2+2=5

I watched the shadow of what you are spread out across this land.  I stood idly by as you have eaten everything in your path.  I felt the flow of you through me, transmitting hatred, I was forever changing, but never stagnating.  The darkness of the factory appears before my eyes.  You feel comfortable in your new form, as you jail all in your path.  The smoke of death billows from your pipes.  Lava from the volcano above alights the factory into life. The conveyor belt of children surging straight into your mouth.  Reintegrating the children, reminding them, death = life; there will be no other equation.  The red light of her dress shrouds my eyes…for so long I have forgotten, never far from my eyes, her vibrations guiding me, yet still I run…what brought you here now?  She never answers.  I can never reach the truth.  When she is in my eyes I feel it within reach, but no, I have to ask what are you protecting?  In a blur she is gone.  Knowledge flows through me, never taking hold.  From the top of the volcano, I feel the heat, a flash, the sky, totally eclipsed at midday.  Straight down the middle there is a split that just never goes away.  You tiptoe along that line and for a flash of a second, I remember.  A game, played against those who make the rules.  Yet, they never truly win do they?  We are protected.  Your mind was built, it doesn’t matter how, all of that hatred, misplaced anger, it built itself a fortress, where I receive payment for torture.  The mental torture of eight hours a day of drudgery.  Light shielded by a deceptive screen.  I can only see so much behind this, it helps me as I protect the little comfort I have.  You are on top of the volcano, lava falling from your hands, illuminating the darkness.  Darkness in fancy dress clothes and a lightness emanating from the skin that covers what you are.  You say one thing and mean another. All my life I climbed this mountain, the mountain that I was guided to in my belief that all would be well..if only…I could reach….something.   Your eyes follow me, it doesn’t matter where I am, they eternally follow me, one look into the center, and you are trapped forever.  Your words travel at me, but they mean  nothing.  Repetitive, full of feeling but nothing else really, they just bounce around in the atmosphere and they are laughed at now.  They become clouds, and rain down on us, as we dance the night away.  I travel into a shadow, trapped in a bank.  A past, or a future I just don’t seem to be a part of.  Confusing waves surround me, beliefs drown me, the desperate laughter of the lost guides me to the equation of my birth.  A pawn on your chessboard, the board I can see through, I cry out from the inside but I know I have the power.  The truth is, I know the key to your heart but I just don’t want to go down that road.  From the top of this mountain where I have found nothing, misled, lost, I fall on my back and look to the sky.  The noise of the factory drowning out by my thoughts leading me in every direction I can see.  I contemplate the answer when the problem of my thinking occurred to me.  A flock of black birds fly above my head, screeching at the gurgling volcano.  The problem is thinking there is one answer and as your lava covered hands reach out, I turn away, I have let you hold the equation for far too long

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Entangled

Trapped in the black abyss that has become the web of my life.  The web, its echoes leading me down another dark tunnel with no end.  Every movement I make drags me in closer to its heart, the heart that has become my own.  The giant’s shadow looming above me, never dispersing, the darkness has always been there. – You cannot hide from the blood that flows in your veins. –  The hypotic hum of the moon murmuring to me across oceans of time.  The back of my head sees a lightness as the skies open before me, I flow above, reach for all that I am.  The web expands in the back of my head where it has taken root, draining me of any rationality.  But you can feel nothing like this, all you know is how to hurt things and act human; poorly.  Your throne has now solidified, the specter of your rule casts a blackness across the land.  I fear not because you are controlled. The ones pulling the strings to your mind, a mass of hatred that can never have a true form without our concordance.  It is a dance of the uninformed because the true rules are always hidden behind the light of your lies.  Your form has shifted.  You become someone’s answer.  Bred since I was a child, if I can recall my birth; I only see that frightened child in the corner drowning in tears.  The shadows descend on my soul as I reach for the sun, but can only touch the moon.  The delicate hum leading me up the steps into your darkness.  The earth falling upon my eyes, the only womb I’ve ever known, the only feeling that moves me to continue this existence, god, it is so, so insufferable.   A game still, your shivering hand quakes at each movement, millions fall with every movement.  You truly cannot hear the screams can you?  You can’t even see yourself, changing, every movement, a different nothing before my eyes.  You took all my memories, all I ever was.  I walked through my memories and they really couldn’t hurt me anymore.  Nothing really could, I was floating.  I know what you have wanted for so long, the seat of my conscious smiles, awake and alive it beams love at your cold black heart.  But why did you have to steal our childhoods?  We’ve lived eons of lives before we could see ourselves.  I never was a child, the shadow you have placed over my life has taken that from me.  It shifts, forming an eclipse covering my eyes, a living breathing form I cannot perceive.  What you have become appears and disappears with each breath I take.  Each exhale it takes little more from me, a piece it will never return without the sacrifice of my own blood.  It is more than a chess game for you, something so much deeper, or maybe just the opposite.  Your throne is rotten, your game is now being seen and you are beginning to retreat.  I still don’t have my childhood, my discoveries engineered to bring me to my knees before your rotten throne.  The web pulses in the back of my mind as your scepter pounds another hole in the earth.  I stop and listen to all that I am, I stop and listen to that child deep within me, the one you can never take away

Kings of the shattered mountain

The laughter didn’t last very long.  Splintering into a million tiny shards of light.  Through tunnels of space.  The circle is broken, but still, it continues to grow.  A festering disease upon the planet.  A bang of a golden cane, the top of which is on fire; slamming against the marble floor, thundering to a halt anything within distance of it.  Another empire falls, a darker one is born with less of a conscience and one step more hidden behind the ideas of the old.  They laugh as we forget their facades, hiding behind new forms; another lies not far behind.  The circle is never broken it flows within all of us, it is always the easier choice.  I float on through the sky awaiting my new form, no shape is before me.  The nine amongst them repeatedly shift their forms…my eyes can not settle on a form for more than a brief moment.  The fire brings solidity to their ideas.  They burn with hatred.  They have their hands wrapped around everything, even without a solid form, it is the air they need to sustain life.  I can only hear the pounding of the circle multiplying.  They gain form above me.  I can do nothing but give up.  I can’t go on like this.  I can’t exist at this level.  The level they have never rose above, never forgetting the kid that took their toy in the crib; that level.  I use to think they were evolved far above us, but it’s just the opposite, the inversion of evolution. Their words like the missile I once was can destroy anything in one misused phrase.  How many deaths must I sustain to get a foothold above your heads?   I close my eyes and upon opening them, a new deception materializes, a new deception my eyes can’t quite pierce.  I feel the crying throughout my body.  There are no emotions anywhere on your body, but I feel, I hear your crying.  The child in the corner, toys stolen, never a loving hand, never a loving word.  A circle of crying children with their dark hands in every part of the globe.  I can no longer do anything but laugh.  Mirror upon mirror is placed in front of your actions.    For a brief moment I was like you.  The temperament of a bomb that is all you are.  Chains are quietly wrapped around all I am.  Thought is not permitted here.  Your circle gains color and brightness but I still see all of you as the same.  To the beat of your fiery canes I am led down a mountain.  Your beat attempts to take my mind from the truth, but it is all I have.  I see shadows everywhere and they are growing.  Hatred is the easiest food to obtain here.  I am now placed in a glass cage, viewable from every part of the earth.  I am an example, but this is home now.  I still have what I am and I no longer need anything else.  I will starve before swallowing your hate.  With every beat of your cane I am reminded of where I am, but I still can see the sun rising and I can still see the shadows of what you are cower in fear.  You forget it is impossible to chain the formless

Calm like a bomb

“Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling – their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability.  Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them.  Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” Arundhati Roy

I place my hands upon the earth, the screams of children echoing in my mind.  There is a line we draw as our homes.  There is a dollar to represent who we are.  There is a border to divide us.  A jail to contain us.  Distractions to silence us.  Words to confuse us.  My feet and hands on the earth compell me to never forget the crying.  I never forget the love that keeps us together.    The sound of clanging metal gives me a new life.  I am slowly assembled.  Sleeping robots dreaming of a life away.  Something I once was.  Tinkering and banging, my life is just beginning.  I once searched for purpose, now I have only one.  I anticipate the explosion to come.  My body grows stronger as the unconscious hands feel life along my smooth surface.  They covet me.  Worshipped as a god, a hero, explosions in a distant land always reverberate in the heart of the dispossessed.  I bring comfort to each tattered suffering mass of the confused, tax dollars well spent.  Conscious is just a word, empathy an empty idea used by the powerless.  I am not even finished yet and I have become what I will be.  Each connection strengthens my singular purpose of destruction.  Assembly is slow now, as only the shell needs to be completely finished and polished.  I am overcome with the anger which is feeding me.  I see the targets to come, spread out into nothing.  Existing as nothing but beasts in the field, savages in my way.  Children touch my sleek metal covering.  Paint their names on my body.  Feel my power.  I only have the power to make things disappear.  Thoughts in my mind only ignite and fester.  I ask the hands of the Infinite, is this not fighting them the same way they fight us? – Oh, you do not see what you are friend. – I am about to explode, I have no other choice – You may explode but not in their way at all, you must experience what you are yet to become.  Their bombs continue to rain down, same as the beginning in different form.  Around the world, they cannot see what they have become.  They cannot feel what they strengthen, but you have that power, the explosion is only superficial. – I don’t understand – You don’t understand because you do not yet know what you are.  There is a war, a war that they have started from the beginning when the first whip, the first cage, the first weapon was born.  When the first living thing was considered a commodity.  When the first pyramid was climbed, and claimed, and the first division imagined.  The only way we can fight a war that denies its own existence, or any existence, is by understanding…something.  We’re still not sure what this understanding is. – This They? – The darkness, the factory of shadows that has swept across the earth from the beginning, the shadows, they call themselves prophets, Circle of Prophets, they are not comfortable unless the living exist in chains.- For what motivation? – That’s anyone’s guess. – And I am? – We never can really know can we, not until you explode – But then what was I? – Does it matter really…something, you will be something, in laughter you will be something even stronger, you are everything that ever was.

I hear the shadows becoming aware of what I am as my presence is now looming above their heads.  Their footsteps in an unvarying pace swiftly walking away from the darkness my new form has cast over their circle.  They are sweating and shaking in a rare show of emotion from out of the shadows.  They glance up but continue to fight against their curiosity.  For all the misplaced, robbed, destroyed and limbless across the universe, I slowly fall down from the sun 5 inches at a time.  The look of horror upon the shadows faces grows larger.  They let loose a slow droning hum of fright.  In the middle of their circle, the beast of what they are is revealed.  The beast that swallows every breath they make.  The beast is disturbed as the missile I have become falls closer and closer.  I feel them cringe as I am now close enough to touch them.  In a fit of laughter, the missile I was explodes and the circle is broken.  In laughter we all fall, shattered into millions of pieces, we have nothing to reach out for as we feel the laughter advancing from our souls

A tale from the mouth of infinity

At the edge of the darkness in the universe she abides.  Overcome with the screaming pains of those fighting for expression.  A long line of jailed souls screaming at the wall of ignorance.  The Infinites possessed the unwilling, those with a voice they failed to use, or a heart slowed to a droning pulse, eyes which could no longer process what was in front of them.  Across the lines of time they came to possess the dying souls of the faceless who continued to watch, only watch as the blackened soot of their souls became all they were.  Vessels calling them.  With their dying hands raised to the air, calling for some manufactured god, Infinity answered.  Their Infinite lives before this were becoming hypothetical.  Our friend here, the One as she seems to be called had become deeply disenchanted with life.  Wandering the outskirts of Infinity, the red moon’s aura drowning her tears for a better world.  She no longer could grasp anything, it was all a mass of hypothesis.  Watching life experience itself before all of them.  Voices calling them from the distance as they could only watch.  She could still buy things, she could still watch them spin, but many spirits were dying, choking on their own starvation for life.  Billions of Hypos floating around and they still starved.  The Hypo which was what their entire system relied upon, was a form of currency produced by the pure energy of each Infinite inside their bodies.  Each one had the power to form as much as they could, yet, inequality still thrived.  Some found themselves unable to draw even one Hypo from their minds and most knew not at all why.  Never thinking maybe it was the water, the food, or the screen that sapped the life energy within them and creating Hypos for those most amused by the games that have become their lives. Their lives, their minds rigged for the amusement of those frightened by the life all around them. The One was deeply contemplating existence as the tide rolled in delivering a beautiful purple shell.  She lifted up the shell to her eyes, the red moonlight glinting off her face, warming her soul.  In the shell she heard the tides of the universe, shifting inside of her mind.  Like all things usually happened for Infinites, every idea, every experience poured inside her mind as she reached for the stars…the universe doesn’t need cages, doesn’t need seperation, doesn’t need hypothetical systems, systems which watch those unfortunates, dying, starving, fading, flickering in the absurdity of hypothetical ideas.  Choking their feelings because the pain has become too great.  They need something real, the only reason they suffer.  They have the need to exist, but not to be right or better, or above something else.  And what if they had the power, would it all be the same?  If they experienced and touched their own souls in the same way they put their energy to ignore the pain that was eating their life, then no, it would not be the same.  The One travelled to the heart of the universe and saw for the first time all that ever needed to be seen.  From Infinity to earth, all were drowning in hypothesis and the only way to unify and conquer this is to wage hypothetical war

The inversion of love 2

The Father, our father.  Given me life, chained, Air, toxic, Sight, blinded, Food=poison.  Still I cling to you.  Guide me, to the bottom of a well.  The ground which gave me life, above me.  The water, my mirror above me, its waves glimmer from my eyes.  In my sleep I ask nothing of you.  You created me, I think, or you’ve taken my life into your hands, for what purpose I can only guess.  The image which held me together, you created.  What would I be without this image?  The image like fog, flows away which each breath, returning with each forgotten memory.  Memories you own. Which is why I turn to her.   The love I had for her reflects upon me in the form of a black abyss.  A black abyss, its tentacles grasping my heart.  She now exists in the wind surrounding me.  She cannot even recognize you there, always there watching but not looking. I hear your dreadful heart beat, so far away now.  As I touch the mirror which has appeared before me her image appears as if it is my own. I touch her.  I feel what she is.  The butterfly on my shoulder.  It taught me forgiveness.  Taught me how to fly.  It showed me how to find her.  She is always what has given me life.  Why is she always just out of reach?  My hands flow through the water above me, grasping for the end…you are training me              this is why you’re silent.  Training me for what, to be like you?  DO you not see this is impossible?  I think, far outside of the small tunnel you view as the world.  You can’t change this.  Teaching me to think simply, shortly.  Transforming me into a vessel.  Destroyed when no longer needed.  I am stuck.  She calls to me, somewhere, only an echo of what she is.  I can’t see you, yet you continue to surround me.  Never giving up.  Waiting for me to concede.  I will not.  My life is my own.  I close my eyes, but only can see myself as that child, always running.  Running from the image I was supposed to be.  The one you made.  It didn’t work because I could always look in the mirror.  I could always face that thing inside me.  The thing you can’t face in yourself.  Still you breathe and the whole world shudders.  Looking out from the backs of my eyes.  I am backwards, it just seems like life to me now.  I love you father for I have no other choice.  Your heart beat, your breath moves the walls closer.  Your fear murders any thoughts I have, your fear, our food.  A life swallowing hatred.  You forget that feeding on your hatred brings us life and love because only one aspect of this cannot be inverted, it is all inverted.  My well, my home breathing with life now, life you still cannot see.  Feed me father.  I chew on the hatred and the fear, it is all you have to offer, with each swallow the well disappears before me and there are only stars, only space.  Still you breathe, but it is so shallow, and still we feed, spitting your hatred out in bursts of love.  There is a tree above me.  On a branch I see a caterpillar, reaching for the moon.  A shooting star floats by overhead and you are gone.  I fall asleep to the sound of my own heartbeat.  The most peaceful sleep I’ve ever known.  She comes to me in my dreams, a beautiful black abyss, reminding me it is time to run

Across the lines of infinity

“If the work of the city is the remaking or translating of man into a more suitable form than his nomadic ancestors achieved, then might not our current translation of our entire lives into the spiritual form of information seem to make of the entire globe, and of the human family, a single consciousness?”  Marshall McLuhan

The bombs get closer and louder, but nothing can overcome the pulse of our hearts, now beating together.  The light on the ground below us reverberates through the earth.  I only see the light.  As a whole I walk above all of this.  We are all one beat.  Each second we become closer, one heart pumps from below us as the pulse of the earth awakens.  We look to the sky as we are drowning in the pink tears of the sun, fighting for life.  I forget about the part of me I can’t see any longer.  The part of me I ran from.  The part of me that frightened me.  The one they told me was not there.  The only part I thought was me.  I couldn’t look in mirrors, I didn’t know what I was seeing.  I didn’t have the comfort of feeling what I was because I was never supposed to touch what I was.  They had no definition of me.  I didn’t have the power back then to know I didn’t need a definition.  The light now defining us is eclipsed by a dark shadow, the bomb, a shadow of blackness blocking the light we were bathing in.  The bomb, the first one, an idea created from the blackest heart of man and the deepest fears.  We only hear our hearts beating as the bomb tries to overcome us with an explosion yet to come.  We close our ears simultaneously.  They call me Winona but I have no recollection of that name, numbing me, dividing me, our hearts pulse louder.  Our hands grip each other tighter as we gaze upon the bomb and see the light of ourselves shine through.  We no longer run, we no longer hide, fear has no control of us if we look out upon the lines attempting to divide us, and smile upon them in their loneliness.  Am I trapped in my own mind?  The darkness grows closer, surrounding me deeper.  I listen to them as they tell me I don’t belong.  The voices of the past encompassing me in their ignorance.  The line across my body deepens as I gaze into the mirror of my soul, seeing neither side as my own.  And there I am as a child.  In a corner, a life alone, always in a corner, in a closet, spoon fed fear, fearing what I was.  The explosion, in a piercing frequency, shakes my foundation.  They don’t quit.  We always do.  I always do.  That child, surrounded by light, the darkness entering in slight breezes, tentacles reach, holding on for a brief second, let go, but never truly gone.  They plant shadows into the deepest recesses of what I am.  They are never completely forgotten.  I close my eyes and feel the hands guiding me, the chain we are.  My hand reaches the earth, the shadows are burnt by the sun, the bomb attempting to multiply, is silenced above us.  The sun slowly rises, the orange beams of light gain strength, that child in the corner reaches for the sky as it holds onto the heart, giving life.  The bomb implodes into invisible shadows, dispersed and burned by the sun’s bright rays.  We stand together, and watch our first sun rise together. We look out upon the world we have been building for so long, there is a feeling none of us can explain or define we look to the sun but we promise never to forget the shadows that are always hiding from behind what we truly are