Call Me Bad-Ass

The woodpecker knocks at our awareness. Are you opening that door?~Bernadette King

I’m lonely and I’m sad and that is fine.
Up before the rise of sun, starry-eyed
and resolute. The planets finally
are turning, constellations cages free

the untamed beast, enraged, suppressed no more
lays waste to good and bad, explores the core.
I’m speaking out, imagination wild
with each pen stroke freeing the inner child

to wail and flail as clear-eyed I can spot
discomfort and allow: perfect I’m not.
My self-esteem and my self-worth are clay.
I start to play, invest in me today.

My currency tied to a wealth amassed
in lucid dreams–and not at all half-assed.
It’s 5:55. I take the leap. Taboos
against the blues, this phase of loss in view.

Inspired by spot, loss, phase, and featured image, the woodpecker who announced herself between bites.

Singing Through The Din

If you don’t like the life you live change it now it’s yours.~Crass and Steve Ignorant

Below my window noisy machines, guys.
Through the shouting scrum, woodpecker comes, eyes
my suet gift.  The other birds are shy
and watch the skyline of my feeders, high

and safe from madmen filling screens with lies. 
Critical thinking’s gone.  When I decry 
the nonsense, their eyes glaze, they double down. 
A prophet’s ostracized in her hometown.

But I must speak.  The shit is going down.

The common cold’s relabeled, a new fad
at ludicrous and speeding faster, plaid
the new reality.  Narrative’s mad.
I’m living here unsaddled and unclad.

And I must speak past twitch and twitter spell.

I cannot wear this wan cloth that they sell.
I do not dwell in fear, for I am well.
The only contagion that I can see
are traps the mind creates.  Freedom’s the key.

The wrong’s going on too long.
Here is my wellness song.

Inspired by: Skyline, Twitch, Scrum and Wan.

Evolutionary Spin

Nobody else is gonna do it for you. You have to pick yourself up out of your dark moment; you gotta be your own source of light.~Kyle

I’ve been the scapegoat, carried the blame-wave,
aspired to be recognized, acclaimed brave.
My intrinsic value I clearly see.
The outcast’s role’s expired, doesn’t fit me.

And now I treasure me–dude, I’m all that–
my foes, exposed, call me insane, pick at
old wounds I healed, inspired to evolve.
Miscast no longer, their figments dissolve.

Inspired by: Figment, Blame, Intrinsic, Wave and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompts inspire/expire/aspire.

Featured image: Kaleidoscope effect on today’s sunrise photo.

Sacred Medicine

The medicine is already within the pain and suffering. You just have to look deeply and quietly. Then you realize it has been there the whole time.~Thomas Hubl

Before dawn my evolutionary
stance requires I feel all the hurt buried
alive. Pain molecules from cold storage
thaw in the healing light. Hungry, forage

through my sensibilities. Agony
even when expected–I opened wounds
cannily–thwarts my intentional tunes
like some ribald cat-calling ancestor

who got off scot-free, leaving the high cost
with interest to me. Wake, dreaming goddess
in bare feet, indigenous to earth, ground
and release. Raw transfiguration frees.

Inspired by: Thwart, Indigenous, Scot-free and Ribald.

Featured image: Lake reflects illusions, reminds me to question my interpretations.

‘Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee

What aims you?~John Lamb Lash

When male kin taunt and tweet derisive scorn
I feel the trigger right between the thorns
but no longer do they sweep me to weep,
overweening creeps keeping me from sleep.

Inspired by: Keeping and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt wee.

Featured image: mother duck and her brood at sunset.

At Last, My Love

I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own~Gordon Mack and Warren Harry.

After the deep healing session, nightmares
feel free to emerge–they must, in the glare
of all this light. In the strong day, dismissed
they lurk and wait, the hate in story twists

that lingered long and festered. Who would guess
intelligent strategies childhood stress
can still be triggered. Adult in the room
I sort through these dark remnants wearing gloom.

And in the morning, tired and strained, I breathe
as old symptoms appear poignant in grief.
I’m meeting them grounded in my belief
assailed by these dogmatic mourners sheathed

rigidly and spouting inanities.
Applicable noetics sanity
unfenced by fashionable fantasies
I tune and sound soothe these old vanities.

Inspired by: Dogmatic, Poignant, Meeting, Applicable, and an orthobionomy session that released deep layers of hidden trauma–and a resultant nightmare.

Featured image: soothing my grief for my dead mother this morning, a mother duck guards her day-old brood.

Rose and Cackling Crows

Trash day: two crows cackling like spruikers
hawk wares and dodge implacable diving
swallows busy feeding greedy hatchlings.
At this juncture, nothing rhymes though I count

lines I lade with first light’s blessings. Sessions
at dawn my saving grace. I ground and sound
and shiver by cool lake, forsake old pains
resounding, soothe inner brooding/feuding.

It’s all here. My fractal precise and clear.
So out I go, bare feet upon the land
through these wet green surprises delicate
rose-lit, sublime morning’s drenched beguilement.

Inspired by: Juncture, Lade and Spruiker.