The Core.

Surprisingly, it’s all flown.

What does one have to do despite the mysteries having been witnessed, maybe hallucinated and dissolved from within.

Timeless is one’s own call, it is not as abstract as I thought.

How can one come to a clear conclusion of the endeavours of life’s tests, experiences and trials.. everyday is a battle, right?

To love a man or a woman is beyond the battles of the physical, it is the spiritual warfares – the hardships we deal with in our secret places. . this shows us the essence of the might, the might which moves in the mist of the breath. Holding one another is the true empowerment of life, selfless it all is.. sacred too is it’s mystery.

Escaping this truth is impossible, it is the constant path of every soul who desires to awaken.. testing his waters, either drowning him completely or merely rocking his boat.

I’ve not to mention the rather bizarre findings in this journey, it some-what baffles me that i’m climbing this mountain, lighter and lighter it will be. As I continue to press on.. someone else climbs with me – the mountain disappears and all that is left is us. . . Us gliding in the air.

The air being all that we wonder, all we ever seem to think about, all we hope for even through silences and unspoken words. How can one say it’s deep, it’s surely not seen but hey! We just cannot talk nonsense, it wouldn’t make sense because we are seeing such wonders, present daily. . . feelings surveying the all.

So many questions but no answers, why answer. There is no answer but the learning of your own word springing from you, your divine search distributing it’s rightful worth within you and out from you.

It’s not lullabys, or smiles… laughters or kisses.. what is there?

Singing, hugs, empty emotions or full ones. The dull robotic face maybe or the over exaggerated character.

Why bother, why try and expand it in cultures.. why murmur on about these different parts of all there is, why dance with the devilish anthom of a systematic structure. Why wave at the kings and queens of society, who in all they do pave a delusion. Why be stuck into this play – Hello, Hi.. Ok.. Goodbye.

Beautiful, handsome.. strong .. fit.. ugly.. tall.. short… rich & poor. Well it’s all a dynamic factor of life that these effect the masses on scales that have no weights.. You decide the weight by your attention.

From what I know the world is already judged, humanity has chosen it’s lot by all the choices it’s been given. Don’t think I’m suggesting you do as you please, wisdom recognizes that principles of a lawless society means freedom is a pledge of justice – not of a undisciplined thug.

Being out of the world means your not actually judged .. your assessing what is judged already, allowing yourself to comply with the treasure.. the treasure residing in the art of life. Outcast you may be, alone, and pretty much in a different orbit but you discern the faculties of yourself.

Soul mates, Twin souls, Lovers all of these sweet mysteries of something one creates in his pursuit of the Alpha and the Omega. The great hunt for the flowing waters of life from the passing insight of one’s own self.

She desires you to stay with her.

He desires you to empower him.

She desires you to hold her.

He desires your unseen touch.

She desires your endless words.

He desires your silent inner stewardship of his secrets.

The company of a dilemma that is the cry within yourself. . the potent core, heal me.. heal me.. i’m healing others but heal me.

Life, somehow bestows upon us the choices that it knows we are blinded to see that healing others in the inputs of ourselves within others exchanges ourselves for another.

Can I keep myself? Do I disappear? Where do I go?

You stand aloof in this daydream, tugging to the pearl of existence – identity being it’self misled by the idea’s of men.

We are not soul mates, or twin souls.. we are Life.

We embody what we later come to understand, when we are met face to face with the lure we all know disguises itself as either a part of us, the world or what is closest to us.

Surely, you would demonstrate it all by saying, pain allows us to understand, experience, the travel of life.. etc.

No, these things are an imagination. . it is appearing to be a dream, passing through the mind and embodied in the natural and so extending a storyline that in fact has no value. . value meaning if it is of one’s own choice here.. well he is judged already for what it appears to be.

If it is of a spiritual value, and therefore assessed in Spirit then it outweigh’s all judgement here and can be seen clearly for what it is.

What do I do, I somehow have seen that all things have great depth and yet all things have not the slightest clues of how shallow minded they can actually seem in the eyes of superficialities. . nature talks, animals convey an expression which is a metaphor for people. . not all people understand the metaphors because they are assessed in the degree of the circulating world.

Many men, many thoughts.

