In the North Rock Lands, many Centuries past, our tribe took to Journey the Land during turning blossom season, when days grew to cast shadows stretch to lengthen Light of day.

The Clearing Ritual set many of us vital in Life to find relationship with the truest nature within Oneself. A small group would start out together, never staying together to long. As One found truth by the rushing rivers, Another followed the Bird's Song, some found deepest reflection in snow covered Mountains.

I parted ways when a whispering of tribal drum drew my ear to solitary call. I followed the haunted chant of a weary Wisdom, a Voice that broke in wailing acceptance, painful experience, and croaked from dark dirt of Life.

I continued instinctively not care for danger, for I knew this Voice knew me. It resonated its pitch right in the pit of my stomach, hungry to know.

I found myself walking up a dry dusty hill topped in plateau. There I saw in close distance a Man sitting, feather necklace, fair hair, and leathered skin. As I neared, he paused midair and placed his wood flute to his tired lips.

It was the Song of Welcome, I knew it well. I reached my last step next to him. He stopped and faintly uttered words beneath his breath. I asked what say he. He did not turn but looked straight into the air before him to repeat,

"It's not easy to please me
As I am my own worst enemy"

Taken aback I replied,

"In a World full of Foes
Who needs another one of those."

He wailed into the setting Sun, growing small and still. Then he turned and looked right at me, silently awaiting. I stumbled out words pertaining to Truth, searching, seeking the Wisdom of things.
A body heaving grunt, deflated his stature. He smiled slowly, cracked lips, rose even slower to face me, eye to eye.
Spoke words I took home with me, never to forget,

"Lack not in Motivation
Just not the kind that belittles your Vision
Lack not in Discipline
Just not the kind that leads your mind inside a Prison
Lack not in Passion
Just leave for Death, the Deadly kind
Lack not in Laughter
Just not the kind that pleasures from pain of Others
Lack not in Love
Put not Self in the Center, nor direct with selfish motive, for that be a kind of Boomerang, like backwards travel, the black of white, a dungeon, a death trap.
Just know this, There is no "I" in LOVE.
If you break apart from the Circle, in service to Self, you will die alone in the mirror of EV(I)L."

I returned the Clearing strong in Truth, and danced the Winged Clan dance, three sips deep of the Sacred Fruit. I lost my former claim of Self and chanted in the mists of the New, Clearing Cleared to be Honored as White Horse with Eagle Eye. That is the name I am called by my Tribe.

Ripe Mourning, so Crisp and Crackling with Life Waking or Life preparing to sleep.

A shift change taking place at dawn, both sleepers and wakers will share a Yawn, for worlds of dream or worlds awake, it's like Consciousness balances itself in this way.

I see a Blue Herron standing on one leg near the pond, ducklings waddling in a line behind their Mom.

I see children running and playing on the jungle gym, how appropriately named. Training ground for the perils of the Jungle ahead, the Jungle of Life.

" Welcome to the Jungle"

Everything in Life is a Test
Every Choice Molds your Future Self
Prepare Yourself, Prepare Your Children, Train them on the Jungle Gym.

*"Welcome to the Jungle"

I'd like to make a Gilded Cage
Just so I could Break it
I'd like to drop into a Hole
Just so I could Climb It
I'd like to shuffle all the pieces
Just to rearrange It
I'd like to break one of my Bones
Just so I could Heal It
I'd like to rocket straight into Space
Just to travel to It

And Then.....

I'd like a Dream to become my Life
So my Life could become a Dream
Nothing to Differentiate
My Waking Life from Sleep

It IS...
a kind of Peace
hidden underneath the
Darker Veil.

Forgotten tenements
driven out by the Pale,

Intimate utterances
worthy of a mourning
Kings' tears
may trace sounds
of blood Red roses
rising in his moistened
garden grounds.

Forgotten tenements
driven out by the Pale,

It IS...
a kind of Peace
hidden underneath the
Darker Veil.

V||§||V
Not to ever come this way, to late, I have
Impulsive quandaries of selfish pleasure
To go from searching to soaring mad
It wasn't had, not to ever come this way again
I lay not so harshly with regret, my actions sought ancient delicacy, potent
Dilute substitute, or lure be lazy, it's amazing how my brain is changing, for the good, I am grateful, if truly Time is able to regress, I confess starting over for the best, lay to rest, I must accept, not to ever come this way again.

