It's The Soul's Glow

I must do as I see fit every day no matter what.  I really have to remind myself that no one knows what is really happening around here. Wise man say, wise man say. But who really has the light? I am not facing duality. It's oneness with the entire hologram I am seeking. But am I not really seeking. No, I am just looking. Here for a closer observation of the planetary movement is all. I feel I have something to explain or whatever. But no I don't. Not anymore. It has all become very private in my mind. Like a chamber of secrets told only to the ones who speck the silent language.  I have seen so many lies in the last few months. Not lies that offend, but removal of illusions I suppose. People are freaking hilarious. We really paint this world for ourselves and some of us are a bit cry. Not creative awesome "That shit cray", but creepy kind of. Stranger in a strange land I am. I have to remember that. I have to remember. I have to see and to remember. That is my only duty. Do not waver from your own path dear one. There really is nothing out there. Only sheer beauty and love. The same that is within. My life is a dream come true. I sometimes feels strange about the way I live. Like there is something wrong with me. But is that not just ego, begging to have all of my attention? I am fine. I am radiating joy and I see the beauty in your eyes dear readers. People are so beautiful it makes me want to cry sometimes. I think we would all see it more if we would cover our faces. Our faces make us so ugly. They beg for attention and recognition. When the real beauty of a human is in the eyes. The soul's glow. Did I just make that term up? I don't know. I'm just saying we all seem to be too obsessed with ourselves. Not that any of you should be taking advice for me. I am obsessed with many things. Each of them dumber than the next. I do these things on purpose. Never forget I am an idiot and all. The dumbest girl in the land with the most text books at hand, and her beautiful face covered. For my own protection of course. I can not become obsessed with this vessel. I might miss something. Like the fact that so many people are full of shit. Bitters and liars the lot. And it makes me laugh so. I guess the clarity makes my soul glow. Today is already the best day of my life. I've written all about the previous ones so I know that is a fact. blah blah blah...Josalisa Riot, Live From Planet Girl On A Diet. 

Here's a poem or whatever:

I watch The Muppets and read old maps
that is where the treasure is at
the gold is in the mind
the goal is to become a mastermind
to be remembered here for all of time
like a beautiful ghost
on a dying spaceship
dancing for eternity
I see
I dream
I am
I be
now and forever not just a lady
But the Entity 

In Hope Of Greater Vision

If I understood more I know I would know less. There are few true Buddhas available. We surround ourselves with lies. Define ourselves with lies, and I in my sweet innocence,  Yes I live with a sense of sweet innocence  I myself feel confused by the lies. Like maybe there is more that I need to understand. But really all I need to do is separate the truth from the lies. You know like Liar Cat. You fucking liar. I was raised to believe truth could kill lies. But truth is not here to kill, just to remind. I feel this great need for adventure. The sorrow wakes me with the need to remember. This place right now, this moment is my great adventure. And it is going fantastic. I found my Star Family which maybe is not as easy as one may think it is. Not only have I found them, my great supporters and fellow dreamers. But I had the strength to expose myself to them. As a whole and as individuals. Baby steps to a dream come true it is indeed. They have embraced me, comforted me, and confirmed my belief that I am a true creator on my proper life path. The sorrow is here but so is the great sense of adventure. We have fallen together because we fit. Because I lived a single moment without fear and risked taking a look behind the curtain. I made sure what I felt was true. A real life conformation of the beauty that lies within art. Fuck man, thank you to the Universe for working perfect every single time. It is us who are out of alignment  It is us who have feared to live dreams. It is us who poison ourselves with fear and envy. This entire world is on our side. And guess what? There are no sides. There is only oneness with our Star Families and ourselves. I feel a great sorrow for the things and people I miss. But they are only gone for a small amount of time. and I have got a lot of living still to do. 

