When the earth comes back into alignment
and the planets sing in joy, harmony
restored, celebrate our intertwinement:
connect in the knowing field part of me.
I’m cleaning up my act, leaving a map
in case you find I am a step ahead
and all these waves fill you with dread, entrap
you with fear too turbulent to steer. Spread
those wings you’ve hidden from yourself. Exalt.
Never a figment, your awesome power.
Accept your crown. The breakup of your faults
fuels your roar. Enter now empowered.
When you see the bridge, make sure it is your own, and not someone else’s creation.~Victoria Stuart
And here I must diverge from the groupthink
*eyerolling* consulting constellations
charting belief systems to endorse (link
in bio, follow me). My creations
leave the faitours in the dust. Here I must
describe this bridge which might take you, surprised
out of your circumscribed life. Limitless
imagination connects me, so prized
as NaNoWriMo words flow out apace
my inner editor is locked away.
Creative outpour’s currency is grace.
And clarity insists I do not stay
in old beliefs’ sway. All roads lead to now.
Releasing burdens, beliefs—held in thrall—
of my own making I clearly see how
this crossing is uniquely my windfall.
Soundcloud recording here.
Inspired by: Diverge, Eyerolling, Faitour and Endorse.
Never have I seen bluer blues this sky
above surrounding vivid vibrant hues
drawing my gaze conveying all my praise.
As I begin to see what I believe
manifests reality, I release.
How can I blame another for what I‘ve
created? With the intense power of
my prayers, I hang misbeliefs, my sky
studded with false stars guides me to outcomes
inevitable, where such lies reside.
Even the flora in my gut protest,
oh, balance, please! I heed, I pause. I breathe.
And so we dance, my prayers and I all
intertwined, indistinguishable, we
dive into each discordant note we’re pleased
to find. outside of mainstream panic, peace.
Soundcloud recording here.
The shadow self is a million suns of energy kept in check. and the controllers of this civilization want it kept that way.~Jon Rappoport
Underneath the shameless treacle clogging
truth, this manipulation cynical
cruel, sticky illusions are fogging
my view. I’m collared in unethical
great historical lies, television-
fed, chained in a tract insubstantial dread
and dissonance. Distrust inner vision
seek outward, obey a master instead
of creating with superpowers. Deep
inside of each imagination spring
unlimited realities. I leap
opening to flow, unfold mighty wings.
Inspired by: Illusion, Television, Tract and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: collar. Once again, the stream of consciousness prompt is testing me. So many different metaphors, such a need for editing, but that’s not how this prompt rolls.
A dragon wriggles from the squiggles
red-eyelashed coquetry sailing blue
seas in a yellow sky, giggles
and jiggles, a jaunt crossing right through
imagination—emerging wise
and wonderful to urge: paint more soon!
Not to bully, just expand the size
of reality—outside lampoons
elites have honeyfuggled so sweet
distractions praising someone else’s
created world—gasp—necktie tight. Meet
me in space, though they call it selfish
and disparage our superpowers.
We throw off the leash and find that we
rise majestic moving paint. Hours
wild and free defeat powers that be.
Inspired by: Jaunt, Honeyfuggle, Lampoon and Bully. And painting squiggles with my grandson.
“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!!
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
never questioning
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.
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.
Real eyes realize real lies.~Robb Flynn
I’m a frazzled live wire distracted
and my pen’s run dry. So I’m reaching for a
crunchy snack–despite a hint of acrid
cleaners–each messy moment teaching more.
Outside the sun is fiercely claiming noon.
My chores complete, I invite me to face
exactly what’s been lurking out of tune.
Project my demons on this mirror stage
I create–reserve a smickering look
for the writer of this script. The plot twists!
Arbitrary snark! Floods of tears to brook.
Allowing all. What I resist persists.
Showing up in all my glory loving
the judgmental voices, the shy, the blue,
out of balance in this moment, shoving
as I embrace me now so I’ll see you.
When the web went down, we here poised, sticky
balance, supplied and surprised by the joy
of release. We invented games, tricky
and hilarious, collapsing, a toy
shooting out of the water into air.
Has the sky ever been so blue, the clouds
so white, the sun so golden? How we fare
in this halcyon day to play unbowed!
I am receiving, my heart full and clear.
I’m finding common ground, writing fables.
Figurative or literal, we’re here
with weighted words perceived as we’re able
so let’s not fight, can we agree: we’re made
in love? Can we create right now, our hearts
open and true? Forget how we’ve been played,
what we were sure we knew. We’re at the start!
How we enjoy each other when we see
we’ve landed in karmic reality
in our rush to be on planet right now
as the walls come quite abruptly crashing ’round.
