Friday, 12 February 2010

caution! love strikes early & hard... #I of III parts

Love struck, yes it struck her, while she roamed the bars of continuum. In a moment love struck her, and yes she fell for the feeling... the one (that) rose up and took her to ceiling. The elevated sensation just as quickly had her kneeling...
So profound she momentarily lapsed her reason: in definitive por favor to feeling. She tried to equalize properly, not make a scene. The waythemenstare --thethingsEYESsay! had her in some steady state of disarray.

There in that bar of continuum, she must have hit a wall. Just the one bounced her back to the other side of the layout. You know, where the DJ got played out. She was embarrased of herself, for such a high drama, she tried to break it off some. to share and disperse, that feeling so longlastin' heavy now, she gotta getup & curse! (now) 'feeling! disperse!' then slip it off her as she focused, hand over her chest to promote her heart chakra.  She knew it was out there by changing tones of the vodka. She smiled when they felt it, those who drank of continuum in open sincerity of dissociative identity. They understood, she saw, in the taking on of what she shook off. She lifted her skirts and dropped her head so politely... the words emitting from lasers and light beams: 'for your friends. for your health. for the knowledge of your self.'

The white hair man behind her smiled a gold tooth show, and added 'wealth"! which then got garnished with 'happy fulfillment' by some signature young tattooed ballerina with two tone pink hair. intense was her stare. shouted from almost a block away, up there 7th and market studio just a sidestep off OddFellows dismal haunts in old SF, just above the methdone clinic and the dawn scene of so dubbed Honduran foil passed for cash routine in front of the donut shop (one hip and hop from the check cashing spot.)..five o ya know crept around that corner quite alot.

Today the surprise element was on their side, as all eyes and voices in the underground layer survived to attest. something larger than any of them was causing a unitive moment no one would ever believe. the goddess had empowerment for the disenfranchised up her sleeve. they didnt care, no matter if you non-believed! ... 5150 could not separate the fresh braided consciousness of those who held the least of socioeconomic strata; to have any less would be impossible, it clearly stated in tax zone analytic data. and now to all connect would only throw them off more. whose gonna care for the the ones in the seams, written off half the day, junkie john on route to pill hill,  hallucination whore in the liquor store. talking to john non-verbally blocks apart, speaking from their core.

What struck them via her channeling source of energy? Again: do we solemnly dub her LOVE? More we know, less we know love. We can plant and then grow it. We can hold it in or openly show it. The variable flowers bloom up to eyes of urban amazement. Love's ground can seem fallow and empty of life. Self -healing defies the Western knife. Surgery takes back seat to green tea. Shotgun called by Omega three.  So love (that what struck her and then emanated like light) sometimes clear and dangerous potents, struck the streets hard like rain  in its universal cadence. Let it be known, love struck her, just once, in a moment. and merci to the goddess who gives back some to prayers of misfortune.

And she found it painful to express sometimes, love. To recollect sometimes, to reexperience all the truth about her, she required concentration secondary to cup of clam chowder. the flood of diverse feelings she cast, way back then...when her youth was just blazing a trail to young men. Bleeding colors of waves of compiled feeling. wholehearted. spiritual. again, find her kneeling.