Shores undivided
23 September 2018
Square linings in thoughts
Scent of a heart set on fire
Perfume felt my pulse
In between woodlands
A gate swings North west and creaks
South a remembrance
Wind a rhythmic friend
Over treetops lone whistle
Beings in the wild
A silence heaves hard
My bosom a place of peace
In prayer penance
Twenty three sparrows
Memories of my journey
Carry them in tale
Wisdom a handful
Merging with the feminine
Shores undivided
Reading of the poem:
Riverside – Agnes Obel
The Shaman Tales 3: In between two minds
18 February 2018
She watched as the visions of her invoking the rain unfolded but she was not determined yet to bring them into this reality. She surmised that when she had first stopped the rains with the combined effect of her worded intent and the shamanic trances with their resulting phoenix fires she had been fully possessed with the wrath of the phoenix so it had resulted in a heightened output of drought. The result was not just a cessation of rains but also a heightened temperature that was very unlikely for the season. She realised that for now she was only fully willing to bring in some winds to cool the otherwise unbearable temperature.
She came out of her trance and looked around her. She had to admit that even if it weren’t for the fact that she was in between two minds it would be difficult for her to bring back the rains on the land. They had indeed stripped her garden of its tall trees that had given her a connection to Gaia and she knew it was not possible for her to do the raindance in one of the parks where there were trees as people around her might call the police thinking her crazy. She wondered whether the smaller shrubs in her garden could give her a connection that was strong enough to allow the intent to penetrate Gaia’s core.
She knew that without Gaia’s collaboration even the strongest of Shamans would need at least a month in order to invoke rain after activation of the wrath of the phoenix which had released its flames into the atmosphere. She realised that having the rains come after the rainy season, especially if that season had been incredibly warm would seem too odd and perhaps someone would notice the discrepancies and that would create more problems for her. She wondered whether she should invoke the rain at all as her projects had still not come to fruition and she was not sure they would not interfere again in her life making it unbearable.
That night she went to bed early as the Mother had told her she wanted her to be available for a journey. As she fell asleep, she saw the beautiful face of the Mother who guided her and told her that she needed to journey to the land of ravens to make up her mind and see what sources of connection to Gaia she could use to manifest her intent into the world. Several months ago, the Mother had already told her that the beginning of the manifestation was by the written word that was like a magic scripture and that further intent with shamanic intensity as well as connection to Gaia had to be put in to manifest any reality that was linked to Gaia.
As she walked in the dream she saw ravens collect around her and some sat on her head and shoulders. They cawed loudly as she swayed to the hypnotic music that played somewhere in the distance. It was a mixture of drum beats and flute that echoed strangely across the empty lands. The ravens cawed in unison to the music and then rose above her head to form a swirling circle that looked like a whirlpool. While she gazed at the whirlpool she saw within it red poppies, bougainvillae and roses. The Mother told her that these would be her connection to Gaia and that she would need to hold the bougainvillae or the roses while she was doing the shamanic dance so that it would be more effective.
She wondered why the Mother had not simply told her which connection to use for Gaia but the Mother told her that Gaia like all other living beings had her own free will and chose freely how to connect with humans. That choice could only be voiced to humans in an altered state of consciousness through the portal that ravens created which is why she had had to journey to the land of ravens otherwise also known as the land in between mundane reality and the Netherworld. It was a land that one visited when in shamanic trance or within dreams. The Mother also told her that she would need to make up her mind on what she really wanted to do as manifesting something only worked when one was totally convinced that one wanted it to happen.
She shook her head and looked around her as she woke up from the dream. She was not sure she wanted to invoke the rain but at the same time she knew that if she kept the wrath of the phoenix alive then the land would be scorched in a few months as the temperature would keep rising higher. She realised that it would be easier if her projects had been fully successful as she could then be relaxed and dedicate her time to a successful outcome instead of being in between minds about the weather and not manifesting the rain.
