a strange fog descended upon the city outskirts last night, an uncomfortable layer of invisible pollutant, aided by the shale another hidden organisation in the war for the planet. shale are in competition with the black sun, they share the same agenda but not the willingness to cooperage, for unification is weakness. the black sun have asked me to act as a double agent and infiltrate the shale. however unbeknown to them i have also been approached by the shale, a strange entity of no form, subterranean nothingness, with the agenda to return solid and liquid to it's harmonious yet nebulous state of gas. 
elementary geomancy allows me to read the patterns in this conflict, pattern recognition subverts information dissociation, i move through the barrage of white noise, black noise, sieving static. the war between forms, the ancient conflict that leaves a barren wilderness, all perpendicular structures must fall, both sides agree since the movement to land by the human organism and the subjugation of natural resources we are conduit through which the conflict resolves. 
the shale, like the black sun are energies of the earth against the sun, enhanced aided and abetted by occult groups, extremists, madmen, destructive impulse and a misanthropic philosophical bent. they have floundered for years in the shadows, plotting scheming and resisting exposure. the shale and the black sun originate prehistory, early traces are found in sumerian mythology and have seeped through in the collective unconscious until recently where the energy consumption of the human war machine has been given birth by efficiency of death, industrial killing, massacre and holocaust, the guilty act unconsciously, unquestionably following orders that appear banal and harmless, sometimes so obscured by altruistic surface drama the mission is carried out in complete dissonance from the perpetrator. the energy wars, have inflicted untold damage, as post industrial civilisation lurches forwards in it's unquenchable hunger, eating forest, digging the planet, exhuming remains and converting it to perpetual war machinery and darkness. 
agents of light are awakened now by the global consciousness shift, all data streams are abandoned, intuition is the pilot, for the way is filled with misinformation, data dressed as lies, fabricated  conspiracy within conspiracy, no one knows what the truth is, only it's variants manipulated like a cheap photoshopped image, reality so far removed from the real, yet heavily invested in.
armed with the dagger of intuition, the sharp edge must hack away at all ideologies that promote the war machine, even the peace movement is a product of the war machine, all driven by it's unquenchable thirst for more.
lubricated by gas and oil, against the sun.
all religion is based upon the sun, the sun is life, it affirms the impulse of growth and evolution, we are all star dust, i am of the sun, a star.
the oil and gas armies betray their purpose, they push to hard against the heart, they thrust forwards, upwards from the core, from the body of the planet bursting outwards in blood and decay, nothing good can come off oil and shale, even water which remains neutral, passive and a medium of life affirmation is under attack. 
the politics of shale and oil aspire total domination, the algebra of need results in addiction, and thus we have the almost every one addicted to unclean energy, with unclean motives. they know not what they do only that they can not change their behaviours, can't think outside the box, can't shift the trajectory, thus we are riding the wake. 
once oil seeps above the surface the war will enter a new phase, the hideous shale gases will struggle for dominion over oil, either way the fall out is an even bigger war machine, an even bigger threat to life.
we must embrace the sun, solar me, we can learn from the plant life, trees use a photosynthesis to convert light and water to a clean energy that vibrates at a high level, therefore the product of solar energies are harmonious with the will of the sun driven gods who sustain life. 

many people seem to believe that the illuminati are behind the global agenda, this is in fact an error. i can understand why people came to this conclusion, it's a simple product of misinformation, distraction and elementary stage magic, info wars are a front on the battle for the mind which is why, when sifting through the oceans of dada data you need a good intuitive radar, some kinda of occult knowledge, a cloud upon the sanctuary. 

the true enemy of mankind is the black sun, the occult  order behind the nazis, behind the wars and behind the united nations. no the black sun is not a zionist group either, you were duped if you think that.

how do i know this?

i have the cosmic eye vision, i see it all, it all comes apart in my mind, i pull everything apart until there is something my human mind grasps as truth, nature is truth, beauty is truth, love is truth the spirit is truth, there's much more to life than our history and science can comprehend, we just perceive the shadow play.

the black sun, pull all strings and they come to me frequently. this is how i know.

they come in the night, four anonymous members, they take me from my sleep. it's an abduction, against my will, for my will is powerless, they wave their hand and i am immobilised, they talk in an old dead language, plant info ware in my subconscious hoping i will succumb to their programming but there's something faulty with my brain, i'm not left brained at all, the programs they infect me with won't run, they don't even boot up, i am on my own, one of a kind. this is why they seek me out, if not to subvert me, to recruit me.
the black sun make several attempts to change my brain and thought processes, they know i am close to cracking them open.

they could just kill me. 
i think they have tried a few times, like 12, but i am protected. here i am.

the black sun as i have written before are behind everything, the left the right, the greens, the fucking middle. it's all black sun, the petro-chemical industry, the  banks, the fucking war machine, the pentagon, capitalism, socialism, the class wars, the gender wars the conflicts in the middle east, the conflicts in the west, the big arms deals, the pharmaceutical industry, the media, old and new. it's always been the black sun.

i have written the aim of the magickian is to become the sun, which mythologically is life affirming, a source of light and heat, and if we apply an esoteric value to it, spiritual intelligence who's main conduit is consciousness. once the magickian has become the sun he or she has metaphorically escaped duality, yet it is here where he or she will encounter the cosmic conflicts, between light and darkness, one an agent of light. these are not literal terms, light is not meant to be a literal example, it's an analogy, same with darkness, they are qualities. the black sun is an energy, it is what appears at the end of life, it's the result of death and decay, it's everything the political world has been about, manifested on earth the black sun is oil, made from life, that's what oil is, plankton, fish, animals, trees plants, insects an us one day, it's life at its end. 

