Superhero: The Poets Cut

She cracks the reins of horse-drawn waves
and creates the thunder song that howls in
the night...

I cover all things with my kiss blown wind,
tossing hair into eyes forcing all to blink again.

I imbibe all of your salty tears, straining pure
the oceans that will swell into life-giving years.

I take all of your pain and roll it in my psalm,
planting a single seed of next seasons leaves.

I gnaw your fears into a silver lined powder,
spitting out star made stories to rewrite the sky.

In dulcet currents of my breath, I spark your
phoenix fires, flashing out the fuel of futile desires.

I am all of your symbols equally combined into
the image of one and a reflection of each I can become.

I can speak with the tongues of three, cantillating
each of your soul songs simultaneously.

Feel me press my fingers into your pushpin
cushioned hearts, percussing them into unison
and calling all the lost.

Upon the sunrise she leaves the first clouds making
paper doll reminders in the morning sky and those that
heard her nightly tale gaze at their shape until melted
by her eyes.

If I were a superhero, this would be my story...


The Poets Cut

Originally written and published on September 24, 2012 Superhero is one of my favorite reading based poems. I enjoy the transition a poem takes from written word to oral performance and have found that not all are meant to be taken into reading. This one however crawled off the page and into my microphone! Choosing an image to partner was suddenly easy when I scrolled past the above image taken in July this vision my Superhero arrived. 

Streaming: The Poets Cut


our stream
we ride castaway to its current
lurching at half dead letters
trying to build a paddle
of life saving words

our efforts
unable to float in flail
the bold font of the river
deletes the siltation
of our particled allegories

our drowning
the end of the struggle
we anchor riparian
to the verbed meander
of its alluvial ataraxia

The Poets Cut

Originally published on September 4, 2012 this piece was inspired by a micro-poem written in the prior month on social media. 

~ our stream ~
~we ride castaway to its current ~
~ lurching at half dead letters ~
~trying to build a paddle ~
~ of life saving words ~

The longer form found its way through the metaphor meant to somewhat halt for a granular inspection. The image paired today was taken several years later in 2014 as I strolled along the city. When looking through my archives it found itself fitting to these words. 

Lost: The Poets Cut


Square peg minded thoughts
in a round world with holey beliefs

Singular hopes fall
into a parade of ticker tape pieces

The two foot pedaled journey
amidst the four-wheel driven currents

Morning coffee stories of apocalypse
in fresh mountain spring after this

To the slow leak
of free fall bubbled faults

Along the curbed wayside
for sale half a citizen off

Box lunch stiff
in six feet of soiled bliss

The Poets Cut

Originally published on August 28, 2012, inspired as I sat curbside and the word scrolled in the above original image along the passers by gave a moment of the very real sense of come and go, here and there, inspire and expire of our existence. These words follow the Lost of an anonymous prompt, a muse to whom I give my thanks. 

Watched: The Poets Cut


I watched the sky
turn to ice from auburn
as the raindrops played songs
that sounded like names

I felt the breeze of night
tickle my knees
as I lingered in thoughts
of being kissed red

My pores teared wishes
in the nights balmy embrace
as the sudden flares of lightning
shone the visions of your face

Black light clouds against
starlit heart, patient to ignite
I opened my pane to the winds
of change, branching out my desires

Lullabies of thunder chimed
the final bell story told
as I felt the surrender of fear
into three oceans of hope

The Poets Cut

Originally published with included image on August 14, 2012 this as many of my poems from the time is often attributed to romance; while yes it is romantic, the words lingered only for myself in its construction. During this time, and still, the primary relationship I focused on cultivating and growing was with myself. It has been a great learning to become aware that growth in my relationship with "me" was the only path to becoming the person I want to contribute to all my relationships as a "we" and so it goes day by day, poem by poem...and the love grows deeper. 

Imaginals: The Poets Cut


this chrysalis
breaking down
borders and powers
falling crowns

pupal stories
embryo to fin
the sessile forces
change in winds

we the imaginals
sync in vibration
intended growth
of cycled transformation

new disks marry
overturning old blocks
leaving only exuvium
of dead man thoughts

The Poets Cut

Many have added metaphorical and communal words to the story of "imaginal cells" in creatures such as the caterpillar, these imaginal "disks" of the butterfly hiding within the helix until the perfect moment in which their unison vibration and multiplication allow them to overtake their old form and become the new way. When hearing a telling of this metaphor I wanted to put my words towards this beautiful opportunity that currently presents itself to we the imaginals.

It also felt a good time to revive this poem and original art, published first on July 31, 2012, as a sequel to the piece "Resistance" and current global system events. I wish to clarify and affirm my current perspective and voice to these changes quickly overtaking our sense of "everyday normalcy". It is challenging to separate those that follow an individual such as Donald Trump and we must understand that environment, experience and capacity affects each uniquely and no perspective is "wrong", to do so perpetuates the futility of right and wrong making and the energy that fuels these bombastic figures.

Yes we will resist all that presents harm to humans, yes we will use our voices to stand up to individuals, groups and systems and promote harm to any one human and we must find ways to speak out without ostracizing and casting judgements of others. We have to aim for the high road and if you get lost into an argument...recognize, accept, amend to your best capability in the moment and choose out. 

It is a difficult balance and I admit falling into the fear energy of it myself as I have processed these systemic shifts across the world. After a unexpected, enlightening conversation I was recently joyful to experience, I affirmed within myself that we can be resistant to harmful policies and compassionate to those that see policy differently. Modeling this is the most vital energy we can commit to now. 


Image originally shared via Facebook page /CareyRoseOConnell

Image originally shared via Facebook page /CareyRoseOConnell


What is happening now isn't the typical politics of party ideologies fucking up what is influencing our policies. What we are witnessing is the breaking down of our current systems and as frightening as it seems, we do it every evolutionary cycle of capacity growth in human consciousness. Human thinking is too far apart, we have tribal fears still trying to exist as modern unified thinking has entered the stage. Nothing will be "okay" or "the same". In noetic and social sciences we have found the human race kills off about 25% of itself to evolve in consciousness, that's 1.8 billion people today folks and we have thus far always chosen pain.

A large majority of our population is not aware of this type of evolution, as there isn't a Darwinian monkey to man drawing of it and religions have separated the masses from their individual vision, though it has existed to propel us forward through the vibration of our free will since our very beginning.

As one of the 16-20% of people that are shifting into or fully aware of the knowledge and science behind the way we behave and engage, I speak and see for the greater expansion that is occurring and it is the responsibility of those that are aware to sound the words and vibration of what is no longer viable and reasonable in our thinking.

The aware ones are here for the purpose of calling out what no longer works and there will be no apologies as we are not here to save what is now broken and unfit for modern humanity, but to seed the ideas, passion and integration that is necessary for our species to evolve as this one collapses.

The aware will watch as both the aggressors and the complicit destroy all that we've known and will endure the tragic losses to stand together on the other side of this evolutionary cycle to become the founders of the next modern way.

This is not the time to unify with thinking that is trying to hold onto irrelevant value systems, our role is much greater, as the aware ones live the now, for the longest extension of the journey of the entire universal system holding us in form.

Send peace, love and thoughts of joy to and for all beings in time and space. Be well my friends, stand up for integration and the health and joy of all life. Do not live in fear in the face of what the majority of our population is creating now as we are co-creators and hold the great capacity to saturate the experience with our awareness that power is greatest when given to each human to explore their ideal version of self, inclusively and freely.

Stand up for each other, don't quiet when witnessing harm-making. Boldly cut it apart with empowered words and carve in vision with your joy for what will become in our next great steps. Stop violence, stand a front it and call it out for the coward it is, shock complacency, sing so loudly they wake to the harmony of self-awareness.

Be bold! Be empowered! Be aware!

Love bubble 💕


Mother: The Poets Cut


If I could say to you
In enough meaningful words
Without creating a vapid milieu
That could never begin to serve

I offer you this cadenced ovation
Inspired from your matrix
You the essence of my adulation
Wrapped in the beauty of our florid helix

Within me you breathe constant life
A power source of love, unequivocal
Your compassion pours over rigid strife
Permeating the lessons, ancestral

 If I could say to you
In enough meaningful words
Without creating a vapid milieu
That could never begin to serve

With the sum of my spirit
Tender mother, in you I find grace
I walk in the trail of your comet
Every step nourished in your embrace

The Poets Cut

Originally written in May 2011

The Keeper: The Poets Cut

She walks in the garden that grows
between day and night and harvests
bouquets of the perfect light.

She presses tongues into crystal
blue blooms with golden centers that
light the full moon.

She plants the seeds of dreamers
in the soils of time and grows them
for the askers by singing in rhyme.

She cultivates shooting stars, filling
them with love and sprinkles them
across the sky giving hopeful eyes
wonder of the above.

She  finger paints compassion on
the dark side of truth and coats
it with sun until peace is reproduced.

She, the keeper of our garden, weeds
the thoughts of mind so the veins
of commonality are ours to find.

The Poets Cut

I adore this reading, it has the most plays of the spoken word pieces I have recorded and published on I do not often record readings of my poems, though I immediately know those that demand my voice be added and I always comply. This came after a profoundly impactful night of imagery during sleep. Although the topic, tone and tale of "The Keeper" is quite different than the shadows that arrived in my dreams that were the prompt it somehow was the most articulate clarity I could give to describe the time I slept with my demons that night. 

Sol Journey: The Poets Cut


Stripped to nothing
I waited for your return
The time when again
Under you my flesh burns

Cool breezed demeanor
I saw you approach
In bated breath
What topics to broach

Should I tell of sacrifice
Of how I have lost it all
Or perhaps you know that
From afar you watched me crawl

I've burnt myself up in hell
Since the last time we spoke
When I gave you my intentions
Bathed in your yolk

Wrapped in your calidity
A rewrite of my helix
Unbending its curve
Given a new point of axis

On your love I spin
Was my honor enough?
I can wait another year
Hell is not so rough

Stripped to nothing
I waited for your return
The time when again
Under you my flesh burns

The Poets Cut

This piece was written in June 2011 and very much metaphors the very deep relationship with myself that I was undergoing. Both my light and my shadow, all my form being embarrassed and loved ruthlessly. 

The image was taken in 2014 and I selected it for this poem today because of the reflective tone the sun in the puddle adds.