spirituality

SPIRITS AND SENIOR PROMS

 

(Humor lightens fearful actions)

 

Time to start communing

With the spirits

Family, friends

I’m not a Ouija person

It lied to me decades ago

Although

My friend really did

Meet and marry a Louis

But I never met Bruce

The New York lawyer

Did go to my senior prom

With a New Yorker

We fought

He wanted me to stop

Hanging at coffee houses

Screaming about war

And most of all

He hated my super-size

Peace earrings

Anyway

You know I’m getting old

Can’t seem to tell a succinct story

This is a poem

About Ouija boards

Spirits

Not proms

Pink gown

Hated pink

Mom got it on sale

Insisted I get my brunette hair

Teased and sprayed

Into an itchy pile

Atop my head

Radical chic

More fitting for my frizz

Not quite in yet

What’s with me

And the senior prom?

Okay, spirits

I’m old now

Wanna know

What’s doing in the

Dead Dimension

I’m getting cremated

Why would I want to

Waltz through paradise

In a five-foot frame

And have to keep my

Weight down

Using a heavenly elliptical

Into kingdom come?

So I’m willing to trade in my body

For something nicer

No one wants to try this

Handmade Ouija with me

All the way from the smallest continent

Overpaid

But don’t think I need money

Where I’m headed

Might as well spend it

So Lone Practitioner that I am

Will lightly place both hands

On the planchette

Dogs will be quiet

Because I’ve tryptophaned them out

With chicken jerky

(Ten dollars for 16 pieces!

WTH is wrong with Walmart?)

Yeah, ok

I’ll be damned

–I am, I know—

Draw a protective circle

Sit amid a bronze bowl of salt

Fake crystal bowl of water

Aromatic sandalwood in a resin holder

Elephant trunk to hold the incense

Supposed to be a good luck totem

Flickering white candle from Save-A-Lot

With a picture of a saint

The acrylic moves

Across hand etched wood

Spelling out ——-

Well, can’t tell you

But I asked respectfully

Asked for a kind soul to guide me

And halfway through

The answer

The essence flew

Not sure where

Relieved?

Somewhat

Will save it for another day…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

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FOR THE TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE (AUGUST 21, 2017)

 

 

Week of dress rehearsals

On the cosmic stage

Meteors lighting up

Countless trails blazed

 

Planets whirling backwards

Magnetic storms arrive

Constellations stretch their legs

Stars come alive

 

Wandering down aisles of life

Seeking answers for my heart

Searching for the perfect soul

Existence needs a fresh start

 

Ah, the Moon, overshadowing the Sun

Interfering with the brightness of Earth

Astronomical reasons meaningless

When we question our lonely worth

 

Eclipses demand tribute

So we question all intentions

Who is real, who is true

Who is a self-invention

 

Wandering down aisles of life

Searching for my matching soul

Eclipses mean new beginnings

O, celestial bodies, make me whole…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Full Solar Eclipse 1999 (Wikipedia)

 

STONE SENSATION

 

Clunky sound

My backpack torn

Grab a flashlight

Palm-sized amethyst

Lying on the ground

Trained since four years

After birth

To think:

What’s it mean?

Deep purple

Lavender

Crown chakra

Spirituality

Wisdom

But not for free

Must think about it

Work for a solution

Can’t shrug it off

Can’t let it be

Wisdom comes with a price

Its reward a spiritual happiness

A joyful noise unto the lord

Or goddess

Or mathematical patterns

Divinely spread through space and time

Or whatever power you choose to use

 

The older I become

The less I care

About the future

Don’t really want to know

I mean, what’s to know?

But isn’t there a reason why

We become smarter with age

Considered a sage

Yet observing elders

Most seem to be arrested

In their soul development

Still whispering about friends they hate

Still picking fights with family or mate

Exploding the myth of

Time healing all ignorance

 

And so I see

Flashes in the sky

Lightning from the north

Bringing the tang of mountains

Burning leaves

A spiritual pilgrimage

Beckons to me

Insisting I go

To where the air is thinner

Where the dense absence

Of angry masses

Enables silence to assist

Clearer thoughts able to persist

By virtue of upward movement

That will fortify, unify

Dreamy thoughts of a

Wisdom and safety

In the now…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Amethyst Wash Basin-Stone Smiths

A JOSEPH CAMPBELL DAY

 

Waving a burning bundle of sage

Sweetening the mysterious corners

Of a lonely room

(Like a priest swinging an incense censer)

 

Humming along with Indigenous drumming

Interspersed with Om Mani Padme Hum mantras

Blasting from the MP3 headphones

(Like a monk’s voice lifting up to the heavens in a Gregorian chant)

 

Sipping wine and delicately crunching crackers

At an evening art opening, smiling

As the mind screams, “Shut up! Shut up!

You’re superficial and snobby!”

(Like a penitent accepting the blood and the body)

 

Religious Rituals

Nature Rituals

Social Rituals

 

Keeping those invasive mind demons away

Trying to get through another day…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Imagesource:http://www.abstractdigitalartgallery.com/artist_gallery_onebadpenny_abstract_digital_art_fractal.htm

P’HABENGI RAT (HALLOWEEN) #1

 

When that thin gossamer veil

Between the worlds

Shreds impatiently

To let the alive and dead

Have their meet-and-greet

Be careful what you wish

Be aware of what you say

Trust no spirit if they be unknown

Dump salt from a neck pouch if tingly scalp

Light white candles if black ones flicker and flare

Carve smiley orange kirbiso

And fish-feed your inky cats

Unless

Unless you crave

(If you are brave)

Excitement that may turn into

Fear

Because the spirits are bored

Powerful and jealous

And they may overcome

Whatever you believe

Who has the control?

Not us, my fellow-living

We can train, memorize, pray

But spirits have that spectral power

A necromantic way with words and wands

No, we’re no match

Unless

Unless you are blessed

With wisdom and purity

And you know the runes to

The banish spell

Do I know them?

Will I share?

Perhaps if you give me your candy corn

I can be persuaded to bare my soul to you…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: MzScarlett

MOOD MUSIC

 

Wow!  I’ve become

One cynical ol’ lady

Saw it all

But here I am

At Chasco Fiesta Parade

Enveloped by brass and percussion

As Marine Corps and high school

Marching bands

Stomp down the rain-swept street

And the floats follow

And here I am

Adrenalin pumping

Quiet, cynical me

Jumping up to reach flying plastic beads

Frisbees with marketing logos

And surprisingly

My main prize is a small American flag

I kinda softly bump a young teenager

To catch that flag

As I dive among people’s feet

To scoop up the other swag

Thrown from the floats

And the music makes me want to march

Makes me want to love everyone

Because we all are smiling, laughing

And hear each other’s heart beating

Strong as the brass

 

Now I move down to the amphitheatre

Afternoon rock and roll

Dead Serious, local group

Singer sounds like Janis Joplin

Has all her moves

Maybe sounds better

Although never heard Janis live

So may be wrong

But don’t think so

Electric guitars

Drum set

Tambourine

People dancing by the stage

Me bellowing out

“Take another little piece of my heart now baby”

I feel myself mellowing out

Absent-mindedly reaching in my backpack

For a cigarette

Forgetting it’s been over a decade since I quit

Makes me want to love everyone

Because we all are smiling, laughing

Drumming our laps and

Strumming air guitars

 

I walk along the river

To the Native American powwow

Watch a man with ten hooded raptors

Explaining their habits

They look healthy and used to

The little tethers

In a circle are the dancers

Not only the Native Americans

In gorgeous suede and feathers

But audience participants

In jeans and t-shirts

Trying to follow the steps

All to the beat

The rhythmic, pounding beat

Of drums

Oh, do I decompress

Feel no duress

Just a spiritual well-being

Makes me want to love everyone

Because we all are smiling, laughing

Hearing the Earth’s heartbeat

Echoing our own…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: My hard-won Chasco parade swag

THE ABSENCE OF COLOR

 

Days deep in the desert transformed me

From owning a weepy black aura

To observing a bleaching

By sand, silt, petrified crystal

And one-hundred-and-twelve-degree heat

Baked

Caked with dust

From newly-dug dinosaur bones

My aura

Soaking in arid Arizona’s

Silence and solitude

Altered me

(Forever, I thought)

 

Transfixed

Stared at the motel room’s mirror

Revealing my new emanation

White

Angelic purity raining down

On thoughts

Caressing every atom

Creating my universe

Blameless me

Blameless you

 

Carried the aura through

For several years

But not quite sure

Whether the daily deluge of life

Now in the swamp, not the desert

Staining the body halo with

Sodden algae and other organisms

Percolating in humidity

Darkening the white

Was the reason why

The absence of color

Mutated into

Violet

Indigo

Turquoise

Green

Yellow

Orange

Red

And finally Black

 

Bleak years

Mirror of Melancholy reflecting back

Oh, make it go away

I no longer know how to fix it…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

A LIFETIME OF BIRDS

Rima Royal :  (seven lines in iambic pentameter rhyming ABA/BB/CC. Can be constructed either as a tercet and two couplets [a-b-a, b-b, c-c] or a quatrain and a tercet [a-b-a-b, b-c-c] )

A lifetime acquired for me to see

That birds have mysteriously uttered

In sad song or joyful, words meant for me.

Some came alone and some in flocks fluttered

But I did not mistake what they muttered.

Old age understands messages from birds

Tweetings and twitterings, meaningful words.

Three year old memory, illness at night

Screaming and scaring my parents with fear

“Pigeons!” I cried in bed, “Birds are all white!”

“No,” says my dad, “See? No pigeons are here”

“Pigeons are gray,” mom’s voice dings like a sneer.

Tears fall yet I hear a song from the flock

“Life is hard, be strong, like crystalline rock.”

Doctor consultation after sunrise

The overdose of sulfa is to blame

Hallucinations are the mind’s own lies.

Forget the birds, some allergies can maim

Hallucinations only bring us shame.

Yet I can’t forget the pigeons’ sweet song

To be strong in life will never be wrong.

Ah, age ten, dead bird on the wet pavement

Nowhere to dig a grave in the city

Soggy cardboard box may be heaven-sent.

Oh young bird, with a red vest so pretty

Evoking my sadness and my pity.

Into the box with a bright fabric scrap

Sail down the gutter, an eternal nap.

Not many days later a day of gloom

My dad’s dad passed on to heaven, they said

And next my mom’s gran locked up in a tomb.

Gazing out the window, red bird made me dread

That messages of birds meant someone’s dead.

Book-learned a new word for those who have died

“Psychopomp” leads souls to the other side.

Time does weave among the waves so swollen

Seagulls dive-bomb us beached humans eating,

Laughing sons watching lunch being stolen

A new quest to calm my heart’s dark beating

Appeasing the birds, death needs some cheating.

Feathers attract me on a sandy beach

Or beneath the el where I easily reach.

The years fly by like the raven and crane

Feather-filled vases keep sadness away

Emotional change, relationship strain.

New land, new birds, cardinal and blue jay

Alone with many hours in the day.

After three years the aethers hear me say

Stop the loneliness, send someone today.

I sit by the lake, someone shares my soul

Hawk stares in my eyes then veers to the sky

Peace settles in, I finally feel whole.

Perception in chaos, life’s worth a try

Trust in the hawk’s vision while flying high.

In two months a man named Hawk comes to me

Possessed with visual acuity.

We partner and life continues to flow

Strange manifestations seem to appear

Older family generations go.

Superimposed gran’s face in the mirror

Dies on my birthday, couldn’t be clearer.

Death warnings now come from my friend, the crow

A Live Oak splits, it’s my uncle, I know

Mother, father, relatives now depart

But warnings of the birds help me prepare

Yet survivor sadness engulfs my heart.

Hot day outside, woodpecker in my hair

I fight him, toss my head, too much to bear.

Favorite aunt off for routine surgery

Blockage in her carotid artery.

We speak, she sounds strong, I feel I can breathe

Gathering teardrops that fall on the floor

But it doesn’t take long for me to grieve

A shelf falls apart and cardinals soar

Flinging scarlet selves into our glass door

A warning ignored from birds who sing out

Remind me to never show any doubt.

Weeks later a huge white bird on a limb

Seemingly speaks to me with eyes aflare

Plain as if hearing an acoustic hymn.

Walking toward the deck, she follows me there

She stands four feet tall, I become aware

“Be strong, be prepared, be joyful, be wise

Lessons of the birds descend from the skies.”

© 2014 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja) Madame Sosostris Explains (a poetry patchwork)

IMAGES: adventuresinlightphotoworkshops.com

WAKE UP

 

Kundalini

Coiled serpent

Sleekly sleeping

At the base of the spine

 

Who is prodding her

To rise, to move

Through chakras

Pulsing in a line

 

From security to emotion

Power to heart

Creativity, Intuition and wisdom

From darkness to sunshine

 

Climbing up, up

Unknown mystical journey

Leaving the comfort of home

Recalling a world of the divine

 

Serpent slowly slithering

Slightly resenting the human Shell

Suddenly craving enlightenment

Forcing her movement by design

 

The Shell did not practice yoga

Nor meditate at all

So why this bothersome quest

When the serpent was resigned

 

Lately the Shell is restless

Migraine-y yet alive

Perhaps they’ll now be one

And graciously combine

 

She sighs and tries to move

It is her job, after all

Uncurling, awakening, because

The Shell is willing to realign

 

Fight that gravity…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: kundalini aeonnetwork.net