Ivars Balkits

from Chakra Doodle Ching

Like Any Eastern Islander

Upside Down...

Cracks your land, my land, effects ripple and bump.

I'm looking for the interior of chakras. Surprised to find in that attempt the obvious invisible, common sense scattered, and Oneness not cheap. What's lacking apparently is a suitable religious context... to fill a suitcase or two – luggage for show...

The lovely shadows in subterranean windows beckon, borrowing from past injustices... or present contexts of past injustices. The eye energy rises up ancient angles, only to be quenched in the brain-flow that flew off with the punch...

it received from my hero, the partially bionic, even-tempered conquistador. Even at the sidle lines of history, the goony bird (symbol of the temple) looks on with concern and twisted posture, asking:

"What levers, what pulleys, what scales, prompted the fervor that led to the eye's mind (sic) catapulting off that way?"

Inverse Reversed...

All of the other once-distinguishable chakras have taken on the guise of the top chakra:

Through the Void* crack serrations of the pate-plates. The heart's down, climbs up, wants to be the sun. The gut, where all that deception began, puppets Eraser Head and Dorothy of Oz.

Cheeky, or only seriously furrowed, the Oz Girl is supervising the unwrapping of the pedestal. On the pedestal, said Head is fooling no one, particularly no one focusing on the chakras today. So, include, in your own examinations, the crown chakra: for that center has turned the tables, and is now mimicking every other chakra...

*​ The "Void" in several systems is considered to be between the sacral and solar plexus chakras.

Corn Spirit

American Chakras


A kind of yin yang where the yang dominates the field of yin perception through infinite parenthesis.

Is the Statue of Liberty, or the Hi There statue? Mother America? Maybe it's the Power Salute. If Liberty, how many angels dance in that head? It's personal.

Of high-energy ditto, truncated but still messaging, It-All-Everything remains the root event about the missing person who – whose stripes and medals, muscles strung out, ready to penetrate, there's more, but the steam is hiding more – steps up to the stump, though it's not clear – from the shoe leather, whether he's moving left, right, left, right, at least we see the old fool's got securely hold of his head –

though as a defeated conquistador, he must carry it in his arm crook.


It's clear the heart with two tails is at the center of these recent disturbances. Or of two legs, maybe, or just one fork.

The ramble on the cob noggin resumes. A catheter of sorts pokes out the neck-hole, clamps onto the skull of the ass-backward conquistador, twists him.

A kind of steam proceeds out of the dead rock of the heel chakra. Spirals scatter across the floor. Rock dancers, in the clearing of the dashing hero's cape, agitate for hours, but I suggest,

take that old penny float

down the length

of the spine...

Dual Citizen

Arguing for One Head...

and a balanced mind in the hair has proved that proposition to be a fright wig.

Of course it's all head, the body, when it is so. All the centers, all the cities, all the travel, all the maps of the co-creators. All the kicks, all.

So why not make all chakras one head instead of seven heady centers? A blank eye peeks from the heart because. Its other winker is a silly crystal of unconscious story because.

So, finishing up: In the toupee floats a narrative of the soul taking it on the chin. Those same bandaged fingers tip the composition to heaviness on one side. The chakras that most matter remain serene on the sturdy pedestal of the neck.

Fits Here Chakras...

The chakras are now pedestals piled in a gallery. The old Void rests there in the shape of a sphere split lengthwise, almost –

to let out the next pedestal: priestly torso of the ubiquitous amphibian, reaching its sticky tongue to the margin. On its head rests the lamp base of the bust of the Best Friend –

that saint struggling inside Peter Piper's household, wings pulled tight to his body; so you can understand...

Or, have you this comment: "Heads? You'd think we would have been rid of them once pedestals were introduced."

For you information: We are post-pedestal here. The mystery remains, Who was it on the margin climbing upside down?

Safety First

Chakra Bites


Abruptly, mind's eye disintegrates to the point of extra-terrestrial indifference... as to: How a branch becomes a crack, a sleeve becomes a horn. How a hand a head.

The beyond is screwed tight into the rock face. Blocked intent lodges deeper. An amok but lengthy meditation has run its course.

Hidden in the closet mystic's closet, a gentler, emptier, portrait of mind's eye...


Note the flippancy with which the spiral ended, forgetting its centric origins. Peripheral energies sprang from an attitude of hang and prayer, and immediately acquired purpose, or drive, as they powered out of the mashed fontanelle...

Inside the cap of paper-and-vinegar, as ever, the head Head slaved away.


Cheers! that slippancy is discovered there among the thin blue lines. Plain and simple, the new notebook awaits us. A little slip-up ...and the slip down. Progress then proceeds out of the left-handed spiral, ends in a mashed start. Lodgings are found there in the wallboard. The wire-hanger in the closet can't hold on forever. With wordiness you just chop, right?

Split Decision


Truth-faith leaks out perpetually coating the sophistry field with conditioned yet numinous images...

But here's the thing de-chakra-sized: Milk drop falls through the cockpit, unrolling from cheroot, hits the direct route to Deltas –

without their Thee – and just as suddenly bleeding, this mind-recording fans out from stimulus-response, stimulus-response, stimulus-response, having resisted up to now the snail's melting eye balloon,

that mark of perfection that has left a smear on the boy-doll's snout the size of a football field; whose feet are dirty popcorn; whose necktie's a dried worm; whose collar's a Band-Aid; whose boxed-in castrato descends with eyelid claw to grasp the soul tacked onto the digestive plexus –

homunculus, who additionally is a nondescript whose bladder has emitted...

a kind of lotus.

Ivars Balkits’ poems and prose have been most recently published by Vermilion Flash, Nomaterialism, Anvil Tongue Radio, Harpy Hybrid Review, Lotus Eater, Experiential-Experimental-Literature, Sulφur Surrealist Jungle, Fixator Press, Courtship of the Winds, Abstract Elephant, Fiction International, Fleas on the Dog, LitroNY, and cahoodaloodaling. He is a recipient of two Individual Excellence Awards from the Ohio Arts Council, for poetry in 1999 and creative nonfiction in 2014.

He writes: "These writings and drawings are from an 80-page (unpublished) book of drawings and prose poetry titled “Chakra Doodle Ching.” My process in creating these: I doodled while meditating on the chakras, then responded in writing to what I perceived in the doodles, and then, for several, offered commentary on the texts, parodying scholarly editions of the I Ching and Tao Teh Ching (both of which I have great respect and love for). The drawings I include do not necessarily, one-to-one, reflect the tangential texts. They are merely some of the more successful drawings, in my opinion. I like to think I approach spirituality similarly to the Swami Beyondananda, though probably with more dada m’dada."
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