I am Interested.

The sum of all parts!

The Manifest-Station

I am interested in inspiring, not fluff. In truth, not bullsh*t. I am interested in the way certain words string together in a seemingly impossible way to create a disarming sentence. The kind that makes you sit down and give pause.
I am interested in the fantastical, as long as it is fantastic, and in poetry and science alike. I am interested in science that reads like poetry, or rather, finding the poetry in it. In every molecule. In every discovery. I am interested in history, even if it’s recreated for the reader’s pleasure, as long as it is written well enough that you slip into belief and stay there for the duration.
I am interested in the quiet in back of words, in what is hidden behind what is said, the quiet stubbornness of the details. I am interested in imagination, not in regurgitation. I am interested in freshness…

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The Self we share..


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tangled web


Thirst is angry with water. Hunger bitter

with bread.The cave wants nothing to do

with the sun. This is dumb, the self-
defeating way we’ve been. A gold mine

is calling us into its temple. Instead,
we bend and keep picking up rocks

from the ground. Every thing has a shine like gold,
but we should turn to the source!

The origin is what we truly are. I add a little
vinegar to the honey I give. The bite of scolding

makes ecstasy more familiar. But
look, fish, you’re already in the ocean:

just swimming there makes you friends
with glory. What are these grudges about?

You are Benjamin. Joseph has put a gold cup
in your grain sack and accused you of being

a thief. Now he draws you aside and says,
“You are my brother. I am a prayer. You’re

the amen.” We move in eternal regions, yet
worry about property here. This is the prayer

of each: You are the source of my life.
You separate essence from mud. You honor

my soul. You bring rivers from the
mountain springs. You brighten my eyes.

The wine you offer takes me out of myself
into the self we share. Doing that is religion.


New Work !! :)


The words you force

The words you yell

The words you fictitiously pronounce

Now becomes you, becomes your energy.

Your energy flow is not lucid any more. Was it ever?

Your demand for a delusional lie to become reality shames you.

These words you force on me have backfired.

I see the colours you wear.

I must now forgive you.

The damage has been done. To yourself.

[ ABSENCE. A poem conceived by: Christina Clark ]

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And so be it..


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I am what I am.
In having faith in the beauty within me, I develop trust.
In softness I have strength.
In silence I walk with the gods.
In peace I understand myself and the world.
In conflict I walk
In detachment
I am free.
In respecting all living things, I respect myself.
In dedication I honor the courage within me.
In eternity I have compassion for the nature of all things.
In love I unconditionally accept the evolution of others.
In freedom
I have power.
In my individuality, I express the God-Force within me.
In service I give of what I
have become.
I am what I am:
Eternal, immortal, universal, and infinite.
And so be it.

                                                                                                    ~ Stuart Wilde

Be You..tiful


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beauty deep


I am so beautiful, sometimes people weep when they see me. And it has nothing to do with what I look like really, it is just that I gave myself the power to say that I am beautiful, and if I could do that, maybe there is hope for them too. And the great divide between the beautiful and the ugly will cease to be. Because we are all what we choose.
~Margaret Cho

A poem is born.. (in honor of National Poetry Month)


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spoken wordsPicture

There once was a skeleton

that dangled from the hanger

hung next to a blue dress

who’s infamous

reputation of a fundamental




ricocheting within

close confinement

of secrets closeted

her stains could not sustain

the once unsullied


interlaced into her bosom

in darkness she nested


seemingly unseen



long term memory


until one day of



a prose was provoked

poetry hence projected

and all that was hidden

was summoned into sight


and as I write

doors open to the


dim is brought to bright

and diction brings forth light

such is life

of the dead

that lives through present


sacred verses



and shared


ugly endings


in search of

a seamstress..