Category: Poetry

My Confusion Has Become My Contusion

Capable, then incapable, free falling through the chasm. An observer of my fate I marvel at the chiasm.

Broken glass and sassafras I drink a chaotic toddy. Is there no remedy for my war torn body?

On the screen before me plays David Lynch’s, Rabbits. I seriously wonder if anyone else but me can understand their disjointed conversations. The door opens and closes and an invisible audience claps. Thunder claps. A rabbit is busy on the ironing board. And they all wonder at the rain.

My confusion has become my contusion. But, blue was my favorite hue. And, I wonder at the rain.

Resilience becomes a mockery when that’s all you can have. Every single day I’m bathing the bruises in a salve.

I beat my chest like a caged gorilla. There is no outlet for me. They want my poetry to smell like sage and vanilla. But, there’s more that they don’t see.

In my world everything is raw. Pretense and patriarchy are things I can’t afford. Every drop of water I drink I sip through the last straw

0

Alchemizing Our Loads: A Dedication To The Women In My Circle

I am a tree of life but my branches are breaking

And the thought of enforcing boundaries leaves me shaking

I knew this day would come. The catalyst has arrived.

But her appearance is nothing I could have surmised

The cool soil beneath the souls of my feet

This well-worn path formed by my heart beat

Everything! Everything is important to me. My heart wants to hold it all

My wise woman’s words telling me I can’t carry it all or I’ll fall

From an ancient wild forest she emerged from a bank of dew-laden moss

And she says to me “no, my child some of what you’re carrying is dross”

Statuesque with a tall basket upon her own head

She pulls from my load things that I dread

Complex emotions and situations from my past

I hadn’t realized so much had amassed

Ancestral traumas and narratives that defeat

She placed her hands on my own and laid these at my feet

We’re going to the stream she said…there’s cleansing work that needs to be done

We’re going to alchemize your load until your battle is won

Wading out into an emerald green pool

The water so refreshingly cool

Together we reached a briskly swirling eddy

She looked deep into my eyes and asked, “are you ready?’

“Lay your burdens down in the stream and watch them flow away

I’m teaching you how to release through the magic of play”

As I laid my burdens down into the bubbling flow

I felt a rush of tickles on my legs as I watched them go

My consternation gave way to a relieved smile

I looked at the creek bank where there was waiting for me a tiny pile

The wild wise woman began splashing her way back to the shore

I danced in her wake and reveled in her lore

Through her parabolic ways I learned how to discern piece by piece

What to carry close to my heart and what to release

As we stood together on solid ground I gathered to my chest

My lighter load that resembled a nest

Suddenly I noticed I had grown wings

And that they were made up of broken things

This leg of my journey now felt so complete

My energy and joy had become replete

It truly did all work together for my good

The profundity of my strength was being understood

As she walked away the wise woman gazed up to a clear bright sky

As she uttered the words, “and now you know why”

© Cozett Dunn July 25th, 2023

0

No Water For The Wolves

Lying in the silence. All is black around me save my phone and wifi light. And all I can think about is how my mother’s death is stirring in me an even greater fire and resolve to be living light. I want my light to shine into the cosmos and to be a home to every human without exception.

I want to be….wide, long, deep, tall, ever expanding light, warmth, and peace and safety.

I want my table to extend into the nations.

Where there is light people feel seen, where there is light there is clarity, there is life, there is strength, and hope.

In a world filled with humans who despise what they don’t get, fear what they can’t understand, and murder either with their thoughts or hands those who are divergent…..I want to be different.

Love is beautiful anarchy

Light is the epitome of rebellion against darkened understanding

Brilliant bright light so the world can see
Recklessly loving us all into anarchy

While the planet is threshed wheat from tare
I’ll gather and glean to me those in despair

It is enough for those standing accepted in the sun
To carry the status of a chosen one

I’ll cast my lot with the vagabond parade
I vomit at the charity of pretentious charade

Babylon, Babylon, can’t you see she’s imploding?
Or are your ears deafened from your own gloating?

