Although your existence is strange.
Your persistence will never change.
Staying constant as the world continues to rearrange.

Balancing across a thin plank.
Above you a picture of color.
Below a canvas blank.
Undecided whether to oppose or thank.

If I had the cure, I'd stop the lies,
and dry your sweet innocent eyes.
But locked away my sadness hides.

Sunken in this sea of tears.
Burning away my soul, it sears.
But you seem to extinguish the flames,
with the silly way we speak each other’s names.

From our window, I see you watch the world turn.
It's strife and chaos, none of your concern.
May your heart continue to stay the same,
no matter your days, age, or what you learn.

When things are unclear, and you are unable to see.
Just simply say my name, and take a walk with me.

Spending my time pondering your curious wonder.
Invisibly working hard to fix my blunder.
And dreading the day that we must sunder.

As your mind is learning and travelling along,
know that nothing you do is ever wrong.
For it is these mistakes that will make you strong.

Restless nights for an eager soul,
At times it may seem that life moves too slow.
But remember such as the flower,
Beautiful things take time to grow.
Please never forget how much your big brother loves you so.

And when light is darkness, and darkness is light,
things are cold, out of grasp and sight.
I'll be your sun, and shed you light.
Because my sister it is my utmost pleasure,
to watch you shine bright.

Balancing at the presipice
On life's downward *****
Prentice of success
Ignoring of cues
Enveloped in pain  
Somatic failure

The blow of hindsight  
Faltering expectations
Drenched in fear
Fruition of average

It’s easy to be happy, we just have to pretend.
(And we have to pretend we are not pretending.)
We are living on a wedge, in a balancing act,
Continually contemplating our emotions.
That’s how we wobble. (And we wobble a lot!)

I want to be a sunflower.
I want to feel like a sunflower feels.
I want to just be there, all dutiful and content.
I want no unhappy thoughts (there are no unhappy thoughts!),
Nor happy thoughts –  just simply be.
Sensitive and responsive and alive,
And nothing else.

They say we are more.  
They say we are more than animal, more than physical.
They say our souls are souls and that we have a deeper essence.
I say we are not.
I say we are animal and that we are precisely physical.
I say we are chemical, electrical, mineral, and vegetable,
And so much more.
I say our souls are not souls and nonetheless we have essence.
We have so much essence!
(However, our essence is physical, not metaphysical.)
There is so much philosophy in not having a philosophy.

Let there be pain where there is pain.
Let goodness be goodness, and evil be evil.
They are all the same.
Let things be beautiful without them being beautiful to you.
Love is not you, as you need it to be.
Love is everywhere and in everything.
Love is in the nature of things.
It is the nature of the Maker of things.
It is not you that creates love, nor love that creates you.
You don’t need love – not the love you need.
What has this love given you?
What has it turned you into?
You don’t have to be something you are not to be you!

You add up the days, you add up the years,
And you grow old. (The adding up makes you old.)
You add up everything you have, everything you are.
Adding is growing, adding is being, you think.
The more you add. the less you are you.
It’s obvious, isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Yet, you keep on adding till you are almost nothing.
You became a doubt, an ellipsis.
If you were to stop adding, stop pretending, you would start growing.
Naturally, organically, faultlessly.
You would grow into you. Not more, not less. Not someone else. You.
Beautiful you. Perfect you. Godly you.

Look at children.
Look at children playing.
Look at children eating ice-cream *****.
Look at them picking flavors.
There is more depth in this picking than in your whole existence!

I want to be a sunflower.
I want to be the sea.
I want to be a single ray of sunlight.
I want to feel the freedom the wind must feel.
I want to feel like the meadows and the valleys feel.
I want to be simple and natural and magnificent.
God is hidden in the simple things –
This is what we should never forget, yet we always do.

It’s easy to be happy, we don’t have to pretend.

889

Crisis is a Hair
Toward which the forces creep
Past which forces retrograde
If it come in sleep

To suspend the Breath
Is the most we can
Ignorant is it Life or Death
Nicely balancing.

Let an instant push
Or an Atom press
Or a Circle hesitate
In Circumference

It—may jolt the Hand
That adjusts the Hair
That secures Eternity
From presenting—Here—

walking the indistinguishable
tightroped limitations of you mind,
balancing completeness
and the incompleteness
you told me was ok,
between the cracks in our hearts
until the foot slips,
the dawn breaks
and I
fall.

Imagining
Georgia O’Keeffe
Goddess
In her own right
Melting away
In a gas guzzler
Meditative escape pod
Disguised as a thermal barrier
Your mind is out there
You pay attention
Everything is Alien
Luna appears
Radiating Bull horns
Like a crescent moon
Balancing on the horizon
Magically moving along
The plane of the ecliptic
Maybe for a millisecond
Crab Nebula
Sneezed the brilliance
That caused the most beautiful
Reflection
That is you
Only the very lucky
Get to see
Black feather floating
Like a random propitious sign
From the heavens
I ******* love you
For showing me
Every forever is a
Second to enjoy
One Love

8/10/2018

To This Day
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there’s something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don’t worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
******* we made it
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me

of course
they did

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty.

Soon, each of the things that I cherish the most,
like pottery formed by my hand,
will fall from its rest on the eye of a needle
and breaks into pieces of sand.

