Chrysalis

CHRYSALIS

I twist into these mournings, daylight
saving me
from the burning flame of darkness
swallowing my emptiness
while waves of irony wash over me
i am toppled by the days
and silently
i sit hovering…
wondering if i can float this
time
wandering thru wastelands of
my mind
picking up the book written by me
on the other side of the dream
the other side of the dream
where it all spins into me…
i find all the lost notes
and all the lost tones
and all the lost fractures
of all my mended bones

I am painted the color red.
I am tainted, the mother has bled

we
D
R
I
P
together
thru the weathered web, creating worlds
in our head, to spew out into
the ethers,
to want neither this nor that
nor wonder where its at,
but to birth the beginning
again….
knowing we are just seasons of rhyme

flowering in our own time
chrysalis, wrapped up in a fairytale
of all that is and was and
wasnt for sale…

Across these moonbeams, these split
seams, these written clingings to the dream….
across
all
these
we call to invisible bodies
that are singing in their invisible moments
that are bringing their
soulstuffs into existence
to balance the tension
of the desire to Be,
and to not Be….

and therein….lie……We….
somewhere in between.

~Charleen Johnston
2004

Naked & Unashamed

Let it come
I will hold my naked face to the sun
And give my breath and my death
Over to Life
Let the blind fury
Of the Ordered New World
Inoculate crowds all around me
Against their Spirit
Let it be known
That my Spine shall remain sure
And straight
Rooted in the matrice of my mother
Smiling still as I
Let those I love
Destroy the last vestige
Of their sovereignty
As they knot and tweak
Their ~deoxy.Rib.oh.Next.Stop.Is.Asking
For.Breath~
With a mouth
That no longer knows how to Speak
Let it come
And my naked soul
Will take solace in my naked earth
Away from the crowds
Who have sold
Their last sacred cow
For one more sip
From the poisoned
Trough
Let it be known
That my entire Life
has been Lived
In preparation
for this Trial
As I watch the rind Rot
Around me
Exposing the elements of Wild
Wonder
As the Plot is torn Asunder
I smile
with my naked mouth
Making the air pure
Again
With my gratitude
Let it come
I am here
Naked
&
Unashamed

Charleen Johnston
4-20-21

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 Kiss I Don’t Want To Miss

We wait our whole lives for this
Morning light strikes my lips
It’s a kiss I don’t want to miss
It’s it’s own kind of bliss
When the sun rips my mind to bits
And fists let go
of the need to know
Why the seeds we sow
Grow into deeds that show
Just how little of our roots we know
As saltwater tears turn into mist
Our stories Rise from the black abyss
And sing our scars into soft lips
That open like flowers
Held in the spell of Life’s deep Power
As tongue touches wounds so deep
The blood and the salt trickle thru sleep
To dream of a Well that will topple the tower
As Green Man reclaims the game again
And turns Hours into Nows
That are forever Ours
Somehow.

Charleen Johnston 5-30-22

Implosion

As the Implosion starts to gather velocity, reMember to find your Center...
If you're still ConFused and unsure what's Up or a Down, reMember the Ground... Of Being... Walk in the mud and grass with Bare Feet and lay belly to Dirt and hug your Maater, Nurture your microMatrix( body) and Nurture your macroMatrix(Earth) and unTangle the threads of your own Perceptions...don't get Lost in the Fog of all the Deception that surrounds and threatens to smother. The Web is Shaking, the ebb and Flow is making SineWaves of Yes and No.... Believe NoThing and Question EveryThing. Don't let the Distorted GateKeepers DieAgnose you.... Instead allow LiveA.Gnosis to lead you back to your Core....

Y o u. A r e. M o r e.

P o w e r f u l.

T h a n. Y o u. R e a l I z e

Y o u h e l p e d. B u i l d. T h i s. G a M e

N o w. I s

T i M e. I n

T h i sG u i s e. O f.

M i. N. D

✨🃏🌟👁💗👁🌟🃏✨
Charleen Johnston

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

Playing Jester to the clown

Ah, the great dream of enforced Shared Resources that starts out as utopia and ends in desecration.... But I don't care how one defines the word, or what it's political association are or what idiosyncratic labels are tossed around ( as that is not what's important) , what I am interested in is the Context in which the Collectivism is Calculating Catastrophic Coercive Calamity upon the Consciousness of the Cowering Crowds , Crucifying the Common Creature who Craves the Cure and Clamors for Connection to the Conniving Hivemind which Assimilates  on Autopilot the Awakening Awareness of Absolute Abeyance as Abortive Measures are taken to Shake the Imagination of the Individual who Wakens to Worldwide Whitewashing of the Impulse to Be. Free. Needlessly Imprisoned. In a Manufactured State. Of Mediocrity. 

If one zooms AllTheWayOut to the tip of the Turtle Who Takes it All In, it is a Matter of OneBeingWakingToOnesOwnSelfDelusionsAndFearOfSoveriegnSelfAcceptanceOfPowerOfCreationByImaginalBioluminescenceWeildingTheWonderOfThePupilInTheCenterOfTheEyeWhoSeesAndDreamsTheChessboardInCyclesOfTime.AndHereinTheCrossroadOfTheSplitTimelinePresentsSelfWithOptionsForOpticalPerspectiveInvectivesWhichRoadToTakeWhenHeartIntendsToFindSelfInTime......

W e. A r e. A l l. F o o l s. W h o. I n. O u r. V i r t u e s. C a n. B e. F o u n d. I n. T h e. M o s t. U n u s u a l. S i t u a t i o n. P l a y i n g. J e s t e r. T o. T h e. C l o w n

Charleen Johnston 6-15-20

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