Conception

August 27, 2013

( Story: star-dust+ Egg+Sperm= the Human Experience: ENJoy)

It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather, they were occupied, with focused intoxication in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.

As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.

It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time. ¬†Upon greeting, ¬†painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.

Buried inside the layers of wall was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.

Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light.  Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.

Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.

Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious star-dust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.

Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where mine eyes could not reach.

  Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.

As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.

As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.

It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.

So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be  cloaked.

The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.

Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and  consumed.

We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.

Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed

storming clouds and riveted sunsets.

We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.

Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tiny fissure.

This being¬†was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.

It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.

And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.

At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.

This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed  by star-dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.

Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing ¬†in reply to the challenges it was soon to face,¬†“En garde.”

CONCEPTION

It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather they were occupied, with focused intoxication, in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.
As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.
It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time.  Upon greeting,  painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.
And inside the walls was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.
Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light.  Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.
Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.
Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious stardust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.
Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where my eyes could not reach.
Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.
As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.
As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.
It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.
So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be found.
The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.
Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and  consumed.
We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.
Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed
storming clouds and riveted sunsets.
We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.
Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tini fissure.
This being was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.
It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.
And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.
At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.
This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed  by star dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.
Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing¬† in reply to the challenges it was soon to face, ‚ÄĚEn garde.‚ÄĚ

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The Rarefied & Colorful

August 4, 2013

 

Albeit barely born, by the time he hit one, he had already seen and created the world.

And while letters had not made sail into his unfurnished mind or wrangled between the columns inside his vacant mouth, his heart spilt of stories in far away lands, undiscovered pastures, roaring seas and of a friend in whom no journey was improbable.

It was upon the back of a pictoric baby elephant, the young boy would fall asleep.

Bobbing inside of sequestered thoughts, his head lay warmed by the sloppy and playful movements of the babes frank and floppy ear.
The sun pressed heavy against his lids, securing a passageway for careless dreams.
Smirking in the golden light, with eyes shut, the boy saw the earth extended and rising; the very form of natures ample bosom evaporating into the mirth that exists inside of a formless habitat.

Illusive was the rushing wind sliding betwixt the window seals of journeying butterflies dipped in ink.
Surrounded they were by birds thrashing about in a performance with grand sonority aimed at pleasing a slumbering prince.

Connected to his dear friend, his hands became prismatically interwoven, holding the very same print.

Sprinkles of mustard dust swirled with black night, flushed into scarlet curves that drowned inside the reflective skin of emerald leaves.

They were one and the same.

Together they journeyed to the ocean, where, through keen magnification, they observed the condensation of a violet sunset cavorting, in blustered fervor, with thawed foliage and sunken clouds of white.

They wondered past caramel mushroom abodes, deers trapped in necking, phosphorescent trees and hospitable vines.
A world built upon the back of the collected musings of  the an emblazoned mind.

And as he grew, in him the elephant remained; a token of remembrance of all uncharted dreams and to the prodigious mastery that rests inside the thirsting veins of  not merely a Walter-Mitty, but a conjurer of immeasurable possibilities.

Porcelain Cup

July 10, 2013

And held between my knees and this gray old cotton skirt,

A porcelain cup it rests, with swivels of you in melted dirt.

And inside these swivels of you, are looping, daydreams
Sparked by deeds, not done, and never ever to be seen.

*

Steam engulfing reveries swimming in my pretty porcelain rivulet.

And all the while I take long

loud, visceral, sipssss

Close my eyes and let the vapor stroke my eager thirsty lips.

*

Sitting here, tapping my foot to the beat of my pen
Imaging you walk through the door,

over & over again & again.

Foam tracings of what was once suppressed, now expressed.
And I delightful in it’s proclivity towards daydreams tasty & undressed.

*

Oh so flushed and out of sync,

my fancy for you makes me re-run & over-think.
Proliferating feelings of upside down, right side up, see-through, covered,

 so in & sane this love drunkard.

*

But until snow and wind freeze you on my way.
(Warmth being the thing you feel with everything I say.)
I’ll spill my ink on willing leaves and scribble away brain waves.
Stare into heated porcelain and see visions;
Falling leaves falling for me, jellyfish stinging you in your head and  having you wake up in my storm happy bed.

