Sunday, 19 April 2015

a spiritual union requires no permission for the intimacy shared between the changing shape of distances

campbell said that the unpardonable sin is to not be alert.
 
pay attention.
 
morning.
closed eyes heighten the sensation
of twisted ropes of water
tracing the shape of the body naked. 
the sun bright behind eyelids 
soaking the day with the potential
of all the possibilities whilst casting shadows.
 
keeping the balance.
 
it is said that all roads lead to where we are meant to be.
I say the road is where we're meant to be
 - the point is the process. 
the enrichment of a life in motion.
perpetual growth. strengthening
of body and soul.
 
the body as home. 
a gift.
made in and of love.
 
but the coming together
of two kindreds is the arrival,
all dirty feet and ecstasy, 
at the temple. the watching
of two suns rising to dance
in the light of their own creation.
 
the place where gods are born.

Friday, 17 April 2015

here is the inbetween time,
measured by the throbbing of pulses.

blood moves with such purpose.

apples fat with their own juice
balance precariously
in a blue bowl that's too small.

the white orchid is blooming in abundance
but startlingly still able to hold her own weight.

picasso's constellations scratched on the floor boards
because it's all about interpretation
and I want nothing but to dance amongst stars.


*


(what if I were to ask you to hold out your arm so I could taste the salt and sunshine of your forearm, write love letters on your hands?....let the clouds roll in. we are each of us pilgrims and I have the ourorboros curled at the base of my spine sitting in comradery with the scarab around my neck and we're all moving ever higher and closer)

Wednesday, 15 April 2015

and then a voice you've never heard. familiar. calling you back

I press myself against the glass,
relish the sensation of cold on my skin.

below lights and colour splash
and shimmer on rain soaked pavements.

tonight i'll sleep with the window open.
welcome the night sounds
penetrating my dreams until morning.

one sweet dream
and then baptism by light
through that same window I held my body against
the night before.

searching
for the way in, for the en-trance.
through the tangle of sheets and a body
heavy with the weight of want i'm trying to shift.

always burning.
our selves,
our fingers,
our blessed sacred hearts protected
by the golden swords at our breast.

you are more than the sum of your parts,
but what can I do
but unpick you piece by piece.
pluck your petals one at a time,
admire then press them safe between pages
until i'm left holding nothing
but the stem,
which is the route
between source and beauty.
the point
where we shed our skin and reveal ourselves.

a different kind of holy.


Wednesday, 8 April 2015

the dark in which you wrap yourself muffles not your bright

 
 
 
the red of the unravelling thread
held tight between your teeth....
..keep pulling.
 
prayers pressed between two hands sincere....
..for what do you ask
and who do you believe will answer?
 




 
 "heaven and hell are within us, and all the gods are within us.." ~ joseph campbell

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

landmarks orientate to time and place.
 
soles tread lightly following the road to yourself impregnated with secrets like precious incense whose heady aromas seep and swirl in thin and thick spirals, an emphasis on movement and the choice between horizontal and vertical.
 
as though everything were so black and white.
 
refined sensuality and boundless imagination at any time can evaporate completely, airy, magical, ephemeral.  the atmosphere mysterious and symbolic like the hieroglyphs decorating your skin deliciously tempting to those with fingers curious and desirous to trace and read like braille, but not necessarily understand their meaning.
 
the power of subtle suggestion.
 
salt and metal licked from the wound on your hand as though it were the juice of the persimmon held in my own. songs sung in the language of magnets and oceans, gravity and stardust. the miracle and majesty of the ordinary and those things that hold us in place and set us again in motion.
 
the beauty of bodies celestial.
 
the elastic space between tiny heavens holds tight the answers to all of the questions you've yet to ask. a love of the layers and the intimacy of each. knowing you could take a bite and everything would still be alright. the harmony of giants in cosmic dance and a longing to hear the music.

Friday, 3 April 2015

 
she stands, her whole self facing the world, indomitable in her nakedness. the body of a mother who has known the feeling of creator. her skin creases and twinkles in a time-worn map of stories she continues to author. her feet firm and rooted, arms like branches held aloft and wide in blessing, conjuring ribbons of blue stars and solar systems from her open palms as the green leaves of the trinity burst forth from her wrist, elbow and knees. epiphanies in the least expected places, which when you think about it, are the most obvious. unblinking, her gaze flinches not, willing you to return her gaze and for the first time see yourself.



inspired by 'blue stars on blue tree' by kiki smith