Thursday, January 27, 2011

Magpie #50 Lost and Found


the distance recalls
the familiar snowflake freckles
the whispers quieted
silence surround sound and Amish simplicity
they hold hands tenderly
in the woods
they hike
the global village echoes far-away now
flesh gamey, flash-frozen
they too breathy and sweaty
envision carcasses of greek gekkos once alive

well-preserved the ancients
ended their well meaning albeit mien
evil in-store-focus group who amassed great wealth
with Consciousness thought
though the entity known as The Night Drifter
hung heavy leaded doors at the stargate steps
the steppes of Russia just
around the corner
as the marzipan overhang lay creaking, teetering
free to freefall down the neck of the river
like a loose tooth or hangnail
let loose
let 'er rip
overhead the snowgnome kicked on the roof
and muffled canned laughed as the
overload and torque shock absorbers
balanced the forces
chak boom!
soft as potato flakes on the snow lawn's dreamy fawns
the yards of the missing time
owners of time-share paradise
who just got flounced and bounced
never debunked by the new snow drop
with ornate filigree the ordinances mount
the ordinary a snow-a-deer
camoflauge hiding the colours
winter rainbow day
the world soon to change
collapse under the weight
of all this snow
I prostrate myself to the winter garden
as overheard by the overlord
entity of separate identity
examines the
the wonderment of life
this co-creator yearns to learn this year
these walks make me think I wish to partner now
as all those who dream do do this
they find fhese endless
winter daylights nights full of dormant sleep
wandering directionless to find navigation arrows
gps pointing me back home
yet longing to be further along far gone down the pathway
anchors away there's hope when
walking on a snowcloud today
as if walking could wake up something dormant within
starting a fire, kindling a lasting love
to find the time in the long lost deep snow drifts
hands held tight hearts held lightly walking the woods we use to go
a metal clang of the gong; a resolute
emptines resounds
maybe maybe not
we'll return by way of arrow

echoed through the halls of sentiment
the gap-toothed, the sentient ones snickered
encroaching and clanging
the dusty darkness clawed back
the deep woods should fluck off

flambe and crunching corn flakes dessert
good chi underneath the voltive and volcanic
shaken, freezing, shuttering shutterbugs
hands warmed by beeswax
although the woods is teaming
with dormant life it is no doormat to Summer's
flash of fiery footsteps
as the iced trees gathered closely together
like aspens in Aspen on the sloped shores
near the burning bush
shakes and snakes waiver quivering
along Ohio's border
build heaps of fire under us and the altar
fully kept alive
underfoot to keep warm in the Keeping Room
we taste Alchemic Hot Chocolate with marshmallows
near sick birch and apple peelers we figure out
how to be a tree doctor to
the acid imbalance found in the wormwood trees holes
breathless these frozen forms fuse with death
often blurred by lack of focus


free floating energy
swirling find us found

Too far to go forward
miles behind us
we turn around
too severe the isolation
too lonely to claim or
proclaim victory
like a steak dinner on Mt Everest
you've a right to eat that there
when what was lost is now found
the woods has a department called
Lost and Found
yet too much alike these two clams
say not much
alternating Monday's lost realities
with a cave dweller's existence
the ice age years
those who so unnecessarily know
chose not to recognize so often
but those who do do so with full immunity
and did so love the winter
and those who do not fake it
find many happy
Fluctuations in static decay
just part of it all


