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Mar 2015 · 944
Pupils contract, in protection, from the onslaught of light
which peels off colours out of the abyss,
shedding sight, on blackness,
the contours of the dream
are beautiful
and falling.

I, a curious position in space, attempt to relate here,
whilst all is being swallowed, and swirled,
in the belly of the Goddess,
whom engineers
as we

Monkeys driven by meaning, are strangling reality,
effulgent as she is, near, unctuous and yielding,
a shame, that vision is not seeing,
and seeing is believing,
and god is dead,
and science
is a net

Behind the mist of morning, at the waters edge,
in the brimming beams of sunlight,
the percolating mountains,
the stretch of land,
the capsule of

Is the unknown, and unknowable, the black truth,
we tremble before, afraid of the death
it pours over our living ******.

Yet what is enlightenment, but the ability
to see in the dark, and what is the dark
but the absolute liberating force,
the annihilating edge,

And what is nothing,
but everything.
Jan 2015 · 1.7k
Winters nascent white
Winters nascent white falls
on the boughs of orchard branches
and carpets the earth outside my window;

The coating has a strength in it's gentle glow
softening and subduing the landscape
in a pale light, diffused by cloud,

Lifting with the purity of a doves wings
And drifting with a melancholy like ashes,
Settling, like the baseness of bones,

Something bare and beautiful
is reflected outside
in the raw winds of transition,

Out of the dark belly of solstice,
In all the suddenness and subtlety of being
snow flakes are inchoate and bristling.
Aug 2014 · 2.0k
Ushered into the breathable
Strung on undefinable threads,
Life's atmospheric interlacing;
A weaving, hidden to opaque sight

Subtle ties, loosen and relax,
Chest enmeshed entirely,
Titillating summations of Earth's enthusiasm
Entwine in activities of the lungs and heart

Pumping action, energy, growth,
Air feeds fire, and power, and blood,
Burning from the inside, animated,
Billions of cellular suns, throbbing

Light in the garden of the body,
Alive with murmurs, and hums
Of love, all of time, and space,
Moved to produce this oscillation

Ecstatic the body expands in swells,
Ecstatic the body contracts in swells,
Ecstatic are the waves exchanging,
Ecstatic is the surge of breath
Jun 2014 · 1.2k
Fragments of a Broken Heart

Everything is cast asunder

Chopped like waves

A scintillating shattered mirror


Memory is an ache in the mist

Settling into a backward moving river

That snarls into an ethereal past


Quivering in the skin, an embodied seer;

Flesh with entropic and generative visions

Alive with terror and imaginative beauty


A burning longing is cooled in the waters of grief

Where space is apart and falling; When time cuts eternity

And all that was, and will be, is here, broken


Pulling colours out of a boundless light

Severing into the spectrum

Tearing hot white nothing into variegated hue


A depth of shade holds together layers of truth

Concealing the unknown in echoes of shadows

Contours and grooves, carving out reality


Loosener of holding; shaking catharsis

Bittersweet, uncontrollable chaos

Bare and raw and momentary and changing


Like the fall of a giant old growth tree

that lays to waste and nourish

an abundance on the forest floor


Like the blossom of a wild flower

tired of tight closure, breaking open, petal by petal

to expose it's heart to the sun
May 2014 · 5.7k
full moon shadow
each time her bare front
is full with illumination
she is defined by the mystery
of infinite black behind her

and at her most enlightened
is dappled with caters and scars
ensconced in darkness
lined by an aphotic slivered edge

shadow speaks
most deeply

of the ways
in which
she moves
Life is unavoidably ecstatic,
at every scale, degree, level, dimension,
an oscillation,
season to season
day to night to day to night
cycle by cycle
wax by wane
by feeling
to feeling

always moving
both ways
all ways

crest, trough,
riding, riding out
and in
and through
and by
and by,

I could explode,
I might explode,
I did explode,
I do explode
though I'm contained,
boundary by boundary,

always moving
both ways
all ways

rainbows weaving spectral waving,
rivers raging, bodies growing,
organismic, oceanic, orgiastic
in-ing, out-ing,
holding, letting go,
flowing, flowing, flows
surrendered, building,
pursing, pleasing,
pangs, paining,
ripping, breaking,
sorrows to joys to shade to shine,
as chasms to substantiation,
as abyssal to full,
as burn to burning,
to smoke etheric,
to ashes, to ground,
all passions
as passions

pumping, filling, releasing
on-ing, off-ing,
living as moving
always moving,
breath by breath
by breathing, being
this to that,
a changeling,
always moving

always moving
both ways
all ways
to idolize a segregated love
against fear, that knows nothing of failure, hurt, destruction
to cage evil, to make evil, by making cages
and to venerate, righteously, some ideological and illogical heaven
to loose sight, of the dark
and be blinded, in sheer light
is to forget beauty,
real beauty
is lost in piousness
in gross
over simplifications
in staunch
and heartless,
some dreary
and to lose beauty,
is to lose life.

without death you are dead
and if there were only good there would be no good at all
and truth is true by falsifiability

never lose sight of the terror
that waxes at beauties heart
with trembling and real love,
shaking for the unshakeable,
and put demons in their place next to angels,
bring shadows to the light,
or you'll know nothing
of great dreams
of shifting colour and hue
and shade and shine
and here we are
and here
we are

I say
give me it all,
I'll refuse nothing,
grant me totality,
hand in hand with
my union-
I am for wholeness-
I am for
the world

I am a lover
feel, I need to feel
I am a lover
sense, I need to sense
I am an artist
see, I need to see


to hide nothing
to hide nothing

and see
Apr 2014 · 2.3k
Beloved Iris flower
Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, *******,
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****

    a trinity
    within a trinity
    within a trinity
    of beauty

her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
                she is
                an entrance
                into love
Apr 2014 · 1.4k
the profundity of being
That there is something,
from nothing;
that there is anything at all,
is a tireless miracle.

Simply being
is profound.
Echoes of living
All time inside the present
Complex and simple

Complex and simple
Novelty exponential
As it always is

As it always is
Forever swells in motion
Change is the constant

Change is the constant
Transformation's here and now
I am living death

I am living death
Death is living manifest
Born from the ceasing

Born from the ceasing
Constantly falling into
The grave of presence

The grave of presence
Is the garden evermore
A fullness profound

A fullness profound
More than can ever be known
Felt here through being

Felt here through being
All at once liberated
Freedom this moment

Freedom this moment
My breath invites exchanging

Everything's brought to life
By spirals self spun

By spirals self spun
There is nothing I am not
No one that I am

No one that I am
I am existence alone
I the paradox

I the paradox
A mirror in a mirror
Echoes of living
Post-azure, cloud splashed sky,
washes with the suns descent,
breaking into melodies of sunset.
Fracturing into a blush,
the richness of the spectrum
makes itself known.
On a tangent of change,
amorphous clouds bleed
amber glow
and bittersweet combinations
of reds and yellows.
Vermillion streaks through,
and a few cloud folk turn titian,
like sumptuous surreal apricots
rotting in the sky,
that seem to augur
encroaching darkness.
Billows on the horizon
leak crimson,
like spilled wine on table cloth,
and pucker out
like blooms of flaming roses.
Fire refracted
coloured cousins of the sun
are dancing all about.

Here is the anthem
of wild transformation.
Here is cause
for quiet celebration.
Here at this fluent juncture.
Here at the closing of day.

The whole of the ocean below,
is the skies tremendous mirror.
It's reflection is variegated,
into variations a thousandfold.
Multitudinous, and ever differentiated,
distortions of above
ride the crests of waves.
Each apex is a new story.
Each new story,
just as soon as it is told,
comes crashing into trough.
Each finale is the ****** of beginning.
The dynamic roar
of the oceans ever-changing topology
is rife with meaning.

Colossal symphonic wonders,
the primordial song,
releasing upon: the uni-
verse continual,
sending the manifest
to move, with the give and strain
of immaculate design.

Here ensconced
between the safety of light
and the mystery of night.
Here at the oceans edge.

Above, shades of catalina-blue, in conversation
with the outer most cosmic-black
dismiss earlier brighter hues.
Tinged by the infinite nature of space,
the jeweled dome darkens.
Overhead, the first stars appear,
sky transparent to beheld blackness.

