Allegory of the Cave

I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.

allegoryofthecave #plato #reality #illusions #freedom #justiceforahmaudarbery

Flying Dreams

I always knew I could fly,

Dreaming it since I was wee high,

But even in dreams

I felt a little slight

When I took flight

Feeling so light

I didn’t fear the fall,

But reaching heights so high,

I’d never come down,

But rather float off beyond stars.

I Had to wake up and grow roots,

Make roots in firm ground,

Stopped dreaming of moons,

And live free though earth bound

Making live sounds,

Walking tall mounds,

Rebound and rebound,

Until I found home

And came home.

In control of my power

I Bloom like a flower,

And roam Like fluff seeds

In need of a breeze

Out of dreams and into reality,

Soaring like bees

Awake and aware

In my power

Soaring higher

Then I ever could dream.

‘Til the Blood Runs

When the walls collapse all around you,

And you can’t hold up all sides,

Hold up one side and let the rest collapse,

Hold down the foundation,

Let the rest fall,

And start over.

Fall hard,

But this time let the pain in,

The blood will run

Slow like molasses,

This time don’t lick it and swallow it up,

Let it drip and stain your floor,

So everyone can see,

When they bite,

You bleed

You hurt,

You are not invincible,

And you can be destroyed.

Start again,


With no armor,

No weapon,

But be with love,

Come with love,

Be with love,

And start again.


Broken Arrow

I shot down each of my demons

And One by one laid clear my path,

I pulled one with the fletching torn,

As i stood face to face with a monstrous beast.

Without my arms I trembled

Eyes closed and cold sweat crawling zig zags down my cheek.

I died a hundred deaths before I opened my eyes

and saw before me

The beast quivering

eyes closed and beads of sweat.

I touched its shoulder

And the Eyes fluttered Open

My own eyes staring back

Holding a Broken arrow.

I died one hundred deaths

Before I opened my eyes.

Unfurled Hearts

Unfurled Hearts
Before we arrived at this place,

We lied still in the dank dark earth,

Waiting for that moment when you and I fell inline to cross paths. 

 From opposite ends we unfurled and stood in the thick of tall dark branches,

Until we found in each other a reflection that pushed them aside to let the light through. 

Creating hearts

Feet entwined,

Brows touching

Passing life 

Breath by breath 

Mouth to mouth.  

Transforming us to divine

Gods Immortal. 

Morning After Pill

     After an eventful weekend of sound healings, Reiki, storytelling, and shedding, I woke up and locked myself in the bathroom, sitting on the “potty” to cry in solitude. Whether it was the Capricorn Moon pulling emotional memories from the stories ingrained into the fine grooves of our skin, or it was merely pure coincidence, the three days of this full moon came with others, as well as myself, sharing stories of our ancestors and our own past. Some told their stories loud, and some just shared it with their presence, but the intensity of everyone’s want for healing was thick and heavy. 

     During ceremony as my sister Arvindjeet chanted, sang, and sent out vibrations in the beautiful way she does, I walked from person to person performing reiki, hovering my hands over head, heart, arms, belly…. and in some instances feeling my heart heavy with that deep kind of hurt that makes it burn in ones threat, some with that kind of love that makes your skin tingle, some sighs, shivers, and some with a sort of softening release. The aftermath is often heavy for me and it takes a couple days for me to process everything I felt, on top of my own healing. So I found myself seeking Solace away from my kids in the bathroom with the door locked, and basically pissing from my eyes, but I began to think back to something a friend said this weekend. “People’s stories are so rich with beauty, whether it’s painful or joyful,” resonating and I couldn’t help but laugh while fully clothed on the toilet thinking about how beautiful it all is, so much so that we are capable of feeling the immensity of the pain and love in the way we do, that it brings us to places such as ones of this weekend, sprawled on the floor amongst friends, family and strangers, singing, crying tears, laughing, sharing intentions, and letting someone wave hards all over their body,

Trusting, vulnerable, open. 

     I heard the romp of 4 little feet running towards my sacred sanctuary yelling, “mom! I need to swallow a pill! I figured it out! I think I can do it! Can you give me a pill to swallow?”

My eldest must have had an epiphany of sorts and I handed him a harmless turmeric gel cap. He ran to the kitchen and I hear, “ugh!” And a splatter of liquid hitting the floor and the little one squealing with laughter. “Never mind! That was gross!” He tried to chew it. And the little one said, “happy birthday!” 

“Who’s birthday is it?”

The elder responding, “there must be a billion people in this world so it’s someone’s birthday right? Or it’s a lot of people’s birthdays today!” And he smiled at this revelation, his teeth bright yellow from the turmeric. 

