The Faux Pas Press #198: Give Me More

Night brings fog similar to apparitions I have seen on the outskirts of my feelings. And my mind racing more cleverly than I have noticed – particularly in my youth. Where is it that, in this life or the next, there is peace and prosperity. I have cried now to you with my latest gestures. I have suckled from the tits of nonsense marmalade. And now I see it. Now, I get it. Just give me a little more please. I am desperate. And I need you.

Practicing for the big game. Listening to music that suits my style. Glistening with a light that says I got circulation in my balls now. But how often have I run to her, not realizing just how sick I was – I needed a fucking doctor or a god or a Jesus or all three. I call upon the four corners of the Earth – all cardinal directions. Upon brave Parley Angerbliss. And the drinking has stopped. The fucking has stopped. The smoking has stopped. My fingers on this board give the last addiction. Just give me a little more please. I am desperate. And I need you.

 

So sorry about how it all has gone for you. I know that God must enjoy the company. God’s company need not be earned. Always yearning to be worthy to stand in the presence of the Creator. What creator would not yearn to see his creation? What Father would not sing in harmony with his child’s song? And so harmony exists when we let go of guilt, fear, anger, and the joke that we are not worthy. I am clean now not for him but by him. My fingers moving on this little board – giving me the last great thing that a man can do with full testicles and no place to shoot it. Just give me a little more of this please. I am desperate. And I need you.

The Faux Pas Press #197: Audio Chemical Masturbation

I admitted before the Power and all the wisdom that is NOW and will forever be; admitted that inside of you and inside of me – a torrent downloading audio chemical calamity – admitted that I am no more a free sentient being than you. Inside of you and inside of me there are battles that we could not win. Battles that I should not have chosen in the first place. Reconciliation with tangled, twisted past directions. And full to the membrane with polyandrous thoughts that I’ve tried to claim. So, finally, after years of denying myself the freedom in stillness, simmered down the bubbling fountains beneath the ocean’s tide, accepted with gratitude the millions of angelic friends waiting to uphold the rightness in us all. Only the Power and all the wisdom that is now and will forever be. Only he to give me rest from this Gethsemane.

Marching along we go. Grinding away at each new day like there is still gold in them hills a yonder. Turning our heads to North and South, to East and West, pleading the Four Winds ride along the Night. May they ride fast enough to carry those I love – and carry them far enough away from me so as to not cause any more hurt with these magik words. “I’m not your fucking Savior,” I cry. “Not your fucking God. Not your pleasant lover friend. Or Build-A-Boyfriend Bear Workshop project. Too long I was sick with envy, pride, greed, and lust for you. Now, I’m okay with it. Okay with being in touch with this Power.”

May I come to bask in the forever song that surrender brings from and to you. It means never ‘giving in’; it also means never ‘giving up’. Mostly, above the presumptuous bosom of the Lady’s laughter, it means ‘giving over’ the will of a Mind Boy Miscreant to Shiva-Krishna-Xenu-Moses-Jesus Amalgam Boy. And off to the races we find ourselves again. God wills that I am healthy and whole. Asking that they show me the way to a fulfilling surrender and beautiful life.

The Faux Pas Press #196: O Captain of My Sorrowful Seas

*Passage best enjoyed while listening to Freedom Blade by This Will Destroy You.

Upon the crescent valleys end where I found myself again. Upon the beginning point to another jot around the bend. Upon the clandestine sniffing of which I have found myself a party. And in the entire world, as I’ve gone a drinking, sniffing the ground for a tap root symphony from to audibly drink. Not in all the cursing of blessings that I’ve done are there words to describe what you have done for me. “Found me,” I suppose would do it – or will have to suffice. You have not run away from me. Succored me from the darkness as I’ve fought my way to find you. As I’ve clawed my way through familial dew, through religious indignation, through right and through wrong, through the depths and across the sky. So, I guess my greatest song is the one I am know writing, the truth ringing between these ears of mine where I used to hear nothing.

Not so much aware of myself now as I am born to myself. Alive in the meaning of ‘self’ in the first place, weeping now for the days you’ve allowed me, mourning for the thousand tomorrows that my brother’s will never see. For the fallen, the ones we lost in those crescent valleys, the ones who will never come home to the suburbs, share a laugh with people who love them. So, yes, I sing his praise. Yes I will sing his praise. The nameless incantations and the glasses I will raise. And every free breath that I breathe, I will make known how wonderful it is to be alive, how beautiful it is to know you. How sorrowful it  is to know now what I’d wished I’d known then. Won’t believe the homicidal, suicidal, pesticide lies that once convinced me there where others who needed pleasing more than you. Magnificent. Glorious you are, O Captain of my Sorrowful Seas, Speaker of the Winds. To you I sing.

