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Pink Mushroom Gills

A space where I share my channeled thoughts & poetry...

01.01.2026

Las Ojos

The peachy sky

matched her juicy fruit's flowers

I nestle into her branches

She grazes my neck

​

This joy of time

more of it

a blessing

to express

and pour out

life's joys

​

through my encounters

con las ojas

the leaves

the eyes

​

What's the difference

We look and they look back

Yet we don't

say hi
 

We look

as we hear,

without listening

​

But if we let

the subtle scents

perfume our blood streams

like a fine

Chanel

​

We'd hear her sweet stories

telling us to lay down

on her beating heart

​

Her green

wavering

beating heart

​

and we'd hear ours better too.

​

Growing and wallowing

swallowing

spitting

regurgitating

​

old stories,

that rot the sweet scent

​

The fairy moans

at our wallows

​

"How sad to be human,"

she whispers,

​

as she turns once again

into a pretty pink flower

then an oja

a twig

a branch

a trunk

a root

and her

beating once again.

Sometime.2024

The Machine

Let me hear the whispers

of your fear

​

Mama

he cries

out

​

To replenish himself

unnourished

by the

MACHINE

​

That which we are not

​

He dips his toe in her

sweet nectar

flowing to the origin

Sacred

Sweet

SO

     FORGOTTEN

by the waves

that trample

​

(page turn)

​

Our mama

She who holds us

She who bathes us

She who built us

​

cell by cell

plant by plant

​

Machine has tied us

Up

​

Machine has lied us

Up

​

Machine has blindfolded us

​

So that we no longer 

know

the truth which

Sends our roots to her core

Our star to hers

Machine has taken it all too far

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