20060504
Issue # 1 May/Beltane 2006
CONTRIBUTORS
All of the work (and believe me, it is work) presented here is the property of the individual artists. All of their rights are reserved. So, no lifting without permission. Contact information can probably be found on the contributors' pages. If not, check with me to contact anyone whose work you wish to use: libramoon42@mindspring.com
M. David Woodall
David is hiring on with a branch of the Department of Defense and is eager to get started though his experience is limited. He looks forward to sharing years of wisdom with his growing daughter, Arden Solana. At http://people.tribe.net/ardensdad his blog looks out upon the online realm.
Jonathan Machen
b. 1964 and currently living in Boulder, Colorado, is a landscape artist who has sketched the natural contours of the American southwest as well as those of distant continents for over 25 years. Recently he has begun to apply his eye towards photography, which combined with a love of poetry, has resulted in the on-line haiku journal at www.haikutimes.com. The Haikutimes site also houses the archive of his pen-and-ink drawings as well as murals and paintings. He is selling his work at www.jonathanmachen.com. His day job is facility manager at 302 Pearl St. Studios in Boulder, www.302pearl.com (Jonathan also designed the websites for all of these sites, so, truth be told, he also has a love of computers, and the power of technology to share his artistic vision).
Greg Edwards
I am happy to present what I find meaningful in our aesthetic community. Art is a touchstone and sign post giving way to growth and hope when Sharing truths of self. I believe that our livelihood and longevity may depend on it. Art is the illusion to transcend illusion "Liberate the Artist" Fractured Atlas has Fiscally Sponsored my project "Catalysts of the Psyche" To read my statement Please Go To: https://www.fracturedatlas.org/site/fiscal/?do=browse_projects&category=Visual%20Arts&letter=c#534 Art Publications for 2006: "The Garden of Three Suns," "Star Light Curves," and "The Lost Sunset" with bio info and Iconography has been Published and Released in Art Book "Unseen Worlds--A Virtual Journey", India '06 for new world envisionings. Honors and Publications in 2006: National Poetry Month: "Gregory Edwards has been nominated as a 2006 Poetry Ambassador!" by Edward Moffet III. Charman ILP/ National Poetry Month Committee 1. The Editoral Advisory Board of "The International Society of Poets" HAS NOMINATED me [set for this July in Las Vegas, Nevada] into the "Internatinal Society of Poets" with major opportunities AND an inertia for exposure world wide! 2. "Once again, I am delighted to inform you of your nomination to have your achademic biography published in the 2nd Annual Edition of 'The Chancellor's List' 2005-2006....you have made it to the top rung of the academic ladder." A Student Referral Service, (SRS) will conjunct the scholarship application. Note: FINAllY, I WILL/[now delayed indefinately] COMPLETE THE LAST 12 SEMESTER HOURS TO GET A B.S. IN SOCIOLOGY FROM ASU. 3. Honored with the inclusion of biography in the 28th Annual Edition of "The National Dean's List" Nominations: 1. Silver Cup; Gregory Steven Edwards 2005 Poet of the Year Medallian; International Society of Poets, "Poet of the Year for 2004" and ...2003" The Best Poems and Poets for 2005 Awards: International Library of Poetry, "Editor's Choice Award" 2003, 2004, 2004 ,2005, 2006 Poetry Publications for 2006 1. "Enmeshment Reflections" and "Slipping Tripping" 2006, published, League of American Poets: A Treasury of American Poetry III. 2. "Pop Cell Sleepers" 2006, published, Noble House: Songs of Honor. 3. Unwritten poem accepted for publication by the International Library of Poetry, 2006. NYC Gallery Goals for 2006-2007 1. "I am pleased to inform you that your work qualifies for Agora Gallery representatin. With respect to the work, I particularly favor the "Resonate Rifts" body of the digital images, although all the work communicates the pathway to spiritual awakening and transcendence..." Agora 2. Nominated for the Sixth Annual International Biennale of Contemporary Art, 2007. Arte Studio, Florenze, Italy With a white shadow rainbow the old shades subtracted a new way to know has reflected to show us! Still in the "eye of the beholder" end eye boulders grow older and then letting go, pain leads to the window holder going with the KEY to UNGRASP the shoulder boulder. I want many specks in my folder before I gain not and grow older! And let knowledge flow seemingly slow in becoming and see sight and so as your own light becoming!!! Open two freed and one two times more, like a name one thing breeds. Let us rise above those of wish want why and my ways with seeds sowing with the stones growing? Like my mini-me