Meteor Shower After Thought

We were going through a shit load of bullets like Superman,
Like invincible Superheroes,
But all too real.

God bless!
Miracles occur
Eyes closed,
Wide open,
Back turned,
Mouth gaped,
In the moment,
Or with clarity
And conscious awareness.


No words

I feel it real,
The approach of the
Coming together of the
Likes and the unlikes
With great acceptance for the
What it is that it is going to be,
Or already is,
But the anticipation is
Is trying to describe this thing with
Words which is yet
to exist yet in
My vocabulary.
Or any vocabulary
Because what is happening
Right now just did and never will again
And the what will in the next minute
Will for the first time,
And so I want to cry sometimes
Because something must pour from my head,
To stain this moment and the next and all the more beautiful ones to come with each breath I take
Until the moment I have no more concern to think about.
And with the tears, I will write
Without sorrow,
But with gratitude,
That everything that transpired until this moment is


Lyrid’s Fireworks for Mama’s Bearthday

Hey Mama, I’m checking in.
I took a hiatus,
You know, needed to rest,
All of me,
My body, my thoughts, my breath and my pulse.
Hibernating for a couple weeks
Fatted me right up.
Things got to be so intense in the noggin,
The high ate us you know?
So much occurred though.
I learned to put the camera down
To see things un-faux.
I was staring at Lyrid’s showers,
Magnificent! Funny it’s the first time I’ve used the word honestly.
On top of the closest mountain I could get to,
I lay on my truck bed teaching little sunshine about staring into the sky to see the actual past shining down at us.
My son lay quiet and still for the first time with eyes open.
“Mama I learned something new. I mean in my mind.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“When you stare at the stars long enough. It’s magical!”
And damn I’m so glad I had sense to turn off my phone and my camera because the brilliance that shot through the sky, trails of tails,
I guess you had to be there because of the momentous rarity of each second of each star falling, or passing is unique like all of life.
And do you know how small I felt?
The life, the planets, the galaxies, the universes, all so Great,
Crammed together into a tiny pinhole,
That is much much bigger than me,
No wonder we admire the light in the sky.
Even without thinking the words,
Breathlessly a sensation blessed of existence baffles me to stupor!
Happy birthday mama earth and earth mama, coincidentally similar.
Silence is golden!

The Beautiful Lesson

Elijah, my son, starts the day running outside

Anticipating adventure,

Runs back in, wearing a black and gray cap,

“Momma, the neighbor brought something over for you!”

Impish grin warming his face,

Oh and that sparkle in his eye

The light piercing me to stare,

“Well what is it?” Partly confused, partly unbelieving coz I know him.

Removes his cap like a gentleman

a vibrant purple Morning Glory

resting at the bottom with an almost pulse.

My romantic son,

See and Momma’s proud,

Heart swelling,

Can’t stop me from smiling

Hugging him tight because I know he must never lose himself.

And driving off to destiny,

Lunch time brings over to our table, a little girl, maybe a year older than him,

She stands close watching without words,

He notices and begins to act funny, literally funny,

Whoopie Cushion in hand and she inches closer,

I stand away and watch my four year old Chivalrous soul making her laugh,

As he pushes wind in her hair.

Her making him laugh,

As she squeals in delight at it’s harmless silliness.

And the girls green gel filled tube drops,

Straight from a romance comedy,

My boy and little girl bend down to pick it up,

Just as if it were scripted in the 90’s,

Bump heads and look at one another,

Of course what would follow,

But laughter, banter, and innocent assumptions of meeting tomorrow,

Though in truth they will leave with no ties,

Followed with a visit to a familiar friend,

Real talk exchanging between what only four year olds can talk about,

Playing house and wanting to grow up

Which means we must also be doing something right,

Though our flaws are starkly revealing with their imitations,

The hug good bye with no need to talk of when to meet again because it will happen,

The drive home before we must part because I have formed into a family with split times.

“Momma when will I be an adult?”
“Son, my Sun, you wanna be grown? Why?”

“So I can be stronger than my Appa (Dad)”

I find his reasons and ambition amusing.

“And do you think Momma is strong too?”
“No Momma.”
“But I am very strong.”
“But not stronger than a bee, Momma. Right? Not stronger than a bee?”
“You are so sharp my Sunshine!”

And children, the closer to infancy, have it all figured out,

Open flower giving,

Open mouth laughter forming from the heart,

Open honesty, even in thought.

Open for me to see and learn what I once knew

Once again, but this time not to forget so I can also remind Elijah

Once upon a time when a boy reaches his ambitions.


Metamorphosis at Twilight

I feel the death of something physical,
And at the root is a no words could describe,
But if you know what I’m talking about, Then you know what I’m talking about? Kind of transition is taking place in the universe inside of me
And if placed under a microscope,
You might find an object I might mark with a sticky label typed “dimensional”
The metamorphosis is painful
I feel my back cutting with splashes of color bursting,
Ready to fly to every place envisioned through dreams dreamt since childhood.
And the eyes seeing clearly,
The ethers spiraling in fluorescent wisps reflecting prism lights,
The senses took a fast it seemed for the past two weeks,
Feeling so deprived at its peak,
And finally Falling freely like flying towards a denouement
Sensing a new approach towards infancy
with each sight, taste, smell, touch, sound, and heart
Receiving and splaying back in sharper and subtler frequencies
Sensitive and smooth like the soft fragrant skin of a baby.
I hear the whistle beckon me
So I dance with the ethers,
Twirling around until dizziness puts me soothingly back to light lucid sleep.


Laying Intentions for the dark enchanted moon

The dark side of the moon calms my call to move.
No more gravitational pulls drawn by the celestial night,
Though one day we will fly when the moon moves close enough for us each month,
When the wolf howls
Sending vibrations across the nations
Shaking our guts of calcified crystal baggage deposits.
With the mind calm like the tranquil waters reflecting the memory of the full moon,
I quiet the mind to focus on my intentions
Manifestations growing as the light radiates the night.
To first be honest and look with
Eyes so clear the spark warms through the lids,
No lies urged by fear
Finding modest humility,
To feel compassion and strength
With tears,
With laughter,
With warmth,
Quick beats,
And slow steps,
Without fear,
But Love!
And to consciously move each finger, each limb, each word, each breath, each thought,
To accomplish each sentence laid down by myself,
And set into locomotion without seize.
Inhales drawn with yawns,
While expanding and stretching like shadows close to dusk.
Settling down to feel the secure red of the warming ground charging up toward the peak of the head as the darkness wanes and the light pulls me right back to reaching for the heavens.


Mirror Mirror…

I’ve fallen into habit,
The cycle rounding
Into grounding,
The banter slowing in a cadence
As the dancers walk into a trance.
The day before,
An impression surfaced,
Scanned the figments of childhood,
And watched like an outsider
Standing outside a chained link fence.
Remembered I once believed,
“Come closer”,
I once believed I was normal,
“Whatever that means”,
As I stand there
Hair spilling down the front of my face,
Not speaking aloud
To any ripened human
In the same cotton fittings I find myself garbed in today.
Spending time alone,
With eyes fixed on a cup
Attempting to lift it
Or talking to all nine
Of our American neighbor’s Tabby Cats
And flapping arms while jumping
To see if I could fly,
Sleeping beneath the covers
Because of all the whispering
In the stillness before dawn.
And deciding to give up
With pen and paper nights,
Frequent Deja Vu occurring
With the dermis fibers rising.
But I feel a calming coming
And revelation permeates.
All the heroines admired
Since fourth grade recesses,
tucked away in the school library
In a nook on the floor curled,
Have taught and guided me
To see the clearest mirror
With great satisfaction
Of the strength and compassion
Reflecting back at me.


Musing Nude #6 (poem)

Because It’s April, I will not just say it,

I must show it somehow the blunt honest musing which calls to me today.

And this is the theme, this is the poem,

Which is about honesty and love,

Because those two are the hardest pairing,

Though more powerful than any mantra, any herb, or any Subtle enhancer

I have yet to experience.

Picture riding through the streets of Little India

With a lover and two kindred youths,

Giggles and squeels from trailers and a magnificent beam of light

Making paths of Yellow glittering roads to guide us where we should be,

My little One running store to store pointing out all the Ganesha’s

And the other Sweet One shouting “How Beautiful” at the vintage silk.


But on arriving back to our quaint cottage,

I smile as I wipe down countertops that most people see as grime.

I get it, wash it away because it is sanitary,

But feel the warmth a moment of a house alive with spirit,

A spilled juice from playing frog,

Sweeping carrot peels from being rushed for more from two little rabbits,

The toys strewn because there is enough time to play with every single one sometimes,

And the aftermath when little knees are tucked into bellies and pouty lips mumbling dreams into twilight..

And Honesty sinking in as I sit outside and reflect the already forming nostalgia.

Tradition spills forth from my own pouty lips.

And I lump every adult man and woman in this category of forgetting tradition for convenience

Because we think we are in a new world,

But let’s not forget that in the past is greater wisdom than my 32 year old brain.

My 32 years of experience has me feeling cocky sometimes

Because I have only 32 years of knowledge.

Some sentient being must have whispered to me as a reminder that the wise always understood what is truth regardless of the manufacturers..

Life is always good as long as our perceptions stay pure,

As well as the things we put in our mind, our hearts, and our bellies.

The secret to a long and happy life remains the same as it did at Eden.

Our mother Earth has always supplied us with the nourishment in attaining





Yet we complicate it and try to figure out better ways and add man made such and suches because the Ego evolves into the super-sized upgrade,

Which is proving to be problematic in our times.

But it has always been good

And I am grateful to the future that reminds me of the past

That we still have what we had and now we must pass the tradition

Without the fear of offending

To protect what is good!

Namaste to the divine light in you from the divine light from me.