Moving On

Angles of crafty Ones, all in a row.. gives inner bulbs glow.. litten to a path, if intriguing intuition.. taking mine out of parking in places of contemplation and combatives…

Put my gear in low, and start out slow.. inklings of traction.. to a new avenue.. of conceptions.. sit in your seat.. adjust your rear view mirror.. mapping coordinates, crazy town next destination…

Driving a path.. but forging it, along the way.. sanely heading to a mental institution, thrown there, by doctors of illusion.. the vision in winds’ shield.. seeing the lunatics all around, and considering if I’m the crazy one..

First stop.. clear the vessels life.. of all.. materials, possessions, ties that bind.. clear your decks, remove all cluttered.. in and out, keep it foundational from here on out…

Move in with the little ones.. family initially.. religious seems a good conscious consciousness to feel.. bathed in their scriptures, of micely men.. good thing the scribes’ subconscious relayed truths.. pages unread, congregations still in their created bed.. seems devilish, to infiltrate their ranks, through families of indoctrination, especially mine.. but Mary doesn’t like what’s been done with the place.. re-keying locks, and repossessing now.. spirit, of a kind their god has never seen, nor created… backstory, Lillith haunts me now… another story, from another impression of mine, will come, in-time..

Moving in now.. within passages, and scripts, sures of surety’ banking on their beliefs.. smile hardly contained within.. predictable to your roots, masculine to its core.. bad apples, seedless grapes.. vines of wrath, awaiting harvest.. findings ways to survive and thrive amongst plantings all around.. I’m the weed, in their book.. now growing in His field.. disrupting and blowing connections to attach to their nurtures.. virus to this, or any archonic manifestations… thoughts of idealism and potential futures generating tools for the nature, to plant against the prevailing winds, and start over, again..

This time of theirs, not letting it keep track of mine, only looking, when I may spare it, at Ones convenience… no alarms or clocks, all removed due to lackluster performance and the premature aging process..

stop the clocks, pull the plug and break its curse, take a break from its hold on yours.. to sort it out, remembering how time flies, while vacationing from its tasks.. it goes on without you, like it or not.. unless you remove yourself from it, and its constraints.. tied down, to a life of scheduling minutes, and counting the hours, one accounts for their time.. cut loose from time, removes stations within it, and your placement therein.. cut of all ties, stopping times, at the next hint of your awareness.. time passes you by, as you pass the time away, when you’re having a great time out of its grasping hands, ticking off your thoughts.. make time, for none…

Perceiving is piercing understandings previously unaware of further details, giving life towards new directions in your minds’ eye.. arming your forces with truth and removing doubts you may have believed prior.. prying doors open to see more and spread the light bulbs’ radiance given to enlighten the room when entering into our shadows.. as shadows are removed and broken into pieces, they no longer fly up in our faces.. bringing under control, the nature, of working in shadows.. as a side-line, picking up knowledge of passing.. vessels, when passing this dimension, bring or discard shadows.. to stay, without their carriers, to scare mere children, not matured in spiritual nature, or to go on in another realm when held tightly, binding them as soul mates to return and resolve, or knot, in another lifetime… take nothing with you, except your sovereignty… keys to a new beginning, less the baggage that gets attached, desiring to stay in its host.. not realizing the keys are already in the ignition, continually asking to go along for the rides of your life, making yours a nightmare or dream.. choosing to mull over them, keeps them locked and loaded, awaiting their next unfoldment, given a chance to lie again, with your emotions…

starting from a place, void of interference from reflection, the ups and downs aren’t allowed the weights of your feelings.. those are for sensing, not carrying or attaching to conditions, conditioning your carrying on with the perspectives contained, crying over spilled milk and stirring up whenever they meet equilibrium.. your mission, if chosen to accept, is to level the playing field and umpire what is played out.. a death of a relationship, a broken heart, the record is the keepsake, awaiting to replay its original condition and rain on parades… keeping down, the uprising against the instilled, within you, until the now breaks, spilling feelings all over your space.. unresolved issues are under consideration, realized or not, until forced up the ladder of consciousness, to spill or enlighten the carriers… go along, ride out its commitment to stay for a future rainy day.. take the reins, when it begins to subside, driving its course off a cliff, no hanging on the walls of your house and opening doors at your feelings’ expense.. bring it up, to equalize its force, laying it down gently, bettered for it.. keep practicing, as each focused upon lessens future blows to your heart and soul.. lacking weight, has to dislodge and float away, removed from containment, and its effects…

heart and soul, light and shadows work to contribute to the risings and falling upon your divine essence, complicating your matters, if given half a chance to lie again… a feeling is allowed to lodge again, curing your insides of what ails them, and sickening you when they come out to surface… embrace the coming out to party, giving attention to what had none beforehand.. playing with yours, makes games rather than opening sores.. try raising and lowering bridges with your will and intentions, not allowing them to be controlling structures.. packed away for another undoing.. keys to locks.. tearing down what is made in you.. not allowed to brew, except when you allow its focus to help your endeavors…

driven without reins, but with intention, the power of feelings are driven in another direction.. to flow, within yours, towards upper mobility and your nature, waters streamed from its source, not the source itself.. to be used and handled with care, reflections of your life waters works to directions of traveling through your paths and choices.. keeping you from some, or going down the same, over and over again, until the feeling becomes part of the subconscious workings.. stop it before fallen, raising awareness and growing or weeding your plantings.. play them, or they play you.. who’s in charge, affairs charged with your life force.. evolving, if not maintained, to mature your understandings… don’t dwell upon opinions from others, not of you, doesn’t belong in the churning within you… just ideas, in their minds, trying to transfer to you, to hold onto..

