Why I Got Rid of Most of My Friends

not really secrets- 2003 and other dates

You looked for me but could not see
I was hiding inside poems invisibly
protecting vulnerability

it was after the fact
I felt your arms and wings
around me
it was there you found me
in poetry invisibility
darkness helps you see
the mystery

my beauty is slipping away
strangling me and eluding you
I have sorted out some feelings from your moods
I am finally clear whose pain is whose
I am in awe of your courage
and surprised at how soft you are
present, glowing, real

then my beauty slips back inside
so I feel less need to hide
please accept silent apologies
for all mistakes, past and future
I have made or will make
know we will have chances to
eliminate unnecessary suffering
but do not take it from me
go find out for yourself

we could talk politics
we could talk race and religion
gender and bigotry
we could talk until our breath runs out
but I would rather just be
I would rather let you see
what I see
reflect back to you your own divinity

Original beauty
let your masks crumble, one by one
allow my walls to dissolve
exposed and raw like the heart of a flower
you might reveal a gentle power
into my patient gaze
I have been waiting for days
our bridge to freedom
not yet discovered
I reach for you like a sleepy child in a trance
long for you to join this kind of dance

Never wanted to frighten you away
that is why I was waiting
but I know secrets I am dying to tell
And they are not really secrets
just forgotten truths.

discernible messages

your meaning has been eclipsed
 by the otherworldly intention
all that I have been able to perceive
and
I open to you
only to have doors shut in my face
but I am changing
the story
changing
whole heartedly
every step of the way
every minute of the day
more and more
I even know what to say
I humble myself to
the silences
I discard the dreams
that do not contain discernible messages
I watch for the signs
change is always coming
change is always here

mad love from the start for you - 2003

2003.

the world is peopled with people
so many that we are sinking now
but it does not matter so much
so the mountains below
and the heavens above
join  me in song
timeless
glorious

it is worthwhile to love
but only if you throw your whole body
and being into it
no looking back

I love the ones who have chosen to ascend
who have lived through personal hell
who have lived to tell
they got life experience wisdom early on

why else did their souls choose bodies?
karma mystery, racist history
blind and stubborn present times
all add up to the equation of the circumstance
I love the ones who dance
along borders of fantasy and reality
compassion unfolding
intentions golden and hearts align
along the true design of what is to come
I love the ones who choose to ascend
I got poems in my heart for you
mad love from the start for you

from 2004 : what is to become of us?

Mother
I am not ready to make babies
my hands are soft
the poems from these fingers
are her children
river message for humanity
curing infertile spirits
making whole what has been divided
she blessed our work with water vibrations
clear and vibrant
blue ribbons and cowrie shells at her feet
no longer silenced
whisper into a deeper breath
Yemoja, Yemaya
your Rivers are Alive
but these wars rage on in a land
where greed began
so long ago
so long ago

Father, am I not here to be
Always in the place of poetry?
prayers have been sold for gold
it was all foretold
in the book of pages, by eternal sages
yet your names ran over the lips
of those who chose to mask intentions
now Military forces run Nile blood from their sources
the Almighty and those who call upon his name
who do acts in the name of Allah
who awaken stagnant powers from slumber
all for a chance to pull the new number
scores of bodies in mass graves
pacifying the devotees as slaves
yet the same tombs, the same temples
that Egyptian Pharaohs oversaw
are not exempt from the higher law

Hot desert winds leading Mohammed
to alchemize, to catalyze
changes occurring in a rapturous daze
in the eyes of sedated ones
agitated ones
in the daze of rapture
shifting the gears of the goddess
lying raped and forlorn
her gentle body torn
by the empty broken traditions
passed on for generations

Now only the rivers must cleanse
what will follow
Be hollow
streams of conscience, of consciousness
the world has not yet seen
what is to become of us?

Chapter from "I will be dust I will be rain" (a work in progress)

Welcome to my Twenties and early Thirties

I spent a whole lot of time at this point wandering the city, being some sort of version of a beatnik poet, but clearly shoved into the wrong era for beatnik existence. Yet and still, I persevered. I kept moving. I spent time in Golden Gate Park by the carousel, I pounded pavement in the Mission, and also in the Lower Haight and all the while I was driven to write poems and sometimes chants that I felt compelled to share at the open mic poetry nights I found along my path.

How do you know you have reached some measure of success as a person who perpetrates counter culture? It seems that the accolades of modern society revolve around mostly academia or in the context of what are considered “real jobs” where one may land a coveted promotion, and so on. When I was asked if I wanted to be featured, that was the warmest introduction to the stage as a poet that I could have gotten. So naturally, I sought more experience in the blossoming spoken word and performance art scene that was permeating the Lower Haight.

In this day in age, in the United States, a person of my background is expected to achieve a certain level of success. In order to do that, you have to believe in that very much promoted type of success, you have to believe it matters, that it is for you, that you fit inside of it somehow.

I never really believed in it. I may not have always had some other type of success or goal to focus on instead of it, but I never bought into it. I got as far as finishing a B.A. degree and then applying for a Master’s in Social Work. I applied to several different schools. I took a trip to Boston, to talk to people at the University about their program. I flew to England with my mother to meet people at King’s College in London, where they offered a Master’s degree in Comparative Religion. I remember sitting at a restaurant with my mother and trying to talk about the concept of “World Rejecters.” She had no idea how depressed I was at that time, how much I wished I could reject the world.

She responded by asking me, “Oh, do they talk about that in the literature?” How I hated the place I was at that moment. How I hated this Ivory Tower version of me that was looming over us at that time. How I hated this expectation of incredibly pretentious dialogue about subjects only the super privileged people who were overly saturated in elitist scenarios engaged in. I could not bring myself to fashion my mind into the type of mind that ends up perpetuating conversations or diatribes that are not much better than mental masturbation, while the rest of the world burns. Yes, I know that the rest of the world lacks authenticity in a big way, and deep down I know that I am nothing if not authentic, nothing if not disgusted by elitism, and to step into that world would have been to step into wretched terrain and ugly territory I wanted more than anything to flee, to run from and never, ever look back.

That is exactly what I did. I blame nobody for that time in my life. My mother was only trying to help; she was showing she believed in me, my academic abilities, and my intelligence. I do not fault her for not understanding my struggle at that time because, poet that I am, I am still sadly at a loss for words when it comes to this sort of confusion and angst. I do my best to capture it, when I feel relaying it may do some good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

walk away 2014

I remember the first piece I saw you perform
at the open mic in the lower height
where we first made contact
it was entitled "statistics"
and you were making strong statements about
the overwhelming diagnosis epidemic
how children all seemed to be considered to have disorders now
what about indigo? what about crystal?
you hated when cell phones took over
you told me years later how you cried
at the switch the culture made from
human relating to human, face to face
to cold, disconnected technology oriented
fast paced consumer capitalism
you ranted about so many things
I would listen
and agree.
I assumed we were a similar kind of empathic fierce poetess...
I would speak my mind too...
and we drifted after that first meeting
for years...

