"channeling" poems
Her eyes are channeling the Aegan Sea,
for I find myself swimming in them.
Her pupils are shadowed islands none can enter, but I am, I am falling in.
I'm lost, I need help, I am stuck in the never-ending circles of her irises, trapped in their magnificence.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
There is a woman I oft meet
On my journey here to home
Hey Lady!
I feign to shout.
My complexion's dark
But not my Soul.
So when you fright
On my approach
For
Goodness
Sake;
There is no need
To cross the road.
I'll feel that for a millennia,
ME
&
My kin
You so rudely
Robbing me,
Of the
opportunity,
To politely
Commune with you...
“good morning”
Then again,
You could be applying,
Learned street smarts?
Changing lanes,
Avoiding crossing paths.
This
Uptown
Downtown
Topsy-Turvy
Up-side-down
YOU'RE - SO - COOL
Pretending not to see me,
Hiding under your
Beats
Skull candy.
What sweet music
are you channeling?
Tunes contrary to Art?
Con
Artist
Purveyors
of
Catchy wicked things
Said twice?
High definition
'Stereo'
Types?
Shall we dance from a distance
Again tomorrow?
Yes of course!
For I believe,
You too have been deceived.
Hey! Ms. Concept,
R U
Thinking;
The beauty found in this deep Brown,
Predetermines fact that
I'm called
Black?
© Qwey.ku
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Being childless
has its benefits
especially while channeling Peter Pan
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
So, okay, are you listening?
Being a monkey means
many things...
Yes!
It also means loving,
not just bananas,
but the people who love
bananas, and monkeys too!
Listen to me in your heart,
pay attention now, person,
and this is gonna be
the best smoothie ever!
Bananas come first, of course,
then yogurt, vanilla, of course,
a BIG spoon of peanut butter..
Yes, really!
Trust me!
Cinnamon to jazz it up,
water to smoothen it...
we are calling this a smoothie
RIGHT?
And for extra-special, maple syrup,
to give it a heavenly touch!
Now cover your ears,
which are almost as sensitive
as mine, and ... Oh!
How do you push the button
with your fingers over your ears!
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
The Story begins with silence and black out, a void. Not darkness. Nor anything that attempts to define nothingness, because it’s nothing. The blackness or void is only a metaphor representing nothing. Within this point, so close to simultaneous you’d think they were one in the same, a light emerges, emanating divine, pure energy and love. Its intelligence and complexity expands and fills what was once nothing with beauty and truth. At this moment, all is whole, fast as thought, strong beyond comprehension, gentle as a whisper and furious beyond all flame. The wild spirit of happiness is real and alive! The void was never the enemy, only a point in which to be born. Duality can only exist if unification finds an enemy within itself. The enemy is reflected by the segregation and space created between divine and mortal. This space is developed by Ego.
This entity “Ego” is the essence of self resistance, absorption, chaos, consciousness…hate. The inner antagonist rises and begins to cut and eliminate the threads attached to creation and spirit. A mirror that envelopes and contains the living spirit. An orb caging vulnerable souls spread throughout the expansion of life and suffocating energetic flow. The universe and it’s creatures that lost connection being virtually incapable of seeing one another ever again while the enemy exists.
The instigation is tolerated by those who always continue the journey. The emasculation of Ego, commences as the divine resonates it’s vibration as a weapon like a solar flare, piercing the Ego. Then the inner spirit begins to open up and claw its way out. The Spirit sees that vanity is leading the despair of self pity into the heart as it remains a vessel dwelling in a false world channeling a false force. This awareness makes The Spirit lifts up, against and out of a matrix constructed within the crystal ball cage that refracts the true sun’s rays. Together, The Spirit and The Divine begin to crush Ego. Ego begins to flatten, compress and then combust. Through the flames the chord of love between The Divine and The Spirit bursts like a shooting star towards the kinship’s re-established nexus. The collision creates what was pure and full in circulation again and the expansion becomes an infinite motion harmonizing with the void in an adventure that goes on forever. When Ego tries to slither back in after a nearly insurmountable time of hiding between the gaps that contains new life, it is given no room by anything in thought, theory, in any form of existence.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
It's dark and the light leaks out
like the change in my pockets;
like the blood from her nose;
like knowledge from my head.
