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 Beautiful Mess
Long Poem

Icebergs
Onions and artichokes
Deep, deep, deep
Like oceanic trenches
And the deep black
Of space between galaxies

All powerful Divine
Divinity
Finite human
Frailty
Dichotomy
Two diametric truths
All powerful
Victim of Humanity

How can both be true?
How can it not?

Bare my soul
Bull...
Broken faith
Strength and hope
And All

I am both thorny roses
And lotus flowers
Beautiful, thorny
And living in the muck
Blooming, not in spite of it,
But out of it.

Who the heck am I fighting?
Republicans, straight, white, Christian, egocentric, conservative, upper 5% income stealers, control freaks, narcissistic, corporate, hypocrites, liars,
Or,
Myself?

Easier to blame them
And cry victim
Than to take any kind of personal responsibility
And cry “sheep!”

I'd rather be a wolf.

I'd rather have the power than give it away,
But I'm an eagle
And the turkeys keep dragging me down to Earth.

But I'm a !!! Eagle!

But I'm a shape changer.
I am who I am.

Who am I fighting?
Them or me?

Move a cloud
Hold a thought
Change the world

Why can't I do the same with money?
Why not?
What is it that holds me back?
Some memory of my father
Some culturally saturated concept
So rooted in America
I have yet to discover it's there?

Learning from college
Has been more about undoing the lies
Families and lovers told.

Only people with money can pay
The price to learn the secret
Of the cultural farce of American chains
The shackles of knowing “our place”
In the world.

Why is it no matter
How many chains I break
I am still held fast
By the rest
Like I've made
No progress.

If I'm in the top
Percentile of
American opportunity
And I struggle so much
Then what hope is there
For the rest of us?
Or do I just make it too complicated
And I'm too smart for my own good
And bury myself
Because I see
Because I perceive
Too much?

I get overwhelmed
And I envy the simple life,
Or is there such a thing in this world anymore?

Hope.
Despair.
Power.
Victim.

Angel Gabrielle
Brother to Malichi
Mary Magdalene
Wife of Yeshua
Tai chi master reborn.
Shaman reborn.
Priestess, nun, healer,
A thousand lifetimes of knowledge
Carried forward
And I struggle to pay the  bills
Or get highered
Or to stay well
And have the health others
don't even think twice about.

Who cares and
what does it matter anyway?

Hope.
Just the other side of joy unbounded.

Who cares where I've come from
…I struggle with job, health and home.
What matters are these links in these chains of my beliefs.

Deep, deep, knowing
Acting  from the place
Of the Divine
Without the chains of thoughts and
Constraints of beliefs
Good or bad
And who can tell which are which?

Act from the place where we are all one.
Be who you are,
Who you are meant to be
Be the magnificent Self
where we are all a magnificent cell
in a divine body of humanity

If no one can see beauty
Or envision it
Then we can't get there.

The Illusion is the separation of us all.

Hope.
Vision.

I can See.
I love you, me.
It's all us.
No wonder I'm such a beautiful mess.


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