Dissociation from the natural world verges on complete disembodiment, represented in Archontic ploys such as “transhumanism,” cloning, virtual reality, and the uploading of human consciousness into cyberspace.~John Lamb Lash
In the morning, I am empty, ready
to create in enmity’s face, steady march of automatons proselytize Derisive promises their coin can buy
proffered. Simply believe and you’ll receive.
They cannot imagine, cannot perceive the program entrained in their brains, shaping distortions toxic to humans. Aping,
they leer over curvaceous forms, sedate
while poisons infuse their boxes. Slave state voluntary, they espouse the memes, dream in lyrics from pop songs. Living beseems
false images on blue projected screens
so they shun the sun, kaleidoscope greens. I cannot save a soul. I stand here, strong cleaning Sophia’s fractal with my song.
Inspired by: . Coin, Over and Curvaceous
Featured image: earthing with a gorgeous seven-week-old baby.
Seemingly innocuous suggestions–
hints, gently corrosive, then demands. Shunned and poked fun if you stand unmuzzled, free unpuzzled by shifting narratives. Trees
and ferns, the waters flowing in the lake,
birds, blossoms, fish. Which myth panders heartbreak and which inspires? False premises at stake impetuous humanity mistakes.
Ancient adventure spells out corrections.
Our passion calls, we fall. Imperfection laughs: try again. An herbal remedy in love a hummingbird mirrors esprit.
This intense vitality speaks through me
heart-opening. I stand sovereign, be poised warrior-woman unafraid and sound in all the noise, holding this sacred ground.
Inspired by: Innocuous, Adventure, Herbal and Pander.
Empathic contact with the living planet….beholding, pure and simple.~John Lamb Lash
As day begins, I weave intentional
loving strands. No qualms, unconventional, a vibrant reminder to bronchioles: breathing, we do our part. Unlock keyholes
to now where pure creation moves us through
the loom, each interlacing skein imbued. Unique patterns emerge smooth and knotty. I show up powerful. Call me haughty,
naughty, even dotty. My heart is clear.
My contribution in love’s hues mirrors the energetic dance. Once realized, the beauty of each thread intensifies.
Inspired by: Qualms, Bronchiole, Reminder, Haughty and morning chores nourishing and keeping alive the gorgeous living beings at the house where I’m petsitting.
Accompanied by the animals and feathered spirit messengers, I grounded, watchful and curious for the new breed rising in Sophia’s embrace.*
I grew up all alone, girl in the midst
of raffish pretense, dismissed by a fist when they’d insist that black is white, let fly their rage when I’d insist in earth, not sky
the power source, mother, which a brother
could not perceive. Their might makes right a lie subversive like the ivy I would cut, beliefs like holdfast vines that cling and shut
til now they creep in darkness, boxed in dreams,
fed by unholy streams. Caught in deep sleep they rouse angrily when they hear my song exposing their alien worship, wrongs
feel right and so they call me crazed. I see
there is no waking from their daze. Lonely I stride, barefoot powerful warrior, rise as Gaia-Sophia’s storier.
Inspired by: Lonely, Pretense, Ivy and Raffish.
And (featured images) this morning, Jupiter singing in the moonlight.
*Quote from my newly emerging novel.
Unless there is internal force for resistance, psychic immunity, so to speak, the individual psyche will adapt to the stress of the collective imagination. It will become what it believes and forget what it knows.~John Lamb Lash
How does one gainsay vacuous culture
built on false premises? Foolish things sure to topple in the ring of sound inner knowing, but the words are colored. Sinner
take warning. Perpetrator victim bond
is sealed. Rat race mouse wheel and I respond to abject pleas and harsh commands: join in. Homeless, unemployed, I have no coin in
and yet my heart aches as the clones skitter
surface glitter, find the next outfitter. And how easily they could new create if they could just release this grasping hate.
Inspired by: the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt color/colour, vacuous, foolish things, skitter and gainsay.
Featured image: a tricolored beech outside of my window.
In the rain at dawn, inconsolable
abed, he doesn’t even lift his head. Adorable and grumpy old man missing the woman prone to kissing. She had warned
mornings he likes to be alone. We fit
surreal, exact behavior pet sit repeated and reflected for my heart’s sweet wisdom teaching. I’m reaching to start
a new way of being. So releasing
old perspectives, new idioms teasing from the weighted words designed to enslave. Experience I generate now, brave
and willing to share what keeps revealing
each strong bright presence no more concealing how we flower in our time through stages creation we source unique, outrageous.
Inspired by: and the gorgeous blooming yard where I’m petsitting. Idiom, Rain, Surreal, Exact
The hummingbird hovers by moving its wings in a figure 8, reminding us of our divine nature and our joyful essence.
Geese come honking, splashing past this sedate
great blue heron catching minnows. The lake is swollen and still with cottonwood scum. My cracked shell breaks. My senses whirl and hum
as I regard yon sacred dawn. Wet lawn
miracles small and large abound. I’m sound and changing light, feeling intensity grief, relief, joy and curiosity.
Inspired by: Sedate , Break and Regard.
This culture seems designed to vitiate
morals my path forward delineates. A whirlwind of fear produces anger. I’m scapegoat at their disposal, gangsters
united, throwing bricks. Malleable light,
I change swiftly as perceptions alight, informed by spirit messengers who dine and bless the air in sacred signs align.
Featured image a gorgeous huge white egret visited yesterday after I made so much of a tiny white moth. As if my deceased loved ones sending messages said, A moth? Pshaw. Hold my beer…
Inspired by: Brick, Whirlwind, Disposal and Vitiate.
Giving each caller a trinket. Angels
watching over night and day. My changes flow in deep currents. I weep for her self frugality. Clothes on this closet shelf
her only new, so treasured. I bought her
finery she wore with pride, my daughter’s . Imagine each furbelow and flounce, gift each pleat an added bounce to her step, neat
and organized beyond her death. I plow
through lists, I make the calls. Expel the vows of retribution, simply feeling love that never ends. White swans descend. Above
my head, the poplars are trembling. She said,
it’s not the wind, it’s angels assembling, . look there, outside the window fluttering They are here right now, praises uttering.
Inspired by: Trinket, Expel, Self and Flounce. Thanks to my mother’s deathbed visions, poplars will always signify the presence of angels.
In this starlit darkness, birds create bright
songs to conjure skies. Anticipate light and soon the eastern glow will lift laments and cries for those who, stuck in story, pent-
up, inveigled in the lies, cannot know
hope. The freedom codes outring cussed, old perceptions of enslavement. It’s the fourth of July. The end is nigh. To the north
the sunrise pinks this long, slow, sweet delight
unveiling mystery and now the night is over. Dawn presides, a symphony of trills and whistles colors brilliantly
my sight. I dance and open windows, doors
unlock. My heart instructed by the corps of angels, spirit messengers in flight. An owl wings over, last vestige of night.
Inspired by: Lament, Inveigle and Cussed.
Featured image: A bluebird yesterday, driving off a mealworm thief.