Natural Healing

“It’s crucial to the welfare of you and yours that you tell the whole truth.”~Rob Brezsny

Disparaging my medicine, they say
it’s weed, it’s pot, and I should be ashamed
or fined or jailed, put toxins in my veins.
The medical cartel revealed: insane.
This week I stand in power, utilize
my magical reception, open eyes.
The portion of reality I see
infinitesimal.  Limitless me
projecting my imagination strong,
sing, in the key of life, my wellness song.

Inspired by: Week, Utilize, Portion, Reception and the OctPoWriMo Day 27 prompt, Magical in a Decuan. Written for all the people who are unable to access natural medicine, suffering needlessly in a crazy society that worships poisons.

I’m Lying To Myself

How awake can we become to the predefined spaces in which we live our physical, material, moral, emotional, energic and spiritual lives?  To what extent can we create these lives by our own imagination, rather than by using our inventive powers to fit into a tight blueprint of reality?”~Jon Rappoport

Where is the love and when do I lie
to myself? I say it matters not
that you’re ghosting me. You’re the bad guy
with allegations, a scatterplot

and no discourse! I’m dangerous
you say, breaking-the-rules insane.
You’d ban these books so traitorous.

rippling through society
endings sow anxiety

we fingerpoint and blame.

our resolutions
create solutions

if we sit down
be still and find
a peaceful sound

beyond the story
lines, the noose around
necks metaphor. Be
awed. We are earthbound.

Pride topples as the storms
dissolve our old platforms
and we create new norms.

Dance each powerful sun flare,
clearing our essential air.

Finally we imagine free.

Inspired by: Endings, Awe, Allegation, Topple, and the OctPoWriMo Day 25 Prompt, break the rules (Stretch, Disorder, Chaos, Expand, Anarchy) and create your own poetry form.

My new poetry form starts with a 9-syllable ABAB quatrain, followed by an 8-syllable CDC tercet, a seven-syllable couplet EE, a six-syllable single line D, a five-syllable couplet FF, a four-syllable tercet GHG, a five-syllable quatrain IGIG, a six-syllable tercet JJJ, a seven-syllable couplet KK, and a single line of 8 syllables with internal rhyme. (Simply, stanza-wise, it’s 4-3-2-1-2-3-4-3-2-1.) I call it Victoria. Unless someone has already done it.

We Find Peace

She’s losing weight, nervous in this strange time
Her friends imprisoned and their only crime
is age and wealth–the magnitude of this
deception, locked in the safe chosen bliss

the best money can buy–choice rigorous
could never have foreseen the vigorous
elimination of their liberty
(they’ll die alone, medical misery).

In her fright, she threw me out. Willingly
I left. Consequences rise chillingly
today I visit and my free heart sees
because our choices of what we believe

create reality. What we release
–not easily–could cause the house of cards
to topple (it’s going down). Bodyguards
blink as stripped of everything, we find peace.

Inspired by: Nervous, Strange, Magnitude, Vigorous, the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to use a word that starts with “m” as my theme (mother), and the OctPoWriMo Day 24 prompt trying something new. Shout out to all the people locked down (physically, fiscally, mentally, emotionally) poised to create new realities with their innate powers.

Featured image an ancient burled oak deep in the woods.

No soundcloud recording today as I’m on the road.

Creating New

As you think so it shall be…. . The entire paradigm shift is so massive that you have to adapt to a completely new reality. Nothing is exactly as it appears to be. Don’t be depressed and let yourself be drawn to fear. You are not incarnated just to survive. You are here to create and enjoy a high quality of life. Live in dignity and be noble.~Solara

Cultivating stillness I drive
through old beliefs and wounds which pound
my red Jeep.  The raindrops resound
relentless yielding I arrive

recreating the painful past
my new powers projecting
to make sense at last
I bring my love connecting
through the dark and hidden places
now unearths, presents to grace.

Exquisite presence looks around
reveals strategies to survive
which dissipate as love arrives
redecorates old battlegrounds.

Divide and conquer narratives
weave anger and despair.
This pause is the curative.
I breathe slow into air
which touches every being, gives
space where hearts can truly care.

Llego en este momento
y milagros son todo que lo siento.

Soundcloud recording here.

Today’s prompts invite me to realize that the impending dead stop can never jeopardize my buoyant spirit. Fear creeps past, another artifact crumbling in my gratitude now. The OctPoWriMo Day 23 prompt is Gratitude (Hope, Dream, Anticipation, Thankful) in the new-to-me form La’libertas, and a surprise poppy and her tiny friend who braved the cold to present a love letter which I pass on to you.

Translation: I arrive in this moment and all I feel are miracles.

Grey Turns To Blue

Each face swimming into my hereness
calls and texts or in the shunned connections
blessings in this misty morning nearness
the grey thick air devours reflections
of vivid vistas. Yesterday’s clearness
disappears. Here a cold wet inspection
alleviates misperceptions, makes light
of falsely perceived rejection haze-bright.