clearly I see like last with no breeds in traditional ME needs. As it dictates into hollow point leads victors survive beyond bi-directional wording feeds...ever all about, and how undefined is modes of art, and mostly intension: As important toward the enrichment of our self-efficacy, as it ever was, laughing but still lifted. Seeking meaning through the ambiguous world of art visuals relates to archetypal psyche-set wiring; and is, for me, a path to remembrance, the things implanted in I Am Inclusive at the dawn of time. When creating art or writing in spontaneous modes, I find my mind baffled into back stage silence setting many left hands free to channel subconscious eggs in SUPER Rollover remittance. I try hard to dig deep and present shamelessly what I would not now choose to hold back, in any way! To loose face in my art style would be to navigate into fear already known to have no reality extraneous to our imaginative creating. In Earth Land, to delight many through a projective visual gateway portals constructed with an ever rising "ing" like rings on rungs singing, like notes with winded words thundering form from the depths unique to each and thus tangible to all like when you realize each has within them their own riddle to reach. Using nature modes flowing throughout all media. I instead strive to live life in word seers voices without an "s" into the projective levels of context and rents every veil of forgetfulness...one bite at a time! Such is found in dreaming meaning as an ever higher resource ever filling as overflowing with contents incubated seer keys freeing gifts that we could not not have ever waiting: Now is the time to awaken in a world without end, so be so be...now I think I can see why there is so many in We. Through poetry and visuals I am freer and more WE-er! Could I ever wish for more as a mode toward meaning in the setting free of natures voice ever dreaming through a single hand dreaming more than my me alone? With cubic words resurrected, I speak THUNDERING FRUITIONS from the Key Resurrection Tower ABOVE the Dividing Station! I am either everywhere or now here. The ambiguous world of visual contemporary art beckons us all to make better sense out of our experiences and encourages us to come to present time; Every there and then mentality will fall short! This is a great opportunity to share many good things about how art is an important conductor fully worthy as a healthy cross-cultural link for potentially enriching self-efficacy throughout every demographic rung, without semantic toxins. Seeking meaning in the out of the ambiguous world of art and poetry relates profoundly to commonalities stored in the deepest cognitive recesses of humanity long overdue in our necessity NOW for Global Harmony...now:) It is absolutely targeted within every sleeping resonance as everyones rebirth as Our WE; and for me, a path to reinstate an all-inclusive equality nurturing honesty, acceptance, and respect! Darkness shining not into the light WITH FIRM CONVICTION IN THIS TRUTH instantly disempowers ill-willed ego-based drives in positions of Egocentric Power Thrusting and paranoia ploys to justify Exclusive demortification On every global members toes! The concept of natural freedom from "sea to shining sea" makes the next higher rung <<>> as a perfect all-inclusive circle. I have a right to be me and in this mode I see divinity as the double-edged sword teaching to reach and revealing dead letter delusions shaped by mans "Inkblot" envisioning, projections and division. This Land is OURS, NOT THE THREE PERCENT ELITE! THOSE MISLED ALPHABET DEAD LETTER ZONES WITH MICROPHONES ARE ANTI AMERICAN AND NOT FIT TO BE ON THIS PLANET AS IS! Of myself I am nothing but the rebringing plan, or perfect in all ness by the present pleasant presence, is all about AND that we cannot not be! Thus WE ARE only with winged words. Outlines to a perfect resurrection like wheat all about grown and woven in super forms of a crown with many colors for your you in collective infusions to rerail TRUE top walking in every shining eye seeing self in appreciable othernes; like a loosened self in truth and in Light; to be THIS NOW will be when seeing is the innate things implanted in every soul AWAKENED until the dawn of time is transparent and shown clearly. Thank you for reading...YOU are blessed Very Dearly! Spiritual and creative ventures have led me to ponder portals that may be availed through stimulated imagination... ...like stepping into perfect justice, into such a wonderland, that upon looking back through whatever may be residually unresolved, choices are made to try and try again. Purpose and meaning, only then seen clearly, orchestrates our good day / sad day venture...in a "just" mode of continious trying. Self is the universe expressing through