The Eternal Girl

Old Self portrait




(The poetic Bio from my old webpage....i was around 24 i believe.)

I am the eternal girl, starchild and roguesmile and weaver of dreams both brave and wild...
Born in a bustling blue dream, to a couple wit h lightflakes and dreamcakes in their innerspace!
Grew up in the mountains of Virginia, free and fair, tangled hair, feet bare, there somewhere...
Enjoyed school because of access to books, hated the authorities and teachers and crooks who feasted on the childrens minds, wasted all their precious time on frivolous things...though there were a few who seemed to know, who seemed to see, who seemed to feel the breathing dream...and in their lives I saw some light, and inspired with life I prepared for flight, escaped the gaping hole of home to soar the skies and freely roam. University, ah, big disease of society...wasted time and wasted braincells, tasted life but also hell, flew so high but nearly fell...nearly drawn in to the spinning flash of tangled thoughts and mangled mass of human drivel of human waste of human tears in sad dark place. Then free again, light peeked thru, home again, round two. Still the prison of closed minds and zombie sheep, they're awake they say, from their bleak deep sleep...Off to an island in the sea, Jamaica breeze calling me...to put together the peices I lost wandering amongst the holocaust of deadened creativity...and there discovered my mind was scattered, ego ripped and tattered and shattered, self awake but not on the ground, seeking my soul from the lost and found...and I glued remains of flesh and brains into a coherent and capable flame to withstand the pull of the world and the fool within my spin of twisting spools...and home I crawled with energy high to bid my time till next dreams flight. Then off on bus to coast on west, to possibilities unbound...to peace of mind still not found...and there I met myself and Love, my priddy twin flame, my husband in Soul...now with partner to share the smile to swim the wave in webs of life, I felt complete and strong and sweet and ready to begin my task of breaking the worlds coffin of glass...and we twisted and tugged and loved and hugged, my priddy one and I, back to the land of his home, the emerald isle , the mystical bone
of all I sought and found within...and now life begins again...And now with eyes open to life I see that home was never the strife, the mountains begetting the flame of light that lit my soul and sparked my smile, yes Virginia my dear, I am a child...of your trees and flowers and breeze and rivers that flow and winters deep snow, and yes my parents were right in their ways to leave me free to make my way with mind and heart and soul so free, they never forced a mould upon me, never drowned the I that was Me...within this coagulation of life, energy, consciousness, within this mass of 'IAMTHIS'
and now that time has shriveled into a point of light I choose to peruse, I embrace the heart of the world with a smile. I am the eternal girl, the magical child...rogue smile and laughter wild...

A little Flip Book of Pattern Play

A little flip book of pattern play….
Hidden agendas and timelines of pain
The master orchestrator always remains
The being that’s seeing thru the eyes in our brain
Majestic mazes of manipulated minds
Creating a Space that challenges Time
Eating images and projecting reality
Holographic breeding of dystopian fallacy
minds under siege as fearful hearts close
The challenge to balance the whys and woes
The fingers point outward in terrified blame
Initiating the lock on the grid of the game
The architect cleverly hidden inside
The engineers blueprints of cold dead light
The synthetic overlay ushered thru stages
As the prophets, poets, saints and sages
Paint the picture with poignant passion
Proclaim the Game as their Saving Mission
Whichever Timeline in the fractal you choose
There is no Final Boss Stronger than You
You will decide in each belief that you Eat
How the story goes whether loss or defeat
And when the jesters Chessboard is cleared
We’ll Play again with Tears and Years
To ReMember ones Power in the face of Pain
Is to Step into the Joy of Process again
To joyfully inhabit ones body and Place
To face The tangled web of Destinys Grace
Is to Simply reMember you Rolled the Dice
In the First Place

Charleen Johnston 1-5-2019

In Winters Deathly Grip

Circa 2004

In winters deathly grip, I choke to spell
Your name, in frost, upon the lonely hills,
The appendage that writes is wrong, now,
Somehow, shaking from the suns low brow,
Right at my hearts strange eye, the appendage
Has appendages which dangle, unseen,
Gangrene in the walls of my mind…
Where do the shamans go to die?
Where do the moments go and why,
Do we tear at truth till the bleeding shows,
Till the meetings end, cleave thoughts
From the gentle wind, upon which blows
The written recipe for the mend, for the
Mend of all this tattered flesh, these broken
Vessels of forgotten truths, made lost
By the echo’s of the hidden hooves
Of the horsemen trotting through
The moon. The past is played
Upon the theatres of light, wrapped
Around the core so tight, they cannot
Fail to suffocate, to impersonate
What they fail to see, what do they see,
Do they believe that they are free?
Winters face is masked and turned,
I burn, I yearn… to learn the tide,
To turn the cycles inside outside
Over the underside of all that I know,
And all that I do not know. All
I know, Is that the tunnel beckons me,
Warp speed, to the essence of the seed,
Point of light traversing the worlds, ah,
Galaxies, inside of me, a billion worlds
In one single cell, and in my cell, my
Prison shell, I retrieve once more,
The part of my essence I let slip
Thru the door…

Charleen Johnston
January 14, 2004

The Game of ‘Make a Day’

Why do we rip?
Why do we tear?
Why do we crack?
When there is nothing there?
Nothing but a glare
Let it slip
Fall thru the lip
Of the lie
The tattered scattered
Wounded sense of Why…
Ms.Intense and her
Defence is writing
Down her
W
O
R
L
D
I forgot that
Would-be humans
Should be fuming
Like factories unsatisfactory
Failings
Watching the mass
Slaughter the lass
Who saw thru the
Ailings…
She weeps aloud
Her tears her turns
Her aching burns
Learns to break away
Peel like clay
From the potters hands
Pieces of thoughts of
Creation of good and evil
All dripping down
Thru my crown
Into her
Into her
Hanging onto the sides
Of my smile
And pulling it down
Into frown
The weight of the
Hate of the town
Where once she slept
Upon the
Face of the beast
Facing east
Placing the casing
Over the peace
The fleece
Of which I strove
Down she dove
Into ground she drove
Out the demons
That found her
Hosting,
Like Semen
They swam into her,
Scanned her for
A place to hide,
To ride and wait
Till the light abades
And here it comes!
Uh oh, another day!
Another game to be played
I crack
Addict did too…
What was that I tried to do?
Words are swords
To sharpen and
Splinter
And spank
And spit, her bossman
Has had enough of it
A tough lil bit
Of skin
To sink into
To think it through
To become the show
Behind the ego
To placate and dislocate
And anticipate
The dissolution
Of that mask
We made
To play
The game of
‘make a day’
Into the same old
Give and take.
Jump up and give
A shout a shot
A short salute
To the
World we pollute
Before
You crack
And I crack
And we lay
Together
Dreaming of fleeing
Dreaming of feeling
Dreaming of peeling
The rots
Off our dealings
Till we can
Still stand
And look
Thru swollen eyes
And broken lips
To rise
Each morning,
And to shake loose
That grave grip
And let slip the noose
Of that pimp
We call the Ego…

Charleen Johnston 2002

Wakings that come like Storms

There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
Dancing
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
ReBorn
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Wandering Womb
releasing
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
Bleeding
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
Risen
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
Burning
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Returns
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
And Mind
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Heiros Gamos
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
Dance
In Red Velvet
Underground
As
New Life
Stirs.

Charleen Johnston
11-25-21

a crack in the sky

I slipped through a crack in the sky
Tripped right over my own silly I
And plummeted
Through the atmosphere
Of dancing atomsHere
Mapping tears as Phos Fears
Wrath and mirrors
Refracting Errors
As Eros Arrows begin to fly
Aimed at Body as Blind Mind tries
To hold on
Hold out
Hold still as Tempest rages about
Weightless Images in cages
Break the lock
And find their way out, in…
Eyes of Mages and Pupils
And Sages
Wake with the shock
Of the skin
As it begins to peel
Away from the clock tocking within
The rhythm of Opening
And closing
Pounding it’s poultice and pouring
Its Salve at ions Dreaming
As men
And women
Dressed as Time
Spiral path in precious Flesh
Dancing thru the Annals of Spine
My oh my
The journey tries my Patience
As I Let Go, satiated by the Doctors
Cosmic Order….the Flow
Aeons of tight fisted History
I now come to Grips With…
I hit the Smooth surface
Of my Mothers Womb….
Taste the salty brine and prepare
To slip through
SineWave Lips
Soft as sultry hips that shimmy
And shimmer as Soul unfolds in bloom
A Sacred Intention to Serve This
Body of Being
As I am Birthed from the Dark Deep See
Into the Light of a New Me
that Bleeds
Stories and Deeds filled with the Perfume
Of the Divine embrace
Shiva and Shaktis infinite Delight
Making Love from the Loom
Of Time and Space.

Charleen Johnston
10-25-21

The Vestement

Model Reese Miller/Couture Fashion Charleen Johnston/Photography Charleen Johnston
I make my way inside, the tomb
and rise
again
from feelings that flew too close
to you,

torn from the womb, tethered hands
sworn to illumine weathered lands

and i crash again
back into
seed

full thrust while blossoms
bleed
life into the few
of the
new breed

that makes its way thru density
seizing sight, thru intensity
of light
that makes it all grow

up and away from the roots that
know...

breaking tearing swearing making
moods that fade too soon
foods that make new moon

out of fragments that form too loose
sometimes

to hold the rhyme inside,
tucked beneath the rising tide
of things we share
and things we hide

waiting for the revelation
to seep up from our pores
into our mind
tending the sores that
stifle the times which await birth
here
in the name of earth
in the name of the mother
in the name of the bearing
and the burdens of Other
ways

to see here, to know here, to feel
hear and peel clear
of stagnant flesh

saturation

the sudden dawning
e v o l u t i o n
and
i n v o l u t i o n

POISED

between worlds in balance
minds of latency
bending and twisting

and T
U
R
N
I
N
G
back
upon
itself

remembering the white shroud which once it wore
swore to remain unstained
but the blackened charred robe of the stars
of the wisdom of moments
tore thru that fantasy
to create a dream
so real
it s e e m s to feel
its own thrust
in the darkness
of the blinding light
beckoning sight
into
existence.

Resistance repeats
cyclic defeats
and victories

mysteries mana urging us on
toward the breathing pull
of the sun
as it
rocks
a n d
cradles
its child
gently beneath the vestment
of LIFE.

Charleen Johnston 2004

⌛️✨🃏 Time is Now Is Time 🃏✨⌛️

Daimons Embrace

In the in Between 
Before the dream
Overtook me...
That effervescent beam
that clings
Like dew to my
Mindscreen
After the dark night has risen
Like yeast inside of me
Shone Daimonic face
The trickster dressed in lace
And leather
And choking on feathers
From my Flock
Mocked me
Pointed to the clock
And shook me from complacency
The Red Tale of Fires embrace
Rose like dawn
And threatened my Face
With scabs of disGrace
from legions
Spawn
Fighting for ascendancy
As I silenced the grim
Grip
Of their insistent
Whims
And kept right on
The same old track
Of dependency
Ignoring the tortured truth
That swarmed my limbs
And swore to remain imprisoned
Within...
Spoken to me in a cross
Between
Whisper and Scream
As I lay
Trapped in stasis
Peering at faces
Whose skin
peeled like panic
From the ancient Dream...
...Worry of whether
I'm worthy of the flame
Grateful for the shocks
And the shards and the pain
That lodge within
The neural Stains
And strains of my heaving Heart...
"Stop Showing off...
And Make Real Art"
....and in a flash
The great Rash of
Impulsive Inaction
Flickered in the Smile
Of the Vixen who agreed
To stop feeding
On my flesh
If I vowed
To rise from the bowels
Of this Blessed Test
Of Will
And say Goodbye
To Patterns that Shatter
The Sanctity of Time
Trapped within loops
Of Mind...
As I Bleed within
Mother Matter in
Fractal Flowers that Unfold
In Sacred Sines.

Charleen Johnston
10-2-21

Bond of Breath

Photo by me/Charleen Johnston. Models Reese Miller & Drea Bleu Good-Brown
A counterBalance ...perhaps....
When the chasm beckons
And the perilous chapel
Seeks it's reckoning
Thru maladies and maniacal
Mishaps
That overlap Present & Past Times
That threaten to Bind
Tight
The blind spots with tangled knots
In games of Daimonic power
Buried
In unfolding fractal flowers
Of 'Sight
Or
Blind DeLight '
As the shattered Tower
Falls
And Offers its gift

A suture to bridge the rift

Shall i Fly from this precipice
Or fall to my Death
As the urge to transcend
The Bond of Breath

Charleen Johnston
9-30-21

Paradox of Paradise

The waking awoke me from the broken spokes
Paradox in playful parade of fire and smoke
Of wise and fool and flaming jewels
Paradise and Purgatory and Names and Tools
Of wandering Souls paying the Toll
Knowing the Self at the center of it All
The dream of darkness as Journey unFolds
Beloved Becoming the Beauty and Awe
The whispered twist in the Story descends
Terror within the minds of men
Of magic and moments and omens of death
Immortality shatters the body with breath
Alone on the throne Alive in the brine
In the womb of the mother I Rise and Shine
Heaven a garden And Earth a Shrine
The Wandering Soul Awakens in Time
Bondage only a Self Inflicted Game
Broken shards that long for the Kiss
The denial of Desire that Dampens the Flame
Turn Gods into Men and Mind into Mist
Of mourning Suns and evening stars
The patterns of Matter mirror the Heart
Wheel of Wonder in Wandering Space
The Time is at Hand in the gathering place
Magic surrounds the opening of I's
Mirror of mystery masks the disguise
Of the Beloved in Form in Finite Flesh
The surrendering renders me bright & blessed
Self A Pointed Purpose inside the sphere
As projections of Light that Turn the Gears
It spins the Fractal and Loops the Feed
Heals the Tears as Fleshbody Bleeds

Charleen Johnston
9-19-21

First word in each line makes a fractal of my rhyme