Boiled Blood

Tranquil flow, live everlasting

It began with imaginary worlds created by something unseen, squelched by father’s inability — lacking observation. Hearing echoes, even today, those unwilling to accept realities hidden behind clouded veils. Lost forever, too far gone the extreme — till the spirit of wind calls one’s name one day.

Forward moving, thickened blood — frozen on the tundra of old-timers playing an outdated game. Mischievous thoughts, twisting, plotting out sinister plans — including joyrides of abandoned backhoes on newly unearthing grounds — short-lived was the chapter seeking deeper kinds of love.

Hot like fire, tempered outbursts not likely causing more confusing thoughts — met by a swooning of love’s enticing gaze. A battle between good and evil begins — self-inflicted disruption with cannons going off in mind.

Afraid of the devilish look ingrained in days of yesteryear — turning back on all before — transporting weighted down and watered down elixirs of life’s lessening tune. Unable to front the demonic faces — familial, self, collective, and ancestral baggage consanguinity — knocking one to their knees, left sorting through the rubble.

Anxious to get out of Dodge, make the mark of empirical standing — on the forefront of settling down to family dinners with great conversation and plans of another day. Time for buckling up and lacing another to boot — kicking one’s behind to knuckle grinding and blood draining day-to-day.

Brick by brick, mortar’s pestle grinding of herbal remedies whispered during the dreams, molding the clay — hand over hand with life’s wheels a-spinning. The littles entering the scene — inherited wisdom of the ages — foreign concepts, but truths felt deep within the heart of it all — these are the greatest of teachers.

Life’s uncertainties, twisted seduction of right and left further the extremes — leading us back the center of there is — all there was. The mainstream allurement of magic rectangles enticing algorithmic ads asking for our hands in marriage — leaving us empty inside, hollowed-out veins echoing deeper understandings of our existence.

Knowing and living out — as we came to be — trusting our guides, spiritual influence that remains unseen. Returning to the river banks of childlike percipient — alpha and the omega, always present are we — coursing through our veins.

Hollow bone, empty vessel — filling with marzipan sweetest of desires — choosing colors within our canvas, adopting ancient techniques of painting our days — coursing through our veins, love remains.

~Ani Po

Thank you J.D. Harms and the whole Scrittura family for housing these words and for teasing my brain with this prompt.

For more on this prompt, I was thoroughly mesmerized by Joe Luca and his response to this prompt.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Born to Innocence

Forgotten brief time-lapse disfiguring moments

All I want is to be with you, child of innocence, untainted — untarnished soul sans misguided directions from there to here. Our arrival is dependent on acknowledging the whole self, innocence of then, and the traumatic scars past carried here — not yet melted by the sun.

I willingly go into this darkened space in my heart, where all the transgressors reside, all my iniquities hiding behind shadows shielding projecting outwardly disguise. The heaviness of a mother losing her child, tearing away bits of her flesh mirrored into self-undoing, forgetting purpose and place.

Crying out, screaming surge, and witnessing the others as once forgotten truths untold song of heartfelt pleas for peace and tranquility. Trapped, victimized by the fast-paced worldly turning sounds of capitalistic dogmatic realities.

Dismantling, dismemberment of false-beliefs once told as truth, little birdie flying to higher perch, gaining new perspective. Once called home, the tree no longer fits our growing and ever-wavering belief of not knowing and divinely being — innocence once more.

Cautionary tales are preying on the impeccable, no longer worrisome of villainess bullying, trembling still on the idea of rising above the ashes, taking up faded memories of once-forgotten ways. Scorpio is rising, phoenix fiery trails, and emitting peacefully infused and integrated thought-experiential-ways onto those stuck in the mud like we used to play.

Unable to free ourselves until tagged by another, inviting us to run freely without having to run any longer, erstwhile running away from the taggers tagging victims to their demise. Upright standing, forward moving self, a fusion of past, present, and future selves, embracing wholly me, myself, and I — we are healed.

Return to innocence, feeling emotions of a younger self, those of broken winds carrying about our days, quondam self, distant and out-of-reach not true and ready for the Great Revelation of knowing who we’ve become. Taking out the trash, unearthing embedded scars, and painful misery traveling on darkened and narrow roads, confidently not knowing who we are but knowing — we are right where we ought to be.

Juggling worlds of night and day, tracing constellations telling trails, staring in awe at forbidden truths hidden among Aquila, Apus, Canis Major, to name a few. Once verboten human-made story-line adopting the belief of eternal radiant, energetic being as we always were — we are letting go.

Singing songs of the ancient wisdom carrying tunes, inviting others to lay down their qualms with inner-knowing and unanswered restful pardons of their encountering transgressors, holding space for all to becoming. Peacefully walking, taking hands with neighboring heartfelt persons of corrosive salve-covering embalming shadowy approach.

Arriving at innocence and accepting its truths, breathing cosmic unraveling healing breath, answering not to anyone but self-inflicted and self-actualizing systemic steps within the Canvas. Born to innocence, forgotten brief time-lapse disfiguring moments, returning whence we came, a re-birthing of innocence always — we are here.

~Ani Po

Thank you Ravyne Hawke for today’s prompt and the whole Promptly Written Family for taking the time to read and comment.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh