The universe is transformation: life is opinion.~Marcus Aurelius
The crossing is perilous. We focus
on each step, aware, sanguine. The pompous
arrogance is gone. This new land shimmers
with potential. Old beliefs are dimmer
finally dissipate as we enter
the way like a wave. Stoic, we center
as all around comes crashing down the world
we found in our backyard. New realms unfold.
Inspired by: Sanguine, Yard, Stoic and Pompous. And dedicated to all the powerful creators who release the old ways and live with imagination and intention.
All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.~T. E. Lawrence
It would be a travesty to impose
a moratorium on slumber. Woke
folk in the know insist bliss in the throes
of dream’s unseemly. Full moon at the stroke
of grandfather’s clock, the mainspring unwinds.
We find our enslavement peculiar,
yawning as we climb out of constructs, primed
to slip through time, seemingly our ruler.
Outside the meager narrative of need
we say aha and follow passion’s lead,
decline the lagniappe; our pursuit of greed
forgotten in reality’s stampede.
Inspired by: Meager, Moratorium, Lagniappe, Slumber and the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt “-sty” and the constant intention to be free.
“Something inside me’s just begun….there’s always magic in the air.”~Genesis, The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway.
I cannot staunch the bleeding. Foundation
exposed by enthusiastic
lambs led to slaughter. The degradation
pains my empathic senses. If I stick
my fingers in the holes, the flow just goes.
Go with the flow, abandon ship. Golden,
we walk on the turbulence, beholden
to the light. Illusions’ fright just shadows.
The halcyon days of yore beyond storms
where nests were safe for laying: myth platforms.
Creative now, we breathe intentional,
imagine ways multi-dimensional.
Inspired by: Staunch, Lamb, Halcyon and Enthusiastic.
“The life of this world is wind
Windblown we come, and windblown we go away.
All that we look on is windfall.
All we remember is wind.”~Charles Wright
In the fallout of my repeating steps
lives are transformed. I don’t feel different
sitting with my windfall, doing my reps
in the dance of morning. The inference
now I’m a millionaire, I won’t settle
in squalor is felt by astute watchers.
Through all the crashing towers, my mettle
tested again and again. Plan botchers
or a heavy karmic debt, it’s all me.
I’ve tried, I’m here to stay. I cannot flee.
In neutral, I breathe serendipity
and manifest through doubt and fear debris.
Inspired by: Fallout, Repeating Steps, Serendipity and Astute.
Featured image: A 450+ year-old oak tree I communed with yesterday sends blessings.
Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?~Matthew
Like a stalwart engineer in Pisa
studies lean, adept in kinesthesia
and dynamic soil structure, keen to fix
the problems I perceive in piles of bricks
I retreat to my tower, meditate
–the wounded healer theme to integrate.
In brevity’s honor, I’ll simply say
these planks in my eyes will show me the way.
Inspired by: Retreat, Brevity, Stalwart and Theme.
Featured image: the implode effect on an image of Notre Dame’s Basilica of the Sacred Heart. Title from a quote by Mary Shelley about calming the monkey mind: “Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose – a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.”
Is this uncouth child frowning in timeout
because he tried to break my thumb–no lie–
in the mafia? There is little doubt
that he’s two months shy of five–no jive.
My sobriety is begging me–just
one little toke turns this into a joke.
My glow is dimmed. This winter hymn’s a dirge
mourning the bitter dark as shadows surge.
I’m on the verge. Portals emerge. What’s true
is far beyond my view. I sit and stew
until a pause for breath. Celebrate death.
The world’s askew. Release old. Welcome new.
Inspired by: Glow, Mafia, Sobriety and Uncouth.
I’m listening for the angelic choir
in this particular month, ears on fire,
eyes sparking, a live wire. My new voice sings.
A crystal, I oscillate between swings
over chaotic choices. I reach out.
My ancient cousin says, have you run out,
with a certain glee, lonely, sitting high
atop a stash he’ll surely need in the sky.
Behind every rebuff I see how
my new being is mistaken. I bow
under the weight as I awaken, shed
possessions and limitations. Ahead
of the wave, I ride. My hesitations
old programs, filtered perceptions I’ve saved
in ignorance. How this world I create
propels me past my comfort zone. No wait.
Inspired by: Particular, Oscillate, Month and Rebuff.
“I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I’m going to take a stand. I’m going to defend it. Right or wrong. I’m going to defend it.” – Ferris Bueller
Messages beaming through the grid, I gird
my loins in sacred armor. Light and sound
heard through the mists of time controls. I’m bound
by this construct and so I step amid
the sinkholes and the junkyard dogs. This fog
dizzying, disorients. Money’s spent
and I’m beaten down. The barks resound.
Surrounded, my rhymes elucidate crimes.
Yet here’s my backbone. Here’s my joie de vivre
(what slave masters can never take from me.)
Eyes on the prize, my focus draws me here
where laughter reigns and falsity is clear.
Sing now, my darlings, lift up your clear voice.
It’s curtain call. The world joins your rejoice.
Rejecting the false matrix, just a cloud
of stress that cannot mute our spirits loud.
Inspired by: Bark, Backbone and Gird. And the unshakeable certainty that we are right here right now because we have the strength and the commitment to our highest paths, that it’s darkest before the light, and that each individual voice is essential. Sing!
There are no limitations set by this electric universe upon any man’s multiplication power. Each man sets his own limitations in accordance with his desires.~Walter Russell
Show me a limit, I’ll tell of beliefs
created simply to hold you, decreased
and disempowered while you fuel freely
the master liars and conniving thiefs.
Opening and closing doors is delicate
with two cats playing pounce the paw through cracks.
At 5:55, I am desolate
struggling breath. Reviewing all the acts
which bring me here, summoning nerve to change
the movement of my being, the curve strange.
How do I rearrange these filters made
so long ago? I claim my power, trade
the dubious distinction of black sheep
now washed clean. My ablution performed deep
in layers that dissolve. As solutions
rise, my new eyes call for revolution.
Inspired by: Dubious, Claim, Movement, Ablution and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: nerve.
The electric energy which motivates us is not within our bodies at all. It is a part of the universal supply which flows through us from the Universal Source with an intensity set by our desires and our will.~Walter Russell
It’s morning, the needy show empty bowls
in piteous shows to wangle power.
For once my fierce no echoes, newfangled,
wrought from new perception, surprise dangled
as an avalanche of frozen banks fall.
This lesson keeps repeating ’til I call foul,
order offending players to the bench.
It’s all just story, I say, as they flinch.
I know it feels real, facing eviction
–sounding superior, my conviction
boots on the ground where the twisted tales seize
energy, insist we bow low to greed.
Guarding the Gates with a smirk and control
of the media waves, farmland and souls
are imprisoned as long as we believe
our sovereignty can never be retrieved.
For centuries, we’ve been entrained to lie
under the yoke, but now the truth decry.
We Are Not Slaves. We create, manifest
the narratives we choose to say are best.
Inspired by: Superior, Bench and Wangle and Walter Russell’s quote: “Each human is… empowered to uplift all humans as each drop of water uplifts the entire ocean.“