Friday, January 21, 2011

Magpie #49 The Three Sisters

Euphoria and Rochesphere were star-crossed and
abandoned lovers
which left Winnie to wince
she always felt this emptiness
left out in the cold
her sisters
can be so cruel sometimes
so cruel
like day old porridge
eaten sullenly in silence in her room
their company far too good for her
where would she stand she thought
there by the sand banks
where would they try to sink
her last battleship
I hate having my picture taken Cindy said
the tight-lipped photographer
with the tight pants
two-stepped his way
into her heart
motioned for closeness
to suck her soul she felt overwhelmed
he'd never want me she thought
he'd leave me for Euphoria she knew
eventually he'd find a younger woman
where did she stand they knew
and her thoughts were theirs
what was she thinking now
as their sinister and sarcastic glaze
from the evil ones' one eye
met briefly her recoiled glance
synchronistically living in sin
the two both had had him
she'd have at it too
and do the dirty dancing again
I'll have him
they'll see
then the two
those star-crossed twice
would never know
vengeance is mine saith the Lord
those ruthless witches
years ago swallowed the bait
who was it that abandoned her
as a mere babe
left her to die
on the broken back steps
the door always closed to her
left her to shiver
then hopefully expire from pneumonia
in twenty below
their body language never lied
those two
whose ungirlish girth
no match for their sin
from eating candy all day
pacifying deep-rooted angst
as they held onto their youth
for far too long
to refrain from remembering
Rochesphere's child out of wedlock
it was a strange nativity
given to a very wide berth
a breech on a backward day
Ma had said
that rift that had measured
the distant stars
only inches between them
could have easily been miles
Poor Cynthia
the object of no man's desire
due to spinsterhood by proxy
the sisters would see to it!
no man would ever marry you they'd say
she should stand on her own
she could stand on her own
A suffering suffragette
Cindy eventually would stand on her own
only to falter waiting for father's return
but they'd always win
amassing the wealth the sisters' chagrin
though thick mostly thin the years
they always did manage to exist
always without a man
Cindy sensed they could
telepathically transmit thought
invisible telegraph wires
to each other they had meshed
crossed wires
while Cindy was to be crossed out
a huge X they had written
lonely hens in a lonely world
had reinvented the macabre
and Cindy their hapless victim
remember phones hadn't been invented yet
nor party lines that could keep in check
nor farmers' fields with electric lines
early inventions yet to be
no telephone poles that hung
at odd angles to the earth
and Papa's old watch
kept ticky-tock
in Euphoria's cedar-lined drawer
the watch she knew she should have gotten
as Papa had promised
but they snatched it away
from her light clutches
on the last day of the funeral
before the casket closed
she recalled Papa's last words
keep in touch
but he didn't
she didn't hear him anymore
The Ancient Ancestors
Intermediary Intercessors
Angels of the Woodlot
behind the farmhouse
acting on behalf of Winifred Cynthia
these robed seraphim
on behalf of the meek
that being Cindy
found no ill will
not even an X
for Cindy's defence
no male heir to replicate
why cry said Cindy's Angels
surely the sinister sisters will
Maybe someone would hear their lament
and be resolved to absolve their sins
Cindy lost in the other worlds
Implored one of her relatively and recently dead
Grandpa, where'd ya go?
No one is here
through the acres of back forty
she'd walk lead-footed at dusk
recounting every step in her life
as if her last days stretched on before her
her search for these genetically departed
a routine and sullen ritual
whilst they at home would plan and scheme
their secret plot for her
awaiting her first fall from grace
an opening in the ground covered
by lightly by new-fallen snow
by the old tractor that did sit by the dirt road
she'd always take the same route
on the evening walk-about
this night the sight of something she'd stumble over
curious fragments of easily discarded old bones
buried with all those broken things
fancy porcelain teacups
one perfect teapot
and saucers thrown about
all still perfectly good
thought Cindy
but seen as tawdry items by
the sisters
their cardinal sin
being one of omission
they'd had forgotten
no matter their building up
the biddies bid for batchelor's
always came up somewhat shorthanded
not even the farmhands would touch them now
not enough life left for the living
and they were putrified, dead rotten souls
living partially two feet in the grave
the vultures circled the farm each dayd
during the spring run-off
while lots and lots of discarded items
along with time
left precariously awaiting burial
permanence had vacantly stared them down
in fact the empty field across the yard
held the massive refuse lots
Cynthia's fate sealed within cryptic layers
of stinking, rotting decay
not so much the kind of fertilizer she wanted
How she had been the once treasured baby daughter
now only known as Sister Number Three
easily she dismissed
the course her life had taken
guided by the guiless wiles of the Sisters' Two
this young woman once so full of promise
she felt her life as a train wreck
a place where they discarded their trash
had she had more value to them
The Sisters let her carry their two bitter crosses
up to the scape goat in the barnyard
but he won't bother with her either
a scrap cleaner and scullery maid for soiled souls
she didn't feel their real wrath come upon her yet
Cindy would not stick around to hear
when it was time to do the dishes
those objects that would often fly inches from her
tools of divination
always narrowly missed
like her paramours; the certain advances
rather she'd pretend to ignore them
forget for awile her day-to-day pain
indwelling for the living worse than hell
open up to the world not theirs
and freely dance in the rain
through her mother's fancy irish lace curtains
she could see the candlelite
the parlour's warm glow
slowly she bent down to peer
through the transparency
as darkness encroached
the candles flickering light
through the remaining vision
the brittle corn husks rustled
she could imagine herself there
she could see Cindy as the dreamer
the girl she should have been
with all the benefits
properly bestowed
with him so enchanting
her secret lover awaiting
every subtle motion
and they would dance a jig
this night to end all nights
the tight-lipped photographer
would suddenly smile
then ask Cindy for her hand
and there they stood for suspended
a moment out of time
and just as suddenly
the wind blew
the great candle snuffer
his smile disappeared from sight
Cindy could no longer see him again
as it was only a vivid dream!
and all dreams certainly fade
if the only the sisters knew!
she had him eating out the palm of her hand
they'd be so much more than jealous
as she held the photograph tight
which made the sepia ink
turn a deeper amber shade
the remainder of the memories she left behind
as acid burn by way of the sun then left to set
in the cool shade of the banks by the river willows
for far too long this bitterness enveloped her
as it lingered so did the forming of her intent
like her sister's afterall!
as all sin wound past the river's last bend
embroidering curly-kews on the bordering lands
the course and purpose of her life faded
like the flooded banks of the Bateaux
alway she thought of then
remembering their tragic end
the photographer running to hide
the emulsion paper and
his stark bluejay nakedness
as he unwittingly bared his buck behind him
and after he had promised her not to tear anything
he and she dancing wildly in their mad and hurried frenzy
before the sisters woke up
with the commotion he had tore his pants
too much ripping it up, I guess
on the dance floor
dancing the devil's dirge in the moonlight
as all had watched in horror
those who were her soul had
morally inclined to do just that so
the thing they liked most
was to watch
to watch
as the toppling of the stepped dominoe
they'd set up for her in the dark
and one by one when they fell she'd come undone
fufilling every prophesy of her sured disaster
set upon her like hungry wolves
the poor child's feet had snared her
as the sisters liked to watch
sadistically belittling her every move
while in unison condemn her action
and with swift action
an unreliable form of justice
as they'd always admonish all who sinned
and held it in
never to confess to Father
who who never listen
now just as the wind blew
suddenly the sister's swift dismount
from their pampered perch on their Friesan stead
atop their conquered hill and rampart battlement
to tell her
how plain her face
how unattainable her suitors
how unmerciful her Maker
their chatter could make the Mad Hatter
writhe in much psychic agony
as she suddenly connected
her unfocused mind dots
suddenly to realize
she was an unwanted step-child
brought to roost on these steps
by a wayward aunt
born this rotten day
poor Cinder Ash!
they'd say
she must certainly have suffered
more than slings and arrows
from their attempted premature embalming
this butter box baby unburied the lot
and the wicked hemlock tea didnt take
almost did her in, though they snickered
as these Arsenic and Old Lace ladies
so happily and convincingly
but secretly greedy and coniving
knit loose nooses
darned, needled eyes dolls
canned and muffled their laughter
they should be the only daughters!
hung crocheted lilies sullenly
affixed on the pine box
they'd would stuff her
in way too early,time to act non-chalant
the neighbours might notice
those who knew suspected
nothing out of the ordinary
as life was very ordinary on the hill
almost droll
on the surface
underneath the trollipes
behooved, bejewelled the devil with their spell
the unloved!
only the mourning doves cooed
the Victorian doilies tatted together
chatted up a storm; all just fluff
lost in the myriad of over-stuffed
those long lost pioneer years
bygone days gone bye-bye now
but then it did
drew them in like flies to honey
the moths crispy in the flame
the story of The Three Sisters
etched their graven image
can you imagine?
found this wind-scattered paper
with the evidence so glaring
heaven forbid
they'd ever find out
or get told by the parson to repent
twhen they scolded then
put fear in them til they soiled their diapers
scalded like hot potatoes at the Sunday dinner
they'd be burned at the stake most certainly
or should these horrible; the two bewitched sisters
definitely now they'd know what to wear
now they would be the worse for wear;
Not Cindy The Misbegotten, Unbetrothed, Belittled!
However all who knew these two
never thought it odd
That Star-crossed and abandoned lovers
could stoop lower than the front stoop
to knock off their heads in the process
to think that they'd never ever
die old maids without finding pleasure
would never grow old or find a consciencous mind
a body or soul, a spirit to fly
no indices that fair play would ever convict them
or ever resurrect or incarnate them
toppled like dead wood; all the rotten rotted
we're gone they cry
in two-part harmony
too far gone
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
let us alone!
to rot
like stinking old cabbages
in the back wood lot
our only friends
were bitterness
those who never let us
find our happiness
those who never really knew us
let our blood curl
if only we could have
been their wives
never to grown old together again
paired up with a sister
instead of a husband?
As father had abandoned hope for us
The Spinster Sister
What could we do?
But spin a tall tale or two?
Lie, cheat and steal
what's the matter
our only way out
of this embittered life?
Judges we implore
do not
let us again to grow old
or be together for infinity
or be born in this skin
affixed to the same star
and stay that way til kingdom come
would only makes us chance fate again
only wish to be left
hopeless and alone
at the altar
all over again


