Solid March of the Misfit

Enduring the heat on her face,
It grew from a flame years ago,
Her fears, his hatred, their space,
Has destroyed parts of her ego.

It grew from a flame years ago,
Their blazing flame has espoused it;
Has destroyed parts of her ego,
With a solid march of the misfit.

Their blazing flame has espoused it,
Her fears, his hatred, their space,
With a solid march of the misfit,
Enduring the heat on her face.

((by Amina Caprice Andolini¬†ūüĎĹ))

Advertisements

Sad, Sad Sparrow

shackled to a door in my Gothic Shrine,
breathing like a sad, sad sparrow:
he’s urging me to say more,
he’s urging me to do more…

all I hear is a grinding, cavernous whine,
bleeding like a dying crow:
he’s urging me to do more,
he’s urging me to be more…

pining in my Shining Gothic Shrine.
dying like a sad, sad sparrow.
feeling like a loner, losing my mind,
looking through the radio…

living on lifeblood and gore –
he’s urging me to do more,
he’s urging me to BE more.

Shadow Dude

Forever in a vacant room
Amongst crucial flowers in bloom
A moving stretch of solitude
The depressed little shadow dude…

Depressing his own shadow’s view
Diluting his box of half-truths
The depressed little shadow dude –
Forever in a vacant room

Meditating on Poetries

Your self-esteem is a very fragile thing –
Peering through a nightmare’s walls,
belief system drenched and swanned,
searching for a brand new identity…

Searching for an online shrine –
One dedicated to big words and stillness.
One dedicated to meditation,
over-the-top creations and a daydream.

Ghostlike Beat

In a farsighted room, on a normal night of mourning, the fragrances of three Spirits – of sorrow, burning, and disbelief appeared before me. ¬†And ever since that moment I’ve been laying flowers at your doorstep, hoping you’ll remember the beat. ¬†I see phony groupies lazing round in dark of darks and awful deafness, while I dance, dance, and dance to its serious suggestions. ¬†I’ve been paving our channel with astonishment and sleep. ¬†I’ve been playacting at best, giving the whole World a face of bittersweet neglect, but in the place where wild rabbits build wild nests, I’m secretly hoping you’ll hear my labored roar. ¬†And then, you’ll dance, dance, and dance to the location of my tempered glass coffin. ¬†You’ll smash through the mug, destroying the Gothic breath that seizes expansion.

Wraithlike on the surface, it’s innate to chase after a whacked out rhythm. ¬†It is for me. ¬†That I summon various poets of yore to our old abandoned palace is inborn – it is for me. ¬†I’ve been laying flowers at the castle, at the doorstep, at the passageway. ¬†Should you choose to snub the meridian, I won’t cease to be a conduit for the fluffy pink, but now, how can you remain deaf to the rhythm, to this wild ghostlike beat? ¬†I shall not rest until I build a nest inside your fluffy wing. ¬†I shall do nothing but focus on your offbeat rhythm, on your wild ghostlike beat… and maybe… you’ll hear me.

Grand Orchestration

Seven¬†years ago, I could not find a single story similar to mine on the internet, and now, there is an explosion of people claiming to have gone through their Spiritual Awakening at the same time as I did (seven to nine years ago). ¬†I find it amazing, and well, I find it comforting, especially that most all of the people I am referring to make videos about their experiences. ¬†In the past, I prayed for a spiritual teacher on Earth, one that would give me some sort of advice about this stuff without charging a ridiculous amount. ¬†I’m aware that people must make a living here, but I have always felt a little funny about giving out plain old advice at a steep price.

I have run into all kinds of spiritual teachers, but I have yet to run into someone who has as many wild stories to tell as I do – I have stories from a little kid up until my cough age now.

I think about talking to people, but I get the feeling that even they would look at me as if I’m not doing so good in the head.

Stories of
Spiritual Growth,
Kundalini awakening,
chakras bursting open,
Angels, demons, ghosts,
attached entities,
Twin Flame

And the beauty of it, something I used to think was a disadvantage to me, is most people will think that’s all I have to offer. ¬†Stories. ¬†They won’t think anything like what I have to say could ever be “truth.” ¬†That’s my advantage, because I can play with the facts in whatever way I want.

As of now, I am beyond the confirmation phase of this journey. ¬†Although I love everybody, value everybody’s opinion and whatnot, I do not need a person reading my own Energy back to me. ¬†I can do that myself. ¬†Although I may feel this way, I know I’m not totally alone. ¬†I have Spirit Friends (whatever name is best), but in this density, there are times when my Spirit Friends just aren’t enough. ¬†There are times when a big ole smile and a positive attitude isn’t enough. ¬†There are times when an unconditional heart, lots of gratitude, Love and Light isn’t enough. ¬†In the beginning, I knew there were parts of the journey I’d be taking alone. ¬†I could feel it; I fought against it. ¬†I simply didn’t want to take those steps alone. ¬†It was a terrifying thought, but I’m okay with it now. ¬†It feels as if I orchestrated things this way.

Daydreams & Nightmares of August 31, 2008

I believed what God showed me, what He told me.  I believe in the troops He sent forth to help me through the daydreams and nightmares of August 31, 2008.  I had never gone through a loss so tremendous.  My mother.  Before that day, I thought the dreaded heartache was a fictional Being, just a con-corny figure of speech.  That night, on the night of August 31, 2008, I literally had the craziest heartache Рa real heartache!  Literal pains.  Not only that, but when Momma left this Earth, I held on.  I held on so tight that my Soul broke apart.  There was a Void.  The Angel of Death used his tools to reset the root.  All kinds of repressed memories popped up.  I had no choice but to pick them.  I spent years picking through gold and rotten fruit.

I felt ragged, as if I’d been in a fight with Azrael, the cosmos, other universes, and I lost big time. ¬†My heart chakra went psychedelic; my third eye kicked the Crown wide open. ¬†Its white light materialized and encased me in a bubble. ¬†During that Era of Protection, Evil couldn’t corrupt the flow of info. ¬†Evil couldn’t understand the alien gibberish – but I could. ¬†I started to see things, feel things straight out of my “subconscious” mind. ¬†They filled my empty Soul with purple liquid and I, I stumbled down a crossbred path. ¬†I started on a Spiritual Journey. ¬†I’m still on it. ¬†I feel alone though there are many wonderful things to do here, a colorful world to explore. ¬†I know Momma and the troops are cheering. ¬†And Azrael, he’s a nice guy. ¬†He checked on me after my pitch black NDE – a trip to Third Nirvana – and I thank him in the deep.

I can hear so many of my Spirit Friends – laughing, singing, and cracking jokes. ¬†I know they’re with me. ¬†I know the Spirit lives on; however, that delicate scrap of air does not faze me in the 3D, this virtual reality. ¬†Its vibrations are so thick, so slow, and so dense…

I’ll always pine for Momma’s face, her voice, her cooking, her mothering. ¬†After a brief episode of stagnancy and a long time searching inward, I’ve somehow found the strength to pick more golden fruit. ¬†The daydreams and nightmares of August 31, 2008 have pacified.