The Patterns Love Weaves

Everything is frequency and DNA is the ultimate antenna. You are a master of your energy, both a frequency emitter and a receiver in flux with your internal and external environment.~Sol Luckman

A hummingbird comes to magnolia’s blush
fluttering wings gleaming in sunrise flush
in this surreal hour serenity
calls up flickering dream complexity

the half-awake chef from kitchens of night
docile, revealed in the intense gold light
Finch flying overhead in symmetry
reveals how we’re remunerated, flee

the consequences of the words we fling
regardless of realities they bring
the symphony that we create right now
shaping the frequency as love knows how

Inspired by: Flush, Docile, Remunerated and Surreal.

Featured image: New pine cones with hieroglyphs love writes

Illusions of Fight

From an old pattern louche and humongous
seeded with beliefs powered in wrongous
rises this pique which threatens my willpower
and saps my strength in this dissonant hour

isolated and unemployed my fuel
still harvested by corrupt beings’ rule
–I uninstall the games, ignore the stream
pervasive and invasive schemes that teem

with the intent to take me down, enslave
city-bound, depraved old symptoms behave
in ways to convince me: give up the fight
and so I do. Good wins. Triumph the light.

Featured image: While walking, I espied this feather crab-walking down the sidewalk. Light as a feather.

Inspired by: Humongous, Pique, Louche and Willpower.

In The Water

“Why, when a poison is diluted in water to the point where it cannot by physically detected, does the previously toxic solution then become therapeutic? When the substance itself is gone, and all that is left is the information from the vibration, both poison and medicine become the same.”~Masaru Emoto

Variegation of sunset sky lights
the water, seeps into my dream-soaked nights.
I drink to dilute this toxic ocean
in each cell, wake to thunder’s oration

like fighter jet’s low and ominous growl
reaching across abundant drenching clouds.
It’s clear we are not who we’re taught we are
spinning helpless, tiny, a distant star

as the rain softens the core of my gloom
now washed by waves. The vibration of doom
dispelled, I’m rocked in the flow, empowered
and as dark illusions die, joy flowers.

Inspired by: Abundant, Oration and Variegation.

Hidden In The Green

This late-July second blooming of shy
magnolia under busy-sound sky
dawning calls: downy woodpecker, blue jay’s
alarm, eastern towhee. Cardinal weighs

in. Carolina wren bursts into praise.
White-breasted nuthatch cackle-laughs as rays
splash golden and the sun breaks free. Splendor
illuminates delicate blooms tender

as raw sorrow hidden in green’s revealed
by quiet time. Here’s what has been concealed.
The prick of pain in red clover mite’s dash
across my skin a warning that I smash

in quick reflex, obliging an instinct.
(It’s said they don’t bite. This one did.) I think
while so-called experts preach, indoctrinate
my swim into now’s current educates.

Inspired by: Oblige, Sorrow and Swim.

Featured image: This morning I pulled the leaves back to photograph the magnolia’s secret second blooming.

In My Essence

Water is the driving force of all nature.~Leonardo da Vinci

Awash in tenderness I compose love
notes on the fly, scintillating above
the harsh chords of the night, which I release
as this late July sunrise sets me free

I pause in peace, soak in my pure delight
allow it to wash over me. No fright
imposed in unison by streams designed
by greed can catch me. Liquid, I slip by.

Inspired by: Fly, Night, Unison, Scintillating and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday style for awash/wash.

As This Plays Out

He lines up in the animus column
guilt at this guile makes him appear solemn.
In the real world, I say, people are kind.
Your digital stream, spiteful and purblind

conjures a matrix that spellbinds and quells
traumatized, immobilized, living hell
Wake up. Unplug. Realize it’s your show.
Take the stage and create a loving role.

Inspired by: Guilt, Guile, Column and Animus.

I Feel You Near Me

Lonely days are gone, I’m a goin’ home, my baby just wrote me a letter.~Wayne Carson Thompson

In the rain-washed twittering dawn shadows
move in my periphery, so disclose
my focused counterproductivity
releases locus of captivity

my feed is sheer lunacy, frowsy beefs
tainted credulity, lousy beliefs.
Attraction fades, the premises are false.
The menace is the propaganda waltz.

Just so I now compose my siren song
I loose upon the aether, sweet and strong:
come hither, love, let’s build reality
creating sovereign powerfully free.

Inspired by: Counterproductive, Sheer and Frowsy.

Featured image: I love lessons of lake birds and reflected beauty.

Lucky Last Quarter Moon

A bluejay calls into my dream, takes me
to the surface where I flounder, break free
into the sun’s domain I’m anchoring
in the waking orchestra, hankering

for some lucky break now that the shipment
of goods stalls obviously equipment
is just a prop of the old paradigm
we shed like a cocoon, create new time

Inspired by: Shipment, Lucky, Hankering and Orchestra.

Featured image: The last quarter moon visible long after sunrise.

Ripple Effect

My mother would never gad about, posed
in her fancy garb, beauty well-disposed
to rise organized with the help of lists
led her groups and committees, children kissed

as the swan sails serene and poised, ugly
duckling truckling alone being pretty
unattainable, unsustainable
until death, motives unexplainable

her litany of resolutions prove
by daily focused practice, any groove
you choose can be your destiny. We’re free
to form and mold our own reality.

Inspired by: Fancy, Children, Gad and the enlightening discovery of a list of resolutions my mother made when she was 20 and lived by the rest of her life.

Featured image: Last night’s gloriously long July sunset prompted underwater beings to rise and create ripples.

In This Fog

House sparrows lay down beats for finches
sweet cardinal and carolina wrens
voices thin in this thick fog as the dog
and I listen. Beyond cloud cover slogs

the sun lightening the gray but no ray
can pierce what lies so heavily–chem-spray
perhaps by power-hungry fools who heed
commands, basically tools whose only creed

is to empty heart and head, to play dead
they shrivel into candidates spoon-fed
jerking only from the puppeteer’s strings
vote for me lies programmed by unseen kings.

Inspired by: Head, Shrivel, Candidate and Basically.

Featured image: A great blue heron in the morning fog.