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; —
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" —
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered— not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never — nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this home by horror haunted— tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting —
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!— quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!

—Edgar Allan Poe

bouquet from the "mysterious toasted flower layer"

Happy 201st Birthday A LIFE FORCE BOUQUET FOR Edgar Allan Poe "Quote the Raven, Nevermore!"

Today is a great day to reminisce about 201 years ago. Edgar Alan Poe, the dark knight of the macabre entered the stage of life. Odd too that we'd be celebrating his birth rather than his death and rebirth into...what?

Do we know? Does any of really know what happens to us after death, besides the macabre part? The fact that we do eventually become dust physically should set fear into all our body parts gone bad, rotting, corpulent flesh!

But not to worry! We have ways of getting out of that "old chestnut"!

We can think of ways in which our souls can transcend this earthly plain to exist in much less and least conspicuous and auspicious places where rotting seems to be the norm.

Not to say there are some rare beings who escape the rotting principle saved for most of us.

I am sure you can name them on one hand; there was a little girl in Italy who still does not rot, some saints, Jesus avoided rotting, as well as...well a host of person who have been particularly well em bombed.

But this essay is not about the macabre but about defeating the old dust to dust routine!

There will be a day, a fine day, a rapturously wonderful day when we don't have to even think about death, dying and/or rotting for that matter!

Look at it this way; literally! The above drawing by myself (rank amateur I admit) but the point is, with this simple colored drawing is to present some interesting ideas I have about death, dying and rotting.

First, notice the epicentre of the drawing. The centre of the circle where all our lives merge. The primordial stardust soup! We start of, as seeded ovum, wherein a chemical mitotic mixing of biological substance,mainly proteins I believe suddenly jump start life!

How amazing is this chemical life process!

But it goes further than that spark of life!

When we start off life, when we begin life on this planet, when the spark first sparks within us to become us in our full-fledged array of living human beings we are like a bouquet of energized flowers.

How long will any one of these strands or arrays of energy last? 100 years, 50 years, 10 years, 2 minutes, one hour?

Does any of us know the length of days we will share on this planet?

At any given time we will be called away, suddenly. Just as suddenly as our apparent burst into the realm of being from apparent static non-being.

But life is alive! It is meant to be lived in the minute by minute now of being!

How do we do this to the best of our ability?

We need to understand the life-force energy since life is all about energy. Mainly. Maybe?

Since we all start out as the planted seed that slowly grows and becomes a mature seeded being in this universe to hopefully (according to the will of the Universe) to become something more than just a singularity.

The urge to recreate is such a huge thing and takes up such a huge part of our lives.
How many times do men, for example, think about "doing it"? Whatever that is? And these are forces that are natural, usually, and we have to think; are we just made to procreate? To create more energy in this unknown universe as the universe unravels? Maybe?

Our life energy, like the Bouquet illustration clearly points out is all about energy.

We start out as seeded energy, the universe compressed and latent energy. Then this energy converges and emerges, like a butterfly into life.

As we live our lives the best we can not really knowing what we are or what we are doing here. We want to know more about what we have been, what we are, what we are to become before the "big picture" is really understood to any degree.

Yet we still don't "get it". The aspect of life force energy or universal energy springing from plasma love, the centre placement and starting energy of our lives.

Right now we are existing on the end point of our existence. We face death. Before we were born we faced life! What a conundrum!

How do these two extremes; life and death interface or interact and what are we suppose to do now? What for death? That does seem morbid!

Yes it is morbid to wait for the death of our life-force energy when in face our life force energy is Universal life force energy and that never dies. Remember your physic class? Matter never dies it just CHANGES FORM.

So what is our purpose here as life force universal energy? What is the intent of the universe for us, as energy?

We do have a purpose in helping the universe seed it's energy via the life force loving plasma energy into unknown realms of the universe.

Remember we are only thinking 3 dimensionally right now. It is very difficult for us, as 3 dimension beings to perceive other dimensions because we are existing in the physical 3 d realm only.

But since our energy never dies just changes form perhaps we have many more dimensions than this 3 d. Maybe we have multiple dimensions of life force seeded energy, latent or not, active or not in these realms where we can and do exist at the same time.

The bouquet life force flower illustration clearly shows how some flowers (beings) are on the linear life line and their flower blooms (dies or transforms into other life energy). We die in this realm, this physical realm, but that does not say that our life force energy is not being transformed at this very moment of now. Which is now 2 seconds ago?

As we appear to extinguish or life energy upon or death day which is really our birthday of spirit, as we gain more stripes, more dimensions along the way.

So if we are born as life force energy we are doing this for the Universe!

The vacuum of space which, in my opinion is condensed matter from the black holes that exist side by side with our universe of matter. So the non-matter our gamma reversed world is really our world but in reverse. A mirror image so to speak.

So in order that our energy is being spent on the best possible outcome, to make our energy transform into the best energy to supply the needs of the universe within and without us, we use our intent. Yes, we human life force have a lot more to say about what and where our energy goes, or ends up.

We have a choice to change our energy by way of superlation (word, sp?) or transgenic (word, sp?) anyway, these technical terms are important I will find them later, I am being called away, yet do the mundane chores of the physical realm to keep this going when actually I am prepping myself for...that time of energy change, hoping to be at that point of love at that point of now at that point of being whole, completely made whole with love so that I don't have to go through the bended tunnel machine and end up on the other side of the gamma reversed world, again!

