Cantankerous, walloping headache from hell, comes driven on words sweeping born from the fell. If now is the darkness that blocks out the curs, then drive, devil, drive to blot our their slurs. With skull thrashing and blood pumping so loud, it’s hard to think with the internal noise like a crowd- mocking, bantering, shuttling words, as feet shuffle and wisdom flies off with the birds. Never knowing from whence it was born, scratching echoes from those blissful days we all yearn. Pandering blasphemous gasps for sweet air come at last, now that the sound stops and you care for what has come, gone, and now passed.
Thought cloud, dizzy to be acquiring so much no knowledge at times.
Play often with the boundaries inside you head before they harden into labyrinthine walls. Doubt the truth of what you know dear one, for nothing is ever so simple as it may seem. When the philosopher writes such common tongue as “I think therefore I am,” dig deeper into understanding what is meant. Uncoil the beauty of knowledge shared and questions expanded. That uncomfortable pressure inside your brain is nothing more than the price of admission to a world of creative and well intended information, each and every bit, a treasure in its own way.
Pen me a story all pelted with pain– I’ll send you a memory quite completely insane. Pen me a story all covered in scars– I’ll whisper you love underneath the stars. Pen me a story all wrapped up in joy– I’ll rip off the paper and play with your emotional toys. Pen me a story all soaked in ambition– I’ll congratulate you from a distance and hope for fruition. Pen me a story all righteously proud– I’ll admiringly stand and clap just as loud. Pen me a story devoid of suffering or shame– I’ll question how long you lived and whether you played the game. Pen me a story short on words but big on feel– I’ll embrace your passion that fills me with zeal.
For each story you write and each tale that you tell, connection is made as we all walk this road of life to the final farewell. Strangers no more as the wording unfolds, your experiences are more valuable then ever would be gold. Friend since you vulnerably shared to cross the divide, forever you’ll find my acceptance as I stand by your side. We all start alone until our experiences happen, no one need stand lonely feelings that they’re trapped in. A world without others who have felt all the same– if you’re missing companionship then drop any shame. Drop any pretense or false facing thoughts– your loveable for you, now and until time itself stops.
Outside the borders of this unquiet mind, sit eons of wisdom woven as invisible mesh most fine. Alone sits Arachnae, that fate wielding bug, completely immersed playing God string by string, thud by thud. We’d settle for reality if only for thinner air, know what’s happening, get right-sized and repaired. But truth hangs us all, the devoted or mellow. Chokes down in the craw, suffocating like an ungenerous fellow. So let’s sit side by side, have a novel discourse. Talk free will or destiny, while the galactic spider calls for a hearse.
Frustrated depression man in the hood sitting on wooden bridge near the beach on sunset. Concept of unemployed sadness depressed and human problems – yeah, what they said.
There’s a damp wetness that hangs inside
like some putrid pit you cannot shake.
It consumes and expands within you
always seeking to find new areas
ones that are filtered with love or confidence,
special and precious to defining who you are.
As the viscosity of the pit expands
you become enveloped in a melancholy,
a great creeping sadness that obliterates joy.
Dreams become suffocated,
ambitions become fantasies not to be attained,
emotions roll dead and to the beat of failure,
the internal monologue becomes a tirade,
life itself becomes a chore,
and one that is hardly worth the effort.
Enveloped in that wet darkness,
it takes great strength to continue on,
Each soldier who walks that path,
fights a monster inside and well beyond
anything that you can touch or taste,
Merry be the wounded ones who chose to fight,
their battle is so often invisible,
that others aren’t aware of the war being fought,
It is though,
one screaming resistance and determined action at a time,
Tactical with your hands the way you smooth my skin beneath fingers so cool. A promise held in your palm where it blends away pain into pressure and pleasure. Your touch sifts away the world, leaves me gasping in relief that we are not alone.
So I had been attempting a 30 day challenge to write everyday and post something new to the blog. Sadly, as school crept into the mix I can say that while I’ve written everyday, nothing more made it up here after the 11th day…I’ll take it as a partial win since doing anything for more than a day straight tends to be a bit of a personal adventure of sorts.
The other interruption was going on a weeklong retreat to practice a new healing method I’ve been exploring with a shaman down on a pot farm in Oregon. I spent a week sitting with Grandmother and Grandfather along with some of the most amazing people it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. True hippies, filled with the love leftover from the movement in the 60s and still sharing what it means to be surrounded by brothers and sisters with no shared blood but all the right intent.
With that in mind, I wanted to put it out there to what audience there may be of the blog still to see what others can come up with on a topic that has become near and dear to me of late. Plant medicine, any form be it poetry, prose, short, or long, I’d like to read something from you fine folks on the topic however you see fit to blend it into your work.
I don’t have a lot of resources, but the top entry will get a $10 PayPal donation or eGiftCard of your choice. Please leave submissions in the comment section. Contest will end October 20th, 2020.
Thanks for reading, and here’s my own submission:
Full moon night, harvest weather. Ceremony tent glowing from colored tapestries dangling as flags of focus. Stage set for the journey to come home, be set free from Earthly Bonds into the Dreamtime.
