Winter Solstice

Winter's branches bare and broken

Summer's fruit dried and brittle

Falls the sun 'til rises awoken

Springing forth then but a little

by Julie / Ember Elektra 

Dec. 20, 2016

photo by Julie O./chthonickore

Who I Am

i want to know who i am.

all i know is warmth

and the sound of your voice.

one day you stood in the sun

and i opened my eyes.

it was red,

and i didn't know who i was.

then i was born.

it was so strange and bright.

i was cold.

but then i was in your arms.

i was warm and i heard your voice.

you said, "Who are you?"

and i knew it was going to be ok

i would never have to be anything but me.

and we can learn who i am together.

–by Julie / Ember Elektra 

April 24, 2013

photo by Julie O./chthonickore

 

Soft Apocalypse

We pause now as if in eclipse 

Settling in 

the soft apocalypse

Sometimes the scales are set to be tipped

Useless flailing 

A panic switch 

Riders are we! 

of this soft apocalypse

Let only goodness then pass your lips 

The sun always rises after it dips 

It sails the cool night

On the waves it skips over 

the soft apocalypse 

In the glory of morn lay scattered chips

When gathered again

Old paradigms shift

Purged but not broken to terminal bits

Thanks to thee softpocalypse 

-by Julie O./ Ember Elektra

*artwork, by Jo Alys Downs, Platero and I, 1957

A Letter from the Universe

Sometimes you have a box full of confusion, 
Separate pieces 
And bits that used to make sense.
You were given the plans
And built step by step
No room for elaboration,
No intuition,
Little room for unique expression.
But slowly over time,
Entropy

It is a crime to glue the pieces.

You let them succumb to time,
To little hands,
To play,
To dreaming.

You are left with a box full of confusion.

One day you surrender.
The box is emptied
And the pieces scattered.
Will they ever be recovered?
Some
And some in the right time.
Others are hidden
And emerge after many years like treasures.
There are always more,
More mysteries,
More magic,
More thank you notes from the universe.

"You let go. You threw the seeds to the wind not knowing what would grow or when. You took them blindly by the handful and cast them about your garden and paradise. The miracle was not knowing they would always return to you in the quiet times, like little friends, kisses from the universe. You are loved. You are appreciated. Your toil does not go unrewarded. You are needed."

- by Julie O./ Ember Elektra

photo by Julie O./chthonickore

Oblivion

Near winter
White blankets upon the land:
Icy warm, smooth and crunchy

Leaves
Dregs of satisfaction hanging like frosted breath; 

Pure and refined

'Neath entombed twigs with clear casted wigs:

Their armor

Frozen decay

None proceeding 'till damp melted spring
Rotted amour
Stems splendent growth
Scented blossoming death from death 

Change and life, only to fade and die
The wheel turns

So much distraction for meaning
Fooled and helpless folk eking out
Stupid fawns amazed and gleeful;
Climbing higher, the tendril beanstalks running for the sun

Brown and dead by summer's end,
When baited brewing transforms:
Wine. . .

Come, come awaited oblivion

–by Julie O./ Ember Elektra

November 30, 2014

At the End of All Things and Everything

                                   

If I met you at the end of all things and everything,

We would embrace, and the wind would whip my hair into my face,

Soft and warm like the moment before all time.

Silent, deafeningly silent, like music melancholy and lonely, 

But full, full to bursting. 

Then the fall. 

And falling . . . who cares?

Why should we care? 

Why should I care, when there is nothing and no one there? 

Heaven, maybe hell. 

All is lost, only to be found. 

And only one moment is real in eternity. 

–by Julie O. / Ember Elektra,  (photo by Lauren Stupar)

November 23, 2014

And I Call This Love

      Expansion - artist Paige Bradley 

I want to like you.

Let me love you.

I only like you because I don't know you.

When I see your nakedness I cringe. I don't really like any body. I want to see the mask and the costume. It makes me feel comfortable. 

I don't love you without the mask and without the costume.

You are hideous.

Your truth is like drooping breasts and sagging flesh with snaky silvery fissures running up and down from carrying and holding, expanding and shrinking over and over, bringing other naked beings into the world. 

What is beautiful about you and your brokenness?

Let me pretend that you are beautiful and that I like you.

Clothes are not for comfort and utility, they are there so that I can pretend to love you.

And when you are perfect, and young, and beautiful, I will feed on you and use you until you become ugly. 

I will hide you away for myself.

I cannot stand your power.

I will push you down and be your lord and master,

and when you change

you will wear a mask and you will wear a costume to please me, so that I may love you.

If I can't have you, you will hide so that that I cannot see you and I will not be tempted by you.

You will wear a mask and you will wear a costume so that I won't love you.

And I call this love.

– by Julie  O./ Ember Elektra

August 23, 2014

The Forbidden Serpent to Its Creator

Your love is like the warm sand under my skin

Your face is the afternoon sun

I close my eyes 

It leaves me content

like dark wine

Time is only the motion of the breeze and the peaceful waves

Soon it will be night

– by Julie  O./ Ember Elektra

 April 27, 2010, photos by Julie O. /chthonickore

Fuchsia Sunset

eyes locked

the gate

iron bars

fingers clasping

a fuchsia sunset

darkening. it's babel

it means confusion

no. it is the gate of God

today IS the perfect day

– by Julie O.
Sept. 5, 2013

                 

    California Sunset 2012, photo by Julie O. /chthonickore

White Stone With a New Name

"I know your works;  you are neither cold or hot.  Would that you were cold or hot!

So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold or hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.  For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked." Revelations 3:15-17

I want to hear the word spoken from your mouth,

the name chiseled into my flesh the day I was created,

the name engraved on my soul the day you fashioned me.

Speak it yet again and I am consumed,

a new creation.

Breath your spirit into my mouth

with warm embrace falling through limitless seas,

caressing waters;

the depths of eternity.

Does it please you to know that I listen for your footsteps in the night?

As the day gently fades I am filled with joy.

Did you think of me in the heat of the day, when the sun was high in the sky?

Did it make your heart glad to know that I wait for you with quiet longing?

If you are delayed, the kiss only sweeter.

Even into the early hours of the morning I am still.

Oil poured out on my head,

honey in my mouth as day breaks.

–by Julie O.

December 22, 2009 

photo Julie O. /chthonickore

The begining of a blank journal given to me by my sister 2002.  I put in the flowers and wrote poetry in it.  This poem was one of the last entries.

     She wrote this on the first page.

Abel

Digging in the night, small creature,

Rain came down to cleanse the soul,

Gave to the earth what was dead,

having been banished to the grave.

The smell of the earth rose like creation.

It sang, “You should have known, you should have known!

Your tears are shed to bury the dead,

But the sagebrushed earth is the crown for your head;

The scent that could have raised the dead,

if you had only listened,

It was in the blood of the earth that you were christened."

Even in death he cries out to his God, “It was I who pleased you.”

 –by Julie O. / Ember Elektra

Dec. 9, 2009

                            Adamah- by Julie O. /chthonickore