So love only love will see us through this universe of the physical realm. Where we are hopefully headed is the world where we truly belong.

In our centre core where we are located we are joint heirs with destiny; with love as we have all began at that point of begatting. Our long unending journey brings love out of the core of our centre starting point; this life energy. Our little light will never go extinct! No! It IMPRINTS on DESTINY!!!

We are impacted by this physical reality but it is just transitory it intersects our physical essence, and super cedes our reality of the physical with our spiritual love knot found in our divine loving essence. We are love-knotted up together and we need to know this; be the love you are, the most love you can be to get to the next level of life force energies charging system to bring you out of this lasso of hopeless rebirth! We want to unite in love, don't we. Well I know I come along with me if you are so wanting something more than dust as a dessert menu!

In the core there are three centres, the core from whence we sprung. Hey I've been sprung! And we know this because we live in the 3 dimensional or "reality plane of the physical manifestation array". We are formed in this way because the universe has had three dimensional shifts with each big bang. In this place anyway, where we were born our 3 d physicalness is due to the fact the universe has had (for us at this time) 3 big bangs and the end result is our 3 dimensional physical body.

Next time we may have another big bang that will bring out another dimension so then we may be 4th dimensional physical or non-physical not sure about this yet.

And no matter how long, how short one's life, or what colour their rainbow flower, if we are smart we will know at the time of death to be that love which is the transforming elixir of our energy source. Love is what makes more love happens and this is our purpose on this earth; to be the love we are. It is that simple and profound.

So happy birthday Edgar Allan Poe! You realized the true value of the life force energy, that being Love. Happy Birthday and many more to you on your mystic jumping journey through the Universe!

Cheers! and Cheers to Poe's toaster, whoever that may be; The Raven, perhaps?!


Saturday, January 15, 2011


nitty gritty itchy
all day moldy oldy
cat-scratchy flesh
tired achy needy
feely the drawing pool
supplant the planted
warm and fuzzy
nectarine buzz
peach patch smoothy
finding my comfort zone
a bath at home
endless bubbling brew
align with my time
this bath o' mine
circadian rhythms bugs
overhead wires drone
i loose myself
in your love
I am lost

I am Impetus
All day long
recorded history she did
kept on her toes
this old kitchen witch
greenwich time piece
soon the old pains returned
to roost as ancient
aching feet holding her own
she did
fight back tears
in high heels
a reprieve
though the mocking bird taunts
he taut skin peeled back
pulling out her platinum locks
backbreaking work all day
deep breathing glory days
she'd seen better
remained remanants for her
poured liquid on the inlaid ruts
those universal truths
replaying each day
now Impetus
time to relive the life you knew
slowly relieving to return to sanity
at least less crotchity

I am Impetus
release cardinal sin
secure silent space
found spartan land
sacred and scarred
holding its past
midnight hour sunrise
release memory mantras
original earthwork incantations
A, E, I, O, and U
vibrational healing old wounds
move over self-defeating mantras
scroll over dead seas muddy masks
lots of lotus positions
and lotions and potions
to make a motion picture

I am Impetus
bring back youth
denature the unnatural forces
ravaged by ancient fires
kept the vigil for Virgins
withstood the test of time
that warped underfoot and bent
this fragile formed earth
needs another restoration
Quicky Shiatsu on the bus
hum a tune Saki
improve our condition
she with almond third eye
kundulini returns home
up the spinal canal

I am Impetus
Incredibly our Roman bath
recreate our soul a space
that pierced our walking woundedness
and sourced out our material world
to infinity or the next
premordial spark not to sputter
but ignite a torrent of molten lust
light up our bucking spiritedness
for this partial hour ours
whole and part motivational tapes
training our brain to just BE
A Be~ing called Impetus

I am Impetus
split infinity could you?
would you
bend the curves?
should you
play with the 5th dimension?
or mess with the mitochondrial dna?
delineate the magic from the supernatural?
eternity must be something else
born again to become this old again
regenerate this old degenerated
generator machina?

I am Impetus
as a virgin cult
re-energized, anesthetized
grinding against grit
hoping to be painfree
frozen and flipping out
multiple paralysis
stunned by being burned
braindead by waterlogged bog
forgotten not made
split in perpetual
perpetuity ad infinitum

I am Impetus
life live long but be proper
without adding odd scythes and sythesizers
incensed Patchouli Oil flashback Hooka shops
permeates etherworlds freeze dried as is
with Musk men on a rope
I like it too
all too soon
as the second hand stops
perfumed avatar swing my way
up the back stairs to the stars
up to the rooftop merging our senses
let 'er rip
soul awaits revamping as
the grass grew

smooth silky silken flow
razor clean shaven brazilian
floating epsoms and lemon
body shop elixir fixes
like polker
candles flicker
wicked wick
bright as a night light
no need to remind me
I am Impetus


"Chiccorealo" Hey have a good one there Paedar!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Magpie#48 ~~"'Elements of Notation' by the Maestro"

stanzas stood still awaiting the cue
the entrance of the chanteuse
silent the audience waiting and wanting; the more to scream
as Gossamer wings flapped; angels certainly announced her

Bedecked in the finest costume she entered our hallowed hall
as motes floated and flashing from argon footlights those balconies
lit the night's magic stardust; in an atmosphere fantastic
as the static field cracked and popped with expectant excitment

"tonight was the night of miracles for all at The Opera Hall"

as the silvery voice emerged
the flesh-born coccoon exactly on key
the Maestro tapped twice to annonce and pay attention
his baton on the stand only taps twice!
The diva stood front and centre; the performance of a lifetime
she swallowed nervously as the swallow above her flew like a bat

"sing as if it t'were the last song ever to be sung" she remembered his request

soon she'd be holding onto every sweet note
long past the midnight hour as the moon romantically set
as she with the golden pipes could melt ears
she became quite grotesque
as her face enlarged; began to swell and did begin to burst forth

"Such a sweet sound as ne'er been heard before"

No one seemed to notice her valent efforts as
corpulent material and spit from heaving and heavy chest
pounded against a broken heart; such emotion has never
poured forth to hear it's match on this liquid honey plane

an elixir to our senses that moment of expectation
as lungs filled to over-capacity and then released
sweet nectar enveloping us with a warm fluidity
keeping us safe; held us close to her warm bosom of love

from the core of diva's fire
the diaphram's shook; let loose it's diaphanous membranes
bellowed like a wolf in a volcano
releasing gases and juices and loosening us from our chains

all who knew her sound knew what to wear and when
don't come clad in solid elemental earthen ware
those bedecked in diamond necklaces and golden baubles beware
like weighty shackles became the death knell to the drowning fools
as she took us up with her; higher up to the heavenly realms where oxygen is more than rare
as we; to freely float on angel's wings; she left us there

as this is how she did create her art
on the astral plane she staged her act a play in two parts
Dante's Inferno or Heaven Can't Wait
she was nothing more than a genius; her voice could do that!

as none could look away
so engrossed were we fledging beings to become
all knew this diva's expiration date
would soon, like ours, seal our fate

"it's not over 'til the fat lady sings"

as all those murky memories once sunk like a bulwark
now rising like a phoenix triumphant
she of the swan song of so long ago
spring renewal with every breath

"Sing little birdy sing" the Maestro extolled her

as she lept up in the air she kept us a more than captive audience
she sung her song as we held onto her every variation
her melodious range beyond any range we've ever heard or been!
verses swirled and twirled musica's most noted filagree

"Home Hone on the range, where the deer and the buffalo sing"

who knew the gifts she so soon would bring

as she bent to pick up the roses to send her up after the show
the applause lauded her again night after night
diva sung an Aria divine
spreading her sounds on the set upon her wispy feet

"A star is born"

after the final curtain came and went
and long after the rest went on their merry way
her own world revealed something
as up above revolved around diamond skies
suiting her up would be an uncommon marriage of opposites

as those who loved and lived life
with gusto hung onto every musical line and space
that hung and clung onto mother they stayed
hoping to hold onto her every note forever like an apron string

The Opera House's reflection tonight
flicked in the rain and rippled and waivered
in the long extinguished footlights
the city coffers went Baroque
trying to revisit this phantom night

"The Maestro had left a paper near the orchestra pit"

apparently to all who did hear
could see that this night
the notes had lifted from the pages
like life as a musical notation

the paper yellow'd and much mellow'd
thought to resemble someday the old maestro's
corned beef on rye, anyone?
like the classic guitar he had pulled them like a ham string

"all stops were pulled tonight; houselights dim"

light as a feather we
the sound floated us
up past the rafters
past the balcony seats

we fly past half-notes
all those staccato'd time signatures
treble and bass clefs record the minuet
Maestro had certainly once considered

bound to sound like an endless bounty
heard stallions' hooves race over brooks
glisten to our listening ear

"hold on tight Maestro called to all

while away, and all the while
we thought how could he, so coyly provide
this improvisional masterpiece
the notes practically lept from the page!

save the saving grace of our rapture
a place beset before the King
as those who were so enraptured had sets the tone
finely tuned to the key of g

and the metronome finally melts down
perfecting the paradigm of the impossibile
our trembling hearts skip a beat
lulled by soothing sleep

to awaken suddenly
the clash of the titan tymphaneum
we are all awaiting the next oeuvre
the next opus of life's
unending crescendo!

