Creator of the Psychic Auracature Process: It is Time to Live!

Sterling Sinclair Channels a Message of Light and Peace – Accused of Being Evil and Destructive, So He Writes a Slam- like Poem, October 14, 2017

Sterling Sinclair Channels a Message of Light and Peace – Accused of Being Evil and Destructive, So He Writes a Slam- like Poem, October 14, 2017 

 This is an acrylic self-portrait on 24X36 canvas. 

I though it was suitable to post because I kept seeing it in my mind’s as I wrote the following poem. I started writing the poem while shopping for threaded pipe at Home Depot. That is quite the place to gain inspiration to write… 

 I hope that some of you who relate to the self-portrait or the poem, have found a way to be happy and live meaningful live on this planet. 

I was invited to a conference. I knew there were people there who did not want me going. I accepted the invitation. After the presentation, 3 people came up to me and said that the presentation was “life altering – in a really positive way” and one person even said that it was the highlight if the conference.

 So what do the coordinators do?  

They ask me to come back next year and in no way do anything similar in a presentation ever again. They actually requested that my wife do research and provide a minilecture as I draw. 

They don’t even want me to speak.  

This is not the first time people have stopped me from repeating a lesson, sermon, session even though it was raved about by the people in the workshop, audience, etc.  

Once a man had a wheelchair.  I think he had an accident and could not walk. In the sermon and prayers, and in handshakes, the same guy came to church the next week with only a cane. Stories of me being instrumental to that experience got discussed at a staffing meeting for the church.  I was never again to do what ever it was I did that healed the congregant. By the time I fled congregational ministry the list of restrictions (even how high I held my arms for the benediction) were so extensive, I was silenced, suffocated, and became terribly ill. I never claimed to healing this guy or the many others who came to church seeking healing but I was accused of bragging about it around town. 

It seems that the more good I do, this world increases its efforts to stop that good I do. 

Much love, S

“For once, Just Love Me!”

By Sterling Sinclair

A guy tired of persecution.
“Born into an unwelcome world

Sleeping with eyes wide shut

Words claw stapled lids

Razor blades reveal the ring

Round 10 beauties distract the pain

Judges deliberate

My gloves are always pushed down

Sweeping fluid across the mat

Raspberry syrup 

Too salty to taste

Too bitter to waste

Don’t be proud

Don’t ever try to win

My bruises burst blisters

My feet weep from pain

Bound beneath my weight

This world is just too heavy 

Too thick, Too Slow, 

To my mother I write my end note

I choose my expiration date 

The milk has gone sour

Weevils invade the flour

Rising dough falling off the shelf

Kicked across the floor

Branded by my father

Sculpted by his sole

Hoofed me in the head

Fucked me like a football

Howling Hounds 

Humping in Hell 

Oh my head 

It rings like a bell

Sunday Morning 

Friday Night





Buried in my wings

Plucked to the bone

Choked and pulled


Between buns

Cheeks filled with nuts

Cheese paste

Unable to scream

Midnight darkness

Damp distant dreams

Sweat soaked sheets stuck

Sticky taffy 

Too tough to touch

Too long

Tongue depressors gag me

Gosh this place is heavy

It wanders off coarse

Cursing the blessed

Preying upon the blessers

Feed at the trough

A buffet of lies 

A cornucopia of pain

Oh it must have hurt once I had teeth to bight

Heads have holes

Keep your head out of mine

The whole thing is a confused fuck-show

Full monte mooning actors

Melting on the stage

Just love me

Just love me

I try to love you”


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