This poem was inspired by a musical/noise and visual performance by my friend Kevin Chini at the Bat Cave in Arcata, CA.
She died and they viewed it as a t… Salvation was not hers. The real tragedy is their judgment as it limits them from seeing the life she lived;
Can addiction to joy be compared to that of sadness? Can the lost little girl drink tea with the Hatter and all his Madne… If love is the nature of the soul,
Let go of Ego Shake it out Laugh it off None of this is personal. Clouds rush by,
As a white female living in a colo… I don’t know what it’s like to step outside and fear for my life. Sure there’s being in the wrong pl…
1). World of possibility veiled in the hands of a little gi… faded out of consciousness... 2).
You can get the girl without keeping the girl. If you want a lesson on impermanen… and how to enjoy life’s momentarin… I’m your girl.
Trapped in a fishbowl put on display for all to observe. Just keep swimming, back and forth… Most choose to ignore or worse, judge.
Whoa! Is this happening? Awareness of fear to the point of… Realizing limitations and their im… The mind can be a concrete wall
The older I get the more articula… What is the wind saying? Hey dude, I hate everything you d… Hating you won’t make you suck any… Hating you won’t make me suck any…
What a chaotic storm life can be, as it leads to the occasional calm… I find myself situated in this sea… with so much clarity, for the fog… Why do I do what I do?
I choose to use this moment of tim… I am stardust in human form. A miraculous, beautiful existence. My recent self-integration has led… A cosmic dance among various bodie…
Oh, how the almighty have fallen because they have sadly forgotten that the higher the tower, that insatiable desire for power; the more unstable it becomes,
Human clashing to loud music Orchestrating the environment Into a house of play We won’t be here one day and that’s the point
I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about wha… “Used” is not a feeling... it implies blame to another for my… it’s a way of escaping the respons… and repressing the power I hold
James, my son, rusty vans perch in longing Don’t lack like them