There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
In Red Velvet
I slipped through a crack in the sky
Tripped right over my own silly I
Through the atmosphere
Of dancing atomsHere
Mapping tears as Phos Fears
Wrath and mirrors
As Eros Arrows begin to fly
Aimed at Body as Blind Mind tries
To hold on
Hold still as Tempest rages about
Weightless Images in cages
Break the lock
And find their way out, in…
Eyes of Mages and Pupils
Wake with the shock
Of the skin
As it begins to peel
Away from the clock tocking within
The rhythm of Opening
Pounding it’s poultice and pouring
Its Salve at ions Dreaming
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
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
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.
I am in the Grip....
The soft lips of silence
To receive me
The deep longing of reMemberence
And delivers the Seething
Wet tip of the daimons
Inside this rushing
Of Time and Space
As the trip
Peeling the Skin away
Cracks in the blackened
Tremble in ecstasy
The Nigredo of
As two trapped Currents
In the Only
That I~s can conceive
In this Bleeding Dream...
Intensity of Consecration...
Of the Diamond
Built from the Souls
An experimental video I played with from footage of Jestering recently
Featuring myself and Reese Miller
Music by SIREN&SEER, Saqi, Diamonde, Swan Hil
All costumes ,video editing, photographs by me
Woman. Fire. Sexuality. Writhing. Snakes. Burning. Fierce.
What is Woman? What should Woman be? Seems there are an infinity of answers, an unending barrage of ‘shoulds’ and ‘should nots’ attached to the archetype of Woman. There are thousands of books out there, and papers, articles, essays….all on what it means to be Woman, where the roots of Woman are, what the future of Woman will be. Woman in Relationship; Woman as Mother; Woman as Daughter; Woman as Newly liberated. All just archetypal relationships of energy. Points of light dancing on a blueprint. What does Woman FEEL like? What does it FEEL like to Be Woman? When I stretch my body and feel the nerves awaken, the muscles loosen, the blood flowing, I feel the Primal Womanity spread thru my being, touching everything within and around me with a fire that can be too intense to name, too generalized to capture, too strong to ignore. When I run, footstep by footstep upon the Earth or upon the dark armor of pavement that strangles the Earth….I pound out the rhythm of my strength…my endurance…my desire. I am in balance, carried by the amazing strength and intent of my legs….those pillars that exist to connect me with physicality in a way that is dynamic and delightful. With every inhale I accept into me the Breathing of Gaia and of all who have borrowed oxygen from Her since the first moment of carnal experience. With every exhale I give back that which is not mine, but which has filled me with the potential to Feel and to Move and to Think and to Smile. This dance of breath, over time, brings a calm, fluid expanse of blue to my bones, to my blood, and to my aura……the Woman I Am Playing at Being is quickening her pace, soaring with the wind of thought and mind and communication….but on a level that is unspoken, indirect, unperturbed,content with indistinct flow. When I make masters of my hands and set them to the task of patchworking a multitude of found and loved and used and old and outworn objects and fabrics and things together into new personalities, new beings, new symbols of the creative spirit……I worship the Woman of my soul….I allow her to speak thru me in ways that are unique and true, fun and playful, wise and foolish both. With every stitch I set an intention to Love. With every seam I am becoming aware of my relationship to Each and to All. With every color I make a statement of what I see in the moment, how I feel in this particular flash of eternity.
When I draw, She draws thru me….she moves the contour of my pen like she moves the contour of my world……making space where there is none, opening doors where stagnation has set. When I laugh, it is Woman who cackles…..deep belly laughter coming from someplace ancient, yet futuristic, yet HereNow….Present…….a laughter that has no fear, no self consciousness, no agenda, no apologies. I like laughter that is unrestrained, inappropriate, uncouth, taboo, deep and wide, harsh and shrieking, anything that comes from that endless well within which the madwoman gathers her nourishment. When I smile, I am a doorway for Woman. I am a light that shines, makes it ok to OpenWide…..to be filled with Joy. When I smile, I am giving to you. I am telling you…..Woman is Here…..Naked and Alive…..please come in! When I cook I am transforming energies….an alchemy of fire and taste and sacrifice and honor. I am Woman feeding the World from her Body. When I dance I am Her…..I move like tendrils, like serpents in the agony of ecstasy. I dance to Become Myself. To Become Woman That I AM. I am in a different state….an alternative mode of being……the whispers within me become a chant and my body moves….purposeful but without agenda, intense but without direction. Fluid but contained. Passionate yet serene. I am a Muscle of Bliss……swaying to the rhythm of the blood that carves its path out in the rivers of my Body.
When I make love, I am Woman. Feverish. Fire. Wet Pulsating mass of wide open nerves and cells and points of light and waves of bliss. I am Here. Fully. But also There. Inside the Mouth of Woman. I am channel. I am no longer personal. I am Priestess. The Flame guides me, sings me……my Body. Woman. Conduit. Portal. Woman. Burning. Crying out. Articulating. Gesticulating. Giving. Worshipping. Body. of Man. of Woman. of Infinity. I will take you in…you are amorphous mass dissolving in my cauldron of heat….of vibrating muscle memory, of oscillating frequencies of Bliss and Pleasure. The Tantrika. The Initiator. Come in and Play. With Woman. When I fuck, I am goddess. I am demon. I am of the underworld. Of heaven. I am paradox. I am terribly frightening in my devotion. Terrifying in my strength. Beautiful in my Body. Inhabited. In touch….with every corpuscle and every hair….I am moving. Moving. Woman. Trembling. Woman. Touching. Woman. Caressing. Woman. I honor the body of Man. I honor the body of Woman. I honor the body of Earth. I honor the body of Form and the unbody of formlessness. I drink you. I eat you. I melt you with the heat of a billion suns and let your Self be re-formed and cooled in the satiating waters of reflection and assimilation. When I invite you in, I tantalize; every sense is used and every limb is a tool of touch and taste. Woman. Feeling the fire rise…….lead by the breath…systematic patterns….coaxing particular passions and pleasures……depends on the rhythm…..everything Connected….Give in…LET GO…..LET GO…..BE WOMAN…..LET GO….Surrender to your Primal Raw Wild Abandon. No apologies. No shame. No limits. No guilt. No control. No agenda. Be. Beautiful. HumanButNotHuman. Dark Dakini calls you down. I am Her. Inhabit yourself. Inhabit Woman. Draw Her down into your sacred skin and bones. Maker Her Alive. Live on the edge of Her. Every touch errogenous. Every murmur a blessing. Every scream a sonnet. Every Orgasm a Prayer. A Prayer. A prayer. Every climax a Chant. That is your moment. That Moment. Is. WOMAN. Release. Woman. at Ease. Woman. in that Moment of Woman, the Universe is Womb. What you hold in your mind, in your heart, in your body, in your soul, at that very Moment of Climax, of Womanness, you send out into the Ethers…..it will be enlarged and given substance, and made dense……..and be of your World. Focus those energies of Woman. Let them be centered in Love and Joy and Respect and Harmony and Acceptance and Tolerance. That moment, and the dance that becomes It, are….for me….what Woman means. A woman with no connection to Body, to Heart, to Passion, to Sexuality, to Fire, to Sweat, to Absurdity, to Primal Wild Raw Energy and Excitement…..is……not Woman. Woman exists in man too. Woman is palpable, tangible yet diffuse…..erotic in every aspect of Life…….tinges the world with a golden aura of enthusiasm, exertion and incredible connections with Source and FragmentsOfSource.
I choose to Burn in the Flames. I choose to Feel the Pain. I choose to writhe in agony and in ecstasy, as the moment dictates. I would not trade my tenderness or my strength, I would not trade my lows and my darkness and my underworld soul for a life of flatline emotion, or unmoved calm.
I feel it all I feel it all. I am Woman. I heed the call.
copyright Charleen Johnston 2011