Nude Empathy

  I used to cry every time i played the piano because it hurt that much 

To have your soul stolen again and again at the whim of a bastard. 

So I stopped playing and stopped talking and stopped laughing because I was trying to see if I could snuff out my soul and stay alive at the same time. 

I failed.

And played again with more flaws than I’ve ever admitted to. 

And now I’m left crying for no reason except im left carrying out 10 lifetimes of stolen spirits and not giving a damn. 

Skinny Bitch -A Love Poem


Our love is like that skinny bitch that everyone’s staring at with wish or contempt.
That one that’s sinking her teeth into that juicy thousand calorie double double in a teeny weeny itty bitty bikini while whispers of purge scatter like pin drops around her, though the truth is she was just born that way.
Because see our love was just born that way, and I hear that love has its struggles and is hard work and it’s ups and downs and pain and tears makes the solidity of a union and so
On and so forth, which is all probably true and beautiful too…
But our love is that skinny bitch who was just born that way because of genetics.
We have the kind of love that epics are written for, but instead of tragedy the grandeur of the union flows so perfectly that it’s a story worth telling and carry on as legend with a single pen name to accompany it
and I will not apologize and assume that it is flawed in its simplicity
Because We have worked hard and cried enough painful tears up until being with you that will last up until our children’s children’s lives.
We have worked through ups and downs and gave and forgave enough times to reconcile it once and for all, though it may not have been with each other.

I am not perfect.
You are not perfect,
But our union feels perfect and it was just born that way so that we can indulge in each other.
Our lives weaved to and for throughout our lives until it finally made sense to converge and be one and that is perfect and I take it with gratitude and give to you in gratitude and still feel the wet tears each day slowly trickle off my chin and hit my breast, but because of the happiness I feel to finally have peace from the pain I had felt before you.

Nas Calls Little D Sistar

I keep seeing you in my dreams.
The other night I had a dream we went hiking and we ended up at a party with the intelligently hip.
Yukimi from Little Dragon was there and she says,”I’ll sing three songs. Which songs do you love?”
In which I reply, “I love Nabuma Rubber band, Killing Me, and Feather… Well actually I can’t narrow it down. Sing what you’d like.”
And in her cool sultry voice she says,”Download a mic app on that iPad of yours and I’ll sing you a song.”
But I was feeling confused and lost so this tech kid starts tapping away at the pad without turning away from some other thing he’s working on and hands it to Yukimi without looking up. Yukimi starts to sing into it and I say,”Yes. This is it, But I’ve never heard this before.” And I pick up a cd on the coffee table in which the title reads, “Nas Calls Little D Sistar” just like so.
And you ask, “Why aren’t we smoking a fatty right now?”
And I reply straight into your eyes, “I’ll roll you a fat blunt when we get home.” And I wake up before she could sing song number two.
I’m in bed smiling because I got to see you again and the dream was so vivid. I realize you might not even know who Little Dragon are because it’s been that long since you left me here on Earth to that Paradise up above, but it was great seeing you this week.
I’m missing you like crazy!
Hope all is still rip on the other side. And when we meet again, I’ll bring the fatty Sistar!


Musing nude #11 (The Dragonfly)

With the years coming and passing so quickly and my disposition so capricious, I don’t know how I will be able to keep up with time. Recently I’ve been feeling surges of intense mind blowing moments that I let pass unrecorded, followed by unusual calm and quiet. I can go days without the need to do much and it’s strange. But something’s brewing up there and I feel it. Sometimes I get a little breathless at just the thought that ‘I am alive!’ Which takes me to a ‘shit, before I know it, I’ll be 90 reflecting back and thinking, ‘that was so quick’ and like that…. But then it puts me in my place and I know how small I am in the great scheme of this ‘living’ thing we do, yet how infinite I am in this ‘living’ thing I do.
I drew a card today. I am a dragonfly ready for my emergence. Apparently dragonflies go straight from egg to nymph and wait up to 4 years before they emerge as the splendor of the colorful winged thing flirting over the waters with allure and beauty. So it’s only been four years? That I’ve been staggering around a nymph and coincidentally I have been feeling a little ready for something. Maybe thats why it’s a little quiet in my head space sometimes and almost violent at others.
The iridescence in my reflection is undeniable though.
Anyway, I just wanted to record that I am making my very first New Years resolution to post some kind of writing in a timely once a week manner, otherwise I might lose track of time altogether and stare at the mirror tomorrow and I’ll actually be a 90 year old dragonfly, just like that.