MADAM MONKEYFOOT

THE THEATER OF MONOLOGUES

I am in someone’s mind,
their secret theater of monologues

where entities
are masquerading
as verbal hallucinations

yet,

all of us are caught in the web
of a weaver
that hides behind
the tapestry.

I sing the monologues.

The monologues
move my mouth
causing my eyes to speak

and my ears
to give me flight
without moving

Am I orchestrated
by hallucinations?

The Vessel use to think the imaginary conversations in his head was just daydreaming. He has come to learn we have created sacred spaces to talk, to alter timeline, to change his perception of reality….an example of one of our ongoing conversation when I am playing the role of the Teacher.

The space we have created is formless until a particular subject arises from one of us and the landscape takes the shape it needs to so a lesson can be taught or ancient magic can be performed. I am taking on the role of the Teacher.

“You sit in shadows. The only light seems to come from my body.”

“It’s a good thing. I don’t like dark rooms myself,” said the Teacher. “Besides, The hair is a mess. It is rooted in a lot of places at the moment or is that my feet. Hair and feet are the same thing with me. So what has your face contorting?”

“There are faces appearing in my sleep. Some are human. Some are alien. Some are reptilian. Some are insectoid. Some are just a mass of tentacles. What have I called to many.”

“Sleeper, awake!”

The Vessel said to the Teacher. “Okay some of these faces aren’t exactly making me want to dance for a joy. Hairs are standing on my back and I don’t have hair on my back. And they don’t say anything just stare.”

“Listen with your mind. Your mouth is not the only way to communicate.”

“Easy for you to say, you got this down pretty good.”

“Ah, and when I was a fictional character you road me every direction into all types of situation without batting an eye or fearing the journey. So, now that you know I brought light through the characters you create; this is just another phase of the journey. We have created a sacred space to communicate and when we are done with the work it will merge with your reality.”

“Who are these faces.”

“Some are you in your many forms that you have invited on your journey through light and darkness. Some are here to have the human experience through you. Some are from the bloodline who are awakening. And one especially, you are wearing his mind.”

“A new pair of shoes would be better; even a leather coat.”

“Your mind is not yours. You have a reptilian mind and are living its stories.”

I don’t want to living a reptilian story. I want my own story, my own mind. I feel like I am already drowning in a dark chaotic sea; or wandering through hallways with doors to rooms and there is no exit sign.”

“You are wearing the mind of the reptilian.”

“I would like to know that my thoughts are my own. I’d like to know I’m not a captive and that I have free will. I think creating my story gives me the spark, the impetus; but living someone else’s story even if it is about healing and moving onto my own thing, it just makes me feel like I am carrying all this baggage on my shoulder.”

The Teacher smiled and said nothing. The room about them began to vibrate and lost its form and they both were standing a chessboard that seems to hover in a place that had the game board surrounded by swirling clouds. The Teacher was no longer in human form but the sign of the Ankh and spoke in his mind.

The Ankh hovered over the game board. The Vessel is at his side. “Look at this game board. This is another version of reality that you inhabit. Each square on this board hides beneath it, planetary influences, the madness of a creator god, the manipulating parasites of the Archons, and the signs and symbols that bind myth and patterns to keep the Soul bound in the furnaces of time.

The Vessel who was now luminous asked, “What is beyond the game board? All I see is clouds spiraling about in a chaotic matter.”

The Ankh shape shifted back into the form of The Teacher and smiled and with a wave of his staff the clouds parted revealing a sky full of winged creatures. “Beyond these clouds, there are the dragons.”

“The story I believed in, kept me focus on boundaries. But there are no boundaries but I was taught there should be or you will have no focus, go crazy and be wandering around the street talking out of your head, and you have to have linear thinking to make it in this world. The world doesn’t want artist.”

“Artist are the visionaries. Artists create new pathways. Artists look into the Unknown and let the Unknown look and speak through them. Artists are the gatekeepers. Artists are the explorers of the unconscious.”

“Sometimes I’ve been afraid of my art; afraid of friends reaction, afraid I didn’t get the message and bottom line, that it really doesn’t amount to cat shit.”

