Sojourn at the hinterlands of a fog casket
awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep        to dream
within a dream                         the nightmare of a mother's fear

depression is so easy to slink in
so wary of all those palpable sins
like being yourself -

awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep      to dream
with a dream                           the nightmare of a mother's fear
where pink haired ladies
talk about my dissonance

within a dream about the nightmare of my mothers
self punishment -

for birthing me
questioning                if it was the right decision

if I          was born to suffer
this fate

so i wake                  in the land of dead people
who's limbs fall apart
as they're names are called out by the concierge

to my voice as whisper
to my courage bubbling underneath
a mother fearful of coming close
forgiveness is a blessing
and the tears flow

                       out of the eyes of a child onto the cheeks of a woman
who's life was molested by other peoples sanctions
a woman who stood tall for the voice of others    children and elders
who encouraged chance meetings to be themselves via magazine clippings
and a mother afraid to come close
and a child still living the actions of a ghost                 looming at her with wide eyed slanders of " you ****** up , you *******
you **** up at everything"

it's difficult to look               it's like watching someone be strung up
naked
tied to posts
and the spaces between their fingers sliced
their yoni sliced
their ******* sliced
their heart beating wide eyed screaming
silenced.

My mother
who birthed me
whom i respect
for all of her showings
no matter how ****** up

strung up
and the vision is blinding.
and we're both crying
but i don't tell her
because it's lunch time
and she's ****** up again.

my mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
we talk about *** , i'm on the verge of tears most the time
about not respecting yourself
being born with the consciousness of 7 dimensions
respecting yourself
some of my words come out in paradoxes that have yet to be resolved
i tell her how my aim is to **** in his mouth one day
she tells me i'm disgusting and we laugh at the ****** hanging up my nose
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
It's 30 degrees outside
We have to turn on the air con
occasionally there is applause
as we talk
about how the best way to make a contribution to this planet is to be yourself , she says she hopes she offered me that wisdom as a child
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
and say that it was mixed - be yourself but then smack ! Don't do that thing. It was confusing.
She says she wasn't conscious , she was confused
she couldn't do it now
like i don't eat meat
certain things fall away when you respect yourself.
My mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub

You are a
     Fox in a beard
            With morals and
Values some may fear
Due to your honest , straight
Nature,
              But I can see more
Than that .
           I can see the hurt
Aspects in your eyes, that
Make you
              That much kinder –
      For out of pain,
Those, who choose –
Can birth and
Form much
Richness of character
And bear more of the elusive soul - rarely seen without the ego garb - but in this case , is slowly taking off the costume to reveal the secrets within.

---------------


Stretched out like a green mountain lion –
A tickling of pride and mocked nonchalance dance side by side in your Eyes accompanied by
The slight fiendish grin
That overcomes your
Face when you
Know I can’t resist
You anymore

If i'm quite sure where to listen              the words exist perpetually

What once  little me                   sung gospels of
has sunk into the sea.

thoughts met with resistance
stagnate and form dis-ease

especially them reflex thoughts ,                given a
thought              turn out to be denial
that thoughts
can (be            let) pass
without marker or address               that a notion
can cross the endless ocean            of of my self-mind
without duress           or that opinions                 can
move right through.

laughing at myself
silencing my grief
as the ashes of my death filled childhood are dispersed into the breeze
so i can breathe                           a     non-smoke filled sigh of relief
laughing at myself
as the morbidity slips away along with the anxiousness of a root chakra
disturbed in growth
whilst my worries of enough       are quelled with enough                      on my plate
and beautiful places to sleep
laughing at myself
visions of my dreams cast far into the future are coming back at me thru
the freed up space that still smells a little of pain
but is dotted by ethereal rainbows like the room of a tibetan monk after the Rainbow Body 'phenonmanah' has taken place
and
i am laughing at myself
in no forced manner
as the lightness fills my being
a bountiful glow

slowly
i laugh at myself

If only words could speak !

At 15 we were women
And at 12 we were sexualized, scrutinized , afraid , wary , shameful .

Plain Sight is the best place to hide something,
What do you stand for?

We are made from the creative ****** force,
So don’t tell me that I must be dressed up like a pig after slaughter to experience
Sexuality….
I’m made from an ******.
I’m an ******’s repercussions…
And I won’t be told any different
No matter how “scary” you make *** sound
I’m pure ENERGY WALKING.
I’m a cosmic bliss wave flowing….
What do you stand for?
At 15 we were women , but we didn’t know what it was to respect our wombs for the stargates they are.
At 12 we were sexualized , scrutinized , afraid , wary , shameful of the natural blooming of this  cosmic force, sneaking looks at naked ladies on the internet
but we didn’t know how to respect that shaking energy that called out
so we hid it  , underneath our pillows.
Plain sight is the best place to hide something , and right there on the cover of The Sun or Daily Star is the most powerful force for change on this planet.
A woman…
And her ****** power –
If a woman can create a child from her own energy systems in 9 months
Then what do you think that power could do to a project or idea
Over .. say 5 years…?
What you stand for is where you invest your attention.
But for now we march on –
Because there are forces mightier than any human being
And they move despite all our frantic pride and jealousy ,
hatred and pain
they move in our heartbeats and in that solar flare , or the pulsar star on the other side of the universe
they move in the spaces dark energy
they move
crescendos rising
majestic beyond any king or queen
holy like you’ve never been privy to
the forces that move in the wild flowers breath
power the changes on our planet .

Balance is coming
Will you be in balance?

Until I reached 18
I felt like a product of my mother , which …
I suppose is true, but I spoke more of her than of me ,
I spoke more of she than of me
I was ashamed of my lack of accomplishment so tried to make up for the wisdom and worries I though I should have ,
I’m not sure where this mindset came from
but I know where it’s going
and that is away from me

but even away is to come
so how can anything ever be gone away ?
that’s the quandary that is solved with the realization
that transmutation is the only way to truly defeat / displace / remove something  
the sending away of something will only cause it’s eventual return

so come with me , shadow
let me feed you the waters you need to move through this way
I already see the brightness
glow and glimmer in your core
as you scream please help me
help me !
let me be something not for these people!
I cry
Out loud
But only in my mind

The mouth makes the shape but the sounds don’t come near,
For fear
of the other’s ears
Please I beg to myself
Please help me .
Deaf to my own callousness
And blind to my own blood
I bleed on the kitchen floor along with my mother’s art piece , bleeding out her story so she can move on.
I’m no longer bound by anything but the tides of this mind
And the calling from the bottomless heart ,
Also things like gravity and forces like the earth turning.

Waking up this morning felt like i’d already done so much wrong , the taunting voice i haven’t heard for a while was back with jibes of ” not good enough”.Still, the day moved by and the sun blazed most of the time away.  So we spend a few hours napping and wake up thinking it’s the morning again. Soon after a movie lunch i’m anxious , heightened to a level where i scroll and scroll through social media screens until i pull myself away and meditate. This time i am aware . I sit facing the west , asking for release , feeling and not running . Acknowledging and sending love with conscious intent of “let go” to the moments, “let go” the people whom those moments are attached to. I feel it out , like being birthed. Like being birthed there is painful slowness where the depth and intricacy of the moment are safeguarded by sturdy patience , slow my soul to a standstill …. Of breath and closed eyes - frankincense smoke and angel guide so close to my ear breaths whisper fallacies away and when all is still , there - then , the tears and drooling mouth where i don’t care for the vampire stealing some poor soul elsewhere nor the motion of the sun’s axis. Breathing , stretching , balance. A timeless viewpoint arriving back in the frame.  When all is ready the tree calls out for a conversation . The bed is filled with a love , whom i eye with new lenses each day , checking to see if i am seeing an image i desire or the majestic view of a wild solitary flame in the middle suburb. But , there he is. Even clearer than before. Take one hole at a time he told me once about a golfer. Take each 24 hours at a time. I become honorary American. I eat 2 smores and 3 deer grace us with their ethereal presence as the luminescent flare of final sunshine dip dives to dusk’s quintessential hue of deep ocean blue. Grandma has a hungry monster inside her as i eat the watermelon grown with pesticides in a house full of things. Tarot cards are up to 35. It’s easier to wake up here early , it’s like the day slides like melted butter off pancakes.

