No Ego

The Transcendent Triptych

A Poem in Three Movements

0320.2025

⸻

I. The Whisper of Control

Control loves me in whispers,

in quiet omissions,

and in-between silences—

where a question is an answer.

I am the painting it leaves unhung—

a feeling it folds.

⸻

II. Refusal

Art can’t stand in for honesty,

as if I won’t notice

how far control’s warmth wanders.

I am not a figure

haunting the edge of another’s life.

Not an echo

where there’s no room for my voice.

I’m done with nothing

held at arm’s length

and calling itself care.

I’m done

being the

controlled.

⸻

III. To Release Without Breaking

Like petals falling

from a bloom past its season,

I carry no bitterness in my mouth—

only the lightness

of something I’ve set free.

Let all walk in peace.

Let all days be warm,

and all houses full of laughter

I no longer need to hear.

Love was never mine,

not truly—

only a mirror

I mistook for a doorway.

Now, I give it back

to the world—

with the stillness of trees,

the hush of evening fields,

the quiet dignity of flowers

that open,then release

their beauty to the wind.

Without need,

without shame,

without fear—

I move out of myself

with a quiet heart,

and a love that no longer begs—

only blesses,

then lets go.

m.c.f.

Loneliness

A Bird Alone

0319.2025

Don’t let loneliness crush you with its starkness

or the weight of all it never says.

Let it be a bird—

a restless thing lifting you higher.

When the arms that could hold you are gone,

when the voice of warmth has dimmed,

remember—

loneliness is nothing, truly nothing.

And in that nothing, space to breathe,

to move unshaped by anyone’s hands,

to stand beneath the sun,

bare,

unbound,

entirely your own—

You will find all life’s freedom.

m.c.f.

On Self Soothing

Between Love & Fallout

0317.2025

“There will be sex after death, we just won’t be able to feel it.”

— Lily Tomlin

In love and horny,

I know, it’s corny

But:

the leaves and the trees,

the birds and the bees,

the flora and the fauna,

the heat in a sauna,

(Somewhere in this world!)

The hormones are raging,

and the world keeps aging,

so, which is louder

and makes us prouder—

The nursing home closet,

where Harold misplaces it—

or the schoolyard dugout,

where they all make out?

Ah,

the wind and the rain,

the pleasure and the pain.

If there is a loss,

there’s more gain!

The oil and water

only work when it’s hotter.

The kiss and the care,

the undressing stare—

(Trying to put it together in a poem

I don’t even own.)

It’s too fucking funny and utterly depressing,

the sheer fact someone’s not undressing,

Doesn’t keep me from laughing, making it a joke,

but I’ll tell you what, man—

I think we’re soon beyond the stroke.

So, let’s turn our gaze to Mother Nature

and all the wild things she will conjugature—

And let us laugh and skip and dance for fun,

and think of love and lust, while galloping under the sun.

After all, the world is in flames, torn apart,

and doomsday is creeping up, like an ill-timed fart.

So let’s be gay and merry, and maddeningly free—

and revel in Mother Nature’s lunacy!

m.c.f.

Independence

Amusing Bitch (For All Bitches)

0317.2025

The first time they called you bitch,

you shrank, stunned—

then slipped into it like it was stitched for your skin.

You wore it down, wore it in,

licked the hand, nibbled the degrade,

bowed deeper, longer.

Sank into the sound,

drank its defiance

just so you could own it.

Then you exaggerated the bitchiness,

felt empowered—

but somehow, it didn’t,

and don’t.

Oh, you brilliant, innovative, tenacious,

captivating, and heroic woman—

Now, you turn the bitch on when you need it.

When you walk into a room,

and they quiet—

not for fear,

but because you are truth.

When you smile, knowing it bends the world

just a little more in your favor.

When you hold up the mirror so elegantly,

they mistake the reflection for a gift.

When you say no—

and don’t apologize.

When you don’t fold for comfort.

When you wear it proud.

Oh you—

B – Bold

I – Inspiring

T – Tenacious

C – Confident

H – Humane

Some of us have diamonds in our thighs,

yes—

but I?

I have bitchiness in my eyes.

And I carry the moon in my mouth.

m.c.f.

Another Love

An Inheritance

0314.2025

Who makes love an occupation?

Maybe the eternally lonely,

maybe the motherless ones—

but must love be accompanied?

Isn’t birth alone enough to make it whole?

The flower’s tissue unfolds because of a kiss from the sun—that is love.

And the ocean casts its diamonds to the day, and all eyes can see—that is love in two gifts.

Then the earth fashioned us,

so our ears are mated to the songs of birds, insects—

and the lovemaking of trees and wind,

which fills us with such longing—

we are her children, and this is truly love.

m.c.f.

Being Female

Untitled

0313.2025

The stem of petals

arranged in hush—

a long, slender vase,

its form of curves and circles.

A life done in rose—

skin folds into flowers,

then cherry, then pit—

A silver tongue

tender to the womb

of all mankind—

the tower in the storm,

the muse unbowed.

Female.

Flower.

m.c.f.

On Transcendence

The Given Hour

0216.2025

“Mors janua vitae.”

For the Awakening,

your unhurried lover

arrives all dressed in black,

in a coach of onyx

and obsidian to

take your hand, (and your world)

into the long Nightfall—

when shadows bow to see

a glad moon bird singing,

and Fate gifting a veil

spun of Time, for placing

upon your stilled head—

and your Quiet Beloved

Kissing you awake to

Love’s Light and Becoming,

to its Sunrise, when your

journey arrives and you

can’t see why they cry,

all because you must start ~

m.c.f.

The Color Red

Red

0224.2025

Red is verve,

And passion,

Or another

Animal

Altogether—

Something like,

Strawberry

(Or their moons),

Or the deep

Ruby rush

Of cherry—

Possibly,

A flower

You’ll kiss,

(Or its fire.)

It’s in the

Female stain,

Mulled wine,

And blood sap

Beneath the

Blood moon high—

Where the earth

Exhales out

Elysium’s

Rosalia.

It’s in life—

And its love.

m.c.f.

The Complexity Of The Sexes

The Venus & Mars Issue

0219.2025

The trouble

with Venus:

She wants to be

natural

so lets everything

go wild,

the garden out,

the garden in.

The trouble

with Mars:

He likes things

smooth,

And

effortless,

Anything else

is

a hairy

tangle—

Oh, what Flopposite

Flopportunity!

m.c.f.

Shedding Attachment

Untitled #12

0220.2025

Not all seen is known; not all hidden is lost.

I

Anymore, care’s quiet—

“Just hush,” it says.

So I do—sliding forward,

smooth, effortless,

even through turbulence.

The emptiness settles in,

comfortable now:

The possibilities of youth fade,

replaced by waiting, drifting,

searching for substance—

a sign of life in the vast silence—

a sign of change.

Like starlight, dim but there,

pulsing, unseen, unknown—

I exist.

We are made

from star stuff—

but some don’t see.

(Some wade in the shallows.)

II

And yet—

Silence can be startled.

This morning, the sky’s mouth

is a dragon’s exhale, its roar

pulling my life from

its nighttime reverie—

Flowers shake off darkness,

the weightlessness has them opening

with faces turned high

and happily mated to the hour’s

rays, bathing their color,

now infused with love’s fire.

Tenderly—the rose, orchid,

and marigolds kiss my eyes.

I’ve become dressed in their scent—

my heart in bloom,

my blood singing

“I am coming alive,

deep into love!”

m.c.f.

Good From Bad

The World Dawn

0219.2025

Here we go together,

awakening in this beautiful morning,

lost in its potential—

when the dust of destruction is unknowable.

Lately, I think of you and your country,

how you’ve skirted the grave,

carried the losses—

and of her, moving through the hours,

not whole, not gathering herself,

but bearing history’s construction

and its modern decay on her back.

It’s only the dust in her mouth,

carried on the wind from the sea—

and already, someone she knows is the dust.

This is why we can’t cry anymore.

How does anyone complete the tasks at hand

when the last hour looms,

when you move in the proof of it?

Everything we do is tinged with the reminder—

the final hours among us, a phantom

watching our joy, ax in hand.

Who knew the caravanserai

of suits and bread,

ivory tower Barbies, and the wretched

could bring such potential to living—

because the going of my country, ‘tis of thee

is anywhere in the world.

m.c.f.

Letter To Barry (And Anyone)

(An Epistolary Manifesto)

My paintings are colors, my poetry is rhythm, and sometimes my thoughts take the form of letters. This one is for anyone who needs it.

Letter For A Friend:

Experiencing a near-death situation can profoundly shift one’s perspective, much like the joy of bringing new life into the world - highlights what truly matters and helps distinguish between the important things and the trivial.

When facing the challenges of assumption, toxicity, violence, and the complexities of human nature, realize that some wear masks which hide their true selves. Always approach others with humility, compassion, and curiosity, always be willing to engage in meaningful conversations, but also protect your heart, though never be too suspicious.

A simple act of kindness, like offering a smile or a kind word, can have a significant impact on someone’s day, and you may never know how much it can uplift your own spirit as well. It’s wise to distance yourself from negativity and dishonesty, as these can cloud your judgment and complicate your interactions. If you find yourself being dishonest, consider the burden of keeping track of those lies.

When encountering individuals who presume to understand your thoughts or feelings without seeking to know you, it’s best to disengage. Instead, seek out those who value your voice and allow you to express yourself freely, which can bring peace to your heart.

Surround yourself with the beauty and comfort that resonate within you. Whether it’s the tranquility of solitude, the warmth of companionship, or the serenity of nature, embrace what brings you joy. If something in your life feels unhealthy, strive to find a healthier alternative.

Avoid making judgments based on appearances, such as race, culture, clothing, or expressions. Everyone has a story worth hearing, and being open to others is essential for gaining knowledge, compassion, and love — these are the most important ingredients for personal growth and a fulfilling life.

Extend your compassion to those who are homeless, impoverished, or struggling, especially those with gentle spirits. You may not know the hardships they’ve endured, just as others may not have inquired about your own struggles.

To enhance your well-being, listen to your body’s language. Don’t rely solely on the advice of friends, family, or even doctors without questioning and understanding your own needs. Pay attention to what your body is telling you. Research. Eat well, live well. Partake of red wine each day if your body agrees. Sleep well. Dance everyday, at least a little, it’s good for the heart and soul. And if you should desire to sing, sing anywhere.

Believe in yourself. You have earned that right through your unique experiences, both the ups and downs. Try to recall it’s important to handle your struggles privately when you can, remember that everyone has their own burdens to carry. Don’t isolate yourself out of bitterness; being self-centered can only harden your heart. Instead of directing anger towards others during times of frustration and loneliness, focus on finding your balance and creating opportunities for personal growth and kindness, both for yourself and those around you. Holding onto hatred will only consume you.

When it comes to worldly issues, trust your own judgment rather than simply following the crowd. Take the time to learn and think critically; this is how you protect yourself and those you care about. Embrace solitude to reflect on what you consume in terms of media and information. Recognize that many people are driven by fear, and strive to rise above it, setting a positive example to inspire others to do the same and live in peace, too.

Above all, prioritize self-love and kindness. Understand and nurture yourself, as these are essential to being able to extend the same to others. A whole is not made up of fragmented pieces; it thrives when it is complete and harmonious.

If you've experienced the loss of a loved one or someone dear to you, it's important to recognize that you were already aware of the depth of that connection. This situation is often more of a bruise to the ego rather than a true loss. Often, our ego is something we can choose to hold onto. Take a moment to reflect on whether it's necessary to cling to it in this instance.

When all wisdom fails, hold your arms out and imagine an invisible circle, from that point in, is in your control or influence. So why not make it positive?

Lastly, remember that nothing is permanent. Everything is in a state of change, even if it’s subtle. Embrace this fluidity, as it is part of your growth and learning journey. This is the essence of love and living fully.

Marni Fraser

0214.2025

Ending Sadness

What Winter Took

0214.2025

—my heart whispers

in the darkness—

The words are

phantoms in

the deep pitch,

and fade with

the rise and

fall of breath.

Outside my

window, the

rain dries slow,

and flowers

died some weeks

ago by

Winter‘s hand.

Now the day’s

stone is on

me like a

Gravity —

It’s best to

think soon spring

will give birth.

m.c.f

On Longing

Birds

0214.2025

The restless bird in my breast

Sings the sun to set lower,

Sings to your gentle face,

Bottomless eyes,

Sings, and is singing still

The bird in my blood

Sings to the moon

Sings of your  hands

And unraveled soul,

Sings of its flame -

Now in my waking dream

The bird in my body

Sings to the bird in your body

Sings you to your other half,

Sings you to yourself.

m.c.f.

On Letting Go…

Rain

02013.2025

The sky has burst open its rain for me,

because my eyes lost the how—

This life no longer calls to the water,

as the heart that once summoned it, is gone.

Feelings have erased themselves

from the halls of my heart,

the scars on it vanished too—

was there ever a cause?

Surrender sets solitude in motion,

makes it quiet, makes it easy,

makes peace possible—

Sometimes, we admit the battle

we fought so hard to win,

the one we swore had to be won,

is the worst solution all along.

m.c.f.

On Daydreams

Petals That Kiss

0126.2025

A scent has settled

lightly in my hair -

Its echo hiding

Secret in my skin:

Damask Rose, or Sar?

The Orange Blossoming -

(Jasmin, Narcissus)

or maybe it’s the

Amber Lotus  whose

scent kisses the air ~

And under swaying palms,

the wind talks softly ~

its touch is tracing

thoughts of heat through veins -

The eastern sun sighs,

fragrant in the smoke,

and I’m left guessing

if somewhere I’m there.

My eyes close just as

a nightingale sings,

and with love I drift

through a waking dream.

m.c.f.

Election

The Morning After

0121.2025

The sun’s amber wound spills in the southeast,

Its light the indifferent herald of morning.

A dove stirs on my the porch,

But its music sings unheard -

How quietly I wander in

The desert of my grief.

The good have turned their backs,

And man’s hand is heavy with shadow -

It runs me into exile.

Where is the alchemy of wonder now?

What thief stole the purity of my soul?

And where, oh where, is the hand of my friend?

Where is his tether to my wandering heart?

Let my life be an anchor to earth’s roots,

And let my weary heart take flight, and soon,

Upon the wings of the sacred dove

Whose silenced hymn aches to rise again.

And when I am whole,

I will come back to the quiet art of giving love away,

Like a river yielding itself to the sea.

M.C.F.

A New Perspective

❦ It’s funny how the things that seem difficult at the time can, in the end, become something to be thankful for.

The Good News

(0120.2025)

This evening, the lines are sketched traces of time,

The faces and names of stories once forgotten return,

Drawing my life, and unveiling who I’ve always been.

Thoughts guide me through grief’s distant, dark halls,

Now lit by loving mercy and quiet grace -

(Each wound, a whisper of wisdom’s gentle voice.)

The time I cried left deserts in my eyes -

But faces that once carved sadness in my heart

Have now awakened a voice, alive with gratitude.

And here I see the vow my soul once made

Before it wore its fragile, fleeting skin;

And how beloved’s hand has never strayed too far.

Each answer is a footstep on my path.

I have only to see the long walk in a new way.

m.c.f.

On Death And Transcendence

That’s Love

0118.2025

“But I’m alive,” she says.

I’m made of love, and I’m about it.

It runs through me, then is me.

The love is all, it makes, it burns.

The thing that love becomes

Too much to hold, it overflows -

And when it spills, it blooms.

It changes all, it makes it new.

m.c.f.

For My Beloved

Beloved:

0110.2025

You are the luminous beam

Born from the heart of the sun -

While others see promise written in the stars,

I feel your laughter, beloved,

Your smile blazing through

The quietest night, beloved,

Your voice calming every

Trembling fear, beloved—

Oh yes—

My beloved is the purest ray of light

Guiding me through the long and darkest night.

M.C.F.