GAIA

UP_EARTH_ECOLOGY

pearlescent dawns

as fairies’ wings in children’s dreams

 

blue skies, faded

like ombre hair of fashionistas

 

bodies of granite

stacked as juggernauts at gyms

 

reposing hermit ponds

glass water windows boarded up with cattails

 

 

perfected curves of muses

in snow-covered hills

 

shape-shifting dunes

sly and supple like ninjas

 

deserted parks and cemeteries

as baleful abusers

 

refreshing northern breezes

fronts of cold against brave nudist skin

 

 

productive farms in quadrants

scientists’ inventive grids

 

green, waxy garb of fringe

on conifers and models

 

luxurious teal silk sheets

royal lagoons of island waters

 

translucent overlays of clouds

as ceilings, stucco molded on by builders

 

 

ethereal temples

ascended to low-oxygen zones

 

jubilee blasts of flashy leaves

dancing processions all through winds of autumn

 

folkloric towns

dramatically splashed onto blank hills

 

fishermen villages

skewed cinematic shots on river films

 

 

neighborly knocks of little wooden boats

against their simple docks

 

light peeking through internal limestone worlds

grandmothers watching youth through curtains

 

lazy procrastinating rivers, undergraduates

in preparation for the real-world

 

tropical density, obese with nutrients

and energy reserves

 

 

fogs, ghostly-cottoned

as the gauze enwrapping injured soldiers

 

cohesive streams of cabled light

from raver kids and cities’ long exposures

 

monotonous grassy pastures, bosses

forcing sheep to stale routines

 

pockets of thermal springs blemishing snow

like adolescents’ dermal blisters

 

 

aggressive surfs that break

and enter pliant sand

 

craggy incisors of malnourished addicts

ice on mountain peaks

 

terrains of poppies, daisies, sage, radiant in color

clowns, toy salesmen, ice cream vendors

 

desolate  miles of arid sugar, cacti -

the only spice tossed in the potpourri by chefs

 

 

telescopes starstruck by nocturnal glitter

entrepreneurs watching the ants beneath sky-scraping lairs

 

distinctive drops of rain pooling in puddles

assembled activists hoping to make a splash

 

like janitors on schedules, vermillion

temporal swipes in sandstone canyons

 

celestial figures donning rings, affectionate

brides and grooms, eclipses

 

 

most pleasant groves and orchards

politely tended to, inviting flowery hosts

 

connected banyan forests

dorky experts of IT

 

teeming with action, ocean floors as coffee shops

where writers plunge to depths of thought

 

crane flocks dotting sightly sunsets

wall decor of the relatives and friends around the globe

 

 

unruly lightning sabers stabbing skies

insurgent zealots charged with anger

 

wild fires warning ‘don’t come near!’

like divas, drama queens

 

dressed for the kill, owls on the hunt, feathered

and weathered prostitutes sparking volcanic flare-ups

 

dogged laps of lakes on shores

wet tongues of pets on owners’ cheeks

 

 

kaleidoscopic fireworks scrawled onto blackboards

residual ash and chalk dropping to ground

 

slow-falling flakes of snow through atmosphere

suspended athletes at extremities of half-pipes

 

stately savannahs overseen by humble tribesmen

disheveled buildings overlooked by careless mayors

 

visions and holograms of northern lights

for eskimos and extrasensory perceivers

 

 

blank pages of the tundra, poetic hesitance

before dispersions of the  polar bearings

 

annual lily blooms in low-key basins

as concerts bringing soloists reaching high pitches

 

angelic warriors

gold-armored sunrises in gleaming chariots

 

diversity of pristine moorland

a conglomerate of cultures and traditions

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

TEARS

il_fullxfull.370481242_5fnv_grande

they say when you cry

the devil did not succeed

 

couldn’t reach through the bars

of your ribcage, make you bleed

 

the heart may be broken

hurt, but it’s still in place

 

with a little time and patience

it will fuse through the space

 

of the crack in between

the two halves, seep

 

soular energy, though

right now you weep

 

there are thousands of others

who choose to cackle and stick

 

arrogant noses up in the air

act like hard-hearted pricks

 

but you know better, tears

are a bath of deep cleanse

 

the valor of thrusting ahead

over sitting on the fence

 

a minute of agony

over a lifetime of pain

 

while the others are frozen

your way is spring rain

 

so without hesitation

go, arrive at release

 

though they stifle their own

they won’t stifle your peace

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

DIVINIZING

kundalini

There are ego want                 and                  soul want

There are ego sight                 and                  soul sight

There are ego rage                  and                  soul rage

There are ego love                  and                  soul love

Drowning in one we pull ourselves out on the shores of the other

Having experienced one we strive for the other

Reaching the other we often slip to the first

But this is precisely the fun of it, this game of apple bobbing

The ones who are shocked by this are living in dreamland

Running from one, they’re blinded to it

On top of that, the two often switch positions

So, we must learn to really dunk our heads into

The birds flew parallel in perfect alignment

No difference in color, size, speed, destination

The only clue out of homogeneity being

An unexpected right to left direction

Written by Julia Yusupova

FOLLOWERS

Turkey

My antipathy for plastic pedantry

is augmented by banal loquaciousness.

 

Though, previously obsequious to lethargic insipidity,

currently, I enervate the bombastic audaciously.

 

Yes, I’m fervid, irascible, esoteric,

but still not duped by quiescent rhetoric.

 

My paragons are anomalous catalysts, philanthropists

not garrulous, inchoate malingerers.

 

In plain English now, some of you

wordy motherfuckers ain’t leaders by talkers.

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

WARRIOR

3D-Abstract-Wide-Wallpaper-Fantasy-Female-Warrior-27

while you are still out there

running and ducking

I am in it to win

 

rising above your attacks

without armor, light

just like you want me

 

and should you try

to drag me down

I’ll gut you like a fish

 

don’t fuck

with the warrior

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

KUNDALINI

kundalini_rising_by_mustash2003

Now I have come to own the privilege

of calling this experience my own.

 

My soul, the matchmaker

had booked arrangements

for the bodily abode

where star-crossed lovers

intertwined and bound

as strands inside a genome.

 

(I)

 

At culmination, he,

the knight in shining armor

lowered first,

sending along the bills

for pesky condo fees:

anxiety and mental disarray,

to which the moody me

sharply reacted.

 

“Just wait and see,” was told.

“But she’ll come next!” responded,

living in memories

of the orgasmic first encounter,

a partial rising of the past.

 

“Don’t dwell in expectation,

nor if she comes indulge her,”

what was said.

“Simply observe.”

 

As difficult as it then seemed,

the wise advice was heeded

by my dread-struck mind

which tried its hardest

to stay grounded

subsequently all through

the vividly apparent rise

of the meandering seductress.

 

(II)

 

My heart felt like it would then quit.

Pink, heated energy devoured torso

from hips up to the sickened throat.

Yet, breathing deep was not allowed

and so I forced this vehicle to stay in lane

despite the shooting, paralyzing pains

along the spine,

ignoring angels, saints,

spirits, and demons

that’d come as visions.

 

Vipassana was my retreat,

sensing the nose,

staying inside the brutalized

and battered body.

Thank the Lord!

For if I strayed

I’d surely lose that wired self

in the crazed land of

dualistic holograms and

metaphysical mirages.

 

(III)

 

As those who live through some attack

may firstly cower,

secondly summon the valor

for expected repetition,

so did I learn to face a fear,

a lesson only to be followed by another.

 

Separate intelligences will not do

precisely that which you of them demand.

 

So, from aversion to addiction

it seems I witnessed in myself

opponents which us humans

face in daily lives,

most often without

any previous awareness.

 

(IV)

 

The snakes’ domain

is sacred sexuality,

though sacred in a body

only under fearless state.

For those who are plagued

would then soon see

nightmarish versions

of the birds and bees,

enough to scare

the sweet bejesus,

(as the one who came in aid of me),

and then lead into insight

in regards to bodily craving

versus transcendental mating,

the holy act that sages speak of,

sex, not as an outward action of the genitals,

based on a selfish wish,

but blissful union

of the long distant lovers

right inside,

having so gently just combined

at that small altar

in-between the eyes,

each gliding there

from their appropriate origin,

slithering out of long-time hiding.

 

(V)

 

Then, came the point

where mere surveillance

was now seen

as an inhibiting reluctance.

Going against the grain

of Buddhist teaching

didn’t really bother me,

the rebel.

In the name of harmony,

I took the moment

into my own hands,

even convinced the teacher

to agree with me and trust

in such a blatantly defiant scheme.

 

How else could anyone

expect me to achieve

harmonization of ‘opposing’ forces?

 

Letting the mental meaning in,

though still maintaining

bodily connection

as in flickers of sensation,

I tuned in.

Literally, I then felt

my whole self sway,

a pendulum connected

to a mechanism of a grandpa clock,

timed by his will.

Tick-tock-tick-tock.

A pleasant current

flowing through me,

bringing  all kinds of

images and signals,

yet only partially understood,

regardless, leading into

energetically precise alignment.

 

And woman-snake’s enticing eyes…

And serpent-man’s kind, grateful smile…

 

(VI)

 

The joke is that all said and done

I still yearned more, expected more,

not satisfied with what then was

with a prelude, wished encore,

was slapped by a realization

that was it,

no grand finale,

or ecstatic shower of gifts.

 

A gradual process left

what I required most,

but didn’t fully recognize it.

 

Live in the body’s moment,

not in plans, in fantasies, or astral travel.

The sides were harmonized (?)

and thrilling energies then mostly disappeared.

 

Now simply serve.

This now is joy.

Love is this here.

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

OBEDIENCE

Karol Bak3

Compliance with what’s asked

No protestation matters

Neither persuasive cravings

Nor ingrained aversions

 

What type of choice is such

That knowingly selects for misery

To state a maybe useless stance

Regarding common definitions?

 

Has human freedom come full circle then?

Intuitive arrival to the martyrdom

The saints could not outgrow

In all their shining wisdom

 

Incessant change may be

The only comfort now

As fact being what it is

The It that fills and topples jugs without discretion

 

Can’t beat it, join it

Be the change

Preserve a morsel of the system

Separated from all else by skin

 

Enlist oneself into the troops that won’t return

Already having led self through the door

That opened with the single key

A birthmark stomped around one’s neck for said conscription

 

A snapshot every now and then

For observation of the pleasantry

The hoped for governance

To peasantry of analyzations

 

Currently bleeding past the boundaries of silhouette

Melting from heat of torch

That powers giving that which would

Destroyed be otherwise by expectations

 

Stay with this realization

That in me which is the object of equinimous observer

Stay like a well-trained canine friend

In order to receive a could-be promised treat

 

And my love is working on the same

Though is he not?

He is working on the same

Burden as me

 

Written by Julia Yusupova

Art: Karol Bak

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