human stain

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“Above this world there is a place filled with the light of an emerald haze.” She read the words, he searched the answer, neither saw the sky receding.

Reading on: “And beyond the haze into the unlit recesses of a place that time may have forgotten, the light reminds the disembodied.”

Her: “Why are we here?” She asked.

Him: He said, “There is no answer.”

The sky went blank and their hands touched lightly…

Him again: “Skin is all we have sometimes. Skin and luster. Pain and silence or shall I say loss and forgetting.”

Her: “They both work,” She said. “This book doesn’t have all the answers does it?”

Him: “Only the ones that don’t matter, like directions to places that have moved, and the locations of unknowable origin, such as what and where? Depth and meaning of course.”

Her: “Receiving the holy ghost, spirit matter of no consequence at all.”

Him: “Yes. And if we even got there, found it all out, God patterns sequences and designs, would we know ourselves without this world, the place above this world, shining jewel light and promise?”

Her: “We won’t know unless we try.”

Together. Their bodies touched an unseen sky, the waves left the shore one more time. An egg hatched in a far away tree and a mother died for her child. A child she had never seen.

Him: “None of this matters, this looking I mean.”

Her: “Looking at what?”

Him: “Animals caressing, bodies under covers, children starving.”

Me: Looking at myself, loaded with bullets, I saw him getting angry at the lie. Her hand was colder than usual, his eyes were gray.

Him: “Something is happening..”

Her: “I am dying.” She said.

Me, it’s all me: He caught her as a wave came in and a cloud formed beneath the water, white light. It’s a message. Intergalactic imaging, holy substance. Black stains on grains of ice. I thought all rivers bled red, danced jagged wild and died into receding skies made of a suffocation blue. Shot right through the chest. He’s the one who pulled the trigger. I was alive before him. Him made of irony and clay. Him made of rivers and stone. Do you catch me, my drift? My sky made of eyes, lonely eyes that sacrifice seeing for warmth. I am alone inside this shell as vast as eternity. Yes he’s alone, not here. Not I. I am an oven. Inside this shell made of you.

I used to think that I was all I saw or that you were across the room or that I was half of any equation. That you saw me being half, aware of the dilemma. They practically shook hands to deceive one another. A deal, it’s a deal. Let’s ignore the implications of our warring, feuds splattered all over the place. Hard bodies, bodies that died somehow long ago and yet go on piercing and giving themselves back to the invisible force of denial. One corpse riding another, brittle impossible desire. We are below the other world, we did not ever figure it out. How we got here, who we are thrusting death into another hoping for more. Like love? Like a lover who lies and defies gravity that pulls everyone down and the world above us gets further away and the emerald haze becomes the throat of everyone’s failing serpent. Yes, inside the shell of that moving is a body trying to get out. Another shiny body made of a light that does not waiver or reach. Love is only a word on earth and carries very little actual meaning, it’s a concept a hope in night that might not be heavy or lonely but it always is, and it’s always a desperate word clinging to old dead things anyway. They never move apart, leave each other for a moment and yet, someone died between them, a third invisible body. A dream of God I guess you could say, the baby never made.

Him: “Did you say you were cold?”

Her: “Yes, I did. Can you still see me on the other side?”

Him: “Is that where you are? I heard sirens and gunshots…”

Her: “Yes, remember what you did?”

Him: ” I made God, yes I remember…”

Me, I remember: Bullet shells, we took it all the way home. Back, underneath forgetting before. The room love sat in like a vase filled with ashes waiting to be reborn or thrown into a sacred river. The room was silent and untouched. There was a book open, a book about a world above this one. Their clothes were all over the floor. Nothing and nobody had been touched. Only death revisited and took her back to his tunnel lined in jewels, emeralds. Until it got scary. And where I want to go is there, believing in unspoken corners, even hexes. Scared to death seeing myself alone as the one in the hooded black robe smiling the upside down moon dagger smile. Knowing myself to be the merge that has no name. Hexagon. Python. Black fabricated faces, pulled out of fires. Faces with names. I’ve become someone who suffers because of this diagram covered in holes and hot water. Answer with an answer, not cold eyes, gray anger, hopeless faces…her again, not me. Not like this. Isolation, creation, destruction. Imagination. Human stains. I will be the destroyer of time, myself lined with it. Guts no more. Of me like that…some sort of feminine entertainment, you were wrong. I was all over the place shining.

