I feel fine, now
that stoical ice
grows within me
like a tangled vine
wrapping around
inside, and outside
I'm a laughing smiling
clown upside down
on my house, and
my life, you see
this frown painted
by Courbet, realistic
as Pushkin's finest
piece of poetry.

She lays out her heart
On her sleeve  
Both sleeves
As the red
Carpet is rolled
Out for royalty
Whether for
Honor or dishonor
But always
For ceremony

It beats in polyrhythms
Under and on her
Many layered epidermis
Whose layers
Perhaps only a mystical
Archeologist could
Analyze
The complexity of an
Ancient undecipherable book
              
Created by years of damaging
Neural and spiritual
Pathways by absorbing
The essence of her
Personal peace pipe
Which is bereft of the
Essential factors found
In thousands of years of
Dream religion

She fancies herself
A new breed of
Shaman perhaps
A connection broken
At an unknown time
In her spirit
But felt strongly
And deeply as
Phantom pain
Evident in her
Crystal ball
And stargazing

A remnant of
A long lost tribe
A tapestry of
Religions
Trivialized
Pop cultural  
Spirituality
And superstition

Her motives
Misplaced and obscure
But definitely from
A healing source
But the channels are
Eroded and indefinable
Bastardized by

Extraneous channels
And alien sources
A trickle of water
In a dry river bed
All muddled into
This enigma and

Multicolored tapestry
Which is often
Misunderstood
And underestimated
Protected by the
Thick epidermis
And hard to follow
Cardiac polyrhythms
Revealed when her
Many layered tongue
Lashes out and cuts deep

Not intending to control
And manipulate
With leadership
Origins perhaps in the
Shaman or tribal leader
But definitely
Out of place and time
Since their true essence
Has been lost through
Her Westernized
Industrialized
And hyper-capitalized mind

And scattered to the four winds.

This is for the times
You don't know how to feel.
The times you hurt
And there's no reason why.
The days you try your
Damndest but go
Nowhere.

H. A. L. T.

H ungry
A ngry
L onely
T ired

If you're feeling this way,

W. R. I .T. E.

W orking
R elease
I nspired
T hrough
E nlightenment

Writing about
your problems,
Gives you a mirror
to look into.

And... R. E. A. D.

R ealizing
E veryone's
A ngst
D estroys!

Some may have problems
Worse than yours. Help them.

Thank you.

♡ Catherine

Must we only dream
   of wise kings who know
that rivers must flow
   peacefully
so a woman can sing
   her children to sleep
and fathers not weep
   holding them
in grief too heartbroken
   to rage
at the violence men bring
    in this age
that should be long left
   behind us?

Maybe it's the strum
or the pulse of the drum
Or the soaring harp
that flies like lark
Perhaps the twinkle
of the keys
Maybe the way  the
melody frees
Inside the emotions
cause all kind of commotion
And during the whole interval
nothing's said
as it was already beautiful

Her silver wings
dipped in gold
soared through our hearts
couragion bold

Purified election
supple selection
I am the piece you nuzzle
to complete the puzzle

Lost and lonely
the sun's warning
Pluto's cobalt seas
Uranus storming

Beyond the horizon
Beyond 4g of Verizon
Astral forming
She's the morning