Mister Dream

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 W.Eight 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 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 subsides
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

Jezebel

Phot by Jacob Moore 2001 San Francisco
Jezebel
paint yourself, a picture
leave nothing uncolored-
a mask, a picture of hell.
“Rid yourself”- they shriek
“the demon must fall”
around my body they swarm
casting their hatred
like stones
to bury me.
I am Jezebel.
I am your sin.
I am the demons within.
Caress my solitude
with those soft, delicate hands-
father time?
Mother earth?
Holy ghost?
…haunting the world
and its hells
I beckon you
master divine
to let your lips meet mine.
I'll swallow you in lustful kiss
and wrap you in sinful bliss.
You cowards,
afraid to create your own heaven-
but willing to cast me into
your hell....
How cruel my fate-
to be Jezebel.

March 2000

Plunging

Me and fellow Hostel dwellers from SF travelers inn summer 2000
My first poetry reading at the Brainwash Cafe in SF

“Beyond a given point man is not helped by more “knowing,” but only by living and doing in a partly self-forgetful way. As Goethe put it, we must plunge into experience and then reflect on the meaning of it. All reflection and no plunging drives us mad; all plunging and no reflection, and we are brutes.”

💀Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death💀

🌟 I had just Plunged again, running from the madness of incessant reflection trapped within the refracted essence upon the stage ….. ran off into the unknown and ended up after 3 1/2 days of greyhound bus adventure, to the jungles of San Francisco, eventually landing at the skeevy Travelers Inn on 5th street. These were some of the wildlife also passing thru, and I ended up doing my very first ‘poetry reading’ escorted by Aussie Jeff, at the Brainwash Cafe; Beginning of July 2000 just a few weeks after arriving to SF and plunging headlong into another adventure…..

🌟One of the poems I read on stage was this:

Ah, my stage! Everything always falls into play!
Action to action- day to day
I’m making my living in the same old way-
Ha! Taking my giving and tossing it away!
I can see them watching me;
I can feel them contemplating me and what I bring;
They know I know they are just actors on my stage-
players in my game.
Things happening so fast
I can barely pass my own tests,
let alone manipulate the world for the rest!
From their eyes I see the glow-
the burning, itching desire to know-
and in me they see that flame-
unperturbed by that sick sad game;
And, oh my stage! How petty yet brave!
How genuine to feel the time
as it shrivels up my human mind
like a prune awaiting the prime.
Is it here on this wooden plank, dark and dank
with musty space,
that all my dreams are made and forbade?
-All that commotion I’ve shut out…
Ive crept up into the attic
where I rest.
Ah, to pass the test!
To crave the crest of the unbroken tide!
Always willing to go along for the ride.
And yet again- My stage! My stage!
Everything always falls into place-
action to action, day to day
I’m living my making in the same old way.

6-28-2000🌟
Charleen Johnston

Bearing the Body Within

The twitch of Dreamtime
As stitched open eyes
Find Time
To cope with Spaces deep inside

I am full with Child
Ripe with fruit
Nerves on fire
With the desire
To open the womb
And carry thru
This seed of truth

Where and when and how
Did the germination
Take place?
I can’t seem to remember
The breath of
Grace
That spoke to me
That broke the hymen
And woke the seed

My belly is swollen
And round
The active fractal
Of self
within
The shroud
Tumbles around with forceful
Kicks
As I wander thru psyches
Maze of bricks
Trying to be found

It is Time

In this Space

Just like
in waking life
So many moons ago
A nodal cycles synodic flow

Sudden fear
For just a moment
Can I open wide enough
To deliver the Numen
Can I bear the terror
Of this movement
As the veil tears
And bares
The burden
Of Being
Human?

Do I push It thru
Or does It
Split me
In Two
Into New Moons
And Minds
As Daimons ride
The wave with me…
Cry out in pain with me…
Wade thru stains
Of bloody chains
That break when the waters
Pour out of me ?

Breathe
Let go
It’s so Real
I Feel
It burst thru
Huge
Alive
Wide eyed
And thriving
Outside
Of Me

My Goddess….!
….The Beauty
The Wonder the Wisdom
Of Womans Body
Alethias forgotten
Melody
My God…..!
….My God
Thou hast christened me
Theos unLoosed
From crystalline
Seams.

Now to nurture
At the breast
Turn blood to milk
Like water to wine
As I climb inside
The feathered nest
Of the divine

I remember
Then
The Name of him
From which
This body
Born from me
Was given the spark
From electric seed

Full exposure
Nowhere to hide
The sight of the light
And the scope of the size
Of this daimon in dream
This daimon in me
This playful parade
Of uncertainty
Birthing me
From within

A mirror of matters magical
Twins
As Mater and Pater
Outside and In
join
At the hip
And dance and spin
Deliciously tangled
In SineWave
Grins.

The Stitch of Dreamtime
As twitching I~s
Rewind Time
In Spaces opened from Inside..

Charleen Johnston
7-26-2024

(Based in last nights vivid dream of pregnancy and giving birth)

Patterns patterns on the wall

Patterns patterns on the wall
HumPty Splattered from the Fall
Broken Shells are cloaked in veils
Of masked mouths in modern sprawl
Twisting tales and telling lies
And pointing Fingers at the I's
We build the burden of our own demise
Fill the garden with Sown Reprise
With complicit cowardice we cast the Die
And wait for Fu(h)ror to Rise the Tide
Oh sweet Souls who hide enDemic Panic
Beneath the ruse of false compassion
We Wove this World and Play within It
Keyholes In Cells we Formed and Fashioned

CLJ 7-24-20

A witch I am not

A witch I am not, nor sorceress, nor
Magician manipulating thought and mind
No wizard am I, nor priest divine, nor
Queen in the temple of space and time…
Instead, in red, and black and white
A jester playing with alchemical sight
A fool whose tools are broken rules
That twist and turn in spools of light…
A psychopomp that swims thru veils
A trickster telling twisting tales
That provoke the nodes and neural codes
To waken from their Prizm Cells

Charleen Johnston
7-23-24

The mind points out it’s own precision

The mind points out it’s own precision 
The pen tip presses upon the page
The blank sheets are washed and dried
as bleeding crimes in tangled lines
Are hung to dry with dripping rage

The mind draws lines with its own decisions
The desperate drama of dreams debate
The Carpet rolls out the curtains rise
The Callosum opens its Myelin eyes
As actors weave axioms upon the stage

The mind circles round its own confusion
The neural nodes nap within the cage
The fasciculus finds and hooks the hive
The fissure formed from space and time
Is stitched to heal with macrophage….

….the ritual bell, the wafting smell of
Burning sages in prizm cells,
Hanging from the dangling nous,
The heart bares scars from tearing youth
From the of searing truth of heaven and hell…

~Charleen Johnston 7-18-24

🃏✨Eye of the Hurricane✨🃏

…the eye of the hurricane is on its way,
to ransack and flapjack
the core of all our brains,
speeding up the rate at which
we perceive the perforation,
the fate of which could rip and tear
a nation, a station, a
fusion of minds incoherent
redundant
grasping for meaning but dormant
fleeing the feeling of torment
peeling the rots from the dealings and
knots from the zealous
run leper run

run leper run
its all just for fun
on a level so deep its not understood
does it make it less
Real
does it make it less concrete
does it make it worth
the run
the gun
the gripping of the sun
in attempt to hide defeat

SMILE
on the periphery it is a storm,
a chaos,
an insistence on resistance
but at the core, it’s unchanged,
it neverwas and neverwillbe,
and neveris,
but still
existing
giving us the balance to create
lands in time
hands in line to co create
with malleable laws

implicate order enfolded within
each explicate experience
shooting out from the source
in fractals of difference and intensity
and vibration and density
till the impulse reaches completion
loses its thrust
coarsens its vibration
yet mimics the One
and then begins its evolution
back to the Within
with all the cohesion of experience
and lessons
and soulsparks and
mouldings holding on to Awareness
as it ascends
back to the heart of the hologram
to enrich the totality
of all that is
with each divine perspective
as it returns
and ReTurns the wheel
as the cycle continues
and spins out again
the impulsion
the force
the flickering light of love
to enforce
the dynamic dance of desperate
dreams……………

(Charleen Johnston 2002)

Between Now and When

Art by Maid Chronkite

I just want to Play games
Of Eros
As chains perish
In flames
Behind me.

There is no Time
To hide
No Tic Toc
In the Barzakh
That shocks me awake
In the Blink
Of an
I.

It
Binds me
Blinds me
Tears me limb from limb
As the veil
Grows thin
Between
Now and
When Will it begin?

Charleen Johnston
2.30am.6.26.24

Somas Rose

Shhhhhh……
Don’t write so loud-
They might hear
(Prying eyes that hide
Inside
Minds that fear…)
These words tiptoe
Down stairs
Under where
No one else knows…
Somas Rose
So full of Charge
I fear
I am larger
Than Life can hold….
Lead into Gold
As SunLight
UnFolds
Me
From this bed
Of salted tears
I made
As Dream wakes me
Into playful prose
Disguised inside
These fleshly clothes….
That only a Poet
Could Know.

Charleen Johnston
2.15.am6.26.24