Beginning Of My Book : Part Two

She looked into her waveform , her song and her dance ,
Her movement and her sonic , her calm and her storm ,
her planned event , yet circumstance , her control , yet
her respect , and ever is that which some call wrong ,
and many others call correct...

She was all that she was...and that was good...

Now I have said good was relative to moment and to
way , by manifest dream , and all one doth say ,
By one's surrender , or by one's own fall ,
by one's pride , and one's own gall...

Yet more than this to standing tall ,
I see my constraint , I break down my wall...

I am my mirror , I am my all...

And there is absolution in between...

She wondered about her daughter...

Half in half out...like some cat goddess , and worshipping
at her own altar , like any teenager , and girl in heat...

Only here while it suited her , an outfit of personality ,
and nubile persnikkityness , or submissive seductiveness ,
whatever she chose , as any teenage girl's unwritten rite...

And she danced her primal rhythm...

She was the goddess of her temple...

And this , in the end , beyond of mother judgement ,
or daughter arrogance , was good...and good is relative...

All is perception...

A wave , upon a particular shore...with quantum foam ,
hissing upon the sand of time...

Shifting with the winds of forever...this was her existence...

And it seemed good...in the moment...

And every beach with it's dunes , it's hills of resist stance ,
a refusal to live in a flatland , rising to it's mounds of all
possibility , she saw herself in this candid capture , caught
and framed in perception...

For , as said before...is not all the way all sees ?

And though I be all , I can only be me...and this is good...

She looked at herself in the mirror...

Physical mirror , physical self...

All was good , though not to her , like almost any woman ,
confronted by herself...girl especially...

Her perception , was skewed to affirmation...not self defamation...

Necessity and memory are a geometry infolded unto itself...

She was perfect , as physical the beauty...

It was in her mind's chaos , nymphs and neural sprites
stirred the depths of her subconscious desires and
fears , evoking and invoking body judgements , ego
appraisals , and am I good enough iterative mantras...

Her inquiring mind was on a need to know basis , and
her introspection was an amateur detective inspecting
files long buried...

And why , cried the answer , as her question fled the scene
of her crime of innersearch and realization request...

Psychic alarms may be painful , awareness is a ward...

A gift is precognizance , and yet a curse as well...

Seeing a possible future can be a preview begging for forgetfullness...

Blindfolded before reality was justice for incarnation...

Psychic insight the recourse in the prison of mind...

Or so she heard...

And she was a creature of her desires , her needs , her sustaining
matrices , seeking without seeking that which would set her free...

Opposites attract , herself to herself , like some holy guardian angel
to the body and blood , sword to grail , water trough to some special
intelligence , drink me , eat me , I am divine...

Spirituality made her horny...

It is incestuous , when I get embed with myself , she thought...

When I penetrate my subconscious , I get wet...

Sex and death , are tied in the self referred mobeus strip of my subconscious...

Where I dance , and play , and become that I am , including my sensual nature...

For the sensual is howl I refer...my wolf is my guide...

Wild wolf , capricious coyote , dominant's dog , she was herself...and that was good..or so some said...

And she was fine with that...

Can't please everyone...so far , and so the much...no fear , no guilt , no shame...

She was who she was...and all she was , was the present mistress of yesterday's ghost , the future dominatrix of her today's dream...none other...for who could dream herself better than she ?

She took a deep breadth , overwhelmed by her non linear thinking , her rational , flying out her mind's window , like some carrier pigeon , with a mission of a message to her subconscious to expand...

She is I am We become...or so she thought...

And her instantaneous opinion became a long lasting dogma...

And this was known as religion...

And all was said to be good...

And this was dangerous , if she thought about it...

Thought becomes religion...schizoids dreams become dogma...

And then who was she then ?

Who was she , self claimed , and saying no , not to other's perception ,
yet her own multiple choice creation , and dice rolled , angular momentum
creating her potential...snake eyes...

She saw the rainbow at the end of her gold...

Coins , laid end to end , the al - khem - ists path of the peacock...

Perspective changes dependent on one's to and fro...

Or , one's depth , heighth , and one's wide...

Or one's center , or one's deep inside...

Or one's fast , one's very slow ,

Whether one comes , or whether one goes...

Awareness and consciousness , all that one knows...

She knew she never stopped learning...

And that...was always good...or so it seemed so far...

She spun in place , a waveform rhythmic of phase
shifted light , a portal shakti , in human shell...

She seemed normal to most...

Yet she was much more than that...

She was an equation unto herself , unsolved until
she turned her key...

Beyond the door to the heart , lay many folded paths...

Weyyrd walkers know no fear...yet embrace the
dragons of power , and serpents wise...

And chutes and ladders is the game all play , o my ,
drama in the theatre of the mind...

And the masks are many , chosen are few , the mask
wears the maker , maker wears the mask , all that I am ,
and all that I ask , life experienced , then be anew , is both
one , none , or any...for both includes the three...

So she thought when it fancied her...

And when her mask dropped , as her veil of existence ,
she was her sphinx and her Salome , seducing her inner
male in an incestuous riddle , a kundalini feedback loop...

And though the blind may walk , once crippled now I see...

I am alkhemi , ego , angel , stone wall ,

Babel towers and personal power...

One weyyrd , All again , not yet still small ,

A seed takes root , and then does flower...

Energy , entropy , reincarnation ,

Initiation , abstinence , satiation ,

A wheel goes round and round ,

And the sound of my breath can drown me ,
the sound of my pulse , awaken the dead...

That which I am , is yet to be found ,

And found in the heart , if not in the head...

