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The DOITThe DOIT
a concept long ago
replaced by the flag
of a manifest destiny
built up by the thought structures
we find ourself today in
the current mindstate of the Ego
and the flagship of Consumerica
& His ideals.
Our story takes place Democracity,
the capital of and paradise for
yet it is the battle field
for the emergent culture
where a new and unspoken manifest destiny
The flag of multinationals
is not honored by them
even though mainstream hagiographic reporters
venerate it and the DOW in their unquestioning.
Unpublicized crime is stricken from records or
has simply made no notice
censored by distraction
to a culture hungry for its cues.
Buy and buy into -that's all that matters
for the selves that cannot differentiate
life from fear.
The Fire Flyi watch the world often in my dreams
tonight i am some sort of butterfly winged fairy
sitting on a ledge in a far away paradise
holding my knees, pressing them close to my heart
i mourn for all the loss, all the ignorance, all the pain
that i see across the sea and horizon
of my old home
but i am something different now, this new being
and somewhere else, this beautiful place
i felt helpless at first
as if all i could do was watch
as my old world burned before me
and i was helpless
that is, until I realized I was not
i was still the same, and perhaps more equipped to help
so i went back in, into the fire i saw ahead
to offer whatever i had and whatever i could
The Intention of Raver JI am a teacher. I could end it there but I will elaborate.
There is a quote from Marianne Williamson, it says "A miracle is a shift in perception from fear to love". We often think of a miracle as a one time event but a shift in perception can sometimes take longer. It can be that a one time event takes you to a place in your consciousness (being or mind) where you decide to search for information that sends you then on a path to further realization and thus elicit a "miracle" by the definition of Ms. Williamson. So a miracle, is not the finish point, but the beginning point. It can be the catalyst event that sends you on a journey of a new reality you experience because your perception has shifted. I can attest to this fully.
I had a spiritual experience at a rave. I would say that it was the first one that probably got me hooked -and so I kept going. I was introduced to this culture through a group of new friends who later became my core crew
Touching Hopethe sea roars
our oil rig rave
we dance between oceans,
primordial and cosmic;
both taunting us.
dance harder -
pour more sweat and soul
into those dreams
into those visions
into your future
made in love and protest.
instigated by lasers
i am shot into the sky
trance-ported by an electric eruption
i linger lightly in atmospheric suspension
connected to galactic essence and
a web of patterned light beams
i see my fellow ravers dance below me,
as my head is a geyser of light
kaskading falling surrounding creating
a vortex illuminating our party;
illuminating our deed.
what is this? …
as i hover in the sound field of manifestation-
ah! my hard work tonight has paid off.
i am touching hope.
A few of my favorite thingsLove
light and peace
star feathers and dreams
these are a few of my fav-or-ite things
Amrita Awakeningstill and silent in the purple silken night
the city smiled in twinkling lights
making night clouds still glow white
i sat before my pool, i knew not really why
with a crystal in my hand
still and asking, i looked to the sky
no answer -i close my eyes
and go deep within
tapping into the darkness inside my skin
so much pressure, my forehead tense
i push against dark walls hoping to make them...
but pushing doesn't make your shadow friend
i realize that -
relax and breathe, sink deep, be sweet
the night became more silent
sound dropped out all around
high quality, empty, profound.
a piercing quiet
an acoustic knowing...
i let go of my fear-
a thought emerged
it was so clear.
my being felt the crystal's plea.
and I knew now what to do.
i let it's knowing enter me.
it shot me with energy
a rising heat-
amrita rushed between my knees
hot and reaching for my heart
i fall face first into my pool (of new me)
mercurial –beautiful rainbow reality
held under by bliss, col
Liquor is one way out an'death's the other The art of growing up,
is to pour shots of whiskey
into your coffee in the morning
to make it through
when all you want to do
is lie in bed
but there’s nothing
The tragedy of the mook and how it died one dayThe fickle sky presses
Against the glass of the windows
And the dry strung up heat of the winter sun
Spilled over the anemic asphalt
Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers
Moving with a sort of blithe nonchalance
Searching for the speckled grey of a familiar horizon
The apathetic footsteps and my clenched hands
Quiver beneath the setting sun’s bloody smear
Across the over populated sky
That was no longer clear
Rather it was the looking glass phenomena
Spread eagled across my retinas
And during those grief stricken days spent
Hanging off your rooftops and skylines
I've contemplated replacing
my heart with another
Liver so I can
Drink more and care less
And I can vow that sleeping is only
For the dead or at least
The heavily medicated and sadly
I can no longer tell the difference between
i.by the grace of an orphaned wintering,
i have known you
babel, babylon: eyes raptured rare and hands
to strange knowing and palebruised
throat of dissonance
. ...such sudden gods. such taken
you stumble where night falls
too far to the left; my wild garden
old dusks, blue
spun out so far, i can't be true to you.he's still the way i watch the stars
and how i run like no one's watching
he's what i dream of when i'm awake
but maybe i'm done waiting
maybe it's you
maybe it's me this time
and maybe that's enough
he still races through my veins
and no, my heart is not steady when i see him
but i was never one for patience
a year is too long to hold on
and he is conservative
and button downs
he is beautiful
but i am wild
i am dirty feet
and summer evenings
i am mud-caked nails
and cider throats
i am sun soaked
laced with drunken poetry
i am watercolour
he is oil based
he is canvas in london galleries
i am doodles on napkins in mediterranean restuarants
you are cheekbones and dark eyes
coffee stained fingers
smirks and accidental brushes
i don't intend to know anything more
he is confidence
i am uncertainty
i live in the wind and the forests
we both spend too much time in front of mirrors
but whilst he kisses them
i crack them
and all the while he is leather
ScreamSo I'll stand and yell it to the ceiling
to celebrate the fact that i'm alive and breathing.
I'll take your hand to try and share this feeling.
The only thing I can do is stand and scream.
"I still fucking love you."
And hope it starts the healing.
PossibilitesWhen I was 5
I wanted to be
anything to be
When I was 12
I wanted to be
to learn how
the Earth works
and what makes
stones so beautiful
When I was 16
I wasn't sure what
I wanted to be
The future was uncertain
So was I at this point of time
But then again
So were other kids
Now I'm 20
I want to be a writer
My mind's eye seeing
people and places
like a photo album
words stringing together
to create something beautiful
reality vs. pretendi.
a wooden sword
and an eye-patch
i was a girl who
knew deep inside
had developed feelings
and they were all
selfishly for me.
you tricked me,
you kidnapped me,
all to tell you stories
in which good triumphs
over evil, not really;
was to walk the plank
as you planned to kill
him and feed him to
the ticking crocodile.
happy thoughts and
faerie dust would
allow me to fly,
but i only had the
first and i was doomed;
your wooden sword poked
my back, waiting for me
to take the leap
down (the stairs),
hearing the ticking
(of the oven)
go off - just in time.
surly, mother called us
down for dinner
and at the end of the night,
it was all truly
bedtime stories will
serve as my peter pan,
as my escape from reality.
Because.Because thank you isn't enough
because I'm Sorry won't solve a thing.
Because I'm too short
or too tall
or too skinny
or too fat.
Because it just doesn't work that way
because somethings can't be changed
Because when you
spend a lot of time
writing the word
on a sheet of
white lined paper
you just begin to realize things.
Because saying 'because'
won't help you in life.
Because you just have to do it.
Because you just need to get up.
Because you just got to go somewhere.
Because we should stop doubting ourselves and
because we should only try our best.
Because life is too short.
By: Ulrich J S Edelstein
-My thoughts alter
Of each passing day.
They never stay identical.
-At a single moment
They could be cordial, charming, or gratifying.
Then they could alter drastically
Into thoughts of outrageous things.
-They could go from endearing, delightful and virtuous,
To homicidal and barbaric.
Thoughts of inspiration and aspiration,
To murderous and torturous plotting.
-I could think that I like someone,
Thinking they are full of elegance, charm, and intensity,
To insufferable, ghastly beings of this Earth.
Drastically altering my mood along with my thoughts.
-All is well at one moment,
And then all is heart breaking at another.
Becoming aware no one really cares.
People who are supposed to support you, disrespect you immensely.
-My thoughts alter when I fall and no one is there for me to lean on.
I think that they are caring people,
Then disrespectful, low pieces of debris
That animals urinate all over.
-My thoughts alter all the time.
My Ethereal Tightropei walk an ethereal tight rope
balancing between blackness and clouds
i lose my step
and fall into both.
the bottom of the blackness feels like a dark cave.
through my darkness
i see myself on the other side
in blissful free fall.
i am separated as if by a pane of glass.
a falling sea star
through clouds of spectacular color
I am joy
rushing unceasing unending feeling
pure, misty dissolution
in the dark, I wish to be that joy,
my palms pressed against the glass,
but I am just a witness to it.
split i turn around,
leaning against my wall
i slip down slowly
embracing my knees-
I know i am alone
i am not sad …
and i am not afraid …
i just don't know why i'm here…
a small vibration
inside my heart-
i take a deep breath,
and walk into my darkness.
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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