Ode To Spring~Poets Karima Hoisan & Emile Sands~

Posted on April 30, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Thursday May 5th 7pm slt...Don't Miss It!!

I cordially invite you all, to a very special poetry reading in honor of Spring.
Thursday, May 5th from 7pm to 8pm slt at Kari’s Kantina del Mar Linc Island,
Emile and I will be reading selected poems for Spring, by well- loved and acclaimed poets, mixed with our own humble offerings…
We will be utilizing SL voice for reading the poems, and playing the hand picked music for each, on the music stream.
I hope you will join us for this very enjoyable, cultural event, at my relaxed, seaside Bolero Bar. Here is the taxi to take you there on Thursday May 5th 7pm-8pmslt
“Kari’s Kantina del Mar”
We look forward to entertaining you.

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Lonely

Posted on April 29, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The doors push open and out she comes…

 Click this link to hear my reciting of the free verse poem “Lonely”

Lonely

for Anje Aichi the artist/photographer
inspired by the photographic piece “Lonely”

The doors push open and out she comes,
an ungraceful arrival but she’s looking good,
while she looks both ways up and down the track.
He wasn’t waiting there, and there is no one to be found.
She hadn’t quite grown out of her white Mary-Janes,
when she grew into her Victoria’s Secret.
Meters it seemed, of young thorough -bred- legs swathed in black silk and sheer lace…quite the fashion statement! There outta be a law.…
 No one was on the platform when her subway car pushed her out the door.
and she had a bit too much to drink.
If she would have worn spike heels,
she would have fallen on her cute little fanny,
winding up staring into the mirror of a dirty subway sink.
It was so lonely looking at those graffiti walls,
all dank and not promising what she had hoped for.
No heavy footsteps of her pretender, or any pretender for that matter,
who would take her arm, and fill her up, chase the loneliness right out of her
“Go get away….
 She was so lonely, taken to the danger point, but she wasn’t aware.
What was on her mind, was to have a good time, with someone who was smooth at pretending he cared,
even if she faked it, never being 100% there.
It flowed, the naughty talk, and the come- get- me- looks, and hip to hip dancing, and she liked how she could pick up the pace,
with just a kiss, or a whisper, or a little white lie.
Oh my…
She had that sexy innocence and you could never prove she wasn’t, well…innocent, not just by looking at her.
Only she knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it,
and watching her do her thing, I could never bring the verdict in,
but I think she loved to be in control, although, she liked to do the sweet faint of heart, and flutter her eyelashes, check her look in the mirror then check you out checking her, that game…
She loved it all, so, when I stepped out of the shadows,
she put her little lipstick away and right through her tinted glasses I saw,
oh she was lonely enough, to smile at me and say,
“Hello.”
Just one of those things, because… I was kinda lonely too.

Karima Hoisan
April 29, 2011
Virtual Gallery Linc Island
© 2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment below

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Buoy In The Night

Posted on April 28, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Can a buoy be immune to the coming of the wave?

Click the link below for the *˚mp3˚* to hear my recorded reading of the poem to music “Buoy in the Night mp3” I will include the poem also written out below.

Buoy In The Night

Can a buoy be immune to the coming of the wave?
Or does it meet each one head-on, lurching… trembling?
Can a buoy be unmoved, by the power of the sea?
Or does it pitch and roll, tossing to and fro, wavering… wobbling…wobbling?

Buoy in the night, rolling on a swell, never ever sinking, bobbing… bobbing,
Waves come crashing in, and waves gently retreat, you float upon the tides,
of stormy surf and undertows, and your bell can be heard clanging,
like a herd of running goats, 
ringing…chiming…clanging… banging.
Clang! Chime! Bang! Bobbing… bobbing.
Why don’t you float away? and see the oceans of the world?
The seals will climb up on you, taking shelter from the moon,
Howling… bickering…barking… barking.
Is it true what they all say? That you are chained forever,
To the bottom of the bay.  Although it’s true you’ll never sink,
You’ll never swim away. Is that the price you pay?
For never drowning… sinking… drowning?

Why don't you break your chain?

Why don’t you break your chain, and leave the shoreline… far behind?
The currents taking you, to star-rise and sunrise…
While you float, swaying…. quaking… shaking.
Just ask the next big wave, to take you when it goes,
Pulled on the moon- drunk tides, now you are fleeing…weaving… leaving.
Clang! Chime! Bang! Bobbing… bobbing.
If you say no… I’ll think it’s true, what they all say,
That you are chained forever, to the bottom of the bay.
Although it’s true you’ll never sink… you’ll never swim away.
Is that the price you pay, for never drowning… drowning…drowning?

Karima Hoisan
April 28th 2011
Linc Island, Sl
© 2011 all rights reserved

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The Orange Dream~The Last Dream~

Posted on April 25, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

This is the last entry of the Colored Dream Prose Vignettes. If you are coming upon this page for the first time, and haven’t had a chance to read the others, I warmly recommend starting from the beginning, unless you are a person who enjoys reading the last page of a book first, to know where you are headed. I personally enjoy the “getting there,” the journey towards an unknown conclusion myself, but it would be very pushy of me as the author, to insist too much on how these stories should be read. Just know, the series ends on this post, and I hope you enjoy this one and all of them, if you read the others. I will write a comment listing in order, the posts building up to this one, if you are interested. This is my most serious attempt at writing short prose based on my Second Life experiences and inspirations, and it has been a labor of love, in that I was swept away by the scenery that inspires this prose series. I would like to invite you once again, to enjoy these stories in all the ways they can be enjoyed, including the music I have chosen for each. One of my readers said she likes to put it on, and read the story out-loud, that it is more of a total experience that way. In any case this link will take you to another tab, where you can listen to the music while you enjoy the photos and words. ~Music Link~  Now… please come with me into the last colored dream, the Orange Dream.

I am lying on a couch, facing the back

When I first wake into the dream, I am lying on a couch facing the back, staring into bright orange pillows. As I have said before, each journey is strikingly different from the one before it, not only in the very obvious color differences, but in the way, it comes over me after I drink the liquor. This potion is slowly bringing me here, and I almost believe I have just fallen asleep, and am waking in my own bed, but I am wrong, I am totally in the dream now, of the dream. I am in the colored moment again.

I get up from the couch and try to recognize my surroundings

I get up from the couch and try to recognize my surroundings. I check to see how I am dressed, and of course am not surprised to see I am wrapped in the very same bright orange color that covers everything I see, walls, floors, furniture, all in the deepest, richest marriage of red and yellow. It has never been a favorite color of mine, but today it suits my mood, one of excitement and perhaps even high-strung nerves, that wonder where this last and final dream will take me and what it will show me. I like how the short skirt moves and shimmers, almost like butterfly wings. I stand immobile having no idea where to go and what to do when suddenly I hear his voice, playfully close to me,

“May I have the next dance?”

“May I have the next dance?”
I do not see him as I see my surroundings, but I do feel him now as he takes my right hand, and holds it poised, his own right hand pressing against the back of my waist, and I almost swoon in joy. I am not exaggerating, I feel I will lose consciousness, or whatever state I am now in. When we wait so long for something that never comes, and then all of a sudden, when least expected, *poof* there it is, it can be like having your breath pulled out of you. If it wasn’t so wanted, it could feel frightening, this adrenaline pounding all through me. These are not the liquid’s effect on me, but his.
“Would you care to waltz with me my dear? I always sensed you had hoped I would ask . Am I right?”
“Oh yes, Yes, of course you are right. You read all my thoughts, and know me perhaps better than I know myself.”
We dance, a dance so real I know I will be marked forever by this moment. He seems so different today, more accessible as if we were friends. I hold all of it deep inside like a treasure. Then, the dance ends and I see many nets of light slowly descend around me.

