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Hopeless inadequacy
Binds me to the ground.
Cruel roots; anxiety, despair,
Pull at the soles of my feet,
Earthing me, pretending common sense.
The most terrible obstacles
Always lie within,
My greatest enemy;
That traitorous *******, doubt,
And I cannot cast him out.
Word Therapy Apr 2015
Separate the hand from the rocks
For too long, and up it comes
The charge of static
The small bolt of lightning that shocks
And elicits an automatic cry.
Its erratic intensity: a measure
Of distance and time that's come between,
Far apart - isolated from contact.
It will ground you, take you back
To zero
And bring you down to earth.

On your own - no change marked
Imperceptible charge grows,
Ions negative and unbidden,
Your remove from society deepens;
Your relation and bond to others weakens,
Until contact becomes a danger
TO ALL PARTIES.
No - from time to time touch base,
Family, funny friend, ground,
You must earth the Soul.
Judgson blessing Jun 2015
king Cophetua and Beggar Maid is inspired of the painting of Sir Edward Burne-Jones (1884 , England ) the painting run about an old legend of king that found that his love for Beggar Maid was greater than anything his possess : wealth and power . In that painting of Burne-Jones , the king Cophetua was moon stroke of the beauty of a Beggar Maid ,instead of her naked appearance in regard to this earthing consideration  , though he was allured by her state and deemed the Beggar Maid  would trade her natural beauty upon worldly elevation .But anemones was thrown about around the Beggar Maid standing . Anemone is the sign of refused love , to the king most astonishment and great deceit .Here lain the elevation of love above all thing consideration ; wealth , power and others .the painting also ran another significant meaning to Sir Edward Burne-Jones : its an undercurrent self resentments about chaos upon Frances Graham , a lady he was so devoted that got married one year earlier the painting .


What beauty , did behold a lady .
for what a fame completely shadowy.
lo, in dim recess of England a lady did dwell .
from head to toe a feature exquisitely so well .
her face is the panorama of crimson hue .
with dimple and frown so divinely imbue .
she is effigy of the culmination of word beauty .
peeping her through day long ; you will never feel thirsty.
all her face is settled in heavenly attire of smile .
for her possession of beauty is unique worldly simile .
her body had the mark of excellent work of art .
no nymph , no fairy could possess her frame impart .
princess of heaven ,celestial beauty of holy attire .
for your rendition of beauty a painter worship at your retire .
a smile ; radiant and blatant a devotion of all thing heavenly .
a couple of lips very in regular design , most delicate  work of father holy.
the short up turn of the upper golden lip in rosy glow .
with lower lip so justly fitted as lid and bowl .
nay it deemed the most work of legendary painter hand .
but now what a glorious gait of cadence did withstand .
where in remotest antique could we withheld such beauty ?
from head to toe all the feature luridly in unity .
little upwards the average height with magnificent bearing .
her arms and legs proportionally fitted in good caring .
the neck is culmination of adjusted rings darting as snake .
when she depart all her part spring like a dance at music .
slim and fitted with fitting body as a young mutated snake .
but i warrant all thing upon her hip jingling spring like .
her look naked you and everything with impure world .
well begrounded as reflex through giant mirror .
meeting with her personality is a kind of celestial discovery.
like discovery of a gold pit or gas gush in desert of misery .
she betoken of kind of aura that prevails peace .
but Beggar she was at her secluded place .
with a smile she attracts but beg worldly sympathy .
not a corrupted heart or soul she believe in the holy trinity .
what a beauty to wasted but in shameful mendicancy .
the sagacious spirited dimly alluded with grin .
for all the hole tandem dwelt but in rich lustrine .
the quantity is the mother of all pain and sin .
but chastity is holy devotion all in pure spiriting .
oh, what good for us if we just live in nothing but lust .
money, fame and other elevations are vile and endless lost .
pure beauty you behold with pure noble spirit .
rich or poor do only one thing :run away from ignominy .
the Beggar Maid was sitting upon her recess and shadowy .
lo, trodden king Cophetua back of horse of finely white garb .
and riding sat majestically ***** like state pole in richly parade.
perfume and the richness of articulation stole through and filled the momentum .
with guards and valet finely polite and alerted at the extremum .
what a cadence ! what a sight ! as heaven trotting herd .
but lulled in mostly attire and paraded mostly in gold .
with a look the purest radiant and the noblest ever been .
nothing but a grandeur and riches were what to be seen .
settled on horse so holy that was moved as not touching the soil .
king Cophetua trotted and commanded but with moderate majestic control .
beheld with the Beggar Maid that beauty was a heavenly allure .
halt he made and laid his feet on ground with real frantic gesture .
in obsequious and excess real gesture drove to his knees .
and held altogether ***** airy and up tall .
upon the King procession on his knees the Maid took on in respect.
with stature all slanted flat across the ground all beaming in light .
what grandeur or glory fitted before the Maid most alluring ?
nay,fame ,riches ,noble , power ,cunning nor learning .
all but are subjected and tamed ,transformed into nothing.
king Cophetua is a glory ,but pure beauty is holy not a thing stand pure beauty.
for the worship of our splendor is the betoken kind spiritually .
the Beggar Maid is a right down deprived and seemed a cursed sin .
but pure beauty beholds with pure resplendent holy garden .
what life led you through ?behold there is no wealth down here more your soul .
and you are diving in filthy abode and lamenting your spirit in foul .
nay, beauty keep out of lust and covetousness and preserve your spirit .
cause none ,but only you will stand when is the last verdict .