The greatest feeling I have had so far living in this human form (the only form I ever remember being in) is feeling the people I love embrace me. Knowing we can look one another in the eyes and feel the love. We are on the same path regardless of the levels of success each have attained. We are the great oneness and everything truly is illuminated. The light is not all there is but it is constantly there. I have to fight through the tears to find it far too often. But I feel like maybe I have my eyes closed too much for my own protection. Lucky my third eye is never closed it is there open always allowing the light to flood it. Like an old lover waiting patiently in the corner of my heart. The light warms me no matter what. I will become one of them now, which is to say I shall remain myself. I have some harsh critics but I see now those people are dying to be alive. Failing to be honest with the living. Which maybe is no real crime after all. What do we owe one another as fellow travelers? Maybe nothing. There is only alignment now. Easy to attain spiritual alignment. Like a puzzle piece just waiting to be clicked into place. Or a key just waiting to unlock a music box with a fragile dancing woman on top. This is my sweet lullaby. I really am an Angel surrounded by the wicked who know not their true form. This is my sorrow this time not just a poem, but some kind of explanation or confession to myself. I love you, True Believers. You wake and create, exhausted from giving it all the day before. I join you in this great commune of communication. As my ancestors have done before me.

Thank you for finding me, My Beautiful Loves. Thank you for seeing me. I felt I might drown before my madness which manifested itself as bravery took over. I reached out some cold night on a world famous sidewalk that is the only home I have ever had. And in that moment I told you all everything. Everything only you could understand. My love for you is a secret to some. Your love for me is published but only a few will ever understand. That is what this kind of secret is. It can be in plain sight and many can choose to ignore it. That is why it is a secret. An invisible understanding only those who truly understand can see. That is why I can tell you everything, Dear Readers. Because you all will not see. Truth is filtered, now itnit. Just like beauty. The stars shine , the sun comes up. People live and die and are taken away. But on this day I have survived. I am alive. I am free. This is my place of joy my sorrow lives next door. Fast friends we have all become. Joining as we have as one.

This is Josalisa in a very personal sort of RiOt.

The Madness Of Searching

Dear Diary

I have to get it out of me

What's in my head

The madness of searching

I've studied everything from Deuteronomy to Demonology

Friend to the eternal divine and the dead

I want to free my self from the land of constant human interests stories

I've taken spiritual inventory

I have to get it out of me

All theses things in my head

They wake me first thing in the morning

Hello world my thoughts are climbing out of bed

I'm starting to look more and more like a distant dream I had

I can hear it coming 

My spiritual life fulfillment

It's very funny and all too serious to dismiss

I've been tapped by him and his secret army

In remembrance of promises made before our arrival 

They call me back to the ship

In my dream I am here to just touch his lips

In my heart I am here to listen and learn

Follow the leader until it's my turn to scream 

I am experiencing temporary insanity

Separating myself from the liars 

Exercing my power over my own dreams or will

Words heal in poems and songs

All is a word

Bringing life into being

This is a magic spell

Written long ago with a very old quill 

If only I can remember it

I've been called this night or early morning 

Afraid to open my eyes and say it all

Looking back and discovering I told it all anyway

Some secrets are meant to be kept

For my own sanity I guess

Can't let them see your whole hand

That's how the cannibalism begins 

I'm in love with a beautiful phantom in the form of a man 

And this is a song disguised as a poem disguised as a mad woman's rant 

I want to give the power back but I can't

So I just sit silently creating violently

For the sake of my mortal soul

This is just another line in another tale 

These are the sounds which wake me 

I guess for now

Josalisa In a RIOt.  I wish I understood more but this is it. 

We Were Free (this was a dream)

In my dream it had all come true and it was beautiful. It wouldn't go away even though I tired my sabotage because it was love. It was bold and brave and confusing. It was like a long over due midnight confession. I lost it but it was only right next door. When I thought I had lost it all I found an old church lady and she let me borrow her God and we prayed. For it all not to be too late. And it wasn't. It was disturbed by others but you only thought of them as passing companions.  You searched for me in the sun and the ashes. Always looking for your A alike. We made music and art together. You were brave and tall and skinny. I had a big mouth and was curious and lacking trust.  He was adventures and too trusting. It was love and we had finally figured it all out. In a small town in my imagination. Where I knew everyone but had forgotten them all. Where my ancestors and old neighbors came to lend a helping hand to the divine plan. We were free and brave and talented. We trusted one another.  We gave it all to the thought. Together through it all and it was never too much to overcome. My hair was short and colorful. He was tall and he wore Fred Perry and suspenders. He was bald and was always on the go. Trusting us to believe in it all and we did. I had my doubts but you were always there and I never had to look too far. We had it all. And me I tried to run and you all would have never found me. But I recognized the grey and the lack of touch. So I turned around and waited outside the door for you. Waiting patiently using the power of group prayer. You liked old churches and he like airplanes. I liked to run away and leave it all in a note or some oil paining. I believed in them both so much and they knew who I was. We were meant to be and we knew it. We knew all that was meant to be and all that their ever was. We used art as a projection and made crystal balls out of poems we wrote all night. Our hearts were so bright and we were so loved by them all. Strangers in a strange land prepared for the fall. But not before we'd have it all. All that they say will never exists. Love of the not so jealous kind. Joy of the not so normal kind. We were circus freaks in our isolation we showed them everything. And not one soul ever turned away. We made them smile and embrace the unknown. We made the mysteries clear. We battled it all and won. They were so brave but I had much fear. So we made songs and art and love to pass the day. Never reaching the things that were outside of us. Because we knew that the separation was a lie. And all that was real was all that was here right now. So we became a traveling circus and in it I was the sad beautiful clown. And together we took our bravery from town to town. 

