welcome
I'm Rahsa, the artist known as Yonic.
This is the space I've carved out for my thoughts and experiences--to stash my memories. There is writing here from all over the world, so embrace the journey and happy clicking.
Laundry Day
Meditative brain wash
Heart mind and body knots
Careful hands lost in the sauce
An chest cavity clots
Fingers braidweave wire cuts
Dissecting landmines, swollen guts
Knot unfolds, lay it flat
Hung up to dry, laundromat
Wringin out: squeeze tight and wet
Brown drowns down, dense stains unset
Clear vapor clouds, fresh linen scent
Spring clean spirit godsend
A painting of mine of the same concept, words, and title
The poem was written to encapsulate the message of the painting
Dali’s Tree House
The young soul sister curls up with the impressionist resister with the keys to assist her
Pseudo sinister mister, insister of thinking outside the box
Sinking into what the subconscious lost
Me entienden, mother hen he said with the pen
Ink spot on his wrist, marked to enlist the mind to wander
Our toes touch and feet grow fonder
Us canaries of a feather stroke together
Paint brush hands blister, callused in the winter
But working under pressure, under weather
Binding thoughts with sticky tree bark and dandelion knots
Dali whispered to me in a tree, call the moment surreal,
Upper lip hairs tickle my ears with the verisimilitude true in a language no comprendo but it sound bueno
Honey drizzle stream through canals to my brain waves banging rhythm on my ear drum echo cave
I can see the depth of the interior inner superior unfold mysterier
Dig deeper, preacher, find what we’re told to uphold
Holier than this, good sis, you are your keeper.
A surrealist sketch from the same period
Waking, Growing, Healing
Follow the tracks, caught cracks in the ceiling
Lead us higher, closer to the core
Shifting focus our countenance takes shape of recognition
I’ve felt this feeling here before
Tuning in to listen, senses raise and straighten
As we tend to trouble gone ignored
Pressing in for closeness, trouble turning over, a glimpse of what’s in store-
Letting go and morphing, or staying still and hoping,
Protection from absorption—evolution moves us along the shore.
Crossing off the stages, surveying these blank pages,
We know less as we carry more.
A painting of mine, of the same concept and title
The poem was written to encapsulate the same message