Red Rose Garden by Jessica Jenney
I know why men get irritated with women and think that females are inferior
(Even though they’re not), its because most women are so frickin insecure.
Its really irritating. And this is why feminism will never WORK. Not until women
Learn to Love and accept themselves, so much so, that they no longer seek outside validation
To be who they want to be, or do what they want to do, and finally get around to eliminating
A neurotic pattern of sabotaging other women, in order to wreak power and extort gratification,
And start to Love other women as thyself, soul-mothers, sisters, daughters, best-friends, to each and every one another. If that’s at all possible?
For competition and one-up-man-ship is emulating behavioural male qualities of politicians and businessmen,
Which procures the emotion of insecure, as a precursor, to divide and conquer.
We are all infinitely stronger together.
Otherwise we are simply dividing and conquering ourselves from within,
Think of ones heart as a holographic prism,
Fragment of the one-heart seeking to refract light.
United in One-Self-Love. Synchronised. Like sunshine.
Those whom make it obvious that ‘Love Lives Here’, and that its safe to let go of fear,
Sharing an omnipotent warmth of presence, so that its always crystal clear,
Without a shadow of a doubt, eradicates all blocks to the awareness of love at any given moment.
One-self equality, maintaining the balance of co-operation, co-joined, dovetailing, yin-yang dynamism,
Never judge a book by a cover, never listen to, or indulge in gossip, keep aspiring to loftier ideals,
Rather than waste time away, from developing a more emotionally fulfilling array, of masculine and feminine principals,
Explore, expand, uncover, discover, ones inner galactic ambassador, of love’s self-fulfilling pleasure, a co-curator for the Great Mother, Earth, and all whom love and adore her,
Fully immersed, basking in the one-love, the one-creator, the one-earth, ‘The-One’.
Because ‘Everything-But-Everything’ out there, is an illusion.
For unless one listens to ones heart, it’s all in the mind,
And therefore a self-created delusional, theoretical, convoluted, puffed-up hypothetical, singularly over-identificational, skewed-up logic, that’s totally irrational,
A fictional-figment, emotional blockage, incapacity to think poetically, a blinkered, marginalised limitation that spreads like a viral infection,
A cancerous weed, in fertile soil, that requires regular hoeing, tilling, stripping back, pruning, manicuring, tweaking,
Prevention is better than cure, in order for potentiality to fully bloom pure, like a beautiful rose garden, lest it becomes horribly tangled and overgrown by conjectural, conceptual jargon…