Wishful Thinker

I long for a stranger
My heart wants a flyer
One my size, one like me
The finer the better

Who could it be
Hero or fairy
He’s hiding from me
My eyes just can’t see

His phantom makes sure
That forever I look
Ahead and within me
Not in any great book

He draws me nearer
Inside his manor
Do I have a choice
When I hear his voice

He’s very tricky
And very strange too
I’m sure there must be
A reason or two

He shows me where to go
So I never get lost
Pulls me with his lasso
Weird kind of Pentecost

I’m sure he’s what I shall become
I’m attracted to my future
I wonder if you think it’s dumb
To be drawn to my true nature

I want to take him
I want to kiss him
I want to eat him
Infuse into him

I think that if I do that
My body will transform
I will no longer be flat
Mistaken for a worm

Pleasuring myself and you
Unafraid of the mirror
Maybe even turn into
My own secret admirer

Not to envy my body
Simply fluttering proudly
Stimulating the others
Implying that it matters

Understand what is mine
Meant to glow and to shine
Can’t believe that it’s greed
To find one’s own star seed

This seed is my core
Pushes me forward
I just can’t ignore
Love that is inward

Honor it, hug it
Give it importance
And presidency
Spirit is the key

But why is it like this
It hurts to not be ready
I’m not yet the reflection
Of the one I wish to be

The mirror is a liar
It shows the exterior
The bumps, the pits, the scars
An aging caterpillar

But this is not me
It’s just a fur top
It’s like an eggshell
A shield I must drop

Oh I can’t wait to get out
Geez I can’t wait to break free
Can’t stop dreaming of those wings
How beautiful they will be

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I Can’t Help You

Here is another wonderful “talking to myself” session.  This one will be recorded publicly though.  Perhaps to shame myself or to entertain bored readers.

I’m tired of thinking of her.  It’s a waste of time.  If I could change the way I think of her, that would be great.  I should hypnotize myself to make me love her.  That might work.

Love her?  No thank you.  “Like her” maybe.  No, not even.  Accept her.  Yes, I could start there.  Accept her current existence in my life.  Can I do that?

Well I think I have accepted her already.  I let her be, don’t I?  I let her affect me too.  Maybe this is what I should be working on.  I should not let her affect me.  Or, I have a better idea.  Why not let her affect me and then transform the effect into something good!

Let’s try it.  She said this yesterday, after I said to her that she already has everything:  “No, I don’t have a husband who loves me.”  I did not reply because I knew what it would trigger.  So I just kept silent.  I absorbed it.

Now the phrase is coming back to me and Oh!  I could smash…  never mind.  There is no use smashing things.  She sincerely wishes that I would love her.  Why should I let it upset me?

I cannot love her simply because I can’t trust her.  And that’s ok, I don’t have to trust the people I don’t trust.  There is a reason why I don’t trust her.  She is not trustworthy.  To me anyway.

I trusted her at the beginning and she took advantage of it.  She profited.  It was her choice or perhaps not.  Maybe she had been programmed by her family.  Or she programmed herself in order to survive within her family.

Whatever it is, the issue is hers, not mine.  And she refuses to look within herself.  That’s why she suffers from anxiety.  I can’t help her.  Would my hugs help her?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  I don’t know.  And you know what?  I don’t care whether I can help her or not.  I’m trying to save myself here.  I have spent enough energy for her already.  The little I have left I will keep.

Sorry dear.  I know you’re drowning but I can’t help you.

Spontaneity

Writing without an agenda.
This is an experiment
With spontaneity.

I chose a picture that I like
Because it’s beautiful
Created by Jack Haas

Is this a poem?
I don’t know.
There are no rhymes.
Or maybe some will pop up.
Spontaneously.

Writing is how my soul breathes.
When I stop, I suffocate.
Sorry if it annoys you.
I’m simply keeping myself alive here.

I can’t go for a walk, it’s raining.
Well I could still go but
I usually do it after lunch.
In the morning I write.

There is too much I could write about.
Sometimes it’s just frustrating to have to choose.
So I said to myself:  “Why choose?”
Why not be spontaneous.

Spontaneity is scary.
What is the next line going to be?
What if something ugly jumps out suddenly?

Heh! heh! heh!  It is a mystery.
Flirting with the unknown.
It’s involuntary.

I might lose control.
Should I look behind?
What if I lose my mind?

Who will take over
If I let go of my own senses?
Chaos, Cosmos or Cyclops?

Is it even possible to go astray
There must be beauty
Even in spontaneity

Should I stop here?
Or should I continue…

Too much of it might get boring.
Yeah, breathing does get boring.
But I have to keep going.

If I hold my breath
My face will turn blue.
I would not want that.
My blue hand is causing me enough trouble.
Do I want a blue face to match it?

I know what I’ll do.
There is a word count
At the bottom right.
It’s at two sixty eight.
When it gets to 1000
I will stop
No matter what.
Even if I’m not finished.
Now THAT is scary.