Until I walked by the outside benches and tables
at a Berkeley food market
and you called out
"Imaya!?"
I sat down and we caught up. you were holding the journal that
we agreed to write to each other in,
I mentioned I had a c.d. you had made
we seemed to be rekindling the friendship.
we discussed how hard it was to make deep connections
with women our age in the Bay Area.
we lamented this fact, and I was fooled into thinking
we found solace in the friendship we were building together.

you called me up in tears
(how many times?)
just hearing my voice helped
or so you said
I had no reason to question your sincerity
you were on fire about the patriarchy
you spoke ferociously about rape culture
this was what I used to determine your worldview
but worldview does not make up
the most critical ingredients of friendship
so when I was sexually assaulted
I called you
needing your voice to help
and you had no time for me
I had to send you an email after some time had passed
telling you how I felt you had not shown up
which you denied
and then told me you had just decided I was fine
and gone on with whatever else you needed to do
that was the beginning of the dissolution for me
to realize I had to run after you to get your attention
after being sexually assaulted, wait, was it not you
who gave me Eve Ensler's book "in the body of this world"
raving about how she told the story of women who suffered
and survived all kinds of assaults
and yet here I am, needing companionship, sisterhood,
and I struggled to move past that
people make mistakes
it is not worth describing those last few texts we sent
to each other
nor is it necessary to continue resenting
what I now realize was apparently a huge
misunderstanding
and I am so sorry I misunderstood
I thought there was basic respect
between us, enough so that
were we to go our separate ways, there would
be a legit understanding of why
so I have to create my own closure
having strange dreams as my psyche works out
how painful it is to be abruptly abandoned by
someone I let in so incredibly close to
the warmth I provide those in my inner circles
and it hurts worse than those experiences
with the men I dated and told you about
because you were the one I truly trusted
and that seems to have been
the main ingredient in this misunderstanding
trust was not warranted
trust was not appropriate
trust was trampled on
and yeah, it is hard to make deep connections with
women our age in the Bay Area
and the sacred covenant I had created in my heart
for the sisterhood I had hoped we were forging
has all but disappeared
remnants of it on the ethers
so as I always do, I release you, I release me
wish for nothing but
your healing, happiness, peace and freedom
and as I always do
I keep the faith
that this sort of lesson
will bolster my confidence
to see through people when they are showing
certain kinds of true colors
that indicate
I should walk away
before being
tossed away
and my life
will get better
with each step
toward new
and actual authentic
experiences....

Information to spill

(I hear that)
people must learn
to find the peace
so elusive
so possible inside
the code must be broken
the way the code
has always been broken is
by those who have spoken
out of turn
getting ready to burn
why would you fear
burning
when the world just might stop
turning
when this whole illusive trip could be over
at any point
you stand there, smoking a joint
with time to kill, with information to spill
you always did reach out with the wings
the representations of complete freedom
with nothing to lose but so much to choose
we have choices and voices it would seem we have
all but abandoned so what's the plan then
are there higher powers that give us all these pretty flowers
are there pretty flowers that insist
and keep strongly indicating
some fantastic high rating
for some untouchable deity
requiring some measure of piety
leaving me wondering
why won't you smile at me?
back to the beginning
needing that essential elusive peace inside
taking all our senses for a ride
so plentiful so abundant
this fertile desire to manifest
a goal that has repeatedly been put to the test
the confidence, the knowing inside
that flow
and source
indicate infinity
so if you call on them
they are never busy
they lack gender race orientation of any kind
which lends to their everyday ability
to orient to suit your design desire need
it is you they will feed
as you stand there
against the wall
time to kill, information to spill
smoking a joint
about to make a point
arrive at a truth
shed some light
find an end to a fight
a solution
so bright

Nothing Concrete - From 1996

 Moaning tide of swelling emotion clashes with the forces of unfamiliar energy
Beneath a full rich glowing buttermilk moon and dark colors are shades
of this twisted world
through your eyes wrapped around mine
intertwined with our arms
shattering unbreakable causes for my pain
I know nothing concrete
except the hard edge of your stare
so the stars drew patterns
with empty space between
some sort of welcome
in the cold compromise
of tender indefinite flesh.
I know nothing concrete
nothing complete.

A few lines from Dorothy Parker....

"General Review of the Sex Situation"

Woman wants monogamy
Man delights in novelty
Love is woman's moon and sun
Man has other forms of fun
Woman lives but in her Lord
Count to ten and Man is bored
With this the gist and sum of it
What earthly good could come of it?"

-Dorothy Parker

private ocean --from 1996

Heart
be still
the mind begins to fill to find
the overflow from head to toe
not enough
it spreads from where it all began
so this is my plan
Heart
are you listening to me?
I command you
in your constant motion
your private ocean
Be still!!
(it does not listen)
I know the heart has a mind of its own
weeping and sighing a tragic moan
of heartache
every smile I fake
every tear I try to deny
leaves the impression of its lie on my eye
though I don't cry
ever enough to satisfy
this red, powerful organ with all the emotion
of a vast, private ocean
Be still, damn it
But wait, what am I saying?
If it did as I said
I'd be dead....

throwback piece from 2000, "landing"

so you say you like your coffee sweet?
complacency adds sugar to your morning treat
our pillow talk is full of gaps
into silence we seem to lapse
locked into dread,
images of smoke swirl through my head
your world so privately contained
your movements leave my heart stained
something unintentionally remained
I have yet to hear you complain
my words fall soft into your space
gentle as rain
into broken pieces rearranged
a misunderstanding sure, but soon
I will be landing
with laughter I am recalling
slowing down and stalling
words are weak and humor falls flat
if I called you would you call me back?
a sore spot I am not so sure of that
but soon I will be landing
there will be no more misunderstanding

here you go.

on the small scale, most of us know how to ignore people who are hostile, bitter, petty, rude, caustic, uncaring etc. Intuition leads us to take our energy back from them, walk away, leave them, cut them off from our attentive giving, and in so doing they have less and less reason to come after us, personally, or come after a perceived group; race, gender, sexual orientation and so forth, that we seem to belong to. without our indignation, they have little to no fuel for their continuing negativity. but on the larger scale, when problems become widespread systemic indignities, we are so incredibly riled up, and yet that same principle applies. If you go about your life being the awesome, caring, present, loving, intelligent person you most likely are, at least most of the time, I tend to think that action is the best kind of resistance. you make change in the ways you can and you leave the excess negativity to drain from those beings while you spread higher consciousness through multiple mediums and you humble yourself to the task of undoing all the toxic tangles that exist in you. in this way, you are serving the highest good, in this way you are part of the solution. and when you do this, know that I and beings much greater than me, are loving you and sending you support. I send bright holiday blessings to all of you, no exceptions. xoxo

dissolve it all

coming back to the very singular present moment
she finds all the fleeting thoughts
like wisps of smoke around her head
her limbs all feel like lead
today
what is leading her now
what is feeding her now
leaking energy from chakras she does not exactly know how to identify
and there never does seem to be a verification process
that these big questions can go through to get to answers,
so that all you seek can be verified to exist,
and maybe these existential and other
philosophical wanderings and wonderings
will someday add up to an understanding
or over standing and I say why don't you

take my hand and let us lean
over the railing
from there
holding hands and laughing until becoming
nearly hysterical
my first time my first kiss
it all rushes back to me
the people in my life that made me into me
the experiences
that chiseled my consciousness into the
statuesque and incredible city of endless
sounds and proclamations
I now identify it to be
when I sit
and dissolve that which
is considered to be me
dissolve that which is considered
to keep me from being free
dissolve that which holds me
in chains I cannot see

so that omnipotent agreement I had with all my selves from the start
can shine through my actions
and there will be no more mistaking or forsaking
or faking
through
the dissolution of it all
in order to
master the art of the fall
the rebuilding
and the unspeakable doors to
death
life
rebirth and beyond
all that
beyond all that........

