When words turn by Sulis
When words turn
into steel-capped
precision instruments
My blood runs
cold along a shaft
of certain annihilation
Words are breathed
out on moving clouds
dancing and dissipating
They are pure ether
sparkling with heat
transforming my world
Diagnose my disease
stitch back a left arm
burned to the third degree
Your lanced judgments
more insidious by far
than streaming poetry
Severity by Sulis
Severed moon
thin as a shadow
skating on ice
marks and remarks
in invisible ink
on night's rink
scribbles
as bloodless as
paper-cut sharp
as slivered and stark
she slides
and departs
Consternation by Sulis
Constant consternation
saturnian constructs
a cryptic constellation
of crushing incompetence
colliding with careful ...
chaos.
Just have a wonderful day.
Oh, and be a good therapist!
False words by Sulis
Never lie for diamond moments
or manipulate time's delicate day.
Wanting more to dress your
cold skinless beauty would scream
of mad shadow visions pounding
out rusty worship chained up
to purple tongues in tragic
language void of sun and heart.
The kill by Sulis
In measured tone of piety
craftily she
shifts her smile
from phone cradle
to grave.
And you stumble into
a long pause
that knocks
the breath of certainty
far out of reach.
She comes in
for the kill
not hearing
a yes and wanting
to catch you
at no.
Caught with your
ambiguity
down around
your knees
there's nothing
to retrieve.
You're let go.
Silence by Sulis
Even a wall
of rock
echoes back
A voice
a ripple
an expansion
Swells your heart
and pumps
its puff of hope
Of holy smoke
signalling
repeating
A chant of chance.
Not this flat fall
of silence
blank as black
This ultimate
cruelty of not
knowing
When your words
fell short
and mine
Spilled over.
Burning by Sulis
Paper burns quickly,
especially when crumpled.
Falls into flimsies, dissipates,
loses irreversibly its substance.
This is how I burn,
when the words are hot.
Anger licking wounds, searing,
destroying what it once wanted.
If I were a wild seed,
this might be my initiation.
Tucked into the earth, waiting,
for the warmth I need to grow.
I know my soul-child,
she's yet to be birthed.
Waiting for the season, life,
when sweet rain puts out fire.
Nonviolent communication (NVC) - sometimes referred to as compassionate communication - involves both communication skills that foster compassionate relating and consciousness of the interdependence of our well being and using power with others to work together to meet the needs of all concerned.
This approach to communication emphasizes compassion as the motivation for action rather than fear, guilt, shame, blame, coercion, threat or justification for punishment. In other words, it is about getting what you want for reasons you will not regret later. NVC is NOT about getting people to do what we want. It is about creating a quality of connection that gets everyone’s needs met through compassionate giving.
