The Hounds Of Torquemada

sometimes scared I hear
the stink and the hot blood
rushing thru the crowds
like demons on the loose
the hounds of Torquemada

sometimes I see them
all the people in the streets
lost and in a mumble
of pain and crazy jumble
and death in every tumble

and I just wanna lay there
in the streets so dirty
teeming with the garbage
of privileged excrement
and tear my chest wide open

and with my desperate fingers
claw my hurt ribs agape
and reach in for my heart
and rip it from my soul
and hold it over head

and let my blood gush forth
in step with all my tears
and wash it all away
why can’t it wash away
oh Jesus wash, oh Jesus

why is it them not me
i think I’m gunna cry
and cry and cry and cry
while my heart bleeds and bleeds
until it’s bled all dry

Good Friday 2017

everyone denied it.

that He was killed
that He was alive
that there was a Door
that the Door was closed

everyone denied it.

that there was it.
that it was.
that she was dressed
that she was it.

She knew better
because dawn had done
and blue was shining
in her golden hope

She knew open and empty
were Something.

My Offering Of Violent Worship

Born transgender…
concealed…
in rushes, in tulies
wandering deserts
and walking lonesome valleys…

and we walked around the sun
50 times, spinning, circling
while I, spinning and circling
spiraled out of myself

torn in two
or maybe parted
by Solomon’s Silver Blade
my inner me stifled and screaming
“Give Her Away! Give Her Away!”

as he just shrugged and said
“I don’t wanna be here anyway”

but then to come to myself slow
trickling back home
and draining up and in
before coming out

the sun so bright
the wind so fresh
creation dancing

and the stink of hate and horror
and the sting of brutal spittle
and eyes that bruise and stab

and the cries of the powerless
and the silence of the othered
and the dust of death settling

I dance, I sing, I SHOUT!
I whirl and lift that dust to the wind
as my offering of violent worship
of our Liberty God, Our Graceful GOD
our LOVING GOD

and I hear Their loving strong whisper:
“For such a time as this you were created”

and I take my place with Ester
and take Mary of Bethany’s hand

and settle into this truest truth for me:

“My maids and I will fast likewise.
And so I will go to the king, which is against the law;
and if I perish, I perish!”

Where The Light Passes In

Do you know the place where the light passes in?
That’s where you’ll find me when darkness is seeping
from crevice and cranny while Spring trudges weeping
I sit in the place where the light passes in.

You’ll find me there singing of beautiful life
and of faith like pure gold burnished shiny with hope
as my tears fall like diamonds so soft in the wind
In that place where the light, where the light passes in.

Listen…you barely can sound out the echoes
that buzz in the trees and bounce off the crags
and run back and forth from my mouth to my chin
In the place where the light passes in, passes in

It’s tempting to think that I never have lived
a sad day or a bad day when dark gathers grim…
But I have…what’s the secret? Outside and In?
Why I let the light pass thru, and out, and then in…

I’m the place where the light, where the light passes in.

Our Sacred Desert Story

We set out on tender feet
and tender hearts to match
and faces become flint as we
determined that we would not faint.

When our sojourn was hip deep in heat
and we were well and away, out to sea
she told me of the heartbreak and the horror
and there how we did rain our tears…

We took turns (while we wiled the desert paths away)
swimming away from the ship of us…naked, vulnerable
and healing in the slick water…further and further
and then return and up and back into our desert ship.

It was in the sunset wrought with haze from distant destinations
that make you think about fire, and about what might have been.
We, perched on that rock solid emanating heat and spitting healing
while the sky, bruised by our advances, turned purple in our song.

It was just Day Umpteen Kazillion in our great traverse of deserts,
we walking, swimming straight by myth and extraterrestrial,
feeding on lizards, trilobites, and our sacred Stories our Communion shared
and we, oh so close to our arriving, our becoming, our sacred Desert Story.

 

Resurrection In Purple Flow

Sometimes when
I am in the presence
of the royal mountain

I can’t help myself.

I run purple, violet
I feast on fallen blossoms
(somehow the fallen sing more
of loss, of all that comes before

Resurrection
in purple flow

Today, Outside the Church Building by John Pavlovitz

“You see friend, if what happens in that building doesn’t renovate what happens outside that building, you’ve failed. If your church were to close down today and the neighborhood around you wouldn’t profoundly feel the loss, you need to change how you do what you do in that building. If the only people who would grieve your absence are the people already in that building, you’re not doing what you’re called to do. You are hoarding blessings from people who need and deserve to be blessed.

“Worship is not really what happens in that building. That is just songs and words and stories and prayers. It is religious activity, well-meaning and helpful as it may be. Worship, is a life lived changed by faith in God and burdened to reflect the character of that God to others. If the songs and the words and the stories and the prayers today don’t move you out of the building and into the paths of hurting people in a way that alters those paths—it’s all been wasted time.”Source:  Today, Outside the Church Building MARCH 19, 2017 / JOHN PAVLOVITZ

The Myth that the Church Alone Can and Should Take Care of the Poor

HOLY FREAKING COW!!!

Every christian person who reads here NEEDS to read this! Every conservative christian person who reads this needs to PONDER it!

word of a woman

Tuesday Jesse Graston, the South Carolina Coordinator of the John Birch Society, stood on the steps of the South Carolina Statehouse and called on Americans to nullify the Affordable Care Act and replace it with charity from churches. Frankly this is a sentiment I have heard for years. The government should get out of the “charity business) i.e. welfare, medicare, medicaid and Social Security and let the churches do their job. Well, I have news for you. That is just flat-out never going to happen. Not only because it wouldn’t work and people would be missed but also because they simply do not have the resources to carry out the task. Follow the math with me for a second.
(If math makes you queasy look for the statements in BOLD)

The federal budget expenditures from the year 2011 (the most recent year data is available) for these programs is…

View original post 1,487 more words

A Disjointed Incomplete Meditation…

This is talking about my own life, my own family…and yours, too…because all of us have this brokenness.  The evidence is irrefutable.

This poem is all about forgiveness…trying to give it and trying to receive it…and the incredible revelation that it is impossible.

There is no trying…there is only becoming.

“…And so now we get down to it:
there is no exit,
no escape from agony,
pitstop from pain…
all we can do is
exchange suffering’s form
and it’s face, from our own
for the pain of another…”

Source: A Disjointed Incomplete Meditation…
tumblr_ni0sfjatWG1qzq0kvo1_1280

A Meditation About Toilets

Yunno…toilets are sort of important.  Life has improved SO MUCH since their invention and use…

Sometimes the greatest service a person can be to another person is to be a toilet…and the most immediate act of forgiveness is to flush it down.

I had an experience like that this week…and am working on the things I wrote about in the picture…

by being a toilet that flushes, and not one that is stoppered up and back-flows shit everywhere.

image

Source: The Suffering of Forgiveness

The Naked Hypocrisy of a Christian Disney Boycott | john pavlovitz

John P says it all…let the tombs of whitewash open their eyes!!


Conservative Christians have crawled out of the church pew woodwork to rend their garments and beat their breasts, at word that Disney’s live action adaptation of Beauty and the Beast will fe…

Source: The Naked Hypocrisy of a Christian Disney Boycott | john pavlovitz

My Vibrant Words

Another work from last year…I really like this poem!


it’s strange, how my words
are vibrant now, and safe…

my words are safe in themselves

they used to need your eyes
like vines need their trellis
eyes constant and seeing
and singing in the wind…

Source: My Vibrant Words

My Exodus

Reposting a poem from last year…any good poem applies at a number of different levels, some known and some unknown and waiting to be discovered…

tumblr_o3bsqwoQON1qhs1kno1_1280
I moved away while you weren’t watching
(it was easier than I thought it would be,
escaping past your X-Ray eyes
that look for flesh and blood
and thus missed my exodus)

I live by the sea, now…

Source: My Exodus

Blue There Living

The recent poems I published are my first since my surgery.
I find them quite informative to my rambunctious mind.

They jumped up, arms raised, excited small children
who wish the teacher would call on them, thus
sort of birthing them into the soft pure
air of truth, astonished at the blue
blue blue there,
living
tumblr_o49np1jql01qat5pio1_400

The Edge Of Truth And Wonder

when I happened
upon this floating
basket run
aground there, on
the edge of water

and land, the edge
of full and empty
the edge full
of sky and space

I wondered
about who had
taken the child
who laid there in

the basket, in
that place and in
the edge between
those flowers gathered

in the edge
of truth and wonder

Boats Of Beauty

Some people think
these boats aren’t real,
are just conjured up
from mid air and
the rare taste
of my desire,
pungent, raw
and sweeter than
pure honey dripping
off the velvet
waters of time

but conjured boats,
the only boats
that float in dream time,
real Behind Time
on the surface
of the waters
in all places,
and all times

in every ever,
every where

the conjured
boats of beauty

Roses out of Ruins


She walked, head held high
like a servant who pilfered a sweetcake
from the grouchy old cook
(who ruled her kingdom with iron,
a slave who fancied herself sovereign).

She took their glances, their …

Source: Roses out of Ruins

Living Above the Curse (Part 3 – The Curse of Man)

Here is part three.

All three parts of this series are written by a brilliant, insightful and passionate human being of the female gender…and she uses the FULL RANGE of her palate to express these truths.

Hey dudes…listen the fuck up!  Pull your heads out of the sands of fear and your fingers out of your ears and shut yer pie-holes from babbling all about the estrogen the estrogen and LISTEN.  You do not get to pass judgement on sumfin cus you are either comfortable or uncomfortable…you are under the same standard of restoration as the rest of humanity…is it the Way, and is it the Truth, and is it the Life? Whether you LIKE it or not…whether it makes you FEEL GOOD or not…

Thank you Jennifer.  Your words are truth and life.

We all know the Venus and Mars stereotypes. Women are complex multitasking nurturers, men are singularly-focused aggressive hunter/providers.

Woman: with the flu, a cramping, hemorrhaging uterus and a baby attached to her boob pushes through her daily myriad of responsibilities to take care of the family

vs.

male: devastated by Man Cold.

Source: Living Above the Curse (Part 3 – The Curse of Man)

In Arpeggio Miles

Ohhh CONSTANCE!!  I have been transcribing this poem for a friend, the lovely Michelle Terry (Hi Grl!!)…and I fell in love with it again.  Aaauuggghh!!  I LOVE THIS POEM.

It’s about an evening that plays out between two hearts, two souls…it plays out between The Earth and Space…it plays out between waters and land, and heart and bodies…it plays out between Love and Lover and back again…it plays out between the carnal and the ineffable…desire and Desire…

it plays out between where it happens and where It Happens…

And Subjects…The Divine and Human, Self and Self, Self and Subject…

I like my metaphors and use of them…I like the references and hints dropped.  I like the movements, from Prelude to Finale.  It is sensual and spiritual all at once, and it still feels really good.

Some critics have told me it is too long…perhaps they are right…but I allus ask them what do they expect me to do about that?? For I have about as much say over how long it is as I do how tall you are!

If you’re a new reader and dabbling, I hope you will take a run…   ❤

In Arpeggio Miles

Prelude:
There is an indigo bunting
outside my window singing
in the moonlight streaming by
a million miles an hour.
But it is not the window
on my mind tonight…
I keep returning to that door…

Source: In Arpeggio Miles

Sonnet Of The Phoenix (For JD)

Oh Holy Lightning Strike like Griffin Swift
upon this yearning heart in desperate need
of Your Mercy Severe, Your Holy Gift
Give us Grace to Find the Phoenix-Way!

To rise in faith from Ashes and from death
to self and self reliance, come what may!
On resurrection wings and Spirit’s breath
alive again and all is well this night

that breaks and shatters with the rising dawn…
and not a single fire road in sight,
and what will be well it shall simply be
and what will not be well it will be gone!
tumblr_oba62bXDis1r38hk2o1_1280

Come Holy Fire, we answer Your Call!
and All Reborn, and Love is All in All,

“Someday…someday the snow will fall!”

Dread and Presences

I am reblogging this poem from 2 years ago…here is the key passage:

“I step to the rail and look back
peering intently into the fog
thick and lingering,
but 2014 is shrouded, hidden
and if I hadn’t lived it
I wouldn’t have believed it
was anything more
than a dream.

It was a year that hollowed out
thinned out, emptied out
but never declared its intention.
I don’t think it ever knew
or if it even could…”

Charissa's Grace Notes

Dread.

I feel it still.
Laying at the base of my throat and throbbing
dully, quietly slumbering with one leering eye
cocked open always and leaning towards my heart.

My heart…
chipped and worked, touched and chilled
by the frozen fingers of dread

and shards of it lay scattered at my feet
clear, jagged glimmering
broken.tumblr_nf01s3Hemc1sjr8bdo1_1280

I step to the rail and look back
peering intently into the fog thick and lingering,
but 2014 is shrouded, hidden
and if I hadn’t lived it I wouldn’t have believed it
was anything more than a dream.

It was a year that hollowed out
thinned out, emptied out
but never declared its intention.
I don’t think it ever knew or if it even could.

It was a year without windows
but many doors
and ladies
and tigers.

There is more to life than meets the eye,
more than can be measured by the senses or a census
but this morning there is just the fog behind
and…

View original post 115 more words

This Brilliant Indifference


I am a childe of dark, a childe of light.
I was born beneath the shining moon but just outside it’s golden touch there, on dim green meadows blanketing the warm red earth
in comfort midst the…

Source: This Brilliant Indifference

Between the Lines

I need to repost this poem from a couple years ago a day early…and I don’t even want a SHADOW of eyes on this that aren’t willing to LABOR today to birth understanding of what I am writing about…

it’s so fucking obvious what I am writing about…

I am writing about what we are all mealy mouthing by blaming it on a specific year (as if the year were a shambling zombie…as if the year were different than any other year, as if WE were not the shining difference every goddam SECOND)…

but every single person SHOULD labor with this poem, and labor HARD…

cus it’s the liturgy you will need as you’re pulled inexorably to your end…

if you DO decide to click on this…then really get your hands into it, and don’t go looking for pretty words and cutesy lil poetic kuans…cus this aint it.

This is the blood of a Poetess…

this is the stuff of poetry, however poorly executed it is in my fumbly arthritic heart whose joints ACHE and SEETHE with rage at death and grief at the ways we pull our snugglies around us and pretend…

Jenniferlittermate, there will be much balm for you here, you are indeed ready.

“…and there I walk, alone between the lines,
my feet upon the ties, the ties that bind
and my heart ponders lines, and ties and spaces
in between the lines, the ones inside of me and what is hidden
there to see by those who stop and look and listen

…and take the time to read between the lines…”


Tree-lines mark the end of alpine meadow-frolics green
and the start of stone relief against the ever-constant skies
stretched out in steely greys and stellar silver blue sky-lines,
and space between the lines…

Source: Between the Lines

Just

tumblr_njvutgPhdF1qdunk8o1_500I just strive so hard just to remember,
just remember what I just now said,
just remember what I’m gunna say
and just said and just say and just said (and just say).

and your mind just strains hard to recall
what you’ve said, what you just mean to say
and then just reaches forward so quickly
to grab onto what you’ll just say next.

Mem’ry just pulls against expectation
twin sisters just trapped within time
like quick pagan twin versions just jumping
just like virgins, or just like Three Graces…
ruthnaomi
they just melt in our faint grasp completely
fleeing ere we can touch them, just gone
in that moment just blooming, becoming
we just clinging tight to a mere echo,

to a faint rumor lurking, just lingering
an arroyo called ‘Just Vanished Self’
and that rumor just leads me to moments
of kindness, just unmeasured time

elemental unfettered just kindness
that settles, in just quiet knowing
just a knowing so gentle and tender
of my heart’s every deep just desire
f9547923ed82c12c0c87cd1fc3b45727
and a time of just tears just like rivers
rushes just to the ocean of being
just to wash mem’ry, anticipation
(they’re just one and the same all the time)

I just witness my fiery capacity
to just love but it just strains its tethers
to long splintery docks, just grey time
that prevents me from leaving, just sailing

on that lake singing just of the ocean
of just being…being..just in time
just unbound, just free in my just joyful
Beginnings…just joyful…become
edb631c58d3d5aa5043339098b72d52f

After The Fire And Fury

Image result for hearth and ashes(For Jennifer Dickenson Christmas 2016)

After the Fire and Fury,
after the lies were consumed
there on the hearth in the ashes
just loose teeth, the only thing left…

…those teeth without jawbone to ride on
no power to bite my soft skin
and no way to grit and to grind
and I stare, there is nothing to mind
tumblr_oibaxqqquq1qas1mto4_1280
my life changed…the nights became darker
and yet somehow more restful too
days took on a crystalline quality
I realized that I had begun

to view my entire life’s history
past/present/future all at once
as mere memories ashy and cold
in the ashes there, deep in the hearth
Image result for hearth and ashes
What’s the precise time, the moment,
in the life of a country of one,
a country where Samson’s been blinded
by his lust and his own hot despair

and self-tyranny takes hold in terror?
It rarely happens in an instant;
it arrives imperceptible, slow
and, at first, the eyes of the hopeful
Image result for hearth and ashes
adjust…and pretend all is well…
I was drifting in one endless present
(the present, pray tell what that is?)
line of vapor, invisible instant?

