Administrator's blog | Leanna Banana

for women who are tied to the moon . . .

For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows. The joy. The poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again.

You rare girl, once again, you have a body that belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines on your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body.

You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god. He tried to sweeten you, to water you down. So you left. And now you have your heart all to yourself again. A heart like a stone cottage. Heart like a lover’s diary. Hope like an ocean.

Anaïs Nin
.
,

*

happy rose moon,
i wish she was out
to play.
.

.

"I have been loved," she said,
"by something strange, and it has
forgotten me."
.

'oh, body, be held now by whom you love.

Whole years will be spent, underneath these impossible stars,
when dirt’s the only animal who will sleep with you
& touch you with
its mouth.'

via
.

Monday, June 9, 2014 4:32 p.m.

Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.

I wish I knew what to say, I feel like I should maybe say something profound at this point. I wish I had something glorious to write about and subsequently ponder upon, however my thoughts remain scarred and scattered, like the billions of stars in the blue sea of the night.

Finally things are occurring in a favorable manner, things are happening in such a way that gives me hope for the future. Even so, I find myself longing for the in-between moments; longing for the sadness and the bittersweet. Because the things that make us vulnerable make us beautiful.

I spent last evening at the beach and although I was dancing and twirling among the waves in the light of the moon (and loving very much to be living in that moment), a part of me wanted the ocean to devour me alive. And it is moments like that one in which I am thinking of death in the light of living that scares me. Maybe it doesn’t scare me so much as it makes me impatient, but either way the feeling leaves me with a sense of incomplete, almost like I’m an unfinished work of art. A work in progress; maybe I’ll always feel like a work in progress. Maybe that’s what it is to be human. Maybe being human is praying that one’s life is arranged intricately as a complicated domino pattern, and it will be beautiful when it finally falls.
.
,

. . .

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”

.

*

.

Now my longing has a name.
.

dream-in-action by gherasim luca

the beauty of your smile your smile
in crystals the crystals of velvet
the velvet of your voice your voice and
your silence your silence absorbent
absorbent like the snow the snow
warm and slow slow is
your step your step diagonal
diagonal thirst night silk and floating
floating like the moans the plants
are in your skin your skin them
mess she messes your perfume
your perfume is in my mouth your mouth
is a thigh a thigh that flies
she flies towards my teeth my teeth
devour you I devour your absence
your absence is a thigh thigh or
shoe shoe that I kiss
I kiss this shoe I kiss it on
your mouth for your mouth is a mouth
she is not a shoe mirror that I kiss
just as your legs just as
your legs just as your legs
just as your legs your legs
legs of sigh sigh
of vertige vertige of your face
I enjamb your image like one enjambs
a window window of your being and of
your mirages your image her body and
her soul your soul your soul and your nose
surprised I am surprised nose of your
hair your hair-cut in flames your soul
in flames and in tears like the toes of
your feet your feet on my chest
my chest in your eyes your eyes
in the forest the forest liquid
liquid and in bones the bones of my cries
I write and I cry from my tearing tongue
I tear your arms your arms
delirious I desire and tear your arms and your arms
the bottom and the top of your body shuddering
shuddering and pure pure like the orange
orange of your knees of your nostrils of
your breath of your stomach I say
stomach but I think of the swim
of the swim of the cloud cloud of
secret the secret marvelous marvelous
like yourself
you on the rooftop somnambulist and cloud
cloud and diamond it is one
diamond that swims that swims with suppleness
you swim with suppleness in the water of the
matter of the matter of my spirit
in the spirit of my body in the body
of my dreams of my dreams in action
.

Happy Birthday Norma Jeane.

"Marilyn: The Last Sitting" by Bert Stern, 1962

'Think of the first love you ever destroyed
because you’d never known anything like it before,
like seeing your own heartbeat outside of yourself,
a flickering, luminescent miracle-
you wanted to crush it into your skin.'
.

*

" you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in
you "

- Henry Charles Bukowski
.
.

"do not argue with the past"

If I had one more chance to tell you
I would tell you that I love you
and I would tell you that I always will
I mourn the loss of my words
lost on some distant planet
that only exists
in my dreams
and it’s been so long
but just once
I would like to fall asleep
without feeling your strong arms
around my waist
and without feeling your soft breath
on my neck

please

(via)
.

le petit

when
life's
events
become
too
difficult
to
understand
we
have
no
choice
but
to
succumb
to
their
mysteries

- Antoine de Saint-Exupery
,
,
,

she is like a cat in the dark; and then she is the darkness

' she rings like a bell through the night
and wouldn't you love to love her?
takes to the sky like a bird in flight
and who will be her lover?
all your life you've never seen
woman, taken by the wind
would you stay if she promised you heaven?
will you ever win?
she is like a cat in the dark
and then she is the darkness
she rules her life like a fine skylark
and when the sky is starless
all your life you've never seen
woman taken by the wind
would you stay if she promised you heaven?
will you ever win? '
.

her perfume smell like burning leaves. every day is Halloween.

“To understand witchcraft we must descend into the darkness of the deepest oceans of the mind. In our efforts to avoid facing the realities of human evil, we have tamed the Witch and made her comic, dressing her in a peaked cap and setting her on a broom for the amusement of children at Halloween. Thus made silly she can easily be exorcised from our minds, and we can convince children- and ourselves- that there is no such thing as a Witch. But there is. A phenomenon that for centuries gripped the minds of men from the most illiterate peasant to the most skilled philosopher or scientist, imposing torture or death upon hundreds of thousands, is neither a joke nor illusion.”
.

*

.

Woman, taken by the wind.

rhiannon rings like a bell through the night

and wouldn't you love to love her?

takes to the sky like a bird in flight

and who will be her lover?

all your life you've never seen

woman, taken by the wind

would you stay if she promised you heaven?

will you ever win?

she is like a cat in the dark

and then she is the darkness

she rules her life like a fine skylark

and when the sky is starless

all your life you've never seen

woman taken by the wind

would you stay if she promised you heaven?

will you ever win?

rhiannon

she rings like a bell through the night

and wouldn't you love to love her?

she rules her life like a bird in flight

and who will be her lover?

all your life you've never seen

woman taken by the wind

would you stay if she promised you heaven?

will you ever win?

rhiannon

taken by

taken by the sky

taken by

taken by the sky

taken by

taken by the sky

dreams unwind

love's a state of mind

dreams unwind

love's a state of mind
.

moon flower

happy Flower moon to you

* . .

If I lose the light of the sun,
I will write by candlelight,
moonlight, no light.
If I lose paper and ink,
I will write in blood
on forgotten walls.
I will write always.
I will capture nights
all over the world
and bring them to you.

- Henry Rollins
.
.
*

Sleep sweet, my darling. Goodnight.

If someone touches your life for the better, remember to be thankful for the time that you’ve spent together, any lessons you have learned on behalf of their knowing, and aspects of them that you have acquired to form your own personality along the way. The inconsistency of loved ones in our lives troubles me at times. The truth is disconcerting that not everyone can stay for whatever reason; be it time, distance, or death. After such a loss, remembering to remain grateful becomes an exercise in futility. Often it is painful to recall someone’s name; the way you might remember a certain scent or long for the melody of a song that you cannot stop humming. Sometimes I miss everyone I’ve ever known all at once. Tonight is one of those times. Be strong enough within yourself to let go of the things that were not meant for you. And remember to smile because it happened; remember to smile because you experienced love, however fleeting it may have been. After all, we are here on earth together, learning how to love and trying to do what is right. Sleep sweet, my darling. Goodnight.
.
.
.

loving beyond the damage we carry

If you ever wonder if
there are such things
as miracles in this
world
just know that today
I stood without a
drug in my vein or
booze in my belly and
let someone love me.

Sometimes loving beyond
the damage we carry is
the only heaven we’ll
know.

"

*,

"You're beautiful and sad, just like your eyes."

for you

via
,
*

*

"She rises when the sun sets and goes immediately to her table
where she plays her game of patience until she grows hungry,
until she becomes ravenous. She is so beautiful she is
unnatural; her beauty is an abnormality, a deformity, for none
of her features exhibit any of those touching imperfections
that reconcile us to the imperfection of the human condition.
Her beauty is a symptom of her disorder; of her soullessness."
- the lady of the house of love
.

.

If not in this life, then the next.
.

( the shadow line )

La Ligne d’Ombre by Leonor Fini, 1965
.

Creative Imagination

Creative imagination enables the mind to create images and scenes associated with the meditation purpose. These created images should be in three-dimensional form. They are like a highly-concentrated daydream, or perhaps even an actual dream in which you become completely absorbed within the framework of your senses and inspired scenes, losing awareness of the ordinary world around you. This creative imagination, or ‘imaginative cognition’ is the key to opening spiritual doors.

Eventually your creative meditational exercises will evolve into actual spirit contact. Initially in mediation, you are observing yourself experiencing a particular situation or imagining how it should be experienced. Whereas, within a true shamanic trance, you are actually existing within the realm of your imaginative consciousness and are able to experience everything directly.

Your soul will learn to permeate ideas, images, and symbols in meditation in order to gain entrance into the soul-spirit realm. As you develop the ability to imagine a union with your meditation symbols, you begin making transitions from the pictures to their supersensible origins. You are moving from a passive to a conscious awareness interaction when both your work and exercises begin to take this form.

You are able to open doors through your imagination, and will eventually be able to explore through inspiration. This will open you to direct spiritual perceptions as opposed to perceptions and/or images that must be translated. Hypnagogia is the experience of the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep. A light trance is a relaxed state of being. A consciousness that is both relaxed and aware will easily open the doors to nonphysical influences. In deeper levels of trance, you may become unconscious to your surroundings, more so like going to sleep. It is infinitely more beneficial to develop and control your faculties than to be used as a channel. Maintaining your awareness and ability to control spiritual contact is crucial when accessing the soul realm.

via
.

seraph

/ˈserəf/

1. the ‘burning ones’ synonymous with ‘serpents’ in the Old Testament; a fiery celestial being having three pairs of wings
2. a divine being, regarded in traditional Christian angelology as belonging to the highest order of the ninefold celestial hierarchy, associated with light, ardor, and purity; a triple invocation of holiness
3. ‘dragon-shaped angels’ surrounding the Throne of God, often depicted as the winged head of a child
.