Mental Health, Mine Na Poem

Tornado

Clutching for balance
Unavoidable through straw stark nights
Lost within the gap
Caged in need,
Of rippled static

Surrender in the frightful whirlwind
That moves in silence,
Like a thief in the night
To open wounded doors
And swell in my belly
A nebulous mouth,
Until everything rushes out,
Cleansed
And left with a bosom unfettered

    Words & Art by: NaRa

 

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Death, Lunar Poems

Blue Bees will not sting

Unless…
Roses in the park,
Shimmer as a string of red pearls slipping down her throat

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In a steel room he held her midst of mercy
Autumn’s arrival at last, the violet petals collapse
He’ll pass through cosmic tunnels
And wear her voice as he nears the moon

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What of it now?
The failure of nerve
We all stand a chance
To be a queen in his eyes
When the suntory claimed the roses as blue

Poem by: NaRa

Art: Blue Bee Image Pinterest, Mark Rothko & Freydoon Rassouli

 

 

 

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Earthly voids & Spiritual quest, Echo Muses

A Shading Response

After the subsiding of the color shock,
granite grey spills into my day
As liquid rock passes through these lens,
and up to mercury,
to surge the cerebellum bay

Panic flutters in my hearth of garnet consumption
Held a mudra to feel the rhythm
Within that upper mantle — a wild outcry
Some bottled up words burn brighter

You possess the flood
Let’s interrupt our patterns
For we our interdependent

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Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Existence for now

My heart unlocks to those wet green eyes that cry.
Matted lashes mirrors the summer rain clinging to the pines.
Syd Barrett singing Golden Hair from no certain distinction ahead.
Grasping through the spruces.
Passing the rotation, fear has fallen apart.

To the Middle Way, hereafter;
Each spokes connected within the whirlwind of my lungs.
The oval window in my ear.
My belly of a thousand folded flowers.
The zenith tides in my eyes.
My voice plunging into midnight.

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Imprints

“Evening Song” by Gottfried Keller

Eyes my dear little windows,
Give me a little longer the fairest glows of vision
Be kind, let the images in,
For someday you shall grow dim!

No sooner shall the light have ceased
And the tired lids close than the soul shall have peace;
She will fumbling take off her walking shoes
And lay her down in the coffin’s gloom.

Still, she will see two glimmering sparks,
Like two little stars in the inner dark,
‘ Till they, too, waver and finally die,
As though by the wing of a butterfly

And still will I roam in the evening fields,
With only the sinking star for a friend;
Drink in, oh eyes, all your lashes can hold
Of the golden abundance of the world!

For Hermann Rorchach, a light dimmed out to soon.

Art Gustva Klimt

 

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Collaborative poems, Lunar Poems

Battling the Sun

I found the king in my sour patch kids.
Summoning me to him.
Inch by inch.
The patchwork of truth beneath his sweet release.
Matted and mired in the threadbare trails of my existence.
All my thoughts encumbered into one, like the great shadow occulting the sun.
Moments before the light links to the dark.
I know the iconic gestalt will not escape my mind.
Now darker, as the black spirals into the white.
The nightingale consoles all the day’s dissonance.
While the chaffinch closes his eyes as he rushes the earth.
Which hand from which god reached into the heavens?
To blot out the sun and cover us with black oil.
Stuck down with feathers and falterings that overcome one another.
Reaching across each contour that shifts and shivers in our temporary aphotic zone.
Treading water with the creatures of the lunar deep.
Beholding the moonshadow through the trees.

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Images from Pinterest and Dark Souls III
Collaboration with Havoc and Consequence

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Art Illustration + Poems, Ceramics + Writing

Katie’s Getaway

There’s something in her eyes
Bilateral memories of
An invitation
A home

Her intentions are intelligible,
As you’re at the edge, blinded by
Her seductive rapport
To flip suddenly rapturously into the deep
With seahorses …. her fleeting motherhood qualities

An enigma to nature
She’s never the color red coming towards you
Always receding into, fathomless blue
Until you follow, to be,
Pulled down into, what seems to be, mermaid treachery
Don’t battle yourself
Compassion is not deception

Words and Art by: NaRa

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