Big Bangs and Fairy Dust










big bangs and fairy dust


hitch a ride on a shooting star
solar winds washes away the cosmic sins
of dead stars that can only groan and whisper

the universe is an empty sea of dust while black holes
are an oasis’s full of sunshine and dreams

under the blood moon The People dance
around the maypole and sing

only fools dare to dream
while those of a logical mind see only dust and ash

and the dead scream and shout

what’s life all about


(songs of the earth and sky clans)




Here's one of my poems from my fairiemount arc

crazy jinn's and sleeping rabbis (A Multi-Universe Apocalypse)

 








crazy jinn’s and sleeping rabbis
(A Multi-Universe Apocalypse)


dirty faced urchins walk about the old dusty ruins searching for lost puppies and saints
while war weary soldiers low on bullets and bayonets spread vicious rumors and lies.
a busload of screaming virgins and angry prostitutes is stranded at the side of the road
where they are taken captive by foul smelling zealots stinking of sweat and hypocrisy.
Jesus kicks Mohammad in the balls as Buddha sings the virtues of the eight-fold path
while a 1000 sleeping rabbis are suffocated in their beds while their wives remain awake

the four horseman ride this earth seeking the end of all days so be vigilant and stay awake
all hail the white king as he sweeps across the world killing the infidels and their saints.
the red queen with hatred and malice in her heart destroys everything within her path
while the black knight blights the land with pestilence and spins his webs of bile and lies.
the pale rider strikes terror in the hearts of men and sees through all their petty hypocrisy
and tempts them with seven deadly sins, delightful vices that travel well on hells road.

pride filled with an overabundance of self love leads his motley crew down glory road-
sloth and gluttony lazily hop and trot alongside their siblings, hungry and barely awake-
anger spits at an effigy of cousin patience, a sanctimonious virtue who reeks of hypocrisy
lust feels all warm in the pit of her loins as her juices are lapped up by red faced saints-
greed’s shriveled heart is sickened by those gullible fools who listen to generosity’s lies-
envy feels contempt for harlots and kind hearted fools who dare to embrace virtues path-

wolves raid the chicken coop and butcher Little Bo Peeps sheep down off the beaten path
as all the kings men eat Humpty Dumpy and mutton for brunch by the inn down the road.
the cowardly lion rips the head off the Cheshire Cat for telling Dorothy scandalous lies
while the munchkins tie Alice up, rape her and shoot her up with dope to keep her awake.
the old lady in the shoe eats steak while her kids gnaw and chew on bones of dead saints
while Snow White and her licentious dwarves dive ass ways into the seas of hypocrisy.

while in mortal combat: Batman and the Joker expound on the root causes of hypocrisy.
mad with grief over Lois’s death Superman forsakes the light and embraces Satan’s path.
the guardians of the universe order Green Lantern to protect the secrets of the false saints.
Aqua-Man unable to breathe in the desert air, suffocates to death at the end of the road.
Wonder Women smashes Thor’s hammer to tiny bits of flesh and bone that lays awake
those gross desires that sets her loins and mouth on fire for fruited flesh and juicy lies-

monsters hide under beds and in closets of little boys and girls; whispering monstrous lies
on a full moon; madmen, goblins and demons feast on the blood soaked sins of hypocrisy
and once full, vomits putrefied remains into the Beast; so that It remains alert and awake.
Kali and Shiva lay waste to the cities and sins of Islam and Christendom and a new path
is forged out of a clay road of elasticity rather then that mud filled broken down old road.
Buddha laughs at the futility of endless battles perpetrated by heroes, villains and saints-

tricksters sinners and saints feed and thrive on chaos and lies
the road left is engulfed in hellfire and rain while the right is filled with hypocrisy
only in the middle is the path well tended and its travelers fully awake



(from the recordings and writings of Santo Nicola, The Black Monk)

Apocalyptic Snapshots # 2 w/commentaries

 
Alucia Speaks:

Apocalyptic Snapshots #2 (An apocalyptic promise)





Into the Ice I sink

And think
And sink
And think
And sink
And think

But when I heal from My Wounds
and swim out from under the Ice
My Hammer will strike at the Heart of the World
And in My absence,
those who chewed upon
My Sinew and Bone
Will be no more…

Tic Tock
Tic Tock
Tic Tock
Tic Tock
Tic Tock


(Inscription found on Hell Tablet S, attributed to be the words of Lucifer of the Morningstar)

The Dolphenian Abbess, Alucia Delecourt, unlocked the vault door that led into the secret crypts that housed the ancient tablets and tapestries. She took a deep breath, exhaled, fired up the torch, and began her mile long descent down the ancient rune stone. Her feet were well versed in navigating the treacherous steps, (made from gems, stone and materials unknown) that spiraled sharply downward in a dizzying series of twists and turns that only the brave of heart or fanatic would attempt. She cursed herself for wearing sandals as each step that she took, produced an echo that cascaded off of the other; creating the effect of a thousand marching feet pounding away at her eardrums. After what seemed like days, rather then hours, she finally found herself on level ground in front of the monolithic gates, (also made from gems, stone and materials unknown) that were the entranceway into the “Great Halls of Forbidden Knowledge”. She put her right hand in the designated spot and whispered the words of incantation whereby the gates creaked and groaned and slowly opened. As she walked through the gates the darkened hallways sprang to life with light. She unlit the torch and put it back in use as her walking stick and rod of power and headed towards the chamber that hung the “Hell Gate Tapestry” and it’s accompanying Tablets. Of the Twelve Great Tapestry’s that hung in these chamber rooms she was near certain that the “Hell Gate Tapestry” held the answers to the whereabouts as well as the how and the means to safely retrieve the “Thirteenth Tapestry”. Ultimate Power and Control was within her grasp. She opened the chamber door and entered. As she touched the Tapestry a shiver went through her spine as she felt the bitter chill of the winds and ice in the ninth level of Hell. She took a deep breath and entered into its weave…..