life, the rose the thorn, the smile the tear, the crest the trough, the ebb the flow, the left and the right? I seek the paradoxical rhythms that give birth to the curious embodiments here, in our global village, ever-beckoning us "to love, learn, and to remember." Through the creative process we are all divinely endowed within, to each their own schema for wholeness. Through the present norms, we often seek outside self for illusive fulfillment in opposites, like male and female, birth and death. The source of inspirations are in the fruitions of experience, the gifts of our spirits, and in the 'remembrance' that accompanies the new day dawning--of which many agents comprise. I am so touched through the drama, pain, and passion of life that I am thankful to realize many heartstrings in some resonance...as many things come to pass. Our perfect reflection is all that we are, all that we do, and all that we touch. The door begins to open once again, more fully, evermore inviting...coming, the collective calm, calling, coming forth, now! in unprecedented mass. ...no lack, no want, no fear...no nothing but our predisposition to escape the loneliness of our pseudo separation. Psychological projections into ambiguous environments come in many forms and on many levels. A visual vacuum in the window of the projective mind incubates meaning whenever associations are triggered in any attempt to lable what is experienced--like looking to where the finger is pointing, not the hand. Gentle people, authors of unique fates in and for our highest global destiny: Reborn is our great planet, now, ever-newly made manifest, if only for a moment, yet every moment! With intuitive and emotional freedom as our endowment, and with lifted eyes, let us glance toward the heavens in first hand awe, for just this moment. We are all global members of immeasurable stature as the "why" dies and resonant answers to the how and what make clear prevailing paths to where we have always been: from the image of to the image as! It is no jot nor tiddle to go from me to we where everyone is availed a common faith. How can we not not be? To me that is impossible. We will continue to be after the shell of this embodiment turns once again back into the dust...as the One becomes many, the many One. To walk upright fully reflecting what I dream jested is the golden endowment "to escape loneliness through seeking connectivity with appreciable otherness." This potential inertia wishes on high to respond to our every virtue of honor, voice, and passion, in every availed path of least resistance! The veil has been rent, the seals broken. The sounds, the colors, the bliss, vision, and the totality of all and more, in one high sense of Beingness orchestrates destiny by playing the kindest songs to our fates to help us remember where we have always been. The destiny premanifest playfully orchestrates dualistic strings ever about in all why ways, and is endless because our minds are ever so uniquely wired to make sense out of the world, to find meaning in our experience, even the sense of nonsense, of which I myself know well!!! Yet I know this! Is not any sense better than nonsense? Ah! Not a question of Why! What is nonsense? Is it not an act of not being able to see around the contagions of eye specks and boulders of which we have constricted and grasped in the name of vanity, fear and lack? What is one to do to stretch the other brother otherness zones, and ultimately embrace the highest envisioning and interest in every moment? Was it not near forgotten save beauty, inspiration and healing through sharing our aesthetic and humanitarian values? These are our rightly endowed gifts to utilize in awakening all that is, was, and shall ever be. In states overlooking the human dilemma, if only for a moment, I know in my heart that which has been stirred into activity, secondary to voices within some collective platform, some resonance. All that we experience, whether consciously manifested or unconsciously manifested is in direct accordance with our consciousness. I am a believer in what I accept as universal law: "As above, so below!" As the water overflows, the beckoning light delivers us to our sacred center, back into the garden, where we have truly always been, where we could not not be, we had only forgotten...and our opening hearts:) This voice says WE can now now be, and that is enough, yet already is, open fully, coming forth, yet again and again, now after now, moment merged into moment, the here of now, now here. Wind like gathered gravities enters many doors to leave the Last Stone Turning and none to ignore. Just never ask me Why? Except through this passion to reflect something higher than me alone and to free it, ever-reflecting it through and to appreciable otherness, I have no meaning!!!
Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
An internationally published award-winning poet, Rebecca Guile Hudson spent her first seventeen years in a violent household, where she experienced severe mental, physical and sexual abuse. In 1998, she started therapy for intense PTSD and a dissociative disorder, which helped save her life and open the doors to her creative voices.
In addition to singing with the Albuquerque Symphony Adult Choir, Ms. Hudson is a certified peer counselor for the mentally ill a paraprofessional crisis/suicide line volunteer and a hypnotherapist. She is also on the editorial advisory board of the Taj Mahal Review.
She and her husband of twenty-seven years, John, live in Los Lunas, New Mexico. They have three children, four grandchildren, four cats and three dogs. Here's the link to my book, "Out of Cullen Street (A House of Madness)" available on-line: http://www.redleadbooks.com/msreguhu.html I am always contactable via my email address, weallr1soul@yahoo.com If people do a Google search on my name, "Rebecca Guile Hudson", all KINDS of links will show up!
Jim Cox
I'm self-taught in both the mediums of painting and writing, and have been painting people since 1960, but finally branched
out in my portraiture to include buildings with interesting architecture, paintings of the skies with unique lighting and cloud formations, and some abstract experimentation with movement and color. Ive won many awards at painting, and some at poetry, but prefer to let the work speak for itself.
More of my work may be seen at my blog "Jim's imaginations" (http://www.jimcee2005.blogspot.com/) I encourage you to go there and leave a comment if you like what you see. (Comments and questions about the work are fine, and should be sent to me at jacx1938@yahoo.com) I do have two sizes of mounted canvas giclee prints for sale of the "Gunslinger" at the blog. They are beautiful but inexpensive. More prints of various subjects will be available soon.
Patrick Delorme
Hello. I am the french visionary and spiritual artist Patrick Delorme you can see my paintings at http://lorme.club.fr/tableauxart.htm I was born in Marseille in the south from France in 1955. In my childhood I was a very sensitive kid and dreamer, very creative also, the school did not interest me at all, I prefered to draw while dreaming. As of my adolescence, I was attracted by the invisible and spiritual worlds. I started to study astrology as an autodidact then I made training courses of Humane Astrology, and Karma astrology, subject which I always practice. During the same time, I took part of a spiritual group for 5 years, we were in contact with spiritual guides which gave us a teachings with Chaneling. I learned much at that time. My perceptions increased, I could see some colors of some person's aura, I felt energies which crossed me and guided my hands when I did a magnetic work for a person. I had many telepathic experiences, and a vision which marked me during many years and which was the engine to start painting: the vision of a androgyne, with a very high forehead and immenses blue eyes which seemed to speak to me by telepathy. I started to paint in my thirties and soon I did'nt do anything else. The second year I made about 300 paints.When I was a child I just had to look at spots on the wall or the ground to see characters appearing, characters, forests, scenes of the life. I learned later that Léonard de Vinci, Matta, Max Ernst had also this ability, like also have many young children. Now I have just to put myself in front of my canvas, for it to occur. I never raise the question about what I will do. I simply put myself to paint as did the surrealist ones, I pose colors, without thinking too much of my gestures nor forms, I take my colors and I pose them where I feel to. Very quickly, I compose the paint progressively, according to the various visions which appear to me. I let myself guide by my inspiration of the moment, the colors, the forms which I perceive. The composition is done gradually, I remove, I erase, I scrape, I wipe, I cover, I add colors, I erase others, and the composition is built. Sometimes I leave the initial forms, simply outlined, sometimes I refine my forms so they are perceived more concretely. I still do not understand how it really happens because it all goes very quickly and almost without my knowledge. I create like a dream, all is guided and gives me a multitude of visions, an action almost inconscient, a secondary state guided by harmony of colors and forms. The topic and subject are imposed to me, it gently seems to come out of nothing. I distinguish from the vague forms emerging progressively. There is undoubtedly an outward journey return between what is outlined on the paint and what my unconscious perceives, by the assertion of the vision that I could foresee of the performance. I often ask myself the question: am I to be inspired or medium? Various médiums have told me that I was guided, by beings of beyond. One thing is certain, I do not make automatic painting because my hands are not taken by a force that I would not be able to control, although the process occurs when I work magnetic energies on a person, because then, my hands are carried as by magnets and make volutes that I do not control. However I was able to note that as soon as I put myself in a state of receptivity to paint or draw, I put myself in Alpha waves. I made the experiment : I was connected to electrodes and connected to a computer which traced alpha waves while I was creating. My painting is visionary because it refers to spiritual and esoteric field in which I have been bathed for more than twenty years " movement New Age ", esoteric and spiritual which rocked my life. In this time I was called visionary, but I did not know that this current existed, because owing to the fact that my painting came out of my visions I thought that visionary would be a good way of qualifying my painting. In my paintings you will find biblical & ancient references which shows the immortality of the soul, visions of the next world, visions of the past, present & future. I noticed that my painting were addressed to the unconsciousness and even with supra-consciousness of people who look at it. Some are transported, other disturbed. I think that comes owing to the fact that I paint in Alpha. I collect vibratory and spiritual levels which are re-registered on my paint. These vibrations are addressed to the unconscious part of the brain of who looks at, it's as it has there a telepathic current between the vibrations emitted by my paint, thanks to the colors and the symbols, prototypes coming from the unconscious collective and from inconscient of who looks at. One may consider me as an abstracted visionary, because often my paints are just suggested and evoked by the invisible and spiritual worlds. From the testimony of many mediums, a great number of my visions were perceived by them when they came out of their bodies ( OBE )during their travel in the astral, and they all remarked that what I painted was similar to the perceptions they had seen beyond during their voyages... Many have told me that I was a mediator, and that I paint the past as well as present and future, also realities of the ‘ beyond’ and that my paintings were to be used to give visual and vibratory images of new times, " time scale of Aquarius ". Some médiums did also said to me that I had the faculty to collect and retranscribe in my paints, the advance of each one. Other affirmed me that my painting was a vibration which could also have an impact on a cure level. Let us hope that my painting can be pilot and will carry a “ word ‘ in this new century of spiritual revival. By hoping that this new age offers more respect and love on this earth, and re-balances our evil materialist world in spirituality.
Kala Snowflower (Michele Neve)
The faeries call me Kala Snowflower. For I walk the Earth, sing on Air, dance with Fire and breathe the Water. I am healer, poet, farmer, teacher, lover, child and tree. I am Love and Love is me.
doktor J?
Find me in Mt. Elfinstone, British Columbia. As an organik transformer, creating art, and transforming bad energy into good is my purpose in life. I love to love, I try to fly I have followed my intuition right to this very point . and i'm never turning back. I have seen it all, with closed eyelids and a grin on my face. I have remixed my own religion, and untwisted the brainwash deep within my mind. Once again, I am reborn, and aware of the matrix ever changing around me. Infinite Love, is from which I am born, lucidly manifesting my own magickally divine dreamzZz...Namaste, doktor J. www.doktorj.ca
Sha'Tara EarthStar
Ahhhh... the bio thing. I dread those. Usually I prefer to let the "work" speak for itself.
Laurie Corzett
is seeking collaboration for her Flash Utopian Fiction Project: series of flash fiction pieces around a federation of diverse villages each working out their methods of community life -- little dramatic impacts illustrating creative solutions to social problems. Got ideas?
libramoon’s observatory (blog) libramoon42@mindspring.com
// 22:35
I'm a Poet, a Prophet, and a story-teller, who
wanders alone between glowing constellations 'till I
find a barren, rocky asteroid to set my easel on. In
order to capture the vastness and beauty of creation
in a painting, I must have vibrant colors that art
supply stores simply don't contain. My knee pops as I
teeter on one leg, stretching my arm out to dip my
brush in the flaming tail of a passing meteor. The
molten red and orange colors steam and hiss, dripping
from my melting brush as I apply them to the painting.
Giddy and breathless, I'm working at a feverish pace -
reaching, reaching inside myself for a way to give the
viewers back on earth a glimpse of the elemental
forces surrounding me with their pulsating light and
energy.
The search for perfect expression is unending.