Me. A denial: I face a broken mirror, my blood. I hit my face. Slivers of a moment’s glass. I saw someone I didn’t like or love, left- ignored. Shut in a dark closet. A denial, mirror. Mother. Hurt blocks of brick, mortar light. He slams the door, with me inside. Which, I don’t mind. Quiet feet, seething timid smile, smile. Violent. Push me harder, I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Leave me alone, it’s my mirror. Get out of my room. Mother. I am made of mothers. Broken mothers stuck in my feet and eyes, forgotten perverse mothers, held inside the image. Oh no, you won’t forget me, you’ll want me, you’ll think it’s all me. Me the one rejecting, reflecting projecting. Me, the broken mirror, hurt hit hate. Gentle little wants and needs. He doesn’t make a sound, the little girl squeezes almost anyone’s hand. And you might want a literal reason for the words but too bad. And you might think ignore reject deny. Too bad. Sad timid open, literally written in reason. For no reason, I’ll twist the image. Blur the face, the voice of God. Her voice, it’s her voice isn’t it? Denial. He studies hard. Human images. Breath on paper, numbers in mind, warped we went low. Got drunk on monsters. Blow, a white line drawn on the glass table. An evil glass eyeball looking out at the room. A very fast talker. It’s not about me and you. Mom? You don’t understand any of this. I don’t expect you to. A denial. A rage soft and unowned. A martyr’s puzzle, human attempts at poetry, a little excuse hanging in sterilized blood. A footless girl, weeping because she can’t move. Mommy help me. There is a reason, a mirror. A box. He looks at the box, reaches in even. It’s a trap. She’s always underneath inside pulling on the little one. Through the mirror, magic world above us. He could have been, given her a perfect flower. Open flower, I smell pain. My untouchable mother. Untouchable meaning immaculate. Yes the one who took me to him, who I am. Where she hides in the mirror. Looking out. Of course it’s a mystery. A mire of little memories embedded in sexy secrets. Her eyes, her all knowing eyes. I can almost hear God, in her voice…when she’s not screaming crying…man, it’s a hard mess, this perfect elegant bodiless image of her. Her. Perfection, if she were mine. Floating, drifting, touching slivers of goddess my home. Nipples, wombs. Long legs. Beautiful ripe mothers, sexual counterparts of their perfect child. Fucked in circles down the dark hole, flush. You don’t stand a chance. Find her. Elsewhere. Bedtime stories. Baby smiles, little quiet voice. Drawing pictures, mommy sees the light of baby, of course she does. Burn in the light. Wake up from your nap, feed yourself. Mirror on the ceiling, born again. Slapped in the face, no face. I forgot you. Me. Broken mirror. I broke the mirror, over your head. It’s for you. Blind, like before eyesight comes. To this sunlight, I’m a shadow of course, a loud unwilling shadow. Collapsable, unappeasable, destructive and sharp. Go another way for solace, nighttime stories. Horny moon Mother, there are many faces that might work besides mine. Violent, denying, useless convincing. There isn’t any face but your disowned pain. Mommy and someone else, just not you. And it’s not going to be me, no. No more me. Mother Fucker. And stop thinking it’s all written to you. You’re not the only one she suckles. Honeysuckle. Nothing remains but afterbirth and stitches. No mirror. Nothing but desire for her. Honey. Mother. Come back. I’m inside. Let me back inside. Your eyes. Let me ride you to heaven. Sick stuck silence. I can’t change a thing. Denial, it’s a denial. It’s her hell really and she’s hot. It bothers me, mothers who brood and think of only themselves. I pushed him, her back in his toothless face. Who cares what you think this means. We both know who she is. We both know where hell leads and heaven lies. I’m talking to myself, don’t worry. Endless child. The womb spits out old content. After birth, it’s over.

After death, it’s only the beginning. Enter the emerald haze. Where we talk and agree, console and compromise. Discuss and understand one another. Deeply so deeply it hurts and sends chills down my spine. Me again, moving lightening because I have no choice, throwing down violent light at myself from above. The floating haze, watery, no outline. Barely lovable,
ripples of confusing sound. Currents of electricity, kill this dreamer. He’s making you up. Take her down, she’ll destroy you.

Me: I rose above both of them, bolt of jolt. It’s inevitable, the end of this fantasy rub down…strike the characters. Hard like corpses anyway…heart? What? An organ that lives in the cavity and gets ignored and then dried out and eaten anyway. Not by me…by each other.

Above this world there is a place, where he took me, and I took him back. Story that goes on telling… murder, godchild and endless light. Love life death and dying as if there is a distinction. Mother lover sweet open wound, infected…as if you see me ooze at all.

On the pages, as stains and nothing else.