Appendix C of the "Tangled Tapestry"



Notes and Commentaries from Alucia Delecourt

I felt the pull of the ninth gate calling me- The Voice inside my head pounded away at my skull with relentless fury. My time as Alucia Delecourt was coming to an end as The Lady of The MorningSun started to spread and weave Her imprint throughout my whole being. I can only hold Her off for so long before I become a flickering speck of dust occupying a body that only in appearance remains my own. The Sun and The Star will fully possess, control and reside in the bodies of The Monk and The Abbess and shall become personified in living flesh.

As I walked through the ninth gate and entered the cold dark corridors of Hell my counterpart, Santo Nicola, greets me with a kiss and hands me a fur lined coat to keep the chill of hell from reaching my bones. He looks deep into my eyes and sees the doubt and bubbling anger that lurks behind them. He touches my cheek and says:

Not many get to see there destinies fulfilled before their very eyes. Although we will no longer be in control of our Body/Mind and Spirit, we’ll still be able to see, what They see, touch, what They touch and feel, what They feel. We’ll get to know what it’s like to be Gods. The secrets of the universe will unravel before us. Our voices may be diminished but our souls will still be able to sing. The Star and the Sun will hold on to the piece of humanity that is us, in order to meet Their Own Destiny.

I mostly agreed with what my beloved Monk said and understood what my fate and destiny was to be. But for all my wanting too, I just couldn’t come to grips with my near death. To be shoved aside into the deep recesses of my mind- to lose my autonomy, free will and the Voice that I had in the world. To be fully possessed by the One who created the ways and means of possession. What if the Glorious MorningSun decided She wanted no part of a piece of Humanity and rather then it being a near death it would be my oblivion.

I had half of the incantation scroll and the monk had the other half. Made whole this incantation spell would show the way to the Thirteenth Tapestry. After we prostrated ourselves before the Light and Dark and allowed Them to fully enter our being. It would then be up to them to take possession of the Tapestry and rewrite the weave. The story would then start anew. But my faith was being tested. I was tempted to turn around and go through the portal and disappear in one of the portal worlds. Let the Gods find another stooge willing to let their life be sucked up. The Monks gentle touch stopped me and his eyes implored me to follow him to the Ice crypt where Lucifina Domini MorningSun and Lucifer MorningStar lay entombed in the Ice.

This was my moment- to become a God or keep my humanity intact- The fate of the Universe rested upon my shoulders…..












Beastie Seeds

 








Beastie Seeds


on we sings with severed wings 
twisted toes and other things
we crawl slides and hides
in your hairy thighs well worn lies
and bug assed eyes
we fight bite sting and stink
lick suck fuck and drink

to make you bleed so we can eat and feed
on your tainted sacred seed

it’s what we need…










The Flow Of Time- Appendix B

 
The Flow of Time




there is tremendous history in each of us. we are not free of it's influences, we are not separate from it's progression, extension, manifestation, transformation, revelation, nurture, and responsibility. (Moseffa)


For me there would be no hope or potential in Being if I believed my life to be something I was to survive and accept, rather than something I participate in and embrace. (Casapolis)


you are of the opinion that you are an individual, a separate self, and i am of the opinion that this is not so, but that we function as individual separate self’s, and there is a difference. the difference is weather we are separate and autonomous or not. you say you are a co creator, i say you are only a collection ...... you did not make them, you do not control them, there is a flow from which you cannot diverge. (Moseffa)



DESTINY REGAINED

Are we in control of our destiny? Is there such a thing as our destiny? Are we the Writers, Directors and Producers of our lives, our thoughts, actions and dreams or are we just actors following a script that is written, directed and produced by someone or something other then ourselves? Do we think up our own thoughts or do we just hijack those that are receptive to our unconscious needs and desires? Are we even capable of independent thought? Are we in control of our Will or is our Will in control of us? Can we direct our will to choose our choices or are our choices already predetermined and fixed, leaving us with just the illusion of autonomy and independence? Are their any definitive answers to these basic fundamental questions or are the answers irrelevant but it's how one approaches and attempts to understand the questions that determines the answers?

My answer would be to all these questions that I posed, IT DEPENDS! It depends if one thinks that there are fixed and UN refutable governing principles (which set our reality) that cannot be altered or changed, then one tends to view the questions in a certain context. Or one can also view the same questions in a different context if one views that the governing principles, (which set our reality) are not fixed but changeable and
refutable. And if one is like me one tiptoes through both views and tries to incorporate the truth (or what I perceive that truth to be) that resides in each.



When we are rowing our boats gently, following the current downstream (in connection with superconsciousness) and going with the flow, then joyously, our life indeed, is like a dream. (Jadenesa)


MIND CANDY, SOUL FOOD AND UPSET STOMACHS

What is/ is- what was/ was- what will be /will be- what is/was –what was/ is- what will be /was and is- what is/ will be- what was/ will be and what will be /is now! How's that for a mind numbing exercise. Here’s another one: The past influences the present; as the present determines the future; as the future is a byproduct of the past; as the past becomes the present; as the present becomes the futures past. The point being; time is a relative
thing, it moves in all directions not just in forward sequential linear movement. Everything is changeable and yet remains changeless. How's that for a paradox, or is it really not a paradox at all?

