mindfire December 6, 2011

Let us pull up out of darkness

Gain understanding

of life

dilating eyes

open

Upon caressed logic and bold tactic

Under watchful eyes we rise

balancing along tight wires

the keys falling to earth

Tired and hungry

Waiting for the end or the beginning

Of reverence for human rights

Songbirds loudly claiming they to

shall be heard

Throughout time we can’t listen

Forging on this way

Destroying life lines convulsing

Tirelessly we continue on

Forming lines across barriers

Man made bullet proof shacks

Can’t hold up history books

Pulsing hearts awaiting

Hand to hold up lullabies

Sung from mothers arms into

Fathers hands

Among people

Holding eachother up

On this day

In this hour

This very minute

Take up arms, yes,

Take them up

With eachother

Hold on

We to shall be free

free(dumb) December 4, 2011

free

dumb

freeing from dumb

cultivate mind

free

self

free to be free

to be me

myself

free to read, learn, become more

what is freedom?

to one it could be free from violence

free healthcare

free education

free speech

to another it could be

the unleashing of the past

letting go, moving on

free

could be defining my rights to speak

as woman

as me

to another it could be

free from incarceration

to another leaving

leaving him

alone, with nothing but his belt

free

to

me

means a place where i feel

i am my own person

no one dictating what free should mean

not imprisoning me for standing up

for my rights

as

free citizen

freeing myself from dumb

the dumbing down of culture

pissing on our future

our education

our poor

our homeless

out elders

our natives

free to some

free to me

freedom is democracy after all

i want one

free from numb

toward the sky November 14, 2011

Tonight as I write I sing songs

Of soulful bliss extended into storm

The night where i was born

Again as I just became woman

I lived life like I knew you, and I knew

That all these little prayers were for each star handed to me as I spoke of you

Get this world in your hand

And take cover as they attempt to hold back tears

They know they are on the wrong side of justice

Hold on, hold on to your heart and let if fly

Toward the sky

Feel the depth of the planet in your stomach

And sincerely, eagerly participate

 

Let it all go, let the ‘I know I should’ be replaced

By ‘I can create a new day’.

We have a voice, we have our hand,

We can lift them up to say ‘no more’.

The life I lead can turn hate into pixie dust

Shaken from the palms of children

Onto the ground before you as you stand

With your weapons in hand

Ready to fight progress and truth

 

The restlessness is white noise silenced

life and faces of innocence triggered sadness

Cold nails drilled souls like yesterday

When the door we opened was abruptly

Shut in our face, our palms reached out to sky

Again to seek guidance

justice whispers her breathless allegiance

Intake coming from our soul, we will no longer

Bail out news, government thinned out like

Hair on a presidents brow, like those taken

From homes, foreclosed, we have foreclosed

Upon ourselves, our ability to speak has

ripped out like rugs under faceless dictators

Those that seek to destroy restoration, take notice.

We have come.  We have arrived to ourselves

Like a new day has dawned its fresh face

On our existence.  We say goodnight, we let

The moon rise and the light fall onto itself

We end this day with hope.

A new day will be born tomorrow

In the earths womb, she will carry our sorrow

Toward her core, embrace it and hold it close

To her heart.  We will be carried by song birds

Facing new mornings, yes, new mornings they have come

To greet us with their hands held out.

walls of silence November 13, 2011

Walls of silence break through arm linked barriers

Repression batons crack ribs,

Deafening sound of young voices still echoing in my head

Rubber bullets leaving scars of Martin Luther King size proportions

On Iraqi war veterans, in their country, in this country

Like tiny footprints leaving reminders of those that have gone before us

In the name of defending human rights, don’t give up they say, keep walking

Female Berkeley college student hair pulled in daylight

By man in uniform and face mask wielding hate in every blow

To her solar plexus, knocking freedom out of lungs

Standing there screaming in desperation, not backing down

Go ahead, and hit me, I will take it like the woman

Before me who stood there in your shadow and felt the

blow to her face, over and over, limp on freshly mopped floors

I will take it for her and the freedom she never felt

I will take this blow from you, because you are a coward capable of nothing

And I will stand here and look in your face, keep going, I can take it

I will stand here for the children born into a corrupt nation

Where Armies of riot soldiers are sent out to protect greed

Sending Grenades flying into crowds annihilating first amendment rights

Dispersing hope into drops of blood stained tears

In this country, in your country

Just the other day

Tents erecting new societies

Where homeless are fed from love not pity

A Buddhist monk carried limp on the Brooklyn Bridge

In defiance that power should not come in uniform

Ceremonies and meditation replace the 40 hour work week

Spirit leaving its presence wherever we walk, and pray

All religions, no discrimination, this is all of us

There is no permission needed to exercise our rights as citizens

No one needs to give permission to speak

Our silence has been replaced with protest signs

fear no longer relevant

We the people have found our collective voice

And we use it, we use it for you

You there who won’t say anything

You there who won’t gather words or thoughts

You there who won’t look up and read, who won’t admit

Something is very wrong in this United States of America

Just look at yourself, corrupted spirit so afraid of truth

I will light a candle for you

I will let it burn until the fire is felt

until you see the truth in your own eyes

And I will ask you daily to please listen for one moment

To open your mind and see all around you might not be all you

Have thought it was for so long, and that it is ok to speak up.

razors and beach glass November 8, 2011

today i went walking along

to the tunes of bird song and wave crashes

sifting through hand fulls of stones washed lightly toward my feet

my child in one direction building tee pees out of sticks

all calm, swelling blue skies and water shifting below our feet

in collecting treasures we stop in silence

lifting up razor blades, weathered water bottles, plastic

eluding space, ruptured melancholy over beauty

plastic and razor blades next to childhood laughter

and beach glass.  tiny specks of stones and sand squishing

between tiny feet.

he says to me ‘who did that mama?  why’d they do that?!’

visibly angered at how anyone could be callous.

even if the water drifted it to land, or whether

humans left this shadow of carelessness and disregard,

all my son knows is that its not ok and it makes

mama earth sad.

so we will go back there, with garbage bags,

and we will clean it up, cause this is the love

a mother shows her son, and the earth.

letting go August 3, 2011

sinking thoughts in quicksand come quickly
while you bow at feet in grievous prayer
stillness creeping inward in air tight
containers you set neatly in rows
by my heart

leaving behind tracks from seashells
collected during nights she crawled
along the shores of a thousand women
who watched their dignity wash away at sunset

with waves of tears
screams of please don’t go
pleas of why don’t you love me
tears formed from the heel of his shoe

god can exist in flowers that
grow out of healing past abuses
light can find its way back to your heart
if you let go of the hand that holds you back
if you take time to mind your mind
and beckon your own light back
from that day at the shore
that wave that tore you in two
that heart that didn’t mind yours

woman, don’t let him

more than parts. March 28, 2011

There is a gold crown around her head
It holds her up over stones of sorrow,
Singing in languages only she can understand
There is a tongue native only to her own soul
Loving her every curve, honoring her every movement.
She is more than parts.

Justification renders to guilt of loves lost,
Men who tore into her being as if to say,
Bow down before me and enslave your
Particles and cells to my disease. Allow me to
Caress your hope this to shall be love.
Don’t just let me be in you, allow me to become you,
To take your soul and bury it beneath your self esteem.
I will take each organ and swallow it into myself,
Allow it to become my fathers hand across my mothers mouth.
I will take each muscle and twist it around your thoughts,
And each thought will become dictated to what you will now
Begin to feel. To say. To be.
I will take all of you, turn you inside and out,
Make you think I love you, take all the love you ever had for yourself,
And cuff it to my last belt loop. The one I saved just for you.

Her pieces become lost, each one scattered behind them as
They take sips, inhale and become something other than
Themselves. Numbing reality, turning eachother into apologies.
Her taste becomes less, his embrace becoming more, it all becomes
Something other than what it is.
Isn’t this what love it supposed to feel like?
To bend over at the knee, bones becoming old newspapers,
Chakras out of order, white becoming blue, becoming purple.
Knives impale parts she never knew she had, all things disappear.
Night becomes day, mornings become midnight fights,
Drunken sex and love tangled up with foreheads against toilets,
Screaming to please stay, one more time, gutting every last
Morsel of dignity, leaving it on the bathroom floor next to the tile cleaner.

