Tag Archives: awareness

no exhale

when the dark balloon

when the dark balloon

the dark balloon

presses its rubbery skin on my inner being

when it takes out a chunk of rib to fit

i become a prisoner

a minion

a servant to its inflation

dark balloon puffs itself with spiritual secrets

faith is the favourite

faith

have faith

test of faith

be faithful

find faith

lose faith

and we cry

dark balloon rolls its huge arse getting comfortable on my heart

a little to the left

it laughs a dark laugh careful not to let it’s bad breath out

no exhale for the confused

tender hooking into giblets

malevolent benevolent carrot of faith……

we scream ‘why!’ for a reason

because we have been dumfounded, with carrots sticking out of every orifice

plugging the holes it pokes in dark balloon

 

if we are screaming why it means we don’t fucking understand

this life thing could be so simple

born breathe connect play create  die (or so they say)

until they bleed out a deeper meaning

a further purpose

until they reveal the unseen producer in pointy orange shoes

faith is only necessary if you think something is wrong

impossible to trust in that which causes pain

unless

you have been taught that pain has a purpose….

that you will die without it

forever

to teach purposeful pain is not an easy task

it takes deliberation and carefully constructed method

 

oh pain i bow to thee, you cleanse me, you make me fit to stand before the great carrot

you break me you leave me pale and dry

you make my eyes sink

a quicksand of disillusion

i let you peel me

weaken me

lay me out

gnarl me

wither me

you switch off my light and plug a bulb in my carrot hole

i have been fashioned

i am a little statue now

with my palms upward in supplication

for you to paint with a tiny brush

and place me tenderly with the others

to light an empty sanctuary

SONY DSC

to see some more art please visit with me in my online studio 😉 http://www.artofkundalini.com

 

 

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White

wind is breathing shadows

reflecting opposition to outside pushing

my eyes are still and rest upon this vision

my heart signals birds

pulsing forward

I am puppeteering trees

and laughter is

a swelling dance

exhalation turns the page

and here we begin,

with feather

white

and

ink

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see more art? >> http://www.artofkundalini.com

Some Mute Beast

My response to Rilke’s Duino Elegies number 8

Reaching again, stalking this thirst

for who I am, we are

splitting in parts,

raw light leaking

but blind and believing in

sweet

enduring

allowing

death

public slaying

guarded by pulsing spectre

keen eye follows

flickerings

by bee or ant

marching chaotic to unseen nothing

but not because it isn’t there

to nowhere

but not because it isn’t there

only hidden in syrup and crusty flesh

…. nectar lies puddled on the shore, caged in hopeless thought

but the tapping and seeking

silently thrusting

and

tumbling beasts

spiralling downward

wooly rainbows

skein unwinding

through wells of damp

information

landing

repeatedly

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Unlocked Rivers

My response to Rilke’s Duino Elegies. This is number Seven.

over dirty feathers

sand pieces and falling sun

o crystal creature

this droplet of flesh

his humbled form

talk is small

small talk

tiny talk

lording over billowed heart

huge

rising

expansive breaking

tidal pushing

midnight reaping

clouds kissing

imaginary

moon

balloon in my chest

bursting

pressing pointed thought

monsters begging

falling from silver like unlocked rivers

circling

universes rolling

stoked by hot song

slack lips

releasing angels

creating to applause and comfortable laughter

swinging monkeys

becoming water

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more art ? see http://www.artofkundalini.com

Ivory Elephant (again)

 

If you let someone love you will they wander off?

will they

get lost

or side tracked,

like I did when I was three at the market?

a tiny ivory elephant was

my desire

then,

the square of soap that smelt of sandalwood.

My loves, my treasure.

If I am someone’s

ivory elephant

will they leave me?

to fall through the cracks

in the back seat of a purple station wagon

maybe…..

and maybe they will remember me one day,

maybe they will remember me fondly.

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Awaken

 

disappearing bones

of petal strength

and crushed colour

fitful pastel thought

shaping over walls

and the creeping sound

that moves you

and presses you,

slinging into you,

the very song you dream of purging….

and still

in ten thousand years

we are found

mouthing words that bind our seemingly free

delivering

the sweet opiate

we swallow with our eyes squeezed shut

in order to continue throwing rice

instead dive

 

why not,

past the

clenching,

 

and pull the teeth that grind those vows

let it happen,

be water on this hardened page

SONY DSC

magic bow

 

he draws taut

his magic bow

one arrow

a drop of vitriol

relief is slow ….

..

.

temporary….

Awareness erupts

as poison

slides home.

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