February 28, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream

February 28, 2014

Reality Bytes and The Common Thread Collective

Poetic Conscious’stream

Alexandria “Rain” Smith

 

The greatest power in existence

Transformation

Impatient for a witness

Found me sleeping

In the nest I made of spit and ashes

 

She poured the waters of her heart upon me

He planted the rhythm within me

 

I arose from the mud

Every sense cleansed open

To interpret the song

As it sang muscles into motion

 

I dance with the Transvestite God

As She spins with a wind

Under which all harshness softens

 

I gallop with the Transgender Goddess

Gallantly guiding His warriors

To the strength of creation

 

She threads His needle

And makes a spiral of the chain-stitch

He laid straight

 

He brings wood to Her fire

And stretches a skin over her loins

Making a drum of Her

 

Their single Hand

Clothes me in embroidery

Places the drum in my two

One to hold steady

One to move steady

 

I play a beacon through the Darkness

 

The blind can see the rhythm

The deaf can hear the light

Hand in Hand they rise

 

Men made over by the strength of women

Women recreated by the sensitivity of men

Each beside the other

Transformation enthroned within

 

Hands hold the hem of this tapestry

Feet guide threads woven

With each step in this journey

 

Our voices make an offering

A mighty choir in brilliant harmony

Color the image of our perception

Help brothers and sisters to see what they cannot hear

 

Sew lyrics to teach of the painful progressions

One witness,

two shared with,

four directions learn

How to find the medicine growing from our need to mend

 

The great hoop that remembers no beginning

Will live to see it is without end

February 7, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream Is. 12

“I pledge allegiance to Mother Earth

And all the life which she supports.

ONE planet, in our care,

Irreplaceable, with sustenance and respect for all”

-not my words… not sure who’s…

Image

inseparable

We are ready for the change

Gather us in

An accumulation of crystal visions

Each perspective adding contours

Like cumulous cloud forms

Ready for the transformation

The alchemy of time transfiguring mind and matter

Into new physical forms and ways of being

Ready the floodgates to be open

Filled with precious intuition carefully collected

Over years of listening listening listening to the sound of a world gone awry

Let them open and spill into the drought worn land of our disillusionment

Let them open and spill forth with the creative quenching

Washing away the chemical manipulation

That dried up and hid how heirloom phantasies are withering

That mirage on the horizon is waiting for our belief in the water we need

This year is a horse at my side and ready

We both made it through the muck left by the coal ash, chemicals and bitumen spilling

Now to spring forth, for this toxic deceit is not worth drinking

The fire inside is set for cleansing

Set muscle to bone taught tendons to vault beyond their barbed fencing

The foundations running away from our feet

Are the stones they made to appear perfect but their lies are hollow and empty

We toss the stones the Builders refuse in front for our trodding

Each step faithfully grips a new reality

With each breath together we define what is to be seen

Our visions form vast expanses of vibrant hues of every brilliant color

Feeding fully from the compost of unnecessary deceit

To grow strong wills, opening with transparent clarity

Unafraid to blossom with potent vulnerability

We are ready

To be seen as interdependencies

Rotating lines of horizons and vertices

Spiraling perfect geometry

There is no musician and instrument

We are all fingers and strings

We are all elements of breath and brass and reed

We are all pores in the skin stretched taut

And we hone our will to stretch with what’s taught

By the breeze and the bird and river canal

By the root and the worm and rotting core

By the stem and flower and fruit into seed

We hum with the rhythm of the Universe’s composing

The drum of the heart is our gospel singer

Inspiring

Hands to grasp the hoop of all relating

Here we find all once lost

Is still rippling with longing

We are ready.

January 17, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.9

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Common Threads weave through every heARTform

 

One Soul calling out to the whole

Words echo from a dream-state:

“We should wake

And not be held by some unrefined vision of it.”

 

Awakening

A lingering vision:

Footfalls upon brittle plants

An entire field of dark decimation

Crumbling away… the vision fades

 

Eyes Wide

Open to the globe

Out from the covers

Feet to the floor

 

Perception seeking

Realities of life on Earth

Lifting the veil

One foundation to explore

 

Many lenses offer insight

Rays of light shine through prisms at different angles, through different facets

Each reveal and obscure distinctive elements

Truth is amorphous and unprejudiced

 

Truth, amorphous and unprejudiced, sliced into wedges and put through a juicer

Blood oranges of pain and hunger paint this glass red

Fermented brutality of prejudice perpetuated by dogmatic fanaticism

                                                                   By ethnic and cultural discrimination

                                                                                    By corporate detachment

                                    Blood fruit, soured, floods the fertile earth and my cup

                       Tearful tsunamis of salty decimation pinched and dashed upon

Lemons add acid, golden and unmerciful

One from the tree in the yard

                        One from the tree plantation

                        One’s citrus burns through the ink on the codex

One’s citrus adds fuel to passion’s will to cleanse

Eat through the scum clouding the focus of a billion eyes

                         Or eat through the wisdom left for the future to learn from

Then, the kale, vital medicine, secret weapon

            Green leaves grown in the bitter cold

                        Acids, of whatever intention, unlock the essential minerals of body nourishment

 

One world Being

            Strong limbs

            Weak ligaments

Drink down this concoction

 

Let this fuel facilitate remembrance

Re member the body aggregate

Lift the veils on every dimension

From cellular membrane

To humanity’s fenced-in conditions

 

Conditional life

Cannot foster unconditional love

Oh! One

Make a choice!

 

Unconditionally envision

New sprouts beneath the broken

Uplifted by regeneration

Soothe the soreness of this body made broken

By the mouth

                        So blinded by the selfish eyes

Not to see its hunger was the foot

                        Starved apart for the hand that only fed it’s other

            And died only to become ghostly bones dancing on pages yet to be written

 

Let every One

Envision

Hand to mouth to feed the foot

I’s that see whether open to within or to without

But all ways open

To be uncovered by the hunger to witness, comprehend, appreciate

All the gifts every aspect brings to this presence.

January 10, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.8

'Written in the snow' photo by Alexandria "Rain" 2007

Something is always left behind…

 

Rebirthing the year

The arbitrary moment in time, assigned

The solar occasion 11 days after Solstice

Fulfilled its part

Ignited micro-galactic threads to pulse illuminations of renewal

Resolutions to try harder do better focus more

But there is no try

No better

No more

There is only: to do.

And there is much to do.

 

Do, to heal violence

The violent anger in our minds grown from the injustice

Done to self

Done to family

Done to friend

Done to enemy

The violent mudra of our hands

Curled around forms of pernicious perception

See the unfairness

See the pain

See the disease

See the apathy

The violent energy in our motions

The inertia of emotion

Is driven

Driven like massive drills into dense earth

Driven like fast cars on dirt roads

Driven like precision bombs

The explosion is shaking us into bones of remembrance

We remember to look behind

To see the shrapnel; to see the dusty obscurations; to see the tailings in the water

To see there is always something left behind

 

Remember: look behind to see the years gone by

Look beyond the moment that awakened each lifetime

Look back to find the dog-eared pages

Of the minstrels, healers, teachers, perceivers

They left a code for us to find

Burned into a fence post

Stone cairns on the wayside

Bits of poetry graffiti on the floor of a bus

A moleta left in the middle of nowhere

Footprints painted on walls

Feathers floating all around

Follow them to the wings beating with the wind

Follow the sound in, to find the wings are our own hearts making wind

 

Beating a rhythm into presence

Echoing through an elemental cavern

Space opening Wisdom’s patient message:

Violence will never end

But action can heal the violence destined to come

Can help suture the wounds created

Can make music of the sounds

Can dance with the inertia

Until it settles down

 

We can do

This healing is our purpose

The medicine calling within us

It is the gift we came to life with

No preconceived notion needed to be obtained

This action is a movement

Surfing the crest of willing thought

Thought willing to listen through compassion

Through communal-passion

Action happens like a voice singing: “Come Unity!”