He often asks you, do you feel like you are walking on egg shells?
His seeming charm you know is just another Saturday night at the bar.
Killing time in your wine glass, smoking cigarettes like you mean it,
Living each day out like a funeral procession.
Time has begun to stand still.
Family begins to question her, saving their last prayer for her each night.
Phone calls become less, she begins to fold into her own shadow.
Her dreams of a happy ending start to become suicidal,
Trapped and alone she surrenders.
Wall colors are chosen, the plant he threw gets put neatly in the garbage,
By the side of the house, where he obsessively leaves petals
Of the rose from which she was born.
She has lost herself in his footprint. The one he kindly left upon her throat.
Stealing the very breath of her, the very last ounce of air she has, that is hers,
That keeps her breathing. He took it, that one, forever knocking the wind
Out of her. Leaving her dry heaving on the floor of her own heart.
He places her on his mantle and forgets to dust her off,
Saying, I will get to her when I can see her.

She becomes he, becomes his breath, his wish, his sorry,
His punishment, his illness, his obsession, his happily ever after. His last cigarette.
She loses strength each day to stand up, the limbs beneath her quake,
And she is left a pile of glass, like the one he broke the other day.

Kicking the voices out of her head, dreams begin to come quick and fast,
Angels carry her to places in alcohol induced sleep, she caresses them
And they speak to her, lifting her up out of the ashes.
Every day she sees them, slowly light penetrates the sorrow, and hope
Fills up the emptiness of her dying heart. A voice, whispering softly,
You can do this, you can leave him. You deserve more.
She begins to pull out each shard of glass from each vein in her body, one by one,
She plucks them out and sets them on the nightstand.
By the book she could never seem to finish.
Slowly, she puts back together all the sum of her parts, all the pieces
She regretfully allowed him to touch. The story begins to write itself,
Brushing the dust off her poetry, she finds herself again. Slowly,
Painfully, she touches each particle and heals each bruise. One by one, by one.

A door opens, an angel puts out her hand, she grabs hold,
It’s like her fingers have become brush strokes, a painting emerges,
From her life art is born. From tragedy her mouth begins to
form words again. Her tears no longer suppressed, Like first loves,
they fall hard, and they fall fast.
Right before her eyes she can see her limbs begin to fuse back together,
Her heart is in the palm of her own hand,
Each part of her a galaxy,
She has become more than parts, she has become the whole universe.

the quaking of earth and my heart. March 16, 2011

The quaking of earth and my heart
deep sadness raging particles through my soul
Not that this mind can embrace for one minute
images
Watching children drawn to sea
Like painted pictures of memoirs
Loving them to spite fate
I am not going to pretend I can imagine
The frantic race, pulled out from under
Fragile feet, wind knocked out of fragile lungs.
Slowly, we have digressed to fighting our own earth.
We have caused great imbalance, we must face and mourn
Together, as one people, breath in, breath out, sobbing lungs,
Tears streaming salty air onto our tongues.

Tyranny comes in all forms, you see,
Breath in, breath out, this comes from
Root to sky, tree, like me.
Planted firmly, our feet must tread upward to meet repression face to face.
Shake hands and than embrace
Together, one people walking upward
Men like to take what they do not deserve.
They like to feed their children, but not worry about
our children.
They like to tell lies in order to move upward, in their way,
Up does not mean up in this way. Phallic war against gender barriers.
Holding us for ransom. Our lives, our children our earth.
Our teachers, our workers, our people. Our women.

When Egypt awoke and found dictators reduced to dust,
What was it they felt in that moment?
To as a people come together like fresh water, air and land,
To take that which is yours and give it back to your children.
In that moment How did energy shift in souls?
It is time for us to find out.