Superiority, elitism, white washed graves
Their throats lie open like wilderness caves

But they won’t catch me or mine
Unbeknownst to them we are made of brine

And, I refuse to give them water…

0

My Great Alchemical Romance

Make no mistake. There is a great romance going on here.

But, it’s not with the man of my dreams.

It’s with the sound of the train passing outside the window of my hotel room.

The clickety clack of metal on metal while it rushes toward some destination I’m unaware of

The mystery of that unknown destination intrigues me.

It has always intrigued me. Paths that have no end. I dream of them all the time.

The haunting nature of a destiny I may or may not reach is more than I can take sometimes.

Isn’t that what great romance is all about?

A dance between what is and what could be

A push and pull between certainty and seduction

The liminal space that sits squarely between pleasure and pain

Knowing and not knowing at the same time is deliciously sweet

My romance has never taken the form of a dedicated lover who whispers into my ear their devotion to me

My romance has been quieter, subtler

I’ve laid on a freshly made bed of all white linens all day

The sun shining into my hotel window made the whiteness glow and feel…holy

It’s a Monday and the hotel is silent

I breathe deep as my eyes trace the blue sky outside my window and I wonder

I wonder why I’ve been given the path that I’m on

I wonder why I’ve had to do it alone

I suspect I will always do it alone

I suspect this is something the universe wants me to embrace

After I’ve worn myself out from wondering I realize the only thing I ever really understand is the moment I’m in

As the legendary poet Antonio Machado said, “Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road– Only wakes upon the sea.”

I don’t truly know where my path is leading I only know I’m too intoxicated by the intrigue of that to not follow it

My footsteps are the road

The curvature of the arch of my feet like delicate bridges from the heaven that is me to the earth that calls to me

My toes wiggling in the Mediterranean

My brown eyes beholding the Bosphorous

Ahhhh. Make no mistake there is a great romance going on here

But, its sensuality hasn’t take the form of the man of my dreams

Its sensuality has been expressed in the moments of feeling the immense pleasure of a plane lifting off carrying me to foreign lands

The sweetness of it found in the melting morsels of alien gastronomy

Its savory flavor flirts with me in the spice bazaars as the scent of the herbs hint at the mouth watering delights to come

This is my romance

Being a perpetual stranger longing for place is a bittersweet torment all its own

Who am I? I am the epitome of romance. The conundrum of contrast. The settled wild woman.

This great romance has my soul sliding across entire continents as though they’re made of satin sheets

I feel deeply and that is romantic whether I feel with someone or alone

I have a romantic life even if it isn’t one that is shared or witnessed

It’s an unconventional romance but romantic nonetheless…

I find my exhilaration at the moment of lift off

Like a bird set free I stretch my wings until I’m exhausted and sore

My body spent from flying I snuggle against the warmth offered in unfamiliar settings once I land

I am in love with the earth and all the life forms that teem therein.

I am in love with the sound of hundreds of languages and accents

I weep in ecstatic, heart-pounding joy that makes the entirety of my body and being shake at the sight of humanity celebrating their festivals and feasts.

I am in love with humanity. I am in love with all the emotional and soulful intricacies that are you and your expression of life.

This is my great romance. You who are reading this post….it is you because humanity is…you.

0

The Perfection of Irony: My Parabolic Catalyst


Cozett Contemplates the perfection of irony…via her own poetry.


