Seven in Balance

Composed 1/25/14
Description: I have this friend. He’s pre-law with a biology minor, and, basically, he’s exactly how you’d picture him.  He comes from a town that is mocked for its wealthy populace, and he fits the stereotype. His father is a businessman who’s done well for himself (though, at the cost of missing many of his son’s early years), and they live in a gated community.  It’s therefore not surprising that my friend is wickedly ambitious and more than occasionally pompous in his mannerisms. Don’t get me wrong, he is very intelligent. His great loves are debate, philosophy, and science, and he’s not one to do anything halfheartedly.  He’s also one of the most ethically minded politics-aimed individuals I’ve met. And I’m not just saying that — for sure he’s got the actions to back the title of “dedicated Christian” up.

Therefore, after knowing this logical, science-dedicated dude for sometime it came as a surprise when he began excitedly describing his dear love of Eastern medicine to me. Now, remember, this guy is a biology minor; your assumption would be that he is 100% pro-empirically-supported Western medicine. Not so. If the guy gets a cold he pops some colloidal silver or thyme into his tea. Having trouble sleeping? The guy will invite you to his apartment so he can dab your temples with lavender oil or one of his other 10 varieties of jar-clad medicine. But most surprising to me and my other friends is when he gave us an informational lecture and demonstration about chakras — the “circles” of energy that are located at seven hubs along the human body. 

He described how each chakra had a color and distinct personality trait that could manifest in each of us to varying degrees depending on our personalities and situation. In addition, each chakra had a tone that activated it, and, guess what, there’s an app for that. Since then we’ve spent many-a-night listening to tones, trying to FEEL the chakras in those places along the body, and discussing which one manifested in each of our personalities the most. Of course, the main thing about chakras is that, in order to be healthy, they need to be in balance. Some can get too big, some can get blocked completely, but it is when they are all active and balanced that we receive mental and physical benefits.

Now, if you think my friend has totally lost his mind, you’re wrong. Not only has my friend discussed the evidence he’s witnessed to scientifically support the chakra theory (including his own personal experience with bad childhood asthma and his contact with a legitimate 21st century doctor who specializes in this kind of thing), but he also strongly believes in the spirituality of them. He believes our Christian God has given us these chakras, and we can use them to meditate and become closer to Him. He sees it as a very Christian thing — not something for the typical American Christian to be wary of. And if you have any questions for my friend, don’t hesitate, leave a comment and I’ll get you in contact with him; I’m sure he’d be MORE than happy to discuss his thoughts with you. He’s done more than one informational chakra session with those who have heard about his interest and have asked about it.

Anyway, all of this is to say, ever since I’ve been exposed to this information, I’ve wanted to write a poem about all the chakras and their respective characteristics. (You can look these up; there’s a lot of information online about what characteristic each chakra represents). I did this by using the color for each chakra and making an anagram poem out of it. Even if you don’t buy the chakra thing, I hope you enjoy it.

Whisper the
Hidden truths of the
I AM that
Take us to

Probe the minds of the
Reach out and feel the
Purpose of their steps
Listen and see to
Excite the mind

Burst forth from your
Lips the
Underlying truths that
Excite your heart and must be expressed

Generously love and
Reach out to
Envelop them in your
No matter the cost

Yearn and
Electrify those who
Let them cower beneath your
Overwhelming strength that
Washes over their doubt

Overwhelm me with your magical
Reckless passion
Adorn me with the sweet
Necessity that are your raw
Great words that fly from your
Ever exposed sleeve

Recognize you are
Expendable and
Defy death


Valentine’s Day

Composed 2/14/14
Description: This one is posted a little late due to the distraction of school and the posting of other things. However, yes, here it finally is: my certainly sought-after thoughts during Valentine’s Day this year.

I go to bed early on
Valentine’s Day
And yet I’m the last awake
Three others dream carelessly around me
Of twirling and gliding
Of adventures and meaning found in foreign lands
And of a future shared with one loved
And loving unconditionally

But I drowsily must wonder
Of what meaning my life holds
What loves can I embrace?
What talents can I give?
What joys can I catch?
For I have never known
And no one will tell me
This Valentine’s Day

Adventures (in Fashion)

Composed 2/20/14
Description: Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: New Sensation, which asked us to describe our favorite fashions from days of yore or current trends we think are stylin’. This prompt hit me at a good time, as my mother took me shopping yesterday, and I’m still riding the high of purchasing a new pair of boots and skinny jeans. To increase my excitement, the weather has (temporarily) taken a turn for the better, meaning today I’ve been able to wear an amazing jacket I bought several weeks ago.

