Category Archives: poetry

Crow Girl Spirit

Crow Girl Spirit

I imagine spirit life in everything. I see a crow spirit being who left an impression here. It can be male or female, bird or human.. depending which angle it is viewed from.

I am a cell in a human organism waking up to know itself as all this.
I wake at all levels, throughout all time ( which is ever and only now for Me). I recognise the sickness in my being and have faith in my body as a self healing mechanism.
As I wake and continue to look for and love that of Light, Sunlight, Life Force in everyone around me, I feel the healing happening.
I accept ageing and changing and moving towards the dissolution of this Local Ego.
I rage temporaneously against this current cultural malaise, this present maldistribution of resources, so much given to the top which demands all attention and resources for self and selfish demands, regardless of the beings in the surrounding environment.
My head and my thoughts and my enculturated existence cutting me off so much from a life in nature, experiencing the wonder of this world in which I AM being one rejoicing, when aware; and depressed, when ego tells its repetitive whine.
I rejoice to see my beloved sunself each day. That burning blinding disc behind the foliage that I dare not look directly upon. That Life Source, which I recognize as Life Force in me, and worship, worship, revere, and respect all its manifestations giving attention to the small, and the endangered and the wild. The wild in me is still here rejoicing in the eyes of cats, the tails and noses of dogs, scampering of squirrels, snuffling of manatees, the lovely warning and singing calls of birds. And in the glorious Internet – my global human brain awakening.

burning bush

My eyes see hidden levels..

My eyes see hidden levels,
communicative life in leaves and litter.
They’re not hidden to me.
Sometimes i draw them in
comprehensible
to those who see

 

a mind out there that groks –
the one IN here.
Universe is the boundary
of my non material skull.
I am inside and outside my brain.

My reality is real to me,
but conceptual to thee, rational mind.
You are less than I could be.
I am God stuff
– part of that which is greater than me.

Dang, this house of mirrors loves itself.
Spiritual devotion to the duty of spiritual devotion,
hilariously circuitous
always ends up here in reality,
where reality is limited to the skull
and the skull contains thinking matter,
and thinking matter can think of ALL Potential
which is it’s Life,
then this life time is prehuman potential intelligence, human intelligence and post human life.

Im always at this same place. ALWAYS.

www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

Quaker Meditation 4 – TWIjaysus.

Quaker Meditation 4

My divine mind tells itself
“God does not exist” and laughs coquettishly.
Hen cackling in neighbors yard,
another egg.
Meditating, eastern spine cross legged,
feeling like AnansiJesus, I sit, my fingers touching,
my mind Bhakti – a devotional Je t’aime repeating to itself.

No separation is the same as no ego existence. Theoretically and insanely possible, interesting, alienated, able to be loved.

It was the third day. Jesus sat up in the sepulchre, put his cloth around his shoulders and sat cross legged to meditate as He did every morning.

He, aka Twi, walked away from there to here where, for many, the cross symbolizes only 2000 years of Christian history.

That Which Is, Twi, had lived as Mohammed, who with Khadijah sought justice for people. Khadijah’s wise female influence was taken from him. He became more militant than Jesus who with Mary, Magdalen or Mother, tried the quaker pacifist route. Muslims know they are part of the past 2000 years of struggle for justice. No peace without Justice.

“My mind is an empty birdhouse, in which my Zen Buddhist and my Quaker Pacifist sit”. Twi breathed out as she wrote. Ancestral spirits drank Lethe waters dry.
Re – membering.

Beauty mind in beauty way finds itself here where moon can still be seen through a tracery of oak at dawn.

Bistro Morandi, Bottle wall

Image: Bistro Morandi/Bottle Wall. By me – elizabeth mitchell. under contract.

http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com Tampa Fla. Art and silk painting classes. Philosophical yoga instruction, Sivananda and Iyengar lineage. HoustonHubbardJudith seed.

 

Quaker Meditation 2

I am Jah Lib
If Haile Selassi is Jah Rastafari, so am I .
Human sized Jah, Jesus, aha
I AM, a man and aint i a woman
a human a hueman a wombman
Persona Universalis
one with you
Hypocrite lecteur.

