Politically Incorrect Orgasms And Unredacted Mushroom Trips

While the whale songs get sadder and sadder,

While snakefinger Hollywood operatives
teach us to look outside ourselves for superheroes
instead of behind our own eyes,

While canned laughter pours from screens
and forms whispering clouds over our heads
which assure us that we have never been divine,

While the pop songs all say
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
put your hands up in the air
we party all night and spend money on things
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
whoop whoop
capitalism totally works,”

You stand in cool defiance:
A natural hominid.
An indigenous earthling.

You are alert and present,
like a pistol dueler on the tenth pace.

You watch mind movements come and go,
kissing them as they pass
like drunken one-night stands fully enjoyed
but scarcely remembered.

You seek out the demons lurking in your shadows,
thank them for their hard work,
and release them forever with a loud belch.

You look at life like it’s a dear friend telling a great joke
when they’re right about to get to the punchline.

You dance in supermarkets.
You smoke rain.

You have politically incorrect orgasms
and unredacted mushroom trips.

You take even your most shameful hidden bits
and bring them out into the light for loving.

You are kind to yourself.
You are kind to others.
You are kind to your surroundings.
You are kind to your planet.
You are kind to your angels.
You are kind to your demons.
You are kind to kindness.
You are kind to unkindness.
You are kindness.

Death fades from your gaze
like snow under a blowtorch.

Unhappiness fades from your memory
like a weird dream.

While heroes are exposed as cardboard set pieces,

While ideologies are exposed as Pokemon masks on corpses,

While truth is replaced with crude crayon drawings of itself
and sold at Costco between the tires and the coffins,

You stand in cool defiance
and watch your reflection dance
in the cornea of Allah.

You take nothing for granted
and see everything for the first time.

The only enemy is habit.

Irony is for cowards.

Chin up,
eyes wide.

That’s ten paces.

Draw.

— Caitlin Johnstone
Originally published here

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