Senses Speak

the curtains part

on

hot bulging temples

and spilling thighs

words fall against themselves

dying valiantly

letting senses speak now

beautiful uninhibited senses

rolling bloody skin

around

howling channels of desire

all sinew and strength

tall beasts

between french lines

claw and tongue

growling

i must have

the body length full

not whisper

not tips of bits

but the entirety

not nuance

or subtlety

no teetering bashful allegory

but ferocious indulgent swallowing

 

whole

 

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Simpatico

http://www.artofkundalini.com

art

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

unravelling

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

deliberate

necessary

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

together

a symbiotic climax

momentary

simpatico

a taste of the sound of leaves

on the painted wind of time

http://www.artofkundalini.com

 

The Universal Gyro an Ode to John Olsen

 

The Universal Gyro an Ode to John Olsen

a love poem based on my un remembered experience of being John Olsen’s Paintbrush

 

small feet

splayed toes

pink and muddy

blue speckled eggs

fingers circling pulsing ankles,

in a warm gyroscopic grip

swirling, swinging

a glorious golden touch,

harmony

singing the stars

speaking ancient universe

spraying light and landing like the sun

a soft, deliberate welcoming

a hot orange disintegration

melting space… funnelling….

channelling mystery.

Painted poetry

my extraordinary Midas

 

http://www.artofkundalini.com

 

 

 

the blue line

 

The eddy

the vortex

the eye

THE I

the blue line……

I bring to me

the universe

on the palm of my hand,

a twirling harmony.

I bring the sheets of jewelled air

palleting around in

thick knifing strokes

around

around

around

like ribbons…..

the core

the pearl

spinning,

within me

containing,

caressing

the vertical blue

the centre

the conduit

middle earth and heaven…..

the heat the ice

one point of complex vibration

unbroken

perfect

 

 

 

 

la plus grande œuvre

 

no superficial thing….

is it

?

letters sink into paper like fingers into skin

paper receives ink like cells inhale connection

it is absorption

it is beautiful

it is magic

oh truth

when reduced to love

our density falls away

torturously inexplicable

 

 

Swallow The sea

 

So now today

I awake and I KNOW

this ….universe….. is …..food!

I open my mouth and fill

like the little Chinese boy who swallowed the sea

I inhale this swirling chocolate

and marshmallow fishes school into rainbow wells

I imbibe this fizzy tang that crashes like waves

decorating inner cliffs with lines that match the evolving

artful universe

worn by time into fine ballet

I feel the citrus tang as it licks its invitation

inside the skin

and with a burst of excellence

the red sky morphs in a chilli glaze

my blood paints figures on caves

and like the little chinese boy I can only hold the ocean for so long

before my jaw drops

and I pretend to forget again

http://www.artofkundalini.com

My Dusted Skin

 

My  white body

coated like cake

my heart stretched

against dancing ribs

crying and pushing at quantum buttons.

This metaphoric desperation

forms storm cells

and knighted beings

create artworks on my knees.

I am moving me forward

mind cracked and allowing

a vessel,

a heat machine, self perpetuated,

momentum keeping it strong.

Inner walls are sliding, a freakish velocity of

swirling contents

pigmented

with inspired action

plucked from a point

of connected vibration.

My dusted skin is priceless and my head prickles and burns

and then…. THEN!

I am made leopard as the clouds release their scent

and finally

I can breathe

YES

I am nothing

no more than moving air