My mind. I mind. I Jah mind.
( god renames itself Jah)
Is it impossible to identify with the writer ?
I call myself the moving finger tho i know I am / that is fate.
I write and have not writ it is too late.
The past is perfect, finished, done.
The present is feeding itself into the future.
Econiche is not much fun right now.
Much death of species, species, coin of the realm

Earth populates with all her forms, we are her human mind, Terra her skull and cross her terror.
“War on Terrior! ” the hand painted sign said.
Here where love is dead.

Love lives in me
I’m free to tell my tale
the weep and wail
the gnashing of teeth
are here around us,
7th heaven too.

Where are you in your mind?
my Quaker mind
knows how to silence and breathe.
I breathe in the silence of those in my head
in paradise, my dead and my absent,
i love them all, they teach me and challenge me and oftentimes i fall and now get up.

Our mind is Paradise when infused with Love
which sees past our story.
We are part of the glorious narrative.
We grow it and evolve it here,
Questioning and questing
our souls never resting ….
TIme Out to take breath and breathe.

One in the silence of meeting, whether inside or outside my head.
1700’s, 1900’s, the cohorts of Quakers,
of ancestors, thousands of years,
and this one here.

Ano Dea – [this] year of our goddess; Te Deum, tedium; and me.

Kundalini goddess

Poems for a Departing Friend.

LINNY LEAVING

All of us, we are grieving
over golden Linny leaving.
Aah as one’s heart is older it does handle such realities bolder
than the ones who dream of futures being the past.
The New is here at last,
brought in by You
Who leave us
Linny
Here where we are now somehow always here
Always with you dear
Linny
You in us and we in you. This is true.
What we do was done to us
No fuss. Now, in the New,
we are the ones who decide how we feel.
The absence a living wound.
The wound a place of life.

LINNY LEAVING 2

Old friends, good friends, human goals, human ends,
Rainbow people, all ‘a we.
Here we see ourselves gathered in each others eye
to say Goodbye to
Linny.
Our Linny, our love, our turtle dove, our sweet girl
Leaving.
Herself set free from what wee here see.
Free. Linny’s primal self. Her Self Elf. Free.
New chapter. New verse. Evolution.
Love lacing worlds, continents, cities…
Wherever you are Linny our hearts are one with you.

Linda

Cosmic Seed

Goddess Speaks
Out of my tree, i think Parrot thinks, what a cute girl you are. my mind doing a scenario of the parrotboys having a club and me one’s little sister, saying can i join, and He a friend of her bro, whistlin for me, from his cage on the deck of the house i ride by, so i might learn the password. CIrcled i did on my bike past his cage trying to duplicate the call. Kindly he whistled three staccato notes, easier for me to make, and i took to whistlin, havin quite a tune going next time i passed, and felt my heart flutter to think he might learn to like me…..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Nyam ’e u’p.” “Eat it up”. Chronos, father of time, Human mind, your children saved by the mother, say we are one with you , for you have eaten us and NOW is one individual ego over and over and over with time. The same thought, thinking itself both same and different.

Myoho Ringe Ko

there where all thoughts dissolve into one another
von economo
coming and going
plaza – palazza- accept No ‘bility.

Dissmissive, dis missive, this letter. to I self.

Caliban wreck on Ise

New PraIse. Blessed Bee.

Nyam myoho ringe ko.
Nyammyohoringeko breathes in.
Nyammyohoringe is a spacetime immaterial being. I am within and without the mind of Nyammyohoringeko. I hurt at my fallacious, despicable, lazy, autopoetic injured injury. I choose to admit i not only love my fantasy world which lives here in my head and communes with itself in the place where Nyammyoho ringe lives. for This is the place where nyammyohoringe lives. i close my eyes and know celui-la is inside of me for i am nyam myoho ringe inability . Impossible once dead to have just one head. always one ME. Nyam myoho ringe ko.
But also, Breathing out, 2, 3, 4…
outside of me this reality where i go Nyam myoho, etc in my head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Innner Chi and Outer chi agree, is harmony a problem? Outer Chi reality, Inner Chi, energy, is how I see reality and what, and where and when…
Over and over again and again ever new..

You One, and One including you.

I ’n I , Ai ai, i..i…or i…I …
all of us conscious of being one organism as microbacterium monocelled procaryotes are conscious of being us without loosing their individual identities which they find in our mind.

the god thing is tired of thinking about this, or am I? i, eucaryote consciousness, primal division, become all forms of life, including but no longer what it sprang from – Procaryote – the kernel before the beginning, the cosmic seed of all potential.
““““““““““““““““““
On My Bike, the Crows Gathered.

