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Wednesday 19 October 2022

Lacuna

A lone, windswept... weeping willow
Tired of changeable toxic breeze 
Conundrums staged... perplexing
Do you crave my Love, a release? 

Where are you my Persephone? 
Do you wait for me... are you there?
Sense day’s light dwindling to dusk
Darkling... cradled by despair 

I am hope‘s bruised butterfly
Gentle grace within my touch 
A rippled flux of universe 
Unabated... unconditional love!

Ache for a life painted passionate 
Two singing spirits that tremolo truth 
Peace, pillowed-quilt... compassionate 
My soul’s amber-encased... loving muse

Empty, lonely... tear-stained, tussled sheets 
Twilight slithers... lick our wounds 
Leaves us, cold wraiths... desolate 
Yearning tender care... new moons

Oh Love... wrap me in your velvet tones
Hold me safe, in celestial words 
Lie with me under this Harvest Moon
Be loved, precious, cherished... and adored

Dreams, I press like violets
Forever, my heart’s lyre... laid at your feet 
Twinned light, transcends Autumn’s equinox
Won't you fill my lacuna, Love... please come unto me 

Synchronised, our spirits aligned... contented! 
Shine, goldening-wise, Fall’s souls’... quantum seeds
Love’s autumnal, bright... Phoenix, piled feathers
We’ll rise again, upon zephyr’s peaceful ease
Together... we will find what has been missing
Equilibrium’s love.... life’s illusive... puzzle piece!

© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey
Both poem and art made on photoleap



My Friend

 
I hope you know I love you... always will!
Your heart to me… like sunshine’s happy pill 
I know those words are often platitudes 
But we both know our hearts... they are attuned
Yes, we don't know what life will throw our way 
Sometimes dark nights... they will eclipse our days 
But you, my friend, can lean on and rely 
Your pain and hurt... to soothe, I’ll always try 
Oceans apart... but I’ll stand by your side 
I'll tend your wounds and listen whilst you cry 
For you to me… are dearer than the stars 
I'll keep you safe... embrace your every scar 
In me, you have a home... you do belong 
Our giggles, soul-deep bond... will keep from harm

© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey



Sunday 2 October 2022

Autumnal Bygone Days

 

Autumn whispers secrets of those who have gone before
Amber, Auburn pirouetting leaves... scarlet, saffron
Falling tree debris... bright fire rain, russet, sanguine tones
Crispy crunchy, staccato steps... symphony’s cyclone 

Squirrels hoard buried treasure troves… forest tree pantries 
Kaleidoscope... leafed-fairy wings, waltz upon the breeze 
Bare, skeletal trees disrobed... in moonlit shadows moan 
Schoolyard conkers, hibernating hedgehogs... snuggly homes 

Decorations, weeping willow tears… Ole Hallows’ Eve 
Witches, skeletons, vampires, ghosts... children cloaked in glee
Families enjoy traditions… ancient festivals 
Priceless moments shared... magic, mystery, fun-filled awe 

Foggy, frosty Fall’s stark morns… home-baked blackberry pies 
Pumpkin spice, treacle toffee… trick-or-treat candy smiles 
Rosy cheeks, woollen hats and scarves… searching for lost gloves
Cold hands warmed, by dear loved one’s breath… cosy blanket hugs 

Firework spectacular skies... Catherine Wheel lit-eyes.
Neighbours encircled, stacked bonfires... enkindled, hailed cries
Guy Fawkes’ eerie effigy... consumed by leaping flames 
Glowing hearts, red toffee apples... sparklers signing names 

Days drew in... darker dawns, velvet nights; hearth glowed ablaze! 
Starry bedtime stories... loving pooch, Pearl’s faithful ways 
Making pom-poms, pies, knitting... singing Oklahoma 
Autumnal yesterday’s shades of you... Dearest Grandma 

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Art made with AI on photoleap



Thursday 29 September 2022

Star-Sailor Twin


I'm cast adrift on enkindled fireship 
and not even Zeus could quell these flames
My heart for storm’s waves feels ill-equipped 
Crave together... we’ll love’s voyage take 

Dream of a time, you may one day be mine 
My soul feels yours through the dense sea-fog 
I can't see stars, but oh... how they shine
Just like I sense with you.. that I belong 

If our two laden lone ships collided 
in uncharted, bottomless waters 
Beneath these tempestuous, solemn skies 
Would we be victorious... or slaughtered? 
How can we know... if we don't even try?

