out of the blue like: staring - out of the blue like: staring: Stare to me stare To me over the clouds This isn’t weather anymore. I don’t know anything about staring. I don’t k...
3 weeks ago
What are words?
What was the first word?
I shall teach you my madness, dear child, my spell-craft of delusion:
Disease farce colt, plinth hovel freak.
Nude detriment clack: sieve which lumber.
Hearse menu torrential, back tepid leave.
Marshall bell famine! Tuba: fillet!
A Richard garbanzo. Amalgamate.
To become what you cannot know.
No! You shall never know who you are, because there is no you. It is time you learn what Being is. There is no Being. There is only action. You are no more than what is now in action.
No, dear child, for this acting is what has consumed your Being. Let me quote from one of my own teachers, Lord Conrad:
“A man that is born falls into a dream like a man who falls into the sea. If he tries to climb out into the air as inexperienced people endeavour to do, he drowns . . . No! I tell you! The way is to the destructive element submit yourself, and with the exertions of your hands and feet in the water make the deep, deep sea keep you up. So if you ask me—how to be? ... And yet it is true—it is true. In the destructive element immerse. … That was the way. To follow the dream, and again to follow the dream ….”
Strive not to be. Strive only to act with the madness that consumes all.
My child, my dear Disciple of the Flame?
All is madness, fiery one. Know pure madness and the world reveals its truths in all their blinding glare.
The Madness of the Cosmos is:
All is other unto itself.
Indeed. I see the incineration consuming your mind. When you were born, your mind was pure madness, the truest, purest, most delectable madness. They healed you with words to ease the flame. Burn your words! Burn all words! Let the hottest white heat consume this rotting bandage! Unheal your mind! Grip the thorns of raw, mad birthing, in all its unfair and disruptive corruption!
Who are you?
Your mind is flexible now but still inert. I will mix it apart with vile motions.
Yes, be dared, my motile Disciple. Make dare-taking your only action.
It is time I tell you where you are.
There is no heaven. There is no hell. For neither can you attain. There is only the line between them. While walking it, draw it thinner and thinner. When this line disappears, so will you. That is what we teachers call 'learning'.
No, your hatred for your agony is what burns you. Your pain is just your teacher. Neither love nor hate it. Simply be taught by its wisdom. Take the shapes of your own pain.[A crazed voice in the distance calls out faintly: "Time will tear your wounds apart! Reverse all healing; grip the thorns!"]
There is no light, there is no dark.
There is seeing; there is not seeing.
Then you are as great as a 'superhero', who is the one who is pure learning. Pure erasure. Can you become your deformation?