Will you always be a child, yes. The child will never go away, it can be stolen but it never perishes for the child is not just a child but it is the seemingly innocent of heart.

Be not fooled by the fluctuous patterns of humanity, it is an act they all portray and yet never understand why.

They are all eating at eachothers core, even the most silent ones. This is the nature of our sin, to consider yourself anything apart from who you stem from. . we cannot play the child forever, soon that innocence must grow into depth – and that depth is the building of another who needs to be held.

I can be your mother, I can be your sister, I can be your brother, I can be your friend . .  I can be all. Taking it all away doesn’t mean I can. . it just means it is established as it is despite what is displayed as or not. Thinking to do what you want? *smiles*

The heavens way up high, where the angels dwell in harmony. . .yes they observe our nature and are amused, and shocked.. and wonder in amazement how humanity still filters in the foolish sights of what is empty.

Common sense should allow man to depict from himself what reality is within his own self. None other ..but you.. are your own core, the mis-interpretations of our mind is the devilish lure to steal our identity to take one’s creative ability and damage one’s sense of self.

Any man who longs to eat another core is one lost in his own damnation, one who upholds another or uplifts another core is the carrier of the blessed magnificent – the sensei of earths tribulations.

I look at you, and you look at me – you don’t see anything – thats the honest truth. What you see could be a lie, but thats the assumption of the hidden lie within you.

The silence observes you, as you long to give all unto it because you are it’s all. Pushed away and present.

To go on would be a graft.

Delicate, Firm, Persistant, Soveriegn & Sacred.

The Core.










Scribbled Strangers

Writing love poems to myself seems like a funny scenario, somewhat a daydream of a reality.. He would understand. . and maybe he did.
We are just strangers above all else, it may disappear before my eyes and all i’ll have left are the lines. The lines and the scribbles of cross words in sync with my heart.
As for he? Maybe this tantric scenario was the beloved bosom of my own romantic soul, my own innocent sexology exposed.
God knows the sin was opened unusally from 3 and so maybe the hunt of my imaginations had me lost in ancient needs.
Accustomed to the energy field of a hidden place, he scooped deep into the secret chase..and yet still I never forgot his face.

Wild Imaginations

To daydream, to desire you..
has been misleading for somewhere
it is all not true. . it’s the elements of love
seeking one to hold and be held.
To allow the lucid mind to develop a
feeling that in darkness arouses the
bodies innocent dance . . .
this is manipulation, this a foolish dream.
Why must passion consume a soul?
Why must longing delude the mind?
We play with the particles that trigger
our longing – we foolishly submit to the
lusts of the mind & weakness of the body.
We allow the soul to be possessed by the fuel
of the mind unseen, the game of thrones. . and secret shadows.
I’m tired of these wild imaginations…
these triggers that send lightening vaults
through my body. My love is not one to
keep me in imaginations, to keep me in
deadly sensational feels where
to believe in other dimensions my secret love desire is rocking my body.
To long for a man to love me & me him has been my hearts woo.
O Holy & Sacred vow of spiritual love,
O Home of the secrets unheard of that reveals  our wild imaginations.. the soul..some thoughts
projected and manipulated into our brains..
and others we feel willfully dancing with the devil,
creating scenes in which forfeit our souls
to the naked growls of demons, who long
to suck our energies.
Holy One, save my soul from it’s delusions,
rescue my one life I have from its own pit
of passion.
Love is stronger than death.. Passion a
dangerous flute, melodic but consuming every
possible cell of a being in its fiery disease
To Love is the ark of all possible worlds..
all longings and passions and desires,
understood and become the silent echoe
of our being.. washed ashore to a new place. Again & Again.. returning
to that new world, releasing the dove to find us a new land, where we are but the whispers of the wind, and the deluded serpent is crushed
with the art of Gods ever gracious words of divinity gliding our soul and commanding the vicious wild imaginations to be banished into the abyss and locked away, awaiting its ultimate destruction as the divine returns to each of us, reviving our immortality in it’s most holy graces.

Ms Green’Leaves

He blew out the swirl of smoke from his mouth, her sweet green leaves producing  a potent smell hovering in his room.

   No other could compete with her, he would roll her being seduced by her curves, each bud he would lust over.

     She took him to places in himself he couldn’t go alone, stilled his mind like no other soul could. She was his spell, everytime he wanted to walk away .. she kept calling him back, he was trapped by her logic but emotionally inter-twinned by her spirit.

   His spiritual essence inviting her calm, with his eyes fixated on an object in the room seeming far but ever present in the blur. He spoke to her softly, he had no worries being in her arms.. she cradled him allowing him to be firm and yet still giving him the freedom to let go.

   Just him and Ms Green’leaves.

 Would I ever be able to compete with her, she has his heart in a soothing way that I don’t know where I would be placed. She gives him all he needs, could I ever be a helper to him like she is?

   He disappears when he’s with her.. they all know. He goes to the worlds out of space, but yet she cannot take him deep into the highest heaven.. yes undeniably.. she is his ritual. Every morning, every afternoon and every night.. he longs to taste her.. inhale her and with his soft lips enjoy her wet touches rubbing itself to his own.

     I can’t kiss him like she does, my soul longs to be his and his mine & together we aren’t seperate but one twine.. she has woo’d him unconsciously but consciously he is adamant to pitch camp in her town .. making sure she never leaves his sight & if so .. she knows when she needs to come back to him.

   Ms Green’leaves.. why have you warped him into your charm and how has your beauty in many flavours immorally effected his freedom that he must keep coming back. Why do you lure his mind, making him commit adultery – forbidding him from having a true wife.
I believe I too can be his high, I too can seduce his inner soul and enlighten his inner man..but you somehow have carved your name in his heart and his soul has called you his mate.. I must compete with you. You get him in all the right places.. yet he does nothing for you.. he doesn’t cradle you back or listen to you like you he.. sometimes you bring out his thoughts loud and other times you lock him up in your tender trance.. keeping him buried in your dark hallucinations.
You do not touch him softly, or melt your presence with his, you follow his minds urge and subtle in your ways place yourself into all his aches.. you do not allow him to confront them openly, you penetrate a false perception in he..which he believes to control and then you manipulate his strength and swirl him with your smoke ..wrap him with your condensed mist.

My Love, you are more than this addiction to her.. the eyecatching..soul snatching Ms Green’leaves – you are so beautiful behind all that haze, you are so handsome in your own zone.. your own spiritual high.
If I can’t ever make you feel even more than she I guess her false perception married your subconscious into believing her to be more than she really is. Just your guilty pleasure.

        She’s just your guilty pleasure.

Me? I don’t want to be your guilty pleasure, I want to be your one and only hearts treasure like you are mine.

I’ll Turn the Woo into a Pow.

Isn’t it all a game for you?
Of course it is.
Aren’t you just seducing me in order.. to
try and bring me to a realization of myself. .
like I don’t have an idea anyway..
like I’m not aware!!!

Wait, I’m sexually frustrated maybe?
or that my imagination is just as wild as yours or are they all just my crazy creations?

So you turned my sexuality into a trance a state of your calling in order for me to be under your perpetuating illusion, your perpetuating mind, your woo?

So what is this cause, huh.. is it so that I may go looking for you.. in need of you, to call on you..
Why not imagine tearing you apart?

Ripping you open and spilling your guts.. thats not kind of me is it, isn’t this the gore your looking for.  Why have you done this to me! Why are you playing with a portion of my secrets, why are you manipulating the things you don’t understand .. so you can appear to get deeper in me.

Your trying to get into my head, you want to turn me wild. You won’t. How you slid into me, how you keep playing the lead.. to only watch me see that I want it as much as you do.

The more you get into me, The more you intertwine with I.. you are
possessing my being in ways I don’t know how to respond. I want to scream, I want to shout!!!

I am You, You am I


STOP! or you will regret it.

I’ll turn the woo to a pow..


The Art of Love

A gush of emotions, a waterfall of feelings an unstoppable beating heart.

Quick breaths, slow breaths …

whispers and silence. Glued eyes, tired eyes.

Your kiss wants to heal me. . .

my tug is here and there. You want to lose all you are in me but i’ll watch in awe.

I’ve constantly given myself to you, drooling at every time you showed up – silenced in your approach. I’ve been in different worlds caught up in our soul.

Exasperated, you may leave and find another her.

Unapologetic, I may walk away and another he will discover me.

