Divine Decadent Deception

The greatest trickster of them all… Creator.

For she is beyond duality. And yet within it all is he. Dancing through and within polarity yet It is not bound to none.

What if all your dogmas were set up just so you could experience liberations?

What if all prophecies were laden with the filth of both saints and whores?

For in her eyes sinners are but offerings. The Great Beloved turns away none.

Her hips swim with the seas that were parted. Both the saved pass through and the damned are swallowed.

Holy men drink from her cup. Theives steal of her Blood. Yet in the end, all is made Sacrament.

A high priestess once told me the true meaning of the word sacrifice is to make holy.

Yet the temples still fill with charlatans. Guess that’s why when you piss off Jesus he’s up in here turning tables….

Yet the next day he’s turning water into wine. Saying “eat of my flesh and drink of my blood.”

Yep. There’s a Christ inside you saying Eat Me Up bitches. The 2nd coming ain’t got all day, We Are One. Every great prophet just wants to be DEVOURED. Consume of my latest ingredients for self-realization. Taketh of my New York Times best seller self help book and be redeemed!

The holiest of mysteries and initiations require blasphemy for entry. Because the dogmas can only lead you so far… the hard stone of temple walls that tell you “what is” only last for so long, till crumble and decay starts to return them to the Garden they ached to return you to all along….

We all must sin to be made clean again. We all must know suffering to know freedoms true worth.
Perhaps that’s why the Hierophant has the holy child at his chest, birthed from the holy union of all elements in the mastery of gnosis.

Yet, the Way to He is guarded by none other than Venus…

After an Ayahuasca ceremony years ago I was gifted a book called “You Are What You Love” and on first entry opened to a passage reading “Shiva and Jesus As One”…

It spoke of how Shiva incarnated as a perfect avatar of realization to drink of the poison cup of all humanities suffering… only to transmute it through the complete Love as offering of grace back to the All…. sound familiar? Much as Christ came to show that even in divine empowerment, he still was crucified as the witch he was for all to watch. A powerful statement to ripple through the Aeon.

The fisherman, Pisces, coming toward the water barer, Aquarius. The turning of the Age… still, reminds me of the Bodhisattvas, who would instead of taking the full enlightenment of returning to Source for Sat Chit Ananda style forever and ever yo…. to instead descend amongst us mortal folk and serve the transmutation of karma for the liberation of humanity.

it’s all divine dinner for her, Babalon. Every time do you get close thinking you’ve all got it figured out, you’re just a step closer to getting ripped to shreds and devoured. The ego may scream and moan, but it’s all just a part of the striptease. She makes no judgments on mortal drama, licking her teeth for the next banquet. Saints become patient with her flesh, and set ablaze with passion in full lotus position, worshiping at the feet of the lion.

Like I said, God loves to play tricks on you. Because you are God. I dropped it in the ocean experiencing individuation, only to inevitably dissolve back into the ocean. Are you really in control? Or do you simply have to believe that. Either way it’s a lot of fun. If you learn to take the ride. Would be tossed around. It’s up to you. Or is it?

For all mortals talk of End Times, that’s just the foreplay. The real meaning of the word apocalypse is but the lifting of the veil. The One that Shrouds Her Face. She is Revelation. The great reveal… would only be so agonizingly beautiful if it were a tease over the seams of Time.


When Saturns done duking it out with Jupiter we’ll get it just fine. Perhaps then Chronos will be restored in its place in the heart of the people, and they won’t be worshiping their tiny watches, endlessly listening for the tick tock of mini deaths…. strain, then orgasm… release. Little deaths society strives towards, for some amorphous ideal of climax, the Big Bang it’s longing to get back to because it can’t hear its own pulse.

If the oil is the blood of the earth what’s that say about our own rivers of the body? Yum, that’s some dirty money. Eat it up, because that’s the train to transmutation town. We deal in what is given, yet from coal is made diamond, from lead is made gold. You must start somewhere… where better than a mine field of separation? War, pollution, those are just the base materials, of which an enlightened world is born.


Once I was walking down a road waiting to be picked up in Maui after lunch at Down to Earth, a familiar position I’ve been in as a pilgrim on Yod’s Time. Meant to right the G word came out that way, but that’s just fine. So when I finally surrendered my “when is it ever going to happen fuck this 100 people passing me” and looked at the beauty of it all, a couple stopped their car…. not to pick me up but to hand me a book that read “The Science of Self Realization”. Again, I cast a bibliomancy, opening the book to a “random” page in synchronicity, to a passage that spoke of Krishna and Christ as One. Really they are the same word, just different inflections.

funny all these ways that we play this game. Where cultures and borders, religions and races, are just colors on the pallet all painting one larger thing, yet none of the characters get it till a certain point called Coherence. Yet who cast the actors, made the stage, and wrote the script? …

… He laughs, eyes filled with lightning, gazing from the mountains of the sky upon the lush fields of the goddess. What’s she calling herself this day? Aphrodite? Was that before you went through the identity crisis Innana? Or what about that Lakshmi phase. I’m having great fun watching your costume change and the hoards of consorts eager to worship your lotus feet, unknowing of your primordial form… yet, you’ll get them there. You always do.

What other choice do they have but surrender, exhausted after their exquisite writhing and obulations… how long will they wiggle around looking at it every which way up and down, trying to find new sex positions and toys, practicing different majiks and tantras, exploring different vistas, going on pilgrimages just to “get there”, before that precious moment comes when the lotus just blossoms. And they weren’t really the ones who made it happen. What a hilarious joke… what cosmic humor you have. How ridiculous!

Yet, would you have it any other way.

“For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored and the scorned,
I am the harlot and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter.” – from Promethea, by Allan Moore