SouNDs mAde by HUmans WHiCh MEans SOmethIng

I am growing tired of words. Without thunder or wild moan of primal urge in the rare communion with the wilderness we can find when entangled and coiling like snakes in heat. ANd so I turn to the words which have wicked sound and together they marry and blossom movement in my essence…

 

The most beautiful words to come to man or woman lips have only ever been thought, felt and spoken to One.

Perhaps the only truth I have found.

Designed for an audience is not the same as shared with solely the source of inspiration in homage and pure reverence.

I imagine some women I am fond of would change their opinion of me solely through sharing this song of a woman who made this piece in an era when people were far more accepting of sexuality, than the many herded are now…

Further evidence that we are going backwards, regressing, whilst too many feel we are progressing, without realizing they are leading the charge against everything their hearts and souls truly stand for, just not their minds co-opted by the very enemies they seek to see planted on pikes.

Anything was fine then. Not now.

Yet why choose to dwell on the downward spiral of our species?

Existential crises loom large and pointless…

As they have nowhere to find solution or even assistance,

For philosophy is born of a Nature that it generally chaotic and brutal,

And ever seeks to try make sense of the senseless.

With the only true happiness found through sharing the bliss of respite from the suffering of reality, with another…

The tides and wind and blizzards are wild and wicked companion and echoes.


Woman form, of our human flock, for me is the closest I get to hold that close and lose myself in the exchange and that part of me not lost,

But flowed into something more natural and chaotic,

Is the more true and deep a connection than frolicking naked in the shallows in the high waves of the fullest of moons…for they are made of the same stars which give us all of our sparkle and Light.

 

I am afflicted by phases where I stop responding to the flow of humanity around and through me which seems, when I can find not distraction from reality, but reminder of Nature, in the shallows swimming naked wild and free…like I have got caught up in the bullshit of humanity, prone to falling into the same trappings of passing through wakefulness with complete absence of meaning. And only in my dreams and primal urges I do I prance and stride and scurry without not ego, but adherence to any sense of societal demands and conformity. Only my Nature.


 

Those fiends so focused on any system which talks of the ego as a bad thing…They are talking also of the only thing which would naturally bear fangs against any idea of a guru found anything but of the wilderness.

Crush your ego. Is crush your Spirit…

For Spirit is the one thing of the wilderness we retain, for it is rooted not in thought, but in PRIMAL.

 

 

The few men I consider brothers;

not by blood,

but by Nurture.

Call it experience…

for blood relations do not skip this length of time of being loyal which is often an unspoken…assumption. Blood. I have met none of my kin in blood other than my elder niece who feels anything like me. And yet I have known three men whose loyalty to me, once given – which is far more important and meaningful than most haphazard suggestions of what Love means – doesn’t need to be worried about when tested with my back turned.

Love is loyalty first and foremost and can only ever be broken by betrayal. Its not sweetness, and affection, and lust…they mean nothing without loyalty.

 

My compass spins when I come across Conrad’s Axel Heyst…

I am in awe,

for all the Wrong reasons to the Many,

even many of those close,

as in knowing me,

but close and knowing me, does not mean feeling me…

and the nut of the matter of human existence,

is that Feelings are Everything.

Not thought.

Not financial success.

Not a physical outline.

These are superficial, fleeting, all too HUMAN as much as they are peacock prance of dazzling plumage…

 

Sage is one of the few  artists I know of who has matured and wisened and always remained all heart and soul…

And his twin pillar in my shapeshifting outline of those who I can relate to, who have never lost their zeal and aim>>

Distant cousins of the same wickedly honest and focused in the same direction as like to feel is sometimes me…..

Im long past wondering who and what I am.

Aware of the changes that come every second of wakefulness and with every scurry through my dreamscapes,

Any need for reassurance is assuaged and dispensed with through knowing I can trace the rope back through the water,

Back to the anchor which I know well,

Rusty and likely to gouge at those who come too close if expecting something shiny and gilded.

Arrested development in some advance towards the…

share share share and seek audience to hundreds if not thousands– if I appear in their feed- sense of hollow solidarity,

 

Brother ALi hits peaks of something of the storm waves crashing against their intended shoreline making every roar of the wilderness when they hit home count for everything.

He exists at a frequency which seems so intensely primal, which I can connect to now and then and admire his zeal always, for blazing only ever his own trail…

 

The wind always makes sense, as do the tides flowing through and over me when swimming naked wild and free in the shallows and the sky is broody, the waves high and steady, rain seeming to fly off their crests, but to dive under and get my eyes near the seabed, all seems so serene and beautiful…I fly over the sand and its odd shapes made by the currents, manta ray gliding across mars…

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