And my dream can free me , or set me enthralled...

Not just what I say , yet all that I've said...

Those are the weyyrds I say this day ,

That I hold in my heart and head...

And all that there is , is much as the all ,

In all the imprint and embed ,

And written in stone , song and the call ,

Create your path , or be led...

She spun herself to stillness...

All one...naught...one...naught...

Nothing...myself...nothing...myself...

Stop...stop not just to stop , to cease ,
but to become all that one's movement ,
led one to be...

Where all one's chains , shall set one free...

First there is a mountain , then there is no
mountain , then there is...

Vigilance is the keyword of all unchained...

And every mountain is a molehill , from
another's perception...

Oh , her thoughts were her amusement rides ,
and her fare was her sanity...or insanity as her
case may be...

It was either that , or get her fortune read...

And as she was both reader , and the read ,

She would have to pay attention to words she said...

Or create her own consequences...

And that was more work , than it needed to be...

Strangers were not too close , to be blinded ,
by friendship , or love...

Distance creates perspective...

Divination is remote viewing...

And I am a psychic self observer , she thought...

Enchanted in my mirror , awakened in my dream...

And in the alpha and the omega , hummed the
om before the changing storm...

When my word of the aeon becomes real...

And om becomes passe'...

For so it is in the theatre of the mind...

As the world all you feel , and all come as it may...

It is always a personal universe...and lens of my
perception...

She took a breadth in the width and height of her
multi layered creation...

Mapping one's reality may seem like psychic cartomancy...

Yet self knowing is wietchery pre school...

And one's shaman may choose a throne of power...

Yet is not every shaman , still yet one's great fool ?

How , she thought , does one pass all this to one's child ?

When she is , so all she is , both innocent , yet so wild ?

Genetics was a ladder to heaven and hell ,

Progeny be blessed and cursed with life...

May you live in interesting times...so she heard it said...

And some sought eternal life ?

Some hell that never ends , or boring heaven where nothing
changes , or in between , where all changes , without end ?

I can shapeshift like nobody's business...

None shall know me when I am done...I am more than I appear
I am , and less than you condemn me to be...

I am more , and less than human...

Destiny is a road in reverse , and the fool is a fool dog...

Heyokah walks backwards...

I have always known myself...forgetfullness is a tool to remember...

I jumped in the fountain of youth to save myself...

And saw , in the mirror , my past and future...

Entanglement is the root of every tree...

And the bush that does not burn , both particle and wave ,

Your future ancestors can set you free ,

And you become all those you save...

We each one is saviour , we each one is slave ,

We each one is coward , we each one is brave ,


And though I am each one of you , I am , just still , all me...

And the me I am , is seven generations , future and past...

Round a wheel of one's forever...

And once connected , energy ever shall last ,

Unless cording removed and severed ,

Entropy slow becomes transformational fast...


My hand traces hypertext code ,

On a stone wall in an astral field...

Most malleable , stone doth yield ,

And all that comes , I have sowed...



Generatrix , it is I who creates , and weaves
my fate , both one and yet , still yet all three fates...

I may write on marble or I may write on slate ,
and if I am always present , well then I am never late...

Though some may futuresee , and some do antiquate...

And thus I never seek , yet am both seeker and am sought ,

And as such I am the thinker , and as such I am the thought ,

And as the fool is one who mental masturbates ,

By the fool's own actions , so the fool is wrought ,

And though some may never learn , ever they are taught...

May all you create , through love and hate , never come to naught...



She willed her creation into being...

Thank goddess she had cappuccino before meditation...

Caffeine was one of the goddess's thousand names...

Praise bee the goddess...and dark honey liqueur ,
shall she confess , her love's sabouteur ?




Cappuccino foam divined her day...life was ahead...

All that I am I am , and this I must confess ,
both the living spirit , and yet the walking dead...

And though death and I , had an understanding ,
neither of us would be more demanding ,

Both of us would lay our claim , to my holy soul ,
after the body , which is all that which remains ,

All the many parts from the one holy whole ,
both spiritual fire and sack of cold coals ,

And though many stories may thus then be told ,
my reality is as I maintain...both the silence and still yet the name...

And my dream , into life , shall unfold...

Who said she did not work ?

Process orientation was a science , dogma , and creed ,
yet the journey of return to self , was just self fulfillment ,
yet still , just yet need...

For always the mighty oak , comes from the dreaming seed...

And to be full of oneself , evokes the hollow reed...

Shit , she had to find a way to download this to her daughter...

Was dna enough ?

A twisted sister to herself , coiled as a serpent of wisdom ,
she was her own tree and book of revelation ,
her own dungeon , and her emancipation ,
her own prophecy , and her queendom come...

Yet whatever is done , is done...sensate or numb...

Some say love is all there is , some say slap , and some
say kiss ,some say map it , some play hit or miss ,
you just know I've been that , and thus I shall be this...

Beyond of all , I do not care , nor feel guilt , nor sin , nor shame ,
not emotional armor , I do what I dare , and I wear , thus , no one's blame...

For whether the many , or one in between , can that which I say ,
be all that I mean , and naught I say I saw , convey all that I've seen ,
for however I percieve , it is still within the dream ,
and in the dream itself is not intent first seemed...

God , I am weird , she thought...

That which I think...

Or is it the I am , because I think , or is it the think because I dream ?

Self is not singular in it's purpose...

Some just say it is...

Convenience does not equal genius...

Buddhism only begins at one point...

Enlightenment is kindergarten...

I am beyond this , and more , to be and yet before ,
the grail and the quest , the book and the lore ,
initiate , yet test , between , yet the door...