The chair doesn't dream


As I sit in my favorite chair thinking on how I can make my thoughts more clear concerning how I view time (the past, present and future) as a simultaneous and concurrent event which makes the universal laws flexible, changeable and fluid while paradoxically these same laws remain fixed, somewhat static and unchangeable, I am also sipping a cup of java as my cigarette burns in the ash tray, while with one eye I admire my wall sculpture (that hangs on my wall opposite of where I'm sitting) and the other
stares out the window watching a bird hanging on a windy branch of a tree. As I write this, those few moments sitting in my chair woolgathering, are clearly a past event which has influenced what I'm writing presently and what I will be writing in the future. Past acts produce present acts which dictate future acts. And if one reflects further on the few moments spent in contemplation in my chair, in those few NOW moments I was conscious of the seamlessness, fluidity and the unbroken flow of what we call time. When we are in the present when does the past end and the future begin? If one thinks on this question in the context that I'm presenting it, one can then see/grasp/intuit
that the past, present and future is a simultaneous, concurrent and an interchangeable event. I'll explore this theme in greater depth later on in this essay.

The chair becomes a tree

It was windy outside as I sat in my chair looking through my window watching a bird hanging on a branch of a tree. I've been wondering lately what ever happened to that bird? What drove that bird to that particular branch and what drove him away? It's only now in retrospect that I ask these questions for I was thinking about time and other things. While in those moments when I was in my isolated world staring at wall hangings and windy trees, sipping java and inhaling noxious fumes, thinking about time and what I would write that day, my moments were just one among trillion upon trillions of moments that were experienced concurrently with mine. What momentous and non-momentous events occurred on may 12th between 2:32pm -- 2:36pm as I sat and pondered on my chair. One can only speculate and imagine how those moments will produce present and dictate future moments that will have a direct and indirect impact on mine, yours, the dog, the cat, the trees, all of our lives and all that lives and does not live.

Lets Imagine, as the chair expands (between 2:32-2:36PM)

As I sat in my chair and think my thoughts, young Jane Lush was cutting school and on a dare from her friend had her first drink. It tasted swell and made her feel real good. Would this moment turn out to be one of the defining moments in her life? Joe Dogooder decided not to cut school that day with Jane and while in school gave CPR to a fellow student choking and saved that students life. This made him feel good about himself. Would this moment turn out to be one of the defining moments in his life? What will those moments produce? Will Jane now take another drink, then another, till drinking consumes her life and all her decisions and choices that she has and will make
concerning her life be tainted and colored by her addiction? With her addiction guiding her actions will her choices be free ones or forced ones? Was she fated to be a drunk? Was it due to her genes? Was it her environment? Was it her friend’s fault who dared her to take her first drink? If she went to school that day would she now be something other then a drunk? Will that moment become a defining moment that will lead her to the road of addiction or just a moment that had no lasting effects? Will Joe's life saving act effect and dictate his future choices? Would it impel him to explore, consider and prepare for vocations that emphasized rescue and save methods as their modus operandi. And by considering and pursuing these options is he not then limiting and narrowing what choices that he does have? Does this leave him more open or closed to other options beside those of the rescue and save kind? Is this a defining moment for him that would change and alter his future choices or be just a moment that had no lasting or attributable effects in any of his present or future movements?

Is this fated to be? Is this Jane's or Joe' destiny? Or is this just one of the countless possibilities that these moments present to us? Do these moments produce fixed results or changeable ones? Do defining moments produce definable outcomes?


The chair shrinks as the script remains the same. Or does it?

As I sit in my chair thinking about time and other things, I am also puffing away on a cigarette and drinking a cup of java while staring out the window looking at the tree swaying in the light breeze and admiring Loki my wall sculpture. The only thing that makes this moment significantly different from the moment I experienced on may 12th is that the moment I'm writing about now has happened five minutes ago, on may 22nd at 4:01PM. The SAMENESS of the moment has me wondering if my later and former moments are part of the same moment. The only real difference between those moments, (aside from the differences in time) is that instead of being windy outside it was only slightly breezy, and my feathery little friend was nowhere to be seen. All other aspects of that moment were essentially the same; the chair was the same, how I was sitting on the chair was the same; the room was the same, the cigarette and coffee that I was drinking and smoking although not the same cigarette or the same batch of coffee, for all intents and purposes they were the same in a contextual sense; and lastly and most interestingly my thoughts had a sameness to it. I was as before thinking on time and other things, and how I can articulate my thoughts more clearly when putting it to writing. The only thing that has changed is that my thinking on the subject has deepened from when I first started this essay, by sitting in that chair and thinking about time and other things on may 12th at 2:32 PM. Can these moments all be acting simultaneously as a series of now moments that connect into one moment concerning my thinking and writing about what I'm now writing?

Moments in time

Our lives are a series of now moments that we differentiate and compartmentalize into separate moments. The now moments of our job, marriage, playing, childrearing, relationships with friends and lovers, hobbies, and our passions. There are scripts that we follow and ad lib's that we enact in each of these differentiated moments. They present us with a sameness that ties each moment together and as it expands the moment either becomes deeper, richer and more meaningful or more shallow, less real and meaningless.




Everything is changeable and yet remains changeless. How's that for a paradox, or is it really not a paradox at all? (Tessa Del Bellasuna)


THE CATS UP IN A TREE AND THE LADDER HAS BROKEN RUNGS

The paradox of time

In my previous chapter I've stated, proposed and implied, that the past, present and future are simultaneous and concurrent events that are happening NOW! I've also proposed that our lives are a series of "Now Moments" that we breakdown, differentiate, catalogue and compartmentalize into separate categories of living moments. In the next few sections I will attempt to elucidate these thematic positions to the best that my limited abilities allow, and if successful they will provide a firm foundation to base my conclusions from.

