Forecasting

Unchained Flower Moon

Longing, illness to travel in a cup. But the water never got warm enough. Crunchy noodles and soggy carrots. We wanted the 24 carrot cup. Always disappointed. Seeking a magick that drills it’s way into our brain. Yet sick to the core and bored as hell. Dehydrated. Eating shit with our energy and kale in our salads. Duality of bullshit.

The seeker. Pandemic of pandora’s box. Clever cats with catchy names. Dancing to their own beat. But grinding into acceptance. Like me. Please, like me. Studying geography to find ourselves. Using the stars as a map to find our way home. Logic, then the attempt to disprove. Aha! Then, ahno! Following no like it’s the best leader. Basically scratching a hole through our eyes to the other side of the Earth. Anywhere but here. Any time but now. The answer is everywhere but off radar. wtf.

Sickness, all our own. But truly. Shared like mayonnaise, spread across soft bread. Seeping through the yeasty bubbles. An oily coating you cannot escape. To live in the moment is terrifying. So we eat the mayonnaise and say grace. We are #blessed. Making excuses for why we never change. Then thanking God for the punishment. Explaining disasters and death like we have something to be ashamed of. As if guilt is actually holy and necessary. We deserve better. Doing the same thing, expecting different results. World over decades over years. Come on down to crazy town, where the laughs never end, and the jokes aren’t funny anymore.

Enchanted carpet rides that end in a fiery crash. Swindled from the impending promised adulthood genie that will visit sometime soon. Granting our dreams and cursing our foe. Creating the exact life we want, without us doing jack shit. It’s real. The career that you now hate. The religion that promised you the world. The person who led you into the vampire kingdom. Soaring, exploring. Engulfed swamps long for you to visit. But while we wait, there’s music! A tune all our own. It’s called, delusion.

Sagittarius Moon, twice full begins. Mars pushing red neon in retrograde at hand. Hello there. Long time coming, old friend. What say you this bitter end. Putting on the rainbow colored glasses. Hiding the stains from crying. Smiling through the palpable pain. Death rides a red horse. Death brings new seasons. The flower moon tells us about our potential. When in doubt. Just die already.

All the Clairs, come to play. Clairvoyant and audient. Sentient, too. These things are not separate. They are you. Bloom. Explode with the magick that only you know. Everyone is waiting.

Expanding from the crown. Letting the old stars fall where they may. Controlling the helm. Smells that serve to drive our vivid memory. Foods of our cells. Minerals. Water. Everything we are. What is the ultimate goal. Where are we even going. The EYE opens and we can see more clearly. Clouds in our space vision. Clearing up some confusion. A storm comes in the night. Unknown, begging for a temperature drop. Cooling the fire of despair with work. Generating more fire while despairing with rainclouds. Hoping for the best, but shunning optimism.

We know the way. But we don’t always follow the path. Drums play, formation. The act of creating or making. Structural ties.

Our father, who aren’t in heaven. Hear us cry. 

Where in hell have we been? The question of the week. The year. The century of, whenwhatwhy. Realizing shit isn’t as funny as it used to be. And the things that were serious, are now suddenly hilarious. Why wait, laugh now. Just charge it.

Chaos assumes the position. Our eyes banded shut. Our mouths stitched closed. Line up for the quad please. 20|2o can’t come soon enough. Cover your face with your hands and repeat after me. I can change, I will change. I am only here because I choose to be. I am only stuck because I refused to evolve.  

For some of us, exploration is no longer the answer. Cosmic mindfucks beyond consideration. Once it’s all figured out another slam of renouncing our faith. A wave no one ever escapes. So long as the question remains. What is the point of this beautiful mess? Why all this shit? What’s the reality of life? This dream. Now waking up to walk. To keep seeking, to keep finding. This really isn’t always enough.

We are tired. We need a boost. Grab it. Go for it. Champion your way into a better flow. Finding a connection through social interaction. The real kind. Where there is less talk, more action. Less typing, only voices. Downloads on loop. A ghost of happiness drifting by in the wind. The connection of spirits.

Travel from your computer. Away from your computer. A photo for reference. That memory of lives gone by. In your bed. Of your soft, feeble mind. You can fly. You just believed you couldn’t.

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The bitterness drips from our lips. Tiny drops of citrus fruit rolling down a mountain. They didn’t turn into candy. They rotted and became dusty with white and green mold. Sunken and gooey. A sour flavor when everything is over. Passed off as something we really wanted. Moldy moldy. Pick, me. Pick me. Gaslighted into believing we didn’t deserve freedom. The guilt almost killed us. But so did the chains. Let it go. You can die every time you want to escape. But you can’t stay the same.

What other lies did you buy into? Selling our souls for a box of dry, reduced fat cookies. Or a brand. A label of who we were becoming. A label someone else created for us. Disappointed our entire lives. Because we expected growing up would mean something else. We thought it’d be easier. We expected, freedom. We ran into the arms of responsibility then cried for our mothers. As adults we are not always stronger.

Instead of our MASH mansion, we’ve lost friends. Instead of success, we’ve lost familiars. We’ve seen our mentors go six feet under. Many dreams along with them. We want a refund on our cookies. We want to pick a different label. But the time for that is now expired.

Void of time. Alone now. Faux cookies and we. Downloads never come free. What’d you buy into? Lessons learned. No one said they’d be real. They just said you had to pay for it. No one promised you’d like it. They just wanted the exchange. How much was your purchase price? Selling out yet again. Wondering why shit never changes. You. You don’t let it. Break free from what owns you. Expanding to escape it’s shape. A flower blooms.

Realizing now what’s worth it and what is not. Rising just enough above the surface to croak with the frogs. Every moment, a breath in suspended animation. We are going . We are going to. We are going to croak. All of us. In unison. The song of the pond creatures. The reflection of the moon on scum. It’s still so beautiful. A symphony of bugs and amphibians. Each in it’s proper tune. The monkey year smiles upon us. Trickster of the primates. Laughing at us all. Because the joke is, we’re already dead. Croak, ribbit. Leap year. Sing along.

Don’t give into denial or retreat. Choosing to run is a fools answer. True expansion never comes by escape. The network grows by connection. Be interested. Stand with your own feet. On your own will. Let your former skin slide kindly away. The branded one, the one with your slave label on it. Those little hooks and hexes don’t control you anymore. Grant yourself the freedom to change. Then do it.

You answer to no one. You are your own. You can touch base. Kiss face. Make space. But always and forever keep moving on.

The wheel. Rolls. Around. Always expanding as a result of it’s motion. A flower in the cosmic circle of life. Be blessed.

Xo, C

The only way to win, is to expand and overthrow that which controls you. By allowing yourself to be free, you create freedom for others. Be free so that others may all be free. Speak truth. Share beauty. Cultivate compassion. We refuse to be compacted like garbage any longer. Bloom with it. Bounce with it. Blessed be.

 

 

 

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