Can you Spell it out for me, Mister Dream???

A spoken work spontaneous collaboration I did with Keith Trayler on drums, at the Warehouse Art Gallery. Check out the link below!!!! The words will follow….. this is a part of my Blindsight is 2020 collection of poetry that can be found on this site.

Can you Spell it out for me, misterDream?
Can you tell me how to open the twisted screen? In the back room of this microcosmic vacuum sits a dialectical demon with a face that looks like me…spilling simple satire with the fire of certainty. Can the foggy mirror be wiped clearer, by the hand of the man who refuses to stand for the nearest and dearest hearts of the clan? Let’s see, let’s discern the irony… The mires that we have chosen to believe that seed this dying creed of iron deeds locked in steal with grips of fear on fiery steeds ….. Twisting the plot and trotting thru electricFields that yield the knots and tangled spokes from the turning Wheel that broke the Seal between WhatIs & WhatIsNot. For Real. Man. What a crazy Plan . A Game of Planes and PassionsOfPan dancing thru the degrees of Am. PM me with the lowdown, whisper in rumors of what’s going around, we can thicken the desperate drama and Play like Clowns…. Tricksters testing Paradox and Talking UpsideDown, we can rockAndRoll through Sight and Sound as the chessboard wavers on the merryGoRound…. SinEwaves savoring Light as the curtain goes down…..

Scene One is seen Thru, it was Planned Too…. Dangling Dialectic from the ceiling of this BleedThrough…. Hegel wrote the words to spell out the Game that’s played in the dressing Room as the audience waits, debating the nature of isolation as Indig.Nations fates are flavored with States of Vexation as Altered Carbon caters to the next mutation…..

Shadows shadows shadows on the wall, good guys bad guys rise and fall, breath by breath and life by death and brick by brick we build the Wall, one by one and None by All….Too mixed up to heed the Call….Three times Charmed with shock&awe as For the record the Lines are drawn…….Phi.ve times LifeTimes Venus FlyTrap dines on Tangled EyeCons in the dance of Dreaming dodecahedrons….Sixual Mayhem birthing through Us & Them in triangular penetrations of particulars in WaveWeaves of instinctual variations …Sexagonal vibration as the Exact Middle Compromise of Creation interrupting Infinite Potentiation…. A rupture of the hymen that seeks satiation…. Virginal Seven in Deep initiation never divided nor multiplied inSide of TenTs of Mind that abide in Destin(ysAb)ation
…..zen…. Within…. The W8 of the Gate of the Octave that initiates the Fate of the sacred States of Self inDwelling in Games of Play in Nine Lives ReWinding on hard drives and BytesOfTime spitting Neurolinguistic prayer in rhyming software that invites the Tribe to Dive Into the the broken binary groove of Moving Truths ….Wholeness split into Ten threadBare bits of DecaDent Twists of the loom as looping recursion creates diversion in hateful versions of fleshExcursions as ELeven
RightAngles Dangle from heaven as Self appointed gods&angels of the ArcOftheCoven
In tangled tests of woven GovernMent…. Sovereign exploration of the Self InDignation that forces the faces of contortion of Space&Time to confront the Mirror of the Mind and gather the Fragments scattered Inside as Self ReMembers It Turns Its Own Tides and inJoys The ride of the Twelve archetypal Primes as the Rhyme subside and the Waves enGraved in playful Mazes Fade into GroundZero …. The center of the Spindle of the Core Processor….the chessboard squares dwindle and melt in predecessors of Jesting Jesters inGesting Lessons from Gestation ….. Ahhhhhh…..the Spell is Broken…. A simple Token as the spoken narration nestles into a quiet corner of this newly Woken Nation…..

Charleen Johnston
5-6-2020

This is just an appetizer…(below)

This is just an appetizer,
A map divider of rapt insiders
Forcing the feast
Waking the sun from its house on the run
In its seat in the east
As the New Day has Begun
To Rise from the leaven
Grasping for heaven like sticky yeast
In the hearts of the Bretheren
Who Follow the One
This is just a test
A wrestling match for this and that,
Insistence upon investments
Of wrath , chessboard messages
Mined From Maat
Made to Order and gift wrapped
With blessings from the Masters Staff
This is just a preView
A Bleedthrough of previous Yous
And future Truths spread
Like glue on a threadbare Loom
A Cyclic Read-thru by
Seeds In Bloom who feed on the
Compost of Doom and Gloom
Watered by Calm Hosts of the holy ghost
In a Darkened Room
This is just a Program
A WebCam from the I AM
A trip through the moist dew
Of tangled Threads of angled Truths
Dangling plans and potent proofs
Hanging Men and Lambs in Suits
Of Carded Wool and broken Bootes
Icarus in thick black dust
From falling to the Earth with Us
This is just a Club of Trust
A Heartfelt Synod of Love and Lust
Working Soil with Spades of Rust
In Hardened Narratives and deep
Imperatives that only blades
Of Diamonds can cut
Through the Crystallized Sleep
Of frequency and AllThatIs
Now
A Sequel to Be

Charleen Johnston 4-28-2020

When Stars Fall from the Highest Mind…..

When stars fall from the highest 
Mind and sting the soul
Of the left behind
We must mourn
For our souls were sworn
To secrecy in this deep night
To imagine the fragile petals
Breathing with delight
Despite the fright that
Must come before the gentle
Opening of each and every door
We must swallow the sound
And touch the ground of our
Sorest and poorest wounds
Seeping from the weeping that
Wept in the night
The shallow light that spreads
Over our heads and leads
Us to right
Where we
Belong
To 
Song
To truth which is essence
Which is gleaming and streaming
Thru the precious remembrance
Of lives left upon the brink
Of existence
Wondering if they were to breathe
Would they shudder thru the sieve
Of this world
Strained thru to be part of that
Which leaves too soon
Parts and wholes
And partial tolls and lifts
And lefts and rights and 
Tests and matches
And catches and streams and 
Patches of evening glow
If only we could know
The truth behind the flow
So slow
Are we,
Though
In perceiving the rationality
Behind reality
And even as the light penetrates
Our damp skin, 
With our illusions of sin,
We struggle to find the easiest
Way in,
A place to begin to 
Swim in the immense sea
That is me
That is you
That is everywhere embodied in truth
And therein we sing
We sign our names to the times
We’ve tried
But hence have died
Over and over again
To begin again
And perhaps be free
Of that binding grief
That we perceive as gripping
So tightly around that
Which we believe to be
Ours.

Copyright Charleen Johnston 2003

photo edit by Eddie Mason