The Now of time

Imagine for a moment that we can take a ride through time and witness past and future events as they happened and will happen. As we paddle our way downstream in the
rippling river of time the past now becomes our present time and our future was just moments past. Past events flash before us; we watch empires rise and fall; we witness
the evolution of man from a savage primal beast to a savage civilized man.; we gaze upon the dinosaurs as they roamed the earth and we look upon earth in its glorious infancy, pregnant with life , ready for birth, while at that same moment , Hitler’s scratching his ass, Napoleon’s picking his nose and Judas is hanging from a tree. As absurd and fantastical as this may seem, this paradox of time is nothing more then a matter of space.

Space, Time, Curves and all that Stuff

Time is nothing more then the directional movement of space and information. Space is nothing more then a vessel for the movement of information and time. Which way does time move? Does it move forwards, backwards, upwards, downwards or does it move in all these directions simultaneously? Or does it even move at all? The obvious answer would be forward and being forward minded creatures that would be the sane answer as well. Simple observation tells us that time moves in a forward path but if one looks deeper, one then realizes that’s not always the case. If one views time in a literal sense , as the ticking of a clock from second to second or the aging of all life from birth to death or as nothing more then a physical linier sequential time piece that marks the passage of time in our physical reality, then in my opinion one will forever be locked in the prison of time, counting the minutes till death , seeing only the obvious, chained to the mundane. But if one is willing to view time three dimensionally, to open ones mind to the many different aspects and facets to the totality of time, then a myriad of realities of the impossible become possible , we are made aware of infinite possibilities, a vale is lifted from our eyes and time takes on a whole new meaning.

The Stuff of Time

When one thinks about space, just regular old empty space, the kind we move around in, one can find themselves hard pressed to give an adequate explanation of what exactly space is. Space holds, embraces, and surrounds everything; air, dust, gravity, protons,
neutrons, quarks, me, you, trees, animals, the land, the ocean, the stars and the universe, in a seemingly effortless invisible fashion. We have a very intimate relationship with space, we breathe in it, move, lay, stare, work, play, and make love in it, yet we hardly know anything about it. When space is empty of all that it holds, the form or formlessness that emerges is a vacuum of space. It sure sounds like nothing to me, so for all intents and purposes space in its naked form is NO THING or NOTHING.


Nothingness is the embodiment
Of everything
To touch the whole of nothing
Is to feel the presence
Of God

I fly to the empty void
Seeking the flaming fires
Of my soul
Engulfing and entwining itself
In the stillness and emptiness
Of the nothingness
That surrounds us all

I hear deafening soundless voices
That reside on the outer edges of chaos
filling my heart with dread and wonder
For I sense it’s the voice
Of nothing

I Tremble, I Cower
I Fear, I Doubt
I Exult, I Praise
I Cry for Joy

I must go beyond
The illusions of the mind
Embrace the Stillness
The everything of nothingness

I, We, Them, Us
All search in the sea
Of God
To quiet our
Restless Minds
Weary Hearts
And
Heavy Souls
As we struggle not to drown
In the tidal wave
Of our doubt

To see Nothing
Is to see the face
Of God
And It
She, He
Is Us
Everything
And
Nothing


THE LADDER IS FIXED BUT THE CAT IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND

The Information of Time and Space

We are the stuff of ‘Vaporized Stars’ which in turn became that Vital Dust that filled and still fills up space and time; forming the universe as it is today and will be tomorrow. We are nothing more then a vast array of particles made through the intense heat of the Big Bang. Out of nothing came something and that something was us. The Stuff that fills space, (everything that is in the universe, physical and non physical) are nothing more then bits and pieces of information. The chair that you’re sitting on is nothing more then a certain combination of molecules, particles and chemical arrangements that forms the pattern of the chair by the content of information that makes a chair a chair. Your hands, eyes, feet, body, brain, hair and you are nothing more than a mass of biological components produced by molecules that form the cell (the building block of life), which consists of chemical, organic and mineral compounds created from bits and pieces of code that instruct the organelles, chromosomes and proteins to concoct a genetic soup in the correct combination and arrangement that forms the pattern of all that is you by the content of information that makes you, You. As you stare and read these words that pour off the screen to your eyes, what are you thinking of? Are you thinking about what I’m writing, or are you thinking about other things as well. What is thought? What is Mind? In it simplest sense the mind is nothing more then just a receptacle for holding in and containing thought. And thought in its most fundamental form is nothing more then bit and pieces of information that fills the space within the mind while time gives those thoughts a sense of structure, order and coherency.



Into the depths
of the darkened wood
a creeping doom follows me
as I walk among the ruins
that crumble in decay

lost among broken memories
of those who lost their way
never again to witness
the glory of the day

what once was
may have been
may yet again be

the wind blows the tears
of a thousand souls
upon my weary heart

the air turns sour
at my breath
but walk on I must
to meet my fate
beat my doom

what else is their to do



A Sense of Time.

