There is nothing to do with this life but just live. There’s no sense in recording it for humankind. Some may like viewing some of what I’m doing here. I see creatures around me approach without fear In my mind’s eye where dreams of the heart are refined And where I realize I have plenty to give.
So, Just Live It, is wise and decisive advice From oneself to oneself in the moment of truth. There’s no rule book nor pattern nor Life Coach’s plan That can guide me like my inner beingness can. It’s a guidance that keeps me in touch with my youth. Living free from condition can surely be nice.
I could be in denial that boredom has me By my thin, short and curly follicular fuzz. It could be I delight in not starting a fight When the people around me would think that it’s right To behave in whatever way everyone does When in mas misalignment, we still can be free.
It’s a fact – I can’t tolerate spiders at all. There’s no way on God’s green earth that I’ll get along With a creature so ugly with long skinny legs. It would be no less so if they were but just pegs. I must kill the poor bastard, and that can’t be wrong. It’s a lower life form, so that makes it my call.
And this house that I’m in is for me – not for them. It is mine. By the will of my race it is done. There’s no sub-human species that will replace me. If I have to kill all of you black things, you’ll see That my kind rules this world, and we have just begun Our world war with all nature by way of mayhem.
I can’t stand to see spiders in my fine white space. The mere thought of a spider sends chills up my spine. My unconscious volition says, “Kill them on sight.” I could rally and gather my kind by torch light. If I die as I’m killing you, I’ll get the shrine. I’m superior to you because of my race.
Stop a bit for a rest here. There’s room for just you And perhaps a few others whose asses fit well In a seat that is child-wide with arm rests that slant So that those who would think of reclining can’t. Will our public park presence continue to smell? Does the rest of the park think that we are a zoo?
On the other hand, who cares how others may feel? We do things our own way. Our forefathers said so. If confederate monuments obstruct the view Of our moving past hatred, could this be a clue They should stay there until all who love them will go To the next life where no one here will hear them squeal?
As we take our last breath in this walk-around dream We will care least for trinkets of causes and wars. We will see that our broke bodies and our weak minds Are of volatile matter wherein no one finds Any spiritual solace. My witness is yours. This fine park we partake of is temporal in theme.
Some things done on an average of three times a day Keep us healthy and happy and fit for the world. If we don’t do them regularly we grow ill Then we end up relying on some sort of pill. Though reactive precautions will leave the mind knurled As we maintain ourselves well, our lives are of play.
Other things on the average will get people down – Things like stressing and tripping one’s light right offline. The good doctor will tell us to not do those things. Too much trouble and ill health and sorrow it brings. We ignore their advice often thinking we’re fine. And when trouble besets us we’re caught with a frown.
I like stretching my mind out three times in a day Taking in only good thoughts like fragrant fresh air. As I breathe them in slowly they reach every cell Of my blessed bright self who deserves to be well. Every exhale is to all the flora a prayer Of communion among all in spirit of play.
I cannot get to more from a strong place of lack. Though both places exist, they’re dimensions apart. If I’m worried and too often steeped in despair There is no way in hell I can get over ‘there’ Where the grass is much greener and I feel more smart. I can’t think that the universe ignores my back.
I can dream about more of something I could own And I need not be petty. I could dream for all. Those who will not don’t have to. Enough will partake In most righteous solutions for harmony’s sake. I can’t get to a good place by thinking too small. Where I am right now is the place I must condone.
I must fully accept the place where I am now. It can’t matter one bit how it happens to be. The obscured silver lining will glint in the light. I can get to that better place by feeling right. The right path will unfold as I decide to see Life will show me the right way if I but allow.
Could the end be much nearer than we had conceived? Will it come and go quickly to someday return? History does repeat itself just as our lies That become bitter truths when oft’ one of us dies. I know something of hate. I can’t say that I yearn To feel that way most always. I’d be self-deceived.
It just takes so much energy to fuel a fight That is destined to drain all my resources fast As the day I was born with bright light in my eyes. If that light stood for white, I’d secure my demise. As the tainted tin soldier commands from the past His platoon that are present commune by torch light.
I could play that game well. I have seen it before And I took down good notes that I’d never forget. But it seems I’ve forgotten them. Ain’t that a shame. I could ad lib my hatred and beef up the blame. But I realize my discord will turn to regret In the long run. I value my peace of mind more.