                      *°|§«»§|°
Served its purpose, now I know to sever such a sweet piece, grieve my lovely, ***** dust, this I must, keep moving on, forward, let it bury deep beneath, in a tomb, sarcophagi, another life I lived and died.
At least I can say I gave it a try.
Boy, did I.

                 **~°»|{\/}|«°~

there are ways but the way is uncharted;
there are names but not nature in words:
nameless indeed is the source of creation but things have a mother and she has a name.

the secret awaits  for the insight of eyes unclouded by longing;
those who are bound by desire see only the outward container.

these two come paired but distinct by their names.
of all things profound, say that their pairing is deepest, the gate to the root of the world.

-Poem by Lao Tzu

Who gets the Blessing of Bliss...Who??
Do You? Do I? Do They??
I say nothing, in silence I comply
I'm not able to be heartless or ragefull
But of this I surely know..
In Silence I hide from the Sword of Sorrow
God help Us...God help Us All!!
In return, my prayer I go to You with gift of Promise, I Swear!!
No Care of ****** backlash, I've shared the Way, that's what I swore to do for You and now I'm numb, in my hovelled place of change, shifting in the resistance.
Forgive me my human weakness for I am no Mythic Maestro, merely a Woman of Silence...of Silence...I Swear too!

To be so invested in Peace
just to see it torn to Pieces
is tormenting and twisted
I aimed so high I missed it

I'm too tired and deflated
To rise up elated will be belated
Until the sorrow passes through

There are many levels
of healing properly
For this I will take
the Time to do.

Thank You

I circle °§° when I'm attending to high priority problem solving...I get that "call", comes at any hour all the time.  
I am a creative, straightforward problem solver, of that I serve a Use.
I don't sugar coat or concern myself with asinine diplomacy when what needs to be done takes precedence over graceful depositary.
  
I'm the bullseye solution spokeswoman, I see past the distractive story, connect the dots, then go in for the **** of the comfort zone, I do not speak enchanting hokee, to smooth the shock of my delivery.
  
I Call it Out for What it is, then lock my eye on each target who owes explanation to my Question, I go down the board until I'm satisfied, Cold Silence lets them shiver just enough to feel the Cold Choices they sold, then I sit and smile with ease, and Offer plausible suggestions to **** the problem, fast, and with no remorse for their poor professional Choice.

We reconvene within the hour.
I listen to their fumbled excuses, but they always impress with a touching integrity, owning their choices made for reasons I understand, but will not stand...
"Gotta keep the Machine running, even when it's broken."
  
I receive official plan of action which I must always find compromise...but immediate action is immplemented, when I get my way, The take down hits'em where it hurts, the sleezy ****...
the **** is no small fish, the **** are the bleep bleep bleep with sanctioning power, so deft proceedings must start the the transition within reasonable forecast and market stability, but last 8 months showing progressive movement towards bleep bleep speaks louder, never trust the newscasters story, bleep bleep, it's looking like we will pull through, but turbulence is never far away.
  
Buckle up, stay cool, this baby  is clear for landing and a safe arrival.

Still I will °§° circle, seems spinnings my thing.

Break to planned position...

We come looped back and forth
infinite upon this plane.

All experience gels into itself
catalysis gooing
yet remains ungoo'ed.

Who we are is figments
of this basket and that
collecting from this
dimension and that.

One spike strikes the mind
affecting conscious mental
aether electifies, plucking
synapse physically
reroutes emotional body
looping back into itself and out.

Perpetual film flowing
through lens
stamped and projected
onto screens of life
for viewing.

Movement may come from
any beginning, middle or end
looping is not linear
unless the loop is cut.

It is No Ones Fault but My Own

I start rolling up in words
I'm not controlling
I don't Mind, I never Did
I'll tell You why I lost in Lace
a trace of Time.
Romanced by Humid Heat of Night
Acrossed by Archer's pointed bow
I still stay by, I still won't Go
I drift a picture into Motion in Your Ocean,
I like how it reacts.
I wish to say I'd really like that.
I won't, but will
that's friction's mount,
pull in so tight, push back, Pour out.
Just never stop,
fill me up to the Top
and tilt it right out the Spout.

the trees gush every time you're around,
the song of your sound is the best thing in town,
the heat from your feet melt the snow on the ground

the wind whistles a warmer rushing movement
expanding out from the flush of your touch
twirling, twisting and reminiscing
this double helix kind of feeling

I'm sewing the growing knowing of rhythm around into a flowing ballroom gown
blushing a crimson kind of steam under the spotlights in my dream ~
when curtain calls as morning falls,
I take my bow and change of scene.

