in 2012...

i

wish you

L O V E

.

happy new year

.

.

.

it's time - time for a little.....joie de vivre...

merry merry

dear friends

laissez les bons temps rouler

.

.

.

TO THE REAL NATIVES OF THIS LAND...a time of giving thanks...

for 

the kindnesses and generosities

shown by you

i give thanks

for

your wisdom and teachings

i give thanks 

for

the sacrifices and losses

suffered by you

i beg forgiveness

.

.

rough pages...

weathered words

speak dark the ages

 soft hands dredge

o’er love’s rough pages

  

barbed wire bound

between torn covers

guarding secrets

of her lover's

as seams of their

dark ancient dreams

rip wide to loose

the tattered schemes

and hearts bleed out

in rushing streams

captive now in rusted cages

lost souls scream in silent rages

wasted lives speak dark the ages

.

.

.

rusty nails...

like rusty nails
gouged into wooden pails
bleedin’ out in crimson streams
dreams decayed laid to rest
in windblown nests

wanderin’ the wastelands
of times erased by desert sands
ain’t nothin’ never for free
hope now a tarnished memory
walkin’ those lonesome streets
of my heart’s ghost town
lost love now satan bound
empty but for the
tumblin’ tumbleweeds
the devil’s seeds
silent but for the ragin’ screams
of my dyin’ dreams

 like rusty nails

.

.

.

the jagged terrain...

 

he comes from a place far away
a place where night is day
and day brings no light
like a devil's dark blight
where love’s gone astray
and can't find its way
a place where barren is the land
like pearls of a broken strand
and cross the mountains deep
windswept tears sweep
the jagged terrain
like a ragin’ train

yes, he comes
from a place
far away

 

he comes
from
my
heart

he
comes
to
me

he
comes
for
me

.

.

.

tarnished skies...

tarnished skies

and languished lives
line the shelves of
forgotten dreams
and dastardly schemes
grinding down each

tiny tear of hope           
leaving only love’s
raw reflection
of gnawed bone
the skeleton of what was
baring its bleached heart
gleaming now in the light
of the moon

as i sleep
.
.
.

and all is done...

autumn comes
and all is done
lifeless leaves loose their grip
falling now for that final trip
swept to the shore by whispers of dreams
float away in swirls blue and green
soft subtle shadows rush to the night
calling your name in love's lost light
and so many memories of you
what am i to do

autumn comes

and all is done

.

.

.

the shadow bird...

the shadow bird flies

through moonlit skies 

casting softly his spell

on those burning in hell 

can he not forgive 

those souls who do live 

one life at a time 

regardless their crime

the voices...

 

i hear the voices in my head
never listening to what they’ve said

for while they ring of truth and right
they leave me cold in the night

to be held close in love and light
is all I want with all my might

that part of me that seeks to reason
i leave to ponder in life's seasons

i choose instead my heart’s own sounds

as with their warmth they me surround

and so my heart rules ‘oer my head
i’ll live by love when all is said

 

i'll live by love

.

.

.

but now...

could you not see what i could see
each time we met in secrecy
could you not feel the children's fears
each time we held each other dear
'tis not your fault
i entered knowingly into our vault
i entered willingly i cannot me exalt
but when i knew

t'would not be you
to say no more
it was i
who shut the door
forever more
what else
was i to do

 
but

i miss you

.

.

.

the keep...

the blinding edge of reality

suffers not the me of me

when darkness wraps my heart in love's eternity

and ravens black in forests deep

bemuse themselves in sorrow's keep

.

.

.

the speculum...

she gazed into the hand held mirror
but herself no longer could she see
she drew nearer and nearer
and still herself she could not perceive

for there, there in the silver speculum
deep inside her outreached palm was an image
so chilling she almost succumbed
staring back at her from this metal cage

piercing her heart from another time another place
exposing love long since cast aside
in the dainty fingers of her past she held his face
the face of all held holy still and her thoughts collide

into the knowledge that she could no more part
with the vision of this, the reflection of her fate
than could she divest herself of her beating heart
breaking as it was for her beloved soul mate
.
.
.

the crows fly...

the crows fly overhead

dropping dreams upon the dead

crying out to those who pled
do not your feathers shed
for soon to moon you’ll be wed
and in her arms will you bed
with her stars your love is bred

 






there will be the holy thread
all wound up in shades of red
tracking those whose hearts have fled
leaving circles where they bled
drawn in death’s cold black lead
do not think you’ve misread
listen now to what’s been said

the crows fly overhead
dropping dreams upon the dead

where will you be led?

the rolling seas...

in you

my heart sets sail
  with midnight veil 

and holy grail

   into the dark of night
    the tempest flight
    in virgin white

 

  our chart

the distant shore
the magic lore
love evermore

our lives

the waves we ride
poseidon at our side
skies open wide

you are

my rolling seas
and

i

your

wild
banshee

.

.