Seems the harder I push against what I don’t want Then the more I attract the sheer essence of it. It’s no wonder my eyeballs don’t know what to do When the sameness of magnetic force does accrue. It will sap my pure energy if I commit To whatever is willing and able to taunt.
When I notice some unwanted thing on my path I am prone to shout ‘NO’ at it. This is alright Just as long as I engage the Turn of the Cheek. This is nonsense to some, and it sounds rather weak. But by turning attention away from the plight I can easily count on a good aftermath.
My attention to anything is, in effect, Practicing the vibration of that very thing. So if it is the bad side, then give it a rest. Give your thoughts to the good side, and don’t get depressed. As I practice this method, my true heart will sing. I’ll attract what is wanted in every respect.
What amazing a profile the Weather Girl has Whether sunny and bright or wet, cloudy and cold. It’s a short presentation to tell what will come. It’s a bit like astrology – nonsense to some. It’s been said every Weather Girl does as she’s told But this isn’t quite so if she likes modern jazz.
So what under the sun can a Weather Girl do That would cause any moron to pucker the snout? How one digests one’s media is akin to How one wipes one’s behind when there’s not much to do. To be entertained fully, we must check things out. So I go watch the Weather Girl blooper on cue?
Take a chase for a glimpse of those fine body parts. News is only a peep show. By moment we pay For a flash of the headline and tons of bull fluff. It’s astonishing how folks survive on that stuff. But I’m just an old poet with too much to say. So thank God for the morons, and God bless the arts.
There’s a time to make use of the muscle and bone. It is when I’ve achieved true alignment with me. I can best reach that place by daydreaming my way To creative enlightenment day after day. As my dreams take on character, I can foresee Any life I’m creating through focus alone.
When I set aside time to find images of Only things that are pleasing, I’ll more often be In alignment and in tune vibrationally With all things I desire. My spirit is free To receive all that’s worthy and complements me. I am free to partake in the spirit of love.
In my space in alignment with what is my source More inspired ideas are common affair. I can get help from others with minimal fuss. I can give up my job as an ornery cuss. My inspired action leaves me quite aware I’m extremely productive – a dreaming workhorse.
I’ve come up with The Unified Theory of All! It’s my life’s work presented to you in a flask. This elixir is potent for quelling the qualm. It’s a magical mixture that brings about calm In the brain that is plagued with no questions to ask. You will ask them quite well. You will quit thinking small.
It’s a life full of questions. The answers are more Than the human mind handles in comfort and ease. I have found all the answers and made them all clear. Bring your questions to me. I have nothing to fear. I can see well the forest as well as the trees. I indulge more in madness than ever before.
You’ve got questions? My answer is clear as a bell. Just Get Happy, then dullness departs from the mind. Everyone is a genius. We all are in touch With the infinite source of intelligence such That our means of access are uniquely designed. Life itself is a potion, and we are its spell.
All of nothing becomes something when it’s perceived. So no notion of nothingness makes common sense. I’m not twitching my whiskers in some wonderland. Because you have beheld me, I’m set to expand As a thoughtform to tickle your thirst for suspense. If I do this quite well, then my goal is achieved.
The ill concept of nothingness comes from the need For the logical mind to know all that is known. Science dictates the universe just came to be From a mass singularity now on a spree Of creating more somethingness all on its own Until God only knows when, at increasing speed.
One can speak much of something or nothing at all Yet they both have a substance more subtle than air. In the mind of the being created to know Just a little bit more each day, some thing will grow To a new understanding no thing can compare. Nothingness has no meaning except to enthrall.
It’s a wonderful life. It is said here and now In the present as much as it was in the past. No condition need be so that I can feel good. I tune in to my spirit as all creatures should. If I’m playful about things, good feelings will last For as long as I want them to. I just allow.
Fully Drench Me, dear life. Give me all that you’ve got. Know my soul is a fragrant sponge thirsting for more Of your sweet liquid lavishness perfectly pure. It’s a joy to be living. Of this I am sure. I am eager to savor what life has in store. There is much more to praising than what there is not.
Bless the heel that may crush me. No harm can be done. I am planted on earth but my consciousness dwells In dimensions that parallel all that exist. And this form, when it perishes, shouldn’t be missed. This now moment is mine as it’s ringing my bells. Life is less about fretting and more about fun.
The Magnetic Outcrymeter made its debut With the dawn of humanity. It has evolved To the point now where it can be relied upon To inform us when faith in our guidance is gone. It will help us to get any problem resolved. When we read it correctly, we breathe life anew.
Today’s state of the art model features a way to express as it measures the feelings in us. It will send a strong signal from gut to the brain. When it gets there then we can rejoice or complain. When we mingle with others, we’re prone to discuss All the joy and the turmoil that graces our day.
Simple joy is an outcry and strife is as well Our pop songs and folk drama express this in ways That enrich our awareness and strengthen our cause. We concede it’s a universe governed by laws. We give voice to our feelings throughout all our days. We’re not meant to keep quiet. Our will is to tell.
“All is well,” say the ones who are anchored in space Free above seeming turmoil and climate affair. From a vantage point vacant of rising degrees Of innate social tensions that stir like the breeze, Those who watch our world spinning say none can compare. And, we cannot do harm to it. There’s too much grace!
“All is well,” say some good books and forces that be Of a kind who are open to all that is good. Those who tend to play life as a joyful game And who hang out with others who do just the same Are the ones to whom living is well understood. I envision my life by how well I can see.
“All is well,” say the babies and children come here From non-physical beingness. And from that place They’d put forth their intentions. Their wills did decide To take on this world fully with eyes open wide To the truths that the old ones can no longer face. They have come to teach us how to live without fear.
A Belief is a Thought I continue to think. It is no more complex nor less simple than that. Every thought that is nurtured and tended to well Then becomes part and parcel to where feelings dwell. It’s as If thoughts and feelings are cooked in a vat To be fed to our souls as a potent life drink.
Someone said, “Thoughts are Things,” and I know that it’s true. Yet, I could not believe it when first I got word. How can things that are nothing just up and take form? Quantum physics is spooky… could this be the norm? Yet our thoughts do become things. This isn’t absurd. It’s the same as how stars take form out of the blue.
It makes sense to believe in something from the start. We are made for believing. Our minds can’t resist. I believe that this physical world we perceive Is reality only because we believe. If we did not, then none of this world would exist. What is real and not real are not too far apart.
It’s irrational! That’s the whole reason it’s square. Also known as two, raised to a stingy one-half, This root makes no sense. One can check as one sees Corner nooks seek the measure of ninety degrees. One can see that it’s true, as it’s easy to graph. The more normal the roots are, the more they’re like hair.
Ancient Greeks knew of this root and treated it well With so many damned proofs it can boggle the balls. Yes, this root is irrational. That can be seen In its unending pattern subjected to preen. Should we keep the irrational bound within walls When the two right above them can party like hell?
Keep a root that is square if it pleases the pants Off the people you pass in your daily affairs. If your root is quite rational, you’re good to go. If it’s perfect, you may want the whole world to know. That is, though, if the whole world really cares. It is not a good topic to start a romance.
Your Attention, my dear, I am thirty years old. Though my life had been peachy, I am in distress As it seems I’ve been cut out of castle life for My behaving so generously with the poor. I’ve been put out to pasture and I must confess That this story of mine has not ever been told.
Yes, my life in the grass is not easy, you see. All those nearsighted knights with their poles are a threat. I’d considered I’d bribe them so I’d graze in peace But the bastards can’t see well and they are obese. That I’m thin is a good thing. I’m willing to bet That my fortune is safe while it’s stashed up a tree.
But I cannot survive in the woods very long. And my dainty voice beacons your unanswered call. You will get compensation for helping me out. I am talking Big Moolah. That’s what I’m about. All you need do is send me your fortune – that’s all. It’s the kindest of worlds where we all get along.
As if FORTRAN and COBOL existed today And throughout all of history since time began, We’re accustomed to language’s elegant ways Of evoking emotions like disgust or praise. We’ve been managed by our words throughout our lifespan. Our behaviors are coded verbal interplay.
And, my job as a poet is not to bore you With the same old ‘straight talk’ as our normal discourse. Life is Deeper and Wider and Taller than speech. Poetry disassembles for subtler reach. I must bypass the mundane and go for the Source. So, my work is Communion. I think yours is too.
