The above excerpt is from a post here, ages ago. Click image above to be taken to the whole poem.
In Moon’s Music…
Begging Our Delusions
I Am Somebody
Here’s to the beautiful voice and force that was and will always be Jesse Louis Jackson. My heart hurts…
Spread the Love!
Selah
Weep the loss, darkness
falls around us here, but love
love carries us on,
and along we’ll flow,
a song of songs healing hearts,
love’s brightest colors
releasing our days
as our gratitude unfolds
for those who’ve gone on,
leaving us without
the song of their presence here,
but beyond they call
rallying hearts strong,
apprehending all
of love’s sweetest harvest, full
and overflowing,
bestowing wholeness
in the ever after of
all we claim here now.
—
2026 ticks along as we face a world in turmoil and losses daunting, threatening our sense of power, of choice. And yet, love as the fully-muscled, ever-reaching force sings us a song of resonance to the father heart of a God within and beyond, urging us onward. May our vision encompass details never embraced before and may our work refuse despair, nihilism and all that clamors futility. What have we not yet done? How might we be who we are in ways more liberating for all? And how may our lives explode colors vivid and alive with soul?
Here’s to the comfort flowing from the heart of love and to all we can heal within ourselves and in a world on fire. And to the pause, the melting into being fully present with all we hold dear, let us know deeply the call of peace.
Spread the Love!
Do It Now
When you would grab me down there
and grasp and stare, boring into windows here
I would scream until I wouldn’t scream
for fear of implicating not just me, but you
And the implications of one who fought hard
to reclaim her windows, the deep pools you
raped for spoils you could never claim
despite your name, despite your preeminence
screams for justice here, screams my names:
Ruth, which rhymes with truth, and Jez,
perhaps the sweetest treasure,
the name I grew in my depths,
the ones your eyes sought to plunder.
But I never let you reach the me you
could never be, never produce
for all your raping of the tRuth,
and plowing sweet songs for sooth,
but not saying the violence your nature
exacted on my silence, my song wrenched
from my throat by your spinnery,
a bamboozlery, wickedry cinching,
clenching the nothing of your reach.
I seethe here, a love fiercely seeking,
finding voice you took. the song my soul
never forsook sings here, sings here, sings here
And yours I will never be for fear,
or for the claim so dear you could never be.
Open up your own eyes, set yourself free.
I see our history and love,
only love dares to free you, too, whole, see?
Dear ones, stop wrecking thru windows,
the little ones, innocent and defenseless
against ravages only you can satisfy
when you bow the knee to love…do it now.
Spread the Love!
Earth Begging
In the woods somewhere
sweet swaying songs bear witness
to wounds deep, the worst sort
of gutting, how large the teeth,
and how far I’d seeped and seeped
and seeped completely down in seed
and in a gone-ing, a yawning crypt
held and holding eruptions,
creations’ secret reddest colors
for deeply hewn stutters fluttering
across a canvas as yet unknown
‘til my heart knew
and out I flew into one,
and one and one, (yet still One)
and yet still not knowing the known
and the hiding
from a creature lunging,
a bite’s longest reach
still bleeding,
but an ancient design called,
a bridge eternal healing,
deepest love promising,
then subsiding
‘til the singing resurrection,
a transformation from tomb
to tower to long desperate hours
within hours and hours blending
miracles wending, sending
every inch of me calling,
falling up and all over every spec,
dot, bindu, wreck not wrecking
as the beckoning out
of richest colors wrought whole
and healing a song
to raise the dead,
to know the unknowing
into love flowing
rivers, a heaven on earth begging…
Spread the Love!
Wander Here
Wonder, dear, wander here
where will and mystery meld
a history awaiting your discovery.
Beckon transformation’s song,
fiery orange paired
with faerie floral,
and your soul will know,
grow the you held by
your tenderest self,
the one back in time still
holding sway with music,
twirling grace and heart open
to a Creator your path
eventually stripped away.
Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack
and take your hand there in mid-air
as hope retakes your truth,
the deepest knowing of love
bestowing life to all and healing
to those who weep the call.
Spread the Love!
Dance
A rhythm hums and jives
beneath the fear,
the rage, the tears, desires,
grief, multiple stress fires,
under all the dross a drumbeat
defies loss, gains,
and suggestions of inadequacy.
But first: feel, wail, stomp,
tell the story yet another time,
grind your teeth, your hips,
your angst and every fucking fit.
Don’t stop there, let your face display
the rage, the sorrow,
the joy, the lip-curling bliss
and the sweetest ecstasies.
Let it all roll through,
tips of toes to top of head
and everything, everywhere
in-between… roll up, roll down
a spine afire, not finished
with living, not done giving, filling,
jumping, gyrating this being human.
Don’t let disaster freeze your body
for fear of losing sight
of the decimated, losing the fight
for a kinder humanity ’cause grief and rage
clamor loudest.
Run to the pleasure,
the places sweet and tender,
and howl ‘til animal you births
a truer you, resilient, feet moving,
hips swaying, shimmying flow,
plotting overthrows of fear, greed,
and oppression by a love refusing defeat
‘Cause your feet, yes, yours,
mine, theirs, crave the sweetest trance
dance delighting, satisfying, magnifying,
electrifying every fiber of our being one,
every last one of us…
“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time? That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future?” Herman Hesse
Spread the Love!
These Feasts
Wondering when we’ll wring and wrest ourselves together a tautening melody,
what new song will grow between us, through us, as us,
until the next and the next ‘til we’re writhing, not in agony,
no, not that, no more of that.
Just the ecstasy, the face to faceness, flesh to flesh with
zero wonderings, all our doubtings obliterated in waves
crashing through the miles once between us, waves
encircling, encompassing, entwining a we free, open, complete.
Until then, these feasts will have to do.
Spread the Love!
The Silver Cup
Listening to America’s “Lonely People”, I remember hearing this song when we would sneak radio time in my sisters’ room. “The world”, forbidden and made sweeter by the alleged taboo of wicked rock music, felt so far away.
I imagine looking back over my life and finding many forbiddens bidding me come out and play. Stray and sneak away outside the gate. Songs and goings on whispered outside my world, bidding me run fast from the realm of religious zombies and their kool aid.
How appropriate the line: Don’t give up until you drink from the silver cup. Even fundies can be saved, y’all.
I eventually ran. I’m so glad I ran.
Today, sitting with the melody and the impression, it strikes me how life/humanity/freedom pulled at me even then, a sort of promise of days to come. Certainly, the times have included some loneliness. But the final impression filtering into my awareness as I see myself, ear up against the little radio, grinning while “Lonely People” greets me on this side of things and leaves me, not lonely, but deep in my sense of inclusion. I feel myself as a voice among millions, crying out for peace.
I ache daily. Hostages, cobalt mines, “terrorists” and refugee camps in danger as I brew one steaming cup in my world of immense wealth however financially limited. I hate, I loathe the unfairness. The inequity. There is no good reason for what has been happening in Palestine for decades. Not one, not a single good reason.
And truly, Zionism triggers my fundie warning system. My newsfeed is full of Zionism’s fallout, bodies torn. So, I run to music, to birds, to working with my hands. There’s no way to engage that belief system, to pry it open and let the light in, set minds free. And yet, I wish. I know well the truth that no one can know until, well, until they know. And as a fundie, no amount of shame or ranting would’ve brought me out of that darkness. Only love, love and life breaking me open.
So, enough with fundies, and please know that I know that not all Zionists feel the same way about things unfolding in Palestine. People are complicated, but what’s happening to Palestine is quite straightforward: genocide. The purpose of the trigger, the purpose I make of it, is one of reaching out to life as I am now. Today. I’m not “chosen” anymore. The sea of humanity may well engulf me, wipe me from all memory eventually. And that is a beautiful thing, to be in the flow of being human amongst humans, flowing towards the next expression of love.
And as I flow, some things remain. I still pray. I pray to the love that was, is and is yet to be. I pray to the love within me, the love within every soul. Let our longings grow, our clamoring souls shout us all towards deeper truths and a love that refuses oppression of any and every person on our planet. May our *chosen* values embrace everyone, and our holiest lands spread far and around and through, to our precious one and only earth.