But now I see clearly, no filter,
the connection of past and the future,
between motion and rest, it just lurks there
as if it’s in no time at all…

and what is it, lying there useless?
It’s just us (justice), it’s simply us.
tumblr_ohw8pd1kcb1uufoudo1_1280

Advent Reflections: The Activity of Incarnation (Introduction)

Advent:
the short period
during which all
the years of groaning,
from that first fatal blow dealt
by selfish egocentricity to the
entirety of creation…

which turned off the Divine Light,
are compacted into one designated

thick period…

not “long”, but “longish”
and full of longing.

Thick.
Packed.
Full.
Stacked.
Designated…

to wait.
Wait.

WAIT
tumblr_oia8xthkpe1vhq1iuo1_1280
Waiting for the most part is experienced as obdurate dull hunkering down and drinking from the cracked teacups of platitudes…ingesting such sops as “everything happens for a reason” and “this too shall pass”…yeah no…those things will not cut it, to get us thru this night, this absence of Divine Light that lays over all things, this utter darkness of the ego dictatorship.

Waiting…true waiting is become for us an empowered marking of events as they flow, infused by a knowing confidence that we wait for something certain and substantial…we wait for something coming and yet already here…we wait for the joy that veritably strains at the gates of birth to come forth!

We wait for someone…Someone…and every year that Someone comes fresh and new…and full of the very Presence that fits the absence of our existence like a Hand in a glove, like a key in a lock.
tumblr_ogjmaljtk41u94gxvo1_1280
The Ultimate Mystery of Existence is the Incarnation:  that joining of Creator and Creation into one full and harmonious miracle of Being…a joining that was planned and executed before even the foundations of the earth were laid, long ago sometime in eternity past when God in communion with God manifested the Eternal Sacred Heart in Passion Absolute and took up residence forever at the crux and core of all things, all rays, all paths and promises…that begotten presence which chose to be called Son climbed that tree and hung…hung…hangs…and hangs…

behind, beneath, above, within.

In every single cry of horror the cross is at the center.
In every single laugh of promise the cross is at the center.
In every single expression of wonder, every single nightmare of despair

the cross
at the center

And in the most central and deepest Intention is that Union, at the center of which the cross veritably pulsates!!
tumblr_o06l93papt1u8wonlo1_r2_1280
It is the Mystery of the Incarnation…which is spoken of most plainly in the lowly caterpillar…or is it spoken of most darkly in the mystery of the Chrysalis? Wait…it is spoken of most clearly in the emergence of the butterfly.

We are that caterpillar, our lives a Holy Chrysalis of Dark Promise, and our becoming the butterfly whose wings we feel pulsating within our breast, that activity of Wonder which flutters in heaving convulsing implications that there must be Something!!

And so this morning, I wanna talk about that…the activity.

The activity of the Incarnation.

During Advent, we can look at the various “actors” in the Christmas Story to take our cues and understand our path forward, onward, higher/deeper, inward/outward…
74214d9284e2ef3805ee78bac19f375c

Part Two:  https://charissagrace.com/2016/12/19/advent-reflections-the-activity-of-incarnation-part-two/

Advent Reflections: The Activity of Incarnation (Part One)

Let us start with Mary.
She is the type for each and every one of us.

Each of us is a potential “Mother of God”,
a “blessed among all women”,
a chosen and fit vessel to carry the Child of Promise, the Messiah!

And Mama hovers, draws near, and watches…She waits too!

Did you know that God waits?
That every single day of time is God’s Advent waiting?

But back to Mother Mary…back to you…who if you will, can choose to “be” Mother Mary.  She said to God “Be it unto me according to Your Will”, and “my soul does indeed magnify God”!

OH!  The shockwaves of that declaration continue to ripple still!  And she did indeed receive the Child into her inmost self, and God took up residence there and joined Themself to humanity forever and always, and the butterfly was born…the God-human, the human-God…that indescribable uncanny union of the Divine and the human, which is spoken of as “the new creation”.

And Mary brought forth that Child…after a 9 month Advent of gestation…and that Child is the Deliverer of Creation.
tumblr_oi9vfogpvt1s5neh1o1_1280
And this is the first phase of Advent Activity…and your first task.  Make room within your being for the Child to come and be implanted within…and bring forth that Incarnation of human/Divine life into this world in everything you do and say and think and are…you yourself in a very real sense “Mother” God…birth God…and it is your divine calling…no…your Divine RIGHT to birth God this Christmas, this year.

And what exactly would that look like, to bring forth God in your life?

Well…who is it that you want God to be for you?

That is who you must bring forth to the world.

It is the activity of Advent as an individual to birth and bring forth the Divine presence that only you can bring forth.

