So what if I told you that your dreams are in a prison in your mind, and only with no expectations of the future will the imagination of trees be able to show you how good it can be?
What if told you things that deemed me arrogant, or delusional?
what if those labels are those given by the conditioned mind, the mob, the superfluous, the easy to control, the scared, the fearful, the believers, the knowers?
What if I told you to chase your dreams?
Should a wiser eye return the glare to enlighten me on the uselessness of chasing. It should.
Should a palm with more wrinkles, a mind with more grooves, a skin accepting of all weather enlighten one on the folly of will?
Your dreams my friend, are an illusion of a dated mind. There is only surrender. Surrender to that calling and allow the strongest hand to place you in the currents of true destiny. Only then shall one have the ability to swim with grace as it enters the eternal ocean from all valleys. Only then shall ones will have power when dissolved into the true power.
What if I told you what I believe true?
What if I told you that knowing and believing share either side of a see-saw?
What if I told you that faith is nothing but the ability to observe the present moment without the past nor future?
I know I am in the comfortable grace of god because of the books that find me.
Let me ask you this…
Is anything personal?
Mild poverty is freedom, the body has always taken kindly to luke warm water.
I always believed my dick would be my demise, that’s what they kept telling me, but it has given me more freedom and opportunity than grief. Like a thick veiny rope from heaven. A pink globe lighting the path from my despair. My saviour. Riddled with filthy motives albiet honest. Honesty. Ahh, no energy required in the truth. The greatest trait of the animal, its inability to be subtle. The stalking panther is obvious to the aware eye. Yet it knows its desire. It knows its needs. Yet train the python to like the taste of love, or opportunity, not the artificial marketing and fabrication of sweetness that pleasure summons. Understand the long tail pleasure has that goes by the name of pain. She does not like you. As if you would prevent gods expression due to the lifeless sorrow between her legs. They bring out your inner child via love and hate him because theirs remains concealed. I bring out mine with alcohol and he is annoying because he is drunk.
Your inner child is mean to me, she says.
Oh, its just the sharp teeth of an innocent puppy.
What if I told you that the truth isn’t too good to be true?
What if I said you should follow that calling with conviction and observe who falls away on your journey towards it?
What if I told you that the love you know is nothing but the warmth of shackles, the predictability of an abusive mother, the honestly of a drunk father?
Do you love him?
Or are you just scared to die?
She said to me, in your dreams.
I told her I am.
He told me not to worry.
I said I haven’t for a while.
I don’t want to aggravate your demons. Or maybe I do. Bring them to me. Let us share a scotch. Let us talk about how our creator created all of us and only with surrender to the light can you too create. Why do you think the devil spends so much time whispering in your ear. Why do you think the horny man spends so much time whispering in her ear. He cant fuck himself. He is bored of pleasuring himself. He wants you to do it for him. But you can only allow the vampire within your home via invite. Ah devil, you're bored of your own games even though you invented them. You're like an English cricketer talking about the death of cricket because it is you who has died. I must admit, your red is pretty cool, but for how long?
If you feel emotion feel it. There is a loophole in this made up path to enlightenment. The same way there is a loophole in the path to a blue sky on a cloudy day. If your body is nothing but a manifestation of the true self, then guess what, your body is also the true self. So feel and express and be apologetic if you are but if you are not then silence is the sweet canvas that allows vang ogh to draw a pair of shoes that will live longer than us all although they died shortly after. The clouds only disperse with the allowance of wind or the acceptance of pain or the honesty of the sun. And that heavy heart blackens with its urge to fall. With the light pushing down from above. Fall with us all, we can converse on the way to nowhere. I would like to hear about your favourite song. I want to know why it is different from the rest. I want to know why sad songs make you happy, and happy songs make you sad.
So what if I told you that your dreams are in a prison in your mind, and only with no expectations of the future will the imagination of trees be able to show you how good it can be? That there is no differentiation on the journey between good and evil but all must live to die. There is no political party between the right and left foot and you walk to the waterfall and a tadpole goes up your ass and now you have a frog in your stomach and you vomit the frog and a princess kisses it and then you write about it. You speak to the princess but in English and not in ribbit and she does not want to speak back as she kisses your spew frog begging it to turn into a prince.
There is no greater story than the truth. And I will do my best to not. And I will just look around as the piano keys get massaged like a fat fifty year old bald man in Thailand. As I suck her nipple and rub her clit as if I am bob Dylan playing the song of the century. And if you are looking for the moral of the story then go one further and try and find the point of earth. Philosophers are flies sharing the shit on their hands. Monks are Methodists. Writers are typists. Typists are preachers. Preachers are scared. Scared are those too scared to be.
So what if I told you that those in Egypt who worshipped the lynx are parable to you who worships your dining room table. Who worships the acceptance of so many you despise. Who worship the notification of green numbers entering your device. What if I told you that the only person who has ever created was also the biggest destroyer. What if I told you there has been a billion years of you and will be a billion more no matter how much you preach your time being special. What if I told you we are both on the wrong side of no side. That I am the mind and the body. What if I just told you without the fear of what you think, without the fear of fear, with full confidence in having none. What if I told you that you are wrong and that is why I know I am right. And on the path to no duality I will just be you, doing something similar completely different. So fuck your conclusion that caresses the ear of the mob. I've killed myself too many times to be afraid of you doing it. And swear words are just words, I swear.