*

Transparent cravings bottled in the angst of firmly, fixed fingers
Pressed against floating like fuzzys, sealed in my coffee rim figures.

Man Ray, Self-Portrait with Camera (1930) and, left, Solarised Portrait of Lee Miller (1929)

“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. “

Be Happy!!!

July 7, 2013


2 THINGS: If it makes you happy, do it. If it doesn’t, then don’t.

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Shut Eyes Kept Breath

July 5, 2013

That’s where she existed best.

In the dark, in the light, high upon the rafters,

Perched above the clamor of civilization.

Where fog embraces light in the form of bulbous clouds.

Where the pangs of sorrow are dulled by the atmospheric civility that only floating can offer.

Where tears find home in rain,

Calmness in the breath of nothing,

and stillness in the charm of fluttered roses.

And just the mere possibility of all this, that desire to break free from skin,

It cruised beneath her heart and pushed against limp veins.

Like leather tightly wound against screaming bones,

She felt the itch of wanting to escape;

To melt past rattling walls and bursting bubbles.

But only with shut eyes and kept breath could she find the courage to leap.

And spinning in the solitary moment of her first step was truth flashing upon somber lids.

It was in the rain,

It was in the wind,

It was in the beat of the sun

and in every crater of the moon.

She was interwoven in the bliss of this deserted place.

Every night bathing in the light of the stars

And every morning dancing with a flock of wings.

In her despair she had surrendered to the dream and found triumph in the crux of her soul.

Pirouetted in the divinity of absolute mirth, alas she was home.

This poem is getting published in the Oxford Poetry Society Magazine, Ash in London.

 

Between the Gap

By:Magnolia

It’s that small whisper in-between the fog.

Wounds hushed by plush snow,

and woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

Of The Night

July 1, 2013

And when it’s sets, with its peering eyes,

like Christmas bulbs blinking through black stitches,

what does it think?

Scarred by reflections of angst yet riveted from   illustrious deeds;

That heavy night.

Dense in darkness and lonely in speech,

it enunciates through it’s vastness;

Postured in silent elegance,

it says “Nothing.”

With sedate frequency it dwells in plummet-less breaths.

Infinity,

in.

And then,

languidly,

out.

Watching for the world to look up, seductive in its gaze,

it’s cloaked in the madness of ticking hearts

conjoined with collapsed lips.

That heavy night

Like the coat of a romanced black stallion it rouses embracing and beckons the moon.

And I like every creature, with one foot vexed inside the tremors of olden slumbers, and the next,

detailed inside the scarlet breath that is now, stand erect, faced pressed agog, against the black, overbearing night,

That heavy night.

Not a mere curtain to the end, but a prelude

to newly imagined beginnings.

A  dwelling place for dreams to drip upon a vacuous canvas.

Oh that heavy night.



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What Is Bliss?

May 28, 2013

Press ME

But to have ones heart saturated with all the best ingredients.

Chocolate powder, swirled into crystal cubed, brown sugar bumps.

Mixed with chilled white milk and

Stirred inside endless clarity;

Only to be baked into a soft edible fever.

Coated with crying, frothed cream,

just happy to be apart of something.

Half-done, half- raw, half-baked, all-together.

Dreaming of filling in the space  of unsealed lips.

If for nothing else, isn’t this why we exist?

 

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Facing Up

April 24, 2013

PRESS ME!

By: Magnolia

Punch-drunk in a persuasive sea

I am caught in a bottle bound for beleaguered shores.
And around me dizzy trees and mountains roar.

Clouds shock themselves into tears

While I stare, facing up, thinking of you my dear

 

Tip-toeing inside the black, you gently waltz across evening shadows
And suddenly whizzz across the sky like an eager arrow


And all the while inside this noisy night
Pondering is swallowed by the twinkling of lights.

Etched between the moon and stars
are the arches of your smile and your lips, the hue of Mars.

And while I want to crash inside your heavens dust,
You cannot hear me above the oceans rust.

And though the sky has not offered its hand

I sit watchful with each breath ready to compress then expand;

Until the dusk peels back its skin

And I am kissed by dawns begin.