Community gathers round the fire

The fire it is our healing

The elements cry out

Their joyful tears, a cleansing blessing

Some prefer the rain, some the fire

We naturally take our positions

And find nothing missing

 

We were only missing

This moment

Of true renewal

January 3, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.7

Oh Henry David Thoreau,

In 1854 recording the life living in those years

In the peace of Walden

A crystal matrix of a thorough observation of life

160 years later I wonder

Upon trails left for electric tendrils to wander

And the lines I find today

January 3rd 2014, here for you across the globe to follow:

In the last paragraph of the 5th chapter: Solitude of Walden it is written:

http://thoreau.eserver.org/walden00.html

“What is the pill which will keep us well, serene, contented? Not my or thy great-grandfather’s, but our great-grandmother Nature’s universal, vegetable, botanic medicines, by which she has kept herself young always, outlived so many old Parrs in her day, and fed her health with their decaying fatness. For my panacea, instead of one of those quack vials of a mixture dipped from Acheron and the Dead Sea, which come out of those long shallow black-schooner looking wagons which we sometimes see made to carry bottles, let me have a draught of undiluted morning air. Morning air! If men will not drink of this at the fountainhead of the day, why, then, we must even bottle up some and sell it in the shops, for the benefit of those who have lost their subscription ticket to morning time in this world. But remember, it will not keep quite till noonday even in the coolest cellar, but drive out the stopples long ere that and follow westward the steps of Aurora.I am no worshipper of Hygeia, who was the daughter of that old herb-doctor Æsculapius, and who is represented on monuments holding a serpent in one hand, and in the other a cup out of which the serpent sometimes drinks; but rather of Hebe, cup-bearer to Jupiter, who was the daughter of Juno and wild lettuce, and who had the power of restoring gods and men to the vigor of youth. She was probably the only thoroughly sound-conditioned, healthy, and robust young lady that ever walked the globe, and wherever she came it was spring.”

Oh brilliant Thoreau I sit with you now

Still able to feel awe by the pieces left living

Still pondering the path man’s made in search of pill popping,

Which will you choose, “the red one or the blue” (1)

When both are paving over ancient realms of knowledge

But micro-vision discovers crystals breathing through the cracks

In the concrete mentality of conquering

Finding still the mystery of collaboration, communion

Diadems of loving grace still procreating

Great-great-grandmother Nature’s great resolving heirloom of balance

She is the air above the flowing river

The qi is listening to the message of our illness and misstep

The key to opening self to the antidote

Her very body is quivering, waiting

Anticipating the moment of discovery

Roots, stem, leaf, stamen, pistil, petals, pollen, spores

Aching to feel the whole presence of love pulsing rhythms

To gift each seed the fertility to bear countless more

Flowers of life gifting diversity all these miraculous flavors for galactic aggregates

To assemble, rise to give voice to life

And in some cosmic complexity of an epic tragic comedy

In the face of Monstrous Megaton Wagons carrying tools to truly reach the Acheron (2)

To create a Zombie Sea

The Great Sapiens stand divided over the masochism of raping

The planetary body of our greater family’s communion

As we create cancerous defilement of the sanctuary we need for retreat

To seek that “Draught of undiluted morning air” (3)

While we cough and weeze, our stagnant flatulence to release

Like coal ash on the breeze, free radicals

Are borne to come together forming tumors on the progress of the demolition

Suckling for Epione (4), sweet Mother of the medicina daughters (5)

Soothe the pain as we tumors transfigure into children formulating essences of healing

One mother torn into another, Oya (6), the storm

We must ride the wretchedness through to find the calm waters

We must learn from her power

To lift our voices like thunder in the spring of our new rising

Thoreau, pass the cup of Hebe’s  ambrosia (7) (8)

As I pass the chalice of the trails

May All spark the energy we need to step off the road we travel same as yesterday’s

Give faith to the unknown rhythms gaining momentum with our observation

Gaining volume with our conscious flow reforming

The banks- they needed to make so complicated for our ignorant security

But we need to be fluid recreating

The undulating snake dance

Of the primal dragons strength made entrance

To find All, entranced.

