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"etheric" poems
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Alchemy
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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8
*coloured flames and fireflies dance mischievously around our heads to the tiny trumpetsong of bees Joyous songs of love lulling all in revery yet silent to mere mortals as We only hear the hush of whispered sighs stood beneath the dappled canopy of   ancient fair oak spread As sweet twilight greets us again swathing our Ianthe in milky moonlight as she rests upon a dew jewelled knoll still dreaming of fae Unaware of the cold (or the warmth you hold in your heart for her) She smiles as you cover her shoulders with a elven~made blanket of gossamer wisp whilst estivating toads blink wide in the coolness of hidden mossy beds                         Gently, sweep the                 droplet                          of Au            from her eye, Deva,   as we cough etheric      dust from our lungs, sparkles    floating in the paper-             lantern light               scattering across the midnight sky, illuminating fates, as those fire-flies hearts twinkle like falling stars unseen*
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Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
* by paper lantern light, this samhain night * * * (poem art)
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
Waiting for the Mikestand to Fly
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
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66
Walk your land...    Eyes to sky       Azure beauty          Clouds etheric bright Rock ashen black   Trees of umber     n' greens of grass       Fresh and alive Lay on earth   Smell deep     the essence        moist or parched Walk your land...      Walk your land...         Find your          Home once again                 ☆          Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Walk Your Land
Life is unavoidably ecstatic, at every scale, degree, level, dimension, an oscillation, season to season day to night to day to night cycle by cycle wax by wane feeling by feeling to feeling always moving both ways all ways always crest, trough, cresting- falling, lifting-crashing riding, riding out and in and through and by and by, bursting.. I could explode, I might explode, I did explode, I do explode though I'm contained, boundary by boundary, transcending, including, moving always moving both ways all ways always rainbows weaving spectral waving, rivers raging, bodies growing, organismic, oceanic, orgiastic in-ing, out-ing, coming-going, holding, letting go, flowing, flowing, flows surrendered, building, pursing, pleasing, pangs, paining, ripping, breaking, sorrows to joys to shade to shine, as chasms to substantiation, as abyssal to full, as burn to burning, to smoke etheric, to ashes, to ground, all passions as passions passion pumping, filling, releasing on-ing, off-ing, alive-dying-birthing-living, living as moving always moving, transforming breath by breath by breathing, being this to that, a changeling, changing always moving always moving both ways all ways always
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
The Unavoidable Ecstasy of Life (always moving, all ways)
I thought I love and then I saw you. I love only You before creation of moon, before light giving birth to mortal stars. My past 'lovers' lost meaning like a candle without taper waiting for a spark. I never loved anyone. It was just mind construct, dream of dead heart.. I always loved you and only you I will love. I am God, fragments of morning kisses, every atom of your soul. Creator is silent when He sees Himself in me. As a result of my unconditional love the moon will dance in the opposite direction to the logic of all ascentors of centuries in half-tons of my wistful soul full of unfathomable fondness. And if the sun shines on man tomorrow with an unrelieved face it's only when you and I unite in the love flames of our bodies bringing God into the world, one soul of all Gods. Trinity in two bodies will bless every human being in every sacred touch of your kiss. The etheric stars I will feed with heavenly light of movement of your lips when you say 'i love you, art of my life'. The breath of fantasts comes to the world once in a million years, You. God Himself gave me power to bring the stars aglow under your feet and burn with passion your heart and spirit, the only one I adored, adore and will adore in non-local reality of space and time, forever. Ingenious Metaphysician of sublunary world I am spreading astronomical theories of unconditional love. No sun comparable to true love of your heart. You are the axis of my universal soul. You are the light inside black holes. I am limitless love without concept of being loved in return. God you are. I am God.
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
Breath of fantasts
I thought I love and then I saw you. I love only You before creation of moon, before light giving birth to mortal stars. My past 'lovers' lost meaning like a candle without taper waiting for a spark. I never loved anyone. It was just mind construct, dream of dead heart.. I always loved you and only you I will love. I am God, fragments of morning kisses, every atom of your soul. Creator is silent when He sees Himself in me. As a result of my unconditional love the moon will dance in the opposite direction to the logic of all ascentors of centuries in half-tons of my wistful soul full of unfathomable fondness. And if the sun shines on man tomorrow with an unrelieved face it's only when you and I unite in the love flames of our bodies bringing God into the world, one soul of all Gods. Trinity in two bodies will bless every human being in every sacred touch of your kiss. The etheric stars I will feed with heavenly light of movement of your lips when you say 'i love you, art of my life'. The breath of fantasts comes to the world once in a million years, You. God Himself gave me power to bring the stars aglow under your feet and burn with passion your heart and spirit, the only one I adored, adore and will adore in non-local reality of space and time, forever. Ingenious Metaphysician of sublunary world I am spreading astronomical theories of unconditional love. No sun comparable to true love of your heart. You are the axis of my universal soul. You are the light inside black holes. I am limitless love without concept of being loved in return. God you are. I am God.