A small fear of the unknown circles me too

A small fear of the unknown circles me too, and I stand very still, but knowing he is close, I try to calm myself, by saying what he always says to me “Trust what comes. Live it all. There is nothing to fear”
He speaks to me again, his voice soft and reassuring, “I have told you that this will be your last colored dream. Are you curious about anything? Is there anything you want to know?
I answer very quickly and honestly,
“I am not sure why this has to end, I mean my colored dreams. They are part of my life now, as you are. I feel anxious about it all just…ending.”
“Don’t be anxious. They have come to an end now, but I know you take much with you, memories, sensations, realizations, emotions, all of these are part of you, that I believe you will never forget.”

“And you? Will I see you again?”

And you? Will I see you again?”
This of course is my biggest fear, and I hold my breath for his answer.
His voice is loving and he holds me close to him. I let my arms hang down quietly while he embraces me. I can’t explain it, but although I feel him around me, next to me, I still can not actually touch him, so I have learned to not even try. Feeling him there is enough, and if my arms can not hold him, his arms do hold me.
I feel the silence too prolonged, and wonder why he doesn’t answer, so I ask him again, trying to keep my voice from cracking, as I am thinking perhaps I won’t see him past today.

I feel a giant fan has been turned on

The colors blow around me, faster and closer and I feel a giant fan has been turned on above me. When the colors turn into nets of yellow and red bands separating from the orange, it seems almost symbolic, that we too will separate, once together, in the orange dream, but destined to go in opposite directions, as soon it will be over.
“And you? Will I see you again”
Before he begins to answer me, or maybe he never does, I am being elevated quickly on wind so powerful my entire body is being sucked upwards. I am being pulled directly into the blades of the fan, and I am sure I will be decapitated, and chopped into tiny pieces. I scream out,”Oh save me. Save me please” and he answers me by whispering in my ear,
“You are being auditioned for a ballet. Quickly, execute your most graceful pose. It’s part of the reward I told you about.”

I believe in him, and it is all I have to believe in now

I believe him,and it is all I have to believe in now, as my senses tell me it is hopeless and it all ends up there in the blades.
I use all my strength to try to get my awkward limbs to obey my imagery, as I picture myself like a ballerina, one foot on point. Without even understanding how or why, I know nothing bad will now happen to me, and I close my eyes, more out of resignation than terror to look at what comes next. The cloudiness clears, and I see myself as if looking from his eyes. I hold my position on one foot, balancing on the pinnacle of a glass spire, all the world, all the worlds I have seen in all my dreams, spread out in front of me. Oh such beauty is too much for my eyes, and they weep once again, moved beyond what I can sort out with my limited human mind.

He moves up behind me like a fellow dancer

He moves up behind me like a fellow dancer, a partner, he suspends my lifted leg gently in his palm, his arm around my waist, and he says, “Go limp now, I am here. I will catch you and float you.” I do as he asks of me, and I am not afraid, as I fall back slowly into his arms, my legs rising on their own, and before I realize it I am floating in the air, and the colors are holding me up. There is something, pressed against my nose, my immediate reaction is to raise my hand to touch it but he stops me gently but firmly, “No, that must remain in place.” It will fade away on it’s own.”
“What is it I ask?”
“It is giving you air, as we will be going very high and it will connect you to me. It’s not forever, just for awhile and it will fade I promise. Just breathe normally”

“I want you to close your eyes…”

“I want you to close your eyes, and open them when I count to three. It is a surprise, it is the reward I promised you for doing so well, ok? One…Two…Three.”
I open my eyes and I am back in the room where I woke up, but I am upright, yet not standing. I am somehow affixed to a cot or a litter, and I feel him behind me. I know his presence so well. In front is a man holding up the other end. He has a symbol painted on his back in red, but very hard for me to distinguish what it says.
“Are you comfortable? You are Queen of the Ballerinas, so your comfort is important.”
I relax, almost smiling, his voice so close to me, and actually I am comfortable, feeling like I weigh next to nothing. This position is not a strain.
“I am fine really” I answer to reassure him. Is this part of my reward?”
He laughs at me, and says, ” Well, perhaps not the very best part,  for that is coming soon.”

Who is that man holding my litter?

Who is that man holding my litter? I see him rather hazily. Is he real?”
“Yes he is, but I thought you might be more interested in who is holding up this end” and he pinches my cheek in a teasing way as the cot is being lowered to a horizontal position. I look up behind me and I see his face above me. I see him, not clearly, but I sense him more than ever before. It feels like I see him, and what I can’t make out well, I can imagine and fill in. I am drawn to his eyes, so loving and beautiful. Then I look to the right and see the woman’s face, the one who was pink in my deco pink dream and blew me off to dance and be glorious with just her thoughts.  She is today orange.All is orange, and I am not sure why.
“Have I returned here for something?
“Yes.” is all he says.
There is a bit of maneuvering and I keep feeling dizzy from looking straight up at the ceiling, so I lean a little and only look back up at him, or to my right to see where he is taking me. I forget about the figure in front of me, as he doesn’t seem to speak at all, and I can’t really perceive him, not like I can the one who guides me.

I look up at him again and again

I look up at him again and again. I can’t believe I am really seeing him with my eyes, and also I can’t believe how young he looks. I always sensed him as older and yet his face is that of a young man, or …..like an angel.
“I expected you to be older somehow.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I sensed you almost as a father.”
He smiles down at me, “Actually I am older much older than I may appear to you. Age is so relative, isn’t it?”
Is the Ballet Diva comfortable? We are going to take a small walk and I want you to enjoy it.”
This makes me laugh, his name for me, as I don’t believe I am that good of a dancer, surely not a diva, but I am smiling, “Yes I am enjoying this walk and talk more than you can know.”

I crane my neck a little and see the colored clouds

I crane my neck a little and see the colored clouds that took me home from the deco pink dream, and I feel us heading into them,
“Oh no, don’t tell me this is almost over. Please don’t. This is my last dream and it’s so short.”
“Such a bad habit of yours, tsk tsk, always jumping to conclusions. Try to tell me I am not right about that. The dream is too short, I am too young,” he jokes, “What else can be wrong?”
I am back at ease, “I know, I do that. It’s just a bad habit, I am trying to correct. I am the passenger so, wherever you think a ballet diva would enjoy going, I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you for that,” he says smiling.

We walk for a long time it seems to me

We walk for a long time it seems to me, and then we enter a room I remember so well. It was my first dream that I took, the first potion, red and it awakened me to touch and to feeling alive in my body. I almost feel nostalgic, and remember how I wished he would come out from the curtain I felt he was hiding behind and lay with me all night in my bed. He blows his breath across my hair,
“How frightened you were and yet how willing.” I am very pleased to have shared this time with you.

I hear the gentle waves lapping

Then as if we transported in some form without walking, I hear the gentle waves lapping the sides of a ship, and the sun is very bright, and I look down upon the ship of white dreams.
He sets the cot on two railings, and with his now free hands, he cradles my face, smooths, my hair , the unruly curls that fall over my eyes and he says, “You made a beautiful Sea Snake. I have never seen a lovelier one.” We both laugh and he bends over me and kisses my forehead. “Agreed.? Not a lovelier serpent in any ocean on any world.”
I am smiling, feeling the warmth of the light on my face and his lips pressed to my forehead, remembering this journey so fondly.
“Thank you for letting me be that snake, and for bringing me back to remember it.”

“…we pass through patterns of color…”

We walk again, what seems to be many minutes, and we pass through patterns of color, and sounds that whistle like gentle wind in my ears. Then I see we are at the spot where I had my saddest experience, perhaps the deepest, as I felt the dying all around me and was helpless to stop it.
I shudder and feel nervous, but he rests a hand over me, places it on my heart and says to me
“Shhh, this dream is over now…just let it go. Even in it’s shocking effect, it brought out all of your compassion, and you have so much of that.” I am very proud to know you” I reach my face up towards him, and he kisses it. I am crying. I can’t help myself, not over the dead creatures, but because I am beginning to feel he really loves me.