Peace. Selah. Blessed Be.

http://hoodoothatvoodoo.tumblr.com/post/14826942708

Medicine
Painting by Gustav Klimt
lost or destroyed in/by 1945

December 6, 2013 CommonThread Commentary Is.3

Image

By Alexandria “Rain” Smith

This piece is dedicated to everyone who doesn’t feel worthy of the liberation we all deserve. We all deserve the Freedom to feel through what we are feeling; to listen and follow our emotion into understanding. We are all worthy of living, feeling, breathing, learning many practices, praxis’ of exploring how we relate and what we create by our own offerings. I dedicate this Peace to every being that has been so challenged to follow their creative passions because an Other, in their weakness, felt threatened by what we might be, empowered—truly the most tragic mishap of all history, the cause of immeasurable pain, these kinds that fester, are refracted and perpetuated through concepts of time. In our moments of eclipsed light may we see the auras of the courageous candles that burned their way through the walls of adversity that others may follow and see: it’s a long road, so you gotta decide what it’s worth to be free.

“Creating health requires making a paradigm shift… to a new way of thinking about and being in relationship with our bodies, our minds, our spirits, and our connection with the universe.” –Chistiane Northrup Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom

“It is what we make out of what we have, not what we are given that separates one person from another.” Nelson Mandela Long Walk to Freedom

We dream ourselves forward. Transformation born of our hope, our need; discovered, within a dry wrinkled weakened sheath, a most beautiful and tiny seed willing to swallow us through the birthing canal into a new day’s dream.  We follow the footsteps of the most beautiful courageous being we can imagine could be. Be, as Florida Scott-Maxwell put it, “Fierce with reality.” We look upon the living tapestry and acknowledge the disease along with the beauty. We refuse to deny that “indelible blight” of Apartheid, American slavery, the Andrew Jackson-Nazi-Pol Pot-Pinochet-Generals of the Dirty War-Mbotu Sese Seko-regimes of unquantifiable atrocities, all these scars we bear as humanity. We will not forget the paths that brought us into darkness that we may face the challenge of bringing each other back into the light. Blessings for the struggles to suture the gashes they were, were born of “proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” that rallies the mistreated to arise!

Life patterns entrap us when they’re not helping to imprint us with positive reinforcement, giving us strength to realize the best stance to take at the moment we are asked what we have to offer. We make the decisive and patient choice to untangle the knots of our conditioning formed by the battles of our personal experience. Meditating upon the mediation of enemy perspectives we hear the song describing the Good Red Road between them. As fully prismatic, multifaceted beings, we become willing to take a multifaceted approach to a life of re-creating health, regenerating the wealth of collective wholeness. We confront the imprisonment of habitual fears, entrenched in presumption culturally created by a hierarchical perspective to maintain perverted states of control, We are breaking free to realize we can lay the foundations that allow true strength to catalyze and evolve into miraculous collaborations no one alone could have ever foreseen.

On this walk, we take with us the wisdom forged before us, for us. We listen to the voices calling within us speaking the languages of fellow ailments wailing like a mighty chorus. We retreat when the violence simply floors us, but we will never surrender our will to wait for a break in the storm to let the rainbow once again shine and realign the paradigms in order to see the path of mending before us.

Peace

Selah

Blessed Be.

November 22, 2013 CommonThread Commentary Is.1

November 22, 2013

Reality Bytes (Poetic Commentary)

Written by Alexandria “Rain” Smith

Dedicated to All Life that faces the force of the storm, most recently those in the Philippines struggling to regain ground after Yolanda(aka Haiyan), Somalians who faced a Cyclone for 4 days, not forgotten are those still feeling the refrains of all the floods, fires and winds past, beyond, beyond, beyond. All that face a rain of bullets, bombs, drones and their shrapnel, All that face the Earth shaking from deep relief or shallow man-made mines ensnaring, especially those in the heart of Africa whose mines are deep made by strength of men alone, alone done this way for the shallow needs of other men’s sadistic-lasciviency.

Image

 

How long we gwan fall for them sellin’ us more for less? When less is more… less lies, less deception, less dissolution of our inherent common ground… More facts, more clarity, more solutions to regenerate our natural ability to rebound… Less plastic shit cluttering our lives until cracked, scratched, melted, deemed broken, and taken to a pile in Indonesia or maybe it’s floating in the ocean… More quality to our gifts; both material creative and deep psyche-social sharing, growing the praxis grounds of our presents flowering like phenomenal mushroom shapes straight from the shallow ditch of our apathetic wallowing… Less decisions made by money and profit interest… More collaboration that guides community empowerment and resilience.

Look how our cultures become cannibals eating alive our extended families of fantastic forms; aggregates of our planetary body’s whole.

Will I survive to see perish… 1 in 4 mammals, 1 in 8 birds, 1 in 3 fish, 2 in 5 amphibians, more than ½ the flowering plants and insects… what will we do upon the disparagement of our garden when our basic needs to eat, drink and breathe are completely reliant upon supply through industrial means, owned by faceless corporate regimes? Who will decide who is worthy to receive? What happens when the storm, comes and destroys that laboratory, factory or distributive means, unwittingly unleashes pent up toxicity? Witness what’s happening and see…

Thinking of the extinction, my soul feels as though it will dry up and crumble.

This is why so many ARISE and take to the streets, this is why we stand our full height and humbly demand our right to speak and live in the ways of our ancestry that listened through the eons of time to walk in the ways of our relative species, to see their pain, violence, disease, as well as their cooperation, compassion, symbiosis, and transformation beyond behaviors thought to be concrete. We listen to knowledge being gained and shared. Now seek to implement the beautiful simplicity of relying as little as we can on electrical grids fed by coal, gas, nu(un)clear consumption and their co-destructive disease. We implement ways to use our waste the way Gaia preconceived, that what we need may continue to grow from refuse(Refuse to settle for the paradigms of corporate mandate. Re’fuse back together the electro-cosmic net, multidimensional exchanges) made co-creative fertility, compost at our feet, where we can freely scatter new seeds.

If so many fall into the hole of belief that an apocalypse is necessary; that this corrupt nihilism continues its homogenization, continues destroying the natural wealth of our inheritance…

The passionate fire for my kindred kindling, Love I feel be burning my form down to dust that will patiently wait for a child’s tears to recall what’s been laid asunder, sweet salt visioning need for the metaphors rebirthing, rain upon this ash, bring forth decay from the desert of such pain been passed, and grow the curative. Elements adhere by the frequencies of necessity transmitted through clear intention’s prayer, songs written by mystic communication crossing all dimensional lairs, aggregates accrete and form new bodies of our dreams becoming both the flowers and the bees.

May all who feel the shaking, by earth herself or by man’s artillery, find peace. Opening; like emptiness, luminous, expanding to hold support in the way listening becomes a library, holding all deep experience within electro-chemical trans-reference/transference channeling us to move like without forethought action is re’membrance of the piece you are adding to the cosmic cauldron of mending, weaving new frequencies of long forgotten, deep beating Peace… You, Universal Light, being what you are on this journey: STAR (Surrender Trust Accept Respect) Chyld spinning like a light tower beacon to guide all to the shores of our re’convergance, where/wear Rainbows of Profound Acceptance color alive the simple gifts we come to Life with.

Selah

Peace

October 29 2012

Hurricane Sandy… from Haiti to New York City… from completely battered poverty to Wallstreet… like clouds I read… money rules none when it comes to the breath between earth and sun… may we learn to accept and protect that which all life needs to survive… good soul:) clean air, pure water and the blessed mystery of unending diversity!

 

“The storm may seem scary but it helps to make us whole” -Rain

just be sure to let it sink into your bones, what’s happening, what it’s like to experience, be witness to This, for this is our life and it’s not about money it’s about how we survive. Now is the time to deeply reflect on what is most important in our lives, what will you do when your time comes to sacrifice?

Do you have to wait for this to hit you before you can awaken to the time calling out to humanity to realize the importance of Diversity- Human and ecological. And we are devastating the ecological balance, a devastation that our cultures reflect, homogenized and terrorized.

I raise my heart to anyone who would fight to the last breath for that sacred forest path…. That sacred path through the Nature that reflects your peace… for they place light beams that lend support to our ability to abide times such as these

 …and we follow hope like a delicious scent on the breeze and we let it spark phantastic dreams and we feed them our integrity and we know that we are part of the miracle of things and we trust what’s healing ‘stead’a man’s dis’ease.

and today, that’s a piece a’Me ( ;