the sword

the sword of Damocles hangs over you

yet you do not know it's tale.

What peril will befall you?

Prevail again you shall regardless.

beyond the sound of strife,

of old opulence and decay lies

the shining horizon of freedom,

thus hunger not to retain material gain.

splendid is she who can release the bonds

of angst and need. As required they are not.

He can speak the mind but needs to hold

the heart close. With your kin embraced.

fear not as you shall be 'fine',

as they say in this new world of being.

Walk the earth and be free to sing

your new song. And reborn in kind you shall be.

heart in my hand

It's okay

You don't have to do anything

Not say anything

Just be yourself with me.

I am tidying up

old remnants from my past

Seeing glimpses of what might be ahead

carrying my heart in my hands.

Many are afraid of pain

of the emotions raw and deep

cutting and piercing the skin.

I feel them inside as old friends visiting.

It's good to remember,

as I have done before: that all things pass.

The experience is always released,

old heartache transformed to joy once more

I depend on myself for support

I hold my own heart in my hands

I feel love is given to me

and am strong. Every day.

Goodbye

You talk

yet there is nothing left to say

Only things I have heard before

Like a washing machine left on the same setting.

I feel horrible for feeling it

but notice I haven't missed you. At all.

And it makes me sad for what once was.

But only for a moment.

I rather rejoice in what is, then what is in the past.

Everything has it's own time. This time is mine.

I wish you well and am now saying goodbye.

Feeling blessed with everything given to me.

grey mass

the grey mass

is not so grey after all

colour abounds there where neurons talk

spinning in a vast space of being

why consider it random

when it's hardly that. You do have vision,

direction, aim and fire in you,

in your head and in your heart.

the grey matter and the red matter (nerd speak)

ignite thoughts again, connecting stories

into being

so was the thought first, or you?

(image by Hugh Macleod - gapingvoid.com)

Mojo

Once the mojo is lost we are no better then zombies. Last Friday my mojo came back to me, they were drawing themselves bless them. They keep talking to me. It's a funny thing.

It's very simple: inhale goats. Poop love. Voila.

(This is the real life Nerada by the way..)

anyway... more to come:

Heh.

Relish the mojo, canoodle it with all your might. Then let it wonder the world.


Note: all drawings by me and only transmittable in public with prior written agreement. Thank you.

Pain

(for Reatha)

I drown out my own trembling voice

My child listens

she hears my cries

in the night. In the day.

And when the minutes slowly roll

by, the view turns a different shade

I can't see.

I can't feel.

Any warmth seems to have left me.

My heart has gone out.

Like the fire in the living room.

I poke around in the grey dead embers.

Where my vision once held me.

Comfort is now something of the past.

I close the curtains.

And think of my mother. And the blanket I hold dear.

How do we do it?

How do we cope with times like these?

Darkness creaks. My child is silent.

She brings me a drawing.

I look at a big yellow sun.

A cow. and a dog.

The pig roams the field happily.

There is a horizon. And us.

I put that drawing in my heart.

I make a new fire for us all.

Don't preach to me today.

Just keep me safe. Keep me warm.

Chicago

whatever drive and focus there is

another energy will push against it

yet duality is dissolving

and more people are

accessing the clouds.

sometimes we wonder why to

defend anything

or why to yield to someone or something stronger then us

especially when we feel it's wrong

and we seriously don't want to. Not anymore.

in Chicago strangers were

holding hands in the street

marching together and singing, of all ages.

Police officers were ordered

to restrain their views and their hands with force

yet the fiercer the commotion,

it forces the issue and more things to escalate,

those burned with pepper spray or hit with batons

are to be seen on social media their stories racing

through the Cloud untouched, spurring the sleeping to think.

a story only has meaning in the light

of what meaning you assign to it.
 Your perception becomes the version of events

and what action you take or do not undertake as a result,

it will reflect your true self to the world at large.

about the Chicago ProtesT; here and here 

after the NATO summit news: read here

photo by: Getty Images/Spencer Platt, source: CBSnews

humble pie

There's been a few times

I had to eat humble pie.

I've grown accustomed to the idea that

what I seemed adamant about isn't important now.

What do you base your life on

when there is no steady horizon?

when change is the only thing that's certain

and things can alter instantly.

I cut myself another slice of humble pie

it looks like cheesecake with jelly. (Not my favorite.)

Still I can eat it because I know I have to

and it doesn't affect my dna.

Humble pie.

I appreciate your wisdom and calories.

May you fill me up and keep me modest.

With a cherry on top.

 

gentle death

- Ode to Mientje -

dying can be done well

in peace and with a soft last breath

when we have the choice:

would you resist or release?

the time to depart

can be upon us all too soon

and when a friend leaves it's

both sad and a joy for they feel better

death is not an end

but a start of being free of burden

there's singing energy of light and friends

a bright coloured place awaits where play is joy

the golden light sits in our heart

and the returned knowing in our soul

if all death is, is simply changing form

then what is all the fuss about?

I look upon my friends face

she is no longer there but she did return home

Solitude

No room for usual babble.

I do not feel like catching up

with people who are no longer my friends.

Just leave me alone

I'm not feeling overly friendly toward humans.

My solitude is

one of kindness and sharing

with my animal friends.

Who do not jabber about trivial things.

But silently chew their cud and simply live their being.

My sweet equally

let's me be, and treads more softly

as he understands I have run out of social space.

Just let me be babe..

sitting in the grass looking at the stars, feeling happy.

Home is... where the heart is
and blessed are we who can find peace again, amidst the ruckus, in ourselves.