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crescentmoon66:Romantic Shadows by *andreasrocha

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Between the Gap

April 17, 2013

By Magnolia

 

It’s that small whisper in-between the fog

Wounds hushed by plush snow

and woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

An abandoned desert first touched by the print of man.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap¬†as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

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Her Speech

April 4, 2013

By: Magnolia

Her lethargic breath was rooted in the cave of a cumbersome heart.

Standing a foot the blank podium, tethered by opportunistic strings,

was the birth of a whisper

ascended into what became, a cataclysmic thought.

Like spiraling stairs with no beginning nor end, she spoke.

“Ejected from the gorge of emotional destitution,

I have realized that I have ascribed form to an existence that is but a shadow,

if not a dream.

And while I’ve remained fixed upon my daily deeds

I have abandoned my internal needs;

Misguiding shapes inside a living tomb.

I call upon the earth to fissure beneath my brain,

To thwart an arrow into the chasm of my heart,

and to pardon this lump of clay’s weary ways.

Soil and ice, no longer will you replace permutable fog.

For truth, a concept whose doors are not open for interpretation,

alas,  has made the journey through pore and rushing blood and found its home

upon electrical wires  breathing life into a paralyzed heart.

I say, empty handed and fragmented from a self-induced illusion,

that, that which is, is not a at all, and that which is to be, is to exists inside of me.

Compelled to create prickled shapes that would garner me the world, while gazing upon a blank wall, all at the expense of my heart beat.

Fair exchange it was not.

For I have spent most of my clock devouring the irrelevant, in hopes of quenching a parched soul,

and merely numbing it in the process.

But now with exhumed vision and  frail valves,

I have but one thing I want to do, and nothing else.

With¬†the elegance of¬†life’s¬†exoskeleton bewildering my eyes,

And with the seed of creation rousing a previously unemployed  heart

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

 

I can’t help but think storms are beautiful.

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‚ÄúPoetry is nearer to vital truth than history.‚ÄĚ

‚ÄĒ

Plato

‚ÄúEvery heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love, every man becomes a poet.‚ÄĚ

‚ÄĒ

Plato

‚ÄúAccording to Plato, we don‚Äôt learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know.‚ÄĚ

‚ÄĒ

Misty –¬†Diary¬†by Chuck Palahniuk

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Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

La Luna

March 22, 2013

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Once upon a moonlit tale, born inside a planted jar,

is where he fell in love with a delicate evening glowing star.

While trapped inside this heavy mass,

he reached his rays beyond the glass.

Though stuck and filled with fright, he knew one thing,

He’d do anything to have her see his light.

So pointed at the night one day,

he poured himself upon the fractured driveway.

Swimming in-between its cracks,

he found his way upon the oceans back.

And while challenged betwixt the midnight waves,

He held on to the glimmer of light inside of her beating gaze.

And when reaching became tiresome and the wind a heavy burden

He reached upon the feathers of a willing black raven.

Into the sky this light was carried,

while pulsating he hid his eyes beneath ruffled feathers, hopeful & teary

From beneath the oceans belly to sleeping above a bed of cotton

His dreams became more puissant, as he neared the place once forgotten.

And as he reached the sky, he let out a big breath and died.

With abrupt euphoria his rays danced inside the darkness

And his message thundered into the void where her heart was.

“Can‚Äôt you see my love,

the world is so small and we big in it.

I just needed to think that beings like you exist.

I hope its okay for me to confess all of this.”

And before his final word was etched,

she reached her arms to him outstretched.

Pressed against the midnight sky, her lips upon his cheek she kissed

And revealed they collided, taking pleasure in each-others eternal bliss.

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Begin Again

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To the Be of Things

March 20, 2013

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You didn’t.

I did.

We aren’t.

*

So now sway and tilt and droop,

I will not.

*

No more,

Lull, mum, quiet,

Little

sounds.

*

I’m going,

to the Be of things.

*

Big,

brazen,

beautifully bazaar.

*

No more

Twinkled eyes, prancing pain and panicked,  pleasing.

But barefoot and bold,

boomingly, blissful

un-bashful- beats!

*

Rhythms made foreign to an over-bending back.