And I can feel myself being
swallowed by this systematic
long dark. I cannot remove myself,
a gut-worm in the lower-mantle
belly. Watching video-cassettes of
my birthday. I don't know what
happened to my birthday video.
I don't know what happened to
my parents or what I did to happen
to them.
The light leaks, again, and I
choke on my celebri-thoughts;
mentally-masturbating to the
waves I'd give on a book tour
or studio lot. Talking about some
movie that made some money,
somewhere in Santa Fe or L.A.
The news is channeling my president:
a swollen man that is the physical representation
that a lot of American people are parasitic;
lovers in racism, xenophobia, transphobia, Islamophobia,
homophobia; scared of everything except the 'straight-talking'
magnate they put in office. Not playing president; playing God.
I'd hate to get political, though. I'd hate to ramble on
and on about something I don't know enough about to
**** myself over. I can feel myself picking up steam.
I can feel myself getting redundant but embracing the
bruised ego and poor technique. Loving the entrails
spilling out of the splits of my fingertips;
more beautiful than the brains I bashed on the sidewalks
of old Morgantown. Morgantown, a town so kind you
are gently destroyed by its over-crowded masses,
dying to be different or drunk -- I suppose that's not very
different than most places.
But let's get back to these trees that I haven't even talked about.
Let's get back to the kitchen table with the hollowed hard-drive,
with wires and cords flopping to the sides, like a
gutted spaghetti eater with poor stomach acid.
How terrible. I'll never forgive myself for that last line.
I feel so rudderless. So cynical with a touch of cliche.
I keep pushing back that age for success, thinking
that I have the luxury of choosing. My vocabulary is
limited. My intelligence is assumed; probably a void,
where delusions manifest and asian **** rewinds and plays,
rewinds and plays.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
*In his breakthrough work of channeled literature, I Am the Word, author and medium Paul Selig recorded an extraordinary program for personal and planetary evolution as humankind awakens to its own divine nature. I Am the Word is an energetic transmission that works directly on its readers to bring them into alignment with the frequency of the Word, which Paul's guides call the energy of "God in Action."
Paul was born in New York City and received his Master's Degree from Yale. He had a spiritual experience in 1987 that left him clairvoyant. As a way to gain a context for what he was beginning to experience, he studied a form of energy healing, working at Marianne Williamson's Manhattan Center for Living and in private practice. In the process, he began to "hear" for his clients, and much of Paul's work now is as a clairaudient, clairvoyant, channel, and empath.
Paul has led channeled energy groups for many years. In 2009 he was invited to channel at the Esalen Institute's Superpowers symposium, where he was filmed for the upcoming documentary film Authors of the Impossible. He is the subject of the feature-length documentary film Paul & the Word which will be released late summer, 2011. His workshops in 2011 include Edgar Cayce's A.R.E. in New York City, the Jungian Center in Vermont and the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, Calfornia. Also a noted playwright and educator, Paul serves on the faculty of NYU and directs the MFA in Creative Writing Program at Goddard College. He lives in New York City, where he maintains a private practice as an intuitive and conducts weekly, channeled energy groups.*
Personal and planetary evolution- Live channeling with Paul Selig
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAgh2pXDDls&feature;=youtu.be
Waking Universe With Guest Paul Selig
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7BI0Lgb9Kk&feature;=youtu.be
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
slowing down
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
opening gates
\/\/\/\/\/
channeling
\/\/\/
i breath in
\/\
i breath out
/\/\/\
releasing
/\/\/\/\/\
energy flowing
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
tension fading
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
if only emotional abuse scarred my skin the way physical abuse did, because maybe then you'd see that your words and your demeanor are the reason why you say i have issues with channeling my anger
maybe if your screams bludgeoned my skin the way a punch would destroy the filaments under my tender flesh, you'd notice how much you're hurting me
and it scares me that you can't even see what you're doing
it scares me that one day i'll be one scream away from erratically fainting to my demise, falling effortlessly to the floor, heart still beating in my chest and brain activity picking up faster than ever before
it scares me that you're not scared
your words are like knives carving my organs with cynical words
"worthless" is inscribed through the hemispheres of my brain
"damaged" is engraved into my lungs
i can't breathe
and im beginning
to not feel anything
anymore
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Shon Goku Setsu, cleanly translated
Means "The Wrath of the Raging Demon"
I happen to have one following me
And much like a corrupt politician, it's constantly schemin
Some days I awake with a spring in my step
Others I have to force myself up
Some days I want to drink all life has to offer
Some days I can't even lift up the cup
I'm sick of being miserable! I'm sick of writing about it!
