Pain's Logic - TLC 33

In Bursa the logic of pain met pain’s tolerance, pain’s loss, pain’s memory, pain’s attachment and pain’s fascination.

Awareness of dancing consciousness morphed a heavy dull throbbing sensation through exposed jaw nerves. Pain danced and sang along invisible blood red threads. Pain visualized minute tentacles of laughter.

Roots of pain bellowed in cold-hearted tissue.

Earlier, Dr. Death massaged tissue preparing it for a heavy-duty stainless steel syringe cast in Turku, Finland with a perfect circle for an index finger.

One by one he inserted three needles filled with anesthetizing solution into soft pink pliable gums. The downward thrust of pressure was constant and bewildering.

Numb the daze. Dumb the naive.

It didn’t take a well trained discerning eye more that a nanosecond after the partial was removed to sense the tooth witnessing interior monologues, dialogues and soliloquies of red stormed flesh pain - a sickness leaving the body - as Winter Hawk winged one true sentence.

The old recalcitrant reclusive tooth was exonerated. It’d served its animalistic purpose with multiple labia and nurturing oral stories. A heartbeat’s death defying rhythm pulsated faster than shadows divorcing themselves in blind love’s labyrinth.

After five days of whiteout blizzards Lucky enjoyed a perfect moment with ice coffee at dusk near a water fountain pen having resolved a molecular reality.

Peace trash in Mandalay

My New Life

Whew, what a first week it was for my little existence, my little humanoid welcoming. I began a new strange scary awkward weird and totally transforming experience in a couple of human’s lives.

I begin at the beginning.

I fell out of my mom, a female production company last week. She was big and fat and she dropped me out, pushing and pushing and exhaled with joy an infantile projection of freedom from pain and pleasure and I came slathering, slipping through some universal ectoplasm fluid, like a gusher, whoosh, into millions of bright shining suns. A crescendo of angels, luminous spirits, formless forms and shapes spun & danced, swirling like whirling Sufi dervishes along light waves and particles. Such amazing splendor. My last nine months did little to prepare me or allow me to know anything.

It’s all sensation.

My tiny black eyes welcomed light energy into my being. I saw galaxies. It was awesome and mesmerizing. I saw an Eagle nebula, a gathering of space dust melding, morphing into a solid state, a unified field theory. I was beside myself with wonder and delight. I joined 7 billion others. I am an-other in the stream of life.

Did you know that the world is made up of 98% helium and hydrogen? The remaining particles of atoms, a very small part, is life and inside these atoms a very small part of that is intelligence. The rest of the pyramid is garbage.

Existence precedes essence.

practice smiling

Namaste,

act of writing
touches minute pressure
dances on clean white virgin parchment

distracted clear focused voices
inside a seed of consciousness
bridging knowledge and imagination
between two crutches
feeling pressure under arms
hands on handles
support lightness

someone eases my voice
a reading one, a listening one, a writing one
glowing ink
chiseling paper

an arrow of impatience 
channels beauty's awkward shyness
this seed of day
blind sensations 
missing limbs speak their eternal loss

Metta.

silent love

Greetings,

May this find you. Find you well, dancing in the light. Delightful fall cool winds caress the ebony of laughter.

I am an unfinished symphony. I live with visual touch holding a small spinal kiss. Feathers on my skin. Shivers along my spine, because I loves this sensation. It is all sensation in my quiet world. This wild swan lifts off skin, its wings a flower opening a petal to light warming me. 

Our love is voiceless. It is tenacious. It is the charity of lust and trust. Respect. Our silent joy is a breath. Exhaled. Released. 

He comes to me in the heat of the day. I welcome him with my bright dark eyes. I welcome him with a gesture, a fingertip on lips..."quiet." We share brief moments. My passion is deep and strong. My language - a smile, eyes, hands, fingers, rolling sounds whispering: 

• time
• relationships
• secrets
• fear
• family
• passion
• laughter
• sadness
• a heart

Metta.

Viviparous

Greetings,

Good things happen when you take risks. You risk expanding your perception. You risk losing everything in the expansion. Are you prepared to lose everything?

What is the most beautiful word you know?

Less talk and more drawing is essential. Circles, triangles, squares, lines, curves and dots. Connect the dots.

The asylum IS both a prison and protection.

New life as the wet season shimmers rice paddies to the horizon. Green promise, beauty, creativity, dance, music. How do you describe this sensation of green? Memories of Chinese rice planters inside swirling monsoon. The sound between the notes. How do you manifest this waking dream? Lightning dances from cloud to ground. Bolt. Flash.

You create art to explore your sense of self and find out how you feel you are, rather than who you think you should or ought to be.

Make the right choice for the wrong reason. Make the wrong choice for the right reason. 

Your life is not a test. If it is an actual life your invisible friend will protect you.

Metta.
 

This woman loves her computer and social networking skills. She is very popular and has lots of friends.

In the medical and insurance business.

This woman doesn't use machines and machines don't use her. She is very wise and observant. Her experience is direct and immediate. She dreams about being a European international lawyer with enhanced software development skills. She knows that every heartbeat is a universe of possibilities.