Be sure to unplug from the scramble of narratives often; it literally interferes with your coherence…Only empower the thoughts, words, actions and feelings you desire to see manifested.~Sandra Walter
Imagine with no restraints, release each
misperception society’s imposed
the muck and drama to the roots exposed
collective trauma symptoms rise and teach
a wave must break upon the shore. Grackles
now enter this stanza with a scold aimed
at my crude philosophizing cackles
the world goes by, by habit join the game
Unplug! Don’t watch these systems burn; you’ll choke
on ashes, mourn the failing gadgets, flee
freedom, seek the old familiar yoke.
See with your heart, reclaim reality!
Laid off and disempowered how can we
regain our feet, the food we eat revolved
on lack and greed—these old beliefs dissolve.
What’s real—what I call love—emerges free.
Inspired by: Layoff, and Gadget
When the web went down, we here poised, sticky
balance, supplied and surprised by the joy
of release. We invented games, tricky
and hilarious, collapsing, a toy
shooting out of the water into air.
Has the sky ever been so blue, the clouds
so white, the sun so golden? How we fare
in this halcyon day to play unbowed!
I am receiving, my heart full and clear.
I’m finding common ground, writing fables.
Figurative or literal, we’re here
with weighted words perceived as we’re able
so let’s not fight, can we agree: we’re made
in love? Can we create right now, our hearts
open and true? Forget how we’ve been played,
what we were sure we knew. We’re at the start!
How we enjoy each other when we see
we’ve landed in karmic reality
in our rush to be on planet right now
as the walls come quite abruptly crashing ’round.
All around me, people watch the burning
called by each old twisted fragment flame-lit
behavior choosing sides, reaching, yearning
for change yet stuck, mired in the same shit.
The illusion of individuality like a mask
in the divide and conquer game, we’re played
like pawns. We’re all connected and we’re tasked
with one specific song to sing today.
A bullfrog croaks just as the sprinklers hiss
on bark the sun blesses before the storm.
I’m taking respite in a zone of peace
while the old systems crash, collapse and harm
the young like waving branches in these gusts
carried by passionate agility.
They think me gelid. As I praise love thrusts
while fear seeks symptom’s culpability.
Can you see the strong trunk and the deep roots?
We hold. Believe nothing is as it seems.
Create reality. Choose words to suit
our highest trajectory–rise from dreams!
Inspired by: Zone, Gelid, Behavior and Respite.
As a wise woman walking free in grace
and grounded in the empirical ways
life has taught: brutal fierce lessons reveal
beyond propaganda’s whirl, theory’s spiel
caution, don’t cross, fear more! The tones wound tight
from artificial morning into night
away from the power of pure sunlight
we can’t explain where heavy beliefs fight
logic. Our human zoo schooled cowering
our focus and attention devouring
our true power: creative flowering
once we re-member, love is showering.
Inspired by: Empirical, Explain, Zoo and Caution.
While frogs chorus, a plethora
of pleasures present. I’m quiescent
prone on the deck with salty
lips and an eyeful of sky.
The vista reveals one star and I’m
curious and unlearned before
Vega and Arcturus, Pluto,
Saturn, Neptune, the waxing moon.
All the keepers of arcane knowledge
are reading the stars these days.
Apps on phones plot positions
and half-buried nuggets tease my
beliefs and puncture my perceptions.
Nothing is as it seems.
The sky above Dune filled with
visitors in the hour of reckoning
flavoring this narrative with scenes
well-seasoned. Anything could happen.
Oh, the joy in simply being
right here in wonder!
All the fear is behind me
and love rewrites my her-story
as I delve into the mystery
in the night, the light-able me.
Inspired by: Arcane, Vista, Salty and Plethora.
Oh, how I begrudge this mosquito
its drop of sacrificial blood.
Resistance is futile, and stirs the flow
nonstop fear, that ancient come-hither.
Dark hungry sides respond, require
reclamation, resolution, revolution.
Kindwhile the narrative shifts just
a second late, clumsy with the jolt
surprised AI receives when love
shines as pure and simple change.