DA-N IT DEMON I HAVE DREAMS TO CHASE DOWN AND GOALS TO ACCOMPLISH
"Shut up Nero! misery is all you know!"
This demon won't relent, directing me into channeling the Satsui No Hado
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
Screaming your name into the winter winds,
the emptiness its own reply
Marked steps leading to a coven grove, faint crescent moonlight on the snow
in the small clearing, round water, clouded starlight watch above
Praying by a frozen forest pond at midnight
The spirits of the trees acknowledge my presence in their circle
I tell them I have come to see the darkest part of night
Turning up my palms, opening my hands and my heart and my mind
A human receiver, channeling the vibrations of the Earth
Sensations directed inwardly outwardly flow into action
Collecting branches and pine needles
Leaving them at your door, the fresh scent of cool mint and sap
Natural balms to sanctify a new reality
Priestess, I am sorry.
I turned my back on the faith. If only for a span,
But for absolute belief, it took me doubt
Doubt burnt down the church
But the spirit still resides in our hearts, Shakti
We felt the flames of the church on fire,
we watched as the edifice we constructed
crashed and burned around us
Invocations of death and pain, I heard and felt the despair from your mouth, my love, a hateful sword ran through me then, and I could only stand still, close my eyes, and die, as it penetrated us
Kali came to wipe the unreal away
What is left?
Benevolent Mother Goddess
Redeemer of My Universe
You are
I am your equal
Duad
Standing together to face the world
Building amphitheaters in the wood to recite inspirations derived from love
Let me bring you flowers
Let me be your hand
Let me be a swan by your side
Never leaving you again
Dependent on no one
Yet interdependent with each others entire universe
Our voices merging together into a song
By you, divine lover, this universe is borne,
my mother, my sister, my friend
You are my woman
In woman is the form of all things
There is no jewel rarer than you
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
along the red marble hall in the east wing
on either side, hung from the talons of granite stones
resting on their brother's shoulders in the bitter load baring
framed in golden oak and cherry wood, gilded arcane; several paintings
in the style of the Old Masters. And a long rug from foreign fjords
like a flat dune of spice, the length of a mile. pinched to a vantage point
in a spider's web. and a draft.
a draft through the twelve senses. your song un-gongs the gamelan
and the bells remain. pecked by crows of a different summer.
beads of honey making war
on paraplegic bees. we keep these in styrofoam cups to just enough; seal our wounds.
we encounter the lost rooms with the odd keys
on either side, the full length of the east hall. stout, brawny portals to discord and fable.
perhaps even windows of a different winter.
perhaps we know.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
Channeling demons against my will.
My body, used.
Seen nothing more than a flesh ouija board.
In your game of self reassurance.
I'm not the conduit, you wanted me to be.
My eye's just as open as yours.
Stop telling me otherwise.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Solitary man
Always in good company
Of wonderful women
And Gainsbourgian groove
C’est bon chic bon genre
And rudimental rock at the same time
Crude cool
Love’s fool
Passion and percussion
Lust and lavish beats
Charming chansons
And seductive songs
Melody’s magnetic melodies
Du Jane B & Initials BB
A celebration of beauty
Monsieur Gainsbourg
T’es magnifique
Authentique
Flegmatique
Channeling what it means
To be obscenely genial
Fericiously cordial
What it means to live life
As If there’s only one day left
Toujours
Monsieur Gainsbourg
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC
He sings with me as if in a dream
on the rolling hills of green
In a voice so clear every man can hear
Every word we mean -
Backed-by-a-choir, he beats on his tamborine
He's soft; and slightly off-key -
We are the ones that we want to love, and fortunate are we -
His lips, they purse around each syllable. His hair is moved in the breeze -
He is the spirit I've been channeling; Forever He and Me -
Two-by-two the dyads move,
Swaying in the dance -
The sun, a bobble, shines in our eyes-
By the Universe entranced -
Two are joined by the choir, the sun
And the face of the dancing crowds -
The cone-of-power confirms the manifest,
Then we ascend to the clouds -
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
Great fades to gray
where commonplace turns to decay
where the abnormal becomes negatively neurological
which leads to the ingestion of government sector sedatives
and we wonder why segregation of brain and mind is prominent
promises never kept and mind that never gets better
but before we fix the broken we must make you broke.
Objects in the mirror to fit society's standards
E news, TMZ, fox- all the new cancer.
Throw your money at it
make it go away
and watch in awe as the auction of your autonomy accelerates-
your mind is money to the highest bidder
and they don't budge when they watch your wallet quiver.
Quiet in the courtroom-
little Kyle's got a drug charge
searched his car without consent
convict at the age of sixteen
which is sickening to see.
Kyle was just depressed and needed a little THC
the only thing that would help him with social anxiety
and now he's facing a charge for not taking the meds
marijuana manipulation of the municipals
and now little kyle won't be able to go to a good school
18 the record will be swiped clean
but the debt of the courtroom creeps into his credit.
Society's white lies will tell you you'll be fine
debt from the courtroom turn to slanging dope-
dealing with depression while dealing in possession
pulled over, twice moreover propaganda's progression.
They feed us the same lies we go out of our way to buy-
news channels, channeling bias views for more views
sitting idly by as our lives pass through
changing channels as we become the chattel
slaves to our own brain waves from the manipulation
we love to bow down to this free nation
led by puppets- controlled by intimidation tactics.
It's just backwards, the backbone of the nation doesn't have one
Columbine happened because little Kyle could get a gun, run-
repeat until it's done, dictating your discrimination
it's fun until everyone has to run away from the shooter.
Bangs heard throughout the world
talk of how his head was on backwards smoking on these backwoods
But he was off the marijuana and on the medicine-
FDA approved turned into a bullet to the head.
BANG.
Sinister structure of society-
**** america why did you have to lie to me.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
I am captivated by the pattern of a tiled staircase where fountain pens scribe forbidden texts upon spiral bannisters which lead to debased psychological states.
Do we have permission on this stage of trajectory, to fire statements into unfathomable corridors, which surpass today into the realms of tomorrow?
Dark figures writhe in the thick fog of eclectic séances.
I have engaged in nightly astral flights down the streets of blatant innocence.
Are you standing on the inside?
Bring me back from what is deemed to be modernity and bypass my voltage where uncertain predictability is a predictable uncertainty.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
As the golden hammer
Pounds the rusty nail
How much more can a people take
Laying open on the side of the bleeding highway
Storms in the distance coming into existence
Rising itself, preparing itself
To wash away the inhabitants of the lost
Giving over to the brutality of humanity
Oh generation, where can you turn
Travelers of this dying sphere
Awaken! Awaken! Youth of tomorrow
Consumers of the day
Set course for the unknown
Where in reality
The hammer is the slave
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
We are a mere mortal
Two fates in a maze
Our love was hallowed by Eros
The blind, yet aimed his bow
Right through my essence
Right through your essence
Our passion was bound by Aphrodites
Two doves nesting
Two swans in Narcissus pond
Channeling the energy in our rite
Tragedy,
Mortal forbade the sacrament
We seek to endure the fall
Becoming stars,
As we cross one another
In an boundless interrior
Of our abode.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
Aligning the musculoskeletal system and channeling multidimensional energy through increasing psychological flexibility and developing emotional resiliency
Quantum leap in healing power and physical capabilities delightfully providing mental tranquility and healthy neural activity
Serenades of a dreamer; universal synchronous receiver, transmitter of vitality through awakening hidden capacity in human anatomy
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
Not tasting like affliction,
Not looking with reflection,
Needing a new affectation,
Unable to keep either hand
off
that remote control,
surfing from place to place,
Finding varying degrees of
un-
kempt hair,
Channeling, "Chocolate,
My Chocolate,"
The darker the better,
silky smooth
mousse, melts, making
merriments,
for the senses,
These are a few, of some favorite things
yet nothing compared to what
red wine brings to the table,
with nothing on,
as it unveils the light,
as added swirl to glass,
the round of the cup in the palm
of an open hand,
reminds one of...
past...bottles lying about the place,
a few at a time, Listen...
To be true, only hearing about
drugs as recreation, or
******** substances of
abuse, strange mystery to me,
as I am high on life,
so I cannot write about
what I don't know,
On anger, the hurt, on self-loathing, sings
a call from the Halls of the mountain King,
as printed voices tell in clear,
of battle scars,
of toxic people,
influence,
on lives that matter much,
much more than you know, I care for y'all,
but this ends, a tortured
free
verse,
freed,
for now I must feed my addiction,
"Open up, beautiful, here is another dark chocolate wine dipped cherry, no, no,
not from the bowl, but from my naked lips...
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
I think
Zen has been taught
all wrong
for a long time,
because the common understanding
is that Zen gives you
peace of mind,
an empty mind,
a mind which doesn't think,
and other such hogwash,
so I can explain
what Zen meditation
does to me,
and that is
that it brings up
much chi energy
to my head,
because of the way
that the eyes are fixed
and the posture
and the breathing
and the mantra,
and so
the mind becomes
stronger, more powerful,
more active,
not more peaceful
and passive,
and as such
it is conducive
to such phenomena
as internal music,
much thinking,
channeling,
telepathy and psychic powers,
seeing things,
hearing things,
and imagining things,
therefore
if you are getting into Zen
for peace of mind,
you've gone
to the wrong place.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
So you text me thinking we can resolve our problem
I'm still bearing wounds but I thought we could solve them
What's wrong then? I genuinely thought you were there,
But clearly it seems like you don't care
I thought you had my back,
But obviously you didn't.
Loyalty is what you lacked.
Bottled up animosity was what was hidden
And that we're channeling into what is written
So here's what I'm spittin I'm through splittin hairs about our problem
If you need me reach out to me
Don't expect me to read your mind
I'm not some kind of saviour.
I was just trying to be your friend.
Don't expect me to tolerate rude behaviour.
My hand I won't continue to lend.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Jim Morrison is alive and well
I found him in some juke joint cantina
Down in the deserts of southern America
He was sitting in a dimly lit
Booth in the corner of the room
Digging on some blues band blowing blues
And nursing a bottle of whiskey like a pro
Slowly channeling the shaman within his soul
As I approached in dumbstruck awe
He waved me to take a seat on the bench
Adjacent to where he himself sat
We ate from a plate of enchiladas and ten-cent tacos
And spoke of the poetry of Rimbaud and Baudelaire
He dreamed a dream where he and Kerouac
Took a trip from France to San Francisco
And read volumes of poetry books
From famous beat authors
And reminisced about their pasts as famous men
We continued to allow the whiskey
To slither like serpents down our throats
As ancient poems sauntered back up
Like lyrical word *****
I told him of a dream where he and I
Ate off a plate of enchiladas and ten-cent tacos
In some southern American juke joint cantina
Listening to joyously lamented blues
And discussing the great poets of the past
We laughed and had a great time
As the Doors of our perception
Bled poetic verses of imagination
When the night was over
And the dawn began to arrive
We parted ways with many thanks
And a hugging hand-shake
He went his way
Off into the the waiting sun
A Lizard King in celebration
And I went mine
Off into the depths of shadow
Taking a late moonlight drive
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 11:34 AM UTC
i.
i drag the canoes over the granite shingle
of our island's beach the battered Aluma-Crafts
leave my hand a dark metallic looking gray, which
even smelled of metal we walk up to the
campsite, a ridge, overlooking the lake,
spread out around a fire ring set beneath
pine trees so thick that no understory grows
ii.
as the long summer day cools we decide after dinner
to explore choosing one of the island's many
game trails, leading from the water back up into
the woods beyond the campsite, we pack the
food back into the bear proof barrel, grab our
boots and set off down the trail
iii.
the pine give way to a grove of aspen, the
leaves fluttering as if by some wondrous
enchantment, as the shrubs started to grow
thickly on the ground channeling us into a
narrower game trail with the large, misshapen
granite boulders like a maze stretched out before us
iv.
suddenly we stood face to face with a giant
bull moose with velvet covered antlers that seemed
to be at least four feet across, he shook his head up,
like a horse shying, so i slowly moved us behind a tree
to give him the trail
v.
around the fire wrapped each in our
own paddle-worn thoughts
we could hear wolves, calling
across the island in mournful howls
such a delicate balance of nature at work,
my moose so full of life and spirit would be
safe yet from the
wolves
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC