The bushes at
The laundromat
In the middle of
The city
Are abuzz
With bees.
Lilly-laced
Butterflies dance
Over the nearly-even
Branches, filled in
Since the last
Trim.
The world outside
Of silicon binary walls,
Artificially constructed
By the least intelligent,
Roofless
But contained;
This slowly ageing world
Of butterflies and bees
Contains the wisdom
Of the universe
And all her sacred
Design.
Sounds of cars
Passing gassily by
On streets untended to
And holey like an
Unholy minefield
Of maelstrom-inducing
Destructive attempts
To tame what nature
Despises.
My consciousness drifts
To neighboring launderers
As they dead-eyed
Submit to the
Ones and zeroes
That flow from crescent
Bent palms as
Thumbs busily manipulate
Their cold interiors.
What did we do with
The silence
Before we forgot
To be distracted?
We are husks
Consumed by our
Fruitless consumerism
And –
Oh my!
Another sweet butterfly!
Category Archives: Nature
Thank You.
Thanks to you
I no longer allow
My self to be optional.
Thanks to you
I no longer entertain
Even the first
Glimpse of disrespect.
Thanks to you
I no longer endure
Unreciprocated attention.
Thanks to you
I no longer hold
Back when an emotion
Is confronted.
Thanks to you
I no longer lie
To myself about what I want
And what I can settle for.
Thanks to you
I no longer struggle
To feel worthy of
All of the things my
Pure heart desires.
Thanks to you
I no longer suggest
Favors that only work
In others’ favor
Which I would
Never have agreed to
Except that I wanted to
Seem so agreeable.
Thanks to you
I no longer permit
Myself to wonder
What life would look like
With someone who acts
Like they would rather
Live life without me.
Thanks to you
I no longer say
Things that I’m supposed to say
When I’d rather just
Scream.
Thanks to you
I never take anyone
Or anything
On face value.
Thanks to you
I’m not nice
I’m not kind
I’m not submissive
I’m not compliant
I’m not agreeable.
Thanks to you
I’m suspicious
And cynical
And callous
And hard.
Thanks to you
I’d really rather
Always only
Be all alone.
So,
Thank you!
You.
You will ask yourself
Who you are
Whilst staring down
Darkened hallways
And peering through
Partially cracked hollow
And hallowed doorways,
Attempting to sort
Light from shadow.
You will strive to
Give label,
Assign meaning,
And extract some reason
From each shadow figure
As if placed there
By God;
And not merely
A trick of
Physics,
Or evolution,
Or the butterfly wing
Discovering its
Usefulness
Whenever the first
Butterfly erupted
From its own destruction.
You will lose yourself
In mazes and hazes
And will listen to
Every wrong direction
Given by every
False
And falsetto
Voice of authority.
You will seek purpose
In each way to every end
And you will question
Every motive,
Even motives
You forgot to have.
You will lose the narrow
Definitions which confine
You;
And in wandering
The cavernous expanse
Of You
You will find no end
And no beginning.
You will find bends and alcoves
Which contain every
Dark and dire
Thing
That you were told
To be afraid of.
You will find the
Evil,
And dread,
And sin,
In every appetite
At every gaping maw
Of every abyss
Bottomless –
You will fall
And you will find
For lack of landing
There is no fall.
You will forget to distinguish
Up from Down.
You will right yourself.
You will rise.
You will find the most
Precious stones,
And blindingly pure light,
And miraculous manifestations
That seem to defy
All known law.
You will discover that
The impossible is
Merely that which
Cannot be labeled
Or fit into narrow
Confines
Within your human mind.
You will attempt to identify
Every hue and shade
Like the box of
Crayons with the special
Sharpener –
Even the glittery ones!
You will travel through
Every type of matter –
Through pure waters
That gently move
Over smooth stone,
Through deep mud
Which bubbles and stinks
Of decay as it
Rises to the surface,
Over craggy cliffs,
And through slippery sand.
You will venture and adventure
And you will never tire
Of the oddities and
Eccentricities
Which comprise the
Kaleidoscopic mosaic
Of you.
You will bend and defy
Order and the structures
Which attempt to
Define your existence
On the planet and your
Expression of being.
You will travel so far
And so fast as to loop
Time and space and
To return to stare
Into your own stunned
And sunkissed face.
You will ask of yourself
Every question; and you
Will investigate every
Doubt and concern;
And you will find
Guises, and places, and uses
For every thing which is
Found within.
And you will cease
To assign roles,
Or rules,
Or to attempt to confine
With narrowly defined
Descriptive language.
You will discover that
All that is you
Is so vast
That you cease
In being anything
At all.
Beginning without end,
End without beginning,
All and nothing.
