For so many years
I have Journeyed alone.
A solo Soul Practitioner
alive in suburbia,
walking the Spirit Planes.
To publicly declare
I Am a Shaman
feels like stepping on to a foreign land
where no one speaks my language.

I hung out
a bit
with those
Stylish Angels.
Listening
to their Wit
and their Woes.

They showed me around
their Haunted Hotel.
I heard some rumors
it was No-Tell
kind of place.
A Confessional.

I sat at the bar
and slammed back a few.
The Words on the
bathroom wall
told a Tale
or Two or
Three.

Those Stylish Angels
with silk
smoking jackets
and spats.
Do those dudes
really know
where it's at?

Or is it
only a Game...

I thought I tasted a
tear on your cheek
as I languished
sated
in your arms

I thought I tasted
one thousand meanings
in that salty droplet

One thousand questions
I do not dare to ask

Ego
has attached me
to this body
with an iron grip.

Fifty plus years
it has served me well.
My home here
on Earth.

Some times I
leave It.
Riding my Imagination
on other worldly quests.

One day
It will not be
waiting.
Who am I
then?

They cross the country
with 500 horses under the hood.
Those turnpike cowboys
trailing trailers like a train.
They slouch behind the wheel
with a million miles under the belt.
They curse the casual driver,
drifting, darting daredevils,
who know not how to drive.
They stop to fuel up
at those truck stops along the way.
The super stops with Mickey D's
and showers,
lot lizards in the park.
Or the Mom and Pop's,
with biscuits and gravy buffet
and a honey wagon out back.
They run the roads
night and day.
Watching the constant concrete trail.
knowing all commerce could quit
if they did.

I am Narcissistic.
Lethargic.
Melancholic,
and, God forbid,
Cynical.

Wordy and Witty.
Sharp when I'm mad.
I cut to the bone
and make loved ones sad.

I dance with the Capitan
and assorted other crutches.
I swear to Myself
I'm not caught in their clutches.

I don't like decisions
or making a stand.
Sometimes accused of
My head in the sand.

I'm also overly Optimistic :)

What if
at my Temple by the Sea
time did not exist
and waiting was
just an invitation?

What if
wind never blew sand,
only the canvas,
or the hem of my skirt
and my hair?

What if
that canvas
blew into the Sea,
then washed ashore
so finely painted
that no man's hand
could have held the brush?

What if
I were content
dancing alone
on an empty beach
without a fire
under that vast starry sky?

What if
I never waited
for you?

Fire Walker
Angel Talker

Tree Hugger
Technicolor Dreamer
Imagination Jumper

Long time Barber
Recent Photographer

Twisted Big Sister
Missus of the Mister
Wicked Stepmother
to Some
Auntie of Others

Armchair philosopher
Always a Poet
and my Friends
mostly think
a Know- It-All
but in a nice way:)

Karen Newell

You must have taken
A wrong turn!

My Temple is timeless.
Yes I have many ghosts, but
no cob webs grow in the corners.
Never ever any disrepair.
I am tending it always.
Perhaps you followed the wrong path
and were lost along the way.

There is a narrow inlet,
quite protected from the wind,
with steep staircase winding down
right onto the sand,
close by the ancient Sea.
My giant shell is tucked in here.
It might be hard for you to recognize.
Close your eyes......

The outside is worn and rugged
but inside is polished pink.
The cushions are arranged just so
as to watch the waves break.
Would you like to see my altar?
Each treasure has a story.

Keep looking.
I will light the fire.
Watch out for the smoke

I met You
in the distance,
as mysterious
as that may seem.

A water colored image,
a fast approaching dream.  
I called You in as kindred,
life's uncanny scheme.

I ask to call You friend,
If I might be so bold.
May the Thousand Petaled Lotus
continue to unfold.