.

wishin' and wonderin'...

wish night could be
more time left
just for me
but time is measured

in loveless theft

wish i could remember words
letters of thought just before sleep
but they fly away on the wings of birds
leavin’ me empty and nothing to keep

seems as if

those are always the ones
thoughts most wanted

thoughts most wise
words most prized

when day is done
for those i search

but i cannot rise
sad there's no notepad

for my mind
sneak back onto land

and into dreams
where all is known

and many kinds
all held safe

in golden moonbeams

readin’ my words

of wants last written
wishin’ i knew with what

i am smitten
 

 dangerous readin'

of dangerous thoughts
wishin’ i knew if all for naught
thoughts showin’ me as i wanna be
wishin’ i knew what really is key
danger in placin’ too much weight
wonderin’ if it’s only his foolish bait
such words such thoughts such dreams
wonderin’ if anyone hears my screams

.

.

.

the dragon eye...

the dragon eye
floating high
floating free
holding me
in the deep dark night sky

do not its power we belie
rising

in its guided time
pure perfection

at its prime
casting life’s diamond slivers
upon the black waters quiver
spirit probe
the golden globe
the blessed ball
does surely all enthrall

floating free

holding me

holding thee

floating high

the dragon eye

the holy twine...

strings
of
sunshine
like
holy
twine
streamin’
down
wrappin’
my
heart
round
and
round
nev’a
leavin’
it
all
unwound

but will it be enough to cleanse
all them horrible divil’s sins
an' let me begin ag’in
gi’mme one more chance

to dance

the
dance

.

.

.

love unlived...

you penetrate my dreams
permeate my silent screams
and glide into the ancient streams
                    
where love holds always your invite
and darkness holds its secrets tight
but like the wind regrets take flight

what has happened to my sight
did vision die without the light
and leave me now to this sad plight

nothing is as it seems
nothing left to redeem
when will it ever end
when will it ever end

never
he whispers
never

ever

.

.

.

these rags...

let me shed
these threadbare rags
the clothes of convention
wardrobe of society      
ecclesiastical attire
the dirty laundry of
women like me
of women
of me
of ME

these garments
that encumber me so
that stifle and stigmatize
that suffocate my soul
suffer me so

suffer my heart

rip them from my body
strip them away from the meat of my bones
tear them from my pure white flesh
the touch of them igniting burning branding
the texture of my thoughts

then throw them back
from whence they came
from whence they were sent
into the cesspools
of their own making
they have designed their own demise
and will inherit their own destruction
in their own way and in their own time

and i
i shall dress
i shall dress me
in the fabric of my imagination
the tapestry of tangible visions
woven from the heartstrings
of mine own spirit
i shall wear frocks of silken silence
shaped by voices unheard
sewn with the threads of
my heart’s love

dressing or not dressing

in my own way and in my own time

and i
i shall live  
i shall live by the dictates
of mine own heart
by the requisites of
love that guides me
bears me with its beauty
with its truth
upholding that which is good
which bears no evil
which loves for loves sake alone
giving all to love for love
asking nothing in return
loving as i go
in my own way and in my own time

and i
i shall love
i shall love you

YOU
.
.
.

SYNCHRONICITY AND THE OTHER SIDE - Trish MacGregor and Rob MacGregor

BOOK REVIEW

Believe it or not,  life continues after you die  -

This is how the writing team of Trish MacGregor and Rob MacGregor introduce us to their latest book, Synchronicity and the Other Side. 

As they quote Emerson in The Over-Soul...”the influences of the senses has in most men overpowered the mind to the degree that the walls of space and time have come to look solid, real  and insurmountable; and to speak with levity of those limits in the world is the sign of insanity.”  However, they assure the reader that here we will see...”the walls separating this world and the other world are not insurmountable, that we can obtain messages from deceased loved ones, that guidance can be found, that a larger picture of life and life hereafter is readily available...and that...the more contact one makes, the more the so-called realm of the dead appears to be buzzing with life, potential and promise.”  Then, just as the authors assure us of what awaits us, they methodically and comprehensively go about leading us on this journey of awareness and understanding, receptivity and communication, to synchronicity and the other side. 

Synchronicity is basically a “meaningful coincidence”, according to Carl Jung, or...”the coming together of inner and outer events in a way that is meaningful to the observer and can’t be explained by cause and effect...”  In the journey to communicate with our loved ones who are now on that other side, synchronicity becomes the guiding light through the darkness of misconception and misinformation, turning impossibility into not only possibility, but probability, using the information and techniques set out [again] by these authors of synchronicity.  

The MacGregors come about speaking on the subject of synchronicity with authority.  Their last co-authored book, The 7 Secrets of Synchronicity, was born as a result of the MacGregors’ life-long interest in meaningful coincidences.  As their own awareness in the subject grew, so, too, did their desire to write a book about synchronicity.  In early 2009, using the technological tool of the internet for research and to sample their blog [http://www.synchrosecrets.com/synchrosecrets/] audience, their collection of “synchronicities from around the world” amassed rapidly.  So it was that their first book on synchronicity was born - a guide leading the reader into the deep jungle of our own subconscious, lighting the way for our own awareness, creativity and life experiences, particularly, meaningful coincidences, to grow and flourish.  See my review of this timely and informative book at http://gypsywomanworld.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html.