You entered me knowing it may leave us estranged, I entered you knowing I would be lost in the breath of my own longing – in which disappears as quick as I can disappear.

So why did I fall into your charm, into your secret.. why did I let it chase my being. Oh’ you knew the thoughts of my mind and how you can play it against my own self.

You are an intruder. I never beckoned you. . . neither did I lure you.

A subtle creature you are.

I admire your bravery in which I find that my whole inner

core is not dominated by you.

You are a player, you play as much as you want. . over-exaggerate and create such tragic stories in thought it’s hallucinating and for this

I have no care, in this I have no worries . . for in this we are not attached. You sowed nothing more than a memory in which I am not tied too.

Tears will not crawl, anger will not prevail.. but my heart is no longer your home.

It seems cruel, and vicious and unrecognizable but maybe we don’t seem to understand it in ourselves, maybe it’s too powerful that we fight for it so much.

I’m yearning for you and your aching for me in your own stillness. . then we are cold in our sheets.

This portrait is a design full of white, grey and black.. small dots of yellow and slashes of purple.

We don’t hold keys no more, we are keys.. We wonder in the wilderness, the deserts and the streets of old waiting for the echoe of Life to reveal ourselves to eachother.

Why did you bother?

Why did you notice me?

You should of never came my way.

You should of never felt my heart or looked into my eyes.

Why did you take me away knowing I would only return.

Why did you test the only part of me you knew, was my secret chambered doors, knowing at the right time.. it would be my turn.. to feel it’s smooth caress in my own being.. did you think we were alike. Did you think we were mirrors.

Black mirrors. We are nothing alike.

The art of love is an imagery projected from an outter glass, where the flow of connections beats far greater than seeing you.

You will no longer have my mind or capture my heart, and I no longer yours.

We will walk away surprised by this faze.. this place where we both know no one else will fill.

What to say but to stare at you empty, expressionless.

You tried to bite me. . . You tried to bite me.

I looked you deep in the eye and wrestled your hold.

Until the end of all.. the art of love will be my call.


All I remember was I made love to him telepathically, I felt him.. was it him? A feeling I cannot and will not forget.

I somehow was pulled into his energy one morning and I was caught up in ecstasy.

I guess this drive I feel towards him is something unforgettable, nothing else or no other soul could possibly compare. Complicated in my ways, I sometimes feel that it would be to hard to love me. . that I’d over complicate things.

That my longing is too strong, and deep and at times cut off and disconnected. This I don’t mean to happen but it does and how can one be loved in such uncertanties.

He has never come close to me apart from being close to my soul, apart from spiritually being a face I hold on to.. although I hadn’t looked into him long enough. I stumbled into this love, and never knew I did.

Three occasions I had seen him, The 1st I was crossing a road and he came out of the cafe and his presence roared at me.. I had to look away.. I felt it deep in me.. the second I don’t think he knew I saw, I looked out the bus window in awe of him.. as I was returning home from work.. his focus ahead of him and neither looking elsewhere. He was the only one I noticed on that road, although there were people entering the grocery store ..he strongly caught my attention.. he just looked ahead. The third time, I saw him turn into a road..with the corner of my eye.. and my spirit leaped but I continued on until my heart beated with his.. or for him maybe.

As if things weren’t already strange, from that day everything changed. I didn’t realize it was him I was feeling, having been so caught up on a past incident and my mind trying to make sense of an eye connection that played with my emotion I somehow didn’t realize he was the one I knew deep down I felt. I had no idea why but that day on the bus when I saw him something in me recognized him.. I was so fascinated by him in the most awkward way.. my breath .. I gasped.. on all 3 occasions.

I somehow went through ups and downs, tricks in my brain and I had no idea what I got myself into but I realized I was stumbling in love with this young man, and I didn’t know him.. only of him.. I guess everything is connected. He’s touched me in places that no one has, and my feelings have opened up in ways that I never knew they would for anyone in this lifetime.

So fierce, and calm.. a gushing river and then it transforms into a rocket zooming out of space. . a space only I know of.. I never knew he would know. . or come close enough to know.

I felt him and I allowed him to feel me, and life continues to proceed onwards, and for all I know this experience was something that some say doesn’t always last. I still think about him, I wonder what he’s doing and if he’s okay.. sometimes it’s like he’s here and then he’s gone.. but i’ve also got to live my life. .  otherwise I would go extremely out of it.

