Power Trip Poem

Power Trip

Art: Democracy Progress Freedom Blood Power Caged Bird Theory

April 24, 2014


To sit at the top of a throne at the top of the city upon a hill… what a feeling that is.

Looking onward from my view above it all, the long views kick in a permanent sense of self entitled awe. I am but a vessel of the lord. I am the vessel of the lord.

I am in a particular set of circumstances. The metaphysical trains of directed human energy rush by from either side and onward, spiraling off into the infinite. By grace, great advice, skill, and divine will (what else could it be) I am able to negotiate and direct the metaphysical trains, the waves of organized disciplined soul energy, and with tremendous consequent. It is my duty, the tools are there and meant for my using.

Everybody is aboard the train. Nobody else has really seen the collective maps to know where the trains are going, or why they are going where they are going.

They must have faith in the system racing them around and rely on me as their messiah, the conductor, who only needs to make a switch every once in a while. I am here for a reason. They are incapable of surfing the wave of life without their industrial motors and my guidance.

When a fly lands on the shoulder of a true martial art master, the master has to make an ever so slight adjustment. Sometimes, however, it spins out of control, and I find my left fist and arm through a wall on the South side, my right big toe just lightly dipped in the water to the North West.

And then a hornet lands on my right shoulder.


I enjoy the sensation of humility derived from the posture and even relish in it. Always confined to my throne and authoritative conduct, I don’t ever get to express myself freely like this. I enjoy the expression of strength having my fist through the wall, and I like being able to know what the water feels like.

Then the sweat on my thigh produces a sensation to readjust, and as I give into the urge I notice the hornet on my shoulder just as it stings me.

The stinger pierces my skin, and the venom flows into my system. My body and brain react. The pain from the shoulder pulses with my blood and starts to spread. For a moment it reminds me of my mortality, and that I am alive, but it quickly numbs out as a white glowing sense of awe dominates my perceptions, starting with my vision and spreading to all over my body.

I am transported through my mental world and outward into the outer (or inward) realms of existence.

I get the feeling like I am looking at the stars. I feel so small and insignificant, but then remember I am grounded and here on earth and this is how it goes. Then all of a sudden the ground is stripped from underneath me, pulled out like a rug, amplifying the feeling of smallness and insignificance, and renders me in a selfless state of full on submission to divine mercy.


I wake up with a gasp and I am in a cave, cold and damp. I can’t remember ever knowing anything else aside for suffering to much worse degrees in the past when I used to be chained in the cave.

I am starving, delirious, and nearly in a state of despair from a lack of food. Then I look up to find an opened can of cold beans appeared in front of me. I cure my gut wrenching hunger in ecstatic slobber, and then proceed to enjoy the calming of my roaring stomach.

Still in the cold damp cave, the generally crappy feelings from poor nourishment and intense lonely emptiness are temporarily overcome.

As the crappy and empty feelings start to creep back on, just before they settle, a warm hug comes out of nowhere.

Warm wool sweater covered breasts smash against the back of my head as loving arms embrace me, turning and rubbing my face into the stale rose perfume. Warmth. I am at home. I belong.

My adviser makes sure I am always ready to come out on top. Being on top means wealth, riches, and raw power, which means a legacy worthy of a god, but what sort of god would I be?


Jesus, Ram Dass, and don Juan all walk into a bar.

They talk

“What is happiness?

What does it mean to exist?

How do I explain that which cannot be explained?

How do we help to facilitate and articulate experience of the numinous?

How do we help people to feel love and pay attention to themselves, their neighbors, and the world?

An individual alone is not capable of paying enough respect to the world.

Only through creation of inherently subversive, truly alternative independent autonomous structures, and then by using them to foster community respect, can the community generate something worthy for paying respect to the world.

One person alone cannot respect the world adequately, though it starts with that person respecting them self. Then others will be able to learn to respect their own selves, learning through example.

Then the community starts to build a shared identity and mutual respect. Then the people are worthy of paying respect to that which mercily sustains them, as they learn to identify with something far greater than themselves.  


There are parallel alternate realities everywhere. Your reality is not mine, but they are parallel. Then we only have limited senses as humans. Ever think what lies beyond our ability to perceive? There could be whole giant mechanisms at work we cannot see. Take gravity for example, or electro magnetism, and so on. What does that look like if I could perceive it with my eyes? What happens if I disintegrate on through the fire onto the flip side of the reality? Am I ready to embrace the eternal fire? Can I handle the lucid reality?

A caterpillar doesn’t think about becoming a butterfly until it’s time to start becoming a butterfly.

So how does one find that special spot if they don’t see electromagnetism and other dimensions? How does one negotiate these metaphysical trains? Who will be my broker for the divine? Can I access the numinous?

Can I break through the hierarchy of the mind and embrace the priorities of existing?

How does one find that special spot in other people? How does a guru who can read minds only focus on the positive? How do they see the spinning bee hives of the human neurology and blow on just the right bee to put the whole hive into a state of fluid mirroring ecstatic dance, as reaction leads to reaction and so on.

Every last bit counts. One rolls with it through effortlessness and diligence, persistence, and homage to the forces (Gods?)


I then have the following realization

“The amount of time I spend on computers is ridiculous.”

The vortexes are portals of mind documentation. The electrical circuits, glowing pixel radiating liquid crystal displays of raw exploitive pornographic mind tool socializations, with images that won’t leave afterward that mesmerize in a blue red race to the center and out to the four edge centers, a hallucinogenic trance of collective consciousness exchange, it’s like hacking into the matrix.

You think a thought and put the work into sharing it through the web and bam 50 people show up somewhere and a lot of energy is directed (routed) one way or another.

The 50 people dissipate, and disappear.

I find myself mostly horizontal in a state of levitation in a black room with a cold foggy mist. Don Juan appears.

I am spinning around slowly and fluidly, as though I am on some sort aerotrim human gyroscope guided by a gentle nursing divine hand.

Don Juan whispers into my ear.

“She gives them a taste of power too soon without fortifying their hearts and makes them domineering and unpredictable. She makes them weak in the middle of their great power.”

I ask ”Isn’t there any way to avoid that?”

He responds, “There is a way to overcome it, but not avoid it. She sneaks up on you like a woman. You are not even aware of it. All you care about is that she makes you feel good and powerful: the muscles swelling with vigor, the fists itching, the soles of the feet burning to run somebody down.”



Continue to Power Trip Artwork


Jacob Bloom

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