Me, the destroyer of human pages. Sharada Devi

22 thoughts on “human stain”

  1. Inside the long tunnel, deep dark it goes into eternity, we swirl and fly like a dry leaf blown by the strong winds of karma.
    Mommy came for a finger snap moment clear clean razor cut moment of white light. We swoon and wake up in the death bardo dreamscape. The lord of death has no mercy, oh you cry out spare me over for another day……….no way….it’s all SHE wrote, you know your karmic imprint on the silver disk of the moon shinning in the dark sun of Shani Deva. His vulture feather, it’s atop the crown of Amitabha infinite light, sucking you into the rainbow body of only NOW. Oh dancing fire crazy wisdom tigress flying the lotus light up and into the UMA. Beyond hope and fear for sure. He is here now under cover in the voice of Mommy. She rides a dead body, the words follow her, they want to dance in the sky swirling like snowflakes of rainbows. She opens the door for, death is her door……go into the clear light. Flip the bird to the word……. she closes the womb door, no more going around the circle dance of earth water fire air and out the top hole.free face to face……gone,gone,gone beyond the beyond …….. sky traveller, so be it. BD

  2. it didn’t end in stitches,
    what seemed like a clean break, became a not so easy getaway.
    Karmic sentence of reciprocity begins.
    this thing called life
    doling out your daily slice.
    A solitary confinement fully illustrated with deceptively pretty pictures to pass the days. Nine month gestation melts into a ninety year pining.
    Praying for a silver lining.
    Doing time.
    Manic maya madhouse penance.
    No pain, no gain.
    Playing the waiting game.
    If it doesn’t turn you insane, then maybe you have been blessed with full deck.

    1. insane is relative of course- as is the opinion of whose deck is full!
      perception is 9/10 of the law.
      or maybe all of it…
      My advice is it’s better to be insane
      than imprisoned in other people’s conditioned reality…of which you play a part and lose every time unless you see that there are no winners only open minds.
      And of course, hearts that breath because of the loss, open arms. Empty deck. What can we do but smile at the One holding us all?

      1. well said.
        Thank You!
        I think your advice has always been my norm
        just need to keep my perception adjusted when
        i get sucked into forgetting where i truly come from.
        these “others” like to pull you into their world.
        what is that saying _- misery loves company- ?
        have been allowing myself to be too vulnerable lately…

        just washed away a layer of imprint
        and now i am going outside the box to shake off some more.
        Let the breeze blow through my open mind… and smile.

  3. What can I say. Literally. I made you a video and was completely speechless for over a minute. I looked down and laughed because I couldn’t believe it had only been a minute. There’s proof because I uploaded it. Lo, this is not that:
    https://youtu.be/Qd_iTo3T0tg

        1. maybe you just don’t have anything to compare it to. Me. I mean. No cut at all.
          But I think that’s what you want,
          what this is all about…

          1. I don’t know
            Anything.
            which im happy about and sincere about, meaning whatever I am,
            head down and looking up with my heart to get down, if I can, I don’t know, Anything.

            Let me channel what I mean,
            I am definitely dead like a ☄️heading for the ground
            Spinning fire and you are black space
            That I can breathe and somehow light
            Happens

            It’s about the blood, the light, born out of it and the end all, be all, relationship, of our dark hearts. 😍
            Let me expand in time, will tell.
            Beyond that,

            https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mYajHZ4QUVM

          2. “End all be all relationship of our dark hearts.” Dark fire that no one else sees.
            Ice made from cold black remembering.
            Where do you come from, a star, memory
            remember me, falling, I like how I can’t
            make you fall, break an arm, five pointed
            flaming limb. Invisible hot and dark.
            White beyond a frail love. Invincible bodies
            locked in death’s embrace. God knows I try.
            To bring this death back to life. Tears that are warm and not deadly daggers thrown from our forgotten home. Take me back, angel star. Someone who sees, saw where she fell from. “I’ll be your ground,” that’s what you said. Fall falling fell, death looking eyes into the deep that has no bottom. I make no sense, you know that by now…bright listening bird. Watching the sky just for me…nowhere else but here, fading into death and shining into god all at once. One.

          3. Aha! All at once💥
            Sun riding moon
            Somehow over,
            The loom,
            If your eyes come through, mine
            Then maybe I’ve reached around, to the sound
            That sometimes takes it all, to hear..

            The sound of my up and coming, from
            “the very bottom of everything
            And then we’ll see it, we’ll see it, oh my god”- the anthem of my generation’s bob Dylan https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=D5Pfm1cw_xw
            breaking, like a big wave, in the face 🌤

          4. “Anthem of your generations bob Dylan?”

            seems way too soon to tell, don’t you think?
            it doesn’t matter…I can’t stand Bob Dylan anyway…or most of this guy’s music.
            I do like “no one is going to change” because it’s just true…personally, I do not belong or claim allegiance to generations, their “anthems” or rock stars…whatever you call them these days. Not that it matters really. I’m just an outcast, intent on rejecting anything thrown in my face- marketed like a wave, anthem. Whatever.