Well along on life’s journey by now I’m amazed Still at how words have sculpted our worst and our best Of behaviors. I seldom find reason to fret That I might lose The Poet. That’s not a real threat. I shall keep my programming skills sharp like the rest Of humanity’s word nerds who love when they’re praised.
It’s the biggest of questions that boggle the mind Of the one on a quest to know most everything. Does the fabric of space/time’s near infinite slope Offer deep understanding or spiritual hope? If our questioning questing does yield anything Could our race as a whole be more loving inclined?
It’s a sea of uncertainty, constant as change. The wild geese that are chased change their form on the wing. It’s the bright shiny object – a clue to a clue To the brick and the mortar that make up our zoo. If we gained that much detail could that somehow bring Us to better enlightenment? Does this sound strange?
I am certain that change is a constant affair. Sub-atomic existences prove this all day As they come and go often in minutest time. They have laws of their own and cannot commit crime. They define our existence yet lead us astray. Would it be a trip if they responded to prayer?
If I’m feeling like crap today, that isn’t fair To myself nor to anyone else in my world. It’s my business to make sure that I clearly see I must work on aligning my real self with me. Every day is a blessing. I am never hurled Into turmoil, indeed, with my focus elsewhere.
I must start by believing that things do work out In a matter of time with no effort from me. As I shift my attention from what is at hand I can re-script today to be as I had planned. With my mind in the right place, it’s easy to be In alignment with self and resistant to doubt.
Self-awareness is virtue. It’s my saving grace. And because it is mine, it is yours just the same. If I should encounter you on my best days My true brilliance could lift you. My love should amaze. That does seem a bit lofty, but life is a game. When I go for the high stakes, I fly like an ace.
Things will seem as they seem. I’ve control of this dream. There is not a thing in it that I cannot know. Were I blind, I would know that the dream still exists. All the space, time and substance within it consists Of my own psychic energy pumped for a show. Life’s a spiritual quest through a physical stream.
If I raise my left arm, I think others can too But they’re not mine to witness. I imagine it. And if I can imagine that my world is real Everyone in my world has something to reveal Though that thing be forthcoming, it’s oft’ not a fit To what I may have conjured well in spite of you.
Everyone is in my dream as I am in theirs. Every sense of reality can be compared To the fine feathered flock who are as one in flight. Every fowl of humanity weathers this night. As this sleep waxes lucid with consciousness dared This Great Dream becomes hopeful as everyone shares.
What’s a fellow to do when he’s out for a screw And the merchandise mingling is too highly priced? Could one go undercover and act like a hoe Then transfigure among them before they could know That the fee they demand often feels like a heist? Men should stand up and shout! That’s what righteous men do.
When I want some quick ass, I am prone to bypass All the bullshit and trickery romance can yield. Give me meat on the fly. I’m a fast-moving guy. I will have my quick nookie – I will, do or die! But I won’t pay a fortune to be aptly healed Of my spurious passions that lead to impasse.
Bumping Ugly with someone you know can be fun. There’s no payment involved but the time that it takes To develop a nurturing, loving rapport. But, like top brow tycoons, poor dudes want nothing more Than some convenient action without the high stakes As the threat of inflation affects everyone.
Do you feel Springtime Fresh when the bleeding time comes? Is your FICA score less than abysmal these days? Do those stubborn cum stains on your sheets make you cry? Do you curse at your neighbors and wish they’d all die? Do not worry your nuts off. The world has its ways Of addressing most symptoms through beats of its drums.
Dirty rings around collars and in toilet bowls Is a menace this brave world could well do without. When the air in life’s bedroom becomes hot and stale There is always the sports channel. Life does prevail. Does your body lie turning and tossing about Through the night due to fear for the fate of our souls?
Leave that chewing gum off the bed post for tonight. The dickhead who first thought of that ought to be shot. That is, if he is living – if not, then reborn That his germy ideas be subject to scorn. Does your backbone betray you when you cop a squat? Take a pain pill. Then everything will be alright.
Yo, GET BACK TO ME ASAP, you ignorant fool! I’ve been sending you emails for weeks! Are you there? I’m obliged to know why you’ve not contacted me. We have nine point nine million that you’ll never see Unless you reply promptly. I don’t want to swear, But a fish that’s not biting is way less than cool.
