loss.

We cling to our personal stories...
Hold them tight to our fearful hearts...
And yet... my story is one of loss.
Eternal lessons of detachment dropped on my head like a skipping frame of this falling coconut, again and again and again.
I fall asleep with my chin resting upon an open page in the leather-bound book where I record my story... I flip through these smudged and worn pages saturated in words attempting to articulate my soul's rushing waterfall of emotion... Coated in salt from tears that have rolled down my cheeks and dried here.
One eye closes and I sing my shadow a lullaby.
The other closes... I urge myself to let go of tomorrow and thank my yesterday...
And then I sleep.
But the tides of memory pull me under and slam me against the jagged reef that lies below this seemingly serene seaside.
My words paint a mask upon my face reflecting OM, so you think I'm at peace...

So- do you really need my story?

I was born and then reborn
again and again
and I die a thousand deaths
and will die a thousand more and I fall in and out of love a hundred times a day, like my father...
I'm born by the sea, in the desert, as a gypsy.
All my earthly possessions torn from my clutching fists by the rage of an arsonist... And then by the scornful hand of fate...
And twice, a redish glow from the smoldering embers and rubble provided just enough light to lead me through the darkness...
And through seemingly endless claustrophobic, murky tunnels.
The only sound is an echo of my heavy footsteps dragging across the cobblestones.
The otherside of loss is terrifyingly empty and vast.
Clear like the day after a storm. A windex-d window I'm not sure I want to look through just yet.
But why do we fear space?
Vinyasa Krama means carefully placed step...
When we are gifted with space left behind, we hurry to fill it, topple into it with our old selves, versus holding the space. Sitting with the emptiness and deciding how to fill it in a way that can best serve us.
I believe angels are space.
They stand around us in a ring...
The intangible essence of those I've lost...
I've lost.
Our whole lives, she and I would laugh until we couldn't breathe... Her life was ripped from mine when she was blindsided, slammed by a police car flying silently and carelessly through the november night. Her last breath was taken, muffled by the sound of twisting metal and shrieking tires. I imagine it was a gasp... searching for air.
I've lost.
I would put him to shame when I'd make him arm-wrestle with me and win... Now shame surrounds the memory of that arm, and the last time he ever pressed a needle into it. He could never win.
I've lost.
We lived a fairytale wedding until we began to weave eachother out of the fabric we were sewing... And I found myself empty. I found myself colorless without him.
I have lost.
Countless friends departed, a lover lost, two homes destroyed, a lack of color.
A lack of color.
We hold the crayons to fill in these spaces held by spirit.
But the battle with apathy is one I fight.
Why create?... when history tells us it will end...
This scaffolding we build will collapse in time...
This ink with which we draw our lives will fade in the sunlight and the paper we draw upon will decompose back into the planet...
Where is the mark we seek to leave behind?
Perhaps its the space...
Perhaps that's why the scriptures preach the departure into angels...
Maybe there's a little truth to all that.
I envy stability... And even stagnation.
My life has never allowed me to understand contentment...
But maybe its that I actually HAVE understood contentment, and like a moment of enlightenment in meditation... Once you realize you're there, you're not there anymore.
The proverbial rug is pulled from beneath us so we can stand in a new place and see this room from a different angle and learn the same new thing again... We learn what we already know. What we're already said.
The falling coconut floors us again.
Knocked out cold.
But I choose to stand back up again.
Though crippled and bruised, aching and discouraged...but inspired by the end... Which actually is the beginning.

a bit of pessimism...

i looked before i leapt
and found myself falling
...toppling with the tower all the same.

i softened my heart
and still heard it shatter
... like shrieking needles up my spine.

i gave you my all
and you begged me for more.
and when i gave you that too
this empty shell deflated.
wilted.
collapsed and imploded.

and these broken pieces of me
were left lying lifeless
upon these dusty floorboards
cold and catatonic.

my deadened eyes watched life's speeding freight-train blow past me.

that's when i realized that i had given up hope.

your eyelids.

i've read the truth drawn on your eyelids...

i see your priorities listed, and my heart has not made the cut...

...though a cut has been made in my heart.

and now a trail of blood trickles down my spine.

wounded skin that stings in the air.

you broke me open.

and i know that new light will pour in through this crack...

but that light will come to me.

no longer will you rape me of my reflection.

no longer will i speak to your eyelids.

our purpose is served.

you feasted on me.

and now i stand to walk away.

the goddess dancing in the orange glow

she was fire.
a tamed, candle flame flickering
and a roaring forest fire.
she was the goddess dancing in the orange glow...
a lighthouse - her essence was a guiding beacon.
but without air, her soul was suffocated...

he was air.
he was the wind in her sails...
the space she warmed and the breeze she danced for.
he breathed her to life.
and he basked in her glow.
he was her purpose
and she was his light.

then one day the heat produced, began to intensify...
and he feared the burn.
consumed by fear.. he left.
and her flame blew out.

and where once there was light, there was dark...
and where once there was fresh, clear wind... There was blinding, billowing smoke.

and all the world stumbled without sight or breath
...until they found each other again.

Broken Open

I'm searching for an answer in the cloud that hangs above
I'm dreaming of a different kind of life
Where I feel the ground beneath my feet
My heart is full of love
And everything's a little easier

And I feel ok with floating in the air
Though I know sometimes the violent winds will blow
But when I'm at peace the ocean breeze will whisper in my ear
And tell me things that I already know

Like we have no say
In deciding what will happen
The only thing we ever get to choose
is our reaction
So i laugh and i om
And wherever i may be
I find I'm always home
When I'm with me

Ive been fearless in this life and so I have no fear of death
And I'm pretty sure its all some kind of game
So I let go of tomorrow
And I thank my yesterday
And laugh and om at everything today

Floor to ceiling faith
I'm dressed head to toe in hope
The cold dark night is broken by the dawn
So although my heart is broken
I believe its broken open
I rise above my fear until its gone

cuz we have no say in deciding what will happen.
the only thing we ever get to choose is our reaction.
so we laugh and om and we know that we are free
together we are hOMe, yea that's the key.
together we are hOMe, yea, that's the key.

backpedaling movement

we walked through my fire.
until we fell out of love.
and in my own backwards way i hoped you'd beg me to stay.
even though i was already gone.
we'd retired our shoes to a telephone wire.
to hang like the noose our love had slid into.

and my pendulum began its backwards swing before yours...

and so i found those who moved at my speed.
and have retreated to the womb where doorknobs turn backwards...
where your entrance is announced by swollen wood hurriedly painted glossy black.

our third eyes watch each other
for cues and clues...
as one multi-faceted crystal swinging through the dark...

we dream our dreams to life in our upside down reality.

though i miss the comfort of the forward facing idle.
but only because the monotone hum lulls me to sleep.
and i miss sleeping.

this hyper-speed retrograde can be nauseating...

but there's no turning back front

a se.cret

i sat.
siddhartha.
shadows cast through canopies.
parched.
an endlessly thirsting soul.
i gaze.
inside with eyes closed.
the lens is panoramic.

you appear.
from beyond this veil of confusion
i've struggled to push through.
this spiderweb.

you blow through pursed lips and the web lifts
and there you are
in technicolor.

salt in your hair and sand between your toes
and the glint in your eye
that i saw one time in the mirror
a hundred years ago
when i was away.

the scent of you.
the intoxicating aroma of the world
lures me to everywhere but here
and i don't fight.

i'm a lover, remember?

epilogue

when tomorrow you find
the glow of dawn...
kissing an earth without me...

my metamorphosis was complete.

my soul was ripened and thus i sluffed this shell...

my love is eternal.

the breaking wave, my breath.
the drum circle, my beating heart.
the golden light at sunset, my smile to you.

you completed me.
you didn't kill me.

the step off this pier was mine.
my watery grave.
my eternal bath.

in life i soaked in your love.
in death i soak in the sea.

we were never in the world.

the world was within us.

and thus... i am always within you.

the summation of OM

she whispered to her shadow...

upon these sands...

to be free, we must first be able to be.

i may guide you to the center of your soul...

but do not follow me out your door.

