Prisoners far too many prisoners
New slaves for a new age
Bound to debt and a false hope in progress
When the earth shakes those shackles
Soon their tower will fall
Burning like the home we’ve kept
Where can we go from here
in the year of your oblivion
the sun whispered into you
but nothing was felt
only the cold darkness
of shadow upon shadow
casted into stone
shaking within a tomb
sunbursts glint and catch
little mirrors sprouting
from out of the earth
with all the colors of the world
dancing around your grave
trembling from your womb
You ain’t got to cry baby
A supreme sadness sings your land
Only superficially, Isidoro Baltazar claimed, are we willing to accept that what we call reality is a culturally determined construct. And what we need is to accept at the deepest level possible that culture is the product of a long, cooperative, highly selective, highly developed, and, last but not least, highly coercive process that culminates in an agreement that shields us from other possibilities.
Sorcerers actively strive to unmask the fact that reality is dictated and upheld by our reason; that ideas and thoughts stemming from reason become regimes of knowledge that ordain how we see and act in the world; and that incredible pressure is put on all of us to make certain ideologies acceptable to ourselves.
He stressed that sorcerers are interested in perceiving the world in ways outside of what is culturally determined. What is culturally determined is that our personal experiences, plus a shared social agreement on what our senses are capable of perceiving, dictate what we perceive. Anything out of this sensorially agreed-upon perceptual realm is automatically encapsulated and disregarded by the rational mind. In this manner, the frail blanket of human assumptions is never damaged.
Sorcerers teach that perception takes place in a place outside the sensorial realm. Sorcerers know that something more vast exists than what we have agreed our senses can perceive. Perception takes place at a point outside the body, outside the senses, they say. But it isn’t enough for one merely to believe this premise. It is not simply a matter of reading or hearing about it from someone else. In order for one to embody it, one has to experience it.
(passage from Being-In-Dreaming by Florinda Donner)
I want to chew on your weird hair.
Death Grips - Thru the Walls
In the year of your oblivion
The sun whispered into you
But nothing was felt
Only the cold darkness
Of shadow upon shadow
the gleam of a knife
Dripping from a trembling hand
flickering across the bedroom walls
Out of me
like dancing fireflies
My love, my heart, my soul
where have you gone?
Again and again I curse the days
as if waiting for my own return