Beginning Of My Book : Part Three

Only love , ultimately , can set me free...
 
Yet what now is love , other than a cost far too great ?
 
Shall I give up myself , again , for you ?
 
Shall I become as you are , or want me to be ?
 
Shall I break the bonds of togetherness , to find myself
at the brink of the lonely ?
 
Just for what , is this thing , called love ?
 
Halfway through the experience , I pause ,
if only to catch my breath...
 
I tackle it like a dilemma , and hold it , until
it yields...
 
And then in the release , the ecstacy...
 
In olofactory feedback loops , I smell teen spirit ,
if only in retrograde memory...
 
And that , is revolutionary , if only just rebellion...
 
My g...g...g...generation , and my cycling in return...
 
Who are you ?
 
 
    Between third and first person , there is only a split ,
 
    Schizophrenic gap , in which I shall fit , between that ,
 
    Which I have thought , and that which I have writ ,
 
    In astral stone , for your and my benefit...
 
Being is natural to those in body...
 
Not being to those out of body...
 
Yet embodiment is beyond transcendence...
 
I dance to become more me...
 
Angels envy my freedom , gurus om in their jealousy...
 
My meditation , is active movement , not isolation ,
yet integration , and chaos made order , by my will...
 
I am the avatar of one thousand footsteps into life ,
and the dance of oblivion...simultaneously...
 
Can you keep up ?
 
Or am I but a blur , in your rate of consciousness ?
 
In all that is , or ever was , say those who bee ,
we hear the buzz , and honey is sweet , medicine
bitter , you can be silent , or be the emitter...
 
You can be healing , the feeling , or faint ,
You can be the was , the present , or ain't ,
You can be surrender , or battles well fought ,
That to become , or all come to naught ,
 
For that which I am , and that I shall be...
 
Is all just the ultimate , when it comes down to me...
 
Shall I be blatant , or shall I imply ?
 
Go ahead and be truthful , or tell you a lie ?
 
Goddess , should I even give a damn ?
 
For what should I ask , when some just demand ?
 
And these are the questions...perchance there are answers ?
 
By any other name , what shall I call it ?
 
If it reeks , is it still a rose ?
 
If it backpetals , shall I nip it in the bud ?
 
Wherefor art thou , when I bleed ?
 
Thou dost flee , as if pursued , by my death ,
and regeneration...
 
And yet...I am but the goddess , holding my
egg of life...
 
I offer thee renewal , bathe in my red , red , wine...
 
And that is all I shall say for now...period...
 
You flee , I fly , I flow , you uumm...
 
And your hesitation is a wound , though you
may see it , as only a scratch upon my surface...
 
I am yours only on a month to month basis...
 
Though a blood oath , might make you mine for life...
 
Never look a gift horse in the mouth...
 
She may just say nay...
 
 
    Yes , I am cyclical...and you are the constant...
 
    Sometimes you are a constant pain in the ass...
 
    And not due to anal sex...
 
    Why I endure , I do not know...some say love
    holds the answers , yet why does love hold them ,
    rather than reveal ?
 
    What is this magnetism , and why this charge ?
 
    Some say it is nature , I say nature is a beast...
 
    One that watches you , then devours you...
 
    Just because it can...and thus , is love...
 
Some say natural selection...
 
"Yes , I choose number three"...
 
Third time is the charm , just skip one and two...
 
Easier on one's emotions , and heartstrings...
 
( not to harp on it , but pluck you )...
 
Some chicken out , I withdraw , after trying , cold turkey...
 
No moor for me...free sailing...ships meeting in the night...
 
We are not titanic...sinking into dreams...
 
Nor dead calm...
 
Yet gentle breezes stir us to life upon our journey...
 
And this , my daughter , shall discover , one day...
 
Relation ships , just come as they may...
 
Not by choice or even one's own design ,
 
Yet it is by choice the lessons made mine...
 
And this I gift her , awareness her path ,
 
That she shall find balance , and not suffer self wrath...
 
 
    Rage , Rage , do not give up the fight !
 
    Quiet rage is deadlier than blatant might...
 
    Though in any battle to save my shadow and light ,
 
    I shall use the all , then what is left , beyond all wrong or right...
 
