Category Archives

Archive of posts published in the category: experimental

memories in yellow

“I am not asking you to remember who you are. I am asking you to put everything aside and discover what has never really been forgotten. See what has always been present.” — Gangaji  The space of memory is littered with yellow roses…

torn

I am torn between sunrises and snow flakes, between Timbuktu and Saturn. I am wedged between the grass blades between my toes and the forgotten places in realms beyond this flesh and bones. I am the blood pumping through my veins, alive and…

between muscle and bone

I form inside the bones of my familiar Under green skies and red suns Death finds me there. Waiting. It finds me wanting the stars and wanting the unbleached bones that need my sinew to find peace I am connected to the disconnected…

the elec-trick company

This is the beginning of an idea I believe I can flesh out and do something interesting with. I was thinking about consumerism, commercialism, capitalism, usury, and the poor economic state of this country. I haven’t done any editing, so… The Elec-Trick Company…

by the full blue moon

I want to dance naked by the light of a full blue moon         at the witching hour when cauldrons boil red and hot and bare breasts are swollen full with milk         prepared                 for new life visiting from the old world Cries of sadness…

the altar gods

This is a short story I’m still working on. It’s rough around the edges, but I like the idea of it. I started writing it a while back and decided to play with it a bit today. Tweak here. Tweak there. A few…

tomorrow's child

Peace. Let it find you in the innocent places. Even in the dark places that want for sunshine and long lost love. Let peace stretch you taut until you are soft and ready to be touched in erotic corners of being. Let it…

stone language forgotten

Sharing an idea I’ve pondered for a while. Not very poetic, but a notion I like to toy with in prose. Maybe one day I’ll write something more serious and poetic around this idea. Imagine that stones are sentient beings and the oldest…

self creation

i am my creator i am self multiplied by self to equal me this equation is not for the faint of heart math did not create light         light created math i will let there be darkness retreats from the womb self needing self…

soul noise

I was going through some old writings I’ve posted on little known blogs. It’s always interesting to look at what I wrote more than a year ago. When I wrote this I was meditating on the kind of noise we don’t often discuss.…

inside my skin

Sometimes I can see the inside of my skin, raw and wet with my tears. It covers the parts that keep me here, in this world—the lungs, heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, pumping, breathing, flowing, moving things that travel cyclically back to their departure…

make me a witness

make me a witness to the dreams that seep into our reality. what does it mean? what is real in this frantic place that upends lives and sabotages cultures waiting to be reborn into self? they’ve become the lost ones who have forgotten…

the release

This is my life—unfolding, stripping, letting go of this body that confines everything I want to be. Freedom is found on the other side of nakedness, where soul is set free from skin and sinew. I climb out of the me I once…

self creation

My ideas are all I have. This is my wealth. Each new thought frees me from the here that has become my now. I live inside my mind in the elusive spaces. I am the creator who dwells inside self. I am creating…

undefined writer

A deep yellow cloth journal waits for me on my desk. It is unlined with eggshell pages, thick and ready. Nothing I could write, however, would bring it to life and birth it a soul. It needs blood ink and pain, and a…

umbilical fruit

I am between bent branch and developing green fruit. Umbilical cords waiting for maturity to sweeten the infant fruit until they fall, because they can’t fly. They are cut from mother’s life source to become the life source for another—insects, birds, beasts, humans.…

profane earth

Sacred days buried deep beneath still red Earth Soil moved by sacred seeds bursting through to touch god’s sun She waits for the moon on bended knees Earth tears remember honor and praise But mother is no longer sacred She is objectified and…

the hunger

a book walked over to me today, asked me to sit down beside it, then it began to speak. it told of blue-eyed boys with kinky hair and blue-black skin who carved cranes out of tupelo. they watched girls with above the knee…

obsidian nights

My soul draws vital breathe from yesterday I am carried on by obsidian tracks Through places long forgotten Engines pull and pull and I am carried along Across moonlit nights Tracks recede The future is against my will © zaji, 2016

sweet pain

i am bent and splintered broken parts are honeyedinto healing wounds are not honeycombsblood is not sweet my insides are painedfrom the blows of words not meant © zaji, 2016

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