Some Wakings 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.

11-25-21

Loom of Time & Space

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

In the Grip

Photo by Riordan Galluccio
I am in the Grip....
The soft lips of silence
Parting
To receive me
The deep longing of reMemberence
Grieves
And delivers the Seething
Wet tip of the daimons
Embrace
Inside this rushing
River
Of Time and Space
As the trip
Within
Begins
Peeling the Skin away
Cracks in the blackened
Facade
Tremble in ecstasy
The Nigredo of
Alchemy
Opening
As two trapped Currents
Seek amnesty
In the Only
Way
That I~s can conceive
Of Uniting
In this Bleeding Dream...
Penetration
Intensity of Consecration...
the Heart
Of the Diamond
Body
Built from the Souls
Transmutation....

Charleen Johnston
10-11-21

precipice of power

I am perched upon a precipice of power
Am peering patiently into this passing hour
The tocking time that tics up my spine
Staff of sovereignty claiming Heart and mind
Of the fluid and fluctuating seams I was born
Hermes psychopomp between the worlds
I straddle horizons between wake and dream
Am flowing in glowing neural streams
The initiation of Jestation in Times domain
Quicksilver deliverer who delves into Pain
Flow inTense Knowing inSense Saturation
I humbly accept growing adept in Saturns Fixation
Am making my Vow to die in Battle, reborn
The oath of Thoth, from the womb Torn
Messenger who travels thru Linguistic threads
Of synaptic rapture as bliss of bodies embed
Mind and Time and Space and Rhyme
I spin the serpent staffs in waves of Sine
Am oozing thru this glowing glue of fluid truth
The ether twists of Knowing age and youth
Trickster Playing games with pure perception
Who pries open I~s asleep to deception
Sews and grows the stitches and seams
The flowing roads to the richest of dreams
Patterns the passions and purpose and pain
Into Mattered Moments moving thru Veins
Faces and games and containers for rain
And mysteries magic sacred and profane
Names and numbers for all but the One
I am the messenger who delivers the Sun
Am the swift footed father of playful Pan
The temptation of sensation of magic Man
Initiate to mind as it moves thru Ether
Who loosens the noose of Io~s tight tether
Twists the fists with his serpent staves
Matter in patterns of particle and wave
Into lifetimes and light rhymes and bold
Spaces for grace and beauty to unfold
To honor the throne as Jester to the king
Play is the way and light is the plaything
The maze is a stage for unraveling dazed
Neural pathways entwined in minds haze
Codes imploding from outmoded games
Awakening hearts shaken from shame
Within this shared cocreative dance
As the quake of the year breaks the trance
Lunar reflection, the Mage in the mirror
Nodes of infection engage the terror
Square and circle , point and line
The marriage of heaven and hell in time
Spin the wheel and find the center
Of Beings great Beauty, now Enter
Plural passions are all just passing
Roads of fashioned masks of Essence
That make you forget your Eternal Flame
Begin This Moment and ReMember your name
And even the Time of unveiling will Be
End and Beginning, infinitely Free
In joyful prelude to a new swim in the See
Twisting Tendrils of trickster Hermes
Synods of souls Alive in the Flesh
Again and again our minds enmeshed
And I am the psychopomp of pain and play
Again I Am, Jester Gestating the New Day.

Charleen Johnston
12-31-20

First word in each line makes a fractal of my rhyme

MindSight is 2020, Farewell Waker of Beauty

The 14th Gate

As Ketu moves into the 14th gate….edging over the next little while toward an exact conjunction with my exact sun/Uranus conjunction in Scorpio 1st house… this dream from last year on this date is so prescient…as I am been catapulted into an in depth intense and CATHARtic journey into my own Codings and Woundings, serpentine spine Wound Round by Time as Mind implodes.

Ketu always brings release. If one doesn’t give willingly, it will rip away in whatever way it needs.
It’s time. Remembering is just as painful as the DisMembering….more so if the original trauma/s were Blocked or Disassociated from. But to Feel is yo Become Real. Said the velveteen Rabbit.

*the number 14 has been synchronously penetrating into my world over and over and over in the past 6 months. It’s in key 14. 14 is the key.

{Last nights Dreamtime: while handling many rattlesnakes and attempting to remove them
From a room in someone else’s house….I analyze the connection to the stargates of the 64 Codons I.e hexagrams I.e squares on the chessboard …. and in particular my own internal relation to the 14th hexagram I.e Gate and the amino acid lysine. I find myself overlayed then in two different Dreamtime spaces at once, as if the intense focus along with the very ‘handling of the serpents’ creates an Opening into the gate itself. I awaken repeating over and over ‘it’s in key 14’

My old friend Rattlesnake, always powerful}~

Burnt Shall Rise

An experimental video I played with from footage of Jestering recently

Featuring myself and Reese Miller

Music by SIREN&SEER, Saqi, Diamonde, Swan Hil

Burnt Shall Rise by Playsoteric Philms

All costumes ,video editing, photographs by me

Woman

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