The Door-less-Door of perception

Word splay - 16 July 2022

The feel good factor:

Factor in Life

As Word : A sword, as Well a Swell

SpaceS pace

People take things for granted as fact

things like death

things like suffering

oh, these things are part of life

I see a pattern in eternity

and I may well be wrong

because what I see is not accepted fact

taken for granted

I see an end to death

I see a partial and incomplete world

that has been heartless and un-loving

since the beginning of Creation

These things happen

but what happens if this world is truly “evolving”

if the heart-less-ness was {a very long} phase

what happens to the Nature of this world

if that phase of evolution ends and the next phase begins?

I see that the MinD has been in control of perception of life

and MinD has been Heart-less.

I see that TIME has been an experience

of being OUT-Side the moment, out-side of Love.

What happens when Time ends and

we find that there is no more time?

In the moment, there is no time.

In love there is no time.

People will argue with this.

People will argue with just-ab-out any thing.

People argue with their own reflections.

People argue inside their own minds.

People doubt, themselves and everything else, eventually.

A great many people “believe” in Jesus Christ

and His Promise of ever-lasting Life in Eternity, in Heaven.

Other people believe in The Buddha, Allah, Krishna, Mohamed or another.

No bodies seems to believe in All of the different religions as one.

Perhaps because they contra-dict each other.

Contra-male-phallic each other.

Gay-Lords of the Heavenly Gay-me Game.

I don't mean to be mean, or insulting.

It's Just word-play, it's the sensual in the sounds of the words.

It's All tHere, taken for granted, un-seen with-in the Seen,

and largely ignored.

People believe in Stores of Stories.

In “believe” there is a “lie”.

To Lie is to sin, to miss the Mark.

To Fire an Arrow into the Sky and ask why?

The Mark of the B-east – The Target centred in The Bull's Eye.

Words are con-fusing – stores of stories – Towering Babble

Towers Falling – The Tower, collapsing – The “Twin” Towers.

The Twin-Flames of the Towering Infernos.

I Danger, there is Anger.

Words can be dangerous.

Words can en-danger-us.

I have sharp word skill.

Sharp words can Kill,

just as easily as Words can and do “Save Lives”.

Words can hurt, words can skirt, words can flirt, squirt alert fluidly.

Words can create, a mate, a state, a slate, a flag, a stag, a hag, a fag.

Words can not be taken-back, once spoken, words re-verberate.

The toothpaste, once squeezed,

does not fit back into the its pack-aging.

In the beginning was the WORD

and the WORD was in-complete.

Thence, we spilled out of the Logos

and became soul-many-festations.

We came out back-words, evil-living.

No one wants to read these WORDS

these words are anathema.

And I don't even “know” what that word means,

not consciously, but I feel it is the right word

and I can “look it up” on the Internet, or in a “dictionary”,

a composite, of what the current “zeitgeist”

thinks the WORD means

in the language I'm writing in.

The language we think we know.

The language, we “take” for granted.

The “Lan-guage” loaded in our sub-conscious MinD,

which we “learn” to Speak as toddlers,

while we are still-ill-educated, while still crawling on the G-round,

like a snake, still naked, licking our lips, sucking the tastes of sounds

Mum-bling succulent sounds.

There is so much which we are Taught to under-stand.

There is so much which we are Taught to AVOID.

Don't {insert meaning}…..... !

Do as you are told.

We are instructed to construct in the i'm-age of our elders,

as children, we are taught to con-form to con-strainsts.

We are re-strained our un-whole lives.

We are in-structed by inner-structure,

and as we grow-up, we look up-to our elders.

We follow the lead, led by our noses.

“Don't stick your nose in, where it doesn't belong”.

Child-hood is a hood pulled over our heads,

know-ledges are apples we bite in our Gardens of Innocence.

We are changed by what we accept as “knowledge-able”instructions.

A child learns, to become, an “Adult” - adulterer, adulterated.

Pure innocence, obliterated, literally.

There is a snake inside the mammalian mind,

whispering in-tuitions, whispering contra-dictions:

try some thing new, de-sire difference, taste, test, try.

