Finally I'm back

So I'm finally back on this side of blog land. I've been spending most of my blog time on Mr. Shankley which has been fun. I think I've noticed something about blogging. It doesn't really click well when I try to express myself in an artistic fashion. I'm really passionate about my work and the media of the blog just doesn't feel right. I'm sure you can understand that. Mr. Shankley is fun and we get to talk all about the awesome bull shit of life! Foreverever in the Transcendelic is kind of like taking acid and then watching Pink Floyd's the Wall. Of course it'll be cool but, wouldn't it be cooler to be on acid out there in the real world?

I think that's an issue I'm dealing with. Where to take my acid. I emailed a bunch of my peps a copy of what you'll read below. It felt different to email individuals and give them something that was more like a document and could possibly be printed and read offline. So that's what I'll do from now on. Post that thing on here when I send it out. It's different it's something, it's me saying hello out here. ..
I'll still be around but, mostly hanging out at Shankley's. ..


1

Written with rainbows all along the bottom a horizon line is now there and the words
float above we’re looking all at the same time. This is a Myth.


2

Speak easy. Make your own intoxications. Build a fire and sit around it. Drink, talk,
and see what happens. Where will your heart and soul go without the visions and only
these hallucinations of existence that we wake up inside of everyday? A new vision was
calling out as we stared and fed the flames. Coyotes disappearing into the forest with
their tools. Painted warriors riding over the sky with molotov cocktails at their side. Five
sided stone put into place to sit for contemplation. A view discovered and the marks left
there on the ground. Turn it back and forth in your hand the black stoned mirror that
holds all colors is now yours to taste and touch. The host is given up as we go back to the
ground and turn it all into the dirt in our mouths. . . hairs that bend and wrap themselves
together to form chaos and understanding trap all those secret tattoos on the skull. Slow
sounds and sing strings touched as life is arranged and made wonderful.


3

The translations from the physical to the metaphysical and back again have occurred.
These internal thoughts are just as real as external existence. The mind has the ability to
manipulate and create reality. With a complete understanding of one’s power great
accomplishments can be made. It seems that humans have worked together to create
death and destruction rather easily. So what could happen to create the opposite? To
create understanding and peace?
"Human consciousness hasn't kept up with our technology, and if that
doesn't change it could threaten life on this planet."-1 [The assessment comes from renowned philosopher and scientist Deepak Chopra, who addressed a packedUN audience on December 26, 2007 on "Consciousness in the Pursuit of Peace."]

The minds eyes open multiply and focused thoughts will become visions. Envisioned
and a moment occurs when the leap is made from inside to outside. Action will occur to
sweep back at everything that has gone wrong and create a new meaning for everything
we believe in and connect with.

4

What is really going on? Is this a question that matters or could ever be answered? You
have to ask yourself that. I feel like I’ve been asking these questions my whole life.
What can I do to be a better person? What can I do to save the world? These questions
go on and on and help create the weights that hold us down so we have something to
struggle against. You wanted to push free from those arms that held you and start to
make up your own world to live in. That freedom never came completely being graced
with other possibilities that just formed clouds of reason as the trees that grew around
never took root and wither with soft limbs heavy with fruits never falling, and leaves that
chase themselves away. Then a few saplings do kiss the ground and sink themselves in
finding support and understanding for their roots of existence and stretch toward the sky
reaching for the Sun and being one with everything letting us be in their shadow and all
the wise men began singing. . . let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die.-1 Corinthians 15:32

5

The Original Men. They were peculiar because, they communicated with the universe at
first hand. They could talk to God and nobody else could. The Goddess was gone and so
were the women who could talk with her. We still have these Original Men talking to
God and then talking to us. Fuck those guys. I want the Goddess back.
"A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it the superficial
appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defense
of custom . . .Time makes more converts than reason."-Thomas Paine, Common Sense

6
.
Coordinating to the system . .
.
7

A whisper forming into screams
the rhythm of the day goes into itself
biting for its own tail as the fading time comes.
Shadows from those hands raised
in a lattice of orange and red perfect
for this overwhelming sense
desire to love the world

The light seemed still and darkness was above as the slow traces of morning light reached
out and touched her never ending moment and she is still there in the light. They swung
gently on a platform suspended among the ancients and she could hear them speaking to
her those hazel eyes stared off into the world for them. The air and light was perfectly
connected to her body. Inseparable where it touched her and where she touched it. First
moments in the trees even in rain, fog, sunshine, summer, or winter were the same. The
differences were finally gone.


People began turning it all off and sitting in darkness at first. Individually and then
together. Together in the shadow of creation waiting for the sun to come back again.
When the sun came everyone stayed and sat with it all day long until darkness welcomed
them. Something must have happened inside everyone. Some think it was natural. The
artificial suns in televisions, light bulbs, and computers had finally supernovae. So only
the real Sun was given a place to be with them. Chaos came first just like in the
beginning, a great explosion. People left it all behind. Leaving, trying to survive in what
was left as so many starved and perished. Mass suicide that was already occurring
anyway. Everything that had been made slowly burned and crumbled and went back to
where it belonged sunk into legend’s legends and memory’s memories.


She laid there still cocooned by the vestige of that world in clothes made by someone
never known, a bag of feathers wrapped around her, a piece of mutated tree torn from the
wreckage underneath, silver fillings in teeth, and black ink on skin. She closed her eyes
and rolled closer to feel their warmth touching all the cold places still felt inside. The
swaying took them back to darkness for a few minutes until they opened their eyes and
whispered her name.