I recognize the boulevard and the couch

We transport again, and I recognize the boulevard and the couch where my deco pink dream of dance began. I remember his words, “Dance and be Glorious” I truly did. This was one of the most rewarding of my dreams, like a living fantasy, I communicated, danced, and left this world behind. I left all the worlds behind. I reach back to touch his hand,
“I will never forget the moment you joined our dance, and we were all one voice. Thank you. Thank you.”

“…I see we are stopped in front of the beetles…

We begin to fly up, higher and higher and I see we are stopped in front of the beetles, the ones that caused me so much anguish. I look up at him, questionably, “Why are we here?”
“Well, I thought you might like to look at them in bright sunlight, as they are quite beautiful, but really I bring you here to tell you, that your reward is to be set free, not like them, that are preserved for some future time. They will stay here forever suspended, inanimate, yet to some degree conscious. I would not like that for you,” he touches my shoulder, rubbing it soothingly, “I want to see you soar.”
“You are so very beautiful. I know you think you have never touched me, but you have.”

I notice I am no longer on the cot

I notice I am no longer on the cot, and I don’t feel him or see him behind me. I gasp for air, and panic begins to set in, “Help me,” I cry out in terror. I’m afraid. I can’t breathe.”
“Ahh but you can, I gave you the tube, breathe through it gently, and let your heart calm itself again.”
“Karima, trust me. Trust me more than ever today.”
“I trust you…always.”

I feel my skirt being loosened

I feel my skirt being loosened, and his hands pulling it off over my legs. The colors swirl and swaddle me in heat and the heat turns to peace, from my feet up to my head. “Oh what a wonderful sensation, my nerves in my entire body are slowly moving into a uniform tranquility as I float in the colored clouds, that one time took me all the way home.
“Are we going home now?”
“Not quite yet. One more hike left, and we must climb, and your skirt will not help you fly”
“Karima, you are doing so well. I think I will call you my good girl.”
I smile, because I have always loved it when he calls me that.

“How are you feeling? He asks me.”

“How are you feeling?”
He asks me, as we start to move again, across what appears to be a plaza, and begin to climb some stairs. I am feeling in total surrender. The fear, and the lack of oxygen have all subsided, and now I just lay limply on the cot, not like a queen but like a satisfied woman, who has just been shown a small inkling of what the power of paradise might feel if it glowed inside of her.
“Take me wherever you want to. I know you do this for love, and only for love.”

We climb many stairs…

We climb many stairs and the burnt -orange glow of the carved ceilings, remind me of a sunset and I tell him so. “If I close my eyes, I am at a beach, and the late afternoon sun, glows over my eyelids”
“You describe it well, I bet you painted many sunsets in your time.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask
“Well, because you are an artist.” and he smiles down at me
“I am?”
He nods and tenderly kisses me on the cheek, I feel his breath on my hair, sweet and warm.

We are outside now…

We are outside now and the bright sunlight of early afternoon washes over my face and makes me close my eyes. We are climbing higher and higher, but I do not feel afraid.
“Am I a good artist?” I ask sincerely wanting to know.
“Oh yes, you are a wonderful one. I love your art” then he hesitates and says, “I love you”

“You love me?”

 “You love me?
I look up into his beautiful eyes. His face changes from young to old, his eyes change color too, all the colors mixed up, in all the beautiful combinations these worlds can imagine. I am feeling so overwhelmed, and yet I do not cry, I feel almost too much to shed a drop of it in a tear. I hold it all inside of me, and I swoon, like I am speeding down a roller coaster. I can hardly believe what I am hearing.
“Yes Karima. I love you. Why is that so hard to believe? I have always loved you. Always.”

We are almost at the top

“We are almost at the top and we will do one last dance, and then I want you to fly when I tell you.
Will you do that for me?”
“Yes of course, but….is this dream over with now?”
I am feeling the twinge of saying goodbye sooner than I am ready to.
“Please, just tell me… will I ever see you again?”
My eyes begin to mist slightly but not spill over.
He strokes my face and then stops at the very top. We are once more where the fan sucked me up, where he told me I was to be auditioned for a great ballet.
He leans over and he whispers to me,
“I know we will see each other again. I know it with all my heart. I trust my heart and it tells me we will”
“Then I trust your heart too… because I love you”

“May I have the next dance?”

“May I have the next dance?”
He is no longer the young man who carried me, but he appears to me again, like my wise guide and companion for all the years I can recall. I can’t remember a life without him, and I say,
“Well yes, I would be honored to dance with you.”
Below us stretches out the worlds of all the colors. I had no idea they were joined, but it does make sense to me too that they are. Everything seems to make sense now and I glide safely in his arms. Even if this dream ends… there are others, and I too know I will see him again.

“Thank you beautiful soul for this dance.”

“Thank you beautiful soul for this dance.” He kisses me so deeply on my lips, and I return his kiss with all my feeling and all my love and gratitude.
“I am going to let you fly now, like we practiced so many times.”.
“You must do it on your own. I can’t come with you.
Just listen to my voice and exactly when I say *Three* fly my beautiful girl. Fly majestically”.

“One”

“One”….. I take a deep breath, he is no longer with me.

“Two”

“Two”……I silently say, “Thank you.”

“Three”

Voice 1. “Time of death 3pm
Voice 2. “Why did it take so long?”
Voice 3. “Yes I thought it would happen instantly when they turned off the ventilator”
Voice 1. “No, even in a patient in her state of coma, it is a process.”
Voice 4. “Do you think she suffered? I really can’t stand to think of that,” she sobs.
Voice 1. “No she did not. We administer morphine before ventilator withdrawal and in case of agitation we also administer phenobarbital.

“When can we see her?”

Voice 2 “When can we see her?”
Voice 1 “We are preparing the body now and soon it can be released to you.”
Voice 4. “Oh My God. I hope we did the right thing?
Voice 1 “Well if it is any comfort to you all, on both scales we use to determine severity of coma, she scored 3 in eye opening response, verbal response, motor response. This is as deep a coma as I have ever seen here.  She has been this way two years without showing signs of improvement.
Voice 2. “Yes and had she lived, awakened, she would most likely be blind. What kind of life is that for an artist. to never see another color-filled day?”
Voice 2. “It was for the best”
Voice 3. “Yes, she never recognized any of us again”
Voice 4. “Not even me,” she breaks down crying again, “her twin sister.. I mean I just thought maybe I could get through. I don’t want to see her now. I just can’t”

I feel weightless as I soar

 I feel weightless as I soar. I am beyond the clutches of gravity, beyond fear and pain. I want to fly everywhere, and see everything. The breeze catches me just right, and my clothes begin to fall from my body, the tube he gave me is no longer attached to me, nothing attaches me…..I fly and I am glorious…

The End

Karima Hoisan
April 25, 2011
© 2011 all rights reserved


*please see my comment below

Posted in Prose Vignettes, The Colored Dreams, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 29 Comments

The Turquoise & Green Dream

Posted on April 23, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The first thing I hear is the sound of shattered glass

Please enjoy the sounds of“A Mix of Karunesh” by clicking the link that will open and play it in a new tab)

The first thing I hear is the sound of shattered glass, and I think, “Oh I must have let the crystal goblet fall. How can I be so careless? Each one represents his unique gift to me”
In my bedroom I have them carefully lined up, the ones that contain all my dreams, the red, the white, red and blue, deco pink, they stand in a perfect line and look down upon me where I sleep. When I open my eyes I can no longer see my room, or the floor with the broken pieces of glass from this last dream- inducing liquor that I have just ingested. I am swirling in two colors today, turquoise and green. I love this combination, it is the cocktail of the sea, and of my very essence as a water child. I have only just swallowed it, so am now surprised that it is working so quickly. It seems to me, each journey I take, starts more abruptly and more dramatically. I only see green light and I am becoming the green light, a few shards pierce me deeply, giving me  a sensation of effervescent heat, that begins in my toes and climbs up my body like a relentless vine. I am the vine, green and growing, but instead of being planted I am reaching high towards the sky, my roots dangling loosely in the air like an organic kite tail. I feel a very familiar moving rush of wind, I am flying again.

“…a dark mottled green creature with translucent wings…”

I am on the back or perhaps the head of a dark mottled green creature
with translucent wings, and we are entering a glowing pale green city of magnificent proportions. I think this is the first time I have been astride another living thing moving through the air, as I don’t enjoy flying in general unless I am swept away by the moment only then do I fly. Parts of the city are hidden behind the most beautiful luminescence, a pale shade of the same emerald so radiant, but I look for the turquoise that ran through my magical liquid like a ribbon, then realize suddenly, as a gust of air lifts my full skirt, that I am wearing it. We are traveling through a giant entry-way, and I take a deep breath, I hear his words spoken not at the moment but from before, “Trust it all” and I trust this winged mighty animal does know where it is going, and that it is most certainly where I am to go too.

“…it circles the entire city-scape, so other-worldly…”

Once out of the Hallway that leads to the city, it circles the entire city-scape, so other-worldly in feel, over the trees, buildings, sidewalks, then it dips over a lake and climbs.
I instinctively reach down and try to find something to hold on to, and touch its smooth velvety covering, like a fine Damascus. The part I touch gently grabs my hand to sustain me, and I feel part of it now, not just a passenger precariously perched on top. I move with it like an appendage, the feeling is almost impossible to describe, even now, but I remember for a minute I too was winged and not bound to earth or under the tyranny of gravity’s law.

“Our moment is over, and so is our flight…”

Our moment is over and so is our flight and my winged transport stops on a very high ledge, where I know it is time to disembark. My feet once more grounded, but the air is sweet with flowers and  tinkling sounds of bells and strange bird calls, I have never before heard. I walk a few steps and am confronted with multiple stairways, one after another as if reflections in a mirror of each other. There is no sign nor vocal urging from him, but of course I know I am expected to choose one and take it up to where it leads me. Perhaps this says much about me, that I choose the stairway positioned in the middle of them all and begin to ascend. The breeze catches my skirt and the coins on the hem jingle and ting..ting.

Then I hear his voice clearly for the first time in this green world, “Come to the top my dear”

 Then I hear his voice clearly for the first time in this  green world,
“Come to the top of the stairs my dear.” I run up at least three flights effortlessly, as if I were floating over them, my skirt coins keeping rhythm to my steps. I find I am barefooted again, and can not remember if he told me to not put on my shoes, or perhaps I lost them on my flight. I am getting that confused feeling that sometimes overtakes me, no doubt the unwanted effects of the tinted liquids that I choose to take over and over again.

Precarious but mesmerizing in shades of emerald flowing into turquoise

Precarious but mesmerizing in shades of emerald flowing into turquoise, the building of polished metal, and the patterns and lines begin to make me almost dizzy. The blending of the green into the turquoise, brings a deep nostalgia for things too far back to remember.
I know that these experiments in color in some way take their toll. I have now become so sensitive to shades and hues, my heart can feel it is being wrenched out of my body when I see them. There is not one experience in the colored dreams where my tears do not cover my face at some point and always when I return.

“…there is a narrow ledge, and nowhere to go but down.

When I reach the top I see there is a narrow ledge and no where to go but down. I wait for him to say something, anything, as I am feeling unsure of where I am supposed to go, and how, but he does speak to me again. His voice is from behind me as he says,
“Don’t turn around dear. I am here. Look down and when you feel ready… fly”
He says it so casually, that my fear vanishes for a second. I am afraid of heights, and I never trust that I will really fly even in dreams. This is the second time, I find myself up on the top of high places, being asked to throw myself literally into the wind.
“Please I am not ready. I’m afraid. I am so afraid.”
I hear myself pleading like a child. I feel a pressure on my shoulders, and I know he is behind me and he is about to push me over. He reads my thoughts so easily
“Yes I am. We will go together. Tell me when you are ready.”
If I thought about it one second longer, I would say I will never be ready, but I say, “Now!”

He stretches my arms out under his own and pushes me over the edge

He stretches my arms out under his own and pushes me over the edge. Just when I feel so sure of myself, so graceful and yes capable, he let’s go and all the grace of my flight turns into awkward terrified  falling.

With arms flailing and legs kicking I plummet down

With arms flailing and legs kicking I plummet down, and my heart is filled with both fear and feelings that he just betrayed and tricked me. His voice is still close,
“Don’t fight it dear and you will float down. Your skirt is your parachute”

My skirt opens, and like a strange air born seed I slowly rotate down

My skirt opens, and like a strange air born seed I slowly rotate downwards. My eyes look back up towards him.Although he is not visible, to me he is always perceivable, and he hovers at the exact point he let me go. I feel relief, sadness, confusion, but in the end I feel his smile kiss me on the cheek, and the slow descent to the water below, changes into a experience both exhilarating and pleasant.

I weigh nothing and sometimes I turn upside down in my gradual descent

 I weigh nothing and sometimes I turn upside down in my gradual descent. I am filled with  joy, and the deepest admiration and love for the one who is always with me, even when he lets me go. I should by now trust him empirically, but there is always that ungraceful moment of doubt. I can’t seem to rid myself totally of it. I wonder if that is even possible?

I have come all the way, and anticipate the chill of the cold water lake

I have come all the way, and anticipate the chill of the cold water lake. I hear his voice in my head, “So next time I say Fly, you won’t be afraid?”
“I won’t. I promise” and then I hit the water in one giant splash.

The water is warm and comforting, not cold at all as I splash down

The water is warm and comforting, not cold at all as I splash down.

I sink down to the very bottom and keep my eyes open

I sink down to the very bottom and keep my eyes open. If it were up to me, I would swim and do nothing else for the rest of my sojourn.

I float tranquilly wondering, if the dream will reveal more

I float tranquilly wondering if the dream will perhaps reveal more, or if this is what I came for, to fall once again and find out I am still alive.  I believe in the end, every dream is all about trust.

My clothes dry instantly in the sunny breeze

My clothes dry instantly in the sun-lit breeze,and even my hair begins to blow  dry, but I do have a sense of urgency as the premonition of an important meeting invades me. I pick up my step, which is being slowed by the thick tangle of some strange plants that seem to have overgrown the entire path. He speaks to me again,
“If you feel like you want to pray, just do it. Someone is trying to talk to you”
“What?” I ask confused.

No sooner do I hear his words I feel I am in a great presence

No sooner do I hear his words, I feel I am in a great presence. I don’t usually drop to my knees and yet I find that is what I am doing. There is a beam of light and it charges the air with sounds of whistling,rustling leaves, mourning doves, even very muffled voices, but one voice, that of a young woman is the one I can almost hear.

“Karima! Karima! It’s me. Do you hear me?”

Karima! Karima! It’s me. Do you hear me?” I hear her voice now clearly as she repeats it many times. I look ahead of me and see a figure, a young woman it appears, she is trapped behind a glass, and all glows in the brightest shade of yellow- green and makes it impossible to see her clearly, but I really want to. I feel I want to run to her, but I know it would not help me see her. It’s hard for me to watch her pound on the glass, and I feel her sadness. I wish I knew how to help her.

