MU

Unrestrained Bliss Encounters a Raucous Ride in The Lost (yet Luscious) Land Of MU..... Its all for U!!!

Post Bloom...

Now and here, present, the unique bloom that comes from all the ranting and resisting and rebelling... Its here in the heart as a vibration, a particular pitch, a sirens call that sends a silent and resilient sonar. 

I can hear the call again, clearly, and see where blame has chiseled a case, stormed judgment and self loathing, appointed evidence and effort as witnesses, and condemned creation to the podium...

From this realization, from the expression of anger, through consciously and compassionately seeing it while it moves through me... there is an energetic bloom that is born, and for this I am grateful. 

This bloom is a color, I've not been exposed to, its a texture that a jelly fish would think slippery, soft, and vital... its a vibrational entity all of it own....and it asks me to go slower, stop more, be silent, and slip off alone away from the raucous human party and paint a picture about Mu and the way the trees (in that land) have pin feathers and literally (for literal purposes) bleed ultra-violet streams of continual consciousness....

Tormented Torrents

I am sick of the saccharin love. So sick of the sickness. Sick of grammar and war.  These limits, the livid local...the barbed wire leaves. So sick of the hatred, the genetic manipulators, the time keepers proclaim.....Procreation? In hell? Fuck it. So sick of having to make some sort of sense, a semblance of sanity in such this asylum, sold as an asset.

Sick of the seeking and the preaching...of trying to contain the mystical moon in a shallow and ego-ick sloppy saloon. 

Sick of lying to the sly and conscious slope of my own spine. 

This rage will transmute its fury into the passion that creates and combusts worlds. I am not confused about the vibrational source and power of one tiny tendril of a thought. And, I won't lie about the oppression and I will not pretend that Misogyny is not our leading mascot.

Lemuria is rising. These dusty wings have sipped the storm of infinity.

The codes that flipped the hour glass so long ago are rising, to be re configured into this stream of consciousness I am ... She is running on empty and has 3,021 wounds in her heart that need self healing... Grace wants absolute respect, for these limbs have been torn, tattered and terrorized by my own solution of separation.

BUST!!!

The torture I may create for myself, is a conscious consequence. I need self-respect and honor for the shadow splice and allowance for the dark corridors that will open to the mind bending meadow of Dignity...

I'll learn (for this I am sure) and love will always have her way with me. 

She will always triumph and the mind (this mirror maze) will forever burn in the fire of her True Blood... creating T-Cells as she goes, within, to the marrow of her making.

It is my turn, and I walk softly on the heels of my own shadow, knowing my name, blazing force, single, violet flame...

I am writing the story, and holding the heart of glory as she gushes with Gods SPEED.

Its tricky to Tenderize Me....

Allah

You could 

have

lingered longer

@ the spot

that had no

white wash

wisdom

But instead

you

ran with red 

to secure

your

way to god...