Scales down my back
Prickling holes balanced lightly wobbling topside towards the plaster heart in the bowels of a Buddha belly twisted in knots.
By divine grace faint sight squints rays of glory on the horizon of the imagination.
…remind
er reflected in the mirror lake distorted from imperfection. Seductively skipping the surface below the glimmer of sun peaking beyond all cumulus that Touched briefly the gift of love.
…to the wishing well penny paradise grasps this shadow dancing circles around work yet to be done…..as Silly raindrops collected in the folds of the nose still laughing at the eyes for tearing down the concrete determination to move forward.
A puff of smoke to hide behind while observant of all and nothing making sense of isolation. Rolling to the center of the bed crushed by the warmth of anticipated breath gusting at wings crippled to take flight and deepening a grief lost to ordinary life clicking keystrokes to see if anyone is listening. Worthiness taken for granted woven comfort into nurturing doubt…….striving to fix the undone vision of all that can be and will never succeed behind the dimension of what’s to come. Sipping it slowly Savoring the promise of time etched in a grain of rice dangling over the Now above the beat of my heart.
Nature Awareness
Revenir
Hestia oh Hestia the warmth from your fire lights me up with rooted bliss
Calming the bitter winds of Oya’s loneliness beckoning me to open my heart
Compelling me to expand my mind
Swirling the life I’ve dared to dream with visions watching over my narrow view
Glittering sparkle of Sophia’s wings wrapped around my shoulders
Scraping off the attachments to what I knew and how I learned to cry
The white blanket dries my contemplative eyes in warming hibernation
shivers of glory sneaks under the covers peaking one eye out the window
witnessing the quiet of the trees tender seduction
isolated by nature
a welcoming cave to the inner compartments of my soul coated in sweetness of
a good cup of coffee and a birds-eye view of the Olympian striving to be all that we
compare ourselves to be
A day gone by with not much to show for it by the standards set from the mountain on high
Simple whisps of satisfaction float like bubbles off the stove popping as it hits the burner
and reinvents itself between my palms giving grace to the bounty before me
A candle lights my way as the sound of the storm feels like an intruder wanting to break in
The yoga mat all set up for this winter visitor to dance circles around my tight muscles
and set the pace of my breath to the sound of the wind
My crystals all set up to the surge of power harnessed by the moon
ready to move us all closer to our own center of the world
close enough to touch one another
to kiss the light of the loving-ness between us
never to be apart again
in the silliness
of separation
NewEarth
The upside of living a life worth waiting for
Noting the tap foot beat of right about now
left in my imagination to pull out a dream
So big Olly rabbit reminds my tired lobe to keep
That scurry in the shake shake shake of my hips
Lost in the curve of my once upon a time bounce in my booty
Still enough juice to strike my flat arse into gear and laugh at
the forced affirmations of gratitude sucking me out of this depression
And hope it sticks this time yet the glory of possibility seem like enough
while the love dance in my head reassures my bitter resolve that I can die a
peaceful death to have a chance at the toe dip
Slippery with a wink and a joy
To dare to fun
To dazzle
To see
An army of haters brought to their knees by the shift that made life purposeful
An ugly truth to fight against such gore in mission justified
A satisfaction so lovely that the blood of the warriors wipes smiles in our dust
A rock
And a hard
Bellowing alignment to each energy center
The crown of the head stings knowing this burst is bout to happen
Its done the machine of sideline sitting
And kiddy pool sailing
Wise to it
Red the blood of
Orange sunsets
mellows
The yellow washing fresh
the blues
At the Star midnight sparkle
in the eye of the center of the milky way
Retrieving us back to the start of a new civilization
Planted in the dirt of the ground below
Rooted strong
Swallowed up
Volcanoes
Melted ash carried on the breeze
To a new day
To a new earth
Distractable
Noise, noisy,
noise
Static against the back of my brain
Twisting logic into sermons on the mount
Angry push to win me over
All the stops pulled
Tailgating in the fast lane
Overpowered by a sincere act of listening
Wake me up when November ends
And the ice caps melt
this gap in the dessert of self -indulgent mental maneuvering
Lost in a who cares and a what for
Beyond the setting sun shining light around the golden birch
Changing the scene yet again
Facing the relief of the familiar
Softness clouding above the
Screech, screechy, screech
Patience within the back of my heart
The Thanks not given
Happy thanksgiving
As I watch the bird flap its helpless wings, scattering the blood like paint onto the pristine white feathers; I see the bullet hole as big as its tiny head hang toward the feather bedded ground.
As I reluctantly pull the feathers crisply out of the scaly skin, I watch the words come out of my mouth as if I was a kindergartner with no other vocabulary except “gross”.
I slowly retreat back with a fixed gaze and allow the experts to do their work.
I’ve been invited back again to pluck two more birds. Two happy free range, mostly organic dinners that will joyfully be received by customers who have been on a waiting list for years.
I spontaneously blurt out no, but change my mind after participating in the sacred ritual of the gutting and cleaning.
A ritual that our ancestors could not escape and knew the process as closely as breathing.
How convenient a life we have; I think to myself the very next day, as I open the top of my almond shake and gulp down the contents.
I grew no nut; gathered nothing.
I did not press, or grind or pulverize them into a pulp.
The deliciousness of my mid-day snack was not produced by my hands.
I easily grabbed it off the shelf of the market and eagerly peeled open the packaging with admiration for its decoration.
I work, sometimes hard; sometimes not, inside a steel and wood building; upon a concrete floor, over a paved platform; in order to generate money to buy me this sustenance.
The very ground in which produces the meal is vanished among the box that serves so necessary to mine own survival.
My awareness of this is a blind dot in creating a solution to the disconnection that supports our culture.
A great sadness that I, nor the bearded hen I briefly made acquaintance with can rectify in this lifetime.
Maya Rose 