Your philosophy will
Swell as the highest
Tsunami and will
Smash and thrash against
The breakwaters of your
Consciousness;
And you will cease to
Ponder.
You will grow tired
Of the analysis.
You will be incapable
Of recording, and inventorying,
And accounting for all that
You think and see.
And so you will become
Light.
You will become space.
You will become emptiness.
You will cease in your being.
You will transmute.
Life and all that she has
Birthed
Will pass through you;
Just as you pass through
A beam of light
Streaming through that
Partially opened door
Standing guard,
Defending hallowed halls.
And once you have
Finally discovered the
Significance of
All there is –
About the everything
Of everythingness –
It will all shift,
Turned end over end,
And spilling about;
And there will be new
Everythings contained
Within the sacred
Experience called
You.
Hardheart.
My heart
Has not deviated
Though my
Mind
Cannot see the way,
Through deviant indecisive
Cobwebs strung
O’er the entrances
And stealthy passages
Between ventricles –
The violent tremors
Of which
Like harpstrings
Sing of forgotten
Praise;
And each sunrise
And resetting
My mind sets backwards
In time –
This broken-handed clock
Stuck now for
Nearly three years’
Worth of days.
Evidence neatly piled
In damning stacks
Around us both arranged,
Barring our paths
Obscuring our sights –
And still I sense
Like a tunnel-cloud
From the West
Set upon the bay;
But then again
Perhaps it’s just
My own curiosity –
Do you still set
Deadeyed gaze
Towards my tear
Stained ruddy face?
Kaleidoscopes and Mixedtapes.
Memories are kaleidoscopic –
Turn the glass
And the entire world
Is turned on end;
Tumbled over,
Jumbled over –
Time retools and reshapes.
Time is a mixedtape
Stuck in my ’92 Tempo;
Brown ribbons spew
Like spaghetti
And we’re surprised when
The winding back
Makes sense of the senseless.
Some mixedtapes
Will never
Disentangle.
Some kaleidoscope’s
Blurry edges
Will never
Focus.
The neon sign
Tattooed across my
Aura reads
“OPEN” –
It is instructional
And descriptive.
In that moment when what
Was real was birthed
Between carefully controlled
And overthought thinking,
And the sloppiness
Of it all was
Exquisite:
Imperfect Perfection –
Like tangled
Mixedtapes
And unfocused
Kaleidoscopes;
While the good little
Boys and girls
With painted faces
And painted bodies
Somberly trudged
To the funeral dirge
Playing on repeat
Beneath the mixedtape
Tracks –
While they sleepwalked,
And sleeptalked,
And sleepfucked –
And sold themselves for
Something a little stronger
Than heroin –
There was nothing
Hidden to decipher.
Chaos’s trickster
Birthed this world
Like her finest web
And chaos’s trickster
Remains the guardian
Of the fates –
Guardian of stories –
Guardian at gates
And portals –
Guardian of
Kaleidoscopes and
Mixedtapes.
Garbled songs,
Garbled pictures –
Sliding in and out
Of focus;
All was madness
From the start,
And sorting the
Insanity by group
And type,
And labeling the
Intangible;
The indecipherable;
The deeply personal –
In order to bring some focus
From the kaleidoscope glass –
Is lunacy
By prescription.
Turn the glass,
Enjoy the view,
But to the spider
And the fly
Kaleidoscopes and mixedtapes
Are merely child’s
Amusements and blind
Metaphors.
Choose your story
And pick an ending
And enjoy the view
As the world turns
And burns
And sleeping children
Gnaw at sticky webbing
And cut the bridge threads
And learn that
“OPEN”
Can also mean
“See”.
Down by the sea.
You bring the bucket
I’ll bring the plans
Let’s build this castle
Down by the sea.
You bring your strength
I’ll get a tan
While we build
This castle
Down by the sea.
You play some music
I’ll hum along
While we build together
A castle so grand
Down by the sea.
I’ll pack a lunch
And you spread the blanket
In our castle’s back yard
Down by the sea.
We’ll find an old boat
And with sealing wax and
Carpet tacks like fairy tale
Dragons bring her to life
Down by the sea.
We’ll watch the sun set
Just to see it rise again
Over gentle currents
Down by the sea.
Seasons may turn
As earth continuously turns
And gentle waves churn
Round our steady castle
Down by the sea.
New Earth.
Draw your brush
Across my page
And let us now
Create,
Landscapes
And seascapes
And farscapes.
Let us paint
Bridges spanning the
Gap between
Two souls severed
By heartbeats,
Beating in primal
Cages,
Unfettered by mortal
Conditions,
And seeking past
Present and future
Tense to build
New monumental construction,
Cut clear through
All confusion
And produce new
Previously unimagined
Unsullied, unashamed,
Undisgraced, and unbroken
Wholesale wholeness for all
Earth’s children.
