Antelope Valley


Antelope Valley

Time is drawing nigh

Photo by Pamela Heckel on Unsplash

Neither acrid nor redolent go the desert winds. Entering naked — scorched — with flames of past and cruel memories in hand — trickling into the dust as blistered skin-pops, soiling and feeding the desolation.

A stranger in his own life — no heading but universal guidance at the helm — pangs of surreal humor watching the Mrs hand out the remaining scrubs no longer needed. Bursts into flames of laughter — bellowing the canyon floor — spotting a stranger donning his favorite top. Then another. And another.

Letting go of his past — like the multitudes of colored scrub tops — pondering if burdens now walk with the strangers in his bloodstained smocks.

Deep breath.

Divine dichotomies and universal laws play out in his world. Like a butterfly here — crashing into the winds of dragon fire — toppled yet another continent.

Layer by layer — peeled like an orange waiting for mulling — offering the perfect blend of intensities and flavor. His identity — the very essence — stripped like the scrubs at his partner’s hand — merging with the ethos of the cosmos.

Fortnight, hence another seven, soon will end — Antelope Valley’s gift of introspective glance — immense gratitude for this closing chapter book of traveling amidst foreign land. Once filled with pronghorns and galloping impala — desolate as the baron thought — packed with empty houses and scars from the ancestral fold.

Reduced to ashes filled in laden song — white stage — charred to the fiery red and blackened to the soul’s edge of transformation. Stories end — a new book titled as he returns to where it all began.

Deep breath.

A new story was written. Smiles — ear-to-ear — sipping on future’s elixir.

~Ani Po


Thank you Blue Insights, editing staff Thomas Plummer, Francine Fallara, Victoria Ponte, Gurpreet Dhariwal, David Rudder, Pablo Pereyra, and all who come to support this space.

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

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Forty Days Forty Nights


Poetry

Forty Days

Forty nights

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Into the desert I go, with a slivering moon’s call to contemplation — deep contemplation of the past, present and future holds.

Recalling a time when I didn’t know, before the time of knowing everything. Now for certain, without a doubt — knowing nothing, not even where I rest my head.

The heart knows, into the flow enters clear — hummingbirds visit amidst the ravens and crows. Raging heat of desert sand by waking light into the fortnight of passing moon.

Once broken, flat-lined and unable to lift even a mug. Now eager as the…

Second last day
Antepenultimate-third last

Into the darkness, we traveled free
Passers-by wanting to flee

Is this the end of a glorious chapter?
Masked by a shit show of events

Again, we sit, pondering the motions of the ocean
Arduous journey at the foothold of another

Omega to the end
Alpha begins anew

Today marks the third of the last
Tomorrow the second

Happy are we
They to me

~Ani Po


Thank you Blue Insights, editing staff Thomas Plummer, Francine Fallara, Victoria Ponte, Gurpreet Dhariwal, David Rudder, Pablo Pereyra, et el and all who come to support this space.

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

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash