A Worthy Endeavor

I feel Hope rise up, filling me

Pouring out my eyes

Gratitude bursting out of my heart

I think it just grew about three sizes

At the very same time

I feel scared shitless

Not a great word for a poem, maybe

But True

It is scary to Hope

Because it’s Dark Partner – Disappointment —

Has Crushed me more time than I can count

“Don’t hope at all, don’t feel this much…”

Some small voice begs from deep inside my soul

But the Hope is too powerful

And it flushes my entire system with this kind of warm glow

Another part of me smiling and shouting with joy

I LOVE EVERYBODY!!!!

It is so hard to not get attached to emotions like this —

To know they will change

Why is it that when we’re in the depths of despair

It feels like the pain will Never Shift

It feels like the suffering is endless

We so easily forget the small beautiful moments

Heart-aches somehow solidify more

Hook into us

Yet

When we Hope, when we Love, when we Feel Amazing

There is a voice that cautions,

“Now now – not too much…

Don’t be too happy…

The other shoe’s is about to drop…”

It’s true and false at the same time

Feelings move

That is what they do

So I come to the One Great Altar:

Allowance

Knowing I must let myself fully accept This Moment

This Joy

And, with courage, do the same for the inevitable

Other Side.

What an enormous task.

But what a worthy endeavor.

Cory

 

cory

 

One more

A symbol

What darkness within

That you fought silently, privately

Trudging through

No addict, like me, will ever judge you

The ones who have No Experience

Walking razor’s edge

Will toss out opinions

Sharp and hurtful

Empty of meaning

Ignorance and judgment in place of feeling

They won’t ever understand

They will just blame

But you and I, my friend,

We are the same

It is only a choice

Sometimes

Not everyone will get that line.

But those of you who do –

Well, this one’s for you

I whisper now

My desk to your grave —

I know how you fought

I know you were brave

We don’t always win the game that you played

(Though I know very well that this was no game)

Your Soul up for grabs

As the demons, they raged

A light went out

Like they do every day

But that don’t mean that Life isn’t changed

The Warfare of the Psyche

Is no fucking game

Those who don’t know it intimately

Ought just give their Thanks

I honor you, friend

Your Death no place for shame

The fight that you fought…

You and me

Quite

The same.

Summer Heat

Image

It’s hot outside

With a gray sky

Cloudy, sweaty heat

Heavy-like

Left the front door open

So this weather

Could enter

The summer breeze comes.

Slow, like molasses

Or honey dripping down from a spoon held high

The Great Lover’s breath exhaling

Through the foyer…

The living room…

Moving

Undulating

Sticky, naughty heat

“Bad, bad weather,” she thinks

A little grin

Another bead of wetness

Slides down her skin

Dampness on top,

Within

Overcast July-ness hangs everywhere

Thick and delicious and naked

Beautiful

Who seeks the soul of a beautiful girl
Does the beautiful boy even have a soul
Or, do they lose it to the Beautiful
With Its strict, perfectionistic demands
That She should not age
Nor have flesh at the thighs for lovers to grip
Nor thin lips
Nor large hips
That He — can’t possibly be kind or warm
Because he’s Expected, practically directed
With that straight nose and carved jaw to simply stand there
With that strangely prized apathetic look of The Modeling World
Beautiful men reduced to the thing in their J Brand jeans
Beautiful women reduced to caricatures in magazines
Blank slates for other women to draw inaccurate conclusions about
Oh, the perks of Beauty –
Mistrust, betrayal, jealousy
Competition, oh yes dear, and
Fear
For the Beautiful person can only hold on for so long
Until they close up, shrivel
From a lack of Being Seen
Beautiful — Put On them at birth
Or created from low self-worth
Like that monogramed bag everyone has
Cuz it tells us what we’re worth
So when He and She turn hardened
We say “The Beautiful are mean”
But Beauty’s just a little fire…
Who holds the gasoline?

Riding The Dragon

I am learning beyond learning

Is there such a thing?

Yes

Oh yes

Who knew the rabbit hole

Went as Deep as This?

And somewhere in my soul

I know

The Shallow of this depth

I’ve come so incredibly far

Gone further than the Great Abyss

Passed through Hell and back again

But still I know

There’s so much more than even This

A realization that borders on both

Agony and Bliss

How can it be

That going down

And in

And through

All This

Can lead back to such a tenderness

Such wonder-ness

Such awesome ness

And yet right there on the razor’s edge

Standing at the ice-pick ledge

Darkness and Insanity

Staring, bearing into me

But I have learned beyond the learning

I look right in the Black

For what have I to fear, my dears

When I’ve been to hell and back

When I’ve even travelled past!

It cannot shake me now my dears

I’m Mastering my Black

I sit right down at razor’s edge…

And have a little snack.

 

One Day

One day

I will write poems about butterflies

Even though it’s been done a million times

I’ll make it feel like the very first time

I’ll write about vibrant colors like indigo and mandarin

Wax on about hot chocolate with cinnamon

I will talk about bodies of water using

Delicious descriptions

(I’ll never call a brook babbling)

I will write like I’m high on Life’s Vibes

And be able to turn mundane things

Into fields of wild ecstacy, and purple poppies

And crème brulee

And you will never again call those things mundane

One day

I will glide through each moment in flowing step

Harmonizing my feet with the energy underneath

I will know I’m on my way to the grave

And it will just be another glorious day

Another birth but no longer a slave

Oh yes I will be completely free

And I will write of it in Hope’s great name

And that you might float along with me

Flowing down the brook that’s babbling…

Oops

Well….

One day…

The Trickster

Oh, what a Mister —

The virile Twister

Spinning stories like the wise old Spinster

Who could play this game using any name

Cause that’s how it goes

When you invented the game

Though between you and me…?

He goes by The Trickster —

Ejaculating his Fabricating

On all your best reasoning

He flavors it with unbeatable seasoning

You won’t win his game of conniving treason-ing

The original Devil — a black-hat magician

His slight-of-hand steals cognition

No matter man, nor child

Nor politician

He’ll play you out for his own recognition

Your body his violin for sin

Your mind merely a token to win

And let me tell you

He always wins

He weaves through your very own mind

Using techniques you helped him find!

Unknowingly, the puppet — you hand over your strings

To the man with the horns ‘stead of the girl with the wings

And he plays you and he plays you –

And good God – how you sing!

‘Til slowly you learn – he will twist

Anything

There is only one way to steal back your cognition

Know when He’s talking and make it your mission

To discern Truth from Tricking

Then refuse…

To Listen

WHO YOU ARE

I am an Artist

I am a Poet

I am a Powerful Force

I have loved you

Since forever

I have abandoned you

Never

I live within you

Goddess and God

Masculine and Feminine

Merged into One Beautiful Whole

But do you see it? Do you know?

Nothing can harm you when you are connected to Me

From deepest pain to highest bliss

To the Calm in between

I am the Creative Divine

Let yourself live and you will find

That I, too, am Alive

You – yes YOU – came to be

Out of the Great Universal Me

Who begs Expression through the uniqueness of you

Letting My Hands move as yours do

Never underestimate the power of The Nameless

I have given it a name, in so many forms

When you wonder what my name is, Child…

It’s yours.

MIRROR

Inside the blue-gray bits of fragile, broken shell

Lies the Empty Space of something hatched

But where did it go?

What was it?

Is it safe?

Edges make jagged points too delicate to be taken seriously

Touching them would only crack them further

And they are cracked enough

Sitting desperately,

Open

Like sad little arms reaching up and out

Wishing those they carried would return to fill the Loneliness

But there is only me,

Staring

On the outside peering in

Wishing I could help ease their suffering

But then I think

These are merely shells…

What in me

Sees Such Things?

 

 

 

 

Exclamation!

I am opened

I can See

Revelations aren’t mere fascinations to me

Oh sweetest of all symphonies

I hear your voice sing to me in melodies unparalleled

Held in a Heart that is ours

There is no procrastination

Or destination

Time deconstructed

“Vacation” is the true state of our nation

If only we would give it our attention

In each moment

Do you get it

It is not merely about elation

Or some kind of Light-Only Spiritualization

But complete connection to What Is Now –

The Way

The Tao

Stop your desperate searching for inspiration

Give to yourself your own imagination

Manifestation only one element

Of All that Is

We could never Live

In only Light

The fight is the Matrix

Takes us out of the flow

Accept them both – the ebb, the flow

And begin to Know

The truth of your Soul

That One is always Two ‘til there’s complete integration

Which then  — exclamation! – creates

The Whole.