Eyes of the Devil 9

“They say you fight the greatest jihad in your heart and your mind…so I dream the impossible all the time…America’s future is mine…if our culture’s a crime, them numbers tatted on your arm aren’t too far behind.  They can only conquer you after they murder your mind.  So rise up mother fucker like the sign o the times, I feel my body weakening, but my spirit is fine, ready to go to war with devils at the drop of a dime and fight with my rebel army til the stars are aligned…live for revolution instead of always dying for it.”  Immortal Technique

The smoke from all my dreams ascends to the sky, sprinkling star dust across the universe.    In each particle a million life times burn away and transform and float away in light and darkness.  And as I burn their eyes widen, seeing the reflection of all I am.  Everything is here, in the mirror holding their image before them as they turn away and close their eyes.  As my heart beat grows louder, I feel the little girls hands covered in blood, my father’s cries of love which I could never really hear, the eyes still clicking above me, they can never exist outside of these ropes which bind my hands.  I float above them, smoldering ash quietly falling into their hair and blurring their vision and still their eyes widen as they anticipate my cries of pain.   Those cries never come as the fire encapsules their ignorance, their eyes attempt to follow it, but they turn away as it runs directly into their heart.  I burn so they can see and maybe they can continue seeing.  But maybe it doesn’t even matter as we are all caught in this cycle and we all think we know the way out.  And as they continue looking out at me burning upon the cross of their silence, they can no longer see the form of what I was, but only the form of themselves, in continuous revolution from the bottom of their hearts, they watch the ideas they had of themselves burning away into the night…reaching, and letting go.  They no longer look to the fires of the moon as they slowly walk through the fires burning inside themselves.  The hum they previously unleashed from themselves becomes completely silent as they learn to open their arms and they feel the pain my form releases and they can no longer hide, they can no longer see it separate from themselves.  Maybe I am just another sacrifice for their ignorance, or maybe they can see now, maybe they can feel each other now and feel the pain that the darkness of their hearts has unleashed upon the world.  Maybe they can see the chaos swirling inside of them, the chaos that constantly creates a new heart superimposed upon the world which has carried them this far, the world that breathes their life, the earth which is their soul.  Maybe they can look through the eyes of the devil and see those eyes are no different from their own.  As they learn how to exist within them, maybe they can understand.  Through the eyes of the devil they watch, burning to be free from the confines of separation.


Eyes of the Devil 8

The mirror stares back at me as the rainbows swirling from my hands awaken me to the image of what I have become.  The rainbows are enveloped by darkness, and maybe all of them have darkness in their hearts,  my father cries out, what happened to having love in your heart?  His last words, the man…in the corner, father of all.  I point my eyes to the ground and can do nothing but raise my hands up to the sky into the moonlit night…we were always here weren’t we?  Rainbows and shadows ascend from the ground lighting the dark night, lighting the long road I must walk upon.  The eyes, clicking and humming and following, but they can no longer touch me here.  In a pyramid of rainbows my dreams travel with no static direction, reaching for the sky as the fires continue burning on the moon.  And my father from so long ago reaches for me, with his arms open he sets me free from all the bars which held me for so long.  And I can’t cry no more, for that there is no time.  And I can’t be what I think I am anymore because that doesn’t mean nothing to me. I can only open my arms, and open my heart and laugh into the heart of darkness which has always bound me to the idea I could never let go of.  The pulse of the earth below me corresponds with the cries from my heart and the light beating from my heart, the light shining from the rainbows of my dreams is all I can see before me.  And the eyes, and the painful hum of the unconscious reach as far from their true being as the fires on the moon, they slowly crawl into my consciousness, dissipating before the light I have become.  And still their claws descend and tear into the swirling beams of light emanating from my soul but I can’t cry and there is no pain.  They tear but are confused as each cut instantly becomes another cluster of swirling light and they look above and behind but there is nothing more they can see but the eyes they look through and they cry out for something to solidify their existence and they can only reach for light and shadows as they become silent.  And I cry deep within my own heart as they cannot let go of their claws, they cannot let go of the eyes which continue to chain them to the idea that they cannot let go of.  Maybe all they can see is fire, pain, crying and death; the ultimate end, the ultimate idea they cannot let go of and maybe as they see me chained here, as the fires from the moon descend, heating all of the light and burning my dreams, maybe this is all I can see, I just don’t know what I am anymore.  As my hands are tied to the back of the moon, their eyes open as I cry out through the pain of my burning soul.  They look out through my eyes and they see what’s inside them for the first time and I feel no pain as the fire of my dreams awakens them to a new idea

Eyes of the Devil 7

“Be compassionate.  But don’t make up fantasies about them.  Despise me, exalt them, but remember, we define each other.  Elite and preterite, we move through a cosmic design of darkness and light…Consider honestly therefore…which side you would rather be on.  While they suffer in perpetual shadows…”       Thomas Pynchon

I never really seem to truly know what I’m feeling.  At a loss for words, I carry on with no real focus, and really only with dreams flowing through my hands.  And on this day we rise.  Rising from the stupor of a reality that only ourselves could truly create.  Our fists rise to the sky, yet we see no direction home, we forget we fight for nothing but the idea, deeply held, that We are right.  And I cry a little inside, which each shout emanating from our consciousness, I die a little as we reach for something that can only live inside our eyes.  And the eyes we hold in our pockets, in our hands, become the only eye we can see through and there is no reflection.  But still they are the only light we can hold.  The only light we can feel, the only light, faded as it is, emanating from our dried, tired bones.  Still we raise a fist because we know we are not like them.  We stand behind this line and point our fingers and we know, yet still we cannot see.  But the pulses begin rising from beneath us and the flow of our breaths as if in one long swoosh exits and enters and floats into the air above us and that dark shadow, so far away now but always somehow hovering above us, beating along with us.  And I hear the screams from so far in the past, rising through my body, dissipating in the thin air and nobody, even myself, really notices.  We point to the shadow with everything we have, attempting to make it disappear, and the only thing which disappears is our sight.  In the darkness we reach, once again we are placed back on the thin ground of our previous existence.  As we look to the eyes we are holding in our hands, the entirety of our being swirls in a never ending circle of light and darkness, swallowing all our previous thoughts, becoming the only sight we now possess.  We stomp our feet and raise up our hands, focusing on the enemy above us.  I can’t see but I know what is wrong.  I can’t feel but I know where I am.  Her screams enter and exit me with each thought swirling in circles through my head.  And she says remember them and only circles appear before my eyes and she says don’t forget, but everything is forgotten but the enemy covering my eyes.  And she says this is what got us here, but I don’t even know where here is and she says just when you think you’re right all the doors close…and they have been closed as my thoughts and my sight continues to travel in circles, only what I can see clearly must be questioned.  The shadow pulsing above, and our fists pointing below it, and the humming movement of our continuously synced breath and our marching, forward, pushing toward an idea, trapped in a circle as the cries reverberating from the past are muted and all we see is all we hate