moving away, from any preconceived notions from extremists’ opinions, as they don’t belong to matter within the physical realm.. moving out, from all perspectives that no longer resonate.. no longer, a holding cell for others’ thoughts and ideas.. merely holding a pattern, of goodwill intentions with no prejudice or beliefs that will affect the outcome.. no images, gods or thoughts, inviting to follow their prescribed way.. words and books do not contain any path for me, had my fill of all, and to all…goodnight.. closing anything open except perception, open to all except denominations… if enlightened masters were in actuality such, no book would need to be written, famine would have ended long ago.. no buddha, no jesus, no biblical figures from religious texts found all over the world.. total discrimination, of anything not of we.. screw the masters, they only helped themselves and their selected few.. where’s the help in that.. inquiring minds get thrown off their course.. storied fables, by romantic jesters, making the beliefs, and calling them divine.. taking out all of that garbage, from further consideration… only proven, may exist in this reality, tyre of beliefs, faith and destiny… seems only to come to them massaging their ego’s, and what they may think that they know…

one size, doesn’t fit All, souly a piece.. when brought together, then become One.. pieces, reflections of All, trying to get to One.. wrong-sided thinking, in a humbles’ view… many paths avail themselves to all initiates, look around, is there any evidence in nature that a male may become female..there is, when looking inside, at feelings, intuition and compassion.. but may he nurture, as she.. giving birth, going to-term, and delivering the goods as mother achieves.. simply, these two paths meet, intersect, but do not match to go the distance.. souly for a time.. what of corn becoming beans or potatoes, how may they grow in identical soil and climate.. one, will never come, into their being, solely soul may absorb and grow, or divide and dissolve… go your own way, intuition feels this one.. let go of past thinkers and their thinking processes.. reborn, transformed, crucified.. carry the cross, and bare the brunt of its sores… born to love again, in a different time, story, life.. takin in, what civilization dishes out, filter its contents, then refuse the leftovers, never carrying anything, any longer, cept soul and its sovereignty…

Go with what flows to you, through and into one.. filtering man kinds’ veiling off any thought, line of thinking.. rape and pillage masculine thinking , for a change in view…

 

 

3 thoughts on “Moving On

  1. On your next destination travels to crazy town might I recommend a bit of sight seeing along the way at this incredible place called crazy beautiful… Its a place where some doctors of illusion try as they might to throw some fools on their journey over the edge, where the real lunatics crash upon hitting rock bottom, but the crazy rise above and spread their beautiful wings! Like the Phoenix rising out of the ashes of all the crazy cluttering bullshit once grasping for and held onto for dear life is burned away in the most beautiful fire purifying its transformation! Crazy beautiful is a place where on can simply be oneself, if one knows the self they want to be, or not, because there is no passing judgement there… only passing time which is simply a perception of choice as to how you want to spend it. Some choose to see their journey on a never ending emotional roller coaster, some as on a magik carpet ride and then there are the crazy ones who choose never to conform but forge their own unfolding beautiful path of blissful synchronicity! Crazy weeds, bad apples and the sweetest seedless grapes have their place here too feasted upon by the best of the beautiful black sheep… all are such a uniquely desired delicacy regardless of what the scripted say or dont say they believe. A place where crazy emotions like a caterpillar wrapped up in dark cocoon suddenly turn into beautiful harmonious feelings floating on butterfly wings… dont ever let anyone tell you its not possible… desires are true, yo can have it all, so mote it be! Your mission, if chosen to accept, is to break the cycle and try something knew… that you knew you know is real or unreal, unbinding and unconditional… like true love, its crazy beautiful!! Sometimes we just need to take a vacation from the crazy traditional roles of masculine and feminine shoulda, coulda, woulda and just take a risk at leaping over the beautiful edge! It seems to me quite a Divine thing when all a man has to say to his women is “settle down” and she simply says “ok” and then she wants to go clean the house… now thats some real crazy beautiful!! lol Mirror mirror on the wall… oh what a reflection I see… a separate path traveled, one by a man, the other by a woman, yet so similar… maybe together destined for that place called crazy beautiful… ya never know unless you stop by for a visit. Who knows, ya might like it so much there that you never wanna leave… sounds like a better final destination than crazy town anyway!!

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