seed wings

2009-09-20T15:58:00.000-07:00

Magnolia teeth
Whisper of acorn children
Healing you all over

Small breasts
Translucent skin

My eternal longing for god, a veil of cutting briar
Feeding hungry voices in the night, tether

I follow the trail of bread crumbs
Burning bridges down while
Dandelions sing lullabies

Take what you will from the earth
One heartbeat, plastic veins, plastic anger

Smoke the rainbows stranger
Make friends with desire

Do you see colors in the night?
Watch out, children whisper, he might be the one you were after…
No form, no color

Digging pearls out of the ground
Dream the end is near
We sleep in different beds
We sleep in different worlds
We share the same milk tooth

PUSSY STATE

2009-06-19T00:10:00.000-07:00

Awareness of the strange.....Jim Morrison living in one country. and the young are getting sober, i get so high on you...money on you, living on you.

I had a revelation, the State of Texas has a pussy named 1 and 4. The definition of rape, grooming a poodel, tha' CPS lady rolls her eyes at 12 year olds having babies, burning shit, burning white horse under the window. Do I still attract men by not closing my legs, I never learned how to masturbate. I think about the law of attraction, gravitation, pink laughing magnet in between my legs, even the madame of the night has rights, her pussy is a temple... she gets paid! Education knows about neglect, knows about race, education knows about them,him,you and me. Watch the galaxy disappear by definition.

my best-friend explains to me that I am safe, my body is a temple, a dream, a fertile ground.

while a shooting star sprays light across her eyes, She is beautifully complete, motherhood, even though she might not be able to pay the rent, she takes care of her family plus the universal saint angers, Mary-Mother-Joseph..Her eyes really glow like Buddha, like Christ manifesting into you, cumming metallic words, consent into you, you said fuck me.

my pussy is angry at the state, copper taste.

hey girl don't fall asleep. can you read my body like i want you to? Can this story create an embroynic seed. Help me god take advantage of him, his eyes suck at me, help me god when rape takes my name, help me god to be everything and nothing, she got her masters in that white mans physicality. Hey, does pussy taste like copper, is pussy still Innocent and loved by god after the the meal? Can her pussy be saved? Can her pussy detect a perpetrator? Can her pussy go to school and smell the white picket fence, i can smell you from here! He took that from her you know...you travel, school kids but do you know what it feels like to be fucked without regret, without alcohol on your breath, without any brains left. I once could touch a man without thinking hungry thoughts, now i get hungry at every cock i see, is that rape baby even if it feels good? I am smart baby like the old stone polished into pages. Jesus raped me? What do you think? Did I make up a story?

tasting copper, ransom letter

2009-06-18T12:16:00.000-07:00

I have thoughts like you. I believe you love me, I just need you too much and I am desirous of your money.

Hugs around the ribcage
Sensitive ear receiving ransom mail
Imagination solitude
Polished bone, polished teeth

Uneducated dirt girl, fertile shaft of light
Should I go find her, save her?

Underneath my naked skin lies a child, swinging around her tongue
rubbing ruby muscular tentacles together watching breath move in and out,
tasting copper on my index finger
closing my eyes imagining the tiny sword swallowed, reply

fruit on the playground
milk flowing down the curtains

write my heart out indoors, write my heart out inside
holding hands, connected to each other

time machine, breasts ripe, hair follicles dancing on my skin

Curious safe hands, discover water
Constructing eyelids out of found sheets

safe hands touching there
safe eyes listening
sister, brother in-between

Jesus emerged from underneath you, dripping red
Golden rusty shadows paint heaven, just let love
Calloused mud, dirty innocent dreams, grackles exposing my lips alone
Sister I found you underground, pearl suitcase tunneling like mad, screaming, laughing, wait you’re fading…
White palatable dress, hair a mess, beautifully curious, shifting white light, blue dots, green dot skin, tag you’re it

Perceptive playground
Play forever
Get lost in head dreams
Ripped jeans
Sister found here
Musty grapevine smoked
Tiny nose like a splinter

Unstable predictions of speech,
Eyes everlasting, bursting stories, pulling down the blinds, shutting my eyes

Capture the pollen protection, fertility refuge, tears shedding, not taking enough time to heal, too much time to understand why, healing is like a shadowed crucifix, saved testimony, it’s overcoming me, my skull pouring out tiny glass fragments. Pray the whole day into sunset, my wounds like the sun are setting into some kind of understanding.

She is the essence of exploration when saved. Killing dreams to create some kind of self identity, an arrow thru the angry butterfly, she was angry... just heartbroken. How to sharpen the arrow, how to build a fire out of habit, how to destroy beauty to live beauty, memories are just talking mirrors, reflecting back lips, teeth, dancing in the mirror. Protection, safety, unhealthy relationships gathered like dandelions, all for meaning, substance, character, nutrition. Salvation for me, salvation for us, salvation for the anger I still feel deep within my chest, it’s a weird kind of permanence reminding me, unfolding me still into the arms of a god that is human like me.

Ma, you look good in that single bed

2009-06-07T19:21:00.000-07:00

Stale pink lilies, craving stale potato chips, go see the world between my legs, I haven’t been there that much, letter penetration, loose-limbed nitty-gritty, finger saturation, drifting paper doll eyes, creepy-crawly hem too tight, too loose, see my breasts ma, she my ass growing big ma, I am beautifully weathered ma, can you smell my sweat?

Pepperoni nipples, dolphins crying into the sunset orange diamond ice-cream dream, dripping wet with summer imagination, she moves to the left. Drive me with lipstick. It’s hot here in my mind, ma you look good in that single bed.

Decoded, catacomb machine

2009-06-04T12:51:00.000-07:00

Listening to your beauty, believing again in my beauty
Life is identical, mouth enters the Shiva marriage, breaking open ideas and investigating the sperm (you are the note played by self control)
You are the sperm dear child, you eat me, now I eat you.
Believe again in life. Simple love, listen.

Simple to see the swimming tails spin inside.
Gorgeous life gifting me with reality-this is beautiful believe me…
She stands in awe of the strong boned, milk calcium strength of devotion and all I want to do is be honest -my words constructing some quilt of softness around my body.

Decoded, catacomb machine
honeycomb sweet

Stamen tickling my lips, I love you comes back to me, I actually believe that I am loved, I am capable of loving others fully
Without incense burning,offering more fruit.

Friendship without being beautiful or spiritual because we already are, we birthed ourselves from the ashes of tombs unknown, we burn to listen
can you believe again in yourself? A conversation to hold… in order to feel sincerity, truth, aliveness, welcome in your bones…that certain creaminess, melt into me as I melt into you.

Settling down, heart envelops mind, complete opposites, that voice reminds me of youthful romantic thoughts, blurred faces playing on the merry-go-round.

sister underground, silent moon
computer, machine, rose-pink yoga brain, grass crystal clear, crooked spine, gorgeous blind moth fluff butterfly, untie the hungry mind to discover white bones cracking, proceed girl. Youth no master to mind, his speaks to me underneath my gotta’ go here, generational hand prints, sun killing desire, seeking, so hungry then lazy, call me dandelion girl-that feels like sunshine on my heart, green grass to wipe my hands on, wiping off the foreskin of preciousness. I was born in the penny well to crawl out of my grandmother’s cotton sack dress, born beautifully on the wrong side of the tracks. A hallucination kept inside, the words paint my body, halleiouah.

my family is hungry for resolution, for pain confusion.

Opening our generational bloody wound, allow me to see your wound within my body, help me identify my life with yours…cold cold warm, can I feel you? This settlement, killing whatever dream I had, making beautiful rainbows shout again with writing anything that comes out.

Healing Hands, Healing Hands.

2009-05-02T13:59:00.000-07:00

Dream 1- Night 4/20/09

This mantra keeps playing in my head, “I will this baby to be born.”

Spotted hide gripping to my teenager hips, heavenly unaware in suburbia, awkwardly knocking on the door. Seeing this strange loving Navajo boy on the inside, brown like I desire to be, friendly with his eyes, He doesn’t talk much. I’ve cleaned this house before, cleansed my body before… after midnight the lamps dim and there will only be the light of GOD. I remember feeling hope, receiving money for my work, dusting his lips to find my own personal understanding, but a rod is for the back of him who lacks judgment. Judgment in love, Love creates discipline in judgment.

