A plea from She to He

''...a dim but irritating need for something nameless and unknown that I had felt from time to time since I was a child.''

I will not die with that feeling, that longing, that empty space.

I will not carry that feeling to my grave.

I will not.

Say what you feel and feel what you say.

LIVE.

Everyday.

Write, sing, laugh, cry, dance, paint, play.

Words have power and they have meaning. Stop hiding behind your mask, your mirror.

Feel what you say and say what you feel.

*

And that's why Mary prayed,

because she just knew.

Women just know.

We women, we just know.

And with my hands in the mirror

I flew back through time

and I healed her,

I healed her as she healed me.

She held my hand

'Just prey,' she said

'Learn to stand in your fear,

and just pray.

We women, we know the way.'

(There has to be more than this)

and so..''we all danced.''

We danced the way,

for that was the only way we knew how.

We danced, we danced, and we danced.

But she don't dance, like you dance.

She dances the only way she knows how.

From the roots of her bones and of her sister's bones.

She danced and she danced and she danced.

For the sake of their souls,

she danced.

She dances. She dances.

and that flame still burns.

'Take me back home,

guide us to home.

Back to our roots, back to our land.'

She danced and she danced

All is guided back to where it once was birthed; to where it belongs, all in good time.

All in good due time.

'I do care, so much, even when I show it not.

I care and I am careful.

I tread carefully.

For what we have here is dust; ashes.

Rust and bone.

Guide us home.'

Guide us home.

Guide us home.

*

And so she ate all that stepped unto her path, and all that foraged her to believe;

that all she saw, all she gave, all she loved

was a complete mystery.

For she was woman.

Had she nothing to understand at all?

It was once said that women were to be loved and not to be understood.

I am not sure of that.

This craving, this urging, this urgency,

this calling, this urgent call within me, within my blood,

lives inside of me, for always.

Always screaming, always hiding,

always crying, always bleeding.

And that is why I never give up,

for I still bleed.

And my blood - 

my potent red, sticky blood,

is my power, my potential; my true calling.

And I will never give up.

I will never give up.

I am my own blood.

And I never give up.

*

But the circles under her eyes were much brighter in the dark,

and they shone more brightly when it rained.

'Hath she no name?' They say

Born to a dying breed, she is here to connect the chain, to re-establish the order,

to heal lifetimes of pain, of doubt and of suffering.

'Tell me, 

tell me why it is that I am here,' she said.

She calls to her ancestors and she calls to the bones..

'Guide us back home,

and I will heed in your assistance.

A true witch; I shall not fear you, nor shall I mislead you.

My duty is all I have.

I am waiting. I am waiting for you.

Where you be?'

*

'You have a way with life,' He said.

'And you have a way with me,' said She.

'But I am undying, can you not see?

I never forget, anything.

The traces in my heart

now unrecognisable, unforgeable.'

Ply. Ply,

and rid.

Rid me out.

I am stagnant, stuck, and full

of sticky, sticky blood.

Unchallenged,

 and too ''good.''

Sometimes all I want is pain, just to make me feel.

I sometimes lose my way,

and to you, I am supposed to kneel.

Listen to the rain.

Can you hear me?

I am in every drop of life that you taste;

in every cell.

But I am in hell. 

Help me.

Look unto your womb.

Their-in lies the crystal, the omnipresent sheath..

The strength.

*

My shoulders ache, from hanging on

for far, far too long.

Would He laugh if He read these words?

Why should that bother me?

This is my eternal plea,

from She to He.

Keep writing. Keep reading.

And listen to 'dem bones, listen to your heart.

I may still be a little afraid of the dark,

but it is that fear that guides me, that carries me - 

and as strange as it may sound,

I like it. I like the dark.

And I blow, with 'dem winds that blow.

And that light, she chases my tail,

and it burns, and it burns.

And he says..'daughter, you know the way.

'My daughter, she knows the way.'

Dear Father, Heavenly Father,

I burn. I burn.

Hysteric

Doth my heart shiver

upon her temple?

Upon my brow -

A golden ache

repenting,

retrieving,

all that is black.

I want it back.

I want it back.

'It felt so good to open my breasts to the moon,'

she said.

Walk upon the glass,

skin against grass.

Moon -

obsolete,

concrete, compact.

I want it back.

I want it back.

All that we crave

we leave behind,

in a puddle of the masses,

in a cradle of tears.

So wise is she;

so graceful, so careful, so timeless

beyond her years.

Her grave already dug,

she dances in the mud.

A solid honest flame.

Obsessing,

protecting;

early years of trauma, 

abuse and hurt.

And yet,

she dares to mention the 'dirt.'

''The Bitch does not share her sanctuary.''

Hag's way

Into the curve of her breast,

I fall.

Endrenched.

She rides at night

upon shells,

wet with excitement,

shaking, bleeding,

revealing

 parts of herself

left unfed.

'Take me to the bones,

Take me to the dead..' she wept.

And so I carried her,

and so I bled,

until I had nothing left.

For the bones within her were the ones that remained within me.

'Show us your skin,

show us your teeth,' they sang.

Am I witch?..am I whore?..am I hag?

Without life,

she is just white.

Give her life, give her breath,

and guide her toward home.

White upon the river.

Gliding, gliding.

White.

Swan's way

''..where it was forbidden to disturb a woman..''

..as the oil slid thickly down her back,

she never looked back,

she never looked back.

Upon antlers of swans,

entwined as they glide,

swiftly along the river's edge;

grey.

She shivvers.

She remembers.

She remembers the way,

she knows the way.

She dips in her toes before diving;

guiding her senses in

gently, 

acutely tampering with time.

'Where is the Winter?' she cried,

'Where am I?'

'My darling we are due,' was the answer in the wind,

'We are due in good time,

all in good time.'

And as she swam, 

further and further,

she realised what she already knew;

that home was a feeling within her,

 rather than the space around her.

And so she swam,

and she swam,

gliding upon the river;

white,

white feathers.

White

Nature's Whore

They would not take her as a whore..

''There is something moving under me, beastly.''

Someone help them

'..she helps others in order to escape from herself and her own fears, in order to affirm that she has no right to joy or satisfaction.''

If panting doesn't help, try screaming instead.

It helps much more than the whispering.

___

The most important things to talk about, are the things we choose to ignore; the things we should acknowledge rather than shun. If we rid judgement and fear, we would begin to see things a hell of a lot more clearer.

Learn to love your pain,

no matter how harsh the sting.

*

My head pulled away when I moved it.

I am wet with frustration.

Leaking, shedding old skin; red and cracked - which reveals itself as blisters upon my top lip.

I feel heavier, hairier, haggier, and yet I still force myself to smile when I leave the front door.

But I don't want to smile.

Why do women have to go through this?

We are reflections of nature, of Mother earth, and nature is not always nice, in fact, she is not nice at all..nice is far too polite a word for such a force as nature is.

She is not always beautiful.

Sometimes she hurts, she feels the pain of life all around her, she carries it within her and in some way she has to let it out. To purge the pain, transmuting that which is unclean.

And just like nature, women are not always beautiful.

We can be a fucking nightmare, like a thunderstorm or an earthquake.

And what do we need to help guide us through such turbulent flows?

...

He brought me flowers; Lillies..

 and he makes me feel like a woman.

It felt unreal for a few minutes, as I watched him find his way around the kitchen, his calming presence slowly soothing my unassured self. This beautiful man preparing a beautiful meal for the both of us.

Am I dreaming?

I've wanted this for a long time, and it may even be more blissful than what I'd actually imagined.

Je suis amoureux?

Oui..

...and this time I vow not to run away, but to run toward.

'Cos I'm not afraid, I am completely assured, and loved within his presence.

Yes, I am loved.

___

Accept disorder in yourself.

Accept your scars and your blisters.

Everything heals in its own due time.

We fall apart,

we heal.

Nature is more disarming than love.

Never give up.

x

Hag Town

15.07.13

There was a lot of work going on in my dream state last night, lots of spanners in the work deep in my psyche, it felt as if I got right inside the cogs of my unconscious as I took myself on a personal and virtual trippy tour of dreamland. I found myself in a small, gnome-like town, an old town, a place for little creatures, and I came across two houses, one at either side of me. 

One of the houses welcomed only positive thoughts and attitudes and productive thinking, with no room or exceptions for unnecessary fears. The other house was for negative thoughts only, and it seemed to be falling apart by the second, and before I could explore inside, it suddenly became flooded in custard..(??!).

I can't recall if I explored the other house, but that seemed to be the one that I chose - positivity and a productive attitude.

As I began to explore deeper into this cog town I found myself walking through an underground tunnel, it was well lit and there were lots of people walking through it. 

