Archive for April, 2009

April 30, 2009

by Emma

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April 30, 2009

BabyGro

by Emma


April 29, 2009

by Emma

http://www.michaelteachings.com/old_soul.html

Superfine Sun Sister Moon Dancer.
April 28, 2009

love foretold

by Emma

So what about June? What will it bring? The spring equinox moved energies around. It coughed up more density and darkness and let it fly around as it now had nowhere left to go. In this way, edginess, shakiness, fear, uncertainty, jitteriness, and a spookiness could be felt. With our own personal density being so much less now, we may have felt that we were out in the cold with no jacket, naked and unprotected. And very vulnerable indeed.

If we were to be far out in space and look at the earth, wondering what was going on down there right now, it would look like this: Whatever was left of the denser and old energies has just been usurped and is flying around with nothing to attach to. The old reality is really a huge illusion right now, so in this way, nothing much is grounded. With all the old now having been dug up and lifted out of its prior home, chaos is present. There is a massive changing of the guard going on now. It is massive indeed. A very new energy will now hold the earth. This energy will be in charge of her now, in all ways. This new energy will move into place, hold the space, and very much reside on and within the earth in all ways. With outstretched arms, this energy will be the new steward for the earth, and will now, finally, have carte blanche in whatever it chooses to create. And this new energy is us.

So then, this is why the solstice of June will be the final step of this new grounding, of this new stewardship, of this massive anchoring in of our energies in a very new space. This is a massive undertaking, as it well should be. The uncertainty now comes from the fact that we ended our prior roles several months ago, have been setting up ever since for the new, and in addition, have been in temporary holding places until it is safe to assume our new positions. Many of us have connected to temporary places and spaces that will harbor us until it is safe to “go out” once again…but “going out” will never be the same anyway.

If we can hang on a bit longer, know that things are right where they need to be, and trust that our current situation is only temporary, perhaps we can then sleep more soundly, relax, and simply allow our souls and the universe to do their jobs…and they love doing their jobs!

April 28, 2009

Rilke

by Emma

Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner – what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.

April 27, 2009

by Emma

It’s easy. You just love me with all your heart and soul till the end of time.

April 25, 2009

The First Straw | Jeffrey McDaniel

by Emma

I used to think love was two people sucking
on the same straw to see whose thirst was stronger,

but then I whiffed the crushed walnuts of your nape,
traced jackals in the snow-covered tombstones of your teeth.

I used to think love was a non-stop saxophone solo
in the lungs, till I hung with you like a pair of sneakers

from a phone line, and you promised to always smell
the rose in my kerosene. I used to think love was terminal

pelvic ballet, till you let me jog beside while you pedaled
all over hell on the menstrual bicycle, your tongue

ripping through my prairie like a tornado of paper cuts.
I used to think love was an old man smashing a mirror

over his knee, till you helped me carry the barbell
of my spirit back up the stairs after my car pirouetted

in the desert. You are my history book. I used to not believe
in fairy tales till I played the dunce in sheep’s clothing

and felt how perfectly your foot fit in the glass slipper
of my ass. But then duty wrapped its phone cord

around my ankle and yanked me across the continent.
And now there are three thousand miles between the u

and s in esophagus. And being without you is like standing
at a cement-filled wall with a roll of Yugoslavian nickels

and making a wish. Some days I miss you so much
I’d jump off the roof of your office building

just to catch a glimpse of you on the way down. I wish
we could trade left eyeballs, so we could always see

what the other sees. But you’re here, I’m there,
and we have only words, a nightly phone call – one chance

to mix feelings into syllables and pour into the receiver,
hope they don’t disassemble in that calculus of wire.

And lately – with this whole war thing – the language machine
supporting it – I feel betrayed by the alphabet, like they’re

injecting strychnine into my vowels, infecting my consonants,
naming attack helicopters after shattered Indian tribes:

Apache, Blackhawk; and West Bank colonizers are settlers,
so Sharon is Davey Crockett, and Arafat: Geronimo,

and it’s the Wild West all over again. And I imagine Picasso
looking in a mirror, decorating his face in war paint,

washing his brushes in venom. And I think of Jenin
in all that rubble, and I feel like a Cyclops with two eyes,

like an anorexic with three mouths, like a scuba diver
in quicksand, like a shark with plastic vampire teeth,

like I’m the executioner’s fingernail trying to reason
with the hand. And I don’t know how to speak love

when the heart is a busted cup filling with spit and paste,
and the only sexual fantasy I have is busting

into the Pentagon with a bazooka-sized pen and blowing
open the minds of generals. And I comfort myself

with the thought that we’ll name our first child Jenin,
and her middle name will be Terezin, and we’ll teach her

how to glow in the dark, and how to swallow firecrackers,
and to never neglect the first straw; because no one

ever talks about the first straw, it’s always the last straw
that gets all the attention, but by then it’s way too late.

April 25, 2009

by Emma

 

We sit in the chair we have built and look into the forest we have created and ponder the light and dark we have experienced. Then we take the next step which, as we know, is the only step.