The Faux Pas Press #195: How to Feed Thousands with Five Loaves

Too calm to cavort and gesture for result. We are often found laughing in senseless decadence. Too swollen in our bellies to see the residual of suffering that our actions cause. We must be the change that we want to see. And how do we accomplish that? Not so sure that without including bigger missions into our lives we would ever feed anyone but ourselves. The gifts that we suppose to curse us. We can blame others for doing the bidding of higher intelligence; we cannot blame others for our lot in life. (It is easy to bite off more than we can chew, easy to find the flaws in others before giving them the benefit of the doubt. Feeding the thousands does not resonate when we ought to be disciplined and say ‘no’. Focus on the Hocus Pocus of saying ‘no’ when you need to. And saying it however you have to.)

The magik of feeding others in miraculous ways, I assume, must come from a genuine love for others. How can we love others unless we love ourselves? Seems simple enough but loving ourselves sometimes takes a shit-load of energy and practice. Loving our True Self comes down to discipline. Doing what you need to do when you need to do it and saying 'no' to everything else: addiction, entertainment, escape, loathing, day-dreaming about the future, regretting the past, jerking ourselves off intellectually, spiritually, and surely, physically.

So many times I’ve been made to feel the victim. Sounds ridiculous and weak to say anything to the contrary, but taking responsibility for our lives is the most important thing that we can do to feed the thousands. Our goals, so filled with self, we pretend that there are no miracles. Pretend that from the beginning there will not be enough. Keys to abundance lie in planning those intentions for doing good for the five thousand. Sucks to hear at first. You won’t have abundance if your life is just for the Mind Boy you. Expand beyond the creations of your own ego and you will find something else entirely.

The Faux Pas Press #194: Everyone That You Love Will Die

Somewhere in the silence, there is a phrase of breathe between phrases of capitulated thought; there are pillows of listening that you can use. No one else is with me right now. I am with you. And I will not abandon you. Even if words seem inadequate to becoming, inadequate to encapsulate the love never-ending that exists for you. There is not much that we need to prove right when we are just present in those phrases between the phrases. And so again we can move through the fabric separating us from our loved ones in the world beyond. And how beloved we are with out even knowing it. When we are right where we need to be - we will learn just what we must. So, what else is there then. To love the many selves we've conjured? Becoming infatuated with the pleasure we can conjure? Is there, perhaps, rather a message that can permeate all of consciousness. Can we become a message more powerful than we, in our finite minds, ever conjured.

Actually been doing some conjuring recently. Mostly wanting others to know what I think. But what for? Is it thoughtful, is it honest, is it intelligent, is it really necessary, and most importantly, are my thoughts kind? Do they leave a person feeling better for having been with me.

There is enough to light us up inside. It is enough. What you are - what you wish was you is irrelevant. No more goals. Goals are meaningless. The value that their sigil represents for you is what matters eternally. The gods don't care about your goals. Attraction is the law above most others - our thoughts, words, deeds, and actions. We can not achieve in the attitude we once conceived. That our achievements would make us whole or enliven us, take us further in life, make something of ourselves. Then we'd watch ourselves as if on a movie and forget those we pass by as they watch the movie too, casting their reviews for the evening post. Is our attitude positioning us for the growth we need, a growth with surrender and attention to others. Do we need to listen to a power greater than ourselves? If not, what are we listening to anyway? Remember that everyone and everything you've loved and hated will leave you. Your attitude will not. Only you can empty the vessel to receive the goodness desired. Only you can tune the radio to the frequency and listen patiently for the Source Field to begin talking back to you.

The Faux Pas Press #193: Gobb Knob Sprinkle

 

What ever you once thought about Chambo Fresh is now irrelevant. What you once conceived of yourself is now erroneous. Forthright, sure, amazed, delirious, and wonderful. No matter how far down the rabbit hole you think you've gone, there is always someone there for you - maybe not those who you can see, but those wait in the wings, the understudies, the interested parties who vie for you and your victory.

I cringe to think of sameness year after year. From beyond, the Token-bearers sing loudly in a Chocó phony. Terrifying noises expound you in the darkness. Those who have a chosen to wander through the darkness for a while, understand what it offers, and even mimic the lessons found there - these are they who will find the triumphant, the magnificent Gifts of the Spirit within. Those who speak in tongues or those who channel Parley Angerbliss, the Genius from beyond. It seems peculiar that others would need us to show them the way. Fortunately, for us, they do. Each one of us on the journey is needed by others. We have such amazing opportunities to give, to receive, to teach, and to manifest change in this world. And the worlds that vibrate at alternating current. I'm impressed with the things I've seen so far in the experience. Unsure of what is to come, but I am listening to the wises voices that I can, preparing to usher another son into the world. And seeing the good that has come from what I perceived as the curse.

No matter how far down the hole you've fallen, there is always help not too far away. But you have to ask for the help. You have to call out for it. Listen to it calling back at you. Heckling the lower vibrational selves and ushering the reflection and incarnation of God in you - ushering the 'real' you into another world that you may never have imagined. A fourth dimension so to speak. Be careful what you pray for - you will see it shining back at you. Going through the darkness is the only way down the shamanic path. Sorry. The only way out is through.