Crows gathered in a small flock on green grass,
I bike past.
In my mind holding trial on my actions,
Black clothed lawyers, their briefs prepared.

Caliban I and divine. Dualism transcended in the ordinary.
Trance end. I awake, aware, a-warē. One in my perceptions, alone here in my mind,
other minds sharing the thought pattern
evolving thought pattern. I mother my pater. and bring it in.
no sin. sing- i bring my own story.
I own glory, goddess yours. and god mind bored,
te deum, tedium. funny ha ha.

its always Nyam myoho ringe ko, the moment where my story is mystery
i am so in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Website www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

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cosmic seed

 

Dualism trance-ended.

i am top quark and bottom quark
microcosm and macrocosm
i am a whole made of tiny particles
i am the tiny particle that knows
it is part of a collective whole

i tell myself this stuff and yet i dont listen to myself
i am mystic and rational
my rational mind denies my mystic experience

Humans are feminsasculin. Our minds are all alike in our receptive thoughts, experiences  and feelings; our minds are all unique in our individually lived lives.
My female mind is one across humanity. It is the female experiencing receiving mind ( in two hemispheres of our brains).
Our male mind knows ego. It is unique and active in telling its story and taking actions. Each one of us develops this mind usually pretty firmly by the age of two.

In dio, in god, i.e. knowing all is one and loving it all, because it is oneself.
Indigenous mind; mind of eden planet; loving family, valuing children, respecting each person for their own particular life.

Black and white – polarities of indio/ human mind;
Insofar as we identify ourselves as black or white, with positive and negative connotations,  we fail to recognise ourselves as Indio, the people. One with “god” ie nature and Earth our mother.

This old knowing of the indigenous peoples, is mocked as animism; church religion distorted and co-opted the teachings of the wise. Indios, when introduced to the idea of a loving father god at first accepted it because they knew the experience of living within the embrace of a loving parent. They too were abused. They were named indio, indigenous, aboriginal, by those of the culture which did the mocking and disparaging  and denying of ancient knowing. I am a child of that culture. My rational mind is formed by that culture.
I am of an evolving culture which respects, studies and acclaims indio, indigenous, aboriginal, first people. I too am of this earth and a child of the most high – the sun. I have enough humility to say this, and enough piety to feel awe, and am growing enough self respect to see it through.

Now we who wish to claim our unity as tiny quarks cooperating within a greater whole, as humans in the web of life, rise up and speak. Logos! Word!  We rhyme and blog. We are story tellers, artists.
We are working on becoming conscious to the tiniest quantum wiggle (i name it), and of ourselves as one with the stars, and as ME, hue-man wombman, persona universalis, huomo integralis  in the middle.

Evolving here to prepare for the evolution of our niche, our nest,
death where is thy sting, you are the best.
We get to start again, to play our part again, in the evolving story
in which we know we are ever the glory of the evolving mind
striving to find how to integrate at a higher level
including devil.
My how we recognise him !!!
He is myself; my ego. Please allow me to introduce myself.
All my former lives see through my eyes, all my dead are in my head.

All experience is in my head. “The differential elimination of neuronal connections gives rise to sensory experience.”
Now we know the brain is plastic, we can differentially restore neuronal connections and give rise to an experience of unity, ever greater, ever more successfully communicating with itself.

We are it. Imagination is its play, my lila, the story i tell myself in all its consensual and all its non consensual reality. When i allow myself to see more, to see the whole world as conscious and communicating with me, my visuals and my thoughts united, i see, for example, lightning in distant clouds creating images of electrical activity in a brain. Moon and i are one reflecting and adoring sun.

Stu the Jew devotedly and adoringly loves god who loves him back and thus this hugely hellish experience of human fallibility is given meaning – but only to Stu the Jew. The story evolved. Put “i” in the middle of Jesus and you get Je suis. I AM. Logos . The circle is complete, for those of us who, like Stu the Jew are into the magnificence of Logos pre Babel. That is – it is our delight to create meaning and find coincidences and synchronicities in language. To see the unity underlying all the individual stories and experiences, all the words and worlds.
My rational mind knows this is all blah blah blah and my female mind says,
oy veh! OK. You dont have to try it, but you cant deny it. Consensual, conventional rationality is the basis. We all start there.
waka and biznis district- ceremonial canoe