Ric's Poetry Mic 6 March 2018

Hello fellow writers

Do you ever get the sense that life has taken an abrupt change of direction?  That life as we have known it, is shifting?  That perhaps we spend more time in artificial-living with technology than in direct communication with others, in nature, with our own self?  Or certainly moving in that direction? That creating virtual realities is becoming the norm in people's lives and that reality is becoming obsolete?  Have you seen the movie,  "Obselidia?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGbbyjKUu2k

There is a ponderation walking along side me, in every moment along with every breath my body inhales and exhales.  A wondering how it is that my humanity can be usurped quietly,  imperceptibly.   Yet I do notice and my entire being bristles at the idea of my humanness being altered through falseness of news, facts, profiles,  electric and magnetic fields, artificial weather, artificial intelligence, poisoned air, water and  food.  That my mind is being altered by a reality that is someone else's.

The reliving of the well-known story,  "Emperor's New Clothes" is happening all around and no one truly saying anything.  Yet.

http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheEmperorsNewClothes_e.html

Thankfully we are the observers.  The writers.  The storytellers.  Poets.  Watching, listening.  Recording.  And through our own emotional wiring, noting that things that truly matter--those things that make us human, we are remembering, dreaming, and bringing into consciousness. Setting signposts--markers, that denote progress and transgressions of our humanness.   Not unlike the small child who exclaimed, ""But he hasn't got anything on."


Come join us and share your creations at our 19th  "Ric's Poetry Mic".


See you soon fellow writers.
Be well and inspired,

Cheers,
Kat

Ric's Poetry Mic 6 February 2018

Hello fellow writers

The high winds and persistent rains are lifting the darkness and opening us to the light.  Isn't it remarkable how nothing remains the same, yet familiar in each breath?  The wind is ripping against the outside of my home.  I feel a bit like the piglet in his straw house with the big bad wolf at his door.  Banging, insisting upon entering. Wanting more than just to say "hello."   Unlike the piglet, I am not in fear.  My house is built more strongly than his.

It is curious though, to hear doors rattling in rooms behind me.  We are in the midst of a mighty ocean gale and it is thrilling to say the least.

A  2:00 am tsunami alert passed me by, and all my friends as well.  In fact, I think I was dreaming then.  Counting sheep most certainly, or maybe pigs.  Head with face upward toward the sky taking in all that happened that day.  Shaping it into a conscious dream filled with gratitude and appreciation.  I always do this upon falling asleep.  I like to give my unconscious something savory to digest so that when I awaken in the morning all those sweet thoughts have refreshed centered and filled me.

Already one month has passed us by in this new year and I am not even ready to say that I am familiar with the newness of 2018.  Each year at this time I feel a bit more like Rip Van Winkle awakening from a deep sleep to  find the world around me less familiar with each passing day-- wondering whose dreams are truly creating my reality.  There appears to be no room for slacking.

I focus to create more intentional dreaming in those last awakened moments at night and with pen and paper during the daytime hours. That wolf most certainly appears to be at our doors.  And Rip Van Winkle awakens time and again.  Wondering.  Pondering what happened while he dosed for ever so short a time.


Come join us and share your creations at our 18th  "Ric's Poetry Mic".


See you soon fellow writers.
Be well and inspired,

Cheers,
Kat