For i too stumble in the dark and walk towards a beacon i cant make out in the distance.

we are not in the world.
the world is within us.

so come with me to the color white.

the summation of all color.

just as we float towards love - the summation of OM.

no flightplan

fall in to me.

no greater joy then to be your all.

swim into my soul.

and be bathed in my love.

i am your sea.

these waves crash for us.

let us soar without fear.

no flightplan.

we trek uncharted cosmos.

a hollow heart

8200 feet above the sea...
the air is as thin as the skin of my heart.

your confusion has spun me into a spiral that winds tighter and tighter...
compression squeezing nothing.

for it is
a hollow heart.

my soul is sea sick.

turbulence in a sea of endless thoughts and palpable aches...

from all sides, this hollow heart is smacked by the waves that crash against this pier i stand upon...

and it fills my empty cup.

so, i drown in this thin mountain air...
i grasp for a breath that i can feel...
because i miss you.

the intensity of me...
us...
burns with electricity.

but it seems our options are

to burn with deep, conflicting, sparking, piercing love...
.
or
.
to pray and gasp for air to fill my hollow heart, and forever find myself lonely and aching.

i'd rather burn then ache.

don't be afraid to burn me.
don't be afraid to BE burned.

we are supposed to stand side by side in this fire.

jungle dreams

wading through these waking jungle dreams...

passion's humidity pierces my skin...

a splinter with no head.

...eternally embedded in this cocoon i spin around my spirit...

the shell i'll sluff off in death... or again tonight when i fall from my skin and in to your essence.

next day shocks remind me of the reality of this electricity.

our shared stitching is elusive and alluring.

what i know is the unknown...

and what i feel
is
a chest
drowning
in
sharp-edged
feathers.
.

an empty beach

.
.
.
notes and chords soaked in salt...

clutching my clenched chest as i'm crooned away...
from this still, stale pool of lifeless life.

i followed your melody to loneliness...

you played the pied piper...
and led my blindfolded eyes to a sea of solitude.

i am now an empty beach...

jolted out of uncertainty

the total eclipse.
a lightbulb bursts.
and my fingertips receive an unexpected shock from a car door
the truth snaps to light
and in a moment, i am choking on air
and i wake up

my eyelids pop open to reveal the technicolor world around me.

I am held...

The cycle that consumes me....
This compressed emotion finally screamed out in turquoise waves
A frothing aftermath that rolls forward to kiss the untouched white sand where I sit like the Buddha. The eternal witness.
Not a single imprint from a foot in sight
Until I zoom in and find lessons from a hermit crab
I find that in fact, millions of footprints sprinkle this beach
Shells moving. Camouflaged white sand crabs scuttle sideways towards the water. My gurus, the hermit crabs cruising by me.
The weight of these soft serve swirly ice cream cone shells carried by tiny bodies
Bodies that yearn to move forward though they don't know why.
There is no final destination
Just a desire to forge new tracks in the sand
To persevere without destination
Walking a path without knowing quite where it leads
Bravery and courage
And a tear timidly leaves my eye stuttering along my sun-kissed cheek as it rolls earthward
The sun yawns and starts to think about descending for the night behind this endless blanket of blue laid out before me
And I am held
Gaia is beneath me, above me, around me.
She is me

waking dreams of angels

come meet me in my dreams and I'll meet you in yours
your angels sleep beside me upon this bed of pine needles as I gaze towards the melting galaxy above.
they steer me through cactus patches and rose quartz quarries...
the song from your lips brush mine and trustingly, I collapse into the arms of slumber...

the quiet trampoline

there is a constant
a line in space that is the nothing
the moment between the inhale and the exhale
the breath between the ocean waves
...the quiet trampoline

from this place we bounce towards the sun and reach towards the stars shooting overhead.
we taste bliss and smell euphoria as we fly through the air above.
my heart strings tickle with the singing of my soul
and I'm deafened by my giddy laughter
from this great height, the sunshine light is blinding and warming to the point of a burn...

but newton called it
and the arc of joy finds its mirror arc below

the moon wanes
the ground sinks below our feet
and the proverbial crash begins

a hollowness fills my heart
and the emptiness reflects sadness
and ache, a longing for light
and the constant line seems to loom above our heads as we yearn for the low to pass

"do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man in his pain? he asked...

for the spirits who are the neutral line in space do not feel to the depths of our pain, but also miss the flying, soaring joy on the other side of this snaking line of emotion and experience.

and so we sit.
we breathe
and we wait for the dawn to come
the light to shine
and we know that to reach that high, we'll dip this low and in the end its worth the comedown to darkness to fly beside the sun.

where hearts meet at 5am

i know where you are now.

...and I will not be going there.

my heart aches that you'd ride this wave beside me...
but you can't find me through these choppy waters...
...and you won't find me...
until you find yourself.

i can pull your body close
and breathe my light to your heart...
but the black hole that is your shadow will absorb it
..and kill it
...drain it
...and drain me.

and so I wait.

...when the darkness of night begins to turn shades of purple,
sounding the alarm that dawn approaches...
my spirit will start to swell.

though it is still the dark of night within your soul i know.

and you gaze out my window and try to decide if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if the indigo really emerges in the sky above...

...as i wrap myself in blue, i invite the sun and moon to rest on the same satin pillow beside me.

and though they sleep here,
I am wide awake...
watching their hearts merge with one another
and then with mine

and I see...
that
I am
the sun...
Mirrored in the moon.
And I am
the moonlight...
Slowly fading with the creeping light of dawn

...these tender moments, wrapped in cashmere, with the gentle energy of a fawn.

I love myself to life in your light...

But I know where you are...
And i know there is no light.
It is dark and the dawn is a million hours away...
Or so it feels

wake-walking across my eyelids

.I dreamed I walked barefoot across the earth.
.And I finally ended on top of a mountain surrounded by ruins and faces I knew.
.When I opened my eyes I no longer recognized my bedroom.
.And felt a canopy of white lilies hanging above me in the shadows cast on the walls by the moonlight.
.I saw an archway beside me.
.With vines delicately and minimalistically growing up and over.
.I saw a water glass full of rocks.
.Some smooth some rugged, jagged and rough.

.The night before, my friends and i sat on a lifeguard tower at 5am and watched the waves roll under the night sky next to the ferris wheel.
.They built a fort in my living room.

.And its true that my hands remember you.
.My forehead misses your lips.

.Then I crash back into such a deep dreamless sleep- like diving off the side of a ship into the sea of slumber.

