Category Archives: creative consciousness

Thrown away the key

Image result for fantasy art

On the edge of atrophy,

rampant revolution with the sea breeze,

brewing in the air,

the mist, beware.

We no longer have a care,

for the now frozen lakes far off in another galaxy,

the little people are free

weeds surround the beautiful sweet flowers that breathe,

life into the ether as between the lines we read,

grow, uproot, resist, feed,

through perpetual death and rebirth on the shores of grand rising we bleed,

transformative, awakening from the haze,

fires blaze,

as seasons change

earthy, watery an elemental stage,

passage through the malaise,

wounds cut open and the memories fade,

escape,

it’s too late and we can no longer wait,

sitting ducks and enslaved,

You may have thrown away the key,

but this you did not foresee.

Faatima

x

 

Circle

Image result for circle art

Drew my circle above and around me,

Testing all that tries to plant a seed,

maybe of doubt,

to just let go and allow,

In all truth I dont want any more,

everything that once was has dissolved on the shores,

melted into the sand, the waters have washed away and worn

I can now see the cycles of time and folklore,

We have waded through the nettles,

the process begins with the base metal

once the dust has finally settled,

out of time and out of place,

clocks ticking, no more attempts at trying to save face.

Going at pace,

exiting out of their rat race,

In this shadow world,

We observe,

Go back within to retrieve all that was lost,

reclaimed what is ours and pay the cost,

for apathy and denial, beyond each and every trial,

sugar coated and adorned,

still a new moment is born,

from ashes we rise forth,

we are the roses that bloomed yet are protected by thorns,

Faatima

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The heart centre

Image result for heart art

Memories swiped,

An amnesia that hides,

buried in the worlds within worlds,

but as the veils grew thin these realms unfurled,

fragments and shards spinning vortexes whirl,

as forgetfulness and slumber became impossible to maintain,

reality looks at us right in the face,

there was no place to run and no place to escape,

back to centre stage,

medium, a calm place,

knowing beyond knowing these verses became congruent,

lines in my mind’s eye which is observant and fluent,

well read in these arts,

but now integrate and start,

to do the real work all we ask is if you do dare to stare

into the abyss beneath these muddied layers,

handle with compassion and a slow and steady care,

tricky at first,

as illusions tumble and bubbles burst,

you’ll master it once you come out the hurt,

practice and patience,

surrendered without waiting,

aeons of tales weaved in the webs of times past,

blunders direct us to blind spots if we last,

and bloom from seedlings to flowers,

for they left us wide open in a place where souls get devoured,

projections and stories unseen and unheard,

yet felt all the same through the onslaught of words,

to those few that know,

empathic warrior souls,

we either take it on and dwindle to their whims

or the other choice is to light up and be still

returning us back, back to what is within.

Faatima

XX

 

 

 

A better future

Leaving trails,

little pearls of love to unveil,

droplets as we exhale,

with the in breath and out,

as within as without

any time thought patterns intrude,

recognise the feedback loop,

lies we’ve been fed,

waking lives, just like the undead,

do not try to numb,

but still do not succumb,

bear witness, let go,

by watching the ebb and the flow,

all along just know,

that it is only a tool to show,

how little time is left,

so we can become adept,

consciously manifest,

something better,

my kind of trend-setter.

Love,

Faatima

X

Calm

Image result for calm art

Straight from the belly of the beast,

the flames were unleashed,

the tidal waves were released,

to quench the thirst and quell the flames, they died down with ease,

as we release resistance to this disease,

so do as you please,

but in the process, I digress,

that some things we do not forget,

through our attempt let the day turn on it’s head,

staring into the darkness of this abyss,

with clenched fists,

a dare,

this game is certainly not one where they play fair,

architects of challenging us all,

with zero sign of a soul,

beyond and through the dark hole,

myopic, unexposed,

when from the horizon somewhere,

the winds of change arrive swirling in rhythm with our dancing hair

flying around, moving to the melody of what remains in the mist, a place unaware,

everything takes shape,

in this dreamscape,

everything that we cannot escape,

Faatima

 

 

All that keeps us bound

Image result for fractal art

Talk about the limits of hell,

diagnosed unwell,

on that sweet day we fell,

a bit too far from comfort,

each moment is different,

psychological and oh so relevant,

in order to obtain new eyes,

and leave all the shadows behind,

not undermined just defined in the new ways as we become less blind and can unwind the ties that prevent us and bind,

fear is imminent, right there and i’m asking you to just be aware,

not many people care,

to go there.

When things start getting messy, stressy,

not quite as neat,

as we had somehow hoped when we took off on our feet,

from one shipwreck to the next

the connection hasn’t yet been established,

and the barriers yet ravished,

by the flames that burn down,

turn down, all that no longer pays all that keeps us bound.

Faatima

The turning of tables

 

Image result for blinding light

The blinds are open,

the night has been stolen,

from our temporary grip,

fell into slumber and then time disappeared like a blip,

on the radar of our productive capacities,

machinery that needs a recharge of these batteries

sunlight streams in illuminating the inside of this room.

It is too soon,

as the brightness kicks in inside, I realise

that I had better rush out before I get left behind,

running around, centre, left and right.

and then it all turned to white.

and we wonder why?

wasting away fragments,

forgotten our potential trapped in this vacuous,

limited cycle,

looped and entangled like disciples,

to an unending tornado,

forgotten faces, hidden agendas,

lies, and the eventual turning of tables

Faatima