Here's a poem I wrote that expresses this idea of
continual reaching, of never being quite satisfied
with our creative efforts.
Reaching
A small astronaut stands on tiptoe
enslaving the pale blinking light
of a distant star in his chubby grasp.
Life's mysteries litter the ground
at his feet, discarded like
cardboard juice containers on a
muggy August day
yet his thirst is not quenched.
Creating a painting is more than just documenting
life experiences. These are only the raw material. At
some point, your creation may take on a life of its
own and transcend its sources. There's no feeling
quite like creating that "something new." No one else
could have done it quite the way you did, because you
are unique and one-of-a-kind! It is my hope that I can
provide some small inspiration for others through
sharing my art.
painting and text (c) Jim Cox All Rights Reserved
Dead poet
Head tilted back, cradled on unraveling threads
my gray mouth gapes inches below a sagging satin roof
eager to taste the tangy yellow mustard
on a fresh cooked dawg at the beach again.
I long to see the bright colored sport shirts
that Asian tourists wear on vacation
or smell the pines in a valley below
towering snow capped peaks
or listen to the loud clanking sound of manhole
covers when New York cabbies run over them.
I'm so hungry for lifes sensations
but all there is to experience today
is mockery.
In the green lizard shade of the churchyard
above me, people are snickering
and giggling as they view my gravestone
making light of myself, and many here
who dreamed of something better.
They boast about the good times
failed marriages
credit card debt
"What else is there?" (they loudly proclaim)
but chiseled words beneath my name
will temporarily suspend ridicule's
unerring tread
"He lived by faith"
A large man peers, then shrugs
leisure suited shoulders
and strides away
He missed out on everything.
Never deny myself pleasure.
Never.
I sift through hoarded nouns and adjectives
to honor someone special
but it's too late
a grinning melody with rolled-up cuffs
just skipped across the sky
extending an invitation
to me the way playful sunshine calls
to a kid on the last day of class.
ordinary dirt bulges and fractures
and mouths go slack
as many hop and stagger to keep their balance
I'm being changed by Love's alchemy and awake
to the hilarious belly hoots, and heads-thrown-back
heaven bound hollers of others like myself
whose lives have just been redeemed
I'll leave behind a tear stained legacy
of a faith embraced
through hard but shining years-
along with a few poems.
(c) Jim Cox All Rights Reserved
(c) Patrick DelormeTwo Realms to Rule
(c) 1982 by M. David Woodall
I went to get a glass of orange juice and found the pitcher empty of all
but a few droplets. As I took out the frozen concentrate, I felt an
awkward, drunken dizziness overwhelm me.
"Jeric, my son, someday all these will be your kingdoms to rule," my
father, the king, said with a sweep of his hand. As I looked out over the
countryside from the mountain top, I added three cans of water to the
concentrated juice and stirred, not wishing to wait for it to melt.
Somehow being two places at once seemed altogether natural.
"Yes, but I will not come into this power until after your death. Is that
not so, Father?" I poured myself a glass of orange juice and placed the
full pitcher back into the refrigerator.
"That is true, son. Hopefully my years of experience will benefit you when
that day comes." I listened to him relate battles of blood and battles of
bureaucracy, and as the sun set on my future lands, I placed the empty
glass in the kitchen sink and rinsed it out. "You are eager for the crown,
if not your father's death," he said turning his back to me and walking to
the edge of the cliff which overlooked his realm.
I looked out the storm window at the newly fallen snow and, wondering if
the car would start, reached a decision. I joined my father at the edge of
the cliff and put my hands on his shoulders.
"Yes, I am eager for the crown," I said.
"And hopefully I will not need your years of experience to rule
successfully," I whispered, shoving him off the cliff's end. Then, pulling
on my hat and coat, I prepared for another day of the old nine-to-five.
Copyright © 1982 by M. David Woodall
All Rights Reserved.
(c) 1982 by M. David Woodall
I went to get a glass of orange juice and found the pitcher empty of all
but a few droplets. As I took out the frozen concentrate, I felt an
awkward, drunken dizziness overwhelm me.
