Comment

The Great She

 Photo- Frank Jay Leonard

Photo- Frank Jay Leonard

The Great She
is always dancing
and I am her skirt
.
.
From the center of her longing
she moves her hips
while I, smitten with her audacity
sway at her ankles
lightly grazing the ground
.
.
Together
we spiral around
this great pillar of Love
an untouchable perfection
circling continuously
in rapturous becoming
.
.
this dance between us
has become a most Divine unrest
Her in the savoring of ecstatic blooming
and me ever chasing her
trying to kiss her feet

Comment

Comment

Thunder Whisperer

Screen Shot 2018-05-25 at 1.21.57 PM.png

Thunder Whisperer
River Priest
the gate of my spirit
has been closed for too long
I beg you please
drum me open
with the steadiness
and precision
of your medicine sticks
.
I sit in this ceremony
of rusted tears
where spirit messengers
circle around me
kicking up the dust
clouding my vision
then limpia
sweeping it away
with tender wings
.
Gallop on
through my resistance to love
Gallop on
with your ancient rhythm
pulsing open the door
to my soul
Gallop on
through the memories
I've stored in me
for too long
through my rage
through my bitter tears
until I burst into revelry
and spill out
the beauty
that overwhelms me
I cannot possibly bear another day
of living with a closed heart
with all this music in me
un-lived
.
I lay down my sword at your knees
and bow to this moment
to the wisdom
of the rhythm
breaking me open
skyward

Comment

Comment

When Magic Has Arrived

 photo- julia miho nakamura

photo- julia miho nakamura

When Magic has arrived
Wearing diamonds
and draped in golden starlight
Why not accept her invitation
To join her in an evening gondola
and float down
Her river of moon song
.
.
Don’t spend too much time
Deconstructing synchronicity
If you look closely enough
into anything
Even Inspiration
You will probably find
Some strange wizard
behind the curtain
.
.
Unless of course
you are an engineer of miracles
In which case
Tear down the walls
of the house of wonder
And throw every spark of awe
under the microscope
Until you discover
what music is truly made of
.
.
Passion doesn’t need a reason
To set your soul on fire
And awaken in the night
your deepest seeded love
But passion won’t stop you
From writing anthologies of reason
to the muses either
As long as Magic is the main character
She’ll watch you squirm all night

Comment

Comment

Yoniverse

 photo- julia miho nakamura

photo- julia miho nakamura

It starts as a whisper
A voice peaking out
From beneath the cloak
Of invisibility
Of hush hushed
Of too vulnerable
Of not appropriate to say
theses things
No one wants to hear this story
Its not safe to speak....
.
.
And yet
She persists
In the pursuit of her freedom
Of the ecstatic Union of spheres
The Yoniverse un-spelling years
of broken song
Laying down fears
resolving the words
That live in the folds
Of pink flesh
Fire waters of truth
Pulsing in the floods
of what was unmourned
her magnetism returns
Her light reborn
.
.
now spun into ribbons of truth
For the telling
Jewels for the altar
of reclamation
Where the hearts of the village
have gathered together
To listen
To feel
To reimagine
What's possible
.
.
And here
the once silenced voices
speak
the suffocated stories
Breathe
As the essence
of she who eats lightning
Returns

written for the Yoniverse Monologues

Comment

Comment

She Lay With Thunder

 photo- julia miho nakamura

photo- julia miho nakamura

She Lay
With Thunder
.
When She lay with Thunder
She comes with Her heart on fire
Burning Blue in the light of Her truth
Renewed by the fury of waking
.
When She lay with Thunder
The storm of Her Wildness
Unfolds in euphoric prophecy
as She Comes into Union
With the Lightning of Her Rapture
.
When She lay with Thunder
Every inch of Her turns to stars
adorning the cool breath of night
Pouring through Her as rivers of luminescence
In the mirror of sky
.
When She lay with Thunder
Her heart quakes with the shaking
Of a thousand years of rose petals
Tumbling from Her chalice well
Anointing the Heavens in her Ruby Rain
.
When She lay with Thunder
the northern lights dance across hearts
as ancient songs of Love rise
in lightning threads of souls echoing
hurricane symphonies of the Beloved
.
When She lay with Thunder
All that was once held captive
In the sleep of Her soul
Dances ferocious and free
amidst the ceremony of wet dust
.
 

Comment

Comment

Is It Riches You Want?

 photo- frank jay leonard

photo- frank jay leonard

is it riches you want?
then come my friend, and may i introduce to you
the sun
whose generosity is such to throw
countless diamonds across the sea
for your collection
if you go, and watch carefully
you may feel them fill your heart
and pour their indestructible wisdom
satisfying this sweet and precious yearning
to capacity

 

is it fame you desire?
then come sweet soul
stand with me upon the stage of earth
set before you awaits there a thirsty crowd of countless stars
enlightened angels
waiting to catch a glimpse of your perfect face
to hear a single note of the harmony of your being-ness
as you play to your hearts delight
and they sparkle in standing ovation

 

is it pleasure you seek?
please then, oh beloved, and look no further
than to sit upon the side of the mountain
as countless winged ones glide across your holy skin
as the winds of the nectars move through and around you
tantilizing your senses
with the passion of every illuminated heart
feasting in the pleasure of knowing their love for you

 

for when this borrowed vessel of flesh
this vehicle to learn of our true mind
crumbles at the touch of saturns mighty ticking hands
chopping away the moments of our searching
may this field of fortune
be forever in your pockets
their riches overflowing from your heart
to rain upon countless other beings of yearning
desperate to touch the face of the angel
that is their own

 

I am rich in wanting
rich in the insatiable craving
and i offer this yearning heart to you
that you may be filled with the currency of bliss wisdom
pouring out from the sun
raining down from the stars
and caressing us in the breeze
as we walk together
to the sacred bank of holy together
to cash in everything we’ve got
and bet it all on love

Comment

Comment

Courting The Muse

  paul eyeon photography

 paul eyeon photography

 

Songs are such dynamic creatures. I was connecting with a friend last night over a midnight cup of star talk, and he asked how songs came to be.

to which i replied each song has its own unique birthing process, as if they were different species all together, some born from egg, some born from live, hard labor, some dropped off by the stork, some grown from seed sprouts which blossom over time, each season having a new wave.

some songs come all words first, in one fast poetic downpour, and the melody is later encouraged. sometimes its the reverse, a melody is heard, with pieces of words or sounds or images that flow with, and the rest of the poetry is uncovered- an archeologist brushing away dirt from the bone.

some songs come all as one, a poetic gift of muse song, transcribed in the moment complete and polished from start to finish. all that is asked is to pick up the pen at the first sign of a whisper- but if i miss it, it passes by like a hum on the wind- here one moment, gone the next.

some songs feel very contrived, my own hands craft at work- sometimes i love these songs, sometimes i never play them more than once. though these songs often clear the path for the ones which come as if the song was completed before it arrived at the door of my subconscious

there are some songs which start out as images, a vision or dream which gestates over months or years and bursts forth like a desert bloom waiting for the unexpected downpour of inspiration to crack the dry crust of a thirsty land. others come out half baked, and take several months of rest and contemplation to be understood, or for the muse to return.

some songs are strung together like constellations of collected moments of inspiration- gathered phrases of silver in my word jar, cracked open when its time to spend it all on a musing or two.

some songs, the muse is a hovering presence, a spirit demanding hours of sitting and crafting till its dream has been actualized. other muses need offerings, coaxing, skillful teasing, devotion- they want to dance. each creation a gift, and each requiring of me more openness and trust, patience and curiosity, surrender, letting go.

Comment