Luxuriant, pulling horizon, attracts
violet into it's unfolding theatrics.
Bloodied clouds turn purplish, then black,
a darkening rawness allures,
decaying with vivid beauty,
tragedies of a rouged romance
drug down into shadows play,
searingly alive, extraordinarily actual.

And then, the hush of dusk.
Darkness is felled, like silence.
Scintillating stars
strengthen in the nights
surrounding abyss;
giving radiance definition.

Dynamic Beauty
Lives In Transition,
Apr 2014 · 3.8k
ocean haiku I
sonorous thresholds
oceanic bellows breathe
the breaking waves roar
Apr 2014 · 3.7k
ocean haiku II
crested kissing sun
lips of the oceans reaching
lighting fluid love
Apr 2014 · 1.9k
ocean haiku III
waves are moving in
and receding on the shore
arriving going
every moment
is continually shedding itself;
sloughing off the skin of time,
dying, into the past,
to freshen in exposure,

this moment.

to live, really
to breathe, by

constantly transforming,
the body is never solid,
here, there, as atomic flashes,
electrons popping in and out
of existence,
an appearance made,
to depart, in a flicker.

all turns off, like this,
always, eventually,

threshed and stripping
bare chaos
voraciously burns,

returning through extinguish
on smokey black horizons.

sinking, into
tendrils weaving,
knitting by fray,
tapestries engendered
by enveloping decease.

you feel this
don’t you?
as much of it may be.

it is the nearest of near,
and dearly intimate,
passions corrosive kiss,
oscillating, opening,
to retract, in flow,
pushing in
to pull away,

thanatos is eros
together, apart again,

the heart is aware,
supremely aware of this happening,
even when the mind is fooled
by apparent stability,

and the soul surrenders to
it's inevitability,
even hungering for
divine destruction,
as basic an urge
as the creative impulse.

to be composed
is to be subject to decompose,
fertilizing compositions
in cosmic chasms.

our lungs darkly shining
with every fall of the chest

each breath
one breath closer
to the final breath,

each exhale
a letting go
of what can’t be held

the expelled
foreshadows annihilation,
on the fading road, towards
this mortal coils entropic end;
a preparation.

to live, surely, is to meet loss
over and over,
to love, fully, is to grieve
again and again,

there is a deep
melancholic knowing
that exists in all living things,

water drops
tears like rain,
leaves fall
like sighs,

and everything

our melancholy
might be sacred
could we truly embrace,
and feel, this reality:

death is the ever present condition.
Mar 2014 · 4.0k
Cyclic Rose
Budding Rose
building pressure,
pursed and ready,
meeting the threshold
with preparatory

Blooming Rose
opening with elegance,
breaking from tight enclosure.
a fragrant, companionate aroma,
inviting, an unfoldment,
spreads of flourish;
exquisite grace.

Dying Rose
with humbleness
in bowing stem.
letting go,
petal by petal.
richer reds,

Cyclic Rose
coming, breaking
open and shedding;
a transitory
ephemeral beauty.
teaching the natural
art of being;

in bud
b  l  o  o  m
& death.
Mar 2014 · 799
the battle of should
"I should"
a solemn
voice in the head
is all grumble,
dutiful with condemnation,
a heavy

desirous flight
is persuaded
to stay
by what

a culturally defined, mental-
artifact, of what one supposedly
oft devoid
of one can-
will, but won't,
out of fear.

doubt, like chains on dreams,
easily persuades
the mind into mundane
plains of
guilt ridden sorrows,
cut out by knives of shame,
choking the present tense
of what shall,
strapped in and unfulfilled,
and holding,
like an anchor
in a reservoir
of regretful
sticky with ought,
fierce like flagellation
imprisoning visions:
      by expectations,
                negations of choice:
                             stomping on the souls good will,
                             starving the free heart,
                             shackling the mind.

operations from a place
complacent with
banality and viciousness
in some quiet take over

         some woe
of status-quo
      waging with
shaky scaffolding
   and the numbing
        timber of nothing

dull aching



  turn off:    the over beaten
      dead skull
  with outside pressure

             be silent
              to hear
there is an inner music
more in tune with life
than anything you've been told
by the force
of should
or should not.
Mar 2014 · 7.8k
Just be real friend.
Be who you are,
and where you are at.
That's enough,
and it's the only way

Most of us have put on enough masks
in our life time,
to have completely forgotten
our original face.

