stuck. sad. angry. disappointed. caged. feeling trapped. scared. infected by the fear of others. can’t make a move. sitting, watching contraction kill life. watching dissociation suffocate everything where love could breath us into a new birth. Eroding Patriarchy…it erodes me. It erodes our Feminine being. She is shackled, muzzled, silenced by the hand that reaches out to establish a boundary of safe distance. Cut up, compartmentalized, un-related, separated. Division where there might be wholeness, illusion where there might be vision. Delusion where there might be Truth. We are not breathing. We are not touching. We are not co-creating. We are killing, killing, killing. Killing with kindness and fear and a polite little tea party where we look right into each others’ eyes and tell the same lies…that love doesn’t exist, that Mother Nature is an interesting idea, that sex happens somewhere else, outside of you and me and some other time in some remote place reserved for fantasy and distortion. Meanwhile we talk about music. We talk about music in the same sentence that is so pregnant with the absence of a willingness to admit love. What an oxymoron. What a travesty.

Where does it live in your body, that Woman is the other half of Man? Where does it live in your body that the problem with all these people is that they’re not in Love? Are you above it all? Not at all one of those people he was talking about? Such a disconnect from ones own values. Maybe there’s a musical equivalent to Pornography and masturbation. Go and get your fix or come and get your love.



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