If I cannot see when the moment arrives
when something so fragile falls
from its balancing act on the tip of a pin,
will time delay for me at all?

Ran the jackhammer today
cutting asphalt for drain pipes.
Stood in a light rain
balancing the hammer as the blade
                               broke
                 ­    slowly
                           deeper
and thought of things far away.
You have to.

After work, when I got home,
I touched my small boy's outstretched hand:
my fingers hummed like tuning forks.

Early morning awakenings followed by days as seen through the haze of sleep deprivation are the story of my life. Late nights chugging caffeinated drinks keep me on the brink of insanity. Long afternoons in the library bent over a book filled educational words that all swim together in a river of knowledge to wash away my brain. Each day is the same filled with paper after math calculation due day in and day out because adults don’t seem to understand the stress we are under. Teacher’s voices begin to sound the same hour after hour of classes and all the subjects blur into one mass of nightmares.

This is the life of a high school student.

From grade 9 to grade 12 we are trapped within the strict walls of assignments tests and exams. Our lives evolve around this institution, defined by the marks we receive and we begin to believe that there is nothing more important than balancing chemistry equations rather than social obligations, or mathematic foundations as if the building blocks of society.  But they give no preparation for the real world.

When we reach a certain age, long before the time of university stress, they tell us that we can be anything, so I picked sparkly fairy princess. Apparently that defies the laws of physics and they said try again I loved the power of the pen and I said author. Then they laughed in my face and said I’d never win the economical race so I settled on lawyer, an profession where I would become a the predator.

The days are structured and muscle memory carries me from class to class, until I resemble a soldier in an army of zombified ants that is under the influence of the queen of education. There is no room to be different, yet we are told to think outside the box but too far outside the box is stupidity, according to the system that doesn’t even think critically anyway. So what is the point?

The pupils that constrict under the bright light of pressure are told that the grades they receive will make or break their future. And that ache of disappointment in the back of the mind says that their only option is the McDonalds up the road.

Parents, teachers, administrators all push and pull me into the “right” direction of life as if they know my true interests because they think they have taught me everything. But they can’t do anything when I finally speak my mind. So, I will apply newton’s third law and react to all those balanced equation and mathematical calculations by becoming a sparkly fairy princess. Then I will give education the finger and only linger to say “***** you school.”

Sometimes I find it difficult
to remember what life is worth
when I am wading this deep in blue.
If I am trying hard not to drown,
how can I focus on the clouds?
In the back of my mind, I will always
know that there is good in the world.
However the mind gets distracted when
balancing on a tight rope. For if you fall
there is no going back, only
falling through the sky, watching
people laugh together
as you plummet to your doom.
It just isn't easy to make it across the tight rope.
What if it wasn't tied right?
What if you fall off?
What if a demon flies on by
and carries you straight to Hell?
I know that it could happen; the demon
has already visited. The claw marks,
the scratches, the nightmares will
always be etched into my heart, soul and skin.
They are scarred, as I will be forever.

These days there are so many options for sharing our voices. Social media has created an instant audience for all who join. It is a large change for the older generations of the Earth, though social media holds the opportunity of our times! We are all there, together. 

I am aware that the awakening that is taking place on Earth is all being played out as it is intended. Social media alone did not bring us to this point. All of our history has brought us to this point. Every light high and grueling low. Each moment moved our lives forward and helped create the next new moments. This is obvious though the power in this reality is what healing looks like to me. 

I am using the social media world to share the plant message I have tuned into. Being able to share how my heart loves with humans far outside my physical reach is empowering beyond words. I feel such deep gratitude to be alive today and for having the awareness of this blessing. I never felt comfortable with that word. Though in reality, being a witness to life is truly the blessing.

We live in a society that the mass of us really do not understand. Our world is being created by the humans with the most access to energy (resources). The large part of humanity has committed to economics and actually, capitalism. Workers have very low energy reserves to be creators. Though we all do it anyways. The human is the most powerful being we know of! Our capabilities are truly unbelievable!!!

We are equally as powerful as all other living organisms and yet have a capacity of creation that no others possess. The human has very few basic needs. Though one of those needs is to make stuff... all kinds of stuff... all the time. We will always be advancing and building. Its what we do. The question I think many of us ask is, how can we be happy with all this stuff? There seems to be a general sense of discontent capturing our hearts. How is this affecting the world we are creating?

In the creation of this website and expansion organization, I have thought much about helping people find solutions to their every day challenges. This is how a whole lifestyle is accomplished. We have to dig into the daily habits, change those and create new healthier ones. When we change our mind, we change our world. We literally change the things we create because new thoughts are at the source of the manifestation.

To make sure I was providing the solutions my sphere needed, I created a short survey that explores the major roadblocks people have with maintaining a healthier lifestyle. The results were small, though very powerful and pretty surprising for me. 70% of the responses indicated that what they needed most to adapt to a whole food plant based lifestyle was inspiration and accountability. 60% also noted needing it to work in a busy lifestyle. These are two of the major hindrances of us. Desire and time. Both have been systematically deleted over time. Major lifestyle differences must come about for either to be possible. We spend most of our hours working for stuff that does not fulfill any human needs at all. 

Thankfully!!! We are the actual energy that creates everything... we are a manifestation of it! We are energy in motion, tuned to our environment to make changes as we desire. This is an amazing thing to be a part of and I have such a deep faith that we can create a world we desire by aligning with the healing power of plants and by just helping each other out! 

Healing is real. And it is fairly simple. When a wound surfaces, the immune system sends the info to heal. Our communities work in similar ways. We respond to the needs of neighbors and friends when tragedy strikes. We feel it is our duty. Though when it comes to our personal self, most of us struggle to uplift ourselves. We have been taught to doubt our hearts, our dreams, our self. As we grow with this person who is fearful of itself, we tend to create situations that are lacking the major and minor touches that nourish us. We are missing the fine details of our world that confirm to us time again that everything is OK.

This does not mean that everything is calm and serene for the everyone all the time. This is not what being is. Being is the movement through different cycles. These cycles exist in the dark and the light for us humans. Our core must move from the dark to the light and back in order to grow and develop the power to continue to create and move. This is what the plants really teach. This is the message that we discover when we align with these healing beings. Death creates new life. New life moves towards death. The moments in between are for our growth. How simple it is...

Our world will continue to experience tragedies. Babies will continue to die. Mother's will continue to weep. The world will also continue to become more aware and grow deeper. Babies will be born and Mother's will continue to have the capacity to love, unconditionally. Our heart beat cannot be tainted. It cannot be stopped. We are the manifestation of the Earth. We are Her children. As a Mother, I can confirm that She will work with her children and never against them. She will provide the lessons they need and will be there to direct them if needed. This is what mamas (and dads) do. We are always being directed towards expansion. This is the desire of our Mother, of time... it seems like of US all. It won't stop. Learning to move with it is where much of our peace and happiness is resting, awaiting our re-discovery. Gratitude is due.

So, today's post is what my heart felt was an inspiring message! I want to be able to help serve the people around me that need healing. I receive the same energy from all of you! My awareness here will make the exchange effective, inspiring and nourishing! Remember, nourishment is a requirement of bonds here. We must nourish each other in our interactions... and definitely in our death. Its a natural law. There is a release here you can feel if you struggle with these feelings. We give and take equally, either in this moment or another. Everything ends up balancing out, coming back to the center/core and creating the dark/light, positive/negative, love/hate experiences again. What if we created new habits that disconnected us from all this back and forth? What if we learned to tune into our inner voice, our core and exercise the desires of this space? What if we encouraged each other to at least think about it? Does worrying about a war that is not fact seem more productive to you? Or continuing to participate in a system that is creating a world we do not desire? Obviously we must make these changes over generations, though what are we prepared to change about ourselves in order to instill these changes in our offspring? Its a reset. And it begins within. It sounds like self acceptance and love. It looks like that love being extended, honestly, from the insides out. It means recognizing the energy you are in all others, honoring that creative force and treating it with compassion and forgiveness. This does not answer all the troubles of the world. This answers the desire within. Once the humans of Earth are tuned to their desires, we will see the troubles look like what we wish too. They help us create the experiences to learn compassion. To learn unconditional love. We are not here to live in the dark. The light is always ahead. Creation is sparked in the dark.

Why not? Why not try? I know it works. It will look different for each of us. Though healing is real, unless its your time. Then you do not have to worry about it anymore. Until that day, we can learn to use our creative energy to develop exactly what our hearts desire. They are universal goals we share and we are intended to encourage each other along the way. We are all just walking each other home. Home is where the heart is. 

Thank you for the beautiful humans that participated in the survey! Your responses mean so much to me. I will continue to add in my perspective of inspirational blog posts and podcasts. It is great to know that the fire I feel within can be shared to light another's wick. I promise to do my best for my self, my children, my family ... for us all. These moments of my life matter to me. We all have the ability to know this and to act accordingly.  Let's go!!!

Dancing forms – wings askew
Balancing on one foot or flying?
Pipes or lutes?
Heads bowed to the music
Or to see the love drops
Floating?

The geodesic dome
Grows from the foliage
The silver hexagons over a
Glass biome – layering,
Mating
From within the prickly pines.

The love drops – like candy liquid,
Oranges and reds and yellows
All for the girls.
They’re eaten so quickly.

Only a few blue for the boys.
The boys would rather climb
The glass surface gripping tightly
To the steel pipes
Then jump hard – diving
Into the shallow pool – hoping
To gobble up a little girl
Before she tastes Love.

Pan laughs and plays his pipe
Watching the children play.

But alas there was that fateful date
She spiralled down into the hands of fate
Memories emerged from rusty iron doors
Of long forgotten ****** wars
From the horrific deeds both seen and did
She desperately wanted safely hid

So determined to relinquish her soul
Balancing on the edge of a massive Black Hole

Oh, how she wanted to let it all go
Swim in the Styx steady flow
Voices silently scream and thump
"Just jump"
Quickly darting thoughts, makes emotions scurry
A savage combatant, now battle worn and worried

This painful life seemed insignificant
No use in wishing things where different



In that final, fateful hour
Under the weight of anguish cowered
A hand reached out and let her know He'd hold tight and not let go
He also lived in that darkened zone
But together they'd never be alone
They constantly leaned on each other
From the emotional whirl, they where each other's buffer

Friendship deeper than can be imagined
Epic enough to be a poetic legend
Their very essence, bonding soul to soul
Love so pure, like the first winter's snow

But alas there was that fateful date
He spiralled down into the hands of fate
Again alone with memories
Echos of what use to be



It's a spiritual knowing
That a love so glowing
Persist only within a true soul-friend
It's a love so strong, it can not end
For when their next lifetime begins
They will find each other, yet again


©Pauline Russell

This is not yin and yang,
not a balancing of things.