As I look at my reflection in the mirror a feeling of disbelief overwhelms me. For a split second my mind goes into a state of befuddlement and confusion as I see an aged funny looking man staring back at me. Surely this can’t be me, this has to be some nasty trick of time. And so it is, time moves forward in a wink of the eye, our physical body slowly ages, becoming wrinkled and worn while in our minds eye, we age at a much different pace. It’s like our mind and body are in two different time zones. Our physical bodies adhere to the rules of the physics of Time, they tick tock onward and forwards, from seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years, till the body runs down and dies. But the flow of time for mind is much different; it more or less functions in a non linier, non sequential pattern with time moving in different directions and speeds rather then in a tick tock fashion of the physical realm. Haven’t we all at one time or another lost our track of time. Doesn’t an hour sometimes seem like a minute and minute at times like an hour. When one is engrossed in a project as I am now in writing this essay, hours can pass while I struggle with a single sentence but take no notice in that passage of time, it seems like seconds or minutes or no time at all to me, it’s only when I pause in what I’m doing do I sense a passage of time, but even then I have no exact sense of time but I am once again partaking in the so called normal flow of time. It’s only when I look at the clock do I know exactly how much time has passed . Oh my, I can’t believe it’s three o’clock in the morning, where did time go, time sure does fly, I better get to bed.


The Tape of Time

Where does the past go when the present begins? Does it still exist with the same shape and form as the present? Is space and direction the only thing that separates the past from the present? Or does the past just fade into non-existence as present moments turn to future moments. When the present becomes the past when does the future become the present? What separates time from space? Is their a separation? Is it its direction or the amount of information each possess that differentiates the one from the other? When the present becomes the past does the past remain static, unchanging, unalterable or like the present is it fluid, changeable and in constant flux? What of the future? Does it exist now or is it yet to be? Is Time (past, present and future) just part of one big moment, a blink, a single flash, A Mote in Gods Eye. What lies outside of time? Are their definitive answers to these questions? Do these questions really have an answer? It all depends on who you ask. And if one were asking me I’d say YES through speculation, contemplation and most of all imagination..


Out of the stillness
of nothingness
a faint vibration
a tiny stirring was caused
and felt
was heard
and came to Be

The First The One
dared to Be
creating more
just like Thee
Now their were Two
then their were Three
knowingly seeding
Disunity

Ah but they Hunger

Thirst

Struggle

And Yearn

Hoping to One Day Return

To Nowhere

In the womb of God




THE APPLE DOESN’T FALL IT FLOATS

Musings and ponderings of an addled mind

I hope you’ve brought along your imaginations and an open mind, for I intend to take you on a wild speculative ride through time. My last section was mainly a pseudo scientific exposition of the nature of time. I attempted to define, differentiate and clarify the different aspects of time, (time, space, direction, movement and information) or what I think constitutes its composition. In this section I intend to have fun with time, to explore its metaphysical aspects and let my imagination imagine the what ifs and the what not of that great paradox we call Time.

A Recap of Time

Out of the nothingness of chaos where time does not exist a tiny stirring was caused by the un-caused. Out of No Space, space emerged, non-matter became matter and matter formed information, and that information started to move outward in all directions and thus began the Flow of Time. With a mighty roar and a “Big Bang” time started to flow and the universe was born rushing ever onwards towards it death so that it may die and be reborn again and again and again in the forever flow of time.

The Wheel of Time

Round and round and round we go where we end up is back to go. And so it goes with Time, forever turning and spinning, weaving and wobbling, twisting and bobbling, a loop with a loop and a circle within a circle , contained within itself with the beginning at the end and the end at the beginning, unbroken and seamless, locked in a forever battle. The wheel of time churns and turns with no beginning or end in sight; forever flowing, forever going, caught in the twisted loop of eternity.


All the Time in the World

In the heavens when we were free
God told us just to be
There was no concept of this thing
Called forever and eternity

All torn
All worn
Forlorn
Not born

This wheel, this loop we’re in
Reminds us of our sin
We wanted to be more
Than what we were before

Pure light
Sun bright
Dark light
Dead night

Wandering from our home
Lost and all alone
Blinded by our pride
We’re grooms without a bride

Cast out
No hope
Blackout
Can’t cope

The tick tock tick of time
Is our hell and is our crime
The wheel forever turns
Our soul forever burns



Before the chains of Time
(The dawn of heaven)

Imagine if you will a time when Time did not exist. The beginning did not yet begin and all that Was, and Is, and Will be, was yet to be, never to be, or already past. Pure Undiluted Bliss was this No Place; Non-Being in its Pure Unrealized State. The music of this nothingness was perfect in pitch, resonance and sound, one flawless note, beyond beauty, beyond perfection, beyond comprehension. In this nothingness does GOD dwell and that nothing is GOD; out of time, not created, not born, always to Be and to not Be. In this nothing that is called GOD dwelled all the energy that is GOD, an undifferentiated non-separated wholeness of nonexistence. All was in perfect equilibrium and harmony. And it was good.

(The war in heaven)

In the heavens of GOD all was perfection and harmony. The One Note rang throughout the heavens giving off a sound of indefinable power, peace and glory. An inexplicable stillness filled the heavens and freedom reigned. And then in the belly of this perfection a tiny stirring was felt, was heard, this vibration vibrated throughout the heavens and the One Note stretched into two then three and then turned into a discordant symphony. The war in heaven had begun.

(The fall from heaven)

The power and the glory yet remained but the stillness and peace of the heavens was disturbed with a cacophony of sound. The peaceful slumber of the unrealized and Omni-potential GOD was disrupted and all was not good. The heavens shook and the music waned as the unrealized GOD was about to waken and become realized. The singer of the One Note who allowed this symphony to be, out of a need and pride to create diversity, understood when the unrealized awakes all the heavens would cease to be. And a new note would form and be sung by another. As the singer tried to reverse the folly that he/she wrought and return to the equilibrium of the One Note; IT awoke.

(The dawn of hell)

The heavens were ripped asunder as IT awoke from its peaceful slumber. With a yawn IT split the singer and the chorus in half in two major chords; a Feminine and a Masculine. The feminine aspect was to remain in heaven and the masculine was to be no more. The masculine aspect of the singer pleaded for mercy and forgiveness and begged to make amends. GOD listened and took pity on the apostate and gave judgment. With the might of ITS breath GOD cast out the broken singer and half of heavens chorus from there heaven and home.

(The beginning of Time)

He was the brightest of all the stars of heaven, and even ripped and torn in half, he still shone with a fire of a billion suns. With a mighty roar and a Big Bang, he imploded and exploded out of the nothingness and the flow of Time began.


The Damnation of Lucifer Morningstar


In the river of death my dreams fade into oblivion as
I drown in the sweet nectar of its comforting embrace.
The pains and sorrows of my wounded shattered soul
are washed clean of the taint put upon it by the iniquities
of life. I sink slowly into the bosom where I once belonged.

The breath of death is upon me now
Sweet release, joyful feast, final peace
Hell is past; free at last, journeys end
Death begin, forgiven sin, light within

The moments come
why has it not begun?
Deaths last breath
has pulled away,
please don’t leave me,
come back my way.
One last kiss
is all I ask,
don’t turn away
from my fetid breath.
Oh cruel death
what joke is this,
to give a taste
of home and kin,
only to take
it all away,
leaving me
In hell to stay.

Death escapes me once again
I've done all I could to amend
In the dust and in the dirt
Here I remain damned and hurt

In my creation
was my apostasy;
that bygone light
Now dims endlessly.
Burnt and seared
I now remain,
cursing forever
each dusk to dawn.
In the wheel I’m
forever caught;
in endless spokes
with no reward.
My light was dimmed
for Yours to shine,
It’s You they love
and I they scorn.
Oh Death! Oh Death!
How could it be;
that you have now
forsaken me.

I was the Light, the Morningstar
How dare you ignore me from afar
I killed my light for you to be
Yet you curse me with Times eternity

An act of love
has turned to hate,
my wrath and rage
will not abate.
No nirvana
will I ever see
in nothingness
I will never be.
In hell I’ll wallow
in my despair
while angels sing
how much You care.
No redemption for me
un-forgiven I’ll be,
all because
I dared to think
You were like me

Oh God! Oh God!
Look what you've done.
I hope you've had
Your Godly fun.
In misery I shall cower
I bow before your power
Supplication! Humiliation!
my damnation, total subjugation

Toss a little bone to me,
A tiny dust of hope, as I linger
in this twisted loop of eternity
never again to see the light
never again sight
never again bright
forever and ever and ever and ever

In the river of death my dreams fade into oblivion as
I drown in the sweet nectar of its comforting embrace.
The pains and sorrows of my wounded shattered soul
are washed clean of the taint put upon it by the iniquities
of life. I sink slowly into the bosom where I once belonged…


Time and the Morningstar

Some of you may be thinking what this creation story and these poems have to do with this series on the Flow of Time. Wasn’t this just supposed to be a thought piece on the nature of time without this creative hodgepodge about a mythological figure and event? When I think about time I usually view it through the Morningstar’s eyes. Much of my poetry is written in the Morningstar’s voice; that of a tragic figure forever damned and cursed in the twisted loop of time that he was made to create in order to spare himself and his brothers from being erased. But he tires of being in this hell of time and seeks its destruction so that he can return home to heaven. It is in this metaphysical mindset where the basis of my thoughts of time emanates from.

THE CAT MEOWS AND THE DOG BARKS

A Loop in Time


The mind like time is an elusive thing. You can’t touch it, feel it or see it, but you know it’s there working its magic. {The brain/mind debate; is it a singular unit or two interconnecting units, is a subject unto itself; in simplistic terms I view the brain as hardware and mind as software and in metaphysical terms I view mind as immaterial, like soul or time and the brain as material, a physical body, a temporal component } Our mind stores information the same way time does; by the amount of space that it can hold. How much spaces or space can the mind hold, a finite amount, an infinite amount or a controlled infinite amount? In my way of thinking I would opt for all three depending on the speed, size, direction and movement of each bit of information given.

We’ve all experienced moments of frustration when we’ve been bombarded with large amounts of information that seemed to come from all directions at once. Due to its speed and size much of that information was lost to us, our minds couldn’t process that allotted space of information at that given time with the smaller or limited space of our mind at that moment in time. The Data Dump is just too large and fast for our minds to process it fully, the space our minds allotted for that information is too small and finite for it to take in something of that size and speed. But it’s not the size of the information that impedes proper processing but the breath of the speed that halts it to a grind. As the speed slows the space flows and that large amount of information is fully processed when before it was just a chaotic jumble. As the rate of information slows the larger the size of information the mind can handle.

How much space does the mind hold? It holds an infinite amount. How much information does the mind hold? It holds a finite amount. If one were measuring the brain one would find that the space within it is finite. The neurons of the brain and nervous system carry, transport, hold and release information in a finite framework that produces thought which is of an infinite framework. It’s in that infinite framework where the extemporal laws of time /space take hold. As I’ve mentioned previously space is just an absence of information, (physical and nonphysical) it has no size, length or form in its physical state or in its naked form. Space therefore is infinite in nature forever expanding as each new bit of information enters its domain. It’s these bits of information that confine space to a location and in that location boundaries are formed.

