torilife: Blog

blue

torilife — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 15:41:17 +0000

You sleep
breathing in your blue light
dreaming in jet streams - mach 2.
lying still at twice the speed of sound
love spools out like ribbon, tying perfect knots,
sunrise bound to sunset.
The sun misses half of it -
the sky sees it all.

I am lost.
An endless outland has swept my tracks away,
my life turns far below-
i dip my hands into it like water
and it runs through my fingers.
Pan and Odin (uneasy confederates) stampede down the star-roads.
The earth slides away -i'm sick with vertigo -
Gravity has given up on me.
i need warm bare arms to hold me down
but i've gone far
far out of reach.
Weaving sapphire filament, the warp, the weave,
forming a net of azure dreams -waiting. You
had your finger on the trigger, i
closed my eyes and wished my self away -
you held your breath and squeezed.

I was already leaving -but i learned the language of the spirits
and heard you speak it too.
i hesitated, looked at you -to see:
Did you know what you were saying?
in your eyes i saw the premonition
of the blue dream lights -and i knew:
words are too weak.

My angel guide, like a mother eagle, led me to the violet sky
in air so thin it sparkles.
The wind will hold me up -still i'm scared of falling, faithless, into the hollow-
I can barely see the earth from here
and this language is a rain of gibberish
falling on roof tiles
running together -symbols, sound.
i am perforated, porous
-light scarcely catches on my form,
air moves through me like the night.
I will close my mouth,
bite down on the emptiness in the wake of strange words- -
i will take my comfort in you
-in your ravelling slumber,
the even tide of your breathing.
while you sleep, i'll move close to your warmth -
i won't count the stars -
i'll ask no question -
i'll forget every word i ever knew.
Curling into the space between your shoulders -rocking in the sea of your heartbeat
-a path of molten silver -a ladder to the earth.
I'll climb down into your indigo lair, sink into your labyrinth-
there, for that one moment -one that will never leave me -
I'll find the wordless center -the one that matches mine
-and know it is the truth.
-nothing else matters.

4/23/08

23:31

hoku

torilife — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 03:33:13 +0000

channeling the channeler

Here, it’s a narrow line to walk
wavering, and finer than wire.
It meets me half way
Marching,speaking
fading voices, row upon row,
it turns tight and tighter,
Light shooting back at itself, deflected.
A golden face of concentric circles.

Dancing, heart pounding,
can I call it back?
Golden light scatters voices of the snake spirits,
rattles approaching in the night,
never arriving,
They march.

I am calling-
I send my song to earth
on the lips of children
misunderstood.

A rain of bearings
sliding, swinging across
the hollow sky.
I lean against the concrete
-not to push it down
-to hold it up.
Children weave their voices
carried on the wind like white birds,
They rise slow and deep
Off toward the mountains they fly
Counting the steps below.

I’m calling-
but learning to sigh-
feeling the heat, the sweat
rebounding in red.
I’m far, but the lightning
carries my fingerprints.
Trip now and skitter,
I’m walking the keys.
The tracks go on and on.
Backward turning,
I trace the flat horizon.
It doesn’t matter which way I go,
pictures overlapping underwater,
voices ring across my sky like a rainbow.

3/30/08

whore

torilife — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:16:49 +0000

Anonymous -without a name
It's what you need to be
to pass these streets.
Slick and smooth,
no name to rough you up.
There's nothing to grip
Homonym nor synonym,
silk tethers, neither fasten you,
unnamed, unbound.
You have a face, but it's any face.

Anonymous, without a name,
- no word to nail you
to a map or a clock.
Revealed in dimlight, you undress
and dream, become the empty center,
the anchor dragging bottom, gliding,
sliding off the sand -adrift
then nameless again.
Just when a word seems about to take you in,
ready to form you, to write you down
or speak you,
it catches in your throat
-you lose your nerve, and bite your lip,
close the cab door and disappear
-anonymous.

12/24/07

sleepwalkers

torilife — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:07:51 +0000

..">

Sleepwalkers, we,
in this corpulent dream,
Lumbering, myopic,
thick and shambling shades,
suckling oblivion-
the opaline milk of Morpheus.
Still and dreamless, the firmament abides.
O patient stars!

Celeste, kind chronicle of the timeless void,
winds tight the strings of heaven's harps,
binding strands of light,
-winnowed fields, spun gold by her hand
-rows of luminous souls
waiting revelation.

Aurelia, resolving to emancipate the hours,
gently shapes the razor's edge
sharp and senseless.
shrouds of silk flutter down,
undone upon her falchion,
She rends the ancient bloodbonds.
While Lucifer, ascending, whispers to the soul's light
bids us wake and drink the dawn,
quench the ignorance of earth's sad age.
Walk now in lucid forms,
read the words they gave us
by the glow of heartfire,
love pours golden from our brows.

2/12/2008

avarice

torilife — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:04:27 +0000

o , samsara. I can’t say you didn’t warn me.
Night follows day without exception.
Now the horses have run wild
panicked in the traces
they drag the sun from my sky
to light a world away from me.

I dreamt I held the sun in my hands,
felt his heart pulsing, driving my blood
burning through me. I was thirsty
and drank from cups of fire,
sucked the molten indigo,
surrendered to the blue flame, offering my hunger.

I meant to only scald my flesh,
to close my eyes and fall ,
to skip along the atmosphere,
shred my astral emptiness into shards
of ragged incandescence.

o, samsara. I can’t say you didn’t warn me.
As if I never heard of Icarus,
the strange narcosis of the calcine storms
turning lips red, pupils into great black pools
stars falling into them -bottomless wells of desire
swallowing every radiant sphere in the universe.

knowing i’d go blind, still-
i stared into the sun

3/13/08

Beachmuse 2 thursday nov 29 2007

torilife — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 15:53:51 +0000

Your brain is the last to know...

In this beachchannel (as I’ve come to think of it), it takes a little time for the deeper information to come along. You can skip ahead until you hear the change in my delivery, which indicates about where I start to feel like I’m finding words for the sensations coming to me. I think the second half of the recording is the most interesting, but I hesitate to edit out the process of “sinking” into the open state.

First Time Out

torilife — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 15:17:47 +0000

this is the first beach channeling. because it goes on a while, i’ve edited this into two chapters. it seems that i found the rhythm almost immediately. at this time, i had no clear idea of what would happen -if anything. nevertheless , the words seemed to find their way out of me. since then, i’ve become aware that “images” appear to rise before me and i find the words to match them, or, at other times, “blocks” of words flow -like singing a song from childhood. -notes from feb 10, 2008beachmuse -opening

groundhog testing the wind

torilife — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 02:36:25 +0000

OK, then. I'm just going to slide this out here in the daylight and see what happens: Following,is the text from the opening page of my site, BeachMusing, which might explain a little about where this comes from and what it is and why I do it.
I'm gaining some confidence that it means to continue. If it meets with derision, well then, I suppose I'll just scale it back again to reach whoever is led to it. I'm just the conduit -I don't intend to defend it. I by no means care to throw this down like a gauntlet, but it comes through me, and I can't help but think it is intended for more than just my own personal edification. I could be wrong. I could be out of my mind. But -oh well.

This project started in March of 2007. I imagined that I would walk along Kailua beach, near which I live, and start talking, with the intention of connecting with a higher consciousness. I felt that if I just started talking, I would know what to say. I have been writing poetry and music since I was a child, and have been aware that I often feel myself to be a conduit for, or interpreter of, these creations. Since I can remember, these pieces would drop into my head, whole and formed. I have felt that something other than my conscious mind has allowed me to become the receiver and re-teller of these bits of art. Earlier this year, I had the feeling I should try a more direct, spontaneous relay.
So far, two types of beachmusing have evolved for me.
First, is actual contemplation, in which I actively engage. A compelling question haunts my mind and I set out walking and talking and try to reason it out.
The second type of beachmusing is something completely different:
I offer to speak. I set no direction, I have no expectations. I try to open myself to it. Sometimes, it starts immediately, sometimes, while making observations about my environment, I “sink” toward a level of receptiveness that allows a certain silence in my conscious mind. Through this silence I have sensations, images appear, rising up in me as if to the surface of a lake. I feel the words forming, and know I am interpreting into a language I understand.
Often, the words come automatically. Sometimes, I feel the sensation backing off, trying to find a level that fits my vocabulary. I am always aware that there is an unfathomable depth completely eluding speech. It tries to meet me in a space where I can find and say the corresponding words. Mostly, it is effortless for me, sometimes breathtaking, sometimes deeply moving. When I finish a session, I have little recollection of what I have said.
Two things about this:
I have no idea why I’m doing this, except I feel like I should.
I don’t even pretend to imagine what the future of this podcast will be -but I will continue it as long as I feel compelled.

.....And, finally, I suppose I should apologize for the poor quality of the recordings. I’m learning as I go. I hope that any future recordings will be somewhat improved....
With caveat in hand, I proceed....

ninety feels like nothing

torilife — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 06:27:38 +0000

ninety feels like nothing
and i'm steady on the throttle
two wheels and that's all
to connect me to the planet.
ninety feels like nothing
and my heart is just a piston
my head is full of music
and time runs off me like the rain.
i've never been in a fist fight.
only time i ever fought it was for my life
-a knife -or not- was at my throat
-i didn't know.
without a thought, i spun and struck,
connected and cut off his wind,
-he dropped his hands
i turned -but never ran
i walked.
he, gasping, watched me go.
ninety feels like nothing.
I ride a blood red bullet
through the tunnel to the other side
and down the mountain.
behind me is one minute and forever,
-it's all the same in my head
ninety or nine million, you're just as dead.
but somehow, i connected
fingertip to fingertip, in that touch
the gravity is just enough
-to keep me here.
I don't ride the edge of earth to see if she will take me back
- i know she doesn't care that much.
but-
when ninety feels like nothing
my axis skims the pavement
wings unfold and angels race
blistering white and laughing,
riding on my shoulders,
and streak along beside me,
purely for the hell of it,
to show me how it's done.

12/31/07

Blog for December 25, 2007

torilife — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 22:38:49 +0000

calling back the sun