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36
The poleax of Paroket a pietersite soul sheath the head which is not, keening like a red horse between two lions slaying men and peace with the hymns  of ascent, swatting humanities darkness thrilling the sword of Michael; First Cause , sweeping the graveyard dust garden of  Magna Mater touting predicant trappings of the etheric revenant a self compassing mandala who is all right side invoked By laudible Yahwistic nutation. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
Heavens Snowflake, Hells Water.
The Sun Is Shining Today The Storm Has Finally Stopped a statement says: <we have done something yesterday nothing like our best just something to stop that storm> the statement returns true as fact inconsequent gestures of nature we weave to serve an unknown wish -made of numerous physical and non-physical senses- so that fabric of a network   evolves  itself materializes sense sense to fabric fabric to sense scientifically improbable it remains an infinitesimal loop unwinds when you are not there runs within an ideally operating closed circuit remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives an etheric vitality materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste and some of yet undefined ones - possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable- executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only. So then Only then When You Combine the patchy Network of Things of Beings You Can Dance Them Sing Them Play Them Make Love To Them Become One With Them Compose Them but All these on condition that it remains as an unpacked gift Without telling to Yourself   or to Others or to That Storm because You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow But again How important is it really that biking tomorrow ? I mean when sighs and cries whirl around? a statement says: <you can’t stop wars by fights> the statement returns true as fact And if I know that you can stop storms by touches touches to smells smells to lights lights to metals metals to elements elements to stars stars to flights flights to a breeze on my fingertips breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss then I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow so that I can be blown away on a broken December day and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray Huh So Yeah I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some! - not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Today Is Tomorrow's Promised Beach Of Dreams
The Sun Is Shining Today The Storm Has Finally Stopped a statement says: <we have done something yesterday nothing like our best just something to stop that storm> the statement returns true as fact inconsequent gestures of nature we weave to serve an unknown wish -made of numerous physical and non-physical senses- so that fabric of a network   evolves  itself materializes sense sense to fabric fabric to sense scientifically improbable it remains an infinitesimal loop unwinds when you are not there runs within an ideally operating closed circuit remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives an etheric vitality materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste and some of yet undefined ones - possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable- executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only. So then Only then When You Combine the patchy Network of Things of Beings You Can Dance Them Sing Them Play Them Make Love To Them Become One With Them Compose Them but All these on condition that it remains as an unpacked gift Without telling to Yourself   or to Others or to That Storm because You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow But again How important is it really that biking tomorrow ? I mean when sighs and cries whirl around? a statement says: <you can’t stop wars by fights> the statement returns true as fact And if I know that you can stop storms by touches touches to smells smells to lights lights to metals metals to elements elements to stars stars to flights flights to a breeze on my fingertips breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss then I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow so that I can be blown away on a broken December day and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray Huh So Yeah I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some! - not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
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70
startle cracks and curtain calls my eyelids back diaphanous dropped and veils up dewy bloom spotlit monkeysuit chauffeur denigrated daily scratch behind his ears you're doing OK just mistook vehicle for passenger relax in seat back let clear and present ever steer biospheric lit allow etheric hum up the bony ladder to outlook attic bindi blinds lift pretty bitchin' 46-bit binoculars these holy puppet hands have got
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Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
46-bit binoculars
Vernal Equinox arrives, a lush middle ground fresh with turning, on the fulcrum of dark and light, awakening dynamic gaian breath and ambitious harmony. Dancing in and out of shadow, darting into waxing shine, on the verge of the continuous, here at the thresholds fray, off the precipice we go, cliffs that drop into the burn of the suns growing presence. Fire moves into water like flourish, Water moves into fire without extinguish. The paradox of love is alive, with night and day seen as equals. In this colossus of rebirth, the resurrection of winters death, blooming out of earthen richness, with the enormity of natures becoming. On this brink of passions catching in the Eastern sun rising, with balance kept in the approach of spring rains rolling in, like tears of tender joy; a drenching and vaporous arousal. Mind is lost on winds of change meandering amongst the grasses, the feet hug the ground like roots, the spine lifts like spontaneity, bringing the heart to blossom in it's ribcage branches, pulsing aromatic swells moving outwards in veins of pranic rivers, with gushing love, turning the blood etheric and unbound by the body, in some natural suffusion where earth and sky meet in endless inter-change, and all is complimentary here, and everything is reaching, to kiss the sky, in gratitude.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Vernal Equinox
Such ****** and passion, intricate pictures we cannot imagine Devoid of self, utter surrender plunge into the streams of your soul Finding the hot wires, forming strings so we can find home Not having a memory of what it means to be alone Ode, to you, Love I say It is not so much the words posted, but the context condensed How you unwrap the figures textual 'til they make sense It is not so much the touching and cuddling but the invisible electricty of extrasensory connecting It is not so much the breath on my neck as you reach in to kiss me But the etheric messages of wind telling me you miss me We have had a try to attempt to twist this style To find the spiraling curls in prose To dissect the detailed aerial strips of the scent of a rose Ode, to you, Love I say Poetry is forever pottery forms artifacts of clay but do they stay? This sweet ode paints a picture that will remain in the drawers of eternity... I cannot lie, it has been something of a frailty my pursuits of love have quieted my frivolity I have since been calm, playing an instrument imaginary Waiting for a tone that will help me find my tune You are that song that ends too soon Ode, to you, Love I say Just echoes and epiphanies voices and mellow claps singing into me: Ode, to you, Love I say on this day a heart will not break but will be strong and find its way.
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May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 4:31 PM UTC
Ode, to You, Love I Say
You inspire me to be better Assertive like heaven Positive vibes move subtle, etheric wheather Though not as you think Subtle like beyond view ; vibe Grand like da right hand of the spectrum Young driver but Dis ain't my first vehicle Sight like, first-eye wise "Nanotangible" O sumtm' of da direction The blessing is We can all share this space of awareness If we step correct No draggin No shade Upliftment Sun rays But the method take A lil "calminuity" Yeah I get fluid like da element In the Magic of Creation No disruption No displacement Focus like a blade being sharpened Home is Presence
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Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 5:09 PM UTC
LIGHT BODY WORK
In the end Holding on to hope Was worse Than releasing her despair. It was an ionized illusion *St. Elmos' blaze Without the burn.* - But still She held her hands out Towards this flame And even as they froze She kept her eye on the fire Transfixed By the etheric images That leapt from the embers. Had she pounded The subfusc earth To rail against her lot And slapped the salty rills From her cheeks She might have lived. But she stood still Too buoyed by hope To notice That the flame was cold And icing her bones.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 11:29 AM UTC
The Little Matchstick Girl
We stand Arms length Hands like soldiers in the night Wanting something better Than the rumours of the world Listen to the beat The stamping feet The parade rhythm of life Tearing us asunder The kind of etheric dance That makes you stay up Late at night with wonder Longing For security An in-breath Becomes a bullet Shattering illusions I hold my breath Hearing you near Body exhales; No more fear As the flames and smoky fire Consume our souls We melt the wire... Yet still a connection stands Electric voice screams A heartfelt song, Carried across victorious lands Singing 'we will never forget you...' Afterward, fumes fill the air Birds sing along the creek Silence crashes like symbols As I read your last words 'We only depart to meet...'
