Resistance

 
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 Soundcoud.com. 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

 
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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. 

Pluming: The Poets Cut

 
 

the uncomely bird
traveling the skies
wishing, wishing, wishing
comely along the miles

cerulean pool oscillates the sky
image of the dream
seeing, seeing, seeing
foul and serum osculate lives

diurnal intention of becoming
cleansing in the purity
diving, diving, diving
nocturnal dreams of a second coming

quadrivium circle converts
feather into beryl crusted bloom
being, being, being
beholden of the virtue preserved


The Poets Cut

This piece was written in 2011 and holds a special place with me even when I read it again today. It is a piece that speaks of the changing, the evolution of a life. The peeling off of the old to unveil the new. The blues, the flight, the sky all the symbolism of the free I was unfolding within myself. 

The image was taken later in 2014 though the thought of the moon dressing full and undressing to new each month, its own way of pluming against the backdrop of the bold blues in the sky seemed to fall perfectly to these words.  

My Funny Valentine: The Poets Cut

 
 

The sound of my old alarm clock was again buzzing through the hollows of my ears. My eyes, resisting all efforts to pry open, finally allowed a narrow view, an exit from my delectable dreams. Laying there until an acceptance, the day must begin and so must I. The list of things I had to do took over my mind as I bobbled and fumbled throughout my morning. The sting of a razor cutting the skin, the burnt flesh of my toast and the tear of a newly purchased stocking carried me out the door.

The day was cold, the air stinging my face as I walked through the streets, as I played the day out in my head I failed to notice it happening around me. The sounds of the streets, other people walking their journey, occasionally impeded my thoughts and demanded my attention. Only a few concessions made, a hardened warrior of this course, I knew how much to give and how often to collide. This knowing would prove to play a more unique version than normally given to me by the universe, one that began with a meeting, one provisioned in the depths of my tormented mind.

I stood there, willing the line at my normal destination, waiting for all those ahead to select their items of comfort and needed for gestation. For some it was the paper, others a warm tea, for many the scones, filled with nuts and cranberries. The beats of my playlist accompanied me in the stale time, providing soundtrack to the now dance of a coffee-house, I created to bide. I tapped my finger against my wallet, preparing my menu and awaiting my turn. A tug to my sleeve became a moment of reverie as I turned to see what was staring back at me.

At first I saw no one, another pull at my arm gathered my gaze down, now cast upon the most curious creäture that I had ever seen.  A small, tiny man, a seeming gnome given life, ready to end his endless slumber and confer on all his thoughts and dreams. A gleam in his eye and an almost threat in his smile, I stood baffled, awaiting someone else to interject their witness to this unexplainable moment. No one chimed in, no other seemed to notice, this time was only for he and I.  It was now my turn, to engage the matter, participation required, his patience seemed not to break.

“Hey” the only word I could conjure.

“Hello there love!” he replied in a most ominous way. “I bring you tidings from your dreams, all the things you desire are now awaiting.” he offered, bringing his hand toward me, opening his palm to show a red stone, pulsing light, beating with the drum of a heart.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said in quick retort, awaiting the incoming price tag.

“Touch it once and feel the tingle, hold in your handle and let it mingle, once burnt in the dreams of time, will shine down on you like the melody of my rhyme.” he sang out, exuberant in his chant.

I knew this would be the extent of his explanation, seemingly ready to loop back into his song offering all of life’s treasures. I contemplated this moment, still stunned from this dreamlike vision. Was I awake? I pinched at my own arms to give my self a jolt, nothing happened. I pulled at the end of my hair to sting myself alert, nothing happened. I allowed myself the moment to consider this possible truth. Could I be so lucky to receive a messenger of tidings, one that graces only a chosen few.

The moment my mind considered the possibility, enthralled in its allure, I became fond of the notion. I extended my fingers toward the stone, a last burst of spontaneity, it was now in my hands. I sat there, embracing its glowing lullaby, allowing its pulse to unite and sync in unison with mine. His chant began to echo, repeating me into a lull. It mutated and warped, started to torment my soul, the pounding of the stone now overtook my own. Thumping and pounding my heart began to hurt, the promise of my dreams not clarified, it was representing those that only trouble, not any that glorify.

I began falling through space and time, each joint, each limb slowly detached, pulled apart like blocks, I began to disappear. Gasping, crying, moaning, the pain of my mind, very much aware. I was in a tumble,  each piece of my body falling off into the below thinning air. I begged for an end, my death must come, when suddenly I was reassembled with an impact and resounding thud. I had reached a destination, a resting place unknown. I laid there flat, trying to feel what had occurred, my limbs now present, the feeling excruciating, my soul burned. I opened my eyes to witness a fiery hell, the depths of which could never be described in tell. There were thousands of others, strained to their very core , pulling carts of coal, continuing in a loop of their never-ending terms.

The gnome appeared once again to greet me to my new home. “With absence of mind comes the scold of our design!” he explained. “Your fate now sealed, in our arrangement your life is revealed. You will carry the fuel to torch the nightmares of the world. This is your fate, your love, your line, this my sweet deary is your funny valentine.” he cackled and danced in glorious design. I stood there, unable to stomach my regret, my choice chastened by fate, not everything is a gift of pleasure, only in careful discernment can one see what actually awaits.


Poets Cut

I wrote this short story on Valentines Day 2011 and it remains one of my favorite. I love short stories as a poet as I often get exhausted after 15 words ;) This isn't so much about love actually, I've never been that great of an advocate of the theme of "love" put through material expression in modern time. Let us not forget love is a perspective and has equal definitions to that of our current population (7.2 billion humans = 7.2 definitions of love) I've been unable to put that on a card or in a box of chocolates and consider it an adequate expression of my definition of "love". 

And so I wrote this to interpret a broader effect of what is trigger by our desire for something, the impetuousness we step into, out of normal character into superhero for a moment. I've learned since the time I first strung these words that the state of discernment is the health of spontaneity and judgment is its pathology. 

The image was taken later, another February capture in 2013 and I always have loved that this heart appeared with no interference or effort. A hummingbird feeder had lost its contents onto the surface below, the drips saturating rock and shaping the heart, of whose sweet nectar a community of ants fed. All courtesy of the moment. 

Walking It: The Poets Cut

 
 

I put this down
intending I am found
one way or another
there has to be
a way to see it...

That little thing sitting
in the corner of a dream
still out of focus
I shed the want
in trying to name it...

It's the patience of the flow
the practice of letting it go
the acquiesce to now
my walk carves the desert
until I arrive upon it...


The Poets Cut

This was written in September 2011 as I began to actively apply patience to my journey. It continues to be part of my daily practice and always provides me an abundance of opportunities to practice. 

The image selected was taken in January 2015 and seemed quite fitting for patient steps. 

Dismantled Persona: The Poets Cut

 
 

There they wait, lecherous for a hot bawdy flaunt
She stands in kind, a something new with them to taunt
A spotlight shows her frown

Stoic and statuesque, the beauty is disgraced
A tune begins to play, a tug to the first lace
Happiness then falls down

A slight flesh is revealed, they cry out in desire
She slowly spins, this time around, she burns in fire
Fear falls to the mad hounds

The trial drags, bearing her witness, hers to daunt
She graces the stage, her feline ways, spirit gaunt
Sadness falls without sound

The melody plays, the onlookers now red faced
She glides and slides, vacantly, lost without a trace
Denial falls, lost crown

Momentum is built, the hungry beasts make her pyre
She dangles and shakes her wares, moment lost to sires
Anger falls, they astound

Holding the final bits of grace, the stage she haunts
She drops them one by one, knowing soon they will jaunt
Greed falls, dance pretty clown

With the last of her canvas fallen, now replaced
She dances her final motions, a new embrace
Pride falls, moment profound

Never again will she fall to simple desires
She is there, bare, only herself will she require
Standing in acceptance


The Poets Cut

This piece was written in 2011 in a form of poetry I created named "Thrice Form". It was a time when I was enjoying the synchronicity of three in my learning and experiences and as everything does with me, three came out in this form. The form is designed as follows:

Composed of all Tercets, minimum of three, no maximum, when adding must always be in threes
preferred syllable count 12/12/6 but can vary as long as you stay in a syllable count divisible by three
Rhyme scheme: a/a/c b/b/c d/d/c if repeating then the rhyme scheme should start over and loop back to Tercets 1-3 and carry on throughout

The image was taken in 2015. I chose this to pair with this particular piece due to the source of the marble. In a wonderful lecture about self awareness we were given a clear marble and told...."always roll in your translucent". On my journey finding the strength source of vulnerability I had to shed much of what was my once exterior. 

The Other Side: The Poets Cut

 
 

We'll meet you there, on the other side...

The one where all can breathe the air,
and sit in acceptance of our resident err.

We'll meet you there, on the other side...

Through the field of poppies, our steps in mass carve an aisle,
to lead you from nowhere, knowing that no man is an isle.

We'll meet you there, on the other side...

Where the azure skies are swirled with apricot dye,
and we walk in love and curiosity, fear let die.

We'll meet you there, on the other side...

No longer do you need to watch through a pane,
untie the golden bow and choose  to live without pain.

We'll meet you there, on the other side...


The Poets Cut

Originally written in May 2011, this homonym style piece is co-authored with my lovely niece, Lucia Rose, a poetess in the making. At ten years old she read the tale of Pandora and her box. This image prompted a great conversation and learning about the release of all that is chaos balanced with the one greatest light between her and I as we spoke about homonyms and life.

In her words " Pandora opened that box with curiosity, I think the world should be curious, not frightened." ~ Lucia Rose


I drew the image selected today on 1/7/2015, the day the Charlie Hedbo offices were attacked in Paris. Humans...we are so delicate, so fragile and so brutal with one another in current time.

 #JeSuisHumanity

I love you, period: The Poets Cut

 
 

I dip my soft bristles from root to tip
You, the consummate well for my ink
Stirring around your deep colored spirit
Harmonious match, I long deeper to sink

Gliding exit from your glistening embrace
Now onto your supple flesh I play
Tender canvas to soak in love
My abundant brush begins to sway

Sealed by the falling dust of stars above
The final touch, an adoring finish
I love you, period
This beautiful truth will never diminish


The Poets Cut

This piece was originally written and shared on May 3, 2011 and was very much my way of shifting seductive language to soulful context. Over the last five years I have had the fortune of having a great love affair...with myself. In this time of discovery I found the same frequency of intimate fulfillment and joy occur within me, through me in ways that we often believe can only be given to us by another person.

In the use of this language I wished to show the love, the affection and the desire I felt within my own-self for my own-self, were attainable and because I've learned to create this within, I will be a stronger source when I am able to give it to another. 

The imagery chosen was actually an impromptu sketch from a local class of the Parent Meditation program I developed. When selecting an image for this piece it most reflected the lover of my experience in self.