Bent on pleasing,

Bent on appeasing.

Coddling?  I must be stronger

Truant? Any? no longer.

*

I’m going

beyond busted glass with bodaciously blue lips

Blemished with brawn as a  bombshell buxom

*

Comatose till shock did I part

What was once dull is now silver

and stingingly,

 sharp.

*

 And decidedly so,

as a Be,

is so much bigger,

than a frowning spine and passive tongue;

Traced,

by behemoth pain.

Released through hot and sweaty

legs and neck and fingers and veins.

All,

tied,

to the key of believing past a running brain and scattered eyes.

So then I must.

I’m moving,

To the Be of things.

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The actual photo failed, so I give you:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
The inverted inside of a polaroid

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The Sixth Element

March 3, 2013

By: Magnolia

I sat in silence, squeezing at the first fruit I saw in sight.

And as I crushed it,

Bruised, its tears bled between the angst collected in the gut of my palm,

And It absorbed my pain.

I wanted it all to cease

Clocks

Work

Things

And every element known to man, in which I supposed I could survive without.

Starved my body would wilt, but with you, my Sixth Element,

Through you my being is infinite

My divinity and happiness

Defined by the mere possibility of being cradled inside the womb of your arms

For together, we are a monochromatic combustion of harmony.

 *

But I lament,

For I have the feeling, that you are far away;

Your spirit near but your body,

It’s far away.

And as I watch the world roll by,

And fill my mind with ideas, materials and longing,

They all rot away;

Insignificant without you.

*

The sea, earth, sky, fire, wind, and you, my Sixth Element.

The crucial crux to my existence

You are my thoughts final burial place.

For no matter how busy this sphere gets

And I busy in it, will there ever be

A substitution for this feeling

Created and filled,

In what would normally take a thousand lifetimes,

By the life captured inside the streams of your rising chest

 *

Your breath is my sixth element,

The released & genuflecting wave,

The tectonic shift,

The fearlessness at the edge of a cliff.

The exquisite point to which all else rotates.

And your skin, a road-map leading to the tip of your lips;

The place where all longing is quenched,

And where silence is arced into shapes only seen by me.

 *

 You have shifted the melody of the sun and moon

With my nights being consumed with closed eyed images of you

A kaleidoscope of possibilities trapped inside of me.

With my eyes, never asleep for you.

And my days locked in the knowing

That no matter what I do or how much I grab,

You are the only thing, that I must, I have to have.

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By: Magnolia

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Ohhhh! You jingle jangled vexation!

So shaken, and oh,  so stirred;

Like the twisted teeth of a beast, finely smoothened to a round, creamed nub,

Nibbled and disturbed.

Untilted tie and just finely combed stands of brazened, babbling hair;

Collected and composed by slowly moving fingers, hypersensitive and aware.

The heart of a seeker skying across a row of wilted men and tawdry woman.

Vehement with drooling hunger in search of delicious, dapperly virtuous words.

Doomed to levitation till the ground beautifies its attitude, displaying lament.

Forget about maybe, sorta’, possibly, next time, try again, next give me now!

Interweave yourself within the tidings of my ticking soul anyway somehow.

Abate my angst,

Resurrect my serenity,

Give my feet a reason to kiss the ground.

Ubiquitous clay rise to meet me.

Sincerely and Truly,

Your

Lone

Floating

Daisy.

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Midnight Interlude

February 10, 2013

By: Magnolia

To this experience, she was a guest.

Her usual floppy stance became erect and watchful.

Her eyes scintillated and sunken in fright

As a phantom, superior and with bizarre curiosity

Arose, deliberate, detached and delighted while dismembering itself

Inside the lucidity of a half- remembered dream where

All walls collapsed

Atoms took to beat and

Form neglected the boundaries of human conceptualization.

And while reality took to bed possibility

Buildings skipped from side to side, back and forth in comical repetition.

Red became green, blue, pink and plush purple.

Numbers echoed their ¬†“I am’s” until they, like a string of pearls, conjoined into a choir of nothing but decoration in an empty space.

Fatality became a companion only to walking apathy

Bombastic unpredictability became soothing potential

Quick became irrelevant

And like the sloth, all had abandoned the clock

And just like that, slow became comfortable.

This outer body experience left her observing the shell she originally inhabited

As all it’s questions, and pondering and confused, rampant vocalization,

Silenced her ghostly lips, and all that remained, was one thought

“Am I dead, or am I free?” a wonder that lasted but a second,

For suddenly the turbulence of beauty sliced into her experience

And the happiness of a moment coded in the feeling of a kiss;

Encircled, nuzzled and clutched every molecule

Below and between the gaps of every impossibility.

And a voice breathed forth the

Absence of fear and the presence of peace into an anxiety filled form

Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.

And all that mattered, embraced the obsolete.

Closed eyes, and in the silence of her peace, her skin whispered, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

And in the dark, the face of an old man, expressionless, and bound to no sense of gravity

With one look, injected truth into into her barely beating veins,

“My love, thou inhibits all and everything. Boundless, you are the mother, father, daughter and son of creation. And your soft gel like tissues, afloat inside a castle of bones? A mere means of transport in a sea of¬†possibility.”

And while her veins pouted in swollen satisfaction, with her last ounce of strength before her soul cavorted with a sleeping body, she said,

“I understand now, but if I forget later?”

And with no words, he thumped the answer into her heart,

“Then close your eyes and open your child.”

With those last words, she awoke

Drenched in the knowing that there was nothing more to be done,

She surrendered to trying and excavated complexity from the jaws of her trained mind.

And her eyes, drooped in the reckless abandonment of being in love with the infinite,

Tickled inside her enlivened flesh.

For there was no becoming she already was.

I don’t really formally¬†celebrate thanksgiving due to historical inaccuracies. Well, there’s that and the whole¬†Black Friday thing;¬† A time dedicated to the gluttony of consumerism¬†and the emptying¬†of what the¬†true¬†holiday¬†spirit should really be about. But I will say, if the date has become about a bunch of people¬†spending their time to be¬†with the ones they love & commit¬†their thoughts to being thankful, than,¬†that in itself, is something to celebrate. You always get more of what you want and need in life when you are¬†in a constant mode of appreciation, not just one day but every day.¬†So whether you have a lot, a little, or have someone or are alone,¬†find something, anything to be thankful for.¬†Consistency of¬†thought as it regards to recognizing what I have is what I aim for.¬†¬†So¬†here’s a list of 24 things ¬†I’m¬†thankful for, in no particular order.

1. Mis Padres y mi Familia

2. Mis Amigos

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ENMA & JB

3.  YOU- To everyone who comes to my blog, reads and clicks. I really appreciate it.

4. For every day I wake to see the sun come up, I know I have purpose and that my work here is not done. And yes I do this Shirly song and dance EVERY MORNING hahah

5. Hot Coffee or Cocoa & writing I am about to move the world through words.

6. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying so hard towards the¬†balanced manifesting of my dreams that I am grateful for the moments when I know that I’ve done enough.

7. Jellyfish. Why? I don’t know, just because they’re beautiful and they artistically inspire me and they are strange creatures. For instance, Jellyfish have been around since before the dinosaurs existed, the biggest jellyfish ever found had a diameter of 8 feet and its tentacles were as long as half the length of a football field, and¬†the growth of a jelly fish NEVER stops, and¬†they are 95% water, and some types,¬†up to¬†98%.

8. The woods

Even the snowy kind

9. When I meet someone that¬†I feel comfortable¬†enough¬†to reveal all of myself ..and I don’t regret it later ūüôā

10. When I feel I’ve tried everything, there’s no greater feeling than infinite possibilities re-shaping itself in a way that¬†I can see and embrace. A¬†shift towards an enlightened perspective that helps me move forward, I am always grateful for.

11. The color red-¬†Since I was a kid it’s never failed to make me happy! Fall, lips, paint, dresses, you name it, if I was born in the form of color it would most definitely be red.

12. Signs that lift and encourage me, especially when I need it the most.

13.  Being in the middle of a busy day and finding the time to lie down, look up and day dream.

14. Neo-Classical Interior Design

15. Handwritten letters & Typewriters

16.¬† When something I’ve been working¬†for comes my way or when something really lovely happens and I get butterflies in my tummy. Or sometimes it can be¬†just those little wonderful moments where hope presents¬†itself in the form of a film, art, admirable recognition from¬†people you respect or even from a stranger. Or sometimes all it takes is¬†a simple song from jazz¬†crooners¬†like Sam Cooke, Shirley Bassey, Ottis¬†Redding, Louie Armstrong,¬†Julie¬†London, Nina Simone,¬†Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald¬†or Harry Connick Jr. (who I want to sing at my wedding)¬†that make me feel all¬†excited and hopeful¬†about life.

16. Indian Sari’s

17. Rebellious dogs haha

18. The stillness of the night right before I nod off.

19. Lace & Detailed Embroidery

 Amazingggg BerqclE!

20. The Audrey Tautou CoCo Channel Commercial and the Levi Commercials because they inspire me in every way.

21. Oversized sweaters, long or short skirts w/ pockets, long socks, hats and headbands!

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22.Birds nests

23. Imagination & Dreams

24. FIlm Film Film!¬†From¬†as long as I can remember I always knew¬†that film¬†was a huge vehicle¬†in which my¬†energy is meant to travel. I’m to do great things in film.

 

Invisible Maestro

November 1, 2012

It pecked upon the twigs sloshed into a pond of warm blooded mud just between a briars patch.

Through the rose window and beyond the rumpled Victorian curtain, my eyes were fixed;

Upon this bird, adorned in a black feather coat and emerald eyes, was calm tranquility, as it slowly tugged, no, merely kissed the twig, in hopes of resurrecting  it from the dampness of yesterday’s rain.

And nearby a tree guarded this Rusty Blackbird from rays of light and the wind, from slight of sound.

Transfixed I was in the facile movement of nature, symphonically conducted by an invisible maestro.

Finally, after minutes of bearing witness to this dance, I saw the mud birth not one, but a string of twigs bound to each other, like the pearls upon my mother’s neck.

Delighted, or seemingly so, the blackbird dragged, collected and flew away;

And as I stood, weighted in a lachrymose farewell, a preponderance of thoughts pecked at the pool of mud gathered in a frozen place inside my heart.

Only, where was my maestro and does he know my name?

So I sat and took to ink and paper my plight.

And while heavy in eyes, I wrote this, blotted in the vanity of self-pity and below the breast, where forlorn feelings often linger without a tree to shade or wind to silence;

In hopes that I too, will be like the Rusty Blackbird, drenched in pined watchfulness from a distant window, with a pile of twigs at my leisure, in perfect time, as I too, will  collect and fly away, leaving it all behind.

By: Magnolia

Wherever You May Be

October 29, 2012

 

With no hesitation, I love you;

And without ever having seen your face or touched your lips, it is you I need.

A vision from childhood flowing through my veins implanted in the seed of me;

Although absent from my grasp, I will wait for you.

A stranger in passing yet a lover at heart,

From inception I’ve known you, as I know myself, a collaborative work of art.

And be not fearful my darling, for We exist,

Although the world may not try to convince us of this.

For in the sands of time, the Gods have written our story;

Two lovers bound beyond flesh, mounted and drawn into the constellations, awaiting first kisses glory.

And with sweet longing and sometimes sad emotion, I think of you.

Believing that no beautiful thing stands alone, is true;

So until we meet, wherever you may be,

I shall dwell within you, and you, within me.

As I close my eyes and remain faithful to the visions I see,

No matter the bustle, no matter the noise,

Beyond my body, I wait for you with distinct poise.

So here it is, a letter to you my dearest love,

I send this out to the heavens above;

With a kiss I do sign, eyes shut, with your hand in mine;

Together as one, until the stars align.

Gazing at the same star, We shall be but one traveler,

 Merely waiting upon time, to make us one lover.

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 Name: Bubble Nebula
Constellation name: Cassiopeia
Constellation common name: The Queen
Description: NGC 7635, also known as the Bubble Nebula, is an emission nebula in Cassiopeia, located 12,000 light years from the Sun. This is a large and extremely faint nebulae, a serious challenge for visual observers. It requires an extremely dark sky, averted vision, and a narrow-band nebula filter.

By: Magnolia