ongoing

the light within
does not negate the shadow
destiny follows a heart thread
and the machinery of your confusion
stalls on the road
all has drifted from consciousness source
ongoing, a river
desire creating suffering
laced with an insurgent awareness
in the
precious world
all above and all below
that light cannot negate
shadow

Young Man's Conscience

Note:
Here is a piece I read at the Beat Museum, when the Women's Poetry Collective called Tara's Tongue, which inspired me to call this blog by that same name, was performing that night, in the section of the Beat Museum dedicated to female Beat poets. This poem is dedicated to soldiers in all times and places, with sympathy and a prayer for their liberation from the horrors of combat and war overall.

why did you give me war?
I am not your soldier
I am not your warrior
Mother, Father, why have you
aligned me with forces
bent on endless destruction
and desecration?
I call out to you
distressed
I cry out in my sleep
and nobody hears
my dreams are plagued by battles
why have you given me war
when all I wanted was peace?
Now it eludes me
remains frozen in a distant future
a vague possibility

I am not content to fight, to kill
to bring suffering
to women and children
to pretend that men are separate
that I am superior
that the assigned enemy deserves
endless punishment

No.
I resist your maps of untimely death
I will not follow

My soul is sick and weary from these wars
I know there is another way
I believe I will find it.

forced to listen

delicate glass illusion worlds
soon to be trampled, shards glittering
precious fantasies destroyed

this time
we are forced to listen
for although this is a dream
and I am committed to that belief
we are living for real
and we must live as if life depended on it

we get used to disappointments
fragile  moments
stolen by time's fast river

children watch us closely
mimic our voices perfectly
follow our steps exactly
clean and dry minds
absorbing the liquid influence
of our hardened ways.

Revisiting the Self Sabotage

she revisits destiny
following the path less traveled and then
her path of least resistance might make the river crooked,
some say but what do they know? and maybe crooked rivers are just misunderstood

she revisits hope
and examples really have surfaced
that give reason to believe there is reason to hope
she will evermore be the one saying
throw me the rope

she revisits trust
finding more and more reasons to extend trust
to those who are proving themselves worthy
easy to love, not quite so easy to trust

she revisits the reversal
ands sees it from all directions
in one place she stayed almost the same
tethered to old sadness and shame
in another place she flew free
complete and whole for all to celebrate and see
in yet another corner of some abstract unfolding universe
she begins a new path, combining and re-defining
designing and brightly shining

she revisits intimacy
where all is well, grounded, nurtured and nurturing
to discover intimate love in the context of one of,
if not the most
profound loves she has ever experienced

she revisits integrity
having grown more clear about how to walk
with the kind of integrity
always coveted by her higher self
it takes awareness
it takes patience
it gives peace of mind

she revisits truth
for the heart of the matter
is powerful enough
to make deep dimensions grow flatter.

Dressed in substance and matter,
her spirit seeks the whole truth
the truth she sought out so many times
while committing unfortunate crimes
against herself
calling forth this need
to reverse the numerous ways she sabotages
her very being
and
how many relate
need to undo layers of self hate
self neglect
forgot to protect
self
these needs simmering beneath the surface

she takes the path less traveled
pieces back together all that fell apart unraveled
less and less self sabotaging
put it all together now, like collaging
her way forward
a conscious evolution
of
healing

2001 flashback - "tell me how"

this time my scar tissue
better not be an issue
right now I desperately miss you

but my freedom is a necessity
and my arms will wait
this is so clearly fate
I never knew how it could be
I once was blind or at least lost
this will be worth it whatever the cost

I can feel that dangerous place
but I have grown to fill that empty space
just because the past didn't go anywhere
does not mean I am content to dwell there
I feel something ancient glowing from your skin
and that vibrant radiant spirit within

to not love is to not live
and I have seen too many people
walking dead inside their flesh
along that thick surface of pretend
tell me how you have managed to transcend

while so many gracelessly stomp across the surface of pretend
please
tell me
how you have managed
to transcend

Esoteric and Realistic Exploration- Please join me

Many besides me have already identified the nature of that which plagues American society.
I will not go over the problems but as I attempt to do often, I will stay solution oriented.

It feels as though we are on the edge of a shift in our own energy bodies that will lead to a truly and utterly healthy, fun, artistic, amazing world that a majority of us want to live in.

There is no excuse for any kind of abuse. Abuse and exploitation are not our destiny as a species. Wholeness, evolving and shifting and changing and loving and growing and letting go of that which no longer serves us is our destiny, if we claim it. We must define our destiny on the microcosmic level to the macrocosmic level.

Let us steer this planet, each one teaching another one, as we live and let live. We have always known where we are going and that we cannot get there by car, or plane or boat, we must purify from the inside out. Then we will identify the path we walk. This kind of path has never been the one chosen by a majority of people. Now we are in a situation where we must evolve more as a  species or we will die by our own hands.

We need to see everyone, no exception, giving up what no longer serves humanity. What no longer serves humanity? War, bigotry, prejudiced based conflict, and many other things commonly seen in our world. What will it take to phase out these behaviors, the behaviors that keep us from uniting? They keep us from creating a reality that will serve the highest good for the most people, and for our natural environments upon which we depend for sustenance, shelter and beauty.

Ideally, an evolved society is built around mutual understanding of the gifts that each member brings to the collective uses, and this model of society has built in answers for what would be considered unnecessarily destructive tendencies. Dissent and debate are natural, healthy and part of an authentic discourse. A society that does not fear or silence debate around rules and boundaries is one that has room to grow, room to shift with the shifting of all the people involved.

There is no need for censorship when the power structures are not based on elite, or hierarchical entities. Due to the earlier stated description of an each one teach one model, we can finally start to embody and display to each other what it means to embrace a diverse reality wherein no person is expected to compromise their own self or identity or be disrespected as long as they are not threatening or disrespecting other people. I will leave it here when it comes to descriptions of how we can transform what we have into what we want. It will not be perfect, it will not be utopia, and this is because the idea of perfect and utopian places vary from person to person, group to group.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

planets

lifted up higher than anyone has ever been, she cast her gaze back to the planet from which she came. there was no turning back, there was no going back there was no need to. there would never be a need to, all that she had created there had been destroyed, the only choice was to go, to move on to keep moving and that was what she did now. circling the planets as she took note of all that she saw, she remembered something her mother had said when she was a small child. her mother had said. "the planets consist of all that we are made of, there is nothing in them, that is not in us." as a little girl, she had read so many books about the planets and was fascinated by them always.

she had a deep understanding of astrology and had found some scientific and pseudo scientific reasons to back up the theories about the stars. she wanted to believe that the stars were a part of her destiny but she questioned that and she questioned her destiny and the nature of her place on this planet, though being made up of all the planets.

