more nonsense, i suppose? it’s a total catastrophe but i think some of the words make pretty images and most of it rhymes so….

plus i really meant a lot of what i wrote when i wrote it, and i’m sure i still do. so, i figured maybe someone else might catch a glimpse of some shiny fragment, some glint of meaning somewhere in this wreckage too…maybe? who knows? (shrug) okbye.:)

It Is There- just beyond the static
of the surface, reaching out to everywhere from
the darkness underneath- here is where
that silence breathes, in negative
spaces inbetween matter, & just bc we
cannot see that which deceives our sense of touch
that antimatter space the break the breath the pause we take when we hesitate before the unknown chill we never can quite shake-
Or when we’re faced with gaping awe
The unexpected kind that breaks our heart just to open us up and persuade our hearts to stay ajar
To find beauty in the flaws and find delight in the tingling of feeling raw
The undulating air of lightness shine and lightening of being inbodies in souls embodied by skin our hearts banshee-pleas and darkling shrieks and the bellowing echoes of the world Woman roaring up from the earth’s empty center as one smoldering roar together in unity
Demanding to be released unsheathed from this corporeal chainmail we say “set us free,”
For this Venus of Willendorff platonic ideal of “woman”
as merely a potato sac lumpy dump no longer known by her actual name but now simply called “Mommy!”
and a gumball machine of a light(*)bulb balloon bloated body with the same exact shape just replace the “lady” with a packed sac of marbles or opposingly with an unbearable lightness of bubbles; picture anything becoming, a globular gaian shaped earth-mother-maker of babies, this wobbly pudge of a million bottomous/bosomy identical protrusions
To many perceivers and even certain rare receivers it is simply unslightly and indeed this bowling ball body aplomb with planetary butt as matching accessory is utterly smothering me-

And not hearing my heart when it prays when it pleads not able to touch my heart to my head to know when and for what it bleeds, nor is any part feeling or hearing or answering my deepest most smothered most innerfelt needs
so deeply imbedded within but emboldened to rise up with the wind and dance lithsome as flow as billowing slow like seven veils swept up by bashful flybybouyancies after Salome removes all seven veils to reveal her face by holding them each out to the wind letting them billow and shine for a moment or so
Letting that which once hid held enwrapped and entrapped her feel a moment of that same captured helpless surrender
for just a moment or so,
Before releasing her hold as the wind carries them away with a last kiss she blows,
To give each a memorable last boot-heel kick for that final blow that sends them off with extra oompf and emphatic heave ho,
Then, she stares into the sky now streaked with strange bright colored beings, looking like flocks of some otherworldly windbillow starfallen changeling
Or a demonic windigo thats sprouted wings
Or some willowthewispish windup bird chronicling
Or ethereal upwards aspiraling Nephilim,
and smiles whilst the wind casts her weightless captors hither to and fro,
Then, turning down & deeply inwards she feels her drumbeat heart suddenly jump to a start, which awakens her soul from its unconscious fugue stare, and as it all starts to stir from nearly dead back to full throttle life she whispers, awestruck and shine-eyed
“Can it be so? Is it you, myheart mysoul? Why, Both my stars, Hello.”

how do we have faith while still conceding to the realities that seem less like sacred vacancies, and more like empty parking spots-
the spaces merely contour and outline the touchable physical takable makable breakable corporeal stuff- its these materialities we immediately can see, all at-once agree upon and point to, say “ooh!” in-response to, bc their corporeal, visible nature is a state we relate to, bc we TOO are defined by the amount and shape and grace of the space we take-up, also- we like having STUFF,
and when the need for acquiring things is so insatiable yet ever readily attainable, it’s harder to see all the beautiful bazillion elements of reality that do not directly present as being somehow relevant or similar or farmiliar in a way that serve our needs to feel utterly seen and whole, so please, antimatter and emptiness, whatever amounts to spirit aether freedom invisible and incorporeal entities,
also all rhetorical questions left to silence, concepts illustrated in air-quotes, all neon highway signs flashing motel vacancies and similar ephemeral resting possibilities, plus all other voids that contain nothing but the pause, the breath the cadence that hourglass painfully pregnant hesitation that exists between two faces who ARE sillouetted in an eternal momnt (that is also timely?) as the emptiness of time and space, hidden forever its true vastness of scope that lifts our eyes upwards to pray and before the unknown we’re brought to our knees…each and every day- in this sphere’s echo of hope that’s expanding towards grace, in our own best of all possible fates what do the absent silent parts inside our outspoken broken hearts still seek?
our only true prayer is to give us the bravery to become not what we should or imagined we’d be- but who we ARE.
which is not easy-
it takes courage, and heart, and shutting-up everytime we hear the faintest ring,
from that utter dead center of our unbreakable tether that sings “rise, you’re alive,” in the lost language of soul-speak

Leave a Reply