I am Miss Mildred Stenchfinch, Ambassador to The Nigerian Designate in charge of wills. Someone has kicked the bucket and left you a load. Don’t you want to grab hold of this fortune you’re owed? You could use it to jerk off, then pay all your bills. I am looking for someone dull headed to screw.
Now, you are a fine one, but you’ve got to respond. Lord knows fucking with people is diligent work. So, Get Back To Me, dimwit. Indulge in my scheme. Getting tons of free cash should be every fool’s dream. Please respond to me, dear. I am not one to irk. We are quite busy here with much wealth to abscond.
Heartfelt Greetings, Dear Sir/Madam, Bless You This Day! It’s my pleasure and great honor to contact you. I implore you to take the time to read this well. You’ll determine my fate – whether heaven or hell. If you’re skeptical, I understand. I am too. I have much less to do than who I must portray.
I am Engineer Ruhullah Zafer Hadid From the Syrian Arab Republic of Pause. And apart from your being quite rightly surprised, Know my gratefulness cannot be over disguised. I was Finance Consultant; the key word is ‘was.’ Now I’m rich beyond measure, yet mine isn’t greed.
I am seeking your help to dispense you some wealth. It is quite a large sum. I must give it away To some fine, trusted moron. I hope this is you. There’s no future in begging, so this gig is new. Do get back to me soon. ISIS may ruin my day. Surely that would be bad for your financial health.
May the peace of the savior be with you, my dear. I am sure that this message arrives at a time You’re surprised at its coming to reach you just now. I’m the Financial Minister of the Cash Cow That is on loan from India. There’s been no crime. If you want your jackpot, come and get it right here.
As the Central Bank Barrister, I speak to you As the in-between nitwit in charge of your case. Since the usual asshole has run out of steam I have taken his place so things stay as they seem. So, get back to me, sweetheart. I’d love to embrace Every part of your bank account leaving no clue.
Our own Chief Representative Bereavement Bro Has been crying his heart out on behalf of you. There’s an ATM card being held in your care. But in order to get it, you need not beware. We just need lots more info. Please send it all to Our Head Phishing Headquarters whose friend is your foe.
Aftermath there is physics; for some, it’s fine arts. All our children are taught they’ve some measure of choice In whatever they chose to learn or hope to be. We could leave them alone. That’s the best way to see Children’s true heart’s desires expressed in their voice. If we let them be free, that is where genius starts.
Aftermath is a concept just like math alone. It’s abstract and concrete all at once anytime It is used or is studied by scholars worldwide Who make use of its usefulness with certain pride. Surely math as a concept to some is sublime Because well it does model most things that are known.
Aftermath there’s the matter of reaching high goals. When there’s stiff competition, the pressure gets tough. Aftermath third world countries’ kids put ours to shame. Should some think tank take notice? Should someone cast blame? It’s a myth that our kids are not doing enough. They will fashion their own world and also their roles.
Watch This Video NOW! You will cry tears of pee!! There’s a Great Big-Assed Secret we’re living to share. You are being sucked dry by the Power Grid folk. Get your asses in gear, people. This is no joke! We are telling you this because we really care That you get your electric through us nearly free.
This is the real thing. This is not like those cheap South Sumatran Sun Cells that those other guys sell. This one’s not like the Meat Motor with the rawhide And it’s not like the Lip Laser electrified. It’s our plan for peak power – a bat out of hell To take full charge of people whose pockets run deep.
Every reason to fear is why we are so dear In convincing you you need to make your move NOW! If you don’t take advantage, our offer won’t last. You don’t want to let time pass and be the outcast. So get out the old credit card. Manage, somehow, To prepare for your fleecing. Then we’ll disappear.
It may be that your lug nuts are hot to the touch. If this happens too often, then it’s a sure sign That there’s too much heat passed to them through those brake shoes. So, lay off that break petal, friend, you’re bound to lose. But if that’s not the problem, you might be just fine. Though, it could be the tranny or maybe the clutch.
Say you don’t have a stick shift? Then don’t mind my last. You may think that I’m guessing, but that’s not the truth. If those lug nuts are hot, you might give this a try – Throw some cold water on them. They could be just shy As they’re caught greasy-threaded by such a hand sleuth Who is keen to take notice to heat they’ve amassed.