The fractal I create illuminates
all of my lessons soaking in presence.
When we touch I embrace, elucidate
the wounded patterns in my face.  Essence
of evolution, intuitive gates
open the paradigm’s obsolescence.
Hear my growl deep in the woods.  Rain-fog gifts
are love, a sending as the timelines shift.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Grey turns to blue, Alleviate, Devour, Vivid, Growl and the OctPoWriMo Day 22 prompt to follow your gut feelings in an Ottava Rima.

No Rhyme In Rejection

The nature of trauma is that it is unconscious; something frightened or disturbed us enough so that we did not want to experience it. We shut down, we froze, we acted out, we ran. We did not make sense of the experience and file it away, we threw it out of consciousness.~Tian Dayton

I reject the swamp of my birthplace, call
and finagle love by the sea. Far from
my roots, play the gargoyle–mysterious 
pagan goddess adorning cathedrals—

spiked-head cautionary tale.  I’m trying 
to make these words sensible.  My lineage
settles for mosquito-infested land
losing sight of possibility, hard

survival hunkers down even though just
a few miles up the road is paradise.
I reject my habitude.  Centuries 
of unprocessed trauma rise.  The shoreline

fraught, I pause in fear anticipating 
the shock of change, cold slap of moving sea
and I must leap, reject the quandary.
Relentless tide brings what lies beneath the 

surface, the deep places pain claims surge 
like a riptide, insisting I dive deep
release the illusions to dry crumbling
on sand.  Shivering, wet, now I accept. 

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Swamp, Gargoyle, Finagle, Habitude, the OctPoWriMo Day 20 prompt “touch”, and a vivid memory of exhausted swimming in a riptide in Lima.

Recovering Romantic

All of the readers I consult believe
a twin flame true love soul mate will relieve

what’s ailing me. I still and look beneath
romantic stories that I used to breathe

a young girl waiting in a tower above
the cruel world inside. They called it love

with promises sublime I was entrained
to quell my power by the weight of chains.

Recovery depends on the extent
I stand my ground, consent to my ascent.

You have returned, you beg a hearing though
you shunned my overtures, you say you’ve grown

and two hearts exponentially expand
the sensibilities in this new land.

Duality illusion games are through.
The path inviting opens hearts when true.

Alone I meditate and heal myself.
Come as you are. I’m here. Just be yourself.

Inspired by: Recovery, Extent, Promises, Sublime and the OctPoWriMo Day 18 prompt, how to relax and process feelings (Rejuvenate, Reboot, Breathe, Meditation, Process, Healing) in a form of my choosing, which today are rhyming iambic pentameter couplets.

Walking Into The Sun

The hoarding is over now
we run naked gleeful
into the sun.

My grandson cries, “Nobody doesn’t love
me,” and I feel the outcast energy

rising ancestral tide of shame-tinged blame
and it’s a game we play with passionate

abandon: can you tune in, emote so 
deep a doggy comes to sniff and lick in 

sweet compassion?  Sendings so true, alive
imaginations limitless.  We find

when duress fills our sails, we flee across
the teeming ocean, no time to ponder

why there’s no rhyme today perhaps divine
intervention or an armor-shined knight

will play at slaying dragons—we can’t wait
throw down our Vorpal swords, befriend peril

I look up every weighted word until
in our wild power we must invent new

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Sails, Ponder, Duress, Divine the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt to use a word I have to look up (I look up nearly every word before allowing it into a poem, feeling into the weight of etymology) and the OctPoWriMo Day 17 prompt my wild rhythm.

Kaleidoscopes in Love

Photonic light frequencies amplify everything, lifting the self-imposed veils so you may examine, release and clear what does not serve. Zero focus on what you don’t desire. Amplify the Light and it will blast the distortions into a faded memory.~Sandra Walter

I sleep easily in the banshee cries
my mighty intangible ancestry
a river running through me the polished 
stones in my banks hidden treasure revealed 

a cinch though I can’t see, moving in the 
current yesterday’s anguish escapes my 
grip, I’m flow as each distortion rises
to my calling, I am falling in love 

now, this power rising as I receive 
what I project, ah, true love, once so mis-
construed as rainbow-lit sanctuary,
backs turned, the family’s pause just before

entering the box called home.  Illusion
disappearing, darling, it’s time to move 
on, creativity aware passion 
ignites imagination in full flight.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Intangible, Cinch, Mighty!, Banshee and the OctPoWriMo Day 16 prompt: turning things inside up and upside down.

Agent of Love

Businessmen, they drink my wine
Plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line
Know what any of it is worth.”~Bob Dylan

you say, I’ll see you in hell, how could you
do this to me—I paid for that training

no longer believe choosing the lesser 
evil ever does anything but fuel 

adversity, that labyrinth looming
intricate, perplexing.  How to discern

while expenses mount, slave collar choking
and down the line bleak lack seems real?

there’s no rhyme or reason in the trenches
til passing through satellite-clouded skies,

true love shines messages.  Powers expand
as you realize now you are a star.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Discern, Adversity, Down the line, Labyrinth and the OctPoWriMo Day 15 change of perspective.