We Think In Between The Joints

“We think in between the joints”
Entire universes spread out like Time
As Space hides Selves lost in sockets
And held in rhyme, woven…wrenched
From the mind and hidden in pockets
Within the spine, the hips,
The Shouldered relationships
That bear the burden of Other
Ways, to know here, to feel, hear
And peel clear of stagnant flesh…
Just one. More.Deep. Breath.
Laying prone in a sea of flesh
Held together by pure force of Will
In a dance with past Feels and Reels
That loop and tangle and twist
As The feedback strangles the bliss
Of Letting Go into the abyss
Of the Space between
The floor
and Me
As Self is reCentered in between
The open Doors and open Seams
Of I and Thou
And dancing dreams.
I release…. The tight grip
That has ripped me apart
For 41 years
Held together by pure force of Will
In a shifting atmosphere
Of dizzy atoms here
Playing tricks of light
In a mind held so tight
The body rebels…
Swelling with the trapped rage
In masked pages of the Word
That Stages the painful dichotomy…
Seams so loose
It all spills out of me
Chaotically
I seem to lose autonomy
Christened by the insistence
Of my Fascial Lobotomy incised
By internal programs
That overRide
Who I Am
And climb thru the cavernous
Space
Between the Fleshy Creed
That plays at Being Me….
It Dawns so suddenly
The force of Feeling bleeds
As pounding Heart Seeds frequencies
Illuminating
The maze that traps me….
Dramatic release….
A lifetimes unEase freed
As the iron grip can no longer hold
I leak right out of the mould
And gather
In a puddle of matter
And Mater and Mother
And matrix
Of Self & Other
And Open to the Fugue
As the Swoon subsides….
And There
I Am
Peering In
From Outside the Lines
Where Dark matter
Claims the Mind
And Patterns
The Play
Of Somas Shame
As it falls into the rhythm
Of psyches Game.

Charleen Johnston
5-14-22

Inspired by Sophie’s Strands fb post below

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10228554482073707&set=a.1499832382446&type=3

A visceral reflection of how over muscled and controlled my Soma has been
as a lifetime of the threat of puddling right out of my skin
Has overcompensated
To keep the chaos out( or in?)
Hippos are meant to be soft
And buoyant
As they navigate the waters
Of the emotional realm
But mine has crystallized
And been trained
By the Martian masculine
To grip so tight
There is no room
For darkness
In the light
Of Being.
This I Know
And See
As I Do
Now
What is beginning
To come
Naturally.
Let Go
Into the Flow
Of the See of Me
Sew Seamingly slow
And free.

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

The Vestement





The Vestement

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 victorys

mysterys 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

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 El & the Mag

Old Art by me

🦂At This Very Moment In Time Space … we are on a Precipice…. The fusion of… distorted versions of Organic/Inorganic ways of Being in this Wor(L)d..

…in the Beginning was the Word…

And the word was With God

……………………………………………………………………(El)

And the Word Was God

And the Spell(inG) was Cast

Over the Mass and Crowds in Vast

PrisMs as the EL⚡️Mag Waters Rise Fast

Within the DeoxyRib.E Oh Defrag the hard.drive

And Fasten your Seatbelts

The Dark Man Dwells

In the Space

We

Circle

Time

(&Time Again)

If you can see the Puer and Senex in the Language of these Dreamings

You are walking the road of deCoding the Anguished tangles of the Seaming Seeds

The El and the Mag(dalene)(netic)(ician)(

Dance dance dance

Break the trance

Wake the snake

That shakes and quakes

Within Matter &

CircumStance

CLJ 11-4-21

Hypnagogic BleedThroughs

As I woke in the middle of the night, tangled in hypnagogic bleed-throughs as Previous Me~s in Cyclic read-throughs…. I came back over and over again to myself being Drawn-and-Quartered…. As well as ‘DisMembered’ ….and variations of such….As the crowd looked on. Literally Pulled Apart. I’ve been doing intense Somatic Trauma Work lately ( again) as my inner Blueprint is pushed by the transiting Planetary Gods into Letting Go… Letting Go of the Stories deep within my Cell.ves that keep my body and mind in a State of PulledApartNess. Stuck in the Kinetic Underworld where I’ve locked away Memories so disIntegrating for so many lifetimes and fractal LandMines… that this Entire Incarnations Intention is bound up with Putting MySelfs Back ToGather aGain.
As I tossed and turned unable to fall back into Dream, my mind kept ruminating in my wrists, and the pain, of all my joints and connective tissue, a lifelong issue of Hypermobility and mutation of CollagenCreating which means all my joints sublux constantly, slip in and out, trying to DrawAndQuarter me over and over again til I finally look deeply enough to ConnectTheIssues of these Fascial Tissues and Put mySelfs Back ( literally) together again
My flexibility a gift and a curse… my joints held together by pure force of Muscular Will… which equates to constant muscular tension and alignment issues….when I stop doing the bodywork I need to do, every day, to keep myself Flowing and functional…. I pay. The Deep Trauma Memories stored inSide, are now asking to fully reLease.
And bleed throughs of All kinds of Tangled Lives and Times are Arising.
Deep, Intense Self Trigger Point work is my Grace…. Going into the pain and buried strains…. Seeking it out, and pressuring with pulsation to Let Go. It’s a religious experience for me, sometimes 5 hours at a time of Trance Trigger Descent, to complete the whole body, entering hallways and mazes of Soul, the Underworld where Fragments of My Being are Held….
All these things passing thru me in the middle of the night, and I realize I need to look at my last nodal cycle transit… 19 years ago… when Ketu last passed over my Sun/Uranus(trauma) conjunction in the first house( body) ….and I suddenly jump up, and go to my journals. So many transits affecting me in this very moment, all
Related to a LettingGo of some serious Stuff.

I grab a journal somewhat at random.

It’s the exact time period I was thinking about. Haven’t looked through it in a long time. Opened it up, and the first page Felt like a message I coded to myself years ago, for this very moment of reMembering. Literally. putting my Members back together. Gathering my Appendages and reSeaming myself. To stop the Somatic Pulling apart, the Center Won’t Hold, as long as these memories are buried.
Drawn and Quartered. In front of the Crowd. Among other things. ‘Yet for a time my hands were crippled’ .
The panic ( ah, the God Pan when he is not Faced and Fluidly Friended) of my wrists subluxing completely and losing my ability to create.
The following photos are from the Journal, and my Soul insisted on my reading it at that very moment.
In Pans Night.

CLJ 1-9-22

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}~

So this is for us….

… so this is for us.
This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and love
and this is for doing it even if no one will ever know
because the beauty is in the act of doing it.
Not what it can lead to.
This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playing
and no one is around and they will never know
but I will forever remember
and that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have,
and this is for you who write or play or read or sing
by yourself with the light off and door closed
when the world is asleep and the stars are aligned
and maybe no one will ever hear it
or read your words
or know your thoughts
but it doesn’t make it less glorious.
It makes it ethereal. Mysterious.
Infinite.
For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe in
and only you can decide how much it meant
and means
and will forever mean
and other people will experience it too
through you.
Through your spirit. Through the way you talk.
Through the way you walk and love and laugh and care
and I never meant to write this long
but what I want to say is:
Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself
and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.
Let your very identity be your book.
Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

So go create. Take photographs in the wood, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountain
where no one will ever hear
and your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar.
Make your life be your art
and you will never be forgotten.”

― Charlotte Eriksson