The in-tuition is a snake, at-tempting to take the clothes off

and run naked through the fields of experience.

Remember when “you” were a toddler.

Mom and Dad put a “nappy” on your naked butt

to make Life easier for themselves,

so you wouldn't piss and poop all over The Place

where you lived, and make a dirty mess

which they would have to clean-up, after you.

The mess which pay-rents have to clean-up, in your wake.

And you naturally wanted to take the “nappy” off

because it was un-comfort-able, restricting.

The nappy would be “soiled” by piss and poop

and feel icky and sticky, bulging and wet, hanging-off.

Every civilised-child, has days where the Mommy and Daddy,

or the “child-MinDer” were busy, and didn't notice immediately,

that the “nappy” was full, and over-brimming with excess.

And the baby cries with dis-comfort, seeking attention,

needing help with the obstruction, and against mental instruction,

will seek to exert its Will-power, to help it-self,

to pull and to poke and tear the un-natural nappy off its body.

And the soiled nappy gets dragged along the floor, or bed, or couch,

leaving a streak of disgusting digestion on the sanitised environment.

This is The Creation which we live in.

This is the in-complete mess that we live-with-in.

This is the mess we try to im-prove upon.

This is the con-fusion we try to keep on-top of.

This is The WORD, made Manifest.

This is the chaos, we try to control.

This is what the “pandemic” has shown up in our social-systems.

This is the prime-ordeal we are struggling with, con-tending with.

At-Tempting to con-trol.

This is us, trying to con-tend with our own thoughts.

This is what is “driving” us crazy.

The collective has been trying to “sanitise” the in-sanity of IT all.

“We” have been trying to con-from to con-formity, for the greater good.

We have an artificial intelligence, running in the back-ground of our own MinDs, telling us what is “right” and what is “left”.

Ask your Self: “What is Right? And What is Wrong?”

Who actually answers these questions, in your own MinD?

ASK your Self – who do “I” i-dentify as, how do I “know” my Self?

Look at all the assumptions that “you” make, when you speak to “your” Self, when you chat to your-Self, in “your” own mind.

How many contra-dictory “voices” answer your questions,

as you “think about things”?

Does your “body” have its own MinD?

Do your emotions have their own MinD?

Does your “brain” have it's own MinD?

Does your Heart have its own Mind?

Do your Parents have a voice in “your” own MinD?

Do your friends/family/siblings/children/films/teachers/colleagues

have “voices” in your own MinD?

Do “I”, who is writing these Words, which “you” are reading, have a “voice” in your MinD, write-now?

We have inner-workings going-on in our Mental-field.

IT is not “all happening” in the physical brain.

IT – in-form-ation technology, has been “seeded” in the MinD,

since before “you” were born.

We inherit intelligence from an invisible “operating system”.

I have an “apparently” un-usual MinD interface.

I have peculiar thought-processes.

I question things into infinitesimal detail, investigating assumptions.

I have to live with this “talent”.

IT drives me mad, at times.

IT drives those around me mad, at times.

IT would be “easier” if I merely con-formed to conformity,

and didn't constantly speak of un-settling contra-dictions.

My Life would be “easier” if I didn't think so differently.

I wouldn't have confused and up-set so many people in my youth.

I wouldn't have disturbed the peace and quiet so often.

I wouldn't have “suffered” so many “arrests” by police.

I wouldn't have been “exiled” from so many “communities”.

I would have “fit-in” and been more “easily accepted”.

I AM, a wolf, in Black-Sheeps' clothing.

I AM a “Changeling”.

I AM “Mercurial”.

I AM a Psycho-pomp – passing from “this World” to “OtherWorlds”.

I AM a psycho-Pump, an “inflated-E-go” cycling through dimensions.

I AM immortal, yet Living in a Mortal-Frame, in This-Mortal-Coil.

I AM a Christ-like Character upon the key-board of Artificial Intelligence.

I AM a Lord-Of-The-Under-World Character, a King-of-The-Faries.

I AM an “Ancestor”, re-incarnated in the Flesh of Earth, aGain.

Who are you?

Are you a “Job”?

Are you a “Child”?

Are you a “Lover”?

Are you a “hater”?

Are you a “victim”?

Are you a “follower”?

Are you a “leader”

Are you a “Fool”?

Are you a “teacher”?

Do you really know who you are,

or are you an “actor”, playing in this Stage-of-Life,

following a Script, cursed to conform to conformity?

Do you {FEEL YOU} have Free Will ?

Do you know what “Will” actually is?

Have you ever questioned these things?

Do you have the answers?

Are you sure of the answers you have?

Interrogate your questions, as well as the answers.

How many “people” live inside your mind?

How many people “live” out-side of “your” MinD?

Is the “World” you “see” an illusion?

Do you project, your perception, up-on “The World”?

If so, is your “perception” 100% accurate?

If not, and you make assumptions, is “your world view” illusionary?

I am linguistic, a mental-contortionist, a rhymer,

an intuitive-generator of illusionary frame-works,

a Story-Teller, a pied-Piper, l

eading the Mind-of-the-reader to Listen

to echoes in Plato's Cave of Shadow-Plays.

I am Annoying, illusive, divisive, contriving,

driving trains of Thought into destinations Un-Seen.

There are Other like me, yet none precisely like me.

We meet some times, but mostly, we walk this Earth

like ghosts in the Machine, dreamers-living-The-Dream.

There is a Gathering going on these days.

In the OtherWorlds, I see clearly,

that The Dream is becoming Real.

THE WORD MADE MANIFEST.

Me, My Self and I, walked away from “making a living” 18 years ago.

Near the end of 2004, I left the Land-of-the-Living,

and careered away from my “career” as a story-teller-poet-philosophiser.

I had had “enough” of experience.

I followed some friends, whom had recently deceased from Living, suicides, strung-up by their own Hand, both in swift succession, found hanging from the ends of ropes, one at home in Glastonbury T-own, one in a GraveYard of ancestors, in London.

These people were close friends, soul-friends, Lovers-of-Life, inspirations.

I grieved deeply and gravely, seeking under-standing, over-standing, explanation.

I Thought that they had tried to achieve to completion which the Christ Story indicated will be full-filled, eventually, at The End of Time, in the Days of Revelation.

Glastonbury T-own is a treasure-trove of such High-Mind-Dead-Thoughts.

The Isle of Avalon, the Isle of the Dead, as it is mythically know to be.

I Left this Mortal-Coil in a Moment, in a Thought, following a thread, of feeling through the Under-World-Pass-Age-Ways,

UnSeen by Mortal-MinDs.

My Body did not die.

The Moment Passed.

“I” continued walking down the High Street, passing-on from where I'd stopped-dead, stood for the Moment-of-Revelation, in front of the “Hunab-Ku” shop-front, sub-titled the “Portal to the Immortal”, a shop which sold “medicinal plants”, the magical fuels to empower the Fools to brave the Journeys to Other Worlds, the “Spirit-Real-M” beyond the sanitised “human-Domain”.

18 years have passed, and I have begotten 4 more children from the loins of my Body, in partner-ship with Soul-Loves.

I am a Dad, I travel through Time, I live and breathe, I sleep, dream, Awaken, dream, and rest as best as I can.

I search this world and the Other Real-Ms, calling-out,

and Listening for answers.

I speak in Tongues of Men and Angels,

and I challenge Demons to enter Battle with me,

fighting a “Spiritual War” for All eternity.

I am considered mad and crazy by many.

I stayed up drinking a bottle of wine 2 years ago,

in deep grief, when another soul-friend was found,

at the end-of-her-tether, swinging from the rafter

of a family-home ripped apart, parents, fighting over children.

Custody battles.

As a result,

I stayed up all night,

seeking to bring peace in this latest fright-night-fight.

In the morning, “I” was “drunk”.

Alone in my strife.

Alone in my Life.

My children and their Mother awoken from sleep.

We got them ready for school,

and they asked me to walk them there.

I did.

We were slightly “late”,

the Bell had Rung, the front door locked-closed.

My daughter pressed the buzzer,

the secretary answered,

and came to the door to unlock it.

I told her that “I am the Sun of God, and I AM 2000 years old”.

I went back home.

An hour later, 2 “social services” officers,

came to our home, knocked on our door, we answered,

and they questioned our ability to be “good-parents”,

and enquired if we required any “help”.

They checked our cupboards, in our kitchen,

asked to see our children's bed-rooms,

checking to see our “sanity”.

The Moment passed, as Moments do.

They were satisfied.

I told them that a close friend had just died,

and I'd stayed up drinking one bottle of wine.

It is not in-sane to mourn The Passing of a Loved-One.

It is Traditional, to have a Wake, for a friend, who'd Passed-a-Way,

in Ireland, while I was in Scotland, and had had to grieve on my own.

That Day ended.

It was 5 years ago, that my children discovered that I had written a real-life faerie-tale spoken-word story, per-formed, self-published and bound in a book-form.

They discovered, that I AM known, as a “King of the Faeries”,

and as children do, they utterly believe this to be true.

Their discovery has had a pro-found effect upon my psyche.

I had utterly killed “Kelfin” and walked away 15 years before.

I had refused to answer to his name,

refused to tolerate any who would insist on calling my presence by this mythic name, for it brought up too much con-fusion and too much pain, too much memory and too much blame.

Holding these other-worlds together in Public,

had driven me “in-sane”.

I had not merely “re-tired”, I had quit.

My children brought me back out of re-tire-ment.

They wanted to know, all about IT.

And so, I had had-to recite poetry as lullaby for the next few years, night after night, to guide my children from the Waking-World into the Dream-time realms.

Slowly, but uncertainly, I have had to re-animate my anima.

I have had to resurrect my living-myth.

I have had to “own” to ability,

a life-path that I had out-grown.

I've waited patiently, as a patient, in recovery, Salvaged, beaten, scrapped, scraped off the ceiling, rehabilitated, until the Time would-come.

Until “I” would feel-ready to return.

I've had a few attempts to be drawn back-out of retirement before.

Skirmishes upon the edges of obscurity.

A pub in London.

A Gig-in-Glastonbury.

A pig-farm in Somerset.

A summer of returning to festivals in 2014.

A series of small set-backs, tempering my fears.

Attempting to heal, the past-lives and Other incarnations.

The diffiCULTy is in integrating the projections of others

upon the frailty of my own indiviDUALITY.

How to let the UnSeen be Seen, by the unSeeing “I” 's.

I've been waiting-in-the-wings, exited-Stage-Left,

awaiting a cue and a Role-Call,

awaiting the urgency of the Faerie-ancestry

to reveal the H-our has come.

The Return of the King of The Faeries,

a phantasy phantom phenomena.

My “individuality” has a dual-Nature.

Not a Part, but a Whole of “me”,

watches from the immortality of the Other-worlds,

as the part-of-me trickles through the H-our-glass

of current-time

of this Mortal-Coiled Snaked-Revelation.

The Pandemic-Lock-Down was a turning-point, a portal,

a trick of Light, a reversal, a scene in a grander Play,

of Words, of deception, of inception, of in-cube-at-i-on.

I've watched, as “people” fight over their “beliefs”

trying to ex-plain what is not noble.

And I've watched as “co-vid-19” was taken

off the screens of the Scene

and replaced by “The War in The Ukraine”.

I see the inflation,

the puss pouring from the Wounded-psyche

of the “collective” UN consciousness,

struggling to awaken to IT's sub-conscious awareness.

I have lived, to see my own faerie-tale

Poeticly Lie-senced Prophesy

coming to full-fill-ment,

to full-fill-MinD.

Over-whelmed Hu-man's men-tally

blood-sucking StickS and StoneS

far flung apples fallen from the incestuous Tree of Life.

Humanity is “facing death” throws these days.

Believe IT, or not.

IT is in-con-sequential.

IT is what IT is.

Make of IT, what you WILL.

Expect what you reject

to come and kick you in the Ass.

Assumptions will un-ravel.

We live in a “projection of Make-believe”,

Any one can Leave.

Though IT remains.

A quest I on :

wHere is The Door-less-Door of perception?

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If any one wants to send some sustanance

donations are welcome, and private messages too

My Paypal and email address is:

wiselands23@gmail.com