I close my eyes and I speak to her in my thoughts

I close my eyes and I speak to her in my thoughts, I say to her
“Everything will be fine. I will help you. I just need to know what I can do”
“What do you want me to do for you”

“Just talk to me. Say my name”

“Just talk to me. Say my name”
But I don’t know her name, even though I see a small name tag floating over her head, she is too far away and all is too unfocused on her side to be able to read it. I say, “I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. I am from another world, not this one, and I am not sure how to communicate with you.” Please forgive me if I don’t say your name. I don’t know it” I watch her pound on the glass and feel the vibration of her pounding, oh it makes me want to cry and I open my eyes and beg him to take me out of here, as quickly as possible. How difficult to know someone needs you, and yet you are not able to help them.

“I open my eyes…”

I open my eyes,”Take me out of here please, I beg of you.” “Wake me!” Wake me!”
I am crying, I am immobile, in the reeds and the palms rustle, and I just want to leave. But the one who guides me, who talks to me and tells me it is okay, instead of coming personally, sends another to take me back. “I don’t care. I really don’t care. Take me home” I sob

It rises out of the ground underneath me and lifts me up..

It rises out of the ground underneath me and lifts me up, like a giant fallen branch that comes to life and sprouts wings. I place my hands like before and it once again holds me tight. I am part of this creature, and it will take me home.

It hovers in front of clear walls of scarab beetles preserved in death

It hovers in front of clear walls of scarab beetles, preserved in death. These will never resurrect and I am flooded with images of mummies, wrapped and preserved, who will also never resurrect. I begin to sob again and beg the winged creature to take me far away from all these symbols, and  cries of frustration, and strangers who beg me to say their name. It moves us away and takes me for one last pass over the city before it heads towards the mountains in the distance.

“Take me away, I’ve seen too much”

“Take me away, I’ve seen too much” I chant to him through my tears, and then I lash out too at the one who always when I need him most, is never by my side. I  start to think his caring, his tutelage, his protection are not real and not done in love, but some ulterior motive. I am not sure why he is with me. Maybe he has been paid to be, and this thought begins to break my heart.

My heart breaks atop a flying insect in a a strange land

My heart breaks atop a flying insect in a strange land. As if it senses my grief, it flies over scenes of peace now and beauty, far away from the Beetle walls, the turquoise flight tower, the crying green girl. My heart pounds in my chest, faster and faster.

It climbs higher and higher and my tears touch the clouds

The creature climbs higher and higher and my tears touch the clouds. The cold wind dries them into diamonds and they fall off my face and travel miles down to the ground. His voice speaks into my ear, his warmth warms my frozen face,
“Your heart breaks and you scatter diamonds”
“What?” I ask, still in the claws of a deep grief, and I am not even sure why
“I will only take you on one more colored journey. There is only one more.”

“I failed you in some way, didn’t I?”

“I failed you in some way, didn’t I?” I know I have. You tire of these journeys, and you tire of me.” I have tried my best, really I have,” and once again, I burst into tears,  sitting on the back of a flying insect, looking down over the most beautiful lands of  waterfalls, pools of serenity and hidden nooks of peace. I am incapable of stopping my own mournfulness. No wonder he has given up on me. Two years, and I am still the way I am. I am not any better than when he started with me.

“Look down. Are you immune to beauty?”

“Look down. Are you immune to beauty?”
I look down, and I take in several  deep breaths, that fill my heart and make it more resilient. I open my eyes, and I see how beautiful this land is.
“Do you not know that you are beautiful too?”
I hesitate to answer, I just want to listen.

“You must know your last journey is a great reward, not a punishment”

“You must know, your last journey will be a great reward, not a punishment, and you must know you are beautiful, because you are, as beautiful and natural as the land we fly over now. It is not that you have failed, but now I know where we will go on your last colored dream. I promise I will be close. You have done so well. Trust me please..just a little more.”

“Please stay with me as I go home”

“Please stay with me as I go home”
I feel the liquor waning,and I am returning quickly.
“I am here,” he says.
“What color is the last liquid, the last dream?”
“It starts off as orange… and then it changes a little at the end.. Be patient.”
As quickly as this turquoise and green dream came on, it leaves, and as we burst through the colored cloud-bank, I see through the other side, that I am now awake and back in my own bed.

to be continued…

*please see my comment

Karima Hoisan
April 23, 2011
Misty Shores, Linc Island SL

 

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Swirl It Around

Posted on April 21, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

space blue 4 ~artist ieko Catnap

Enjoy this music that “swirls it around” while you read the poem

Swirl It Around

for ieko Catnap (the artist)

I see all the languages of the world
mixed into one telepathy,
the end of babbling and talk-speak,
we could look into blue eyes, black or brown
and nod in perfect understanding.
Swirl it around.

Let the oceans come together
all of them, pull the radiation
oil spills, decomposing waste,
weekend picnic’s plastic plates
right down the center drain,
wash the sludge away.
Swirl it around.

High winds rotating counter- clockwise
dropping gifts instead of death
On top of homes and farmlands
soft rains and birds then bees return,
a giant fan to blow the smoke away.
Swirl it around.

One black hole for all the rest
why millions of lifeless spheres?
The plan must be much bigger than I guessed,
nothing hardly anti-matters anymore,
suck it all up and spit it out again
Swirl it around.

Karima Hoisan
April, 20, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island, SL
© 2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment on the painting and the artist

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The Deco Pink & Bronze Dream

Posted on April 20, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

As soon as I drink the pink liquid, I fall asleep

I invite you to click the music link to listen to a carefully selected medley by
Angelo Badalamenti that sets the mood very well for this vignette.

As soon as I drink the pink liquid, I fall asleep. Not one voyage of these colored liquors is the same. The Red Dream, was a massage and an opening, The Ship of White Dreams, showed me my worst fear and allowed me to become it gracefully, and The Candy- Apple Red & Blue Dream, let me see the sweet and sour of Life with no comfort blanket, muse, or guide. I awake inside the dream, and instead of the bright primary colored flags of deep red and blue of the journey just past, I feel I am covered in a thin haze and all I see around me has this same muted-pale look. I am wearing my best pink dress, as he instructed me to do, with my brand new white shoes he laid out for me as a surprise, next to the fluted crystal glass of the pink liquid. Now I look down and my dress has turned as pink as the potion that swirls inside of me, making my bloodstream carry soft rose tones to everything I perceive. This might take some getting used to, and I stay prone for a few minutes, looking down through the grates of what I assume is the sofa, or bench I am lying on. Below, the blue with pink white caps of a new sea and a grid-like structure that holds all of it loosely connected. What was the last thing he said to me? I remember now he said “Dance and be Glorious!”

I roll over as the haze begins to lift

I roll over as the haze begins to lift and just lie here, legs bent, as if I have woken from a summer’s nap and the wind is barely moving through this scene. Although the colors are dimmed, they are so impressive that my eyes almost overflow again. Colors are my favorite altered state and paint my potions in many varied hues. I feel an excitement rise up as to where this dream will take me. His voice now is not always in my ear, yet I do feel he is close-by, and I am enjoying the feeling of being free to decide what small details I may choose, as it seems to me, that with time exercising this skill, I might choose more wisely.

I decide to sit up and marvel at the new elegance surrounding me

I decide to sit up and admire the new soft elegance surrounding me. There is a feeling of romance and mystery here, but no fear. I guess having his voice tell me to trust my instincts, has prepared me to take -in these altered states of worlds in stride. Each one so very different from my daily life that I call home, but he is right, each time it seems to get easier. I see a boulevard, with no people, there are almost never people in these worlds of my colored dreams, and I have considered they were constructed only for me, somehow. It sounds very self-centered, but why else would so much be created, if no one, but myself ever comes to admire them? An Artist of the highest level, has let his art flow out over the alternative lands, and one thing I am very sure, I am not that Artist, nor could I ever attempt to create what I see in these dream-states. Everything is always there, before I arrive, very different from normal dreaming, which some believe we do have a hand in creating, but even those I find difficult to believe, come from just my imagination alone. I want to experience it all here, all that he has so generously allowed me to see. I call his name out loud, asking,
“Are you here?” and he answers “Always”
I smile deep inside and feel that I am not alone, and hope never again to feel that unbearable emptiness.  Just as I think of him, I feel the air shift, and I smell the odor of polished wood, there is the sound of a flute playing from a mountain-top. The scene shifts with the air, I am no longer sitting but am moving straight up a complicated wooden cylinder, climbing higher and higher. I am hovering not standing and my arms are now locked behind my head, not in a casual repose as I was on the sofa, but more like a restraint has been applied, although my wrists are not bound.

