Poetry addressing root chakra (grounding, earth)
Soul bound we fall,to a planet of heavenly blues,browns and greens. Unfathomable.Then enter, through that of another. Welcomed first, in formby our Mother, and earth, she sustains us. Part of yet separated,from our father,and universe, he contains us. From our first labored breath, tetheredto the smell, pulse, and warmthof our new maternal heartbeat. Should the […]
My damp, snow laden bows, weighted by the burden of winter’s past and present.Tested by the elements who rebel against their mother Earth and life itself. Life’s sap in my petrified trunk flow not.Slowed to a crawlas it selects which appendage to feed next. Each feeding in relation to and dependence upon the other. Inward
If I could record my heart,My love, despair and hope; barely acknowledged. I’d blow the speakers of your mind.The chest of your heart – and anything you hold dear. I’m not a threat.But I present as much. Inward I go; volume decreased. Pointless. Confronted; perhaps cornered.My body sways; rolls and stands walls tall. Octaves
A gaze, beyond magnetic. I thought I couldn’t be seen. Not one captured in this lifetime,but from one long since past A story of two; paths so dark, convergent and yet parallel amidst the desert Lost and thrown away, as if by design Our oasis presented,the King and Queen of sands.
I love sensuality. And the endless power behind it. The knowing, calm and focus.Sleepy eyes that know their privilege, purpose and target. I love my body – regardless of state,how it tests my mind and heart. All for me. And that’s exactly why I scare the shit out of most men (and women) As I
I don’t know how you found me. Or if you were given to me. Everyone else passed. Even when they never left. Ridiculed. Diagnosed. Sidelined. You, however, paused to stop; taking. No, making the time, to enter my interior. Through my exterior. You saw flowers in my weeds. Courage in my foundation, and inspiration through
To those who know me Read More »
I will always feel more than most,but I am not unique. I will never know who named me,but I am not nameless. I will always stumble and fall, But I am still,standing.
If I were spirit and nature itself, I would float a lazy river, half in, half out; hypnotized by the canopy of leaves and birds dancing overhead. Light shifting and sparkling with the wind. Composer and performer in play. Eddying in each moment, aware only of a bird’s call or warm current that catches me
The goal is a hundred, but I want less. Less of what others desire, and more of what I require. One percent of the human condition that only the rare, wounded and gifted experience; and even for them – only in the safety of their dreams. A crude and fantastic earthly existence, where flesh is
