Tag Archive: spiritual


Sum of Pieces

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The computation of pieces together and undone,

find sustainable consequence.

This palpable heart—thinking…

Yet, no more or less important than the caterpillar.

Been searching

the beauty in what breaks-apart:

glass, world, stories, images in a kaleidoscope…

Always imagining the dynamics, as a whole, being perfectly suitable.

The focus predominantly on gathering-up,

reassembling what was…

Meanwhile, the fuzzy yellow creature without a spine,

slinks the bark of a tree, and I’m not sure that he thinks,

especially of me.

I ask, is it not the most frightening thing to find

your foundation is quicksand?

Take life—It has infinite possibilities in which to crumble.

I have seen the fragments, rolling frantically like marbles, those lovely,

equivocal streaks of color speeding towards chaos!

As I now pause,

learn to embrace the inevitable impact, allow for the parting of ways;

Fall-apart,

and in-love with the immense offerings presented by the indefinite.

The continuous evolution becoming-one with breaking-to-bits.

Each particle: a new universe,

eye for seeing death as its rightful birth.

Journeying the sum of something—with or without meaning—a part.

(Reflection in a still river questions, “What is tangible?”)

In the beginning is God—

We, the caterpillar and I, you, the sun, a rose…

are in the intentions.

Acceptance

the peace within pieces.

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

Heroes

 

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The world in all its insanity has grown a certain silence amidst chaos. If you listen it’s there distinctly: Vacancy. God has escaped us.

 

I feel the chill of my skin-aware on a dark morning, sky trying to merge into itself, attempting to revive so many empty eyes, old and young, the collective aching bones and weary hearts.

 

We’ve driven out the light of grace for ego. Now you are my God, and I am yours – our only hope.

 

Oh the stories we tell to save ourselves, pretend: We are not afraid… I am not afraid… Like children lost in the woods.

 

The things we teach as truth to encourage fortitude that we might reach a means to an end follow crumbs, not to be at that fork of realization in the road alone. Only that profound emptiness is the only truth, and we must meet ourselves there eventually.

 

The only freedom that exists is to come eye to eye with your soul. Cut it like wood, an exposed nerve, and let it bleed to full exposure. Every drop of cruel ugliness, bits of purity trapped alive in the mix.  Love it all like a star sets fire to the sky, until you can scream: I don’t feel anything anymore!

 

Then you can fall through the vortex of time. Feel the vibration of blood circulating throughout the world, and the loud gong of the universe reverberating in every cell.

 

Forgive it all — bring God back to life. Together become heroes.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

WITHIN—

 

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Rest assured wherever there is chaos the devil has been.

 

She walked away from her life just like that. Indifferent. Wisdom comes suddenly. After all of the energy spent in thought, worrying, debating, doubting…she came to understand perfectly that fear is merely a trick set to keep you from living your life, away from your faith, empowerment, and the clarity it takes to ultimately have everything you indeed need.

 

She took the burden-off like daylight slips into a setting sun, and discarded it as, yesterday...

 

I’ve learned from that son of a bitch the devil. He’s been there like a close companion, listening carefully, feeling the pain, slapping me on the back with support and laughter, encouraging my will… A real wrenched-neck-motherfucker, you know? All of it only to learn what and how he could defeat me. He’s had his way with me. I’ve gone weak in his presence and given him the pleasure.

 

When the devil is playing a powerful hand in your life, like a hot buttered biscuit in a cold winter’s empty gut, or a vodka tonic to the tune of your emotional sorrow; to fold and give into indulgence is merely momentary satisfaction, side-by-side failure. It fills a need for want…Tricky bastard! To taste the bliss of decadence on your tongue, the sweet heaven it may be, is illusion. To fulfill wanton lust in a ten second climax, or close your eyes to rest from running-up-hill, because it seems too daunting, is merely the pretense of a feel good moment, selling yourself short, the weakness that ultimately ravages you and your life.

 

It’s a simple but brilliant game we play, he and I, self-satisfying sabotage, feeding that bastard what it craves, and it’s all in your head: your failure, and your fulfillment. You ask yourself what is stopping you, or your life from being all that you want. Insist someone has stolen your success, and patented it as theirs. Blame it on bad luck, and/or a bunch of pricks you wish you’d never known.

 

Even if it seems you get what you want in the moment by giving-in, and abstaining by all means feels like hell; it’s hell that you need, if you don’t want to want any longer!

 

Here and now is the only moment to corrupt everything, or not. Evil and hope’s only chance. Only hope is weak. Yes, both will place you in the shackles of fear and pain, to keep the truth from you. You’ll beg and willingly grasp at straws. You’ll think you’re right when you’re wrong. You’ll be afraid to fail when rather you would succeed. You’ll believe everything is going to be okay when it won’t be. All the while, that shit-eating grin cast over your world like a painful sore, compelling you to pick-it until it bleeds in need of a protective scab.

 

An epiphany dawns: It lives inside of you, the ultimate control to feed or destroy it, to empower it, or yourself. It’s that simple. The love each part has for the other, side by side the same, for what you give and take away from each, is a balance that keeps you feeling safe.

 

I found his weakness: The fear I’d get to – know her for who he is… and I did! I turned him upside down, put his shattered bones in a steel pink box, away from my heart, at the soul of my feet. Scared shitless he pissed him self when I took my first steps. Suddenly he was old and decrepit. His grin not so pretty, or persuasive, as he pulled his singed tail between his legs, and howled in a revolting way.

 

She smiled a devilish grin in satisfaction, and thereby was reminded: I am all of these things within, good or bad, and I decide whether to self-destruct or thrive.

 

“You are your problem, and you are your solution.”

 

The cold turned into light, and through it eyes of awareness saw certain warmth. Content, she could finally rest at peace her struggling heart.

 

—Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

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God, The Tree, and I

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One— God the tree and I —

Feminine and masculine nature. 

In love become branches, stories…

Honey to the bee.

Sting of death: A sincere part of everything,

mountains, galaxy…

The way it transforms, reestablishes connections.

Earth, flesh, fish in the sea.

Universe – A trunk full of treasure.

God —the wind before the tree:

Color me, please, an orange leaf —

I want to fall into seasons,

veins accelerated with the blood of life,

though never into time’s unending cruelty.

M e m o r y

You in the womb—

Heart beating.

Soil’s rich history, nutrients,

enthusiastically expand our roots.

When I am the bark, hardest on, “Myself,”

forgetting…

Grow a forest inside of my heart.

Remind me I am you,

to be soft sapwood beneath.

Innately understanding generations,

external, internal.

Home to a bird, a squirrel rushing

to safety along my waistline.

Let it all be a rainstorm. Stars.

Grass green with wisdom beneath.

I am all of these things…

Gravity’s soul – A blossom

Crown sturdy upon her head.

Boy taking cover in the shade,

about to climb his destiny.

-Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

Star Star

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Star

Star

Star

Star

Siblings and distant cousins

they are.

Light-years-apart.

Clusters. Strangers.

Falling 

Falling

Where they go…

I do not know.

Cradle them: Tender souls.

Immortal wishes

to burdensome—

Minds their own.

Flee the sky – human scars.

Star

Star

©Maria DellaPorte 2016 All Rights Reserved

 

 

Two Stars

A hundred thousand years—

 

Many millions to ensue…

 

Where we will be, longing.

 

The vast darkness.

          Faithless.

                    Always the same!

 

However, dotted speckles of light

do not question,

 

but are disciplined droplets – A fire-ballet.

 

Delicately skim pedals of

gold horizon, aspiring hearts

willingly innocent.

 

Strongly carved planets,

those immobilized souls,

elongate – calves pulling up onto toes.

 

Spin, spin…

 

The progression of hopeful chords—

 

Symphony of galaxies, continual,

birth new homes, infinite desire:

 

Honey twirling-off edge, a spoon,

light years from the tongue.