    You seek to defeat me , twist my truth , entreat me to your way ?
 
    Beware your words , beware your lies , in your power play ,
 
    For I know more , than you and yours , in all you do and say ,
 
    And once set in motion , power shall come to you , as it may...
 
Every time she thought of tit for tat , she thought
of her tattooist's chair...
 
And though some saw it as interspatial fair trade ,
she thought of it as political blackmail , and sexual
force , pricked by a needle...
 
Biker babe not , yet she kicked ass with a vengeance...
 
And she burned rubber over the best of them...
 
"And you should see the way I walk"...
 
CTBAMFWOY...Cause these boots are made for walking
over you...
 
Heel , boy...
 
Six inch spikes...nail you to the floor...
 
Now kiss them...I see you , you know...
 
All power full and knowing , a god , yet you crive , and crave ,
my a tension , so much , yet only as much as I can handle...
 
Or you , for all I care...
 
And I care , very , very , much...
 
And what are you going to do , about that ?
 
That I love you , even though , and because , you come to me ,
damaged by life incarnate , yet resurrected as yourself , only ,
and always , eternally changing...
 
nd she took her time between one thought and the next ,
 
as those in a hurry would finish last...
 
 
 
And she had no time for that...
 
 
 
Waves crashing distracted her...white noise , and surfing
 
on her neural net...and the undertow was deadly , in and
 
of itself...retrogressive consciousness , and tumbling and
 
turning in the hissing quantum foam...and she was her own
 
life guard , and savior who knew no fear...
 
 
 
Yet the sounds of life's interference drew her back into her
 
pool of introspection , and river of experience...
 
 
 
She was just so perfect unto herself , she orgasmed with the
 
thought of her immanence and imagination...
 
 
 
And who was there to say nay , if she denied them entry ?
 
 
 
She was her one plus one , schizophrenic in her glory , and
 
absolute in her self praises...sung unto the goddess she was
 
ever and never changing , always present...
 
 
 
And that was just the way it was...or at the least , by and by
 
her perception , seemed to be...
 
 
 
    If I must , I shall defend , rip and rend ,
 
    and stand firm in my word...
 
      
 
    For such is the way of those who are
 
    one self , one who listens , yet demands
 
    to be heard...
 
      
 
    And if I must , then I trust , from beginning
 
    to end , I shall be surrounded by those who
 
    create their fate , and not just weyyrd incurred...
 
For it is the mirror , and all it appears , in self referral ,
 
and feedback , silent screams , and a blank screen , until ,
 
that of mental printout , impresses itself , upon itself , as
 
my universe...
 
Manifestation rules...
 
Yet am I physical enough to recieve it ?
 
As I have said...just a yinniny , yanging around...



    And just because I said that , am I obligated to think it ?

    Who invented that , who made that rule ?

    And just because the moment , is it my fixed position ?

    I am my realization , as I am my fool...

    I saw a child on a beach , and a grandmother in her bed...

    Both raw , and naked , in their embrace of life and death...

    One , the same as the other , just an issue of time...

    And space is relative , as far as geomantic placement...

    If I think , therefore I am , by reflection , and introspection ,

    becomes if I think not , therefore I am not...

    Then who feeds the cat ?

    She needs her cream , just because she wants it...

    Just feline programming , or human cattiness , asserting

    it's way , by fang and claw , word , and verbal blade...

    She is / was / will be a girl , born anew each day...




    It is Little Evil who rules , the chaos of everyday life...

    The major events may change you , yet your fractal universe

    is programmed by your mandalic pattern of space into time , and

    the minor perturbations , which become related to major arcana...

    And that is the short answer to Little Evil...

    If you knew the whole answer , as we say ,

    we would have to kill you...

    Chaos reigns , falling in droplets , rising in condensation ,

    becoming refined , like some unfolding moment , of my

    O so , There It Is , Where it was , So it goes...


Circular thinking , and a ninth wave , always brought

her back to a peak experience...

She watched clouds on the horizon , seated on their

throne of the next island , slowly shape and then

reshape themselves , tensor grids of water molecules ,

guided by spin and heat , and angular momentum...

Her thoughts were like that sometimes , or more

times than she noticed , while in her cycles of

mental masturbation...