Free love given.
Free to share.
Free to have.
Free to hold
Free to catch and release
This piscean formation.
Fiercely focus on
Expansion.
Leave the machine
To it’s machinations.
It will sputter
As gears cease grinding.
Curious children
Drawn to the freedoms
And celebration
Abandon the old
Untruths and mental
Slavery –
Unbridle themselves
From unrighteous dominion.
We attract –
We find revolt
Revolting.
Revolution requires
True independent thinking.
We seek to build
While the earth is
Destroyed by old
Paradigms set by the
Greedy.
We reject being
Needy.
We see to our own
And build
Solidly.
How firm a foundation –
With no absolute authority.
Love be our religion
And peace be our
Reade and leave each
To his own house as
We build a new
Empire.
A heaven on earth.
And so it is
So let it now be.
New AGE.
The bay dances
Beneath baby blue skies
Like an evening gown
Draped over voluminous
Graceful feminine magnificence,
Beguling and wise.
Her sinuous swaying
Rhythmic waltz between
Coasts;
Sapphire gown of fine
Satin, hand-beading,
Or diamonds glistening
In the shallows
Bobbing shoreward;
Playfully teasing
Earth’s children
On the sand.
Human eyes record
Frequencies no
Camera will capture,
No words will describe.
Northeastern winds run
Gentle fingers over
Winter flesh warming
Under late springtime sun.
The air sings a
Playful tune full
Of promise and curious
Rhyme.
The sand below
Pulses some ancient
Celebratory stomp
Evoking deep Magicks
And Eldritch grace.
Olden stories fade away
As children turn to
Better ways.
Parents long gone
Have taken with them
Illusions of authority.
New leadership emerges
New earth
New landscapes.
New evolution turns
The wheel in
New directions and
New dimensions form
New invention
New possibility create.
Your World Is Ready.
Your world is ready
And it’s miraculous
And easy.
Don’t worry
Just breathe
And allow life
To be breezy.
Your world is ready
And it’s full of
Possibility.
Don’t hold onto
Past lessons
They’re already
Behind you.
Your world is ready
And it’s coming
Up daisies.
Seeds scattered in
Love and choosing,
Watered and
Blooming.
Your world is ready
And you’re your own
Dorothy
Swept up into a gale
And speeding to
Infinity.
You’ve already met
Your wizard and you
Know the other folks,
And they stand
At your ready
When your heels
Together click click click.
Your world is ready
And an adventure
Is brewing.
It’s custom
Made by you
And your soul’s
Divine knowing.
Your world is ready
And it’s filled
Up to the top with
Opportunities for loving.
Keep a ready eye
On the skies
Filled with rainbows
And pot-of-gold endings.
Your world is ready.
And so are you.
Just breathe.
You always already
Knew exactly just
What to do.
💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
Giving Up.
It feels like betrayal
To finally say goodbye
To the beautiful moments
And the happier times.
It feels like cheating
To give up on half-realized
Promises, and half-created
Palaces, and half-made
Measures, and half-lived
Dreams.
It feels like defeat
To admit it’s just
Been too much,
Too heavy,
Unhealthy,
Hearts breaking in half.
It goes against
Everything fairytale-taught,
To not be ready, willing,
Eternally waiting
For what wasn’t really
Meant and made for me.
It feels like giving up.
It feels like a loss.
It feels like saying goodbye
To possibility and hope.
Flies buzzing ’round
The rot
Flew off long ago,
And I sit in this
Boneyard
Heavy with yesterday’s
Mem’ries silhouetted
In shadows playing
On repeat.
It may just be
A flick of the flame,
A trick of the eyes,
Or maybe more lies
I’ve told myself
Just to cope.
The lingering stench
Of sweat and tears
And the ever-present
Self flagellation of
Guilt and remorse –
Have ceased being
Sexy and are
Just plain sad.
That world over there
Filled with miracles
Unceasing,
Has already proven
It’s seeking
Me just as assuredly
As I seek for my freedom
From the self imposed
Prison
Of yesterdays
And all the ways
I tell myself I
Coulda shoulda woulda.
So today,
I breathe and release
With eyes kept forward
Onto the horizon
And allow life
To move me swiftly
Out of yesterday’s cage
And into
The joy I’m choosing
Even if I can’t
Yet feel it.
Temporary MEASURES.
If you hadn’t
Broken my heart
I’d have never
Found my voice.
If you’d never have
Held my head
While dizzy-frenzied
Spinning,
You’d never have
Held my heart.
