In This Fleeting Opening

“The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve, but a reality to experience.” 
~Frank Herbert

Dawn compositions to establishment
in my fury, abandon blandishment
as the cats leap at an insect fiercely
heedless of the precipice. They cheer me.

Trundle no more. Now is time to opine
impromptu, heartfelt, essence to define
all life on the planet. In peril, sing.
I bring my hard-won wisdom to the ring.

Inspired by: Impromptu, Insect, Establishment and Trundle and a morning spent writing to my legislators to do their job and stop the illegal, immoral and unnecessary mandates that are encroaching on basic human liberties.

The Sowing Season

Our greatest ability as humans is not to change the world; but to change ourselves.~Mahatma Gandhi

This quickening of sap and roots, hectic
chaotic glory ignites frenetic
as tyros dance as if they’re puppet-pulled,
the spring romance waking the senses, dulled

by winter’s discontent. From my glass house
I see my lessons reflect all I’ve doused
in my proclaimed superiority,
saying I’d never, yet these fires burn me.

I improve my view, rake and cut and dig
wild seeding my truth, my ambitions big.
I’ve cultivated, composting with care
this rich earth where I plant, intentions bare.

Inspired by: Never, Glass, Hectic and Tyro.

Growing Pains

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.~Heraclitus

I’m smashing into things, moving too fast
until pain slows me down to ground at last.
Jettison the ways that goad me, barbed spurs
trauma, memorable or not, secures

a hold upon the reins. I’m ego’s pawn
and all of my creations since the dawn
of time percuss my skin, a drum. I must
have confidence, intention trust

that I do change like winter’s subtle sleep
wakes with this tender beauty. As I keep
flowing the growing pangs inside new gifts
I aim higher and bridge each revealed rift.

Inspired by: Jettison, Confidence, Memorable and Percuss.

Making A Difference

Because Proteus could assume whatever shape he pleased, he came to be regarded by some as a symbol of the original matter from which the world was created.~Brittanica.com

Today I’m determined to swim in now
a delicate operation and how
I summon my protean ways to dive
from complacent habits’ unaware life.

Inspired by: Complacent, operation, habit, protean and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt difference.

Creating My Own

“Dynamic and alive, no matter how high you go, there’s always something more, something new that can be created.”~Jon Rappoport

Before any lightening I perceive
facing west, behind me mad chittering
composes the dawn, draws what I believe
unfounded from the very air. Grounded

imagination unfettered by trite
ties to reality, if unlettered
will I watch cold nights so dedicated?
Words weight me, burdens shouldered dictated

by generational woes survival
throws. What I insert with sweet song spirals
subtly, long. A glimpse of lace underwear
secret, a promise to beware. Trifles

pile onto our dissonance. Each sense pleas
to hear and taste and touch, to feel and see
outward, others’ creations that enslave
imaginations. I breathe and be brave.

Inspired by: Underwear, Shoulder and Trite.

Castles In The Sky

Morning prompts call quite a bitter riot
tempting me to vilify. Disquiet
sneers at mongrels. Remnants of lucid dreams
as my night castle, toxic at the seams

revealed hauntings and skeletal remains,
the seminal turning of my domains.
I know each facet mirrors and I’ve asked
to be shown the next steps. Prodigious task

to evolve while generations held sway
by lies. The grand illusions have their day.
I scribble cryptic notes, wordlessly mope
with motes intelligent who convey hope.

Inspired by: Prodigious, Seminal, Mongrel and Disquiet.

A la búsqueda

No existe la libertad sino la búsqueda de la libertad y esa búsqueda es la que nos hace libre.*~Carlos Fuentes

She coaches my situation is dire.
I haven’t broached the destruction. Afire
my titanic urge for evolution
moves me through the diminution. Desire

so convoluted hatches schemes endued
with opportunities. My dreams imbued
with prophesy. It seems I’m poised. This brink
implores me to new usage. What I think

curled tightly in past’s cruel restrictive arms.
I must break free of these redoubted charms.
New life is surging through this April ground.
Undone and shattered, now I present, crowned.

Inspired by: Coach, Titanic, Usage and Endue.

Freedom doesn’t exist, only the search for freedom, and this search is that which makes us free.* (My translation)

The Sacred Vessel

You know that we are living in a bacterial world and I am a bacterial girl.

Who wields the power in this mawkish crew?
The fight assails me, I am down, one, two.
They battle and the toxins exit, vile,
and I’m tossed like a doll, unmercied wiles.

Whenever I am sailing in beliefs
that ego-driven mainstays steer the beast
I truly am–microbiota waves
informed by light purge the ideas of slaves.

I have misconceived my very essence.
Just who breathes sacred life-coalescence?
Not knowing how or why, edge of abyss,
I walk a multitude in layered bliss.

Inspired by: Crew, Bacterial, Wield, Mawkish and a brutal weekend of purging toxins. (I’m all better now.)

Morning Notes

“We are like Hansel and Gretel, leaving bread crumbs of our personal information everywhere we travel through the digital woods.”~Gary Kovacs

In this bright spring morning, notes of music
fleeting signals mark a trail, rise muse-like,
and dissipate if I’m not sitting here
dedicated to my craft. I hold dear

this inexplicable flow, sound-magic
precious hour I weave into the fabric
of my life where songs of praise coincide
with healing miracles performed by night.

The recipes censored from cyberspace
are melodies plants and trees share with grace.
I could have called a doctor in a rush,
but they, condoning masks, have lost my trust.

And so I sing electric body’s songs,
listening carefully, righting the wrongs
dissonance creates when we’re hypnotized
by bells and whistles, lights spinning our eyes.

Inspired by: Note, Music, Crumbs and Coincide.

Waking in Chaos

There’s no method to this madness. Fiction
spreads like thick molasses, soothing friction
that truth demands. Waiting, tamed by beliefs
that a wise caretaker will allay griefs.

Form a line. Stand patiently while a screen
directs the evildoers’ games. Machine-
taught, purity tainted, bred to power
futurity. Slave owners’ manpower

is educated in mandated ways
to entrain and sedate. Deep in the maze
how to lift up a gaze, discern what’s real?
I sit and breathe, give space to how I feel.

Hope unfurls, a single frond signals spring.
Hands deep in chilly soil, a thrilling zing
as nature teaches. Layered like an ace
in a tarot spread, earth blessings embrace.

Inspired by: Method, Ace, Frond and Purity.