Don’t sneak up on your lug nuts as they do their thing. I don’t think you would like it were that done to you. Lug Nuts do have some sense of whenever they’re felt. Just remind them you care for them. They’ve never dealt With someone who will feel them just out of the blue. Do those lug nuts a flavor. Let them have their fling.
Derelict is the course that world powers could take To resolve its own problems despite common sense. There’s a heat wave this summer through much of the land. With a tyrant in office, hell seems rather bland. It’s a sick world that needs megatons of defense. All in all, they would give our fine earth a remake.
Since the changing of office, we’ve lost all respect For most folks in positions that formerly meant They were safe from abuse by the power that be. Now, the souls of good servants are trashed by decree. Times can surely get hot as we make our descent Through a bottomless pit with no soul to protect.
That’s a fairly bleak picture seen only through eyes Who are not in connection with their healing heart. There’s a world that is out there. It is what it does By its acts that are current and come from what was. My world and the ‘real’ world are lightyears apart. I cannot be affected. My heart rarely cries.
When the mood switches on, there’s more pole for the throw And the course of source energy takes a new path. There’s a circuitry present in all living things That does light up the life and tug at the heart strings. One will skip the old shower and opt for a bath. When one’s energized fully, the World Can’t Not Know!
If Don Juan had placed focus on apple tree seeds He’d have taken to sciences – not to the arts. There would be fewer stories prepared just for those Who delight in exciting, provocative prose. The strong call from the heat source is where it all starts. We are elegant means for fulfilling our needs.
When connecting is fun, then new life has begun. There’s a joy that is present and lasts for a while. Any while can be short or it can be quite long But whatever the length, it can’t do the heart wrong… That is if we have managed our free-flowing style. Our most electric feelings are second to none.
As I wobble alone on my well driven road Often I am amazed at how far I can go. What with obstacles present that I have placed there I do tend to run over them in much despair. Since I’ve travelled it many times, I should well know That because they are there, my life journey is slowed.
But I do this through habit. At first it was hard To maneuver through rubbish I’d placed in my way. But through practice and effort, I push right on through. It is odd that I think this is what I must do. A hard path that’s made easy by toil through the day Is a wound that re-heals itself as it is scarred.
Mere electrons don’t even go for the hard route. They will find the best path that will lead them to source. All the forces in nature obey common sense. It would follow that I would do well to commence Finding new paths through freedom my soul can endorse. I embellish my journey through life’s hanging fruit.
I don’t have to explain a damned thing anymore! Not a soul needs to hear it, and neither do I. I’m resigned to a spacecraft en route to a star. I know not where I’m going. I know that it’s far. When I get there, my shortcomings will not apply. It will be what I’ve dreamed of and waited long for.
I don’t have to explain away ways that I’d been Nor my reasons for having been such an asshole. If I try to address a momentum that’s strong I will come out the loser before very long. I have no frigging business assuming the role Of the fatted black sheep led to slaughter again.
I am free of my focus on family life things And on ignorant bastards who fart in my face, I create a fine mess when I don’t even try. I have given up fussing and wondering why I deserve any measure of God’s loving grace. So, I will just accept it and see what life brings.
I’m a Poet! Do Know It… or don’t – I don’t mind. That’s your God Given business. Mine is to ensure That I make myself known through most elegant verse. I would call that poetic. You may call it worse. But that doesn’t deter me. My motive is pure. I will teach you what you see here, since I am kind.
So first off, there is meter, to cadence each line With four groups of three syllables carefully placed. Each small group of three syllables is called a foot. And this foot is an Anapest. Sometimes they’re put In a neat foursome link with no syllabic waste. Tetra-metric an Anapest makes my line shine.
Anapestic Tetrameter – That’s what this is! There’s no sense in my proving it. Look With Your Eyes. Were I black and a rapper, I would be well known. But I’m black and a Poet; I go it alone. As my talent may come, to some, as a surprise, I do hope you’re well-schooled with no need for a quiz.
Only music can soothe the wild arrogant beast As it rises, though basketed in nature’s weave. There’s no mind in the toilet, here. I speak with grace. And I wouldn’t be caught with such egg on my face. There are blatant life substances that we perceive Also subtler energies we know the least.
When the dance that goes on, as the music is played, Does approach living rigor, the stage is well set. The dance, having triggered an elegant trance, May program men for anything – even romance. With dick under control, it then poses no threat. The strong will becomes languid. Response is delayed.
It requires a skilled one to play music well. No matter of fact out ranks this simple one. One’s control of the beast must be constant and sharp. If not careful, one could end up playing the harp. This is The Dick Whisperer’s idea of fun. For the beast, though, it could be a version of hell.
This matrix, indeed, is a video game, And we are all players who are ourselves played. Every particle known within parts that are mixed Leaves most men in a state where their minds are transfixed On the question. That’s why our success is delayed. Our perceiving and knowing are one and the same.
What is outside this game, then, if all this is true? Does some One entity have control of us all? I believe that all consciousness is a great sea And within it all, there becomes you – also me. Consciousness will transform when it answers that call But it can’t be undone or created on cue.
So, this Great Sea of Being – the souls of us all Who have cycled life’s circuitry throughout its build, Are in consort to see that we play our game well. When we listen, we’re open to what they will tell Of the bliss that can happen when life is fulfilled. They don’t play us against us. That would be our call.
The Reunion is come in a short march of days. It’s not something I dread. I know what to expect. Or do I? There isn’t a thing to be done To undo the momentum already begun. I have conjured scenarios hard to reject All because I’ve been human and ill in my ways.
I was strung out on crack during much of the time I performed my bad deeds – quite oblivious to The reality present and outside my skin. Like a turtle in quicksand, my life took a spin. Though, that’s not the excuse that I’m prepared to spew. I have sinned against family. That wall I must climb.
Or, maybe I shouldn’t go near that great wall That I know has been built because I’d done the same. Only hurt people hurt people. This I have learned At the sole cost of others whose lives I have burned. I’ve forgiven myself, yet I’m tainted with shame. I’ll just play it by ear. That’s my safest call.
Don’t abandon your stark raving “check engine” light. It is there to inform you that something’s gone wrong. If you do not take care of the issue at hand There’s a chance that your journey will not go as planned. You’ll be stuck on the highway and with a sad song. So do mind your reminder. It knows what is right.
Our guts are our engines. They burn refined fuel. They’re immersed in a mettle of well-tempered will. They embellish our movement. The have a keen sense. They will tell us what’s wrong with us at no expense. If we simply ignore them, we risk a standstill Of our lives moving forward in constant renewal.
If alone on the highway, pull off to the side. Take a breath of fresh air and pop open the hood. Check to see if that engine has all that it needs To transport you in safety and at ample speeds. Take the time to attend to things you know you should. If you make that your habit, then life’s a smooth ride.
Now, it wouldn’t make sense if I pissed on a bone. Always through it, I say, is the best way to go. Do I have enough left to complete all my rounds? I’ve got piss on the trigger, and it knows no bounds. I seek out the un-christened. That’s all that I know. I’m a casual pisser with skills I could hone.
I can piss. I can sniff. I can dissect the air With my neural net nostrils that suck up the scent Of all things that have happened, and creatures gone by. I must update my ‘wall’ here. The last has gone dry. I must re-mark the places where time I have spent. The fine art of good pissing leaves me without care.
I can piss in mid trot and will not miss a spot. There’s a lot of my pissing I’ll do on the fly. There isn’t a thing I won’t piss on because I’m a Master of Whiz. You may bid me applause. If I piss on your day, there’s no reason to cry. I’m a dog, for darned sakes, and I just piss a lot!
Resources are sources that re-come-to-be So the two words fit oddly when placed side by side. The term ‘limited resources’ reeks of the mind That is laden with lack of the litigious kind. Give your lack to your Source. Indeed, do it with pride. What the human eye sees, your Source never would see.
One can resource resourcefulness streaming from Source And, of course, it’s a matter of faith of the heart. When the heart is wide open, all good things will flow And your Source is quite willing, one should ought to know. Source is The Master Maker you cannot outsmart. It’s the knowing and loving benevolent force.
Keep the mind on abundance. That’s easy enough. There is wealth in each morsel of life through our day. Keep reminding yourself things will always work out. There is nothing worth fearing and fussing about. Your Source as your guide cannot lead you astray. It is always available when times get tough.
Source is no high-level marketing scheme Where abundance below goes to one at the top. Life is not a game plan on a dry erase board Where the product and business become Holy Lord And the bright billboard face is the mask one can’t drop Because when it does happen, it’s bad for the team.
