Poem 19 | {Belonging} 

By Ajanta Judd All Rights Reserved – 5 pm 28/06/2020 Australian EST

Prompt 19; Hour 19: You can use this either as an image prompt, jumping off the image below to write a poem, or you can write about what it’s like to be one small part of something bigger.

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{Belonging} 

She dwells within and without
Unnoticed in the forest glade
Her nature is to blend in
A small part of a large whole
The majestic gums are her friends
They nurture and support
She observes the passing seasons
Contemplates the comings and goings
The rising and setting of the sun
The glow of a burgeoning moon through the tree canopy
as silver cloud mountains hover above
Quietly she sits observing
contemplating the nature of things
The enormity of the universe
juxtaposed with the tiny spores
of pungent fungi growing at her feet.
Drinking it in, breathing it out
reflected and reflecting
There is no separation here
She is greater than the sum of her parts
Integral to the interconnectedness
and richness of her environment
Glancing at the stars, she settles in for the night
Comforted by a deep sense of belonging

Vastness

Do you think ocean animals commit murder?

Do they s(t)eal?

So much unknown

And yet we walk around so confident

So unafraid

 

The mysteries that lie beneath the surface

Is there a justice system

One that ends in others consuming the guilty

Or have they witnessed too much tragedy

At the hands of humans?

 

The bodies that we throw in

The ashes

Is the titanic a museum for them

A school trip if you will?

They know things we don’t

 

Capable of things we aren’t

Working together

Moving as one

Knowing where they stand

We cannot say the same

 

They murder for survival

Do they grieve their fallen?

In the deepest recesses of the ocean floor

Do they know what death is like

A darkness we are not capable of understanding

 

The pressure of the water

Viewing us an intrusion

Plotting their revenge

One day we will know their wrath

Fishing hooks in gills

 

Do they wed?

Understand love

Family court adjourned with a bang of a coral

Choking on plastic and q-tips

They believe their time is up

 

But it’s us, not them

Our disregard for the water

Broken bottles become sea glass

But we become fish food

Because we never asked the right question

 

Finn

A great land

We all come united as one

We decided to build a great nation, a nation where peace and unity resides, a nation where there is hope for the younger generations

We toil hard, it’s painful but still we do not give up, we know it will soon be completed and nations will come to see who lives here and how they were able to make a country for themselves

They were tired of being called foreigners everywhere they went and they found a land that is not on the map and didn’t belong to anyone

Deep down they knew it wan an answer to their prayer God has decided to bless them with a home that they can call mine, that they can say they are citizens

They decided that their land would be called God’s land as he made it for them they are to worship him however they deem fit but no idol must be found in anyone’s tent lest the person be ostracised

In later years the beliefs changed and the freedom to choose your religion and worship and other God came and now the society is in a great turmoil because of sin

Now they kneel begging their ancestors to communicate with their fathers but their pleas has fallen on deaf ears because when the ancestors called to them and spoke to them they didn’t listen

Later out of pity they said change thy ways love thy neighbour as yourself obey God’s commandments and then come in soberness to ask for mercy

 

 

 

Media Outlets

Media Outlets

keep the tv off today –
no news
is good news

don’t bother with the paper
even the comics
are bad

turn off the car radio
why risk an accident
from breaking headlines

open a book
even a bad one
is a better choice

go sit in the park
bring peanuts
the squirrels are harmless

write a poem
title it Dancing Daisies…
we could all use some joy today

~ J R Turek
June 28, 2020
Hour 19

Hour 19: Siphonophore Apolemia

We are tendrils in the blue ether
a hairy water dragon of war
behold our enterprising hive mind
colonial, attractive to the eye
Observe us, we watch you back, in silence
Maneuvering, positioning
Forget what you think you know
and wonder into our domain

Mob:

Colonized-clan, blood-thirsty vandals,

a cohort that will as one attack;

a column of death that maws off symbiotically

for survival and proliferation.

An army of thugs and goons?

Or a selfish gene, coded to replicate and progenate?

If one cannot see the universe in a blade of grass,

it would be difficult to realize how the cosmos segues,

from event to unprompted event, on pre-determined cues.

And why each quanta of creation,

synergies naturally towards salvation.

MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S RITUAL 6/21/19 – Hour 18

MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S RITUAL 6/21/19
A Narrative Poem & A True Story

 


misaligned after a loss

I stumbled after spring onto my warm beach

good herb in my backpack, candles sage and crystals

wine and berries, offerings to the holy guardians

by all their names / in all their forms

 

the Earth herself beneath me

longing for the sun as I longed for the sun

straining with need as I strained with need

and today was the solstice

equality juxtaposed in the spheres themselves

summer burgeoning under our hands

 

I never plan my rituals

only scan for my “spot” like Don Juan taught
finding it in the perfect inbetweenness

beneath a willow tree

against the flashing pier

the great lake waves crashing on the shore
a sinkhole swallowed all the beach before me
except one narrow strand along the water to cross by

I laid my pack, I drew my circle
a simple charm one sister taught me well
thrice round, selenite rod in hand I sang,

“Here upon this sacred ground,
I cast my circle all around.
Fire, water, earth and air
Within the circle, I call thee here
Lo, North, South, East, and West,
By your power, this circle is blessed.”

I laid my things and sat, realizing with sharp immediacy
the alone-ness of my surroundings and the late hour
and my naked back exposed to the pier for approach from either side.
I was nervous but I drew in a steadying breath.
“I trust that Spirit called me here,” I said, “To give thanks for what I have
To offer my plans for the future,
and to ask for guidance and favor. I was here guided, so here I will stay.”