as she circled her origins she knew she would have to generate enough energy to create a new source but at that moment she was depleted. she could search for help but she was not sure what form that help would come in. it could come in many different forms and she had not been trained to recognize the perfect form she would need to get all the way to the place she wanted to go. she knew her own needs could be complicated but she was not worried about sorting out the complications if she had the right assistance. the right help would make the complications seem less problematic and more anecdotal. she only wished she could remain anecdotal, a side note.

like her friend had said recently, it might be better to just be helpful, and leave being important to people who were less concerned with affecting change. creating the kind of change she wanted to create would be the best way to spend some time. the time that she had was always being stretched by demands that seemed very trivial.

on the first planet she could remember, life had been a very challenging experience and she was sure that she would make a pledge to go back once she had sorted out her affairs on other planets, in order to ensure that she can make things easier for the people of that place. She had so many ideas about how to do that, but very little time to work out what would need to happen for those things to happen.

and once she had a sense of how her plan would be carried out she could apply herself to the task of  the present moment. nobody could tell her what to be, who to be finally, she was going to be able to develop her love for the people and living beings of each and every planet she would visit would be places that she was able to collaborate on projects that allowed her to be responsible for so much of the beauty, they had stars, she would make them shooting stars, they had constellations, she would fashion for them some kinds of beautiful stories that would weave into the constellations, and once they had the new stories that would lead their societies in a way they could only have imagined before, they would then settle into lives that made more sense.

nothing made sense at certain points and at other points all was more than crystal clear. she knew on the one hand that every moment she was living, she was blessed with the gift of life, that all who knew anything knew was incredibly precious and without it, none of existence could manifest, beings could not feel or think, creating  consciousness to be what it was becoming, with a new fresh originality that could not be copied, the acts of worship so deeply joyful and sincere and with out it, she would gain the clarity that was so much more than crystalline in quality. She was aiming to build relationships between forms of consciousness that would keep the lines of communication stronger than they had ever been in any time line, yes, time was not linear, yes, time was not a thing that went from one destination, perceptions from within living beings were deceptive, she knows all of this as much as she knows anything.

she felt at times that she was responsible for lifting people and other beings into alignment with their own integrity and it was she who did this but they credited these deities with names from ancient myths, and she would not interfere because she did not need to be credited for any of the deeds she had done. taking credit for any of them would only pull her further down into the mess that was that one planet, that earth home, that she knew so well and was ready in many ways, to forget, once and for all.

she had been a part of the earth dream for many centuries and had become quite accustomed to an identity that was very much tied to the many properties of that place, but there was always a conscious part of her that knew very well her earth identities and roles were not made of the kind of substance that would endure past a certain point in her evolution. she was grateful, and honored that she had be granted so many free passages, granted so many opportunities to be liberated over and over from stories that would have held her captive in so many ways for so many corrupt reasons. she was humbled by the fact that she had been selected, or maybe that she selected herself to receive the kind of blessings reserved for spirits of very high esteem, maybe deities, maybe angels, she knows they have titles and some sort of hierarchy and perhaps at some point she will be introduced to the ultimate truth of this arrangement, but in the meantime, she had work to do.

her work ranged from the simplest, yet most profound tasks, to the multilayered, complicated ones. she feels compelled to work with those who have been piled under mountains of suffering and as she helps them cleanse and purify and simplify, she gets some benefits from being close to their deep work of transformation. it is always a kind of self transformation, and her assistance is the kind that renders her invisible in the way that people go about the collisions that they cannot really describe

she wishes for the qualities they cannot get out of their minds that poisoned the image they had of her and they would be seeing one version of her that she could not help to manage. that was the way it worked, she found, that people saw a version of her that they could not understand her the way she was wanting to be understood.

Never underestimate the power of loneliness-song lyrics

"If I am wasting all your time this time
I guess you never learned to take
and if I am hanging on to your shade
I guess I am way beyond the pain"
 -Tori Amos

the archetype of loneliness is all pervasive, in the human experience

in the light

I don't want to say it
But maybe someone has got to

You don't seem to have the courage
to see this thing through

there has been laughter
there have been tears

I am at the limit of how much
I can talk about my fears

I fought so hard for us to find a way

only to just now hear you say
It is definite
we will never be lovers in the light
in other words
Shadows are all I have
to offer you

And then you wonder why
I don't want to stay
when all I can hear now is you say
It is definite
We will never be lovers in the light
in other words
Shadows and pain are all I have
to offer you

You know I always wanted to be in the light with you
to be set free
but that was not you
that was always me
I said
that was not you
that was always me

the hand you are dealt

she reached out with her
heart on her sleeve
and wondered what else she would
mistakenly believe
the cynicism is real
the past events take their toll
refusing to be defeated
she reclaims what he stole
and knows she is so much more than
the sum of those events
all the past circumstances will not dictate
her present and knowing that creating that
making it true.

dust and rain

I will be dust I will be rain
I will be the beginning and the end of the sweetest pain
teaching you gratitude for lessons learned at the most horrific times.........

turning 35 and in the meantime

the past few days or so I have cried so hard
I could not breathe well
gasping for air
tears down cheeks
desperate for understanding to come more easily
between me and him
and still
the feeling that remains in my heart and
whole abdominal region
is unsettling and indescribable
someone told me
"time will tell"
and I feel that now,
and until it tells,
time is keeping secrets
I want to rip open as quickly
as packaging covering up a desperately needed
item or tool or coveted talisman
I have half way neglected myself lately in the sense that
I usually tend to the quiet inside that I carry around as
the invisible shield I need to walk in the
craziest of worlds I was born into
35 years ago this day
and in that time I have grown numb
broken open, broken down, been built back up
praying that the stories turn out better then
what his fears project
so many fertile possibilities I need to protect

in 35 years I have searched depths
and climbed to heights
only to find the regions stretch out
infinite
and menacing
and welcoming too

contradictions arise abundantly
in the shadow where my light cannot see
and I have refused to ask you to stay with me
and still you do it
still you are by my side
it is always in you that I confide
and time will tell
about you
and me
separately
together
but until then
until it tells
it feels that those secrets are being kept
and the talisman of knowledge
must be a whole different substance
because time has its own mysterious impossible agenda
and I am 35 years into arriving into the craziest of worlds
that this is
and
I know how to hold on
and I know how to let go
and I know how to sever
myself from the need
to choose from either deed

waves. 3 parts

part 1

take my lips and my hips
the essence of what about me is womanly
and yes that is worldly
tell me how I have fallen
for whom for what and why
then I will show you I can fly
yes tease you with visions of wings
so real it actually stings
take my fingers
drumming away on surfaces
on the poison that lingers
ask me for a mundane thought
before it would seem all that would be worthwhile
could be sold and bought
teach me of your capitalist agenda
only to find I am not much of a spenda
and you are wasting your time
with such game
so truly and utterly lame

part 2

I take two fingers
press them gentle and firm
on your soft lips
I whisper Shhhhhhhhhhh
our gazes locked
you can smell a trace of that nights perfume
and oddly it settles you into a moment of patience
In yoga asanas. especially warrior
I think "soften your gaze"
and when I do, my body is relieved
you have softened your gaze too
I smile and breathe deeply

part 3

she considers all the matter
that supposedly matters
the clutter and pieces of objects
that make up bigger objects
which represent status
in a personal or professional space
what in all of this must she face?
dreaming of rivers
she presses her eyelids shut
all these items pass away
they have shape and form until they become stardust glitter
and fade into the rushing waters of transient waves
They move toward this ocean
just as at one point soon
she will too.

strange and studied- from July 2014

"You scared of love, what's that? Tell me why?
How silly am I, how silly I am, you're not an angel, you're just a man.
If it hurts so bad to love me, tell me why you stay?"