We've become far too clad
with the heavy coats of expectation,
suffocating under the weight
of the ways we think we ought to be.

You can drop that garb.

There's always mystery
at the naked core of who you are,
and that's just fine.

It's not that we must rediscover
some definable self,
and hand that image over
for validation.
Rather, those solid definitions we
cart around with us
are heavy enough as it is,
but we've continued pushing them
despite the distress.

We've gotten so used
to that awkward play
of needing to be a somebody,
as if that somebody
were other than
who we already are.

We've forgotten how to let go
with all the spontaneity
of a flowers growth;
forgotten the beauty
of our own personal bloom.
That we are a fluid sweep
of light and dark.
That our faces,
like the moons,
wax and wane.

You don't have to be any which way,
other than the way you are.
That sort of self acceptance
is the innate flourish,
is the fluid self cycle,
is the way back into life.

Don't fool yourself
into believing
there is a better disguise.
Strip down to the bare beauty
of your authentic state
in this moment,
and move from there.
Mar 2014 · 826
Vernal Equinox
Vernal Equinox arrives,
a lush middle ground
fresh with turning,
on the fulcrum
of dark and light,
awakening dynamic gaian breath
and ambitious harmony.

Dancing in and out
of shadow,
darting into
waxing shine,
on the verge
of the continuous,
here at the thresholds fray,
off the precipice we go,
cliffs that drop into the burn
of the suns growing presence.

Fire moves into water
like flourish,
Water moves into fire
without extinguish.

The paradox of love
is alive,
with night and day
seen as equals.

In this colossus of rebirth,
the resurrection of winters death,
blooming out of earthen richness,
with the enormity of natures becoming.

On this brink of passions catching
in the Eastern sun rising,
with balance kept in the approach
of spring rains rolling in,
like tears of tender joy;
a drenching
and vaporous

Mind is lost on winds of change
meandering amongst the grasses,
the feet hug the ground like roots,
the spine lifts like spontaneity,
bringing the heart to blossom
in it's ribcage branches,
pulsing aromatic swells
moving outwards
in veins of pranic rivers,
with gushing love,
turning the blood etheric
and unbound by the body,
in some natural suffusion
where earth and sky meet
in endless inter-change,
and all is complimentary here,
and everything is reaching,
to kiss the sky,
in gratitude.
Mar 2014 · 3.8k
potential - senryū
beneath manifestation
trembling potential
Mar 2014 · 518
pheonixed - senryū
consummation flares
burning the self to ashes
phoenixing anew
Mar 2014 · 3.4k
You'll be initiated,
when you are ready.

Life knows,
and the initiation rites
are waiting.

Where you are holding,
you will be broken.

Where you've lost heart,
you will be shaken.

Where you are careless,
you'll meet your neglect.

What you are averse to,
will be total and stark.

What you are attached to,
will be pried from your grips.

Ignorance will be
wrought with vision,
a burning,
to make you see.

You are loved so much
that you will be engulfed in
the flames
of loves fire,
in order to
ignite your own
hearts flames,
and fulfill loves destiny.
Alchemical change will ensue,
destroying you,
to make way for
new love.

Licked by some Hellish ordeal,
Ambivalence gives way to Engagement,
Rage engenders Clarity,
Anxiety becomes Inspiration,
Apathy roars into Feeling,
Melancholy imbues it's Depth,
Licked by some Heavenly delight.

Phoenixed, you'll fly,
the hero of your own journey,
wielding revelatory fire,
with great Wisdom
and Compassion,
a Gestalt,

The circle closes,
it is a spiral,
to the beginning,
of another
Mar 2014 · 12.7k
shadow - haiku
darkness under light
defines the contours of space
shadow deepens shine
Mar 2014 · 7.5k
The vulnerability of baring myself fully
clenches the belly
panics the heart
stands my hairs on end.