In play, this four-year-old inspires
me to live in the light, accessing
knowledge with ease as the collective
libraries release secrets written deep
inside ourselves. Afar, the windbag spouting
fairytales laced with dopamine bursts
loses luster in the crystalline
truth. I open new eyes
and everything is rainbow, rainbow,
rainbow! My creation in this lovely
place speaks fierce kindness
judges not and listens, silent, alight.
I come at the great awakening.
I am here from choice and divine
guidance. There are words only I
can sing and steps I alone can take.
This world is mine, I claim and vow
to wake with joy and delight and
awash in intentions aimed
for the highest
any tale ever told.
Inspired by: Futile, Inspire, Begrudge and Windbag.
There is no sense in pretending
Your eyes give you away
Something inside you is feeling like I do
We’ve said all there is to say.~Tom Petty
Consider the moon. Magnetic control
until we matriculate, feel the sole
source beyond the solar system. Our goal
to say enough! Reclaim, regain our soul.
I know these words might irk; the usual
suspects–meanings perverted, heavy, full
of propaganda and political
mal-intent. Let’s jump into potential
like a baby, attuned to the sky clock
stepping free from all of the false constructs.
What day is it anyway, as we mock
the attempts to corral the sheepish flock.
Here I am to save the day! In my own
peculiar way. Break another phone.
Electrified. You can’t track how I’ve grown
awake, I see I’ve never been alone.
Inspired by Matriculate, Baby, Enough!, Usual, the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: What day is it, anyway?, the current breakdown of the ancient control systems on the planet and my favorite live version of Break Down as the crowd jumps in and Tom Petty warns, “You’re gonna put me out of a job.” Here’s to the new earth and all the new ways of being–and farewell to all the old jobs that no longer serve the whole!
How can I speak into cranky fear
simply, leaving the prolix soapbox?
Our awakening is unpredictable;
the AI masters gnash their teeth, perplexed.
Look into the fire in the sky,
dig fingers deep into our earth
mother running through our songs.
We breathe a symphony. As we assemble
onstage, so many sleepwalkers wander
out of tune. What joy as they rouse.
Fighting the cancerous cells, labeling
psychopaths in corrupt old systems
ancient and disintegrating in our light
feeds that dying flame, the silly
illusion of separation. No more!
That song has left the galaxy.
We hold space in the flowing ether
of unity. On the front porch,
a hummingbird hovers by the new feeder,
testing my intention. Love and service
even to these frazzled, triggered ones
plugged into the false web
just a song away from true harmonics
as we reconnect to the light
we are, allowing source
again and again, receptive, letting
go of judgment and arrogance because
we don’t know this immensity.
Welcome ourselves as we turn
into the music of now: awake, alight, aware.
Inspired by: Cranky, Fire in the sky, Unpredictable and Prolix. Featured image by Linda Stuart capturing a moment of me doing my favorite thing in the world.
The possibilities I envision–
untethered to a past–through a gleaming
gate streaming in starlit precision
now that I’m not diminutive, afraid
and powerless. A paragon at last
I can leave the choosers to writhe inside
their choices–unjudging, I ascend fast
my own way awake. Place Gaia first, wide
serving humbly and astounded to clean
with that old healing formula pure love-
intention. We are reeling in mistaken
perception, our frequency hums above
misconceptions. In crystalline truth, feel
the ethers, like a rippling sea, and we,
antennae of celebration, can heal
with respect. Each measured step, oh, aim me
in my highest trajectory. We can
not flee our roots; we only touch the sky
on this spaceship our mother earth. Seek and
speak what’s true for you: it’s time now to fly.
Inspired by Celebration, Diminutive, Paragon and Afraid.
What if, while waiting for hummingbirds we
noted the young oak leaf blown apropos
of a theme this grandma teaches simply:
nature gives what is needed, even though
it may not be what you want. Compensate
for limited vision. Look with your heart.
Blooming rainbows, singing flights, we create
with Gaia. Now I’m leaving out these parts:
butterflies, clouds, the trees and the ground, birds
and the cars on the street, this easel-art
celebrations of bugs. Fumbling words
to convey the moan of that train: a start.
Inspired by: what if, theme, apropos, compensate and a curious four-year-old grandson who insisted on including all the parts I’d left out of my morning poem. As I write this, he is singing, “Sing with me, sing with me!”