"The Maestro has left the building!"


Use the Focus of Intent to Create Love in the Universe

Yes, we have an impact on the universe by making our minds believe in something positive. That something is Love!

It seems that the Universe is a large sponge, wanting our input. The Universe n fact, wants us to ask for something from it, Love is a great thing to order from the Universal diner!

If we light a candle and if we believe that cnadle is our heart and our heart is full of love that will never be snuffed or blown out because the focus of the flame is in our brain!

The brain is part of the mind, which is part of the soul, which is filled with the spirit, which NEVER ENDS! See how this works!? Yes, good!

The flame of love, our little light in the world only increases with Love.

By following Ezequiel's methods of prayerful intent, we realize that our light, is the flame we see and it is NEVER going to go out , never! If we ask ihe Universe of intent in this way;

Please Universe of Love become the Love of my Soul! Become the love I need in my life! Become for me my endless love. In the beginning and to the end of the Universe, and in the middle, wherever I am you are here with me, always! A very encouraging feeling! Knowing this!

Love that has always been and always will be and can be so much more with my request this evening or early morning or late at night when the flame exists in the darkest hour of my soul crying out for more and more love to fill the entire Universe, to make all with a human heart rich with love forever and ever..amen.

And still this love flame flickers alive, still, alive to live on and on in endless plasmic perpetuity of love!

Love that takes on a 5 dimension shape and live there. As if our minds and intent lives on onn another level, a 5 D level!

So I tried this this early am. again Ezequiel's method of the Prayer Bowl, Intent Bowl, or Universal Telephone of Intent Methodology.

I think the bowl acts as a reciever and transmitter of our thoughts and prayers and dreams and intent and what have you.

We can "put it out there"! Our praers DO and can and WILL MANIFEST!!!We can make it happen!

That is so cool that Love Wins! And to know that by intent and focus, I'm able to effect positively the universe, to make more love happen for EVERYONE. That love can change anything to the positive world that is our birthright!, what we are suppose to be in mind, body and soul, once filled with the spirit of Love!

All this love I send out into the universe with this intent doesto come back to us as it should and when and if the 5 dimensional universe comes down to roost. It has upon my heart this burning love I have for my life and the love within it!

And then the soul does permeate all this Love into all the nooks and crannies, all those places where love was suppose to be but could not be becasue we did not know how to do the intent method of prayer, of action made Love! We willed this, we mastered love, we became love! and now we send out more to you! To heal our world, to make all those in need filled up beyond our imagination!

And this thoughtful intent is enough to make it happen; through and by our intent, our prayers our active words said ALOUD all our hope and wishes! Praise the Creator of Love!

And so love is happening right now!

Did you see that red light that had another dimension and just hung in the air like a force of its own?

Yes, that was love's intent for you and me and it will come to you if you want it.

Ask for love and it will be yours.

Your Universe wants to talk to you!

It's for you!

It's Love central, the heart chakra opening up for the lvoe flow to levitate your life and make it wonderful!

Go for the gusto, go for Love Light your Love Lights We are now On the Love Plane of Being Love!!!

Love begets Love!


Stare at the Candle with Love's Intent and see the results once the Universe acknowledges your supreme efforts to be the thing you know you should be all along; Love Is Magical! Love is Wonderful...Never can get too much Love! The Red Rectangle! It worked!



Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Chiccoreal on "Form vs Formlessness" The W5's + H

Did you ever wonder how life all starts out as a tiny seed and from this seed, either large or small takes the form of trees, flowers, humans, animals, etc. Did you try to conceive of a formless world where form does not exist?

Yes it is difficult to imagine a world without form, since we ARE form, but we have an invisibleness too, a formlessness which is, invariably interacting on a nano-to nano second (or less) basis with our being.

At this point one would have to question; what exactly IS our being then? Is it form or formless or both?

Is it truly possible to have form and formlessness AT THE SAME TIME? At that particular moment where all life exists on the very pinnacle pin-head of NOW?

Yes! Indubiously, invariably and undoubtedly!

THIS IS HOW THE TWO worlds CONVERGENT AND DIVERGENT to make all this "WORK" in some sort of semblance of ordered thought and formed existence.


It is THE SOUND OR non-SOUNDS WE DO NOT "Hear yeah hERE yah a Hare" HEAR IT is it is HERE.. IT IS..I am here; I hear and sense this NOW of BEING which is all we have..all else is an illusion from the formlessness of adaptablility or individual vs group CONSTRUCTION of the CONSTRUCT(OR MAY BE)..mAYBE?

