All images copyright 2000-2100 Alexandria Heather
Use of images prohibited without written permission from the artist.
"tell me honestly; is there a dick on my face?"
..
The secret behind fear, ennui and the general
malaise that borders
sometimes spills over into
joylessness
cannot be healed with prozac or television.
Not for us.
The secret goes beyond these tissue walls.
Beyond this breath.
The secret is that you are, in fact, not on your true home planet.
we are impossibly far from home
even though it's right here
all around us
within us
This
blue globe
in the backwater brackishness
of the Milky Way is
one of millions of planets used
for karmic restoration.
Soul workshops.
Excellent
mud baths for the body and the mind.
Many souls here are natives.
Most refuse to acknowledge their Bonobo cousins.
Too close to the story unfolding.
Too wrapped up in the fear of living.
Earth humans are an angry tribe: seeking.
We are overcome with
love
and
frustration
rendered heartbroken
or numb
when with them.
We construct
then
deconstruct ourselves
through life after life
returning to the grid
of the universe mechanism
Finally home again!
What a trip this time!
Fuck all.
I'm not doing that again!
we relax back into the light
of our true being
ahhhhhhh
But the mechanism never stops moving
we forget
how much we
forgot
last time
watching from afar
we are agitated!
It looks easy & fun and cool
from that view
I remember
somone said once
'It's a Crooked Shell Game!'
was that you?
We universans can choose plant or animal form.
The stoic go for the 'tree' thing.
Thrillseekers tend toward insects or marine-folk.
But us universans who
choose human form do so to live among the most
difficult of barbarians.
All creatures use language.
But humans use
an archaic form of verbal communication
that wholly limits an universan heart.
Those who choose a non-human form enjoy a much more
straightforward exchange.
Though the value is no less
usually far more
than a human exchange.
But
You already know all this,though.
(sorry.
You know I get pleonasy whenever I'm in a skin)
You probably still have that
ancient
statement
of
purpose
imprinted on your aura.
But you asked me to remind you
if you forgot who you truly were.
If you forgot your intentions.
If everything here started
to
make too much gruesome sense.
If you became unable
to
fend off the tidal waves
of joy
and sorrow
that flow in
this sticky human blood.
You asked me
if a minute
became
an
eternity
and a decade becomes a catnap
to remind you of your real story.
But I forgot one thing you told me
before we zipped
these bodies on, and I'm sorry for that.
I've been wracking my brains on both our accounts.
Been busy myself, you see.
But in your case
I'm totally embarrassed!
I completely forgot...
um...
Why is it that you are here, again?
Introduction to the illustrated novel,
"Dirty Shamana"
Copyright 2008 Alexandria Heather
