It Takes a Certain Village

certo, certare,certavi,certatus (Latin)

  1. fight, strive
  2. vie (with), contest, contend/struggle (at law/politics), dispute

the light is ever bending into wiry shades:
long fingers branches of the willow trees
catch the sun as it sinks in its entirety

and children play in these gangling shadows
twisting, unraveling their dark with their white
as parents gaze certain upon their delight

yet they sit aside waiting for them inside
hard fixed walls keep windows decided
safety for tired eyes who long for respite

a million eyes happy upon a sinking sun
hoping children’s playtime will soon be done
a million eyes praying lost victory be won

Where Longing Begins its Seething

And he was too blinded by rage for seeming to be by her unloved to see that he was loved beyond measure.


when did you start painting wide eyes upon the moon
as if her light’s not bright enough for afternoon?;
“as if”, for she reveals the shadows cast in sight
while the sun seeks relief in her shards of twilight
longing to break away from a hot and beguiling day

as such she comes to you in a quiet and humming tune
gentle as heaven’s angel, warm as a maiden in June
but your eyes are too heavy with the density of gravity
for what the sun revealed to you just hours before
the black raven stole away into nevermore nevermore

so nighttime is where your anger begins its seething
for its eyes aren’t convinced by mind’s contrivings
to make moon your lover and still refuse to kiss her
a wrong never to see the light of the blessed days,
hidden in corners of sky, blocking your every way

“Beloved, beloved,” your cursed heart will call her
whether you goad your wild horses upon your path
or keep them contained in the prison of your wrath
imagination still stirs willful lies into lullabies
dreams feeding where your longing begins its seething

Star Showers

What would the world be like if everyone at anytime and in any place could feel love as easy as they feel the sun light showers?


I know you love me
for I feel your shadow’s sad longing
to pluck the sunlight as dark clouds cry
rain drops sealing sleepy embers inside
so eager are they to fall upon my cheek
a million kisses pouring from the sky
a million stars dying into lullaby.

An Infinite Place

When hard pressed, I cried to the LORD; he brought me into a spacious place.

Psalm, 118:5

1) The darkness has no power, but creates an illusion of power. The more people believe in it, the more powerful it becomes. It first and foremost creates the illusion that outside forces are causing you suffering: We often say to ourselves, “If it weren’t for _____, I’d be happy.” But the truth is, those people, that society, that person, that circumstance are not the ones causing your suffering. What is causing your suffering is the belief that these mirages have any true power over your life.

2) The tragedy and comedy of life is that we seek solutions to our problems in what we believe to be the cause of our problems. We rarely question any of these assumptions, and that is why we rarely find any lasting solutions.

3) If you believe – and obstinately refuse to believe otherwise – that Santa Claus is the source of your Christmas presents and you attempt to return an undesirable gift back to him, you will remain the proud owner of an undesirable gift.

4) Knowledge does not give you freedom. Knowledge is a prison; unless of course, the knowledge you are accumulating also contains clues and keys. That is to say, that knowledge needs to allow questions about itself.

5) We seek more knowledge outside of ourselves because we are afraid to go within. Most don’t even think there is anything there.

6) We don’t believe we have the answers to our questions not because we are certain of it, but because we think we know it.

7) It would be a huge shock to the system if people found out how much their knowledge is used against them, in order to suppress their own power. But make no mistake, some people needs a period of suppression, for in many ways suppression can be a form of incubation.

8) An animal tamed well does not lose its power: it refines it. That includes the “devil”.

9) It is very difficult to find a good teacher. Most will teach you how to become something more like themselves, for that is how their teacher taught them. Education can span multitudes of generations and the sheer magnitude and breadth of it makes people feel like what they are learning is the truth.

10) Humanity is still impressed by what is big, loud, and clear; by what they can perceive and experience through their five senses. They are amazed that dogs can sense earthquakes before they happen. The funny thing is the “before”. To most people the volcano is the lave flowing out of the mountain, and what has been happening hidden beneath the surface for years is of little importance, let alone existence.

12) Life itself is your power and it is infinitely wide and infinitely deep. That is what really scares you.

13) Most men would rather limit their own power to the confines of their mind and ego. This makes their women feel protected and well fed.

14) How much energy does it take to limit one’s own power? An incredible amount, and so instead of suppressing such infinite energy, a man will give it away by creating leaking holes in his energetic field. The more powerful the man, the more thirsty are the women who surround him, draining him of his life force. The first one in line is usually the mother, for she feels he owes her and he believes it.

15) Women are of the earth, the source of life and all nurturing and flow. The idea that a woman must live off the life force of a man in order to feel beautiful and powerful, is not only a disservice to her, but also to men. Feminism, which wants to make women equal to men, is no different – it doesn’t celebrate the feminine, but denies her.

16) Feminism teaches women to become black widows: to feed off the masculine energy and kill the man.

17) Some try to escape the nature of modern society, but most end up railing against it and so fuel their anger at the expense of love. Resistance against the lies is also a lie.

18) Anything that limits your capacity to love life is a lie. How many are courageous enough to believe this?

19) You are an infinite being of infinite power, but you have been taught that power is something other than it is and that is why you reject the idea.

20) Everything the world teaches about worldly power is absurd and ridiculous, and that is why most believe that power is reserved for the few with money.

21) The man or woman who believes that money is the primary motivator of humanity, has watched life through a television screen.

22) You have something to teach humanity; you have a gift to give. But before you can give to them, you must give that gift to yourself.

23) Who is the source of all the world’s treasures? You.

24) Life is easy, even when faced with challenges, when you follow the rhythm and energy of your own soul song.

25) To a person who has been taught that being loud, brash, hard, flashy, rich, or big are signs of success, a place of quiet loneliness, softness, relaxation, and subtlety first appears to be undesirable and even counterproductive (unless it appears to serve success). “I don’t have time for that”, you say. What? You don’t have time for yourself? You don’t have time observe yourself closely, so as to give yourself appropriate gifts at the appropriate time? What? You don’t have time to watch the world go by on its own despite you and even against you? What can you experience in life if you don’t slow down and give yourself the love you’d give a child or an animal? What can you hear of yourself if you don’t remove all the noise? So ask yourself: What do you think you have time for? What are you chasing and what are you leaving behind in the chasing? What are you burying in in order to avoid it? What do you think you will get if you bury that and chase this? You know the answer to that. Answer it; but answer it slowly in a quiet and safe place, and infinite space, away from all the loud answers in the mouths of the world.

This Body (Mirror)

there is a lake of crystal midst the shadows of the trees
within swim not the fish but the reflections of every sea
above which birds travel upon the bridges of the heavens
they bravely gather in wonder and in fear near the edges

for most do fear to travel there along the icy paths alone
and although its dark quiet will be brightened by the sun
you’ll never hear a sound except the hum of nature’s song
your lonely heart drumming in a symphony by its own

upon your arrival at the lake you’ll look upon its mirror,
reflection of the sea: what was, what is, and what will be
Time climbs as cresting waves to fall silent yet again
ever dissolving to the death of what you know has been

your breath rising and falling as the waters ebb and flow
and your spirit inspires the might of the shadowing boughs
roots as claws that dig beneath the dark shimmering lake
Dare you to consecrate this body you were gifted to take?

Sunlight in the Dark

“Guilt — if there was any guilt — spread out and diffused itself over everybody and everything. . . . Perhaps at some point in time, at some spot in the world, a moment of responsibility existed.” 

Philip K. Dick

I did not visit my ancestors with a guide, for no guide was needed;
but there was a suggestion of the soul of my soon to be ex-husband
who was releasing me to my family from where he originally found me
so that I might walk through them, many of whom had reluctantly passed;
for only those who watched life badly want never-ending eternity,
and these, it seemed, failed to achieve even ignominy in their life;
thus, my living heart and mind had no memory of their names or eyes.
Even they themselves had easily forgotten their true and honest faces.

But I knew I must review them, if I am going to continue on my own way
for my old marriage never prevented their destiny but held them at bay
and now was the time for me to choose between being free or being bound,
between eternal hunger or abundance, between misery or sweeter sound;
How simple this choice seems in a mind too hasty towards the skies;
but for most upon earth that is exactly where dreams begin to die,
for old feet are stubborn and their invisible wings never seem to fly
how deep are their hopeful lies, divinity they believe they recognize.

My ancestors remembered well all their life longings and their loses,
and so they were pleased when I had arrived in their sad vicinity;
for I had landed there with the many gifts I received on my journey
and as I walked through, I heard them singing the song of hunger aching,
so heavy and deformed were the shapes they call beautiful in their making,
especially the old man who would have been younger if not for neglect,
his despair and mistreatment were too deep for his heart to protect
for light has little hope in he who is buried in comfortable torments.

And that is when my heart spoke from within the wisdom of my soul:
“Be cautious of the things and the people who make themselves known,
for they carry either messages of gods or messages of dreadful woe;
which is which is hidden by those who don’t want you to really know.”
And so, confused as to who this old man was, I did not dare go near him,
but passed him averting my eyes away from his desire back into my own;
for each person is allotted one deep love, but many are the distractions,
the devils who steal from hearts to replace what from them was stolen.

At that point, my urge to quickly pass through this place was strong,
for though I felt compelled to look, I wasn’t feeling bound for long
until I felt a presence besides me and then finally right in front,
she was as golden as tinsel; as bright as a reflection of the light;
for she was heavy with artifice, exhausted from its demanding device
and she asked me thrice if I would stay here if only three more days
to show them more of what I’d brought them from the sunnier ways.
Certainly, I must so kind as to give this just and precious pleasure.

For look at these poor souls, she directed me: they need you and your help
and you can come and go as you will, for three is greater than eternity.
And as the shame of begging and the guilt of refusing fell upon my heart,
I considered her offer with a slight repugnance that she herself perceived.
It was then they she knew that she had lost control of her falsified ease
and so all her world fell back into the two who dreamed her restless pain.
My parents’ shadows dwelt in a room in fear without support of their gait;
for the fearful neglect what they can and have no faith in what they can’t.

I saw them. My light illuminated the dust streaming from the window,
and I learned that they no longer subsist on food since anger fills them
for they had poured all of their desires and their pain into their children,
that they might carry them into the world and free them from their prison
to save the entire family from the fate that they themselves had chosen
“For we cannot heal ourselves,” they said. “We need you to be our savior.
So will you please remove your cruelty to redeem us from our behavior?”
I could barely hear my guilt, for so many ancestors and devils were speaking.

At that moment, I knew I was presented with a choice: to return to them
or to continue on my journey; to give them all to lose, or lose them to give;
for the angry dead and dying will never return the magic of gifts given.
“No,” I said. “No. I must continue on my way to the living who want to sing,
for they are also, like me, trapped in dreams of an ancient spirits’ making.
These are the souls who, when light is given, don’t want it as their own,
but carry it within so that they might shine it on others trapped and alone.
For Love is found in refusal to be where justice lies and begs in her dream.”

And so my eyes were opened and all the shadows had fallen far away;
the sun was bright, and even though I did not know which way to go,
I had faith that love would find my way.

Dancing Upon Mirror’s Edge

my dreams are as the Australian storms who confuse a single day
sunshine dancing between rain drops’ “pitter-patter” as they say
street cars sinking into mud and sea; faces burning in the heat
Where do I go: to fire or to flood? Either way I’ll be undone!

but every nightmare has a rainbow hidden from eyes forsaken
beyond the event horizon, beyond what you believe is awakened
where truth is a dusky mirror; your life, the pieces of a puzzle
tiny projections upon the wall: choose the fairest one of all.

did you know that you can walk right through the waterfalls?
for I have seen a man walk upon the water even as he drowns
people dancing with broken mirrors; blood feeding thirsty ground
for how much pain there is in following tiny false reflections

Yet how much pain in not following them?
For where will they go?, they wonder: to fire or to flood?
Perhaps it is better that we keep our hands in our blood.

but this road leads to who you may be to find out who you aren’t
I know the lies of philosophy, Shakespeare untwisted every knot
laughing and crying, living and dying: the drama keeps its running
balancing upon mirror’s edge, blind how close we are to falling

Sad Sunflower

Why, O beautiful sunflower, do you keep yourself in the shade?
Were you too hasty for escape from the cradle of wild gales;
landing beneath a willow tree, ground barren as desert sands?

Were you trying to be the deer hiding from the summer sun;
mind translating their desire into longings not your own?
now what do you know of sunflower self-love, O little one?

I watch you fascinated with the buzzing of the honey bees
but they miss you in the shadows of your darkening tree
you scribble sweet poems, pungent songs in finest rhymes

yet you barely scratch the surface of why you are crying;
O sad sunflower, the rain and sun you insist on denying
will give inspiration to the great requiem of your dying

Two Roads

the road seems to know where it will find itself
away from the town through the hills who surround
its beginning is ever attached to its own final end
and all who follow avoid the fear of twisty bends
for their keen mind knows how they unravel and when

friends watch to see if you should lose your course
off the beaten track they will quickly put you back
upon the road that seems to know where you should go
bordered with flowers of their fearful mind’s desires
for envy blooms bright in suspicion’s starless fire

but as the moon rises and you slumber upon the verge
your heart gifts the wind lonely love songs and a dirge
for from your wild soul to sea shore on to soaring sky
your love without fanfare pours rain shower lullabies
beautiful as you are in your dreams not yet traveled by.

Let Yourself Fall (Ego Death)

how far you’ve fallen, my little leaf,
but not far enough
for you have landed upon branches crossed
half-way below the top
light lazy breeze nudges you downward
two and fro you sound
crying as if you’re dying as if the sun dies
whimpering against the tides;
rainfall will soon come, my little lost one,
earth will catch your fall
for the end will be a life’s new beginning,
fulfilling love and nature’s law