Bliss (in progress)

Trance overwhelmed 
erase outside
open inside
sink down 

roots grounded 
spread down

mother holds

limitless ecstasy

float in
spirit descends slowly

oceanic flow encircles
vivid transmission 
the etheric bodies
intense conjoining
pured in Bliss
pull away
or come watch the show
ride on pony
legs quake
ankles gripped 
tightly from climb
Shiva and Shakti
embraces us with Bliss
surrender to climax
power overcomes
ether cradles
luminous faith

wendy spends a summer with stalin

regeneration chaos

Wendy and Stalin playing

so i wonder how many suicides or lost minds the banks have led people to by ruining this country with greed and dirty souls?  but feed the masses that the real problem causing the most trouble are the immigrants  is there ever going to be time in this country's history that the poor aren't the problem but the rich  one exception would be those welfare baby mommies riding around in their gold-plated Mercedes  now that's where we should be spending money  rutting those cheaters out 

Cruel kindness gives gardens, trees, solitude, green, shade
Takes away -- no trespassing...not good enough as usual
Found quickly as unimportant -- so disposable
This time lost opening the gate  but I am entwined
poisoned with ivy in my eyes mouth ears nose brain vagina anus

so this is what you do
offer possibilities
out of the trap
and snap it shut it 
Karma Change
a new trap provided 

lili's golden spider dream

golden spiders descend
web and weave
spin and stalk
still
track and tear apart
hold focus in all 8 directions
intense situational awareness

everyday my work is to stay alive
protect my self from people and myself
who is scarier
they are they all turn out to be frightening
if it means voicing
then closing
             the crusty windows
             peeling doors

The tree limbs slanting across my window view budding leaflets' are painting the gray house with diagonal dots of chartreuse. What fun Ostara brings. Keeping it simple here in Millville.  

I'm not crzy I am just a little unwell.  I know you can't tell... not crzy i'm just a little impaired...Matchbox 21

This poem is for JohnJack who told me my poetry was alright for an amateur .  "And it wears me out." Thom York

Crumbling, crumbling piece by piece
Ages of wallpaper each decade peals away
Creates a timeline 
Palimpsest of paint
Traces back to the root color
Scrubbed down 
To smooth patina
Holds in place all behind crumbling
Cracks in ceilings 
Plaster  bare
the lathing, horse hair insulates
smudged plaster pushed 
exposed in all the slits
no more covered over
maps to make-up lands
didn't imagine away for so long