(via phatphilosophers)

(via phatphilosophers)

(via phatphilosophers)
jeffrey-lebowski:

Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
jeffrey-lebowski:
Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
(via phatphilosophers)
“
These are the days that must happen to you.
Walt Whitman, from Leaves Of Grass (via violentwavesofemotion)
(via phatphilosophers)
18 HOURS AGO / LARMOYANTE
axiatonal:

Canola Flowers Field, China
axiatonal:
Canola Flowers Field, China
(via awaveofbliss)

(via awaveofbliss)

whatisadvertising:
What would modern technology and social networks look like if they were vintage ads
This is a post gathered Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Skype, iMac, Nintendo Wii and Sony Playstation as if they were vintage ads.
(via thebronxisburning)
aplacetofindlife:

Someone Should Start Laughing
I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you?  I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!- Hafiz
aplacetofindlife:
Someone Should Start Laughing

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!

- Hafiz
(via cosmic-rebirth)

meditationsinwonderland:
Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, We Should All Be Feminists
How could I not reblog this?
(Source: bakongo)
1 day ago – 234,004 notes

artismyempire:
gentledom:
A wonderful analogy.
What I shall do today.
(Source: boyqueen, via thebronxisburning)
1 day ago – 30,054 notes

(Source: maryhadalittleblunt, via awaveofbliss)
1 week ago – 81 notes
beachsloth:

SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
beachsloth:
SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
(via bluishtigers)
1 week ago – 74 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
1 week ago – 78 notes
maymonsturr:

My mantra.
maymonsturr:
My mantra.
(via cosmic-rebirth)
1 week ago – 568 notes
foxxxynegrodamus:

***
foxxxynegrodamus:
***
(Source: lnpfeed, via awaveofbliss)
1 week ago – 1,635 notes
cosmic-rebirth:

Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
cosmic-rebirth:
Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
(Source: cookiecarnival)
2 weeks ago – 22,305 notes
“The point is not to pay back kindness but to pass it on.”
– Julia Alvarez (via cosmic-rebirth)
(Source: amandaonwriting, via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 275 notes

(Source: diawf, via awaveofbliss)
2 weeks ago – 2,799 notes
bl4ckhippie:

Fly.
bl4ckhippie:
Fly.
(Source: rootsrukkus, via awaveofbliss)
2 weeks ago – 750 notes

(Source: lizzlizzcomics, via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 110,456 notes
meditationsinwonderland:

ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
meditationsinwonderland:
ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
(Source: vegan-hippie)
2 weeks ago – 139,177 notes

(Source: jrich103, via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 4,848 notes

pleoros:
Helminadia Ranford - Guilin,China
(via hungryforworld)
2 weeks ago – 329 notes
designgather:

Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
designgather:
Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
(via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 286 notes
miguu:
don’t be afraid.
lean into your genius.
let your own brilliance support you.
you are something
we have all been waiting to know.
please.
(via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 339 notes

odditiesoflife:
Amazing Jabuticaba Tree
This is an incredible tree that bears its fruit directly on the main trunks and branches of the plant, lending a distinctive appearance to the fruiting tree. The jabuticaba (Plinia cauliflora) is a fruit-bearing tree native to Minas Gerais and São Paulo in southeastern Brazil. Otherwise known as the Brazilian Grape Tree, the jabuticaba is grown for its purplish-black, white-pulped fruits. They can be eaten raw or be used to make jellies and drinks, including juice and wine.
They are wonderful trees to have and are fairly adaptable to most environments but they grow extremely slow. Jabuticaba flowers are white and grow directly from its trunk, just like its fruit. The tree may flower and fruit only once or twice a year, but when continuously irrigated, it flowers frequently and fresh fruit can be available year round in tropical regions.
Common in Brazilian markets, jabuticabas are largely eaten fresh; their popularity has been likened to that of grapes in the US. Due to its extremely short shelf-life, fresh jabuticaba fruit is very rare in markets outside of areas of cultivation. So if you are ever in Brazil, be sure to try the incredibly tasty fruit called jabuticaba.
source 1, 2
(via hungryforworld)
2 weeks ago – 1,462 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
2 weeks ago – 118 notes

(Source: rorycwhatsyourthesis, via samsaranmusing)
2 weeks ago – 130,113 notes
oecologia:

Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
oecologia:
Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
(via samsaranmusing)

burningveins:
multicolors:
benskid:
Know where you stand.
Wow
This is kinda creepy..
(via hungryforworld)
“
Do not think you will necessarily be aware of your own enlightenment.
Zen Master Dogen - (1200- 1253) AD (via samsaranmusing)
2 WEEKS AGO
101fuymemes:

COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
101fuymemes:
COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
(via roslynoberholtzerbddd)

itscolossal:
Planetary Structural Layer Cakes Designed by Cakecrumbs
“
Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.
Alan Cohen (via raeraenjma)
(via awaveofbliss)
4 WEEKS AGO / THE-HEALING-NEST
so apt
so apt
(via awaveofbliss)

(via awaveofbliss)
treewellie:

"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
treewellie:
"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
definitelydope:

BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
definitelydope:
BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
(via awaveofbliss)

Birth by Alex Grey
Birth by Alex Grey
(via receptive)

(via bluishtigers)

(via awaveofbliss)
“
There is a time and place for decaf coffee. Never and in the trash.
(via 17yr)
(via hungryforworld)
1 MONTH AGO / MIDWESTRAISEDMIDWESTLIVING
surreelust:

Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
surreelust:
Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
(via cosmic-rebirth)
“
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul,
of the soul.
Rumi, from Who Am I?   (via bluishtigers)
(via bluishtigers)
1 MONTH AGO / VIOLENTWAVESOFEMOTION
xpudding:

xpudding:
(via cosmic-rebirth)

(via thebronxisburning)

(via cosmic-rebirth)
treewellie:

La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance
treewellie:
La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance

itscolossal:
Mirror City: A Kaleidoscopic Timelapse of Chicago, San Francisco, San Diego, Vegas and L.A. [VIDEO]

(via cosmic-rebirth)

awkwardsituationist:
gmb akash documents the 350 kilometre journey from dhaka to sylhet, bangladesh made by those who, unable to afford the price of a ticket or find room to ride inside, risk death by traveling atop and between train cars
(via suntochukwu)
purpleaggregates:

White Tara The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune When I see the signs of untimely death, May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara; And, having destroyed the Lord of Death, May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body. OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
purpleaggregates:
White Tara
The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune

When I see the signs of untimely death,
May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara;
And, having destroyed the Lord of Death,
May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body.

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA
OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
(via dancingdakini)

(via guerrillatech)
hungryforworld:

Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.
hungryforworld:
Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.

