Venus and Mars Are Alright Tonight

I can tell you about me with stars:
passionate Aries rules my mind and heart
from Mercury and Venus. Moon and Mars
swim in Piscean dreams. Numbers in charts

Aquarian ascendant beams require
to lofty heights and morals I aspire.
Grounded, a Taurus-tempered bull from birth,
balanced in fire, water, air and earth.

You say, I don’t believe astrology.
Then you’re in a pickle, my mystery
not fickle, simply laid out heaven sent.
The sky contributes clues, my fundament.

Inspired by: Pickle, Numbers, Aspire and written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt me.

Get Out From Under

Deep in the triggered hold of the slave ship
congested and detested depraved trip
through time the chains are rusting from tears’ salt
obsessed with blame, relentless finding fault

my heart rings in new patterns love creates
as I sort through what matters in the spate
of fear that clashes with my innate cheer.
Melody is clear. What’s happening here

as the old breaks down in the chopping sea
we’re tossed and turned in the waves that release
the generational captivity
celebrate learning to be truly free

Inspired by: chop, cheer, clashes, patterns and written in the SOCS style for ring.

Musings Before Dawn

Why do I tumble down the rabbit hole
fear guilds painstakingly laid to grab hold?
Do I really expect some truth be told
by warriors who fearlessly expose

bold and daring? Secret minions abscond
with my time and energy. I respond
triggered, provide the tainted fuel they need
supporting puppeteers who dwell in greed.

Why do I slip their grip, come up to breathe
my longings for slick solutions release?
Why do I stay in questions’ flow delight
as now spirals me through my sweet birthright?

Inspired by: Abscond, Expect and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: start with why.

At The Break of Day

A blue jay and a Carolina wren
insist I rise as sun is born again
a warning call as metaphor is key
the rosy blush vivid then gone. I see

before the clouds have closed, trivial toy
now just an orange smudge. My burst of joy
as day begins essential, for I search
for answers as the timelines jump and lurch

and all the old ways crumble into dust.
The birds assure attentive souls upthrust
and so I pray for receptivity
the gifts are measureless and I am free

Inspired by metaphor, trivial, closed, toy and written in a wild burst in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday ways: key.

Orchestra in Light

In cool bright August morn unique voices
rise in praise of day. My heart rejoices,
releases repentance woven in night’s
frozen laundry-list sentence of dark frights.

A goldfinch sweet and shy brightens the green
as sun pours liquid through tremulant leaves.
Abandoning my plans to spend, I save
my energy. Not lazy as I brave

thrumming sound waves. The geese flock in honking.
Mockingbird and bluejay begin taunting.
I’m all in as the mourning dove duet
relieves me of illusions that beset.

Inspired by: Tremulant, Repentance, Lazy, Laundry and Unique for the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt to find a word that starts with ‘u’. And a spectacular cool morning.

Featured image: American goldfinch

The Clouded View

In the sultry air just after sunrise
a gray cloud covering wallpapers skies
so the view from my belvedere is tight
like bubbles rising piercing each bird’s flight

solitary arrow streaks, catapult
attempts to break apart chemtrail insult
CIA weather control ambition
remnants from toppled archon tradition

just breathing requires peace under the trees
we quell our panic, these worries must cease
the grid of fear will dissipate. True love
transcends, upends the dark controlled above.

Inspired by tradition, bubbles, belvedere, catapult and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday style for wallpaper.

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.

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.

Focus Now

Jump up, little Havanese. I reckon
this chair can hold both of us, I beckon.
You balance on my lap while you smell
the early morning doggie show-and-tell.

The crows are cawing in the woods, their wings
dipping through clouds, they’re loud and circling
above the debilitating trend, send
urgent messages we don’t comprehend

until the end when evidence is bagged
and the portends of this great crime are flagged
and beamed through screens to twist the truth, the lies
are broadcast unremittingly. Sleuths prise

the underlying clues from dark stories
splashed with vivid technicolor glory
hidden deep in CGI, rabbit holes
invite investment. Pay them not, dear souls.

Inspired by Trend, Debilitating, Wings, Reckon and in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday for Bagged.

Featured photo: My little Havanese guest on my lap, balcony gazing.

How Did We Get To Now?

The starting point of every amble now
and how we got here is ignored. We bow
as victims of vicissitudes of life
and struggle forward trampled by our strife

tender as our doormat ways persist in
pummeling self-created dissonance.
What if the premises that we’ve been taught
disintegrate in the light, reveal naught

but obfuscations, manipulations
crushing creativity sedation
by hypnotic narration? Embrace change
new eyes question reflections so deranged.

Inspired by tender, eyes, doormat, trample, vicissitude and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday for amble.