I wish to kiss your lips
To lick your soul
Caressing your intellect with awareness
Seeing and witnessing the full you
It's in the baring of the insides
The soft unprotected parts where magic lays
The opening of a flower holds such beauty
The warm of your body nurtures my insides
In the absence of touch
In the space of wordless silence
A cold breeze sets in
Like weeds overrunning a lush garden

There is a place in the stillness
A quiet place where you can hear the heart
This night it spoke about its pain
Not an easy place to sit
Its like meditating while a cobra sinks its fangs into your chest
The snake whats to give you the gift of kundalini energy
Heart contracting as its pierced
Bringing your attention to poisons left before
Like a 100 leeches blood letting the residue left behind
Careless words and actions that stained the insides of your Cathedral
The pipe organ playing a beautifully haunting tone
While new improved murals are painted
While the floors are swept and cleaned
While the heart drips blood as it cries
While the Spirit sings its songs
A lone monk playing a flute on a mountain top
You can hear a faint trail of music but can’t place where its coming from
Of you pay attention the heart will leave a trail of bread crumbs
Its up to you if you have the courage to follow the path
Like a Deadly Sinband voyage, its not with out perils
But a wounded Heart has gifts to give

There is a space between Hello and I am fine large enough for a ship
A cargo ship of unspoken-ness
Too often there are too many small ports
A whale seeking deeper water to swim freely
Communication when not met with awareness is like playing tennis with one of those ball shooters
You can hit the ball a 1,000 times but that machine can never respond
Only spit another few 100 balls
Life is boring with out dynamic range
Great conversation is like watching champion ping pong players return each other's volly
Or the symphony that can be created from a call and response
Big pipe organs dancing together
The styles might be different
But the range is similar
Often we play different sports
Self awareness gives us the ability to return the serve
To engage in a full body conversation
Not just touching finger tips
But brushing your whole body against another
I hear you
I understand
I can relate
Your not alone

The spirit inside
My emotions sweat out my pours
Colors to be used as I attempt to paint my tapestry
Anger, grief, joy, hopelessness, triumphs, bliss, sexuality, hurts, heartaches and heart breaks
All come together
Fueled by passion
It's the passion the helps drive when I have nothing left to give
Going to the paint pallet and there is nothing there
Empty
Emotions stir in my belly like a boiling cauldron
All of who I am including my fears and insecurities
Along side my courage and strength
Fire makes my body sweat a rainbow of colors
Feelings pumping thru my veins
Like fighter jets racing thru tunnels
I take the brush and run it along my skin
Caressing the cascading droplets of my soul
My essence
Using my hurts
My depths
My Animal
Slowing letting the brush ever so slight kiss the canvas
Allowing it to sing my song
Like a needle slowly being lowered till it glides on the record
The symphony starts
Or perhaps it's a sound of a lone woman
Singing some bitter sweet melody in gibberish
Not letting the words restrict her spirit
Allowing her voice to dance it's way around the world
Hopefully touching a few souls along the way

Every night Death comes to Haunt me
One day you will be mine he says
The uncertainty of what is next scares me
Am I doing all I can in the here and now
I am putting up a fight, but I don't know if it's enough
I race car pulling big blocks of cement
Probably Saturn trying to rein in and focus my Aries nature
I think Death is trying to be my friend
I wish I had answers
Feeling limited by my own nature or abilities
Perhaps some short circuit that the mechanics in my mind are unable to fix in my unconscious
Maybe that's why the Buddhists say we reincarnate
Personal progress is fucking slow
Which brings up the question, would goals mean the same with out the struggle or time/dedication to achieve them?
As an Aries I am used to fighting for what I want
Fighting not necessarily in conflict
More finding away against odds
These days I grow weary of the fight to be honest
No, I would never give up the Fire of my Aries way
(How very Arian of me)
Sometimes pausing and taking a breath is all the fight that is needed

I am an explosion waiting to happen
Not one that will destroy a building
More like in a race cars engine
The explosions are needed to move forward
All my pistons have gone thru the compression stage
I feel the pressure
Engine is all top dead center waiting for its spark to launch it down the track
Inspiration and connection is like the wiring harness that provides the spark
With out these even the fastest of race cars would have trouble moving
Running on empty
Looking to refuel
Conversation that goes below the surface is one component that adds to my tank
Allowing relaxed moments to let my silly self come out is another
Of course Loving Energy is like High Octane making my engine purr
Affection, cuddling, touch help make it shine
Like a freshly polished coat of paint
They aid in calming the insides, in feeding the soul
Like an invisible radiating Star pulsating out thru the solar plexus
A single touch or smile can open up internal pathways that are either restricted or blocked
Lava looking for a channel
Like Blood to a Vampires Lips
The sweet taste of lifes energy
The heart chamber is like a village
When it coexists well with its neighbors the flow and passage in and out is smooth
At times of strife
New pathways can be built
Or walls can come up
Taking time to understand the language of the new foreigners
Or decide to pack up and move the village
Treat your Heart with as much care and respect as that of a Good Major to his beloved city
It is as complex as any modern metropolis
Yet delicate and soft as a flower
Let your soul flow like rose petals floating down a river
I have had lots of moments in my life where some event trigged the building of a dam
With a far amount of work, awareness, processing and care slowing those flood gates were able to lifted little by little
Allowing for a stream to once again flow
There are areas where dams still exist
Maybe even some that I don’t know about located in some valley yet to be discovered
The body and unconscious mind are like exploring a planet that is still creating itself
I pray that my journey thru this earth will be a prosperous one
That my scouts won’t be killed by wild natives
And I am given a chance to learn from my mistakes
I wish not to ruin anyone else’s camp
Only to add
With Love & Creativity
Jack

There are screams that exist in my wordless silence
There are tears that are unseen
There was a hand that was outreaching into a cold emptiness
In the wake of a fire there are ashes
Dreams that had no more wood to feed it
Lacking fuel or oxygen a raging fire dwindles down to nothing more then ambers
I listen to the silence ringing in my head
Sometimes it can be healing
Most of the time it's over extended and is like clamps on the main arteries
Sometimes it's like swimming in a vast ocean, yet your the only living creature
Other times a 10x10 cell with one dirty window to gaze out through
There are brief moments when you can feel a slight breeze
The wind kissing your lips or caressing your hair
Usually it's met with a tear running down my cheek
Gazing up at the stars and the vastness of our universe
Only to be rudely reminded
This is a one man show
With no one in attendance
Maybe the first week you still give it your all
By the end of the month your no longer going out on stage

As a creative spirit
Music is my gospel
It's the sacred book I turn to
The minister that preaches to my soul
Encouraging my authentic self
My individuality
My church does not ask me to sit in a row
Does not ask me kneel at the appropriate time
Sweat is the sacrifice I leave on it's alter
Imagination indoctrinated me into its obscured religion
Life has been a hard teacher on this path
Breath and awareness are attributes acquired during these rites of passage
Humbling myself before this cosmic temple
While the sacred fire within demands truth
Fear would have me crawl into a box
Conforming to the masses
"It's easier"
Whispers from a Devils tongue
General consciousness are the straps keeping your wings from spreading
Seek out those little Buddhas
Those who can aid you journeying on your unique path
If your path is lined with walls
Befriend a jackhammer, or co create a ladder
If your path is the ocean that lays before you
Seek the harbors filled with others that might know of your route
Maybe you seek lands undiscovered
There might be a few Sinbads willing to accompany you on that voyage
This journeys are lined with perils of the subconscious mind
Aimed at shinning light at the hundreds of treasure chests you are dragging around
Each one with a unique lock
Your body placed the locks there
So that you may gain the gifts inside when you are ready to pick them
Wisdom often lays under the blanket of pain or discomfort
The wealth does far out weighs the grief
From a fellow traveler I know of these expeditions
I offer my awareness in witnessing yours
Sometimes one doesn't have to be a sailor to be able to avoid a storm

Art and creativity feed me
Like a starving child searching
Creativity was the breast that fed me
The smell of cut wood
Pencil dust
Metal shavings
These are some of the items you would find in my nursing bottle
Pages of poems forming wings to embrace me
The act of creating has become an invisible friend
Like some windup toy
It ceases to interact unless you crank it

I sit in the stillness of silence
I want to run
I want answers to fill the unknown
To ease the fear inside
Trusting
A road less traveled
I often would rather spirit to the finish line to get the results of the race
It's like meditating in a pool of Dark Matter
Speed reading the book
Afraid it might be just like the last story
My insides growl in protest
It's my story to write
An artist wanting his mural to be great
Right now it's a blank white canvas
Artists must dance with disappointments and bliss as they walk into the tapestry
Each brush stroke a life that was lived
A battle that was fought
Sometimes won
Sometimes lost
Applaud the painter who continues to paint
Applaud yourselves