Throes of mind semblance in & of descriptors

throes in & of descriptors
**Ever morning canvas
Solarity--physically pure all my summers, but clement environs makes me seek the incumbent volley--the tragic space, the denouement of iconoclasm. Threw away all art--adjudged something professional. I had to throw away all art, because I lost my lightning vox. Nothing dear enough to make mind wallow deafening sorrow the wind in mantra & breath: expression. It's explanate to say letter permutations I sought quietly in a 19th century translation of Flavius Josephus histories, sounded out songs in anthropos language dopemined in bird song so I dreamt of horns. Flesh-colored like ears - like urban-suburban arising and slumbering are the ZZZs of sounds colluding in what resonates in nervous auditory vessel self. The city-scape has thrust if its presence means multiply, yet city is too hot when arbor and only sky tumults in its falling (*Babel)--language populates the fallen regime: what we hear. But the auditive suspiring even if bad (ass) music would tear up your flesh, make the abstract pug marks the animal self first grasped as alliterative oN a path. Sometimes ole brown speaks with his dance, sometime later w/his hands--and always in vision where sounds are seen on an ever morning canvas.
Pagans see G^d, Jews hear G^d, Buddhist's feel relented from meta-physics--so do Rastas... Tosh sings, "Stop that Train, I'm leaving." Hindus want their God to see them o so devotional.

**Weird phased dandelion-gone-to seed light adrift grafted my attention to some impulse that spells healing wonder, in weak teeth--still there mostly--but ridiculously guarded. Then I pulled some thready eyelash out of my face--cathartic appeal, eyes had become grabbing hands and I tooled the burnishing lamp in the half-light dream-time so that vision might be received anywhere but in the illustrated bird-book mind: pulling light out of my eyes. This ocular episteme must have graduated in stony apparitional narratives, as when I first started smoking herb, and once my sub-conscious devised symbolism for it, the white sclera became a finely twisted spliff...that could be handed out. And in a few dreams per my trod down ole farm roads, which were near my house, the hand to mouth sense in appetites mitigated, were eye(s) to respiratory mechanics, and exhalation of weird anticipation of vaporous salience.
^^^^^Since when is a community going to succeed if they atrophy from the core-communities, meaning MOST of the rest of the world? So there are new crises, resources all gone but now we have to fight over G-dly resources. See I am a Jew in exile, this dispensation IS an exile. A doctrine can help us wonder at What or Who SEEs us AND even after these lives' thresholds, incarnations into something hopefully not reductive & petty, but rather as observers of our a creative facility: maybe G-D? or scant Evidence we are to hold in High Esteem. Maybe Not G-d? Then devotion!! And just as there are no clerics in Judaism, I WILL not recognize "institutional" de'ot, but rather "knowledge" *de'ot--(the word Maimon used takes turns w/another use of the Arabic - akhlaq meaning "nature.") in places where negativity isn't established. A righteous war this is not, and people --"striving" to G-d as you & me *so to speak --want to get out of the backyard of the Violent precincts in the world. Not outa Israel dude--but bro' IT is already a 2 state solution, and must be sured up w/honor of Our G-d the exact same G-d both these communities can speak TO in and amongst our pallors and s(h)ouks.
****People want to touch a nerve. Solicit our interest. U-s-sri a word-- sounding a lot like usury-- used in north Iffriqiyyah by Jews and Muslims, likely as Europeans (as into Italy) began to acquire an appetite for (Indian) Arabic science finds this word having truck. Thru the mercantile of meritable ethos of THE traveler, numbers started adding up to permeable core cultures. So the "give and take" of the work-A-day *u-s-sri, begat the deleterious and the potent vehicle, Work makes Freedom. Still, my purpose is that the long ends of the day doesn't supply the odds against my sense of the cult of self-reliance. And folks appertain fealty every time while I loose my sense that they require recompence for the blast purchase of the taste of what they got.
^*^Amazing that some kind of hallucination whelms me in a conscious pocket, taking sticky mind funk and contorting the bracketing narrative & imagination. But I wish I could be resigned to not literally require alchemical chaos to work on me--...and instead perseverance and my sober academician life--found here by teachers not certified to imagine I've indulged in assignation. W/books called The Set Table and and its objective performed in The Tablecloth, menus are useless, just eat the sabbath's meal-- a sabbath in history, one's Retreat. Albeit the sweet ordeal of a day's entirety in a glance known in its pregnant surfac-ing is a short retreat; to cultivate it makes appetite sated not by the courage for want of victory, but victory over appetite, to be skillful (they say devoted, disciplined.). Numerologist Mendlebrot saw the need to develop formulas for irregularity -- his symbolic excelsior was the amoebic image called G^d's thumb print. Just as when reading Kerouac--particularly a dream with his repose in a chair having died there a 1000 deaths, what he has collude in the hero's path is the observer in ambulations: something like, big floats take notice. Down by a river, self-simulation keeps the alliterative fundamental, because in echolalia - life's fount mutual arises with reckoned lives led till reduced unto simplicity...it is just our world giving a niche for dream within a dream within a dream.
^^My grandma (Bubby) was from the same town as Madame Blavatskii--Ekatrinaslav, Ukraine. The town is been called something else since WW11. Blavatskii set up Jidda K. to be head of the Theosophical Society, of which he would not remain the head: Truth is a Pathless Land. My man--here, that I work with--used to sit before Krishnamurti and take in the discussions... In an attempt to tie myself within 6 degrees (looking back w/ 20-20 vision), I had written down a region name that caught my interest, now yrs ago, in Blavatskii's Esoteric/Exoteric Writings, is a place called Andrapradesh. Carved it in stone while laughing inside at the motive-that-sifted thru my grasp and was denied except for the conscious/physical map appropriated. Turns out Jidda was from there--and my friend here makes the labor of letter permutations in analytical meditation (whose suggestion I heed from Dalai Lama's discussions) seem kaleidoscopic and up to the moment--real imminence!!! A certain kind of theoria began to appreciate with my reading of her Self-Actualization writ--and I plan on those moments to convulse in thresholds in the world-to-come, in my pharonic chamber when all language is threaded into the garment of phenomenal existence. Old bodies are shed like weary veils, new bodies are donned like new garments.
**The primitives believed in Incarnations--reincarnations, but it was not a project into their future worth. Incarnations just as the media of conventional representations--animals and people, skies and rivers bisecting the earth: these things were immediate and demonstrated thru nurture of a kind that makes us call Fractal Patterns now the flame-substance of life, in all its strangeness an agency of Life's Creative sense of an Absolute. So when karma's principles has supplicants note death as handily as regret over moral compass some god demurred as his cause a priori (our fate)--we know then that instead of locked in this material world, it became the desire and folly of man to also live thru restraint in spiritual endeavor--as in the problem w/your compassion causing violence, Tolstoy essays. Hinduism developed, or rather devolved, to allow the devoted to complicate his/her life w/competition to assumed time elements... "IT soon come!!" can't be decried, it is the manifest and revolution of spirit to see the Material Void represented by conscious satellites, soft machines, & sensual bodies .
** I see Dylan in some unfurnished apartment, or taken in by someone, but solitarian occasions where the cognitive yields to the towering obsolete & it's just him & a book on the table (almost a typical scenario). He is calling himself something in the vast immediacy just to turn to his potential to see thru what he can never ally himself with, power. I'm reminded of the image of an old mendicant (wandering ascetic), in this case a Jew (*certainly Dylan's life with grandmother made him the beggardly student-of-life--I take Chagall's Smoking Jew representing), and he comes to a small room in this ghetto, or tucked away village restricted from the rest of the region. To be free from the Powers-that-Be means at first to seek out the thousand deaths he maintained only to find, in his world the even more grave conceptuality of the Bible, or Book of Ethics--Talmud--more grave than anything the authority could do to him (in his mind). So he sits in a shtibel (study room) the open book swells his head with forced thoughts, "he" is across the room and the distance is a maze of gravid time resisted now forever 'til then. And all he can know is a Seperateness called Kodesh/holy. Dylan seems to claim loyalties, calling himself "a Zionist for life," but again the world is out of balance & we are still younger than yesterday--think history & antecedents we jump from in that liminal box!! The history of G-d is replete with a context of only one conversation with the Infinite that mattered. G-d said, "Hey?" & man said, "I AM (present)."