She looked out of the window and pitch black met her gaze as there were no street lamps near her house and the moon was hidden. She squared her shoulders and looked back inside the room at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was tired and drawn. She needed to make up her mind on whether to carry out the shamanic dance using the points of connection shown in her dream. She could feel the Mother hovering in the air behind her. She hid her face in her hands for a few seconds and then turned to face the Mother…
The Call For Total Surrender – Byron Metcalf & Steve Roach
Roads to pave
15 February 2018
Molten fire
Waking the desire
Pelting rain
Wash the pain
The bloodlit paths on the plain
Dark to discover
Uncover
Dodging the bullets
Riddled booth
Cracked tooth
Fairies older than the truth
Fate is a lover
We hover
Between instances
Tidal wave
Roads to pave
We will put to rest the knave
None can seek cover
Reading of the poem:
Remember to Breathe – Byron Metcalf
True Ground – Byron Metcalf
Fire Passage A Warning from the Elders – Byron Metcalf
The Shaman tales 1: No rain
29 January 2018
She paused and looked at the clouds forming. They had been seeding them in hope of getting rain but she planned otherwise. Using the old conjuring of spirits of dry, she danced wildly invoking desert drought and parched lands. The land was cool from the winter winds but the skies grew clear of clouds and the dust flew in the air filling people’s chests. After all they had done to her, she vowed to not let the rains bless their lands until she received what they had taken away from her. They had thought her to be a mere vessel that they could lull back to sleep, not realising that within her the powers of the Shamans of old were reignited. She had rediscovered within her the spirits of the lineage of Shamans that went back to time immemorial when she had danced in Machu Pichu her senses blazing from the Ayahuasca brew.
Every time the clouds gathered she willed the weather back to that of dried lands. She had been in public once though and could not stop the rains from falling as she could not break into the dance of flames. As soon as she could, that one time it had rained, she had hurried back home and willed the rain to stop. Her eyes blazed with the fire of the phoenix rising within her and scorching the pelting rain to vapour before it had stilled it and reduced the clouds to small cotton balls in the sky. Hers was not a mere revenge but a mission she embarked upon with all the vigor and will of those who had been coarsely and negligently wronged.
During the nights, she spoke to the spirits of the rain and pacified them, letting them know that they could visit sites nearby where they could flow all their ardour into the lands. In her altered state she took them by the hand and guided them to locations that would either benefit from rain or where she wanted to wreck havoc in vengeance, taking them far away from where her physical body was lying. They danced through the desert skies, high above the clouds and making sure not to come into contact with these latter so that they would not be charged and wet the lands with their content. Every time she danced with those spirits, her astral body sizzled with the intermingling of the flames of the phoenix and the waters of the spirits of the rain. The result was a trail of mist and steam that onlookers identified in the sky as a streak similar to that of a wishing star. Together they danced right over Paris and other European cities before returning to the place where her body dwelt. Once the dances over, she resettled back into her body and slept a sleep riddled with dreams of the Mother.
The Most Astounding Fact – Nibana
Among Thoughts (Star Paths) – Nibana
I am a Soul – Nibana
The Djinn
12 January 2018
The house loomed against the night sky as she walked up to the front door. As was the case every time she came back there she felt the same feeling of dread and belonging mingle inside her. It was a very complex situation as the house repelled her and attracted her all at once. When she was inside it, there was a sense of peace that pervaded her although every time she was leaving the house a strange sense of eeriness overcame her, especially at night. That same sense of eeriness was there when she came back to the house at night time after a long day out.
The porch was flanked by two tall pillars that reached right up beyond the balcony of the first floor to the roof where a small carving in the rooftop wall made it seem like someone was watching from up there. Whenever she entered the house at night the door creaked when she closed it behind her and a strange sigh seemed to follow the creaking noise as if the house were breathing with relief that she was back home. This and the several other peculiar noises that punctuated her waking hours and sometimes woke her up from her sleep gave her that mixed sense of belonging and foreboding.
She had attempted to leave the house and move somewhere else on more than one occasion but for some reason the attempts turned out to be unsuccessful and she had had to return to the house and resume her living there. On some nights she would feel a presence in her room and at the same time her dog would bark repeatedly but when she sat up in her bed she would see nothing but just sense that someone or something was watching her.
One night she woke up to the barking of the dog and came face to face with an amorphous grey-blue face right above her own peering down at her. She fell back in shock on her pillow and when she sat up again there was nobody so she wondered if it had been a bad dream. She could sense however some sort of movement from the corner of her eye but when she looked directly at the space there was nothing. At the same time she could smell an awful smell that reminded her of something putrid and at the same time burnt so she got up and lit a few incense sticks to make the smell disappear.
The next day her helper said the corridor and the stairs were smelling terrible and the dog had been barking all night so it was surely the visit of a Djinn. According to the local mythology, Djinns were some sort of creatures made of fire sometimes good and sometimes demonic , which when demonic had a foul smell and liked to play tricks on mortals. She tried to convince her helper to be more realistic and that maybe it was somebody with dirty shoes but the helper seemed bent on her conviction. She insisted that she had to remove the negative traces and stop further visits so for the next few hours the house was full of a mixture of reciting of Quran and buddhist mantra chanting which the helper had found on youtube.
