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Rachel Apr 2020
My roll ends with the tides of the shifting moss
Amateurs murk forthwith in a tin can
Out of the cool wide-eyed of night dream mist
Deadened lines slamming heaviness on tombs

Rain cities distilling the cold blue night
Cracks underneath the putrid sky lit doors
Clay built street lamps melting on Earth’s rumble
Inescapable hues of red sunshine

Broken shades of satire crawl around
Over the moonstruck autumn fairy rain
White skeleton crows in adverse obsidian
Dowsed in misery, songs for the wicked sweet

Mocked, maimed and ill-trodden
To the fancy slims of the crystal ball
Born to the age of tangled wars
Aching wheels of thoughts heralding headlong
Rachel Apr 2020
{HOWL inspired, a rip off}.

I saw the worst alcoholics of my recovery group return from INSANITY… beaten down at the battle grounds of *****.


who staggered over park benches, plastered and stabbed, in the unholy city of Las *

who crawled to the threshold of the St Therese Church doorstep for a 2 a.m. garbled vocabulary vigil of wine and song

who, left always alone, with a growling loneliness, forever on a lone trip for nowhere, with no one

where throngs of ******* husbands soak dead in their sheets of overdose

who only thought they were keeping it together whilst burning their lives to the ground, one more time

who were spotted smoking blunts in limousines just weeks before the mutiny of their disease sunk their Titanic

they, as unawares of the frigged cold, and truck stuck in the snow drift, walked miles in t-shirts and socks, just to get more, more, more

who ravished nightmarish, *****-like creatures for *** and cigarettes, all for a night on the town

and who disappeared for weeks, and looked upon as unrecognizable when these beasts of burdens returned, scratching at others’ wounds that they themselves had inflicted

that had spent years on the merry-go-rounds of surgical tables, jailhouses, psyche wards, detox centers and homeless shelters

wherein their ***** were handed to them by repeated self-administered beatings to the point of incomprehensible demoralization


ism, the I, Self, Me, stuck in our heads and can’t get away from self

ism, the insidious Doctor Jekell and Mr. Hide act

ism, the hideous Four Horseman - of terror, bewilderment, frustration, despair


who, under the lash of alcoholism, were unwillingly driven to A.A., and where, by some grace, were able to surrender, ask for help and become willing to make changes

whereby they gather together, in strength, to help one another from being swallowed up by the incessant madness

whose lives have been turned completely around, from a hopeless state of mind and body

who, one day at a time, don’t drink, drug, lie cheat or steal

whose relationships with their children have been mended

and who are living useful and purposeful lives

who care about each other and do what they can to help others

who give their time to share their experience and provide hope to the next sufferer

these alcoholics stay sober by working the 12 steps of recovery with a sponsor, and together, trudge the road of happy destiny
inspired by A. Ginsberg's poem 'Howl', in reverse
Rachel Mar 2020
Stratospheres of energy fields are aflame
Sorted pieces of events for someone to blame
Waking up all over again to do it the same
Simulating life, liberty and remanence of fame

Sanctity and civility marked by uniformity
Simplicity cut short by fractions of falsifiability
Circumvent the thick density of a sovereign reality
Dismissing duality to enter the ring of the trinity

Obnoxious volition lending toward a noxious trend
Lying down the self-hood, there is nothing to defend
The dark or the light, of which shall we contend
Drifting as the conscious observer, to all else, suspend
Rachel Mar 2020
The secret in her art
Origins from deep within the Earth

An ancient tradition
Her sounds move from heart to hearth

Chorus echoes beauty
Currents where love runs deep

Preserving lyrical poetry
Nature spirits sing in praise

Stars melting into the sun
a metaphysical solace

She was saved by her art
The world reclaims her
Rachel Mar 2020
There is Earth
And from that Earth, our birth
To my Mother
My darkest clowns
I am nothing but
Error and absurdities
I am found in diversity,
     Not prosperity
My defects more glorious
     Than my victories
I mourn my disasters
     Unable to celebrate victories
Is a frigid heart
     Worth the love it believes due?

A new life beckoning
On a strange new shore
Are you the herald of progress
Or the purveyor of amusement

The helpless soul within her drowned
Odin, the one-eyed god of battle
Screamed a foul sound in a fit of rage
A battle cry sung to the dead
The American witches
Practicing witchcraft at night
Turning red candles white
The jester came from above
Floating by to deliver
Tales of tragedy and comedy
Time and space are the
Abstractions of our experience
Rachel Mar 2020
The dandelions are new today
Up on the mountain top
Blades of new grass are alive today
Up on the mountain top

I came to pray to renew today
Up on the mountain top
On my knees in the dew today
Up on the mountain top

Asking for help I'm askew today
Up on the mountain top
Searching for the god I knew today
Up on the mountaintop
Rachel Mar 2020
Waves of Fear wash over
     Let go and be free
Besetting of a noxious splendor
     Melting worry into the Sea

Serpent energies arise within
     Join in and ride
Requesitenesses for new skin
     Ridding toxins from inside

Peaceful existence now I capture
     Experience and enjoy
Glistening Sun and wet with rapture
     Swimming the Ocean of Pure Joy
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