The Drama of It All

"Perception precedes reality." -Warhol

possiamo sapere quanto il nostro passato si intrecci con il futuro. solo essando noi stessi avremo la certezza che ogni avvenimento che accade non sarà per puro caso

i congratulate myself.

i made it thru judgment and condemnation 

when my soul was trapped in hell i clawed up

to redeem myself and army crawled forward

not knowing what the end would be. making it

through demonization, villinization and even through

exile i was delighted to finally breathe fully

no longer having to hold my breath just to survive

no longer feeling the terror of the night

the arrow that flies by noonday has no real or permanent power

it is not pregnant with life or spirit

it is a facade of the colonized 

(colonized religion, colonized family, colonized government, colonized thought)

that had buried me is seen, and now the realization that the power

was there all along in me. no other form against me shall prosper

that glory shields me from any enemy that attempts to cause harm 

they will be exposed and bound by the conceptions of their misdeeds

may the feminine and masculine waters within come into balance

that my fruits and vegetation shall come into harvest and i can

galvanize the emotional and spiritual maturity that is necessary

to care for and maintain and love on my harvest

congratulations. 

never again give into the terror of the night. 

no longer suffocated by false prophets 

this false concept of god and love. no longer subjecting myself 

to people or spaces that cause chronic chaos and chronos confusion

these things have no real power only a fool's facade

the red sea has parted. moses mother mary conscious life has arrived!

what is the point of looking back when my harvest is before me? 

ENOUGH of the trapped terror of the night

the arrow that flies at noon has done its wounding

the red sea has been parted and crossed over

there exists no need to turn back when my harvest is here

support, supply, and weapons of spiritual warfare

the desires of my ancestors are at the peak of sprouting 

there is no need to turn back. the soil i stand on now is praised 

positioned in truth and liberated

i made it. i shall not want any longer

the wheel has turned and all is balanced, fool's journey

has nowhere else to go next. all avenues are exhausted

illusions released. so. many. illusions. the many good seeds remain

the old path is sacrificed. crucified. to create new 

there are no paths left from the brick wall

the "teacher" is overthrown, but by my exile there is exit

there is a hole in the wall since sledgehammering myself out

i dance a new avenue of my own