Something is severed
Tween my heart and my pen
My insides are out
And my outsides are in
Watching it all
As it scampers about
But perspective evades
when one’s insides are out
Seeking those lines
Tween who I and who You be
Though befuddled for now
It shall all be most Groovy!
Sitting still as it settles
Watching new meanings unfold
Just telling the truth as I find it
Of and to my own Soul.
(Been going back through last year’s stuff to see what I may have left behind)
The baby is finding her groove. She seems to like folksy funky stuff. She is such a cool human being. She was working on jewelry this morning. Said she was going to start an Etsy business (if that is the correct spelling). She is good at putting together outfits from the thrift store. So she can be a personal shopper – poet – artist – jewelry maker – vet – travel blogger – and folk singer. It is a big world and she can make her’s like she wants. She is most Groovy! 🙂
Like soupy handfuls of river mud
Slung against a wall
My words splatter and spread
And slide to the floor
Fragrant, dark, and heavy loam
I feel the coarse silkiness between my fingers
There is something in the mix
But it refuses to hold a shape
Rather, my words form the banks
And contain the currents flowing through me
Fertile, deep, cool, and rich with promise
Yet they dissipate and have no force if removed from the flow
So for now, toes dug deeply into the ooze
I will sit and listen to the water
And the frogs and the buzz of my River
Playing in the mud and making mudpies
Some times it’s just like that
Perhaps it is that when one feels washed overboard, afraid, exhausted, and without a raft there is something in the depths of grace for us there. Perhaps the raft is what keeps us from knowing. Blessings, sweetness, and understanding that you are not alone.
Whatever flavor of spirituality that you may tend toward there is a depth and beauty in this. All poetry is metaphor anyway. Hold them lightly or risk their death. Where there is beauty there is the perfume of truth. It resonated with my soul from that place in me that is too deep for words. It allowed me to weep. That is a good gift for a hardened sometimes stupid man like me. 🙂 Maybe my chakra thingy is better for it. Blessings on your quest for the One who is beyond all metaphor.
Ease is the natural state, harmony the true habitation
There is a reason for the dis-ease
It signals, it beckons, it prods
Dis-comfort is god’s grace
Dis-satisfaction does not allow one to rest in the wasteland
Like a splinter in the mind, itch needing scratched
It plays on the fringes of consciousness
Where the frayed sparking edges of the matrix can be perceived
Signposts pointing beyond the current constructs
Go toward that which terrifies
The soft places where there is no defense
Raw, exposed, vulnerable
That is the space of transformation
Surrender control and just be
It hurts, it frightens but it won’t eat you
Silly boy, you are made of stronger stuff than that
Let the false, frightening, fiction, fade
Hold the ground along the narrow middle way
Waves will wash over threatening your balance there
Be still and let them pass
Suspend belief so that you might know
Once you know, belief is no longer needed
Now no more bouncing from side to side like a pinball in a game
Seeking solace, addicted to flesh’s temporary fix
A junkie hooked on the drugs of thinking, fixing, doing
Yes – no, good – bad, right – wrong, same old round and round
Answers, solutions are not in a game designed by others
One that is cast like a net upon the sleeping masses
The way leads out of the trap and into the paradox
The lesson requires unlearning, dying so that life may emerge
What Is calls and heralds a new morning
Wake up sleepyhead, time for dreaming is done