Narrative Shift

Relation is how spirit becomes manifest.  (Cowbirds and robins and geese are here for this)~My notes during yesterday’s Evolutionary Relationships Zoom meeting with 20K people.)

Before the pandemic of fear surged
to short-circuit our safety switch,

when poisons swirled over gasping
serfs, my old woman perspicacity

sheer audacity,
mocked and scorned, an intuitive

witch grasping in the vicious wrangle
for half-truths to dangle, like a curve

a mesmerizing tool we must defeat,
entranced, asleep…before all that,

you won’t remember, another tale,
a different tweet, the psychopathic

plunder that we assumed was normal
—here in our empathic wonder

the cruelty and panic seem a dream.
We who dig into the roots now rise

—first, of course, self-regulate,
surprise each moment as our biosphere

becomes clear and we create
sing-praise the body electric

from microscopic molecule to planetary
thrumming and beyond, zing

past what we conceived as separate
and scary, drop objective reality

in connection commune
the symphony the masterpiece

each voice in tune
in ways we never could perceive

until we breathe
in this precious now

the beat emerges sweet
and how

Soundcloud recording here.
Inspired by Wrangle, Safety, Surprise, Perspicacity, Curve and by the dversepoets prompt, Björn asks us to write how things will appear on the other side of the current “pandemic.” Featured image of last night’s pink moon filling my night sky.

And deep appreciation for Walt Whitman’s love poem, I Sing The Body Electric.

Song for the duped

In our view a full-blown
psy-op—what a beaut!

Turns out, who knew,
we’re all afraid of death

by virus (at least that’s
the line they’re feeding us)

the usual suspects fumble it’s clear
they aren’t the masterminds

W.H.O. here could claim
the C.I.A.’s hand is anything

to blame Pompeo gleeful
with evil plans to kill

civilians starving them slow.
Hunker down inside even though

you all want to riot. Be quiet!
Follow the money, not the fairytales

(they’ve chanted this one before.)
Makes you gasp with dismay

when the Federal Reserve just adds
a bunch of zeroes. Hey!

They’ve got the world entranced
with that groovy money dance.

We’re all convinced. It all makes sense!
We binge on Hulu and Netflix.

The budget for the Pentagon is insane,
ominous lines of bases in range.

We’re complicit, dammit.
The true fear: standing up

speaking clear. How dare you
say this will take generations

to pay? Give me my money back,
you bitch. (I’m with Ben Folds

on this.) We gotta pull down
the satellites, ditch 5G.

The rain forests gotta be replanted
heal the lungs of our planet.

Are you up for this?

Control of the globe
the urgent shift

we’re birthing it
don’t look away.

I’m right beside you.
Stay.

Soundcloud recording here.

Written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “beside you.” Write about whatever is beside you when you read this prompt. Which is interesting, because this political blast was ten lines long when I stopped writing it, and thought, glad you got that off your chest.  Remember, you wanna put love and care into our sacred space. Be nice. Look at the SOCS prompt and write something…and then this specific prompt asked for what is precisely beside me and seemed to say, you do you, gurl.  

Oh, and inspired by Ben Folds’ classic, Song For The Dumped

So this is love

Invisible footprints sizzle.
Intentions magnetize a trace
of you impalpable and pure
magic. Charmed I slow
my pace. Disarmed
and vulnerable at last.
Spring tendrils
curling past
my now implacable uprising
beyond my senses
gentle surprising real
love-song crystals
spilling into sacred space.

Inspired by the dversepoet prompt 100: a quadrille (44 words) celebrating magic and love and spring.  And the power of shifting the narrative.

Featured image credit.

Creation Myths

In the palace we’ve been kneeling
to the flickering blue god
lapping up the dopamine, reeling
unspeakable homage awed, odd
existence we’ve constructed
in our dreams. I’m a white
boomer, cowed, misinstructed
a sacrificial volunteer
because I’m here, I survived
the twists of narrative shifts.
Today the palace walls reveal
a makeshift cabin, cables bare
unravel, down to the wire
dangerously sparking. There
the narrative gap appears
we blink in dissonance and fear:
why are we here? Who wields power
panic-driving in this practiced
horror flick? Didn’t I read this
contrived plot in dystopian schtick?
I turn from this projection, sing
with calm, unwavering I reach
the door, ignore the rich confection
beckoning quest, I feel the trees
rooted drawing spring, the birds
praising what’s real disregarded
too many words, our separation
myths drive us to this. And yet
we freak out when the story shifts.
Here is the opening: dive in.
The world is new now we create
the saving gifts. I’m here
for you in ways we have no clue.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by quest, cabin, calm and the Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt wire, the unsettling panic descending when the narrative shifts abruptly and the public service announcement: this is the chance we’ve been waiting for to step out of the old paradigm and create connection.

Go Figure

The embers are cool, and I have lost
the eyes of long regard and so alone
I face my darkest corners, create
a ledge and perch watchful.
This is the glitch I spy
from far below, peeking with
frightened courage. Overwhelmed
by life’s adventure, everything
strained, the ice holding
beyond the boiling water.
If I could cut a romantic
figure, I’d persuade you to
look deep into my heart
the way I do and with such calm
kindness hold the sinewy
dark cords pulling insistent.
More and more space, there’s a
crowd and I can’t catch
my breath. Sidereal Sun’s in
Aquarius. Earth quickens
toward spring. Moon flirts
with fullness. Deep in spaces
of unclaimed dreams, do you
invite the end of the world?
Do you ask if you are worthy,
do you wish someone to show
exactly how to love?
Fairytale-rescues of
powerless, bound
by magical powers unseen.
I set out to see the world
and find love. And do we all?
Is love a luxury? All these words
of course lead me astray.
I sit in quiet, greet
each moment precisely.
And when a thought proclaims,
you’re not who/what/why/where
you should be, yes, and
I learn, oh, this is love.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Adventure, Everything, Water, Glitch and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Figure. (Rules for SOCS prompt, and why this poem is all over the place, “your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.”)

The Tide’s Now Turning

The Tide Is Now Turning

“To follow the way of water is to return to one’s spiritual essence.” — Hua-Ching Ni, The Book of Changes and the Unchanging Truth

“Be!” My grandson commands, so

I look closely with him at a puddle.

Present in this very moment

that stretches beyond time and space,

our hearts connect, pulsating

with this vibrant aliveness.

An insect is floating, and I conclude

it is dead, but he says,

“Bee!” again, and gingerly

fishes it out to rest in his palm.

The water drops off and the bug

stirs, drying its wings from the newfound

land of a toddler’s finger.

We have been talking about gentleness

with living beings, hugging trees.

And now his inquisitive focus

feels the creature step daintily

over his skin, as if showing

gratitude for salvation. I am watching

that wasp-like abdomen as it quivers,

worried that this love-fest

will turn ugly.  I teach respect

and yet I vibrate with memories

of wicked inexplicable stings.

He turns his finger and the exploration

continues but when he looks to me

in doubt, I say, “Fly, bee, fly!”

and whisk it off into the air.

We stand here like herons,

our feet in the water, yet rooted

in the earth, our faces lifted to the sky,

celebrating a tiny flight

with exquisite concentration,

and he says again, “Be!”

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired today to repost May 4, 2018’s poem, as I’m feeling whimsical about the  ceremony of pure presence, a cinch to capture the magic of being with my grandson.

Come Awake Love

Sadness In Our Bones: Few of us have registered the fact that we’re in the midst of the largest mass extinction of life on Earth since the demise of the dinosaurs.~Rob Brezsny

In the early-hour sheets chilled
and soaked, my breath barely elbows through
tight passages. Grief spiraling deep
impossible to fathom, for
clarity doesn’t belong, not in this
world ruled by anguish denied
composed under my distracted day-trance.

I’ve been watching the media spin
a woman out of sight–she’s dark
and speaks truth to power–a man
enclosed in a glass box, spied upon
and tortured. Everything is fine,
we’re told by old men seizing power
even as their brains dissolve

in the incarceration nation
endless war endless casualties.
As if when the narrative matrix flickers
green 1s and 0s across the screen,
we see it change. Look there, we cry
in unspeakable horror as machines
hear us, read us, correct us. Weirdness

cobbled science fiction lines
dancing before us and if we look
with kindness on all creations–
to the one in the mirror, say,
hey, I love you with every molecule
of space, in every twist of time,
with passionate ignited soul

I love you like the breath that
refuses sleep. Come awake, come awake
love. Allow the rise of utter despair.
In the pitch black I wonder why
some stay, as so many beings sweep away?
And in this predawn opening gambit:
sacrifice sleep now. Insight-

seeds land where I’ve been weeding
every morning, diligent
respect. Whispering as I expose
each deep root, thank you, for
saving a different me. Bask in the light
that always comes after darkness has scoured
forbidden places with its pitiless claws.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Gambit and Fathom.