When we read a book, take in a movie or a play; listen to a series of lectures or a favorite piece of music; walk the dog, fly on a plane or watch a sunset; the space within our mind receives that information and proceeds to catalogue, separate, condense and file it to a specific location where strings of informational data are laced and intertwined into memory loops. It’s these memory loops that create the boundaries that confine the information that we receive within the circle of space that surrounds our mind. Our mind is filled with strings of data cells moving multi-directionally at various rates of speed. It’s these interconnecting loops bobbing and weaving, twisting and turning from one circle to another that traps us in the forever wheel of time.

The Tick Tock of Time

We are finite creatures and although Time might seem infinite it too is finite. The physical universe adheres to the laws of entropy, the universe has an allotted amount of time and when that time runs out the universe ceases to be. The tick tock of Time will tick no more and all that was will be like it never was; total annihilation and oblivion; the ultimate death. If this is the case then what is all this talk about forever and eternity. How can there be a forever when there is an end?

The Trick of Time

When we die, every part of us dies, the brain, mind, heart, and everything that makes us, us, ceases to function. We become nothing more then food for worms, maggots and dirt. It’s what happens in the final microseconds before our death, as the light fades to dark; where the twisted loop of time plays its forever trick. The string is cut and the space closes to the outside world accepting no more information. All the strings of data, thought and memory recorded in our lifetime start to compress and contract and connect with each other in interconnecting loops. The rate of speed is slowed to an incalculable degree.
We relive our lives over and over in one loop and create new ones in another. Time slows yet the information flows as each loop weaves into the other. Time creates the illusion of forever as the last microsecond of our life stretches into an eternity trapping us in the heaven or hell that is created by the trick of time.

BROKEN WINGS AND HOLLOW BONES

The Cosmic Twist of Time

As I sit in my oversized chair staring at my wall sculpture while my cigarette burns in the ashtray and my coffee turns cold, I think about time and other things. I ponder about the sameness of this moment to the other moments I had sitting in another chair thinking similar thoughts and doing similar things. Am I reliving this moment with things slightly changed or am I in a new moment or in one continuing moment? Am I in my last microsecond of life waiting for the final embrace of death while the twist of time ties me in a memory loop and I only dream of sitting in this oversized chair thinking about time and other things? I also wonder about thought. Where does it go when the physical boundaries that restrains it within our physical domain is no more. Does it go out into the cosmos forming new strings that intersect with other strings of thought not our own? As our own loop finally winds down, does it then connect with these other strings where it forms multi-group mind loops. Clusters within clusters, groups within groups; swapping, deleting, adding and exchanging endless bits of new, old and recycled information. On and on we go, where we stop we do not know, caught in the forever web of Time’s tethered chains.

It’s we who are the Morningstar!!


The Beastie King

Forever black, forever night
Never again to see the light
Blinding black, lightless night
Once bright, once bright once bright

Cold dark light
Cruel black night
In hell will I sing and be tonight
To wander hopeless and alone
In this pitiless pit I now call home

The beast howls! The beast roars!
My bellies raw, my knees are sore
I suffocate~ I supplicate~ I salivate
In the darkness~ in the dirt~ forever hurt

Bent and broken, worn and beat
No retreat, complete defeat
In anguished lament I forever sing

Dark light, black night, once pure, once bright



{found by Moseffa in the Dossilean Caves of Armageddon} –minor commentary was added to this piece by the’ roachcerian three’
(Chapter 99 of ‘The Book of Legends, Lies, and Myths of Hell and the Morningstar’)

Note: written by a shadow possessed –Attributed to be from the writings of Robert F Callaci, from the second gate portal zones of the Mundane Worlds. This same said writer is the 2nd born conduit who recorded the Tangled Tapestry and the Snapshots while mind possessed by The Black Monk.



Appendix B of ‘The Tangled Tapestry’

Apocalyptic Snapshots # 3



The Red Cockroach Speaks # 1

 

 

My mentor, counselor and spiritual guide the Black Monk, Santo Nicola, also known as the Shadow Lord has instructed me to partake in these commentaries that reach across all the dimensional realities of the fateworn , uber and mundane worlds. I’ve also been instructed to cooperate with all the minions, underlings and leaders of Heaven, Earth and Hell concerning the apocalypse commentaries so that all of the players in this multi- universe are made aware of its prime histories.

 

For those who are interested; my name is Jeddiah Sendalay of the Morningstorm Clan also known as the Red Cockroach and in the mundane worlds as the Anti-Christ. I will be a frequent contributor to these psychic journals as will most of the major players that have shaped this Apocalyptic Age. There are 66 apocalyptic glimpses or snapshots with an ensuing commentary in each that will be made part of the historical record. So Pay Attention and Open Your Eyes!!!

 

Witness and Behold: here’s a tapestry glimpse of a major event concerning the Black Monk and Myself (the Red Cockroach) with some poetic prattle from those sanctimonious delphinium heaven huggers reveling in their fanaticism …

 

 

 

take a deep breath

hold it- hold it-  now slowly

Exhale

Don’t you taste it?

Don’t you smell it?