It is truly the most terrifying thing
to stand in ones authenticity.

And yet. And yet.

The courage it takes.
The great tender strength.
The spine tingling elation.
The heart swells, and magic.
The naked beauty borne, in feeling you have nothing to hide.
The spirit touched ardor of a bare approach to life.
The openings and the mystery.
The expressions: tripping, falling, incomplete, misguided.
The wonderful mistakes, elucidating lessons.
The perfect imperfections.
The easing of honesty.
The engendered humility.
The profundity.
The sense of being touched, touching, and in touch with life.
The unmasked revelations, of full spectral undulation.
The this. The that. The I can accept it all.
The dropping of shame.
The incredible liberation, in shedding that shame.
The finding forgiveness for self, for other.
The quiver of unknowing.
The sweet caress of potential.
The dread. The sorrows. The uncertainties.
All making room for, in their acknowledgement:
Room for what else is there.
Room for laughter, and joy, and luminescence.
Room for flirtation, dancing, spontaneity.
Breaking open.
Melting into Love.
Soaring on the wings of Truth.
The hush, of anxious worry.
The Goodness bestowed.
The empathy.
The compassion.
The connection.
The holy restoration of creative flow.
The fires of real passion.

And everything.
And everything.
And Beauty.
Mar 2014 · 1.2k
Come Springtime

wild new splendor


volcanic wonder


holy ignition


heaving impetus


ardent elastic dreams


raging waters thrusting


luscious droplets


swift organic swells


thrush of songbirds


bellows of breaking ground


auxiliary flowers breathing


sweet sapling songs


****** saturation


divine allure


teeming pollinators


abounding overflow


copious life


brimming manifold


sweet floral air


bold blasts of bearing


sun kissed beauties


fervid spring

I Welcome

your enamouring rivulets

I Welcome

your riveting deliciousness

enraptured as I am by your employ
& Alive

Bore into my heart
Grow through my veins
Take me over


Mar 2014 · 7.1k
reality drunk senryū
under the influence of
sheer reality
Mar 2014 · 3.3k
Reality is ineffable
There is always too much to say,
and never enough to say it.

The limits of language are blunt,
though nature is most eloquent.

Reality is ineffable,
though it speaks in every which way.

Wordlessly she moves,
her metaphors pervade.
Mar 2014 · 940
perturbations of aliveness
animated sensual arousal

the world is full of beauty
bleeding colour into edges

the soul is on it's knees
in constant reverence

as the body postulates
with many varied stances

the heart's tide is roaring
with cryptic coalescence

symphonic sounds wave
from an unstruck core

swallowed in a resonance
undulating both ways

all ways,
Mar 2014 · 709
space is a furnace
torn through spectral dances
like light from a prism

situated in darkness
like a burning star

defined in polar cradles
fused light-borne blackness

receptively penetrating
entering the ******

burning with a friction
seeing out beyond

alpha, dash, omega
dashing, dashing, gone

the eternal ceaselessness
holding like the past

pulling like the future
exploding into now

never ending fluctuants
of holy passions infinite

space is a vacuum
space is a furnace
Mar 2014 · 893
creative principle
creation is the principle
caught between life
and death,
between the succulence of sustenance
and erratic destructiveness,

the gestations of hereafter,
cascading novelties heretofore,
a reflective dynamism,
in the moving mirror,

the bitter-sweet
of paradoxes pumping,

a living death
that is,
what dies
into loves thrusting,

the fecund surge of heart,
upon the looming edge,
between the past lined birth place,
and the precipice.
Mar 2014 · 4.7k
stark mystery
this constant
into stark mystery

is a story
i flounder
to find words for.


a glance,
than eyes looking.

upon feedback's


i am a crippled logician,
wrought with wonder

in the thrashing
static jungle,
of no conclusion.


this is a flash
this here, the flesh

a blinding
binding light,

without solution,

a living,
i tremble in.


i am stumped
i am little
so small

in the



a suspended channel
of ideation,
filling, with
empty utterance.


i am confounded
i am large
too grand




full, with


a grandiose
enigmatic flux,
and massive.

— The End —