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Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
We Only Depart To Meet
What is nothing ? *nothing is a paradigm of futility Nothing is Futility with purpose like specs of sand ,without sand there’s no desert in the Egypt of your mind In sooth , nothing is everything, it escapes our minds like the concept of reality-Distilled souls Nothingness covertly condescends the mind of every etheric soul on this planet It’s blatant cruelty like making dyslexia such a hard word to spell or putting a s in the word lisp , but it’s beauty is in the fact that it and life have no equation , so why do we bother looking for answers Maybe nothing is the answer to everything Tlotli & Wanda
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
Treehouse sadness
Firefly, oh firefly what secrets do you carry? Are they inside your glowing tip, or beneath those wings that move gracefully. Firefly, oh Firefly won't you dance inside my sight, tickling senses so I may dream? Won't you move inside my heart, so I can spread my etheric wings? Firefly, oh Firefly I thank you for your company on night when stars match your glow, when wind rustles in trees, and I dance in harmony below the moon. StarBG © 2017
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
Firefly
All sound is muted Vibrant colours overlaid with gauzy grey. My skin, my hair, are damp, As if those things were weeping,  but have ceased, As if I am made of tears Or, have bathed in them, Yet, I feel nothing, nothing but numb No pain, ah – well, a faint, dull ache As if my etheric body were trying to escape. I am lost within and without myself All insular, enclosed Boxed, redundant, closed away Grey is the way to the end of today.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
Grey is the way
looking across time from my etheric perch or was it a pike as I sat on my flounder… as I was perched on a flounder… perched on a pike I floundered pike perch flounder flounder perch pike pike flounder perch mike’s rounder peach like sounder greetings tricycle ground feet triglycerides around meat polymorphic lounge **** people forget poetry is expression silliness for its own sake nonsensical whimsy for laze-abouts and lollygaggers with unicorns and dragons nothing is more magical than language –
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
a steamer, perhaps from Cleveland (garbage)
Falling back to the blank slate dark night of the soul rising Supersonic winds are whirling Megastorms with shattering glass flying Ooh I feel the acid rain pouring I see the dust devils dancing hurricane thunder's wrecking in Wild Neptune tides are rising Back and forth rising Crushing drowning and burning Neptune tides Neptune tides This is a tidal war It's an etheric war in the pathless land A battle of the titans Loosing to the big black hole The open walls are closing in But I see the oasis on the horizon Beconing for my unbegotten soul My spirit rises with rage I slay the beasts and chain the demons Take back my wings of freedom And set my spirit free © Sonia Ettyang 2019
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May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
Neptune Tides
Fume of the mystic air flows to create an invisible lodge a harmonic rhythm of knowing the other. Sanctuary of Love shelters the Kiss. Received touch makes up points of  Desire as flesh and blood from the etheric. She, A fluid transparency made of interchangeable unique crystalline particles of unseen color, Reflects an indefinable atomic structure Draws contours of a  body that subtly shapes along the kiss. ‘Kiss me’ is a thankful whisper ‘Play me to a oneness’ gratifies the breath along  her neck,   lips, forehead   and knees an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze rectifying bliss an irrefutable awareness of joy   a gifted  Unity an honored desire She feels the colors of zephyr and without visualizing grows into the derived equivalence of emerging pinks or  jutting greens she is destined to remain as invisible as his’… not owned - not reserved interdependency ‘nothing stays nowhere a thing is not received  if you are not there A blessing of the moment  is everywhere you are drawn to where and what you truly were’ As the body gets formed miracle gets real As miracle gets real the body gets formed and mutates a lucent gate towards a universe so The wind can pass At the edge she molds to … …. a ……….something new The lover the love The now at now senses itself   in white lines a bridal delicacy ‘A flower’ tales say with myriad petals living at the edge of the universe She reads the volatile coolness of the warm colored differently sized light trace  that the fumes, the kiss , the breath, the blow, the zephyr, the lover has become for her she traces his ever expanding Trace so that perpetually  he shall progress for the universe while she remains and observes as her nature requires her to be as their dual existence is conditioned to as is nature’s one unconditional or Love’s She,  the precision of  joy that he creates for the eternal witness of bliss Colored by divine light of rejuvenation of freedom of truth breathes at a place beyond thoughts at the edge of a universe.
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Edge of the Universe
Fume of the mystic air flows to create an invisible lodge a harmonic rhythm of knowing the other. Sanctuary of Love shelters the Kiss. Received touch makes up points of  Desire as flesh and blood from the etheric. She, A fluid transparency made of interchangeable unique crystalline particles of unseen color, Reflects an indefinable atomic structure Draws contours of a  body that subtly shapes along the kiss. ‘Kiss me’ is a thankful whisper ‘Play me to a oneness’ gratifies the breath along  her neck,   lips, forehead   and knees an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze rectifying bliss an irrefutable awareness of joy   a gifted  Unity an honored desire She feels the colors of zephyr and without visualizing grows into the derived equivalence of emerging pinks or  jutting greens she is destined to remain as invisible as his’… not owned - not reserved interdependency ‘nothing stays nowhere a thing is not received  if you are not there A blessing of the moment  is everywhere you are drawn to where and what you truly were’ As the body gets formed miracle gets real As miracle gets real the body gets formed and mutates a lucent gate towards a universe so The wind can pass At the edge she molds to … …. a ……….something new The lover the love The now at now senses itself   in white lines a bridal delicacy ‘A flower’ tales say with myriad petals living at the edge of the universe She reads the volatile coolness of the warm colored differently sized light trace  that the fumes, the kiss , the breath, the blow, the zephyr, the lover has become for her she traces his ever expanding Trace so that perpetually  he shall progress for the universe while she remains and observes as her nature requires her to be as their dual existence is conditioned to as is nature’s one unconditional or Love’s She,  the precision of  joy that he creates for the eternal witness of bliss Colored by divine light of rejuvenation of freedom of truth breathes at a place beyond thoughts at the edge of a universe.
