Monarch Of The Univers (episode II)

butter

Previously on Monarch Of The Universe: I thought I was alone but to my surprise I received an answer. “Maybe I can help.” I looked about the room, no one here but me. Oh Jesus now I’m hearing hallucinations. I walked over to the stereo thinking it may have come from the speakers. Nothing. I laid down and tried meditating when a butterfly fluttered in front of me and landed on my chest. I stared in confusion when out of nowhere it began to talk to me. That is to say it communicated to me, it didn’t actually move its lips and speak, it communicated in an unspoken language it called the language of the cosmos.

THE SCREAM OF THE BUTTERFLY
Skeptical? God damn right I was skeptical! I was sure this was more five hit of barrel acid hallucinating but this butterfly went on communicating and explained to me that she is speaking to me in a language of time, a language that can be found hidden in every living things DNA if one knows where to look. The communication DNA she called it, even predates the dinosaurs having been mixed into the primordial soup which became life on earth. The language of the cosmos was etched deep into Mother Earths DNA so every splice of living organisms contains the secret language. Okay, sounds like too much acid, I get it, but my butterfly friend assured me that this communication exists in every galaxy, in every universe shared by all living organisms on planets everywhere. She went on to explain how the DNA code is misinterpreted or misunderstood most of the time and thereby disregarded. Life is so pre-occupied with survival strategies and procreation it no longer hears it, and because my mind is so wide open from the unusual amount of LSD I took I’m able to listen. “Just don’t let clouds get in the way” she told me, “clouds refract the real truths.” She assured me that would make sense to me someday, when the Monarch of the universe rises again.” The communication was a kind of swirling current, like a vast ever flowing ocean current and right now I am in a rip tide so to speak. Or so to communicate to be more literal. She fluttered in front of me a danced about in the air until I understood the movements of her butterfly dance was the communication.
Through her graceful movements she imparted an “enlightening” of its transformation of life into my mind with nary a word. Unspoken yet as clear as any story I’d ever heard read aloud. The story was nothing I had imagined a butterflies life to be. They break out of their eggs as teeny wormlike creatures and have an unyielding hunger for milkweed leaves. With no legs, just a some suction cups and a voracious appetite they hang around eating these leaves all day. They have very soft bodies and are loaded with protein so they’re a favorite snack for larger predators. Being so low on the food chain, and moving in such a slow and odd looking way they are a target of bullying by other insects being called names and getting teased. They have strange bodies and they look like what bully insects describe as “fat worms with bad toupees“, or “grub worms going through puberty on steroids“, or just “hairy slugs.” They make fun of the way they hunch up to move calling them crawling baby camel dicks. The ridicule they receive from other insects is brutal and non stop. After a life of being tortured bullied and teased relentlessly they form warm cocoons where they can hide their shame.
Once inside this cocoon they begin to cry and because of the acidic composition of the milkweed leaves in their diets their tears become corrosive and dissolve their worm parts into a gooey liquid like substance. That’s when the magic happens, when a life of misery and shame is transformed into a beautiful free creature that is the envy of the avian world. As the cocoon cools down the substance takes the form of an insect with six legs, a thin yet strong body, and rolled up shoulders which contain no blood. Once outside they pump blood into their shoulders making them puff up with pride forming regal and beautiful wings. The wing are magnificent allowing the little creatures to soar up into the skies. Before they take flight they hide three secrets they learned in their former lives in the dust of the cocoon. Once the secrets are safely stowed away they loudly let out the scream of the butterfly announcing to the world that the Monarch has risen.
I was more than fascinated by the butterfly’s story and I was absorbed completely by its visual language. I understood its tale as though it had been inside my head forever. She spread her wings, circled the room three times before landing back on my chest. Majestic in every sense. Next she stretched out her wings and revealed a bright golden diamond on brown gossamer wings. I had no more images of Olive cheating on Popeye with Wimpy, no more inner warrior winking at me from the mirror, and no more mysterious music sneaking out of my stereo. Just me and the butterfly. The butterfly communicated soothingly assuring me we would meet again but for now I need just remember our communication, remember where the three truths were hidden.

Now I know that seems like just another of my bizarre hallucinations and truth is so did I, but a startling event that transpired cemented the reality of me hearing the scream of the butterfly. My best friend Ken came over bragging to me that he just got some blue cheer LSD and was planning on tripping this week. I had told him about my intense accidental trip, omitting the butterfly part, so he understood that for the time being I wasn’t gonna trip at all. I told him to enjoy but just do one hit at a time and he smiled a big huge shit eating Cheshire cat grin. “JT my man, I got something for you too. I know you don’t want no acid yet but my connection offered my some special pre-rolled joints for five bucks apiece. He called em ‘Cocoon Dust’ and said they are intense and kind of spiritual so I got six, all I could afford. Three for me and three for you good dude.” I was stunned, literally stunned and needed to make sure I heard him, “Cocoon dust? Did you say cocoon dust?” I felt paralyzed but he went on, “Yea dude, its supposed to be the best smoke high you can get, like not angel or green weed, its not like its PCP man, its something like more spiritual or something, kinda like smoking mescaline or peyote. Some Indian tribe in Mexico scrapes cocoon dust and mixes it with ground cactus root and rolls them up. I got you the three, you want em or not dude?” Cocoon dust, holy fucking shit man. I never told him about the cocoon dust and the three secrets and now he is offering me three joints of something called cocoon dust. One for each secret? I could still barely move but was enthusiastic. “Are you fucking kidding me dude? Of course I want them, you’re the friggen best friend ever bro.” He handed them to me and I placed them behind the foil of my Marlboro cigarette box. “When you wanna smoke them man?” Ken shook his head, “No man dude says ya gotta puff each one yourself, its not a sharing kind of joint. What I’m sayin’ is you don’t have to wait for me he says it’s a personal high. Its not the kind of joint you puff and pass, it burns real quick and you only get like three or four hits before it gone and you got take all the hits. Supposed to hit it super fast or something. Funny shit huh? Instead of chugging beers we be chugging a joint made from cactus and butterflies.
TBC

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