Solitary Chef

....They've all gone away.  Island.  Wild.  

As I wander the shores for see shells;

I hear no hellos or goodbyes;

My eyes burned and blind;

The sun fries me alive;

I make this existence mine;

Writing an incidence of sublime;

Experiencing the loss of bliss;

The place where no one exists;

and the shores are washless;

the trees like papery thin ghosts;

I am hungry;

so eat the moon;

she tastes like acrid honey;

until the cycle delivers me a sun again;

and I eat him too,

but there's no difference;

both love and loveless taste the same;

So I dive into the ocean; 

looking for that perfect salt grain;

then sprinkle the mountains with cinnamon;

and offer a meal to the sky.

Unseen Side

I want to see the unseen side
its revelations through time's healing passage
suspended, raw, pure, unmasked
in a moment of rapture
the world dissolves
bare and defenseless
nothing left to uphold or maintain
speechless mastery of this selfless game
when you've finally given up everything and risked it all
only to come full circle through this rise and fall
in synchronicity and sanctum
with vulnerable passion
ineffable and fantastic
nothing else matters
purity of form moves faster and faster
sacrificed and offered without reservation
an outpouring of love and affection
we transcend the game
in this moment of playing
please, come back again
I'll be waiting....

Inner Sanctum of Sin

From darkness to light, the blind become sighted;
From lightness to dark, the sighted become blind;
Between each - an experience, mysterious and sublime;
Slow-release, remain curious, escaping through time.

We find stones to throw, breaking bones of contention;
Ensuing pain that we feel - a universal prescription;
To release and heal many lifetimes of deception;
This is the deal, it's been revealed, although we've forgotten.

So come now, blessed gifts - say YES! to divine presents;
Unwrapping, unveiling a slow savoring of heaven;
Combining and divorcing supreme forces within;
I come bearing gifts from the holiest inner sanctum of sin.

Hourglass Figure

An invalidated fallacy stands separated and subjugated, as the sands start running through the hourglass - Its feminine shape stands alone, counting grains cross the portal one by one. An approximation of stolen time notation. It's all mine, whether they're counting or taking. It's not counterfeit. It's accurate in aptitude to cause those who would doubt with one second less to count... and then bit by bit, the all-important and over-exaggerated shit; the instigated and insightful brains, all trying their best to maintain a paradigm of passages; implying the cycle's the Master's whip, but I see... I'm the Mistress and Master is whipped.  I forged this hourglass from root to tip. It looks the same, even when it's inverted. You still don't get it?

*last grain falls...*

Time to Flip.

Instinctual Swim

I am the Mistress of my own Mind;
Becoming One with God in time;
Slowly swimming up the river stream;
the power of Creation driving me 
to follow this program of divinity;

I cannot be denied what's already within;
But only the strongest survive this upstream swim;
From fresh water to sea and back again;
The life cycles the same for every one;
Yet each of us must make it on our own.


And when I reach my natal riverbed;
I'll joyfully mate my lover and it'll be said;
that many died and never made it to find
their God within the hard scales outside;
birthing this transformation, and then I'll die.

New Moon Mystery

There's a place in me -
this new moon mystery
that darkenly shines
a cool black reverie
inside the mind
where all eye see
is one cycle of mastery
together forever
in a dual of impossibility
where cruel and kind
combine and take flight
once twilight erases
all shadows cast outside
and there's no contrast, no bright sun
the everlasting light has come undone
now the fears engaged can be overcome
and buried as the seeds of my becoming
blooming petals, beautiful garden growing
on Goddess's Tree, this is the Knowing.

A Hero's Welcome

High on ecstasy, the wave eventually crashes to shore; 
Hard sands of reality - the knowing of so much more; 
Yet the ocean sees beyond these droplets of mist evaporating; 
the hopeless and dissed; apathetic and vapid; 
Dancing in revelry with all that's lost and made; 
like contemplating a storm on a clear and sunny day; 
a contradiction of reality, but possible all the same; 
as these words run exasperated on a blank and sterile page;
forlorn tidal forces cause a waterspout to form; 
opening portals between heaven and earth - between either/or;
This is the vortex - the course of a new world reborn; 
Where water and air remain swirling, faceless and torn.... 
So, in light of your service and dedication, Goddess's offering stands; 
If anyone can help you, she's the one who can; 
show you the other side of the ocean, its shoals, and the shores on which it lands; 
the motherload of devotion - the Sea, the Movement, the Maven, the Motion; 
ask and you shall receive; this is the Hero's Welcome...

For The Timebeing

Everything you've ever said, thought, done or felt... is dead.  You don't own those things, you are not those things, you never were those things but for a moment.

Everything you've ever dreamed, forged, formulated or fostered... is not alive.  You don't have those things, they don't exist, and they only come to being through your effort, focus and will to manifest them.

Everything you are is Now.  You are this moment, this place, this feeling, this thought, this movement.  Your only freedom of choice is now - what you act, feel, think and do.

Reviewing and revisiting does nothing but develop an image of a dead you.
Forging and formulating does nothing but develop an image of a possible you.
Knowing that you are becoming does nothing but everything itself, developing you in the image of God.

Harmonic Hexagon

As a woman, a circle.  Free flowing and watery.  No beginning or end to see.  Seducing all and one to succumb to the cycle. Round and Round she goes, where she stops nobody knows. That's the fun. Take the Ride. No control, just flow. The dance of the unknown, unseen and untold.  Just the thing that drives straight lines crazy.  Arrows and beams, all things seen.... Their direct injection and instant gratification.  Their logic and analysis trying to pin the circle down and make it concrete.  And their formulas are clean, like "the quickest way from point A to B is a straight line"  So the circle sighs as they say "Going around in circles will make you dizzy"... but that's only if you don't wear your 3rd eyeglasses to see it's a spiral in 3-D.

Thus, male affection portrays the lady as lust. A sin that must be neutralized - tamed, subdued and submitted.  Framing the circle within the square - a form that can be tracked and analyzed - moderated and mediated, with direct turning points and clear angles of direction.

In this modern affair, the line seeks a soothing comfort it will never find, and the circle seeks a direct freedom she's never had - but within this harmonic hexagon - balance.

The Oracle

Let's go and be all that we can be. We'll rise together in a perfect harmony of reason and wisdom, of lust and love, pain and pleasure.  That's where I'll find you and where you'll find me.  That's where all this begins - the impetus to action - from the not want and the must have... from the love-hate of it all.  There is a golden ticket in my candy bar AND I'm going to see the wizard.  On top of it, I went to the oracle and she told me that I'm an oracle and could make up my own destiny.  So I shall - beginning with the energetic signatures, which lead to the mental impressions, which bestow a unique feeling - all combine with other choice ingredients which make my body move towards my instinctual goal.  Like a fish swimming upstream, it's of no surprise that this is what I find at the start line.  I could have cancelled every plan - just one plan, really; and I did look into it.  Luckily for me, the ticket to heaven is non-refundable, non-transferable and non-changable.  I'm already booked for this trip and there's no backing out, only going IN - moving forward - into the great unknown.  My home.

The Will of Passion

Within the human confines of need, want and instinct - passion is born.  Passion and Desire are closely linked.  Desire is the what the mind objectifies as obtainable.  Passion is the emotive drive to obtain it.  Combined, they manifest what is needed, wanted or instinctually sought.  Even those with austere minds - those who live in the land of dry, papery logic and data have passion.  Theirs is a desire of the mind - a desire to acquire knowledge; the feeling of excitement they get upon buying a new book, or sharing with colleagues their newest mental pathway to understanding whatever it is they are trying to understand.

Those who are in the expressive arts are always classified as having passion, of course, because passion is expressive and most people expect expression to be emotive and creative.  But, just as the colleagues fiercely debate their newest idea, the artist fearlessly displays their unique viewpoint to the world as a song, a painting, a poem.

Whatever we passionately desire will come to pass sooner or later.  With awareness, it comes sooner.  With unawareness, it comes later.  Stay aware of what you passionately desire. Passionately desire with awareness. But above all else, desire the biggest, most amazing, unattainable object.  See it as a lifelong goal, and keep it within the headlight beams of your mind.  

The passion to succeed should go beyond the goals set in school, work, sport or relationship. It should go beyond everything objectifiable because with every object attained, the will creates another desire and the passionate drive to attain it - something else to strive for.  So, there is only one true desire - only one true passion.  It is filtered through a unique interpreter - a specialized manifesting machine.  Learn the machine - learn its inner workings, its clogs and wheels, its cracked gaskets and dripping pipes - its radiant battery and  state-of-the-art computer.  This is God's Machine - your ego is the caretaker, but not the owner. In most people, the ego likes to take ownership of the whole machine because, by gosh, he does all the work around here.  Your persona is the personality of the caretaker.  Is he a mean old man that resents his job and doesn't like visitors?  Or perhaps she's quiet young lady who learned the trade from her grandpa and welcomes you in for a cup of tea?   

I've decided that I'm going to break into the inner sanctum of the steam room and repair the machine - - learn it from scratch.  Learn the things the caretaker does't even know about.  Eventually I will know the workings of the machine better than the caretaker herself, and will transcend the need for her direct intervention.  You see, the caretaker is just worried she's going to lose her job - so I'll send her songs and papers, poems and notes, flowers and food, to make her see that I appreciate her, so that she can still maintain as she does - but only in humble service - not righteous indignation.  The first note I sent to her said: "You are not me, and I am not you.  Just know that I need you, but your job duties will be lightened so that I can learn the machine I've invested my whole life savings into.  Don't take it personally - take it transpersonally.  Love you, Love me."

You May Not Recognize Me

I am becoming more than me, so you may not recognize me.  I don't even recognize myself.  Because what you see is what you get - what you perceive.  But what you see is also what I give you.  I agree to show you the "me" I have finely crafted to show you.  It's my own work of art - the one I sell at the show.  There's some works of art that I deemed not good enough to bring out to the show for sale or display.  They had a flub, a flaw, a fuck up, a failing, something that wasn't quite good enough - something I thought you would judge as being not quite good enough.  Something you thought was untalented, ugly, mean, rude, selfish, boring, tedious, weak, forgettable, unlikeable and unlovable.  So those pieces of art are in storage.  There's a thought that if my presentable art is loved and made famous, then perhaps one day I'll bring out the unpresentable... when I can look in the mirror and see I've created infallible armor of respect and admiration from lots of people... or posthumously, when I surely won't care what you think of me and my art.

But I want to break free of that, so I chose to become more than me.  I chose Awarenes of the here and now over the tyranny of insecure overanaylsis.  I chose to see, than to simply believe - to know than simply understand. This is the beginning and the end. The all or nothing.