.And finally I swim towards the underwater dream world but im consciously unconscious here.
.I move through the jewel encrusted door to a misty garden where the deer come to me.
.They nuzzle their noses in my hand.
.They let me know I am loved.
.And they show me the shield of protection I will have as I walk barefoot across the earth.

.They show me that I am held and awaken me to the earthly love I am unknowingly always bathing in.

.As cherry blossoms hang above my head, I search to soak my soul in meaning.
.And suddenly your sunlight spirit is splatter painted across my heart.
.And I breathe a little deeper then I did before.

the bounce

i've become bored of this bouncy ball.
the erratic,
unpredictable,
'jump OUT of the sunlight and IN to the shadows beneath my bed' kind of movement.

the moon drew a picture
of my bouncy ball plight
and used a river to illustrate it to me...

i casually cruise down this
running
stream
in my
wooden
canoe.

the sun strokes my skin...
the breeze licks my face...
i whistle a tune as i reach down and let my fingertips kiss the smooth water.

... and the moment I recognize that all is at ease, the river gets
confrontational
and begins to transform into a rapid...

terrified, I hold on to my little canoe...
and ride out the current, which has become violent and vengeful...

i am not prepared for this,
but I have no choice but to hold on and ride it out...
bouncing up and down with the chaotic current,
until the river curves again
and
once
again
i
am
floating.

and the bouncy ball rests in stillness on my bedroom's dusty hardwood floor.

once again decieved by a garden...

i came to this garden for healing...
and have left
whipped by the wind...
and burned by the sun...
more crippled then when i came.

who knew a divine light could blind you?

"i did not think you had the capacity to hurt me." i wept to the sun.
but too long in the light, and my skin was seared.

just days ago,
i closed my eyes,
and basked in the summer breeze
... forgetting how easily the winds can change.

and now i sit,
lifeless and collapsed...
burned and chapped...

and you ran away.

you turn your face,
as not to see,
the key you hold,
to the other half
of my freedom...
my salvation...

it stays clutched in your closed left fist.


without your half...
without your hands to lift your end of this weight that crushes me
i am pinned...
trapped...
and slowly dying...
becoming paralyzed...
again.

getting lost in my mind...
...and drowning in my own tears.

but as kahlil gibran told us "there must be something sacred in salt. its in the ocean and its in our tears."

so now you see why i beckon you towards the sea.

i need you to come to the place where my tears fall and the waves crash... so we can fall in step with the tempo of the crashing waves and allow our tears to fall in time.
and then in sync with one another
we will lift
the weight of this sadness
and rise above
to where the air is clear

where the wind is a gentle breeze... that does not whip my skin
and the fire is a still candle flame... that does not burn your skin

and THEN we will be free and my breath will not stutter on the way in.

hollywood headache

been coming here for a decade.

my numbness and dry deadpan sarcasm is just a reaction to the interlaced hands squeezing around my brain...

the billboard by queens road changes... the interchangeable staggering tranny shrieks some crack-babble just as he/she/he always does...

as I walk down the strip past clone after clone...and for a moment have deju vu because I'm SURE I've seen that platinum blonde with fake boobs suffocating in a black mini dress and stilettos before...
my mind wanders off to contemplate how many combinations of words you can make that are "lyrically genius"...

it's all bit mind-numbing to me right now.

the mentally challenged waiter is still fucking up orders at the sushi place across from the venue that keeps changing its "look" but inviting the same horrendous bands that attract the sleeziest crowds and then wonder why paris doesn't come by too often....

iHAVE to get out of heeeeeeeere.

i want to escape to a place where the clear air wafts through palm trees, and doesn't get stuck between frawns due to the 6 inch layer of smog coating the "tree"...

i want to walk down a beach and let the white sand snuggle between my toes, without the fear of a syringe or used condom hiding out waiting to infect me...

i want to walk the earth barefoot and be a love beacon, shining light as I watch the world in wonder...

collective clarity and mowgli's magic

wolf bites and battle wounds
and daisies falling from the sky.
eyes with that love-crazed, creativity-infused glare
a look that scares me and inspires me all at once.

tye-dye bedspreads and bass drums...
cigarettes breaks and philosophy banter...
hidden bottles of cactus and stolen kisses
behind painters and poets...
tibetan bowls and tambourines...

...and the love of the bay city's name.

unconditional love between strangers blooms
and unity sweeps over us
enveloping the building in it's embrace.
and just for a moment we forget what we think we know
and see with such clarity
how we are all ONE.

foggy visions of freedom

i love when the horizon gets swallowed by grey...
and you can't tell where the foggy sky ends
and the invisible ocean begins.

the gull cry reminds me that my spirit is free.

we make a choice to stay tethered to that which doesn't serve us...
we make a choice to be stagnant.

but even when the sea seems to lack form...
and from the shore we can't see the beginning or the end...
the waves still crash.
the jellyfish still crawl through the currents.
and all is moving.
cycling.
transforming.
beneath the surface... within her body.

imperfection.

amongst broken seashells...
and splintered firewood...
i pull the threads of a threadbare sweater.

as a wilted rose petal
slowly falls
to the dusty floor...

the shriek of impatience
leaves a ringing in my ears
that drowns out
the whispering voice of reason
that is aching and struggling to be heard...


why do i yearn for the time-lapse version of my life?

why is slowing down and waiting akin to agony?

i am not a perfect, slow burning candle flame...
but rather a blazing wildfire storm
kicking ash and dust into the air
as i race through forests...
consuming everything in my path.

i am not a lazerbeam.
i'm a floodflight.

impermanence.

everything seems so impermanent.

even this body is slowly dying...

we all are...

we're all terminal.

i am not contracting - but i'm not expanding either

i need to discover a new culture - explore another part of the world.

the smoke of my soul is wafting out from me and away to a land i've never seen before.

it's mixing with smells i've yet to know and dancing with people who laugh and sing in a language unfamiliar to my ears...

my heart is aching, heaving, yelling across the earth... i want to be taken away. forever.

to dance upon the ruins i've seen in my dreams for all my life...

to look out across the sea towards an island i drew as a child...

to hold a child in my arms that i've never met and can only communicate with through the love melting from my eyes.

i am aching.

these reigns that hold me back are but my own. woven together with threads of my own fear.

but i feel the moment coming... creeping... dawning... when i will throw these ropes to the ground and soar away into the sun.

and my death will slow down... and my spirit light will expand... and i will know the love of my OWN heart.

and i will be free.

and this impermanence will at least have a purpose for a moment or two.

on a good day

Life is so good.

I remember about 8 months ago thinking this very thought.
I was driving.
And I can see the very intersection I was at.
I can feel what the sunlight felt like as it kissed my shoulders
And I can taste the sweetness of my life in that moment.
It was seamless
Easy
Smooth
Effortless
And beautiful
Every element of my existence had fallen into place in a perfect pattern. Each puzzle piece fitting exactly where it was supposed to...
And it was... At least on that day.

And I think I knew in that moment of bliss that it would never stay the same.
That it would never just maintain this harmonious chord.
The echo would die out and a new chord was to be struck.

And the new chord was dissonant and jarring and threw my very life as I knew it into a spiraling tornado

And then I found myself lying in the dust with arms outstretched
And I let raindrops kiss my lips
As swirling white spirit danced above me...
A drum beat pulsated through my blood stream

And my soul rattled.
Shaking free the parts of me which had died but remained within my shell

I died
And was reborn
I was the phoenix.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and turned the angelic dust to dark salty mud where they fell

This physical illustration of the same transformation within us when we cry and feel sadness.

