On my meandering lonesome journey in July
across the greening wasteland,
or along the glittering garden path,
lined with flowering saplings,
bursting with color spectrum,
the shutter of my mind opens.
The receptive film of sensuality
captures the captivating collage
with the sublime snapshots of beauty.
For the maneuvered inducement
of the passionate living,
enwrapped by the pale shroud of desolation,
defined by the transmuting tenets
of titular uniqueness,
configuring the personified kaleidoscopic identity,
I tie the knots of ebullient emotions,
dye these with the color mélange of life.
The metamorphosis creates an adorned me,
an individuality in harmony
with the altered essence,
completes the lattice of self-expression,
the paradigm of self-inspired design shift.
Fragile resolve aspiring
to capture the remnants of rainbow,
weave the lattice of life
with spectral ribbons of rapture,
turns into a self-destructive
psychosis syndrome
that fails to fling
the insane illusion
in the cloud of dreams,
for it has hypnotic leverage
on the mind,
mangled by sensual storm.
Wedged by the splitting bevel
of the slashing time,
the frail fragments of failure
get lacerated from life,
scatter on the pensive path
to the realm of rainbow,
yet untraveled,
meanders marooned
in the debris of derelict dreams,
disappear down the deep sinkhole
of dusky oblivion.
In the lucent mystique mind,
transmuting thoughts
flicker on
ebony emotions.
Absolved of self-qualm
psychic crystal sparkles
in sagacity stars’ aurora flare,
traces the prime trajectory
from the cosmic soul’s
nebulous abyss within.
In the mesmeric meadow
of the inner topography,
seraphic shadows dance mystified
with gorgeous sequined glitter
of the sensuous stardust
in the tune of
buoyant bliss.
The discernment mindscape
makes the montage
of the existential rainbow.
Though we dwell in dense matter
And move about on land
The mirrors of fear are working
Against all we can understand
Light has the power to grow
And expand territory within
So that TRUTH can be known
When sight waxes dim
Learning to breathe through pain
And stay in uncomfortable spaces
Allows the trajectory of embodiment
To occupy uninhabitable places
Our journey is not for the weak-hearted
We are warriors sent to fight and win
Tunnel systems of terror hide in wait
Though death may take us, we rise again
We are living light radiating to pierce
Strongholds of doubt and fear
Basking in the heat of LOVE"S fire
Transmuting darkness into cheer
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-21-2026
epiphanies that dawn at morn
though peace laced in form we adorn
state when polarities rotate
we can hear the soundless bliss horn
poised at all times at heaven’s gate
God waits for us to choose our fate
that to evolve we must dissolve
transmuting ending all debate
our past transgressions we absolve
so with no problems left to solve
God realisation our aim
we pause time in which thoughts revolve
dance of grace in form is God’s game
so highs and lows for us are same
as we sail on in witness mode
bliss a tempest no one can tame
the light of Self is our abode
but here we pay to God an ode
in realm dual where eye single
carries in vibrant heart no load
wealth prosperity abundance not synonymous
accumulation leads to conceit of rich
complex opulence
dualism anxiety
inferior-superior byzantines
wealth increases mentality illusions
fierce finance hoarding arise
this happens only in material plain
having does not guarantee prosperity
second always embrace aspects of being
relationship and active community —
when prosperity focused
simplicity flows, transparency results
philanthropic outlook gives
circulates
flourishes self and others
breath within breath clear
core strengthens
organically
prosperity, abundance a potency
in mentality
subtle vibrations move heart
slowed frequencies develop
transmuting third dimensional character
increases focus on spiritual as
starting point
abide quietly, knowing
abundance moves each sand grain
ear of wheat, water atom
every thread of chromosome
it moves in circles
live spirals in human flesh
giving back to family, community
ultimately to divine
fresh moulds are circulated
dances authentic
powers stability, serenity, peace
contentment births clarity
of godly purpose
______________________
Sweating buckets in the hot seat, losing the ability to buffer the spaces in-between.
Yet sweating profusely can help you come back fully healed.
However what you are chasing is much further away, and what is chasing you feels much closer.
Like in any race the focus is always on the lead car.
Sending them best wishes and a lot more of hidden evil eyes.
Splash boom, dashed into a spin-out.
Spinning out does not necessarily mean to crash and burn.
Overshooting the corner forces you to reset/rest to gain back control.
Just coasting on the low fumes of synchronicities.
Stress must played in this chaotic times or could just be scrapped ahead in-time.
Just as the chaotic race of life, use that transmuting heat to purify.
Do you think the harder you push the pedal increases the chances to be showered more petals?
Theses small talks echo sounds so sweets, with the upgrades of my venturi tunnels.
I see Vishnu on a car plate and on the tv show, edging me to top gear manually to greater higher performance.
Its o'er the hill rumour
A dazzling fact!
Spread out that clear before us.
Nothing abstract!
Each droplet's transmuting;
Soft-hued, soft-formed
For bluebell and buttercup.
By bee informed.
