We’ll Do It In The Street

I’ve been infiltrated by I can’t
which of course means I won’t
and having boundaries is scant
comfort when it means I don’t
complete these tasks. The crux
of the matter is in formation.
Around me are the thousand fucks
I gave yesterday. Causation
is circular: we round the corner
in firm outreach and find
like Little Jack Horner from
childhood nursery rhymes
illogical, misshapen riddles
from beliefs that stick around
even after stringent culling,
our reality so tightly wound.
And I’m sitting in the morning
of this strange town, prompted
and prod and given warning
today the lines of love songs cropped up
and duty done, I’m singing
down the streets, a happy puppy
at my feet, my love so far away
in space and time. Ah, honey,
in my heart you’re still so sweet.

Inspired by: Riddle, Crux, Outreach, Circular and all the many difficulties of incorporating my daily practice in new environs.

Soundcloud recording here.  (With added beats of Nylabone Grinds by my grand-dog-ter at my feet.)

I Feel

May the earth feel your love.
May the earth feel your love.
May the earth feel your love.
Your love. Your love. Your love.~A Blessing For Anyone by Caitlin Johnstone, set to music by Michael Brunnock.

This mantra-riff opens my heart
spiraling down into my darkness
as I ground into the embrace
that pulls me, always

I am a pinkie fingernail
with delusions of grandeur
unaware of my connection
to this living system

and now bathed in this blessing
may the earth feel your love,
a call to consciousness
omigod i am love

omigod i am love

palpable, rooted despite
the sci-fi fantasies that insist
I am separate and able
to thrive in a tin can

floating above all the waving
tendrils of my life
may the earth feel my love
right now, as I shift

all the shoulds and thoughts
of merit, worth and deserve
dissipating as I sink into
accuracy, feel my love, your

love, our love. This evolutionary
leap into our mother,
luminous cords like music
resonate our love

and all our disguises and denials
movies or funhouse mirrors, love’s
delightful gravity we’ve missed
in our pretensions and flights

of fancy. May the earth feel your
love, your love, your love.
Blessed and blessing, curiosity
leads me here, now, I feel

enter the light
celebrate the darkness
and all the unknowable
which is everything I feel

may the earth feel you’re love.
The spellcheck insistence
valid now I’m love
may the earth feel me.

Inspired by: Riff, Accuracy, Valid and Movie.

Soundcloud recording here.  Today something new emerged as I recorded.

Garden of the Gods

When I read the email interdict
something finally clicked.
Forbid me to meet and laugh
and tease, deny as frivolous
conviviality on which the soul feeds?
The pressure’s on to be
a callous cog
on the ruthless wheel
building the soulless world.
We’re trained we must not be
the being bursting
with creativity. No, we must
bow to the needs of survival–
pay the bill to stream
carefully crafted scenes
the only way our soul can feed.
Today I sing my own decree,
follow my intuitive nudges
dance with my grumbling grudges
and dreams about how it should
be–the shoulds that keep me
blind and deaf. The music’s
now! These groaning trees,
this patch of snow, the bit
of blue and white as the gray
grows to include a vastness
cursory glances ignore.
And I embrace poetry
and warm gazes, holding
hands and awkward hugs,
invitations unfolding
and when I can’t be with you,
I’ll be with me, glorious
wild woman spinning free.

Inspired by: Convivial, Frivolous, Pressure and Can’t. and this soul-food photo from an earlier time, a hike in Garden of the Gods, near Manitou Springs, Colorado.

Soundcloud recording here.

My Island Temperament

Bali Ha’i may call you any night, any day. In your heart, you’ll hear it call you:
“Come away…Come away.”~Oscar Hammerstein II

Of all the lusty lives I’ve led, I favor these,
touched by the magic waters of the south seas,
my inhibitions shed, and I slipped out of time
to stay. Though people there I seemed to’ve left
behind, in fact our hearts are ever intertwined.
We reach across the miles in dreams and
notes, photos enclosed. No story ever told
really grows old. It winds inside the places
where I sat, the headlands slippery and wet,
waves crashing o’er my prescient head still
smell the salt. I burned those memories, a
treasure thread to keep–knowing I must go
and yet return in sleep. My blood
and lineage pulled me back to roots
unsettled in the stolen land so how
could I stay and steal again, when home demands
I make amends? The worlds are spinning
through what’s real, captured in this love
I feel that like a creeper or an invasive mint,
I set down roots by dint of poetic intent.
And though I’ve leapt across the oceans
every life I’ve left behind continues
in the new soil
in me and I in you the web expands
with each small truth
brush strokes with knowing hands.

 

Inspired by: Lust, Temperament, Brush and South Seas.  Featured image: my favorite coconut grove in the Guajira Peninsula.  (I changed the form after great feedback from the wise Judy Dykstra-Brown.)

Listen on soundcloud here.

A Portrait Emerges

My daily practice is to walk memory lane
shining light into dark places.
And the fact is, it’s on another plane
the birthright and the so-called empty
spaces (where we’re filled with fire,
the electrical impulse of our desire.)

A portrait emerges,
flickers through time and now
a portal to a child’s rhymes
through the smoky haze
those early days touched
piano bench posture, fingers flying
lyrics voiced repel the lying.

And then the graveyard shift,
digging up bones, the long-forgotten
roots surely the key, my pedigree
stories carved into my DNA
the wave that carries me.
Like peering into a crystal ball
or to the stars, the all-
encompassing need to understand
just who I am.

The screen changes, lyrics
long hair bent over guitar
plucking emotions like strings
ah, the power to sing.
Add this trip to the realm
of rainbow trees, pure love
shimmers radiant, slip,
another shift.

Drift into travel without any fear
that I could feel, backpack
alone through jungles, dive
into chum-baited waters.
Deceived and disconnected.
Now a belief in angels
feeling the jerk out of danger
into grace. My heart-race.

Always the woods, pulled into
sacred by the trees, seated
in peace, a wiser woman
watches.  The retrieval celebrated
by a flying eagle—who disappears

into gray, the illusion spinning
in every way fog through cultural
myths, the shock of we
coming with these fragmented
pieces, drawn
like splinters magnetized
onto the lodestone of attention
the separation gone.

Inspired by: Portrait, Dark, Daily and Memory Lane and a golden eagle soaring through my writing this morning.

Listen to this on soundcloud.

We Need You

In my teens I quadded with simplicity
earth, fire, air, water
made perfect sense to me.
I could calculate in quiet
using energy, emotion and my skills
to form synergy: lost things found,
a future perceived, plants that lived
and flourished with my thumb so green.
And I could hear
animals speak, quadding
body, feelings, thoughts, relationality.

I make up words, as you can see.
Love is precision, you know what I mean?
I could read hearts.
And as for lies
they loomed as large and painful
as smoke in your eyes.
Flagrant wrongdoing seemed to melt
heated words ungrounded in reality,
dissonance felt, and yet unseen.
Or so it seemed.

For when I pointed out
the inconsistency
all around me
the lying was indulged and
mediocrity took hold
of the adults. I fought the mold–
said I would never grow old.
And that still holds.

I gotta speak my truth
—call me witch, call me weird—
my heart holds in sooth
reality is multitiered.
And I’m holding space for you
that bold heart of your youth.
Your voice, unique,
is all we need:
essential seed.

Inspired by: Indulge, Flagrant, Calculate, Quiet and Quad. And this illuminating piece by Caitlin Johnstone.

I snapped the photo at the Lyon Arboretum on Oahu.

Listen to this poem on soundcloud here.

What Emerges As I Am

Was it very obvious, my next step?
Soon as I decided, couldn’t be
no corporate rep. Choosing very carefully
organic foods that I can eat,
you know, just a breath away
from livin’ on the street.

And you can call me hypocrite
living like I am
deep in my own shit
tryin’ hard as I can
to take a look at it
and I am blind
tryna be wise
but the helicopter mind
gets in my eyes
keeps me spinning away from my base
gotta sit in my body,
gotta find grace.

Now I’m not tryna finna path
to glory and fame
just fumbling for a lightswitch
to illuminate my shame.

Looking closely at the moments
when I say it’s too hard
exactly then from the mists
rises up my prison guard.
I’m locked and loaded.
No one gets through.
I’m not available to me or you.
A walkin’ talkin’ automaton
and I’m wondering, do you realize
when I am gone? ‘Cause I can’t tell.
I’m used to it. Maybe as a child
I was confused by it.

It holds us back, affects you, too,
puts a damper, pulls the brakes
on every single thing we do
moving deep into the shadows
where the power can’t get through
it’s disconnected, all out of whack
another fragmented person
with credible blues.

I’m peerin’ through time
at this new landscape.
There’s no running back,
ain’t no place ahead.
No escape. Quiver with dread.
Winter stripping off the greenery
that masked this burden. Holdin’
all this dead stuff, pretendin’
it’s not hurtin’
sitting here in question land
my heart open wide
allowing the new
to emerge as I am.

Inspired by a hike in the woods and this huge old tree holding up so many dead limbs.

Listen to this on soundcloud here.