Her self realization was as much a contemplation

of the navel and umbilical cord of a multiverse , as

it was her belly button...

She wondered for a moment , about the comparison

of white holes , and black holes , and the outies and

innies of the belly button world...

Ah , the thin thread , between genius and madness ,

is all relative to perception of connective tissue ,

rational basis , and synchronicity...

Or so it seemed , at least most days...

She picked up a shell , and listened to the hiss of

the ocean , while watching a wave crash on the

sand...

Tactiles and aural beats always provided her a mental

soundboard for her to drum her fingers on , while

awaiting any next wave , if the wall of her patience to

the other side of the moment grew thin...

She liked tearing down mental walls , in herself and

others , as a form of deconstructive cerebral surgery...

Neural networks were fine , as long as there were no

shorts in the system , or blocked connections...

She hated getting busy signals from her brain , if she

hated anything...

"Please try your thought again later"

And hypertexting your brain , only works when there

is no lost signal...

"Can I hear me now" ?

Or even worse , was when she heard :

"You have reached a brain that has been disconnected"

Most days , though , her cellular system ran with no problem ,

Which was a good thing , in her field of relativity...




    In her shamanic workings , she discovered if you build a field of energy ,

    all your relations begin to arrive , just which ones always dependent on

    which harmonic welcome mat you laid at the door to the Otherside...

    Just had to be careful of what you asked for , and what signpost you hung ,

    and make sure you were ready for company...

    Some strangers were strange in deed...

    Let alone word...

    And uninvited guests , could be hard to get rid of...

    She had to use astral pest control more than once...

    Flee , Fly , Flow , and be flumoxed...

    An astral mirror may need perplexiglass...

    On any two way street...

    She despised psychic vampires when they drained her ,

    without permission...

    Human , or otherwise...




    Life is a beach , far shore...

    At the least , this morning as she shrugged off

    the thin shroud of fog , to bask in the sunlight...

    A tisket , a tasket , a sunlit basket...

    She put another shell in the basket , a home

    within a home for now...

    Nesting within the weave , glittering colors

    and nautical shapes , bounty and castoffs of the deep...

    Soon to guard her garden path...just for the shell of it...

    And I shall overcome the undertow of anything which

    gets underfoot as a stumbling block , she swore with

    a vengeance worthy of a valkyrie , on a bad day of her moon...

    But for now , sunbathing will do , a short and ultraviolet

    stroll , down memory lane , leading to an old ammonite way...

    A spiral path , back to the beginning , where fossils fuel

    ancestral worship , and phi is in the eye of the beholder...

    Any naughty lass knows this , if she is a chamber made...




    It is by forward motion that perserverance furthers ,

    and mountains turn into molehills , she thought ,

    watching a sand dune as it's surface was reshaped

    by a gust of ocean breeze...

    Peanut butter and honey and sticky situations she

    mused , and crackers in bed , and the way the cookie

    crumbles , all in a jumble of alphabet soup in her mind...

    Some days really were like that , needing the milk of

    human kindness to lubricate the wheel and grinding

    stone of any seeming reality...

    Some days she felt like the donkey turning the grinding

    stone , her ass always a little behind...

    Ah , the bee and the hind , and when the buck stops

    here , right on the dotted line...there is always the

    possibility of a sting...


She was a caricature in the Wry  of Life ,

fermenting like a fine wine with age , ergot

a self medicating alkhemist , transforming the

lead of her mind into the gold of her evolutionary

consciousness , a fallen Lucyferian rising in the sky ,

with her diamond tiara , and lotus crown...

Her matrix of reality , shifted again...

A simple shift , or a formal black dress , or

her plaid skirt and heels...

Which should she wear for her coming date ?



    He made her wait...

    And sometimes wear a maid's outfit...

    She served in order to be served...

    His offerings were delivered to her door ,

    on a silver platter , by his butler...

    The last was the key to his heart...

    She kept it on a silver chain , and

    yanked him by it , when she felt like it...

    And , if he gave her too much shit , as per

    the old way , she dealt her royal flush...

    Memory lane had so many twists and turns ,

    you had to watch your speed...

    This she learned , every time her thoughts

    spun out of control...