"Jeric, my son, someday all these will be your kingdoms to rule," my
father, the king, said with a sweep of his hand. As I looked out over the
countryside from the mountain top, I added three cans of water to the
concentrated juice and stirred, not wishing to wait for it to melt.
Somehow being two places at once seemed altogether natural.
"Yes, but I will not come into this power until after your death. Is that
not so, Father?" I poured myself a glass of orange juice and placed the
full pitcher back into the refrigerator.
"That is true, son. Hopefully my years of experience will benefit you when
that day comes." I listened to him relate battles of blood and battles of
bureaucracy, and as the sun set on my future lands, I placed the empty
glass in the kitchen sink and rinsed it out. "You are eager for the crown,
if not your father's death," he said turning his back to me and walking to
the edge of the cliff which overlooked his realm.
I looked out the storm window at the newly fallen snow and, wondering if
the car would start, reached a decision. I joined my father at the edge of
the cliff and put my hands on his shoulders.
"Yes, I am eager for the crown," I said.
"And hopefully I will not need your years of experience to rule
successfully," I whispered, shoving him off the cliff's end. Then, pulling
on my hat and coat, I prepared for another day of the old nine-to-five.
Copyright © 1982 by M. David Woodall
All Rights Reserved.
Originally published under one-time license in the
trade paperback anthology Channel X: Short-Short Stories.
trade paperback anthology Channel X: Short-Short Stories.
(c) Jonathan MachenUnity Church mural, Boulder, Colorado
"Life is Passion"
Life is passion.
Passion demands newness, each moment.
Passion is never satisfied.
Passion does not lie in ruts,
nor passively kneel to offer mantras to silent gods.
Passion sets bridges on fire as she rushes over
and laughs to see them burn.
She did not build the bridges
but only uses them to gallop across
the great canyons of time and space and mind.
Then she burns them
for she knows she can never return.
Passion moves ever forward.
Always through it all, never above it or below it.
Passion charges, engages, bowls over and rides on.
She licks her wounds when night falls and rests,
hiding in a cave or log or abandoned warehouse;
or she stands alone under the moon
in a snow-covered expanse shimmering with crystal points,
giving thanks to the stars over her head --
she can be heard in the howl of the she-wolf
or the hooting of the great horned owl --
and although her body trembles with the cold
her heart burns within.
For those who would truly know,
their name becomes "Passion."
Their life engages death
and their death brings forth new life.
They know pain and suffering in time;
they know hunger and thirst;
they know loneliness --
but it blends to sorrow and sorrow becomes joy.
the joy of Passion:
Thus do they greet the morning light,
and thus are they empowered to ride on.
Forever across the endless.
(Sha'Tara EarthStar) Copyleft no rights reserved
(c) Desmond Donnelly
VISION QUEST
I am the mystery,
I am the manifest
I look out from the edge
of a far-flung galaxy
and see
a black, black hole
all is stretched, altered,
rendered unrecognizable –
densely compacted,
compactly massive
the hole is the zero edge
between the mystery and the manifest
it is the threshold
between conception and birth –
from non-tangible to tangible,
non-physical to physical
then in a whole ‘nother dimension I see
a living pink and lavender cloud
of translucent delicate feathers
and lacy fairy wings
the cloud breathes me,
I breathe the cloud
the cloud is breath, is
unseparated life, is
a beyond-within awareness –
this is the mystery which streams
through the zero edge
and becomes manifest
in the physical world
it is more ancient and wise
than pyramids and sphinxes,
hidden yet discoverable,
underneath and inside
the visible, tangible
world of the physical
(c) RG Hudson
(c) Desmond Donnelly
Oil PaintingThe Fulcrum is a contemplation of a significant moment on one's journey. The traveller stands with both the light and the shadow in his field of consciousness. He has journeyed far through subterranean caves and is about to finally attain his goal - to live in the light.
With great pause, he stops to meditate on the significance of this profound moment of commitment - to step out of the darkness of the cave and stand fully in the light of God I AM.
Alchemy
Simple acceptance
The dancer with the dance
entering pre-dawn mystery
quiet interval, enchanting music.
Undulating reverie
alone in Hekate's garden
breathing in the memory
of jasmine and spice.
