World Woman Vision 1) True, without falsehood, certain, most certain. 2) What is above is like what is below, and what is below, like that which is above. To make the miracle of the one thing. 3) And as all things were made from contemplation of one, so all things were born from one adaptation. 4) Its father is the Sun, its mother is the Moon. 5) The wind carried it in its womb, the earth breast fed it. 6) It is the father of all works of wonder in the world. 7) Its power is complete if turned towards earth, it will separate earth from fire, the subtle from the gross. 8) With great capacity (Wisdom) it ascends from earth to heaven. Again it descends to earth, and takes back the power of the above and the below. 9) Thus you will receive the glory of the distinctiveness of the world. All obscurity will flee from you. 10) This is the whole most strong strength of all strength, for it overcomes all subtle things, and penetrates all solid things. 11) Thus was the world created. 12) From this comes marvelous adaptations of which this is the procedure. 13) Therefore I am called Hermes Thrice-Crowned because I have three parts of the Wisdom of the whole world. 14) And complete is what I had to say about the work of the Sun The Emerald Tablet of Hermes 12 c. Latin translation from Steele and Singer (1928: p492) And all of the colors bleed into one, bleed into one - U2 We were but stones. Your life made us stars - Pearl Jam I believe one of the things that are the clearest marks of freedom is also one of the most challenging to comprehend - that is, it is terrifically terrifying. I am speaking of propriety. And I am assuming that within the list of all the things we stand to own - above and below - by what Hermes called "the miracle of the One Thing", or even within the list of things that own us, our precious self is there some where where there is a there: 'And he dreamed. And, behold, a ladder was placed on the earth, its top reaching to the heavens. And, behold, the angels of God were going up and going down on it!' (Genesis 28:12) To speak of being self-possessed, one might conjure notions of demonic possession. As if we can so easily divide our selves and our lives into what we are and what we are not. For such a decision, or distinction, whether it happens all at once or turn by turn, is by nature, by nurture and by birth, creative. Hence, it involves and evolves mystery. And if you have ever eaten anything, I am certain that you know precisely what I mean. I mean to digest this life for another. And in this process, I, too, whoever or whatever I am, is born again by some inpired ritual inspiritually chanting liturgically, meaning face to face with Herself, 'this Life again' in a secret uterine chamber above and below a Tree of Abundance called hypo-thalia...human...kaballah...america...a merkabah...merri christmass chrisdianity, sun of divinity...Triple Goddess...Mother...Child of Dream...And if you can dream you most certainly own some dreamstuff. The Dark Crystal (Mother) This tender will of mine and yours Oft' shaped by forces quite contrary; Love lend this tender will of ours The pleasure of that noble christian faerie Who by lights far oft contrary Did bend that darkened bough with crystal lust And shape the world with faerie dust. Who among you has ever had an experience ( and I am presuming you still have it ) where you were in some kind of pain, there was not enough love apparent to you and there was no end in sight? Or nothing but end in sight? And if you don't possess such a story, I suggest you get one. They are everywhere to be had. They are, in my opinion, the apotheosis of Abundance. They are in compassion, compulsion and completion - culture, ritual and spirit. They are the vision the image in nation the love in dividuation, the anarchy in divinity. For such pain is the food, the manna, of our relationship (for that is what Divi-anity Is) to one another, to our animal brothers and sisters, and to our selves, the border between which is of hungry necessity, ambiguous as it is amphibious, cloudy, wet and pourus, like a thin veil of skin and bone, of image and metaphor separating us from the first great huge Nothing. And all IT knows is to BE, whether IT is being alive or IT is being dead. And, hence, what IT eats, WE eat, what IT knows, WE know, what passes through IT, passes through US. Are you beginning to see how beautifully terrifying and horrific (that is to mean romantic in its most archaic sense) it is to be the children of orgasm, from which you have been being your self since before you had time for time? Genesis. Co-Lore. The ancient sign and sigil for an infinite just democracy within an infinite universe with infinite all powerful blue gods, faeries of the eternal moment - anarchitects of dream and the spawn thereof: 'And they said, each to his brother, Behold, this master of dreams is coming.' (Genesis 37:19) 'The end is the beginning Here, beginning with the One' SolarChant by J. Gryphon Color is body and food, mind and magic, the blood with breath and both, as a libation (or taboo element of sacred rite of consumption), syncopate the mind within with the mind within, forestalling a vision, a frequency of syncronization which transcends both thusly: there is no good - there is no bad - there is only the experience of body, of harmony, of pandaemony. Your logic, your voice, tells you it is not you. Your mother, your music tells you you need it. Your self eats and is eaten like the beast that IS is. Paradox, Hu-mor, Amore - transparent pre-justice - myth, miracle, magic...Blessed Be, Amicus usque et aras, exegi monumentum aere perennius kin ama ad astra per aspira - rock n' roll. 'Friends until the altar/root/rock/star from which the perennial spirit is born falling/moving like liquid/water in love with the stars to the stars through pain.' So spread that liquid serpent light Get every body wet The Universe is moaning For Her greatest pleasure yet This is sexy solar freedom Heaven's kingdom lit on fire Follow your blood into the light I'm gone I'm getting higher. SolarChant, by J. Gryphon And as we wind on down the road Our shadows taller than our souls There walks a lady we all know Who shines white light and wants to show How everything still turns to gold And if you listen very hard The tune will come to you at last When all are one and one is all To be a rock and not to roll Woe oh oh oh oh oh And she's buying a stairway to heaven... Led Zeppelin (Page-Plant) I picked a Rose one day To smell the Body of the world To hear the sound of another world I have never written to another body A poem to another than The body of this World A body that brings two worlds together Could touch only the Mother of the world And only Her voice could touch me. For touch and taste and smell are But the music of the soul For they that live inside the World Snake For I have yet to see the Soul Whose voice touched me Never have I met one Whose voice could not be matched By the sound of all the bodies of the world Though they live only in the cemetery of life And not the Garden The music of this poem Competes with the Shadow of the Tree Of Life and Knowledge For I am complete without this Shadow, This other Body This is a jealous music I hear and speak For who could touch me more Than my grave and my womb? And if I be touched by such A Shadow as the Evening Do I lose both? The Evening that walks in moonlight in the day The Shadow that hides beneath a noonday sun Your voice does compete With the inspiration of a god And the dark water beneath our moon Does bring the breath of night to noon Our bodies speak a tongue That only love can hear The gods not here Know not the feel of myth Such feeling begs this life To be taken from the earth For I would have no other knowledge But his Rose was picked by such as you That I, like you, Might live and die each day This Tree is Love That our worlds always say Our words to touch Would sun and earth become Forever An unfinished poem For if Universal Love Be like a Rose Immortal in the body of the Earth One body with a voice as Hers Is the eternal death of God And makes this poetic voice Wonder if Universal Love Like our own bodies Could be a mortal thing Then is it not the greatest curse against the world To make love real? For there is one Rose that I have found Though it stands in fields ne'er touched or seen By any Man or Woman That is a Tower built upon The bones of every soul Who has ever lived And its life is the promise and the poem that is The Genesis of all faith It sucks and soothes The blood of damned souls And breathes for them the air of Mystery, divine Called by each name The silence of the grave The name we give Is story, myth, or even Word of Body of God For we that sacrifice so much Upon the slimy scales Living day to day and year to year in Psychedelic Sweat Though ecstasy of life and death Be the only value of knowledge and sound For what is in a name But so much more For we that hold it in our hearts A never ending shower To be locked as much Inside the human heart For God is Love kept one from one apart Lest we should Love more than The womb or tomb allot Dare not ask if there be More than ecstasy to life Or more than mortality to knowledge Any more than ask If love be real For we, to be, are ever learning how to Love The Unfinished Poem, by J. Gryphon R Sonnet XCII There's a wedding in the copses of your youth - A secret meeting forged by Time's sweet Art Meaning from out Meaning travels youth Be it infancy of being or of heart Reborn amidst the timbre of whose voice Creates the wind through windy branches blown And submits to thy abiding love thy choice To by your maker make your self be known. Truly, they are holy who reform my senses five, The family blood's own spirit joins in song, So that first I know that I am here, alive, And that sense in me survives in thee ere long. Like sky to ground you've opened wide my heart, And then I knew I knew you lived in Life's own art. '...And sometimes the scenery falls apart to reveal a star or two breaking through the thick clouds of unconsciousness..." Sunrise In New York: Letters From a Satanic Angel, by J. Gryphon Blood is like wine Unconscious all the time If I had it all again I'd change it all Machinehead, Bush The propriety of myth stands like a tower of flesh and bone to encapsulate all value and, hence, consciousness potential. The moment of self is a divine animal feasting upon all possible pasts and all possible futures eve' as they feast upon IT, such that all crated things are both the ripple of this genesis stone and the stone itself, fractal hieroglyphs of the one constant Thing passing through all time and instance - sympathy, love, water of one star to another, the sympathy of our black whole mother who, by being, we are in every atom and energy. I believe Her name is also Love, Law and 666. For it is Her fire, Her earth and air and water that makes all distinction, and hence, all value, possible. On a clear Night though trees standing like ghostly galleons upon a starry shore, you can almost Hear Her whisper to God, my One, my one and all-one m'one'y. The love of self governs the holoverse - culture. Master of my Destiny Ruler of my Fate Whose breath Breathes into me Even' as I breathe This life This death Through eyes of grey That peer into the mind of Gods And watch the shadow dance I will dance with you again, once more, Moon Goddess Therefore, the creative will/space isis pace/peace, to me, is the human dream in the twinkle of a star, the warm darkness of the soil, the love of trees and the whole herstory of here in a single stone echoing Her love song through tall the chambers of dream and imagination. Peaces is the perpetual activation of the always and in all ways active and actualized imagination in all the enfolding laws of motion and emotion, sympathy of the rising and setting of a star to the rising and setting of a sun, the crown of thorns that pains that rose wavering quietly in a warm summer breeze amidst the cosmic deluge of our galactic center. 'Imagination is more important that knowledge.' Albert Einstein 'The end of war on this planet, as it has been known, will be a resurrection of the imagination as it has never been known.' CosmicCulture by J. Gryphon. The first real use of language Was the ritualistic chant First real party of the people Does what the sewer system can't First real rock n' roll artist Was the sun and earth Their song the blood and water We drank right before our birth Before we had even learned to listen To the music of our soul Before we could consume their song Through the mouth of our black hole Only kings and queens in freedom So toss away that crown Sexy solar freedom Only Real party in town Until you drink our blood and water All you see are images of the past Last image you won't remember The blue sky that you see the last The car you drive The road you drive on The roof over your head The imaginary bed that keeps you safe and sounding Like a child until your dead So before you lay your head down And sink into your love Remember who created that starry roof on up above From below the deepest heaven From below the deepest hell From below the deepest earth Below our Father's deepest well SolarChant, by J. Gryphon Midwife, matchmaker, our grandmother, our grandfather, Xpiyacoc, Xmucane, Let there be planting, let there be the dawning of our invocation, our sustenance, our recognition by the human work, the human design, the human figure, the human mass. The Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life I woke up in a damp dark cave, trembling to the last remains of my will and being, resonating between the end of what seemed now like a dream - a very deadly beautiful dream. The walls were colored an even deeper shade of black, of red ochre. Beyond I heard the breath of some rough beast, and my beatific terror drew me further. Greens and oranges flashed in my eyes as they adjusted to the dim light, my will slowly moving to the end of a fingertip as I touch the wall, which seems to be breathing. It feels as flesh and responded to my touch. A thick damp steam emitted from above me, burning my skin even as the beast receded back into the low ceiling above me. My sheer arousal and terror reached up above me and found an opening and, pushing my way inside I discovered that I wasn't pushing at all, but being pulled completely by its undulating rhythm from which I could not distinguish my self from the life pulling me in. I felt at home for the first time in my life (and what was that life but everything here now?) as a warm elixir of what must of been this body's flesh and blood engulfed me. Drinking, hungrily, I too, then, became as a beast, moving forward to the escalating rhythm and writhing of what felt, now, like my body. Transformed before I would be aware, from my tomb to my womb, I raged against my sheer dumbness. The blood and water welcomed my rage, fed it even, as with every breath of my movement I became more, now seeming to envelop my home, this other body, into my own. Nothing could stop me until I met the face of my terror once again, and kissed it on the tongue. All at once, I was inside and out. We warmed and fed each other from above and below, the two being indistinguishable to either of us, two lovers, two bodies of flesh and light rocking back and forth for what seemed like forever - there was nothing else but us... --Sun and Earth. A spontaneous story of creation, a spontaneous myth/fable of the late 20th century - the story of my blood - psychotropic artifact. "The Spontaneous Creation of Cultural Artifact: The Heart of Psychedelics" by J. Gryphon & The Golden Conversation - a film by J. Gryphon 'I took one glance at cloven hoof And liquid walls Respun the tale of woe Before mine eyes The darkness I did see...' The Dark Tower, a long narrative poem by J. Gryphon Hi, Jane This is the the material I mentioned. I will finish some of my ongoing book project all about where we are and where we'er going. This was forged from a painful reconciliationg with my true ancestry in the cycles of Mother Nature and my rebirth in the rainbow family of planetary cooperation. Thank you for you presence and love, Jane Enjoy and Aloha :-) To Whom it may concern: As a general rule of conversation, one needs be able to convey both like and dislike in ways that honour the heart intelligence of the person or persons to whom one is commune-icating. As a general rule of community, there needs be the presence of conversation in order for justice and, hence, relationship (communication) to occur and flourish. As a general rule, all people are capable of knowing whether they are in a sincere (or original sincerity) community or not. A general rule is flexible. It will not bend until it breaks; it will bend well until it ends well, leaves like a tree and grows and operates some other place or time. A general rule is inDIVINdual and spiRITUAL, always bending always gettng bigger always being born. Peace. You might do well to remember me as a general rule, Jim Kin 64 : Yellow Crystal Seed I Dedicate in order to Target Universalizing Awareness I seal the Input of Flowering With the Crystal tone of Cooperation I am guided by the power of Intelligence I am a galactic activation portal enter me. Oracle for the : Yellow Crystal Seed Destiny Kin. Basis of life destiny: Analog Kin. Like-minded power: Perfect Analog: Crystal Eagle Antipode Kin. Challenge power: Pefect Antipode: Crystal Wizard Occult Kin. Hidden power of 7, the unexpected: Perfect Occult: Lunar Earth Guide Kin. Fifth force outcome power: Pefect Guide: Crystal Warrior April 27, 2003 Tantramar Drive, Canada Some other place & time we'll find all of your love and mine There's only you and I Under the sky No place to go but the stars... Amicus usquq et aras, exegi monumentum aere perennius kin ama ad astra per aspira. America. For La dansta Maria la bouise duvul, yada dish inul, yas das bastas ana deuche naution Friends until the altar/root/rock/star from which the perennial spirit is forever born falling like liquid in love with the stars to the stars through pain. America. Sea of stars forever reborn. ChristChild energy always and in all ways with the dead, children of the Night from out whose figured Mother wound whole nations swoon. Heaven is Here. And the Spiral of Night closes with You. The west and the east are, like the sea and sky, ever propitious to one another. One shares reason. One shares purpose. In one the sun sets. In one, the sun also rises. The bi-location of cosmic energy and intelligence makes that thing called love and proves to all nations, all principalities native and abroad in the unseen realms of human imagination, that we are of and are with that music passed from cup to cup and life to death; no less than the communion of angels. There is no brighter and no darker semblance of intelligence than the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible; human love is not just in the basic elements of the universe, it functions perfectly without. This is treedom. 'It is as reasonable to represent one kind of imprisonment by another as it is to represent anything that really exists by that which exists not! ' Robinson's Crusoe's Preface to third volume of ROBINSON CRUSOE by Daniel Defoe There is a place Where we are not And dare not speak of it Lest we should re-destroy the world, Cross all the borders, And declare a serpent law There is a place Where abundance resides And you may take of it More than You ever saw This is one place We learn to come from This is what we do Where what we do And what we speak of Converge Makes us mute with joy The Canadian Flag, by J. Gryphon "Where lies the final harbor whence we are more no more. In what path be who travels the world in which the weariest never weary. Where is the foundling's father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in burying them. And the secret of our [m]aternity lies in their grave. And we must there learn it." <unbeknownst> Abby Road Good Night, Anna Whilst dreams of none reflection play To death in christos mourning veil What sounds alight from yesteryore To play the deadly game once more Once more again, this time again Good Night, Anna You hid between the chimes of clock Between the beating of my own heart If moon be but a word, I stab myself with words And bleed only thoughts upon the quiet earth Rest with the maggots Let thee extension of mine own eye Resurrect this mind Its dream of body gone unchecked these years From horse of north and south and east and west I mind it not in light that yonder breaks Those waves deafen me to silent glory In the golden dew of words unsaid There is no greater crime, no greater loss to man Than the loss of the irony that was one day ours Sojourning in another before the poets knew This temple has fallen Atlas rests on his own eye But for the strain goes love is mine I give it back to you Good Night, Anna I bite the horses hooves now For La dansta, Maria la bouise duvul, yada dish inul, yas das bastas an a deuch naution Christ is with the Dead. October 25, 2001 FVM Kin 35 : Blue Solar Eagle I Pulse in order to Create Realizing Mind I seal the Output of Vision With the Solar tone of Intention I am guided by the power of Magic Cinema, Motion, is our way of learning about the politics of existence, the prerequisite for which learning is "Mere Being" (Wallace Stevens). Beware, though, for this is not your everyday politics. This is a Polity whose high court is Mystery and one may only enter this NeoRepublic through the doors of wonder, orphanage, awe, fantasy, and imagination. Modern Cinema began where and when time began. Here, now, forever. It is knowing in its deepest sense and our knowing of the body of knowing, self love, compassion, reverence for the human form, these are the mortar, the pillars of the NeoRublic,the crystal palace of Animua Mundi wherein and all about success is measured in the propriety of myth, ownership of spirit, of body, the growth of the Great Tree. Herein divinity is synonymous with imagination, sexuality,women, children and animals and all the atomic, microscopic, macroscopic and anthropocosmic events therein, thereby and all about. Goddess within and and without, bring love in and bring love out. Goddess within and without, make a cosmic sphere all about, Breathe water in Breathe water out. Fire above and below, make the rainbow serpent come and go. Fire above and below, bring love in and out of what we know. Great Peace on the running wave to you. Great Peace to you. You are the sun. I am the moon. Play me Aloha:) ~finis. Blue Resonant Storm to Yellow Spectral Warrior http://www.geocities.com/rainbowserpent37 13:20 Calendar > tortuga.com Rock n' Roll is all Life and the value of all Life... The Golden Conversation May 9, 2003 Salt Spring Island, Canada Harmonic 19 : Spectral Output Express Intelligence of Liberation Kin 76 : Yellow Spectral Warrior I Dissolve in order to Question Releasing Fearlessness I seal the Output of Intelligence With the Spectral tone of Liberation I am guided by my own power doubled
