Sunday, September 25, 2011


Confusion's Child?
Adaya Marcel.


I walk on the beach at 4 in the morning
not heeding the dangerous warning.
This morning they called me darling,
tonight they call me bitch.
This Goddess that was shown to me 
is a fake and a pervaricator,
She does not remember how truth sings.

She swims in a soup of irrationality, 
seasoned with a bizarre itch;
Her heart refuses its feathery wings;
so....today she calls me bitch.

The fogilicious lights which 
come off of the Motel Twelve,
looking back towards the shore
at Wizard's hour, neon illuminations
fill all of my illusions with power.

I belong to no one, but I am Confusion's child.
I...I...I  Am!, I say with abandon.
I AM!  I call it to the ocean,
I scream it at the weird man 
who still stands atop the stairs
...watching, singing, and oh so softly crying for me.

I know who he is more than
I know what woman is.
My heart explodes at the realization
that I feel safer with a man standing in the fog
than I do with friends I love with all of my reliance.
Who are my sisters? What do they request?
Who are my protectors, where is my rest?
Still and all, somehow....I am grateful.
I am, after all, Confusion's Child

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Sekhmet Slays. Adaya Marcel.


Sekhmet Slays. 
Adaya Marcel.

Words are powerful beasts;
sharp as obsidian ceremonial knives
 the High Priests used to perform human sacrifice.
What forfeiture will the Piper demand
from the thoughtless words at our command.
Our power does not come by force,
but from kindness and awareness.
Sekhmet slays the thoughtless,
because she knows this, we all know this.

Wantonly, monotonously,  "ad nauseumly",
back through infinity billions have suffered
the slings and arrows, the lexicon of brutality
that become the walls of our Rubicon,
our boundaries of impossibility.
Sekhmet NEVER calls her students stupid.
She slays the thoughtless words that cause deformity.

Thoughtless words rip the wings off butterflies.
They kill the spontaneous combustion of life
and take away a spirits magic.
Stupid - murders the innocence.
Ugly - massacres all fairness.
Hate - hobbles us in shackles of drastic choices.
Sekhmet knows this and ask us to use our inside voices.

She knows that what you project you get.
She can only protect us if we protect
our companions on this journey
from our thoughtlessness;
and from their thoughtlessness.
Sekhmet slices through the connexicon;
the connector of confusion.
She knows all things that are beyond all keeping.
Sekhmet slays the escapist.

She did not come to be a wishful thinker,
She came to be a conscious doer.
She did not come to crush, but to uphold.
She did not come to blind, but to lead.
This experience is not what I can give to you,
but what you can give to the phenomenon.
Sehkmet slays the mute swan.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Lady Empathy. Adaya Marcel.

Lady Empathy.
Denise Adaya Marcel.

Lady Empathy dances alone
to a diametric beat;
a rhythmic emanation
from a heart made of compassion
and fierce absolution
because She can accidentally see
the innocence that no one else sees
and no one wants to go where She can go.

Lady Empathy is the crescent moon
and its reflection cradling 
the eternal/external depths of despair;
channeling the wounded and mirroring 
the orb that contemplates the eternal flame.
She rejects eternal shame
and calls out...."Bring out your dead
and I will replace them with moonbeams."

Lady Empathy feeds a broken heart with justice
and lifts a spirit to its highest pinnacle.
At her breast She suckles all injury with miracles 
and paves a road of safely laid choices
and dignity and entices the crippled to walk;
to talk of possibilities, not deformities.


Lady Empathy is Grace in action.
She is a chain reaction to the muted oracle.
She is the witness and applause for the invisible.
No one goes unseen in her heart
or unloved in her presence.
Lady Empathy is Love's manifestation.