G. Michael Vasey's Blog: The Wacky World of Dr. Vasey, page 44

Tracks across The Sky

Tracks across the sky

Scars of modern travel

Highways in the air

A line to follow you there

A silver bird migrating

To summer’s golden shores

Arrows flying straight and true

Arriving to take off yet anew

Looking down from up on high

The globe’s curves miraculous

Jagged peaks and darkened seas

Warmer climes or a winter freeze

Passing by at the speed of sound

Until we slow to return to ground

Leaving, on a jet plane

Leaving, never to come back again

Away I go

So

Bye bye

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Words Won’t Come

I really think I should be saying something

but the words wont come

Guess I am shocked or surprised

Or a little of both besides

So much I want to say

but the words won’t come

I find I am in a calm silence

Perhaps the one before the storm?

Who knows? but I know

the words will not come

Perhaps something inside me

is simply broken?

Perhaps I have just understood

And am resigned to what will be

Since I cannot make you see

and the words will not come

Perhaps its just that things are so clear

That I will always hold you dear

Perhaps just that its so obvious

That you now seem oblivious

that my words would be wasted anyway

And there is little that I can say

It’s written on my face

Just in case

the words never come

 

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Donald Trump’s Hair

I think what Donald Trump needs is a good haircut.

I know that his current ‘do’ is iconic and sort of his trademark, but seriously, a new style would really help him out. To me, he emulates Yorkshire’s own Arthur Scargill and he was an utter failure too who never understood that his hair was the real issue standing in his way to power.

You see, hair is important. Donald obviously has understood this and perhaps believes that it represents his strength and manliness: a bit like that guy in the old testament. Perhaps he thinks that if he has it cut shorter, it will somehow stunt his manhood?

I reckon, Donald would look good in a mohican or perhaps a Kojak styling? He could even go so far as to color the mohican pink and it would be an improvement.

I just wonder, if no one around him has the guts to tell him his hair is frankly dire, then I’m guessing he is surrounded by Yes men (and women – though he seems a bit of a Man’s man to me).

Yes, I reckon if he would just have a nice, normal and decent haircut, he would stand a significantly improved chance of becoming President.

I reckon, it would make him a much nicer person than he seems to be. That hair style you see says to me ‘F**k you – I’m right and you should love it’. And, that just seems to be his overall attitude to everything….

Donald – do us all a favor and get your haircut mate……

 

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Who wants To Live Forever?

A common theme when it comes to the lives of magicians and alchemists is that of finding the elixir of life and living forever. When I researched and wrote God’s Pretender’s, somewhere subliminally, I started seeing some patterns. Today, I have been reading a biography of the Compte de St. Germain and I glimpsed it yet again (BTW – He is covered in my book).

Let’s look at some of the things we learn about these masters.

The first thing is that they do not eat. The second is that they have some sort of tincture or elixir that appears to give them the ability to stay a certain age indefinitely.

Let’s use a bit of logic and see what we can unravel. Firstly, life or consciousness is form of energy and we know from physics that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, but rather transformed from one state to another. In most important texts we learn about the blood and the breath as keys to life. In the books that I place value on (these are few and far between these days), conscious breathing is a key practice. Let;s face it, if we could obtain life energy from the Universe – which is nothing but a vast pool of energy in different forms – then why would we need to eat? In fact, it may be that eating is a lazy way of gathering energy and is a reason for aging. Bear with me.

Pore breathing is taught in many schools. I like Bardon’s version of it in which we pore breath vital energy into our bodies. We can impregnate the vital energy with our imaginative will with qualities that we desire. If we learn to really pore breath vital energy is this sufficient to allow us not to eat?

In Rosicrucian teachings, the act of breathing brings into our bodies a quality or energy that is Solar in quality and flows through our body in the blood. Oxygen? Well, probably not. More likely it is the very same vital energy that Bardon has us work on so much. And, if this energy can be imbued with qualities simply using the imagination then why not maintenance of the body?

Water, Bardon says is highly magnetic and can be made to hold certain imbued qualities too. Perhaps the elixir is simply water imbued with vital energy by a Master who can do that effectively?

So I can accumulate energy, but I can also expend it. Here is the other half of the equation perhaps. If I give my attention to something, I give it energy. In fact, I want to do that provided I am doing it purposefully. And here is where mental discipline comes in for if I am not in control, I am constantly leaking energy; creating thought forms all over the place accidentally. I create thought forms that counter thought forms I created….. I am neutralizing my hard won energy. (For example, I convince myself to do something and then immediately worry over it).

So, perhaps living forever is a combination of learning how to breath in the energy and then maintain it effectively by living a purposeful life under full control?

Tis true without lying, certain & most true.

That which is below is like that which is above & that which is above is like that which is below to do the miracles of one only thing

And as all things have been & arose from one by the mediation of one: so all things have their birth from this one thing by adaptation.

The Sun is its father, the moon its mother, the wind hath carried it in its belly, the earth is its nurse.

The father of all perfection in the whole world is here.

Its force or power is entire if it be converted into earth.

Separate thou the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross sweetly with great industry.

It ascends from the earth to the heaven & again it descends to the earth & receives the force of things superior & inferior.

By this means you shall have the glory of the whole world

& thereby all obscurity shall fly from you.

Its force is above all force. For it vanquishes every subtle thing & penetrates every solid thing.

So was the world created.

