Descent

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Taking his time down the steep dark descent,
He only found her by way of scent.
“Where are you?” Said he, reaching but not finding.
“There is another world up there only found by climbing!”
“Shhh!” She sang, gaze affixed to shadow image on the wall.
A hopeless heartache—if only they knew a fraction of it All.

Venus Rising

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At times I feel her arise in me.
The divine feminine smirking with power.
A blackness so brilliant—
Like the sheen of a crow in the Sun.
The dark murky waters of creation is where she dwells.
Animate by her energy, I enter the quantum;
Where there is no state of becoming, rather, Absolution.
She is both life and death,
The guiding and tempting force of which I am present vessel.

A Reflection of Heartache

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Written Nov. 2012

At this point, we both know it’s over. Your room knows we’re over. Your chest of drawers know. Your walls hanging with pictures of us know. Your sheets suck in the scent of me, only to torture you while you sleep. As you lie there, your mind will unknowingly recognize my scent. And as you reach for me, you’ll awaken alone and cold. But for now, we’ll lay here and think of the emptiness that is to come.

It’s quiet now. You’ve just told me we won’t last. You lay your head on my chest. “I wonder if she can hear my heart breaking?” I imagine my heart as shifting tectonic plates. As my brain scrambles to recognize this feeling, it exclaims “Ah, heartache. We meet again.” My brain relays messages to my liver, kidney, colon, muscles, nervous system, and lungs of the coming storm. They then ready for the great purge of sorrow to come.

The Corruption of Consumerism

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The power lies in the dollar. The rich and powerful have enormous hordes of cash. They’ve accumulated this perceived energy through the working class consumers. They are capitalist because they have capitalized on the spending patterns of the average person. We, as a society, are materialists, consumers, and the ones that run the world. Without our income, as low as it may be, the rich would be unable to capitalize on our spending patterns or our need to work for them. In effect, they need to pay us so that we may spend. The illusion of monetization and privatization must be upheld with the utmost scrutiny.

What we as consumers must realize is that we in truth have all the power. If everyone decided not to use Snapchat, and move to Instagram all at once, Snapchat’s value would be nothing aside from the physical liquefiable assets such as servers and data they may own, patents, and/or all owned properties. If everyone decided to stop buying bananas, they would cease to exist all together (with the exception of those capable of growing banana trees out of novelty). No one would have a financial incentive to create bananas. This goes for everything you can think of that is bought and sold globally.

If our internal desires spoke their virtuous ideals through our spending patterns, we would live in a more benevolent society. The wealthiest people would be the most accomplished in almost every aspect. The poorest would be the most ignorant and least creative. But even then if global apathy is as it is now, the poor would remain poor. If to be empathetic were a virtue, and if society upheld our virtues, there would be no poverty. The rich accomplished creatives would feel endowed with a sense of generosity; knowing that we all thrive if we all win. There is no unity with privatization, no patriotism with bipartisanship, no brotherhood with bigotry, no life with monetization.

Rise

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There is something happening right now on this Earth. Aside from a great plague, deep pedophile rings within the wealthy elite being exposed, geopolitical tensions being at a all time high, UFOs appearing nonchalantly, climate change causing massive storms, and a great political divide likely to spark a civil war—a great awakening is occurring.

Right now, there are people taking to the streets to protest against the systemic oppression of African Americans by the police who condone this behavior nationwide. There are people taking to the streets to protests against police brutality in general. There are people taking to the streets to picket for human rights. There are people taking to the streets to protests against racism. There are people taking to the streets to protest against the president, congress, conservatives, anitfa, and oppresion. There are people taking to the streets to riot, loot, and destroy the system that has disenfranchised them.

Online, discussions are opening up about these topics. One side perceives the police as brutal authoritarians who abuse their powers. The other sees policing as a positive necessary social service for our communities. It seems both sides agree that kneeling on someones neck for almost 9 minutes until they’re dead is not good policing. There is a middle path.

Police must oust their own “bad apples” just as the protestors must oust the rioters and looters not involved with the peaceful protests. Everyone has an equal duty and responsibility within their position to uphold justice as our own system fails us daily in providing it for us. The rampant corruption and blatant disregard for the common good is appallingly apparent. It is clear that financial and resource dominance is what rules us humans. It is this slave mentality that takes our individual power to be the direct change our country and world so desperately needs.

We must awaken from the Machiavellian factionalism that is being used to split red and blue, black and white, father against son, brother against sister, and neighbor against neighbor. Until you realize there is no democrat, liberal, independent, republican, or conservative, then you will truly see what has become of our country.

“He who has not even a knowledge of common things is a brute among men. He who has an accurate knowledge of human concerns alone is a man among brutes. But he who knows all that can be known by intellectual energy, is a God among men.”

“He who cannot draw upon three -thousand years is living from hand to mouth.”

I am

I am not my job.
I’m bigger.
Bigger than this room.
Than these corporations,
The government, these nations.
Planets, Galaxies, this universe.
Time, gravity, material.
An apparition adrift in the cosmos.
And yet I am everything.
I’m you, her, them, us.
Fragments of light, bottled & pickled.
Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh.

Telesphorus: From Carl Jung

At the height of his life, Carl Jung was discovering the secrets of the Alchemical. He built a fortress of solitude near the river of Zurich. A stone monument was erected by Jung in which he inscribed Latin phrases. One reads:

CGJung

“I am an orphan, alone; nevertheless I am found everywhere. I am one, but opposed to myself. I am youth and old man at one and the same time. I have known neither father nor mother, because I have had to be fetched out of the deep like a fish, or fell like a white stone from heaven. In woods and mountains I roam, but I am hidden in the innermost soul of man. I am mortal for everyone, yet I am not touched by the cycle of aeons.” -C.J.

Prior to this account, Jung was deep within his academic career as a psychologist. Until a series of apparitions and premonitions occurred within dreams. He began to be drawn to the Gnostic’s, his unconscious was sending him mysterious signs. “The material brought to light from the unconscious had, almost literally, struck me dumb.” (Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections) He endeavored to discover the eternal truth’s of the universe.

“Consciously, deliberately, then, I abandoned my academic career. For I felt that something great was happening to me and I put my trust in the thing which I felt to be more important sub specie aeternitatis. I knew that it would fill my life, and for the sake of that goal I was ready to take any kind of risk.”

And so began the Jungian transmutation…

The Pale Rider

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Walking into to town the others see me coming.
They turn with askance at my rider who sways to and fro.
Head down to shun the sun with the brill of his cap.
Though I be the sober, he be the other.

Drinking water from my trough, he journey’s to the bar.
Avoiding the others at stools end.
Deep in contemplation he seems to be.
Not a glance up, nor the tip of a cup.

Back on the saddle he sways to meet the days end.
Leaving town they bid farewell and see his hollowed eyes.
Not knowing whither to he goes, or from whence he came.
We leave prompt all the same and he asks for no ones name.

I steer him here and there as if I know the way myself.
Wishing on the stars we meet our journey’s end on the moon itself.