Now, taking the reader further on this “ultimate journey” now with their newest book, Other Side not only expounds upon theory, it is replete with actual life stories and experiences of people around the world, including those of the authors.   Contact with those on the other side through altered states such as dreams and near-death experiences is examined.  The use of healing spirits [shamans, mystics and holistic healers] is introduced.   Spirit contact through synchronicities before or after the soul’s passing is  deeply looked into, leaving one thinking that “...perhaps...ideas...of the nature of consciousness...should be re-evaluated.”  Another avenue of spirit contact is through encounters with ghosts or spirits and, again, real life experiences abounding in synchronicity are shared.  Almost everyone has had experience with clusters of things - clusters of numbers or names or words or objects - whatever.  Such repetitions may be telling us that we “...should pay attention...the universe...is speaking...to us...one on one, about an issue that may be holding...us...back or about an idea or belief that may move...us...forward.”  Objects of interest are another way in which spirit contact is often experienced, with an object [belonging to, or associated with, the departed loved one] long lost or even unknown, resurfacing, or showing itself in some way.  Then, there is the “spirit of the trickster” - that “...archetypal figure often associated with the transition from life to death.”  Trickster spirits can wreak havoc with our emotions with their sometimes disturbing nature, “creating strife” and testing our strength and resolve in certain instances.   Even animals, including our pets, may be attuned to the spirit world...”vehicles of synchronicity and spirit contact.”   Spirit guides may come to us through dreams, through the use of a medium, or even in the “form of touch” like when you “...feel as if someone has just placed a hand on your shoulder or simply sense that someone is near...and you...experience an emotional reaction to contact, an overwhelming sense of elation, or shed tears of joy.”    

Regardless of the nature of contact with the other side, “when synchronicity is combined with spirit contact, new realms of possibilities and potentials open.”  Each of us has experienced moments of clarity in our lives - those moments when the muddled waters of life are made just a bit clearer, sometimes by a seemingly mundane event.  It is in those moments that we are able to see beyond the here and now and into the realm of the divine.  By using “synchronicity’s symbolic code”, the divine becomes all the closer.  The signs are everywhere.  By using the tools and techniques provided us in Synchronicity and the Other Side, cracking that symbolic code becomes all that much easier.

The works of these  award winning authors includes non-fiction subjects of dreams, astrology, yoga, animal symbolism and paranormal phenomena.   The fictional work of Trish MacGregor is replete with subjects of time travel, micro-chipping of animals and people, vanishings, parallel existences, governmental involvement and cover-ups, and more.  Her last novel, Esperanza, came out last year, and its sequel, Ghost Key, is to be released.  Rob MacGregor wrote Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and six other of the Indiana Jones original novels.  He has appeared on several major television network channels, as well.  His most recent novel, Double Heart, has just been released.   It follows the two others in this dynamic trilogy the includes Prophecy Rock [an Edgar winner] and Hawk Moon [Edgar nominee].   Still another book with the same protagonist is due out soon - Time Catcher. 

The MacGregors also write the Sydney Omarr astrology books [since Omarr’s death a number of years ago] which include twelve [12] sun sign books by individual zodiac sign with daily horoscopes, together with an annual volume divided into monthly sections.  In addition, they  maintain a must-see astrology blog in  Omarr’s  name  http://www.sydneyomarr.blogspot.com/.

Check out the MacGregors’  books at Amazon.  As I always say about their work - get it now - don’t wait. 

the leap...

 into the swirling whirling we did leap
heeding the call of love most deep
neither one the other enticed
wanting needing
at
any
price

the second skin...

the

thought

of

him

her

second

skin

there

was

no

beginning

there

was

no

end

.

to the one i left in dover...

it's pourin' rain
deep down in here

dark black rain pourin' down
since you ain't near

pourin' sadness and sorrow
like they ain't no tomorrow



all them tarnished yesterdays
lookin' for somewhere to stay

but they ain't no more room
deep down in here

no they ain't
caus'a all this sicken'n fear

this heart'a mine's
just plumb runnin' over

since i done left you
up there in dover

yeah it's pourin' rain
deep down in here

'cause you ain't nev'a
no more
my dear
.
.
.

and now?...

 and what of you when she went away

when she slipped from view that cold dark day

did a part of her remain perchance

remnant of your swirling shadow dance

and what of you when she came back not

when she slipped from you in a loose lover’s knot

did a piece of her lodge in your heart

remnant of your mind’s work of art

and what of you now since she’s been gone

when with her she took your brilliant dawn

and what of her since she slipped from sight

when with you she left her beloved night

and what of her since she went away

when from you she left ‘fore judgment day

and what of you

and what of her

now

now

that she’s

gone

and

you're

both

all

alone

what of you

what of her

.

.

.

a land without time...

it was a land without time
a land before time
the land of shifting time
shifting lines
shifting paradigms

the land in between
this time and that time

cast off yesterdays 

had come to stay

on this mean solar day
of stars gone astray

in this land without time
this land sublime

~

words...

words
his words

spiraling spinning
sinking out of sight
into my sanity
my sovereign sanity
no longer held safe in
the sanctuary of my soul
 
words
his words

~