The Patterns Love Weaves

Everything is frequency and DNA is the ultimate antenna. You are a master of your energy, both a frequency emitter and a receiver in flux with your internal and external environment.~Sol Luckman

A hummingbird comes to magnolia’s blush
fluttering wings gleaming in sunrise flush
in this surreal hour serenity
calls up flickering dream complexity

the half-awake chef from kitchens of night
docile, revealed in the intense gold light
Finch flying overhead in symmetry
reveals how we’re remunerated, flee

the consequences of the words we fling
regardless of realities they bring
the symphony that we create right now
shaping the frequency as love knows how

Inspired by: Flush, Docile, Remunerated and Surreal.

Featured image: New pine cones with hieroglyphs love writes

Illusions of Fight

From an old pattern louche and humongous
seeded with beliefs powered in wrongous
rises this pique which threatens my willpower
and saps my strength in this dissonant hour

isolated and unemployed my fuel
still harvested by corrupt beings’ rule
–I uninstall the games, ignore the stream
pervasive and invasive schemes that teem

with the intent to take me down, enslave
city-bound, depraved old symptoms behave
in ways to convince me: give up the fight
and so I do. Good wins. Triumph the light.

Featured image: While walking, I espied this feather crab-walking down the sidewalk. Light as a feather.

Inspired by: Humongous, Pique, Louche and Willpower.

Hidden In The Green

This late-July second blooming of shy
magnolia under busy-sound sky
dawning calls: downy woodpecker, blue jay’s
alarm, eastern towhee. Cardinal weighs

in. Carolina wren bursts into praise.
White-breasted nuthatch cackle-laughs as rays
splash golden and the sun breaks free. Splendor
illuminates delicate blooms tender

as raw sorrow hidden in green’s revealed
by quiet time. Here’s what has been concealed.
The prick of pain in red clover mite’s dash
across my skin a warning that I smash

in quick reflex, obliging an instinct.
(It’s said they don’t bite. This one did.) I think
while so-called experts preach, indoctrinate
my swim into now’s current educates.

Inspired by: Oblige, Sorrow and Swim.

Featured image: This morning I pulled the leaves back to photograph the magnolia’s secret second blooming.

In My Essence

Water is the driving force of all nature.~Leonardo da Vinci

Awash in tenderness I compose love
notes on the fly, scintillating above
the harsh chords of the night, which I release
as this late July sunrise sets me free

I pause in peace, soak in my pure delight
allow it to wash over me. No fright
imposed in unison by streams designed
by greed can catch me. Liquid, I slip by.

Inspired by: Fly, Night, Unison, Scintillating and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday style for awash/wash.

As This Plays Out

He lines up in the animus column
guilt at this guile makes him appear solemn.
In the real world, I say, people are kind.
Your digital stream, spiteful and purblind

conjures a matrix that spellbinds and quells
traumatized, immobilized, living hell
Wake up. Unplug. Realize it’s your show.
Take the stage and create a loving role.

Inspired by: Guilt, Guile, Column and Animus.

I Feel You Near Me

Lonely days are gone, I’m a goin’ home, my baby just wrote me a letter.~Wayne Carson Thompson

In the rain-washed twittering dawn shadows
move in my periphery, so disclose
my focused counterproductivity
releases locus of captivity

my feed is sheer lunacy, frowsy beefs
tainted credulity, lousy beliefs.
Attraction fades, the premises are false.
The menace is the propaganda waltz.

Just so I now compose my siren song
I loose upon the aether, sweet and strong:
come hither, love, let’s build reality
creating sovereign powerfully free.

Inspired by: Counterproductive, Sheer and Frowsy.

Featured image: I love lessons of lake birds and reflected beauty.

Raging At Machinations

This morning I try to compose timeless
snapshots underwhelming prose rhymeless
across the page kitschy clich├ęs while rage
within my volcano’s slow, unassuaged

Inspired by: Timeless, Snapshot, Underwhelming, Kitschy and this list of the banks owned by the Rothschild family.

Featured image: Flames filter on this snapshot taken high up in the Andes.

Best-laid Plans

‘Not everything is knowable at once.’~Philip Ball, Beyond Weird

In the hazy morning my tree sighs so
exquisitely imperceptibly slow
I sit. Try to peer through it. A goose train
waddles fast sixteen in a rush maintain

silence as they cross black tarmac. Muting
exuberance heavy air disputing
my farmer’s market plans. The element
of caution insists balance delicate’s

amiss. Precaution dictates inaction.
Bellyache oscillates between factions:
stay or go. The flow of what I know bounds
the sky, this watered silk cocoon confounds

each sound subdued. Red-winged blackbird’s trill spills
into the strange and heavy air then stills
and in the eerie silence, I let go
of plans made yesterday, enter now’s flow.

Inspired by Element, Silk, Oscillating, Faction and written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to use the first 2-5 words in nearby printed material (the book Beyond Weird which has to go back to the library today.)

Featured image: While my stomach decides if I go to the farmer’s market today, here’s an orchid stall at the Kapi’olani farmer’s market.

Uniformly Molded

Outside main streams of narrative I see
the way to ruination. Sovereignty
birthright of children and expressed in fun
filched behind doors now that school has begun

first grade in the institution to form
good citizens. Uniforms aren’t orange
and the windows aren’t barred, not yet. This stage
to punish petulance and subdue rage

into a sober being who sits still
spellbound conceding freedom to the wills
capricious greedy rulers inhumane
like bulldozers crushing the young and sane.

Inspired by Concede, Petulant, Orange, Sober and the looming first day of school.

Featured image: Grandmothers and their grandchildren have always been one of my favorites to photograph, here with the floating filter.

Back In The Day

After I declare myself receptive
to the flow of love, midnight deceptive
perambulations through the wilderness
bordering royal forest hiddenness

flashbacks rise from these purlieus vacated
when passion just ran out of gas, sated
and abandoned until dark when rusted
signposts indicate what’s buried, crusted

sunlight breaks free of the horizon, pours
over memories, now dust. I open doors
and sweet anticipation riffles through
the night spent cleaning leaves a nifty view

Inspired by Nifty, Purlieu, Gas and Flashback.