Monday, February 22, 2010

Nightshade~Crisis~taking to flight

The terrible La yerba el diablo; cast herself all over this frail body. Cloaked in putrid smell of death herbs; am intertwined in her castaway misery.
Initiation has taken toll; as i vomit out more and more. No one near to comfort her or me. For it is a duality that we must all undergo. Atropine, Hyoscyamine, and Scopolamine are present within my body.. extreme dosages as the brujo takes control within my dreams.. I dont expect the fool to ever understand what this means.. for the fool is already dead to me.
The hypnotic dosage has caused me to hallucinate; reverberate; induced with a wandering sensation; something between heaven and inevitable hell. The brujo; master sorcerer takes me to my funeral pyre, sets it afire; shakes me forwards and back, till I have penetrated the essential gap.
Nightshade reverie causes the energy (prana) to take up to flight within and without, the herb (mighty powerful datura), rub over my legs and arms, at the spots of my neck and ajna (third eye) has made it possible for the flight to take place. 

The setting is a nexus of sorts; a vortex-> meeting place of the souls from beyond, the brujo takes infinite time in administring the sacred plant, where i commune with her and take flight into the void.
The master near me has taken to the essential song, sung from the heart and beyond, ibogaine; the plant which takes over him, takes him to the land of ancestral dead and back here. He communes and sees my past, where i have been and what stops me now; datura oh datura, sacred of all plants, you art the communion without which nothing will last. I see it clear, I see it without doubts. Without your caress; all is lost.
We come together and paint the walls of our vortex cave, in colors of blue black and rain. It is an expression of the human religion as the ancients look over us from different terrains. My brujo and I can sense them without doubt, they are here as they have ever been looking for us to join them in mourning silence.
Humanity; the childrens religion sees not the power of the plant, its power to help us fly and sing a song so strong. Which breaks through walls of life and death and brings those who have been seperated from us once again to love and hold forever....
Foolish child, you will not understand; till you dawn genetic eyes, soak the holy nightshade into your skin seeping into your soul. You think that the world is brick and mortar, Holy datura will break it till you soar ever more into the night sky!
The delirium though physically has surpassed, but it has caused one last psychosis to remain for ever in my heart. It will transform every time i wretch into the bowl. Every time i see humanity for what it really is.
Ancestors seperated by light, take me to the sky, where the holy god of thunder lies. Where the eagle soaks the sun and flies. Where the holy lady d'hratura remains focused on the third eye, opening visions of illusions and lies over and over through the tides of time.....

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