Transmuting thought through various realities. steppingintothecanvas.com
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Photo by James Lee on Unsplash

Allowing writers block a rewrite

Darkened thought enters
bringing terror and fear
switch-words
change of movement as such

Distraction self-fleeting way
happy this millisecond
a cyclical roller coaster of sorts
sitting quietly instead

Allowing thoughts
comfortably pass
be still
listen, heart calls thy name

Canvas empty
awaiting special touch
paint thy heart true
filling Canvas’ void

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Photo by Hannah Olinger on Unsplash

Sing
paint
write
flowing naturally as it was

What was
now is
It is so
So it Is

Enters the void
blackened, darkened skies
emphasis on ‘no thing’
everything at hand

Quieting mind
monkey fighting
self-restitution
mistaken not

Cosmic silence
vibratory thought
activation conceptualized
misconception self-inflicted

Writer’s block
absent idea
meant to be
who…


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Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

There’s your Ass

It came to be,’ that’ man seeking sheltered misery, unfiltered words flowing faucet contaminating streams. Lost in wonderment, faulty skies glisten down, under calling winds transgression and self-inflicting mind-altered states wandering me.

Thousands are certain, as ‘that’ man has come to be, lost car keys in soiled linens soul. Forgotten sense, force given as we, stepping into or out of self-absorbing pads, a false sense of security as pandemic shows.

Traveling East to West, back to far-reaching Qing Dynasty, fortress missing subtleties of tie-dyed Grateful Dead. …


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Photo by Erin Minuskin on Unsplash

Poetic observation of Great Mystery

Writing our song
Collectively written
Aware of the rat race
Waiting for the hamster wheel to stop
No longer wishing to play
Games before
Present
Outwardly to the seas

Still, I wonder
Whatever is to be
Still, I wonder
Busy as a bee
Still, I wonder
Little Chickadee

Four-legged
Trickster presenting song
Uprights singing
Familiar tune
Taking flight
Whispering winds
Whisking it all away

Still, I wonder
Whatever is to be
Still, I wonder
Busy as a bee
Still, I wonder
Little Chickadee

Observing Greater
Wholeness
Divine Dichotomies
Sit with our sorrow
Acknowledging all its pain
Processing
Working through
Turning point
Demanding for a change

Still, I wonder
Whatever is to be
Still, I wonder
Busy as a bee
Still, I wonder
Little Chickadee
~Ani Po


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Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash

Inevitable ticking time

Change is coming, inevitable,
suns warming breath.
Time travelers occasional passing, demisable,
constant only is this change.

Seasons yield, submitting,
death and new birth.
Fawns and pups, youngling,
springing forth is this change.

New day presenting, passerby,
closing lunar reflection.
Stars and stripes, brasserie,
near and far is this change.

Self-reflecting thoughts, mastery,
no-thing existing, illusory halting end.
All things beginning, dicastery,
accountability is this change.

The animal kingdom, teacher’s pet,
nature’s flow followed the stream.
Plants alike, decaying breath,
nature’s way only is this change.

Looking to heavens, failing inwardly,
deep-dive cease judging thee. …


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Photo by Taylor Leopold on Unsplash

Acrostic Poem

On reflecting childhood memories, mom shooing us out to play
not withstanding the sun’s kiss of death on my shoulders, popped, oozing, and the threat remains.

The childhood traditional, to be seen and not heard
hard-pressed vacancy being filled, adventure, mischievous undertones
extreme sports, base jumping, totaling broken bones.

Ground long-serving friend, healing wounds inflicted self and collective
rejuvenating songs, Mothers warm embrace
opera not, ravishing galactic symphony
under the Milky Way tonight, Church singing familiar tune
nine inch nails the following suit, rebellious or experimental God only knows
days end, contemplative melody replaying Andy Griffith.

Looking, descending, lower realms calling name
oculus entryway, swimming deeper within murky waters
opening familiar gardens, meadows, pastures filling guides
keepers of Akashic record, power animals standing by
innermost reflection, outwardly gaze upon the stars
northern lights if one is lucky, lifetimes pass never spoken
giving thanks path less taken, present be, future’s pathway. …


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Photo by Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash

Why do I hear Marky Mark singing in the back ground?

