Nov 3, 2016 | - Shakara's Poems
YO BABY WAZ UP I SAID IN A SMOOTH AND NONCHALANT KIND OF WAY, TRAIPSING DOWN THE BACK ROADS OF MY MIND LIKE A BOAT ON AN OCEAN AFLOAT IN A VAST ARRAY OF WHITE WASHED FENCES, LIKE THE MOON GLISTENING ON THE CHEEKS OF A FRUIT SO WAFT AND WILD AS TO BE COMING AND GROWING OUT OF NOWHERE, A SPONTANEOUS PLEASURE.
I TAUNTED AND DAUNTED AND HUSTLED WITH THE MUSCLE OF THE FATTEST RODEO BOY BUT THE DAMAGE WAS STRICT SO I HAD TO PLAY ON THE RIDE OF A HIGHER PLANE AND A FUNKY NEWFANGLED POP-UP HAD GONE LUCKY TO THE FIRST BIDDER AND WHAM! I THOUGHT LIKE A WILD MILKY MUSTACHE THAT WAS PHAT ON THE LINE OF A SMOOTH CONVERSATION THAT DISSIPATED AWAY TO AN EXTREME YESTERDAY AS WE SPOKE AND CHOKED ON THE LAST BEAT OF A DYING MEMORY BUT THE TIME GENERATES A NEW COLOR OF BLUE AND THE BEST KEEP GOING AND CONTROLLING THE SLICK BREEZE ON A LINE SET SAIL TO THE INNER CAVITY OF THE MIND SO LONG FORGOTTEN BY THE CREAMY LOVE OF A FORTNIGHT’S BEAUTY MARK.
SMOOTHLY SHIFT I BLOCK THE MARK AND MERGE WITH THE GREAT MEDIATOR IN A SPLIT OF A SECOND THAT IS INFINITE AND MIRACULOUS BUT BEAT BUT WHACKED BUT YET HAVING NO DESTINATION FEELING ITSELF FREE TO RAMBLE.
IN THE WORLD IN TIME A PLACE SO STATIONARY I GROOVE AND LIKE A TIGHT PUNCH LINE THAT IS LEFT OPEN-ENDED YOU MUST CHECK THOSE REFERENCES TO TIGHTEN THE GRIP OF THE FIRST TO GO ON A MINUTE TIP AND DON’T FORGET THAT THESE FINGERS COME CORRECT FOR AN EVERLASTING DEFINITION OF GROOVE.
Oct 4, 2016 | - Shakara's Poems
a tribe, a nomadic movement of
Hearing steel drums calling, calling, calling…
The king leads his warriors in lengthy procession.
And the music rises
in the wind.
Lounging, sun bursting down,
His majesty sparks a heartfelt smile,
cheshire cat grin.
All knowing eyes.
Radar, bringing all energy together.
family, friends, extended friends, new relatives, extended conversation, lovers, family…
What moves you, your highness?
What gives you that zest?
Passion for life?
Love for passion–
cold beer on hot day make body melt like moments on dark night candle light and…
caught glimpse of de eye
Not making style.
Just an extended observation from one who knows. And shows.
An admirer, from one who knows.
Takes a king to notice the intricacies, the strength of a fellow king.
Like a burning memory, migraine headache, unconditional love…
Why why, I’ll never know.
So I’ll just dream for the meantime.
Oct 2, 2016 | - Shakara's Poems
The chattering of the crowd in my mind, reflections of a nighttime moment, a conversation, cleaver word play, as I was crying for a plan, I cram to understand. Hold that breath, that thought, abandon all preconceptions and sink into this here groove.
The blue of her shadow can’t emulate the glow of your light:
ah, bring back that old flame, that old southern comfort, ordinary vocabulary, syncopated rhythm.
It ain’t so easy livin on stream of consciousness. I say, give me the gift of conversation. But the moment was brief: heaven sometimes fails, forgets where they placed the angel.
And the Gershwin bros script:
The way your smile just beams
the way you sing off-key
no,no, they can’t take that away from me.
the way you hold your knife
the way we danced till three, no, no…”
Forget where you come from, and dance; final irony.
I got lyrics to match the moment, lyrics to boot.
SPECIFICS: flowers that transform at a touch, emulate internal light. Crooning on an untuned piano, playing those keys. Taste of a cigar and sweet pungent smell of lamp oil caressing my mind.
Provocative place, yet all the world’s a stage.
Forever hold your peace, your place in this world, I thought.
I flipped the script and moved to the beat of a different drum.
“Either slow or stupid” were the words presented to me on a silver platter…the cues ignored like the track star at the runner’s block: dreaming of the finish line, so deep in thought he didn’t hear the starting gun BANG fired and BAM, off they go, just to leave our old friend back at the gate. No, not trying to be deep, my friend, not profound, just reflecting.
God is in the details.
Repete, s’il vous plait. God IS in the details.
Simple green chair holding its own, waits for the invitation to do its job and inspire another few lines to be scripted, another few bars of melody and funky bass to be drilled in, filled in pencil (not written in stone) in the journal–“cause you know that it’s flexible and those notes upon crooning time were just made to be bent, and delicately pitched off-key, bent backwards, thrown in-between some extra bars for added flavor…
Something ails our colt, though…
“The moon is smiling“, says Spaceman. And he should know…
Echoing inside my head…”some long-ago home-training jogs the memory…”; bittersweet pleasure of a conversation in motion–briefly stops, sputters, staggers like a bum pondering the long journey home, yet having nowhere to rest his head.
“People are people, everywhere the same…remember those dipped nails, finger and all?”
Back in the running, the flow begins again.
More than you know
(he knows) more than you know
(love of life) more than you know
(think about my future) more than you know
(I understand) more than you know
(it’s really) later than you think
(Sherry go down real smooth) more than you think
the synapses cross and non-sequiturs follow: later than you know, more than you think.
“bang-bang-boogie-down-bronx”, hop-skip-and a-jump to the mad flavor of the phatest s–t goin down right here in the hiz-ouse, gots to say what up to my peeps, man, I can’t be goin out like dat, you gotta lick that line, so I’ll check you out in a minute, but just remember you can’t fake the funk, b, peace out, take me out wit da fader…
contemplating thoughts of grandeur and illusion, the Dagger Speech comes to mind…”art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sound, or art thou but a dagger of the mind, a false creation proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain, I hold thee not and yet I see thee still…”
Just wanna flip some wax down and groove, and croon…
Unwrapping my fortune cookie I ponder the words: “in youth and beauty wisdom is rare.” When the student is ready the teacher appears. Ah, raise our glasses and toast “tally-ho” to hidden agendas, lurking in the distance. A charmed girl with a charmed life…what a glowing jewel she is. She skips to the cab. “Dangerous: precious cargo inside; handle with care“.
Amen, holy ghost.
Amen, holy ghost.
Aug 1, 2016 | - KEY THEMES:, - Shakara's Poems
Merging Masculine & feminine, head & heart, ancient wisdom & modern energetics.
Essence of the water, smooth and flowing free
take me to a higher plane that’s where I want to be
Formation of Fire, materialize above
build your strength in inner power, fill it with your love.
To the Grandmothers,
We have joined you in prayer and ceremony—I know the water is the eternal language, the essence of the light codes in our system, that carries the Star Messages.
During Ceremony I see all the ancient ones in ceremony above our heads, in a circle talking through the bark of the trees and whispering sweet sounds through the breeze. The fire circle opens a portal above our heads to the heavens and beyond the beyond, so those in other realms join with you. You merge the east and west coast when merging with the elementals and water and Mother Earth.
The ancients are happy.
You are all following the call of Spirit in your hearts, and humble you all are, so generous in heart. When we are around you, we long to just sit near you and feel your love.
We see you in the hills, and in the city too. When you are in any city doing ceremony, the ground and concrete and tunnels and hard streets take note, and became gentle for your walk, and the roads part on your way.
You show the way by your be-ing. Hue-man be-ing.
Grandmother says we are re-member-ing.
Thank you for your smiles, your wisdom, your way.
To the Grandfathers,
In the south, north, east, west, middle-way,
we.are.coming.back. we have made a promise. to you, to them, to all Ones.
We will try again.
When the tribe child forgets how wonderful his voice is, her dance is, longing to be with the ultra-tech modern world, we can remind them that it is really the illusion, the masked world ideal of a false image.
The real truth and joy and fun and center is what was suppressed for so long by those who didn’t want to let Spirit fly in youth hearts.
It is so.important.to.hear.your.calling.
Be Who You Are :: :: ::
Grandfathers, thank you for holding the torch, for bearing the weight, the wait, the wisdom. Thank you now for trusting us, now that we are growing and shifting and awakening enough, even baby steps.
To be able to learn how to hold and carry the torch. We know the symbols and laws of Love when we see them, though our heads may be foggy. We know you all by the very glow in your eyes, that star nation twinkle glimmer. We recognize you in your gestures, the symbols somewhere deep in our memory we can understand.
The children are asking for you. For the stories. For the Truth. For the beauty to be returned. Mother earth is awakening out of her caterpillar cocoon, shifting the magnetic pull and stretching her wings. Father sky is bursting with flames of galactic center energy, awakening our DNA light codes.
To the Youth, babies, young adults & young at heart— this is your world, manifest it as you wish. Break the old paradigms, the old roles and rules and create the most magnificent vision you see in your mind’s eye. You have the abilities inside of you, trust your instincts, trust your heart. Live from your heart and Love will manifest in everything you do.
We love you all.
Golden light bodies, barely contained in our package. Not knowing our true creative powers. Awakening together. Creation becoming creator. All returning. All coming together now. A New Earth. Dreaming a new dream.
Spider woman weaves her tale tapestry. White Buffalo Calf Woman roaming the plains once again. Lightening beings and Earth elementals and all Nations sing and dance together — Stone Nations, Animal Nations, Tree Nations, Elementals, Water Nation, Hue-man Rainbow Nations. The Rainbow bridges, antakarana warriors and guardians are return in the NOW as well as the Ancient Ones, to shift Mother Earth into new dimensional vibrations.
Star Nation beings are returning. H-u-g-e beings, light channels, wings, orbs, floating, surrounding you, our elder guides. Thank you for calling them. Keeping the hope and dream alive. Holding the laughter in your heart even during the long rain. Teaching the middle way is the powerful way, walking the grounded center, through the heart of the 11:11. The cities of light, the glowing new earth, new you, new us, happy we are birthing into Light.
For all 7 generations of the future and realigning the 7 Generations of the past and present, we move forward together.
Peace. Patience. You. Us. We. All.