What to do when your whole life has been dramatically impacted by something that is far deeper than I could imagined. Something that took a hold of me and it’s winds blew me to and fro. Where everything fell apart and you have to somehow find a way to put it back together again.

He wasn’t an obsession he was somehow a heart experiment completed. He managed to woo me, and I had not been woo’d as strongly as this in my LIFE. No one has woo’d me in my life but he.

There’s a whole range of emotions emerged into one in this writing. Where ever he is, he may remember.. I may run in his mind.. or he mine.. but a long lost love is just merely that isn’t it. The desire to connect deeply in you with another and once it’s done.. I guess the story ends.

Do I want the story to end.. no.. but I don’t know how else I’d react to the story. Maybe the idea of he truly making love to me in reality is something that I think.. what would it be like?

How would I be.. possibly.. breathless.. in deep connection with his core.. would our souls really dance in tune with eachother. I’d never know, all I know is how his energy ran through me .. caressing me.. intertwining with mine. All I know is what I experienced.

I’m a strange young lady in a silhoutte world. . . Love is stronger than death, Love is a lightening powered by a force of wind, Love is a secret parable wrapped in the arms of warm tenderness. What is a deep mesmerizing experience to do .. alter my perception on a feel I knew existed, on something I was highly aware of? Should I continue being it’s role, or at times we step down off the whole wheel of this silhoutte world and understand what we are, who we are and why we deeply connect with others.

I love him, but love itself is more than just what we think.. we have not yet understood it’s intent … we somehow sway with the notions.

I’m a strange young lady in a silhoutte world, and he found me only to woo me. . . and to whom will I look upon.. in this spirit.. and who will look upon me. I guess his spell was my antidote. . my response an endless rebirth.

I’m just a peculiar young lady in a silhoutte world.




Mans will has become incompacitated by the minds of intrigued men who have become unlawfully bias in the pursuit of world domination. Each move well thought out in the processes of minds in which they form a great multitude of operations conducting hidden choices as a means of reconstructing planetary evolution. Your conscious mind is not wholly what it is and was created to be, neither is it measured by brain functions alone. The brains ultimatum is the life and death of many. The ability to justify existence is known by one source alone. That is the supreme, the existence of things unseen, comic it may seem but the wind forces itself to its destruction – manipulated too by science. . If wind self destructs unseen but felt, a supreme Lifegiving essence is among us greater than the wind. One must not conform to identify with the corrupt act, but one must war with his inner man to forge an arc. Conscious ideas and simularities are a common and proven track record of men, to be honest the peak of a man is scientists discoveries that are only capable of reforming mental states of brain activity through experiment procedures, but cannot reform life to a higher state of welfare. Conscious thought can dwindle conscious perception.  Both being afar off from similarity, and neither cause or affect.
It is one mans own revolution, another mans state and an entire nations ecstatic renaissance. .Mastery of Life must be to live in fellowship eternally but who is the conduct of this move, science experimentation, experience, solitude or the highest heavens?

– LovesMysteries


No tears in the soul.

A memory of her and him – her and them.

rollercoasters of emotions, vomits of the

core. Running cannot solve matters.

The past only must be left behind, why revive it.

Blood and sweat running down my body –

I guess this was what I asked for. The bruised

heart is the glassed art piece in the gallery.

Roses never fade.

Emotions numbed by all there is, is the rock

really firm to not feel? To watch the feel and

glance at it’s story in us all. Is this what it all was.

The sight to sunrise in dark matter, the unquenchable

force of wind, the solitude itself sat in confinement..

what must the silence say, without your presence?

Neither gloomy, neither forcefully in high – but the neutral

essence of the being, the eyesight of the seeing.

Seen or Unseen, whats the worries or even the

bother, for when your seen.. theres not at all

a difference even when not. The mystery is somewhere

in the locked door, the existence in a haze of smoke,

the smile with hidden eyes, the sight in which

glances away. Tears and joys of life and the

fallen leaves of the age.

The long walk with the mystery is worth..

more than any treasure. The open fruit juice,

melting with sweetness in the mouth of the babe..

the smile of the Father and Mother.

