Thursday, June 20, 2013

The Sacred Scent 

A perfume of confusion lingers 
as my confessions sweep me into a 
               dark chasm. 

The splendid scent of my fall 
still vibrates through me
truth is obscurity's prisoner 
as I roam these forgotten realms. 

The presence of some frequency I desire alludes 

Oblivion is fought with intention 
The fire is fading 
purer embers dwell deep 
hesitating until 
a shift in consciousness ignites 

My soul feels like a clouded glass chalice 
The sky spins so fast above me

I hunt for a serene whisper 
where a breath of love speaks 
Where two aspects become one

I hunt for merciful wings 
the divine prey haunts me 
and I am a tired saint with 
only an enchanting scent to chase. 

Kori 2012

Saturday, April 13, 2013

A Quiet Ember

 A Quiet Ember

A slow ember
Ignites an inferno
The flames illuminate
The dark recesses of realms inside

Time and space are extinguished
Being is the only truth
A flood of passion
Is released

A fire is burning through a wall held high
What warrior wields his flaming sword?
The intensity is a mad scientist

The penetration of truth
Scours the depths
synchronicity becomes
The god between
Shape, material manifestation is a
Foolish Bystander
to the energy the pulses within

Enigmatic meetings will their way into illusion
frequencies rip the old fabric
burning a new path to the deep space
never visited
An ancient rhythm moved through

a cool species of fire burns
through to the center
there is a tangle in the waves of light
a tone long lost
your vibrations echo
On the horizon
Outwitting time and space
This now vibrates throughout eternity

I recognize your water
I have been a desert waiting
I recognize your burning
I taste the ashes on my lips
I recognize your quiet notions
I have been an ocean without wind
I recognize your chemistry
I have been an experiment without a scientist

Until every part of me is burnt, flooded
Until I am torn by tempests and my ground is dismantled
I will remain a hunter
Seeking a mysterious prey
Some quiet ember that burns.

Kori 2013

If we could only dive down to the deepest part of each moment we live.  Where is this elemental Now? If we could hear the deep sound of our own rhythm and feel it pulse.  It becomes so unknown to us sometimes.  Sometimes someone comes along and teaches you how to listen, how to play and ultimately change the tone...maybe he or she is there to remind you of your own deep inner music.  Maybe he or she finds, heals as they teach or remind you of your own sound.  And as the whole energy vibrates it comes ripping through you....a wave or crashing emotion that is like a tsunami bent on destroying all the false things you allowed to cloud who you really are.  It is as if you summons a champion that only reflects really is just you in another form...someone who suffered the same, but now you both meet.  Why? How?

We dare not question the mystery of if you explained the magic it would fleet away and never be known again.  The mantra is do not name it.... You cannot name any of it....but you know in some unknown hidden realm deep within that you are slowly slipping into yourself....a self that has been there all along waiting, pulsing and whispering ever so softly in your ear. The self hidden away from the wicked world...where no dreaming, joy and true love is allowed.  True love is not what you is a sound, rhythm that beats to freedom and is not a attachment or base emotion but a frequency....a state of being....a calmness...a vibration of a core that cannot be named...the Mystery at the center....let it pulse and begin.  Allow all that freedom, adventure, joy and bliss.  These are just different names for the sound of pure high vibrational energy...

There's a coldness in the air
but I don't care....
(Embrace me...surround me)

Travelling somewhere
could be anywhere
there's a coldness in the air
but I don't care
we drift deeper
life goes on
we drift deeper
into the sound

(Embrace me...surround me.. as the rush..)

Travelling somewhere
could be anywhere
there's a coldness in the air
yeah but I don't care
we drift deeper into the song
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong

so bring it on so bring it onnnn
we drift deeper into the song
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong
so bring it on so bring it onnnn
we drift deeper........

we drift deeper life goes on
we drift deeper drift deeper
we drift deeper into the song
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong
so bring it on so bring it onnnn
we drift deeper into the song
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong
so bring it on so bring it onnnn

embrace me .. surround me
as the rush comes [ x 8 ]

as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes...

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Russian Fire

Mihail Korubin - Miho


“If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.”
Alexander Pushkin

To my Russian are an enigma of the highest kind.  

I am going to attempt a small post of gratitude for my Russian readers.  This is from a far west perspective.  It will probably seem very surface, but here it goes.  

My first feeling about the Russians comes from World War II history.  I believe that if it was not for the Russian spirit, fortitude and get the f*&%ing  job done- then we would all be living under the Nazi regime right now.  It was your warrior-living-in-the-coldest-snow-breeding-the-authentic-deep-souled- art-fight until-our-last-bit-of-blood-exists- souls that stopped the Nazi's from taking over the world.  It was you not the Allies who won the war....

The other part is just what I have learned from watching movies.  You have to love a people where passion and art are so inter-related we might not even know our name after either listening to the music or reading a great authors. That means that music strikes the deepest depths of the instinctual unconscious it overwhelms most people.  The most amazing part of this is that is manifest through the most sophisticated form known to man-extremely precise music and dance.  There are no words really to describe the deep dark recesses of the abyss that come to a person watching and listening to such art.  As it should be.  Here is a ode to you my Russian friends...I am sure you know it well...but happy spring and thanks you for reading Karmafire!!! 

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Mortal Coil & A Gypsy-Eye Siren 
                                                                 Artist: Mortal Coil by Navate


To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
 William Shakespeare - To be, or not to be (from Hamlet 3/1)


What dreams may come in death 

to shuffle off this mortal coil


Schopenhauer's speculation

In this way, the length of our life is metaphorically the length of thread that is coiled on a spool, a metaphor related to the ancient Greek mythological figures of the Fates. As we live, the thread is unwound from the coil by the shuttle of the loom of time.


Shall we?  Oh the suffering is so clear and felt here in this wicked game, yet we must find the Gods (real or fake) and rise to meet them.  The human potential can release our suffering.  But if we do not personify our human qualities in a god-like way we shall not see our divinity(highest human potential).  The Greeks somehow rose to such greatness because they personified almost every human quality into gods.  They first recognized the suffering, and death that would devour them, but then in the face of such tragedy of life, they created.  Maybe the only culture so far that had such focus, but not with hubris, on human potential.  Their focus was so intense and balanced they created political systems, military might, art, science,  philosophy.  They did not deny humans uncosncious yearning for a higher power.  There was someone to pray to.  It does not matter whether god exists, but that you believe and your unconscious has some identification, so that your conscious and unconscious can marry and you can be a balanced person.    

It is not easy being here, but we have a lot of potential.  It requires serious understanding of death and divinity or the highest human potential.  The highest human potential must be sought and experienced.  Compassion, forgiveness and gratitude are some of the concepts that the devout practice.  The mystery of being is well-beyond our research.  Scientific evidence will never reveal god or mystic experience.  This is a side note.  The structure that we can know, human consciousness and unconscious tendencies, tells us that we need something  outside(gods, myths, symbols) to understand the inside.  This comes up in stories, myths which usually contain gods.  Why?  This is the question.  


Gypsy-Eye Siren

Did I escape a gypsy-eye Siren?
Some tribal song,
 Deep rhythm,
and drum 
My heartbeat
So loud
The universe heard the echo

The world disappeared as I sailed to her
Broken, so mortal
To extinguish my wicked fate
The rapture of annihilation

I dove into the water 
 The rocks and bones lacerate my soul 
For her tone releases a desire
Death, the long sleep
My eyes wept with bliss 
at the mere idea of the end.  

The sensual sings her will closer 
like a death marked arrow
as I struggled the waves to her
Some whirl pool pulled me down Deep
away from the temptress
sacred water savior-
life giving abyss
every journey steals a piece of my dream

What coil is wrapped upon a universal
What spinning of fate is this?
Oh to be mortal…
How must I unwind,
Tear, shred this thread
Of life?
What will murder
This spell?
My life is
A dark back-alley blues riff
Moving to its own agenda
Wielding this soul through
Time and space

The only truth:
Is rhythm
Death drumming
With his gypsy-eye Siren
An unforgettable tune.

Kori 2/10/13