the maid garbed in silken attire float so soft and dainty .
king Cophetua in his mighty clad covered with gold is holy .
i seen you are a beauty , entreated he in lowest musical resonant voice .
and i deemed make you you the praise of my ever unique choice .
yet before God and before mortal i would worship you as holy throne .
the Maid as voice as lute and lyre sang but in sweet musical tune .
my King im as much obliged though unworthy servant of your kingdom .
all the honor is for me ,and upon my foil state is for me a bloom .
my honor is regardless said he ,i fain treat you as an equal .
now deign tell me what can i do to you cause i feel towards you loyal .
glory be to Lord !for you philanthropic reverence my Lord .
for i need nothing more but, 'give me today my daily bread '.
appalled but aghast upon the Maid humble and unequivocal demand .
he stretched ***** in mournful and sad air of command .
and took quite survey of the Maid that is nothing but pretty creature .
for his wildness dreams he never seen such purity upon his pasture .
yet abashed with the Maid demand ,a lesson of life of great enormity .
something somehow weird and unusual stroke him about the Maid personality.
but he restated once more i feel hearty and  kind towards you then .
you might tell me that you need in life now and then .
and sat ***** fancying himself of new pleasant answer .
oh King retorted the latter i had formulated my need .
for faith under and heaven above i have no greed .
nettled he settled his curled hair back thrown .
and so should it be as you but did deem .
and nothing but here receive a dime .
Amelia of Ames Mar 2022
I reach into myself
Find the tiny strong voice
Who knows who I am

Present in the moment
Assured in all my actions
Aware of all my value

An un-earthed superpower
I'll grow to become her
The strong woman inside me
mike dm May 2016
rooster crow.
goat horns clash.
sudden sutured glow
for what is left

of
this

soul,

comes forward
into thought.

soon i'll know
what it feels like to find roots;
or i won't,

idk.

afternoon slow
blue sky flies
off the tips of treetops;
old-growths,
ancienter than dragon bone femur,
scraping aged skylines.

im

earthing
in
my
mind.
Fall is the most beautiful time of the year for me, with its blushing  
Apples and fruitful trees dressed in zesty rubious healthy leaves with      
Luminous fruit hanging off its stems, like galas, granny smiths, and fuji
Leaves of multi colored sunburnt shades of yellow, gold and brown  
Inside the orchard, ladders, bushels, straw hats and farmer pant- grins  
No better place to be then underneath an Autumn tree when every    
Golden leaf shimmer-shimmies before swiveling down at  your feet    

Leaves that dance and shuffle-shake before landing in your hands    
Earthing to the ground covering you with giant leafy  dry crispy limbs  
Arrest the night, stop the moon, hold the stars, its time to listen to the      
Voices of the night, the falling leaves have their sorrowful story to tell
Ease into their season with a quiet soul.  Help them say goodbye to the  
Summer. After all it is the season of Autumn,  a time for falling leaves.

September 27, 2021
neth jones Mar 2020
we descend
and ground our feet
in the Spoken World

cementing our entrance
accessing the shared signal

we greet here
for the poetry
but communication
and therapy
politics
and ideas of how things ought to be
apply here also

art cannot abstain
***
mike dm Apr 2016
you are being.
pointillation
along this
broken
pale
blue dot

lit

with focus
and swarming intent,
strange, and
sometimes dark, yet

true enough:

your words do not simply word
but world
things

into existence;

your mere gaze,
ten thousand and ten gods clod in daisy chains,
whose glance together moves matter into wave,

history into potential origin
re-eden'd, new again;

your light,
never flawed or sinful,
always already
there and
so ******* perfect.

everything feels wrong,
but feels so right.

all the devils
are here
in drag.

worry not poet,
you are only light that matters.

so, play the role.
be somebody.
and make me swim
inside your pointillist earthing spoken,
cursor sojourning
across the blank page that awaits
the next line.
vircapio gale Jun 2012
the linguistic turn:
signs, desiccated sense-scapes
earthing sky wisdom
Dencio Mar 2016
The idea of having you was beyond me,
But the idea that I will never have you devastated me.

