X Marks the Spot

Opening installment of completed novelistic ScriptureX.1, interlocking spintegral parables.

 

I’ve been out here a long time. The long-buried treasure under the grassy clearing didn’t even correspond to my emergent magnet of intent till the autumn of my mortal years. Weary of wishing for welcoming warmth, I’ve wandered in realms of possibility.

 

The vortices, gelatinous, funneled the souls’ incarnations. Will-o’-the-wisps into pulp wars. Where dull demons iconized Jesus falsely. Where increasing others, though, danced in the sunlight. I witnessed our myriad rebirths.

 

I found the holes in everyday flesh reality. Burrows to heal from the wounds of inflated ordinariness. Entries to elements heretofore unknown. Answers to why people favored illusions to truth.

 

Out here means far away and close as breathing. In the wilderness of the heart.

 

I was forced to be a sanctuary unto myself, for the outside of the wilderness was inside the glittering chattering cities as well. Many were the faces and forms, forces and fames of the Kosmic Goddess’ human aspect. The kisses from enchanting strangers blossomed into ravishing flux. Safecracking salt mines financed delirium. I knew the women were chimerical vortices in the never-ending stream of mystery, as myself, as everyone, but their fierce nests prickled with controlled hysteria -- the normal intonation in the karmic maze, in the hive mind. I knew the value of full intertwine, the desired gene-splicing of souls issue, but the binding truth of poietai was elusive.

 

Bane Savage is my handle on the sidewalk. Park your piquant aura ‘midst the neon glow. Wildings should show savoir-faire.

 

Some take time, some make time, some spend time, some bend time, some sell time, some bell time, some do time, some rue time. I steal time.

 

The cubicled jibber-jabber of Mammon claws at your survival, but you learn to carve your initials in blood on the screaming archon’s face.

 

Space-fu fighters are out again today, their moves mastering a whirlybird effect in the sky, aided by rotator blades on their helmets.

 

 

The judges sat purposely recycling the perceptual gilded cage of subject-objecthood -- profaning the divine singularity in their amnesia. There was no place for the shattering of the siege of history, so gnosis was inscribed in invisible ink.

 

 

“You’re my absolutely obscure object of desire!” I cry, my laser gaze keening the trembling perfection of her inner thighs.

 

This will intoxicate her in recurrent waves of timelessness until she discovers I am an incubus. Then her eyes will smolder darker, and her lips screw into a wicked smile -- or she will shriek “Begone!” till her terror turns her catatonic clam.

 

She licks her lips while my lion’s loins stir.

 

Scriptural libido ensues. Howling bliss in the eye of the cyclone.

 

No, she is not mute, but nuanced in silence, intriguing in discourse, divine in intercourse.

 

 

One moment we are luxuriating in a king-sized bed, post-coitus, and the next I experience the strangely familiar shimmering dissolution of the scene, and know that the time-space continuum, the shamanic assemblage point has shifted again. Intent was largely subconscious, so awakening is gradual. “By passion bound/also released.”

 

 

Through this slipstream in time, I frequently do not know where I am, or how much time has passed, for I seem to be living longer than my contemporaries, the years stretching into eras.

 

No doubt I shall attempt to hold on to my next great love, full knowing the moment will come when the time-space continuum will shift, when I shall claw at her chemise while it turns to river flux.

 

Older younger freer lonelier I abide. Lonely becomes happily alone only when I allow the Eye of the Storm’s naked beauty.

 

 

The Eye of the Storm, not time’s elusive joker, finds the long-buried treasure under the grassy clearing.

 

I’ve rushed about, wind tearing through my hair, exhilarated by the sprint and the tranquil swaying trees, only to find I was always in the same spot, no matter the shifts in the landscape, the movement of the body. Always molecular awe. Being’s indifference to antiquated frivolities, or virtually everything a karmic mortal thinks important. God’s not dead. We are. O but we are that field o’ god as well as escape velocity particle-phantasms.

 

Poignant are our eternal moments of zombie transfigured to godhood incandescent orgasmic. Let us devour one another ecstatically in this stupid hellzone. Velvet vortex is our yab-yum union. Your eyes a glaze of interdimensional stars. Yes.

 

 

Sartre said "Hell is other people."  Twofold, it seems. First, undue emphasis on feeling separate from the other leads to hell, and second, ramshackle narrow societal standards lead to hell, so it sure as hell ain’t my broth. But then Blake reminds us, walking through Hell, of "the delights of genius, which to the angels look like torment."

 

It’s those interdimensional pit stops I make that account for the “lost time” -- where this lifetime is five to tenfold more than a typical span. I become a virtually immortal marathon man during the pauses, after the time-space phase shifts, the assemblage point movements.

 

So does this give me any zeitgeist intervention skills?

 

What is the long-buried treasure under the grassy clearing?

 

 

In my soft moments I long for one to come whose smile and flowing chemise shift in the continuum with me, much to my delight, for the wind howls louder on even calm days when you are ultimately alone in your intimacy. Every place I touch her is the blessing of being, unbound by time. X is everywhere, the mystery, immersive, omnipresent. Assemblage points shift effortlessly with our coital breathing. We live in the immortal “curl” of the wave of time, cradled by the power of emergent conscious life. Ares-Aphrodite born on the sea foam together, surfing the vectors between dimensions, worlds.

 

 

The long-buried treasure under the grassy clearing is the Heart, awesome core of being, and the vital natural capital of utilizing erotic fireworks for personal and collective transformation, via neo-tantric understanding of whole systems. Or it is a bomb set to explode at your glance. True alignment is recommended. X Marks the Spot of Reality. That show is a melting and a shattering of point-of-view. All you win is Existence.

 

Sign here.

 

 

Author's Note

Initial entry is anchored on an Octavio Paz/Jorge Luis Borges sensibility, then subsequently fans outward into psi-fi, erotic, postmodern political elements. Cumulative grail: Iconoclastic novelistic scripture of interlocking spintegral parables.

Reviews

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

Brilliantly elusive and enlightening at the same time. A prophet of years to come I should say. A funny thing happened to me along the way to the fair once where I was pulled over by police and given a sobriety test - the first of which was to say the alphabet from c to z - ironically, I began with X - again and again as they asked me to repeat it. I am reminded of this occurrence in your work. It does mark the spot - yes? Truly a delight to read. Thank you for sharing so much of your terrifically creative mind.
Light,
Siddartha

[OT]

your vocabulary is brilliant! this is a wonderfully crafted and constructed piece of writing, you've put so much into this and the effort is recognised! a great start to this - you capture us - reveal enough to keep us intrigued but leave a little scope for us to see glimpses of further revelations without exploring them too much yet!! shall be reading on!! so very creative and well written!! nice!

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

oh the day this carapace falls to the sand for the last time where x marks the soul . . . . .

=)~

[Marie Harrison]

I'm mesmerized by this write. It's full of humanity's yearning for love and connection to the body, the soul and the heart. It's a lonely world devoid of much attention and connection with others, so when their is connection it's meaning is deeper. It has more value. Beautiful message. Sexy write.

[Shivi]

Pheww! You can keep your readers glued to your story. Terrific!

[Shay]

You know what I find interesting is that all these lovely sweethearts left you a comment complimenting your beautiful verbal ability.. but what I want to know is if anyone actually understood the text...? I am different... I read things differently.. I already know you have a wonderful vocabulary... I have seen you can write.. I can no longer focus on the symantics of actual writing ability... When you delve into your text you must in fact.. focus on your stream of thought to actually retrieve the intent... This is the real gift in your writes. Some people actual view these words as a sci fi story... to me they have a much more intense purpose... Yes they are lovely... Yes that are in superb form... The meaning of the entire piece though thats the real Pot O gold ...
So now that I have go on for way to long... would you like to here my impression of the text written here...Metaphorically summarized of course in my own words.. for details that are highlighted in this could take me a novel to finish a simple thought.. ah ah ah
X marks the spot.. the holey grail of full rotation... The merging of mind body and spirit.. through recognition of mirrored souls... Unique sip into the essense of another in order to clear the palette of the sour taste of bitter dissapointment... Still it's much more then that.. with this piece of the puzlle one can move forward in their cognitive choice to ascend their spirit beyond that of simple human existance..Penatrating the bullshit bubble of soceitals misguided notion of happiness through everything but the right thing..
As always Paxx love, I have found my mind lost in your world.. and swimming through the possiblities of tomorrow with excited eyes.. you love, have a divine pen with intent.. I am always in appreciation for what it creates...
xxx
Shay

[Amber Betty Marie Child..]

every line of this was a neat play of hmmmmmm id call it feeling intellect energy and with imagination swirls might i add
passion passion right here

[Vague]

I enjoyed this, because the inherent disjointedness that is existence once the individual stops looking for connections that are not valid is present in varying degrees at all times. Sometimes the mind reaches out for certainty, sense, or some sort of reward for what is in essence merely being conscious. It inevitably retreats, because it knows better.

[Tracie Skarbo]

What a truly intriguing first chapter. I find that I am hooked by the brilliance of the idea and the complexity of the work. I am most curious to find out what hidden lessons are in the remaining chapters and how you are going to incorporate them into the story. You've got me... I am along for the ride!

[LJW]

Surreally existential. What bums me out though is this:

I feel like I need to smoke a joint and reread. I haven't smoked a joint in 16 years. This is not a slam of your work by any means, more a slam at my limited non-existential thinking. I need a slap in the head and now I know why. If I have to think too hard to understand something, I give up. Or maybe I think and I should not think at all.

At any rate, this is unique and unabashedly so. I imagine a blind Borges listening to this out loud and nodding his head, smiling. :-)

[TamiViolet]

Inspiring, to say the least... Women are the vessels that lead to truth... I do believe, yes? You did an excellent job of politely saying...'Wake up people!'....

The opening paragraph caught my attention; your wit and depth of soul held it, and the conclusion left me to ponder my own existence... I'm afraid to sign anything... Yes, the Heart is the treasure under the grassy clearing.... 'utilizing erotic fireworks'... or...a bomb.....? This has a cosmic feel to it, Pax, at least from my perspective.

Why do people favor illusions to truth? I think in time, we all see things for what they really are, a sort of maturation process for many perhaps.

'God's not dead. We are.'.... In many ways, you are right; then, the question becomes....why... Your work oozes passion from every orifice in the body, yet my favorite paragraphs are the last two along with 'Sign here.' Now, I am 'nuanced in silence'.....thinking...

I will be reading the other chapters as I am caught in the 'vortex' of Scripture X. What a fantastic journey into character this was, and I am delighted that there is yet more to come!
XXX