We pray to each other - the movement of all  , inside us is
honored , respected , cherished

we touch each others hearts and then we growl and move a hand to the neck and the other pulling gently on hair ,
expanding into a paradox's conclusion.

Living here , can't help but move*
sailing each course with the gifts of divine love anchoring
mixtures of light and dark.
                   focus
                                    Living here , can't help but move
         away from the moments of unrest , sculpting each moment of this day into beauty with my hands, thoughts and kisses.

Living here , can't help but move
Swirl like laughter round the tea cup of herbs
move into the space where it's a heartbeat
dust off the dust.
                                       Living here , can't help but move
It's a dawn that breaks ,  swallowed up by the mid day sun , here on this planet , it's like the sky is chewing very slowly
open , close.

Loving here means i do the same too.
open , close.
open , close.

Oh!  i !

Ooo! I !

Ahh... I!!!

Yes
i thought i knew it all and every time i think that
something comes along
and knocks me on the ***
and says "excuse me but ahem" .

So says self - selfish
soul so made of gluttony + misery
temper! So oblivion
so called
mystery so severe
i want only to shake out some memory or ignite
ignite my own soul

It ignites my soul to know there is so much to feel and so much time to do it, all of eternity sits on my lap and asks me for no more than my attention.

So i said to him “But can you make me *** and laugh at the same time though? , if you can … well i think i’d burst into flowers or something equally magical…”

he’s very close.

o , i may become a pink daisy

Like continents moving the skin off from over me , slowly..
deliberately           with great force on the rest of my being ,
each aspect of myself emerges anew
from the cocoon like first layer of childhood ,

i see myself spiral from the snakeskin left on the floor

a forge is in it’s place

of molten liquid energy running along my meridians.
Serenading every judgement of another character with love shine ,
fresh from the gardens of mine
       that bathe
by the sea air
in my root chakra layer... mingles ,
with the heart echo arrow
i send it with.  

Known; that the judgements of others are a side product of judgement of self.
Be it , through the eyes of a hopeful parent or a tired teacher , a pig or a nit.... an angel or specter himself -
None equal as true, to the eyes i see through
on the matter my being is composed of.

Integrating stillness in my vivacious bones , conscious movements flow , stabilizing the unknown into the known , materializing the un-materialized subconscious realm.

Moving through visible reality shifts and mind rifts , exploring

the astral world around me
whilst moving through physical boundaries of borders
Developing organs in my subtle body .

Manifesting my foundations for stamina.
What a joy it is to live from the heart.

Bring me your lips so i may nibble them ,
your eyes so i may know the depths of your love like a deep space observation , never cease to amaze my neurons with your subtle light.

Grant me your legs , wrapped around me at dawn .

Know that when we are together in the closest of moments i know that everything falls away to reveal the mystical dimensions , dreams aspire towards

The whispers kept between me and you ,
like the
Texture of grey beard hairs.
Become
cherished heart-breaths.

It is not always..... but i’m working on being quieter... there is so much noise that is not needed in this world.                      I figure if i listen more, not only
will i
allow space

for the world to happen ... but i allow space for myself to disperse-

My heart takes a leap
every time the cosmos
passes by my minds
eye

for the distance
one travels  
by miles ,
one can travel
1000000x greater
inwards.
The true journey is to the seat of a truthful heart
and beyond.

And so , striving to maintain the eagerness to live ,
became my prophet , the purpose
my constellation guiding me

  consolation to the wickedness imbibed in the air around me

each day i launch an attack on myself
to find the places i can evolve

Vitamin D from sunlight is first registered in your eyes, so if you wear sunglasses know that you deny your body of vital love.

I suppose my element is fire , the way the sun and i communicate with cloud patterns we play a game of precision.