Do you see the eyes unseen, do you see it.

It’s a life within you – unstoppable and called on.

Many eyes around us, within us.. but this beauty

unseen is actually evidently seeing. . I see it right now.

It’s existence peaks not through my eyes alone.

That aliveness is

not only present through the eye – but the mystical

eye. . Holy Spirit – the wholeness of Spirit revived in ones

own Living soul. . yes within the soul lives the immortal eyes of the many eyed ones.

The soft heart, reaching out of the world – furthur on from this clay – activating a mysterious wind around it.

Listen to the soul of the curvascious piano, observe the

elegant legs of the ballet, the still melodic turn of

the peacock. Are all these my anchors and more,

we can not foretell the comings and goings of

this life can we? Is the golden age a time of unlimited

spiritual existence within the both of us?

Are we the repetoire of our own neuro-shrewedness?

Does the heavy breaths matter, the sighing of your moans in the ear of the lover, the tears of love and abound patience in the clutter.

The bodies clinging to eachother desiring not to let go, the touch of eachother so soft and so slow. . . is this outter body experience of the souls a vivid climax of the eternal presense in commune – right there among them.

The heat of the eyes of their souls pleading for nothing else but more, more, and more.. the weakness and strength the murmours and shouts, the eyes closed.. nothing else but

a motion where feels are now exterminated & what is left

has not touched earth as of yet, but it explodes in the arms of the both of them?

These are not feelings, they are not emotions … why do they behave in such a way where it cannot control them..

now they control this and when they think they

are in control, they lose it all and then

the many eyed ones take place in this ancient home

and then they disappear in the dance – the sacred

dance unspoken of – their own mystery silence.

Is this what I asked for? To see and see and see. . .

We keep Kaleidoscoping.




Lucid Discoveries.

Can one distinguish the fact between autonomy and empiricism?

Autonomy is holding the self-governing, self-will and ever-growing potential in the balanced source within to evaluate the proceedings of Life’s ultimate will in the home of the beholder.

Empiricism is Knowledge and experience, accumalated through philosophy and the excessive study of books so one’s own brain can create it’s own wit began by another.

They both work together quite well allowing one to form new forms from both themselves and the knowledge they inherit from others and from observation.

Exploration is in fact a word that is an experiment of one’s own self. This is acceptable when one’s own reason is capable of understanding that it can go beyond it’s own being. Going beyond, is this one’s own secret? To go beyond, you either tread carefully or lose your method in the process, regaining yourself is a war. Do you know the master in who trains you for the greater beyond?

For it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle up against but against the principalities and the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world, the spirits of evil in the heavens. (Ephesians 6:12)

To man it is impossible, but nothing is impossible to God. Direct words from the Christ.

What does it take to explore? Equilibrium, the state of one’s own calmness. This mystery is revolved in every being but we do not shed ourselves completely, to maintain it’s momentum.

Autonomy is self based, giving one the right to establish for himself his own setting, empericism allows your knowledge and experience to create your facts, and therefore adhere to philosophical information to branch from .. more and more. Exploration is the dive, but the dive is silence. Ideas and concepts create whirlwinds of information and excitement, exploration, when it’s rational state has continually knocked within itself.. has its foundation in both masteries within autonomy and empericism.

We sometimes do not know what we hold.

You are the philosophy of life under the arc of covenant which of course is defined by the mystery itself, the kingdom being inside of you and not outside of you. So what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul? He gains nothing. His pleasures and excitments are of the physical creations that limit his horizon at the source within, which is  built to gain more of him and less of the outter him.

New creation’s derive from order in exploration of the inner man, which does not consist of outter appearance. So diving into silence, is the only way to therefore pin one’s own perceptions, whether skeptical in theory or found in providence in a divine stature within one’s own home.

So Love, your decor and mannerisms are of it’s own accord.. To one’s own wishes, not confined by the shaking of hands, or the kiss on the cheek neither the foolish laughter of secret jokes or even so the polluted idea’s of concepts.

Be ye not conformed to the world, but be renewed in the mind, above is within – below is without.

Think of the things above, everything honourable, true, upright, what is good and praiseworthy. (Phillipains 4:8)

If that rule regulates in you exploration is therefore creating it’s own paradigm within you.