Would Poseidon gift us his protection? 
Twinned flame, seafarers ... granted safe passage? 
Or feel lightning’s wrath... unyielding tempers?
Would vengeance sink us... our minds be damaged?
Breed resentment... sever bonds, connections?
Would hearts’ sails catch fire... and incinerate?
Or would souls burn... happily enlightened? 
Illumined... our true love’s harmonious fate

Life filled with love, joy peace and laughter 
Or drown in dire disaster... tsunami’s wake 
No, we're not doomed... we bide time and meander 
Two ghost ships off course... but we still have hope! 
As fears’ obstacles, our love can conquer 
Not on sea’s barren bed, die anchored… and alone 
Instead, we’ll deep dive... claim Atlantis as our home 

One day soon… throw love’s caution to the wind 
Navigate... our one true destiny 
For without you, forever daylight... would rescind
Spirit sacrificed... to crepuscular, cruel seas
My mutinous heart, could never give you up 
For without you... would forget how to beat
I’d rather be shipwrecked, together… my soul’s kin
Than sail apart, without your heart... star-sailor twin

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry 

Art made on #photoleapAI



Saturday 16 July 2022

Vincent

 


In dear Vincent’s eyes, golden sunflowers bloomed 

Exchanged Dutch smog for French vistas anew 

His artist life… was relatively short 

Yet legacy’s list… most certainly not

Transient hands… spoke in brushstrokes’ genius 

Captured life’s magic… more than appearance 

Seventy-five paintings… in eighty days 

Painted frantically… manic phases 

Began… completed in one clear gesture 

His paint, so thick... was almost a sculpture

Overpainted AND thought... in-depth., texture 

Vincent cut off his ear… when abandoned 

By artist housemate… whom his brother paid 

Or… so we’re told and the legend now states 


Vincent hoped this act would make Gauguin stay

Much like his death… questionable charade

Ironically employed… to keep safe 

From his antisocial, peculiar ways 

In yellow house, away from asylum 

His fragile mind… an unaligned diam

He’d drink too much... become hysterical 

His bright paintings, mood… antithetical

Painted his face which frightened his neighbours 

Auvers-sur-Oise… turned sadly disastrous 

What Vincent saw, others could not perceive  

His vibrant and vivid… reality

 

He painted in stark, otherworldly timbres 

Could Vincent see ultraviolet… linger? 

Meant only for eyes… of pollinators 

Intense, lucent luminous… depictions   

A monochrome world had never yet seen 

Such lurid and garish… natural scenes 

His paintings en rapture... all our senses

Some find his work to their eyes, offensive 

Vincent used his art as a therapy 

Deemed God as Nature… and it, as beauty 

Often sectioned… came voluntarily

Mind plagued by being… he found menacing 


In his lifetime, never sold a painting

Though belief in self... was unwavering

Was both religious and painting zealot 

Prophetic… as now his art’s worth millions 

A man whose artist’s flare... preceded time  

In starry night he, captured the divine

He tried life’s darkness... to ameliorate

Enabled through his art… heaven to taste 

Night sky’s cosmic movement, immortalised   

Glimpsed all eternity... through his deft eyes 

Perfection from man, considered insane 

A majestic mind, their doubts could not tame

Let’s bear this in mind… when too quick to judge 

Divergent-minds gift… what ‘normal’ cannot   


© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry




Friday 15 July 2022

A Cloth-bound Classic


To be a cloth-bound classic... oh what I wouldn’t give!

To be lusted after, coveted; when dutifully collected… I’d beguile

To make someone happy, feel special… when given as a gift

To adorn stately bookshelves… in far-flung countries around the globe 

To be stroked by wanton fingers; my tactile, foil-stamped…intricate, alluring design

To be thumbed through, perused and devoured diligently

My name in golden script, glistening… smiling proudly from the spine 

To be handed down from one generation to another 

I, a secret porthole to lives not yet met or lived

To be made up of passionate love affairs and glimpses of whole new worlds 

A tome steeped in culture and ancient myth... full of folklore, legends and mystical lives

A story delectably described in exquisite, poetic language 

A book so profound and emotive… it could make you cry!

A tale that illuminates all of life’s humble... simple blessings 

Channelled through deft senses… word-smithery, sensual and divine 

Depicting Nature’s stark wonders and magnificence 

Reveries and mysteries of the human heart… so complex and sublime 

Whispers of all the silent secrets, the oddities of the mind 

Life’s fragility and brutality, human tragedy… loss, pain and demise 

But most of all, I crave to be held… cradled, cherished and adored 

Snuggled down in bed with… or read, at the foot of a great tree 

For readers to lose themselves within me... at home or to be enjoyed beside the sea 

To be considered a revelation... a thing of ethereal beauty 

Without having to have a complexion, a reflection… or a skin-clad body

To carve out forever a small place of nostalgia… in people’s hearts and minds

To bring comfort and escapism to all the lonely… scared and shackled souls 

To set the sad and suffering… their imaginations alive, wild and free 

To wile away the reader’s precious time... to be a waking diaphanous daydream 


© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry.




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Moon Night, Sun Maiden

 

Oh, where, oh where, Love art thee now?

Beyond dark mirrored realm of night? 

Thou promised me thy love was true

Across, storm’s plains... to me wouldst ride 

Gallant knight ‘pon trusty steed 

Wilt thou bear lightning’s wrath ... for me?


Yet Father Time hath other plans 

He cares not... that I beseech him 

Fair son of moon and lunar climes 

With lupine charm and stardust eyes 

Oh how I wish thy gaze to hold 

My hand in thine neath cloudless skies


Thy raven locks, so wild and free 

My fingers wish, to run through thee

To welcome thee, to rest thy head 

‘pon butterfly, winged beat... silk breast

For where I breathe... thy solace make

Never again... need feel alone!


Alas my Love, tis but a dream   

Betwixt our hearts... stands Time’s cruel screen 

I try, hear voice in echoes wake

I shan’t thee Love... thy heart forsake 

Break through gilt sky-glass... sever wrists 

Rose-petalled drops... I’ll gift thee, Love  


My peace for thine... I’ll sacrifice

For thee my love I’d gladly die  

Time... stares at me “I'll lift thy curse

He's twelve short hours ‘till day unfurls

Moonflowers smile... you’ll cease to be!”


“Dear child of sun and golden hair 

If thou pledge life... pray he make haste?”

“I shall... I’ll sign my name in blood!” 

Brave moon knight, please keep safe, my Love 

I'll guide thee home... to me through dreams  

Ethereal sunburst… ‘pon night’s breeze 


© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey





 

Friday 29 April 2022

Art Lab

~ A.R.T.L.A.B ~


Through an oversized, biohazard signed door led 

Into meshed-fenced pen, beneath an ambient sea of red 

Made of reinforced steel; towering at least eight feet high 

On a full moon cast night... under a May, spring sky 

Feeling euphoric buzz rise… of a chemical daze 

Waiting eagerly at door of a private party rave


A.R.T.L.A.B. it was called... now a legendary rave

Down an alien-headed, welded staircase was led 

Into dark bowels of a warehouse; techno lair daze 

There, a wall of music hit me… fractured by strobes red

Blackwashed floor, walls and windows; UV-painted sky 

Where both Hippies and Punks danced away the night... high 


Floor’s thundering vibration... all minds and spirits high 

Hard Trance beat, penetrates… intoxicates the rave

Thick white smoke bellows... creating atmospheric daze 

Floating hands; angled movements sequenced… elation led

Eyes ablaze and mouths contorted; cheeks blushed... blood red 

All arms raised in air… serpentine in lightwave’s sky 


Soaring now on music… with Lucy in the sky 

Levitating in moment... on dopamine’s high

Strangers all-embracing… encircling spotlight red

Everyone loving each other… art, culture, rave!

Mere rats, to the music’s Pied Piper… DJ led

Riding the undulation... into oblivion’s sky 


Across the dance floor... wide-eyed constellation sky 

Frenzied stomping feet… dance in a hyped,

marching daze 

Quickening to crescendo... from the decks we’re led 

Bursting into applause and waving glow sticks high 

Bouncing floors, pulsating walls, of a 90s rave 

Abstract, gurning, ‘Dali’ Faces… eyes all blood-shot red! 


Suddenly from basements darkness… lazor pointers red 

Unwelcome daylight pierces dance floor… rude dawn’s sky 

Police in full riot regalia… storm the rave 

Lovers huddled in corners… now in panicked daze

All scrambling to seem sober… to dispel their high 

Ravers, still dancing, but in handcuffs… outside led! 


Hedonistic youth’s daze… faded, now sunset red… 

Today, frequent calmer sky… as age quelled the high 

Now, in only dreams rave, halcyon days… once led 


©  2022 - Violet Moon Poetry #sestina 




Thursday 7 April 2022

Sound


Why do we try colour the air with words?
Pigments of touch through proprioception learn
Phonetic symphonies of those unheard
Tones, pitch and shades of their vernacular
Has eighth sense now of empathy been lost?
Has aurigraphy lexicon replaced
our innate primal instinct... at what cost?
Regressed through knowledge, whilst sixth sense
defaced
Like the waves. all sound ripples, crests and falls
In rivulets, cascades, pools... deep maelstroms
An ancient pasigraphy sequenced call
distracts from our bodies' vibrations hum
Our harped halcyon ambience unfolds
Auras visceral perceptions penumbra
Geometries cymatic patterns mould
Truth… essence always lies in the umbra
Sand grains reveal sound waves as mandalas
Chladni's plate shows frequency visualised
Trope….. pareidolia reflects stellar
through sequence, cadence.. all materialise
Establish sacred space and third eye's lens
Through mindfulness mantras. filters hone
To feel wonder's symbiosis ascend
Witness... become…. creation's rhythmic tone

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry



Small Patch Of Sky


Small Patch Of Sky


One by one, we all fall down like dominoes to the serenade of clowns 

To routine’s domestic well... become vestiges of ourselves 

Rigid whispers hold the vague essence of lonely patterns

Psychotic laughing, pierces dusk’s void... I am a woman, I’m no toy 

I am not to put upon a shelf or to hide in your closet’s stealth 

I‘m not cream in your coffee...  not just a stagnant destiny 

I am me, I am free... I stand rooted like foreboding tree


I am not here to crisis manage all your indiscretions 

Your absent-mindedness... apathetic, chaotic damage 

Not made to adorn your arm... to make you feel better about yourself. 

I’m not, even in humour, your metaphoric ball and chain 

I am not your comforter… to soothe your tempestuous rage 

Nor am I twilight’s shadow cloak, to hide your self-destruction mode 

I am me, was all along... it isn’t me who has forgotten


You do not define me... you don’t get to choose what’s on my mind

I’m not yours to shout at, scorn and warn… I will not heed your commands 

Different plane, undiscovered land... maps, compass will only get you lost 

Tonight’s murky lonely, blots my skin... love now a mere bitter frost

On debris’s garden bonfire... flames struggle to eviscerate 

I am me and now I see... through kaleidoscope’s hijacked screen


I now see your true light, not the one projected… which gave you might 

All along… love I thought I saw; came from me; it was not yours

Sacrifices were all mine... you made me feel unworthy of your time

Yet wanted me waiting... pristine and pretty at the finish line

Whilst staccato cooking… washing pegged in military painted smiles  

I am me, no longer fooled... marionette’s dance is so cruel 

 

Now my turn on centre stage…  you can wait, if you wish, in wings

Although spotlight feels scary… I’ll not be denied destiny

I’ve been silent for far too long... now I’ll sing my truth... soul’s song 

My form‘s not sleek, battle grazed, but like Lazarus… I return

Yes I’m broken… I am weak, but in me find the words you seek 

I am me, I am poet… I’m mother’s, wife’s, daughter’s sonnet

 

You see, from me words flow… like an avalanche of powder snow 

I have been told I am Sage... yet I know naught, have felt deranged

For solace, to me others come… but I’m more... I’m skin and bone.

I am alive and I have lived... now ‘me’ I finally own

Estranged… severed; from cut-out paper-chain men ... I cut free myself  

I am me, I am alone... helping others has been my call 


Is it too much, to want to feel more than mediocracy? 

Loved, truly adored, for not what can give… but for who I am 

Taboo! Please… what am I to you? Am I precious … your soul mate? 

Do you savour still my taste.. does true love, I speak of, exist?

Like moon and night, to love... to be loved, peacefully coexist?

I am me, I am sad... for the time squandered, the love we had 


I feel such pain… not just mine, but from our world now gone insane

I want to be happy… to feel safe, begin again anew! 

I don't want to be rescued; I want to be discovered… found 

To live simply, to breathe joy, poetry, music, nature… life 

To bask in moonlight… transcend like water to be moved and fly

I am me, I am light; I’m sensually passionate... I have fight


Yearn to have mind stretched, feel thankful… I need love… and to feel free

Wish to be seen as home, mystery and sensuality 

As I rake the lawn-littered leaves… tidy up my scattered mind 

Pray confidante moon... manifests my confessions within her tides 

Gather… bid starless sky adieu… wistfully blow kiss to moon 

My oasis from the chaos... half an hour gone too soon 


So I return inside… to what I’ve become, what life demands 

Reluctantly reduced... amber glow of ethereal hue 

Love my children, as moon doth stars... but do they know who I am?

Want again to illuminate love... rain possibilities  

Flow free… like waves imbrue inspiration... creativity 

I am a walking sky patchwork; I am mother, woman... me


Am I, on star cycle alone… or will in other… find a home? 

More than this slate-tinged, beige… small patch of sky

Where in clandestinity… I marvel at the moon maiden’s divinity   

Wanting to be more than I am… a better person; someone whole

Freed from anxiety, manmade constructs… be my own Calliope   

Night now shrouds my lego house; where beneath… I still… dream alone 


 © Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry




Thursday 17 March 2022

Irish Eve - Saint Patrick’s Day

 Guinness in hand, we start to swig

The pub is full for the shindig 
Borhan is played; begins the gig
Danced Irish jig, danced Irish jig

Tonights the night St Patrick’s Day
Their patron saint it’s his feast day 
Green attire worn, dancers, parades 
Bank Holiday; Bank Holiday 

Drowning shamrock... a sight to see
Irish coffees, laced with whiskey
You’ll ne’er a better evening see
Landmarks lit green; landmarks lit green 

Still spoken proud, ancient Gaelic 
Rich language sings its rhetoric
A country strong; a maverick 
Fervent Celtic, fervent Celtic

Beautiful isle of emerald green
Giant’s Causeway... majestic scene
Dublin - Cellar Bar... party scene
Epic Céilí; epic Céilí

We have a "crack" and a giggle
Hypnotically, transcends fiddle
Emotions stir; lovers kindle
The night dwindles, the night dwindles 

© Debbie Razey - 2022 Violet Moon Poetry 







Saturday 12 March 2022

Nature’s Collective Consciousness


On the precipice of knowing and feeling,  

being and seeing 

What are we?

Truly what are we?

Beyond this veil of physicality,

and our brains practicality, 

we try to understand... 

to trace circumference lines, 

to stay in our own frame, 

where the caption automatically... allocates;  

pre-dated labels and designs for our minds

You see we are not the unique architecture

of the skin that we wear

We’re not even the architect! 

Can you detect your watermark... or has it been drained of hope?


We’ve been taught how to cope in a construct 

made by man 

Little wonder we don’t understand

something so alien to our soul

Even the stars... could not implode, 

through a phone

Our thoughts pigeonholed into 

spied, surmised… advertisements

Bastardised, into a capitalist consignment

Anaesthetised by digital appeasement

Be good and take... your treatment


Lobotomised, our now screen eyes

A.I.’s dilating the gift of human thought

When did Google and Siri become King and Queen?

When did we learn to stop questioning, 

researching... fact-checking? 

Who taught us not to? 

Who is Siri, when she’s at home... does she atone?

She’s not in your phone;

she is now... squatting in your mind

Google the authoritative... finite,

to most of the generation coming through; 

who never knew

that research was... exactly that

Not a quick fling between a search engine and spellings inaccurately typed

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Luddite

For free worldwide knowledge and education... I would fight


The reality though... with an esoteric law,

filtered internet firewall,

from a government who grew claws 

of iron bars and sharpened its shackled teeth;

whilst waiting patiently in the wings; 

is that it lies, to its… own people 

It rewrites truths... narrative skewed

and, through control leaves strength depleted 

Crime of stealth, of our knowledge… wealth;

to which most are unaware… didn’t even occur

and when told.... disbelieved with delusion 

This war against freedoms, 

through tactical divisions, 

has been plugged into our homes and ears 

Has been raging now for at least... the last twenty years

The Kerplunk of humanity

and now all the marbled, digital currencies 

now fall through the holes;

spaces between the overlapping intersections of crude division 

From the colour-blind mastermind 

of child’s manipulated play,

cardboard box - plastic cylindrical tube,

humanity haphazardly plays 

When in truth the only two colours used

are the hues of those who have... and those who have not


No longer craftsmanship...only dictatorship

No strategy required... well at least not from us

as we’ve now regressed from classical chess

No longer wars of knight, bishop or queen 

No grace or chivalry 

Plotting deception and tactics... all tools we have sold 

Out in the cold, a stasis of thoughts, sucking screens

This war is horrific, a chainsaw to bloodied daisies

This is an atrocity like so many other atrocities, 

which have now occurred

and yet we sit in the stalls, burning books to keep warm; 

working out risk vs dividends... of human beings; 

child murders displayed on balance sheets


We are chemically drip-fed, anaesthetic,

through our food and TV;

made addicts to dampen their mood

Our water now a heady chemical brew

Chemtrails clandestine scratched lines; 

hidden out in the open flight paths of powder blue 


Are we...

now beyond where we think we should be,

only feeling the truth intrinsically?

I think so many times... we become confused 

with what we think we should be,

who we’re told we should be

and with who... we actually are 


I wonder do children still explore, 

go that extra mile, to see behind...  their perceptions’ doors

into their own shades of themselves... their labyrinth,

to see the patterns 

In actuality do they understand Newton’s Law?

Acknowledge... the way in which we all flow, 

from source of virgin fluidity?


Can most of us still see that we are all

on a continuous looping, living, breeding 

dystopian night-terror dream;

a prophesied Orwellian wilderness?

There is no goal; the clue was in  ‘our’  J(our)ney 

...all along In history’s stuck vinyl song;

to appreciate the gifts upon the way, 

the ones of space… within vast space;

where we can experience clarity

in the in-betweens


To paraphrase Plato

“We know nothing and never will”...

but Safari knows 

and Memes will tell us they do too

and if not, with one click, Wikipedia will do its trick 

and tell us all we need to know 

or indeed what they want us... to know 

But don’t get confused 

as now upcoming movie titles 

are more highly prioritised in search engine’s order

than the actual definition of words

A search engine, in reverse, rages for the machine;

not to quench our fatigued knowledged thirst


However indifferent we are to ourselves,

I still wonder how many times we see 

our doppelgänger heart’s soul mate; 

another who resonates with ourselves

A vibration and ignition 

far more powerful than sex

A deep aching... a need to transition

A rite of passage... preordained, 

cosmically. aligned 

Bodies and minds redefined... entwined

into Tetris and a Rubix cubed side

A need for like minds

A deep-seated yearn to belong


Sure we fight and resist 

We try to desist,

but, then we become tethered;

blocked up, stifled and shocked 

as we repeatedly bang our heads against 

a fake ceiling of oppression’s power

In Nature’s organic way of life,

dreams have no shelf life and 

people’s thoughts have no sell-by-dates

We still feel the pull of the moon and tides;

yet we just walk by 

and become lonelier, when others are still lonely too

in their factory Lego house dungeon,

when we could be standing side-by-side

Amplified!


In a dichotomy of duality

Coincidence and serendipity

Lay lines... energy’s pathways

Hindsight and premonition 

are two sides of the same coin

Relativity should never be ignored; 

the bent clocks of Salvador Dalí,

Da Vinci code... let's free fall

One plus one human always makes two or indeed can make more, 

to build foundations with astral views,

filling our pains, holes and souls;

feeling the warmth of the sun’s love

Seeing the synchronicity;

our Escher minds entwined, now evolved

The new birthed chaos; an attack on conditioned banality; 

the disorder within the deception of perception,

riding together through the spiralled conscious planes,

unrestrained... shedding 

ill-conceived filters on the way;

matter and dimensions dismantling, 

travelling, vibrating on wavelengths of light dappled sound

Not having to be 

or to be seen 

any other way; 

not afraid 

of being perceived as insane

Healing Is growing; 

breaking apart... is to multiply, to defy gravity;  

coexist birth and die all at once


The cracks in our brokeness 

is where we find our pure truths, 

where the light of love shines through, 

it does not judge or subdue 

It illuminates the best;

every aspect... of its whole 

Shadows are where folded darkling skies lie;

stars, talismans of the world gone by

Where we can run from.... or embrace our authenticity

Where we can complicate 

or choose simplicity’s anti-venom 

Here is where humanity can take on 

responsibility... ownership of itself


There is no beauty, no beast

There is only ever love 

We are one puzzle piece  

Mosaic catastrophe 

within a sudoku box

in an inverted version of now

Through kaleidoscopic telepathy,

refugees, sketch artist greeters...

the frequency of empathy must remain high

This is why we experience anxiety, 

as we’re not supposed to be 

imprisoned behind walls and roofs

or 9-to-5 jobs or skin colour hues

Wars stacked up on wars; 

they’ve created a matrix of binary 

Yet we’re fluid

We have no gradients or edges to our souls 

We are quantumly entangled 

We are collectively... consciousness learning 

We are God and nature discerning itself


Would you try to remove yourself from an atom,

from the Fibonacci pattern; 

the pattern coded into our DNA, 

into the precisely angled crest of a wave,

A shell’s groove, engraved... 

liquid draining’s direction down the drain

From golden ratio are we trying to escape?

Is it even wildly known... sacred geometry? 

This is why our eyes reflect the Galaxies; they are the same.. we are them 

and they... are us 

We are connectivity

and in fluidity lies... all that is love.


Society thrusts...

manifestations and authorisations upon us 

and of course, we do this to ourselves 

We disassemble our minds to understand

Yet all the knowledge is 

and always was in the palms of our hands

It’s within us 

It is us!

It’s within one grain, from inside a spinning hourglass of time

We are one projection amongst a forest of possibilities

and yet the trick is to hear a tree when it falls 

To heed that call;

To help one another to mend;

To understand and to be... understood


© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry