Ceramics + Writing, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Blue Tara’s Violet Flames

The burning beacon of our blue mother star.
Her secret mantra like smoke rises in our wounded hearts; to cleanse all contempt and fears away.
She pulls us out of the deep sea’s sorrow and brings us back to shore.
She is the brazen warrior of radical acceptance towards transformative joyous love.
Her blue- violet blaze, is our guide and protector, for our spiritual arrival home.

These are photos of the progess and the finished shrine. This art piece was a real joy to make, and I’m inspired to do a Tara series now. It keeps me connected to what I would want to be one day. For we all can be like Tara/Bodhisattvas if our hearts are open to first self-compassion and then compassion for others that seek the path of self-surrender. Being comfortable in falling apart, to be held, and mended back into something beautiful.

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Art Illustration + Poems

Eleanor Airway

Blue calcite the night, soothe over the weary mind.
Sensing the illumination in my center core, like the singularity of the stars in this starry-painted sky.
As the summer days are approaching, will I miss you now?

The landscapes are grids,
borders to protect the invasive neediness.
At the edges of my gallant horses,
Like my own towering crib.
But the clouds have shifted and can carry
my jejune voice afar;
To kiss your waving aura.

My unpitched heart caught in a fable.
Dance around the feather totem.
Climb the crystal bamboo tower;
To turn the night light on.
Since the golden goddess went to shine on infallible faces.

Living in dreamscapes, wondering if you’ll return to me.
Perhaps as a heat death?

Art and Poem: NaRa

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Kryptonite, Mental Health

Slipping out of twilight’s swallow

No more, the fragile figurine
A damsel I played at twenty-three
Bewailing old-time wrecks
Shyness usually describes a
modest daughter
But I like crunching the shells

Forget-me-nots scattered at where I end, and another begins
Teeter tottering, a mechanism for equilibrium
Has been replaced with circling the well
For wishes are like rituals prescribed
When the highs and lows are unbearable and through a meaningless loop
Tell no one, for they might sneer and smear your name
Their sweet shared insincerity
are lampshades, to their white hot souls

She called me naive
Ha! All beauties are lures
Eyes are flowers, just blobs of brain on stem
The elaborated mating scheme,
As if he ever noticed my almond petals
Like the possibility of
various UFO shapes
All he saw were dark pools
To sink himself back in
And remind me of my insignificance
Now, onto your self-deprecating,
The hand washing

The abject fear,
My prickly mind taunts
In the same moment of reminding you to swallow your weakness, she says,
“Don’t be a pushover”

Art: Elentori Words: NaRa

 

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Art Illustration + Poems, Mental Health

Julie’s Mica Koi

She’s getting hit with temporal beats.
The neon spine waves — a felt music.
In the metallic night,
banish the derealization.
After the slit,
under the glitterance of scales.
Pain’s slivered mountain, entirety of fiber landscape.
Turned brazen, open the breastplate,
the golden garden awaits.

Rebirth into blooming blood clots
of affectionate friends.
Pond luck, beauty within the muck.
Her perseverance blind and by perchance?
Reality is dew saturated
in her cut palms of presence.
What happened happiness left?
To stop crawling out of her skin,
and sink back into her pores of molecules.
The bodily hearth.
The fervent of living.

Art and Words: NaRa

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Uncategorized

Ghosts

Collaboration with Havoc and Consequence

Havoc and Consequence

A Collaborative poem with ‘Enshrined Poetry’ (not the first time, more here).


It splits my soul.
Dragged back towards these melancholy shores.
Running through the downpour of emotions and memories.
Slick and sticky.
Covering me completely.
The ghosts gather, licking their ectoplasmic lips.
Feasting on the flesh of a thousand mistakes.
The subtle beasts, stealing my lazy reveries.
They haunt me still.
Rumbling up and down these bones, while I shiver towards catatonic sunder.
The god shape hole is backfilled with the deeds of the devil.
A By-product of love maneuvers and binding selfishness.
Like evolution.
The toxic waste of time.
………………..
Oh El I, El I….
………………..
Sweet and short reprieve.
What libertine hope is haloed into these thought chests?
Where ghosts hold the keys and cover the locks.
They never had the power of speech, yet their words haunt and taunt me.
They know the reasons for these…

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Uncategorized

Alienation of affection

Havoc and Consequence

What takes us higher?
High above the world with soundless intentions.
Watching it all from space.
Feeling the pin pricks from a detached state.
What robbed you away?
Spirited into the shadows like a train into a tunnel.
Hearing the echoing of loss follow like a can around my ankle.
A bell around your soul.
Ringing the chorus of a dawn so open and alone.
A rising sun, tinged with the blood of the night.
My compass spin on indecision, magnetised and hypothesised,
Concluding this circumstance beyond such control.
Our strands unwind, and without you I move at random.
Paralysed into a time that the world built up around me.
Gravity gives in, and we lose our grip.
Shutting down the stars and drifting into a sweet disappearance in space.
The loneliest way to die.

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Relationship

The Surreal Token

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In fields danced
The howling tornadoes
Where did we go?
A voice wearied from
The dark censored hosts

Feeling old, pills were taken
And laughter misplaced,
Into the Samaras box,
Of the museum floor

As moles dream,
Be the world
Be the king
Ruling time’s
Borrowed tempo

Disordered grandeur
A shrouded relief
From the subjective
Neglected overcrusted
Microwaves,
And ignored lint
Covered floors,
To slip on
For divorce is conjured,
Only in the tempest’s mind

What lies ahead?
A tunnel out,
To our 21st century
Artifacts
A layered forest
Of fordite trees
Where you cut off
A piece to keep,
To heal as your
Modern token

Walkin towards
A rosette memory,
Beamin an old song,
From afar,
That you wrote
Underneath a point
Above the dipper
Your veins were a freezin…
“With all the colors in the room,
Why did your’s have to be blue?”

For: Ben
Words: Nara
Art: Lucas Samaras

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