    Her internal hard drive occasionally had a nut

    loose , or missing bearings...

    She liked the occasional nut , as long as they

    were not dangerous...

    Swallowing the wrong one whole , could get you

    choked...

    And that was a memory she wanted to forget...




    Ocean spray brought her back into the physical dimension...

    Or her daily dementia , whichever the case may be...

    "En Gourd" , she said to the universe , before she

    rattled and hummed across the sands , causing time

    to stretch out before her , though as well behind , when

    she looked with the eye in the back of her head...

    She preferred a trek to tech , though as every man , and

    woman is a star , she knew she could pick up interstellar

    messages , on her internal cellular phone...

    Though call blocking was a necessary thing , as well ,

    caller I.D....

    Knowing who was calling you came in handy , especially

    after a bad date...

    And if she did not answer , or her battery malfunctioned ,

    it was a dead ringer...

    Just the same as the last time it happened...


And yet , she stood upright , and strong , in her happen stance ,

not thrown off balance by reiteration , nor change , between oak

and willow , before she was ash , and dust in the wind...

At least , this was what she told herself , before her pavlovian

response , answered the phone...

She salivated , though she did not drool , when she got attention ,

though the where of where she salivated , was determined by the

type of attention she got , and by whom...

Her current flame , made her so hot she drooled , though she

swore she would not say where...





    Her boyfriend called it a boob tube when she stood

    in front of the television in a tank top...

    She called him a rude boy when he smoked a spliff

    without her...

    If someone wanted to love her tender , they had

    to use a meat mallet...

    Russian roulette was her on the wheel of life , and

    every thought was a bullet to her brain , exploding

    in a neural cascade of implicate reality into the explicate...

    She found , for herself , every breakup had a breakdown

    attached to it , like an outfit with a standard accessory ,

    there whether you wanted it or not , and worse still , you

    had to pay for it , as a package deal , with a no return policy...

    And after every failed relationship , mocking birds sang to her ,

    like mourning doves , though she felt like some bird of prey ,

    talons bared in a prayer of revenge or , at least to grab what

    self respect she could at the end...

    Winged victory , with head on straight , and armed with post

    coital knowledge , she walked the walk , and talked the talk of

    a woman , freed , yet bound by her turpitude , and cycles of

    reiteration , in the name of one searching for that ever so elusive

    love , professed on the tongues of those eventually found wanting ,

    and empty of the largesse of passion , emotion , and romantic plenty ,

    she needed to sustain her desire , or interest...

    She knew she would graduate life , with a B.S. in the bullshit of

    relationships , if not a Masters ( or Mistress , if you will , want or need )...

    And need was an interesting thing , causing change and momentum

    with the angle applied to it , due to the blockage engendered by past

    experience...




    How do you get them to want you , when they don't know

    what they want , so you don't know how to give it to them ?

    Convincing them what they wanted , was a full time job no

    woman , or girl signed on for when they were born , though

    inherited by gender disposition , or neural wiring provided

    without asking in the womb...

    Some said they wanted this , but then this evolved into that ,

    or they wanted that in the beginning , after all...

    Thank goddess for the malleable nature of woman , or she

    would be some schizophrenic bitch , with a complex psycho

    program running toward a suicidal demise , or termination

    due to defect...

    Regeneration , and transcendence of the obvious was a

    woundress thing...

    But she was tired of being wounded...


Befuddled by bullshit , bedazzled by brilliance , we tiptoe

through the two lips of the spoken word , as the manifest

creation of some mental magery , or inside out feedback

loop , as per our need to fulfill our footprints of life...

Walking backwards , had it's benefits , coyote stylie...

The cheap skate was bored by the old shoe shuffle ,

and tap dance on the arms on the arms of the one

seeking pennies to heaven , on the road of no return...

Still , she gave at the office...




    The hiss of the ocean , reminded her of the quantum

    foam she heard in her mind when she crossed the barrier

    to the Otherworld...

    Witchery Didjeridoo , magick rules when it gets hold of you...

    And possibilities are multi - flex , in their structure and geometry...

    Curved space , astral vectors , and interspatial relationships ,

    predetermined her immediate reality , until she altered it in ubertime...

    Her last brane brought her here...