From this are & do come admirable adaptations whereof the means (or process) is here in this. Hence I am called Hermes Trismegist, having the three parts of the philosophy of the whole world

That which I have said of the operation of the Sun is accomplished & ended.

That’s the Emerald Tablet and to me, it can be seen to be saying something very similar while also dealing with the elements (Sun, Moon, Wind, Earth). See our book The Mystical Hexagram for more understanding of the four elements or read Bardon’s Initiation Into Hermetics or… Comte De Gabalis (reputedly our very own Compte de St. Germain). There is another statement in the above that strikes me as well. The above and below……or could that be the inside and the outside? You see, I still believe that the inside of us is the reality that we project onto the outside and believe foolishly is reality…. The One Thing? Us?

This is proto thought and something I am working on but I welcome comment and critique…..

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Built to Last

Is anything built to last?

To stand the tests of time?

Proud, up standing and pompous

Relieved perhaps, to be still there

Or is that just a silly question to ask?

The wind and the rain will wash away

The sands rise and drown me slowly away

The me inside – that lonely voice

Calling through an eternity

Of change, turmoil and pain

Seeking love, a flickering flame

A point of fire, with some sort of desire

To be free again

Be still, be still and listen

Time ticks slowly by

The illusion of movement

Tricks us like a faithless lover

Who ran to the arms of another

Each moment is an eternal now

In in a sense, it lasts and lasts

The wounded King awaits

The Lady of the Lake placates

And tears light up the maiden’s face

It’s a melting cup of gold

Bejeweled and crafted by art

It’s here, It’s there

It is, in fact, everywhere

Filled with a fine wine

Overflowing with the blood of life

Earned through warring strife

Is anything built to last?

Is anything really real?

Is there a meaning to this life?

So many questions

I deem them all to be the truth

A simple act of kindness

A simple act of grace

The eyes lit within a face

A fleeting gossamer moment

Gone far too soon

Relived under a full blue moon

Will anything last and

stand the test of time?

I wish I knew

Do you?

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A Lesson In Loneliness

Have you ever walked down the street aware of yourself? People pass and yet if you look at them, they avoid your gaze. If you are so bold as to speak to them, their eyes open in amazement and you can see that your “Good Morning,” is met with distrust and a suspicion that you want something from them. Whatever happened to joviality? It’s a lesson in loneliness to be out and about and seeking company.

I noticed this in the last few days just walking to lunch. You see, I work in a home office alone. Just me and the dog. The dog has plenty of fun licking his balls and barking at the neighbors. Me? I sometimes yearn for company. So, every lunchtime, I take a walk a couple of blocks and eat from the lunch menu of the restaurant down the street. No one ever talks to me. No one ever enquires as to my health, state of mind or just says a simple hello. I’m appalled quite honestly at how it is possible to immensely lonely in your own home and neighborhood.

Imagine how it must feel to be homeless? Surrounded by people every day who go out of their way to avoid you. Who would rather die than say a word or enquire as to your health, state of mind and well being. It must be hell on Earth.

Imagine being an migrant? Who cares why they are here or what they actually want.

Just a thought.

It made me write this though...

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Fool

I have a numbing headache

It’s not really painful

But sits just on the edge of perception

Clouding my thoughts

Something weighs heavily on me today

Following me like a foul smell

Or that stale taste

From yesterday’s unwanted cigarette

Stubbed out half-smoked

In the disgust of will

Bent, twisted, broken in this situation I am in

Surrounded by comfort

All those things

Yet I am alone and wallowing in loneliness

I walk the street

Idly people watching

Surrounded by people and abandoned by friends

Life is lonely

If I could only

Be somewhere else at this moment in time

On a beach

Swimming in the Sea

Anything to put a gap between Him and Me

Disconnected

Momentarily misdirected

Wallowing around in an Ocean of bitterness

Drinking the cup

Swallowed all up

The reflection of a reflection all grown up

I can sparkle

Yes, I can shine

I am aging like a very fine wine

Opened too soon

Consumed in an empty room

Too drunk to be tasted

My swallower is totally wasted

Unaware

Unfair?

That wine has given me a numbing headache

It’s not so painful

Sitting on the edge of reality

Clouding my thoughts

Weighing me down

Sucking me deeper

And deeper in

Lifelessly paraded

Waved like a flag

Dressed in drag

Spirals upon spirals

The waves thunder by

Me? All I hear is one giant sigh

Endings are ending

But also beginnings

Am I to be born anew?

A Decision

Made with precision

For another smoke

What a joke

A fool

Utter fool

That’s me.

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Words Are Easy

The only thing you can be sure of

Is that you will hurt and be in pain

Love and relationships just seem

To end in disappointment all the same

Words are easy

Commitment harder

I am lost again

Promises broken

The past spurned

Love’s gone again

Tired of trying to build a life

Only to find it was never meant to be

Getting older and so its harder

The let down I feel is plain to see

The dreams that I had imagined

The things that we were still meant to do

Smashed against the rocks of derision

I am cut through and through

Words are easy

Promises too

Whispered lover’s achings

Lost somewhere in the breeze

A tarnished future

A rusted me

Yes, words are easy

Promises – simply dust

Was love then simply lust?

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The New Video Book Trailer

I knocked this trailer together today. What do you think? Pass it on for me please and help me get the word out?

 

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Ghosts in the Machines

Here is a sample of my new book read by me….

 

http://garymvasey.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Ghosts-In-The-Machines.mp3

 

Ghosts in the Machines – out now…..

 

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