Break Down

There is no sense in pretending
Your eyes give you away
Something inside you is feeling like I do
We’ve said all there is to say.~Tom Petty

Consider the moon. Magnetic control
until we matriculate, feel the sole
source beyond the solar system. Our goal
to say enough! Reclaim, regain our soul.

I know these words might irk; the usual
suspects–meanings perverted, heavy, full
of propaganda and political
mal-intent. Let’s jump into potential

like a baby, attuned to the sky clock
stepping free from all of the false constructs.
What day is it anyway, as we mock
the attempts to corral the sheepish flock.

Here I am to save the day! In my own
peculiar way. Break another phone.
Electrified. You can’t track how I’ve grown
awake, I see I’ve never been alone.

Inspired by Matriculate, Baby, Enough!, Usual, the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: What day is it, anyway?, the current breakdown of the ancient control systems on the planet and my favorite live version of Break Down as the crowd jumps in and Tom Petty warns, “You’re gonna put me out of a job.”  Here’s to the new earth and all the new ways of being–and farewell to all the old jobs that no longer serve the whole!

I Believe I’ll Sweep My Broom

I know what I’m feeling inside, but part of me still wants to try.~Robert Johnson

When I fumble, I’ve forgotten
that the light is always there.
When I fumble, I’ve forgotten
that the light is always there.
I’ve got this matrix of hopelessness
aimed at all my broken fear.

I’m gonna wake up this new day
I’m gonna feel all that I feel.
I’m gonna wake up this new day.
I’m gonna feel all that I feel.
I gotta release all the judgment
and all these feelings now esteem.

All of these shadows are emerging
I’m gonna claim them all as mine.
All of these shadows are emerging.
I’m gonna claim them all as mine.
Ain’t no more good girl roles for me
I’m here and fierce and now I see

I believe, I believe I’m already home.
I believe, I believe I’m already home.
You can’t mislead me any longer
’cause I’m already safe at home.

Pick me up when I’ve forgotten
that the light is always there.
Hold my hand when I fumble
in the light that’s always there.
Exposed that matrix of hopelessness
it just collapses.  No longer here.

 

Breaking Ranks

First and foremost, we need to start celebrating life and stop fearing death.  We need to evolve past our fear and find love.~Zach Bush

 

Unplugged, we sit deeply intentional
creating love and touching terminal
grounded, electric beings connect now
breathing the gift of life medicinal

Featured image Graham’s Hierarchy of Disagreement, a handy tool these days!

A Reminder To Be Kinder

–dedicated to Polly’s inspiring online art course

‘I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,’~Beatrice Evelyn Hall (check out that link if you believed that quote was uttered by Voltaire.  Then join me in celebrating fierce thinking women while we question assumptions–his-story–together!)

Yesterday creating art revealed
my heart, frazzled by the males
so dazzled by the story
embedded in authority
they became nervous, called me
dangerous, their attitudes
and platitudes of such magnitude
to question my fortitude and wit.
Of course I call bullshit. Dude, I’ve
studied philosophy, the hive
mind identical, censor ecumenical
like some great tentacle
worship of a pentacle.
You do you. I stand
in question. I embrace
not knowing, and my deep fears
face, elated for the chance
to grow. You tell me, NO!
Cut off the dialog, dig
your trenches in the illusion
which quenches ideas in prose
long calculated by those in power–
the dose of toxins painstakingly
measured to dull all pleasure
and pain. A doubtful gain.
You call inspired thought insane.
I leave you to it, grieve
as you will, this is a bitter pill
and I won’t play that game.
A poet’s life you may defame.
Still, I enter the flame.

 

Resonance For Dissidents

I give no quarter to the dissonance
I will not stay for foolish money-making games.

Honoring hunches, I’ve composed
a team diligent for resonance

and commonsense. For lunch we dine
in present tense, savory morsels nutrify

now that hoodwinkers pale, exposed
cloying lies of propaganda baked by squads

unknowingly employed by greedy
billionaires, so awed they cannot hear

the silenced tongues in poisoned air
and food. Control the narrative the main goal,

in the power grab of our very souls.
And as I sing and play, refuse to host

this fear that clings to earthlings, a ghost
of all the childish terrors we can’t bear

—create the safe container, meet me there!
We’ll shriek and cry, throw on the lights,

under the bed clearing the trauma
stories amplified spinning our heads.

No longer waiting for a master
to save us from our carefully painted

disaster-set, we summon our deep
wisdom in loving intention, feel into

the rhythm—don’t move if you’re not
called, there’s a unique dance for all

a brand new role, new lines,
we take over the stage

release our siblings from their cages
real and imagined, now we understand

we take a stand, focus upon a
different dreaming play, informing matter

as the old paradigm shatters.
We choose each step with care

we celebrate the way, dare
to come back into ourselves and praise

each stunning moment
of this brand new day.

 

Clouds In The Lake

Compulsive thought patterns shape our experience and our lives….The human brain is capable of a drastic transformational shift in its relationships with mental narratives.~Caitlin Johnstone

With this squeegee I clear the tiny
smashed lives, the streaks and wings
no longer shiny in the aftermath
murder on my behalf, enthralled
I live behind a glassy wall of
solid belief, a waste heap midden
assumptions hidden in my very words
bias unheard by my trained ears
forcing away the truth in panicked fears.
Today as I become a stickler
honoring each prickle, the intuition
sings, even as I’m herded into
unquestioning, I blow
at my oppressors like a zephyr
gentle and yet inexorable
as I get into the swing
of this new dance. I dig
the roots of each nuanced trance.
Aha! Asleep? Which lullaby
impelled my dive into drear,
curbed my imagination? Dear,
let’s make a pact, be quite exact:
let’s venture out to nature’s
transforming teacher
leap into a brand new role
this play with other waking souls.

 

Inspired by Zephyr, Stickler, Squeegee, Enthrall and Hidden.

And by a photo of clouds in the lake, reminding me that the illusion of confusion is simply a play on words, and there are other, more loving games.

New Moon, New Seeds

Love is everywhere. It protects the very heart of our beings. So it’s all right. Everything’s all right and always has been.~Jane Roberts

We’re trained from birth, our very words
that’s bad, that’s good, we cling, survival

seems impossible from our arrival
we gasp in poisoned air, injected

when we least expect it in a crazy
world where toxins are called medicine

we must endure misguided doctors’
incessant quackery studying separate

cells to proclaim a discovery, another
name to cloak the reaction

to the putrefaction of air and soil
and drinking water, full-scale slaughter

in the name of greed and promulgated
by the fear-porn screed.

We sit alone, we’re trained, perceive no choice
lower our voice, and even so the angry

sons shun their insane mothers
all dialogue blocked with dangerous others

the truth a sauce our diets now
prohibit, our only eyes for lies

as they exhibit the visual clues
of this unhealthy news and yet

if we can set aside our certainty
that harm is looming, dooming, carelessly

and simply quiet, presto, the tempo changes
the heart of the matter rearranges

the score and more, we realize
the love nature displays, miracles

every day in every moment we connect
to source, we laugh, we hug,

we understand, of course,
there may be malice withal

there is a greater force.
We plant the seeds, we open hearts, we call.

 

Everything was all right, always had been all right, it had only been their own anxieties and doubts that ever made it all seem wrong. They were all couched and safe, forever secure, forever jubilant at the heart of their own beings. There was never anything to be afraid of, if only they trusted the great sweet security that forever held the vitality of their beings, for they were all truly splendid, a part of a loving universe that cradled them forever in a safety and love literally beyond all comprehension.~Jane Roberts

Fierce Narrative Shift

The hidden costs now fully leaved
and we can choose to believe

hundreds of thousands of years
life brimming close and vital

feeding each other with love survival
plain, we’re here, what changed

is only story. The one is the glory
and praise, divine nature’s call

here in my instrument I set my intent
if there’s one thing sweeping the globe

it’s control by fear, and I won’t host it here.
Every traumatized fragment will arise

that happens when you’re hypnotized
awake I commit to my song, to speak

when I perceive the wrong, embrace
the hidden places clamoring to steer

upon the rocks of misguided fear.
one thing to praise and love

awakens my desire to be a force
the divine law the source

outside we stride into the light
know in our hearts what is right

I’m here for this. Essential me. Please
add your voice in this time to rejoice.

 

It’s Turtles All The Way

In yesterday’s imbalanced waking
parch overwhelmed me. Today
I determine to soothe

water and grounding these indignant
filaments writhing and buzzing
from the past’s unintegrated

barrage. I sit and extract
my personal fear, empowered
to heal myself, my family,

my lineage, society, the planet
the universe and more.
Time and distance constructs

—the illusion of separation—
dissolve, tumble like a child’s
castle made of blocks.

We build beliefs in our jangled
misperception of danger,
forget to knock them down

laughing and certain
of our power to create anew.
I tune in to what is

as all the ripples of my intention
create balance
here in the present

where I, a self-healing miracle
of love, resonate
a heartbeat, breath

infused in everything that matters
which is all, which is one,
awakening and taking the step now.

 

Only Love Is Real

You don’t love hatred and evil, of course. You have to practice and see the real gull, the good in every one of them, and to help them see it in themselves. That’s what I mean by love.~Richard Bach, Jonathan Living Seagull

We burst into the world wet
and splutteringly vibrant

rage at the seeming separation
hunger a tyrant, magic flows

like breath, we coo, know
strangers bending over our

strange faces, power held
precious if we’re lucky and

our parents’ trauma isn’t triggered
in an endless cycle of war

unheard unheld until illusions
shatter once we’re all exploring matter

and how we in formation
create. Deep communication space

we choose to compose, call
songs of intention, offering love

we turn and face our greatest fears
ignite what burns slow, impossible

to quench. This beauty is real,
illusions fade and what awakes

the human race in love
we all set sail.