                                                    --Mystic
                                                       (Oakland, CA based performer/lyricist)

peace
postures
into yoga places
inside
but this routine is haphazard
I create reality with each line
I feel strange and studied and I think I liked it at first
but maybe it is a love prison
and if I had not ever known what that was like
I might not wrestle with myself because
I know now what it is to feel love flowing back to me
in that way and though certain feelings are so fleeting
some flare up consistently

peace of mind. fleeting.

my love is growing
increasing expanding
how else can I explain that?
knowing your truth is in its own
verification process
right
now

all the freedom

the only verbs worth using are
change fade drift transition transform
and why can't I trans -substantiate?
why don't I know all the right words for the right moments?
but what is all this right and wrong?
is everything not perfect? is everything not God?
is there no ego, subversion, pain, disorder, chaos, violence
is everything still God? was it always? is it now?

A little update for you all! Remember: Know thy self, Love thy self, Heal thy self.

hello fellow human beings and human doings! I have posted song lyrics and poetry and opinion pieces on current events but now, today I wish to further break down the vision and purpose of :

"Imaya's Modalities: The Healing Arts Enterprise" A world wide ongoing project

Theme: Shifting the Dream of the Planet

Realization: the Present "Dream" or "Reality Construction" of our planet is one that is on a full speed ahead collision course with complete destruction and alteration of "life as we know it"

We are in increasing numbers becoming aware that we are living wastefully, moving too fast, creating dysfunctional relationships habitually and much more suffering that I cannot list in the amount of time I am allotting myself to write this.

What I have just described sounds overwhelming I know that.

But as others have said, we all have a role to play, in creating the world that most of us want deeply in our longing to be safe and free from harm on this planet. World religions have essentially failed us as a species or we failed inside of them, however you prefer to see it, and say it.

What we need now are templates and models we create that can sustain the intentions of our higher selves and some traditions call these the higher chakras.

I will update again soon.

Until then, always remember when you are depleted yourself you cannot fully aid another being in the most effective way

in peace,

Imaya

the muse forgotten

somedays you will remember
somedays you will forget
that rainy day you were full of truth
while I was dripping wet

Life spread out like maps
or scraps
of paper on the floor
he calls himself an artist
so we call him that too
she calls herself a dreamer
but then, so do you

ten thousand miles
of road stretching so far
If I look real close
I can see exactly who you are
Traveling down this road
Coming ever closer to you
always remembering
until I forget what I simply knew

We are temporary beings
destined for the grave
all you know turns to dust
with only your soul to save
but clearly we are stars
manifest in earthly form
training for the heavens
seeking shelter from the storm

You change with what you define

"Life promises you only change. Only impermanence.
She is only wild and her compassion is exquisitely precise"
-Spring Washam

I am forgetting parts of self that were once held so tightly
these transformations lead to an evolving self

all the subtext become more obvious
subtleties are thrown out
replaced by the more obvious clearly spoken articulated
themes and dreams
what is the dream telling you now? and now?

why do we stop and stare when nobody can even see what is there?

happiness was always the goal
yet definitions seem to change
so you change with what you define
to fit yourself into the places the definition will reach
so then what will you teach?

what will you learn?
at the end of it what will you take away?
you know, what will you take with you?
you cannot know yet
telling yourself you have plenty of time means nothing
if you are stuck in patterns
that limit you and keep you in pain
or keep you numb, locked away from the best that life gives
so much to discover just under the surface
and nothing is ever perfect
for perfect is a state of mind
or an illusion
or an elusive trick
played by circumstances you think
you have comprehended
no guarantee you will find what you are seeking

transfer emotions from page to page, you do not escape
take me to the river
there is nowhere else to go now
maybe the message I have gathered inside me
could be the true reflection
of what is right
this time
I wish to make all my mistakes at the start so
when we get going
I can protect your heart
nowhere to go from here but inward
around down up within without
for all that I work to manifest
will eventually be manifested
but all that arises passes away
always stay close to that truth

and always we will be tested
as the alignment of the stars and planets
make some sense so you lean into telling yourself
the ways in which life is good
and forget relentlessly
where it was you
just stood.

"Toy people make their way through today, unhurried by Time"

Note:
Here is my attempt to archive some of the writing I did in 1996, I was 15 and then 16 that year. I include some of these pieces because if they resonate with a young person or if you are older and they strike a chord, or if you want to share them with anyone for any reason, I will be grateful for that.

made such a mess of this

(dedicated to the muse)

I feel way too exposed, an open blossom
raw and vulnerable
so frantically young
the smoke went through my eyes
impairing vision, judgment
unlawfully allowed by me
entered through my skin
in the veins
takes hold of my bloodstream

I am now writing my cause of death
my autopsy performed while alive
secretly
but you wouldn't know it
it is in my body
more than that it is in all that I am
I become the words I am writing
ink to paper I am born once more
living through the motions
it takes, whatever it takes
so I wonder about the force from
this empty source
but what does any of this matter to you?
If you turn away, I could disappear forever
what if  I already have?

I want to try somehow
a puzzle piece into the wrong space
I fit so snug and out of place
still I am one who can mold the solid,
make shapes from thin air
move the immoveable
and your eyes spread their seething disapproval
I inch closer
to away from you
we are from different worlds
I grow more certain
the final curtain
will fall
before we go any further
all seems a bit forced, I could say
but it might hurt, so I won't
you could leave now, you would
but you don't
Intermission has lasted far too long
we are getting restless
I know I have made such a mess of this


Decision Weather

(dedicated to Maja and Morgan)

she lights upon edges, anywhere high up
with a dove's beauty in her movements
stealing hearts for food
scavenger ravishing mad
scared
it is raining
when she forgets to murder her father
she haunts doorways, anywhere cold
cloud hanging above her head
storms incessant
never dry, always high
straw hands
bend to break
fingers like ice
she melts and disappears
filling cracks swimming
up to the surface again

did you know?

I am without you
on this shallow night swirling
inside a clear plastic bubble
and did you know
we are food for those higher up?
the entertainment value of our lives is priceless
our confusion is candy for the gods.
they sit in their clouds, laughing into the waves
gold eyes shining

my skull hurts
aching for nothing more
than a free moment
on a pure planet
wholes in the unbreakable patterns
the huge sickness
wants to infest my bloodstream
my lifeline has a bad connection
did you know
this is what the children are inheriting?

I am without you on this shallow night
swirling in a clear plastic bubble

what will you do when she speaks?

What will you tell Maha Devi when you reach her?
when you get there
when you pay the toll
and cross the bridge from living to dead?
when you wake up after this life?
what will you tell her?

will you have only questions?
will you stare at her directly until your eyes bleed?
will you pour your tears into her hands,
 will you wonder what to say
will your tongue be dry and your throat parched
and your voice higher than the clouds
will you laugh?

will you ask her about that freedom you wasted
that day you decided to give up
that language you learned in your sleep and then forgot
as your eyelids moved up and down
and then
will you ask her for another chance?

will you ask for more time on earth after those 94 years, or the three days you had?
the moments of exhilarated pain and loss you cherished, the lessons you scrawled on your limbs with tattoo ink? will you fall silent for a century, just like the statues they built from fleeting notions of what deities look like, what appearances arrive on the wind into the minds of the visual artists whose hands paint, sculpt, mold and draw the formations and outlines of those who are most elusive
yet closest to us, the entities of compassion and forgiveness, the deep abyss of knowing that science has not yet grasped, the place we turn to when all else fails, when we fail, when we fear falling, when we fall?

will you write her a list, will you ask Maha Devi for a second chance?
Will your family meet you there with her,
will you align yourself with a new lineage for next time?
will you finally release the hold you have on your illusions, will you illustrate your knowledge
with your fingertips and your heartfelt quietest whisper
will the longing finally cease in her presence? will she hold your hand as you turn to ashes
will she lift you up?

what will maha devi say to you, my friend, what will you do when she speaks,
the horrible glistening of her face, the numbers that follow the letters,
the incessant truth spilling from her, always spilling?

samsara--reprise 2014

healthy distrust
has become a must
beyond that
beautiful practices cultivated
dedication to the moment
embrace all as illusion
wherein one may manifest a life
most deeply desired
learning how to stay inspired
and the gift
blessing burden
that is this way
of being blasted open
my heart dripping laughter from my sleeve
I know now
when to leave
when I am not wanted
when the crowded room is
haunted

walk in the room. 3 parts.

Part 1.

and you know i have something to prove

when i walk in the room like i want you to see how i move

and making moves is left up to you and the way we create these moments is precious

and we have no idea how to make it work until we start to try and there is no reason

to abandon hope-- we must always keep hope alive, in every area of our lives

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part 2.

I love to love. she thinks. she pauses, considering speaking,
she leaves space open.

he is quiet, he pauses, considering speaking,
the waiting is killing her
dying, she waits a bit more
what, oh what is she really expecting?

oh yes, he has been nothing if not honest

Part 3.---------------------------------------------------------------------


"Start over, gently. " the thought is almost a gravitational singularity. How is that possible?

She hums a quiet tune. she whispers. she wills herself into a more comfortable position, feeling so many things all at once. she attempts to distinguish one feeling from another but they bleed together and she stares at each color around her in the threads of the pillows and blankets, the patterns of the sheets on her mattress, the patterns in the hardwood floor beneath her mattress and bed, she stares at the colors and patterns and makes a deal with herself, that each emotion and perception will become as clear as all that she can see.

What we see starts with what it is front of us, the light, the mechanism of our physical vision keeps us aligned with what we want to perceive. If her mind strays from the desired view of the object then she creates a whole new perception of what she wants to see. the power from that desire over rides what is really there so she cannot perceive what may be the one most concentrated reality. One dose of that could make her almost high just due to her already heightened sense of what it means to be a part of reality. This hits at different moments, walking down the path touching the branches as she wanders by noticing the blossoms, hearing the question answer call and response of the songbirds.

Each day she gets stronger until she flashes back to the fetal position feeling so much she cannot sort through what is most real most important and what she should do about all the problems that are so impossible but so hard to believe in at times because she creates such distance between what she chooses to take in and what is actually there. love pulses in her veins and that much she knows and yet she can control how much this love is expressed and shown, revealed to those whose gazes penetrate her very being, convinced she is made of the very essence and fabric of truth, love, kindness, affection, hope.

She is so blessed with this ability to convey these precious ingredients that make up her composition, that make up her conceivable form. the form she takes is one that she makes, but the mystery behind that creation remains elusive to those whose gazes penetrate her very being and she finds the blessings and good fortune apparent in these turn of events, she finds the indicators of very good luck that she can perceive in her current paradigm and she knows that without this kind of knowledge she would just have to go find more somehow to justify her existence. She cannot justify her existence easily the way she saw some people do when she moved through the world as though they could just accept outer appearances.

from January 1996-- happy that way

slick pavement underfoot
makes for risky walking
and dangerous drives
the moon filters thin winter light
through naked branches
sub zero beauty
when I brave the cold
I think of those who live or die in it
when I see my breath
exhale into a grey stream
I shiver at the thought of never
being in your arms again
I blow into my cupped palms
to thaw my face
snow falls
resembling us
papery thin and temporary
ignorant of what it all means
and happy that way
take me away
from anymore unnecessary knowledge
protect me from the bitter temperatures
of loneliness
all the shades of solitude reflected
in breath we can see
they mingle into one stream
and I am comforted half way
the rest uncovered might
freeze from exposure

hyper vulnerable

the inner reality
of one who is hyper vulnerable
is full of questions that push pull thrust violently
with an urgency to be answered, problems that may have
no solution
screaming to be answered
put yourself to the task of fixing what begs to be fixed
but perhaps cannot be
at least
not quickly
not easily
and not by you alone
though the person who acts
in the hyper vulnerable manner
will make it appear that it must be you
that fixes this issue whatever it may be
whatever it is that is creating conditions
for hyper vulnerability

"they say that love means to let go
but still you should know
you are the truth you are the light
you are the spirit  the reason why I shine"

pressed against the wall of her own silence
she begins to re build
inside herself
reconstruct
from the ground up
 all that has happened up until this point
taught her strength
whatever she sets her mind to will bring
desired results
deciding ways to channel devotional tendencies
that arise
without provocation
arise no matter where
what who when
arise
with urgency
not unlike
all those questions
pushing
pulling
thrusting
she is not above lusting
and the direction for
this devotion
must be carefully cautiously determined
every
conscious step
of the way.

tangled mess: two pieces. 2002.

1.

Moving the constant debris
of mind emotion clutter out of the way
I listen for a calm
I listen for a storm
these legs are tired of being touched
by your lovingly told lies
my words have been drained now
of their original power
my unrehearsed lines are like
cries sent out to already thunderous skies
that mirror a discontent you cannot imagine
my arms reach out into a hopeful arch
then I am leaning back into temporary retreat
and a form of defeat
so many private moments
locked away from you

and why do I call this tangled mess of strong feelings "love?"
and why do you always seem to respond with the same twisted longing?

I become familiar with making Everything Fine

yes, Everything is Fine.

2.