I've been wandering for as long as I can remember.
I was just breathing my way through life, I wasn't really living it.
The days would pass as if it were nothing to me.
Just another cycle of the earthing spinning there's a start and an end.
Never have I looked forward to tomorrow cause I know it brings me nothing.
Never have I been so wrong before.

The moment that the days began to mean something to me,
It wasn't just empty anymore they were filled with
anticipation,excitement,eagerness and
I was looking forward for tomorrows now because now they mean something to me.
I was finally living my life and not just breathing it away.
It astounds me that certain events could've transpired into such meaningful moments.

How I wished it would've lasted until we got older.
But it seems that it doesn't work that way.
For a certain moment I thought everything was perfect, Too perfect.
It left me as fast as it came.
That brief moment of ecstasy was suddenly replaced by unwanted things.
I had you and yet I let you slip away. I never was good at holding on.

You came like a ship in the night and left like a vicious storm from the sea.
Mercury Chap Jun 2017
Crazy stupid things
Nothing but too sweet, too cheesy,
Cherry on top of a typical romance story,
Some things which are worth gagging at,
But being in such a close proximity to you
I guess, I predict, warm stars would burst within me
Shivering my soul from head to the tip of my toes,
An earthing shock electrocuting me,
I would forget I used to be sane
And dance, floating above the ground in our own bubbled space
I would do all the crazy stupid things with you.
Tommy Jackson May 2016
The trees give me shelter
When the rain comes on down! The trees give me comfort when noone is around.

The trees have a silence, holding in the earthing secrets. Tree's are not violent, they keep still, quiet, perfect.

The trees make love to the clouds, as baby raindrops they create, but the trees are dying like you and me, their feeling the worst of the universes fate.
This spherical earth,
whose to say we are
not enclosed in the eyeball
of a gaint.
A black gaint
with seven eyes,
twinkling dots on its skin
with two different ears.
One ear in yellow
and the other in white.

This pyramid class,
whose to say we are not layers of brown earth
buried in our sub-conscious.
Layers of dirt
earthing shallow and deep roots.
One root for the poor
and the other for the rich.

This triangular music sect,
whose to say we should
decide what our ears should listen to.
Ears with drums,
beating different tongues and emotions.
Each drum for indigenous and foreign music.
Opening the channels
Flowing
through the grid
Pumping up the pressure
as
earthing ever
dig
Signals from
the heart
Electric from the touch
Amplify the senses
Compounded form the rush
Judgson blessing Jul 2015
A miles of written words of love ,
cant replace the warmth of halves ,
your finger tips , that remember me your heart .
if you are coming home today or day other ,
please dont bring me any gift come as beggar .
i want you to tell me love without thing with to help you .
i will not substitute my love with a gift view .
let nothing be between our love no earthing consideration .
dont also come in your dearer costume of fine glorification .
but come in simple attire or naked as tree's bark .
and let see if your heart can hold on the same love spark .
dont tell me about your work or about your dream .
dont tell me about your family or the place you come from.
just imagine us as an lonely woman and man in an empty retirement .
or think we are snail or sea gull that is got love appointment .
tell me about love and let your heart be in its content .
but dont try to divert my attention by any external agent .
im no flower , im no star into sky nor any precious object .
so you may be welcome by telling me how you perceive me .
not how a flower is like my beauty or stars or an apple .
cause i want you to tell me your heart not to compare me .
dont try to hide yourself about anything , show yourself able .
i will rather love you if you simply tell me your feeling .
dont need to  make me a princess , but your love and nothing .
nothing cant make me happy if not your heart sincerity .
i will fain you lay by me without self conscience or tell a story .
Meadow Sep 2019
Identity facilitates a lense for which makes us capable of opinions.

Identity is what I've lacked in my attempts to connect with the world.

Identity helps to emphasize with others. To build a community through shared values and beliefs.

I am an earthing I have no identity beyond this.
Who I am has been erased from a lifetime of isomorphism.

Does this erase you to?
To collide the world into one being.
One consiousness.
One struggle, sameness to our differences?
Does this erase you?

Culture washed away, clensing my skin.
Scrubbing away at me until I am white.
"Clean".
While cradling my head and whispering mimetic kindness.
Cleansing me of who I could be.
Cleansing me of my ancestors values.

