I dwell within a vault of seasoned pine,
Where cedar ribs trace curves of spine,
A cavern arched with honey-colored wood,
The quietest home a creature ever could.
Above my head, a rosette carved in lace,
Filters the daylight into one small space,
A golden circle painted on the floor,
Where giant fingers stretch and start to soar.
Then wakes the giant—sweeping arm and hand,
Striking the chords above this hidden land;
And every wire becomes a brazen beam,
Shaking the rafters of my hollow dream.
The notes crash down like thunder from the sky,
Making the air vibrate, the dust motes fly,
A tidal wave of brass and silver sound,
That pins me softly to the maple ground.
And when they rest their palms against the waist,
The roaring ocean dies in breathless haste;
I curl up warm beneath the bridge’s arc,
A tiny tenant sleeping in the dark.
the broken camera in my hand,
the burnt film in yours,
is this our end?
what if i still want more?
the shards of glass fallen down,
i see my reflection torn,
the sadness turns to a frown,
where to have you gone?
colours are everywhere,
lights and fireworks,
Oh! such a beautiful stare,
but why suddenly this dark?
this swallowing sadness,
please save me, i'm lost,
an inescapable deep abyss,
it feels cold, as empty as trust.
is this me inside?
is this inside me?
i have no where to go,
where are the colours i once held onto?
it's all in monotone,
maybe black, maybe white,
i want to explore,
but i can't see any hope or light.
i see a little me who is vibrant,
what a pleasant sight,
i feel something vibrate,
and i wake up, with tears in my eyes.
-V.S
You have nice breasts, just from working out.
I know
Hes complimenting me
Flirting
As I wiggle into the dress.
I flirt back
Whats the harm
As I ponder
Does he think I want bigger breasts?
Do i?
I try to explain the difference between what I am doing and drag.
He doesn’t hear
He doesn’t care
Skin and pretty flesh
Read the same when you don't
Really look
These things
That matter so much inside me
That cause me to vibrate and cry and shake
They don't exist to him.
I am so new to this
And already tired.
Im at my favorite cafe
And a woman comes up
And tells me she loves my style
That I look comfortable and elegant
And she loves the way my necklace goes with my shawl.
Is she flirting?
Trying to make me feel safe?
Did I come here for that?
I spent my first summer in Portland
Finding my look
Im still hoping
To be found.
Floating between states
Looking for myself in the words
Of others.
Wild shadow, you hold me in your embrace
Apollo of the universe, infinity overwhelms me
I hear the clinking of wandering waves
The back-and-forth motion of life’s pulsations.
Unaware, I dive into a black hole, moved
I surrender my soul, soothed, in love
In love as never before with an unknown world
The silent path of gentle, cherished values.
I vibrate with the harmony of dreamed sounds.
Elegant notes rise toward the sky
Tulip petals with broken bells
Life’s songs carry essential tones.
Deep silence, you capture a trembling shift
Without a doubt, a note — light of absence.
Relief of the spirit at the gates of time
The awakening of the Night is a rebirth.
Joël Charvillat.
Have you noticed how instruments show feelings?
It truly is a marvel to behold!
With the human touch they express emotions
That the musicians may not have told...
The Violins and Violas, how
They sing. They laugh. They cry
In the deepest realms of melody.
It brings tears to the eyes.
The chuckle of the Cello
Brings a smile to the face
As the strings vibrate and wiggle away
From a tickling hands embrace.
The Bows in unison rise and fall
Like dancers in a show.
Jolly whistles make merry tunes
From the Flutes and Picallo.
The delicate twinkles from the Harp
Add some sparkle to the light.
The playful Piano keys compete
And race in this musical night.
The Drums echo out the beat
Of the Orchestral heart.
The rates of which will vary
To the ending from the start.
The audience accompanies
The Orchestral happy hour
With clapping hands and tapping toes
And lyrics voices shower...
Watch and listen carefully.
More than musicians are at play.
The instruments are happy
And they share their joy today!
Strike me with your ligjtning of love,
electrify every fiber of my being
with the violet voltage
that your soul can unleash,
spell love upon my soul
with a bolt of tongue thunder,
make me vibrate vulnerable,
deliver unto me the raw of passion
flashing like a cyclone
of lethal caress,
buckle me blind to my knees
pleading for revelation ruthless,
I tremble in your storm of seduction,
bleeding straight into your mouth
of wet fire,
shock me strikingky into the center of salvation,
elevate my erected ethos of eternity,
let me lavish You with a lodestone
of unmistakable loyalty,
I pour upon your majesty
a lava from the bowels of bravery,
I harness your storm heat
in the palms of my oceanic urge,
exploding through a riptide of desire surge,
I want every part of your wild atmosphere,
the lips of your thunder tempting my testimony
to speak the truth of temptation,
Light my sky with lust,
make me star gaze
into your eyes of terrible amor,
I want you like I want the crown of the Universe,
I collapse into your catastrophe of love,
knowing that you will not abandon Me,
that You will serve Me the love that I need -
J.A.B.
teardrops are shape-shifters,
changing the instant
they slip free~
tiny pilgrims
already seeking
what they’ll become next.
spiders collect some of them,
drinking them delicately,
then spinning our sorrow
into silver webs
that glisten like forgiveness
in morning light.
some harden into marbles~
miniature worlds of color
swirled from emotion~
grief becoming something
you can hold
without breaking.
some rise as pixie dust
soft as breath,
bright as mischief~
the raw material
of small miracles.
some drift upward as moonbeams
their heaviness forgotten,
their ache turned silver
as they join the quiet
of the night sky.
some sew themselves into wings
effervescent, glowing~
the soft architecture
of angels
who know what it means
to fall and rise again.
and the rarest tears
vibrate together~
a trembling chorus
that becomes stardust,
then dreams,
then the gentle light
that guides us home.
