To be certain there is a way of life that exists in the languid.
Nature never hurries and yet all gets done.
This is not a tapping into, this is not an extraction process , this is not mining of internal resources. This is a growing.
Sometimes I speak of resistance to myself, I notice and catch all the smallness of life, the small distinctions of this and of that. Sometimes I get annoyed way too fast, at life, way too fast at not getting what I want
time is gentle,
time is gentle,
Slowly there is a shifting, slowing down there is a moving sifting through I get the feeling, I’m becoming my own dreaming.
Here amongst the cavernous forum of my lie , the sky sings slowly moving shifting always gleaming, turning swiftly dancing slowing fruit is ripe I am my friend , I need the daring friend friend friend, there is something, moving so slowly resitance to my yearning chasam. I turn off now, I don’t have to take it all on though, even though I feel it’s mine, this is not our slighted journey, this is not our reasonable rhyme, for the darkening, for the lightness, and the color that arises when they meet, I am the child of our aunties and uncles.
give chance
make peace
with the wide open skies
of the southwest
and the land where your brother and sisters fled
and their blood seeped into the land
harboring their empty spirit until the time would come
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
Forests of Time await in the vastness of our hearts
and the simplicity of
our inner gems, they sing to us
paint themselves an accolade,
sing to themselves
a daring hum
of life present, serene
in the very same hearts
out here
are heartbreaks and suicides,
here, in these moments our tyranny is our blessing.
If you haven’t yet understood the power of this vesicle, comprehend.
Here down to our toes,
we are death, life, assimilated and working.
We are paradox's conclusions
we are demons denying themselves patience, do you hear me?
This could be our last sentence, our last repeat of the cyclic crimes splattered across screens and into our minds, honed deep into DNA and memories passed down to us,
do you think that karma doesn’t die….
Forget with me, for a moment what may tie to you to this or that, what may make you some way or another and remember,
the possibility of your existence and it's slimness and it's fervor
such beauty I could sing.
Come home.
Come home.
Come home to the wonder of yourself.
7 billion+ people and you are lovable, by some one, somewhere, right now, know this, and no I’m not talking ****** partners, although they may fall into the mix,
I’m talking family and friends,
I’m talking the trees who shake and shimmy and bend,
I’m saying the sky loves you, the rivers love you,
the dreams love you, you are a shimmering essence of pollution
turned sparkling star dust when you live like you are worthy, live like you know what you are, ( nothing short of a miracle)
live knowing the magic and beauty that flows through you,
yes, you who knows what death tastes like…and still smiles at the majesty of it all.
If you haven’t yet understood the power of this vesicle, comprehend.
We all have it on our very lips, we all have the ashes of those long dead in our lungs
we burn that to make our cars run.
We think we’re alone out here in the universe
we never even left home
Or explored the forests waiting in the vastness of our hearts.
Come home.
Come home.
Come home.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more when I'm staring down a wall of self-destruction
I falter
I fail
I fall back into the murky past of suckling on my pain and feeding it's worrisome jaunting, it's callous remerks and the uneasy , unquenchable desire for everything to turn around and be just like how it was not , back in some distant moment , back in some dim memory of success of pain or failure.
When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I know i need a rest for just a moment but that moment is not worth it
it is a festering
When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I turn to them and say here it is
here I am
here are my mistakes and my furrowed brows
here is my vulnrable strength
how can I give of that ?
I breathe in deep and relinquish the need to know, the need to be right and I recognize, here in this moment is a greatness , a quality and a strength -
we are alive and it will be aliveness until it's not
it will be aliveness until it's not
and that relentless living will turn and turn and turn as this planet does
as these movements do
and I will also.
This is one of those things that I can't change -
One of those things that I must embrace
One of those things that will make me less crude, softer , wiser , gifted with visions of no more or no less,
recognizing the quagmires
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
We're just two clouds passing through -
just passing by,
colloquial for but a while -
Firm and fleshy in the moment,
wispy and nonexistant later.
Our cracked and opened shells of a solitary death
co-created
waft up their sweet scent of fertile ground
moist, fresh
smelling faintly of stardust and the impossible -
Our edges that don't exist in this world
shimmer and sparkle
pop and crinkle on foreheads and bellies
shining out of our eyes
is the magic of respect
that blows a strong wind
pushing us away
away
from each other
away
away
from each other
closer
and
closer
and
closer
to ourselves
our own dreams
have changed directions.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
BE patient for you were once like him.
Young, joyous and dead inside. Let your frustrations melt into compassion for the journey he is embarking on. Your patience is a gift, hard earned , from toiling the same fields he has yet to sow. His wisdom is in it’s nubile stages where your compassion may water those seeds no end.
Love is your guide, is love not your guide?
Laughter is your superpower , is laughter not your superpower?
Fun is the cosmos, is it not Fun?
Grief is real , so let it through -
Least it turns to anger and eats you whilst you are still living....
on and on and on
Be patient for you were once like him.
Be patient for you are not him, he is not you.
Life doesn't always work on the currency of hope.
Be patient for the same fields you have yet to sow
ones you don't even know,
already bloom and fruit, seed and disperse
over on his land called a body.
You are a branched, crooked tree,
and this is the way we exist,
when we are ourselves.
Unknowable until the moment,
powerful beyond our dreaming,
bring yourself back in,
to the land that is your eyeballs and knees,
soft
and slow
and gentle.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
Frustration gives way to patience, molten fires cool to foggy breath
Peanut butter sticky mouth breaks the dankness
that thick smoke wrapped round my heart disperses
as I laugh and am startled, lightning piercing through clouds -
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
When the waves have washed me here,
I'd be a fool to look another way,
sturdy sturdy , doesn't it feel strange.
They say it's chaos out here at the moment.
I've dug these roots and cultivated their tender tendrils.
this is my song
this is my voice
I know this now.
For the love of myself,
Is the focal point now,
spin - turn - it's not yet happened
confusion
confusion
states of misunderstanding
foraging in the silence for our understanding
for the decisions that would make things easier
but I'm turning over now
rolling with this wave
a fool I may be but an anchor I do have
and i've come to be -
sitting
serene meditational gaze
life is unraveling in the way life kows best-
my heart bumps
stumbling occasionally.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
For a moment a river,
just a moment a river,
rushing past, just a moment,
a river.
For a moment, just a moment
caressing curves on those river bed rocks
for a moment, just a moment a molecule of water in the sky
for a moment, just a moment,
a river
for a moment just a moment
rushing on by.
Now is the moment, just a moment, river-like,
for a moment, just a moment I am that river.
For a moment, just a moment
I remember what time is
for a moment, just a moment
non-linier.
For a moment just a moment
a riverbed rock,
for a moment, just a moment
an ancient stone,
a moment just a moment,
this is who I am
forever and never
some time ago.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
Forensics couldn't figure out what happened to our bodies because they never looked closely enough into their own eyes.
When we walked out across those wild flower grass plains,
moving
our bare feet meandering , twirling, toes earthy, past the goddess river, bowing our eyes and laying sweet blessings of hopeful poetry at her edges with the mountains ahead of us going on and on and on.
Our heartbeats sinking into the smell of summers afternoons.
We
two beings
stand and watch as the water shows us the way across
her gentle back cool and singing.
We keep on laughing to the forests edge and settle by the Elder Trees to pray for the way ahead and the way already gone, we pray to the sentinel trees for their gracious beauty and we leave a small offering of a song.
We
two beings
I'm all over Hummingbird
She's all over Dragonfly
Listen to the forest for the sign we can move on,
We
two beings
listen with our eyes and our hearts, ears and noses.
We wait, long moments sensing,
attuning ourselves to the rich forest song.
Later, we see the flash of Owl sister and know it is time to move along
in silence, we listen as we walk and let the sounds we hear guide us.
She's all over Wolf Teacher
I'm all over Lynx Secret Keeper
We're both keeping time alive with our actions.
Way in deep, where the floor is soft decomposition-in-motion and the sky is hardly seen, little tickling breezes stir us, we walk along in silence, side by side, always listening
until our feet meet the edge of a clearing and we whisper our offering:
the story of who we are, why we are here, how beautiful this place is and how it came to be that,
I'm all over Calendula
She's all over Nettle.
Here the sun lays upon us once more and we sit , facing each other
We breathe ourselves into mediation.
We breathe ourselves into silence.
We look at each other
past our skins and through to the light emanating from our DNA
and we start to hum.
We hum our spirit song and begin to unravel so slowly the ways of this world,
we begin to unravel so gently the bags we carry under our eyes
over our knees
we begin to unravel so softly the song of our hearts.
Flowing through us a motion so suspending we seem to no longer be singing, but the sounds somehow pour out of us
our bodies start to sway, no judgment, our bodies start to relax, no suffering
perhaps her toe taps and my ear wiggles
perhaps it's her nose jiggling
perhaps it's my elbow nodding.
We two beings
pray to each other sweet words of beauty
sweet words of honesty
we let those bodies dance
up on our feet
twirling and leaping around the green grass, wildflower clearing
until we feel a twang of connection,
like curious little deer we follow that cord in our chests , pulling us towards each other.
She's on the other side of the clearing and as we make small steps , I feel the boundaries of her person. Her energetic walls , I feel her enter into mine. And we stop, acknowledge the space we are entering and ask for permission to move on. We move on
layer by layer, always stopping to acknowledge, stopping to ask permission until we stand 4 inches between us, breathing.
By now we are no longer thinking, we only sense.
She moves her hand close to my wrist, I meet her the rest of the way.
All collapses in on itself and opens back up again at our meeting.
She rides her hand up my arm to hold my face so gently.
I bring my other hand to her wrist and she meets me half way. I ride my hand up her arm to hold her face so gently.
I bring my hand to her waist and she leans in softly, she leans in softly.
She brings her hand to my waist and I lean in softly, I lean in slowly.
We move like this, unwrapping each other of clothes, breathing ourselves in meditation, going as slowly, gently as we possibly can.
When we are in our natural way, we wait a moment to take in the beauty, we **** our heads and as our words no longer matter we both know we hear a sounding stream.
We beings
perplexed and amused, find ourselves next to a small rocky stream, somewhere else in the forest. Dappled light finds it's way onto us , the trees and the water. Everything is orange and brown, mossy green with occasional pinks and purples.
She smiles and I smile , we make a motion of gratitude to our Great Water Mother and ask to wash.
When a small fish appears and jumps glistening
we move to scoop up running water in hands, pouring it over each others crowns. Again and again we scoop and we pour, we wash our walking sweat and clear ourselves.
Soon, the stream starts to fade and we are now on flat topped knoll, looking out over shallow banks of a wide flowing river.
The knoll is about the size of a large bed , wintergreen rustles beneath our feet.
We sit together and she brings her face close to mine, I bring my face close to hers and we look into each others eyes until we see.
I bring my lips close to her cheek, she brings her cheek close to my lips. And so we find ourselves tasting each other.
Slowly,
gently,
softly her lips come to my ears and her tongue moves on my lobe. My mouth to her nape and my breath is coming slow. We take as much time as we possibly can.
The Sun has not moved from the afternoon position. We are no longer in a place where time is quite the same.
Soon, I lay on the ground and she comes down beside me. Our dancing hands and tongues never in a rush, at a pace like the tide with movements, repetitive definitive and measured. Washing over our earthen valleys and hills, dipping low to our canyons, serenading our ravines. But never quite touching those extra sacred pleasure places.
She lays on her back and I sit beside her.
I kiss her chest and give thanks to her skin, her blood to milk trees and the crystal caves that lay within. I kiss her belly button and thank her mother for carrying her all this way. Her father for holding her. I move down to her womb and she makes a space for me between her legs, I lay there with my head on her belly listening.
I hear the beating blood and gurgling belly, breath staying slow, I hold her hips. and kiss her womb from the outside. I kiss her womb from the outside. I find I am at the edge of a small curly forest, I pray gently with a song at the borderline and kiss her there too. She tenses just a little and a pause, look to her eyes and see she does not want me further.
I slip out from her legs and lay down by her side.
The wide river is moving and the wintergreen is serenading us with her smell as our bodies movements bruise the small leaves. The sun has moved a little further across the sky, shadows are pulling longer now.
She puts her head to my chest and listens to the heart just below skin , bone and muscle.
She hears my breath and is riding up and down with my diaphragm movements. She slows me down until we are both inside the space between heartbeats. Encompassed in those melodies. We breathe again and see each others eyes. She kisses my heart from the outside and caresses my chest. I open my legs offering her space between them. She moves, lingering, one hand first on my face then on my heart, then on my solar plexus. Then her body is softly laying on mine, her head on my stomach. Listening. She laughs a little because the spaces inside of her don't exist inside of me, she says my secret caves are up in my heart, she heard them. She smiles and sighs a little, resting at the edges of my forest.
We beings
lay here, like this for a long time. Until the Sun is way low.
But we don't move. We just keep right on laying. Our eyes closing.
The wintergreen gives way to a bed of Jasmine vines way up in a tree. When we awake we look at each other and recognize our spirits.
She climbs onto the limb of a tree and sees way across the forest, to more forest and more forest, to mountains and more mountains.
She begins to transform, her body rippling, scales made of light, emerging from her back, her eyes glistening, her dreams swirling around her, fruits ripe for the picking, some still maturing , her legs start to dance as they form one long tail, four legs with claws follow not long after. She is glowing a vibrant green touched with sparks of grey. A Naga flies out from the trees and is off. Into the night to do what she does.
I lay on the Jasmine, inhale sweet sweet scents and dream my own dreams where I'm an Owl , all my feathers pale pink and deep navy blue. I leap up through the canopy and sweep down into the forest to do what I do.
Our spirits meet sometime before the Great Grandpa Sun is born again, to greet him with a song, to keep on exploring these earth bodies, to keep on singing to the forests, to keep on smelling and eating and drinking and washing, finding others to play with, to keep on thanking and laughing and moving time along with our movements.
The forensics sent into the forest to look for us didn't find diddlysquat because they hadn't looked deep enough into their own eyes.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 3:00 AM UTC