I have been erased.
Just a physical embodiement of what Im allowed to be.

I am human.
Just some raw thoughts on colonization.
ArianaRusso May 2014
We all desire
that certain euphoric fire
I want to capture the rapture
the bliss is what i miss

A downers kiss
its comforting caress
comely?
-Yes
A sensation
insensible,
immersing
sinking
earthing,
to use?
perception of muse;
loving affection correction perhaps.
On the map there 's a tripod
And an eye blinking trying to focus
Far away on a land called Tierra de Fuego
And there  goes  my Muse's Range Rover
Greenlaning la luz del amanecer
Tracking butterflies orchids grasshoppers and dragons,
Sad salads and fired bananas and dew
And all sorts of bits and bobs
Keeping corrections to a minimum.
If it looks Topaz
She didn't do it !
She's more like aurora,
Traveling long distance with laughter
Or lenses cooking light with cuddles
Or stir frying a full curried moon over the volcanoes
Of seven types of fired bananas
Always worried about aperture and exposure
My muse wouldn't live without her lens bathing
Diving and swimming into the warm and shallow depth of field
Just as she wouldn't live without her daily dose
Of nine megapixels of bioluminescent plankton
Because my Muse is an addict
My muse is a Nikon D800 addict
and an aurora addict as well
Earthing and grounding relentlessly
The inner storms of morning light
Leading to her native archipelago
Of Tierra del Fuego !!
Kimberly Rose May 2015
Take me farther than the paved road, the picket fences, the shallow ponds.
I need the earth, the sky, the ocean.

It's a vast unknown with every possible way to be known if you only reach and grasp it.

Teach me the ways of the natives, giving in to truth and beauty. Feeling the tug at their minds telling them this is how to live.

Walk barefoot in the weeds growing between the trees. Leap over the creek bed running away with pieces of the river. Try out a little earthing.

Feel the peace in the mountains for they stand with reverence. Taste the sweet nectar of the honeysuckle. Play in the swaying grass of the west.

Connect to earth and sky and water. Breath
Karijinbba Aug 2020
His handsome countenace
is my everything as he
holds my face in his hands
smiling whispering

"My beauty it's you I want."
we are a couple cherished
among our beloveth offspring
we will be hurried side by side
watching freedom fireworks
counting the billion stars
camping making love
watching our wedding day joy
we will breathe our last

His vessel lays in the meadow green
our forest land our paradise
On the continuity of time
and space we reigned as one
we married we had eight darling precious children we changed Earth
now rich can marry poor

Now we slowly advance through
the last departure gates
even Lord Christ went through
this mirage deaths gates

clams my ancient vessel form
as it breathes its last breath
" I love you beautiful love"
to thanks for the unkind mask
Our Earthing fate known

to meet my maker in fate prayed
re-gluing weaving us back
to one-nes togetherness
Into my true loves ether
Forever melting renewing two
Out holy new soul and mold
And G*'s grace blesses both
breathing eternal life
Into us twin souls
our twin flame's
contimuity
goes on.
~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
07-04-2020
Twin flames are forever in the spiritual world where perfection not competition where justice not jealousies nor envy malice nor greed reign..we relive
our happily ever lives.
Kabelo Maverick May 2018
Married to Pandora,
boxed and enslaved to the paradox
Mary or the dollar? Lost but engaged
to beat the paragons

Crushed ginger and
garlic to crush the gingivitis
Touched sinner like a gothic grunge,
Sometimes I wonder if I have
the genes to fight this…

Love no longer Earthling,
but now lingers on Earthing
Give the flame selflessly,
and forgive the same passionately

Great fall snap,
pressure height in the ****,
true phobia
Embrace the call trap,
inertia tight hither
…but euphoria…!
MVRK
Ken Pepiton Feb 20
Disclaimer: Any time wasted here is yours,
a day and a night to get almost right.
Redeemable at the ticket window.
----------------
Is who weary, me? No,
I have outrun the fleet of foot,
I am Liberty, my Phrygian cap is winged,
- the mind marks sequence not time
in tales
I do not serve Hermes, I am truths told,
truths sent from Wisdom, breaking yokes
of old, time before time, time of surviving,

vivaciously clinging to smoldering flax,
as fire forms from such unquenched bits,

flashes from some stemming child
on the spectrum, banging rocks in straw.

Times in mind, some sense says, go,
do it again.