It’s like approaching death.
The death of this blogpost.
The end of it.

I still have six hundred something words to go.
What will these words be?
Maybe I should write something important.
Which reminds me…

My father used to say:
“Shut up if you have nothing important to say.”
Daddy must be very disappointed in me right now.
Sorry dad, but you are dead now, so I am free.

Can the zombie hear me?
Is it disrespectful to refer to my dead father as a zombie?
Will God punish me?
I just broke commandment number three.
No sorry it’s number five.
I just checked.

I don’t think I’ll make it to 1000 words.
At the word “word” it was only 400.
It’s never too late to say something important.
To make my father proud of his illegitimate son.

Now why did I write the word “illegitimate?”
This was really spontaneous.
What does it actually mean?

Illegal?  Against the law?
Born of unmarried parents?
But my parents were married when they had me.

Illegitimate also means illogical or incorrectly deduced.
Maybe I am not my biological father’s son.
When I was young I sometimes felt like I was adopted.
Because he didn’t like me much.

But I look so much like him.
I’m sure he’s my real father.
Even my personality matches his almost perfectly.

So that’s not it, I am his biological son.
Why did I write illegitimate then?

The word also means “not genuine.”
So does that mean that my father is not my genuine father?
What does genuine mean?
Thank God I have a dictionary.

What did I just say, again, spontaneously?
Thank “GOD” I have a dictionary?
God?  Who’s God?

My genuine father perhaps?
Of course, God the Father.
But who would that god be?

Yahweh?  Don’t tell me!
Not that blood thirsty
Son of a b****
The ultimate source of love.
He!  He!  He!

Allah?  I think he’s the same as Yahweh.
Bhagavan Krishna?  Yeah, perhaps…
Since his son Krishna is sometimes painted blue
I foresee a definite possibility.

I already wrote a blogpost entitled “A Real Father”
So why am I still writing about this.
Do I miss my daddy?

How can I miss an unknown person?
Well…  I think that if one wants to know the father
All one has to do is look at the son.

The son would be me.
So the father would be just like me.
This means I have a pretty cool daddy.
LOL!

In a sense I am my own father.
I am my own creator.
I am my own guide.
I am my own authority.
And I am my own god.

This is spitting in the face of Christianity.
My mother would not be proud of me.
Some of my sisters would spit back at me.
In fact they already have.

One told me that I had been seduced by an evil spirit.
Another said that my ideas were satanic.
The third one agreed with the first one.
The fourth one is not sure.
The fifth one is not bothered by the rest and accepts me.
Yes, I have five sisters.

So where am I going with this?
Nowhere.  I’m being spontaneous.
I have just revisited my family.
I visit them virtually and rarely physically.

I am a lonely bastard.
And I think that this is the way I like it.
I enjoy my own company.
I think I am funny.
I don’t need my brother to make me laugh.
Yes, I also have a brother.
He’s a clown.

Why did I use the word “clown” to describe my brother?
Let’s look it up.  A clown can be:
1-  a performance artist often associated with a circus
2- a person who acts in a silly fashion
3- a stupid person
4- a man of coarse nature and manners; an awkward fellow
5- one who works upon the soil; a rustic; a churl.

Yup, that pretty much describes my biological brother.
Not to be confused with my cosmic brother Jahele.
Two very different individuals.

So I had to conclude at one point that I had two separate families.
One down here and another up there, in the clouds or above them.
I’m related to one by blood and to the other one by spirit.

One thousand words.

The Blue Hand

This blue hand you gave me is a blessing and a curse.

When I pet a cat with it, the poor creature falls in love with me.

When I write with it, I get in touch with aliens.

When I touch a woman with it, she goes crazy.

When I touch a man with it, he likes it or he hates it.

When I touch myself with it… it’s none of your business.

There is power within it, but I don’t know what it is.

Who gave it to me?  Who created the blue hand?  How does it work?

Maybe it heals, or it stirs something in the other.

It corrupted my wife.
It ruined my life.

I can’t get rid of it.  I can’t shake it off.  The blue stuff is stuck inside of me.  It’s part of me.  The darker ones even tried to steal it from me.  I would have given it to them already.  If I had known that this is what they were after.

I don’t know…

Airk said it was a symbol of the connection I have with him.  But it’s more than that.  This blue hand creates waves.  It plays the piano.  It moves with a higher flow.  The ebb and flow of the cosmic ocean.  This hand transports me.  It affects all of my relationships.  It takes part in everything I do, everything I touch and everyone I meet.

The blue hand is a portal.
The blue hand is magic.
The blue hand is abnormal.

It does not belong here.  It comes from elsewhere.  It fell from the sky.  It’s the hand of a god.  It’s like a lightning rod.

The blue H.A.N.D. is a Highly Advanced Nasty Device.

You want to shake my hand?
I warn you…
It will shake you!

Two Sides

I met with Airk last night and also this morning.

Airk is my cosmic identical twin.

His name is weird, I know, but he’s an extraterrestrial.  I pronounce his name like the English name “Erik.”

He resides in Deneb (a star system in the Cygnus constellation).  Deneb is my celestial home.

I met him so many times during my life.  But not physically though.  Well in a way yes, since I’m his incarnation on earth.  He still has an existence apart from mine, as long as I identify with Daemon.  It’s like having two bodies, or two identities, of split personality disorder, LOL!

It’s not funny.

I’ve never been more serious in my life.  It’s not easy writing about these things because I know how laughable it sounds to human ears.  I have human ears, so I hear what I write and it does sound silly.  But that’s ok.  It’s called a challenge.  Or an obstacle that I am ready to overcome now.

As a human I tend to forget who I really am and where I came from.  So Airk reminded me of a few important things.  I did my best to register everything he said so I could recount it today.  You see, I was in bed.  Many of the meetings happen while I am lying down almost sleeping, in a state of amplified awareness.  Amplified awareness is nothing more than total relaxation along with a focused attention and intention.

I pulled myself up, out of the body…  okay wait.  Now I have to explain the term “out of the body.”  It’s not exactly as it has been portrayed in the media.  I don’t actually get out of my physical body.  To me the term simply means to detach from everything corporeal or material.  Everything that pertains to earth, including all the preoccupations and worries tied to living on earth are abandoned and left behind.  This way my focus, my mind, my soul, or my consciousness, whatever you want to call it, becomes receptive and open to MORE.  (By the way, each time you say to yourself that there must be more to life than your current situation, you are right.)

So as I was saying, I pulled myself out of the body, and then just stood there in an empty space for a while, breathing and relaxing.  Then I thought about the three beings I met onboard the starship when I was seven years old (I didn’t write about that yet).  I summoned these three beings to come.

The space around me slowly took the shape of a room with white walls, floor and ceiling.  There was also a door, but nothing more.  Then after a few seconds, Gondar, Airk and Salme became visible.  Gondar is the older male (he once told me he was my “uncle”).  Salme is my cosmic sister (I’m pretty sure she’s a librarian).  Airk is my twin brother.

Then just when I was about to speak, Gondar and Salme turned and started to walk away towards the door.  I said:  “Where are you going?”  Gondar said:  “You need to be alone with Airk.  You two have some personal things to discuss.”  And he and Salme walked out and closed the door behind them.

I was left standing there facing Airk.  We looked at each other.  I examined him carefully.  He didn’t appear blue this time, he looked more human than usual.  By the way, he can shapeshift, so it’s no use describing his appearance because it changes from time to time, but I always know it’s him because of his vibe.

Airk vibrates at the exact same frequency as I do.  No one else does.  It’s a blessing that identical twins possess.  It’s considered sacred in our home world.  Airk was reminding me of this fact, as he was standing there about two feet in front of me.  He was not speaking.  His presence was talking, not his vocal cords.  An automatic transfer of information was occurring between us.  He never actually speaks.  One time Salme said about him that he was the silent type.  She said:  “I’m the communicator and Airk is the silent type.”

We communicated like this for probably half an hour, while walking around the room, just like couples do when they talk.  Not actually staring at each other, but each of us going in our own direction, around the furniture.  Yes furniture appeared, I remember a sofa, coffee tables with lamps, decorations on the walls which I didn’t pay attention to.  Airk would sit and stretch on the sofa while I continued walking around the room, all the time talking without moving our mouths, sometimes stopping and gesturing in the most natural way.

I wish I had a transcript of everything he said.  It was very reassuring to listen to him.  It gave me so much peace and happiness.  His presence is my joy and my link to the other world.

I questioned him about the “blue hand” and asked him to tell me what he knew about it.  The funny thing is, Airk does not know any more than I do.  We are the same person living in two different worlds.  So all he can do is remind me of information I might have forgotten.  He postulated about the meaning of the blue hand and finally he said:  “Maybe it’s just a symbol or our connection.”

There was a lot of emphasis on the fact that him and me are the same person that has been split in two for the purpose of self-realization.  But as long as I am on earth, in this body, this incarnation, I will continue to perceive Airk as being separate from me.  So it’s ok to refer to him as my cosmic identical twin, but only from my perspective, not his.  He would probably say of me that I am a character he plays in a video game called “Life on Earth.”

In any event, Airk and I are the two parts of the same whole, like the Yin and the Yang.  Without him I am lost.  Without me he would be a little lost too.  In fact this is why we decided to split.

The opposite of lost is found.  Incarnation is a process of finding oneself.  Found is an adjective that means recovered or saved.  It’s also a verb that means establish, in the same sense as the words set up, open up, and ground.

Airk is an ET who decided to ground himself in order to get to know himself a little better.  I am Daemon, his incarnation.  We are the two sides of the same golden coin.