the oil is the god of the black sun, it's everywhere, tendrils reaching out and in, in our homes, cars, work, it's running everything, even in our bodies, it comes in through our nostrils and microscopic plastics that break up in the ocean and dirt, they find their way into the body and influence our minds, oil is the mighty anti god, gog.
the antidote to god, is life, plant trees, nurture nature, avoid the contamination. oil is death, it lubricates the war industry, it fills the deep cracks on the earth, reservoirs of black dead life waiting to be converted through the energy exchange process of the old ones. they have the dead faces, dead hearts and dead eyes, vessels of oil, they are the people you know, the ones you love, they are everywhere, they are legion, unmasked by a simple test, take their oil away and watch them. just like worms in salt. 
the planet is alive, it pulses with vibrant diversity and colour we know as life, but in it's bowels, the cavernous depths, where h p lovecraft dared to gaze, is the ancient mass, blobulous, all reaching, protoplasmic, it's hideous slick compulsion, to reach into life and not just extinguish it but to assimilate.
what was once an esoteric order based around a master race, met with the islamist creed or crude, the negative extremists operate as cells, seditionists, terrorists, democracies, totalitarians, intelligence agents, obscure cults, to petrochemical industry, banks and religions, the worship and submission to the planets largest life force or death force, run by various cartels, it's a global black economy, a black sun, the enemy!

strange days not only find me they hunt me down and pin me to the wall like a specimen in some cosmic joke. i have given speeches before, managed teams of people and comfortable in most situations but there are two times in my life when i have had to give a talk to a bunch of older ladies, alone, in a room with about 8-10 of them. the first time ended badly, i was running a book / writers club in palm beach hoping to meet cool sylvia plath like girls, i'd advertised in the local paper and told all the guys the group was full. the females turn up and they are all old ladies. 
anyway we talk books for a while and talk about our own endeavours as aspiring poets and writers but for some strange feeling they all focus on me, and ask me to read my story. 
(as part of the group we would all bring a piece of our work and read it to the rest of the group) 
i was literally bullied into reading my piece first and it dawned on me that the short story i had printed out was highly inappropriate, it was entitled, 'the definitive head job' and as i started reading, one by one they began to walk out, leaving their digestives and ginger nuts, a slice of tea cake and half emptied tea cups.
this morning i was at the gnostic universe and found myself in a group of older women all expecting me to give a talk. i had nothing planned but the idea of ayahuscia sprung up to mind, yeah psychedelics and santana with a group of women to whom a ipod was an exotic and esoteric icon. i guess they were familiar with yoga, chanting and meditation but once again i found myself going into auto pilot and delivering a semi coherent transgressive narrative about my strange relationship with machine elves and south american goddesses. 
well knock me down with a feather, these women were really interested and asked some great questions, and i did hear someone walk out at the end saying that was the best talk they have ever been to. as i left i was given a lovely bouquet of flowers from the gnostic people. 
i like that place, great energy, great staff and quite lovely people. 
on the way home i picked up two plants and dug a big whole and planted them, then watered the garden, played frisbee with pan and smoked a spliff and listened to 'the escapist' then i had a nap, the wonder of it all baby. 

how does one become a better person, the thought crossed my mind, i'd like to be a better person but i'm paralysed by so many choices its better that i don't think about that and just do what i love, write, read and listen to the church and some variations, a little bit of gardening, feeding animals and looking at stars, that's pretty much all there is but to function in the world of man, well i guess i opt out as much as possible, you can all get hysterical about who runs your lives but i guess that's your problem, i left all that belief in politics in the same box as who the pope is, as far as i am concerned that feeds in to the game, the illusion, the maya, the fucking matrix even. 
if you really want to be political then find out who you are because you are not a political animal you are indeed a spiritual being and, be true to that, do no harm, smoke weed, be nice to plants and animals, try to love your enemy and then when you realise how ridiculous all that old bullshit is, create art to the universe and be joyous.  

late evening mission control, things getting freaky, in a good way but i'm slightly surprised when my karma broker whispers to me, 'wanna do a line of time?'
i say yeah cos i'd do anything she asked me to being shallow in that department so we head over to the table and i watch her as she daintily chops up a line of powder on the glass surface with a black card she pulled from her bag, the card is reflective and blank, just a rich black credit card sized card.
'is that a credit card?'
'yeah, nice huh?'
'what bank are you with?'
'the karma bank baby, you know that.'
she offers me a line.
it's been a long time since anything went up my nostrils, and i was never one for that sort of delivery method but i manage to watch with the corner of my eye the long white trail disappear as it shots up inside my nose, while the other eye focused on her as she says, 'back to skool mission.'
it happens instantly, we are standing on the streets, constable gardens, everything looks so squished together, homes, roads and front gardens, all grey and dismal, the wretched suburbs of london's past. i see a dark kid walking along from the shop back home, he's going against the grain of the other children and about to cross paths with his nemesis, the bully eldorado, eldo for short. eldo is a bulky bastard, pure unadulterated criminal potential, his future is written, dead or life in jail, fate was most certain about the fact, i could read it clearly as a child.
i'm standing next to my broker, both of us there yet not there. 
'thats me, totally awkward loner, wandering the streets in a dream about to clash with the skool thug.'
'yes, do you remember this?'
'i think so.'
'watch and see.'
so there is a eight year old version of me in stupid short pants and black shoes wandering towards my home about to be confronted with the evil child psychopath eldo.
he grabs me and punches me in the chest, 'where have you been mission?'
'the corner shop.'
'what you reading?'
'spiderman comic.'
he snatches it from me, 'got any money?'
i hand over my change, a few pence. this is the ritual, if i can get away without being seriously hurt i will be okay. i've seen this kid up close for years, he's put teachers in hospital, he's almost killed his peers, he's used knives and done major damage to the neighbourhood, he's been in and out of children's homes and he's in my class, which is basically composed of a generation of renegades, artists, criminals and the insane, many of which will die early deaths. he starts pushing me, calling me names, thumping my arm.
over the other side of the street i move to intervene but she stops me, 'we are here to witness this, it has to happen this way.'
i've missed a little of the conflict but memory kicks in and i recall how he pushed me onto the floor and found a rock. it was a jagged black stone, from down on the ground as he towered over me it looked huge, but i could see now it was medium sized. he stood over me and threatened to bash my head in with the rock. ironically in a few years i did get smashed with a rock and split my head open but not today. today he just teases me with inevitable humiliation and pain. 
as always i am outside my body, disassociated, in my head i am spiderman, i zap him in the face with my spiderweb and then punch him across the road, the other skool kids look on in astonishment, kate powers runs over to me and kisses me on the lips and i put my arm around her and swing away to a future happy ending, but that don't happen. nope i am about to be smashed when a bird flies down, a sort of white bird, really clean for london where most of the birds are malnourished and covered in soot and grime. we both look at the bird as it glides in an elegant arc down and lands on the pavement.
'do you think i can hit the bird mission?'
before i can do anything the rock leaves his hand and i watch it travel across the street spinning in it's flight, it's so fast you can almost see the air it has cut through and it hits the bird right on the side of its chest and i feel the pain. even worse is the sound it makes, a deep 'thump' as stone hits flesh, a sound that haunts.
i grab hold of my brokers arm, squeezing it tight, even now the memory hurts. i watch the bird fly away but i also watch myself crying like a baby. 
eldo laughs and lets me go, he wanders of happy that he's caused pain to life and i pick myself up while the other children wander by ignoring me, yet somehow complicit. i'm crying like a baby, tears all the way home, i lock myself in my room and think about that bird for the rest of my life. 
she hugs me and says, 'it's okay mission.'
the time wears off, i'm sitting down next to her, 'jesus, that was so vivid, i remember everything about that now.'
'yes, it's time.'
'i really felt that pain, it hurt me so much, i can never let it go, the sound the rock made, yet the bird was so far away, why on earth did he do that?'
'do you need to know?'
'some things i don't really want to know.'
'the bird lived, it was part of you, you felt what it felt and it felt what you felt.'
'i wish it had never of happened, i never really stopped thinking about that bird. it was like a point in my life, an event that must have shaped something.'
i was falling asleep, the emotional impact must be draining, i felt exhausted and as i closed my eyes i heard her whisper in her soft sultry voice,'it's my job to connect your dots.'