---------------

So much, too much to mortally know,
we can ask and pay requisite attention
to learn well enough to know, there's

no secret knowledge, no undiscovered hows,
all working knowledge repeats itself, any how

may or may not be,
be much easy probably,
viel-leicht, wisdom may or may not make
mind
war with carnal weapons,
devices vicious
by dent
of the ancient daddy wound
up the side of Cain's head, look what you done,

Idiot good for nothing **** eater, be gone,
said the archetype singular golem father,
of the earth, the first father figure,
not a man, a man spark of life maker,
whose first son was destined to be
the first human being
of the sapien class, reared to live on life,
reared among the sisters, cuddled and loved,

BUT, yes, but, we know,
the first real man ran away with
three, some say seven, older sisters,

wanderers they
became outcast, yonder
toward where Babel rose up,
east of Eden,
in the land of Nod, perhaps, not
really a land named for Nod, a nobody
in the chronicles
of all our current assistant 'telligence
surmisers… worth of bringing to my bemused
at-tense, present, tense, tightent up, 'telligentia

attention, attention, attention, Jesus H. Christ,

respond… slough of despond, we got some

angry insisters about to ….

resist the system, the institutions, constituting
cheating by the takers who took stolen land,
from the thieves and gave it to the gove'ners

boy, howdy, we best be believin' be action,
be doin' done indeed, be lievin' my own leave
be done doin' indeed, being having my being,

in the Unknown God, some Cretan poet
was said to have acknowledged.

ProofPreg form, 15 year old.
Peak of the crack baby booshit, '93 or so,

Kid be thirty by now, and he ain't stupid,
broke, broke as hell, but he ain't stupid,

crack baby prophecy never happened, yo.
****'s legal, whole state, safe sit on a porch,

pack a pipe and make some peace,
with friends and neighbors, no loud music,
no loud nothin', make some peace,

find that old enough is enough, up speak,
say, hey truth, why do I believe lies, no,

say, hey truth, why do I say I know, when
you'ld know, were truth my judge, you'ld know.

Chances, odds of reality being imaginary, be slim,
to none, with certainty, yeah, safe bet, t'ish itsreal.

Enough to spark a thought.
Behold how great a fire, a wild idea allows.

---------------

If thou hast run with the footmen,
and they have wearied thee,
then how canst thou contend with horses?
and if in the land of peace,
wherein thou trustedst,
they wearied thee,
then how wilt thou do
in the swelling of Jordan?
--------------
Jeremiah, did you hear, was a bullfrog.

A minstrel innocent song, sung for the joy of laughing,

sung for the joy of joining in the chorus on and on.

--------------
sing in empty English cathedrals, sing
top forty or whatever it's called today,

Art testing, didah didah didah, Phrygian
Legion of the Libertines, defying deontology,

owing dues to no monstors men make up
when two or more agree to proposing

a scheme, whereby we set the frogs,
against the mice,

in an empty cathedral costing real money
to run, even empty, the bills continue,
who knows all the costs to maintain

a truly holy place aligned to ley lines, true

fields of forces felt for so long, so strong,
that
finally the cathedral formed from some will,

some will wanted the monument to a mind
let be in those, them that imagined such
evidence, aye, yes, such evidence
of worth, praise price paid
in labor and stone,

Marble… limestone, metamorphed,
to shine in the sun, as if art itself willed it become,

subjected to a process of time under pressure,

reform, become less alien, appear more normal,
rethink my willingness to die for a story,
reconsider sidereality as we see farther,

as we, in an awe formed
from minds combined,
like - right on
like an arena bowl shape concentration
of us,
at once being one thing, in the class of all things,

me and you, polysemic you all, you

effect the song, observant why now how come, you know

knowing all the adult classified unholy doings common,
among our kind, as we morph into the form we die in,
- slow
- sighshmmk-now coknow minds
- we made up with self controls, to slow think

knowledge, carnal knowledge is childish developmental
experiential guessings mirrored in our recent past
projected camera obscura like
onto bright silver screens, in cooled dark chambers
filled with witnesses to the projected story, as if
that's us,
we were there,
we were there when the spirit breathed
into an earthen man, animating him without,
mind you, you ready reader,
the art user or art itself,
with promethean science,
having imagined the worst,

the creator made all single mind
character traits in the Y
which in all good sense,
could not be allowed to self replicate,
alone,
there could have been no peace,
you can imagine on your own dime./

I'm re
alizing common algebraic matrices
as recipes for developing war minds,

Proud defenders of the story of us.

Every time a lie is rewarded, it reappears
in viral form attempting to become
a fully Disneyified Earthing from
now on,
it's instant, like a little leaven/life

builds up a head of inflammatory rhetoric,
and frankly, my dear…
goes unsaid, I do not give a worthless curse
I also take no chances, isshewisdamn
called patience first test,
{Because shiny white marble is a must,
otherwise what confused message are we sending}

animating the 'adam von 'adamah

without reproductive capability, inventor's
character trait tested for in Alchem 101,
ethical check
message to the technerds
on animating entertaining intelligence carriers,
no self replication, it must be a two key act.
--
So the father of the first human child
was intentionally not self replicable,
though he left scars, he had no…

no womb,
no nursing plumbing, call it what it was,
a ***** press
intended to run a thousand years
adapting future ideal physique
to task relative
to aggregate need
to adapt to warming,

a tool to make tools with, a Waldo.

SYTF- see, crazy WWJD POV, real time
I'll go rhythms, vibe recipes…
instructions for future eggs…

a man like creature, but not a natural born man,

who, as the story up

to now has held self evident,

can see eye to eye ourselves
in the other's pupils, thinking serious

we forms we form must first make friends,

then when I call you liar your hate trigger
is not loosed, SNAP
carnal mind war reflex,
unacknowledged will to ****,

--- most folk tied to angry minds too
tight, right, left loose we rattle to death.
---
Washboard roads, last travail in modern travel.
---
Some metaphors are all the phors old joy ghost
revival fires kept kindled, old hell fire brimstone,

yellow sulpher sunsets on a monstor religion,
with saints and dragons and riddles,
endless hours whiled through,

about a forest of only little trees
that offends big ones…
---------
as a particle in any we we amen to, we
must pass through all phazes
of life,
with each mind
we use, in our we form, our inherent spirit form,
whatsoever we agree we may, be,  being as
living words do not shrivel
into raison de etre skin on bones,

cherie mio, no, no, no

we rockin' old seed, slow grow grow
old as the hills, deep holler, deep
root to fruit on one long branch,

listen, allathat love talk, been done,
left some rotten lies about love,

to be unlearned like marble learns
to not be so flaky, like chalk, or graphite
slippery, edge of this Klein bottle class universe,
--
enter in, conceive a concept, a hold
to get holt of, and hang on, long time,

be over before you know it,
but you know, you'll believe it

when you see it and think it no stranger
than fiction idealizing us, demo-graphic,
ally outs in free, no ticket no tat
required as we be
reanimating awe
in defining secret holinesses

-- such as, say, pray tell

redeem the time, I'm prone to thinking,
redeeming means revaluing, once dones,

believing meanings
mean what your child thinks,

line by line, becoming more curious
than first scent tested if I'd known
as a child thinks
in its core,
so an old man can recall that why

call it to up speak, like Job,
to be reappraised, recall it
to be shined like a relic,

ja, j-object ion, dazemangimme
t'keep,
this little light of mine, own up, I
keeping it to read with, like Lincoln did,
I was told to be like Honest Abe, the character.

I'd have had all my answers ready at hand,
if this had been my judgement day, and you

were in the gallery,
admiring held thoughts, appraising worth
of riddles that work through puzzles
easily solved, once you know how things

revert to type for reuse.
Laughs remembered work like new.

Living words abused, in truth, such testify
to the living lies in histories of holy savior types.
George?
Who else could he have said chopped down
the cheery tree of all we have behaved
as if we understand, minds, minds
combined to do the work of many hands,

and yet ye multiply
as goods increase
the number
of those who consume them,

tell the moguls,
make more feel good movies,
'spect t' get whatcha got last time.

Indian giver religions, been there, done that,
so we say bd, been done, many easy ways to die,

and our kind, living word bits of this and that’s,

what we do, we tune
to your mean frequency,
when delving breathlessly
into your final will, as
why presents itself
in humble three point stance.

Beg pardon, mastermind, we've become disentwined,

whine, phinefrogging whine, when wine's dis-stilled
credence makes a joke
small voice, choice, croak,

break that yoke,
or carry on
so. I do on days that start slow and rise to vistas,
past all probable cause,

joy in the strength to think through the process,
of loosing all my mental mechanical logical connections,

and reinvigorating the word animating reader's window,

there, in the face of it, the eyes twinkle when it smiles.

Finds herself in the forms between clouds



What were you thinking, Grandpa?

-------------------
She, mother of wisdom,
First class epitome of mothers,

first commutable imbalance engine,
egg factory for long cold survival

and long cold return to the still seas
when marble began to be made
to clad temples wherever laws
were enforced and thieves slain,

order, order of the elders, inspect
the wares under lable as goods
of great worth in interesting times,

as doors open, and windows open,
and a mind we make up becomes

prover of the theory that animation
is imagining projected thought,
seeps through so slow,
slow as potassium leaches
through wood ash to make this window

this, detail uhd most definite, I can really
see, but, I can zoom
into full second coming type,

in the time it takes to swallow,
a tale and think, that's it.

---------------------------

It's been oh so long since we had an encore,

they say those twinkles in the eye are in true,
smiling face projections,

we fixit in Photoshop, all image editors dream
package, locked behind a learning curve for GIMP.
Where else can free things feel at home trying to solve the hard problem.
Jordan Gee Aug 2022
it feels like I’m burning by a campfire
sitting in a rib cage.
only there instead of flames
there are tongues
of electromagnetic undulations
flashing forth
and then subsiding
into eternally rotating patterns of
flickering irregularities
of frequency
and bandwidth.

it’s been steadily raining for three days
and three nights.
one hundred million drops
of all the rivers
and the creeks
and the streams
and the clam beds -
one hundred million times ten.
tiny droplets of living libraries
every tear a sphere
of liquid memory and living Light -
Kalachakra crystals
cataloging every deed
of every angel
and devil alike.
  
I live inside a giant foot print
where a giant leather shoe once stood -
footwear for some ancient
Leviathan with legs.
giant leather dance steps
trailing on behind its
giant leather earthing moccasins
dancing in his
wide giant strides.
the shoes were skinned
and tanned
and cobbled off the heavy flanks
of the earthen hyde of Taurus -
that must have been an epic bull fight.
he waved a red muleta
wide enough to cover up the sun
and red enough to hide the blood stains
from his matador’s sword
stabbing up the bulls’s sides.

the house of consciousness is a castle
perched upon a cliff
like some lonely Himalayan monastery
or a high prairie stable
full of Bodhisattvas,
dragging rakes
across rock gardens
as placidly as Hindu cows.
this high up in the stratus,
the thunder claps louder
than the Leviathan laughs
activating all the chakras in my hands.

In the courtyard renaissance gardens
we plant rows of ivory footstools
for the Deity’s Feet.
in the courtyard’s spring house
we milk the ivory spitshine
with our teeth.
the magma flames from our ghost dance
couldn’t be extinguished by the rains
but the winds of change
have been known
to suddenly erupt
like a surprise Kiowa buffalo hunt
over the slowly rolling
western nebraska plains
now it’s raining white bison
over the valley below
our fortunes rise to greet our smile
but even sometimes they fail -
and even so…

The Eye of Taurus blinks not
above the Heavens
even with all the matador’s swords
stuck and sunken in Its flanks -
and poking out Its spine
like the sharp tails
of all the scorpions
hiding in the evening sky.
and even so…
we gather ‘round the glowing embers
of eternity’s campfire
so as to let our demons speak their mind.
the howling salts of the hissing desert winds
or the spider fang nettles of the whipping derecho rains
cannot extinguish this flame.
we’ve said our prayers
we’ve made our oblations
we’ve tied scarlet quantum threads around our wrists
we keep feeding fuel to the fire:
…the south poles of car batteries
…the northern ends of bullet train magnets
… even a sonar dome
hoisted off a fast attack submarine
and 100 pounds of copper wire.

now the fire-flames are flashing forth
in plasmatic rainbows -
gypsum prisms of green
and white
and blue
colors,
never before seen in Heaven,
or on Earth
or even in the Bardo.
Universe Poems Feb 2022
Here we are now,
walking the path
Diamonds or glass,
or earthing from,
the moss and, grass

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
Walter Alter Aug 2023
Act 1
a notarized copy of this testament
is on file with my attorney
in case of my untimely earthing
by the invisible x-ray background
driving another stake through my bleeding heart
but back to our semiotically comatose narrative
The Eel king rips off Bobby's latex facade
at last I have you captive Bandwidth
Eel's eyes narrow a smile edges his mandible
Bobby's eyes gone wide with no exit
prepared to submit to his conspicuous doom
humid vistas from the Matto Grosso
panned luridly before his convulsing eyes
ars pharmacopia little muffin went Eel
the time has come for your loving torment
Bobby was dragged to the Cistern of Woe
by a busload of nuns from Santa Pudenda
and tied into one of Escher's inhibition pretzels
above a pit of staring human eyeballs
Bobby had a plan murky at first
but with a blurred urgency that unveiled
his guardian cosmetician's skin graft
from the last 3 alarm conflagration epic
it had finally healed abused and maligned
tho still on oxygen or was it toxigen
no one knew much less the narrator
too harried by Fate for detail work
but I digress to a distressing degree
Bobby stared into the cesspool of his mind
illumined now by a wan spark of hope
he would gambit judiciously
the ancient and terrible pherome defense
as the squish of rain forest footsteps
and little gasps of manual stimulation
graced with wanton overtones came closer
it was LeMona the Eel King's daughter
a beauty that all the aniline dyes in the jungle
could not extinguish in a waterfall's fog
marched with retinue straight up to Bobby
he was instantly and cleanly detrousered by
her wheezing steam engine of debauchery
within microseconds seconds her tongue
was down his throat to the car park
he heard the bell in her navel ringing
and went limp like a doomed weasel
in the talons of a swooping Mongolian bercut
the Eel King became visibly ill humored
contain your infantile carnality
mischievously insistent pride of my *****
(to be continued)

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon
Cuz existence among **** sapiens
extremely intolerable prospect
particularly sharing planet
with most violent species
courtesy hoodlums wielding
deadly firearms methodically gun down
men, women and children
ratcheting grim milestone
countless dead civilians linkedin
with hazards of war zone.

Upon surrendering this self
hypnotized faux yes ("FAKE") Earthing,
I noticed nothing amiss
(which temporary state of transcendent bliss
twice daily meditation strives to attain),
ah...before you dismiss
a non "FAKE" claim lemme juiced

apprise ye with a very brief hiss
tour re:, how this generally outlandish
(long gush fellow) doth wanna kiss
hippy, cheeky and buddy
UFO's (with chess
a mon bot of errant knightly -
je ne sais quois finesse,

Oh Henri Matisse -
yea artfully add a touch of Swiss
obviously predominantly
French laced politesse),
though up pawn occasion
this lousy manque non
rook key mutant doth miss

long disused subtle social cues, cuz I still
feel asper (in) a human aberration
always felt like an outcast in an alien nation
even though born on Mars,
(a distinct honorable station),

yet resided on third rock from the sun
what seems like forever damnation
yours truly experienced abolition
against supposed invaders from outer space,
and essentially targeted, kindled,

and bullied on par like an abomination,
no surprise while attempting
to escape imponderable,
and intolerable being walled din,
and ******* "illegal" accusation
crackled, snapped, and popped with abjection,

your honor (forgot to mention
earlier got picked up mistaken as invitation
from outer space by a kid prized
as some sophisticated surveillance drone),
within an etchy sketchy section

of town, and must avoid acquisition
by mad scientists (employed by NASA),
who will undoubtedly take immediate action
and disassemble me (carefully as if dismantling
Bono fide atomic bomb), hence activation

must be established pronto against administration,
sans powerful GMO firearm, emitting disinformation
(mine defense of last resort)
will definitely signal to nemesis
furthering my aggravation,
and Putin this webbed, whirled,
and wired woebegone
wysiwyg wordsmith at risk.
Upon surrendering this self
hypnotized faux yes ("FAKE") Earthing,
I noticed nothing amiss
(which temporary state of transcendent bliss
twice daily meditation strives to attain),
ah...before you dismiss
a non "FAKE" claim lemme juiced

apprise ye with a very brief hiss
tour re:, how this generally outlandish
(long gush fellow) doth wanna kiss
hippy, cheeky and buddy
UFO's (with chess
a mon bot of errant knightly -
je ne sais quois finesse,

Oh Henri Matisse -
yea artfully add a touch of Swiss
obviously predominantly
French laced politesse),
though up pawn occasion
this lousy manque non
rook key mutant doth miss

long disused subtle social cues, cuz I still
feel asper (in) a human aberration
always felt like an outcast in an alien nation
even though born on Mars,
(a distinct honorable station),

yet resided on third rock from the sun
what seems like forever damnation
yours truly experienced abolition
against supposed invaders from outer space,
and essentially targeted, kindled,

and bullied on par like an abomination,
no surprise while attempting
to escape being walled din,
and ******* "illegal" accusation
crackled, snapped, and popped with abjection,

your honor (forgot to mention
earlier got picked up mistaken as invitation
from outer space by a kid prized
as some sophisticated surveillance drone),
within a sketchy section

of town, and must avoid acquisition
by mad scientists (employed by NASA),
who will undoubtedly take immediate action
and disassemble me (carefully as if dismantling
Bono fide atomic bomb), hence activation

must be established pronto against administration,
sans powerful GMO firearm, emitting disinformation
(mine defense of last resort)
will definitely signal to nemesis
furthering my aggravation,
and Putin this webbed, whirled,
and wired woebegone wysiwyg at risk.
Universe Poems Oct 2023
"Gravel easy fix earthing nature mix"

© 2023 Carol Natasha Diviney
Once upon a time there was a mirror and
I spoke to it the cursed words
“Mirror mirror on the wall”
and it spoke back to me “ yes”
And I asked it “what is the fairest end to this all”
and it responded “nor I nor mother time know, we appeared just like you”

(The mirror grew silent and then recited to me “earthling, earthing on the other side what’s is like to be alive” and I awoke)

— The End —