Anyone who has consistently read my blog knows I have a small obsession with boots, which means I have written on my favorite fashion accessory before, both for everyday wear and as an important factor in steampunk.  However, today was just such a perfect example of the amazing sensation dressing this way gives me that I had to write about it again.

Today the snow melts, spewing rapids on pavement
As gray clouds shadow the cool wind’s bereavement
The dark grass ripples in the cold and the mist
Like a kingdom’s great marsh fading into abyss

My lips pull together
A victorious smirk
As I dawn my protection
And step out to lurk

There’s something about leather and twine knee high laces
That takes me off to my favorite places
Tromping through forests with bow on my back
To the castle with sword bracing for attack

With blood red jacket of shining cattle skin
And boots to my thigh with tight jeans fit in
I’m a story tale hero with a warrior’s heart
Fighting for my loved ones and my peoples’ fresh start

I journey through days where potential runs free
To travel, to meet, to love, fight and seize
I chase villains, I battle, meet charming young men
I blow off, I banter, I fall to my whims

And this is the feeling
On those days when I put
Leather sleeve on shoulder
And tall boot on foot

Ease of Creation

Composed 2/19/14
Description: Inspired by wdbwp’s prompt, which says: What say you of creation? How do you see creation? What does it mean to you? Is it something that is the sole domain of bearing life or can we all be said to be creators in our own right?

In just moments
He cupped the darkness in His hands
Twirling His finger just so
That purple galaxies spun into life
And jettisoned into the oil air

Violet streaks themselves spinning
Gave birth to pricks of round
Waxing lights
That whipped into place in endless rotation
Melding blue and red and green

And on a speck of blurring light
A hand swept over
Summoning bark and leaves to
Twist up in glorified mass
From the earth

And with a scoop leftover
He molded limbs and chest and head
Until we were left standing
Upon one crumb
Of creation

And all of it done so
So easily

And yet here we are
Struggling to create something
Of meaning
Centuries later still
Ignorantly assembling nut and bolt
Gears, cables, conductors
Failing to see our place
Failing to see that we can only create
What has already been given

All we can give back
Is love

Mister Winter

Composed 2/17/14
Description: Well, it’s time to write about the now-cliche topic of the freakish winter we’ve been having. Yes, I live in one of those places that achieved a windchill of 40 below zero. Yes, I live in one of those places that has been colder than Antarctica (and sometimes Mars) on a semi frequent basis. Yes, I now no longer consider it “cold” outside unless my nose hairs freeze upon exiting a building. But, even now, as the extreme cold has (generally) subsided, winter is not done with me yet.

No, snow is a ceaseless reality around me. It snows and stays for days, and, once the sidewalks are clear, it snows again. I’ve forgotten what the ground looks like. Even when the snow is pushed away, thick sheets of ice conceal the earth. Looking at pictures from early in the school year, where everyone is wearing skirts and sweat-stains, is like looking at pictures of a different planet. Everyone here, including me, is thoroughly done with winter.

But it doesn’t ever stop. Take today, for instance. A relatively pleasant morning (and by pleasant I mean positive temperatures), followed by an afternoon of tiny ice pellets RAINING FROM THE SKY. And this was not even the occasional ice pellet. No, this was a thick spring shower… with ice.

At least that was unique. But no. By late afternoon, here we are again, with a heavy shower of thick white snow puffs falling from the hazy, snow-white sky. I walk inside the school cafeteria, flinging water on my friends. Soon after, it’s snowing so hard it’s impossible to see feet in front of you.

But despite all this, I must admit… Fresh snow is quite pretty all the same.

Oh, Mister Winter
You take my breath away
Your very skin is glitter
And it sparkles night and day
You press fresh kisses
On my cheeks, hair, eyelashes too
Whisper so I’ll reminisce
Bring energy of youth

You charm me with
The way you spread
Beauty where dark filth
Once bred
You grasp me tight
And don’t let go
Until I’m chilled
Down to the bone

You slow me down
And trip me up
Send me swerving down the lane
I’m out, I can’t
I’ve lost control
I won’t see another day

But when I’ve sprawled
Out in the cold
I look to the sky and see
The glossy shine of
Icy pines
And light snow-covered cities

Against my will then I smile
And there erase my pity
Oh, Mister Winter
You’re lucky you’re so pretty

Slaying Monsters

Composed 2/11/14
Description: Something I put together today, and my last entry to AU’s literary arts magazine for this semester. Got to say, I think I’m the most proud of this one.

At six she hid under pillows and sheets
And let out whimpers building to screams
Her mother, with weary tired grace
Arrived to soothe the crying face
She plucked the monster from her door
And stowed him in her sweater drawer

Sixteen brought parties, boys, and fun
And a punch bowl spiked with too much rum
But a monster crawled from the upstairs bed
And grabbed her wrist til it was red
But her other fist was free to crunch
And with his cool he lost his lunch

At twenty six the doctor called
And posted grim pictures on the wall
With heart on sleeve and urgings great
She prayed to God and all His saints
So He swiped the monster from her chest
And allowed her health and blissful rest


Composed  ‎2 /13/13
Description: Another lit art’s mag hopeful. It’s strange; I wrote this almost exactly a year ago, and here I am looking at it again! When I wrote this, it was originally part of a “100 Themes” challenge. The theme was “Introduction.”

She remembered Frank’s words.

You know, they say people make first impressions in as little as half a second.

Half a second. That is how long it would take to decide her fate.

The sequins on her red, fitted jacket burst forth in sparkle as the strobes flashed. She barely had time to catch a glimpse of the man in the long-tailed suit coat throw his hands up and jump into an exuberant stance of victory before the fog machines released another cloud of red and purple smoke. Confetti in colors of the rainbow rained down from the balcony. The audience’s roars were deafening.

He was good. He had tigers. How was she supposed to compete with that?

Thalia tugged on her stark white, elbow length gloves, the only object visible backstage. She gulped and glanced down, focusing on every crease and imagining doves spilling out of her fingertips.

Her heart was beating faster than it ever had. It all culminated here. If she failed, it was over. She had been lucky to get this five minute slot; so many other venues had refused her. Frank, the owner’s son, had only given her this chance – one chance he said – because he’d wanted to take her out to dinner. If she failed, there would be no way he could convince his father to let her have another try. She’d have to drag her feet back to Romano and meekly accept his offer.

Thalia shuttered as she imagined joining Romano’s league of sleazy showgirls. That’s not what she wanted. That wasn’t her dream. Her dream was to make her own way in the world, to do what she loved – magic.

Her guardian had been a lover of magic, and that kindly old man with the wrinkled hands and pale blue eyes had her entranced the first time he pulled a flower out of her ear.

All at once she was in a small, cozy apartment, spread out on the ugly blue and green rug with the tattered edges. She squealed in glee as she picked out a two of hearts and the man nodded.

“I’m going to be a famous magician one day!” Thalia announced with the kind of happy arrogance only three year olds are capable of.

“You certainly are,” said that man in his warm, wispy voice. He was smiling. “And you are going to make me very proud.”

The ferocious roar of a giant cat, and then the audience, broke Thalia from her daze. Her black eyes narrowed, and her slender hands clenched. No, magic was not just a way to make a living, not just a passion to her; it was also her sole connection to the only person she had ever loved.

She would do this. She would live her dream.

The slender man in black took a bow. Only seconds now. Seconds until her name was called.

And then half a second. Half a second in which the audience decided her fate. Half a second would determine her future, her survival, her pride. The loudspeaker squeaked; an announcer called her name.

In a half a second, her whole life would change.

She stepped onto the stage. They cheered.

No One Comes of Age

Composed 2/4/14
Description: Sorry for the hiatus. School is, as always, a killer. However, this semester’s literary arts magazine has a deadline soon, so here I am, pumping out hopefuls last minute. The theme for the magazine this semester is Bildungsroman, a German word for “coming of age.” So here is one literary arts mag hopeful. Feedback is always appreciated!

There are no sacred journeys
Or evil beasts to slay
We achieve no mastery over
The movement of our limbs
In rituals
Or tame the lion in our bellies
In holy fasts

Instead we burn our trails
And hide each beast under our bed
Go to sleep
Pretend they’re dead
And gorge ourselves on
The pleasures of babes

We measure age
In cigarettes and alcohol
And the scale keeps on slipping
To sex and rental cars
DUIs and jail time
Marriage, drugs, divorce
And even our children
Never see
A man come of age