Self First Is When

poem

Brave is when your boyfriend informs you he wants to separate. You make $18.00 an hour and are raising his children, with one on the way. 

Courage is when you pull back all, move into his house, turn over your money to him, try various careers that did not work out and surrender your Pruis because he wished to purchase a brand new mini van. 

Stepping into power is when you must travel forward with nothing. You must locate a dependable vehicle, rent a house in a safe neighborhood, buy beds and things. Then save money for maternity leave so you can still feed your children and pay your bills. This is all accomplished on a budget that leaves you meager between paychecks. 

Humbling is when you understand you did this to yourself, solely to discover that you love yourself more today than ever before.

A Moment

poem

I whispered into his open mouth, but the words turned before they arrived at his tongue and there I remained as my naked shoulders tilted back, queuing my hands to seek communication with his stubbly neck, and slowly glided down to the tweed jacket which fit him perfectly, but did not fit so exquisitely anywhere else. 

Gently my eyes flew upwards, noticing his deep brown gaze dancing with my breath, for the violin occupied his ears.

To Be a Tree

poem

I was placed in the center of all things and from there my roots grew long and wide into the earth. As my roots grew, so too did my branches grow up long and wide, into the sky. There the sun blessed every moment as the soil blessed every moment and so I stood learning how to be a tree. 

Learning how to be a tree did not come with instructions that one would read from a newspaper, a magazine, or a book. Learning how to be a tree came from the sun who taught me to grow, and the soil who taught me how to nourish myself. The wind taught me how to ebb and flow with life and the fungus upon my roots taught me how to communicate with the mothers of the forest. 

To be a tree, I had to allow life to organize just as I needed to be, co-creating, adapting with a system that sustains many possibilities.

Divinity Sustains With Divinity

poem

There is nothing outside of the Earth that the Earth needs to sustain its existence

Divinity sustains itself with Divinity

The intelligence of the Earth is Divine

Divinity needs only itself to exist. 

We are all Divine Intelligence

Can you imagine

If you stepped into your Divine Will,

The only thing you would need was your own existence

Found in the expression of a tomato, a worm, the apple tree and your neighbor

All sustaining the one Divinity

Brecht And The Human Race

poem

Is the human race missing out on their living system component?

You know the one, the matter energy connection that allows ecosystems to self-sustain. 

Can you imagine a queen bee, telling the hive that she is taking ten cents from their wages.

She would be forever managing behaviors; money matters.

However, the queen doesn’t; 

Worker bees imagine themselves, driven by their own inner guidance.

Queen bee is a human name, a name the bee did not imagine herself. 


No wonder Pavel fled into the mystery, leaving his mother to be implicit

His life was imagined for him; hostile

He was searching for his living system component, the matter energy connection; he mattered. 

The explicitness of machine’s roared in his ears, as men on all sides demanded their ten cents

Force begets force, forever detailing the natural

Pavel knew life would be nothing more, and he imagined differently; a life for himself


We are in a paradox of knowing and belief

Authority over self and authority over someone else’s body

Organic and Machine

A machine is a closed-system; a non-intelligent system that can not change on its own

When the human race believes the machine over its own innate intellegance; we fight and die against a non-intelligent system

A machine is what we add to it, forming a box of illusionary restrictions upon expansive intelligence

Matter is an open-system; an intelligent system that ebbs and flows in self-sustainment

When the human race knows it’s own innate intelligence life becomes a collaborated creation 

We become like the bee, eternal intelligence

So, change is already our creation; nothing to fight for said the bee 

Cristy Parker

She Slipped Like Water

poem

She slips through my fingers

Like water

I just wanted to experience her giggles 

Floating like soap bubbles 

Popping with glee

Her hair 

A mesh of both wetness and dryness

Absorbing my attention

Black luminous strands that captured the moon

She smells of salt 

And sea grass

A hint of ocean fresh fabric softener

She refuses containment

Kicking with sandy feet at the oceans edge

Back into the ocean

I had to let her go

poem

Where do I stand

in the mist of all these books, each offered as an appetizer, waiting for me to take a bite of the sensual crumbs as if I could get a taste of myself.

I can’t help but feel captured by their presences, that I have to prove myself to them, get to know them, dialogue with them. 

When all I want to do is release and love, lean into the discovery within the pages of creativity, the place where a child sits in wonderment, playing with her books, setting them up for a tea party. 

We converse over tea the books and I, conversation is a willing intellectual passings, from one book to another. And me, I would be the open book with random writings and some empty pages.

I would not want to fill myself up, certainly not with ideal chit chat but with meaningful phrases that with each inking would create another empty page. 

#livingsystemawareness

poem

She hardly

Wastes her time, passing me by without a hello.

Today she is wearing Sergio Rossi, the kind that makes my feet hurt; the slope from the long wooden tongue at the heel, forcing my toes into a point I don’t care to conform to.

Her Coco Chanel, too narcissistic to cover the back of her calves, leaving her vainglorious skin ripe to be licked by any dog in need. I know a stray dog who would do such a thing, always licking for attention, or at least to be useful, like fetching her a hamburger or something.

#livingsystemawareness