Brilliant light reveals our rusty cages.
We pause, aghast, exhausted dark fumbles
for a key. Persnickety. The sages
foretold our slavery. Our rage rumbles
as the current lies sweep us, a great flux
we fight. Chained junkyard dogs, one measly bone.
Driven inside, isolated. The crux
is power. As we step into our own,
the cruel elites’ imaginary
holds collapse. Helpless and bespelled, did we
pay for our own misery? Energy
reclaimed, create a new cosmology.
Inspired by: Persnickety, Flux, Exhausted and Cage.
There are people in this servile world who will endure any trampling, and at the first beck rush delightedly to proffer their assistance.~Richard Jefferies
We meet each successful escapee
with an enquiry to ascertain
their saving idiosyncrasy
once we learned individual gain
is the key. Rich possibility
a fractal brings lightbeams or a note
flung over the waters, a ring free
for the catching. You save yourself, float
til a ladder’s unoccupied rung
responsive to the life you’ve sung appears.
Inviting, never command. Among
the damned, the laughter of the free clears
confused lost seekers seeking outward
rule to bid them hither and yon, fools
scurrying to build an unjust world
poisoned, collapsing, still they fuel…
And how did you finally wake, my dear?
A chance encounter? Every single
tale takes sail in our creation, here
and now in the blooming we tingle.
Inspired by: Idiosyncrasy, Encounter, Laughter and Unoccupied. And the amazing new world unfolding in my work in progress!
These trees correct my posture, gently rise
with years of experience, euphoric
celebrations in this exquisite time
the crumbling of the slaveowners’ story.
In morning fall’s chill delight, I’m covered
barefoot mistake, I’m here for the sweet song
of stillness. Dare to be a sun lover
reach these life-giving rays. It is not wrong
to receive. A bluejay jeers flies crying
into the glare, wingtips translucent then
disappears, another realm applying
as the timelines collide. Remember when?
Here a portal to past. Equality
bestows a future door as well, beyond
the ticking clock, calendar page witty
and inept as bold we face and respond
what matters. Anchor swift changes. Herald
the weird and miniscule signs that Planet
Earth has rearranged. Our starship revealed
reorient laughing now we’ve landed.
Inspired by: Equality, Covered, Posture and Euphoric.
In the morning August flexes muscles
heated and sure with a riffling breeze
teasing the clinging leaves. They will hustle
in the fall, but right now they burn. The bees
are busy, penetrating drowsy blooms.
Grackles yawp and whistle staking treetops
as cicadas join the connection. Rooms
of realities rest lightly non-stop
infinite, open my heart’s convictions.
All the rainbows my childish eyes perceived
are back in town. I’ve loosened restrictions
—namecalling nerd closed parts of me, conceived
protective cages I no longer need.
The timeline shifts, I shower love and signs
upon that younger self of mine, stronger
now, imagining free, sacred, aligned.
Inspired by: Rainbow, Connection, Nerd and Yawp.
“We have reached inside ourselves to grasp incredible glimpses of our own POWER TO INVENT and choose.” ~Jon Rappoport
The onerous chains I’ve created since
waking on the earthship are nothing to
dismantle. In a blink of awareness
my superpowers flex. It’s something to
celebrate, the way the narrative shifts
reveal a glitch and we’re all free. Although
the matrix is insistent, insight lifts
us out. Our bodies vacant, minds in thrall
by authority voiced with lights and sounds
a casino trance and I dance in, Hey,
any living beings wanna play? Ground
in nature, let old stories dissipate.
You protest: Don’t you see what’s going on?
Out to the streets or derisive tweets, we
must demand the slave owners growing on
our efforts pay us more! Fueling elites
the only game in town. And be still.
Imagine limitless. Respect instinct
that pulls you to the sun where you can heal
discarding old beliefs that, frankly, stink.
Inspired by: Instinct, Nothing, Onerous and Protest.
Unimpressed with the /verse option on the onerous new WordPress block editor. Can anyone share a way to create line breaks for poems, and also be able to choose fonts–on the freebie version? Update: I did the shift return and created my own line breaks and am happier with this font. Thanks for the advice!!
An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.~Viktor Frankl
Twenty ripening spaghetti squash hang
goldening the garden. Orange and red
yellow zinnias burst in a color bang
call to awaken as the sunrise spreads
rosy skies west. The east is glorious.
Dawn in my hometown, a fleeting visit
now the skies compete in pinks curious
the morning’s cool under heat’s implicit
sultry air. Here an old bass leaps. Waves ring
smaller circles as minnows flee. Recall
past Augusts, shouldn’t some morning birds sing?
I’ve ceased comparing years, a construct all
along, time shows her true colors, slipping
in and out of these timelines—narrative
ridiculous, and I won’t play. Flipping
how life flows absurd—it’s imperative
to speak the truth, do you know how? Don’t New
Normal me, your credibility will
not stand the test of common sense, you
try to sway beyond your ability
to drown my sovereign song. Limitless
creator, sing! Simple as breath concealed
power now rings. Harmony stimulus:
ground in fall’s score, insanity revealed.
Inspired by: Sway, Accidental, Credibility and Sovereign.
Today sitting with a soupçon of hope
the kind that wraps around like smoke designed
to bypass all the doors I’ve firmly closed,
I glimpse into present. Now is just fine
so why do I worry and project doom?
Scare tactics I created to survive
come crashing down. Good riddance. I make room
for new insights upon which I will thrive.
Listen, as all the old systems crumble,
detox, deterge, release. Weep if you must.
Illusions we’ve anchored life on tumble
leaving us free. Imagine limitless.
Inspired by: Deterge, Design, Survive and Soupçon.
Featured image is a Rose of Sharon juxtaposing old withered petals, new vibrant blooms and bursting red buds. How nature brings the exact lesson I need!
Title is from a folk song I still love to play and sing: Today by Randy Sparks.
Tell me why, everything’s turned around. Open up, everything’s waiting for you. You can go your own way.~Lindsay Buckingham
The bluejay is telling us something
I’m oblivious with this warm bagel
and buttery ghee drips from lips
fingers I’ve switched the pen and it’s slow
like chittering cicadas waking to sun.
We regroup, come clean into center
as each illusion dies.
I’m not judging your looking outward
for guidance, following directives
you’ve been taught since childhood
by the ringing bells and hard-bottomed
chairs someone always knows better.
Speak up and wear a dunce cap
in the corner. What’s the opposite
of self-righteous? Maybe humble.
You’ve abandoned common sense,
where I live, but I’m no martyr.
Your path stretches out like the corridor
of cows led to the slaughter, signs
to keep you comfortable and competent
to walk in step with what’s expected.
Coloring inside the lines
who thought up the picture
you’re drawn into.
Daring to ask
for a new shade of blue.
What you create is all on you.
Inspired by: Martyr. Written in response to the dversepoets prompt to write a stream of consciousness poem.
Featured image: a tiny exquisite wild snapdragon that pushed through a very thick layer of mulch.
A bluejay warns the grounded beings, shares
perspectives for those who heed suchlike: fierce
courageous singers in a key we can
not hear with ears. Cicadas thrum tympan
in waves of longing after thirteen years
inevitable to emerge ringing
of love and loudly proclaim fears faced proudly
in that cold dark sleep. In the deep
songs of living–and now sirens blare–include
what emerges. Claim this sunbeam, this beach
the lightly rocking swing. Sometimes I feel
the rhyme or meter sways and rocks the boat
A lone goose bleats. I tilt and set the swing
sideways. That kind of day. Alert. Awake.
The coffee tastes divine. Each being gives
and I receive, celebrate what I find.
Inspired by: Fierce, Inevitable and Beach.
Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.~John Lennon
In this spot stars hang plump as planets, pierce
my knowing. I am blind, feeling my way
through the dark antre, praising the sun fierce.
Empty lies gossamer fall out of play.
This weird year demands presence and grounding
firmly in my sacred vessel. Here now.
Breathing with intention. My heart sounding
through the depths as I ramble on. How
the maps fall away in this full stop.
Rotted foundations giving way. We play
and imagine with great power. The drop
into creative flow our saving grace.
Inspired by: Feeling, Stars, Ramble, Antre and the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt: Spot.