If you’d never
Brought me to
High-heady heights,
I’d never have
Returned so many
Beautiful times.
If you’d never
Pretended to care,
You’d never have
Meant enough to
See the job through.
If you’d never mattered
You’d have never battered
Down the iron bars
Which held me firm.
If you’d been just
Another faceless name,
I’d never have been freed
From the past’s
Icy grip.
If you had been here,
I’d never have healed;
You’d have held me
And I’d never have
Learned to hold
Myself.
If you had been
Here, I’dve continuously
Bled as the wound
Reopen; while distraction
And intoxicated confusion
Tear at my trauma
Masquerading as love.
You were a safe place
To hide, while the
World turned, funnel-cloud
And frenzied
And toppled us on our
Other side.
We walked outside
To survey the wreckage
Only to find
It would not have
Survived
Life’s storms.
What is the measure
Of a temporary
Retreat from the
Troubles we both
Carried?
It was sacred and
Full of holes
And incompleteness
Left us wanting
What is no longer
Wantable, no longer
Attainable, no longer
Holy.
Head and heart
In such disagreement
About what was never
Agreed to – it was
Only the temporary
Measure.
You’re unfeeling-free
And I await
Permanence while
These loosely knotted
Bindings flutter
Behind me like wings
And I feel transformed;
But really I am
My birthself, my
Trueself, my
Authenticself, my
Non-Temporary soulself.
Will I morph again
Before finding the
Measure of another
Like me?
BIG.
You think you know
Me because you see
How I look
And how I walk
And how I move –
But I guarantee
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know
Me because you know
A few of my opinions
And you’ve seen my
Current habitual patterns
And you detected a
Quirk or two –
But I promise you
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because of that one time
We got into a fight
I said something that
Sounded like the truth
That I’d been trying
To hide –
But I fully endorse:
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because you’ve seen me
Laugh and you’ve
Seen me sick
And you’ve seen me high
And low and in distress –
But I must impress
I’m bigger than that.
You think you know me
Because of my gender
Or race
Or culture
Or social status
Or job
Or education
Or the way I answer
Questions on a test –
But I will assure you
As I’ve reassured the rest:
I’m so very much
Bigger than that.
Profiling me according
To a human checklist
Will fail,
Diagnosing my
Mental wellness will
Not avail
You with an iota of
Understanding until
You are ready to get:
I’m bigger than all of it.
My soul is the universe and
It flows through
Me as me and also through you;
I’m the same as that
Tree and flower
And the birds and the bees
And I’m as free as water
Carving out new landscapes
Returning love to
The seas.
I’m free as sunshine and
Moonshine and the light
From a flame.
And there’s nothing
Defining or distinct or
Hierarchical
Or special or different –
It’s uniquely the same.
I’m a glimpse of the light
As it reflects from
Your eyes
And I refract
And bend and appear
Disguised
In this human suit
Perfect for me
And the pleasures I seek.
You will see what you
Choose and ignore the rest
And I’ll let you
Because I know you will
Discover the same
When put to the test –
In my bigness you will
Discover the enormity
Of you.
Seed.
How deep the earth
And dark the soil
Wherein this seed
Does grow.
How long awaiting,
Germinating,
Potential energy
Redoubling intensity;
Refined;
Purified;
Forgotten like some
Misplaced treasure
And buried ‘neath
Life’s rubble
And winter snow.
Ancient roots uncoil,
Unbound by bindings
Most mortals know.
Infant rhizomes
Regrow anew.
Verdant shoots,
Crimson blossoms,
Ascend up and out
Like vibrant plumes –
Radiating primordial glow.
Seed,
Planted and forgotten
Many seasons,
Choked out by
Shallow enterprise.
New depths plunged
And uncover
That which was
Waiting to be
Rediscovered;
What was promised
From the beginning,
New bountiful experience
Springs to life.
Crowned.
This heaviness in gaia’s
Pelvis
As this new child
Of heaven and earth
Crowns;
And old stories
Emerge
To foreshadow
Past foreboding,
Hoping to control
And to give shape
To formless
Becoming
Form.
We taste the light
Like honey,
And walk in sway
To that angelic tune
And keeping pace
With the unheard.
We’re not pretending –
Though you would
Never believe
Reality as it
Occurs
Within us.
We see through
The unseen,
And undo the undone,
And watch the
Undertow as chaos
Bend and flow
Into something
Predictable-akin.
Our doing
Is simply being,
As purpose
Flows
Through us
As you.
We experience
That which only
Those ancients and others
May decipher
As future forgotten
Truth.
Release the grip of the past,
That old uncertain path.
Let go of what was
Before;
For we never shall
Need her again.
Children dream
Of new creation,
And masses cry
Enmasse
For relief.
We can touch
And taste and
Sense it,
Though quite out
Of sight and
Far from belief.
Forget what was
If it’s truly unwanted.
Let go if
Expired is the need.
Put away
This bridegroom’s
Fair garment,
Twas rent in twain
Under false pretense.
We carry our codes in our skins,
And each combination
Part and piece of the whole.
Wheat falls to the
Priestess’s storehouse,
As chaff scatters
Away in dark winds.
True Beauty.
I was a goddess
Before I
Tweezed plucked and shaved,
And moisturized.
I was perfect
Before I
Starved sweated and crammed
My curves into this
Binding of cloth
With some false idol
Ideal of perfection
Designed.
I was beautiful
Before I
Covered my beauty with paste
And shaded over
My laughter and
Hid wisdom lines.
I was exquisite
Before I
Tamed wild locks into
Well behaved mane,
Gathered like good little
Girls spilling
Over white shoulders
Held back and high.
I was already
Enough
In my too much for you,
And too much
For women
Whose power hides
Behind thier puppet master
Or self-made mask –
The gender disguise.
I was already
Goddess incarnate
Walking barefooted
With unpainted toes
In unperfumed flesh
Gathering specks
Of Gaia beneath bent grasses
Upon my path
Of meandering lines.
This vessel is
Merely focus
For the flow which
Never ends
Has never begun
And will never cease –
And you focus on
The vessel
Ignoring the divine
Which pretends
To dwell inside.
You will never
Have her
Though you may try.
Because what you
Seek is only
Thin-Veiled
Thin-skinned
Thin-depth
Disguise.
Division.
We tell stories
Of theys and thems
But “not me”,
And divide into
Sheep and asleep:
Others and outsiders.
We pretend we’re
A separate kind
And not takers
From the common
Provision and plan.
We walk in
Our hubris lock steps,
And thumb our noses
At the masses
Amassing outside
Babylon’s picket fences.
We march as legion
Pretending allegiance
To higher virtue
And nobler
(Even off-planet)
Law.
We invent new
Labels to label
Our labels by,
And place ourselves
Above our fellows
By standards invented
To displace blame.
We make up stories
Of supernatural
Superpowerful
And sovereign
Graces,
Which place us on
Platforms built
By spiritual egoic
Cloudforms in chloroform –
Pretending to live
In other dimensions,
To ignore what’s been
Agreed to and done
By all of the
“Not me’s”
Scattering like fleas
Thirsting for a
Dog with new tricks.
From whence is your
Savior come due?
Do you imagine
You will be alone
In that boat
Being towed on
Hallucinogenic seas?
Do you imagine
Yourself
Pure and safe
In your rebellion
From the insanity
Of the sane?
How long since
You listened to
Your brother?
Acknowledge we’re
In the same ship,
Hurling through the
Abyss around
The same hurdles,
Which we place
In our own pathways
In our resistance;
Our attachment
To persistence,
Though we recognize
The old ways
Left over
From old days,
Brought us to this
Gloomy place.
Denial of what is
Will not save us.
Nor will doomsday
“Light the bitch up”
Drunken nihilists
Enjoying their own wake
Before death claims
His due.
Blindly begging on
Bended knee
While expecting
Some authority to
Deliver –
How many divisions
Can be counted
While those who
Profit are counting
On long-division
Exponentially
Producing
More and the same.
Look to old
Dead prophets
Dust and ash
Spewing forth
From thier graves.
Unheeded omen
Ring hollow,
Devolved humanity’s
Voice
Ring true.
There are no
Others,
Your mirror be
Broken;
But the projection
Remains –
One body,
One soul,
One You!
Apart.
If we’d chosen it
We could have held each other
As the world descended
Into madness;
We could have
Made sense of
The senseless –
Simply sensing what
Our own bodies,
And hearts,
And minds,
And souls,
Breathed between us.
We could have –
If we’d only chosen –
Written our own
Reality
Independent of any
Need for the
Simulated stories
And hearsays,
Claiming as proof
That which the
Sounds of our
Own heartbeats
Proved to us.
If we’d only chosen,
We could have
Made shelter in
Brambles and thickets
And bathed in warm pools
And foraged for sustenance,
Even just for
An afternoon
Away from the concrete
Confinement, housing
Television and internet
Bouncing off the backs
Of our eyeballs –
Feeding the fears
With invisible stuff
Stuffed into the
Ethers where
God’s angles
Mutter utterances
Into the machine
Still churning
The swill drank
By good churchfolk,
As flesh and blood
Pleas for safe
Passage through these
Times,
And punishment
For imaginary crimes
Committed by the
Good folk who
Walk thier own paths
Awry
Apart from the
Not yet departed.
We could have
Just gone fishing
And let the sun set
On humanity’s
Debate,
Humming like crickets
Who haven’t decided
To feed themselves
To fishes.
We could have just
Made a simple choice
Listening to the only
Voice
That mattered –
That frequency
Humming between us
Wherein we seemed
To always understand
Without speaking.
You wanted us apart
And the world
Has literally gone
Mad
Since that day.
Hear Hear.
I found my voice
And so I started to
Speak –
But did I
Forget to
Listen
Or is it a question
Of hearing?
And what did I
Forget to hear?
When so many voices
Clamoring for the
Attention
Of the silent ones
Formerly only
Observing,
What is this
Maelstrom made of
Many voices singing
Their trauma and drama
In harmony
As many in
One accord?
Is the only true
Unity
In complaint?
And when we hear
The discordance of
Falsehoods
Ring out like
Metal on ceramic
Bashing what was pure
Into fragmented
Shards of divinity;
Do we have the stillness
To discern
The spiral
Of creation
Which presses upon us?
Are we
Thinking
Or feeling
Or speaking;
And can we
Recognize the difference?
Can I love that
Which I still believe
Incapable of loving?
And can I allow to
Heal
That which I judge
Incapable of healing?
And can I allow?
Can I allow?
Can I release from
My clutches
That which carried me
In a basket
On a sea of tears?
Can I simply allow
That which is seeking me
To arrive with certainty
Without my clutching
To some abstract
Idea of formalized control?
Where is located
That final
Alchemical combination
Of imagination and
Blindness?
It’s been written;
It’s been dreamt;
It’s been asked for;
It’s been summoned;
It was promised
Before any of this
Ever unfolded,
In that abyss where
Childhood called the bet.
Time has been
Fluid,
(Or is it the observer)
And space unraveled
And folded into
That paper lantern
First lit
With the breath of
Ancient reds.
Primordial forces
Unleashed from the tomb
As the mother
Ankle deep in the womb
Of gaia
Danced
With pernicious
Delight.
Tonight
I’ll glide with starlight
And see what can
Still can be seen.
Sutra 32.
Love is a conversation
It flows through – as.
It’s no small wonder
Poetry is the preferred
Conversation of Lovers,
Poetry, like love,
Requires air to breathe
And to spring to life;
Room to grow and to fill
The dark cavities which exist
Between worlds being
Birthed into independent
Experience.
Love requires patience
And tender nurturing
For love’s timeline does
Not bow or conform
To the timeline
Which rules flesh.
Love requires silence
To hear her delicate breath
Echoing through the silence
With no walls or bounds
From which to reverberate
And return true.
Love requires faith
For he follows no formula –
No equation or recipe or compound
Will yield that which the
Heart seeks.
Love requires creativity
For once you are
Believed
To have it,
Love will change form
And you will find empty
Palms clutching
Empty bedsheets.
Love requires humor
Lest it become too heavy
And love falls beneath you
And is lost to
Gravity.
Love requires boldness
To declare
Inwardly
And externally
That it has arrived,
For your word will
Call Love into being
Just as your word
Will send it from you.
Dichotomy.
Don’t want to be controlled
But I do want to be chosen.
But want the respect
For commitments to be honored;
And when the choosing is through
Want the dignity of
Necessary conversation;
Not making it about me –
Not all about you.
All things must evolve –
All starts have their
Finishes.
Don’t want temporary
Nor a permanent lie.
I don’t want to be owned
But I don’t want to be shared.
Don’t want to control
But don’t want to be blind.
Don’t want to dominate
But don’t care to submit;
Equal exchanging
Sacred energy’s gift.
Want clarity,
Transparency,
And connection;
Not out of obligation
But out of obsession.
Want to feel wanted,
Want to feel steady,
Want safety that allows
It to naturally unfold.
Want open doors
Not walls,
Want solid bridges
Not moats,
Want ease,
Want fun,
Want green flags;
Want what I thought
I was getting
But never got.
Want self-responsibility
That leaves each to her own
But seeks creative cooperation
Where together everyone thrives.
Want the things that aren’t logical,
Want to be wholly unreasonable,
Want to defy sensible,
Want to give over to impractical.
Want super synchronicity,
And excited soul-discovery,
And sober-drunken revelry,
And peacefully
Flowing from here till infinity.
Want what’s been promised
Lifetimes ago
To finally have an easy
Path unfold
To finally have time
And space just to play
And explore every minutiae
Of Mother’s broad face.
The thrill of chasing
Life’s unattainable
Intangible
Unsustainable
Dichotomy –
The feeling of home
With an eternal best friend.
Allowable.
You’re allowed to take up space.
