Tuesday, 27 March 2018

Two Dimensions - A Living Poetry

The Spelling of My Life:

Autobiographical or PsychoArchaeology.

The river of mine ancestors crossed running through mine every part
And ventricle celestial biology and birth
Defied all that I must defy with every beating of my feet, my heart
Suspended every step in two dimensions of the Heavens and the Earth

And once upon we taste the bitter fruit
Forbidden by this kingdom's greatest truth
That we were first or by our birth a child left alone
Approaching a world [really, warlord] both wonderful and wild
Yet deprived of a system or way of life even remotely worthy of our ancestral flesh and blood

Our death lives in the belly of our mother
In as much as any other world but this one ever lived there
Yesterday were another world
And tomorrow
And this morning
Years ago
And years from now
Where o where is the voice of the generations to be found?

Man were the Spirit of Man
Our original gods, mothers and fathers, despoiled
Rent from the bellies of their mother's flesh and blood
The ore of all the labour of this world the labour of the Sun of Man
Man who walks, like the Sun and Moon, in two worlds at once
Whence and unto all the ever unfolding conception of even the Genesis where no war or torture is found
That of the ore of Ur that was the first and not the worst church of Man's birth and worth and way of life, which is or was not a Canc-Ur vive? or Carci-no-Ma or knowing through poison or carcinogenesis.

Our life and that of all knowledge were as cyclical as it were Psychical....

We must dream as we breathe and move as we need to move under the sun and under the moon

Our voices running through the ephemeral as terrestrial tree or brain stem of every organ of Man, Family and Nature

And that of every truly ancient riches that lives however well interred in every word of our whole way of life and that of generations of Mankind.

Man is Cyclical and Psychical in the whole Manner of our life and speech across each of two dimensions intersecting in organs, voices and stories of sun, moon and blood entire. 

Man who shares, for all of life, as critical exchanges of air and flesh [or earth and water, air and fire in every sense of all that burns in Man and Nature, burns and dies and burns again and again to a rhythm that truly lives forever] as of thought, imagination, fear, hope, inspiration, knowledge, pain, might, pleasure and desire, laws of justice and strength of mind, will and blood that lives through our whole voice, our whole brain function across two dimensions, like every food of every tree lives in the fruit of every tree of life. Go back to the root.

Turn Trauma back to RauMa that of the gold [au] of the Sun of Man and thus of all actual wealth of all natural industry of a Night and a Day which are not and never have been at war with one another, nor have ever been completely hidden in the Torture of the Tree of the Sun of Man, the Gold of the Furst and Last Wurld Culture. Must one rue in order to rule? Are we truly unruly? Or are saturnalian Elections Electrical enough to Elevate the drivel of the Divi-el or Devil of the God of the Devil?

Who hath bedeviled us so?

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