Burn the Man

Come with me. 

Let’s circle around the man, our corporate captor, and show him our true numbers. 

Let’s barricade him in with our art, blast music in his face, and dance around him with fire spinning from our fingers like stars orbiting the center of the galaxy.

He’ll try, but he can’t stop us. He’ll scream, “I’m too big to fall!” 

And with a fireball to his ankles, we’ll ignite him.

The violet flames will rise — like the wild feminine within us — flicking heat tornados off his neck. 

We’ll cheer as his ash floats over us. 

We’ll howl to the moon as she watches his destruction, our preservation, the fireworks of our celebration. 

And when, at last, our fire brings him crashing down —

Our World will finally be free.   

For Patrick

When I return to my etheric form,

I will dance in the procession of colors.

Glowing ribbons reflected in oceans and rivers:

An expression of joy that follows the sun.

When our paints grow dim and our party lights fade,

Darling, please don’t think that I’m gone.

Just look for me in the moonlight

Or amongst leaves on the trees

And, of course, in your tender heartsong.

Two Poems for Earth Day

To honor Earth Day, this year I am sharing two poems to show the beautiful and devastating reality of being a human on this planet right now. Both of these poems are remixed excerpts from my book Varanasi Sage.

“She Comes to Me”

I am soft and humble, yet unafraid

To share space with Titans,

Entities Unfathomable,

Spirits born from the depths.

I am a guest in their great hall.

Quietude surrenders me,

Dissolving me into the air,

The empty space.

Here

She comes to me,

The truest part of me, for

I am made of Her living body.

My heart turns over to Hers,

And our sacred Oneness,

Endlessly present in time.


“Where a Temple Once Lived”

Ghosts stand visible with

Charred, barren limbs

Naked arms reach for mercy

Bodies no longer breathing

No longer creating clouds

Nor home for animals and insects

Burned alive

Electrical wires cross the hills

Like music lines forming

Measures of a strange and deadly song

A transmission tower’s guilty buzz

Plays the melody composed by

Corporate greed

Man wasn’t exiled from the Garden

He chose his depraved separation