Prose

Sun Skreech

Whisps of words whisper ease and with the shift from on my knees I stand and cry with a millions words and in the sigh of tree’s upon my mother’s lips I lie in wait for the dreams to caress the streams of me’s; I’s bring storms and in the reality of the moment I lie at ease, a soldier on the guard waiting; resting upon a spear, alert and aware, I stare, I wait to strike; as a trodden serpent this world sings its messages, leaves me alone and torn; in the compassion of my heart the songs of the trials of the start collapse my field, leave me breathless…. and the sky parts, a million globes of dew rain down upon my heart, a showering of blessings from the dark; I grew out, trembling in the wake of this pain, of this shadowed hand which clutched my brain, left me shaking and awake; and yet to another dream I spake, and had conversations with my mind, insanities surprise left me dry- left me open to this Vision, pouring from my skin, exuded from my coffin, deep within.

Here I sit amidst perception, uncolored and entranced, and yet too scared to dance, to lift up my voice and sing, to let it all in, to let the words pour forth as a fountain, to let loose this madness; to entrance all the glances which tempt me into temptations trances, to move between and beyond the concepts and structures which were set up by institutions in an attempt to control me. I will not be controlled, I will not be tamed; I will unleash the frenzy of the end of days; apocalypse in populace, populated by the infestations of a virus from space; a language that crawls with an intelligence out of my fingers and into your brain; an explosion, supernova, of increasing asymptotic information informing and reforming the conceptions of the present instant, forever becoming more than what meets the intersection of meaning and rhyme; hidden from the lightning the dirty coals of the night feeds a fire that pressed and expands, moving out of my hands, between the syllables it slides, serpentine undulations undulating the escalations, and making the self seem absurd, breaking down….

Crumbling the walls all came down, leaving this heart to be immolated by the fire, by the lashes and stings of its bitter ashes; the ruins of my life gone by, I watched it all burn; and rejoicing I am free, and all the world shall come to me, by roads and paths, by ruined monuments of times collapse; and singing in this madness, divine into its birth, we shall wander all the earth as One; become, begun, it flows from the sun; solar seed, dream dew upon the few, night sky kiss earth, kiss birth, kiss all the little children and leave us in your infinite body; dear goddess, in your motions I have rested, seen the movement of days; seen the end of man’s bitter monuments; his escapes and masquerades, and how it all falls away in the face of the divine; your presence breaths me back to the moment, back to this body, back to this mind.

Creation is the purpose, is the reason for my presence, outwards, artifacts, rhythms move the soul of mine; for I couldn’t even try to move into the way of myself, into the minds of the singular entity which hinder this progression; hinders this radiance from manifesting in the ions of this transmutation of me; see! I can not, can’t not, decide to deicide this sense of self, move the I from a capital to a lower case dot, a line with an eye in the center of mine; for this eye is not eye, but the purpose of creation, a fit vessel for the forces which created this perception; I am a vessel, quicksilver liquid pours from these lips, from the fingers and the delicate end of this brush, brushes up against the narrow structures of reality, against the moments that I collide with the infinite, lost in the pulsations of the indentations upon my fractured, shattered and fragile shell.

I am a vessel. I am a vessel; I am a god within a brain filtered and mangled by the encoded perceptions of this society's language, forced to filter my divinity out through institutions, through mere words which can never express the present instant of my non mobile becoming. I am mutant, hear me roar; hear me more, here me cry and thrash against the matted and tattered beliefs you hold so dear; the pieces and remnants you use to hold together your limited and hurting sense of separated self; building mountains of madness from the stuff of delusions; projecting and erecting a tower of lies around the divinity within you from which you hide.

You can not run from the inevitable which faces you when you turn within, for your bondage is your concepts, the tank which you swim within is the words you use to cover the urge to create and break free, to dissolve this “you” and “me”, to move beyond the bars and the chains, this limited absurdity when we could have all that we see in our dreams, and manifest God on this earth… for we are the vessel of the divine, the heaven sent message from outside of time; this body is a mirage, an illusions of senses; and sensing beyond we could sense a presence which awaits a folding of ourselves inside out, moving beyond the temptations of the soothing comfort of a false truth; you are not here, you are not your own, your words are an attempt to hide from your lack of inherent worth; and you are too scared to get up, to scream and breath life into the world; to stand in the face of this void and to move beyond your own word; to find the silence amidst your chatter, the life which pulses and breathes with every syllable of ease, with every expression and pulsation of this heart, of this absolute intention which manifests the baths of lights in these hidden dimensions….

Move beyond your constructs, feel the madness wash over the sins of your skin, the repressions of expressions which limit your perfection; can’t you see this pain of your own, your brain’s own division?You divided yourself and found pain in your longing, yet the answer lies in the uniting of the temporal with the eternal which exists only in your dreams; that meaning lies within you to create based upon the rush of fluids through your nerves; the liquid pulsing of silver dreams within the needles of your I’s.

Move it, or lose it; mobilize to revolutionize the millions of forms of lies; adapt to the changing paradigm escalation, which threatens to destroy or evolve humankind. Time to try, or die. Time to grasp hold and ride into the eye of this storm; time to mobilize and realize, to realign and redefine, express this Vision as it enthralls and informs, reforms and restates the aims of the present incarnation- the purpose of life is to move into eternity and immanitize this infinite which presses from out of our flesh.

This Dream which has encased and enchanted the greatest geniuses of our time; and realized, it is time to actualize that ideal into the real; to find the voice, to find the deed to find the ever present awareness with which we might join as one and set aflame these hearts into supernova streams of furtive fertilities, planting ideas and reaping the growth of our futures from the soil. Toil with your Works and they will come to birth. Join and sing and reap the harvest that is your fate; let go of hate, see the inspiration flow; move into the presence of this infinite glow- bask in its warmth, see its tides move and flow, following the patterns of the moon’s glow. Pulsating, inculcating, informing in your mind a kingdom of imaginations garden; garden of delights, watered with dew of your dreams- watered with the blood of your heart and written upon the book of your flesh; magick encompassed within the silence of your inner fire; burn higher, burn brighter, as a star rise to the horizon of your eyes; fly into the spaces between words; read between the lines. real eyes.