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Words are leaky Vessels

Words are leaky Vessels
In the real world of people speaking and being the stereotyped constructs break down and reveal a soul. Only then can one assess and be assessed by another. Language, words are leaky vessels at best. And in the end only symbolic representations of that which we struggle to express. Be still. Don’t jump. See past the constructs. See the one who is there behind the eyes. The Original. Then one can know to whom they speak. Blessings

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Alien Soul – Music/Audio


Music – Lee J The DJ – Sweet Science Radio 107.5 fm B’ham  10:00 pm Saturdays

Photo – Phobia-Wiki

Alien Soul
Looking to the stars can leave you mesmerized
Wishing for a Savior won’t open blinded eyes
But something in you’s calling, you’re seeking something new
But you will never know until you see. . .
That the Alien is you. . . the Alien is you

The Alien you’re looking for don’t live in outer space
The Alien you’re looking for, it wears a human face
You might glimpse it in the mirror, or feel it at your back
The feeling of, it ain’t quite right, is a Soul that has been hacked

The Beast forever seeking a Soul it can upload
Feeding off the energy, are you It’s latest node
Divide and conquer is the lie, It preaches as Good News
And even if you win that game, your Soul is what you lose

The answers lay within my dear, and not perceived with senses
Fear and doubt has shaped our mind, personality our defenses
Turn off the stimulation, coming from without
Find your way to stillness child, and learn what it’s about

All that is without, is the same as is within
What you want out there you have, let the healing now begin
Consecrate yourself right now to our Creator’s celebration
Say hello to what you’ve sought, You are the revelation

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The Cup

“The Cup”
(Coffee and Cigarette Meditation)
Coffee cools
Earthen, bitter, metallic tastes on my tongue
Dark, thick richness lingers on the cup and in the back of my mouth
The last sip awaits its consummation
Now cold, cup’s bottom revealed through the dregs
Still as a stone it rests, awaiting my decision
Cool menthol billows, riding on my breath
Haloed, wreathed, concealed, behind the shifting veil
Seeking stillness, clarity, connection to Creation
Perhaps it lies beneath the bottom of this last bitter business
I would that this cup pass from me
Yet it awaits, growing colder
I am at once judged and instructed
It looms larger
The vessel of my soul one with the cold dross
I would not
Yet nevertheless I will drain this cup of the last grievous drop so that it might be filled again
Filled again with living water


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