god found.

to know god you must travel to the outside worlds.
to travel to the outside worlds you must be pure.
to be pure you must know god.

new god.

who is this new god you speak of?
the formless form,
the limitations set by the no-self
self-less,
the rose bud in the thorn.

is it the many gods
of whom you've known,
the worlds beyond this one,
such radical possibilities
do exist.

how extremely optimistic to think
of the many things
which bear no fruits here,
to think all poison
as an offering of the moon.

if you were my child,
and i were god,
i would have created you in the image of beauty as well.

who's tongue do you breathe from,
which form you endure,
in the many moons
of children,
that keep you in the womb.

do those moon-rays complete the psyche?
is it like god to make these delusion so permissible.

who's god do you believe in?
which world has you
forgotten in the
radical possibility
that your existence
may endure.

God in the formless
God if form,
God in the many,
God without light,
God forgotten,
God without memory.

to miss ;

is it possible to miss yourself?  because i do.  i miss myself.  i'm always different, each moment, and i have a nostalgia about who i was and who i am becoming.

dream.

i had a peculiar dream last night. i don't want to put so much focus on it, but it felt like it had significance. i dreamt that i was in love with a murderer, and a murderer was in love with me? what does that mean...well i won't get into that yet, but i will explain the rest of the dream. the person, which really didn't have a physical presence in my life, but i felt him, i knew him. he had a desire to preform surgeries on people, find people's body's and cut their centers open and remove their hearts. it sounds really sick i know, but he was a master as this and he was very meticulous and careful, and he felt it was his calling to god?? (this really sounds twisted i bet). anyway, the way we met was he was after my body and wanted to remove my heart, but he was so in love with me that he couldn't and he couldn't see me. but the love between us was so inseparable and intense. even though i knew he had this mental distortion and was really twisted, i loved him. then, he taught my father how to do the same thing, and my father joined him on one of his surgical journeys. my mom knew about it and was totally frightened for me and called me warning me to stay away, that my life was threatened. but i had total faith in my love for this man, and his love for me, despite this twist, that i knew everything would be ok.

Mars

you are the god of war,

lit on the backdrop of desire,

your brilliant black light,

feeds the countless stars.

i dream of making love

under your rule.

i dream of overtaking

your power.

i dream of my lust

being destroyed by you.

No Love has a Dream.

I've been adorned

on the bed of a crystal shell,

poised against feathers & sea life,

thick moss brushed against my teeth,

the clouds of smoke, thick with dew.

I've waited for Mother,

I've waited for Artemis,

I've waited for stone,

your body build like rock

and foam.

Nothing returned,

some skulls, dirt,

ritual blood & soot.

I waited for love,

I waited for you.

(Only love darkens the day,

the love you sent me away to,

on a crystal ship, far far in a dream,

I awakened in a bottle).

Mother send me there,

mother with the blackened lung,

mother of the Queen,

ladened with dark power.

I wished you fare-well,

in dreams we dream of gold,

but you returned, battered,

slight of my amiable pardon.

I saw no treason in the red dress,

in the kiss you imposed on me,

on the life that I mistook,

in the dream that never awoke.

married

we married on the pacific, against the rocks, cliffs off the ocean. it was panoramic, we could have been in the english isles. the green moss was so vivid, and the water so clear you could see to creatures on the bottom. i wore my bluebird vintage dress, all white, i felt luminous. we collected ourselves by the ocean, rid ourselves from the past, and made eternal promises. he gave me the Torah as contract of our love, and we exchanged rings embossed with "ani l' dodi v' dodi li." we sang yedid nefesh until our hearts stopped. we embraced into the brilliant sun, gazing in the ocean as if there was no end.

settling.

i'm waiting to settle, like a leaf slowly moving toward ground. i want to feel the earth, the dense soil, gently placed atop mother. it's been months of movement, waiting to come into being. only friction result from so much chaos. i am asking g-d for grace, strength, resolution, peace. it is not stillness i seek, only harmony.

the day of the dead

the tulips have barely brought blossom,

another spring without beginning,

another winter without forgiveness,

yeshuah in the dark earth,

is the peace of g-d descending?

another place with no story,

how deep do these blades of grass shutter,

into the flesh of mortals,

a slow reaping of sorrow.

where is the g-d today?

where is the sun today?

still no grace to the cold of tomorrow,

i breathe the memory, a lightening lung,

the silence still humility.

The Love of Netzach

What does it mean to Endure?

The healing trip of two people wounded

And bound by the Eternal, One

Love.

Some say love is healing,

But love takes endurance~netzach

To wake up loving someone

Everyday, even when they’re

Difficult,

Intolerable,

Irrational,

Unwilling

is hard work.

To stay when nothing you want is happening.

To believe when nothing you wish is becoming.

To wait for some parts that may never appear.

What does it mean to Endure my love?

To push it through the finish line?

Sweating,

Feeling the lungs collapse, the breath harden,

As if there was some prize at the finish line.

Perhaps to endure is,

To hold the glory of,

I made it to the end,

That was impossible,

But I pushed my limits,

I did it,

That’s the metaphor of the kind of love

G-d responds to.

guru poetry.

"the dual scales of maya,
that balance every joy with grief!"
~yogananda

undue.

how decent of my love to show up at the wrong time.
when there's nothing left for you to give.
where there's nothing left for you to feel.
why there's nothing left for you to trust.
i'm told to thank g-d for this for this decent, into nothing; where your love is waiting.

the godless form.

"yet to sing love, love must first shatter us." - h.d. doolittle

perhaps now that i have been cracked, edged towards shattered,
i will experience the totality of this, your 'love.'
how cruel the gods must have been
to have thought love, capable for human consumption.
how cruel this dense universe
to make me belong.
were not flowers meant for rain?
spare me,
the gripping nature,
the death of creation.
i would much rather
be with out.
how easy space must feel,
left alone, without force, form, or pleasure.

Love as Question.

It is safe to say that Love has come in a form that I can recognize, something felt and dense to the senses, something uneasy, cumbersome, something to play with, some form of dreaming. A form of man, chiseled like the sun, radiant, yet virgin-like & holy. Love; the Universal Divine Teacher...reminding me that I never knew how to love; that to love- is extremely humbling and a Universal service, one which takes mastery of the selfless service nature. One that mystifies the idea of identity, and radically challenges the form of belonging. To Love is rather a "light" term for "Total Devotion to G-d," and his many myriad forms, even those mirroring illusions of being. Now I understand what 'they' mean by the saying, "You can't Love someone, until you Love yourself." For if my total other is my self, I will never totally comprehend that Love of being, until I selflessly, accept all aspects of denseness, those unworthy of compassion, and give over completely, my total devotion to the Union, which is healing all fragments of self, all perfect in their misplacement.
Love as prayer, meditation, or blessing...
Love as the Cosmic Symbiosis.
Love as Mystery.

Dream Rant.

i haven't written in so long, so maybe now would be a good time to compose my thoughts...
i miss myself, the music, how i sang,
how i had a vision of myself immersed
in melody,
transcendence,
dense purples,
and space-time,
without any dimensions.
I haven't played an instrument for so long.
I've been feeling as if I left myself,
and entered the parallel mundane dimension of reality.
I use to believe that I could thrive in my imagination alone.
I use to have a sense of self,
in my youth, (or ignorance)
that I really felt I could 'hold on'
to something,
even if it wasn't real.
I find with maturation
the ripeness of fruit
submit to a form
of compost,
as if there is nothing
to live for,
like all wisdom has subsided the fairy tale.
I wanted to re-enter the galaxy,
be the child that doesn't see any balance or form,
I want to re-live the world of dreams,
holding on the the songs,
with intense passion,
that made me believe I didn't have to hold on to being here.

the g-d of form.

it is women that were meant for beauty,
it is women that were meant for poetry.

you take my form,
mold it,
I am some clay-dust,
founded on dense ash,
my body swelters at your beginning.

you play some god,
I become a woman
at your finger tips,
a space to fill
your blackness.

you become the sun,
pouring me with the
experience of beauty,
- it is I who
will worship your radiance.

you create an altar
around my form,
rose petals, sage, sea shells,
fresh fruit-
you ask me to fulfill you,
you beg questions with answer,
I begin to understand what
G-d must feel like.

dear love,

it is only with this feeling, that i have come to embrace,
our existence, that no longer is "ours,"
but a part of the infinite universe.
as we disentangle our faith,
release the body from it's embrace,
will you feel my form float into ether?
I will vanish to your senses,
but to earth, I am still here.
It is in our death,
that our bodies will merge into being,
shatter all light, and create possibilities,
of Divine Union into existence.
Dear Love,
I have welcomed you here,
now moments have bestowed upon us,
only memories,
gardens,
a yearning for dreams.
Must we always part so illusive to the eye?
I cannot grip my hands enough
to engage memory.
It is here and now,
that I sit with the sorrow
deeply lit above the rib cage.
I ask of my becoming,
why dost the journey tread with pain?
The journey, the voice says,
in search of love is,
like the journey in search of God.

bird man.

i will seat you at the ledge of a cliff,
and whisper at the base of your spine;
your body will shutter
at the speed of my breathe.

It will tantilze your mind,
into believing,
that a light body is real.

you will press your hands
upon me,
to clear all memory

now.

I will be your arrival,
when Holy Light
comes into being.

You will walk the distant sun,
into the shore,
where the dead birds fall,
bodys for the sand.

The conch shells of mermaids
will drawn you in,
to the whirlwind
of eternal fire.

I float with my body there, a green printed dress,
as if the earth will succumb me.

You gaze into me from a distance,
you know I will be the woman that bears your children.

You can taste my legs,
as if the budding honey suckel,
will only wither with time.

I become the pavement,
figured in the stone-sand,
my feet bare the sharpness
of ocean earth rock.

We become the tobacco
that you infume,
the misdirected post-signs,
the endless pathways that leads
to a difference in crossing.

I am home,
where the rivers are contant,
and there really isn't
a place of 'belonging,"
to a person ,
place,
or thing.

You follow the north wind home,
you are a bird,
towards the center of the sun,
you become,
a pagan to the distant moon.


II. a dream.

You forwarn me, that the time
is coming,
the gates are closing.

A dream of your hand disappearing
into the distance...

Imagine a tunnel,
black, lit at the end
with a glowing white light.

an ascended being
stands before it,

you cannot tell
who it is,


but upon closeness,
that being becomes you.

I remain here where
the light is closing,
realizing the death,
of becoming alive.

I stay tuned into the radio waves,
but your shadows disappear.

I am this, I am.
I am, I am.

a new home to call home.

i seem to have left what was home and familiar again. i believe i like the discomfort of the strangeness of land. i enjoy moving from my attachment to stillness. always pacing from one earth to the next, i will re-write the map again. i look back to the moments in my life, and how much clarity there is from a distance. sometimes i regret so eagerly going as if there was no emotion in the movement. but then i think back to my dreams and how they are never encumbered by one station or one exit sign. perhaps i was meant to be like a stream, moved by gravity, in the direction of earth patterns.

It's a strange fruit.

Part of me wants to buy a one way ticket to somewhere, anywhere, and leave my life, forget everything, my love, my family, my dream, and beg and pray as I follow the sun, going to the next place G-d directs me to. Living like a vagabond, ready for adventure. Forgetting the signs, the fortune tellers prediction, the life I've mapped out for myself (including the apartment, the dog, the college degree, and the career), drop all the psychology I'm sorting out in my life, and just live in the moment, totally unattached to the outcome or what any of it means.
It just seems totally cliche for my personality to do something so typical like that, live a circus dream, on the road, chasing rainbows, pretending like G-d is somewhere on this escaping pony to Nirvana.