You’re allowed to show your face.
You’re allowed to be heard.
You’re allowed to be seen.
You’re allowed to be angry
And to seethe with righteous rage.
You’re allowed to feel broken
While you wait for the pain
To subside into healing
And to rest and to cry and to
Give in to dark tides
And to be weak
And to feel small.
You’re allowed to be emotional
Or emotionless
Or stale – stuck on a feeling
You can’t seem to escape.
You’re allowed to be loud.
You’re allowed to scream
With wild beasts
The words composed by your heart
As it beats sonnets
To you in private –
That pulse your
Private inward universe –
The inverse of
What’s typically acceptably known –
Singing you awake
As you take a moment
To plan your next play.
You’re allowed to be
Exactly where you are
For as long as you choose
To be exactly You –
Whichever You –
You choose to show up as.
And you’re allowed to
Decide –
Where to go to from here.
You can rest
You can withdraw
You can be silent –
Saying everything
By saying nothing at all.
You’re allowed to run forward
Swift as March winds,
To gallop with wild mares
Or soar o’er verdant trees
Slooping and looping
Through currents high
Above blues and greens
In that space between
Space and cottony clouds.
You’re allowed to
Roll slow
Like innocent brooks
Sunning and tumbling
Slipping over sand and silt
Gentle treasure flowing
Steady and enjoying the view.
You’re allowed to sleep,
To surrender
To that dark unknown,
To slip into that space
Beyond wakeful control.
You’re allowed to not know,
To not plan,
To not strive,
To not measure,
To not compare,
To not push,
To not try.
You’re allowed grace.
You’re allowed love.
You’re allowed peace.
You’re allowed tender embraces
And sweet breathy sighs.
You’re allowed ease.
You’re allowed to just be.
Be.
Nature.
A bird is still
A bird though
Her wing be broken.
She will not suddenly
Become a serpent
Because she cannot fly.
The gentle nature within
Will not corrupt
Though it be driven
Into hiding spaces
In places only shades
Dare to go.
Though she may pretend
To be content with
Skipping about on
Feet never meant for
Walking, she will soon
Return to her high
Spaces when given time;
For all do mend and
Heal and return to their
Nature true in God’s
Due time.
A bird is still
A bird though she may
Not sing – whether t’is
From injury or grief for
Her beloved sky.
She’ll dream of singing
Songs anew, soon as
Strength returns
And she takes flight.
One who’s made of
Love and light
Will always return
True to form – despite
All false belief
And cloudy sight;
We are but vessels
Toting stardust
Through the night.
Harvest.
I’ll not tell you
Not to clip your wings,
For I’ve done the same
For the love it might bring.
I’ll not tell you
Not to muffle your song,
For I’ve done the same
Thinking it was for love all along.
I’ll not tell you
Not to hide your light,
For I’ve done the same,
Thinking it would brighten love’s flame.
I’ll not tell you
Not to silence your voice,
For I’ve done the same,
Thinking love’s best choice.
I’ll not tell you
Not to give your whole heart,
For I’ve done the same
Thinking love’s playing its part.
I’ll not tell you
Your love is a crime,
For I’d choose the same
For love I’d take any punishment –
I’d do the time.
I’ll not tell you,
Not to bend, crawl, or stoop;
For I’ve done the same
Thinking love would deliver, true.
Love as you choose,
Like the breath in your chest,
Holding it inside
Becomes as toxic as not inhaling at all.
Allow it to flow in and out,
As natural as a breeze,
Attempt not to control
Lest it die to be free.
But when the love you offer dies
As fruit on the vine,
Do not blame the wild tree
For another’s crime.
Uproot and seek fertile
And rich earth to replant,
And watch as new love flowers
And all that was spent
Is returned in full.
See how in due season
Richly harvested fruit
Pressed into wine of the divine
In the fullness of time.
Depths.
Shadow
Automatons dance
On gently stirred
Air
Like motes of
Mother’s dust
Eternally agitated
By the motion of
Movement –
A rollick of
Memories born
To flesh
And the forgotten
Yesterdays
Which whisper their
Foreboding tale
On vibrational staircase
Winding ever upward
To lofty tomorrows.
She pirouettes in place,
Her thick-tufted
Pajamas clinging to
Thighs whose
Regresses and egresses
Have become more
Shapely with children
And baring the weight of
Many men
Who would give her
Their burdens to
Carry
Like water vessels
On her back,
In her heart and mind,
On her soul.
The stars and crescent moons
Bend and bunch
In places which
Attract and distract the light
And in symphony with
Grace
Do there create
Winding roads
And lonely paths
Many have wandered
After the lights of
Day have retreated behind
Expectant moons.
What use have
You of me?