  

well i must confess i am one hell of a lucky guy, made the leap into the void, putting it all behind me now, i got my little peace and sanctuary, my life, is mine, i'm only in financial debt but my spiritual debts are paid up and spilling over in fullness.
my karma broker is a sexy looking lady who occasionally will pay me a visits and let me know how i am doing, she's always looking quite official in some sort of power dressing way, you would think she is the chairperson of some huge off shore banking corporation, italian heels, designer accessories, deep blood red nail polish and immaculate make up, her hair is always tightly swept back close to her scalp, and she has very kissable lips. it's the first thing i think about when she calls in or i visit her. 
i was in my swimming shorts and my torn old tee shirt, working in the garden when she drove up in some sort of black sporty car, rolling stones blaring out from harman kardon speakers, base pumping that funky line on emotional rescue, i join in on the 'you will be mine' part, mimicking jagger and strutting around the garden with my rake. she smiles teeth that are perfect.
'okay mission, thought i'd check in with you, touch base chakras.'
'all my chakras are at your disposal.'
we wander inside mission control, 'very nice mission, wow, love the rug, nice art to.'
'so you have time for a coffee or cold drink, i can make you a perfectly delicious healthy smoothie.'
she declines and both of us sit down to share a nice big fat spliff, the birds start chirping.
'so what's new?'
she informs me i'm all good, runs some diagnostics and tells me i have to spend more time with my friends, and that i really should be a little more open socially, apparently i have to let people love me.'
'fuck! you have my work cut out for me don't ya?
'yes that's why this is a personal visit mission.'
i'm puzzled for a moment and then a grin brakes out.
'let love in,' i whisper.

unnumbered the fool is outside the pack, the outsider, free from rules and convention and the laws that govern phenomena. he's the one we fear, he's the one we can't understand, the one we can't pin down, the trickster, the court jester with the ear of the king, who does he report to? 

consider this. he is really a bodhisattiva come to lead us towards liberation.

the cards value is zero, crowley says, 'this is the most important feature of this card.'

it's quite possible it represents the divinity of absence, in contrast to the divinity of presence which religion offers. the fool represents the place beyond language, a place where contradictions are united, a place of chaos (magickally speaking) something for nothing, and thus from the fool comes the universe.

the fool moves forwards, inexperience does not hold the fool back, innocence moves him forwards, pure folly leads to initiation, parsifal, hoor pa kraat, an aspect of pan, his head is empty, no thoughts of ideology or distractions of fame, success  or power for these will devour innocence, the lack of rational thought and the use of intuition will appear to most as, foolish. the fool travels through life with his dog dancing at his heels.

  

planted two palms today, a beautiful golden palm and a magnificent banana palm, both look pretty good so far, nestled in the corner in front of the tiger grass.
the people across the way were having a smoke on their balcony and i waved and said hi, they have just moved in with a noisy dog that comes to visit me occasionally. he steals pans biscuits and runs around the garden while pan and i watch him until he returns to his home. we aren't impressed by biscuit stealing barkers who intrude on our peace but i guess he's harmless.
the people across the way said they loved the neighbourhood, and i wanted to say it was great until you people moved in with your loud barking dog and your cars coming and going, but you know i didn't, i just said hello and carried on with the garden. 
know naught- is the idea that when you come to magick it's best proceeded with the idea that you know nothing at all, and are completely void of any preconceived ideas, including all beliefs and conditioning. it actually takes the magickian a few years training to get to this point, you have to undo yourself, let go of your identity. it's the mystical component of the spiritual journey. 
all ways are lawful to the innocent- means that when one is innocent the ways present. innocence being the state of child like wonder, not knowing, a sublimation and an attitude of openness. in some ways this is the rebirth that mystics talk about, death of ego.
pure folly - would be the attempting to align your will with the universe, and i guess this is represented by the fool card, because you literally leave the world behind and step over the edge of the cliff into the mystery indifferent that you may fall and crush your bones metaphorically speaking. one could say, you may loose your mind temporarily, but in  loss you can never know you have lost it. it is indeed pure folly, for who but the mad would even consider this journey.
is the key to initiation - everything realigns, from out off whack, the patterns are seen and the ceremony can commence. from here on in you are on your own, each initiate undergoes their own process, no two are alike, although the landscape is metaphorically the same, the experience is individual, a reflection of the mind, i recommend you keep an occult diary.
i recommend planting trees.

first day of spring, the fish are hopping, captain mission is high, yeah it's a perfect beginning to engage in the world, sitting down on my steps, listening to some music, sun filtering through the trees, a little gentle breeze, some strange wood pigeons rummaging around the lawn, pan sprawled out dreaming of a girl dog maybe. i drink my coconut drink, feel the dance of warmth on my naked skin, the smell of my experimental banana cake wafting through mission control.
yeah you gotta experiment when you bake, swap sugar for raw cane, white flour for wholemeal, chuck in some agave, some coconut bits, walnuts, cocoa and milk. oh what the hell, i add some organic chocolate to the mix, mush up a bunch of bananas. i chuck the skins into the big birds nest plant at the back of the garden. 
spring is here, the birds gather, the cakes are baking, i cleared up some leaves and watered some plants, i vacuum my floors and tidy up some books. 
i find a book on jungian tarot, start reading, come across this quote from crowley, 

