yoga is tantra

there is an ice blossom that fields snow white blooms



in jagged mountain crevices that ache and moan



amidst the sacred pines of Bear Creek and Wolf Canyon



below Seal Rock.



Here I find myself again.



Again and again, here I find myself,



ever and ever I find myself exactly here,



here and no other.



Forgive me, Great Spirit,



even as I know what I do



without doing anything about it.



My impervious laziness chains me to my self



the world changes around me, and I do not change,



I bear the brunt and fold under the weight,



I am worn down by time.



Aach, ancient ones, share with me your peace,



your sense of quiet purpose in contentment.



Share with me your slow measured life



and your clockless time.





and you, valued witness, esteemed reflection of



multifaceted oneness,



Sink with me, sink deep under



into nothing,



where there is no release















and in rare and all-too-dappled glistening sunlight



of space and time beyond measure, without rhyme



I am traveling so far away,



that I may be born again.



At last I have found my home, dear friends,

my love has called me home,



nevermore wandering alone, my friends,

nevermore doomed to roam.



This is a world reborn, my friends, a doomed and failed last stand



fell over and tumbled

and perished and crumbled

and nourished a desolate land



and we are the ancient archangels and angels

and demons and lepers and whores,

we are Atlantic Lemurian starchildren

posing as intellectual bores



and I Am is too tired to function

space opens, revealing ancient mountains

razed by timeless winds too high and fierce

for words or thoughts-

there demons dwell

and practice peace.



Om shanti shanti shanti

awakening the third eye

Hitler sent a team of crack troops into the Himalayas in order to discover the secret of the master race, the secret of the Aryans.

What he was looking for was Sanskrit. The Knights Templar found it buried under Solomon's Temple.

The prophecy says that as the royal bloodlines of the master race loses its purity, humanity descends and loses its natural gifts of telepathy. This is ok, the story goes, because the Aryan race is destined to genetically reinvigorate the bloodline through chemistry . It is foretold that we regain our birthright of superconsciousness not through breeding but through orally ingested genetic mutation, designed by the Great White Brotherhood to usher in the new Aquarian age.

This has already happened, thanks to our brother the Jewish Freemason, Doctor Albert Hoffman.

The genetic technology lost through spiritual atrophy is now available as a microdot,
and college chemistry leads to the rediscovery of reincarnation, opening the door to a whole new cycle of living and dying

prince angel dracula

"sin is not without beauty,"

sang the sinner, shamefully, beautifully

and it was a poem, too

the sum of all religious thought

Prostitution is a profane and materialistic perversion of the world's oldest religion - mankind's primitive and awe-filled worship of the sexual and life-giving miracle witnessed as the sacred and divine feminine.

Now that we've got that out in the open, lets get the new world disorder underway...

my big heart

my heart hangs down low
my heart hangs down so low it bangs against my knees
like a mushroom dangling between two trees
my heart hangs down low

and my heart likes to get high
my heart likes to fly in the sky with Ras Tafari
Yessa I
Blessed I
my heart likes to get high

and my heart likes to get down
my heart is a bonehead clown
upside down out on the town
my heart's so black and blue its brown
my heart likes to get down

and my heart's gotta be free
none of us need to take that personally
my heart don't give a shit about you or me
my heart's just got to be free

and my heart likes to go deep
my heart's gonna wake you in your sleep
and give you big dreams to keep
my heart is a shepherd and i am a sheep
my heart likes to go deep

and my heart needs to be true
so I'm out here loving you
what else could I do?
my heart needs to be true

and my heart ain't ever going away
no my heart ain't ever going away
no my heart ain't ever going away
my heart is here to stay

why sanskrit hurts my XXXX

an outlandish theory:
In the beginning of writing, scribes were circumcised in order that they always be known amongst the population. Scribes were spellcasters, chanters, wizards, brahmins. they were the circumscribes, an enslaved tribe forced to undergo genital mutilation to be rendered submissive enough to be trusted with the work of writing language - maps by which sounds become worlds. They were not blue-blooded Illuminati, whose divine ancestry carried the genetic makeup of countless eons of mantra recitation and awakened kundalini. They were fully human, entrusted with the Sacred Word and physically disabled to keep the snake from freeing their minds.