I look into this yolk colored plastic wash tub, I was once washed by my grandmother her hands finding my protruding double hernia. There lies a tan skinned baby inside, with braids and an ax, no hernia, just smiling covered in water. Murderous captivity, animal wild skin, waiting to be born, smiling… something inside of me identifies with the strange love of infancy, with the plastic baby, within the emotional waters of drowning pity and anger unexpressed, emotionally confused baby.

Life, unfarmed youth, guardian angel waiting to be planted, I own the heart of confusion, cut your foot on a razor, heal the unknown bleeding response, God’s blood purifies me. Dis-ease cannot be transmitted while sleeping (this is the discipline you speak of), you are safe here in my arms, don’t worry about the constant chatter box machete, the constant cracking white bones, don’t worry about trying to get out of this town, don’t worry about how you have not spoken to friends, don’t worry about how love hurts when you daydream. Don’t worry about all the things you’ve given away, can’t read music to play. Don’t worry about your dying, because death is like angelic weed killer, the roots disappear but the memory remains.

Allow the Tree of Life to blossom within my breast, let me nourish the soul speak of My Father, healing the masculine ties that have caused my sexual pleasure to burst forth, bearing no fruit, only misconceptions. I am hungry; I am giving way to Life again, the death of Jesus Christ. The River Of Life is becoming my body, I am beautifully whole. Behold I am coming soon.

I feel beautifully weaker as the dream progresses. I should be able to take care of myself, pick up the baby, and understand the Navajo boy as my brother. White house, blossoming skin, the walls are boundaries that I cannot escape, see me naked, see me praying. Something inside of me is regretting healing; something inside of me is unconsciously ripping out the seam, breaking open the harp, stings become voices, each rib vibrates. Eat the scroll.

Understanding my heritage, white potato girl drinking wildflowers down into her lungs… The boy, the habitual patterns of blame, the baby didn’t come from my womb, it came to be a totem, a possession, a passageway to unearth feelings, deep rooted feelings. I cannot talk about healing until I pick up the baby. You have no respect for your Mother. The baby loves Mother but she has stepped on her toes. My anger is like dinner, it’s very filling you know; I want to use my words to make love to the emptiness, sing love into the heart of my womb, separated but not lost, she just stepped on her toes..

I am not plastic, I am not to be written down, explained away. You have nothing to talk about, talk like an adult. The baby grows wild, buried, shamed. I am the baby, I own the plastic unused mouth, breathing. I am the daughter again, I don’t know how to heal the role, untie my hands from the baby, from being needy….mother. This is an ugly feeling, no one can trust you, you are hiding, making no money for 6 months. Beauty grows. Internal Beauty is Discipline, you don’t have it bad. You are beautifully stupid.

UNDRESS REPLAY

I don’t know what I want to hear from you, I know what you are thinking though. Words bury the baby; words create her. Your eyes pierce my childhood gravity; still I don’t know how you’ve come to be 50 married to my Mother. You are brown like the Navajo boy, the color I desire to be.

She is yours, so that means I have to love you and respect you. See faithful hands treating her right. I know that love will heal your secret burden, I want that for you. I want you to pray not to God, but to my Mother, and let her teach you how to love. I am not angry just untying my secret burden too. My defense mechanism flares up and I see an animal eating away my eyes, I receive shelter sight. Maybe she never understood how to run and she ran to you? Maybe you ran without her for so long that you forgot how to pray. Maybe she is your prayer? You are brown like the Navajo boy, the color I desire to be.

I will move and go away; the stone is learning how to skip the traumatic wave.

The baby opens her plastic mouth she has something to say, beautifully wild.

“I want to get out of this skin father. Out of this family skin, no attachment, no failure, you trust me, no possessions, not material lust, no grandeur, just teach me what you’ve learned and I will go forth, spreading butter on my wings.”

“Father see me grow up, scatter seeds, take care of myself, be responsible, be loving, carry the child to safety, birth the child from my hands, I will be safe, I will own my shelter, I will worship the days spent here, remembering.”