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96
I dipped my mind inside a rainbow thought. AS colorful leaves rusted in wind. AS birds with feathered wings sat in gracious song. My heart opened, while breath after breath expanded my consciousness. And then, I flew with etheric wings away. Blessed and a Blessing.
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Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
RAINBOW THOUGHT
The forgotten bedrock gleams...surrendering crowns deep in majesty. As breath comes and goes freely...what of your fashioned cage? Your multiplying extremities by mind's might to touch the untouchable...allows religiosity of fragmentation. ******* recalls of salvation...coasting still lifes who blackened an etheric sea. Seven Days in, and Seven Days out...clockwise/ counterclockwise, a Black and White Hole. God of thy God in doses...whose meager One be death at Once. In the subtlety of trillionth aspect a clearing may resolve as it were...what's point blank stands as you Are.
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Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Subtlety of Trillionth Aspect
The sleepy, starry eyed sky of night Retires in an odd violet surrender, Making way for a swiftly emerging dawn As the viscous black blues of Midnight's celestial shore is waning, They ebb into waves of apricot, magenta and tangerine hues A solitary meadowlark perched about the ash grove sits quietly Watching the remaining vestibules of fog drifting upwards, only to burn away in the heat of the sun A cool wind blows in from the mountainside, whistling through leaves and rustling tail feathers The scent of the far off sea tickles the old birds nostrils, holding the promise of silver backed sardine and beach scattered ***** legs He feels the call of the spirit beneath him, arching his wings he leans into the breeze A cerulean blue, cloudless skyline illuminates the eyes as he soars amongst evergreen hilltops and pine ladened mountains His flight pattern as seamless as the air on which he moves, His mind and body becoming one with the soundless synergy of the skies and the senses, Bones among feathers, First was winds, now is breathing. He is the eternal Infinite bliss indefinable Ancient and etheric, a consciousness made complete
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Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
The meadowlark
***sandpaper reflects our damages radio stations weave eternity into sound bytes yet one bite is enough to give you rabies so back the F@$! up and listen to your luck allow for music to flow effortlessly unglue yourself from the tragic and stuck energy i am logic forging itself in a fire of shiny metals petals of diamonds remind us of collapsing realities undiscovered colors and passages out of this dimension into etheric waters surface temperatures are rising like lightning from the ground up find trees to hug jumping from knees to feet and hands to mouth round them up and get out fast sound is music infinite tunes dancing fumes of vaporous intent sent from heaven let me at them remind me of the sediment and the contract we signed before dying high as a waterlily proud as a wasp rested and assured of our death your sentence is fragrant like a vagrant stamped with burning jettison turning reticent hesitant to accept this love as gifts from above rub our souls and polish our hearts i am tired of these games training wheels may save lives but a hundred miles later she ate her last waiter sore as a dancer with a heart of a champion our uncles were dandelions sired in springtime’s basement i choose medicine not this heady nonsense resume your poetry and abuse yourself not me***
0
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
undiscovered colors
Can you see Hyperborea's sun, shadowless valleys where you cut word with tooth? An unfettered wound stutters, blowing null what timeless utterance it will. Where does tomorrow sleep, your prospect in stomach, cramped with fluxing zeros and ones? As soon as you spoke your abstraction was pardoned. Your home's abutted geography made its revolving bally. Dizzy you, concentric circles closing in, advising their babe press forth. Mythopoetically proud as hell of your circuit, a metaphysical luminary midwifed in an etheric manger. Shadows mark their growth about our encampment-- G*d's peripheral nomads etching story. Shelter bids welcome, unwelcome everywhere...its doors blow about as the literature of distances.
0
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
Where Does Tomorrow Sleep?