But Shakti had another idea...

Abram was a Brahmin. a Brahmin scribe. His genitals had been mutilated at the orders of the Illuminati, and he had consequently been deemed docile enough to proceed with the Brahmanic initiation, and yet the Lord was strong with him, and he was not a docile enough man to tolerate the corruption of Babylon. He was prophet enough to see that the writing on the wall spelled out the fall of Rome, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He wandered West, and his hot chick wife rode a camel after him. They were both in their seventies.

They had like over two hundred friends who came with, and did all the work. That's worth mentioning, probably.

Point being: scribes were circumcised to be distinguished from royalty, who were traditionally the only ones with access to written language, and thus the powers of mantra, which in turn was the path of awakening kundalini. The scribes were understood to be literati - prisoners of the word. Prisoners of language. Condemned to a life imprisoned in the language of thought, without ever awakening the magical shakti, the embodied truth of preconditional awareness. In order to ensure that the power of mantra could never be used by the literati to awaken kundalini, assume supernatural powers, and overthrow the rule of the Illuminati, they were 'circum-scribed' - genitally mutilated as a method of assuring submission, pushing fear into the authority and agency of shivalingam. The scribes were enslaved, and given a master. This master was mind-thought-language-spoken-word, encoded in symbols fathomed by an elite few, secret teachings passed on from father to son, and - times being what they were, the fall of Empire and all - from Master to Slave.

The Illuminati stood around, shaking their heads. Some day, they knew, the literati would find out they'd been getting their dicks chopped off at birth as a means of keeping them down. When that time came, Royalty or not, the Illuminati were going to need a spaceship home...

So the Lord changed Abram's name to Abraham, which means, "Abram ran away from organized religion and ran to God"

the history of everything, almost

Great men cannot organize themselves, because great men cannot submit to rules. We must rule ourselves, and can submit to no other master. It is a great responsibility, a God-given task, and we cannot for even an instant allow our self-mastery to wilt or waver. We cannot give away ownership of our own behavior - we are tasked by our behavior, we are indeed owned by our own performance of who we believe we are.

We cannot acquiesce to rules, because we cannot abandon the responsibility of being a man that God has given us. The responsibility of a man is thus: we must learn to rule ourselves. We must sit by ourselves, with ourselves, and learn of ourselves, until we discover within us the latent capacity to rule ourselves.

Needless to say, the greatest organization in the world has always been run entirely by women.

Its the world's breeding program, run by witches. Written about by male clerics, codified and preached by male priests, protected by male warriors and kings and honored by male religions, woman's remarkable tendency to make babies no matter what the occasion is simply the greatest unfathomable mystery ever encountered by the species entirely, and in the end all men can do is sit helplessly and watch as the world's only two-legged breeding program gets casually abused by these crazy sluts who have no discretion whatsoever, for Chrissakes, and shouldn't we at least offer them a burka?

Or maybe a cross...

Magdalene emailed Jesus: "Hey Jesus, you're cool and all, but you know, you're on this God trip and anyway I'm not available..."

and Jesus is thinking about back when he was Samson, sitting cross-legged on the floor while Delilah danced naked in sweat and moonlight and begged to know what made his dick so big, back when he had sat in meditation with his dreadlocks gathered heavily around his waist and refused her his attention, once, twice, a third time, and she wept, and his compassion unbound him, and he offered his truth: born a Nazarite, sworn since birth never to shave his beard or cut his hair...

-and he jumped her bones while knowing better, and when he slept she shaved him of his dreadlocks, and the gelded men came and plucked out his eyes, and gelded him, and the enemy of his ancestors and his seed enchained him and mocked him, for timeless time, until his dreadlocks grew back and his love grew so great that his love of death unbound him from his love of life-

-and he emails back:

"Aloha, my love"

and just like that you pretty much have the history of everything, almost. At least the mystery of how men and women can ever figure it out long enough to keep the species alive...