TABOO OR FORETOLD? SHAMAN KNOWS! SHAMAN ALWAYS KNEW.

Taboo or foretold? Shaman Knows! Shaman always knew!This ME knew! Shaman KNEW this too.

I have come across a rather "unique" situation and damn...it is hard to pass this one up. It may compromise my personal laws and moras to an extent but it is not a chance people come across often. As many of you know I have lead a rather weird and eclectic life and have run from my now conservative, racist ( they said,"Obama would have the blacks act up so you better not vote for him") Southern, W.A.S.P ,(you will have to look that up) Christian, Chapel building to memorialize the dead, Country Club/University Club belonging family.

I love them , don't get me wrong. We all love our families---faults and all, or should for the most part (awful circumstances not withstanding) I love them but need to finish what THEY started LONG ago with younger me running around naked, or near that state at least as was the norm for where I was uprooted to, in a jungle atmosphere with the kids from this or that tribe and experiencing what THEY did, partaking in hallucinogenic ceremonies that would have had me snatched away from them quickly by the government in any Western civilization and given to a better home (there was no better home--they were the best)

I need to finish this remembering and dreaming. I need to remember the blanket tosses while the rhythmic drums of the Inuit's pounded out a hypnotic trance state as they chewed on sinew and played in mukluks and a parka in the snow , eating ice and seal fat like a snow cone. I need to go back to the roots, the actual VINES and "flesh of the Gods" mushrooms, the Yopo ceremonies and Fly Agaric that took me above my own Doppelganger to watch my previous life.

The shaman told me at one point I could not join in at first (I could not play their reindeer games) I was different, and I might fall into a state we call, not the Shaman however, Twoofing. They knew it as a much older possession or way of the spirit. Shaman knew! I only knew my cousin/lover/best friends watched in intrigue--The Shaman knew he played a larger role in my destiny/Sanguinarian-sexual awakening than the wrold ever would. Not afraid of my "awakening beast" because he has his own and had seen the tribes and many other tribes Ghost, Fairies, beast and mythos along with me.

Shaman finally let me into the inner rituals after great debate and asking of Gods and spirits and said I would return, albeit down the line, AFTER I had come to learn those certain sacred and wise ways that were needed. (HE knew) I need AGAIN the spirit peoples talking Godplants to take me to that OTHER world where I first met that ME that I was only allowed a glimpse of because I was to young, naive and new to the ways of the people or even that special forgotten way of being, turned into lore and fear by many cultures.

It would bring to life, way too fast, certain areas of existence Shaman matter of factly stated as an exsistance I was not yet ready to exist in nor was I entitled to, yet with no real answer of yes or no...just a smile and nod of , "Yes, maybe" and things to come (Ha too late--the saga of blood is thicker than water and so is sexual awakening as it had already began its part in the timeline) It was set in motion.

I am hoping my cousin that went on the travels with me all those years ago growing up (it was Micha, his younger brother Jovi and me) still can feel, smell, remember that sacred time. Older brother/cousin/lover to be had figured out my secret before even I had on the jungles edge one day when he pricked his hand on a large wooden splinter from a dead tree. The blood flowed and *IT* began. The proclivities we have that stay with us--did it stay with him? The need? The curiosity? THE FORBIDDEN. The unafraid teen more enthralled in the secrets than the consequences!?

Taboo...says Western society, but we were worlds away from that reality. We KNEW ritual like old hat and it knew us.WE were the ritual, blood,lover, brother, cousin, soul mate, tribe member and all at once.Younger cousin of my helper, to my awakening, his BROTHER, looked on with a KNOWING, a jealous lovers knowing, and that of an old soul that rediscovered its morning cappuccino but could never drink it for fear of the burn, the GOOD burn! HE remembered! Shaman told him he had a part to play in unfolding events with a nod and a pat on the shoulder and watched the strange toe- headed lost children so out of place yet right where the fates wanted them, awakening to many different, erotic and ancient ways in HIS and the jaguar spirits jungle.

Shaman watched an eye of a learned and kindly elder serpent GOD and without the judging eye of the Western ways people wince they, the strange trio, had come from. Shaman KNEW the blood would flow before the story was over and the keening hitched breaths and bit back barely audible moans, words spoken in THEIR tongue, ancient and magic, whilst exploring touches, butterfly touches like gossamer across goose bumped skin that started to accompany each "accidental" nick and cut which, for the older boy, would become a need fulfilled down the line by the "jealous" watcher from the behind the Banyan tree. His tears left behind the only trace he had been alone at all in his longing, un tasted NEED. But,Shaman saw. Shaman KNEW!

The "Human beings" as they call themselves,as most indigenous peoples there did, see it, this sexual awakening, as The Pleasure Principle and teach it as thus.It bound more by blood of the soul mates and essential to knowing a soul,even cousins if it be foretold. Wrong or right we became inseparable, adding in a third and loving missing link that had to wait for its time in this piece, the magnum opus (we knew when he spoke our secret "Language" and his eyes understood) and we 3 hid NOTHING from the HUMAN BEINGS kindly eyes, non-judgmental in speech and looks.

We were of one body some of the elders would say. Empathy times three. Each of us reacting and feeling for the other two ,FEELING so deeply as if we were one being split apart for the needs that drove us--- one for blood, one for sex and one tears, each one directing and teaching the others in the "specialty" they had acquired. Awakening to fingers twirled and entwined in Papaya and Yucca smelling hair or an ear upon a heart, not knowing where one begin and the others ended.

Only innocence was seen by the HUMAN BEINGS. nothing wicked or unnatural! A beautiful seedling growing from a rare jungle mutated vine that would, however, bring about an unfolding sadness. Shaman knew *IT* was not meant to be in OUR world, the dead world, Shaman said. No one ever judged HERE, using the words and curses of the Mono-Gods Dogma , the pointed fingers of fear and accusation of the world we had to return to soon. Shaman didn't have the heart to break ours.

So young we were. Teens, yet childlike and naive in what we saw as our RIGHT and innocence in the world. We left a part of us all in that jungle of emotions and foretold events! I can still awaken some times and still smell the morning jungle dew mixed with their scent, but quickly it fades! Faded memories snatched away from me by light pushing in through city smog, giving it an unnatural look,chasing away the allure and pull of my old home. I need to know because SHAMAN KNEW . He KNEW!

So, now I have to go back now to the SKIN WALKERS, the Otherkin, the Shape shifters , the Loup Garou of the tainted world and impure ways these have come about with technology and myths. Coming back and possibly giving up on my schooling and studies, even my Internship for now. I had excepted to take this path. It is filled with rituals and learning beyond any college or professor.

The teachers are the plants and the spirits, the changing energy and what YOU and many ,even part of me, has forgotten walking in our technological world with shoes on pavement and steel, no connection to the Powers, the Gods and Goddesses', things the Western World calls Myths and Legends, not real.I think I have to go back and learn this way. I will go after the end of this month to see if this is MY path for the summer, or longer. Something is in the air. Something of an NEW awakening .Static charge.(A bit back moan escaping, remembering?) A change, a need to know. Secrets forgotten and pieces remembered.

NEED is a wonton creature born of things we dare not speak of. Need is change for some and it must be now for me. SHAMAN KNEW and STILL KNOWS! Now I must know and REMEMBER.

I LEARNED TODAY...(and memories of the Time of the Three/3)...

....that people are not human.. WE are more human than YOU will ever aspire to be... I learned that I can smell the blood dripping down my lip , walking at night by the holiday lights and the cedar scent (of that mountain top I found far back in time in my locked memory) from the smoking urban metal and angle hair chimney's... The full moon shining on half the face of a quite watcher from a broken window, a lit clove cigarette blowing with the leaves by my foot as I stomp it out with my toe, looking up , whisper in the wind says, "taste the cloves on his lips? Feel the energy when you grabbed the Tesla coil?... Violet wand; now eaten energy, shattered bulb you greedy bitch....hungry still ? Steal the kiss. Buy them! " Wait, I am walking .Pay attention. You can't pull from both dimensions and memories at once!

I learned that... I hate you for what you represent and what you think YOU are. My lip still bleeding, I drink it down, making it bleed as much as I can in the frozen air with my teeth as I glance at two lovers through a bay window exchanging that , exchanging emotions I refuse to feel, but for cash , MY money to you --and leave your male senses at the door and go out in that sea of darkness. You are needed for nothing but skin, sweat, magic and lust. Maybe for energy, and the hunt, if need be. I know what sex and chocolate , blood and pain are for! I snap back to the cold and my New Rocks crunching alone and silent on the ice, my carbon steel blade rest like a sleeping snake in my hand, it knows me like Death know the dead, open always out of habit and ..the hunt..have you forgotten?

I learned today ... that you are social conformity and fuck you for your judgments...I am almost home .. I see the high rise and my red lit candle, sex magic, in the window ahead. Feelings hit my chest like a Mossberg sending me off to your Boat (can you loan me a coin to pay the ferry man?) I can't breath and choke back tears and memory with a sound like a wounded wolf in the high Rockies howling for its lost mate. I chock it back because I am an Urban dweller now. Damn YOU for that. I feel a chill YOU would never understand or comprehend. Falling against the Evergreen tree, World tree-- please make me feel anything, something, I close my eyes and feel the rough bark of the tree scratch my back as I slide down , ripping my shirt and the blood trickles and pools in the cotton of my Sex Pot Revenge shirt, along my back and down my leg, COMFORT--PAIN.. same difference...finally letting the tears come and I remember,

I remember. Eyes closed and I can still see the clearing of Banyan tress where we watched the ceremony of the Yanamamo , hot muggy jungle night where not many white kids had been and we knew not of YOUR ways but of the PEOPLES ways, too young to know your sting would be a death blow. We touched , explored, learned and traveled with the Vine of the Soul and saw what we knew it was to be in the blood we shared that night, Sacrament. It was sacrosanct, UNPROFANE ... and the brothers found they knew each other so very long ago and loved.

We were love, lovers, made love as one, Shaman told us all three/3, WE: spirit, mind, emotion in one body and we smiled and took the fruit and saw the Gods, so young we were, destiny...we were innocence and hope ...and shame. I remember the loneliness when we came back to YOU and YOU pointed and told us we were sinners and evil; sent us each to different part of the earth, shattered and numb with regret and HATE FOR YOUR WAYS, Civilization YOU called it...

I learned today ...that YOU are a poser and a fraud and YOU all think your solidarity in jokes and mentality of cruel intentions is a boon on your side, a scope in popularity you so crave like junkies for a fix (but the dope man is out of that particular drug my friend) ...and I feel the cold again and stand up, the pain is pleasure and I tighten the straps on my Prada messenger bag just a bit more to FEEL and walk a but further , licking the salty tears like the last supper and wonder why I always take myself back to that!

THAT memory ,that smell, taste...comes to me. Come TO me! I remember later ...the Cicero days of Chy-town and taking pleasure in breaking YOUR bones for the payments forgotten, you running, we laughing at the fear we smell, crave, get off on (you weaklings ) from you.. the hunt again. Knife curved blade still open but just small cuts to teach lessons YOU should have known (and I want to lap at the wounds like a starving creature), Sweat and blood mixing in my hand, between my fingers just the way I like it. I stare and drink it all in, and try to bring back the memories your kind took from MY kind! I can smell the car, gasoline and cotton rags and the smell of burning tires.

Running... I felt nothing as the flames licked at metal and rubber, the hood blows off and the ground shakes a bit and desire to be like YOU again as I am lost fasr from the THREE and the people we loved, just drink what you need in Absinthe and blood...and watch it all fall down. I can no longer sit as silence and eyes of fire are never heard ...and must be.

I can't even really feel the needle as you search for a vein... The belt cuts a bit into my arm as the leather quick zips through the metal holder, cricks and stretchs, and the leather smells of you , so many bite marks on that old belt, and I think, "FINALLY RELEASE???" ...and now I am back and can see again . Memories shaking , sliding away, but the payment I make is higher than yours. It is taboo and costly to mark my soul. Fuck you and your normality of self. Go pay Papa Ghede and Damballah at the making place.

I learned today ...that YOU can never be like me and I don't ever want to be like you with your false faces and empty wallets, your hymns to a dead God of war and his bastard son. I found MY God long before I was born and after that in a jungle in Venezuela , in a frozen tundra and on a mountain in the Sierra Madras in Mexico, in a Kiva with the Dene' and on a veve, making love AS a GOD with a god. I need nothing of your pity or your belief. Your thoughts are even lies to evoke a need to some identity you thought was YOU, your kind! Phantasms!

I learned today ...I should have kept the Vine of the Soul of my beloved Yanomamo and Hedu fallen from the sky, the Mushrooms of the Huichol, the Virarika, the HEALERS, the barking of the Inuit sled dogs as we slept by the fire on the nanurark , **THAT** clearing of Banyan tress, the mingled limbs in the hammock as we curled up with Shaman watching and his smile and stories of our PAST and of what was to be, the art of the Huichol and the Gods of the Weather, Sun, Corn, Earth

...so high I could see and touch the stars in the sacredness of the Marakames chant , their stories and love... acceptance in its purest form like every smack addict that OD'ed at once... all so pure, their sex , their scent, remains and reminds (it's so cold and I'm almost home, if I must call it that) They never knew sex , making love like the gods. They knew instinct..nothing more. YOU. Magic..totem..daemon.., thoughts you saw, words you tasted. Not YOU but WE!

WE left you behind and drank the elixir of the god as you prayed for us. We opened our hearts, our soul(s) and veins. GOD it was good!

.........................REMEMBER dear..cousins, lovers, friends, soul mates, three in one and 15 years of death and pain with YOU and your rules and technocratic shit, Your looks and lies...I told them 15 years 15 years ago a week from today. If words without meaning still ruled when time came round than I would "come home." needle or rope...cards have been played!..................

Am I coming home? I am coming home! My tears are drying as I walk up the stairs , theWallsCrowdMe, Suffocating --- white and smelling of nothing but Urban decadence that is not even decadent in its truest form.. HA...so wait..I am coming soon. I don't need YOUR permission.

I made my vows and peace and I will keep the silence.I learned...forgiveness. What did you learn...Eophan, Mundane..Human?

.....Kia...memories from a childhood