3 fugacity
Did you see the butterfly,
Flying in your garden,
To make one’s wings vibrate
To forage again,
Accept his happiness,
Breathe in the perfumes
The magnolia flower,
The butterfly tree, says
David’s Buddleia,
Dip your icy lips
In a glass of jurançon,
The moment won’t come back,
Did you see the butterfly?
13
As tu vu le papillon,
Voler dans ton jardin,
Faire vibrer ses ailes
Pour butiner encore,
Accepte son bonheur,
Respire les parfums
La fleur de magnolia,
L’arbre à papillons, dit
Le Buddleia de David,
Trempe tes lèvres glacées
Dans un verre de jurançon,
L’instant ne reviendra pas,
As tu vu le papillon ?
Let it like an eagle swoop on me,
I'm just a lonely swallow
scared and barely born.
I welcome death with all its pains,
As sundry pains become so excruciating.
Still in whatever form it may wish to take
I know I can hardly bear more.
All agonizing, throbbing, and vexatious.
Piercing stabs of affliction vibrate
In and around my entire body.
Oh that I would rid this misery,
This quivering of bones that feel
Like boiling water slowly dripping
On my weakest corporeal parts.
Death appears not! Oh well, who cares?
I’ll suffer the slings of torture
Hoping my painkillers would do their job.
Tomorrow is another day.
The pain will pass,
who knows the sun may shine again,
A new leaf, a fresh rose, a new love
Therefore, with beacons of light, I’m sure.
a day in the life of the formless self …
mind’s at rest so no thoughts arise at all
there’s no narrow agenda on our shelf
we dwell in the void, where there is no wall
we do nothing yet all doings are done
patterns of old now have on us no hold
grazed by spirit, presence shines like the sun
no desire remains, that fate be controlled
bliss replete, vibrant presence feels complete
magnetism spikes, our form may well explode
rapture spasms vibrate from head till our feet
with each breath graced we sing to God an ode
vibrance peaks as life flows on by itself ~
a day in the life of the formless self …
The mailman is certainly sketchy
way to tall and sort of gangly,
his arms are long and his skin is pale.
He arrives at 10:04 without fail,
never sooner; never later,
and my old dog never barks
like he does at the park,
be it leaf or be it squirrel,
be it a little girl that twirls,
or be it nothing there at all!
The Earth is flat
and landing on the moon was fake,
I simply don’t believe in that,
but I think the mailman is an alien.
I’m convinced his vehicle is a UFO
that transforms and flies at night,
or did I see that on a TV show
long ago when I was eight?
The doctor says to take my meds,
the aliens are in my head!
Sure Doc, because bees don’t sting,
and a hollow moon doesn’t ring.*
*On November 20, 1969, NASA deliberately crashed the Apollo 12 lunar module into the Moon, causing it to vibrate or "ring like a bell" for nearly an hour. This phenomenon sparked theories that the Moon is hollow (like a bell).
within us magnetism dwelling
gentleness that is compelling
kundalini pervading form
presence towards God propelling
carried by currents cool and warm
in childlike trust as we conform
bliss beats vibrate in every node
each cell the centre of love’s storm
strewn with rose petals is our road
we walk lightly, on heart no load
God’s blob of bliss on our head grows
joyous soul sings to Him an ode
pinch of bliss between our eyebrows
one with crown and spine humbly bows
thus in stillness bliss is invoked
radiant in the boat God rows
time flows on yet we remain yoked
in living light of heaven cloaked
we do not attain but become
fire eternal by God’s hand stoked
epiphanies dawned are welcome
commingling with the cosmic hum
transmutation in slow motion
as Divine Mother plays the drum
And tuning of fiddle,your voice vibrate along the strings
The strums of lute echoes far beyond and rhymes
The songs of a praise flows and clings
With an autumnal bare bough of winters rimes
My poor heart creeps and you please let it sway
In truth the poets heart is small like leveret
I plucked you a flower from the redolent
bouquet
And heaven knows a flower or your face of claret
Here comes my lovely nymph inch by inch nearer
O'god heaven is mine eye seeing a lissome sylph
Ruffled and tattered and struck the mine answerer
Was she the mayan people a words in their glyph?
And what so more to expect for mine brow to hold ?
The dewes of eyes or the snow of cold
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
Pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse
Echooooo, echoooooo, echo
Echo, echo, echo
Shimmer, shimmer, shimmer
Shimmer, shimmer
Pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse.
Tic toc, tic too, tic too, tic too, tic too.
Throb, throb, swoosh, and glimmer
Humming drones craft sparkly saucers.
Blip, blip, blip, beeps, beeps, beeps, beeps
Resonate and oscillate. Vibrate and pulsate.
Undulating Nebula. Reverberating pulsar.
Wailing Quasar. The throbbing void.
The Cosmos echoes. The Cosmos glimmer.
Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh.
Sizzling singularity whispers the secrets.
Of the wailing Heliosphere.
Flaring pulsar with whooshing voids.
The chiming zenith balances rumbling singularity.
Surge, shimmer, wail, whisper, flare, and rumble.
The moon beckons you with its beams.
My UFO shimmers as it drifts into the mystery.
Shimmer, shimmer, shimmer, and sparkle.
Reverberating and gazing at stars.
Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo.
Tic, too, tic, too, tic, too, tic, too.
Whoosh away. Whoosh away.
Whoosh, echo, and shimmer.
The echo rebounds.
The shimmer opens bright eyes.
Whoosh as we fly high.
.
i'd look in my full length cheval
yep
yourn adorable mitts and theirn
digits
latch'd 'to my pocket
az you
peek about
i'd feel thuh vibrate
uv yourn
giggle
mine
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