I came across two old people, they appeared to be men, although one of them a little of both - male and female. This she-male began attacking me verbally, he looked viscous and angry, looking me in the eyes as he provoked me. As I felt the fear rising within my gut, I became sick and I was afraid, but instead of running away, something within me prevailed and I stayed. I confronted him and I myself became someone to be feared. I revealed my snarling, menacing face; my hag face, and I bellowed him to leave me be. As I did so, his face suddenly mellowed and he disappeared. I had used my fear as a tool to protect myself, instead of bottling it up and letting it destroy me.

Was this she-male my ego that I confronted, or my fear itself?

When we confront our fears, sometimes 'sending them love or light' to bid them away just won't do, sometimes we need to snarl our slimy teeth and reveal our venomous tongues in order to protect ourselves, in order for them, and for our 'whole' self, to truly understand and recognise our own power and potential.

If we run from what we fear, then we feed the negative (the house drowned in custard), yet if we face our fears, the more we feed and nourish the house of creative drive and potential. The more we stand up for ourselves, the more respect we receive and inspire within others.

Much in the same way as when you're trying to sleep in a hotel dorm, you're a long way from home, it's late, and the girl in the room next to you is chatting, quite loudly, to her friend on the phone. You lye in there in bed, sweltering from the nights heat, absolutely knackered and seething each time she wakes you from your meditative state of relaxation before you drift off into sleep.

Do you have to accept that situation and be masterfully Zen about it? 

Do you fuck.

You will anger yourself more and you'll hurt yourself in the process by suppressing your wild nature; by not standing up for yourself - through fear of not being liked if you do so.

Fuck that.

Sometimes a Zen attitude just won't do, and conforming is tiring, dry and draining.

So you get up out of bed, knock on her door, and tell her..''Please could you keep the noise down, I have an early start tomorrow and am trying to sleep.''  - Polite, yet the look on your face is bold, stagnant; she can practically smell your seriousness of the situation, and with her door half open, she nods and says quietly (much quieter now than she'd been talking on the phone earlier)..

''Oh yes, of course. I'm sorry.'' And closes the door.

You return to your bed, hoping to get some rest.

The girl's voice has quietened, and within ten minutes she ends her phone call.

It may be easier to accept certain situations and fears in your life, but it takes courage that is both sensitive and respectful to face them and stand up, not only to them, but more importantly, for yourself.

Be open and willing to accept the dark inside you as much as the light.

Nestle within it.

usted es su oscuridad

You are your darkness.

You are your Hag.

x

Little darkness

It was as if I was sweeping it away - the black, the muck. 

There was a heap of it above me, it was crackling, like stiff sticky plastic bags; black bin bags, birthing into the shapes of bats and crows; coming to life in their mutual mutations.

They terrified me, I was panicked and working in such a rush to get rid of it all; to sweep it all away, and the more I did so, the more it grew.

Little darkness

Little darkness

Little darkness of mine.

The sky shows me visions of my psyche; she follows me.

My scorpion rising, she know me, more than I know myself.

Unleashed from her tail; her skin; I am born again, and in her sting, I feel the true burn; the true bug; the true motion of life's affirming stem.

Massive wasp.

Massive mess.

Massive darkness.

That which we ignore, we also abuse.

'...listen to his feet..'

Dive into the darkness.

Meditating Madness

Last night I realised, that meditation is something I need not force myself to do, for I do so naturally, and have been doing so for a long while, without my realising, until now. I used to think of meditation as being a superior thing from me, like something that I had to hunt down or chase, but I found that it's quite the opposite, it is a superior state that is already within me which I am slowly beginning to unlock and discover, and it is a beautiful feeling.

My body and mind are becoming much more calmer and relaxed with each passing day; sensations of joy and bliss cover me in kisses at times when I least expect it. I feel alive; ecstatic..and no, I'm not on drink or drugs, I am but both drunk and high on love.

In my 'meditations' - my quiet states of solitude..whether alone in my room, or sat amongst crowds of people, I've found myself amongst many thoughts, which have caused me to sweat, bleed and drown myself in a wash of my own tears, but I bathed in and I faced them, I faced my deepest, darkest most blackest fears, head on, and I learned to welcome them with nothing but love, because, you see, I never give up.

No, we women, we 'mad' women; the 'Devil's women,' we never give up, not even in our most darkest of moments, and we would be mad to do such a thing, for it is in those blackest, most painful of moments where we meet ourselves; our true selves, and that is why it is so hard to face, because, you see, deep down, we women are not all that nice, and we are not all that beautiful.

 There is a mystery that lies in woman that even she herself cannot comprehend.

We'll laugh, and then we'll cry,

and we like it, 

but we don't know why.

For we are women,

and we bleed.

Yes,

 I am woman,

and I hurt.

And I'll stand alone, always,

and I'll go alone,
 for the rest of my days,

but you know, 

I like it, that way,

yes, I like it that way.

x

Wench

Transforming eye - I are transforming.

A spider's eye.

'...a vision of their own deepest longing..'

..is finally coming true.

Living and breathing the breath of my wild woman;

of our wild woman.

'..and behind its veil..'

..they do dare to curse, they do dare to dream,

and they scream

..although no one ever told them why.

'Listen to mine eye,' she says,

'and thy shall go far.'

She's much more prominent now, much more prominent and juicy,

yes, she is juicy, and warm,

and she's coming for her knight.

Does he know the answer?

Is he willing, not to fight, but to love?

Sweet, scented dove,

where was the peach that got bruised?

Impaled and bloodied,

for she listened and she lived

to tell the tale

of how amazing a feeling it is, 

to finally forgive.

Fascia

Mine eyes appear from the water now.

Am I bleeding?

Yes, I am bleeding. 

And I like it.

Leave me be, 

let me rein.

She likes it when it rains.

I like the clouds, and I like the grey.

And I am flushed, with insincerity, and garlic,

lots of fucking garlic.

Welcome to the world of my insane.

'I like it here,' she says.

She likes it when it rains.

The Devil's Meadow

They say that mad women smile at the moon.

It's in our bones.

There was once a place where..

'the Devil made his earthly home..where here he kept a small, gated meadow...'

Scented pages, of sacredness.

Hairs unseen, are hairs unclean.

Misshapen mirrors, unfolding knots.

Spiritual psyches came together

in a dual misunderstanding.

Never doubt your creativity. 

Never doubt your heart.

She sung to the moon.

And she sung to the stars.

Open up your heart.

Open your heart.

Stop fighting this meeting of dark and light.

They are urging to meet.

And it is vital they do so for their own survival;

for your survival.

*

A meadow within a meadow.

Uprising is the Devil's brow.

I am light, I am lovely..

but I am also earth, and I am also dirty.

Spiders graze against my arm,

such charm, such grace, in its beautiful little face.

I am unearthed from this hidden place.

Feed me roses, feed my blood, 

draw my shape, taste my mud.

Muddy cups, quivering.

Lingering,

is the scent of peppermint and orange.

Where is my mother? Where is my shape?

She kept me weary, she kept me full.

And as mind is to other, so am I to love.

For I never gave up. 

I never give up.

And so I broke the Devil's heart instead.

But I wander back, aimlessly, tired, and striving for recognition. 

If the Devil is me and I am the Devil, then take me to the place where he is most at peace. Take me to the place where wild boars kiss the toes and hind legs of wild, wild women.

I was not born an architect, nor a mathematician.

But I was born with milk and salt embellished in my blood.

And I will never give up.

I will never give up.

I run scared because I don't know the answer yet,

but I don't need to, I'm already there, I'm already here, I just need to allow myself to feel it.

Have faith in your bones. Sink into your recognition.

The secret is quite comfortable.

''Make yourself at home,'' he said.

And so I do. I wrap myself in furs.

'I wouldn't mind for a cherry or two,' I said.

And then I waited.

And so did he.

And I climbed, and I climbed, and I climbed.

Through hairs of wood and speckled toes,

torn off, limb from limb. 

And I am born again.

Now more able, content.

Edible.

Less fragile, now I found the key.

Now she finds the scars,

and she bled, and she bled, and she bled.

And now she knows the sky.

'I am thirsty,' she said.

''Then drink. And I wish thee well.''

*

There is no such thing as hell,

it is a misconception.

''Leave that gate open would you?''

Tears swam down my face as we met,

in holy conjunction.

''You are my halo Jade.

You are my rain.''

That little girl is allowed to be beautiful you know.

The Devil is just a name.

Mallow

''..the young women, all danced away..
..and the swans, all danced away.''

15:04 - Open the door

''...or set her to wander (for a long time) looking for a place of nourishment and peace.''

15:06 - Counting sticks

Tell them that I hear them, and that I am grateful.
Silence does prevail, after all.
Have faith in your dying flowers,
for they are soon again born.
Pray, wish, and be thankful.
Talk to your fears.
Talk to me
I am listening. I am listening now.
I am open.

