Tag Archives: consciousness

merging stars

you are like an elixir

and we are merging stars

in one stolen breath at 8.24

abandon to beautiful

then hours of sweet alone


stretched and alive

quiet but for the soaring song of birds

and the sound of worship

pushing from my body in waves of deep base invitation

softly stroking ancient pain

meeting myself in a dark alley

the alchemy of blending stars

making new light


Heathen Altar

I am an altar on which to spread your length

flesh and soft take me in your teeth

an offering, splayed and wide

a hot invite

a worthy sacrifice

a beckoning

an easy conquest?

but for the riot asked of you

to bleed your ancient pain

release from all mundane

lids tremble

gleaming slit

a challenge

to ride the channel

from dark beauty perfumed dirt

arse to heart

at the risk of




palm my solar plexus

and wind your fervent speaking through bars of windmill mind

brave and serpentine

the shaking and pleading

the pantomime



in exchange





internal universe


rising tidal groan

on a wave of relentless heat

Incandescent Arousal

shifting me

he shudders

my entirety




he spills inwardly

returning home

we meet

in a temple of heated light

incandescent arousal

sex is god and it becomes us

the beauty

transported in a flume of electricity



a whirling dervish of time

a nucleus or an ion I am

something somewhere somehow

I go

he took me

to a place of infinite flexibility

where I will arch backwards


an eternity of dissolving





to earth into earth tasting earth

rubbing through me




a lion a dancer a painter a breath

life death

…….. birthing earth


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


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


you have been taught that pain has a purpose….

that you will die without it


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


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




the disc that spins

inside my chest

methodically collects


it colours my world magenta and black

if I let it


these colours

are yours my love

and I spin them back to you

a gift of freedom….


channelling you

through my sensational machine

makes no ripple in your world of mixed message

but I hear you

you beg for ripples

you scream for change

I can feel it

throwing orange like a manic painter

splattering my floor, making me

slip, slippery

on lust and pain


the moon is high

wash your disc in a clear stream

I will feel it and I will know


see more art~  www.artofkundalini.com

Under Earth

A poetic work inspired by Hannah Papacek Harper’s beautiful collection of poetry, keep your eyes and ears open for that name, she is a talented and wise young woman and creates with words from the pink sea….


Under Earth
pick me up and cast me to the wind

i trickle into your hands

full in my blue
torn and gleeful
i am

smothered by the poor riches of my mind
i start as reason ends

in the eaves
through the castle of orange and crumbs
i fly
i am the white bird
i forget my name…..

the air
caressing without prudishness
songs only you might whistle

your hum
leading me…to where time can not catch up
oh nothing
i worship nothing
it is everything

with nothing the obscure corner is filled

forgotten dust of antiquated craving
brings only its own anticipation
and on the edge of understanding we wake to the arms of sand

with wings there are no edges

between the drops of light we are

too free
too open

freshly cracked
we drift out
little pools of pleasure

splashing in each other
under green skies
foaming across sad blues
nothing has been softer

a place under earth


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

Qui Suis Je

the paper edge

ticks along

lifting me from my error…


I am not noticed

this spark, this colour, this ache

these words

and it is right, as right as can be in a moving illusion


to overlook


attention is like glue


liquid is the way

liquid is this vessel and contained


something bigger

but infinitesimally small


I wander a rambling lie

I revel a pressing deceit

I awake in a flaunting dream


who am I to be commanding release?

really, I ask

qui suis je?


more art?  www.artofkundalini.com


in early morning



my heart

like a good friend

dialogue is easy

wavering like a mirage

swaying like a seasoned mother

but there are those other days…..

a smooth stone

a sheet of steel

a silent impasse

there is no other way

i stand at the door




wildflower machine



my tongue

stretching into there

a thread

a disappearing cotton piece

i am a spiritual aardvark




devouring ants

i am an orange cog

smoothly spinning

a thousand orange cogs at once

like seeds bumping and flowing

in the direction of blooming terra firma

i am

a wildflower machine

no real

no fear

in a limitless world where imagination is the only true educator

SONY DSC  art >> http://www.artofkundalini.com




the samurai

a language born of soft nib

trailing sticky rouge

pressing up off the floor

art answers to my wild driver

cuts corners, sliding sideways


this tiny golden soul from the ribbons of a patriarchal past.

ovarian ribbons, wet, sliding ribbons, sweaty, perfumed ribbons

ribbons wrapped tightly, stripping through my naked body

like art

a thoughtful sword

ribbons that hold my breath shallow when it should be deep
that blister my waist when they should kiss
that maul my power

when it should open in awe
this art is determined



to loosen fear defined boundaries

to unwind and clarify

to sooth

to alight upon me in shades orange and pink and bring us

into rhythm


a symbiotic climax



a taste of the sound of leaves

on the painted wind of time