The mind, a dormant stone

 sometimes i forget i am an individual myself a person of thought mind... this dormant stone that i once recognized as a levvy to my voice. well, i found myself back here; and it's always joyful when i am. thinking of the Chief --- Michael Rothenberg -- may you forever rest in power.  time is so fleeting... i can't believe he is not breathing anymore.  it really makes your heart hit the floor. i am saddened for Terri -- the missus -- the visionary. Ometeotl i think of all this time and all these weeks that smooth into the other... just an hum on the old loin cloth life covering the bounty of the more knowing. what of an unblessed discovery? is it equal to a random squished realization that is discovery, swiftly in 10 seconds? a quick blessing, like a sneeze. it flies, you blink, goodbye. (that was the exact moment). jessica m wilson now july 9 339am

I can't do what my Daddy did, making ends meet from Swap Meet fortunes. I can't do what my Daddy did, start a job at 15, work into it as an adult give in to it for 30 more years to retire to the white picket dream. I can't do what my Daddy did, save-a-way, with each penny earned, each cent nimbly tucked away for the "rainy day". I can't do what my Daddy did, how he helped me with my young goals, set sights on education. No, I can't do what my Daddy did, give in to a structure of economy that took care of him and his family and his sisters and mother a father in the VA... live to see another day... of the Dream. of the American reputation that was printed for all to see in the books of history -- now a mere scrapbook of Uncle Sams glory days. - Jessica M.Wilson 2/28/14 Friday, 11:15am

Bless the ground in its sacred realness. Bless the heart in its awareness   what it means to feel sister brother friend another   someone to hold, to tell quaint tales, fables of self, the realness that bites, the spirit to fight, a thirst to quench. These are the stones, hot or cold; that holds to our skins, sensation of life. Liveliness that lives in breath. Breathe to accompany the heartbeat; the seed that plants a kindling, "you're here for me to love. We are family." ...and the need is there. Then peace. nestled in love and fondness for my friend Cathy Greene who passed this morning. please rest in peace 7/4/1957  - 8/4/13

Ray Manzarek (1939 -2013) breaks on through... today. My friend James said, he has "left for spirit", and I knew what that meant, but was in denial. I am so sorry to lose one of my idols...one that collectively inspires me to stay true to my own beat. He was an artist and a mentor... A real Musician with immense poise and concentration -- a magical ear fingertips so light and nimble to dance around the keys like a pure genius -- which he was. I'm so honored to have even met him...It was Doors Fest 2002... He was so nice, smiling...said he liked my shirt (which was a worker shirt with a Jim Morrison (1943-1971) patch) The one regret I have is not taking a picture with him. He signed my box set and was genuinely happy to interact with his fans. blessings... I even saw him at the Egyptian Theater in celebration of the 50 Year Anniversary for LA Woman. :) He was there...as was Robbie. Of course you recognize when people age...but he seemed to be on hi...

beautiful transitions slip from my shoulders. ahead, i see flowers blooming bells held full for hummingbird bellies. squirrels curl their tails above their noses curiously seeking an extra nibble for their troubles. sighs draw in from my eyes escape through my mouth; they water at the blankness of new, churn for the day of old. when was the last time you felt a belonging to the earth? faces scatter to blanket the galaxy; puzzling glances know they're not alone. hands held open to new energy, the hummingbirds close in the distance sweeten the palm -- a balance created in season. ~ Jessica M. Wilson

Poetry poetry poetry readings poetry meetings work work work meetings documenting explaining communicating poetry document document document walk to catch the train go underground walk walk watch watch dream daydream watch walk home home blankness nurture feed nurture ignore feed ignore poetry poetry dreaming dreams reality poetry work work poetry to dream.

When you compare any two human beings, one will always fall short of the other.  It doesn't mean ones value is any less, but rather the goals and the hunger of the two people differ.  I think this is true because we are not all alike, but I can't help the feeling of self worth lessen each time I see someone my age, or younger, doing so much more with themselves and their life. I wonder when I will ever show what I am made of. Beyond the emotional, or the unconditional... Where do I materialize? Sounds bad even saying this...when do I get stuff?  What stuff do I actually do?  I just don't know.  ::eyes down::               just don't know...

The wind turns spreading fast the flesh around my teeth. They chatter at the curtain drawn, around your rosy blue tone, a humble carriage to your next land. Adventure holds you tight and tugs my hand, the same way we would when you breathed... The circles I feel as I walk, keep me in a glow halo of wonder. Is it embrace, or shield, keeping me grounded so firmly away from the forces you grace? I am surveyed, still young, ready to greet you where water fails to run 'round your veins. A body without circumference. Your dream; I believe. Each morning I wake with you around my skin, but I flinch in fear. How close am I? Jagged memories of nightmare demean your smile and feign at the whimsy. There is nothing light about this. Distant pleasure forsakes the intentions drawing near you; a bottle breaks. I turn corners and I stare, I see them, I see you. We repeat and repeat the reality we lived, but there is always something more. Ominous. more. discreet. more. an...

So soon it seems you're not ready to move forward, but only stall in the footsteps familiar to the past. Then you close your eyes, sigh, and move your feet. When you pay attention, you notice your movement. Reluctant, still breathing. Moving on, even without yourself. You just act. React, to the moment, the following, the turbulence felt in every vibration of being, still left behind. This is you. You're phyiscal, you had to move. Did you think you would just have stalled out and rusted to the ground? Organic resemblance, being thawed. You've evolved past trinkets, lockets, chains linked and playful along your wrist. Not as brittle as you would have once solved. Durable you. Insightful, constant. Even wihtout hope you are constant. There is a sweetness in this. A grace to hold under the light that shows why a spirt could outlast a body, and why we fail to conceive greater purposes for ourselves. We think small, yet act large. Body is contradiction. Spirit is restless, and p...