A couple of other times the corridor and the stairs had been all smelly and the dog had barked all night but she had not awoken to see the same face again and the helper just repeated her rituals for the full day all the while repeating over the phone to all her relatives that the house had a Djinn that would come up from under the ground and visit the premises.
Dreaming Cooper – Mysterious Places
Dreaming Cooper – Zero G
Dreaming Cooper – The Lost World
Reviving heartbeat
26 December 2016
Paint my lids
A streak of teardrop
On backdrop
Of laughter
Getting worse getting better
Changes unfettered
One o One
Metamorphosis
Lessons learnt
Pupils burnt
The eye a raging fire
Knowledge a pyre
Flame to grow
Prometheus dam
Holding back
Rivers rage
Wisdom for none to assuage
Aching of the sage
Shape my buds
To taste of honey
Flowing slow
From the flow
My chest now filled with the glow
Breaking point of seams
Riddled dreams
Orange tangerines
Bitter sweet
As I eat
Core and more through flowing streams
The memory gleams
Whistle low
Softening the blow
Drunken feet
Take to street
Where we strangers known will meet
Reviving heartbeat
Reading of the poem:
Letting Go – Nitin Sawhney
Homelands – Nitin Sawhney
Breathing Light – Nitin Sawhney
My Master my Slave
9 December 2016
Crossing gates
Of purgatory
The lives held
In barbed wire
The breath through which we expire
Kindling a new fire
Sustenance
More than mere penance
My backbone
Marble stone
Holding through stormy weathers
Loss of my feathers
We carve path
In cloud-rimmed blue skies
Where dark creed
Count the spies
They gather around the lies
Their fear unending
Surrendering
The only option
Giving in
Cloaked and thin
The source errors wanton glitch
Correctional twitch
Leitmotiv
Elevator pitch
I quote Heart
Sing bloodlines
Of all from which we are rich
Before sunset switch
He calls me
My Master my Slave
As we pave
A New World
Building with all that was hurled
The oncoming Wave
Reading of the poem:
The Inferno – Emma Shapplin
The Lovers – Emma Shapplin
Nothing Wrong – Emma Shapplin
The Time Traveler
1 December 2016
Walking through shadows
Of thoughts trains interwoven
Full lengths of stations
The breath he borrows
My lungs in his chest swollen
Death’s inclinations
The pain that furrows
My heart’s in his beats stolen
Borders through nations
The wizard’s cellar
With wine of yesterday reeked
As we held banquet
Mood interstellar
Through the sliding holes we peeked
His chain my anklet
The Time Traveler
Love that twixt the bubbles peaked
His fire my blanket
Reading of the poem:
Cranes crying – Vitas
Pocelui (A kiss as long as Eternity) – Vitas
Aria – Vitas
Lucia di Lammermoor – Vitas
Undulating frames
14 November 2016
Lion’s Den
Land of the Dragon
Griffin wakes
In my mind
His tales my seconds rewind
The first wave pulsing
Chicken hen
The countdown pursues
Grown numbers
Burnt timbers
Fire raging match to torch
Sweeping through bosom
One to Ten
Waves overtaking
Smooth quiver
Cold shiver
Our bodies traces river
The sheets like spent tides
Taking sides
Obliqueness a must
Swords to rust
In waters
Of bodies liquid oceans
Dilution the fate
Mellow thrust
Remnants of the shore
Where the land
Calls for more
Liquids creating quicksand
Feverish demand
Dripping sweet
My fingers honey
Queen of bees
Mind to tease
Extrusion to intrusion
Undulating frames
Reading of the poem:
Seduction – David Arkenstone
The purple at dusk
12 November 2016
Square circles
Blend in my footsteps
The suns rise
In winters
When the tides set in rivers
Knocking at my door
They were four
Liquid symphonies
They rode on
Beyond breeze
Their breath and fire lit trees
Pathways of cinder
Water came
Flowed into broiled game
We knew not
How to tame
Raging of fire and flow
The split and splinter
Shards of rain
Swept away masses
Needle’s eye
Forgave not
The slightest remnant of thought
Borne within the fear
Bask in pain
Sunlight reminder
When we wake
To mistake
Morrows shadow our past tense
Wickers of pretense
The woods lie
Down by the river
Where the hearts
Still quiver
Sound of music invading
The purple at dusk
Reading of the poem:
Soul of the Tango Sur Regreso Al Amor – Yo Yo Ma
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