I did not enter onto this earth to watch my freedom
Dissipate into the line formed to the right.
I did not ask for a country that would rather
Take private jets to buy million dollar homes,
While our poor rot in streets built with the blood
Of our ancestors.
I did not go through my lifetime to walk cuffed
To fascist men, who tell me I am not as worthy as I know I am.
I have not withered and weathered this lifetime
To be repressed and depressed
This is it. The time has come.
I am taking back what is mine. What is ours.

Breath in breath out.
I will speak for earth, and tell you,
She is out of balance. Like our people,
Our government, our laws, our land,
Our hearts. It is all out of balance.
We have to grieve for her, we have to light fires
Under our feet and begin to sing ceremonious love songs,
Sing high and loud, and in streets,
People holding each other up, as we take back what is ours.
As we take back what was theirs, our past sins
Washed clean. Starting new. Starting over.
Together.
Breath in. breath out.

my insides speak. February 8, 2011

there is a life inside this pale body
asking to be reborn
organs that have been neglected
like ancestral ceremonies
there is a life that asks me daily to please
watch what I eat, concern myself with fruits and vegetables
instead of whirling thoughts and candy
life has become somewhat of a highway robbery
each morsel a symphony of regret
each belly full a gluttonous allegory
each bite a sin from my past
chained down by the tragedy of not knowing

unjustified battery of my insides
the pain, blood and tears all reminders
of past lives. Each one created out of
tones and melodies of sadness.
peering into an atrium of severed seas
awaiting relief.
what have I done to you they ask
why the daily onslaught of nerve severing libations
grain creating incessant chatter between molecules,
moods being twisted

cells wanting to breathe, but they simply cannot come up for air
arteries and mucosal linings now becoming war wounds
gun slinging nutrients sliding across charts
that won’t tell me anything
each line a mis understanding
each breath another reminder
that something has gone tragically wrong here
worry replaces every thought, triggering
lingering thought processes that cycle into madness
rage replacing love, tears streaming from frustration
from a body that won’t work
that doesn’t like cupcakes as much as I do
teas injected with needles growing the herbs
that make the tonic, dream states brought to you
by the latest herbal remedy for sleep deprivation
every instance of slumber a treasured luxury
this has been my body for years, aching for respite
on its knees begging for solace, reminding me daily
of its neediness

well, I have recognized. I have been awoken
by the kind whispers of those that have gone before me
those that have suffered tragedy from bodies that don’t work.
and I recognize. Why nature has given us plants,
why acupuncture exists, why we need not take pills, but embrace
traditions. Why when I wake up and take my herbs, ancestors
smile. Why loving the earth and hugging a tree isn’t just for hippies.
Why we have to remember we have spirits.
Why we have to feed our sensitivities quite literally,
Or are bodies will break themselves.
Nerve by nerve, cell by cell, restructure themselves until
One day, we can no longer write a poem.

i weep (free write) January 30, 2011

i weep as if the calamity of hearts have fallen
upon their own grace, they too weeping
before kings, men, desperation,
only wanting to be seen as a human. a being.
a spirit. tears become bullets, a government afraid
of its own people. revolution must happen to set the soul free.
violence replacing peace. power struggle of nothing but ego.
a man’s prayer spit out by volatile control. hosing down
years of repression. you cannot take away freedom of people,
cause when their souls ignite, determination will replace fear,
hope will replace desperation. you cannot take a people’s heart away,
you have to hand it back and remember, you are not god.

the awakening of minds, souls and hearts is igniting all over the world.
human suffering replaced by growth and renewal.
the earth under our feet will shake if it has to, to make us
remember how small we really are. just tiny specks in
a universe much larger than our own ego.
a people has spoken. you must listen.
take away the guns and bombs, replace
it with conversation and ethics. respect, not genocide.
you cannot take away the power of women, once lifted
and safe in their own words and wisdom, they will take
over the world. you cannot put your hand
over their mouths any longer. we bore you. created in our womb.
we are rising up.
we take our hands and fists away from our enemies
face, and we hold it up to the heavens. we look
for a higher guidance to lead us, we put down our ammunition.
our voice is our fire. our voice is our power.


remember this day. look at the faces in egypt.
look at your childrens faces. look at your own
face in the mirror. see it looking back.
are you who you want to be?