If I love you
I will be with you
If I trust you
I will be spreading my heart thin
around the razor edge of these decisions
If I give you more of my truth
I will suffer, maybe grow stronger
If I love you I will share my body, my bed, my fears
all the precious intangibles

And if you love me, you will honor what I am offering
not with your words
but through your actions
I learn quickly to swallow the ferocious thoughts
and become new again
If I love you
I become new again.

cloak of fears

she wore a cloak of fears from her ankles to her ears
breathing anxious solitude

she had moments of unity with all that is good
but anger welled up inside no matter how hard she denied

she drank from the carved out empty fossils of memory
aching for a long ago past

she refused offerings from the moon
turning into a hungry traveler
upon weary roads drenched by drought

she was so rich
with diamonds for breakfast
emeralds for tea

she had questions and could never sit still
She had questions and could never get her fill

she wore that cloak of fears from her
ankles to her ears

breathing anxious solitude.

fight or flight. from 2003

I was hoping there would be some
really easy
way out
I was hoping time
would grant me a miracle
my passion is broken
and this wound re -opened
then that spirit that has been helping me through
heaved a great sigh
so loudly that this time
I was sure it was her.
no mistake.
I could no longer fight
I could never really fly
the poems are stories, the stories are
unfinished thoughts
the task is always uncompleted
never done
how many ways can I say it?
fantasy builds on strange enough reality and
the skeletal remains of hope
reading between the lines to the truth of the matter
which will inevitably
prove my innocence, erase my guilt
deep down guilt
something about original sin
revealing certain mysteries
punishment, salvation, delivery from suffering
I had been hoping for some easy way out
of this tainted and distorted labyrinth
this ongoing maze of nights and days
celebrating and bouncing off the walls
of the uterus or galaxy as it were
I was hoping time would grant me a miracle

and if time should grant this miracle, what would I do
but take it in my unclenched fists, open palm to the sky
whispering for a different reprieve
since the miracle was not spoken of
in certain circles
and those circles would be broken
by the light of day
and the motives of the people within them
exposed for the lessons to be learned
the people individually would be
revealed from their core
and that would make those decisions that much easier
those decisions about who to trust, who to let in
closer than the kind of fire we can truly identify

professor of social work-- an excerpt from a lecture

Biological psychiatry, in an unholy symbiosis with the drug industry, has actively
promoted the view that people’s emotional problems are symptoms of diseases of the
body (brain), usually resulting from genetic abnormalities. The number of social,
economic, spiritual, psychological, and educational problems considered to be or treated
as diseases has, needless to say, increased dramatically over the last quarter century —
a trend commonly referred to as medicalization (e.g., Conrad & Schneider, 1992).
The unchecked medicalization of distress of course cannot have only positive
implications: it also carries its share of intellectual mystification, iatrogenic injury, and
sociocultural decline. Fully a quarter of the population is implied to be genetically
deficient because affected with “diagnosable” or “treatable disorders” (Mental Health,
1999). In one of history’s strangest social experiments, up to 15% of children in North
America are given stimulants and other drugs to make them conform to schools’
expectations. Long term psychotropic drug use can be shown to be detrimental for
individual brains. Will it be shown to be detrimental for the species’ evolutionary
capacity? (Fukuyama, 2002; Nesse & Berridge, 1997) In human bodies, families, and
groups, drugs only seem to blunt people’s responses to stress — drugs neither banish
stress or the sources of stress, nor do they enhance people’s capacity to cope with
stress (Mirowsky & Ross, 2003).
It goes without saying that people suffer and undoubtedly, ways exist for people
whose lives have been disrupted by the slings and arrows of fate to benefit from the
psychological and behavioral alterations produced by psychotropic drugs. However, the
all-too-commonly-accepted views that medication can solve distressed people’s
problems, or that medication should be the most easily and widely available
intervention, need urgently to be re-evaluated and contextualized. In particular, it hardly
seems possible today to use the findings of countless clinical trials in
psychopharmacology to enlighten us about the potential benefits and psychological
effects of drugs, or to inform us accurately about drugs’ potential risks, and certainly not
to suggest what might be “ideal” conditions for drug use in helping relationships.
In sum, the experts have failed the public and no one wishes to be held
accountable. It is almost as if the entire edifice of psychopharmacotherapy must be torn
down and rebuilt from scratch, with participation from anyone who wishes, as long as
their contributions are transparent (since they cannot be guaranteed to be principled).
The implications are numerous and enormous. Here is just one implication: it is time for
more social workers to become seriously engaged in the critical evaluation and the
reconstruction of the psychotropic drug treatment enterprise.

which part human?

I dreamed of you
before I ever saw you
shining and broken
lips holding words unspoken
emotion coiled like snakes full of venom
on its way out

I dreamed of you
before we even met
and before I knew what was happening
there you were
glowing
wounded and untouchable
scars stretch across the impersonal night sky
I run my fingers over them
encouraging healing

I dreamed you
part God, part human
wretched and aching
cannot sit still, the force of you
unparalleled by anything
in the known universe

slip through my fingers

"According to the DSM, human life is a form of mental illness."

holding many truths at once
all of a sudden
the faith I was developing
is called into question
I am standing in the shadows
until light pours in from the sky
visibility and obscured views
this pattern repeats
grasping at truths
trying to hold just one of them
while hundreds slip through my fingers
resisting dogma yet craving answers
this shadow is comfortable
but light reveals my surroundings
exposing the craving for consistency
wanting to be free from need
 is in itself a desire
dreams and truth wrap around your mind
so tightly you forget other possibilities
and what I experience
in equilibrium
one foot in truth shadow
the other in light
mind is an illusion
heart longing for spirit
to take me home

foggy spring day- follow up about Miley and Sinead

I am not always one to take the temperature of the toxic bullshit that makes up the majority of our media outlets but since I am also familiar with progressive radio stations I am hoping that we can clear up at least one of the recent incidents between two people who are known for what many consider deviant behavior. Others may not even register anything out of the ordinary. In fact, in pop culture and to a more subtle extent in subcultures the norm is to paint people into a corner when they have seemingly spoken out of turn as Sinead did by writing an open letter.

My main problem with what happened is that we are using totally archaic images and language when it comes to female artists, nudity, youth fixation and all of that.  We hear pimp, whore and prostitute over and over, when in fact it would serve us all well to abandon those terms in favor of language that really suits the situation, and we could use that language in such a way that we make it a solid practice to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable, until there are less who are constantly disturbed and more people who act less out of fear and pain and more out of intelligence and keen observation.

We have never had such a world and I do not expect it to happen instantly but the more people who see how much more that they would get out of living in such a world, the closer we will incrementally step toward such a world, externally and of course it will at some point be able to match up more naturally with our inner world.

For all the consciousness that has supposedly been raised over the past decades, it seems that the covert nature of these ills have not gone away, they have become insidious. Rather than rant against it, I choose to offer up suggestions of how to change it if you are interested in actually getting to songs, art and dialogue that can keep your interest and inspire you. I, for one, am more than ready for that to happen on a Massive scale!!

1. Stop instantly comparing one artist to another before you have a good sense of their intended message or messages

2. Stop focusing so much on their appearance, and I suggest this because if the celebrity or politician's public is not obsessed with their image and how their image is changing, they will be forced to have more of a reason to be in the public eye, and more and more those will be good reasons and then we will wean off of worshiping celebrities in general.

3. Perhaps doing these things will lead to more of a social conscience for some of them and an ability to take a stand publically and courageously on pressing matters in this world we all share! What a breath of fresh air that would be for a huge part of the American public and for people who live abroad who feel that we are incredibly wasteful and arrogant. Just like a stage of diabetes that is not full blown yet, we can reverse this damaging trend.

to my faithful readers on this hot spring day

Update for freedom-- empowerment and friendship...on the theme of women in the music industry as it is currently in 2014.