AND WITH OUR EARTHLY ears and eyes and other senses of the phyical formed variety our natural EARS. oUR EARTHEN EARS and Sembled Senses!(dID YOU NOTICE THE SUBTLE hOMILIES; the homonyms? All this seeming sameness repeats ad infinitum in the dna patterned production life line which is yet wholly unknown by man at this time...yet it is all is on tract, tracked and stored and told repeatedly ad infinitum what it is; exactly!Mechanical Reality stored in our dna is our thought to reality ratio of being. And it is all a very fine balance. Is the dna the tree of knowledge? Conjecture would say "yes"!

As this is our world and it is massive, as the dna wraps around the earth to moon; how many times? This junk dna is important; don't get me wrong, and junk dna should not be thrown out with the baby's bathwater, no not at all!) We need to hold onto these forms for semblance sake, for our intrinsic sanity, for our hold onto this formed 3D world we know so well, too well, maybe to let us advance into other possible and non-tangible worlds of thought. Therein lies the eternal problemo!

We need to hold onto our 3D reality because our brains are only programmed for 3-D dimensions, and find the formless worlds "unfathomable to navigate" to any successful degree at theis time. However, some are able to do this, and therein lies the genius! The magician, socerer, what have you...the "other worldly dwellers". Those odd cats that like something different than the norm of nomenclature.

THE seemingly simple yet oh so sublime and sUBTLE FORMING OF SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING WORDS? sO close are this lapping gestalts as to create a TIME GLITCH. This which is the proof that there is a something tangible in the formlessness system. Noted is the fan-like array of space vs form in the Universe for example. This dispensed thought-forms of the uniformed universal realms. And we thought we needed special discompensation or compensation to disperse the multi-layered layers and overlay at JFK to establish any form of prethought to formed formlessness nothingness which is something, really, REALLY!

Hope this makes sense!

iT WAS IN THE SPRING OF OUR BREAK WITH REALITY THAT THIS NEW AND IMPROVED SPIRITUALITY, SPIRITUALNESS TOOK HOLD ON THE ROCK. The Rock of my Salvation is the Root of my 3d placement in the universe as it is my Space and Time coordinate and I suppose it is relatively important to my stablilation of the sea of infinity in the here and now, isn't it? Yes it is!

So wholly and holey is space and the balance? I am holding onto that punch-card of dna left in my mother cell soul! I am not going to be going lights out without a linearness that was spreading thin at the telemerase. Yes, age does do this to one!

THE SEEMINGLY shocking and invisible line BECOMES VISIBLE all the time!~with our spirit eyes...that almond shaped do-dad that is known as the pineal 3rd eye open into how many more eyes do we need, or dimension for that matter? All that matters!


tHINK OF IT FOR A MINUTE; Non-space. hUH? aRE we discussing compressed space "dark mater which is actually more formed non-formed higher dimensionalmass than our formed 3D mass which we understnad here in this form, by our 3D limitations? Maybe?


Our brains, our rather, our thoughts are magnetized in a certain way, to accept certain ways of thinking that are often polarized and these are communal or collective thoughts or paradigms or gestalts. For example; we all see a ball and we

All in all, we all know this, all of us know what that ball is, certainly! And what the ball does, how it bounces, how large it is, etc,. In other words all of us are aware via somesort of dna program which could be via polarized collective thought to imagine that ball, made from the formless area of space as being what we think it is; "a ball".

So consciousness can be thought of in this way; as a perceived ball. We can imagine that ball right now in our minds. What colour is that ball? What shapes and patterns are on the ball? This is wher the imagination can vary our form-from-the formless thought and collective consciousness and the beginning concept of cosmic consciousness.

If we are imagining this ball in this way, our thought ball becomes or comes from ether. Thought; formlessness.

When we form the ball in our minds we make it vivid. Why? So we can make the ball of formlessness more "real" to us. More of a 3rd dimendsion shiping mechanism from the dynamics of formless thought which is ephemeral; non-existent in the physical realm.

Our physical realm tries to describe in this way our construct or our way of seeing the world and universe. Our minds which are living in the world betweeen form and formlessness tries to accomodate hard from soft, pattern from non-pattern, colour from black and white, which then fades into gray and then gets formlesss again.

How does the formlessness of thought activate the form production? How do our mind-factories produce this formed reality?

Pre-thought, Pre-consciousness word-sound forms. "And the 'word was with God'. The sound which does not have form forms in the formlessness of a sound which only can come together when..?

We, in this form-filled world of phyical "hard-tact" reality can create something out of nothing. We already do this when we are dreaming, thinking, imagining.

We think we can we usually can. Our formless world within is fully engaged to create endless possiblities. We are never limited mby our formlessness. We are the clay that makes the clay balls happen.

Man is Be-ing and Non-Being at the SAME time. C'est la meme choice!


Friday, January 7, 2011

Magpie#47~~~Mother Cell Soul Haiku Test

Tense rubber band hands
hold us near your heart
Mother love is endlessness

Bending stretching light
holding tightly for dear life
This Soul Lesson One