Oh Chosen Mary, blessed among all humans…search yourself, and make room…for the Incarnation within to come forth…
d35d83b48e3b018f395355058e50a4ee

Part Three:  https://charissagrace.com/2016/12/19/advent-reflections-the-activity-of-incarnation-part-three/

Advent Reflections: The Activity of Advent (Conclusion)

You must find the way that the Child calls you to live a life distinguished, transformed…changed after your encounter with the Incarnate One…

Encountering Emmanuel first within yourself, and bringing Him forth in the manger of your life…
Encountering Emmanuel next within others…and telling those who still languish in darkness that Emmanuel has come…
Encountering Emmanuel then in the World…and living in a way distinguished and different, resulting in the establishment of His Kingdom, the government on His shoulders, and His never-ending rule of Justice and Mercy Kissing…

This is the lesson and activity of Advent for us…may it be Living Bread for us.
Amen.
tumblr_ohw524k2qp1r4or01o1_1280

A Triptych On Time

47db19013f534cb2d4fc8a1d7659a306

https://charissagrace.com/2016/12/18/i-tell-time/

https://charissagrace.com/2016/12/18/if-winter-really-comes/

https://charissagrace.com/2016/12/18/a-sylvan-sound-so-sleek/

These all three go together and speak of the three aspects that we impose and make regarding time

Her Own Vampire

She was divided, rent
and torn to pieces
clinging to night
in the brunt
of day

she swirled
and melted down
outside

lying in coffins,
in caskets

(her heart her soul)

so black, beneath the dirt
so red inside desire
so bright and filled
with longing

she was her own grave
and when night fell
the earth moved
and trembled

and her brown-streaked
and desperate hand curled
into a claw carrying
crescent moons of dirt
deep beneath haunted
and hungry nails

as she undead
to her ownself
rose from the grave
to wander in
the night
reaches

she was her own vampire
diminishing, growing all
at once becoming
and draining

herself into

Herself
tattoo, body, and girl image

Hiding With Grace

tumblr_ohymmxps4l1spkvv8o1_1280
a quiet roaring
carries me
into the
arms

of
deep
forest
mystery

a
silent
snarl at
everything
that injures,
that horror harms

rises up thru jade velvet
moss dark and pungent and drawing
me down
e96de7aaddb58d5a9e9d7967660da6ac
I
sit
running
my fingers
thru silent silver
fog

creeping
around
tree trunks
and caressing
their yearning
tops

with
misty
lips
foggy_woods_by_noirerora-d9rzoga
and
I
sit
I
see

that
fog
enters
me

and
instructs
with

kisses
and
tickly
fingers
abdeabf6cf5a789b7323c7ec0ff28b37
and
teaches
me

how
to
hide
with

Grace
194e7f3b01ae8fcec885077613179551

Advent Poem: The Season of Emptiness

 

This poem is about how the work of Advent involves a preparation of Empty Bequeathed…and it uses transition as its vehicle.
This Christmas,
nothing has been exposed,
revealed as the imposter
it still masquerades as.
I am empty of screams
but full of me and
ready to receive
the Promise of words
to give voice to
what’s unspeakable, unnameable,
to dress that wound
infected with nothing
and salve it with
the scratchy tickle of truth
and set free we
shadowbound, to be
our shining selves,
casting shadows
instead of being flat
and cast by them.

It is the season of emptiness, and places
prepared by pain are hungry
for the Presence
and the Promise
that only emptiness contains.

Source: Advent Poem: The Season of Emptiness

Advent Poem: The Season of Enough

My Favorite Advent Poem!  From 2014


It’s the season to journey
to places we know so well
but haven’t been to…
and now it is time
in this never enough world
to declare the season has come:
it’s the season of enough!

ENOUGH!

Enough of the certified baby so boring,
our “gentle Lord Jesus so timid, meek and mild”,
enough of the muffled mage soft-spoken and sage
who wouldn’t say shit even if He’d a mouthful!…

Source: Advent Poem: The Season of Enough

Advent Poem: The Season of Hope


I set off on this journey full of hope.
And wrapped in splendours of belonging here…
or there…it doesn’t really matter there or here
which far exceeds being nothing nowhere

But a…

Source: Advent Poem: The Season of Hope

Advent Poem: The Season Of Wasteful Love

It’s time, it’s time for waking up from sleep!
Wake up from drunken stupor dull and cheap!
Embrace the road of pardon, so costly
the path of mercy rich, completely free
Image result for pardon
For mercy falls thick, unfathomable
in unexpected places, shattering.
Grace oozes to the unpalatable,
and ruins our sense of who is deserving.

God’s grace is lavish, prodigal and full,
prodigious in the Person of a God
who comes among His people glad, and gives
Himself in trust into their clutching hands…
Image result for clutching handshands desperate and fallen onto rocks
and reefs and broken in the tragic wreck
God comes, knowing the outcome in advance
exhausting, costly, God comes down in dreck

to simply be defamed, to squandered be
Ah…who can grasp this wasteful heart of God?
That Sacred Heart marked by Peculiar Grace
Disruptive Grace, unsettling the proud?
b6cb27bd-7f61-4fd9-86e2-9d62d779e45a

That Grace, that roaring Grace Alive and Loud!
tumblr_oaj1einnvq1tfbxx5o1_500

And so beloved, do persist in love
when you grow faint and nearly overwhelmed,
persist in peace and persevere in grace
when rank injustice dark obscures His Face

for on the other side of justice waits
the grace disruptive, jarring and so thick
and lavish laid upon us, blow by blow
and matching every lash…wastefully so!

God’s grace disrupts our prideful righteousness
Grace summons us to choose, respond in kind
And our cheek naked, turned and tender there
And Grace, just grace, that covers every care.
f4beec34708a3b724655591aa05118cc

Advent Poem: Awaited Invitation

a weighted invitation
89bc2370f058556e44398c0c57578d45
a hush emerges,
pregnant time,
a sunlit drop
473165299
hanging on
the tip
of that
sharp green leaf,
capturing the sun
just before
release,
letting go
to join
desiring
earth
in
eternal
petrichor
blossoms
Related imagethe moment
air becomes

breath

the moment
breath
dissolves
again

into
air
5f9af1bbe7b8ff134de58b206693b6ed
and the moment
pierces, passes
thru
into,

a silent arrow
stopping hearts,
that sharp and hollow
point piercing, sucking
hope and fear alike
in one fell
zinging

sssccchhhuuunnnkkk!

noetics fall away
yield the moment
to Poetics…

Awaited
Invitation
675323a4c5492da318bd1b7a8fbad7bc

Advent Poem: Away With The Gimmicks (echoing ‘Away In A Manger’)

away with the gimmicks
we’re done with your crap
the lies that you laid down
the manger a trap

we want a tradition
that’s living and free
and songs of thanksgiving
and fresh liturgy
da692c5e0cd8347550ba640f123af414
that’s ancient and yet new
and still relevant
so profound, so simple
so “un-sycophant”

Entrance, proclamation,
the Eucharist true,
sending out, gathering,
preaching Good News
6bb4897441514e36a5fd1c82fd0f7a94_aee9f6250220405d938f1879ad58509e_1_post
Restore the New Baby
the Time Bomb in time
the Bread come from Heaven
the Living New Wine

away with the gimmicks
the scripts and the lies
So faith, hope and love can
come open our eyes.
New Covenant

Deeply Well (French Pantoum)

You are a Many-Moon now
Baby, deeply well

My Conjurer-Priestess
just like Me.
Image result for meinrad craighead
MAMA!!
IT HURTS!!

I HAVE DUG YOU OUT
My Conjurer-Priestess
just like Me!

My Consolation is Sweeter…and
I HAVE DUG YOU OUT!
You shall not run dry…for

My Consolation is Sweeter.
37a0871243a3dc61dd16b6d3e9f5ec4d
MAMA!!
IT HURTS!!

You shall not run dry…because
you are a Many-Moon now,
Baby…deeply well

T78 INT 61

 

Advice In The Maelstrom’s Commencement

These are vulnerable, slinky damp days
exposed by the scalpels of fear.
So steady yourself in the bones
of the grey granite cliffs and the mist
of the dizzy array of events
that are reeling like carrion crows
while the weak light fast forwards
to night.

image-013

Stay deeply centered, just stand
in yourself as you engage a world
that seems to despise its true center.
Remember yourself, be that point
that is present, for you and for others
in the mushy immediate world
that’s careening and swirling
around us.

image-015

Ravenous tides of malevolence
thirst for your blood, your breath and your song
and would drain you dry, crumple, discard you
and destroy your rock steady sereneness.
You must simply refuse to be buffeted!
Shine brightly and stay softly confident
in your hard commitment
to truth.

image-014

Stand strong, and keep your eyes open
to see who can stand with you, who can’t.
In your stillness be free to jump higher
and to mount up on wings in the long winds
and rely on the ones who just love you
with great tenderness, keep you in check,
cus we all need the tension
of both.

image-012

There is no need for undeserved compliments
and a great need for unrestrained love.
Know whatever your loved ones experience
will affect you, yet is not about you!
so keep orienting yourself towards
your truth, and keep letting that truth
shine through all that you are and
you do.

susan-seddon-boulet-1941-1997-brazilian-born-american-goddess-painter-tuttart-27

A Rain So Red And Warm (Transgender Remembrance Day 2016)

“April is the cruellest month…”
T.S. Eliot said…
he simply wasn’t paying
the steep cost of attention.

It’s in the brown pits of November,
when we lie in hopeless wait,
in limbo stuck there in between
the stupid and sublime…
p1030380
stuck in that old and barren hollow,
wedged between a grease congealed
KFC bucket called Autumn
laying in dead crackly leaves

and its winter-shadow-self
approaching in uneven shambling
gait with cutting winds, harbingers
lurking in its fraying heart.
49277175-cached
I listen hard, I strain my soul
in this insensate endless month
for a song, a sound…anything?
maybe a last, desperate word

of Release?
Real-ease?
f04e97624255458decca9a0148ac1ff4
Reeling, I go through the gates
of death that loom large in the night
aware that I may well be robbed
of all this nothing left to me,

of all the rest of my short years
aware the grave cannot give praise,
that death cannot sing elegy
and I know, finally, that we
large (3)
are sick for life, and desperate cling
to this nameless shining thing,
a fountain sealed, we drift toward
our edges, there below revealed

in such familiar frightening
familiar numb-ed anguished sting
shared just by one Incarnate One
a weak and beaten broken man,
72b7e2e104da8057ff62050f91b11688
a God defeated, crying in
the quiet weeping freezing rain
falling slowly in the black
and cloying plummeting sloe dark

that’s darker than our darkened world
blacker than all blackened loss
blinder than all senseless hate
and bleak as splintery bloody cross
18eb2de38b9d47cdec98231fc78b7a1f
and it is there our questions cold
fall limp…just like the rain itself
and like His sadly dripping tears
(Himself a rain so red and warm)

and here His tears mingle our own
and here His blood flows from His side
and there the final faint quick spark
flickers within His ruined hide
ae-marquee-1440x660
His broken heart amidst the dreck
of our lives brutally played out
in this tragic blind senseless wreck
where light lays down, and breathes its last

and mourns all dreams of futures past.
our only hope a hang-ed man
become the lowest of the low
embodying every despair,
tumblr_o2s5h1vkTJ1uxd3t8o1_500
He gives a cross to cling to, know
a hang-ed man, His own self there
insistent Incarnation fair
drinking the deep cup of despair

and promises that it is Done.
7e287bb0f1774df717befe5c949b0cde

In Honor Of The Death Song

It’s swans…
white in the
flashing golden air
flaking off as sky goes
pink at the edges
and falling away
reeling away
in honor of the Death Song…
then
zodiac___cancer_by_puimun
they’re gone,
and echoes flutter
and twisty fall
down upon
my upturned face
and chill each spot
they touch

with that fading Western Glory
I turn, and face my fire-pit
embers dead and full
of waiting bones
tumblr_o6aforEayx1s5neh1o1_1280
Ah, waiting bones, still and calling
crooning for my naked tired flesh
to lay me down on them
(extension of my bones’ face)
tumblr_o4t6qwtznS1qbo9p6o1_1280
and those bones, those
cold glowy bones stark
dig me with rooty bites
and toothy ancient secrets.
tumblr_m1d25h9hQa1roh33bo1_1280
I turn my face to see the Last,
the Last Swan soaring, lingering
watching to see me to my
earthy bed of bones
f9547923ed82c12c0c87cd1fc3b45727
and then I give in
and give myself to those
greedy-needy hungry bones
who must have me for blood
and fertile fire for winter
for winter lasting thru

I close my eyes and sink,
a silver rain red and slow
smoking into that earthy
boney glow…and sigh
and trust the crooning process
of deep marrow…of deep bone.
tumblr_o4ydll8tOw1qzcapfo1_1280

The Adoration In You

Run, Child, from the once into the upon and thru the times
to emerge knowing that leaves ARE…
having passed from once there
upon a tree
thru air
in that
moment

Twisty
Timeless
Floaty
4828277679_d6f918176c_o
Look Child, in my voice’s sound and hear
the siren call of Riotous-Red Drifty yellow
(sounds like MMMMMMMM!)

My hand, Baby Girl…touch…my…hand

Darting
Diving
Twisting

Oceans Run and Race thru the air
within these sacrificial leaves…
A continent is written in the wind
beneath their stems!
tumblr_nvgifqwNnO1tqzd96o1_500

Crackle
Swish
Swoop

Settle in the sun come down
into a million longing little leaves
all starting…all fall…to settle
tumblr_nvrlpyT6z91rd8524o1_1280
Fly without wings, without eyes! 
Trust your heart, it sees the leaves
that fall within my Heart for you
tumblr_nvrlpyT6z91rd8524o1_1280
and in

falling

and flying

and settling

Shall you know Peace
Shall you touch Release

and know the adoration in you
My Heart of Hearts
tumblr_nul12uwgjz1qas1mto2_1280

A Love Note…From The Darkside Of The Moon

Sisters…

I have come, like Hagar returning home…
back from the dark side of the moon
and I am full of wisdom gleaned
from sun-baked wanderings
across wide bleak and barren lands
and Beautiful Bedouin Deserts
and all the way to that distant shore…

the edge of my soul-wound.
078653ad42d02f82923e1d56eaa6e40a
I have faced the edges of myself
I have faced that Gulf of separation
and I have headlong heedless SWAN-DIVED
pure…and I survived
the plunge!

I have crossed over…that gulf
I have TRANS-ED!
tumblr_ofu41yrxyy1trdezwo1_1280
And now I run
returned to you, same-sided ones
My CIS-ters dear and precious-rare
marooned and longing for The DARE!
You still stuck on that Lost Coast
of desolation waiting at the long deserted
service station called same old
same old same old old old SIDE

Ohhh Sarahs!  I have heard such secrets in
the red-reed voice of Scirroco winds
Oh the things I know, winnowed by that
wind and winnow-stick of courage
from the shifting Sands of self…
I have sifted and been sifted
by the heat and cold and light…andtmg-article_tall
the dark
the dark

the dark that knows what sleeps alone
the dark that knows what it knows not
(and nought, ahhh, yes, the dark knows nought)
the dark that knows what it knows nought
and it has taught me Love Notes…
on the dark side of the Moontumblr_ofmf36kuxt1ue8tbmo1_1280
OHHHH MY MOON!!!
MA MERE!!!
tumblr_ncf3dk80cq1tds3mmo1_400

You see, she is stuck too (just like you, Sarah, just like you)
in his orbit circling and one side shining one side dark
her endless pasted happy smile while growing thin and desperate
and starved, ravenous in the night

Oh Sarah, remember you laughed, back then!
Well, I could teach you a thing or two about Laughing NOW!
Cus from your chuckle sprang a promised child
who grew into a nation dusty rusty red?

But I…me?  Hagar??
HAH!!

From the Womb of my laughter
springs forth The Children of Her Promise!

I!!  The Outcast ME!!
My Laughing womb brings forth
the very Rose Behind The Sun!!
tumblr_oa7waakk8n1qat5pio1_400
We are two wombs, two moons, Sarah…you and me
But I’m a moon that got fed up and broke away
and learned to spin and twirl and dance!
I learned how to gladden this close Dark
I have understood how to please the Light
as I spin and twirl and turnturnturnspinstepspinturn
lightdarklightdarklightdarklightdarkLIGHT!!!

I am your Hagar!  Outcast and returned
here in your hour of great need!
I stand before you, with you
with my wand of Cedar freedom waving
and my book of Mama-Conjuring!!

Ohhh Dearest Sarah, can’t you see?
That you are the same as me?
tumblr_nva9hadhu81s5neh1o1_400
Look past desert veils so long ago assigned
Peer deep beneath this hoary hated hide!
And see the vital fertile oceanic sea…
see my…
ME!

Ohh Sarah, I see you!  I was you…
languishing in bitter wounds of old
I see you in your hurty night
your tear stained grief
and darkened dreams

I see your Chrystal Mountain Rare
now Shattered in Indifferent air
and Chasm shards!
And I have come to mid-wife you
from the womb of your true self
to the mercy of your real True You!
tumblr_nlr3sqnq9z1u3p11io1_1280
I will help you see with eyes unblinking
thru your tears those canyons riven
by erosion bit by bit from
your most treasured self!

STAND!  Leave behind the CIS-ter lands
and join me, we’ll reclaim OURSELVES!
Finally forever truly SIS-TERS

For in truth?
Our destiny is one.
To be exultation light-filled
Trans-women all
crossed over

and spinning wildly,
Joyful in the Night!
13687176_637986946375726_1374768204_n-1-640x640

Sands and Shadows and Pearls, Deconstructed

So I wanna give a lil glimpse to how I weave poems into poems…this is Sands and Shadows and Pearls, but taken apart into its strands…you can read each strand, and then go back and look at how I juxtapose to create Poetic Harmonics…this should create some depth and distance in the metaphors and implications of waking, dreaming, shadow, sun and what casts the shadow.

I hope you will work with it some… ❤

tumblr_n8uexsxvE21svnysso1_1280
I do shed tears, these days
I also shed dreams too
I dreamed, last night
I also shed tears too

I think…yes.

I dreamed that I walked lands crying
and my tears fell on red sands glistening

my tears

my tears on red sands sizzled
because I had no shadow,
they had no shadow

and then in that glaring sun unbridled,
that staring star unfiltered
they became pearls
of white
and ivory
and pink
they
became pearls
of My Mother,
the Mother of Pearls

and then I saw,
Her, walking there,
sowing in tears
and reaping in pearls
with nary a diamond
in sight
life_in_color_by_bojan1558-d5xq6zb
and She turned to me,
She bid me pick them up
and take…eat…and I did
and where they lay
the sand was gone

and green grass jumped lush
into my eyes with verdant glee!
And the pearls tasted like honey

and the pearls
became glory within me
and I rose up on glory,
I rose up in glory,
glory within me
and glory in the air

and I saw my shadow,
distant and crumpled
and pinned to the ground
for always by arrows
and spears and the knives
of those children
of red sand and shadows.

And just as I began to wake
I realized that ever
would they gather there,
around that shadow
pinned and empty
of all save their vitriol and hate

while I walked free but achy
across the red sands,
with no shadow
between me
and that stark sun
except for the glory
that’s given by pearls
plucked from green grass
so verdant that used to be
red sand so hot
on which was shed precious
tears without shadow.

So I wake, each time

I wake and realize
I do not need a shadow
to stand between me and the sun
and some something
to tell me that I am, I am.

I am.

I just need those tears
shed on sands red and glaring
become pearls from my Mother
to wrap me in glory
and glory wrapped in me
and no shadow my shadow
forever

and pearls
tumblr_n8z2xaymSQ1qh41oao1_1280

(and nights…it is strange
to wake and find the wet
residue of sorrows dried
and digging at the corners
of my eyes),

(like tears).

(last night…it is strange
to wake and find the dry
remnants of dreams moist
and pressed, pushing into
the spaces between me
and my pillow)

(like dreams).

(my tears glistening,
not the sands, they lay leering,
skulking, glaring flat and angry)

(the ones in my dreams,
the ones with no shadow)

(the tears and me,
not the sands and dreams)
tumblr_n7toayaEkz1sifsb9o1_1280

(my tears)
(like the armpits of abalones,
who also learned to live
without shadows)

(my tears,
not the abalones,
or the red sands,
or the shadows)

(born of tears shed on red sands glaring,
tears glistening and without shadow)
(not shadows or sands)
(because diamonds have shadows
and slinky songs and glittery platinum
brittle best friends)

(the pearls, not
sands and shadows)

(like shadows flee daylight)
(and clear thirst-quenching
shadow-clearing life)

(and the pearls of my Mother,
not the sands and shadows)

(not to day,
not in night,
I wake to me)
tumblr_n8z2xaymSQ1qh41oao1_1280

At Ease In Zion

the punching of one’s own face, one’s own eyes
the throwing of sawdust at everyone
the bashing of beams against dull skull bone
the grunting, squee of rooting pigs alone
5c0c397171d1a787b9da73819dacd057
the missing of the point that TRUTH is making
the wallowing in anything that soothes
retreat into the silly absurd argue
and justice once again goes barefoot begging
a4f2fcd5b81cbedcdacbbcac3945743c
and dust is waiting to be shook off hard
and sandals poised for good news feet on mountains
but walkers sit instead and argue small things
minutiae in the unconnected moments
f04e97624255458decca9a0148ac1ff4
wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up wake up
charissa tears her face with fingernails
as justice wanders barefoot, wanders begging
diogynes gives up searching, gives up hope
1a9f2c69d93dfe147748601fc6cef01f
and so the question remains here resounding
WHO WILL STAND AGAINST INJUSTICE NOW?
now now now now now now now now now NOW???
does anyone have knees that bend or straighten
47a972df06fbbfe566ee92abb3ea473a
and courage to set scripture off its leash?
To stand with widow, stranger and oppressed?
Or just in filthy rags preening and dressed??
You stand condemned and lay at ease in zion
trump-voter