*

Find your rhythm. Find your feet.
Find your dance. Find your beat.
Find your bones and know your bones.
Can you feel it yet?..Can you feel it?
This is the rhythm and the dance of what we call life.
Know it, feel it, and dance with it.
She is waiting for you.

''The enemy is inside.''

Give in to the waves

This loneliness is progressive.

*

Fear not your naivety, embrace it.
Keep it with you and open, always.
It is a part of your deepest, most truest inner state of innocence.
Your naivety is your knowing, it is your key, your blessing, and your opening into the freest kind of innocence.
To be naive is to be alive.
But we must learn to stay wise within our most sensitive state.
Stay conscious as you open the door,
and steady your pace, 
as you open the gate.

Never forget the one who taught you how to breathe.

The sound waves you send out to space are magnetic.
Never forget the stars,
for they never forget you.
You are magnetic; a magnitude of inner starlight.
Your beauty is transcendental.
We are not mental, we are stars
or inner radiance,
and through our beating hearts
we stay connected.
Never forget who you really are.

''If sound waves carry on to infinity, where are their screams now?''

Where is she?
She is there.
Does she not care?
She is made of Mallow, of course she cares.
And slowly, as she re-appeared, in rags 'n tatters,
she presented her sap soddened head..
'I am not dead,' she said
'I was consumed by love. But I never gave up.'

I never gave up.

Skeleton Woman

From one glance to another

she looked me directly in the eyes.

Does she know what I know?

Why must we pretend with lies?

We are psychic women, and we are wise beyond our knowing.

Believe not in your lies.

Believe but in butterflies.

The only person that holds you back, is yourself.

Bang the drum. Beat the heart.

Call your heart into being.

Call upon your bones.

Call upon your butterfly bones.

Call upon - Skeleton Woman.

''Allow skeleton woman to become more palpable in your life, and she will make your life larger in return. When you free her from her tangled and misunderstood state and realize her as both teacher and lover, she becomes ally and partner.''

I have drummed through to the bones these past few days, in fact, I've been silently drumming for quite some time, but only now have I finally let her out.

Only now have I finally met Skeleton Woman

I have been fishing and I have untangled my net.

I have been running, for a long, long time.

But now, I let her out, and now, we sing, and now, we dance,

and I can't stop smiling.

I've felt high all weekend. My pupils were fully dilated yesterday, I was still buzzing from a musical jam me and my lovely friend Sooz had over the weekend - full of natural highs - and it felt AMAZING..we had such a scream! And we realized, both together, how bloody good we were...ARE.

We were both close to tears with our joy, it was powerfully overwhelming, to have realized our own creative potential in this way I've not felt a feeling like that before..the natural rush and natural high of intense joy all over my body; skeleton woman was out..and in full motion..jangling her bones. The day before, when I played with Javi, I felt her at the back of my throat, she was eager to get out, and now that I had called to her; now that she had heard my drumming, later that evening, she was out.
I see now that in the past I suppressed her with self doubt, I listened to fear instead of letting her out. I controlled most of my life instead of really living it - that felt safe, and safe was easy - but I soon began to realize and to learn, that safe and easy never really gave me any true satisfaction in return.
The demons that nagged at me during sleepless nights were her faithful warriors, guiding me to their fire; guiding me to her home; guiding me to my drums, and guiding me to my bones.
I played with that fire, and I danced on those bones.

And once again, she was out in full skelly swing.
I played with another musician, and oh my days..it was so good!! We jammed for a good three hours. It felt amazing to let my true self - my bare bones; my bare blood - come to the surface; to let my soul express herself freely - it was so beautiful, and to share this with another soul was amazing.

I'm collaborating with some very talented and very beautifully honest people.

I am very grateful for this, and I'm embracing it fully, and will continue to do so.

It's a very intimate and deeply communicative feeling when playing musically with another soul, especially when you open up your heart in such an honest and truthful way. This is something I tended to shy away from before, because I was afraid of my own potential; I was afraid of meeting skeleton woman; I was afraid of my butterfly bones.
But now, I embrace her, I call to her; I bang my drum, my beating heart, and I call upon my bones, and I sing her to the surface, and now she sings with me, and now we dance, to the beautiful beats of our butterfly bones. 

'It's very good for your digestion,' she said.
And so I ate the coconut,
and so I ate the banana.
Not just because it's good for my digestion, 
but because I was hungry.

x