Alberto Roman

Some of the new gods are ethereal entities rising from specific historical terrains: Capital. Technology. Military. These forces, in a Titanic Copulatory Menage, birth: Amazon, Google, Facebook: The Internet Triumvirate. The Cyber Trinity. Our identities are both seized and ordered through the angel gadgets: video games, cell phones, and drones in a sweeping electronic storm whose particles we are streaming and assimilating in our respective Central Nervous Systems and Habi tats. The Grid has all seeing emissaries . The Luminous is not a counterfeit Numinous. The shine from Tablets and I phones is The Deities' splendor. Worship my friends. Worship. (From a dream where an eight winged silvered dragon fly tapped this message to my forehead with its dancing appendages).  I woke up. Amused. Delighted. I drank from the gold cup once more. This water had no front or back.

https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=zvCf38w_C5I

This one. This transformation. Unlike others before it. Now,  I understand that not the grief alone of my brother's passing brings forth the upheaval and fragmentation.  An intelligence from the deep. Ancient deep. Is. Guiding me to an Unknown.  Old personnas die and must be buried.  If I am steady. In the meantime, shadows, voices, repressed, surface to shine, rage, weep, laugh and fade.  They Make way. Sometimes,  I feel this tremendous voltage inside me: Intimations of what is to arrive. Beware.  I am not him anymore.   I might not love you like I used to. I might be an exotic stranger declaring in fresh tongues my new truths. For the moment. For the moment. Let me. Let me. Be. AR

Temples. shamanic utopias. clear minds confronted with their own luminosity.  Mind fields are emergent intensities of bright. What bejeweled architectures are displayed  effulgent. I smile . Eyes wide shut. My body is at ease shining without limits. There is an Open Intelligence. The incalculable darkness I rise from is transparent. An endless Vision abides. A flower heart beats itself out with Love. Immaculate. Awake. a.r.

9 flowering trees surround an open pit. t A  da ncing spark passes through my forehead.  Black seeds rolling inside my rattle flare cerulean tongues.  the earth opens its dreams to my songs.   I see a bird cage with a photograph inside.  Incense burns. 9 flowering trees surround an open pit. turquoise waters expand and contract on the wrinkled palms of orange haired apes with peacock feathered helmets. I hear giant glaciers creak across galactic nights. My skin mirror is a sun.  Amethyst  petals coil time pass landscapes where new soil is made from the pupils of talking fish. She is healing. The earth is healing. Me. se waters expand and contract on the wrinkled palms of orange haired apes with peacock feathered helmets. I hear giant glacers creak across galactic nights. My skin mirror is a sun.  Amethyst  petals coil time pass landscapes where new soil is made from the pupils ...

Ancient the belief in the unexplained powers of nature. Long before the rise of theologies and hierarchies an elemental intuition still holds sway. Across the globe,  Planetary neo primitives salute the Giant Techno Totems.  Release your inner Shaman. Today. We give way to new rituals for possible advents from the unknown. Deliberate trancers paint their faces beyond neocolonialist neon.  Many neurohack their bodies for untold perceptions and alliances through Research chemicals and live electronics. The night has many eyes and hearts.  Some freaks were born before us. Many now die as we breathe. The pulse goes on. Come out. Come out. Come out even more, You who know the finest of light. This world is ending and we need your fragrant flower waters, and songs. We need mother crystals and the first dances for the sun. And do not forget a good blunt. There is a communal chant passing through this earth. Just maybe those that demand y...

Skyloops, earthloops, fireloops, self shamanizing... We engage in sensory engineering: sound, rythm, vision technics repurposed to intensify sensations and propagate new sensory life forms. Transit without passage....perpetual liminality....yes, this can prevail and yet there is a call to adventure, thresholds, death, ordeals, a return to the world, the Unknown Thing, We are ritual syncretists, enact spiritual edge work...through   "research chemicals",     psychoactive commodities...diverse sacra...  We enjoy the counterfeit infinity of psychedelics as well as the counter infinity of a deepest sobriety... We are the Mixtics Alberto Roman