Blind belief … Even when the moon is not there

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The body, when perfectly whole
Without cut, scar or gaping hole
Is a vessel of beautiful perfection
Radiating aura without detection
of cast of entities from darker sense…

Each cut, scar, hole leaves open essence
protection fails as they seep in
heavy thoughts they always bring
feeding on energy, power drives on
reality is rewritten, they become strong.

To cleanse, to hide, to meditate
is never quite enough to fight
for holes in auras outer shield
are the reason for the magnetic field
They deceive, come in many guise

Such power they feed from mine so wise,
S’not you s’not me, they choose just feed
are blind in choice beyond holes of sieve
Such holes they must be healed
To regain your protective field.

Even in distance across time and space
healing occurs from source trace,
All is needed, permission granted
intent is thought a decision planted
Allow me, and I will remain silent
till thoughts quenched end of violence.

KH©2018
Image and words

Wolf Moon

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Do you see her,
my goddess ruling
the night skies,
an inferno of energy
surging through my veins…
I am one,
whole,
the fires of pure need
rise within me
as her blue embrace
caresses the lost
embers of my spirit.

She has woken
her light reigns
down upon Gaia
Pearlescent tears of
purity giving life
within the ascending
beats,
my Goddess,
do you feel her?
She rises within each of us,
tickling the inner sanctuary
of our soul
Waking us from
eternal slumber…
She is the essence
yin,
succubus,
goddess and elemental…

My twilight love
dancing across stars
skipping through darkness
Winged horses
draw forth her
silver chariot
as she swims
through the
Celestial
oceans…

Blessed are those
who tonight will see
my queen bleed
crimson hues eclipsed
in a moments
ethereal beauty.
Blessed are those who
feel without sight,
her energy-their life
force… Blessed are
those who rise in
the blue hues
of Selene’s
glorious
night skies.

Do you see her?
My Goddess rising
to rule her
Queen-dom
Do you feel her?

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image found via google search

Raucous screams of twilight giggles

My fingers are forever
searching
for your skin, my tongue
for your essence of taste
and my lips for your desire
and its deep penetrative
lust that tugs at my core
as implosive need begs
to rise on your command.

My mind plays a constant
reel of black and white stills
in an abandoned cinema,
red velvet soft on skin
low lights and high rises
A silent movie as the
two of us
explode in raucous
screams of delight.

My skin is forever
searching for your touch
my need begging to become
tongue tied in your
embrace, as our lips
whisper of needs known
to few and I am found
in the presence of you.

Karen Hayward ©2017

a genetic mutation…

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I sometimes wonder, am I wrong?

Am i wired faulty,

do I have a genetic mutation a

neuro-developmental glitch.

For no matter how hard I try,

I cannot see the world through

positioned eyes.

Words fail to slip from my tongue in

control of another,

I do not perceive a finishing line

that I must cross, or a spiritual path

that I must bless. I will not use my

gift to harm others…No matter what

weakness I know to be true, never will

I use them to hurt another like you.

My fault lays within, it’s the power to feel,

when pain has been felt,

it changes your view.

A mutation

a glitch

a malfunction of sorts,

to perceive beyond normal thoughts,

it’s a burden I carry into each day,

to know the reasons for what others say

is the reason I rise at the break of each day.

 

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

Whispering wisps.

IMG_20170727_193140The trees murmured of our love
long before the leaves whispered
our ancient names. On births
creation a constellation of
speckled veins traversing,
passing, rushing, yearning…
passion stirring, paths crashing.
Entwining energies, stoic
thread of silver calm, stitched
perhaps by Zeno in days before.
Are we the calm or the storm?

Karen Hayward ©2017

The Peacock dances.

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There’s a repetitive stage,
a repeating of days
when vines interweave
through the speckled
edges of flirtations,
behind no closed doors
peacock feathers
splay upon her shore
through the speckled
flecks of essence
life’s laborious lessons,
I watch the clock
tick tock, tick tock
as zones align a duo
of wakefulness sleeping
through the empty
page…a constellation
of energy mapping
the designed reflection
of the peacocks
beautiful… selection.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on pinterest