Woman In The Mirror

It is essential that you recognize how your old ways of thinking and acting have gotten you exactly where you are right now.~T. Harvey Eker

In the middle of the night, chickpeas teach
an imperative restriction. Outreach
of a histamine response. What folly
to forget. I can blame melancholy

and maudlin midnight tales but truth be told
my body’s signals manifold are gold
and I the miner. Draining in the dark
excesses. In my balancing remark

upon the mess that is my message. Clean
my diet once again, my focus keen.
Radiant wellbeing my aim. The game
starts by looking in the mirror to claim.

Inspired by: Maudlin, Folly, Restriction, Imperative and a runny nose from eating garbanzo beans.

Featured image: Reflection in a puddle.


She said, pay attention to birds, they’re sent
with messages you should explore. Foment
is fueled when focus feeds the fires of fools.
I had to switch wild bird food, starlings ruled

a frenzied flock of greed seized shelled seeds.
This morning, they fly in then out. No need
to crack shells, extract value maximal
convert to calories inflammable.

Yesterday watching spectacular shows
the cackling grackles, suet on poles
summoned woodpeckers, cardinals, sparrows
and jays. Finches, nuthatches like arrows

they aimed to delight. Big birds devoured
supplies. I change offerings, empowered
to feed with discernment. When they alight
today, pick through my menu, then take flight

just so as fear, uncertainty and doubts
clamor to be fed, heckle and shout,
I take a breath and clear the skies, emptied
let peace descend before I sow new seed.

Inspired by: Pole, Inflammable, Explore and Maximal.

*In crypto lingo, FUD means fear, uncertainty and doubt. Right now we’re in Extreme Fear.

Featured photo: These greedy starlings and the murmuration that came after them cleaned out everything, leaving nothing for the tiny native birds.

Bring Out Yer Dead

Make a list, he says, and forgive them all
resentments suppressed so in the wee small
hours they claw and in my grief I can’t breathe
this isn’t something an inhaler seized

can fix. Like seeds his erudite clues fall
into cracks and bite tender wounds. Light called
into my consciousness. Observe niggles
of fierce resentments, I cannot higgle

when it’s clear I hang from perilous cliffs
in the dark carving distraught hieroglyphs
curled into a protective shell oppressed
I cannot see it’s me I have repressed

Bright sunrise paints variegated skies
and wounds inflicted by those hated guys
transform: treasures on the opposite shore
both sides relinquished as I free my core.

Inspired by: Bite, Bright, Variegated Skies, Erudite and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Opposites.

Title from the scene in Monty Python and The Holy Grail. All this inner work feels very much like hauling corpses into the light to be hauled away. That scene ends with,
“Who’s that, then?”
“Must be a king.”
“He hasn’t got sh*t all over him.”


Foggy consecutive dawns on the lake
an insistent melody I partake
all present urge me to wake. Past mistakes
encapsulate my fate. Like ghostly wraiths

who haunt the surface, manipulate air,
pushed by the sun away. Still I am snared.
Nebulous traps of my own devising
sing me to sleep without analyzing.

The narrative perpetual sedates
hypnotically effectual mandates
like senseless nursery rhymes reveal crimes
hazy and obscure til consciousness chimes.

The infiltrated group-mind lulls to sleep
with promises and lies intertwined keep
me like a servant giving energy
to the dark forces feeding frenziedly.

Inspired by: Consecutive, Melody, Encapsulate, Effectual and the OctPoWriMo Day 20 theme of community.

Featured image: These consecutive cool predawn mornings are foggy and eerie until the sun chases all the illusions away.

I Can See Clearly

I’m the cautionary tale, canary
in the mine. If there’s a toxin buried
even layered in the air, the fumes scorch
sensitivities, a five-alarm scourge

If you see me melt or swinge, apprehend
cast not for blame. Break hypnotic trance. Wend
your way to cleanse. Hug a tree. Breathe fresh air.
Ground, earthing, center. Sound electric prayer.

Aiming for high trajectory, I burn
illusions. With respect for me, I yearn
to model what I’ve learned. Disintegrate
past’s chains, the patterned prate repudiate.

Inspired by: Hypnotic, Scorch, Cautionary and Blame.

Featured image: The lake is exceptionally beautiful today; I’m counting down the days to departure.

I’m Still Standing

You’ll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use.~Elton John

I cannot accept, reject your basic
premise. Remiss not to say you’ll stay sick
in this new normal, heavy metals plunge
past natural defense, your health expunge

willingly. Confused by equivocal
spin, the state you’re in choosing imbecile
to follow the crowd, loud, over the cliff.
Indeed, you sneer at my logic. The stiffs

who lead the parade mechanical toys.
I blow the lid off their obnoxious noise.
And still you march to the dead beat. Too late,
they drone. It’s play. Just breathe and you’ll think straight.

Inspired by: Indeed, Equivocal in Stream of Consciousness Saturday style using Lid.

Featured image: This great white heron loves to visit in the early morning fog.

The Worst Sort

Bad laws are the worst sort of tyranny.~Edmund Burke

It’s 66, the grass a brilliant green,
the mulch freshly applied, house-showing clean.
These lists gripping to-do intensity.
Flood warning mirrors sheer immensity

inside out. I ground in the dark vastness
before dawn. Morning practice steadfastness.
Remember to breathe. Seething in fervent
need: fresh air, big sky, lake-side observant.

The years of sickness forged humility.
Honoring my vessel, tranquility
essential. Every boundary ingrained
through chaos, snark, dissonance’s disdain.

Each change invisible. I look the same.
Healing under the surface, no acclaim.
Now I stand strong watching the world aflame
as tyrants ravage health, a cruel game.

Inspired by: Fervent, Vessel, Gripping, Forge and the OctPoWriMo Day 7 theme Balance/Sweet Spot.

Written for every person I know who has received a jab and is now experiencing a totally coincidental health decline.

Featured photo: A great egret flashed white in the murky morning.

New Earth Portfolio

even as the bluejay warns, spine tingles
a beast barks, exhausted senses mingle
heavy in the magnetic force down dog
solar plexus aimed at earth clears fog

the poisons writhe thick upon sweet air i’m
the canary in the mine, see what’s there: crime
against our moral ground been here before
a spiritual war my sovereign core

perceives the matrix glitch this déjà vu
rises ancestral trauma ringing through
manipulated stories stupefy
i do not pay attention and–surprise

reclaim my energy. My focus buys
love, give and receive the wealth in the skies
on sacred ground, through fire and water, mint
intentional, creative investment.

Inspired by: Magnet, Stupefy, Plexus and Déjà vu.

Featured image: Lilypods succumbing to a poison warned me to flee, not before I got a lungful.

Attention’s Coin

Clank your chains and count your change. Try to walk the line. Did you say your name was Ramblin’ Rose?~Noel Sherman

I tend to enclose flow when I’m hangry
confusing juice for food, gut-stuff angry
so useful for fuel, but it makes me sick
I worry so, intuitive and thick

each electrical connection insists
I pay and though my new training resists
the old ways persist. My suffering, clear,
is ancient. So queer its reach and grip here

in the present I gift myself with tears
allowing the ramble roses and thorns
cut quick in the midst blaring my own horn
in my gentle way. Just look in my eyes

the hurt of your judgmental critique–how you despise–

so here I breathe and tune. Healing demands
a spiral revisit of ships unmanned
abandoned at the harbor. No one hears.
The ghosts alone inhabit these old piers.

Inspired by: Hangry, Ramble, Enclosed and Tend.

Featured image: Peace rose blooming today.

True Colors

You with the sad eyes, I see your true colors, show me a smile.~Cyndi Lauper

The mist on the lake rushes west past lawns
like dancers caught by unexpected dawn.
Bedraggled, trailing, naughty defiant
compliance, they must be juicy giants

though my filters deem them wraiths, vaporous,
pared down to brumous suppliants. Porous
unheeding and quick to reach conclusions.
At the shore they stick matter confusion.

I see my errors, clinging to a script
of what’s unquestioned. Entrainment equipped
mind means I’m blind and deaf to what is here.
Painstakingly I sort beliefs and clear.

Inspired by: Naughty, Filter, Juicy and Pare.

Featured image: As the sun rose, the mists fled faster. When I went out to photograph it, mother duck and her brood sped past, as well.