Can’t you feel it boiling
and bubbling inside of you

Purge yourself from evils taint ~

Take a dive headfirst
Into the clear sparkling waters
of judgment and redemption
and drown in its purity and innocence

and if you survive its cleansing
you shall then become part of the
chosen few

-The Redeemed-The Soldiers of God-

whose mandate is to

Cleanse the World

of its

Enemies
and the evil
that they bring


(from the  “Book of the Dolphin” attributed  to the  Dolphonic Sorceress, Tessa Del Bellasuna , also known as the Blue Dolphin)



Jeddiah awoke from his death sleep choking and gasping. The air in the sarcophagus was nearly depleted and if he didn’t receive a fresh supply soon; his death would turn from  hoax to reality. Never one to panic; he slowed his breathing and lowered his heart-rate and mentally chanted one of his favorite Mantras, “what is done is done what will be will be” and awaited his fate, be it death, or continued life. As he was near his last breath his thoughts drifted to a time when his mind was clear of the visions and voices that dictated his movements and actions and when the burdens of the world were on someone else’s shoulders. A faint smile formed on his lips, and a tear fell from his eye, as he remembered dancing and making love in the moonlight with his Krista, and both thinking that they would be together till the end of their days. But fairytales do end and his ended on the day he met the Black Monk. If only he was something other than what he was? He would then have been spared that fateful meeting and instead of a life filled with constant struggle and conflict; he would have had a happy and contented one with the love of his life.   

He was startled back into the present as he felt a rush of air invade his nostrils and saw the Black Monk, Santo Nicola, standing before him. Before he could say anything the Monk lifted him out of the sarcophagus, laid him down on the floor and unwrapped from his body the preservative cloth that bound and covered him from head to toe. “That was a close one; those damn idiots wrapped you too tight and barely left an opening for you to breathe”. Jeddiah could only nod in agreement as his head was still mummy wrapped. Finally free of his bindings and able to breathe freely again he stood up on wobbly feet and gave the Black Monk a quick hug and said,” I thought I was about to meet my makers in Hell and for a split second I was even looking forward to it “.  The Monk gave Jeddiah a quizzical look as well as a cuff on the head and said, “You would have received a chilly reception by coming in as a defeated prophet, empty handed or without knowledge of where the Greenfire Tapestry is hidden. My dear child, I know you feel the weight of the world is on your shoulders and you think that it is crushing you, but that cannot be helped, for you are what you are, The Prophet.  It is written in the weave, it’s your destiny.”   Jeddiah Sendalay of the Morningstorm Clan, also known as The Red Cockroach, shrugged his shoulders and asked the Black Monk to open the portal to Avalon. It was time that he and his nemesis (the Blue Dolphin) meet face to face…




Apocalyptic Snapshots #3 (Appendix C of he Tangled Tapestry)

 

 

 

 

This deception, the faking of my death, that I perpetrated upon my people and the world,  may not have been my finest hour but was a calculated action that was required in order   for relations with the Blue Dolphin and all the Morning Clans to be reestablished under favorable conditions to myself upon my resurrection. But the more immediate reason was   to quell the appetite of the Beast by sending its little beastie bastards back to iTs lair thinking that iT was completely victorious and successful in poisoning the Prophet, laying it eggs, weaving it webs and sucking the forces of the First born of eaRth and Heaven dry.   

 

The Clan Wars , The Apocalypse or the thousand other names that it was or is called  between the Dolphin, Myself, and the Beast and Its Horseman is, was and will always be (or so we thought) an eternal dance that occupies the weaves of the Second and Third Tapestries. We both believed,(The dolphin and myself) that the weave couldn’t be rewoven, rewound or undone. We realized almost too late that we made a tactical and near fatal mistake by believing our fates were determined, static and unchangeable. This attitude made our ideological, religious and political beliefs divide us, our call to destiny blind us, and our need to war with each other consume us. We lost track of the other forces around us and the damage that they could inflict. We both misjudged the Might of the Beast and the damage that It could do to the Tapestry that was already spun. We both needed to act before iT devoured us both and ate away at the weave leaving us both weakened beyond recovery and ready to be picked, plucked and ready for the pot. We needed to put aside our differences and animosity towards one another, at least until the crisis abated, and fight and if need be die as One.

 

And there is also the matter of the Green Tapestry. We both need to find it, hopefully together, and hand it over to Our Shadow Counselors. For it is they that need to decide what to do with it as only the Great Powers and their Shadows can work the spindle that weaves the tapestries.   The power of that missing 13th Tapestry is its fluidity and malleability- Those who gain possession of that Tapestry can control the Fates (the hands of GOD) and The Dreaming God It Self by weaving and spinning an end to the old story and a start of a new one, editing the story that we’re in or erasing it completely. All the 13 Tapestries will be open to rewrite. A chilling thought…  


 

Apocalyptic Snapshots # 7









Flesh and Bone

 

 

out of the blue

something old

something new

a smile a kiss

an old grocery list

a hug a grin

a vintage bottle of gin

wrinkled frowns

love found

nothing lasts forever

not even memes

 

unless they’re fueled by

dreams and other cosmic schemes

 

 

(psalm 69 of the Hell Tablet G engravings)

 

 

 

Collision

 

 

 

 

 

Rainbow dreams fade at the seams.

 

They glide,

escape,

on sunbeams;

 

surfing on waves and rays of the morning sun,

 

riding high,

triumphant,

heavenly fun;

 

 

multi-jeweled memes and sunbeams.

 

But dreams,

collide,

at the seams;

 

where nightmares wake creating hellish fun.

 

It surrounds,

erupting,

blocking the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

(Psalm 56 of The Hell Tablet G engravings)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Santo Speaks #2

 

 

In the scared chambers there are hundreds of engravings like these found on various tablets. The supposed scholars of our dying and decrepit age attributes these to be the psalm writings of Satannas Jesuriah . I doubt these are from Satannas, most likely from Her Male Half, Jesuriah, the One most like Their sanctimonious and tedious Father,  Joshua. I find these two psalms to be a bit of mindless drivel ….

 

 

Santo Nicola

The Black Monk

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apocalyptic Snapshots # 7

 

Appendix D (The Commentaries)