“You still want that approval. Why are you afraid of being your own authority?”

“It always felt like someone had to give approval. What if I’m wrong?”

“And what if you’re not? It is about imagination. I am from your imagination and you gave me existence; and I am all over the place. And I tell you, when you understand the being you truly are, you have no limitations.”

Sometimes my friends get annoyed when I’m not talking with them in a linear fashion; everything should be linear but sometimes I am pulling stuff from many directions and too me it is flowing. I have lived in fear because I always wanted someone to explain how it is supposed to be and not how real it is; because then the grounding, the parenting, the religions have no meaning and I realize I am in a web; and I fear what comes to devour me.”

“Your relationships have isolated you from your own authority. You have given them the rule of your spirit and so you live in the rooms in the house that opinions, judgments and religions have built for you. You must decide what is for you and not based on the desires of others; nor the rules of others; because those with limited perception walk through times like the living dead. Even teachers want to be the authority of your mind. They should only be guides and with teachings, you must learn to make your own wings to fly.

“Every where I turn, someone wants to adjust me. Then I start to wonder is this the right face for the world. But I know there is another face lurking in the shadows, screaming to come out, screaming to not be bound by definition; screaming to say this is me, ‘fucking deal with it.’ But, you must fit into the hours. Hours are just another way to fragment your self I think. It’s like I must do this within a certain timeframe or I have not accomplished something and then I’m labeled a failure. Then you get frustrated because you are on this rollercoaster ride through hours and there never seems to be enough hours in a day to complete the task. And the hours start to master your perception; and the flow is damned and all of sudden the frustration is building and the anger is seething and then anger realizes itself in a violent act whether it is inflicted on yourself or others. I do not want to be a man made only by hours. I want to rearrange the sequences of my life,” said The Vehicle.

“Be aware of anyone who confirms authority. Question everything, even me. So many blind lead the blind and reality has become a labyrinth.”

The Vessel thought for a moment. “Just like there are twenty four planets. And we are bound on the wheel of the twelve planets but it is the planets that are beyond this time based reality that these planets are duplicated from. So we are being affected by these shadow planets. So time is really a puppet master. So when do we stop dancing in its dramas when most people would rather pass the responsibility.”

Teacher smiled. “You are responsible for you. Change your perception; it affects your environment and those who are within the wave of your influence. Everything that comes across your path is a teaching experience. Don’t deny it, don’t fight it, just accept it is. You are what you fear, you are what you deny, you are the enemy. You are time and its master.”

“So then, I should not work within the boundaries of this game board,” replied the The Vessel.
“Is the puppet master the cause and effect of your life? Slay the teacher you meet on the road! Authority cannot be conveyed from an external figure or doctrine.”
“What will my authentic face look like?”

PART I
Did you ever wonder about what you implant in your mind through words, visuals, daily rituals and what you read? Sometimes we take in so much and don’t realize that we are giving energy to a thought that expands into a space that we feed and it grows and keeps wanting to nurture off our consciousness especially when we give it play in our mind. What are you thinking? Are you giving power to daydreams, wishful thinking? Are you giving play to the chit chat in your head?

You are thought manifestors but you don’t realize the game you are playing. Thoughts are like magnets they will attract like. If you dwell on a thought, watch how events will unfold around you to reinforce that thought.

Sometimes we dwell on so much hate; that we bring hate into our life. Sometimes we think we are in love when we are in relationship but we are attempting to dominate and so we are reacting to how we see the person in our mind and not being full present with them when they are in front of us. We have already lived out the dialogue in our head and our reacting.

If you are doing it on this scale, what do you think others are doing on a mass scale. You take so much garbage into your mind and fertilize it until you are becoming food source for parastical thoughts. The world is fluid and you are giving power to thoughts that do not serve you.

What’s that saying, you are what you eat…rephrase it…you are what you think.

You give power easily to others when you believe what they think about you. People sometimes make you a prisoner of their opinions and then you are so caught in the trap that you forget who you are and become an extension of someone else.

Thoughts will rule you if you do not become conscious what you are giving power to. You think you are ill or think ill of someone and constantly focus on this; you will manifest it if the person is not secure within their own mind.

If a government, an institution or religion is constantly feeding you types of information based on lies but made to seem like truth then you are serving their agenda and not your free will.

THOUGHTS

His co-workers had tried to tell him to remain silent but he walked around mumbling, “Unfair, unfair. There’s got to be more to life than this 9 to 6 mental institution. It’s like every where you step or shit; there are rules and regulations. I’m walking a straight line that has nothing to do with my life!”

“Management doesn’t give a damn what one would say but you take the money and live the best you can,” said a co-worker walking by.

Other co-workers turned from him; they did not like to associate with him when he was not having the hive mentality.

He must remember: The noise of the world kept one from being crazy.

Other co-workers had told him this quietly several times: “This is the way life is!”

“Hey, you got to feed the machine if you expect to stay a clog in the wheel.”

“It’s best to accept it is the way it is.”

“Your opinions don’t mean a goddamn to me,” he was told by the one who was not seen but heard as booming voice that came from behind a door. He was referred to as The Voice Who Hides Behind The Door.

The disgruntled employee found himself pulling more within. This was causing wrinkles on his face because he was tightening up himself within. Some said he that raisin look, or he had a prune mentality or the worry lines were sagging like grocery bags.

Alcohol did not diminished it; nor sex with people who preferred no strings attachment encounters. Names meant heart and memory might be involved. It was a bought taking the tension out of the flesh. Needles and pills were temporary and he always came back to the same cubicle lifestyle.

The co-workers always were rushing back to their cubicles. The cubicles were uniform in design. No signature of personality was allowed. The corporation had a look and all must consign themselves to the look or find them selves unemployed. Peculiar traits and habits were a disruptive to the work flow and were not allowed. So, the cubicles were like mental cells that one could imagine were inside a corporate entity that used logos to lull people to sleep behind the wheel of their mind.

“I must have a purpose. I must have a form,” the disgruntled worker mumbled.

“You’re asking for the foot. Right up the kisser. You’ll be no where. Do you want to be homeless, a stone cowboy living in a cardboard box and eat garbage out of a waste bin or waiting for someone to leave food on the table in a fast food restaurant, or sit with a paper cup thinking someone will give you money instead of downcast look or an opinion. You thinking someone should hand you what they work hard for,” said a co-worker whose sweat dripped like a leaking faucet because he was standing outside of his cubicle too long. He didn’t feel connected to the system and caused him to feel dysfunctional, an outsider, a fringe dweller that were kept in the ‘bad section’ of town.

The disgruntled employee’s steps moved slower through the office. His eyelids didn’t bother to open no further than minimal requirements. The lines of desks were endless.

The Voice Behind The Door could move through the office without physically being seen, his presence could be smelled, like tar being laid on a summer day in the mid 90’s. You could hear the Voice Behind The Door scratching inside your head before its voice crackled around you like fire.

“Who do you think you are,” he heard in his head.

Again his daydreaming was interrupted. In the time before this he would have stuttered in his mind “I am nothing without the greater glory of you.” He felt his body quiver as if he was experiencing an inner earthquake. Then he felt a scratching within as if something was being removed, like wallpaper, like writing being scratched out. This time, he hadn’t turned his computer on. He looked at his blank screen. A light blinked as if an eye had opened and closed. The disgruntled employee watched the screen intensely to see if it was a dream. This time his response wasn’t automatic, programmed, or what was expected. His response was like a flutter of wings. The room shook. His co-workers screamed out for the Voice Behind the Door as they leaped under their desk.

“I am somebody,” he chanted over and over again.

Fired. What to do? Fired meant the same as “To Be Placed in a Place Where There Is No Place.” But he ran before he could be found out. He couldn’t hear the noises of the world. The other cubicles remind him of shoeboxes; no little boxes that would fit inside another box.

He heard the clanking sound. They were coming. They always came for those who would become fringe dwellers. He would be the shit of the world if they caught him; mud in the eye of the corporation.

The metal hands would lead dissenters away to a room where no one ever returned. He felt something in him pushing, pushing. His face moved within itself, “What is this that causes movement in me? “What stirs inside until there is a thumping inside that causes my body to expand and retract. Something moves in me, not just in one spot but throughout. I don’t know this is stirring.

He had been running down endless corridors of cubicles and the other works turned from him so they would not become like him; crazy, deranged, a delusional, insane, and dead to the corporation.

The metal hands hadn’t found him. Lights appeared out of no where and were blinking around him like thousands of eyes. Sounds radiated from them. He found himself spinning then falling.

“What is this? I just wanted to be somebody. But I am somebody. I’m not a clog in a machine. I am not a program to be deleted. I have a voice. I have a vision. I can see!” And he did something that he didn’t understand but felt. He uttered a sound. With that he found himself standing in front of a door that wasn’t there.

He heard a noise from behind.

“It must be the metal hands.”

“Don’t look behind are you will lose your way.”

“Who are you?”

“Knock and the door shall be open.”

“I don’t know you. You might be The Voice Behind the Door.”

“I am you calling from The Place That Sings.”

“Who am I that you call to me?”

“Knock and the door shall be open.”

The chaotic noise grew intense behind him.

He knocked.

The door opened and he witnessed a light pulsating with a choral sound and it filled him with light and sound and he was gathered by its wings and the door was shut behind him. He no longer heard the chaotic noise or was being chased by the metal hands.

Behind the door, he found himself singing lights from his mouth as he emanated from the circle of light that pulsated with music. Another thought had been gathered from chaos and was singing its way into another thoughtform.

The Vessel has been struggling with its attempts to be everything for everybody and forgetting the path the Vessel has become and the journey through this school room experience. Now, if memory serves me correct, didn’t children take naps in kindergarten, have a time out to rest.

Sometimes you know and do things to avoid knowing what you know. The Vessel was complaining about the noises of the world, the fears his friends were facing and even the challenges the Vessel is facing merging with other entities from other dimensions. I told the Vessel, “Sometimes you have to close the door to the world, to friends and family, to expectations and go into the Silence. Sometimes people are a distraction from you knowing your selves because people are afraid of the silence, the fear of being alone, and the solitude.”

What is it one fears when one goes into solitude?

Some people are addicted to the noises of the world, or fear the wrath of friends and family when they don’t meet expectations or obligations.

There is a calling that goes beyond the stage drama of relationships. This is the Call that the vessel is feeling, this is what the Vessel is longing for; and fears the opinons of family and friends.

I told the human aspect of the Vessel, sometimes you have to just shut the door on the world and go inward. Being in solitude, listening to the inner voice is not only a time of healing but also a time of expanding, a time of nourishing yourself, a time of inner exploration but sometimes, a time to rest. It is a time to root back into yourself, back into Truth.

Many people and entities will bring you their concept of truth; but it is their truth based on their persepective and not a cosmic truth. Sometimes a lie or deception is camouflaged as truth and solitude can help you to get the clarity you need.

Sometimes the vehicle wears itself down and gets distorted because the Vessel realizes it is attemtping to be maternal to everyone but itself.

Solitude is not a bad thing. It is not depression. It is a time to cleanse oneself of the debris and baggage one carries for themselves and others. You’d be surprised how people hook their issues into your energy field and feed off of you and create emotional imbalances.

Folks are afraid of solitude, they think they are ill, something is wrong with them.

Conscious is expanding, it is remembering, it is awakening in many places and a body needs time to adjust especially when you have sent your selves on a journey in many other realities, they are all coming home to roost.

This level of reality the Vessel is experiencing is a nexus for many selves and entities who want the human experience because of the change that is coming. Solitude is your time to remember…we are one!

As I tell the Vessel, empty yourself of the world and be filled with yourself. Take the solitude, cocoon yourself and be prepared for the awakening and merging of selves into this Vessel. Many will look through your eyes, and you will look through the eyes of others; but to keep balance and maintain integrity and clarity, you must shake off the shackles of the world, the rules of the system and embrace the Unknown.

Yes, solitude is getting back to the song, let the Silence heal; whether anyone sees it physically, you know spirit will speak and live Truth and not be a slave to a world that chooses to be blind.