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

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

 

 

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supPRESSme

sit and listen

toes just touching

coloured light falling

across your little knees

now on the ground

little knees…..

up

kneel

sit

stand

sing

down

knees

eyes closed

open

day by day

word by word

you are tied to Him

you are cloaked in His magic

bored until broken

left hand heavy

right hand floating free

they feed you concepts

and His body

they spoon you visions

and His blood

they marry you to martyrdom

tugging away at your thickening thread of misunderstanding

until small and wishing

you take over the litany

and begin to seek burning fingers of your own

desperate to bleed

for Him

charred scars

winding tighter

soft skin stinging

you yearn for the searing pleasures of sacrifice

you are chastised

whipped

held under water

you are braced against marble

shoulders crushed by shuffling women hidden in dark tents

they thrust you forward into hot boxes that stink of wood and cock

faceless men reel sins from your lips

securing you

touching places in you that long for an upturned mouth

a nod from the God head

my father

because of this love my father didn’t look at me

my father wouldn’t touch me

but Father Tom could….

father tom

the inflictors

kiss you

the inflictors

offer you

the inflictors

pray for you

confuse you

want you

suppress you

compress you

a glowing sinker

a heavy hot fuck

rapid

powerful

spinning

in your body

forcing through the narrow channels of your humanity

desperate for release from His invisible grip…..

 

I AM

holding on to the end of the line with my sweet ripping mouth

screaming his name

gasping on the hook

just in case

just in case

just in case

it

was

all

true

would you like to see more art? www.artofkundalini.com

 

 

 

 

 

Soundless Feet

squeezed rubber holds his sole

kissing deep

an erudite trail of soft blossom

a perfumed hummingbird

rich mango and high fruited dancing

over my pale skin

his cocoa softness, eminates

forming pages of story

in a backdrop of forested thought

each step a whisper of chi

uncontrived

effortless

a note in the river song

drawing through

dust

made of love

the old football jersey and tincan van

disguising the jungle

pocketing his phone

sharing his smile

king of gentle eyes

God of soundless feet

 

 

 

the brilliant lit

sometimes the sky is so pink i need to eat it…..

what is this?

this pink silk curtain

i want to pull it down!

i will spread it over me

a sheet of sweet

i am crawling into the brilliant lit

the space that strokes me, the secret nothing

ambushing

my skin

sitting in my throat

licking its way out of me

colouring the sky, ambushing my skin, stroking…..

i

AM GOD

accomplishing impossible dreams

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

A Lily Opens

 

Before time

the enclosed garden tremors

and a Lily opens…..

 

inviting conception

a personal illuminati

a patent

a pact

a private love making

just Me ‘n God

behind patterned screens

the burgeoning idea

levitates

and

then

drawing his Saber

like Obi One Kenobi

HE WHIPS

the  halo from my head

pink and silver streak

to far heavens

inside me

like ecstasy

like frisbee frenzy

the veil falls

like crystal singing

my cells

divide

and I become

Beautiful Disorder

 

when my feet touch down

and dust in armfuls spread

like orange sunset

when heat permeates my bones

forcing my chin up

and spine to spark and spin

when my tongue alights on pepper

and my neck twists to engage

when my heart breaks free

to meet the wind

when my words match the angels song

that swirl in echo blue

when elastic skin is rolling under seraphim palms

and my hair is taken up in a cosmic fist

when paint streams from fingertips and soul spreads like water across this land

when lips soft envelop a new dawn in a birth of existential madness

I become

a melody of perfume

a tidal song,

a hot wet bed of divine

I am

my own supplicant

consumed by beautiful disorder

 

Sand and Feathers

Feet and art make I (n) den tati on

the earth

the heart

is large and deep thinking

the hull, buoyant and safe

the smile

sometimes steel sometimes butter

squeezes  in between words

like itatoron

do flying fish have feathers

?

Owls tell me father’s secret

his love is not hollow noise

but

like air and sand

his guidance, life’s lion

like north point

fascinating,

magnetic, magnifi  (sent)

to me

.

Big GOD

or bird

fear (ce)

feet and feathers

His heart is my boat

.

In

the

beginning

My father’s

hand

(s)

and

feathers