I don’t want your blessings, unless…..



The utter madness of our world is hard to compute.
A blessing has to be hidden, has to be veiled for it to be accepted.
Were it apparent and manifest, we reject it. Because blessings are somehow assumed to be mystical, secretive, unapparent and only appreciated in this manner.
To receive and or be aware of blessings in plain sight is too normal and plain, not exotic enough.

We are willing to accept blessings only after being shown the ugly end of the something that comes our way, because by default, if it isn’t flowing with ease, if you have to struggle for it, if you have to face some kind of adversity, then the world is assumed to have conspired against you, up to the point that things take a turn and you realise that what you thought was unbearable, becomes something you’re glad happened, bringing clarity only after the event or situation.

We delude ourselves into believing it is what we wanted all along. We’re good at convincing ourselves, a synthesised happiness in the words of Dr Dan Gilbert.

The term blessing in disguise is reserved for ultra mundane and lax people who lazily plod along without any deep thought or internal monologue in their lives. To be so disconnected, so severed from seeing things as they are. The default of humanity has shifted from consciousness, to a zombie waltz with ignorance, perhaps even sadly ironic that zombie movies, shows and popularity has been slowly hazing over the general populace until it has become cult like in following.

We know we’re knuckle dragger’s by nature have have tried to walk upright for centuries. Now it seems we walk upright but long to knuckle drag once again, we’re devolving, detaching, unhinging and falling deeper into slumber, and calling that normal and when a blessing takes place, not that it never does take place and it isn’t actually in reality occurring at every moment, then we are mystified by the super-naturalness of awareness and consciousness of it.


-for sale




-for sale

at the expense of humanity
for the price of your sanity
consciousness has become
a sellable commodity


I’m utterly dismayed at so much of what the world is offering now.

Consciousness has become a sellable commodity with hucksters standing at street corners of the cyber world, they have found their wagons and they sell their elixir, guaranteed to cure all.
The sipping of which is made easier, the injection needle, the drip, the life support machine through social media.

People with no minds, no hearts, no soul, no experience, no knowledge, who buckle at the loss of a few dollars, who can’t swim their way out of a fish bowl, all prancing as gurus, just because they got a tattoo, learned how to spell chakra, burn incense and have an instagram account.

Yes I’m incensed.
Whilst people suffer and need the help of merciful hands, we place conditions on help.
Believe in me, in my way only or else be damned.
Look at how spiritual I am, drug fucked into oblivion, because I read about a hallucination drug that makes marketing my ‘third eye’ photos the buzz.

My gnosis is trending,
my sageness is blending,
there is no mending,
in all this pretending.

Bereft and barren you remain,
as you lie, prance around in your fisherman pants,
and underneath all that pain,
Nothing changed, you’re still the same.

People who haven’t got the guts to go through life changes finding the easy way out, lining pockets of liars, and or their own pockets and feeding off human suffering.

Consciousness has never been for sale,
it’s always been free,
all it required is utter sincerity,
a letting go of the concept of ‘me’.
forget the knowledge tree,
even if you had a forth or fifth eye,
none of that will help you see.

The way has always been, to just be,
through rigid self scrutiny,
and through that fire,
reach the epitome,
all vanities flee,
and when the fire has finished with you,
wash cool and cleanse yourself in the salt of the sea,
by devoting yourself wholeheartedly,
honesty is key, honesty is key.


Blink of consciousness – She asked how I am.

She asked me how I was, this time I decided to be honest

Kinda’ struggling mentally….. not in an emotional sense, but literally, mentally, I can feel my brain breathing if that makes sense, like it’s struggling on its own and needs a hole drilled in my skull for it to diffuse the pressure, like a veil that’s on too tight, there’s words everywhere…. I need to tame them, they’re wild and roaming, no they’re trying to stay afloat in a turbulent sea, yeah that’s it, that’s why there’s pressure, the sea, it’s chaotic, these words have no chance, the waves are not crashing, they’re bashing them around, rips in the ocean suck them down and then spit them back up, tease them with deprivation of oxygen and surface them to breathe for a second before turbulence takes the lead in this Lambada dance, tis such a dirty dance, teasing, arousing and not effectuating anything like a hot air balloon with no hot air…placid dance, and I have a boat, it’s only small, fisherman’s boat and it is good for catching fish for nourishment, only need my sustenance but I’m trying to save all these words with my little boat, to bring them with me to the shore, the shore that I can’t even see, these fucking words are just drowning, they can’t swim, they’re pathetic, they won’t even try to come aboard, I have to put so much effort into saving them, so I’m stuck between containing the sea and its turbulence inside this vessel called a head or drilling a hole and allowing the sea to settle, settle to mediocrity and calm, boring calm, calm that allows all life form to survive the sea but for shit to just go about its merry way…..i think I will keep my head sealed, I enjoy the fierceness and the violence, the turbulence and struggle the saving if but of only some words, enough for this fisherman to compose a hearty meal, that’s how I am right now and four hours ago and eight hours ago and seventy two hours ago and hours and hours ago, but I thank you sincerely for asking, it had to come out and it came out because you have the balls to ask.

You could summarise that blink of consciousness in a few words;
I’m obsessed with words right now.

This person asked sincerely. Answer is a blink of consciousness, hence the style and disregard for punctuation and grammar. One continuous minute thought in the plenitude of others that haunts an introverts mind.
A snapshot if you will.

Style of post inspired by a recent post of Nina Karadzic, so credit given where credit is due. She has a wonderful blog and style. Check it out at http://www.inoirvelvet.com