I won’t talk about the fire
when I’m in it
rage, inferno
you. won’t. burn. Me.
I don’t focus on the fire
all consuming
to dust I turn
don’t. think. Me. dead.
I cannot run from the fire
steel is forged here
sharp, steady, blade
you. can’t. wield. Me.
She shifted frequencies today. 9 degrees to the left.
What world will she enter when she leaves her home?
How will she be different within it?
She brings with her attributes of tribulation.
A softness and a meekness that alone, does not
serve her. So she shifted today.
9 degrees to the left. Where her sharp-tongued
emissary has awaited the return of herself.
~~ The splintering off of pieces of you is so that you may go forth as many, and bring back awareness of all experiences, whereby the return to wholeness brings with it the wisdom of all things.
When I have bad thoughts, they batter me.
In my silence, I will not let them batter you.
My painful self reflections bring awareness.
My desires are stronger than my delusions of fancy.
I have the fortitude to withstand my own destruction;
those poisons which churn my peace and love to hate.
I will reflect upon these savage messengers of change.
I will squeeze out every ounce of healing pain,
as I shroud myself in the winding sheet of the dead.
I Am the spark that sets myself ablaze, standing
firmly in the fire of my own rage as I turn to dust
every last lying thief that clangs loudly inside my head.
I Am absolute, and can withstand my own wrath,
knowing I have the power and authority to
heal every single illusion of fear that grips Me.
~ This is the process of purification, and it will recreate
you in the image of those vain imaginings, and you
will lose the desires of your heart if you allow them to become your truths.
The awareness of physical reality is subconsciously endowed.
A vast field of energy is accessible to the beacon of the mind,
which calls out incessantly as it parrots the cycle of existence.
What can we learn from what we have already created?
How can we shift our awareness from past to possibility?
I have crossed many seas of destruction.
Waves and waves of suicide churning me back to dust,
yet still, I exist. I have made a thousand Me’s
all superfluous in nature. How hilarious I find this to be.
How preposterous have my struggles been that I have
allowed them to tie myself into knots, restricting the true
fluidity of my spirit with such absurdity. If I can glean
from these identities the trueness of my Being, then perhaps
I can create with purpose, and bend these realities to my likeness.
Let me Be then, exactly what it is I desire, and from that energy,
create a world the likes of which I have never yet seen!
“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” – Nikola Tesla
“As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul…” – Hermes Trismegistus
~~ Your mind is a reality generator.
Mental silence is abundantly charged with Power. The negation of negative thought is found in silence, and it is what all the great meditators learn as they cross the wide chasm between thought and silence. Protection abounds there. If you learn to choose for yourself, either only loving, positive thoughts that stimulate and grow the outward manifestation of your life in ways that serve you, or, when negativity is looming within your mind, to instead harness that power of neutrality within the silence, then you will find the ability to create your own life in ways that serve your own positive desires. And since like attracts like, you will attract what you Are. The dualistic nature of our world is true divinity itself. The freedom to choose and create as you desire, whether that be destructive or constructive is all within your godlike nature to produce. Once you hold yourself accountable to the vibratory nature of your own thoughts, and you begin to truly understand the creative force of each and every thought, you will understand the power of your own Being.
there was so much death
rattling me to my core.
there was no surviving that
quake. it shook every piece of
me lose. I floated away, my image
dissipating as though I be a fine
mist over a hot flame. that was
the end of the me that I made.
when I rose out of that hot hell
I was unrecognizable. many fled
my presence. I stood on a new
foundation. Solid. Myself. and
even those that returned, seeking
me, could not see Me through My
new mantle. they turned forlorn,
long faces set in dismay, and I watched
as they retreated back to their own
illusions. Death is a fine thing. an
unwrapping of old tales. an
undoing. how hard we’ve worked
to create such a lie as one life lived.
I slapped myself so hard, I shattered
my own mask, Unleashing the great
Fire that had been smoldering beneath.
it was as though I Be a god
set ablaze within an untamed Eden,
rotten apples strewn at My unsoiled feet,
and the echoing sound of My
own laughter as it charred the garden
back to the dust from which I came.
~~ who put the fear of god in you? who made you afraid of your own Self?
May my imagination outplay my mind.
The ability to see beyond what is currently manifested, into the unknown realm of possibility, to create beauty and pull it from the ether, even in the midst of the most undesirable of situations, is the pure genius of the magician.
~ Ah, these things and greater still, shall you do.
The body becomes so animalistic
when the mind goes wild.
Those strange imaginings embolden the beast,
and all is laid to waste where creation once reigned.
Death always yields to the beauty that follows destruction,
and what was once a savage can just as easily be a god!
I am excited and honored to have two of my poems selected for publication in this upcoming anthology.
Untamed Eden was written out of a sense of loss, and a longing to escape from the people-pleasing version of myself that I had created in order to be loved and accepted within my surroundings. It is a micro-story of coming into one’s own power and realizing that society’s many false narratives are nothing more than man-made constraints designed to prevent the awakening of the God within.
The Ravening took many years to write. That vision played out very slowly as I experienced it happening in real-time. I watched myself hold back, time and time again, from using the power of my own voice for fear that I would destroy familial bonds. What I did not realize was that by doing that, I was allowing the softer, more sensitive side of myself to be annihilated. When I finally came to see it, I felt as though I had completely betrayed myself, and it was at that point that the sheer anger I felt became all-consuming. I either had to set myself free or be killed. It was a humbling and humiliating realization, yet at the same time, deeply empowering.
I want to thank the editor and publisher, Gabriela Marie Milton and Ingrid Wilson for choosing my poems, and for the hard work that went into the creation of this wonderful anthology. I also want to thank Nick Reeves for the beautiful cover art. It is a profound representation of the work contained within the pages. I am extremely grateful to have been included in this wonderful collaboration.
There is a way this soul knows to travel
with closed eye and opened mind
I can see across the divide
below- the many pains of blame
lay like stones built up between us
and you puffed up with pride on the other side
There is a plank of indignation in your eye
and me bereft as you point to mine in blindness
as though you had found your innocence in my guilt
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