          5. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. The wave breaking is my self expression, that’s all. The face is watching
            the river
            As it passes.
            🌦

          6. the river of everyone’s face as it passes,
            no right wrong, just slowly leaving everything and everyone we thought we saw
            in the water’s mirror. Crashing faces, expressing movement as it changes and is gone but for the memory of another disappearing face, in the water time will
            sink us, drown us, carry us vaguely calling for others who sing sound look love like us.
            So alone. We die. Not knowing it was only a river in our mind…a lunatic eye filled with hallucinogenic moon water, warmed by the sun’s hostile fire called prana.
            Jokes on us, me as always. As love. Haha
            you’re talkative today…or is it me?

  4. I think I discovered that I’m half dead or full dead a little while ago.. I literally felt like I was fading away. I didn’t like that feeling. Dread and fading. I distracted myself with food and Netflix. Stupid money games. The only thing keeping me going…Is the moments that I come to in. So brief, I always forget. The dreams. And the signs. And the concepts. But the mind mesh.. Just trying to try to watch the goings. And music and weed.

    My Christian brothers are all requesting me to return to them if only once…The agenda is obvious. “Love” and I’m awful or lost if I dont text back. I think of ways I can escape the trapteracting. Catch ups. Maybe I won’t speak…Maybe I’ll be a fool that’s not a bad one! I don’t care if they think little of me and I avoid their judgment energy behind the scenes that seem to bother me so much. one of them is my actual brother and I know it would be easy to get 86’d The one I chose to just ignore the invitation. I can’t play uncle with two little girls that are sad that I’m going to hell and won’t accept their Daddy’s love and help back to Christ…Nieces that I also dont even know. I will not play brother with someone who:

    a.) Chose to leave me alone and deny me growing up. (I still love him because I know he was just really insecure growing up too)

    And b.) Hang out with said person who pushes an obvious evangelical agenda.

    Now I’m meeting with mom because she’s worried about me again. I will see her. I don’t know why. Maube I’m nostalgic and I need to maintain the tie but I don’t even really connect with her…Or anyone. Which is why I choose to be alone in the first place. I’m just.. Lost

    1. You’re just so COOL, CREATIVE AND AWESOME!
      FOUND TOO, funny and I love you.
      We’re obviously soul mates on some cosmic level! SERIOUSLY, and I’m not just trying to make you feel better. This is great honest and entertaining writing. In touch and insightful you are and although not too many posts- A lot of readers on this blog and your words help people a lot- it’s universal but not everyone knows how to say it like you. I love it. You’re ☀️☀️☀️ Sunshine for sure! Hahaha!!!

  5. Haha it does look better like that! I write this whole thing out and go, “man this is dumb I dont want to bother anyone with my nonesence how can I follow that with this” but then press post on a whim.. I have to admit, I am good mirror, the content for the most part is me I hope, but the delivery format is from a man I met when I was trying to be spiritual positive guy. I really did meet someone that went “nu uh”. But I thought he was crazy and wrote off 90% of what he said until the seeds started growing and then my mind blowing at how I rejected everything.. He even offered to take us to a temple in nm I just thought he was crazy .. At least I have the memories of those two times we hung out and the phone call. And of course.. Format Partly from you! Trying to find that special voice of mine.. I have to say that I knew a few details of our stories aligning from some certain early posts… But I know! Or at least a little.. Anyways rambling back into the steam room. Thank you for coming back thank you

    1. Funny!!! Always go with whims, it’s vital!
      I’m glad you did, you’re the best and
      the brightest, whim out on a limb!
      The only way to go, out with a bang
      not a whimper. That’s our destiny, goal,
      path, dharma, psychosis, neurosis, all of it THE GODHEAD. Your GOLDEN HEART❤️☀️❤️
      pure love and light. Hari OM!

  6. sleep that keeps reticent like a mediocre death
    undisclosed until some minor sweep flashes up the lack of one that slipped away
    while i was so busy being bored
    it comes in on a wisp of wind a transparent whim
    bits of him
    black and white 8 x 10 glossy in a file cabinet
    i used my better judgement my better buddha nature restraint
    but the bad part of me wanted to take it.
    winding up impressions that
    until this sigh
    had not been recognized
    He is gone, i did not know
    even though
    it was years ago
    all it took was
    some slight of hand reference
    a trivial nuance of familial
    chameleon transference
    and so the chain of thought process
    progresses
    last night i was combing out the silky strands of tangles
    of her precious tresses
    my eyes are still burning
    like Lanka

    why am i writing this
    i don’t know
    where else is there to go
    in the wee hours
    but to the home of words
    accepted on a cyber page

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