Moving from the light and ethereal to the thick and dark

And all that I knew and felt on that blissful sunny drive through venice was no longer.

And somehow, perhaps for the first time ever, I felt liberation from the loss.

I feel a depth to my lungs and a freedom through my heart

And I know that the collapse and the destruction of the smooth platform that held me has only created a blank playa-esque canvas for me to build a new self.

And every moment of this creation and re-construction of myself is beautiful.

And life is so good.

... ... ...

...flirting with insanity
... ... leading to catastrophe
... ... ... opening the door
... ... ... ... and finding just ten thousand more.

silent screams

...my tears were crimson red
i tried to bleed you out of me
...i tried to breathe myself away from the moment we just had and said we'd never have

...in my mind I clawed at your face
and ripped the hair from my scalp
...but in reality, I just sat in the numbness
palms open to the partially hidden sun...

and my shallow stuttering breath shook my lips
...and I used all the strength I didn't have for my knees not to buckle

intentions for the aries new moon

I am releasing this garbage by letting go...
And stepping back...
And taking a breath...
And re-booting...
I am taking two steps back to see the broader, bigger picture...
The sweeping playa landscape of life...
And allowing my truth (trut) to be revealed without expectation...
Or judgement...
And I'm listening to my heart...
And not planning for peace or ease or a peaceful effortless flowing life to be handed to me...
But rather finding peace in the mayhem...
Allowing my soul to be at ease with the turbulence...
And dancing with the earthquake...
Flowing with the movement of my life.
There is a song.
Its not the sweet, melodic, mellow song I wish it was, but I can't change the tempo...
I can't do a slow tango to hard core rock n roll...
So I must find the rhythm of my erratic heartbeat and love the song it sings...
And move my feet in time to what is happening....
And find peace of mind within myself...
Though it might not be peaceful around me...
Om Mani Padme Hum
(The jewel in the center of the lotus)
This lotus that grows from under the surface- in the shit- in the mud- in this chaos...
And flowers, delicately floating above the surface...
But even above ground, the outside conditions and circumstances can be brutal and harsh...
And the petals can wilt or be torn off in the storm...
But the jewel in the eye of the flower remains unmoving...
And sparkles through the haze.

Catharsis

The rain poured down... and so did my tears
The clouds came open and the air was cleaned.
And I kept hearing his song about finding his country- finding his home
And I couldn't lift my head from the dampened pillow I slept on in my catatonic state.
I spun out...
Emotionally and physically.
The wild one from days past emerged while my mind was elsewhere reflecting on the weight upon my shoulders
And then the rains came
And I couldn't stop fixating on air
That knowing voice inside of me would not stop prophecizing and urging me to push
And then I tried to leave and make her stop
And the vehicle I tried to use to run away wouldn't take me where I wanted to go
And it too spun out in the soaked side streets
And so I had to turn to the thing that numbs me
And mutes me
But when I woke up the clouds had parted in the sky and catharsis was around me.
But not yet within me
And I know its because I muted her voice
She wasn't done talking
The storm had been plugged
And still my own raindrops needed to fall
And so I fell.
I collapsed in my closet and felt to the depths of the storm...
And my heart is now saturated like the streets of last night
And I am waiting for the light to come and my own cleansed soul to shine through these clouds that shroud my spirit

blackwhiteblackwhiteblackwhite

my fiery heart seeks the eye of the needle in the haystack...
the eye that is
the portal to transform me
...from darkness in to light.

the yin yang symbol stamped upon my forehead...

i fear the black hole because it is the oldest friend i have.
i keep close this enemy,
this entity that stabs my skin...
cuts my flesh...
eats my light...
and watches me bleed.

it stands beyond my bedroom door cradling a knife in its hands...
... salivating at my fragility.

but the choice is mine.

i choose to expand.

only in a contracted state of fear can the darkness
enter
me

...so I stare at the sun til my eyes burn and water...
until
i am blind
and dots twinkle in my sight...

i reach my arms to the north and south
and stand at the edge of the ocean...
my open heart calling to the setting sun
to infuse me one last time before it rests.

...and i dream myself into grace

i create peace
...and harmonize with the wind
...and let my cheekbones soften.

i don't press up against my skin,
but soften inward towards the warm bassinet shrouded with silken sheets
where I rest
and am held
within my own soft honey colored light...

and the darkness is just a shadow of a palm tree out the window,
dancing on the pavement...
...waiting...
for the sun to go down...
for its chance to run across the earth and consume everything in its path.
to take us back to yang.

my reflection in a tidepool of days gone

SHE skipped through sprinklers and chewed on the ends of wild lemongrass...
SHE ran her fingers in the chilly sea water of the Carmel beach tide-pools and tickled the bellies of sea anemones to watch them wiggle away...
SHE drew on driftwood with pieces of charcoal left from big kid bonfires and scooped sand in her hand to watch it sift back down into the white speckled mountain SHE was inadvertently creating. ..
SHE dreamed of floating constantly and believed she was from another world all together...
SHE loved the scent of fresh cut grass and the taste of her grandfather's stew...
SHE would pirouette at low tide through the dampened sand as she hummed a soundtrack only SHE would ever hear but knew would change the world...
SHE stood on tippy toes in her purple jelly shoes to reach the almonds on her neighbor's tree...
And then SHE would run to the eucalyptus meadow to crouch among the lizards that were her friends and share her treat...
SHE would shudder with excitement when SHE opened the dress-up trunk, anticipating the creativity that would soon abound... and the story lines to her musicals would begin to bubble inside her...
SHE cupped her hands around roses and smelled them until they lost their smell and mournfully scooped up the dead and dying flowers that had fallen to the earth in her hands, taking them home to make perfume that SHE could wear to thank the flowers for their life...
SHE would climb on a roof any chance she got just to get the birdseye view and feel above it all for a moment in time...
And then one day SHE grew up...
Too fast.
And too hard.
And slowly turning a corner her bloodshot eyes fell upon an image of herself skipping through sprinklers and chewing on the ends of lemongrass...
And SHE knew SHE was gone.

oak tree ponderings

Have you ever wondered why oak trees grow the way they do?

The gnarled branches, perhaps, tell a story of the tree's life...

Each bend and curve- a moment in the past that moved them or scared them...
And only when the tree has grown out past that time, can we see the life map illustrated up the growth...
A reflection of the path worn on the face of the aging plant?

Maybe there is muscle memory in their bark and feelings flow through the sap, just as our emotions ride the tides of our veins...

And maybe sometimes it just becomes too much for the tree and its sap has to bleed...
The feelings must run out and escape from the pain it holds.
Is the sap their tears?

What would my tree look like?

Would my branches have grown up to the sky, reaching like hands feeling towards the divine during my times of expansive bliss I felt in the desert?

Would there be a knot every foot or so... To show the knot I felt in my core each time I spiraled into panic and anxiety and darkness?
Would my contracted fear be drawn as disease eating away the life of the tree in little holes and decay?

And what would this moment in time look like once it climbed up and was shown in a branch?

Would it be broken?

Would it bear any leaves at all?

Or would this moment in my life be sculpted in the gnarled oak tree as the base of many branches that are yet to grow?

But I suppose we can't ever see the present moment in a tree...