I am grateful for the storm
assaulting my form
it broke me free from the norm

In the swirling vortex
My cerebral cortex
accessed my predecessors & I began to sing in an unknown tongue
little knowing the history that the future had already sung

Looking down I noticed I’d been lifted
By a black funnel cloud I’d been gifted

Perspectives of all eras at once parallel
I got a taste of heaven because I’d gone through hell

Tornadic twister tickling my toes
Queen of the storms they’re the fodder for my prose

It is a beautifully fantastic agreement we have
These storms work healing for me like a salve

What would destroy others was my resting place nearly all my life
The only bread I ate was the alchemy of strife

My nourishment a decoction of my very bones
Gave me the strength to build with their cast stones
Remineralizing my emotional frame
Taking pride in all my shame

Ironic is I and forever will be
A parabolic conundrum is the mystery of me

A soul tenderized till it turned to dust
My veins filled with watery rust

Some were destined to have their formation begin at the peak
While yet others foundations were steeped in the blackest of bleak

The fonts of my thoughts drip social media like the ink of a quill
My catalystic gift is to write till we heal

Catalyst
Catechist
Paradoxically profound

The gist is in the grist
And its wisdom is compound

Cozett Dunn ©


#chatttownpoet #cozettcontemplates #thepoetryofcozettdunn #writer #poetry #profoundpoetry #ironicpoetry #alchemy #thecatalyst

0

My Utopia Hyperopia: Midnight Poetry Musings

I write about what shakes me

I write about what shapes me

My writing has a quality that creates me

Ink on a page with blurry eyes I write

Blood of a sage with poetry as my rite

Didactic revelry I wallow in the ponder

Galactic hypertrophy I follow the wander

Utopia Hyperopia I orbit reticulum

My vision chiastic on the time continuum

I write in the retrospect of my newly dawned future

I had no choice but to change because I ran out of suture

My patched-up heart ripped by a shard of my pscyhe

The finality of its beat was redeemed by Nike

A winged goddess of victory I became

I now muse about the lore of my name

Gold poured into me and I became Kintsukuroi

Millennia from now they’ll be reading my story

I’m an Indigo child, a seed of the stars

Life bursts forth from my luminous scars

For millions of years I must have existed

My mind was needed so my soul persisted

After this venture in incarnation I will lay it all down

I may be human but I am not a noun

And after that I’ll tell about what shaked me and that which I shook

I’ll tell about what created me and that which I took…

© Cozett Dunn Dec. 11th, 2022

0

Rain Falling Forward

Times of refreshing rain falling on me falling forward

I turned to my inner sea and collapsed shoreward

Rising from the black sand beach of my subconscious

Walls closing in around me I must become dauntless

My time here has come to end. My time here is about to fall backward

May it collapse into the unconscious sea for it never was truly me

I learned something the other day while I was reading, “Flowers On The Path.” And that is the karma of living unaligned invites wrath.

I read this book by Sadhguru, my Indian mystic, the one I aspire to emulate.

It was the rain falling forward that knocked me from this path of wrath

It was the rain falling forward that was my footpath

Solar plexus has become my lexis

I’ve learned to trust my gut

My pivotal nexus gives assurance so I strut

From one country to the next all around the globe

In the soil of every country I become their microbe

Giving life to the foundation of all we are and need

My happiness demands I elude the greed

Hermetic aesthetic

My soul won’t fit in a corporate hole

Capitalism is apathetic

Because it deems the hermit pathetic

So narrow. Only preying it knows

But, I plan to take it down with the gift of my prose

The great whore who preys upon the people

The great whore who has made it’s home under the steeple

I will write until my writing becomes a freedom song

Liberating the inhabitants of the earth and making them strong

A mother to the nations I’m calling first the east, then the north

Before I venture to the south and call them all forth

I give up entirely on the west. It is from where I came

It’s way of life nearly made me lame. I will leave it to another creature

Or perhaps to the lukewarm church and its favorite hateful preacher

Were it not for the falling forward rain

My life would still be subject to drain

But, I am moving forward now in this beautiful falling forward rain

0

Deep Within My Keep: A Poem Of I Am

And, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your figment and justice my bone

Deep within the keep of who I am

I exist within a hologram

Projected realities colliding with the fates

While cunning chimeras pace at my gates

I am the offspring of a million goodbyes

I am the prayer that they can’t catechise

To Adam I say, “I’ll see your rib and raise you intelligence.”

And, to me he says, “I’m only interested in your acquiescence.”