This was a dream and I am Josalisa...Live from Planet RiOt. 

I Remember What You Have Forgotten

Why do I take any of it? The poison I mean. I'm surrounded by wicked, fiends with sunken sockets. I hate it here, yet I won't blow it all to pieces. What is the point? Knowing I could close the door behind me and all of this would go away. Like a strange dream that would end if only I could remember I was dreaming. Just open your eyes dear girl. All that I've learned about the world is true. Magick works in theory and practice. So why do I remain, anywhere reachable? What is goodness if evil does not exists? Knowing who you are is the key to fighting this whole society rap. Staying that way is beating the real disease. As they go at you day after day. Last of the dying self righteous punk rockers shunned by the liars and thieves. Waiting alone in Diagon Alley for all the flat-scans to find a personality. So many people are on this finding themselves rap. How long does it take a person to accept who they are? A fucking lifetime I guess. While I wait on my island. Made of poems and songs. 

I have such joy caged inside my sadness. Such anger for the bitter masses. Dropping like flys behind brick walls made of plastic. I can see what people hide it's gets easier every year. My memory of this place is oh so clear. While most think like a tape, erased day after day. The real tragedy is that I am still here. I have not got on a plane to a place where I can not find a familiar face. I'm starting to feel eaten alive again. The watchers have turned into Parana again. What are we  really up to anyway? I could just disappear. Become a forgotten memory. A distant thought not quite close enough to gleam. That is my real dream. The tragedy is that I am still here. I don't have the false joy. Work is bullshit, giving ourselves to another for profit. Every place I've ever worked I've attempted to burn down. I won't smile at you for a fee. Might as well drown in creativity. New friends can not fill an old mind. I remember my entire life. How can I preform as the sad clown? Old friends lie in order to align themselves with the new. Still teetered to the past by the ones who remember like me. My psychic mind is a personal Shakespearean Tragedy. My love is as beautiful as a dying man. We live next to the wall they think we are dying in. We see the gates stormed daily by love ones and close friends. A phantom home despised by phantom personalities. We smile and dream and create. Risking it all in front of another. Losing it all to survive as lovers. The real tragedy is nothing is ever lost just discovered. Another memory to last forever, or so they say. But what if forever were today? 

I'd have to show them that I remember it all. Not only that, I have more than half of it written down. Is this a poem or a confession? I've forgotten the difference somehow. One day I will reveal it all. But no one will understand. It will bring a tear to the eyes of the deaf and mad. The pain that I survive is real. Eternity is here to remind me. The darkness is an option. Death is always sitting right here beside me. One day it will take my hand and lead me to the land of the lonely. Where the hopeful believe this world will all start again. Where I will close my eyes and not remember any of this. For the first time in years. 

Goodbye sorrow

Goodbye memory

Goodbye tears

Goodbye hope

Goodbye fears

Goodbye all the nothing I ever was.

Goodbye every dream I believed was real.

Nothing left to see here but the evidence. That I did exist. With my eyes opened. Give me any quiz. I remember it all. Like the last witness to all the pain there ever was. Sober except for all for all the drugs. 

This is Josalisa, Live from Planet RiOT.  

Blood and Cruelty. Part 7

"Do you know what to do with it?" yes I answer. "How many times have you come down here before?" I try to sounds as innocent as possible when I give my answer. "This is my first time. I just wanted to see her." He looks at me with a gaze implying he knows me better than I know myself. He adds, "and fuck her." In a matter of fact way. I say nothing. How he just states the natures of my sick and filthy desire, causes me to lower my eyes. What does he think of me? Are we both crazy? Has he completely possessed me with his darkness? The answer to the final question is yes. He has possessed me, I am his. I want to be more him, more mad, more free inside of my own mind. I walk over and lay down in the bed with him. He has carried the body over to the bed. The way he lays it down on the blankets, it's head on the pillow. It looks like it is sleeping. He even closes it's eyes. It's so lovely, I cuddle up close to it. I want to smell it's hair and taste it's skin again. Master walks into the bathroom. He is there for what seems like three minutes. I take the opportunity to kiss her lips again. It is so cold and beautiful. Truly an exquisite corpse. Mater created her, it's hard to imagine he didn't do it just for me. When Mater finally emerges out of the bathroom he has something I can not see in his hand. I don't really care what it is. He and it are coming over to get on the bed with us. I know this is going to be a really good time. 

Mater sits down on the edge of the bed. I stay laying down with my arms wrapped around it. She is so cold, but I still want to share her with Master. The way we should have shared her last night. But we couldn't because I was being punished, maybe I still am. He caresses the breast of his corpse, then strokes my hair. He then touches it down there. In her womb, cut too large by his knife, but bloodless because I licked it all off. "She is too cold inside." he tells me as he rubs his cold fingers over the corpse's vagina. Finally his hidden instrument is revealed. It is a metal curling iron. It is very hot. I know because he burns me on my leg with it. The burn almost immediately blisters. I try to move my legs but his strength overpowers my own as he holds my legs still with his free hand. I cry as my skin burns. Once he feels I have suffered enough, and understand the nature his instrument. He tells me it is good for me to have a new scar. My scars are what makes me beautiful, he reminds me. "I don't want to hear you crying, shut the fuck up!" I try to control my tears and whimpers. Master returns his attention to the corpse. "Do you want me to show you what to do? How to keep her warm inside?" I do, but I do not want to speak, he will hear my whimper. That will lead to a harsher punishment tonight. I take a deep breath, get my shit together and answer, "yes, Sir." That makes him smile. Then he shows me what he does with the dead girls and guys he keeps in here. 

He takes his instrument, still hot enough to severely burn skin. He runs it down the inner thigh of the corpse, takes his free hand and and opens up what remains of her labia majora. The hot instrument is inserted deep inside of it's womb. He sees the look of wonder in my eyes. "This helps them to stay warm inside." Master removes his clothes and gives me a wink. I think he is happy to be sharing this other part of himself with me. With his ample member in his hand, he removes the hot curling iron and replaces it with himself. For twenty minutes he takes the dead girl in this manner. While I watch and learn what pleasures Master. When he is done with it, he kisses me and says, "Do you get it? Now it's your turn. She is still warm, sweetheart." I wonder how many times he has done this with the dead girls he keeps? How many dead guys has he kept? It would be impossible for me to imagine this is his first time. Master has been fucking the dead for a very long while. Storing them in the basement after starving them or chocking them to death, or like this one, after stabbing them to death. He keeps the bodies, makes sure the most important parts are warm, then gives them the pleasure only a lucky few ever have. Master is perfect. beautiful, and wicked. He lays next to the corpse, as I take my turn with her still warm body. 

When awake after hours he is gone. I am still laying, cuddled with the corpse. I get out of bed to makes sure it is all under the covers and the blanket.  I place it's head in the most comfortable position on the pillow. I put my clothes back on, including pig snot and head back into the main house to take a bath. Master will return soon and I need to have all of the housework done, including making dinner before he gets home. After I get out of the bath I find a note on the dresser from Master. It reads as follows:

 Necro-Slut,

You are to be clean, have all of the laundry done, and your filthy caged must be cleaned out. If I smell you in my closet, you are going to regret it. More than you ever can imagine. The chef will make my dinner. You will have three crackers, one apple, and one cup of water. Do not go into the guest house again today.

                                                                                                                                  -J


...to be continued. 

This I know (another dream)

Last night in a dream I learned a new truth. People love their misery, I think it makes them feel brave. Like, look at me I have survived something. But have you survived really waddling in that filthy dream? We all know sadness and heartbreak. We all carry the burden of the lonely. Yet some of us wave it like a freedom flag. For what? They love the misery and the sympathy it calls for. I survive the sadness daily and I don't really give a fuck. I'm not a pull yourself up by your bootstraps blue collar American or anything. But what the fuck is our deal anyway? Ever showed loved to the guilty and wicked and watched them turn against you? Ever pointed out beauty to these people and have them turn it into shit? Yes you have. That is because many love it in the darkness. No, they are not there to shine the light, they are there to waddle in it. This is what I saw in a dream. We are all vibrating into this Holographic existence  Projecting and attracting. Have you ever noticed what some people attract? A load of nothing too special is what it is. Their is a reason for that. I am not here to save this world. It feels good to think that. I am here to save you all from the darkness in which you dwell. But that is not why I have arrived. I am just an observer  I have my opinion. I have written it down. But really so what? I am here as a creator. Not a fucking beggar or a whiner  I see you fuckers down on your knees to anyone. A person you lust for, your sick twisted family, strangers with candy. Get the fuck up suckas and breath. This is a wicked world we live and it it's cruel. But it still belongs to us. The ones who have survived. Yesterday we lost a lot of humans and animals. They all died of natural causes. Not us though. We are the ones who made it. For whom the fucking bell tolls. 

I see the pigs waddling in the misery and yes you fuckers look like pigs or scared children. I fucking hate it, but I still love all of you. We are all a fucking dream. Creating this world one thought or action at a time. Can you fuckers not see that? Look around you. Does your life suck? Really? Are you absolutely sure it is really bad? Good. You made it that way. Your life is a fucking painting and you have the brush in your hand still. I look to the darkness I have created in my own life and I laugh. Because if I look back or do the math I can see how I wanted this life. I asked for it, dreamed of it and made it come true. I want other things now and the thought of not having them drives me to sorrow. But that is the work we do. Look around you. This is YOUR life. You are not a dead leaf blowing in the wind. You are Homosapien. You have the power to be what you dream. So stop dreaming up all of this weak bullshit and  do some real work. Dream fucking big then risk everything to get it. If you do not do this now you will be a little baby forever. A little sad baby until you leave this plane. There are Human Beings right now flying all over this world. And I am not flying. I am singing  and writing and creating sounds with my mind and hands. This is the source of my own sorrow. I want to leave, but instead I stay here and create. This is really the thing that causes my heart to hurt. The fact that I create instead of fly. What the fuck. That is not at all that bad. Especially when I look around me and see so many people just taking from the world. Never adding shit. Never offering anything of substance to anyone. Not even the ones they really love. Their are people alive today who will not make anything in this cycle. They will cry, they will attempt to assassinate others, they will attempt to kill themselves. But on this day. Nothing new will come from their cold dead hands  THAT is the source of misery. Blow a fucking horn or hug something innocent. Then you will see. You life is in your hands, dude. My life is in my hands. It makes me cry, but it mostly makes me smile. The shit is all right. I have space to breath. To shout, to make love. Yes I could kill the ones who do not think like me. But who are they? Just another part of me, right? So why really worry. All that is mine, I have today. All that I desire is on it's way. 

I have danced, I have sang, I have shouted, and been put down. Yet fuck, man. I am truly happy. I feel the joy wash over me. I love the existence I have come to create. The shit is all right. If I really look around. I can smile at all of my silly drawings. Because I have created them. I think so much of the misery I see American people in is because the fucks lack the sense to risk it all to create. I have been through some crazy shit this year. Some real proper crazy shit. And through it all I made sounds and art. So fuck the dumb shit. All is fucking well. As it has been, and shall remain. I've done fuck all to deserve the pain. And maybe you have. Maybe you deserve the misery in which you live. You horrible fucked up ones. I see you. You motherfuckers do some real wicked shit. If wicked shit were real. Which it is not. All of this is prospective. I embarrass myself often putting my shit our here for the digital masses. My friends ignore me, and strangers embrace me. It is the way of the world for me. I believe in my Guru and I believe in myself. Not despite it all, but because of it all. Because I see you dying, I see you getting what you deserve in this world. Then you cry and say you did not deserve it. Yes you fucking do. You did it to yourself. I did this to myself. I locked myself away from most people and became a fucking hermit. So I can write and read and create in peace. I made this reality. I want more now, but I have to really face what I have already created. And so do you, dear reader. Face your little bullshit, then kill it. Or not. I don't fucking know. All I really know comes from math, and dreams. I am my own dream come true. What have you done to yourselves, dear friends? Because in all honestly I do not recognize most of you anymore. 

This is Josalisa...Live From Planet RiOt.

I don't understand much, but this I know.