Know Naught!
All ways are lawful to innocence.
Pure folly is the key to initiation

that's it really.

the church beside yourself (full album)

if you enjoy this half as much as i do i'd be happy, it's the compete cd of beside yourself, a classic church album

fathers day, what a strange idea that is, i mean why does everything have a day, why just leave it all alone. 
but fathers day is a pretty good day for me to tell you about my dad, a war child, living alone with a rat for a friend in a bombed out building in east london, the biggest slum in europe at the time. 
he still lives in london but upgraded to the posh suburbs, an aspirant of the good life, the middle classes motivated by the biggest influence upon him, my mother. 
dads a strange aquarian, very mechanical and practical, he always attempted to teach me these skills but i was useless, never interested in cars, hanging wallpaper, building and engineering, whereas there was different side to my father that came out when he was never with my mum, it was the side that i listened to.
he told me stories, about adventures, ghosts, magick, mysteries, mystics and the strange idea that our family origin is in atlantis, we are the lost tribe he would say.
those things stuck in my head, being a poetical child i guess they inspired my dreams and that's when i felt closest to my father. 
unfortunately my mother being the narcissistic overwhelming control freak drove that side of my dad further away from me, and i guess himself. yeah he achieved a lot in the material world, had good jobs, cars and homes, but as a family we are separated by time and geography, i was always running away. 
occasionally dad will ring up, never mum, and we will chat about politics and the state of humanity, he's trying to make sense of it all and it draws him closer to religion and god, away from society and people. 
dad's a righteous man, he reminds me of clint eastwood whom my father loves and i think in a way he is a bit of a clint character, quietly confident, perplexed, unreachable and somewhat remote, yet with the capacity to do the right thing when it's time to count. it's my mother that drove a wedge into my relationship with him, but now we are good, better really from a distance, out of her reach. i wish i could be there, making him his favourite dinner, chatting with him about the upcoming conflicts in the world, talking about kabbalah and god, watching 'million dollar baby' or walking through the small town he lives in as he points out various flowers and trees. 
i'm close to my dad through his family now, each one of them know me better than my own, and we are close, very close, nothing can take that away. 
my son lives in london and i know my father is close with him, despite his grumpy old attitude which he fakes to avoid my mothers ongoing quest to manipulate and control, i've seen his face light up when jake walks in, but that's how jake is, he's a brilliant human being, radiates intelligence and love, he always has from the day he was born. i'm glad he's there to visit my father today, he sent me a photo of them out in the sunshine, my dads stoic expression never changes. i'm glad jake is there getting a little glimpse into my father, seeing a little of his history and the difference a generation makes, he probably understands me a little better. i miss them both heaps.

HOWARD BLOOM relativism

'you gotta wise up mission' she said, adding, 'your just a dreamer, all over the place, dreaming up things and living in a fantasy world.'

'i dreamed you up,' i whisper.

'yeah and i'm telling you this for your own sake, you gotta stop writing this blog, no one reads it, no one cares.'

'i don't write it to be read, or for people to care, that's never been an issue for me.'

'you gotta make money mission, cold hard cash pays the bills, not your rambling words...'

'my words don't ramble, they are just flourishes, passing thoughts, ideas and obsessions, a river of unconsciousness into the ocean of...'

'...see! there you go again, rambling.'

'well i like dreaming, i am an enthusiastic dreamer, this is what happens to space cadets, they graduate to whatever i am, my fantasy is actually your reality, you're reading me so therefore my fantasy is real to you lest we be talking about the economy.'

i feel on a roll, my mental faculties are operating on a level of intuition, my brain is disengaged.

'well that's just complete rubbish mission, i'm not even going to dignify that with an answer.'

'i don't really mind either way but you need to start running away now.'

'why would i want to do that?'

she stands there, all tall and confident.

'because there's a fire breathing dragon about to swoop down and eat you.'

her smirk changes into a look of surprise as the shadow passes across her and she feels the hair on her neck respond to the sweep of wings.

 

these must be my haylcon days, i'm at peace with almost everything, after 6 months magickal retirement i'm feeling very cool. i don't really miss people so much as the conversation i had with those special people in my life, i don't feel the need to do anything remarkable, i'm not pushed or pulled in any direction and i'm about as free as one can be mentally. i'm uplinked with the cosmos baby. 
i'm not about to discount my mortgage, the debt i am in to some financial institution sucking on my blood but hey, that's just finance, at least i have my health. for a man of 50 i feel pretty healthy, physically i'm heading towards some sort of form, emotionally i'm in peak, outraged by everything human beings do politically but not to attached to it. in awe of good art, creativity, spiritual pursuits and a little chaos, my faculties are good, sharp and distinctive, i've found the voice. 
gardening has assisted me appreciate the land, planting tiger grass, landscaping, pulling out weeds, the animals that visit have all made me transition well, although there's a lot of work on the garden yet to be done, i see the connection and why this is important to embed in ones lifestyle.
in september spring arrives officially and i will venture outwards, engaging in the world of people again, catching up with old friends. rebirth i guess, in the meantime i have to read a few novels piling up, i've almost finished 'nexus' by ramez naam, but there's a big pile waiting for me. 
currently there's a blue sky, cold breeze, high contrast day waiting for me, the postman has delivered a package.

brilliant pink sunset washing out my garden, i'm standing there watching this incredible band of light against a dark grey sky, the trees all look so still, the rocks glisten with a sort of sparkle like intensity, every detail reveals itself, from the tiny individual blades of grass to the esoteric nerve endings of branches sending out tiny impulses out to the sky, energy is everywhere. i'm blown away by the beauty, it's a painting waiting for an artist, it's a painting by an artist, its real. 
i've done some work on the garden, planting some tiger grass, hoping that the outer layer of my balinese plan works, a little natural screening. i've saved a tree from being strangled by a vine, pulled out heaps of weeds and moved the lawn. 
it's a tiny oasis of manicured land in the wilderness, i watch the suns last light with that satisfaction of a hard days work, and the payoff of this magnificent sunset.
spring will be here soon, i'm looking forwards to ending my retirement from the world and venturing out again.

walking in the strange towns of the north, the epic landscape turns in on itself, beauty hides in mysterious places, a dog buries its head in some rotting carcass, blood still gleaming in the hounds eye, rain drizzling turns to sleet and a cool wind forces you to wrap that old woollen scarf around your head.
everyone avoids you despite your unavoidable energy, a place of strangers and dangers, shadows lurch out from shadows, a flash of cold steel as a blade is drawn, you cast your gaze quickly downwards at the beggars who sit in the gutter leaking their poverty and wretchedness, you pass the confectionary junkies amassed in the crossroads of hope less and hope lost, you shuffle past the hoarders of glittering stones, trading their items and trinkets, you cross the street and dodge the women who weep, their tears almost up to their shins.
some children, the usual waifs follow you, dancing around your heavy feet, 'hey captain, we can show you the sights, hey do you want women, drugs, a good book, come with us. whatever you want we can get it for you mister,' they follow me up the hill, more and more falling out from windows and doors, the urchins of this strange hamlet, following me as i trudge upwards and onwards on my way. 
i stumble over a cat who gets between my feet, i right myself and stop walking as the crowd of children surround me, faces blackened by dirt, grime and industry. i attempt to say something, but just splutter a few desperate words, 'away, away, go away children,' i manage but even my words are crushed by some kink in the atmospheric pressure. the children share a cigarette, it passes around them, tiny grubby fingers sharing a little dot of red light.
the clouds hang heavy, i can feel the water waiting to fall, a deluge washing everything away back to the river, i gotta find shelter somewhere, anywhere but here in this terrible town.
the children are looking up at me, their hungry eyes hoping for something, a morsel, a token an escape but there is nothing, no way out.
i give up and walk into a bar. 
the stench of alcohol, cheap imitation whiskey, smoke and cigarettes, a few silhouettes of men hunched over stools, tables and chairs, a barmen in a white shirt and bow tie, cleaning dirty glasses. i walk over to him through the haze and the gaze of his suspicious clientele.
he seems to get taller the closer i get to him, some strange distortion of light and i'm standing there while he puts his glasses down, 'what will it be,' only it sounds like 'what little bee.' 
those rotten tombstone teeth, and that fetid breath the stench of ancient stagnation, like crypt air being released. 'i just want a glass of milk or water.'
a strange purple light suddenly activates in the corner, an old juke box, music floods out from it, slow and distorted, it's a crackling and scratched acoustic version of 'i saw the light' by the the.
i grab my drink, a tall glass of water, there's no lemons or limes but i don't care, i take it over to the window, heavy rain smashes against the glass, furious wind scatters light into darkness and now there's nothing there, we could be on a ship, we could be anywhere, but where ever we are i'm a long way from home. 
'finish your milk and get out stranger,' some ruptured face says, 'we don't want no poets in here.'
'i'm not a poet.'
'you are poet, i can smell it, its stinking up the place.'
'that's not me buddy, that's your rotting soul half eaten by boredom and alcohol....'
the fist must have come hard and fast because i'm seeing stars and then feel myself flying through the air, passing over cheap scratched tables, worn out cards and some glasses. some more fists, and then i'm out in the rain, already drenched in blood and water.
i can't see anything, my eyes must have swollen, my mouth tastes of blood and milk. i feel the slope of the hill, start walking uphill, body heavy and weary with pain, guts aching and chest wheezing like an old bong maniac. it's no good, i'm not getting very far, the street begins to even out, the buildings become sparse as they give way to fields, a few sad trees lit up by lightning in the distance, and there in the distance i can see sanctuary, the borderline, the gates. 
i must be on my hands and knees, crawling through mud, fingers clutching at the earth, nails black with dirt, being dragged down by gravitational hell, muscles straining with each move, there it is, the boundary, i cross the line, my eyelids are getting heavy with the need to close again, i can't determine where my plot is so i wait for the next lightening flash, there it is, on my left. with one last surge of effort i find my way back there to the exposed hole, the box open and exposed, slightly rotten, half filled with brown water and black mud. i fall inside, position myself, arms crossed, eyes closed, to rest and peace.

  

okay, some of you cats may know apart from music, writing and musing on my multi dimensional navels, gazing at stars and communicating with gods, goddesses and deities beyond the space time continuum i also work as a social worker in the mental heath field. yeah it make's sense, mental health is the perfect place for me although when your clients start hitting you and the police intervene its time to think about a job in insurance or at least some kind of civilian life.
anti psychotic medication has a place, i'm not against the use of them, just the over use. i've worked with some people who's lives were remarkably improved by some of these drugs. one of my clients had a change in his med's and the result is, he's violent and aggressive, he's completely confused by his own behaviour and he lashes out at those that are helping him. however as kind hearted as you may think i am to devote my life to people less fortunate than me, i refuse to be a doormat to whatever impulses direct peoples abuse. the client threw a punch in front of two policemen, he has to live with the consequences.
i've never been whacked before and i've worked with some very dangerous people, i've had one person come at me with a massive knife and plunge it down on my chest, stopping a fraction of a hairs breathe from my skin. i didn't have time to react, just went straight into a pose of arms stretched out, head up like a crucified captain mission and he just fell onto his knees crying and blubbering, but this time i was punched hard in my chest by a huge powerful guy. the police dealt with it, although they were reluctant as the guy was going mental, attacking random people in the public, screaming and swearing at kids, 'we don't like to deal with these types of people,' the officer said.
'well maybe you need to change your perspective, i mean protect the public and all that jazz?'
'what do you want us to do?'
'i am the public, the other clients are the public and the public in this pizza restaurant are the public.'
they move in to assist but i know i've upset them.
anyway the drama gets worse before it gets better, i have to use some hard core medication to calm the guy down, after which he tells me, 'i might go and have a lay down.'
yeah you do that i think, after terrorizing half the town and hitting me in the chest you must be exhausted, i think.
yeah that's my day time job.
as the police left they said to me, 'we couldn't do your job.'
it's not always like this i wanted to say but fuck it, let them think what they want, it's not all ice creams and sunny days at the beach! 

