The Immaculate Perception

The True Anima del Mundo

Every hair on our heads, they are counted

The one who’s always here for me, through fire and ice

HER, the creative principle, the regenerative principle- ELLA

Emergencies, you gave me the Winter and we wintered well

Friend of the vulnerable, of the needy, of the innocent-you

Endowment of genius made manifest in the spinning of Life

Mirror to mend the cracks, warm golden filling for the pain

Immaculate perception, what a miracle it is, this open door

Niche by the fire, ethereal hands give kind communication

Instill the wisdom of the ages and create new life on Earth

Nude of wombly soulfulness, the true Anima del mundo

Every hair on our heads, they are counted, Mother, Creator

Reclusion

I am a very reclusive, private person.
~Camille Paglia

The oscillation between philanthropy and misanthropy

Richness of hyper-awareness brimming out of the pores

Under and overstated hands conceal the conductor’s play

Too reserved and self-contained to be much fun anyway

Helping only the gentle spirits, ones inclined to do no harm

Beneath the surface, life is preserved with solitude

Emerging only to see if anybody’s still around or paying a tension

Taking slips to my pride and chucking them out, time to go

Opening only the doors of my mind in order to receive info

Life, I revel in space, seeing the words people choose to USE

Direct and Indirect-glorious, palpable subtext, love inside me

Extraordinarily Vulnerable

Smell the purity of this blood, I can add it to the list to do

Halt, to clean and clean another mind-set, to drink water

A time beyond, to inner-space, interfacing and countering

Running over a statue of liberty, livid and distressed-wet

In the sinking mind and the love I will always, ever hold onto

Nudged, be still to feel the solemnity of the real whirl’s view

Got too many hands already, do I really need another?

Through the Whirls I never asked for

Shall we?

Burning and turning through the whirls I never asked for

Every yearning dies into the see as I take up my cross

Acceptance in order to Exit, love

Under the wobbly stand of some, I allow uncertainty, pain, surprise

Topless confession in the right hand of my surfacing dream

Yonder the daze of a cyclical reactionary process, I will change

Eireniconic eyes, forgetting to dash and brew tranquility

Trust, it flies out, the experience thick with phenonema

Elongated thoughts, they take me beyond themselves

Reaching for the nail and hanging up a photo of my Lucy

Next to nothing, eye enter the point, all orgone and wholesomeness

In the aftermath of what brought me to this place, pseudo-outer space

Where I once listened to the ramblings

Of chromosome mutation, streaming over things

I’m not losing my sanctity

Upon death, I choose to return to Source

Something in the breaking down of the soil of the mind

Anyone can see it’s dark and fertile, anyone can dig

North nodes, they don’t pick up the bags of the setup that is the moon

So, carry, I will, what I must- with or without a map

And help those who are in need

Inviting, in the solemn vows I’ve made, storms, they come

Taking a chance inside the fruitful blackness, moody-blue and ready to break

So, we will go to the Yam theatre, each of us waving a sine of benevolence

The Signs of Our Times

Heil, the Black Sun and the Green Ray, the truth that lives in Eternity of all that is and ever will be

I won’t accept the bending of wills, harming of innocence

Near fury, we demand justice for all victims of paedophilia

Dropping the bitter truth into the collective mind

In times of high crimes against humanity, breathe spirit-fire

Prepare to serve and protect innocence

Notice the riting in their temples-don’t bury your head

Ask not, for permission to take out the trash when it is due

Now, I have seen exactly how a certain kind of pain IS love

That it goes to say that it is the pain that arises from the Soul

Core from where all information worth gnowing is received

Ask yourself if a feeling has a story and if the story has truth

Living waters, they build up like water behind a dam, so we wait

Look to the signs of our times, an inescapable awareness

In every manifestation of degeneracy assailing our children

No victory of evil shall become as long as I live

Going home, we find our own and slam the door on this world

Warning to humanity

Let those who have eyes, see

The father of this world is a LIAR.

Herme’s Bird

Anybody home?

What it feels like when you just drop on by

Would you take a walk around my mind and take some thoughts home?

Go on, take a few more-do you want the tears?

I remember you told me to “just take a chance on love” and yet, I’m still thinking it over.

More aversions to that all that appears to taint the wholesomeness can make one quite agoraphobic

Before I burn the DSM, I’m going to read every page

Will you still be here tomorrow?

Figure you IN

Drawing on subtle jesters

Take up your cross and take off the persona, snickers

Of pure intent in air flow in between the offering of words

Got to burn every mental prison in these guttural sounds

Every tear piping hot, a sacrament ready for the drinking

To see inside of water, to see how much love remembers

Halt the urge to place a barrier between what is and will be

From the Ether, Love is created and comes into our Lives.

Reveals peaces and struggles of the ‘gnossiene’ underneath

Figure you IN, the outstanding guts to try will inevitably bring pain

Open to the rise and fall of every want to be here, of time

It’s grinding the people into good citizens

And I emit that I can’t keep up with the circus and I emit that I am internally gentle

Vessel through which surges that gift of life we’re given

Empty hands that know they’re born to feel empty hands

Right to left, left to right, cups that can hold every element, transmute anything that comes our way

Moon in the 12th House

“And if they thought her aimless, if they thought her a bit mad, let them. It meant they left her alone. Marya was not aimless, anyway. She was thinking.”
~ Catherynne M. Valente

As to conceal my very being, I become the sunset of things

Vest of blue, like a straight jacket that only offers glimmers

Ever so subtle, a kiss of death and what dies are only plans

River that leads to the polar axis of this house, the cats call

Steadfast in the veiling of gentle hands spinning the future

Immersed in the feel of all that cannot be bound or bought

Ovarian rhapsody sounds the warning of the one, true Mother

Naked and streaming forth all of the mists of Her ease

Take the events that brought Her name into trial and quest

Open the files that offer not truth, but mere envious slander

Pools of wisdom fall around Her like a fortress, signal no one

Even the animals of air turn a blind eye in order to help

Let it go in every direction as if lovers dancing

Planets they look South to see what is aspecting Her moods

Lucid and ethereal, enshrouded, using every trick in the book

Every shade drawn, as to say-

I am beyond the grasp of it all.