The Emotional Body
Is the elephant in the room pink
With pixies on its back
And Jesus in its ear
And the Devil screaming back
Feel no fear?
Or is it a trauma
That cuts so deep
The only way
The child could sleep
And no longer weep
Was to leap
Into a canyon of forgetting?
But the body of emotion
Remembers all
And one day must fall
Into a psychosis of metaphor
For the body of emotion
Knows not the Word
That simply says
I have a trauma in my life
That will not heal
So why does it appeal
To the most learned psychiatrist
The Dr's of the Head
Choose to seal in the trauma
With blind denial of our strory
And a pill to forget
What emotions are prompting to remember
So that forgiveness may be allowed
So that memories may be laid to rest
For it takes courage and strength to go mad
Generations of stuff
Flowing down the line
How many forms of self harm are there?
Cutting a line
That says this goes no further
Does it draw powder or blood?
Is it safe under the hood?
Staying firm so as
Not to take on the vulnerability
Of the story of our True Nature
Like Sheep
Wishing that they
Could paint Eden
Eve's Den
Cutting a line
Does it draw white crystal powder
Or does it draw red flowing blood
Or does the seventh sister
Of the seventh son
Throw six sixes
And tie a knot
In the the flow of harm unheard?
Yet flowering
In the psychosis of technological thinking
That our society feeds on
Are yea not hungry?
How can the family
Of society harm you?
In the ways that it is?
Its only a story
But it needs to be heard
Because the reality that told it
Was never put into words
The pain that was laid
Like flowered thorns
Between the pages of the book
Of the Being of our lives
Binding it so tightly shut
With glittering diamond spider strands
Only love can melt their embrace
Only compassion absorb the thorns
And open the tears
But Dr Head would rather you be
Addicted to forgetting
Psychiatrists creating drug addicts
In their prescriptions for
No Living in Life.
With pixies on its back
And Jesus in its ear
And the Devil screaming back
Feel no fear?
Or is it a trauma
That cuts so deep
The only way
The child could sleep
And no longer weep
Was to leap
Into a canyon of forgetting?
But the body of emotion
Remembers all
And one day must fall
Into a psychosis of metaphor
For the body of emotion
Knows not the Word
That simply says
I have a trauma in my life
That will not heal
So why does it appeal
To the most learned psychiatrist
The Dr's of the Head
Choose to seal in the trauma
With blind denial of our strory
And a pill to forget
What emotions are prompting to remember
So that forgiveness may be allowed
So that memories may be laid to rest
For it takes courage and strength to go mad
Generations of stuff
Flowing down the line
How many forms of self harm are there?
Cutting a line
That says this goes no further
Does it draw powder or blood?
Is it safe under the hood?
Staying firm so as
Not to take on the vulnerability
Of the story of our True Nature
Like Sheep
Wishing that they
Could paint Eden
Eve's Den
Cutting a line
Does it draw white crystal powder
Or does it draw red flowing blood
Or does the seventh sister
Of the seventh son
Throw six sixes
And tie a knot
In the the flow of harm unheard?
Yet flowering
In the psychosis of technological thinking
That our society feeds on
Are yea not hungry?
How can the family
Of society harm you?
In the ways that it is?
Its only a story
But it needs to be heard
Because the reality that told it
Was never put into words
The pain that was laid
Like flowered thorns
Between the pages of the book
Of the Being of our lives
Binding it so tightly shut
With glittering diamond spider strands
Only love can melt their embrace
Only compassion absorb the thorns
And open the tears
But Dr Head would rather you be
Addicted to forgetting
Psychiatrists creating drug addicts
In their prescriptions for
No Living in Life.