The Same

I am on the edge of the mountain chain of long gone ancestors,
Born of love or necessity,
Now, compressed as stone and cold as ashes,
Forgotten or not,
Unmoving and already eternal.
Beside me sits a jaguar,
With sharp, wet teeth,
And, wild flower eyes.
Are his prayers the same as mine,
The same as the storms and the stones and the stars,
The same as the serpent and the flames and the flowers?

The long, rolling thunder interrupts my thoughts,
Of the grinding teeth of the clock towers and the metal rats,
Of patterns from the back of a snake decorating the feathers of a bird,
Of Saturn devouring his children,
Reminding me that everything has its own rules.

The sky is still full of Paleolithic memories,
And, the shadows of clouds whispered to the first pagan gods.

Man has made over the earth.
Rain is no longer forecast by gray skies.
It is instead announced by swarms of clouds,
Built of technological advancements.
The desert continues to grow,
The virus spreads,
And, flowers continue to bloom whenever they choose.

The world is ever the same,
Never the same.
Equally true. What can you do?
Enriching the earth.
Consuming the earth.
Dying.
Giving birth.
I am an Oroborus with an open mouth,
Singing in the graveyard,
And, feasting at Jubilee.

Half Full

Nowadays, I am only half way here. The rest of me is somehow somewhere else. Half hearted is not nearly enough. Still trapped inside of my own pain. Teeth chattering. Moving in too many directions at once. Smoke in my blood. Nowhere else to go. No doorways. No windows. Down stairs only. Basement. Dungeon deep. Whirlpool. Sinkhole. Avalanche. Drowning. Dizzy. Burning. Ice. Does life always drive you insane? The earth is no longer spinning. The sky has stopped. The daylight is trapped. Bubbles are bursting. The wind speed is minus five miles per hour and dropping faster than the air pressure. Dreams and delirium dancing down the dark street, howling, beckoning into the alley, and the bottomless tar pit. This is no time to let go.

Holding onto to a feather. A fallen tree leaf with a painted flower, floating in a pond by a toad with poison skin. A dark eyed butterfly on a lilly pad, rising into sunrise. One more day. One more surprise. I am going out to fill the bird baths and water the dog wood. Breezes and buzzing bees playing in the skies. The grasshoppers are smiling. Azaleas, slightly the worse for wear, shedding wilted flowers. Perfumes and pheromones carried upwards on the songs of brightly colored birds, iridescent feathers, sharp beaks, nests in the overlooking treetops, full of sun and new eggs, pink and blue and green, speckled. Speckled like the forest sunlight filtering through the leaves. Like joy. Every color in the world.
The color of life is color, and all the colors combined make white, in the world of light. Out of the corner of my eye I see that my hair is now silver and I have a pulsating aura. I am still in love.
Nurtured by melodies and hands. Memories. Laughter. Warmth. Friendship. Whispers of clouds in the bright blue sky are taking notice and beginning to snuggle with one another, just like us. Acceptance, whether you like it or not. Breezes of cinnamon and honey, vanilla and harmony. Kisses and caresses. Clean sheets and warm, sweet tea. All is well, even storms and wasps, plagues and wars. Just battles to be fought. Something to do. Take a stand. Time always moving forward, or standing still while we move on. Just a point of view. Doesn’t matter. I can still see my reflection. Breathe deeply. I’m still here. Hold my hand. Let me hold yours. The colors don’t matter. The glass is still half full and the plums still taste like plums.

Self Hypnotism

Who are you? Who do you want to be? It might be easier than you think.

I like to swing out into implausible places, follow adventurous roads and impossible pathways. Of course, you never know, if you do this, where you might end up. This can lead to danger, or places stranger. You might be stripped down to a spirit or turn into an insect. You might even meet yourself, coming or going. Might find out you are not who you thought you were, who you wanted to be. I do not even know if you ought to go. If you do go, remember …..

To find the way back just follow the light.

The Two of Us

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“The Two of Us” – My Artwork – V. Castellanos – pencil on paper – 3″ X 3″

Just the two of us. The ego and the other. The mirror. The relationship. The yin and yang. Yes and no. On or off. Right or left. Past or future. Either or. Me and you. Or, just you, hanging out on the other side, looking in.  Me, just waiting around. Not bound by any walls, any ideas, any reality. Anything goes. Competition or cooperation. You tell me. Where do we go from here?

Where are we going?

Into the wonderland, the underland, the underground, the psychic common ground, the collective unconscious, the dream land, channeling, stream of consciousness, fantasy or delirium. These are fairy lands in which I live.

Come, take my hand.

You will be Alice. We will go together.

We will dance on the edge of the cliff. Then, hold your breath.

We both know why. We both know the way.

Get ready. Set. Jump!

The Goats are Dancing

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“The Goats are Dancing” – My Digital Artwork – V. Castellanos – January 2019

“One must have chaos within oneself, to give birth to a dancing star.”           –         Friedrich Nietzsche

 

The goats are dancing this morning,
With smiles and rectangular eyes.
No one seems to know why.
Least of all me.
The mist, not yet burned off by the sun,
Hangs pale and blue over the earth,
Caressing the tree’s roots,
And, the candy stripped mushrooms.
Fogs in the forest,
Flowing downstream,
Ghost gray in the branches,
Kisses under the falling leaves.
This is not a surprise,
Because,
I was up before sunrise,
Under the faded moon.
Even then, before the stars closed their eyes,
The sky was the color of water,
And, catfish were laughing at their own whispers,
Jumping out of sinkholes,
Swimming in a river of stars.

Two Fishermen and a Fish

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“Two Fishermen and a Fish” – My Artwork – 3″x 3″ – Pencil on paper – December 2018

One fish, two fish,
How do you do, fish?
Black fish, blue fish,
I am after you, fish.
A bold fish, a cold fish,
I don’t care how old, fish.

Green fish, mean fish,
Swimming in the stream, fish.
Fat fish, lean fish,
You are on my wish list, fish.

Brown fish, clown fish,
Swimming up and down, fish.
Blow fish, glow fish,
Nowhere left to go, fish.

Red fish, dead fish,
You will make a tasty dish.
Hatch a fish, catch a fish,
You will be delicious, fish.

A hook, a pole,
A roll of twine,
And, pretty soon,
You will be mine.

Butter sauce with lemon-lime,
Sage, oregano and thyme,
A lovely glass of cold, white wine,
A meal which will deserve a kiss.
I’d like to know, so I don’t miss,
Are there other words which rhyme with fish?

Vale

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“Vale” – My Artwork – pencil on paper – 3″ X 3″

In fairy vales and fantasy
From Tara to Ultima Thule
You may dance with the King
You may dance with the Queen
You may even dance with the Fool
It should be no surprise
When you open your eyes
There’ll be butterfly puddings
And, dragonfly pies
With a gingerbread bird
In a chocolate disguise
And, a jingle bell Jack
You can win as a prize
With an apple red sunrise
In blue cheese cake skies