 

Two stars, waiting too long…

 

S e p a r a t e

 

Their celestial bodies – gravity,

allow a great fall.

 

Into love become extraordinary,

 

diminish the gap between God

 

          and unabashed fulfillment.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

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Recently viewing photographs of the famous mosque in Iran,

and considering a question as to what the caption could be…
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My reply:

Light lends us the ability of vision should we choose to open our eyes

and see the beauty of color, and shape of the soul,

otherwise felt flourishing in the heart.

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Yes, color, light, darkness, and the gift of sight (from the soul).

I see in rainbows my friend, I see…

Ominpotent—

The world can be a prism or a prison!

Shhh-Large

—Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved

(I do not own any rights to the public photographs)

Sole Warrior Soul

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When you cannot concede to a path of ordinary,
because your heart believes in the extraordinary.

When you see things in a different light,
hear sounds of a symphony.

Do not struggle to explain the rainbow
to those that
have never seen color,

or expect they’d understand.

You cannot teach purple to the blind,
or a bird’s song to the deaf.

Do not agonize in your solitude,

but rather revel in the awareness —

Trust yourself, what you already know as truth.
Live-up to your standards
(When nobody else will).

For you cannot change anyone,

but the world, yes,
when you stand brave in your convictions.

Sometimes you have to let go of everything,

allow the energy of the world to shift,

grieve it for a fleeting moment, then kiss it goodbye,
—a blessing.

Set yourself free in order to become what you ought to be.

No regrets,
only gratitude,

Each joy and agonizing step

that built you…

A champion heart—

Sole warrior.

Soul.

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved
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Brilliant Orchestrators

They come like stars.

See them there in the thousands:

Limitless discovers.

…Could be death or the wind.

Multiplying—

Perhaps it is love or happiness,
like the pink of a cherry orchard:

You walking there in denim,

with your thoughts mind you—

It’s not necessary to understand,
although sometimes I do…

See it like the green in your eyes.

It’s the song I hear—

And without hesitation sing,
with reverence for all.

This is what I’m meant to do:

Transcribe the language
of little orbs,
red and yellow and bluish-green.

Their benevolence,
intelligence—

Carry that weightlessness,
to be disbursed into vast pools
of universes.

Into the collective energy,
a minuet.

I am here,
in a studio,
listening,…

The sun through slanted blinds,
like a carpenter’s brilliant hands
on my oak floors.

You there in Milan,
Toronto,
India,
Switzerland,
Israel,
Belize,
and Arkansas…

All over and beyond,
unique as imagination,

identical by a thread.

That is the question and answer:

Omnipotent—

Like particles in a memory bank,
preservation for a future we can’t know.

The world in a nutshell—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved

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Still Consciousness

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It is not the years that put on age but the predicaments we travel through…the slicing and dicing of our hearts and souls…draw deep lines of regret on our faces and weigh down our breasts in the gravity of despair…adorn you in white turbulence…remove your hair in literal losses…Eventually give-up your mind most willingly, though subconsciously, to dementia, deafness, going blind, because the safe-havens built as the foundation of your life have always been but mere illusion, a formed quicksand.

If everyone remained as his or her innocent child, in his or her natural state of potent life force, birthright, the sunlight in us would never stop enriching each cell with exuberant flow, the bodies we host. The light abounding in the universe would cup us in stunning perfection and peace.

It is when we separate from our Source that we succumb to the cruelties of nature and life outside of ourselves, foreign to our natural state and whither in its grasp. We become the earth in all its beauty and frailty, giving way to changes that are purposeful and significant, if you are a rock or fields of grass, the tide or seasons, but we are not…

We are the stillness of consciousness that never dies and always knows inherently all that is and isn’t present in perfection.

This beautiful lesson here on earth, poignant in pleasure and pain, is magnificent as we leave grateful to have experienced every tingle of emotion. Back to the place we came…we are…and never left…never born and without death.

It is glorious intellect, sensory, source, and movement,

God—

One heart galaxy in love, all there is, ever was…

Being—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved