both magnesium and iron
are plentiful in the crust
of the earth.
magnesium in abundance in the sea.
and then it hits me
rationally speaking,
plants were birthed from the ocean
and we from the land,
literally.

the Earth gives birth
to her infinite babes.
life on other planets?
oh most definitely.
planets give birth
as all Mother's do.
Her babes peal away from her
being. Plants from the ocean
with magnesium in their blood.
and we from the dust.
walk the Earth. Plants prepared
the air
so we could walk the Earth.
The Earth and its babes
look the way they do
because of her
presence in the system
she revolves in.
She, we call Mars, her babes
must represent her place in space.
life on other planets will
always look like their
Mother too.

this one is heavy for me too…
and yet it has to be true.
our Mother is no different
than her sisters. Her Mother
a creator. The Heat Source
for her children. Her *****.
circling around her as
my children do me.
rotating endlessly.
until its time has passed too.

all things have a time

and then they explode!
I had to fold before I could break out
but I'm broken now…
no turning back.

the enormity of time makes me quiver
and I'm just trying to remember
all the rules of us.
I know I have them here
and you have them there.
too many questions to clear
balance out, finalize and submit…
yet I feel it.
I hear it. So,

I re-join Nature's revolution
our only true solution
the reunion of the Earth's
sistren and bredren
unification of this Times kin
brought together to rectify the days lost.
the memories only one side
knows both sides know…
the time to sing the national hymn
Oh come all ye
come and communion again.
wet our vibrations tips and ends
curl up again then
dip right back in.
the only place we will feel comfort.

our children are starving.
the curriculum surrendered to
System.
the days of imagination
and heart tone stimulation
lost.
tuning in after these days is
rough. knowledge and things
get in the way.
self doubt is rough.
though it can be a start.
self examination will always
lead to the heart.
so do a little check up.
the clean up can be rough
but the road is only awaiting you.
these things are
as you are. nothing can escape
our grasp. it is the presence we sense
enveloping our senses.
but only most of us can't believe
in that stuff.
all the magical fluff.

I'm a truth seeker.
I question every thing I can imagine.
yet remained open and now
the magic is obvious.
my self realization is at the level of
rocks, though that's quite a personal accomplishment.
I've only now called myself a poet.

let it go and
let it flow so
you can grow

Silence is a language in itself,
It’s poignant, peaceful, deafening, soothing
Silence transcends trite words,
And its meaning is known by the way it settles in your bones
Whether it’s a silence shared by two lovers cradling each other in bed,
Oblivious to anything but their sacred bliss
Or a silence spanning years by lovers turned strangers,
Long entrenched in new lives and new souls

Silence wraps itself around time like ivy on gnarled roots
Intertwining itself with life
As time grows, it can intensify, become tangible like cream
When you are all alone, embrace silence,
Do not fear it,
For it can be your solace or your doom

I fell in love with a superstition.
She kept crystals at her bedside
to ward off wraiths and bailiffs,
selling friendship bracelets to
strangers on the internet whilst
keeping family in her prayers.

She would wander the fields
of **** and sunflower seeds,
howling at the moon without
another soul to converse with;
obsessive-compulsive murmurs
of a Hail Mary and incantations.

Potions of ayahuasca and sugar
brewed on the hob in the kitchen,
fridge magnets full of idioms and
passages from the Book of Psalms.
By the fire sat a pristine tin cauldron
with the price-tag still left on it.

Broomsticks were mounted on the wall
like lazy guitars or executed deer.
No photographs, only proud trinkets
and yoga mats; a crucifix hung over
every doorway, whilst she had learned
to cross her legs from all men and pain.

She laid me down on the bed
with a hungry sleight of hand
to show me her favourite trick;
I saw the marks on her arms
before she came alive in the dark,
and by the daylight - she had gone.