These are human beings trying to survive.
That kid that was shot, never saw it coming until it was too late.
But what could he have done anyways?
Who's responsibility is it to stop the hate?

Yours. Mine. Everyone's.
Please learn to love each other before someone important to you dies because the wrong person is in control of the gun.

A man sat upon a pub stool stroking his
ginger beard while grasping a pint with his
other hand; an elderly gent sat down next to
him; this older man saw the ginger bearded
fellow’s pint was quite ne’r the bottom

A woman with eyes of amber and hair like
chestnut strolled through a vineyard amongst
the ripening grapes full of juice soon to become
wine she clutched a notebook—behind black
covers lay ideas and sketches on how to bring
the world to a more natural state; balancing
the wonders and benefits of technology with
the beauty and sanctity of the natural world

When the ginger bearded man finished
the last bit of his pint another appeared
before him—courtesy of the old man,
“Notice you got the mark of a man accustom
to the seas,” said the old man gesturing to
the black and blue compass rose inscribed
in a ship’s helm, imbedded into the back
of the ginger bearded man’s right hand.

“I have crewed and skippered a many fine
vessel, but I am giving up the sea. I have
one last voyage left in me—to my home.”

“Aye the sea can be cold and harsh,
but she captures me heart. To where
are ye headed for home, there son?”

“’tis not a where, ‘tis a who. Sets of events
have lead to separate from me my wife. I
have been traveling for  five years waiting
to be in her embrace. The force of the sea,
she, is a cruel one for at every tack, or gybe
I am thrown off my course to stranger and
stranger lands… I have gone to the rotunda
of hell and the gates of the so called heaven.
I have struck deals, and  made bets only a
gambling addict would accept. All to just be
with her. I am homesick—she is my home; it
doesn’t matter where—physically—we are
my home is with her. I was told to come to the
clove of Cork and wait, wait for a man, but I
was not told anything about this man only that
I must return him this,” the ginger bearded man
held out a silver pocket watch with a frigate
engraved on the front and two roses sharing a
stem swirling on the back upon themselves.

“Can it be? ‘tis my watch t’at me fat’er gave
me before he died… I lost t’is at sea many a
year ago; it left me heartbroken. For ‘twas me
only lasting memory of him… Come to t’ink
I was told by a beggar in the streets, I do not
remember how long ago, but it has been many
a years, t’at I would meet a man with something
very dear to me, and I would take this man on
a journey, and this man would have the mark
of a sailor. What is ye name? Can it be…?”

“My name is Lysseus dear old man—it seems
the Sea is holding up her bargain—though a
little late... do you have a ship that can fair to
Rome? All across this land, none a skipper will
uptake my plea; they fear the wrath of the sea.
If they have no fear, they claim my home ‘is not
on their routes…’ ‘tis a line I’ve heard too often;
I would purchase a boat, but the sea, she, has
robbed me identity and equity; I’m at her mercy.”

Penny with her rich chestnut hair sat on a fountain
in a piazza—her half empty heart longing to feel
the presence of the Lysseus and stroke his ginger
beard… everyday she would look out at the sea;
where she saw him leave port—five long years ago…

All said she should give up; that he
was dead by now—his ship (what
was left) was found amidst the rocks
of Cape Horn, but she knew there was
hope, she should feel deep inside her
soul he is alive somewhere fighting to
return home. Never would she leave;
never would she abandon her post.
She made that promise five years ago
as he set out on his ‘last’ sail off shore.
And she would be ****** before she
broke her promise—a promise of the
heart; a promise of love. He said, “You
are my lighthouse; your love will guide
me home—keep me from danger. As
long as you remain my lighthouse I will
forever be able to return home—to you.”

Off from Crosshaven the old man took
steadfast Lysseus en route to his home.
Grey Irish skies turned blue as they made
their way out on the Celtic Sea, southeast,
to the Straight of Gibraltar; gentle cold
spray moistened his ginger beard, his
tattooed hands grasped the helm—his
resolute stare kept the two on course.

It was a shame to the old man that this
would be Lysseus’ final voyage—he was
the best crew the man had known; he
was  not sure if it was just the character
of the  fellow or his personal desire to
return  home after five long, salty-cold,
years being a slave to the sea and her
changing whim—never had he seen his
ship sail as fast as he did when Lysseus
was his crew—each sail trimmed perfectly,
easing  the sheets fractions of an inch to
gain just the slightest gain in speed; the
sight warmed the heart of the old man.

The old man mused: maybe this is the
reason the sea has fought so hard and
lied to keep Lysseus from returning
home… she could not bear to lose such
fine a sailor from her expanses—she
is known to be a jealous mistress…

The old man, as he smoked his pipe, sat on
the back pulpit staring at Lysseus’ passion
to return home, as he calls her. But for all
his will and passion the, old man had to
insist for the fellow to rest; otherwise he
would go mad without sleep; reluctantly he
would retire below deck, but the old man
doubted the amount of rest he actually
acquired in those moments out of his sight.

The seas were calm as open water can be,
rolling swells rocked and pushed the vessel
forward. The Straight of Gibraltar opened
up on the horizon like a threshold—a major
land mark for the Lysseus; he was closer to
home than he had been in five long, salty,
years. His limbo was starting to fade, his
heart slowly—for the first time since he left
port—was beginning to feel whole again.
The Mediterranean Sea—his final sea—he
would not miss the gleam of his lighthouse…

The closer they sailed to Rome, he could sense a
change in the water, a change in the weather; clouds
grew darker and bellowed like gluttonous bulbs. As
he feared, the Sea was breaking her promise—she
was not done with him yet. She could not let him
return home—the jealous temptress who has ruined
many a fine men—the least honest of all the elements.

“I see she ain’t done wit’ ye yet,” said
the old man. Surveying the dark, grey,
clouded noon-day sky from the bow pulpit.

“Nothing will keep me from reaching home; even if I
have to swim the final nautical miles. I will not let the
Sea break her deal; I will make her keep at least one of
her deals. My love is stronger than her forces. That I
know for certain. That I know beyond doubt.” Such
cried Lysseus out to the darkening sea and old man.

As if on cue—waiting for Lysseus to finish
his soliloquy—the clouds let out a deafening
cacophony of thunder cracks rolling through
the heavens towards their vessel. Lighting
grounded on the horizon around them creating
a cage of light and electricity. The gentle rolling
swells grew in stature with every cracking
second. The bow smacked and dove into on
coming waves; drenching both Lysseus and
the old man; with each flood of water over
the deck. The swells grew to such heights the
horizon transformed into dark clouds and
white peaked waves merging with the sky.

A wave crashed over the windward side of
the ship, the force of it cracked the base at
which the compass stood fastened to the deck
of the cockpit a larger wave hit abeam further
loosening the compass from its purchase; with
the angle of the ship and the rise and fall in the
waves it was all Lysseus could to do hold on
and watch the Sea slowly take the ship’s
navigation instrument into Her dark cold depths…

“Oh why do you curse me you foul tempest?
Cannot you see all I desire is to return to my
home!? I have done all you asked; I have
played all your games and won! now it is my
turn now—time for you to play by my rules!”
Lysseuc beckoned the old man to seek refuge
below deck—he would sail them through the
storm, and assured him the ship would reach
port afloat; for, “I can feel my lighthouse in
the distance; do you hear me Sea? You can
take away our mariner’s compass, but you
cannot take away the compass in my heart;
and the light of my home on shore. Five long
years ago she made a promise to me to be
my lighthouse—to guide me home no matter
what—regardless what you do, Sea, you can
never break her promise—only your, promises.”

As a lighthouse she stood through the weather
of the night—risking pneumonia, for Penny’s
heart told her she could never abandon her
promise as the waters fell flat and the sun peaked
through the storm clouds, a silhouette stretched
in the sunrise light, pointing to her feet. Upon the
bow Lysseus stood, his eyes fixed at the dock
where his lighthouse stood, fixed. Upon the dock
he jumped into the warm, loving, arms of his
home both of their hearts became whole again.

i found 12:41
revelations
milo and quantum
physics
i couldn't pass chemistry
in 11th grade
stuck in the act
of balancing equations
too much o2 taking
up all the space in
the air where
words are supposed to
form and make
things easier
pure scientific intelligence
the art of descerning
the oil on
skin leaving fingerprints
on the surfaces of things
only surface-level
too afraid to go any deeper
i want you on all levels
in all aspects without
limitations

Soft heavy shade of unrelenting mischevious boredom
Killing off the weak of our youth
Plauging the soft minded soft handed rich pocketed crickets of the Earth
Sounding off from a siren that is coated in oil
In blood
In computer symetry that if shown to a child
Would just begin to cry
Have you no souls?
Have you no heart underneath that starched shirt?
Where in ourselves is the need to **** oneself
Off like that?
Winding away the hours spending earning balancing mistrusting
Saying that one is learning but towards what?
Ignorance is not bliss but a black corner that one is now blinded by
The shadow drawings are illuminated and cause glee
But the shadow makers are the evil ones
Men and women behind dashes of black ink
Memo books scribbled through every line
Tucked away for absolute Americanized security
America...how has our trust faltered so far and so fast?
Will we will gain it back?...
America...
Are you there?

A blank empty canvas
Pure as the winter's snow
Open as but a vast window
Seeing deep into it's soul.

The mind ticks in emotional frustration
Relics of imagination fly and form
Particles of atomic consciousness
Gathers and flows like an Astro storm.

White wash covers the surface
The first invocation soothing and mild
Then images gather before the eyes
Like a raging storm, fierce and wild.

The pallet is filled with rainbow mixtures
Here one joins to the alchemist's dream
Establishing upon board, paper or canvas
The unfoldment of the creative stream.

Brush in hand, Like an ancient wand
One casts the horizon like a spell
Summoning, coaxing, those tides within
Where the possession conquered, flowed and fell.

Dashes here, strokes there
Balancing the tones within each hew,
The thoughts so fast, mind captured
Projections all of that inner you.

Murky and shapeless at the start
But shadows enhance, inward glance
Light engulfs and shines but through
The eyes captured to the romance.

The artist gallant before his glory
Yet! Never fulfilled by its view
Playing upon its essence and structure
He draws upon images new.

One here becomes the timeless Shaman
Working the magic of natures way
Gathering the similarities and imbuing with fire
Elevating ever the thought to the creative day.

Or like a modern mystic
Grasped tight in spiritual bliss
subduing into but representations
The reflections of the heaven's kiss.

But all in all the artist is
whether by paint, sculpture, acrylic or oil
A voyager of the main stream existence
His vision of his own scared soil.

The goal is not unlike any science
To acquire that bridge of untold reason
For artist down throughout the ages
Have awakened the soul to its season.

The emotions arise, fly, excite
Those creatures of the inspirational mind
Poets, musicians, painter, writers
By what ever character there we find
All artists, All Magicians.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

His finger fidgeted with the small hole in his jeans
Right above the left knee
It caressed the rust of a healing scab

He knew boyhood was sitting at the tense end of a slingshot
While balancing on a thin branch
Creeping in through the window
Of his tree house

His shins were permanently bruised
From hitting the edge of the bed
After jumping and missing
In order to avoid whatever may be living underneath it

Ten years from now he will regret
Not being in enough family photos
And for placing too many boxes full of old clothes
Underneath his bed
For anything to truly live there

He will know manhood sitting at a red light
Begging the breaks to go out
So his only option will be
To go

When he is old
And so much a baby again
He will beg time to be patient
Long enough to understand

Why when he was a boy
The slingshot band never broke from the tension
Before releasing rocks to break windows
He had to spend the summers working off

But as a man
Trapped at a red light
Why not once
The breaks ever went out
So that he might have an excuse
To go

I'm afraid too
I afraid that the only thing
Holding me together
Are all the broken pieces

I have spent so much time
Taping the smashed splinters
Into place
I have spent so many hours
Balancing all of the dust particles
On top of each other
Wedging them so carefully
So that each one supports another

I'm afraid that if I pull one out
And show you
They will all come
Tumbling down

You asked if you could see me before I lost my mind,
I pushed back 'cause I was busy and it turned out that you went blind.
I know that speaking can still be a medicine,
but if the boat's leaking you don't let more water in.

Daily I read the news only to seek out the star signs,
today's lit a fuse literally and inbetween all of the lines,
and I must've read it over and over, about half a million times,
took the paper into a folder and made it into rhymes.

Now I'm living as a shell,
casing in an outdated ghost.
Stuck in a purgatory hell,
sailing back and forth; riding the coast.
But if I balance on the tightrope,
I might make it to the other side.
Clench my toes and then pray for hope,
and hold on for the slow painful ride.
I've been starving at a king's feast,
while the sun's been setting in the east.
I've been rioting while keeping the peace,
while the sun's been setting in the east.

If I stand still long enough I may fight the urge to shake,
I need a pill to make me strong and tough but it's the pill that makes me break,
and if I ask more favours of this world it just might turn to quake,
but I'll sit back and let it savour before I start to ache.

But you can see the snow piling into overload,
and you can tell yourself the sky's still blue,
but if you slide and drift through an open road,
your mind might not tell you what to do.
You'll feel your heart rise than drop,
as you struggle to stop.

Now I'm living in a shell,
casing in an outdated ghost.
The story's longer than I could ever tell,
but the message behind it is what matters the most.
But if I balance on the tightrope,
I might make it to the other side.
The string rises on into a *****,
I'll just pray my foot doesn't slide.
I've been starving at a king's feast,
while the sun's been setting in the east.
I've been only getting what I need least,
while the sun's been setting in the east.

Before you,
I never sung in the shower or swayed my hips to my favorite songs.
I never knew what waking up with my lips curved felt like.
You turn my thoughts into something that resembles a Salvador Dali painting and my words into a flustering bustle of syllables.

Before you,
Everything seemed like a balancing tight rope act that I always seemed to fail and fall.
I kept thinking about you being betrayed by those before me and I will never understand
because nobody could ever compare to you.
And I still remember the first night I talked to you and I promised myself I would never let you go
even if everything fades or ends abruptly,
I will still have you forever on my paper in my favorite poems.
The human heart is a very tricky thing and the past has proven that most things aren't easy
but, you come so naturally. Every word I write about you flows out so easily despite the fact I will only ever always barely touch the surface when it comes to how magnificent you are. I will forever try to expand my vocabulary in search of the correct words to describe you.

Before you,
my notebook pages filled up to the brim with skeletons from my closet and ghosts from my past but they have since been replaced with embarrassing doodled hearts and words that no longer leave me preoccupied with loneliness.

There were so many before you,
some I only glanced at in crowded rooms and some I tightly held hands with,
but none of them look like you do in a crowded room
and none of their hands felt like yours
and they never will.

She writes symphony's when she speaks,
A voice that separates from the choir.
I'm shouting from the top of mountain peaks,
Balancing while crossing a tight rope wire.

Her voice carries like the word of a king,
Commanding those that choose to hear.
The bell of the ball, her voice will ring,
I'll come running until I am near.

Her charm is her strongest tool,
Like a guitar, finely tuned to proper key.
I dance to her song like a silly fool,
Only wishing that she sang about me.

The song is over, I begin to walk away,
Her performance was simply the best.
I really hope that she will stay,
For her encore is better than the rest.

It’s not about what I need from you or want from you.
I’m not asking you for anything.
It’s what I don’t want.
I don’t want you to spoil our connection
because you have trauma that you haven’t
dealt with and I know that you feel the same way.
I do have trauma and I do have pain,
But when I speak to you it is always from a place of
healed energy and it is always from a place of healing intention.

I respect and admire your solidarity and your independence,
That is what makes you so beautiful to me.
I know that you do not want me to speak to you from a place of healing because you want to do that work yourself. I innerstand.
I wish that I could help you to see me in a
better light and understand me so that we could fix this.
I cannot open your mind or shift your perspective
because you ask me not to deepen this connection.

You have ingrained into your head that I do not
respect your boundaries- all the while- missing the clear
sign that I do respect your boundaries when I leave
things out of a conversation with you.

We try to read in between the lines of each
other but we are not books. We are not meant to be read.
People often try to calculate or read situations and conversations,
but forget that we can speak with more than our mouths and our body language.
We are the universe acting out against itself
and working in favor of itself in tandem.

We are so much more than the words that
you have tried to reduce us to.
I wish that you could understand me better
so that I could take your pain away.
You want to feel through this and to be in the pain
because you crave the growth and that is another
thing that I love about you.
You are a ******* warrior so please don’t ever
think for a second that I don’t see you and respect you.

Adversely; while accepting no responsibility
over the pain that you’ve caused the both of us,
You shut down the opportunity for healing.
You want to know what it is that you have done so wrong,
But if I were to dissect a conversation and tell
you each part that tore open a healed wound…
I wouldn’t be respecting your boundaries.

You asked me not to deepen this connection
so I can’t explain what it is that you’ve done.
This prevents me from healing from what you have done.
You get to work on healing what it is that you
have done within yourself, but I will never forget
the feeling of my chest caving in on my break from work.

I won’t forget crying and opening up to a
complete stranger in the parking lot
because she saw me falling apart and I was all alone,
as this experience has cost me everything.
I won’t forget, the powerful feeling, somebody
that didn’t know anything about me -sitting down to ask me-
“what was troubling me?” In the most loving way.
Fully holding space for me where you couldn’t.
A very kind angel of a woman; who had other things to do
with her day, made time to save a sobbing, broken, child
from the middle of the street.

And yet you couldn’t stand to hear me
speak my truth for five minutes,
All while shaming me and wishing that I could stand in my power
and assuming me to be weak in some way.
You were preventing me from standing in my
power by trying to control the situation.
I have never once claimed to be a perfect person
or to be fully healed but I know that I am balanced
because I spend every day of my life balancing myself.
Every day has ups and downs, every week has ups and
downs, every month has ups and downs.

I deny NO FAULTS in this matter, but I am HYPER-aware
that you do not know what my faults are.
You have not opened yourself up to hearing me
acknowledge my issues. You have
created the ones that, you THINK I’m having
in your head based on your perception of self,
all whilst screaming “projection” from the rooftops
and pointing at others. Anxiety is consuming.

It’s hard to fathom that somebody could be giving you
information from a place that you’ve forgotten about.
I only wanted to warn you and I only wanted to protect you.
You only wanted for me to stop trying to protect you;
until you realized what it was I was trying to protect you from.
The only person who can protect you is yourself and
Source, yet Source placed me in your path.
If you had only tapped into your intuition and followed
the signs, you would have understood sooner.
There could have been less pain.

Hypocrisy.

You encourage me not to people please,
but ask me to bow in silence before you while
you relieve your own anxieties so that you can go about
your day while leaving a heavy weight on my chest.
You thought that you had conquered me in that moment.
In your mind, you had faced something you needed to face
and you were breaking through to the other side!
This was going to project you in the right direction!
This will remove the heaping weight from your chest!
This was going to bring your clarity.

Transference.

Instead, you felt me pull away; energetically and physically.
You realized that you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.
But you were fasting anyways, funny how we’re both always fasting these days.
Or is that just anxiety and an upset stomach?
Is that just bad choices and poor communication?
You felt a weight over the next few days,
Because what goes up must come down.
You left that weight with me, but it always finds its way back.

Obedience.

You expressed your need to control things
and for people to bend to your will.
You clearly communicated what you wanted
and expected and were shocked when I tried to
tell you where I stood because this wasn’t about me,
it was supposed to be about you today!
I sensed that in asking what you did wrong
you were already preparing a response and not
open to actually listen, my intuition said “say less”.
Silence speaks volumes and communication
can be conveyed through just a look,
especially when I look into your eyes.
There is intense honesty and passion in all three of them.
The things that you can’t verbalize are written in your retina.
As your brain scribbles them out I can see them inside of those eyes.
I see you wholly and I know that somebody did that to you.
Someone taught you this.
Maybe a defense mechanism or maybe a learned behavior.

Boundaries.

Don’t talk about it.
Swallow that pill to avoid hurting me,
but don’t forget, “that’s people pleasing.”
“Respect you” and “please you” is a very thin line with you.
Sure as I am your mirror, you think the same is true about me.
I was working hard at my prosperity;
feeling a silly little sigh of relief,
that maybe I was crazy and the communication
and confrontation wouldn’t occur that day.
My dreams and intuition both told me that it would.
People in my physical reality said that it wouldn’t;
they had high hopes that it wouldn’t, out of selfishness.
Fearing what they would feel or how it would affect them,
they have been gaslighting me for months.
Who will ever respect my boundaries?
My needs?
My person.
Only me.
I can only trust myself.
Don’t they always say “It’s lonely at the top.”
It doesn’t have to be.

On the battlefield.

You saw me and came directly towards me,
while I had five minutes to myself to dance and feel free.
You stopped in on my day to put me back in your cage.
Mind you, I had fiddled that lock open two weeks prior and found my freedom.
You came back to make sure that the lock was secure.
I was fine one minute and my boss watched me
being happy and free and helpful. Then she watched
me being shackled by you and then she watched you
storm through like a wrecking ball, leaving me at
disadvantage to my own pockets and essentially hers.
And then I watched you all day, watching me.
You were pulling at my energy when I was
trying to pretend you didn’t exist.
You stunted my growth and my productivity
for the need to propel yourself forward.
I am not the enemy and I am not to be conquered.
We could have helped each other to move in the
same direction, but you NEEDED,
You demanded to be 10 steps ahead of others.
Congratulations commander.
The medal of honor you have
earned is associated with a casualty.

Greed.

I watched you watching me,
looking to see if I was watching too,
questioning what it all means and
if you made the right choices, said the right words.
You didn’t. There were no right words.
Until that point you did all of the talking and
so did I, but neither of us really heard anything
other than our own minds stirring.
We are so alike that it hurts.
To absolutely face yourself hurts.
You confuse me so much.
I read cards and people
effortlessly, but I like the mystery that is you and
I don’t like to pick it apart too much.
I know that the pages will turn on your time.
That’s the respect that I have for you, that you can’t see.

Victim mentality.

You talk about Victim mentality,
but you don’t acknowledge
that you keep acting like
I’m doing something to you….
Don’t you remember that you did this to me?
You started all of this. You triggered it.
You were thinking with organs other than your heart
And you expected me to follow suit, on your terms.
You treated me like a play thing because you didn’t
See what was right in front of us both.
Once you set this in motion there was no
way to turn the wheels back and I couldn’t help myself.
I wasn’t supposed to.
And because I didn’t help myself in that moment,
I helped us both in a greater sense.
Thank me instead and thank the universe for this
while you’re in Noché Oscura del alma.
Know that there is a purpose behind it,
even though you don’t understand that purpose, yet.

Baggage.

I know that things are happening for me and not to me,
but it is my deep diving into the pain and into my dark feelings
that allows me to be the creative person that you admire.
It is the darkness that I have endured
that helps my light shine so bright.
You cannot have half of me because
I do not give half of myself to anyone.
I am a whole package.
I come wrapped as such.
If you cannot accept this package, as is,
it does not come in parts.
You cannot find any other like this package,
it is one of a kind.
If you cannot accept my darkness and my
baggage then there is nothing more to say.

Every person who has ever come into my life
has had to accept both parts of me and the ones
that have are still by my side. I have 15 year friendships.
Nothing that is good or worth it is ever easy.
The things that we put time and effort into, they strengthen and they stay.
I would like to face adversity together, but for now you
want to do that alone so I respect you, and I release you.
But I’ll never let this go.

This will be something I remember for the rest
of my life, for the rest of my lovers,
for the rest of my friendships,
and for the rest of eternity.
Any pain that I have felt in this connection
will reverberate throughout my entire being
for the rest of my existence
until I find myself in this situation
in the next life again with you.
Every time we repeat the cycle,
it becomes harder and harder in the next life,
but the story becomes greater and greater each time,
until we get it right.

Surrender.

Our love story is so great.
The notebook pales in comparison.
Many will cry watching this love blossom
including the ones who doubted and
including the ones who believed.
It is going to shake us both to our core,
but at some point that’s going to start to feel good.  
If we allow it.

We just have to learn to let go of control.
The divine creator knows our true purpose
and we need to learn to surrender to that
because everything else up until the
moment that we do, is resistance.

You are resisting the change as the momentum
is picking up and you’re propelling yourself in the
wrong direction by trying to hold onto control with
something that does not want to be tamed.
I think about lecturing you; but instead,
I write it down, because it’s a lecture that
I need to read to myself. Sure as I am your mirror,
I am doing the same things wrong as you.

Just open your heart and learn how to truly love
people as they are asking to be loved
People deserve that, but if you can’t
love me the right way just let me go.
I cannot keep going on this winding road with you.
You energetically are still attached to me,
even though you tell me the opposite is true and it hurts us both.
I cannot live in shadows and I will always speak my truth.
I’m selective with who I share my energy
because I do not want everybody to know
how I move in this world, but I am always
honest with those that are around me.

I keep my hands at 10 and 2
But I’ll let you control the gas
pedal because we are driving at your pace,
I’m comfortable with this until you slam on the brakes
and we both realize, a moment too late,
that I’m not wearing a seatbelt.
My heart exposed and my person untethered,
I’ve been ejected.
Don’t bring the sunflowers to my funeral.
You have taken all of the sun out of this for me.
Nothing can grow here,
They will only wilt in a few days.
Useless.
What’s the use of this gift.
You can’t heal what’s already dead.

I’m scared that not right now,
means not in this life.
I don’t want to do that again.
Losing you is losing hope.
You are the reason that I come around.
You are also the reason that I stay away.
© KD 10/2/22