Weary roads have been traveled
crossroad to crossroad
the journey continues.
Weary days have found sustanence
in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.
Convoluted talk, empty gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of time.
Some brave midnight
if I learn my lessons well
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden
dancing in piquant reverie
leaving my tears and anguish
along the windswept trail,
ebuillent music
dancing me
as the Goddess kisses
my tearstains into
gold.
(c) March 13, 2006 Laurie Corzett
(c) Greg Edwards
Her Body Painted
by Kala Snowflower
Her body painted like sunset water
colors, the words of the gift burned
into her skin, the poetry
that so becomes her-
sheer fabric,
draped over her hips
to tantalize Beloveds, lifted
reveals the story told
and retold, at times
the letters themselves reforming,
retelling the kaleidoscopic life of the Lover
who holds a palette of bone deep wounds
and ecstatic caresses-
creating Herself
creating her World.
Her belly the sun spinning fire to prism.
Her arms wearing lush vines blooming blue
flowers.
Water horses prancing joy into her
sacrum.
And kissed deeply into her ankle, sweet
scented jasmine.
Until morning, when dipping swift down
into
her cauldron of Art=Life,
offering vision for vision, releasing all form
toward emergence, pink fleshed, new,
unwritten, awaiting Dawn colors
while her light hot palms
hover over tendons strengthening,
joints loosening, fingers stringing
shiny beads swirling silver and gold
patterns around everyone she touches:
the cat who roots into her lap
and the green flesh of foxglove
crawling up her leg to be noticed.
Faery whispers, louder now
foretell the spiral garden her body
now builds, stone upon stone,
malachite, granite, dirt, seed,
flower and herb strung together
as a necklace for the Queen.
(c) 2006 Michele Neve
(c) 2o06 doktor J http://www.doktorj.ca/
Aquarian Dreams
Open your third eye
And your fourth
And your fifth
Make a wish
And wrap it up in bubblegum
Stick it to your bedpost
To dream itself awake
Into your dream
That is your life.
There are wishes made of water
Waving out to sea
Caught up in grievery
Cat-tails weeping
Weaving eerie reverie
Into the evening
Into the night
All through those dreamy,
Unaware of the hours days.
There are prophetic dreams.
They haunt or
Creep upon conscious walls.
Tell all is not
As simple as it seems.
There are reasons, portents, allies.
There are dreams
That wishes would simply die for.
They take us out of bounds
Into faery realms and more.
Sprinkling gold spun out of
Shining love and merriment.
Yes! The very mint
That stamps us sold,
That fulfills our greatest hopes,
Flies us to heights above
The most benign of clouds,
Sets our spirits free.
There are dreams
That bind
Define identities
Expose deformities
Deny extremities
Create barriers and rifts
Look to differences
As definitions
Defend what they define.
There are dreams,
There are dramas,
There are visions.
Tell me yours,
I'll tell you mine.
(c) 2006 Laurie Corzett (libramoon)
Aquarian Dreams
Open your third eye
And your fourth
And your fifth
Make a wish
And wrap it up in bubblegum
Stick it to your bedpost
To dream itself awake
Into your dream
That is your life.
There are wishes made of water
Waving out to sea
Caught up in grievery
Cat-tails weeping
Weaving eerie reverie
Into the evening
Into the night
All through those dreamy,
Unaware of the hours days.
There are prophetic dreams.
They haunt or
Creep upon conscious walls.
Tell all is not
As simple as it seems.
There are reasons, portents, allies.
There are dreams
That wishes would simply die for.
They take us out of bounds
Into faery realms and more.
Sprinkling gold spun out of
Shining love and merriment.
Yes! The very mint
That stamps us sold,
That fulfills our greatest hopes,
Flies us to heights above
The most benign of clouds,
Sets our spirits free.
There are dreams
That bind
Define identities
Expose deformities
Deny extremities
Create barriers and rifts
Look to differences
As definitions
Defend what they define.
There are dreams,
There are dramas,
There are visions.
Tell me yours,
I'll tell you mine.
(c) 2006 Laurie Corzett (libramoon)
// 22:32