I suppose my element is air , the way a breeze and i blow in tangent, wrapping ourselves in each others spiral patterns

LET the willows blow soft
inside me, by the lake yonder i sit
eager to stay

         Quiet refuge by the waters edge
sunlight , pouring yellow onto the planet
that breathes
                         It itches the
dream at my right hand side , it itches tapping at my mind , myself calling out to me , beckoning -
Let be the worries of the world , let be your destiny or
fate , let be your presumptions let be the tests of the universe , let be , all is ease , seeds now sprout new growth
               LET BE and all shall yield.

I just tasted a memory. BANG . slapped me on the tongue like a freight train out of a rip in space and time,

of garlic and peppercorn chicken with jasmine rice , a clear broth and fresh cucumbers, a wedge of lime and chrysanthemum tea.

oh .. my mouth  , how could you spring this on me .. when i'm so far from the motherland...

then they come thick and fast -

thai iced tea , thai iced coco , thai iced coffee , thai lime soda ..

papaya salad with sticky rice , Mango and coconut sticky rice , Roti with condensed milk and banana , coconut ice cream in a white bread bun with coconut sticky rice and peanuts, fresh fruits of rambutan and mangosteen for 30 baht a kilo......oh.....oh...who could forget the fried flat noodles , or the fried pastry's called explosion *****..... oh... oh my

heart..... my heart...... my stomach... calls out to you , oh glorious green curry with roti , morning congee with little pork ***** and soy sauce..... come to me my dumpling and noodles let me lick the chillies and sugar off my lips , may i taste once more

the conception of such marvelous treats , unfathomable to the western palate , little sweet corn and flour discs cooked on a special cooker over a real fire...dried squid sold on the back of a bicycle , fried garlic with sticky rice , a pink soup !

I just had a taste memory
****.

The intention of deeds need no intention at all. The drive, the force that powers the sun is the same force that powers the very actions that we take.
In all it's glory it asks for no reward, other than the privilege to be.

If it means for the next 3 days you do nothing but eat apple butter and pizza toast , then so be it. As long as it is you who is feeling this. Being guilt tripped be fear happens to us all. But recall to oneself that fear is
False Evidence Appearing Real…. that and 5 long breaths should clear any fog.
Do enjoy yourself….. life is not about pain only. Subjective  are the connotations of things like pain and fear , death and war. Do see them as rough materials to work with. There is too much ( and i’m not the too much police , believe me.. ) There is too much wonder in the cosmos for life to be about pain only.
I am a thought artist , an astral creator , a realm wonderer with purpose.
Dig deep and hug that fear , transmute it and in the process aid another being who is stuck , woman … do your good in all the nooks and crannies…. see how light it makes you feel , see how whole it makes you feel… see how centered it makes you!
Do trust.

forays into the unknown , into the magical , into the spherical
emitting pulsating rays from the astral body thrown out of the physical ****** is release , harmony , purification

wolf lips
teeth to hips hips to mouth

ice cream so good it makes you wanna **** people
ice cream so velvety you wanna make sweet sweet love to it

sunshine so melty wispy curling clouds whip across the sky,
twist like a message.
Mad libs , learning meaning , watching people , people watching us...we .. watch each other from behind the scenes cough * screens... *cough
Sunset picnic , good night sun we call !
pasta and a nutmeg chocolate , dulche de leche milkshake.

We speak of plans. We speak of future , when i have been living by the day. Dripping meager drops of the future from my tongue , she slugs it forth like a dam burst.  We speak of her frustration with the siblings. We speak of news on Yai and uncle. Grandma has had another operation , all my books and room decorations are at her house now , she’s offering me a job. Uncle is taking his epilepsy pills now, i am wary - pills can mess you up.  Attempting to stay sober. Facing himself. She cried  - A conversation with the mother , long distance mothers day , tears soak her cheeks as she see’s me for the first time since January. Perhaps a self imposed exile. The distance has done us good. I was expecting stress from this conversation but the familial energy sustained more peace. Granted..she is still in the throws of her huge landing. So some things are still up in the air. But i...i see myself now. It was entanglement , where i could not tell where she began and i stopped. Unpacking the karma i arrived with.

~~*

moon beam slows down time
skips the clouds into another dimension - thrown back with a jolt to earthspace
a mystic ballet , seamless motions pivot , friendly air smells like summer and new things growing -
hidden behind a slight veil of purple mist , moon draws her magnificence,
etched onto the passing cumulus clouds -
carp fish , wild boar running through the woods
smiley face mid wink and tongue stuck out.  
swift wind accompaniment
dew point reached
light cardigan weather cardigan present from the cosmos
overpriced chips , parks with no soul , bars laying music to the concrete , way too loud ,

stretching with bare legs and grey knee high socks against the chilly air on top of the dust bowl dog park
pitter patter dreaming of blowing gas stations up and skipping away on cctv cameras leading to us as the perpetrators.

parents try to give us what they didn’t have .... balancing out the imbalance in themselves
being parented is somewhat selfish
they -
shaped by the lack of fathers or the abusive mother
generations imbibe the past in transmitted transmuted  format

only knowing the extremes , the extremes they give
but we

not quite midnight , not quite morning wondering stars , ingest , test and leave what we do not need , with enough guts to get out there and do our own thing..... move as we feel compelled to move , grab the life we have been gifted and play !
play damit.
PLAY.

that is what my mother sometimes does not see too, the theatre production stage we are on.

Enough guts , to play this play for all it’s worth ,

we’re rewarded with each other to fall asleep to.

Don’t get me wrong , doesn’t mean we don’t take it serious.. picking up trash in the park , way after dark.

The game is to ward off thoughts of too heavy thinking
lightness moves.

I’m an apricot , ripe on the tree - ready for picking
I am a cherry , offering to be popped
3 tequila shots or the equivalent of a blurred memory inside me
my heart is bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through
i am bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through

i bleed for 4 days , 5 days.
i am amazed that he pulled out. i find that incredible -
as if a man is wild in the act of mergence and unable to control himself ,

ideas of male/female roles imprinted on me
from parents , **** and public school  - where girls are made into women
at 13 ,
we discuss when we will “lose our virginity” i say 15 if i’m ready (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

i should expect him to *** inside me , because i am the subservient woman and he should do as he pleases
i think it magical his heightened awareness -
i see his majestic beauty on his well formed muscles
and the hotel room his family owns , or the kick *** motorbike he drives and the supply of beachfront joints.


and still it is now 1 year later that i am in pain.


a fire on my heart and a sick feeling in my stomach
i am sick because i swallowed the lies and hated myself , i truly believed i was worth that level of respect. the fire burns swiftly in my heart because i am enraged and sorrowful at my ignorance. I am partly ashamed at my lack of empathy
for myself and partly in awe at my magnificence.


We look at virginity as pure , unsoiled.

Pure. Unsoiled.
****. Subconsciously telling our mothers , sisters , aunties and grandma’s that they are ***** for exercising their basic ****** function. Shaming us for feeling pleasure.....the connotations are different for brothers , fathers , uncles and grandpas. A pat of well done on the back , you are now a “man”.............well .. i’ll be ******..... it amazes me how these sly , low blows are hidden right in plain sight.

well fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk that !

I know i love myself now
with the respect i would rain down upon any other fellow being .

i wish : for them and me to be able to love without fear, disgust and shame.
i wish to allow my energy from that moment to feed others who need help along their path of self-love.

Now my cosmic womb is treated with respect and reverence
enjoying myself freely.

Oh but , i will say thank you , and a sensi bow , for the lesson learnt.

Never again will i put others on a pedestal they have not earnt.
Especially if it has anything to do with my *****.

i saw pink wildflowers appear in your eyes and a nebula display of star birth awash your iris
unleashed in your principle,
confusion vigil
wrestle to *** - just like christmas

Beg
sometimes
please
dripped pleasure
a game of chess
pieces, our bodies
board, the cosmos

River soft merging
with adored gentle
roughness, seductive
riffs abound

watching as my mother is dragged up the stairs
by her arms and hair

I get pushed down them for my efforts to try and stop him,
she is shouting screams into the wall -

they go into the bathroom ,
on the other side of the locked door, my blood runs cold.
next to me my siblings and aunt cry.

only screams and whimpers escape under the crack in the door
words of : “please stop”
“help”

      “no - you are hurting me”

he said “ i just wanna talk to you” . then my memory stops until the police are inside the house

Question them both. My mother in the kitchen  -
he is .. i don’t remember , it doesn’t matter....
i sit on the stairs that he painted white not that long ago , where my friends and i had stuck mirrors on each step , making the stairs look like they are floating.. kinda... i do not feel.

The cops stick around for less than 20 mins , arrest my step-dad.
As they take him away , i run upstairs watch from the window. It is a grey london day , they duck his head into the car and drive.

i do not feel.
the downstairs bathroom with stone + aqua tiles , collage of posters , family photos , newspaper clippings, postcards and play pamphlets become’s my hole in the wall for the next few hours. i cry. it is rain, matching the growing darkness outside.
i feel bad for letting the police take him away without saying anything.
i do not feel.

the shouting arguments
heard whilst i try to fall asleep , night
after night had been hiding the extent of unhappiness
of sadness expressed as anger in them both. At the time i could only smell fear
on their breath.
The next time there would be a yellow green bruise on her face and
screams at 4am.

11 year old me
has few memories of home.

Sweat coats us both

as animal sounds emerge

inside each others ears.

kiss after kiss falls onto my lips and shoulder , neck and lips , lips and cheeks , cheeks and chest.

hungry , we dine on one other.
background music , is the lily pad fountain and our outward reaching vibrations.
we are wolves who have not eaten for weeks
we devour each other
breaking down constructs of what can and can not be , we waiver the space-time laws and escape to the cloud castles where a lightning storm rains down golden pink hues of sunrise, shaded by the brilliant blue of a new dawn .... illuminating us from within.

Whenever we gently land onto Earth  , oh so crystalline ,
we are coated with serenity.

                                                      ­~

My mind meanders to how this may be...?
....... that love would so shyly creep up on me , to break on me like a thunderstorm finally filling the humid air with heavy, anticipated raindrops.

   I eagerly tell my 12 year old self that she doesn't need to worry....
Disney is a fraud and what is passion without strength and stamina?

Fruition of a growing closer that is only achieved with patience , time  a willingness to overcome the fears of oneself
so the other may see you, in your already perfect brilliance
as you come to terms with your own magnificence,

Tin ,
straw ,
flesh.

mineral ,
plant ,
animal.

beings - creating - because that is what they like to do,

know the pact
that one makes
  creation = destruction.

The choosing...
upgrading,
aware,
to the magnificence of their power , yet grounded enough to not be lured ,
..................................bye said ego. Hello said Ego.

Everything we do now effects the next 7 generations ,
choose wisely.
With wisdom comes great responsibility
if one chooses
to uses

their wisdom wisely.

Music in thai , words rein and rain from my unassuming lips, so rarely do i sing in my mother tongue, sounds like honey to me.
poet am i , i can not write nor read the sounds fully, yet sing with such ease :)


Falling into the cloud river once again , although a little more windy i would say.
Carved with ravines and canyons ,
wind and earth meeting together by the water.
true trickster smiles wink in the fading daylight.

apple butter is my jam.
Fir tree
seeking rain shelter ,

edit photo , write poem , draw or paint  every day . Ritual meditation . Doing what creates love,

beings - creating - because that is what they like to do,

mineral ,
plant ,
animal

Tin ,
straw ,
flesh.

holding back , holding in the worried words.
imaginary tension of the brain.

What is the worst thing that can happen , that i can not deal with.



Turn this leaf .

Spring takes no prisoners, expansion is implosion - breath - explosion.

I WISH IHAD THE WORDS TO BE SO ELOQUENT AND EXPLIN HOW I AM
IN CONCISE MANNER

WHO IS SO IMPORTANT THAT I MUST BE ME

WHERE DOES THIS PATH LEAD?

WHY MUST THERE BE A MAZE?

WHAT?

Hold onto your heart.

It’s the space.
Like a breath of fresh air , i stumbled across him in the most unheard of place.

This man with wild hair and wilder ideas , i think i saw several solar systems go up in flames at the whip crack precision of his words.
There is magic in in eyes , and sensi bows in his wisdom , ancient reverberations play with his thoughts.

Sometimes i forget who he is and get anxious that he’ll think , this or that about me -
but then i recall and fall into a comfortable place between
breakfast and lunch.

we need only rocks and butternut squash
daylight mellowtime
cold wind change snap brisk
  fog mouth.

   The cities ******* cling to the shoreline
lake of ontario.
      share tea , share kiss
peace yum day break activity
meditation on stillness
stones stacked seamless .
    
   Before a powerful night , of music sung with joy in note,
friend snuggles -
      smoke lips -       crying - mercy
vision ascension.
                Body pulsating in your hand.

   Pancake quinoa breakfast , maple syrup hotchocolate .

Later to lentil soup with french bread and brie cheese , grapes  
Reading park time medicine cards
      Shaman training , initiating 46 yr old lady to her first joint under the swell of almost full moon gleam.
i dance the whirling dervish round the baseball pitch , extend my legs in ballet-tai-chi whirl. Find my footing in
the lightning flash sky
   nestle and snuggle more with friends.

To midnight snack of orange , ginger zest cookies with sunshine and peace printed on , peppermint tea and
a slight fondling shower.

     New music runabout
talkin bout american deeds ,our own self , our progression and human dissociation from animal instinct
    
Be love.

POWER in HEARTBEATS.

Follow the beat through.

When i learnt tennis , my point to work on was follow through ,
now
i see ..... played out in my life.
The wonderment of a follow through.

Oh what pleasure , to meet the kindred gatekeepers, with raspberry chocolate on a dream beach , with mirage water..... way out , shifting lake light blue to deep oceanic aqua.

Sand made out crystal , old glaciers roamed here , leaving in their wake ice pathway earth carvings that are now lakes.
The shield is up north , pure crystal. Unlike Bali beaches , with miniature coral atoms in the sand mix.

We sit and laugh , a hollyhawk , Rainbow deer , Earth tree mountain lion and I a Sky Albatross , humming the sound of ancient code into Dr Who time dreams.
Where we flow and merger - align each other - heal , give , beckon to ourselves to come forth , higher self crystalize!!

We all touch differently,

                     arriving at situations step ,

           dance -reaction to the current atmosphere, we've all jumped. We've all landed. We've all felt
the other side of being human.
Careful not to time travel too much  , then we get stuck in the loop of always moving to nowhere.... Land AHOY!

We , i can feel , are all in the throws of a well navigated land - the Hawk's message from 2 and a half weeks ago -
Received.

The corners are no longer so sharp , the waves no longer as fearful , we fellow beings stand at the entrances end showing the way through to eternity.

Transitions still in progress, nearing completion. 22nd of April - a date to watch. 1 year traveling. Time to reap those seeds!
Yippiee!

devilish
treason,
personification
nonsensical reason -
flash forward to now
see they had an essence of the
Season.
A world so Dark.
Light is
devilish
treason
personification
without much reason.
Actions are one's own
let their repercussions flow

It would seem the world has quietly fit the puzzle pieces into place over night ,
Like wet washing , crispy and dry from the radiators humming warmth , a satisfactory feeling , a job well done.
There is much beauty to be found on this journey home , moments where the heart is plummeting at a million miles a second , descending from the upper troposphere hurtling down , through clouds whipped up by a storm of ages – waiting for the conclusion – perpetual motion catches me
Elegant design,
Crooked lines make curves,      
Spitting at the throat, holding those words,  
  vision of confusion eats up at the temple of love , bodies are walking shrines.

******* karma on sticky fingers.

Creation can be a dangerous game ,
the words are not just words , nor the pictures measly brush stroke paintings

creation magic tricks
transmutation
translucent transfiguration from thought realm to
physical plane -


eat from the palm of third eye mind
lick the plates of your halo