The tip of the iceberg where all things present, known by actions, subtleties of once lost forgotten spoken word, this is not how young grasshopper comes to know who he may be or who she aspires to her futurity. It is seen without ever further delving deeper into the seas of life’s great mysteries for the conscious mind.
It is just below the surface, faintly attuned to understandings and possibilities, yet another layer, pastoral care-free persona developing on the undercarriage of a classic tale. Preconscious of the little bear’s heart-warming tale, further dive into the abyss, the great unknown.
Triggered mind’s transcript written by the sages before, causality uncertain about rooting cause until presented in the day, a nighttime glimpse of shadowy effects, untended hearts giving off war cries, sending up flares for the self to give witness. Deep in the unconscious, buried for all eternity or until the desire for greater draws us even passionately into the uncharted.
Self-mastery not for the faint of heart, often scarred by fallen trees, broken limbs, once forgotten triggered stories of another like the time before drowning in life’s metaphors or losing consciousness and being dragged to the surface. In the subconscious’s constructs, we are self-realized, varying techniques written for thousands of years, choose one or many in alignment with heart’s true home, knowing that we are here today, present known as it was in the beginning.
This poem was inspired by a 30-day challenge and our unconscious minds. Just a layer in the subconscious to give attention to our daily reactionary processes. Triggered by trauma, intrinsic or dogmatic belief, ancestral DNA encoded messages of what is real, we are given a choice to remain on the surface or dive deeper to better understanding of self and the Great Canvas of Life.
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.
Let them Eat Cake
key lime, mango, nourishment, self-love of another sort
Oh, the pain and suffering continued flowing winds of despair, breaking truisms and heart multitude of choirs angels once singing, falling mute to the bitter taste left in one’s mouth. Anger’s raging moments lashing out at the innocent, devilish burning desires retorted back and forth, laying upon one another more feverishly hatred banishing tones, lingering taste in one’s mouth.
Promising not to spread more accumulating decaying supposition, altering realities, transmuting train-wrecks again, and derailing cars falling from universal flow, we look beyond the burning flesh, even beyond the galaxy wound ineffable mysteries. Tissues in hand just in case, emotions flow outwards of left field, craving desire nourishing soul-felt transitioning thought transfigured reality as it may, may we see the gift in returning the gift, another receiving joy, love’s tranquility.
Sweetened pot not for the smoking, yet enjoyable beyond exoplanetary orbital sun-gazing star-bursting, sight-seeing to interminable, let us see what our bakery has in store. This baking, healing moment will be a weekend event, greater than ‘the most amazing show on earth,’ greater than ‘Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, monster truck rally!’
It is time, says the baker to the healer.
The people need more pabulum, agape at the deepest of levels, un-tethered, unwritten yet before, indescribable, taste-altering moods. Fusing South with the North, East to West, Heavens sending depths of internal swelling, we will heal the wounds of our fallen through a magical taste of love-biting goodness, teasing every taste bud and every cellular knowing of love-everlasting.
The day begins with a nourishing thought, written words upon the page, rolling out a dough pieced together collectively by the others’ weekly songs. Kneading, caressing, fondled fondant a possibility, layers a necessity to counter the layers hidden in plain sight.
Granulated sweetness provided by the swaying trees coconuts falling at our feet, mixing a hen-pecked countering the hand-picked selflessly giving trees of life. Buttery coating, Slick Rick teasing with the old-school trade of thought, once be told, henceforth returning speculation, neither candy nor sugar-coated lining lower realms of being.
For the time it takes to change a load, merely the cost of lifetimes of work, deep-rooted tail-pulling layers of battered soulful evolution, bottom dweller to thaumaturgies promise of out of this worldly flavorful mix one up for me. It is only one layer of our subconscious! Still worthy of rejoicing! -healer to the baker, reminding of love pouring into every layer of physical form, shaping, forming realities, visionary design as once unbeknown, made whole from broken yokes, sifting through sweetest and most bitter of ingredients.
Softened stares, glaring, ice-piercing relaxing tone, mixing the pungent and fragrant alike, together-forming, collective-holding, heart-felt spoken truths filling pan of once emptied vessels, the sacred body of ness taking form. Reminded of the once heated battle, past weakened knees, yearly encounters, met with more heat, turning flashpoint into a cosmic ordination of well-being.
Secret ingredient exposing sacred flow, Key’s nectar of the gods, pairing dairy land’s subtle kiss packaged in rectangular form, Neufchâtel formerly known. Hen’s laying thoughts aside thrice remaining yokes of any given moment, broken, is no longer what it was cracked up to be.
Here is the artwork, masterful bakers planning his or her presentation, slowly toiled low temps, complex exit least splitting headaches, words failing in comparison. Attempts made or accepting the yielding course, heat removed, rest in warmth, blanketed sun radiating through the looking glass.
The patience of a saint, the elders’ wisdom, the anticipation of a child; fusing healed, abused, dazed, and confused no longer the case, just becoming another peeled-back layer yielding sweetest news. Smelling what the Rock is cooking, drooling over the pinup centerfold hidden within the taste of home’s favored dish, a foretaste of our desiring thought transmuting once again, love pours from the heat of the moment.
Chilling tales of yesteryear, grandmothers’ recipe falling short of its claim such as this truth be told, behold next layer with the gentleness of a dove, fruitful tropical twist to spirits’ guided message. Tropical trees are flowering plant genus Mangifera, mango simply stated, test-tasting treat teasing tongues of tempered beings awaiting rainbows’ promising days.
Chill out for yet another session, as long as it takes to Netflix another of our favorites, reading a few chapters of a famous author, or scrolling and trolling social feeds and tweedy bird’s needs. The gelatinous orange heated course is next in line, under-the-fire blending mixed-miseries worth its weight in gold.
Secrets to sharing its worth are dividing and subtracting two, hidden piecing-together, familial bonding over the masterpiece, sharing with the world. Dabble, droplet, a dollop of whipping creamery delight, kissed with love, sealed with peace and tranquility.
Not knowing what to do amidst the pain and sufferings of the others at work, meditated efforts not nearly enough, yet answers flowing response comes forth to share in heartfelt song, during love’s favorite key to happiness-cheesecake!
Yes, one of my favorite things to bake is cheesecake. Although time has not permitted in some time, it is a necessary feat for the calling winds of suffered and tattered souls. I am clearing my schedule to create this masterpiece for all to enjoy, tastefully and deliciously bound by love and peace pouring from my heart to their own.
Today’s flavor of the day will be a key-lime, mango cheesecake on a sugar and coconut cookie crust.
The first layer will be from a cookie recipe of sorts with ginger and coconut lightly teasing the dough. Baked for ten minutes, allowing fusion of ingredients to take place. Cooled while next layer is mixed with a taste of The Florida Keys, intertwining and dancing with flavorful creamy Wisconsin delight. Baked slowly at select temperature, while keeping the door closed at all times. Temperature turned off to rest for another set time.
Cracking of the door, allowing breath of life to kiss the very mixture, once singularly, turned collectively, brought together as one amazing olfactory smell bomb teasing one into craving desire of just a little bite. Out comes the first and second layer cooling to perfection once again, careful and slowly chilled non-cracking layer.
To create the next no bake cheesecake, placed atop the first layer carefully chilling in assisted living in the fridge, one must puree the mangoes delicately singing songs of praise and thanksgiving for this fruit of the tropics, blanketed by another package of softened cream from the Midwest. Sweetness to taste and recipe will follow in coming days.
Chilled again, pondered thought of weekly transgression and hurtful words exchange, songs of wholeness and healing sounds from intergalactic beings transfer worldly issues to far distant planetary systems, awaiting the gelatinous mango layer blanketing the created healing song via masticated transverse reality of spoken words.
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.
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