippers, eating salad

Mind mimicking the music.

Yesterday forgot its role

And I’m here alone...

I forgot to sleep.

Nevermind. I’m ok.

But under the slipper,

In the building’s reflection,

Carved on a tomb,

A verse from a tune –

The consequence

of our existence.

So foreign yet we’re neighbours.

It makes me sad

I’m here every day

But you’re absent

I wish I was a teacher

To send you a letter

Asking for a reason

Not to attend my lesson

If I knew it, I wouldn’t attend it either.

Elements

The dancing fire is heating my thoughts
Your shadow - a pool disturbed by droplets - keeps me wanting more
Carving infinity into an illusion, the pain in the boiling pot
My soul rusts, a breeze of light keeps it alive; my curiosity opens the door.

What's your worth? Does your mind stagnate or do you pay rent in blood?
Do you follow along like a good son biting his tongue or do you want to change the eternal song of the wrong?
Do you knock? Do you ring the bell? Or do you break in and endure the flood?
Anchored by a cloud, what goes up must come down, and it won't be long.

Your fists held back by the locks around your wrists - break the chains and float in the boiling pot
Rage followed by reason, followed by a fresh breath of mystery
Wander round or cough blood asking how or why, your mind going dry
Tis' a figment of a rock - the dirt is your world, ironic that you drown in it.

While a child unwraps an empty box, his thoughts float outside the lot
Breaking up with society, burning the pact of self-destruction, he finds the universe
A hat keeps warm but internal storms can blur the form and throw you back to the norm
Will you open your eyes to the unseen or will you relinquish it by accepting the illusion?

Failure

To those of you
Who know the truth;
So very few
Who've seen the proof.

If you dare
Conceal it,
Then your fare
Is deceiving.

Those who throw
Dirt on gold
Are the foe
Of their soul.

If you hold
A little light
Please dare not
Hold it tight.

If you pull
The curtain
Then the bull
Is certain.

Once you hide the truth
You can't wash your hands
Only pain will soothe
Your eternal glance.

let the e go

proceed
in my dream
to keep busy
until you and me
are one.

One

Awakening is when your heart discovers something.
Enlightenment is when you maintain that feeling of discovery.
Love is when you share it.

The Soul

"Astrology as a means of predicting is, as far as I can make out, of almost no value. But there was one sensible idea behind it. When you cast a person's horoscope, what you did is you drew a map of the then known universe as it was at the time this child was born, and this was supposed to be a map of his soul. What an ingenious idea! It is to say your soul is the whole world as it focuses upon your moment. Now ordinarily when we talk of souls, we think of something clad in a sheet with holes in it, like a Halloween ghost, that is kind of miasmic feature, that inhabits your body and and when you die, it leaves you. But that's not the soul at all! The soul is something which contains the body. The body doesn't contain the soul. The soul, if we put it into modern language, is the entire complex of relationships in whose context this organism exists."
- Alan Watts

Artist

Word of the Heart

The vibes boiling my blood
Not measured in temperature
But in Watts.
Alan told me he was last
I was just above average
But school's a blast.
You get to be imprisoned
So you grow up fast
Or die young
If you let your dream die
You'll shed your wings and cry
Like Serj Tankian.
Love or limp uselessly.
Live or rot for eternity.
Insane, I think not.
Your story's a joke
In the eyes of the Buddha.
You even pissed Jesus off.
But it's cool.
He forgave you.
You thought an idea could control you?
You thought a door would lock you?
You thought a paper could buy you?
Who owns you?
Bite your tongue and buy your freedom
From your heart to build your kingdom.
Inner from what Christ said.
So face the Sun and go to bed.
You'll see a bright white light
And this world will be gone.
And you'll say,
Well at least I had fun.
Now, you're in the realm of Being.
Where your heart suddenly starts Seeing.

Mystery is Knowledge, Mystery is Your Friend

I don't know. And it is this "I don't know" that is so wonderful. I embrace my ignorance. I do not cower from it. Because it is indeed by relating to your ignorance as you relate to a friend that you get to know it!

dried up

I lost you to a shadow
drowning in it
alone.

I made a mistake
I fell down the stairs.
What a perfect excuse.

My blood flows like a dying river
poisoned by indifference.
Helpless, sharing my stories with ghosts
at least they can relate.

My only prayer
written in a bottle
is my last hope.
If I'm forgotten,
my ashes will find their way
to the one looking for me.
Vibrating gray tints
crying "sorry, sorry!"

Timeless

If I could write the truth, I would.

But I can’t.

Words are simply mirrors. Nothing but mirrors.

We are not our words. Our words reflect who we are.

The truth laughs at the mind. Not a mocking laughter. A grandfather laughing at his teenage grandson's naïve rebellion.

Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back.

Why?

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock.  Come back.

This is boring!

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock.  Come back.

I’m going to break the clock!

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come –

The pieces of glass sparkling through their flight, the clock's needles invisible on nature’s transparent carpet.

And again, laughter.

Followed by silence.

Followed by confusion.

What?

And again, laughter.

What now?

And again, laughter.

This isn’t funny! This is horrible! Help me! I don’t understand!

And this time, a soft laughter.

Don’t worry. You are my blood. You cannot get lost, unless that is what you choose.

But how could I not choose that?

By letting go.

We Flow Like Water

Sitting high, haunted by my higher self's sensitive taunts.
Each moment I live, I pump blood to the wishful, loving, truthseeking people all across this beautiful landscape we cherishingly call Mother Earth.
Each moment I manifest the divine essence of God is a moment of clarity for the souls in this realm, waiting to be rescued but not giving enough of their own will to deserve it. Higher and higher, my bodiless self floats across tundras of galaxies. We engulf ourselves in a scared victim frequency and wonder why we can't breathe. Just float back to the surface, where you were in the first place, before having dived in. The knowledge is within you. The kingdom of God is within you.