the central coast, spring skies, winter wind, autumn leaves, summer surf everything happens at twice, the land line phone rings, the mobile goes off, the kettle boils the toast pops out, the dog wants a walk while the fish need feeding, i'm sitting down and standing up, i'm half asleep and half awake.
one of me dreams of atlantis, walking through the crystal chambers where music chimes and purple light flickers across from structure to structure, the wonderful aqua blue water above me travelling along in anti gravity fields, pods of dolphins leaping from one the portal of water to the other. but one of me is awake, feeding my fish and playing with the dog, he's looking older, a few grey whiskers, he's moving slower and sleeps far to much, he's found special spots in the garden, some amongst the flowers and some in the dirt, some under the house and others, secret spots i am yet to discover.
one half of me is building a sculptural piece which requires stillness and meditation, so my mind is fixed upon a clear pool of crystal water, the other watches fish swimming through the water of a pond as i throw down pellets of koi food, focusing my intention on attracting the fish closer so i can hand feed them. one is under my influence, one is independent. 
it's hard work maintaining two of me in existence, depletes some part of myself, maybe takes a year of my life, it's worse than smoking cigarettes, drinking heavy, taking dangerous drugs. just as well i don't make a habit of it. 
i pull my two selves together into one, go to the shops and buy some bok choy. ah, it feels good being in the sun, in one body.

5am i'm driving down the highway at dawn watching the beautiful skies, in a big country right? australia is huge, the skies and the oceans wide, i'm digging my thoughts, like a zen reflection slowly i'm at peace, it happened without thinking, total zen, i have to stop on my way as i have an appointment to read someones cards, i've been doing a few lately, getting paid to, how did that happen, fucked if i know. but then i do, something is guiding me, it's a good thing, i like this current, it's a great one, i'm surfing it all the way, and i'm not going to wipe out until i do.
the reading is good, its accurate and above all offers a healthy positive outlook. you gotta be brave to have your cards read by me, and i gotta feel the spirit, today it was strong.
later i get to work and get my friends up and awake, we blitz some domestic stuff and then it's off down to the market, it's been a while since i been there but i figure today is a good day for a market and we can all get a decent coffee there. 
i'm singing songs, elvis, the beatles, stones, bowie and they guess the band. easy, these guys have a keen interest in music, they are laughing so i know it's going to be a good day. laughter is very important, laughter expels negative energies, but i digress...
we shift it down the roads of northern sydney until i get to the markets, it's packed, swarming. we wander around, meeting people, tasting their wares, indulging our senses. these markets have a good feel, everyone is in a great mood, there's a lot of joy hanging in the air, the girls all look beautiful, it's a day for flowers, sunglasses and a smile.
i get everyone a coffee, they are loving it, a real coffee not instant nescafe, a real blended organic coffee made with love. we jump in the van for the shopping mall as one of the people i work for has a thing about 'uncle petes toy world' he loves buying caps from there and i seem to be the only person who would take him, he's a real eccentric, and also a gentleman despite his obsession for cap guns, we wander around the shop and he stops at an airfix model of a plane, and i ask him if he has ever built one because i have not seen him ever take and interest in these things before. 'yeah i used to build them,' he says.
now this is gold, a little bit of information you need to move forwards, i take a mental note of this, because this is a window. we get two boxes of caps and i say, 'no shooting your housemates, no shooting me, no shooting the cat. anything else is fine.'
i take the others to the book shop where they look at their interests, one looks at a picture book of sydney, old sepia photographs from a time gone by and a guide book on new zealand. i know one of these chaps lives in the past and fears the future, and the other is learning to overcome his fear of his past and embrace a future, one day he will travel overseas and see the world but that's going to take a few years. 
we drive north, back to my past into tiny avalon, where i buy everyone an ice cream. we sit in the sunshine and a few people say hello to me, but i'm miles away, we drive home and everyones happy, big day, lots of opening up, on the way home i hear about issues they have, it's incredible as some are quite deep rooted, they have been obscured yet they open up and share this stuff with me today, defences down, energy force fields depleted by ice cream and naturally induced joy, hard day at the office, fuck no!

sometimes weeks go past, without a conversation with anyone i can relate to correctly, i mean i work full time but it's me and four guys who have mental illness afflictions, they are plagued by demons, erratic thought processes, dysfunctional chemical networks that confuse almost everything in their experience, it's only because i am very good at my job they feel totally safe with me, but i can't really talk about my own passions with them, so at mission control, i guess i'm just surrounded by my beasts whom i am learning to communicate with but it's tricky and i'm actually feeling some what alone, lonely. i'd love to chat with someone, face to face, have a deep and meaningful conversation, but i've lost most of my social skills, i just can't see the point in them now. 
why can't you just say what you wanna say, be who you are, all that bullshit getting to know you, you never really know anyone, the best you can do is know yourself, and then attempt to know another but only ever discover more about yourself. i'm far to egocentric for an egoless person, my super ego must be driving me now, i wish it would leave me alone, i'd like some time alone with my id.

the extraordinary equation of george van tassel

australian writer max barry is going to be huge in hollywood, all his novels are ripe for adaptation including his newest 'lexicon.' 

street hustler emily ruff is recruited by an exclusive school to learn the art of manipulation, persuasion and how words become weapons in the right hands. 

meanwhile wil jamieson is on the run from warring factions of poets, he can't remember why, how or who he really is, only that the answer lies in the decimated town known as broken hill.

lexicon starts messy and confused but the writer untangles a riveting and unusual tale, science fiction, horror, romance, semantics and NLP manual lexicon has it all but my only criticism is the need for barry to share his characters 'urination' details with us. it's the first time i read barry and i'm looking forwards to his back catalogue. i usually avoid australian science fiction, but there are a few good writers out there, certainly greg egan ranks amongst the better.

morning arrives at erratic times, determined by far to many variables, mostly my internal clock is set, and almost with procedural like inevitability my eyes focus on objective time,if i can i catch the extra few hours and if not then i haul myself through mornings routines.

teeth first, shower, dress, coffee.

then the beasts require my attention. 

the dog enjoys his morning session of frisbee, he watches while i feed the fish, and the water dragon may appear ready for his treat, after all winter fades and he's depleted, reptilian hungry drives him towards dependable me.