Taking it all in, painful misery, joyful symphony, and absorption liking sponge mopping up the floor, vacuum-packed punch, or gentle hugs dependent flow. Curse or divine gift, dependent contextual occasions, serpents bite, panthers pounce, heavenly embrace, angelic whispers, vacuum-packed punch, or gentle hugs dependent flow.

Parents fighting, sharing words among themselves, turning to our young child with love-filled words. Likened mask, that of sheepskin hiding big bad wolf, expressing love to the young. Pot-bellied pig outcome, little Joey absorbing hidden vibrations, unbeknownst to root cause. Parental scolded childlike suffering, medical staff unaware, pain and suffering lifelong squalor.

Unaware of transmuting gifts, people flock, magnet pulling iron ore from crevices. Little understanding labeled energies; Tesla’s neglecting lesson intelligence much later. When the student is ready teacher appears, physical or non-speaking transporting horse, sacred drum loud and clear. …


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Photo by Henry & Co. on Unsplash

Poetic thought inspired by an orange bucket

Old layers peeling back, stated as before, raw, vulnerable, exposing self, wiring no longer up to code. Pulled circuitry, outdated cloth coated copper, flexible conduit, Italian chef splattering al dente all over the walls.

Exhaustion, over-whelming response to puzzle before me, breathe, one at a time, given strength for not my own. Into the zone we go, deciphering coding of cosmos, spelled out in plain sight, voids reply reassuring.

As universal speech, grounding of sorts, assuring all wiring properly grounded, neuropathways re-wiring at most, a breath of ease unfolding phase two complete. …


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Photo by Joshua Newton on Unsplash

Holding sacred space for The Many

Words unspoken work not done,
quietly sifting, sorting, gathering,
sacred objects placed upon alter.
Call to the seven winds,
generational, ancestral, mystical,
saving seats for acting council members.

Smoky Joe merging souls,
intention squared, constructed, presented,
shape-shifting time-traveling required.
Spirit lifting carrying to the lower,
pleading, begging, merciful,
brother bear receives forgiveness.

Crying out yet another,
angry, frightened, fragmented,
lost forgotten ways.
Come sit, inner healing circle,
drifting, carrying, awakening,
sight unseen forever spotted.

Returning from fires bloviating thought,
cleansing, purifying, consecrating,
burned ash, sanctifying breath.
Ancestors spoken truths,
extending, arisen, bequeathed,
whispers the ancients acquiesce.

Sometimes Rising Appalachia,
harmonizing, resonating chime,
singing message clear.
Fire on your House Trevor Hall,
burning, desire, anticipating,
the bed is made, shadow-work commence. …


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Photo by Tim Stief on Unsplash

Celebrate this Moment

Not for the record spinning wheels of steel, DJ starting countdown, blasting off cosmic adventures. Anticipative walkabout, testing out new swag, bright lights big city traded for Outback’s story-line.

The record skips, scratched, nails across the chalkboard, world standing still, entering lock-down, eternity, infinity as it may.

Neighborly love sharing moments, laughter, tears, Sapphire, and beers, cherished most certainly. Bomb dropped, dreams and aspirations negate, change of plans, soiled underpants shit just got real (Thank you Ricky Baker). All expenses paid to whoever will take us, like Sumerians labeled scarlet letter, rolling dice, location soon to be.

Bayou’s warm hospitality trumped Mickey’s Grand Floridian, draining tub, swirling tornado expressions, dropping the bomb de novo. Worries not celebrations do exist, special dinner, reserving a favorite place, drinks, app, main, even dessert, gone like the wind…frankly I Do give a damn. …


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Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

Perceived reality through past, present, and future selves

Past, present, future self-colliding within and without, thinking back to what was, resulting in what is and what may or may not come to be. That moment stepping out of darkness, wishing for brighter days, as if calling bluff to Creator’s nudge, entering brighter days illuminating peace within.

In and out of shadowy caverns, deeper conscious, subconscious, and super as it turns out, beginning with gardening 101, plucking weeds, thinning plants within our plot of fertile land, whispering deepest, innermost secrets, releasing these and many more, until no thought remains.

Alchemy 101, if there was such a titled course, negative thought entering a blackened phase, white and red, transmuted, returning whence it came. Fiery phoenix birthing out of the ashes, traveling to distant galaxies, searching for meaning, purpose, at will happenstance, similarities thus far and present near, returning home, centered Claddagh, self and all encountered souls. …

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