Applying concepts such as friendliness toward yourself will take time for folks like Miley. This does not mean she will never master the act of right thought and right speech, but I do understand that if she feels her career hinges upon behaving in a way that shocks people and does not uplift them, she will only be her own worst enemy. And that most certainly is not her fault. At all. she like so many of us were born and raised in the clutches of very sick American culture, and this sickness infiltrated our music inevitably. and we are having growing pains because we all have to live with our actions, live with our treatment of ourselves, our bodies, each other, our lives, our work. what is our work? what are we here to do?

This is a great turning point for both Artists, and for American popular music in general.

Miley and Sinead and Amanda Bynes and Lauryn Hill and countless others who have been persecuted for whatever perceived deviant behavior or unpopular opinions deserve to be in control of their labor and should be taxed according only to the extent that they can produce the songs and art and contributions to theatre that they can offer up to the global community in whatever time frame is healthy for them. They can choose to learn from mistakes they made and keep their heads up in the future as they move forward into better days.

We need democracy to be restored, and in some senses in this country we have never really fully had it depending on who you are and who you are descended from. We the people need an amendment to the constitution that protects a woman's right to choose about whether or not she is to give birth,  we need universal health care, which Barack Obama has been seen working on, putting it down the books for good, just as abortion should be.

It is time for civil rights to be addressed even more through music and any artist stepping up to participate in this will help the cause of true freedom, empowerment and sincere friendship flourish.

Miley does not deserve more enemies. She does not deserve to be treated unfairly. I see why Sinead wrote what she did and I see why Miley reacted the way she did.

vulnerable

every individual is of their own species
melt into atmosphere
be strong have a sense of within
be strong as you go along
thoughts are something transient
the permanence dissolves eventually
do u love me still?
how could I be more vulnerable
than this now?

permanent record

what if there is a freedom
misunderstood
a waterfall creeping back up the mountainside
a link to something forgotten
unidentified archetype
question ever present
what is the purpose of all of these
or any challenges 
if not to get stronger
if not to learn
faith is no longer a question
it is an answer
changing and developing
the dream always has the ability to shift
depending on the dreamer
depending on courage
depending on vision
and there is no such thing as a permanent record
a scare tactic
a threat, a fabrication
just like we made up money
we made up poverty so we have become
prisoners by our own hands
by our own dreams
all that exists in this control obsessed dream of reality
is temporary
we dissolve
and when we dissolve
the dream shifts over
and even what remains eventually dissolves
until the energy for a  new dream manifests
 and I have dreamed you into being
until you look at me
broken shattered from the gaze
then you are real again
human and flawed
beautiful and no less tempting
I love the contrast of your talents
against the background of sad songs
I love the transparent touch
that tells me what cannot be spoken
I love the momentary ecstatic breakthrough
when you see me
and almost slip
you almost slipped                                 

hungry pride

reading another woman's passages
of alternately beautiful and bruised long memories
peeling back into something fresh and new
what unfolded in me was sharp
pierced by newfound insight
a surprise to realize
how much I fear my body
I am scared of my own body
having hungers raw and dull like an old blade
how young to be so old
and how old to be so afraid
should I have already grown out of or into?
should I be stronger than fear
fearing every bite, the tastes dwindle
lingering like leftover love
because lust will evaporate
fingering the space left between
then and now
later on, he says, an unspecified date
but I wont trust him or his word
men irrelevant yet ever present
so many questions go unheard
irrepressible hunger for touch that nourishes
these cravings always mingle with fears
yet what I have learned throughout the years
about women's bodies
about my own body
crashes through my head out of control
shudders through my aching soul
secretly silently un-teaching the self love
secretly teaching the self hate
It is no secret
but nobody can truly tell what
is on your plate
secretly kneading like bread
that old fear creeps upon you
about how nobody loves fat women
and your flesh is your ultimate enemy
the symbol of your sinful nature
inherent in you as a woman
so you must fight your cravings
cradling desire next to temptation
and I can pinpoint the exact desire
felt in the heart programmed into the lips
of the right men who speak, fuck and kiss
what happiness must be
what happiness is painted to be so it must
or loneliness perhaps is not so bad as they say
a surprise to realize I fear my body

were you surprised too?

-Imaya


"Tired of the flesh
its trembling and yearning
like a hermit
I took refuge in words"
-Cristina Rossi

know this

when life crumbles all around you
and you stand naked and trembling
teeth and fists clenched
before the executioners and false prophets
strangers and all who have or would betray you
do not cast your gaze downward
instead look into the eye of the storm with resilience

so I say it is the strength and tenacity of your desire
that will pull you through
a will not only to live but to thrive
and strangled you might feel
suffocated or under fire

know that you are never alone
know I never leave you

my strength is in the waves pounding the shore
it is in the immense cover of the night sky
it is the bedrock which shifts to become
only a new form of stability for you to stand on

my love is in the tender tenacious miracles of creation
I am forever winking at you through the rainclouds

just as soon destroy as nurture

the earth does not love us
neither is "she" anybody's mother
nature does not love any group of people more than any other
or less or at all.
nature is indifferent about the human species
one piece of evidence for this is that nature would just as soon destroy
and kill as it would nurture support and provide
for nature these are all default modes
and they do not connect to emotion as we understand it
the human need to have a connection
to their surroundings is what bolsters this ancient reoccurring narrative
due to the fact that so many on this planet
have decided to see natural resources as primarily ways to become wealthy
regardless of long term consequences
it is clear that the need to have a story about nature that includes love and sacredness is not
universal. some argue the planet is being exploited by other life forms that bring beings from other planets to exploit humans. until claims like these have been confirmed or proven false, they are just claims.
lately when I am present in natural surroundings, I am not convinced of the much cited and referenced love. I see indifference.
and biological phenomenon.

becoming

in essence
we are all light beings
spinning
fragmented
glistening
and in these times
on this planet
we must hold tight to those who lift us up
who honor our movement toward wholeness
may whatever love you find
grow exponentially
over the years
may it unfold in waves
as you travel surfaces
and explore depths
of what it means to be together
what it means to be human
defining love
exploring love
becoming love
personified

it filled their lungs

he knocked on the door of her answers
she peers through branches and beckons
come in or leave me alone
she pleads
he plants some seeds
the rest of the galaxy forgets them
while they tended to the most important tasks
they loved and lived simply.

the first thing they noticed on the strange new planet
was the air
breathing was possible
but felt very different from what they were used to
it felt like rainbow essence
filling their lungs
cleansing
with each breath
nobody can prepare you fully for
rainbow air
she tended to get lost on these expeditions
stray from the group on purpose
some significant moments have
involved living beings
some involve just the night sky and the water

the night sky. the water.
black meets dark blue
one may not ever end or begin
maybe just enfold into each other
starlight hits the waves
reflecting into shimmering patterns
coveting a coded secret language
I can break the code
I have broken the code
when I break this code
I realize the inherent mysterious power
it holds
I know I cannot share it for to
share it would
dissipate and distort
the intentions of the great mystery
infused into the code
I cannot allow that to happen
I am so tempted to share what I feel
are symbols of the utmost beauty