A dove may show up when hard times are ending, and a new understanding of one’s self is emerging. ~Rose
In this construct referred to as time
and the illusory separation-dream
we slip through gaps and slither
in the continental divide, driving
it twice today and sending
unfathomed blessings all through the being
the sign delineates.
It is too costly to focus
on the screens. I worth
I value I currency
the most creative power in the world
can see and you suggest
I pay to–what, sit through drivel?
Unplug, unplug. Know the electric drug
changes you deep within
The dissonance tries to weave
a stranglehold when breath
exactly what I need.
Constrictions I heed
balance delicate to achieve
especially in this time of upheaval.
I have made no secret:
I love you true.
Through the ages and today
I’ve been reading poems about you
and the things we would do
and my heartful of love
doesn’t understand why
we create this illusion
of separation. I’m releasing
these restraints. Time and I
work together. We can tell
each other anything
when being now we give
and we receive every signal
and intentionally create this new world.
As you begin to recollect the parts of yourself that were hiding beneath shame and fear, you align with intuition.~Kelly Brogan
In the morning, I look for the urn, sure
I’ve placed it by the suitcase. Reassure
myself it isn’t lost. My dream requests
and intuitive hunches honored best
without a question. Follow through on each
weird hunch. This lifestyle lets me teach
the witchy ways, negate the need to preach.
It’s energy and focus. My outreach
centered upon synergy to unloose
misguided fools investing in abuse
as we’re all taught to do in schools, too young
to parse through survival no clue. We’re flung
into the world and there’s no catch. Hollowed
and outward-seeking as we snatch, followed
by laments and blame, little reprieve til
one look into the mirror: perceive. Still
we feel into the screams of caged being,
coax out the dances shame debarred, freeing
life’s joys and sorrows. How can tomorrow
come unencumbered unless now we glow?
Inspired by: Synergy, Hollow, Catch and Suitcase.
Featured image: In my younger wilder days when appearing bare chested was simply being me.
I’m the cautionary tale, canary
in the mine. If there’s a toxin buried
even layered in the air, the fumes scorch
sensitivities, a five-alarm scourge
If you see me melt or swinge, apprehend
cast not for blame. Break hypnotic trance. Wend
your way to cleanse. Hug a tree. Breathe fresh air.
Ground, earthing, center. Sound electric prayer.
Aiming for high trajectory, I burn
illusions. With respect for me, I yearn
to model what I’ve learned. Disintegrate
past’s chains, the patterned prate repudiate.
Inspired by: Hypnotic, Scorch, Cautionary and Blame.
Featured image: The lake is exceptionally beautiful today; I’m counting down the days to departure.
Nobody else is gonna do it for you. You have to pick yourself up out of your dark moment; you gotta be your own source of light.~Kyle
I’ve been the scapegoat, carried the blame-wave,
aspired to be recognized, acclaimed brave.
My intrinsic value I clearly see.
The outcast’s role’s expired, doesn’t fit me.
And now I treasure me–dude, I’m all that–
my foes, exposed, call me insane, pick at
old wounds I healed, inspired to evolve.
Miscast no longer, their figments dissolve.
Inspired by: Figment, Blame, Intrinsic, Wave and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompts inspire/expire/aspire.
Featured image: Kaleidoscope effect on today’s sunrise photo.
“In order to see birds it is necessary to become part of the silence.”~Robert Lynd
Far away his wise counsel laser keen
reveals the roots that constant drama screens.
I sit by lake and ground in dawn, attend
a patient great blue heron who can blend
as racing gray of this cloudscape conceals
the blue I’m always searching for. The wheel
of fortune turns. I bleed with each riposte
surrounded by the haunted, for their ghost
I love. The unmarked minefield of fresh grief
is marked by feathered messengers who see
my need. The spectacle earthward glides clear.
Mourning dove lands. The tears are ever near.
Inspired by: Attend, Cloudscape, Spectacle, Riposte and the written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday rules with the prompt near/far.
Featured image: This morning’s constantly changing cloudscape.
The medicine is already within the pain and suffering. You just have to look deeply and quietly. Then you realize it has been there the whole time.~Thomas Hubl
Before dawn my evolutionary
stance requires I feel all the hurt buried
alive. Pain molecules from cold storage
thaw in the healing light. Hungry, forage
through my sensibilities. Agony
even when expected–I opened wounds
cannily–thwarts my intentional tunes
like some ribald cat-calling ancestor
who got off scot-free, leaving the high cost
with interest to me. Wake, dreaming goddess
in bare feet, indigenous to earth, ground
and release. Raw transfiguration frees.
Inspired by: Thwart, Indigenous, Scot-free and Ribald.
Featured image: Lake reflects illusions, reminds me to question my interpretations.
Egret, as a Spirit Animal, often comes to those who find themselves in-between places, people, or phases in their life. The awareness of having no real bearings makes people uneasy. Egret guides you through that uncertainty with greater ease; during this period, you may feel alone, but you are not. You have good people surrounding you and spiritual supports, so lean on them.~Bernadette King
I look up from grousing to a snowy
flurry of white herons. Five soar showy
spirals–once we were six but mother died.
Now gracious living family style collides
with hot male diatribes of worth. Rescind
the doctrine followed blindly. This dead end
reveals the new. From rusty relics rise
creating. Rejoice. One bird takes the skies.
Inspired by: Doctrine, Rusty Relic, Gracious, Rescind and a sight I’ve never witnessed on this lake: a family of five great white herons which, as soon as my gaze lit on them, rose majestically from the far shore of the lake and then went their separate ways.
Featured image: The herons left before I could capture them, so here’s a photo I took of a great egret who visited the day after my mother passed.
Intentions go awry when drama strikes
and sinks its serpent fangs in trauma sites.
But then, go figure, you appear and say,
hone, laser sharp, don’t enter story’s fray.
Remove the useless viper, now defanged
an old reality, like a steam train
whose day has past chugs belching fire and smoke
into the empty station, just a joke
from an old script I learn then toss. The new
arises in each breath. As I go to
the street address now offers, I can see
the jumbled toxic mess called history
with all its metaphors hung out to dry
like wrinkled cotton in a deadly sky.
Chimeras begging, insisting I buy
short shrift patristic-worded outright lies.
I stand empowered, though you only see
an old woman, penniless in her grief
loosening gently the ancestral curse.
Harried since birth, hereby declare my worth.
Inspired by: Train, Hone, Awry and Figure. Having a bit of fun today after a full-blown attack (using a wondrous mixaphor approach) on my raison d’être.
What aims you?~John Lamb Lash
When male kin taunt and tweet derisive scorn
I feel the trigger right between the thorns
but no longer do they sweep me to weep,
overweening creeps keeping me from sleep.
Inspired by: Keeping and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt wee.
Featured image: mother duck and her brood at sunset.
We’re captive on the carousel of time.~Joni Mitchell
The man who cannot hear me refuses
tests, to my frustration. Brother uses
grandpa’s selective hearing to explain
it’s solely me Dad chooses to disdain.
And now I know it’s psychological
a physical kit to amplify will
not achieve victory in this attempt
to bridge the family gender contempt.
Inspired by: Kit, Carousel, Victory and Solely.