The gamble that is and has always been

Is how authentic can you become without it being seen as sin

I owe no one comfort to the detriment of my own

The reality of me is my creative capstone

I repose in the still point of infinity

I refuse to be the adjuvant of your affinity

I do not exist for your pleasure

I’ve come to unearth mysterious treasure

You will not find me on the surface

It’s best to look for me in cursus

Water witching forgotten wells

Drawing deep from my poetic tales

I’m a nomadic wonder within this realm

My heart is my compass and it’s steady at the helm

In my defiant softness your trespass has become apparent

Your rage belies your belief that you are inerrant

You are justified in crossing my boundaries? Arrogance like yours must be steeled in foundries

And for what reason? Your inescapable bruteness is grounds for treason

A throne of fables, fae, and fire

My feminine ferocity becoming a pyre

Save the cherub for an appropriate setting

Charon is best suited for my level of vetting

Hades has no need for hierophants

And my soul has been looted by sycophants

So, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your reality and autonomy my bone

Deal with it.

0

This Clinging Life Of Mine: A Response Poem For The Divine

What is this clinging life of mine

But, a withering fruit grasping its vine

What was this grand purpose of which I was told

One that is rooted in the origin stories of old

Did my forefathers have no forethought?

My foremothers had no freedom of thought

What does it mean when the sun goes down?

The moon holds me sway. It is my crown.

Riding the beast in its scarlet facade

My condemnation an act of God

Why would I ever apologize to anyone who holds space for my destruction?

What is so wicked and deplorable as a love whose murder is their introduction?

You call me crafty and I call You vain

What type of glory warrants this kind of pain?

Where is the justice for Judas? And for the vessels of dishonor?

Specifically brought forth into life for the destruction of their souls and bodies.

If confusion isn’t Your authorship

And perfection is Your penmanship

Then why do those who read and sing of your love kill, steal and destroy?

Your people? They are pursuing each other with hatred now.

Just as Your Son said.

When life and grace regress into law there is only ever death and disgrace left to embrace

What is this clinging life of mine?

It is but a petulant pawn for the Divine

What was this grand purpose of which I was told?

I need it to warm my dark as I now feel cold and old

No gift of glittering gold

Nor calls to rise and be bold

Can raise me from this shroud

That you seem to have happily allowed.

The end.

0

O Istanbul

As the sun went down and the moon drifted high

It occurred to me the end is nigh

The end of frustration and vexation and being stamped down

The end of feeling like I’m about to drown

My breakthrough came like a thief in the night

Gathering me as the good and stealing me from my plight

I was whisked away to a Turkish wonderland

The place where I always take my ancient stand

In the valley of the kings the queens come and submit

We rise as a group and the men become fit

There is a divine order God wishes to bring

One where the martyred women sing

Of their daughters glories and freedom stories

When Mother Cozett came with a soaking rain

Religion turned to reason

The reason changed the season

And immediately the lions laid with the lambs

Peace, peace she spoke

As her poetic bread was broke

Hardened hearts of willful violence

Became transformed in the silence

From the least to the greatest they all sat and listened

As mama Cozett’s words formed like Dew and glistened

Shimmering brown skin soaking in apothecary

My words became their sanctuary

Grace to the mountains and peace to the Golden Horn

Never again will battle rend us forlorn

The time is now and it’s about you and me

The time is now see the words of God upon the sea?

In all shapes and sizes and forms

Colors and facets that break the norms

A new day has dawned it arrives expeditiously

My poetry ushered it in auspiciously

Let us sit round the fire of the Bosphorous

Let’s ingest wisdom until we’re prosperous

I’ll feast with you till the daylight dawns

Wash your feet under the stars while the prideful yawns

Our way is a new way a higher way

We can lead together on the highway

A mass Exodus due to system disapproval

Warrants that the good and fat of the land issue reproval

Condemnation belongs to those who kick the goads

Like the wild ass who takes the resistance roads

There is a better way and I’ll show you why

But first let’s sit and look at the sky

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