We must wait until it has grown past it and moved along in life to see the story unfolded... to recognize the bigger picture painted in the bark...

Goodbye.

You left.
The taste of your lips still lingering on mine...
The image of your swollen eyes burned in to my heart...

But the air is clear.
And its terrifying.

I've never breathed so deep before...
My lungs don't know how to take in so much.
My eyes don't know how to see this wide.
And I'm sadly, strangely, okay.

Your music will always be the soundtrack to my soul...
And your hands will always smooth my furrowed brow when I'm afraid.

The sun will always shine down upon us both, no matter how far we walk from one another...

We didn't run.
We slowly turned and glided apart and it was a slow burn...
But the last piece has died and fallen.

And now we can be at peace...
and hold a piece of each other as we walk alone.

I hold a single candle in my palm for you.

And always will.

Goodbye.

anahata orchids

there is ash upon my forehead.

here i sit within a cave inside my chest and i stare at the moon...

the walls of my heart, adorned with hanging crystals, glow white and shoot iridescent beams of light across my body.

and i am held here

purple orchids scatter the earth, growing in unorganized clumps...

I find myself leaning over a pool of still water to look back at myself in the reflection
...and I see you

I see my fears melt off my face as tears of truth
And feel your hands upon the back of my head, caressing me the way the sun did when it peeked in through my window this morning...
and you were standing there watching me bathed in early morning sunlight as i slept.

i close my eyes again and trace a line through the sand in my memory to see how
life
flew
ahead
of me
when i was still standing in the desert dust trying to see ...
...wiping my eyes clear

and once they could finally blink open, i saw that your sun had set and I was alone again...
standing upon the other end of the penninsula.

you kissed my heart and held my body in your arms...
we watched the waves crash under the whispers of clouds that hung in the morning light
... and you told me it was true.

and we've both known all along that our love was for another world.

but then why is it even breathing life right now?

why have you come into this cave?

why have you entered my heart and walked upon these purple orchids?

why can I feel you in my chest even when you are gone?

comfort junkie

im learning how to be okay.
im discovering how lonely independence is...
and seeing how deceiving lonliness can be.

i am a comfort junkie...

the ache... the longing and lonliness tricks me into thinking that i want to be with him...
but really its just that junkie inside of me seeking out something that i know will soothe me.

so i need to learn to be okay.
i need to learn to comfort myself and be my own companion...
i need to be my own fix.

because he is not the right partner for me.
the way he chooses to live his life does not parallel well with mine,
but he does fill a void
and comforts me

and then i choke and i start to sprial into fear and that voice starts screaming that i made the wrong choice...
but that is the voice of the junkie...
that is the woman on the other side of the wall with her muffled screams
that is my shadow...

the dark, letcherous, grasping, gripping side that wants to suck in and be satiated.
be appeased...
a hand to stroke my hair
a voice to re-tell the words that i already said
that i already know.

and so i must exhale out..
i must hold myself and surround my soul in light

and remember that i made a choice to expand...

i made a choice to walk alone and let the reigns fall to the earth.
no more sacrefices, no more burdens but my own.

and i am the tortoise... i can carry my own life on my back.

but sometimes i need to crawl inside and be alone and comfort myself from within the shell that surrounds me.

maybe some day i will find someone that counterparts me better then he did.
but i will never find anyone who can carry me better then i can.

to be free alone.
to be held by my own heart
to be home at last with me.

...grandaddy...

...my grandfather's pocket watch winds backwards.
... the hands tick towards times of past
as he take long sips of cabernet
...and deep raspy breaths.
... stories unfold like paintings carefully drawn on canvas in sepia tones.
...with chin in hands and eyes following his flickering words I listen and absorb.

... my heart follows his to an era of clarinets and hand written love notes.
... when there was time to dream and time to believe...
... when the horns of ships called out to broken hearts and the air was clear.
... in wondrous, captivating awe I sit across from this man who's love story brought life to mine.

... watching the dancing wrinkles on his face, each line, each crease shows itself to me as an earned badge of courage...
... my grandfather's face reminds me to be brave enough to walk through the dark.

... to know that my story will one day be told though already written in the stars,
as I follow this trail that is laid for me and lined in the same daisies that grew beside his path as he walked it.

...I hear his laughter billowing like the wind and brushing by my face, gently patting my cheek the way his healing hands did so many times as his pocket watch ticked away time.

dried up

lying in our bed...
i stare up with dry eyes...
at the ceiling that once hung above our intertwined bodies.

and it occurs to me that this is MY bed. not ours.

flipping through a book where i doodled of your name...
a folded love note flutters to the floor...
and all i see when i look to it...
is some ink on a creased sheet of paper...

where are my tears?

i could always find a sigh inside my chest when i buried my head in your dress shirts and breathed you in...

but now, either your essence has worn off on the shirts...
or you've just worn off me.

your touch has washed off my skin and my heart is calloused.

it seems i am desensitized...
where now, when i run my fingers across your guitar strings i can't even taste your music in the corners of my mouth...

that dead, lifeless thing thumping in my chest, used to soar and chirp and skip around in circles for you...

i never thought i could feel so little.

from behind closed eyelids
i see

i see time.
this crazy formula we made to measure THE ALL...
but in truth its just a game we made...
an imaginary perimeter...
a make believe boundary fence that we fear will buzz our shock collar's if we step outside the thin black line we've painted in the dust...

i see spirit.
the essence of THE ALL...
in 6.7 billion different flavors... but really all the same.
a white light glowing within each of these shells we wear
emanating through and creating a halo just beyond our skin.
our aura speaking the truth that i wear you and you wear me and our colors are the same, though our shells are not.

i see our planet.
a speck of sand in the cosmos that is THE ALL...
but from within this body, we view the world through this paradigm of duality consciousness seeing me as me and you as you...
when really guys?
the spirit that breathes that tree to life, breathes me.
the atoms that make that lily flower stand there are identical to the atoms that make my elbow that rests on a table that is made of the same atoms too.

we are all one.

we can see that we are all one from a scientific, squinting eyes, and furrowed brow, analytical place...
but the spirit?

the actual love that breathes us in to reality?

we can't see it, so we don't believe its there sometimes.

but THE ALL is THE ALL.

its love, its thoughts, its dreams, its the intangible flowing motion around us - cycling like the waves and the moon and the breath and the circle of life... its spinning like the double helix, like the pinwheels, like the aerial silks artists in cirque du soliel...

just close your eyes and look.

you'll see it too.

the tenacity of a renegade mind

where the back alleyways meet...

she weeps with disbelief and desire...

too many times the sad song was sung.

the resilience of this shell we've been told is so fragile...

a faceless capacity for harm that whispers deception...

but our capacity for love is endless... though, you'll never hear the demons in the dark tell you so.

did they ever find a cure for quicksand?

23 word poems

à la trut

•
23 word suicide poem

i
am
the
weeping
willow
that
i
tie
this
rope
upon

i
am
the
sun
that
rests
til
i'm
discovered
here
at
dawn

•

23 word unrequited love poem

my
love
spoke

though
i
denied
the
light
of
day

now
i
turn
towards
the
moon,

my
soul
mate
looks
the
other
way

•
23 word orgasm poem

two
shadows
undulate
on
the
wall
to
rhythmic
candle
flame
flickering
while
silent
screams
of
agonizing
bliss
are
tasted
my
eyes
roll
back

another call to unity

the selfsafe fuel that burns the sun in its infinite infero,
ignites the intensity you feel in me...

a furnace heat that sears words of truth into the skin of bison and brings sweet delirium to our minds...

the selfsafe breath that blows the wind in the hurricanes above and shakes the barley,
blows whispered breaths to my lips and hushes the cries of dreaming babes...

a moving air that rushes through the branches of weeping willows and stirs haunting wonder in minds...

the selfsafe oil beneath the earth's surface that cools the core and calms the vertigo we'd otherwise feel from this spiraling globe we stand upon,
runs our machines and our manmade dreams into this reality...

but it too dwells beneath our skin and smooths the grooves and scars and tool marks our maker left upon our bodies in his haste to create...

we are all of this sun, this wind, this oil...

and the beauty in the stars we gaze upon, is the same shining light our lover sees in the glint of our iris...
in the twinkling of our soul...

together we dance the fields of wheat and stir the clouds above...

our tears drop rain into the deepest part of the sea, and our lovesick hearts sing the song of the nightingale...

this...
we...
it....

is all one.

...come find me

.between brass doorknobs and salt water floors...
.is a lost land of love where my heart beats...
.there is no map to find this place- and the only guide is the amythest glow from your own third eye....
.breathe open the downy wings you were born with, but never realized you had....
.and glide across the jasmine scented night sky...
.soar above docked boats and sugar cane fields... cobblestone streets and cottages bathing in fog....
.fly yourself to a castle carved in the side of a lost mountain...
.and sit still in the flame of a candle...
.speak to me with your hands...
.and dance for me with your words...
.call my name across the stars and skip stones along the cosmos...
.and be my eyes for me...
.see me through shades of cinnamon as you melt your mind and follow the strand of sage smoke to the sand....
.and find me there...
.standing naked....
arms to my side...
.heart open to the wind...
.hair blowing in the sunlight...
.toes sinking in the lapping waves...
.i am yours.
.come find me.
.though you know not what I look like....
.you will know me by the raspberry trail in my right eye that mirrors yours...
.and the harmony our breath makes when we stand side by side...
.i am yours.
.come find me...

shades of sadness

we danced in the dark behind the sun
where we could not be seen

we walked hand in hand down deserted beaches
and made mosaic footprints in the sand

we breathed the ocean waves to life
and spun the planets round...

we fell in the dust, dizzy from spinning
and cried a hundred tears...

we grasped at air
and we silently sang
a song we didn't know

looking at each other through a piece of broken glass found underneath the pier...

we were in love...

it was a secret kind of love that no-one knew but us.

we fell through the clouds and landed on feathers

laughing as we dreamed our dream to life...

my heart melted into yours and then into the lake we sat in front of as we picked petals off daisies and whistled a song that once meant something to me.

we watched the white icy blanket of winter billow across the once green mountains

and warming our hands by the fireplace, we drew each other close again

and then we began to weave each other out of the pattern we were sewing

and i yearned for your color to return to the fabric

and i found myself empty

i found myself dull

i am colorless

without you.

today is done, tomorrow will never come

chai and chocolate cake
while neitzche was spoken

the sun descended with the temperature of the air

we sat in a san franciscan park and let words trickle off our tongues

the winds of santa fe carried a voice that called to me...
i heard the call and packed my bags without so much as a moment of thought.

when the days are longer, i shall depart...
reality will have passed me by
but at least i won't be expecting it.

we will ride through sandy mountains, and broken glass to make our way west
and find the salty air again.

our eyes carry the same glint when one of the masters come up in conversation

and so it is clear that we are of this tribe...

its clear that we are made to stand by one another, adorned in white head dressed atop a mountain and breathe in the crystal flagstaff air and scream our sins to whatever owl will listen.

and the goon will come home and sit in the garden with the butterflies and humminbirds, lupin and lavender...

but they won't have any clue.
and that is why we are here.

the joy that ripples from my heart and into the peninsula's tidepools, is the very same ripple that will carry across the sea and crash as a wave upon the indonesian coastline.

so now i sleep that others can wake below me...

we are all just flowing. so flow i go into a realm i cannot find until i arrive. but i suppose its that way with this one too.

om peace, goodnight dear friends.

a strange hallucination in an otherwise normal night.

a cactus once told me a tale (in very broken english of course)
about a man who had walked for one million miles
and could not find his home.

as he walked the surface of the world, he held a book just beyond his nose...

the bible... the prophet... siddhartha... the qur'an... tao te ching...the celestine prophecy... an autobiography of a yogi... the torah... the alchemist... thus spoke zarathustra

his appetite was insatiable and his stamina was incomparable.

but his hollow heart would forever thirst.

he chose to walk the path of an eternal student... but he couldn't see the reprocussions of this decision... he failed to ever realize that to choose this path meant that he would never stop walking. and thus he would never find home.

the cactus sat in my living room wearing a tophat and sandles, licking his spiny fingers as he spun this story for me over the course of an hour or two.

i sat in bewilderment... eyes wide, crouched in a ball on the futon in the corner... my knees tucked into my sweatshirt.. my arms wrapped around myself, holding tight as not to let go and fall deeper into this bizarre happening.... i sat in shock.

just as i do now... because this never happened - someone else is speaking through me... i dont know who or where or what or when -

maybe the man was the eternal student and somehow i am the eternal vessel...

or maybe i am the cactus.

i hope Gibran was right about the breadcrumbs...

Cracked, calloused finger tips
"I make love to my guitar" you said
I should have heard the words then...
But I was deafened by your aura

You saw the reflection of your beauty in my eyes but forgot to step away to see the mirror - the detailed, hand-carved wood framing beveled glass... Stained a perfect dark chocolate brown.

Your rough hands pat my thigh... My silken skin... But all you feel is the drumbeat in your ears that you pat out on my body.

You heard a tempo that you played upon my skin, but forgot to see the instrument itself... The perfectly stretched drumskin wrapped over this delicately hand painted base...

You sang me a love song you said you wrote for me...

But all you heard when you sang it to me was a voice that crooned you away from me, and you forgot to hear the sound of my tears dropping to the floor.

And so this song is not for me.

And I can't help but gaze away as you nuzzle your face to my shoulder and whisper words of adoration...

Because you adore yourself... And there's nothing wrong with that.

But there's no room for me in this overflowing cup... My love touches the top and immediately is pushed out with all the other excess things in your life that mean nothing to you as they bubble out and on to the floor....

The love that falls to the bathroom floor, lies where once i lay and wept- paralyzed at the end of this chapter.

Debilitating sadness that rushed over me like standing at the base of a dry, dammed waterfall and then I open my arms and the dam rises... the heaving power of the falling water comes down for miles- gravity like a madman pulling harder and harder- the speed and strength of the water picking up fury and aggression until it hits me and pulls me down to the ground.
Each bone in my body shatters,
Each fiber of my lungs snap
And I drink in the vicious water and die a thousand times

But I guess we won't be reborn until we die

And the more times we die the more times we are born- and the older our souls will get and the wiser our hearts will grow...

So thank you for seducing me and breaking me....

For scattering rose petals at my feet so that you could close your eyes and smell the scent of roses as I passed by...

For holding me in your arms so that you could upgrade from your teddy bear...

Thank you for letting me play a role in your death so that I could have mine.

Maybe we will find eachother in this next life- with older souls and wiser hearts - and perhaps you will step back to look at the mirror reflecting your eyes- and recognize the workmanship of the drum you play your heartbeat upon- and empty your cup a little so my love can have a place to fill and a purpose to pose.

When you're ready....
Once you are dead...
You can find me on the bathroom floor.

a formula for insanity

its all coming undone in its perfectly imperfect chaos...
shaking loose the satin strings of attachment that bind us to one another.

the free falling, wild, flailing peace rips perfect seams through my spine...
and the agonizing burn warms my nearing hypothermic heart.

i dont ask that you stop or start, come or go, press or ease away...
just that you be exactly who you are...
and sit in the seat of your soul so i can sit in the seat of mine.

i will watch the leaves turn red...
and the sun go black with the smoke of a blazing forest fire.

i will watch the autumn come and pass me by again as i flutter down to an icy snow-covered hill.

my swollen eyes will gaze again at the glacier glowing blue in the moonlight...
among those that speak the language of love

and the days will get longer.

the yellow daffodiles will spring to life overnight to greet us with their crisp, spirit shaking essence...
as if to slap my rosy cheek and bring me back to the present moment.

i am not in a garden where swans dwindle and canopies of flowers hang over head.

that life is a life that was.

...but einstein said that "time only exists so that everything doesn't happen all at once."

so i cant help but wonder if i am still here...
or if i was going to be there...
or if i will be where i was...

and you wrote that then, but i say it now...

so my mind can't help but to spin circles like a kaleidoscope splattering confusing colorful shapes against the wall..
shapes that draw me in with their perfectly imperfect chaos.

and i realize that i have no choice but to sit in the bosom of this lotus flower...
and gaze towards the light in the sky...
and surrender
to not knowing.

surrender to the jumbled memories and dreams that morph you all together in this current backwards line i draw in the sand...

my breath will guide the falcon that floats above my left eye...
the falcon that will sweep my lifeless body through the air and drop me on a cliff i recognize from somewhere...
and i wont know whether to jump or fall until i arrive.

a bullfrog's lament and a lost soul in a sea of silicone and starbucks

The crooked river winding...

Bundles of sage and muddy palms.

Wildflowers bloom beside the trail.

...We are seeking our salvation...

Bullfrogs groan at human footsteps.

As we march through fennel smelling meadows, twigs crack and snap beneath us.

Sunlight peeks through between the shadows cast by twisted branches bound together like an arborous canopy overhead.

We are seeking life.

We live in a city where
LIFE
dwells
so
far
.
below
.
the surface
of the concrete and oil...
silicone and starbucks...

... that we flinch in fear when a ladybug lands on our hand which holds a cigarette out the window on the 405.

Are you lost little friend?

Perhaps the bullfrog asked ME the same question...

When did we become so radically removed from the nature that we come from,
...the nature that we WERE and ARE and WILL BE?

How can one lose sight of their own inherent nature?

Perhaps because there is none
(nature that is)
here
in this toxic-waste-dump-movie-set-sprinkled-with-people-who-live-in-a-bmw -and -a-briefcase-and -represent-the -people- that -read-a-script-and-agree-to-play-a-role-of-an-environmentalist - provided- that- their- contract - includes - an - 80' -trailer -with- constant- air-conditioning -stocked- with- slave-trade-coffee- brewed-in- blood-diamond-mugs...

Its no wonder everyone hates LA.

Why is no one else seeking their salvation by this crooked river winding?

Reach your hand out to me and let me pull you up from the sea of blindness and into the blinding sun where we will collect bundles of sage and muddy our palms.

And we will know life.

And we will know love.

And the bullfrog will ask us to stay a while.

And the ladybug will ballroom dance with my pinky finger....

...dreams of a daydream day...

An iris expanding....
Absorbing a horizon.
: : :
A heart throbbing...
Gazing at its unrequited love partner.
: : :
Fingers tapping...
On the antique oak desk in a therapist's office.
: : :
Eardrums pulsating...
From a bassline that pounds through the space and rattles the confusion from the air like batting a cobweb
: : :
A lip being bit down on....
To relieve the urge to do what should not be done. That perfectly imperfect thing that feels simultaneously so right and so wrong
: : :
Teeth so overly whitened, they make a "ding" sound ...
Chattering in the frigid icy air
: : :
Toenails cracked and coated in filth...
Chipped black polish tells the love story of a desert festival where the universe melts and walls of spirit dust consume and transform
: : :
A sweaty palm...
Being wiped dry on denim
: : :
A broken bass string...
Under christmas lights strung from the ceiling pipes
: : :
A color-beyond-the-lines coloring book
: : :
A mirror to show us who we didn't know we were
: : :
An eyelid closing
:
:
And then another
:
:
And then we dream.

flying away

You wrapped the best years of my life in your arms
held them tight to your beating heart
to your quiet breath
to your silky skin
And caressed my hair as I walked my path away from you

I bathed in sunlight
I danced in fire
I twirled and leaped away towards god

I sunk inside myself
I flew through the cosmos
I cried and screamed
My spirit bees swarmed and buzzed
I learned to tame them, to hypnotize them and put them to rest

I learned to forgive
I learned to love
I saw compassion
I tasted trust

And then I learned to fly.
And then I flew away.

solo.road.trip.mind wanderings

the open road ahead...
time to think.
time to be.

the rain comes down to wash us
the goddess from above bathing us in her tears.

there's no gurantees. no mistakes...

there is never a time to question yourself flying freely.

open arms are all around...
the ground paved with endless opportunity
the wheel waits for us to take it and drive
to step off the landing and fall

we leave to arrive.

these feet were not made for standing still!

don't you dare hold on
don't contract around

you must remember this.
hear this.
take this to your grave...
the ONLY thing that holds you back is the reigns of fear that YOU have placed upon your own shoulders.
calm your mind and wriggle out from your grip that holds you.
only you can choose to let go

ONLY YOU CAN CHOOSE TO SEE THE LIGHT THROUGH YOUR EYES

this was given to me - so i pass it to you...

the journey is the gift, the path is the prize

you are free.
you are always free
you may not see it now, but this i promise you....
you.
are.
free.

the ache

it burns my chest to think of you but there's no magic pill to take.
no soothing hand that alleviates the burn...
just time. and tolerance.
like I told you before - i trust the cosmos.
and I do.
and I did when I said what I said about divine timing.
but it sure takes its sweet time.
I said I'd wait.
I'd give it time.
... and now I sit and stare at the un-blossomed bulb with roots floating in air
and I will it to unfold
...whispering encouragement
trying not to beg...
trying not to cry...
my open heart is growing callouses.
... i sit here beckoning you towards to beach.
but you don't see my outstretched hands
...my knuckles white
...my jaw clenched
because my words paint a mask upon my face reflecting OM and you think I'm at ease...
but my light pours out.
my love runs to your moon.
... and there is no reflection
the light just trails into the dark and seems to get smaller as it is consumed into nothingness...
the tide that turns, pulls our wakes apart...
but our bobbing heads can make out the shape of one another across the sea between us.
and i call.
but the gulls cry too loud and drown out the sound of my call to you.
my call for you to swim towards the shore and meet me there...
where we can finally embrace and roll in the waves...
... soak our souls in meaning
...let our hearts make one as we sing poetic words of bliss...
and find wonder in the face of each other...
...to touch you
...to have you by my side
...to crawl beneath your arm.
... to know you're to my left
... to be home at last with you
...to feel you feel my light
...to know that you know what I know
...to finally be as one.

...fear

...the wind howls haunting jibberish in my mind
sirens blare
darkness around
suddenly I am
drowning
collapsing
falling
palm frawns rustle a warning
the creatures emerge
all is moving, creeping, lurking
my skin crawls in fear
my pysche shifts and turns
frantically
searching
for
the
golden
sunlight
.
.
.
it's not there
it won't be
i must sit
i must trust
... this movement is the same as the movement in light... the haunting, daunting other side of the yin yang that is unfamiliar to me...

...but it is.

Affirmative Madness

I do not speak my truth to antagonize you....
I share this swollen river running -- This waterfall of faith-- because it flows out from me like lennon's endless rain....
My paper cup is this poem-- to which this endless string of words spill out and on to...
I stain the sentences with abundant articulations that boil inside me...
I thirst, I starve, I crave.
All that quenches...
All that satiates....
is to open the faucet and allow the words to run...
They skip and dance across themselves...
They formulate on their way out like fireworks deciding which way they will face when they open and sizzle in the night air...
And when they do...
What a sight to behold.
It shocks me like the boom, and takes me aback to see what has emerged.
And Keroac knew.
He knew all along... that I was one.
As my words explode like spiders across the sky...
I watch in staggering wonder at my truth revealed...
I know that I am home here.
I have taken my vow...
signed in blood...
solemnly sworn myself in...
been hazed and pinky promised...
I know...
without the shadow of a doubt...
that I am a mad one.
...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Santosha-less-ness

I run my fingers across smooth glassy water just to watch it ripple away from me...
It would be so easy to hold on though it requires effort...
Because somehow it is effortless to my mind....
So i make it hard...
I let go and allow myself to fall just to see where I land...
I undulate through the steel grates I fall upon and melt into the stream that runs below the earth... Just to be taken away with the tides...
The universe throws obstacles at me...
But I gracefully play like a cat...
Leaping around them, over them, beyond them...
and then, when the wave of trouble has rolled by...
I find myself alone in the stillness waiting for the rest of the world to catch up...
and I find myself running my fingers across the smooth glassy water just to watch it ripple away from me...

to my brother i never had and have always had...

We floated through time
We flowed in and out of birth and death and transformation
We found a familiar spirit wearing another face
But every time we knew we'd been reunited again

We walked through the same ruins that we had bathed in another time

We sang a melody that we'd written as birds calling to one another as we floated over uncharted lands

We gazed at an ocean that once we swam in

We laughed a laughter that had been tickling our hearts for all of time

We emerged from the sea of oneness aware that we would come home

And each time we were given the gift of bodies we walked side by side as cosmic siblings. The earth as our mother, the sky as our father.

The moon shining truth and reminding us to breathe.

We lay our heads upon the mother. We felt her light. We chanted to the sun and skipped through the desert.

Every being here on earth knows it knows... But we know nothing.
There's nothing to know
Only to be

And what a gift it is

..::: angels :::..

Did a sunset ever show you heaven's light?
Did the clouds ever form to tell you a secret?
Did the smell of fresh cut grass ever transport you through time?
Did your soul ever sing?
Did your heart ever speak?
Did your angels lull you to sleep?

Did you feel our love hold your shell here on earth?
Did you sluff your cocoon and fly away or are you still here or have you returned? Were you reborn?

...and now?

Do you show us heaven's light with the setting sun?
Do you tell us secrets in the shifting clouds?
Do you bring us a memory you know we miss by wafting an aroma to our senses?
Do you harmonize with our singing souls?
Do you reply in conversation with our speaking hearts?
Do you stand with the angels and lull us to sleep?

.never forget november.
11:11

head in the sand... head in the sky

Feel nothing...
We reach out to find what was standing behind us.
The ebb and flow and cyclical motion of all that is- the rustle of the leaves on a swaying tree kissed by the golden light of a setting sun...
The wilting roses set upon the alter for a friend transcended...
The message in an emtpy wine bottle that washes on to shore...
The message inside was written for you and no-one else....
It tells an endless tale of waterfalls and moonlit kisses in a desert...
It tells a tale we've heard before, but wait on bated breath to hear again for the first time.
A constant harmony...
The wind that sings a descant we can't hear because we ARE the sky.
We look from above through the window of the atmosphere, and giggle at our stumbling souls.
We sigh as we watch ourselves glimpse at 'the all' through a moment of bliss and then we watch how quickly we forget .
That passion driving our love for one another....
The hidden intoxicant that washes off our hesitant, insecure confusion....
The passion is our vehicle that drives us towards the viewpoint from where we can see why we are here...
but almost always the vehicle takes a wrong turn just before we arrive to the sight that we wait to behold.
And we must start the journey again...
But there's a reason we can't hold on to the bliss, to the truth, to the loving consciousness at all times..
Its the same reason that grasp as we might, we can't catch the wind....
Is it a cosmic game?
Or do we have to cry and ache and writhe in pain and spend a lifetime, or a day, or for some, just a breath in the darkness and confusion to then find ourselves returning home?
The perpetual swing of the pendulum from darkness to light, from untruth to truth and from death to immortality....
Its all so clear and yet so clearly unclear....
I think I just understood the ostrich.

a poem - or maybe its a song.... i dont know yet

We're all
... a little lost
.... a little found
... a bit confused
.... becoming conscious

Each day
... we shine our light
.... we walk this path
... each breath we take
... our love is born

We're here on earth
... to taste the peach
... to ache and cry
... to pause and wonder

And only when
... we're brave enough
... to walk alone
... in to the dark

We see a face we recognize
... And then its clear
... We're all but one

... some thoughts...

So... i watched this video and it blew my mind...

for a couple reasons - first of all... i realized that if i would have watched that video just a couple of years ago, i would have felt so small.... so insignificant...
NOW - it makes me feel vast.



As i was lying in bed - these thoughts danced through my head...

... we are all card carrying members of THE ALL.

we are so vast

we are so beautiful

we are so endless

never forget november

LOVE is all there is besides space and endless energy.

we dont get to choose what happens - that is up to the universe

we only get to choose how we react to what happens

choose to react with surrender and grace.

choose to LOVE fiercely and blissfully and unconditionally and endlessly

choose to not grip or grasp or hold on and contract around anything

but just FLOW

with unity consciousness, look through the lens of the prem paradigm. ignite the fire of the love revolution and walk boldly into the dark with trusting, open arms.

receive and allow.

trust and believe

honor your spirit and allow it to grow without any trellice or stakes. grow infinitely and wildly.

be as creative and unique and individual as you are.

know that you are held.

angels are space. you are held by the space around you. you are held by angels.

close your eyes and breathe deeply every day- know that you are awake. you are conscious. and you are alive.

and this gift is fleeting and may be gone tomorrow.

so taste the peach.

release your grip and soar among the clouds, allow your heart to sing into the wind and howl OM at the moon.

we are bigger then even we (the all) can fathom or imagine. there is endless space for us to breathe into to walk into to forge through into and blossom into... we are the space. we have no limit.

the only restrictions that can possibly be, are the ones we create and allow to be there.

we are limitless. we are the ONE.