the dog gets his food and fresh water, then the birds which i confuse with my erratic and non linear routine, keep em guessing these kings of the skies, for the nature and my will are aligned.

duties done, my responsibilities met, dharma!

today i get to add additional household duties to the list, lucky me, solar powered, fully charged i leap into action, washing, cleaning, vacuuming, sweeping, chopping wood and carrying water, if i see buddha i won't kill him, but i certainly will request he pick up some leaves and do some weeding, but buddha and i are on slightly different paths, and he's not on my road today so i finish up and write.

i came across this on facebook, the comments below were stating how absurd this is, suggesting it is in fact a belief itself, that some individuals beliefs raise their consciousness therefore the statement makes no sense. however, the statement is a meta belief, it makes perfect sense because as crowley suggested for anything to be true it must contain its own contradiction. i like this statement above, most beliefs enslave us and keep us trapped in the belief, most beliefs are false, once we believe something we are almost less likely to believe the opposition of the belief which in practical terms locks us in to an inflexible attitude about everything we believe. consciousness has little to do with belief, it don't matter weather you believe it or not, if you are an advocate of raising consciousness you will know it can't be locked into political religious or moral terms, it is just what it is, a cosmic gnosis of self awareness, the universe knowing itself. as humans we can't begin to fathom what it knows about itself because our brains function on a limited capacity, however psychedelics, magick and mysticism access these dimensions we are normally excluded from, they give us insight and intuition. 
how we chose to believe is as important as what we believe and belief is an engine driving ourselves perhaps to a key unlocking imagination and that is the doorway in which we must pass to access what consciousness is, what we are, what we can be. don't believe in anything, belief is everything, believe in what sets you free.

she actually said to me, 'mission, don't mess with the fucking cosmos.'
'i can't help it, it's my nature,' i replied.
'it's not your place, only gods.'
'it's okay she gave me a hack, i work for her now.'
'what work? all you do is smoke weed and write strange stuff.'
'the goddess works in mysterious ways sister, not my place to question them.'

well today was magnificent, special extra crispy blue skies, glorious sunlight and who do i see waiting on the bridge over my pond but the water dragon, out from hibernation, haven't seen him for months but here he is, sprawled out in the sunshine waiting for some food. he tilts his head to one side, and watches me play frisbee with pan. pan skips through the tall grass, he's happy, the birds are happy and i'm sure on a day like today the bees are happy.
i chat on skype to my friends in the uk so even i am happy, and the day has not even really begun.
i do some cleaning, cooking, shopping and play 'kilbey and kennedy' very loud while i make sure the floors are gleaming and my laundry is hanging out. yeah didn't do much, just chop the wood and carry the water but in the evening i read a story that makes me really sad. 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2388618/Teenagers-saw-attackers-smile-nod-throwing-acid-caused-clothes-disintegrate-minutes-burned-rescuers-hands.html

it just breaks my heart

HOW TO BE FREE

“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions.” -Albert Einstein

“The greatest discovery of my generation is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind.” -William James

“Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habit. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.” -Lao Tzu

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought.” -Buddha

“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a show that never leaves.” -Buddha

“A man is but the product of his thoughts what he thinks, he becomes.” -Gandhi

“Whatever your mind can conceive and can believe, it can achieve.” -Napoleon Hill

“Nurture your mind with great thoughts, for you will never go any higher than you think.” -Benjamin Disraeli

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.” -Kurt Vonnegut

“You create your own universe as you go along.” -Winston Churchill

“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts: therefore, guard accordingly, and take care that you entertain no notion unsuitable to virtue and reasonable nature.” -Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

“When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” -Dr. Wayne Dyer

“Your circumstances may be uncongenial, but they shall not remain so if you only perceive an ideal and strive to reach it. You cannot travel within and stand still without. Let a person radically alter his thoughts, and he will be astonished at the rapid transformation it will effect in the material conditions of his life.” -James Allen

“By choosing your thoughts, and by selecting which emotional currents you will release and which you will reinforce, you determine the quality of your Light. You determine the effects that you will have upon others, and the nature of the experiences of your life.” -Gary Zukav

“Follow your bliss, and doors will open for you that you never knew existed. Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” -Joseph Campbell

“Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” -Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

veils abound this fabric of reality, small pockets of interludes, tiny holes leaking through, aspect ratios and tangential flow, possible breech in integrity.
i can't control the words, the language that spills from the other sides, i'm only conduit, innocent lamb in the shadow of the beast, or am i the beast. this is everyman's question, my own shadow nature haunts me like a despicable friend from a reptile history, i slug it a few shots with my old trusted lunar powered zap gun but the charge is far to weak, and i'm developing a theory that the shadow self is lunar powered, if only i had some solar weaponry but i'm all out of sun.
you see it's all about living in the line that divides both sides, all about equilibrium. you can't drag the world of darkness into the light, you have to adjust that within yourself, and maybe that's about all one can do, unless you delve into some powerful voodoo, a lonely old wizard in a tower or a man lost in space...

eons ago, there was a space war spanning several galaxies, i found an aspect of myself adrift, floating somewhere in the void, my ship, a fragment of life support, energy cube dwindling down, drifting through emptiness, surrounded by a space i couldn't fill. so i jacked into memory2, recalled some love affairs, a certain adventure with a dragon woman. i figured it would be a good way to pass through the vessel of this life into the next, so i remembered and forgot at the same time. waiting to die, didn't need to be so lonely, i could just let my mind drift through memory2.
there she was, all a splendour in her red dragon neon suit and her winged fabric, how i loved that tail, with it's strange pronged tip. 
she flew so well, drifting in dawns haze, over rivers, through the patchwork mists, under the bridges of rock. i felt alive and in love, ha, believe me, even in that memory the irony was not wasted.
she had such lovely shoulders and i stroked the area where her wings connected to them, my fingers weaving a strange tiny trail downwards as she purred, i think she was about to whisper something in my ear, her mouth hovered there for a moment and i felt the tremor of anticipation, but then it changed, and in that point of slow death i saw reprieve. 
i think the oxygen system was depleted, i was a dead man, hanging onto a soft memory as life passed through me, but now instead of the dragon woman i was being pulled from the chamber. a massive cable plugged into my suit, my body felt a strange electrical impulse, it spasmed like a jelly and then some huge force rocked into my heart and that first beat kick stared blood and my eyes must have opened.
i must have left my body, i mean i could see them all working on me, the salvage team, unplugging the electrical pack, taking readings, shining lights in my eyes, i could see my muscle atrophied body laying there, i could see the wound on my shoulder, the scar on my face above my eyebrow. everything went bright, white out.

i was sitting in a chair, a woman, she said she was a healer asked me questions, a man sat in the corner with his arms folded and an unreadable smile. 
'where am i,' would have been the obvious question, but instead i asked her where the darkness had gone.
she looked at me puzzled, 'there is no darkness here.'
i believed her for a moment, she seemed earnest enough, but through the haze of thoughts i knew the darkness was still there, inside, dormant, hidden away disguised in some way.
'i think it's inside me, please get it out,' those last three words staggered as i fell back, energy depleted.
later they offered me some food, fruit and some cool water, a paste type of sweet protein. it had been months since i had eaten, my mouth chewed it slowly, the machinery of eating felt awkward and clumsy, liquid dribbled from my lips.
later i meditated, did some yoga, sat alone for long periods in-between visits from my rescuers. i focused on breathing, stretching and keeping my mind still.
when the woman came back i'd answer her questions, which she answered. 
they were explorers, not from earth, in fact they had never heard of earth, they had never met a human although i suspected we shared similar dna, they had been travelling through space for a long time and were about to return when they discovered my burnt out capsule.
they seemed kind, generous, whatever society they left behind i felt it was a healthy utopia, they knew no conflicts, no hunger, no one suffered needlessly, people were free to do whatever they wanted, there was only one law, do no harm. they knew no shame, no guilt, no pride and throughout their society not one individual suffered. 
as my body repaired itself i saw their technology was much more advanced than earth's science, yet it was hidden, i could see no machines, no panels, lights or screens, they just seemed to be able to manifest what ever they wanted, a subtle wave, a nod, a blink, a twitch, a glance, such actions would just cause changes, things would appear or disappear, a hand would turn slowly and open and inside from nowhere a round blue fruit would lay, ripe and ready for eating. i was always mystified, how, how i would ask. 
my saviours just said, 'it is abundant,' i think they were puzzled by my question. 
there was no name from whence they came, no name for them as individuals and they never asked me for a name, in fact i don't even know how we spoke the same language, we just did, it was not telepathy, somethings else, a knowing as though all boundaries were dissolved and we shared the same mind.
the conflict had left me nervous, i was shell shocked, in deep trauma, i spend many hours looking out from the screen at the space that passed by, in the distance a purple swirl soaring upwards like a spiral, and splattered around its vortex planets seemed to orbit.
i'd never seen structures like it, this was not a part of anything i was familiar with. i had no terms of reference, i was in unknown territory, completely of the radar. 
my hosts explained they would be returning home and they would be happy for me to come with them, or they would put me at any 'earth' outpost i requested, but there was no earth outpost here, earth was dead, lost to the darkness. we had lost the war, i could feel it deep down in my heart, over powered by our enemy, it had eaten our souls in its endless hunger.
did i have a duty to seek out survivors, did i have a responsibility to my race, had we run and lost, either way i was alive. the morality kicked in, i was alive and contaminated heading to a new universe where a pure race existed, in total harmony, i wondered what the dangers were of a human soul infecting them with the darkness, i gazed out at the cluster of stars.
when the woman returned she listened to my story, about the war, the spiritual war and she smiled and reassured me, 'the darkness cannot harm us, we are immune to such things, and we can heal you and any people from your race we find.'
'how are you immune,' i said cynically.
'it's just an idea someone planted within your heads, it probably has a deep history in your narratives and mythology, whereas our species has nothing, no narratives, no duality, no boundaries, no ideas, we just live without these things, they are almost abstract to us, not real at all to us. even the idea of light and dark are abstracted, mere words that entrap us.'
'what is real?' i whispered like a child...

...when i opened my eyes i was back, back in my capsule, and the last moment of breathing seemed to pass through me, as consciousness dwindled and the lights flickered off and the echo of the word, 'nothing.'

the fist thing you would notice when holding the church dvd future past present, is the thickness, this is no normal dvd. it feels like a big thick book, and in a way this is what you hold.
there has always been a reluctance to release church live dvds, and if you have ever seen the church play you can almost understand why, how can you capture magick, the energy is not three dimensional, it's transcendent, a mixture of rich sound, eloquent rich narrative and the other more mystical ingredients, not to mention four musicians who have mastered their arts and craft it with just enough creative chaos to make it very different from conventional rock and roll.
three discs, three decades, three complete albums played live, i was there, right down the front and i'm pretty certain it was the defining moment of the band. after 30 plus years, numerous albums, loads of amazing live shows and some sort of history in the sound of my own life, the dvd encapsulates 'it' whatever 'it' is.

i always thought a dvd of the church would be filmed in the same vein as 'live at pompeii' where an early pink floyd play to no one, in the ancient amphitheatre. i imagined the church playing in the rainforest at dawn, dusk and night under stars, playing to the universe, and no audience, but i guess it's a logistical expensive nightmare and to be perfectly selfish i would have wanted to be there. 

so here on three discs we have the next best thing, hours of brilliant music, which visually maintains interest and as you watch steve's movements incorporate elements of dance, mime and invocation, the very occasional yet legendary wit and banter with the audience, you develop an understanding of personality within these songs. 'the disillusionist' is perhaps the obvious one, but every song has its own character and expression and the delivery is extraordinary.

'untitled 23' which i think sounds so much better live, 'priest = aura' and 'starfish' three incredibly diverse sounds, lyrically in the realms of the poets, energetically in the gateway of the gods, musicianship, texture, nuance and form in one cohesive night of unselfish and exceptionally generous performance by my favourite band. i am grateful to have seen this, i am grateful to have a dvd that i can play at home and transport me to the past, present and future. 


  

gods last secret

here's a video that i think is quiet good, despite the snippet of 'queen' at the beginning and the tone of the narrator, the information basically is a group of scientists acknowledging the existence of magick and what mystics, magickians and shamans have known for thousands of years. however what is strange is if a bunch of scientists say it, the information becomes safe and acceptable, but if some one calls themselves a magickian and says the same thing in different language they are considered nuts, insane or worse. scientists are a hairsbreadth away from 'getting it' they just need to let go of the science.