She asks the shadows
As they swirl about
Her and she gathers
Them like fish
Caught in the net of
Her flaxen hair.
What use have I
Of your echoed
Lament?
She does not hide
The abyss of her
Seas
But only those
Who venture into
The bed of placid
Deep
May find that
Treasure which she
Keeps.
There is no binding
Nor secret map,
She offers her stores
With open access
But few should wish
To see
That which could be
Inwardly plundered.
Attempt to narrate her
Movements,
Guess at her motives,
Create your own story
Which explains her
Free spiritedness –
From your high vantage
Only mirrored reflection
Return shadow-
Prancers to mind.
You’ll need to dive
Deep
Unencumbered
By false pretense
Or expectancy –
Plunge depths previously
Uncharted
And see the secret
Gardens she keeps.
Those who would
Delve unbidden
Into forbidden troves
Will find themselves
Puzzled – perplexed,
For the
The laws which govern
All others
Applied here
Leave visitors quite
Vexed.
Not upside-down
Nor inside-out
Nor distorted reality –
No, that which paints
Ancient walls here
Depicts strange
Curiosities indecipherable
And indescribable by
Those whose frequencies
Keep to low-tides.
Silver SHADOW.
Ancient
Formless
Flowing
Placid
Fluid
Timeless
Feminine
Wise
Divine
Connected
Source
Abiding
Translucent
Directed
Steady
Peaceful
In the recess of
Consciousness
Behind thought which
Steers the thinker
She is me
She is mother
She is the universe
She is god.
Faceless nameless
Soul-self
Beyond what time
Measures
In lines
And hexes
And spirals
The space
Between
The breath
And the breathed
The exhale
Which births
Life
The nothing
Which gives definition
To all
She is neither
And in her neitherness
Others
Are sown
The void
Which divides
Masses
Unto
Masses
Her voice is
The rumbling of
Earthquakes
Hum of
Silence
Ringing
Piercing
Pulse beating
Like the tide
Rustling of fingers
Through wild
Manes
The voices
Of billions
Murmur
In prayer
She is the spine
Of life
Connecting
Heaven to earth
You may see
Her faceless face
When the mask slides
Or the windows
Forget to hide
And when wholly
Surrendered to
Christ is
Alive.
Foreigner.
Writhing vines
And crunchy leaves
And twisted
Snarly snares
Bare witness to
Her treasonous
Trespass,
While
All the while
A surly
Landskeeper slumbers
In his shed,
His head
Drowned in absinthe
And anise dreamscapes
Divine.
Maiden fair
Untended,
Intended,
Betrothed to the
Snapdragons
And dandelions,
A blanket of
Pollen
Her dowry,
Into crickety
Rickety
Canoe
Climbs.
She gathers her
Skirts
Of baby’s breath
And fastens a veil
Of honeysuckle,
And pushes
Off into
The wintry winding
Bubbling
Babbling
Brook.
In Ophelia’s
Repose she
Exhales a lilac
Breeze.
Hawthorne’s
Child
No longer,
That ambrosia
Formulary
Forgot to unbind
And found itself
Apoptosetic;
The inner clock –
Dickery-dock –
Does chime.
Time’s hands
Turn back
Like windmills
Unfettering
Millstones
Long tied,
They slip-
Drop splishy-
Splash-splosh
Like unhitched
Anchors
Into the depths
Left behind.
Gentle current
Carry this maid
Steady forward
As the winding
River widens
And bends
Round tangerine
Clouds stretched through
Indigo skies.
Those yester-shores
Now are foreign
And old tongues
Twisted to
Dialects new,
And slumbering
Landskeepeers
Forgotten,
And multi-chromatic
Schematics lose
Their hue.
Heaven.
There is a green
Plane of life
And a young god
Digging in
Rich earth.
There’s a
Maturing goddess
Still very fond
Of her own infancy
Watching,
Gently swaying
To the rythm
Of the breeze
Trough guardian
Trees who stand
Watchful and true.
There’s a rainbow
Wall of swirly-whirly
Magnetic tide
Which carries
What’s wanted
Swift and succinct.
The occasional
Winged warrior
Flits from verdant
Watchtowers,
Encircling this
Heavenly haven
Carried on
A stream of
Grace.
There’s a fiery
Father
Sending warm wisps
Of love from
His high-throned place
And round and
Nurturing mother
Receives his
Delicate embrace.
Eyes which
See the lens –
Eyes which pierce
The veil –
Eyes which
Frequencies dissemble –
Study the playful
Exchange.
There’s a private
View of heaven
Which opens into
The expanse,
And all who
Venture inward
Enter and wish
Ever to stay.
49shadesof MaggieWagonerRuch 