I am captivated by a thought of old
Yeller in the streets of Madagascar.
Shot me dead indeed for standing up
to digs of my deeds done wrong.

But what of his Sister, and did he miss her
for fiesta on Friday last~Until a droopy~eyed mistress crooned a ****~a~doodle~doo straight against the face of death.

They loved Prima, come subtle still life into the night.  Brought Passion'd brink of tears, thrown forlorn wisping shutter to my skin and I am Thought.. thinking I migh'nt be lost to soon to this moment mi'amour.

Charging hunted into the streets, taken by day or by night. Overrated artform of statuesque mystique, compendium of gods have struck me mortal and I am Death...dying unto pleasures infinitum.

Quell into question the material mourning, noon and night. Antidote to antithesis is Imagination...imagining everything in nothingness all at once...banging out existence, through the vacuum...all the way to Madagascar.

Take my place, take my bullet for me on the other end of old Yeller and I will take your end on the other side... of You ...being Me.

Happy day to You all ~

friends and lovers
mothers and fathers
sisters and brothers

I extend my many Thanks ~

a feast scent
of well wishes
smiles and sighs
of fulfillment

May You feel radiant warmth ~*

in heart and belly
sing many thanks
to your Loves
and be Merry ~

From the fires in the sky,
births a flash of brilliant insight...
spiders down into a fork
of arms and legs.

Quick to intimate in the echoes
of her startled repercussions
when she mumbles rolling rumbles
as the thunder claps a splintered
aftershock of sharp distinctions
in her wide, awakened sky…

“You will hear me cry,
when upon my weary weight of burdens
raze a scar across the scape
of my freshly sheared horizon.”

“Unto you, I shed my sorrows as a blessing
down onto an eager and accepting Earth.”

Awaiting with open arms of a Mother
kneeling to embrace her mournful babe,
drinking hurried tears freshly fallen from
the cheeks once forsaken….

“As reward for your rescue from
my ripped and rattled rapture,
you shall bear the ripened fruit
from the prairies and the vine.”

“Out of the greatest growth
shall sprout abundance from
the heavy laden secrets
that I weep.”

“I will know of the comforts from below
that remain ever vigilant and faithful.
In return, you shall share in the
treasures of my mystery.
In the tears that I cry
live the sustenance for life
and for death…and in both
you will come to know
the Glory of my Story.”

Yet for now we must part
for the time being in return,
we will dance with the darkness,
come to life and rejoice
in the fires from the sky…

*...until appears a lighted lantern
with a lesson of the Gnosis
from the Fire in the Sky.

Eye, reciprocal curve, spiraling, Shepard of the Circle and the Square.

Eternal asymmetry makes for Contrast, a definition for God.
From Contrast births Anomaly, makes for clarity in distinction.
For without distinction there would lack anything to compare.

What's out there, everywhere, all around, all the time.
Variety grows from a keen Perception. With blinders on, how to see Periphery?
Come now, See, Sweet Water, Drink, Be Well.

Where is your Pedestal Dear?  
How to find if you remain blind?
Tetrahedron
Apple Hand
Reach In
Climb In
Fire Spiral
Shadows
Models my Projection
Into Hologram
Therefore I AM

Felt Me Back into the Seat
I'm just Passenger on this Retreat
Quest permission for Revision of my Record. Was Reckless for good Reason, I thought so of back when I lost my heart and soul, my friend, so why wouldn't I flee fierce pierce through the Wind, air collapse upon I pass. A mushroom bloom, a ghastly rust, I oxidized the tempered dust, magnetized me any metal, Electrified the blooming petal, What good be Flower without Me thorn.
Spun Out Vortices, Afflicted Storm.
I was focus to test my fate, I had no care for my own state. I learned to walk a demons trail, they taught me well of how they hail.
I thought I'd surely reasoned, I had trespassed.  However, was not the case..."jest how??" You Ask.
Well, let not such tales go to waste, put to good, quick, make haste.
I know mine enemy, and so have sworn, march until cast furies torn, the wicked from the weathered wasted born. Make great again, attest, transform.
I rest my case for being born.

I have a hard time
living life
until I've lived it.
Then nostalgia
kicks my head in,
takes a bite
~reminds me that
the memories hurt
just as good as
the real thing.

In the Grandest Scheme of Things, the Ego-Sense of Self seems Overinflated.

We are Sparks materialized in prescribed form of Primordial Source...

We are All the Sacred Wounds of her Original Innocence.

The greatest, most Honorable Occupation One can give to this life is the refinement of the Self.

In so doing, the raising vibration affects as ripples in a pond.
Effects Rate of Energetic State of Being~

        *Everywhere      All Around

Gone are the vanities of yesterday.
I'd lost myself in visceral volcanoes spewing forth the molten ash of pretense
~ my ruptured soul erupting abruptly everyday and everynight.

Why the fragile faun must lay vulnerable under the dark circling sky, overcast as vultures spy their prey.  
The smell of fresh blood, the open wound ~ the end of days and innocence.

The birth of something sinister to survive in a world of eat or be eaten.
One day if hope prevails, the wound will heal and the mask may be removed to reveal the faun who once was ~ may now live again.
A gentle creature of grace and fortitude. AMEN

The Brilliant Sparks that happen often between Kin
Just gets me started on this RollerCoaster I'm In
My Point being, their remain s Onions of Yesterday's
I could Cut right Through to Bring the Coaster to STOP
But that's not a skill shared for my Sake
One must know to Pull UP on the Emergency Brake

Oregon , Aura~Gone Away Be
Aura~Come , Aura~Came Me
Aura~Wash, Wash away Me
Aura~Fresh, Rest so Freshly
Aura~Rest, my Head Rest Lightly
Bless You, Oregon, Aura~Lighly

I said Babe
well aren't we a little bit old now
for this crazy game?
Is it safe now
that winter's gone?
But I think we could use a little memory
to add to the database.

I saved a little bit of money
I put it in a vault
hidden behind the face on the red room wall.
I took everything I wanted
I took everything I need
all in a day
or maybe they just want me to leave.

All of the people
all of the people stand
standing to wait
waiting for the concrete to break.
All of the people
all of the people take
take it away
you know maybe you just made me believe.

And the days
the days feel a little bit longer now
and the morning's bright.
If we escape now
and leave this place
I hope heaven has another open door for us
when the day is getting late.

I saved a little bit of money
I put it in a vault
hidden behind the face on the red room wall.
I took everything I wanted
I took everything I need
all in a day
or maybe they just want me to leave.

All of the people
all of the people stand
standing to wait
waiting for the concrete to break.
All of the people
all of the people take
take it away
you know maybe you just made me believe.

Woke up late still half asleep
but the airport line out in the street.
Baby I know you wanted to stay
but the weekend rush won't let us wait.
Woke up late still half asleep
but the airport line out in the street.
Baby I know you wanted to stay
but the weekend rush won't let us wait.

All of the people
all of the people stand
standing to wait
waiting for the concrete to break
All of the people
all of the people take
take it away
you know maybe you just made me believe



Panama Wedding - All Of The People Lyrics | MetroLyrics

The time has arrived
to come back correct
to say the things that
remain unsaid

the futile mind
in heaps and piles
can rearrange into files
in cabinet drawers that
go on for miles
slam them shut and
give me smiles

we dance our fingers
over paper pasts
to understand that
nothing lasts and
with this freedom
I build my kingdom
in Honor of...

forever come what may
my shining face will praise
the words I choose to say

I enjoy the perpetual blanket of unrefined cotton clouds snug tight against the night turned day, grey and unrelenting.

There is a thin film layer then
in between ~

     Me.               Myself.        &          Eye.

If I blink real hard and purposeful, I'm sure it would all dissipate....

Pin-popped balloons always do....

All seeks Peaceful, Pieces of Me, This Peace makes Wholesome, with Pieces of You

My marginal dysfunctions like a panther saunter gliding me out to peripheries edge.
We won't comment on loose banter, someone says.
My mind circles the time as the crow flies,
too disturbed for reentry, tweets the parakeet.

Phase out with allegiance to no one,
Phase back in with desperate facade.
I am blank, bleak and broken.

Well...that's just the token to get us back in ...the Dahlia wasn't always black to begin with you know, so many colors remain to absorb our sorrow.

So lost, forgotten and frail...
a ghastly scene so serene and forsaken.
Do not fret my fellow faire, we are ghosts of crimson lore, pathos to the people...morose...together on the edge of forever.

Interlacing fingers, we stand then walk the plank of insanity...who will hold my hand??

Upon Review, I've taken note, amongst my themes in Poetry, little do I find the concept of a "You".

Self absorbed, of this I'm not, you may rest self assured.  

For if you take a closer look, it might come to your attention, there exists a poem I have titled quite like a Question. I must make mention of my Reasons, Who Knows what's Known will understand the nature in my Intention.

Take a moment, and you will find, and in your Realization, I do most often write Poems for You from my Imagination.

“The highest levels of performance come to people who are centered, intuitive, creative, and reflective - people who know to see a problem as an opportunity.”

― Deepak Chopra

YEAH, JUST LIKE US POETRY PEOPLE, WE DO IT ALL THE TIME...WE WRITE IT DOWN, AND WORK IT OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanted to flow into phrase a general continuum to articulate most prominent my own mood rhythm, just for curious act of putting into words an unspoken knowingness I leave out to hang upon my Space.

I am ready alert as soon as I bring awares to body, I localize and Identify

I am very upbeat, curious, open, observant. I ultimately will let my days activity find itself, because it so wondrously does, every time, to engage in discovery, puzzling, un~puzzling, analyzing, reflecting, and when a bountiful day...Concluding (Always knowing Conclusions are always momentary, discovery, revision, perception, all shift when "New" is incorporating).
I stay bouncy, flexible, studiously refining my personal understanding and then bringing my thoughts and ideas into life in my world to play and check it all out. It's intensive, solitary mostly, always surprise I will find in something.
So, basically, I don't get caught up in attachment. To emotion, perception, definition, judgement, decision, or situation. I am fully immersed in the moment, I just have found a fluidity in movement. I am passionate absolutely, but gladly walk my passion on and on so as not to collapse a density upon the objects of my passions.  

I'm not really a specialist, although I specialize, I enjoy a great variety, I am not afraid to explore and Try.

So, Gladly, I state to Clarify: I am humorous, positive, bravely alive.

GENERALLY.


“To see the world in a grain of sand,

and heaven in a wild flower.

To hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

and eternity in an hour.

We are led to believe a lie,

when we see with, not through, the eye,

which was born in a night, to die in a night,

while the soul slept in beams of light.”

- William Blake

Nassim Does It Better:
FROM: THE UNIFIED FIELD AND THE ILLUSION OF TIME: UNDERSTANDING THE SOURCE OF CREATION article 4/23/14

Between your thoughts is a silence which is the unified field, and when you become that silence, you become the unified field, and you become universal. Through the practice of non-attachment, and meditation, all of your troubles disappear because you cease to cling to the changing illusion of reality and you become free to experience what you always will be: pure, infinite, and universal consciousness.

All things already exist encoded holographically within the unified field, the structure of space-time, and it is conscious intention which determines that which is accessed and chosen to be perceived due to its own intentions. Nothing new is created, for it is already present within the field. And it is the highest level of our consciousness which guides us in the manifestation process we call life. We are all expression of the universe, looking back on itself as Nassim would say, and experiencing all possibilities within creation with our unique and individual intentions.

All that you want out of life is encoded within the field. Your intentions and your perception is what determines what you see and what you experience. In the words of Wayne Dyer, “There’s no place that God is not. If this God-force is everywhere, then it must be in you. And if it’s everywhere, then it must be in all that you perceive to be missing from your life as well.”

You are exquisite and lovely
when You laugh
You are wrathful and firey
when You're mad

You are kind and thoughtful
when You touch my heart
You seem small and distant
when we are apart

My eyes stay quite stationery
lest I'm moving through Worlds
My perception's are momentary
as I'm moving through Worlds

The angle of light that strikes my eyes
is neither acute or obtuse
how I choose to see my Worlds
depends on my Point of Views

Pretty, pretty Ponderosa
~butterfly dreaming
pretty much like a Lion
indoors sleeping
Pretty, says pretty girl,
Whatever do you mean?
Pretty women much prefer
Exquisite Angel Queen

Pretty cool, pretty soon
Autumn comes a'rollin'
Pretty much like fresh of breath
first thing in th'mornin

Pretty Sun, first of light
after hot and heavy night
Lush of Love, howling Moon
Rush of touch in my room
Precious one, Yes You,~my One
Please let me love you more
than pretty much any other
ever has before

Pretty, pretty Ponderosa
Will never let this end
...but tell me baby, tell me
*Will I ever love again?