dreams

The Colors Swell

What terrors?
surprises us out of our pleasures
Guzzling down demi-gods,
for a chance to walk down
that black opal bridge
Into the portal masterpiece;
a collection of reveries

The bleeding blot comes to me
in a green night
Enveloped in a vibration
A Rothko blur
Move backwards into chatoyancy
Waited eons to be scanned by those eyes
Like magnetic mountains pulled and left fragments of a ship
A fragile line,
as flowers are in the wintertime

The moonglow glittering
A buoyant royal blue
hovering over the golden velvet valley
A drowsy hum
Descending towards the door,
ossia,
Where the heart is full

 

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Mine Na Poem

On the Cusp

Scorpio Moon
Salty scales
In depths concealed,
keyhole through
the unknown ebony
Pour in rippled imaginings
Cast away the poisoned torrents of
Chevron
The mind whirling curtains

Exchange for trust,
that my better half
is on the other side,
of that someday summer door

Discover a truth like no other truth
The tide is high, but I’ll choose to let it flow in me
My cards are worn, but I’ll spread them out in front of me
I’m not sorry, to be in love with the magnificent mythical, the maps of metaphors, the bountiful of the illogical mind tilts
I’m just a leftover dreamer
I’ll vanish one day,
in the willow moonlight,
on wings they thought they clipped

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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, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Rain-Starred Tara (Green Tara Mantra | Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha)

She opens that samsara door

Her rain-stars wash out the darkness
She holds those divine violet flames,
to transmute these tired candles
into the sacred reassurance….
We have the way, as Tara, for stars wear no veils…

My drawing of a bodhisattva is a work in progress of a ceramic shrine. She looks like Green Tara with the greenish cast, but in the final painting she will be in her role as Blue Tara. I’m portraying
her in the process of enlightement/transmutation of breaking the samara’s cycle. In this context the nautilus being symbolic of the cycle. Her spiral chambers expansion of rebirths released by the violet flame or dharma completed. The expansion of spiritual energy only remaining. The nautilus for me, also symbolic of Tara as “The Mother of all Buddhas” and “She brings us to the shore.” The oleander around her breast is, “the feminine face of god ” and the blue lotus, of course meaning enlightenment.

The drawing
I call it: The transmutation of Nara Ana into Blue Tara

More info about Green Tara/Taras and the mantra: https://www.yowangdu.com/tibetan-buddhism/green-tara-mantra.html

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Imprints

“You are a blue distance, into my future…”

He began to remember with his dark eyes, drawing out the light
in mists of sandalwood and smears
of rose madder, a fine red

Scratching Van Gogh’s history
stunningly, makes a vision,
from a tube of ultramarine blue
and buds outta of tea colours
after café terrace hours,
the first to lay down swirls of ecstasy

Partial cut-up from
Sacré Bleu- Christopher Moore

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Mine Na Poem

Mac and Moir

In crown of stupa,
The sugilite jewels birth the Violet flame
Fresco half-moon-wise
the excavated
Blue lotus, bud-eyed boy of two
Rises to
Hear his mother’s universal voice in the wind
Running barefooted on the damp grass
Between the golden yews and pass
spires of irish bells
Meets her at the garden gate
To nestle his face in the warm depression of her shoulder
In intervals
She swings him high, then
She anchors him back to her eyes
And wraps his anam in the seventh ray
Holding back the night, to bless his lifestreams
Until memories retreat into the void

Words: Nara   Art: Christin Laszka

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Art Illustration + Poems

Lou Land

Rainwater
ambrosial liquid
soaking the perlite soil—
filling the ancient underworlds veins
of fire, with celadon still life beads

Slick cellophane in Lou’s waters
spanish moss shelters,
shamanic whispers,
weaving a wheel to rise the flames
to rejuvenate the scarlet scarred hearts and sundial those eyes,
that once streaked and
swiveled the stars;
in a half destroyed ocean yard

Art and Poem: NaRa

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