(via awaveofbliss)

(via cosmic-rebirth)
“
Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently. Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world.
Eckhart Tolle (via samsaranmusing)
(via suntochukwu)
1 MONTH AGO / SAMSARANMUSING
malformalady:

The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
malformalady:
The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
(via deeperthansoul)
polaroidsf:

Welcome to Eden
polaroidsf:
Welcome to Eden

(via bouddra)
“
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for
your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

Sailing in a dhow at sunset after snorkeling off Mafia island, Tanzania.
'
SPILLAGE
The tree’s don’t sleep at night
they photosynthesize , by moonlight.
Leaves drink in the cool wise light
And give off dreams of softly fading starlight

Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl
A single blossom falls at new moon
Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon
Ever noticed? The very word has the circle
Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.

Geko’s slip off old skins
And the croaking frog adds to the din
As thunder rolls in
Triggering the dogs bark
Guardian of the stark naked couple
Asleep in their parallel worlds
Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting
Not the natural kind either
But a shameless copy of pure sunlight
That emenates when their bodies collide
On the material plane.

Astral visions lead the way to headquarters
The address? Fax? Phone number?
I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,
Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation
Then you would already know, you are already there
Doors are open , for those who care to try
No lock on this baby ,
Ain’t no safe to play safe
We bask in our humble glory
Under the shores on undulating tides
Rhythmic pulsations
no where to hide
The emanations come from within,
Without , a shadow of a doubt

There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades
Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff
Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff
But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust
Even though they already stock that kinda stuff
Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1
Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****
In the cake
And we found the frog in the salad,
At least their habitat is intact
Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?

Ok , I’ll change tact
Change of pace.
No , no I will not join the Human Race
Running to where? Why all the running?
From what? To where? From whom , to whom it seems like we run straight to our tombs, without a second glance at perhaps the chance that legs can walk…
Wanna know where I’d rather be?

I want to be on a motorbike heading 70 miles an hour down empty roads
An island paradise , holding the hips of my dearest
To arrive at another home ,
where our friends relax to the forlorne strums of the blues
Tripping on love we depart ,
not without slightly heavy hearts
Peace , friends we’ll see you anon.

Pull into the golden arches , I tell myself ‘I can’t kiss those lips now they’ve touched that burger’
then I remember you’ve been working all day
before you came out to play , I wasn’t up for a dance I was too entranced in my own madness
But. Always the **** , walk up those stairs for me, softly you moan.
I agree in a semi tone. Secrets are meant to be shared,
we quietly told each other of love in the parking lot at 4 am. The pain in your eyes still wakes me up in the middle of thunderstorms.

Awoken to sorrows from the motherland, monsters creep to the door,
peep in the keyhole.
Oh,
I forget,
your door is activated by credit card numbers that spiral from lips of z-list celebrities.
So we’ll waste away the morning in each other arms,
you watch me as I dress. No underwear no less. Put on your bra properly, suddenly you get kinda frosty.
Not far from where we sat to have a Japanese lunch , pretty close to where I walked to meet you for tea , where you held my feet and handed me a phone I left in your brothers car.
Well that’s where we have breakfast coffee and papaya whilst tourists ogle at the dog guard.
Deaf to our calls , luxuriously taking his time. He didn’t find the secret beach either.
Although the sea was good for a float, and to hear the space journey’s musical manifestation
at every crash of every wave, the magnetic pull playing her crooked beat as she bypasses our feet.
Then, there are two nights with two Amsterdam gals , one smoked lucky strikes and had scars across her wrists , the other photographed trees for a living.
Both blonde , both fair , both with their own flair.

Expect the unexpected , beach raves full of people I don’t really want to be with , so we get tequila shots instead
and stand outside a shop selling knock off clothes when the bar needs to shut.

She took a break to the bathroom , we finally let out the kisses we’d been holding in all night,  
until she got back.

Who said we couldn’t control ourselves? Although to be fair, I could feel you reaching for me wayyy back.

Why should we be selfish? Why shouldn’t we? I still went home with you that night, there really was no two ways about it.
I had *** with you, slightly drunken ***, that was by no means gentle, by no means candle lit , by no means rose petals laid out on the bed, infact , if my memory holds true, there were no flowers apart from the ones on my dress.
I’d say you were lucky , but then I cried at home.
So much pent up emotion in that one act.
Enough to propel us in into another night and untold eons beyond, I’m skipping ahead now,
Where we drank red wine on the shoreline , I used the staff bathroom and noticed all the things that could be improved – seemed like work was wearing off on me.
Still, the best part was yet to come, yeah the *** was fun but nothing compared to the games we played. Dress up and salsa ,
mysterious temples
natures tickles leading to giggles at the foolish endevours of two ***** humans., smoke a spliff , enough to unwind the mind to a new point of time. A flash of something I’ve never seen before, nor have yet to be graced with again.
I guess that was divine. Well, wouldn’t you say….
It was about time.

So , am I still talking about the shops?
Or who wore what with kate moss?
No disrespect
she’s adept at her art but i don’t wanna read about boring old farts
Lets hear about the underground collective of conscious minds who are rewinding the clock , who won’t stop ,
warriors.

Well quite frankly

How long have we sat , year after year to be told the same **** and bull story.. my ears, my ears! MY EARS!!! They yearn for the sweet serenade of the truth

behind the crumbling arcade of rigged lottery tickets and games of black jack where the house always wins.
Fortunately we’ve been coming since we were five , we know the cards without seeing the faces, we hold all the jacks and aces, we’ve got time on our side

So…that’s why they are running , finding places to hide.

We’d only be stealing from the house to give to the houseless…
With the tools the house gifted to us…doesn’t it seem ironic?

I laughed until I cried the day I discovered the universe had a sense of humor. A dark , ironic , sarcastic tone that involves  a major chord. Maybe a G or a D.

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.

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

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 *****.

Afternoon light cascades onto ocean skin ,
momentarily turning the water a fine gold shimmer -
light dances merrily , shifting as the plane turns southwards - Equator barrier broken

Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere !

Cloud islands mirror
ground islands .

Puff ***** create architectural feats not known to humanity.  
Flowing with the wind , creating substance out of thin air
the ultimate magicians trick ,
Above , thin wisps of stratus clouds brushstrokes seamless onto sky glaringly iridescent and soft all at once.....hey look! ..... way out in the distance , towering cumulus on their way to becoming cumulonimbus thunderstorms , steady growth of stacks even out when a cold air bank has been reached....the sky writes love letters to the earth

in his cloud postcard snapshots , yet - it is a serenade from them both

Earth offers the waters , the dust needed for the molecules to bind together -  sky transmutes them in his belly - with shifting winds and earth curvature the color palate spectrum .

the offspring , playing in between two worlds
belonging to no one arriving and departing , shape shifters

whole landscapes whirling in amongst themselves , remain unseen,  save for the few souls in tin machines hurtling along in the presence of natures finest high sky views.

Azure crisscrossed with opaque whites and rapidly turning dusk eggplant purples , wild and free form mingle with voluptuous orange streams of liquid light , hiding in the shadows the ‘day’ comes to an end ...

Does natures delicate hands sculpt the static water molecules knowing that there is beauty there ,


i have yet to fathom how such a gracious glory goes un noticed by many ,

luckily , for us , as we destroy every other aspect of earths eco system - the bold sky still remains ,

In the city doldrums and slums high rises
or slums on ground
or mansion view

the sky still bears dow the art works of sunset and rise ,
of cloud shifters and shapers , movers and shakers
still offers a connection to natures heart to remind us , of the magnificence that is our world. That is our home,

although - i have been told - under the surface or in this case , above the surface , here too has been attacked , pumping deadly toxic fumes into water ways
and lung ways

knowing all the whilst that this will do more harm than good

and here is where i , still struggle - i’m writing this on the plane -

a carbon dioxide emitting , fossil fuel guzzling , corporate ******* of a business .

but i need to get places , and go long distances in the shortest amount of time possible ..

crossed over to the island of found dreams.

there is no way to know how to get there without the means
and the schemes and the dreams

slit their throats and pull out the teeth for good luck -
run boy , run ,

slip into the otters skin and don't you dare look back
watch out for the sontaran hive ,

it's a nest.
up on the cherry hill tree
we find only the

stop , he borders the patrols

it's not the edge , it's not the time - we've got many moons to go but we need to **** well learn how to fly

this is the date to mark in your books ,
but summers last drop of flesh has been drunk and the slips become stumbles and the stumbles become falls and the fall is upon us,

down is up - up is up.
once more. stay feet on the ground , hover only a little -

tell the weak from the weeds .

much difference in shorn sleeves.

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

Walk with legs that do not buckle ,
not anymore.

Can you stand now ?  
Can you stand on two feet , falling through the space between rest stops ,
pavements eating footsteps up , vibrations miss the point...
......that earth already has a floor !
Can you stand now?

Walk with legs that do not buckle.

With loving hands , i float a paper boat down the stream.
Folded from a sheet of thin lined a4 ,
covered in my frustration, in my self hate , in my wishful thinking of stories never come true , smothered in my silent sighs , etched with the tear stained wisdom soaked tale of hearts growing.

Melded together , ******* in past karma , future favors..... we grew ,

in a dance , letting go of hands then drifting , as if we were floating in space , spiraling far from each other , our minds a better solace then those around us.
Sometimes it would spill over , bubble into a brew around my feet , embarrass me with my heart all too feeling. A bad taste lolls on my tongue , from words i wish i had spoken , fear whispering things into my ears, noises of bad deeds imaginary.

I'm not supposed to tell you that someone helped heal me , much more than any others...
I'm supposed to have done it all myself.
But he stays

he stays, after seeing aspects i could barely show to myself they rung with such hollow heartfelt heartlessness.
Misguided identity fraud , is the name of this game.


I've offered plenty of times
"leave when you need to.... i know i can be too much"

shhh he says.
With loving hands , where all experience still  sits engraved in skin,
i'll tell you a secret,
the boat never floats away.
But joins all the others , bunched up
on a strand of DNA.

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
****.

World turns slowly I am filled
40,000ft deep in the Cosmic Ocean
Puffed grey islands in a sea of mist
Pervading the awareness of Earth moving in a curling fashion, ancient bones creak slowly as the sun disappears from view

Even when human beings try to run or hide, create far flung ways of being away from their nature
A single star appears and a trio of lights blink on at the ground
unison movement
like a long laugh echoing along the circumference of our humanness
we return to our universal nature despite.

Butterscotch Dark Chocolate

Infused with rose quartz

dragonfly transfiguration elixer

Respect
for the mother and fathers who build this playground for us to roam ,
respect for the floating flowers sweet seed sprouting into blossoms tree
respect for the love of self - selflessly
respect for the helpers helplessly
respect for the boundaries

rises climatic waves crash onto soft shore
breakfast on the patio
what could one ask for more
then a wake up call without using a phone

last night's revelries spill over into today's serenity
sacred ground
sacred sounds
early bird gets the worm they say

share the love
spread the love , doctors healers
love knows no bounds
but seeks to reach each tip of wing in illuminated golden heart seen on first meeting
glows the fireflies
who light up the night time so bright
nor the wonderlusting princesses moving in her own skin with so much filling to the brim
overspilling with kisses and loves
spilt beers and american dreams turn to dust on the desert plains
and the silken haze hangs low across the city
bike riding race styling high flying
we already die to live to give
we already sing to the silent tunes of water droplets
and bird calls
tree's sigh in daylight delight and fight no one,  not even the night for ...


the tree's photosynthesise by moonlight
leaves drink in the cool wise light and give off dreams of softly fading starlight
and laughing at Jamican tour guides....*exucse me while i light my spliff....har har har har.....and over here is the kitchen...

i-
swallowed a bunch of love seeds
and they grew into a few different shapes
i -
knew not what was what or how was how
i-
tended a few and the rest fell apart
i-
shared the bounty
trying to spread the blossoms that fell
i-
learnt again
that not everyone likes the smell of flowers
but perhaps
noticed
they
needed them the most
i-
don't mind playing the fool
for learned truths are not easy to come by
and
i-
sunk the battleship
in favor of having an artificial coral reef
so that
i-
can whisper secrets to those who don't mind stopping to smell the underwater daises
.

Heavy metal never really called my name
What have we come from?
Where are we goin?
Information at fingertips
helios
sunshine

moonshine
chromeshine


writing , for writings sake
No prescription - the session is free

for the
meaning to fit the key of the lock of knowledge and wisdoms fruit
gems
are the segments of an orange.

Who knows -
maybe this is best
the fleeting but perpetual motion
vibrant motions.

to whom do these shirts and clothes am i wearing belong?

=

A beige coat , with the old mans jumper.
and the best friends tshirt cut at the ends with whales on them
just riding the waves
in the floating oceans shores
drifting kind sifting but with intentional grace
slow
or fast.
Horns blast.

=

open

=

ding . ding . ding.
level unlocked !!!!!

=
boom ,, de la bot

robotics.

Ghosts in Machines....

ha,
ha
.

the cosmos exudes from between our toes
trails of nebula  and spiral arm galaxies
burden the floor with their scented residue
of caramel complexion on mint cream -

expectations fall to the wayside
as the wayside falls to expectations

trust in the infallible,
if the world ( is to me )
saved from the virtuous vindication's of a pacifier society
run to the nearest tree and sway with the blustering breeze !


for the cosmos exudes between our toes
trails of nebula and spiral arm galaxies litter the floor

tell me a tale of who i am ,
yet i know i have not felt myself in my fullness.

for i was born before the cosmos could take her first steps
or the sparkling sun stars could take their first light
i am neither the mountain nor the valley in depth
but within both i am sure to reside ~

out of my womb cascades a waterfall of pixie dust to the glee of several a man .

yet i always had wondered why none stuck around to hear from the well versed band.

I was quite sure the depths that i knew how to love
would create a whirlwind of sorts  
enhanced by the glow of a dark purple blue rose , i’m not quite the type for rose quartz

to spend my love ***** nilly , a silly endeavor indeed
not all can handle the burn as i am

Light Sky ,

a fire filled sky ,

i am the sunrise dripping from the heavens in mellow tones of yellow and pink , i am the solar eclipse, sacred geometry in motion
and by association
i am the high tide moon shine get you drunk off one look sunset in the desert , dark purple blue rose kinda lady.

and you ,

my earth breeze , can whistle up a tune to jam with me , like no one would ever believe..


The cosmos that exudes between our toes
stacked layer upon layer
like a pancake tower
are the places we go to when the world
closes it’s eyes.

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?

time runs backwards
what is fast is deemed slow i motion situs
mon river flow
out of notion soul
and into the empty pools
so shalt the water rise
deserts no more
but ponds o hexagonal 5 pouted stars
as universes collide
other must die
there is no choice but freedoms reins
ring those bells
the chichi tolls
on sacred soil they were built
and energetic pathways meet at meeting points no less
are the beggars than the high class hookers ( thieves)
smokes
from the cattiplliers lips are but clouds on distant horizons
jasmine juice
electronic sitar
to the waning moon glow
dip
hose
MUTHfuckin sails mate
where is the ***? in my tummy tum tum
note please:


he french resistance

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.

Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair.
Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London.
I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood,
Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots
Our real crime? Being too young.

Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room
Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls.
Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk
All these names we go by , yet still human we stand

Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks
Building nests on church domes and castle walls
Monuments to remind the future
Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere"

From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic
Brooklyn rises
The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me
How were the buses so different ?
London's told you where you were
New York's Made you suss it out for yourself
In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling
Child ,
Who will you become ?
Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles
Rest easy ,
This world Ain't so harsh

I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles
Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar
I deal in the order of paradoxes
Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle
Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air ,
no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night

I used to be afraid of the dark ,
Now i make love with it.

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.

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.

Dearest Victoria ,

you enquired so, we have:

Listing the problems from her front teeth to the back molars, Winston sat with her back to the mirror

She had bad eyesight so couldn’t really see the contours of her face but was comforted by the fact that there was another person in the room ,

Down stairs Q was making cakes ,

the outfit she wore had enough diamonds to drown a drag queen , some ended up in the cake , along with the usual ingredients : ***** , fluff from under the stairs , a pinch of cremation dust from her Pa’s last fake funeral , the end of a shoelace that had begun to fray and very good quality butter Hard to find in these parts, Most the butter was mixed in with genetically modified jaguar pelt,

modified to grow their pelt as butter, the farmers would attach buckets to their bodies and collect as they malted

This was the latest trend, Q despised it , she made cakes for the café up the road , a dingy old shack with only four stools and one type of coffee, sludge

Out in the garden Sarah Whitely grew her carrots, alongside her parsnips and next to that stood an oak tree who rained down her wisdom onto the veg ,

this made sure that everyone in the house was stocked up with their daily doses of Wisdom ,

Otherwise they were sure to get sick without it ,

I believe in your world , you’d call it something a bit like vitamins ,

Only as one ate the carrots their eyesight into other universes would develop

And the parsnips helped them with their imagination,

I like eating mine with thai tea caramel sauce, shipped in from the faraway land of JAUL , there I hear they don’t need to eat anything but pastries and pizza to keep up their health , they live in amongst wise trees with wise people and wise mountains , thus their capacity for wise is already overflowing, they keep it in jars under the stairs and gift their visitors with at least 3 jars before they depart ,

From across the valley I can see the Snarls house, they are friendly enough and pretty decent fellows but quite honestly they must learn to be a little more understanding and a little less demanding ,

they keep on borrowing all of our rolling pins and never give any back , and the ones they do give back are the ones I don’t really mind them having , it’s that silver one with the flecks of gold dust I really want to use, the gold flakes onto the pastry , that

my dear friend, is the secret to a good quiche, gold dust

The market is 19 kl away , john the Baptist is often the first up , so he goes out there on the solar bike ,

his name isn’t really john the Baptist but ever since he had that motorbike accident he , firstly , switched to solar bikes , and secondly decided that he wouldn’t live any more of his precious life being called Barry McWetsulf ,

anyway, so John does all the shopping but seems to almost always forget the washing powder that doesn’t foam , ergh , the foaming ones contain maggot eggs that burrow into your clothes and before you know it , the foam is all maggots and you’ve got to buy a new cloak ,

that’s a pain you know ,

they aren’t easy to come by anymore Since the hobbits passed through and bought all of he stockpiles up ,

no one thought to make any more

We heard they were dead

(sigh)

supply and demand eh?

Who am i? Ah I forgot, I am the local fortune teller ( that’s what is written on my business card ) but I really I trained in mechanics and have a knack for fixing jumbo jets , sadly the last one I fixed did crash into the Indian Ocean ,

killing all passengers but the dog survived, turns out I had left the last piece of the engine at home, I thought we just didn’t need it anymore

but ya live and ya learn old chap!

So dear, you didn’t put a return address on your letter asking who I was and where I live , so I wrote you one anyway , we do have signal boosters here , maybe I’ll catch you on the airwaves?

Your Friend , Trustee , Peaceful Neighbour , World dweller , Life consumer , time creator , music maker , nebula fornicator

HaHa

Smelling on the wind, firewood.
the heat travels a warm bath around me.
when I set out in the morning/
the wind smells/
cool earth warming, slightly dried.
sometimes salt, I love to drink this.
Nothing to be
but observer/
bathing morning light
is playing now
laying low on banana leaves
got not shame
holds no lust
is pure
transitional beauty /
trust.

Only once you reach new frontiers
does the human mind decide they want to expand a little more
there is only
one

one love

one peace

one number that counts

when it comes to crunch time and you are lost in the dark where else can you turn to but you?

when there is government corruption and manipulaton of information

and there is no such thing as a truthful lie

expect

the worst they say , but come,  one is not the number i'm talking about

i'm talking about 0.

the halo , the magicians secret .

add a 0 to any number and suddenly, it's worth a heck of a lot more.

And my dear friends, fellow poets ...weaver of words....minstrels of sound , technicians of language - there is one very , very , very , very subtle thing that i reckon... we know better than any legislation paper or cop with gun to head or bomb dropped or whatever warfare you want to call this


is , the ideas in our poems are not always our own,

unknowingly... or to some perhaps knowingly we have connected each other to each other

string theory using words as dimensions.

The tree’s don’t sleep at night

they photosynthesize , by moonlight.

Leaves drink in the cool wise light

And give off dreams of softly fading starlight



Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl

A single blossom falls at new moon

Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon

Ever noticed? The very word has the circle

Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.



Geko’s slip off old skins

And the croaking frog adds to the din

As thunder rolls in

Triggering the dogs bark

Guardian of the stark naked couple

Asleep in their parallel worlds

Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting

Not the natural kind either

But a shameless copy of pure sunlight

That emenates when their bodies collide

On the material plane.



Astral visions lead the way to headquarters

The address? Fax? Phone number?

I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,

Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation

Then you would already know, you are already there

Doors are open , for those who care to try

No lock on this baby ,

Ain’t no safe to play safe

We bask in our humble glory

Under the shores on undulating tides

Rhythmic pulsations

no where to hide

The emanations come from within,

Without , a shadow of a doubt



There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades

Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff

Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff

But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust

Even though they already stock that kinda stuff

Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1

Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****

In the cake

And we found the frog in the salad,

At least their habitat is intact

Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?

beat waves , beach haze

beat drips , in slaves mouths as they thank the rich for their gift of tapped water

and tapped shoes on tapping feet dancing not to entertain but to save their skins from narrow , harrow mishap and they know , if they make it out of there alive they’ll never go back

not now , not ever.

not now , never .

not now .


not now ...
not now...

not now....
then when?...

when , were they,  there
and where were they there..

who  - . ? (owls)

who sat upon drinking mats and dancing streets who ate with their shoes at their feet?
who licked up their milk , who danced with starlight naked with no more gilt then guilt
and shame to beneficiours name and thankful legend doth save mankinds *** - once again.

and you tell me i shouldn’t be writing stories and tales
and bed time nightmares
wait till i get dark -

MOON.

is the name.  winks

i am not the moon , no ,  but i am a faucet of moon’s taste and moon’s style her failures and her virtues , if it’s easier for you , i am moon personified...

hovers slightly

i once read somewhere - love is  metaphysical gravity -

i’ve never heard anything more scientifically accurate.

Lips lock - the poppers drop
one by one , zip slide ,
electric skin , carnvicours sins - some would deem un worldly
well - i wouldn’t put it past yourself
it’s only in the shadows of days death ,

the night time arena
many a metaphysical friend and maybe a few foes

Life , knows....

Maybe that’s who we should start with eh , noob?

Life? His house is over there.

Take my hand -

See , down below - we have the lands of El Salvador

and here , is Papua ,

Look Svalbard....and the elves are having a party...

*Dive bombs to Svalbards shores ....the mountain white drenched in sipping brews the elves rest in woodland - night begins to wrap the company in shivers and the light flickers out * - shh say’s moon - it’s almost time -

the last full moon of summer , is rising.

from beyond the frozen lake shores where all lay still sat the moon’s crest her light before her self
up on the shelf of mountain lip ,


and with grace like no other - the orb slowly began to glow green


and the thunderstorm no one had seen cracked lightning behind , called up by norse winds and norse tides.

The elves looked upon the tree and a single blossom falls,

touches the floor and blinds them all in bright light.

END CHAPTER -

Inflow
Ex flow
system

positive feed back
in a negative loop

hyper sped on the electric boop

beep .

awoken to car horns and sirens wail
Odysseus could no longer feel his left foot , right...
is that the one where they sing those songs and the mermaids eat them up ?

is that the sphinx in scuba gear?

freediving?!!

silver lines the trees
and gold lines the skies belly

strip of pink azure highlight the docile clouds
as the pine forests rise up all around
a mist devours the eye line
and as it does cloaks my clock
time stops
it doesn't exist here
no more are we bound to the slave driver of 24 hour monotony
but the metronome strikes one
two
three
minus seven

plus twentyfive cupcakes
filled with a blackberry light jam capable of aiding in levitating your shoes
the mist unfurls
and a mountain peak emerges as i run towards the ever rolling stones
that gather no moss
but pass
by the chicken and chip shops to wards
green earthyness
and fresh produce

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

5 worlds across , we still met
67 worlds to the left and you are the teacher
1 world to the right my teenage companion
4 worlds north and you are the heart friend
16 worlds south a shield made from wisps of whiffs entwined in the musky perfume, i know all too well , because it is mine
9 worlds east and 2 doors in, the fireplace fills the not so smoky room, it feels like red wine or mint lemonade
18 worlds down and the cave left especially for you , when the travels get to- too rough remains yours
As far as i can feel to the infinite worlds around , you never made that plane

As far as i can feel we embody the divine
As far as i can feel we can only love in time ,
As far as the free bird flies and the crows with brown wings sit with turtle doves and sizzling bluejays alike i will resonate in your vibes

Hold Still, i'm at loss for words
i know them , they are abused and left alone and does it **** you as it kills me to know that i have to wait , i have to wait , even if the time is relatively short and there is work to do , i have to wait? As if the eons were not enough , as if the chalk had turned to rust and the cheese to lines on blackboards dripping with the stink of fatigue but i can not sleep , i must hold steadfast to the beat , i must hold steadfast to the call , i can not falter at all

Yeah the portal closed only to open , but no one told me that it was me until the deed was done and indeed to see the rising of the sun, but my wish came true i got to spend a night with you

next time , please , please just look me in the eye and tell me , you are not coming back for some time and i'll be fine , just don't lie to me to escape the wrenches on my pulsating heart because they tighten not on flesh but on soul and they leave me with the memories of love gone cold
so i speak nothing but truth , i cry tears of corrosive fears and release the pent up tension

Thank you for keeping me awake, for opening some doors, perhaps, next time we'll explore some more

But when can i wake with you everyday and know that i won't have you torn away because i'm strong enough to withstand the constant barrage of energy spiraling in cosmic serenity
Oh i can channel it through so not just you , but everyone who needs illumination can sip at the fountain of youth and never lose their imagination but i don't know how many more times i can leave you and have my soul shaken , no more baby , no more

We've been apart for long enough , is that enough space for you to touch? Even if you need more know i will grit my teeth and grow some more,

i know now , there is no depth that my soul will not plunge for you and you wanted my heart on a page , here are scars to prove it , i go by the name Kali , i'll be your one woman army

Sometimes there is nothing to do, when all there is to do is wait.

Action would be overt
stepping on toes of brewing events.

When missed connections collide silently, the pieces fit somewhere else they'd rather be

Doing of nothing can seem daunting and wrong
like trying to open cans with toothpicks facing a starving crowd of 5 year olds

but when the recent turn of events has requested a movement
out of the fast lane,
to not comply would be foolish
something is germinating
hard work in the past is ruminating
and manifesting
a future.

The way we've shaped our habitat,
less than an instant seems too long.


It is a curious succession of feelings
when all there is to do is wait -

longing fades first,
to an epiphany of what is attachment
then,
the new years celebration of relinquishment
after,
a rising to the surface from the bottom of a body of water with eyes wide open
hands free of shopping bags or luggage
and a slightly confused sensation of nowhere

not longing
not not longing

soliloquies of silence
interrupted by fresh dewed tips -
and subtle variations of tingling sensations
where do i start..
pressure before the storm.....
illustrious clouds break open heavenly showers of golden light rainbow water droplets
and i’m coated in the elixir of a thousand sunset,sunrise,noon time clouds
painted by the colors that these mischievous droplets of water have been ,

it is dreamscapes luxuries that escape in mid afternoon ,
mid night time


at invitations glance
and slight brush stroke of hand leads to quiet moan from lips escape the mind pleasantly ******* in a pearl like haze

invisible fingers wonder yonder and invisible lips bite at soft spots
yet

the experiment continues for the transference of energy cascaded gathered up in
chakra centers with bounce between head and root three times then down to earth then up to crown the energy returns electric.

silken honey dew essence ,
natural bioluminescence , Aura pulsates in time to the  flowing blood veins ,

fingertip lips taste like lightning just before it flicks the ground with his forked tongue -

stomach tingle , heart dip , drop.
lose it all , lose it again -
transfer the same -
enlarge the plane,

feel the vibrations of:  never the same , again. Expansive minds roll on ...


                                                           ­          ~~~*

Escaped moan is free, darkness turns to light.
the whispers,
   kept between you and me.

Animal instinct , Divine instinct

        slips in.
                          slips out.

carving chasms and canyons out of skin...a glint of menace  and copious amounts of mischief dance in his eyes , like a snake charmer sashaying the imaginary into existence.
                        
                      the space dew tastes....like raspberry Champagne bubbles...


the energy flows are opening now,  to handle the cosmic ******...

one must prepare -
an untrained mind , might combust -
or worse yet , attract the dijins for foolish endeavors into treasure map waters...

Sensi bows - game , set , match.

Practice makes Perfect..

Carcass of an old
Self
Death paves way for
Regeneration - a service gifted
Within one generation
Without alienation
Dips and follies only culminate in the diamond from coal

My heart sits where he sits
Now, I'm the same wounded healer
No night time dealers beware
We know survival skills -
We are soft but we could ****
Touch the hummingbirds wing
Send fear running  
We quick , we cunning

Evade the fortress walls
Tumble the towers with rose petal showers
Weapon of choice - a smile
Business card states that I spread love and he spreads laughter
You know we ain't after cash
But that's the whiplash

Anyway
We were born to play , so we play it well , better than I'd care to tell
Stay humble leave no room to grumble
Keep the tune light , till we ignite the daytime night

My soul is his soul and his soul is mine
It's not essential so we ignore space and time
No way to express the words that don't flow when the energy exchange is enough to know , my child's father

My lover is harmonies peals and sweet serenading appeals
I , gift , me unto you , the wrapping is golden but the present is still hidden
A surprise for the patient wounded healers healed in each other- ready to heal anew

Both of us - asleep in our parallel worlds under the umbrella of ambient lighting
A shameless copy of the pure sunlight
That emanates from their bodies
When they collide on the material
Plane .

I rest , slightly out of breath
Floating ...
In a little canoe carved with etched markings of ancient tradition - native - to mama earths paintbrush
Offering my naked body sleek with a slight sheen of daytime heat,
my face shadowed by the brim of a banana tree leaf sombrero ,

Lazily drifting into giant Lilly pads , lotus flowers spring up , rich sumptuous yellow suns adorned with skins of deep purple petals
Where I go , I don't know - Rivers leads the way

Curvaceous as my curls the water meanders into Lake Meru

Gently disturbing the pristine reflections of misty cloud mountains
Ripples cascade into the placid watery depths as I dock in where the river meets land , to find the seven nymphs waiting , to guide me home.

All this time , woven into a shirt that is iradeccent as the halo around lady moon as night falls across the vally.

The last drops of sunset burning orange adorn my locks ,

Fire light calls and beckons , dancing flames whisper sensual pleasures and lick my skin leaving residual memories of rooftop nights , but , today we lie on the earthen - hearth falling asleep to the cradling , rocking rhythm that is
Sacred lullaby

Notes got us high on paper wings

Leave these flesh bodies in favour

Of ethereal

And father sky's cloud kingdom - star shine
Coats each kiss in bioluminescence
Forget cloud 9 , this , I, heaven on earth

When we return , bodies paired with dew

Under the blanket of sunrise
Serene

I have drunk from the mountain stream
Clean , clear , free.

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.

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!

With distance
the distaste only grew ,
with time and foreign lands my tree of wisdom only grew
from the confines of meditational winter sprung forth with the seasons change a fresh spring
that led to summers bloom and now with autumns orange face upon us i find myself back where i began ,

where i ran , it seems i was running back
where i thought i had no map , there was something pulling me to a home of sorts
more than one , too many to name , in people who live and in places that breathe
where i roamed , where i broke down walls triumphantly pulling the bricks and letting the river flow through the once more
no more ****** damns to hold back the floodwaters

i had an inkling i was running off borrowed time
or at least credit
death on credit
death in reverse
birthed rebirth
again and again

yet here i am still in deaths ruptured flow -
the unconditional love ran out mother ,
it ran out and you used it up
you used it so , i know you needed it
so from my child’s heart uninteruppted i let that one go
i held it aloft so you would know that no matter what you do , you are loves loved love

you are loves , loved love
but , it all came crashing down around my ears and around my throat a noose with no name
but a holy ghost escaped my lips in angry overtones = this argument for arguments sake
and tears hot on my cheeks filling up my mouth with anti-septic salt water drops
that doused my locks and you said “come back to me when you can speak without crying”

tears are but distilled wisdom and i am your teacher
i am your child - for a reason , i learnt much from you but how much more can you learn from me..
for i am not you - but a part - apart
and the smoke fills my eyes blurring the lines between reality

but i had enough , respect is intended - always
but i have respect in myself and that’s what you taught me.

That’s why i smile at people on the bus and talk to strangers ; because
everyone is reaching their own goals, shining their own light and love is shared , mother , love is shared.
and i try to love
but love seems to be distant
i love

four men

one - island man
two - island man
three- island man
four - out way somewhere i don’t know , never have graced , hope to grace and maybe touch his face ,

is this wrong? is this why i sit up at night with restless dreams
because whenever i see any one of them my heart turns to shreds
and i recall what that love is one more time
one more time
on more time

one - touches and lunch
two - dinner without touches, yet.
three - cheesy beans and laughter lines
four - astral planes baby ,

it’s raining again .
i’m siting under a tree in holloway
next to a knoll with hot chocolate , passport photos and cigarettes

are they not all one and the same
whom would i devote my entirety to , would you take it?
would you take it?
could you take it?

where do we stop?
why not stop..why stop. stop. what? stop loves riptide ?
not likely , not by chance , but by simplistic design
no i will not go
i will stay

please, please.. please.

i want to dance , with you who are you?
an enigma of epic proportions

i read somewhere that if a poet falls in love with you then you will never be forgotten
forever imortalized in their sonnets
and yes , it is true

lover why so shy? why so elusive , who is your soul
won’t you quietly tell me of the bruises won’t you tell me your secrets
and let me smooth down your shorn hair

two.

this world was made to share
and so is my love
so it is my love ,

we are wounded healers
and my , have i never heard anything as poetic as that.

but i cannot stay lone with all this love as it burst forth because it is mine. mother .
it is mine.

so.

dinner.

when i'm around you
       i feel the slow   paced    bass   line of the universe moving....

i can hear the galaxies turn
      and the atoms cascade as waterfalls in my mind with your electric fingers tracing my spine.



I am lightning without thunder, but you are not thunder nor the rain.

But a swift wind accompaniment to my silent flashes,

Wrapping the electricity with invisible peace .

*Do you know how beautiful it is to have someone that want to work with you? To take you for all you are and still manage to find the beauty in what you dreamt to be your ugliest scars...

showing beauty in the dark....

( yes, it seems  you too are another good one who knows the value of darkness...it seems many of us who seek this path do these days) *

---


We are
     the shimmer of light that reflects in the deep hollows of flute pipes      
echos around the womb like space of cosmos microcosm .

(I've felt love before , but this....this is not love as i used to know it..

This is a slow boiling , stewing and ripening with age mulled wine with toast and Camembert kinda thing )

----

Did you know coincidentally , your name is in the number 2013
and if i recall correctly ,
13 is the year  i met you in.

It's charming how these clever little signals appear when i'm around you -
contemplating you they emerge , another experience.


........

But in my space , i see the purpose here too -

perspective.

Because when i'm with you , it's pretty much just you.

(and whatever room we happen to be in ) - sometimes other things do appear but they are easy to dissolve.
---


we put definition on the imagination , sharing and the quest.... and that's one of the things i enjoy the most.

Peace x

What?

What is that you say?

All the roads are one now?

Old children? Paradox?

I think so but then   those are the most fun of all

The spaced out interplay inside of intersections

That wind to the mountain floor and up again to volcanic shores

Cloud forests , cloud atlas , clouds messengers of the dawns ,

I hear a storm is coming , didn’t we say this before?

The dawn is already upon us , we think we’re waiting , we’ve been playing for months

Well hidden , well hidden , we don’t got no tracking devices but the markers of time that are the rising of the sun and the falling of the stars from space swirls near and far

Closer than the nearest galaxy but not as far as Sirius B

With wings that fly by night , the tips burn orange , the shades turn a musky blue , dipping into the silver water the enclosed shoulders

Harbor secrets yet,

Until we meet again my fair friend , again is right now

The full stop is redundant as there never is a full stop , you don’t have to try to decipher what I’m insinuating with my punctuation , there is no deeper meaning to it apart from my keyboard broke

But, then I decided that it could mean something more , that is the core

Nothing ever starts with a meaning we just add more! There is no meaning to this life , but there is a quest, no not a test but a quest



Mine I figured is in my smile  , my ability to weave together the nonsense into sense by calling the sense nonsense and serving the ball back over the net to sense who bats it back with a sharp backhand to nonsense who hits way out to the field beyond, hitting meaning on the head, poor meaning , meaning to have a quiet  nap under the plum tree , sorry! Screams nonsense or was it sense?



Either way , the quest has lead me here , the ultimate quest to make sense out of the nonsense that is my self

Hmmm self , hmmm self, hmm; well it was always going to be self on the highest  shelf  next to the cookie jar,

Oops can’t keep my hands out of the mess that we call blessed or taboo



Lets meander down that avenue for a while and taste the delights of forbidden fruit

Not a melon or a dragon fruit , nor is it a kiwi , infact I shouldn’t think it’s a fruit at all

Far too litteral although they are good for your body

How about for the mind , I feel like my body functions better without the excessive consumption of meat and milk does make me ****

Oops toilet talk , is that rude? I never got that, we all burp and **** and belch and **** and **** and flake off dead skin cells all day long but you never hear anyone complian “ excuse me Jones, but I did just inhale your dead skin cell” well silly moo , you’ve just inhaled jones’s and about everything you can’t see with your very eyes in that last lungfull



So you see, to me why waste time on silly buggers like swear words, change the meaning of them if it offends you so , who said that all the words have to stay the same? Really are we that stagnant ? didn’t some dude shakespere invent a ton of new sayings and no one questioned him! In fact we still use his words now, I’m sure they all thought he was bonkers, but then I guess the queen said it was cool



Hmm , queen bee , not unlike the popular kids at an out lawed place called school , dictating her orders through her minions – my definition of minions : cute slaves



The same story played out over and over well I wonder why , if we only see what others like and refuse to explore the unknown in our own right? Perhaps we just didn’t realize there was an option not on the tick list



Can I write like this

wItH aLl mY lEtTeRs FuNkY , is that not still writing ?

what?

What is that you say? What am I talking about? Am I rambling again?

Right

Back to my main point



I really like tea and I really like smiling and I really like laughing until I cry do you?

Here is a funny story:



The 3rd most watched video on a very highly esteemed newspapers website was a  low quality video of a monkey swimming in a pool , this ranked higher than a man being force fed through the nose – this is the kind of thing us humans are apparently really good at

No, not swmming silly,

Torture,

But that’s not the funny part , the funny thing is that one time my friend Paul went bowling and he saw a woman wearing a shell suit, she had a monkey polishing her bowling ***** and when she hit a strike he would clap, he also wore a matching shell suit , safe to say , it was an odd sight



Well maybe you just had to be there



But I like that , I like the ridiculousness we have created

Bowling allies and chicken and chip shops , buses , gallaries , houses , shoes , ice cream , microscopes , bath mats ,  fake ***** for children to **** their fake formula while we steal all the milk from a very much alive conscious mammal who proberbly wanted to give that milk to her baby



Ya’know stuff like that



I like it because it reminds me of what we can create , and the true power each one of us holds, because somebody came up with the idea to make high heels that **** up your back and someone came up with idea of cars that are nice to take drives in with music , someone came up with a portable music player , someone came up with the idea for a train! And then someone else built it !!!!!



I mean , come on! But the best thing I like to marvel at is nature, because no one really came up with nature , nature just kinda happened

That’s the best mystery of them all  an open ended mystery is like a really good open ended question

This life aint'  love song whilst i march on blindly....

Each secretion of dissections interrogations are on...
on my LIVING soul

man ,

if only you knew ,


i slip like a hidden seamstress
into the alcoves of plenty, the catacomb of mind

and sit and wait untill

the seductress is ready -
her lesions
are lessons
learnt in TIME

she is the mistress of the dark
she needs no title but if you prefer you can call her Q.

this is because , yes , not only is she an insane nerd

she is also -

the softest heart i ever ( dang ) - had the chance to grace ,

Mother for those in need ,
Brother to those indeed
Lover to the oh so lucky few ,

Who she might like to point out, are just as glaringly brilliant too...

so , it's simple.

The layers of time are VERY FLEXIBLE
we need not notion ,
to the motions
at futures unclear - well
but see glimpses ..

- of , past's rejuvenation's born again into different actions
conclusions ..0...

the butterfly effect are the ripples : figment metaphor ( metaphysicians apply inside)
of wings - we are all ANGELS of a sort...

but i like to call angels = experts
they seem to know what's what...

For all the women in my family who have come before me.

I vow now
to give myself the space to be kind to myself when I am faced
with our family pattern of self-hate

I will not spit in my face and demolish myself
I will stand with forgiveness
dripping from my eyes

I vow now
to utilize the opportunity
I have been given
of being free from the burden of being molested or ***** as a child,
I vow to respect myself, share my body with this respect
give my partner this respect and dance
the life giving creation song       with a heart

fleshy and vulnerable
landscapes of plains and bayous rising up across my skin, my folds will nestle medicine gardens
Inside of my ears I will plant Ceder trees

I will step into my strength, into my power I will rise
like a hot air current moving from the land up to the sky to form storm clouds
in a system of elegant design

I recognize
with this mighty power comes the power to be gentler still
so whilst the storm plays her play, I will also maintain
the quivering softness of a spring stream
high up in the mountains green
long grass wildflowers
melt from within me

fragrance heavenly.

For all of us I vow
to live a life where I utilize the power I have inherited
and I thank you
with these actions,
I write your songs in my movements
Your strength, poise, grace, ambition and genius has not gone in vain
Your stories live on inside of my veins

with these words I call out to you.

sleeping pill
on sleeper trains overnight to andaman adventures
or on bus rides to and fro to mountain heavens
naps in car rides to taxi number of 411 and 611

awake for the sunrise only to sleep through the day , lazy beach walks
spent weeks in hammocks that bleed
family tree spreading down the roots have been found

peace to the world
is peace in the now
peace is won , my friend the doldrums do end
the pacific shores rise east and west surface
marvel a glass marble containing clouds swirls and tropical flowers
balloons float skywards
no choice but to let them float , and flow
with the change of pace , the change of place , forge on ahead
forging the sword in the fire flames cut the hair
change the name
invent a new game
play old games
if you dare

they have are old and friendly , they wise
to know the place that is truly home , can't choose your family but then they are just old friends

pressure breaks eventually
patience
patience
patience

tear apart the seams

it’s ok.

i, don’t wanna talk about it.

even looking at the writing i wrote about you makes me feel slightly nauseous , it ...it’s not that i didn’t love you but....

well perhaps it was my fault ,

i don’t know

i don’t know

i thought i loved you. Ok.

and how is it? that one moment i can feel the whole world for you and the next....
it's lightning struck tree all over again.


Do not get me wrong , you inspired me to write and to breathe , you showed me loving myself wasn’t that hard and yet , yet .... you...broke my heart just like aunty said.

you broke it good and well that i didn’t even realize until i was out from under your spell...
  
                                                                  * ~ * ~ * ~

Open my heartspace ,
you were golden in my eyes ~

heavy sits the stone in my chest , cracking as i walk, dropping bits of crystal on the floor, turning to molten liquid scorching the floor with unsaid words and dispelled feelings to seep into
the ocean of bliss

burning the waters to desert residues
in the blink of 3 eyes ,

i saw in you - the flash of brilliance that i know is holy. The kind that could rule the world if, you dared.

But you were too scared ,

i want to explore this world , step out of my comfort zone , feel like i add to the mass of human potential -
not accept my consumer status because it’s simpler ,
i don’t care about public image , i despise whittling myself down for some pre-conceived notion of etiquette, and i can’t stand people seeing they have the power and not taking it.

You are a reason and you have a purpose, we are only here for a short time , this is our chance at something great and i want to share it with you.

I wanted to help you , and maybe that was my mistake.
To make you see yourself through me ,
that you were golden in my eyes
and should think yourself no less.

So i let you in to the secret place , my choice , i don’t regret it, not one bit.
I guess you made me a woman  so to speak. But i don’t think you are any more of a man.

You were a 26 year old boy.

Nor were you anymore of a lover who was soft and fair ,
but you twirled my hair, turned my lips to ashes , sashayed across my hips, tore holes in my skin with your teeth , sneaked kisses on my inner thighs , you danced with my imagination and petted my ego...oh so gently.

I saw a newer version of myself through you ,
and maybe , i just like being adored,
but i would have given everything back. I’m all for fairness
and in some twisted way i hope i hurt you as much as you hurt me, just so you know how it feels, but somehow i think , it was me who ended up with the short straw on this one.

I’m sure there are gaps in your fingers you don’t understand, let alone loving someone, but i hope you get this , your lesson was : Love freely.

And you know , if that makes me stronger and more flexible and if it means that i can bounce back faster , then so be it. I will learn my lessons in time , because i’m shooting for the stars and i intend to be amongst the nebulas that shimmer so well.

And i intend to love with that ferocity again and even more , because i won’t give you that.


Not after i ******* my being in ribbons for you. No. I won’t and i can’t.
I’m worth so much more.
So these tear filled words are as much for me as for you , that i hope one day , someone comes along who can give you what you need to make you happy.



Because i’m *pretty sure i’ve already found mine.

My head spins, twirling in colors of essential essanance
the barrries fall onto
floors non existant ground
and simple pleasures
of conversational munch

are triply seductive

the nature that has been robbed will be returned
the love that has been lost will be found
the trees that are cut will grow

and the souls that are condemened will be freed

but it must freeze

what lies at the core of fools
tell me ,
if you could be so kind?

kindred spirits of the philosophical type
who have seen the darkness and fight the flowers fall ,

the tree of universes shakes
and breathes a sigh

all the wind orginated from this spot
eminating out of the simple
simple stop  ,

cat calls - forest walls

honest bums
sit
no place like home they say
i say no place called home

no place other than home
as it walks with me
side by side
unto the power places
chakras glow and merger
connotations
******

but the defenition is flexiable

determine the point ,
touch the joints
heat the fall
and ***** it all

you only have this time around its all we've ever had.

who is it
that defines the love in our lives
but parent hood figures made out of wood frozn in time and we watch at the spirals unwind
and the lemons
are zingy and the mint is fresh
and i sleep on a bears bed
baby bear , mother too - wolves out alone standiing o howl at the mooon
and awoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
we've come so far
on the riptide of loves handslide
handshake
discovering for oursleves what we deem humanities race
and what we deem fools and tounges
and what we deem to be the runner out run
who comes first in a race
who comes fist before the fired gun
who sits and the hollow has come.

Fatal.
Femme Fatal , seduced by ulterior
motives, the truthful warrior
Kills with peaceful intention
but it is only wicked nonchalance
to; day to day ferocities that mimic hard time , war time , conventions

Lemon yellow pieces of firefly bisquits
Rain down from the fogged fetters.
Lyrical
haze- in soft beat
cheetos

Where sunshine, headlights on fusion cars (expell) expose
the water particles

Suspended in animation - falling- in
slow motioned elegance
like after a shower with the doors and windows closed
the soupy soup soup
of swimming in wavey air...

Time or the essance of Death

distilled.

No matter the who -
Someone , some force
snowballed.

The greatest daylight robbery -
that of our TIME.
TIME.
is not money

"At least in my books"
-me.