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Cyrus Gold Jun 2016
The eyes of the luthier are fixated
on the degrading and poorly fitted Dejacques bridge,
a small piece of wood that arches
at the top of the damaged instrument -
a prized 18th century treasure
originating from Brescia, a city in Northern Italy.

With a napkin in hand lightly
soaked in an oily substance,
he unhooks the piece,
then takes a replacement bridge
perfectly fitted for it. He cracks a smile.

This viola d'amore has seen better days,
with usage and prolonged handling
wearing the value of the instrument down.

Only an expert can bring a worn-out bird
seeking its once gracious and hypnotic voice
back to life with care and precision.

This luthier is a* surgeon,
a master at installing a sound-post replacement,
without gouging or harming
the quality of the instrument in the process.

This luthier is a
 listener;
as he retrieves and dusts off a case
filled with a spare set of strings,
he installs and finely tunes them
but never over the desired pitch.

Tense and crucial,
like the rising crescendo of a string quartet,
he strums the new strings for evidence of life,
listening to and directing the cry of each one,
like a composer.

This luthier is a
 healer,
repairing the cracks of the violin
by implementing a tactic he learned
on his many trips to Crawley, England,
where his teacher had once trained him;

by using cubic, wooden studs and small clamps,
he gains better control at closing the cracks just enough
to lace the opening with an adhesive
with little to no force or pressure.

This luthier is an
 artist,
*repairing the instruments
that yearn for the sound of music,
their very raison d'être.

His string and wooden patients
scream in agony for healing and peace
with voices unheard to the people,
but deafening to him.

He leaves his signature on each new patient
as their once damaged and lifeless souls
dance to the tune of his work,
healing them, promising the advent
of a future performance.

Let them rejoice. Let the music soar once again.
I love music. LOVE it.
Lunar Luvnotes Apr 2016
I do not desire to control the world, I aim much higher, mastery of oneself, my soul. That's the meaning of life.  Who would I be to deny deserving people of my love,  my praises?  All people are worth that,  I've come to Earth to realize this. I just want to help.  I just want to be helped. I just want to be whole,  my soul I throw down on the ground in humility, thats my collateral. For arrogance see's no fault. Where there is no faults there are lies. If God is love and God is truth, I just wanna love God so I can love me and love you. If I couldn't see lessons for what they are I'd be miserable.  If I couldn't learn to stretch my patience and strength I wouldn't be limber. It's the flexible tree that bends and doesn't break. Let my sanity and love for myself be the main stay that outlasts every man lifetimes over. That allows me to nurse them back to health when they have fallen,  for every sorry *** is a heart broken and fumbling for a semblance of that feeling of acceptance. I am the essence of compassion as long as you reach my love will follow,  I was born of Great Mother energy, I am strong, yet this is Earth where I need a warrior. His stealth, lessons in control, patience and acceptance. He needs a queen who feeds him back,  she needs a King to stay loyal to her energy for it will always intuit them in the right direction. Together with his protection they are the compass. Should she have grit and he have clear vision they are a team to never be had, they will build a reach into the Heavens where children thrill to slide back into Earthly existence without a care as to how it might hurt them, when you're working for a dream team, what's a few scratches..
Dedicated to my future husband I will raise a gypsy clan with, I only trust God to know who my King will be. Posted last week from my series "Empaths Anonymous" you can find my more expansive poetry collections on instagram: lunar_luvnotes
Elioinai Jan 2016
I let the enemy approach me
and cut my tender skin.
I let the blood run trembling
this fight I could not win.
My voice was gone from silent screams
bruised hands from angry fists

I found I wasn't half so *****
when my friends led me to your side
I had believed me rotten, horrid
Stained
But it was him who'd lied

In the worship of your presence
I felt your gentle hands
press down upon the open wounds
bind them in strips of white
I'm not a cutter, but I feel bloodied in my mental fights
m i a Dec 2015
he* came inside my soul
    and took everything away

starting from the pain
the worry
  the sadness
      the scars and bruises

lastly
  he took my heart as well

and all of my fears & pain
  began to grow strangely dim
       when i was with him.
this is cheesy asfudgee, but fudge isn't cheesy. but eh <3
Moleko Sula Sep 2015
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Moleko Sula Sep 2015
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For Keith, that man mountain of towering spirit,
That weaver of emotion, standing proud in his truth.
I wish to be like you;
An artist of the heart, of genuine expression,
A facilitator of truth,
A provider of safety,
Like a harbor for small ships caught in a storm.
You offer a home to those who have none,
A space of healing wrapped in acceptance and silence,
An inn to rest for the night,
So we may continue our journey refreshed.

But how did you find this goodness?
Was it given to you as a gift at birth?
No.
You wrestled it from your soul
With awareness, unflinching courage and tears.
Keith is awesome, the poem says it all.
Thea, the goddess of the earth
Sits like a rock in her chamber of woven light.
The fortunate who enter here
Are blessed and tormented and burned and held.

They arrive knowing that they must make a sacrifice;
They do not pay in money but in tears,
In truth wrenched from the soul,
In accountability and naked raw awareness.

None who arrive do so lightly
But all who come leave lighter.
Their confusion unraveled through skilful enquiry,
Cut by a sharp silver sword of truth and knowing.

Enter - but do so with reverence and respect.
This is a place of healing!
Men and women are unmade and made here.
This is a poem I wrote about a healer I visit occasionally. It is always an extraordinary experience.
Kate Lion May 2015
i take on other people's fears
find their masks lying around
i put them on for fun

i pull threads from people's coats
make a cocoon of them
of the weaknesses
the dreads
the sadness

but why

i want to know what it feels like
want to have pity on their starving, naked souls

but they eat me alive.

let them be keepers of their own darkness
i say
let them reach to you through the prison bars, the high bars set by society that most can never grasp
but i have to take off my shawl and drape it round their shoulders

it's all that i have left

there are two sides to me
one wants to give and give
the other wants to take and keep and scowl at the rainbows as they form overhead

one loves the sun
the other wishes that the rain would stay forever

how to pull me out of myself
out of the dark abyss i've created for my soul
Lunar Luvnotes Jan 2015
Intake warm breeze
as chest expands
Like a tequila shot
Slammed
Top shelf tequila...
A more enduring
Sobering
Variety of elixir
Oxygen and energy ringing

Integrity intact
Confidence withstands
Through chaos and madness
I AM a glorious being
We ARE shining out
into the galaxy

Can't you see?
Only by running on
Spiritual fumes of evermore
Can we truly be
All we were meant
Without a penny spent

The universe expands
Fills up every pore
of pink lung
Feeding blood as
it wraps around
My heart squeezing out
Every ounce of
Stamina and love

Exhale air of hope
So grateful to it
Swirling up
My being bowed down
in reverence
Indebted to it
the atmosphere

The same breeze
Engulfs birds in the trees,
Who drink it up,
Singing sweetly
Sure beats man-made
Intoxication any day
of the week
Don't you think?

The best highs
of this life
are beautifully
Intrinsically
Deceivingly
Free

Go forth!
Spread your wings
Spanning from
Past to future
Fly to sights unseen!
Soar the currents of today
Right up to the heavens
Dear friends!

I'll be perched
Waiting for your faces
in the branches of Serenity,
Chirping hymns of Love
"Empaths Anonymous" series, what was formerly known as my "Moonchild" series. Because empaths more often than not are addictive personalities. I'm not in this mindstate just yet but am sober and wrote this to inspire myself to stay that way. Oneday... I will throw my whole heart and being into sobriety happily.
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