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.
Imagination is the often-forgotten force in the core of the human being. Our problems, at the core, exist only because we have “misplaced an infinity.”~Jon Rappoport*
Sharp September early wrapped in fleece
I remember waiting for the sun. At peace,
eclectic ways to feel into
electric body riveting, pivoting
now, well met, fast-moving clouds!
My travail allows inspection
of the golden-gleamed horizon.
Sipping coffee slow and warm
my morning bluejays warn poignant
and pointed. Even serenity
is a star poking into absurd
totalitarian measures. I don’t partake.
That brand of Koolaid just tastes
fake. I see the stain all around
your panicked eyes, gone: smiles or frowns.
Succumb and lose identity, masked
and frail, breath denied. Sometimes
it seems a dream. I thought there were many
more alive, but I see drones
apologetic and rueful, cowed,
reading posted rules. Now what’s allowed?
I remember waiting for the light
in months like these. Now I simply bring
myself, sovereign alive sparking love
and curiosity. There’s no masked
stranger staring in my mirror. Look at me
model how common sense
walks the world. Freely breathe.
I don’t always have to rhyme.
Sun now appears and I step out of time.
Inspired by: Serenity, Riveting, Eclectic, Travail and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Sharp and Exit From The Matrix*, a life-changing imagination course by Jon Rappoport that I highly, highly recommend.
Keep it simple, deal with the Now. This Global reset is training us to trust the Presence within, and New Earth dynamics of consistent alignment with highest interests of all concerned.~Sandra Walter
How can I serve? Other than offering
mouthwatering cake in an ambience
designed to obliterate posturing.
Sit down, relax, at peace with common sense.
I can’t eat gluten. Sugar is my foe.
So what I’ll bake with patience, and dish up:
harmonic codes designed to feed the flow
of love, ringing. Just breathe right now. Link up.
Inspired by: Cake, Mouthwatering, Obliterate, Ambience and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Link.
Written to hold space for the collective shadow work the human race is currently undergoing.
So much excitement beyond eyes’ delight
with my penchant for lovely surprises
I’ve been walking my talk, toss my hat in
the ring. It’s July. I’m alive. I sing
with discretion in June when so many
were sure and armed with factoids aplenty
beliefs cemented, hearts asleep, rescue
imminent, just obey the daily rules.
We’ve already taken our faith to leap
landing lightly and grounded in love, deep
in heartspace where we hold crystal vision
with laughter and joy’s sacred precision
Fear not! For the world changes fast. Don’t run!
Step gently past apparent ruin. Now
holds presents unimagined so bow
wide-eyed innocence guided by the sun.
Inspired by Excitement, Eyes, Penchant, Discretion and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Toss. And the river rocks I’m fascinated with, today with a heat map effect, and then the swirl effect on top of that. Stay well in love and remember: judge not, as nothing is as it seems.
We explore subconscious with tenderness
to begin cognizant of wilderness
interior, we claim these feelings rush
–no poke and post, accuse–with rigorous
logic we nail down the primal essence
no reason to react, we give presence
to those triggered by fear, so powerless
unable to see rejuvenescence
our conscience awakes, insight streams like light
the narrative flips, what looked wrong or right
emerges, necessary steps for growth
the planet hums vibratory preflight
Open to love, imagination soars
we claim each evil deed, we hear the roars
all of our shadows long abhorred arise
we look into each others’ eyes, clear doors.
Inspired by Begin, Wilderness, Cognizant, Conscience and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “nail”.
Featured image: my grandson brought some old monster/soldiers to play with, and I told him I didn’t like their energy. So he got out the crystals and cleaned them.
“We didn’t have to convince everyone to move to Peace with us. Peace already exists, and anyone who wishes can move there whenever they choose.”~Richard Bach
Question the roots.
Use free will.
Give fear the boot.
Host love heart-centered
inspiration. Laugh at the cosmic
joke, just that aeration
opens the way.
Rejoice. Receive each messenger.
Enter the flow.
What you resist persists
so let it go.
This toxic model leaves a bitter taste.
Practice discernment, interlaced
with kind regard.
Be a bard.
Create images in art.
Smile, give thanks.
Allow love to start
from deep within
the sacred glade.
In every moment,
your focus the clear bell
to break the unloving spell.
Inspired by: Astrology, Message, Dough and Image and written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt (specifically: “directions.” Find a household cleaner/bottle of shampoo/something in the freezer/anything you can find with instructions on it, then copy down a single direction (just one) on how to use/cook/etc. your chosen thing, and make it the first line or word of your post. Then keep writing whatever comes out.) I found a magical potion called Curl Maker, and seized “How To Enjoy” from the first line of directions.
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.
To be clear, I am far from stating that the material world does not exist. Rather, I propose that what we think of as the real world is a holographic consciousness construct that–in all ways at all times–is subject to modification by our consciousness (or unconsciousness) of it.~Potentiate Your DNA, p. 70, Sol Luckman.
To be clear, I corroborate
starry-studded hope. The great
scheme permits a shift
deteriorates these rubber
stamps that once defined
a quirky campaign purely
designed to control us,
shut our inspiration down
before it’s found.
astray. Our hearts
know truth when we can
sit aground, intuit,
follow every trigger
to its source as a matter
of course. Everything changes.
The bigger gift appears
inside the rift
of our exchanges.
Mumbo-jumbo yet again.
In essence, I applaud your juju
all the power flowing through you
transmutes the lies
into clear sight, wordless
roots of transformation.
Inspired by: Permit, Rubber, Hope, Shut, Corroborate, Campaign, Scheme, Quirk. and Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to start my post with the first three words of the first full sentence of the book closest to me when I sit down to write. (That sentence is the quote at the beginning.) I was overambitious today, trying to use all of the past two days prompt words in this stream of consciousness post. Braving my inner critic to hit publish even though it does appear to be mumbo jumbo. Creativity needs to be released. So be it.
Toby, my new love, lies besides me. Both on guerneys in a white, light-filled room.
His eyes are closed. A nurse wheels in Ben, my first love, and I greet him with delight and concern. He’s also injured. I send a circle of love to surround him, become aware simultaneously of Toby, awake, scowling darkly, simmering in unreasonable jealousy. And he is aiming it all at unconscious Ben.
I gently remove the finger of smoke, seal Ben’s protection, follow the trail back to Toby. His heart is loud with hate and fear. I am unmoved, yet moving with calm deliberation into the blackened heart.
He is overtaken and still I unwind the hate like music out of tune, and I the tuning fork. Deep inside, he longs to hear the note to return, return to the song he was meant to sing.
The electricity of his will thrumming now into a new vibration. I lean back and close my eyes, smiling, at ease. Something new has burst from me, my song amplified, my powers restored.
Written for the Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt: Loud and this impulse to write flash fiction this morning. SoCS rule number 1: Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write. (Otherwise, I would go back and fix some things!)
His journalistic range, Black Thought expressed,
is a catalyst for change–for me, a big yes!
to all this live electricity streaming down
to find my ground. This is key:
finally sitting in my base
letting my body feel it for a change
open and available to mystery.
Don’t get frosty–the way I do,
all my chilled trauma places preventing you
from touching me, containing us
I could regale you with the stories
but why make a fuss. The energy
sets the stage: when a child cannot
express her rage, she goes inside
or finds a pen, crafting rhymes
to keep her hand in. Until today
excitement bounds in the deep
inner space that channels the sounds
from higher places
where we are round
integrated, safe and sound.
Inspired by: Stage, Frosty, Regale, Excitement, the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “key“.
And the continuing inspiration of Black Thought Tariq Trotter’s freestyle
chops expertise utter brilliance. (An amazing interview on his process here.)