“Oh..what is happening to me?”

“Oh…what is happening to me?” I call out. I am hoping he will reassure me, feel his voice in my head or better yet, close to my ear, but he says nothing. I have learned over our time together, which is almost two years, that it is not when I think I  want it or need it, but when he wishes to speak, he does.

Then I look up..because he is speaking to me

Then I look up attentively, because he is speaking to me,
“Flow with it. Get up and explore where you are”
“But how can I?” My arms are tied behind my head”
I hear his smile when he says,
“No, they are not. Just lower them. You tied yourself up again.”
As always, he is right, and I can easily lower them and move around, which I do.

I hear him call me from below where I stand,”Come Down”

I hear him call me from below,”Come Down” I wave to him,”I’m coming.”
I smile in his direction lovingly and make a promise one more time, to not paralyze myself over imagined restraints. I take a deep breath and turn towards a winding staircase that will take me down. I realize that I am very high up now, and the stairway  seems to be endless.

I slowly begin my decent, while music plays in a bronzed room

I slowly begin my descent, while music plays in a bronzed room far below. I can imagine a roomful of elegant couples and for a second, I even imagine that he takes corporal form, and stretches out his hand and asks me for a dance. I know this will never be, but my heart skips a beat, seeing us revolving around and around in this beautiful room of deco patterns and textures. So lost in my own romantic fantasy, I almost fall off the stairs that end abruptly, quite a ways above the dance floor.

I hover over the mist for only a few seconds…

I hover over the mist for only a few seconds as I don’t seem to be able to sustain it, until I choose the freedom to free-fall into the unknown. I have been transported very high up, and I realize that what I think is mist, are really  clouds, and that I am at the level of the highest mountain ridge that glows green behind me.

I am a pink dove, falling down gracefully

I am a pink dove, falling down gracefully, and just before I hit the bottom, I flip myself over and look up at the sky. I am floating down more than falling, all in slow motion. How exquisite this feels, like I am as immortal as he is and that I fear nothing and enjoy everything with passion and trusting.

I land on a cushioned divan

I land on a cushioned divan, perhaps miles below where I first let myself fall. I feel an urge to laugh, and look around me to see if I am alone.To my shock I find myself staring into the giant face of a woman looking out at me from behind a veil, and I too am partially veiled and not sure if she is real or not. She does not move or blink and I am beginning to think she is only an image when I hear her beautiful voice speak.

“Why are you here?” she asks me in thoughts

“Why are you here?” She asks me in thoughts. Her voice is like the flute in the mountains and it sings like a fine reed instrument. Her tone plays in my head more than it speaks to me, but it is a very real dialogue, and I am thrilled and amazed that I have communicated once again, with a life form from another separate world. She glows pink, like my dress and the rest of the room is bronzed, even I who have seen such incredible colors am overwhelmed when I look at her, hear her thoughts and feel a sensation all over my body. I tingle in this room, of rose pastels, and the rich brown of the wood and bronze. The music that comes and goes, waltzes, flutes, symphonies and mystery themes, oh..how can all this be for only me?
She asks again,”Why are you here?”
Without hesitation I answer, “To dance and be Glorious”

I look back at her as I am caught in the updraft of a very new dance

I look back at her as I am caught in the updraft of a very new dance. It takes me and there is no refusing it. The music switches and changes, and I am now dancing with what I feel are hologram images of more dancers, all of them so graceful and supple, their eyes closed in ecstasy. But they too sing to me in the most beautifully high clear voices, that harmonize with the music,and I open my mind wishing to be like them even for a few short minutes, for the length of this dance. Then I am them. I sing in floating notes of pinks and bronzes and I feel what the next step will be and we are truly Glorious.

I shout, “Yes I am Glorious…”

I shout, “Yes , I am Glorious” and they all echo this back to me.

“We are Glorious!”

“We are Glorious!” All of us sing this phrase and dance freely.

“You are Glorious” his deep voice joins the choir of our dance

“You are Glorious” his deep voice joins the choir of our dance.
I am dancing with him! It is not corporal, but it is real, and I feel him glide past me, glide with us all. His deep voiced- tones herd our light ones into the perfect circle of sound. I am so moved my eyes roll up, and my mouth hangs open and Time stops. We dance forever and we sing our dance as I have never believed it could be done. Just as I am thinking and hoping we could stay here forever, his voice brushes my cheek and he whispers,
“It’s time to find the door home now.”

I dance, flying out the door, and the cloud of colors calls me home

I dance, flying out the door, and the cloud of colors calls me home.
I feel a hesitancy to leave him here, but I also feel the liquid waning inside of me.
“How will you get back? ” I ask him as I am concerned he might not want to leave.
“I am already back.” he smiles. “Come!”

The colors become a churning wind and I at first, brace myself against it

The colors become a churning wind and I at first, brace myself against it, but it takes me anyway, much stronger, and I release my tight grip without having to be told. It feels right. I am being carried home on a windstorm of color, and as we get further away from this land, the color begins to increase.

turning over and over

Turning over and over, I am the beauty of the dance and the colored wind
“Thank you” I whisper.

I twist and turn on pale pastels of lifting clouds

I twist and turn on pale pastels of lifting clouds, and I begin to grow weary and sleepy.

The colors begin to grow brighter

The colors begin to grow brighter and my body goes limp as my mind begins to fade

I lay down on the beautiful colored streams of air, and feel myself slipping back

I lay down on the beautiful colored streams of air, and feel myself slipping back.
It’s perhaps like death, or maybe like being born, but I am powerlessly at peace

All begins to fade away, and I am inert in the smooth return from the pink and bronze journey

All begins to fade away, and I am inert in the smooth return from the pink and bronze journey.
I open my eyes, and am staring at the familiar dark patterns of my bed spread. I see the glass still tipped over where I left it, and I feel his presence wrap over me and hold me in silence. I realize I am falling in love with him, and I am ready to die for him if that’s what it takes to be with him forever. Then his voice admonishes me in a whisper.
“No. I show you Life. Always choose the dance over death.”
I fall into a dreamless sleep…

to be continued…

to be continued…


Karima Hoisan
April 20, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island  SL
© 2011 all rights reserved

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Sleep Walking Through Your Town

Posted on April 18, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The beat of the night beats in my bare feet

(please click and play the link for some Tropical Music to accompany you on the walk)

Sleep Walking Through Your Town

The beat of the night’s music double beats in my bare feet
Dum ta dum dumtadum, tropical-latin with passion.
The night is stronger than the locks on my door or my sleep.
It comes into my room through an open window and stirs me up again.
I remember how you looked at me when I passed you on the street,
Tonight I glide on slow motion big cat strides, hands open wide
Look at me I am a floating offering, a leopard and a lover dum ta dum,
I come to find you and take it to the finish, what you have begun.

Did you think a look like that said nothing to me?
Or I don’t speak the language of looks, or your mouthing tease?
Lips in pouting pantomime “oh mami please”?
If you really want to, here I come, just look at me.
My lower back has a curve that fits the back of your eyes,
Burning into them like a brand, and wherever you sleep or stand,
I come to find you and take it to the finish, what you began

Sensual sensual, the night is my instigator, my closed eyes on Doppler
Oh ready or not, I will find you, here I am.
I will make those chili -picante eyes water over,
your mouth will gasp and open in shocked surprise.
My lips are smiling, my lips come to make yours kiss alive.
Silky hair blowing wild and free, I am the epitome of me
dum ta dum, dumtadum I come,
to find you and take it to the finish, what you’ve begun.

Sleep walking through your town, the moon howls
The guitar strums up my tight-fit gown and my hips roll
back and forth and up and down,and everyone I pass
sees and hears my beat dum ta dum, dumtadum.
They hand- clap inside themselves and follow me along“Olé”
But I am on one mission, and it will not be echoed in the day.
I laugh aloud and feel my skirt split against my thighs,
Your town decked out in pale green and dreamy brown,
has lit a fire in there, now it is so easy for me to see,
that this is how it’s going to be…
I come to find you and take it to the finish, what you began in me.

Karima Hoisan
April 18, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island, SL
©2011 all rights reserved

 

 

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The Candy-Apple Red & Blue Dream

Posted on April 16, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

“I am not asleep when I begin to dream…“


Please play this haunting piece by David Darling while you read

I am not asleep when this dream begins and I am alone in a part of my room I am only asked to go to if I have failed in some way. I am deprived of his voice and the two small crystal glasses are being held limply downwards by each one of my hands. In the right is the glass that held the sweet candy apple red liquor, not at all similar in taste or texture to the one I drank down timidly in The Red Dream. This is sweet, like a syrup, but in the left hand, the slight residue of bitter blue still clings, drying like a baked color onto the inside of the rim. The red is sweet… the blue is blue… it tastes acidic like a lemony sports drink and yet it makes me thirstier still when I drink it all. It hasn’t been ten minutes and because no voice coaxes or comforts, or directs me, I feel these ten minutes like 2 hours. The color starts to swirl across my face, first on the outside and when I close my eyes I still see a blackish screen that are my eyelids, but colors glow from outside making the black now blue, sometimes flashes of pink. I stand perfectly still and I choose to try and keep my eyes open, unlike the last two times, where I allowed them to close on their own, almost immediately or was actually blindfolded.

I  stand  perfectly still…

I feel my clothes breathing with my breaths and I angle my gaze downwards and see that they are not even the same clothes I had on when I first came into the room hearing the door locking behind me. The glasses, as always were standing on a small bedside table, and without a command I knew I was to drink both of them. I tried to do that evenly, a sip from the right, then a sip from the left until they both finished nearly together. So when I look down at myself, holding the glasses I am not really surprised, just awakened to the detail that now my clothes are also of mixed color, a candy-apple red baby doll shifting slightly over layers of powder blue lace. With each second it is getting harder and harder to see anything as the light is now taking over my entire vision, and my heart pumps rapidly. Just when I think “I must sit down or I will fall” I feel bands of colored light wrap tightly around my eyes and I am de-materializng, as I felt myself do on the Ship of White Dreams.

dematerializing in bands of colored light

I am going now, even from myself. There is the rush of air as if I were in high speed flight, I am that air speeding and there is a feeling I am a messenger, or a rescuer, something or someone needs me and I know I am on my way. I have no eyes nor limbs and I imagine this is what happens to the crew in science fiction movies when they teleport up and down to new worlds. I am first aware of patterns, colorful moving ones that start to focus ahead of me, above and below me and I am caught with the sensation of being gestated by light and  now I am growing into it. Light, color,patterns, are always with me in my dreams.
I am in The Ink.
It is aqueous but not water, the colors shift forms and as quickly as they do, they shape into something else. It is frightening in that it has a beauty I have never seen before, so my mind can not even invent the words to describe it. Only now in retrospect and a long time after the effects of the sweet and sour journey, can I try to put these experiences into words. If you thought this moment was real -time,  that I am really going through it now this second, you are wrong. When I have journeys as this one, there is no way to describe it while I am moving through it. His voice usually grounds me in language and that perhaps keeps my syntax functioning, and provides a word pantry, although raided and very bare still able to offer words. Today he does not speak to me and I am here alone.
Then suddenly I have form, shape, gender, thoughts and at first glance they seem to be what I am already familiar with, what I call me. I look up from The Ink to the skies, the moon is trapped in a net falling down beside me, my blue lace skirt is an impromptu parachute and I stretch out my arms instinctively to mute the fall. I am a streaking blue angel entering a new realities air space. All is possible.

the netted moon falls along side of me down into The Ink

The colors are so compellingly beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful floating through my mind, that I feel a sting of tears and my eyes are washed in The Ink and I am so moved, I just pant shallowly, until this moment passes. Some things are too much for us to experience, we are not ready…and I know I am in one of these moments. Sweet and sour like the liquids I have just consumed, and I am overcome with waves of joy so deep they feel like sadness, and sadness so profound it makes me giddy with elation and admiration for the world I am being shown. In this state, I feel my feet touch solid ground, and when I peer out and around me, I seem to have landed on an object that is painted in the exact colors I too am now painted in, the sweet and sour colors of Life’s exotic mixed drink.

I am holding my breath like a statue full of wonder

I am holding my breath like a statue, full of wonder, curiosity, excitement, fear and surrender to what comes next. I have no idea where I am, and yet I sense the reason I am here is to help something survive, something that is dying close to me and I, without knowing what it is I possess, can save it/him/her/them, and wait only to be sure of what I must do next. The net that brought down the moon and pulled me to this spot, is now laying over a figure that has fallen into the emerald green part of The Ink. It almost looks like a giant insect, but the net does not allow me to see it with any clarity or detail. I jump down and pass right through the web-like stands of the blue mesh-work that grabbed hold of the moon and fell from the sky, perhaps dragging this creature down with it. I am bathed in orange light and I feel myself making slow ritual gestures, almost as if I were dancing.

“I am standing upon a downed craft or an insect…”

I am standing upon a downed craft, or an insect made out of polished steel, deep red, and the most pale haunting blue. It could be either and maybe it is both, but it struggles every once in a while to free itself from the restricting strands. This is why I am here and without  willing them, my arms and legs begin to move in a slow graceful way. I think I am praying…praying that this net now be lifted. I am close to his head, and I hear very shallow labored breathing. This craft is alive.

I begin to rotate in an age-old rotation of hope

 I begin to rotate in an age-old rotation of hope that what lives, even faintly, may keep on living. I feel the deepest compassion for this creature, my heart bleeds in its colors, his noble head chiseled like a fine- bred dog and I sense he is dying and his only chance for survival lies in me. In my thoughts I let all the words that want to come, spill out of my mouth and I lay over his stricken broken frame stroking and holding him, willing him back to life with my wishes, and my ritual dance.

I crouch on the side of his head and the net begins to dissolve

I crouch on the side of his head, and the net begins to dissolve. I see him for what he is, or rather what he could be. He is alive, there is no doubt, his labored breathing makes my body rise and fall, but he is made from a hard surface, maybe metal, or something I have never seen, something associated with inanimate transport not life -forms. He is a downed plane, a car wreck, a twisted pile-up heading for the compactor and then I look around and I see others, none of them even barely alive, they appear decapitated and tossed into a pile like junk, like something of no value.

So many thrown in a heap, all just like him

So many thrown in a heap, all just like him and I know I can’t save any of them, not even one. I am flooded with the deepest feelings of frustration and I am powerless, and this realization makes me cry out to his silence and scream at him, the one who left the glasses on my bed-stand, the one I trusted and believed in, who it appears has truly abandoned me.

Then why did you send me here?”


“Then why did you send me here? Why?
I can do nothing. I can save nothing. All are dying and all will die.

Why did I have to see this? Why?


Why did I have to see this? Why? All are dying and all will die.”
I slump to my knees sobbing, I am heartbroken, I have the broken heart of someone who cares and is helpless to change the outcome. I came too late it seems, and all that is left are my laments that gush out of me and fall over his prone head and into The Ink in the form of tears. I think I am crying for a tragedy that is beyond my human understanding, and yet it is not beyond my human feelings, and this makes me feel so much, that I too wish I could expire along with all of them.

Poetry pours from my lips and mixes with the teardrops

Poetry pours from my lips and mixes with the teardrops, because today of all days there is no voice who comes to tell me,
“Trust in it all”
or
“Don’t be afraid”
or
“Yes I have shown this to you for a reason,
 but you might not understand it just yet”

I understand I do not only cry for these creatures whatever they were, but I cry because I am now alone and seeing so much is almost unbearable for me to live with every day, and his voice has abandoned me.

I lay across his snout and feel his last breaths

I lay across his snout and feel his last breaths, and I know his struggle will end soon, and he seems to know it too as he calms and no longer raises his head. I feel so much for him and I open my mouth and press it against him like a suction and I feel a liquid flow out of him, sweet not bitter and I suck some more and it slowly fills my mouth until I can’t hold any more. I drink of him, his fall, his pain, his lonely death and realize I did change something as he gives me willingly the essence he holds inside that he feels is precious. I understand him without words and the sweetness now of his last minutes fill my mouth and I hold him tight and tell him I will take this liquid back with me and to know I understand even though I understand nothing.

He stops breathing and is gone and I slip off his sleek muzzle

He stops breathing and is gone. There is nothing I can do but slip off his sleek muzzle and fall into The Ink where I let my body go limp and my tears turn to colors. I hold his essence in my mouth and now I want to desperately return, to wake up, to get back to my locked room. The sweet liquid of this dying creature is held carefully inside of me and with a sense of mission, I keep my lips sealed shut, so not a drop might spill and be lost.

I stand and will myself to return

I stand and will myself to return. I have no idea if I am still under the effects of the red and blue liquid, but I am submerged in The Ink feeling like I will explode soon if I can not spit out tenderly what he gave me in the generosity of his dying last wish. I push up in my mind, as if I am underground and I gasp through my nose with my mouth closed tight.When I open my eyes, I have returned and all in my room is how I left it. Bright colors completely replaced by the dark heavy shades of my paneled walls and I feel a security knowing all is there. I walk quickly to the bedside table and choose one of the empty glasses that had contained half of my journey. I am not particular which color, only that I need to deposit his essence into it as quickly as I can. Remembering it all, the scenes and sensations, his last sweet taste, I let it flow in the glass in one stream of colors swirling into and filling it up, way beyond what I could have possibly held in my mouth. I see before me what he gave me, what he was made of and realize in a second of clarity why he gave it to me.
His essence, what he bequeathed me, was the swirling shades and hues of The Ink.
Then the voice of the one who guides me, the voice of the one who had gone mute and left me on my own, whispers directly in my ear, his familiar breath against my cheek, his tone commanding yet loving. But I know what I have to do and I will do it…before I even hear him say it…

 “Karima! Write it!”
“Write all of it!”

to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
April 16, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island

*please see my comment

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 24 Comments

Claudia222…..A Jewell!!

Posted on April 15, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Ta Da!! Here I am in my Post-Human Baroque styling, pierced in
the heart by my very affectionate cephalopod so let me tell you how I got here…
I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Claudia222 Jewell’s new art installation last night at Pirats Art Network. I had already been put to dream and babble poetry by her one on Farstar entitled “Parallel Worlds”, and actually that is where I caught up with her last night, when I hooked up with my artist friend Rag Randt to see her build.
RAG and I had been flying over my own sim and I was going to show him a picture of it, as I was in an animated description of how incredible her organic textures looked, when he said “Well let’s just go there”
In SL, a teleport is worth a thousand pictures, and we were off to visit her Parallel Worlds. I joined the group and picked up her free gift, an amazing creature called a “cthuhul” which is a winged fantasy transport to be used to view her installation in style and in theme.
I once again felt that truly I had fallen into a parallel world, but unfortunately was not dressed for it. My garish purpley-blue and red had nothing in common with the rich, golds, greens, and thick colors of her creations. By luck Claudia was there and we chatted, and then I realized somehow, the opening of her new show at Pirats had totally escaped me, and we whizzed off to see what we had missed.

so NOT color-coordinated

Claudia, always the very generous and gracious hostess helped us find our way up to her artistic new dream-build of pale moths and beautiful props of quartz and jeweled rocks, abalone turquoise against gold beading..so breath-taking. RAG jumped on his own moth transport and I hitched a ride with Claudia and we had a private tour of her creative color sense,  awesome texturing techniques, and just her artistic imagination come to virtual life.

Riding with Claudia222 and loving her world

"like fungus dripping in a honey..."

She told us she got this entire build together in 4 days, and used a few things from her other one, but most was entirely new… that working under pressure like this was a “nightmare” but we both agreed that the final product was far from it…so far from it. Every where we flew around,we admiringly “ooed” and the build goes from 60 to 80 meters. We saw first hand what she meant about how the clouds “got in the way” too. At one point in her own words she described a section as ” like fungus dripping in a honey cover…mushrooms…and the moths breeding and get ready for a life” Wow… must be experienced to believe!
It was nearing 6am on Claudia’s side of the world, so we thanked her and waved her off to sweet dreams, then set off to see a bit more, before our own time clock expired. This place needs more than one viewing, as the minute detailed textures can keep you hung up in one spot for a long time. I couldn’t stand it anymore, and changed my clothes while flying around. I hid behind a moth breeding area and found a more suitable Steampunky -Post-Human Baroque outfit (complete with bubble blowing gold-fish in my helmet) and breathed a deep sigh as I now felt in vibration with gold hues and beyond..

Ahh..I can breathe again in Steampunky -Post-Human Baroque

RAG and I went over to visit the octopus who I had already met, or perhaps his first cousin, on Parallel Worlds. This Cephalopod was feeling frisky and amorous and before she left, Claudia told me he had said hello to me by name, so he might have been the one I had a sweet but short-lived affair with on Farstar..They really Do all look alike (see post)
Well I swam/flew past him and I caught that glint in his deep- set brown eyes that at any minute glow orange with chicanery. He made cephalopod cooing and whistling sounds, that sounded like he was going “psst psst” and his tentacles were all over me as I passed by.

wolf whistles and all arms that frisky Cephalopod

When I yelled to RAG that he was getting a bit too comfortable with me,(the octopus not RAG:), he came rushing over and got under the hood to check for…hmm maybe teeth?, or sexual maturity?..hard to know what is under there, but RAG looked like a doctor about to give a diagnosis.

"hmmm" said Dr. RAG

“This is a fully adult male octopus” he declared.
No news there, as I had just slipped away from his last advance, and barely so.

He was not trying to teach me dance steps...

That spineless romeo was not trying to teach me dance steps when he jumped me from behind. I was pretty sure of that, or that he wanted to give me swimming lessons (backstroke?) Anyway, the hour was late and I said goodnight to Rag and blew one last kiss to the frustrated Cephalopod and banked sharply for the long flight back to my own sim.

making a sharp bank to climb home, on steam- powered boots

My night didn’t end right then, because as soon as I got back, I just had to try out my group present that I got from Claudia’s Parallel Worlds. I rezzed it on the ground, jumped aboard and typed “start” Ahh… I feel another adventure coming on… and it even has black bubbles that follow you while you flap the airways.

As far as group gifts go...this cthuhul is the most wonderfully bizarre

The creature breathes like a respirator, eerily and rhythmically and maybe I was a bit heavy but it flew valiantly. We were illuminated by moonlight, sim breeze behind and giving us lift..While I counted the seconds that the black bubbles held their murky draped drawing- room colors. I whispered my silent thank you to the one responsible for this unforgettable evening Claudia222!!! For all of us here in Second Life lucky enough to see what you create and do, you are a Jewel with a double “L”

For all of us in Second Life Claudia222....You are a Jewell!!

Karima Hoisan
April 15,2011

Posted in Slices of Second Life | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments