Taurus Moonshine

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So did I follow along or did we work together?
Did my writing of the story coincide with the current events on purpose or by chance?
Was this whole thing pre-meditated if it was oddly coincidental?
Can I have my cake and eat it too,
or is this world all cause and effect,
so I can’t be taking credit for cause without getting blamed for effect?
How did we come across this great problem of being here at the same time without communicating directly?
Did collective consciousness make a come back on the chaos factory that churns out pressings of the coin, or did we save the day as soon as we flipped the hourglass for daylight savings?
If I don’t recognize the difference between a business holiday and a religious one, can I get some credit for writing the farmer’s almanac of the galaxy?
Did we forget that we can always make something good out of something bad?
Did we forget to get back to the days when I gave up my seat as the controller of my destiny? Nah I ride shotgun, the navigator, the skipper.
Did some cult classic step work tell me that I had to find a higher power just to be sure that I couldn’t find an ego-maniacal replica of myself?
Is there anything wrong with creating a future to look up to?
Is there anything wrong with fathoming a possibility that I am not perfect,
so I find my higher power is my superego,
not some superfluous version of anybody else.
Sure, I look up to my elders and take tips from my mentors, but then
I find it ironic that they tell me to follow my dreams and then call my aspirations a pipe dream.
I put this seed of life in the pipeline,
allowed for the steamy lovemaking session to germinate this domain that I’ve got that makes me wonder if I can live a life that is so far out there,
that it makes the current system obsolete,
and this wasn’t the plan,
but I found that our technology had been ruined at its root,
so I let that system alone to rot on its own,
don’t blame me for preparing for the future in a way that is non-secular,
reviving the archaic wisdom to be seen as much more than a magic trick.
Revealing how my cheeks blush rosy red and moonshine flashes speckles of stars to twinkle as wisdom teeth pull dimethyltryptamine directly out of my pineal gland which in turn throws a wrenching psycho-spiritual/physiologically and chemically induced capo on my vocal chords,
getting my tongue to deepen my octave,
and harmonize so I’m speaking Yiddish instead of Latin,
reading Sanskrit instead of Hebrew,
banishing greater demons naturally,
so I don’t have to try anymore to vocalize my soul,
just as one does not force a flower to bloom,
my mind reaches new heights,
but its a sobering, humbling feeling,
I’m not disoriented this time,
I’m not paranoid,
I’m no longer paralyzed as I start reaching my eldest spirits,
coining new phrases to say this all over again.
I understand my arm,
I don’t overpower the mainframe of my mind any longer,
I don’t break the confines of this parallel reality,
I don’t get lost anymore,
I’ve marked my spots,
I’ve claimed my treasures,
and it is only the pine-cone of the pineal expanding,
releasing its ability to plant seeds of consciousness,
entire trees of life,
not just flowers,
not just plants,
but whole orchards, the chores in the garden,
this does not feel like work.
This feels like life.
This feels like the place where I was meant to do what comes naturally,
and the benefits that follow are the cornucopia of the harvest.
This Taurus full moon…it is always just before the autumnal equinox.
The best time of year to make love,
the best time of year to reap what you sow,
the time before we huddle in the warmth of our homes,
before the crisp fall airbrushes neatly into a bitter cold,
to preserve the soil,
to preserve the soul,
for next spring,
the soil will be chocolate cake,
the perfect medium to plant the next crop.
I think next year…I’ll plant wheat crops…as it seems seeds of life…take so much more energy to grow…and I’m not gonna sugarcoat it…this bittersweet harvest has been the most difficult adventure of my life.
At least we got cornbread out of it this year…

A transcript from
Patrick Michael