this is your story
do not be ashamed
may this be the telling of your journey
let your hands open up like gates
and your fingers flow like streams
your plams, the palette on which you walk
the ground on which you scrape up paint
and you stroke your fingers
against the canvas your Creator has made
so may forests grow
and mountains be lifted
may oceans part
and the waters be stilled
by gentle kisses of reminiscence
and the introspection
of our heart's rythmic hum
all by the grace and power of God
because these poems are your story
so do not be ashamed
instead, may this be the telling of His glory

The world is out of balance: koyaanisqatsi!  
Numinous, my heart's nemophilist alerted to the danger,
yet presently in rasasavada,  espies the solstace moon and cries
in acatalepsy:  Mamihlapinatapai with the hunter within...
Should I embrace this smultronställe,
cought in the ostranenie of meliorism,
or drift from this vorfrued to sophresyne;

My only desire is the nurishing erlebnisse of metanoia,
of my dérive towards sehnsucht:
of rasasavada, that I may insulate myself from the Weltanschauung
of modern society, hiraeth to a nefelibata.

This is your story, do not be ashamed
May this be the telling of your journey
Let your hands open up like gates
And your fingers flow like streams
Your plans, the pallet on which you walk
The ground on which you paint
Brush the canvas your Creator has made
So may forests grow, and mountains be lifted
May oceans part, and waters be stilled
All by the grace and power of God
For He was with us from the clay
And stands by our side until our last day
Because these poems are your story
So do not be ashamed, do not let it cage
Instead, may this be the telling of His glory

The Universe will not break you
It rubs sweven pain to wake you
For I'm a solivagant in my latibule
Hugging my demons in irenic rule
Humans flash in multi-phosphenes
Supernovas blending into scenes
Fighting until they are consumed
The end is stardust as assumed
Dividing the Ge Earth into stakes
And all is only you that it takes
Strangling their orenda in dismay
Then departing in the Milky Way

∴ Lyna Salman

I want to take a moment to step out of character and thank all of the wonderful artists and readers here on Hello Poetry for their continued support of The Suspicious Oracle, also known by name as Thalia Spider.

I began this project as a way to draft and develop a performance art character that was inspired by my love of junk punk, the music of the beautiful hearts behind Steam Powered Giraffe, and my fixation with transhumanism -- and I'm now to a point where I need to put the character into hibernation in order to draft and develop the physical components. Makeup, wardrobe, voice, mannerisms, and things of that nature.

In the meantime, I'll be working on another project, under a different display name, but using the same account. So if you've liked any of the pieces I've written to date, and you have the desire to retain access to any of those pieces, you'll need to save each link separately, as I'll be switching them all to Hidden mode over the next day or two.

Great! With that out of the way, I want to thank everyone again. Every repost and every like or love from you directly inspires me to continue to do something I love -- telling a story, for instance! Without an audience, a story lies dormant, and you all brought me back to life.

Stay tuned for an exploration of fear and courage as told by Orenda Tinderheart.

Best Wishes and Platonic Kisses,
     ~ Wren Rain