Love’s Freedom Codes

Be sure to unplug from the scramble of narratives often; it literally interferes with your coherence…Only empower the thoughts, words, actions and feelings you desire to see manifested.~Sandra Walter

Imagine with no restraints, release each
misperception society’s imposed
the muck and drama to the roots exposed
collective trauma symptoms rise and teach

a wave must break upon the shore. Grackles
now enter this stanza with a scold aimed
at my crude philosophizing cackles
the world goes by, by habit join the game

Unplug! Don’t watch these systems burn; you’ll choke
on ashes, mourn the failing gadgets, flee
freedom, seek the old familiar yoke.
See with your heart, reclaim reality!

Laid off and disempowered how can we
regain our feet, the food we eat revolved
on lack and greed—these old beliefs dissolve.
What’s real—what I call love—emerges free.

Inspired by: Layoff, and Gadget

Beauteous Moments

As a wise woman walking free in grace
and grounded in the empirical ways
life has taught: brutal fierce lessons reveal
beyond propaganda’s whirl, theory’s spiel

caution, don’t cross, fear more! The tones wound tight
from artificial morning into night
away from the power of pure sunlight
we can’t explain where heavy beliefs fight

logic. Our human zoo schooled cowering
our focus and attention devouring
our true power: creative flowering
once we re-member, love is showering.

Inspired by: Empirical, Explain, Zoo and Caution.

City Foresting

The city forest chittering creates
a rescue with me, obliterates hate
as we assimilate birds and bunnies
solitary ear-plugged walkers, mummies

focused–beyond this lovely peace–on bars,
rectangular block sidewalks and parked cars.
From the porch the trees and I commune, show
the torture of electricity, oh

I’ll log on, publish, send aloha love
through the ether until the day you shove
out of the cage, listen from true heart place
where we’re connected past all time and space.

The day is almost nigh where we will touch
without a wire, a satellite–declutch
and let our natural powers arise
surprise what we achieve here in the light.

Inspired by: Obliterate, Torture, Rescue, Assimilate and The Invisible Rainbow: A History of Electricity and Life by Arthur Firstenberg.

Featured painting by my creative 4-year-old grandson!

The Deal Of Your Life

In the world where blather blooms innuendo’s
sly invites: investigate these lies!

I invest my currency not in an
asp clutched to my bosom. Instead I pay

each morning fully stepping into love
as the sun literally explodes huge

burning flash into sun-gazing eyes.
I ground the power filling with bliss.

It comes to this: a choice to fear or change.
Leap off the seeming precipice–all lies

the old collapses. I only have eyes
for this new earth we are creating nigh

improbable rising from the rubble
new soil transmuting. We are on the rise

I’m deep in being looking through God’s eyes
and in your tenderness I see God looks

at me. How did these separation stories
ever fly? When did we dread to die?

The brilliance as each moment unfolds how
love leads the way. It’s easy. Show me now.

Inspired by: Bloom, Blather, Bosom and Innuendo. And by sheer bliss as I turn away from watching the mesmerizing fall of the old structures and focus fully on creation.

Re-creation

Oh thou who…beset the road I was to wander in, thou wilt not with…evil round enmesh.”~Omar Khayyám 

Across the chasm of lies where some maniac
cries some strange fiction he writes in
the sand, saying common sense writ in my hand
can no longer suffice–obscene price–this

planned propaganda is not just domestic
the outreach of evil is global.
And we who celebrate life have to blink.
Who is buying this fraud? Who has never

met god? Not that Vindictive Fellow above.
Mind of creation that lives, dies in love
informing matter, recycling stars
unmasked, unadorned at rest then in motion

the true pulse of connection unafraid
in spite of the malevolence displayed
on the world stage, the poorly written script.
The actors are well paid but not by me

I withdraw my currency to invest
my inspired creation and my flow
informed by the Void where I go, sweet rest
each day, emerge refreshed, in light I play.

 

Inspired by: Maniac, Domestic, Sand, Chasm and Write.  The Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt is to select a word that starts with“ch”  and use that (bonus if you start with it) in “stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.”

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.

 

Doors of Perception

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.” ― Aldous Huxley

This morning in the portal by the lake
my heart exults. New visitors appear:
a cinnamon singer–I came ill-prepped,
dashing back to the human realm for books
and binoculars. Oh, brown thrasher, sing
our true connection. From this moment on
inform my now with highest intent: love
bypasses the television-controlled
lethargic worried minds fatigued by non
sequiturs, an incessant house sparrow’s chipping.  I sit with birds, we electric
beings on the brink of discovery,
awakening again and again to
new creation always buzzing, humming
sacred unknowable unmoving light.

 

Featured image of a brown thrasher found here.

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.

Festival of Valor

May this day set me in motion, I ought to be on my way.~James Taylor

The retrieval begins as history
seethes alive, unintegrated mystery
seeping lavalike through the cracks
we finally see propaganda matrix
cannot hold the avalanche of comprehension.
Just as young, so very young beings
we were not met, rocked ourselves singing
lonely in our survival anguish
even now in these adult bodies, wish
as we are vexed by these troubles offered
like a blessing awkward we try
to cut, bury and exclude, we cry
foul, deny what bobs behind
towed larval as we struggle, eyes
fixed firmly on a magical horizon
believing we can create a new
unrivaled shore the past is blue
awaiting the arrival of the candid
mating: irridescent swallows landed,
white flash of startled killdeer
two diving ducks are still here,
flock long departed, have they started
a nest? A cardinal flashes a red kiss
and everything I’ve missed luxuriant
green nestling violets’ valor.
The joy-praise sunrise song settles
to a soft and subtle fluttering petals
from the magnolia and I revalue
and adjust my filters, ambrosia
connection silent and filling
with presence: stilling the should-bes
as I see and say: this is the way.