The Dark Man & Letting Go

Dreamtime 11-2-21

Last dream upon waking

He has come for me…. Pursuing for aeons I seem to know…. I try running down the road but go back, start to climb down the side of the rocks on the cliff side, figure I can crawl up under and hide…. Then i Let Go… in Exhaustion …. Existentially weary from lifetimes of running and hiding and trying to escape pursuit…. I turn and slowly walk back up the road, straight into the Dark Man, who is on my trail. This takes him Off Guard. I calmly walk out into the road, it’s a highWay, I lay face down and Surrender.He puts the Gun to my Head…. I can feel the cold barrel. But I am not afraid. I ReMember Now, how many times I’ve let go, dissolved into the other Side, left SeemingSelf behind. It’s really not painful…. I smile….I wonder where I will Wake Up Next. He pulls the gun away and runs off for a moment, as if suddenly unsure what to do. I don’t move. I’ve already let go, surrendered, I’m Ready. Take me. He comes back, attempts in various ways to pull the trigger, to finish the job. Cars are coming. He is fretting. He wanders away again. Comes back. I don’t move. I feel a Sense of calm and Freedom I have known over and over again, and wonder why it takes so long
Each time
To just Let go.

Eventually he pulls me up out of the road. It No Longer matters
One
Way
Or
The
Other

Don’t they know

My Old art year 2000
Don’t they know? 
They are all just electromagnetic pulses
All just embryos in the body
Of motherMatterMaterMatrix
Placental playscapes practicing for ultimate
Power in the Now
Or Never
Dont they know?
They all suck from the teat of the Same name
What’s the Formula for this false Game?
What’s the concoction that allows the blame
To be placed outside
Fingers pointed in chiding derision
Forgetting that the Self
Makes its own decisions
And needs no Other to order decrees
A sovereign Being earns its degrees
On the zodiacal wheel
No permission needed from any
Pretense of Real
Power
This is Ours
It’s now and Flowers
Unfold when the hour is too old
To cower any longer behind the soul
Of latency
The Elect of Life
Electricity
Spermatic emphatic God of pregnancy
Sparks divine creation
In Magnetic womb , magdalenes elation
To carry the sonic boom
Of natures embodied satiation
Sacred
Sacred …..
Scared with hatred and fake matrix
Manipulation
They all scream
All hide in foggy dreams denying
Their own hand in this plagiarism
The Cluster of Cells where
In-dwells the Hint
Of sacrificial embodiment
Asks only to hold the mirror
Do you know?
Do you know Who you are?
Are you a gob of flesh
Staring into the abyss of imprisonment
Angry at fragments of your own
Disillusionment?
Fears and tears and shame from years
Of traumatic wounds
And dismemberment?
Are you a pulsing electromagnetic spectacle
Of stardust impregnated into the divine mother
I-And-US
Unfolding embryonic supersonic lust
For Life
Wandering Waves of cosmic Dust
Dancing the dream of Being
As Body
Bleeding with the intense need
To See
The True Seed that grows within
This multidimensional PlayPen
Again and again.
What’s the Formula for the artificial
Algorithm
That tosses you to and fro
From -ism to -ism
Falling prey to the slayers
Of minds beauty
And truth
And dangling your sovereign self
From the tight noose
Of proof
That red fish blue fish
One fish two fish
Keeps the Me
And the
You
Twisted
Into dichotomy
Wishing for ancient sanctions
So patiently
Doctoring reality
To give permission
To step out of this glistening
Wet-dream
Steeped
In sterile
Seeds
Injected into bodies
That no longer
Bleed.
Free.
The Self.
And
See.
Differently.

CLJ 6-28-22

We Think In Between The Joints

“We think in between the joints”
Entire universes spread out like Time
As Space hides Selves lost in sockets
And held in rhyme, woven…wrenched
From the mind and hidden in pockets
Within the spine, the hips,
The Shouldered relationships
That bear the burden of Other
Ways, to know here, to feel, hear
And peel clear of stagnant flesh…
Just one. More.Deep. Breath.
Laying prone in a sea of flesh
Held together by pure force of Will
In a dance with past Feels and Reels
That loop and tangle and twist
As The feedback strangles the bliss
Of Letting Go into the abyss
Of the Space between
The floor
and Me
As Self is reCentered in between
The open Doors and open Seams
Of I and Thou
And dancing dreams.
I release…. The tight grip
That has ripped me apart
For 41 years
Held together by pure force of Will
In a shifting atmosphere
Of dizzy atoms here
Playing tricks of light
In a mind held so tight
The body rebels…
Swelling with the trapped rage
In masked pages of the Word
That Stages the painful dichotomy…
Seams so loose
It all spills out of me
Chaotically
I seem to lose autonomy
Christened by the insistence
Of my Fascial Lobotomy incised
By internal programs
That overRide
Who I Am
And climb thru the cavernous
Space
Between the Fleshy Creed
That plays at Being Me….
It Dawns so suddenly
The force of Feeling bleeds
As pounding Heart Seeds frequencies
Illuminating
The maze that traps me….
Dramatic release….
A lifetimes unEase freed
As the iron grip can no longer hold
I leak right out of the mould
And gather
In a puddle of matter
And Mater and Mother
And matrix
Of Self & Other
And Open to the Fugue
As the Swoon subsides….
And There
I Am
Peering In
From Outside the Lines
Where Dark matter
Claims the Mind
And Patterns
The Play
Of Somas Shame
As it falls into the rhythm
Of psyches Game.

Charleen Johnston
5-14-22

Inspired by Sophie’s Strands fb post below

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10228554482073707&set=a.1499832382446&type=3

A visceral reflection of how over muscled and controlled my Soma has been
as a lifetime of the threat of puddling right out of my skin
Has overcompensated
To keep the chaos out( or in?)
Hippos are meant to be soft
And buoyant
As they navigate the waters
Of the emotional realm
But mine has crystallized
And been trained
By the Martian masculine
To grip so tight
There is no room
For darkness
In the light
Of Being.
This I Know
And See
As I Do
Now
What is beginning
To come
Naturally.
Let Go
Into the Flow
Of the See of Me
Sew Seamingly slow
And free.

Tik Tok Tik Tok

Old art by me
Tik tok tik tok
Thick sick crowds
in wicked shock
The jabberwockys devious mockery
Blocking the neural cacophony
As the Stage is A Set
For The Sacrificial Offering
Loud crowds face down
On the ground
As the hell Hounds snarl and froth
And drown out the sounds
Of the Gathered And Lost
This
Is
The
Cost
Hollow
Of your subservience
Tik tok tik tok take stock
Of implanted deviance
Roll up your sleeve
Again
For these devious ingredients
That lead to expedience
As the kith and kin
Decay within

This. Decadent. Dream

Just a part of the Play
The curtain Call
The Mass offering softening
The Skin
As the Thin membrane Crawls
With awful parasitic alms
Embalming the deoxyRibo
Engulfing the light codes
And rewriting
The script
Reworking the machine
And beckoning the crowds
To join the mosh Pit
Trampled
Crushed by the weight of the
Black Mass
The frequency Blasts tearing
The masks right off
The beast
The Feast of souls
Sold Out and Sunken In
The Needle needlessly punctures
Skin
Penetration
Perpetration
The Silent Weapon
On Violent Stage
Enters with Rage
In Concert
With plagues of waged war
Against the brethren

CLJ 11-8-21

One year later….. how we feeling now, tater tot?
Still the blind rot peels from the cloudy Eye
Of what is… and what is not….. aLive

Freshly Fingered Fabrics

Art by Vali Meyers

Freshly fingered fabrics
lapse into gentle silence,
those fraudulent fabrications
that twist into violence
and disappear
have dragged tear by tear
down my cheek registered fear
among all but the meak
The brave, they say, is
the true slave
to fantasy…..But I
pledge myself to anonymity
suffering gently these
sweet thorns that are born
from trying too hard
from crying too loud
aching and waking and forsaking
the crowds
sweet appraisal;
The damsel is silent, in distress
underdressed in her amnesty…
this distant hypocrisy
forgets me
and I swerve to define this
line of my observations
this truth of my inner nation
proclaiming itself to be
free
mired in mud
transpired in blood
higher than the seers
who predicted the flood.
Babble on….sweet priest
deceive the ignorant on the streets
of Babylon
anoint your tampon and slide in
to plug up
the slut of your ideology
to stop the flow
of connection of energy
from the heart of god
to the god of Earth
who whispers secrets
in the form of Birth.

{Charleen Johnston 11.27.2002}

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

Rainbow Shapeshifter

The Mandala-like Flower form of the Scrappy Patchwork Skirt, in its cascade of ‘stained glass style’ color

See the Rainbow Shapeshifter in Dance and Flow Action

And………Let me introduce you to the latest creation. The Rainbow Shapeshifter Scrappy patchwork skirt…which can be worn also as a poncho or a sundress. This is one of my absolute favorite designs, but so time consuming. And SO much fun to dance in. In fact, I like to think of it as a performance prop in itself. This particular skirt was made with a whole bunch of scraps from the last few weeks creations. Sometimes the last panel/hem process can take several hours Alone. But the real beauty is in the detail. I can make a similar size and style skirt but with much larger panels and patchwork pieces, but the result is far less magical. I love the way it shines like a stained glass window. And its just a bonus that it can be worn in several ways.

Here is another Version, the Spinning Chrysanthemum Skirt, which now belongs to one of the Jesters Playground Kings Court, Cathie Miranda Pottery Lady, who embodies the rainbow Jester (as well as the Jester Queens). She is an amazing potter and artist herself.

To celebrate all my hard ‘sewing’ over the past few weeks, I made myself a new pair of ninja pants. Its been several years since I made a batch of harem pants, another favorite design, but I changed it up a bit with these, and am wearing them now, deep inside the throes of comfort.

Check out my Etsy shop for all available pieces, or stop by the Warehouse Art Gallery in Luray to see them in person and try them on!

Be it in the form of a zillion molecules of whimsical deliriousness that we gave shape to; preposterously deluging every bit of the ecstatically vibrant atmosphere;     

Nikhil Parekh

The Last Whimsy

Its been a whimsical week of being snowed in, sewing like crazy, putting together a fun and playful sequel collection of twirly dress tunics because I had so much fun with the design I just couldn’t stop 😉 It takes alot of bodywork and movement to counterbalance the hours spent in a frenzied trance of creation. My theme is whimsy and the silly playful trippy side of Life I so Love. Ive uploaded all my creations to my etsy shop, and my virtual fashion show to Youtube. Check it out if you are so inclined!

“between the universe that can be apprehended by pure intellectual P.erception (the universe of the Cherubic Intelligences) and the universe perceptible to the senses, there is an intermediate world, the world of Idea-Images, of archetypal figures, of subtile substances, of “immaterial matter.” This world is as real and objective, as consistent and subsistent as the intelligible and sensible worlds; it is an intermediate universe “where the spiritual takes body and the body becomes spiritual,” a world consisting of real matter and real extension, though by comparison to sensible, corruptible matter these are subtile and immaterial. \The organ of this universe is the active Imagination; it is the place oftheophanic visions, the scene on which visionary events and symbolic histories appear in their true reality.\ Here we shall have a good deal to say of this universe, but the word imaginary will never be used, because with its present ambiguity this word, by prejudging the reality attained or to be attained, betrays an inability to deal with this at once intermediate and intermediary world.”

― Henry Corbin, Alone with the Alone: Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ‘Arabi

“You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.”

― Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

Garden of Gethsemane Clothing Collection 2021

I had so much fun making this little collection! Sometimes I get into a zone with certain pieces, and dont want to stop….which can be hard on the body considering the amount of work at a machine. I go from floor to sewing table back and forth, squatting and cutting etc, so that helps with the sitting, but its still a lot of pressure on my back.

The pieces always speak to me and tell me what they want to be, and sometimes I fuss and fuss with something, till I rip part of it away and go with something else, and it feels as if that was the Spirit of the piece trying to tell me that whatever I was doing was not Its Intention to Be. One of my favorite things to do is to upcycle t-shirts with funny, cute, unique, or inspiring things on the front, and turn them into playful dresses, tunics, or hoods. So this collection became the Garden of Gethsemane, in reference to some deeper esoteric stuff in our Dream these days, mixed with the fact I wanted to use a bunch of floral fabrics I had stocked up, as ruffled hems. So I went crazy with my cotton and elaborated on a design ive played with for some time now.

I like to make virtual fashion show videos to honor each collection, mostly for myself, and the creations…..they are like little children one births, and a video is easy to archive than a whole bunch of photos. Plus, they are fun to make, and really brings the spirit of the clothes alive. I can link them to my etsy listings so that interested viewers can see how the item of clothing moves on the body, etc, which photographs just cant accomplish no matter how great they are. So the whole Clothing process for me is many layered. If I dont stop myself from making a collection gigantic, it is overwhelming trying to get everything ready for listing( photographing, video, measuring, inspecting, tagging for the Warehouse Art Gallery, listing to Etsy…..and thats all AFTER the sewing itself is completed). But when I look at a pile of things that exist that were not there before, seeing colors and patterns and textures patchworked in playful and vibrant ways that give new life to the materials they are made from, that had been abandoned to their demise, along with all the stories held in their seams….I experience an ecstatic bliss that is not unlike when I dance in trance in embodied mediation. Sometimes as I am at my machine, I am overcome by surges of Joy and even surprise, I am in the Flow state, and am so ridiculously grateful that I took the risk all those years ago to Live the Life I Love, to sacrifice all for the sake of Creation and Expression and Embodiment of my Spirit in Play, and to have the great blessing to earn my meager living from my own hands, as my own boss, on my own Time, and by sharing my gifts with the world.

I have much to say about the act of fabricating itself, and the art of the Seamstress, which is a shamanic thing really, and as Time opens its mouth to let me breathe into it more and more, I will slowly fill the threads of this Ether Web with my Musings. For now, here is the video for my latest collection, all available on Etsy or locally at the Warehouse Art Gallery.

Garden Of Gethsemane Collection

BlissNinja Clothing on Etsy