Across the curving shoreline some three-odd miles away
Fireworks sparked and sounded off Spirit’s synchronistic reply.
Relieved I offer up my wine and soon,

young revellers join me across the way
within eyesight, within earshot
but beyond the strand and circle
now separating The Real from The Fae

Alone-but-not-alone, reassured by the presence of a distant earthly witness
I offered up the berries, the herb, the sage, tobacco, candles, crystals
Thanking Divinity for my blessings and charging Divinity to guide my hand
the next phase of my life blooming like the summer
I prayed for a revolution of spirit / and this was 2019 mind you
so I can’t be certain it’s wise to admit to that

The hour was morning small now.
My ritual all but concluded, I tucked my herb deep in my bag
The revellers ended with more fireworks
and I marveled at the appropriate synchronicities of my ritual
Truly there was no doubt now- all the Earth was my temple
and every element would align with my attentive friendship

So I cleansed myself in the lake,
I poured out my wine to the sacredness of conscious
of Earth herself and of all Divinity by all Their names
Then with my selenite wand again in hand,
Circled the air thrice to close my circle and end my night,


“Depart in peace all spirits here,
Our work is at an end!
Fire, Water, Earth and Air
Away and home I send
To North, South, East, and West
My thanks and greetings do I sound
With this, the circle is unbound.
The circle is open but unbroken.
Merry meet, Merry part, and Merry meet again.” 

 

I kneel on the sand and begin to gather my tools.
Just then, two flashlights approach with heavy boots up the sandy pier.
Two police officers from the local precinct, likely sent
to investigate the fireworks or maybe the music from the revellers who left
But they’re looking at me now, light in my eyes, and say “Ma’am
This park closes at 10PM.”

I smile, friendly. My herb is deep in my bag, and I know my privilege
even if it makes me sick. Even if I just prayed for change.
That’s one thing about Thoughts & Prayers they say and I don’t disagree, but still
They can’t see my heart through my skin. So I say, “Oh, I’m sorry officers.
I did know that. But you see, it’s Midsummer, and I thought maybe,
No one would notice one person.”

The officers are clearly perplexed. I am not afraid. I know I don’t need to be, and,

I know it’s wrong. But still I smile. Friendly. Sane. Definitely not worth the paperwork.
They look at each other, then back at me. One of them says, “Midsummer?”

I let out a small “Hmm.” Like a teacher. Like a librarian. A friendly one. 

Not reprimanding. But not not-educating. That customer service voice,
that baby-talk-for-Boomers voice. You know what I mean.
When I answer, I speak slowly. Not a caricature, like a real person,
being careful to be simple, and careful to avoid rudeness, but unavoidably
talking down to two cops alone in the dark. 

 

“Well, you see,” I say, “Midsummer
Is a holiday celebrated by spiritualists, or neo-pagans, and other Earth religions…”
(the looks I’m getting are incredible by the way)
“So, I celebrate an Earth religion…”
(stare)
“and today is the first day of summer. So it’s a holiday.”

One cop squints at me. The other cop scratches his head.
Cop One says “Do you even have a flashlight?”
I say, “I’ve got my phone… somewhere. Besides, my night vision is pretty good.”
Cop Two says “You’re awfully brave to be out here all alone, Miss.”

Now I know what you’re thinking and there’s no way to replay without it sounding bad
Those were the words he said but that wasn’t how I heard them,
Just as (I think) they didn’t hear my amusement to educate them just moments before.
ACAB, still, maybe even these ones. Again, I can’t really know.
Privileges are blinders that are given to me by devils every day.
All I can do is keep my ears sharp and listen to what they mean to say


But I’m kneeling in the sand, and I want a goddamn revolution,
So I look up at these gentlemen bastards and this is what I say:

“Well, Officer. If you believe in Spirit, or anything like that
and you feel guided to do something. Something specific. 

You sort of have no choice, except to believe that you can do something
and if you do, it’ll all work out all right.”

So I left them scratching their heads on that beach
As I hurried back to my car
At once both relieved and sicked that my privilege kept me safe

and sans a mild-to-moderate fine under decriminalization


Never knowing that each request would be granted and more
Never knowing the prescient meaning of the police presence
Not then. Not yet. 


I hope they think about what I meant.

I doubt they think about what I meant.


As for the future,
Truth is only ever determined in hindsight.


If you want your Big Life Lesson from 2020,

There it is.

Little Acts – Hour 19

Maybe it’s joining a demonstration
Setting aside some money
Signing a petition
Sharing a post
Writing and essay
Or even a poem

It’s when the little acts come together as one
That’s how you build a movement
That’s how you break the boundaries between us
That’s how you communicate across languages
When challenges seem too great
My community as one we shall conquer it.

The Great Sea Monster

I thought I’ve seen it all.

Blimey! God was a master creator.

Within the belly of the sea,

Lies a creature the inhabitants

Of the sea dare not speak of.

A creature made of the complex beast

Extinct by science.

The longest creature in the world.

Be careful, for you know not his plans.

Beware, lest you get trapped within,

Never to float again.

The Entity

A curtain of deadly tentacles

Roams the Indian Ocean.

 

Working together

Each holding on to their one job.

 

The greater good succeeds

The great individual.

 

As it grows and feeds down below,

We break apart on land.

 

We fragment.

We don’t think of the others.

 

We flutter as individual orbs,

High with self-importance.

 

The entity works in harmony,

And grows underwater.

 

Who will live to see the year 3000?

Who will live to see 2050?

 

Prompt 19, Hour 19