Amazon is my night penetrating
alert I sprung from branch tight
it is buck nutritious blood
observation stark from green-blue irises
beauty meets danger not looking away
lithe tongue saliva intestine surrender
Muscles sinewy, handsome black the Sky
claws ripping buck’s bones snap cracks
mitochondria leaps from atoms, stars dance
to splash spine fluid about sand wet soft
mirroring clear a rebirthing act
nature ascertains when to numb nerves to claws
no eluding life when hunger mud stalks
Iridescence watches flesh rip longing lick
buck relinquishing spirit ~ cannot groan
black fur transmuting flesh disappearing
leather into charcoal night appearing
her thickening her for next week’s killing
time folding ouroboros
Panther curls, tailing
_____________________________
[ Poet’s Note in Comments Section ]
I spoke to silence once; it became my interlocutor—
in an incongruous sunset, January:
gold transmuting to red, saffron-orange
then to violet
the color grief contracts to
pressed through winter's
alchemical
sieve—
the colour that comes before silence.
Loneliness is pigmented.
Sky renders loss—light waning.
grey restless sleep
thought as poetry
past present future surreal
pure expressions cure
deific communing in time
softly breath stitches rare rhymes
stillness turns wheel feel
creating cosmic garlands
recognise lyrics
emotions eclectic ebbs
awakens colourful dreams
mirror reflections
nouns verbs adjectives adverbs
ether air worded
fire water earth stanzas
carries stories converses
stimulates seconds
fathoms then embraces faith
promotes perfect peace
forms galore eastern western
feeding fertility flames
intrinsic to life
advances awareness awed
forge fraternity
transmuting darkness to art
wisdom deepens liberty
_______________________
PLACED 4Th : STANDARD CONTEST
ON TANKA STRINGS
Why don't people lichen mold?
Is it cause they are afraid of growing expediential old?
Afterall Atum gave birth to Tefnut and Shu through the breath.
In breath lies the prefect breeding ground of moisture and air.
Then its not odd, but you ought to have mold.
Given the daily bread, my skin part of my body is comforted by mold.
Can the mold help shape and mold me better?
Just refueling my eternal furnace too keep awake the cold.
Sacrificing everything, that's bold!
Walking around the forest with a mesh bag.
Trying to fit in by being a fungi.
Just remember not to make a mountain out of a mole hill.
But ain't that life?
Understanding cellular biology through the lens of Venn diagrams.
Segregating, separating and dividing as long as the cell walls hold.
Mixing in hot water with tea, sugars, and a cold scoby.
Gives rise to the kombucha below.
Folding mold spores into a battleground for the strongest mold.
Under the watchful eye of EinRaa behold.
As I smile and shine transmuting lead to gold.
Sold - Sold - Sold!
Stepping out into the collective,
My soul choosing the directive,
I selectively choose my way.
Letting my imagination play,
Straying thoughts catch my attention,
As more enter my dimension.
I see a reflection of ascension,
My body is feeling the tension,
Your intention my only impression.
As I dive into another lesson,
An energy expression session,
Consciousness intersections,
Set up for interventions.
As we venture into the unknown,
Growing together in time,
Our interaction climbs,
Intertwines,
A new twist to the vine.
Exchanging with the Divine,
Your energy is mixing with mine,
As I begin to find new emotions,
Different thoughts within my mind.
Standing behind my truth,
I let them all through,
Transmuting them too.
Giving you a better view,
Something you can hold on too,
To direct the stew of emotions,
Pouring from this ocean of energy,
The collective gets from me.
Why don't people lichen mold?
Is it cause they are afraid of growing expediential old?
Afterall Atum gave birth to Tefnut and Shu through the breath.
In breath lies the prefect breeding ground of moisture and air.
Then its not odd, but you ought to have mold.
Given the daily bread, my skin part of my body is comforted by mold.
Can the mold help shape and mold me better?
Just refueling my eternal furnace too keep awake the cold.
Sacrificing everything, that's bold!
Walking around the forest with a mesh bag.
Trying to fit in by being a fungi.
Just remember not to make a mountain out of a mole hill.
But ain't that life?
Understanding cellular biology through the lens of Venn diagrams.
Segregating, separating and dividing as long as the cell walls hold.
Mixing in hot water with tea, sugars, and a cold scoby.
Gives rise to the kombucha below.
Folding mold spores into a battleground for the strongest mold.
Under the watchful eye of EinRaa behold.
As I smile and shine transmuting lead to gold.
Sold - Sold - Sold!
Serpentine artisan in Eden
Crafting a second creation
A molten piece of idol
By the dexterity
Of word of mouth.
Tongue lures ear
And then à tongue kiss
To the ear, both soulmates
Titillate the neurons of the body
Stir the impulse of all senses
All segued to Judas kiss.
Telepathist tool
Transmuting visions from pluto
To reality on earth.
Forked-tongue town crier
With cymbal and gong
Improvising a dissonance
Of glossolalic tales
To the age of gullible gullivers!
Ear, O hear!
In that gaping cavity
There lies lie lair
The sword of Damocles
Gliding and Churning honey gobs
From its cavity to founts of lies
In every public square.
Like the big lie of Hitler and Goebbels
To the holocaust.
Let not all thy senses,
Emotion, reason, and conscience
Trust her tongue!
Sensing that in our life something was amiss,
we beseeched our polarities to entwine
in our heart’s cave, where they may as lovers kiss,
that nodes within us gather under love’s sign,
manifesting boundless rapture, borne by bliss,
as with pulsations of love we so align.
God’s magnetism holds our soul in close embrace,
ignition renewal, at a rapid pace.
We’re touched by Holy Spirit but no one knows,
save our soul’s presence enraptured in delight
and as the benign bliss burn steadily grows,
we’re transfixed in heightened joy by day and night,
for we are in the boat that God Himself rows,
transmuting us here and now as living light.
Such is our secret which with mankind we share,
hoping some pure souls with childlike hearts will pair.
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