It is not my work to convince you of things. I enjoy all the freedom of letting you live. Everyone has one’s game plan yet all are one team. It’s a wake-up call when things are not as they seem. We have total access to all life can give. Whatever we ask for, Source certainly brings.
I can make my decisions about what I want And set out to create my own experience. I allow all my fellows to do just the same. Life’s a wonderful journey as well as a game. And to try to convince you just doesn’t make sense. Life’s vacation from somethingness is a cool jaunt.
I Want to Feel Good. That is all that I want. I don’t need someone’s company or constant gaze. Since I know what I want, it is easy to be In alignment with Source so that others can see I’ve no promise to keep nor some crowd to amaze. I have no relation to faces that taunt.
If I don’t want to feel what I often times feel I must keep my mind focused – not idle and prone To the lure of catastrophe packaged to tell Of the stories and deeds of those living in hell. I have no need to know what I’ve already known. There’s no difference between what I want and what’s real.
For Today, no matter where I want to go, Nor what I am doing nor with whom it’s done, The intent I hold dominant is to be free To discover what brings the most pleasure to me. We each have our choicest ideas of what’s fun. As I see what I’m looking for, my Source will flow.
That thing I’ve been chasing since my whole life long Is what keeps my heart pumping and drinking fresh air. But I should take a break every once in a while. To be caught looking stupid is not quite my style. That bird can keep flipping while I sit and stare. We each write our own play and we sing our own song.
I inhibit no one. It’s not fair to do so And by law I can’t do that unless I’m allowed. I alone am the master of my desert path. I can’t see what I’m after deserving my wrath. If I put forth much effort, I’m left in a cloud And with dust all around me, I’ve no place to go.
If I find harmony with the thing that I want My strong desire cannot prevent me from such. And I cannot inhibit what others may do. It’s a Law of the Universe – not just a clue That each being is blessed with God’s loving touch. This love is spread evenly for all to flaunt.
Where this façade crumbles is Right Here And Now. I seem to know fully that some world exists. I would like to believe as all others believe… That we’re all One, yet separate, and that We perceive Much the same as Our psychic consensus insists. But, I can’t believe Anything – Not Anyhow!
I can choose to believe that my voice makes sense And that others can hear it and offer converse. That I can expect it is such a fine trap. I believe that I dream when I lay down to nap. But, if people are out there, what couldn’t be worse Than that I be perceived with no hint of pretense?
This world that exists is my own, it would seem. I can’t prove the world out there is more real than I Nor can that which I sense offer credence to me. There’s no gain in believing a world that won’t see My existence as purposeful and does comply With my own stream of consciousness in the grand scheme.
I’ve climbed out of The Hell with its hot iron gate. It’s a good thing I closed it by using a tool. It has clunked into place. I have used a padlock To make sure it’s secure so no demons can flock. If some hag blocked my locking, that wouldn’t be cool. I high tailed it out before it was too late.
I was caught way off guard by a Surgical Stare From a butcher… or black woman. Both act the same. Why I didn’t speak up as I should have, right then Is a matter of shock. I’m not comfortable when My surroundings will cause me to cower in shame. All that hell is behind me. I really don’t care.
Like the FBI soldier let go with poor tact I’m the Deer in the Headlights. Susceptible to Silent Outbursts of Disgust that can’t be defined, I am best to ignore them and keep my bright mind Sharply focused on good things for days just a few. I can wade through most contrast with my soul intact.
One had unleashed an Ocular mojo on me… No. I did it myself! It’s not right to cast blame. If I see people’s faces as weapons, it seems Quite that I’ve grown accustomed to destructive memes. It’s a shame eyes outside me can put me to shame. But they don’t! It’s my damned self that I cannot see.
The eyes are mass weapons of warfare these days As they are throughout history’s eye tapestry. Group consensus determines how weapons are fired. Lone among body language, they’re never retired. Though the mind can’t be read, there are those who agree That it shouldn’t be. Privacy is a safe haze.
One can feather that trigger to see what the hell… Or ignore it and go about one’s busy day. It’s a choice I can live for – not die for, for now. How Now is the focus for this sick brown cow. Rolling Eyes is a barrel of laughs, I can say Now that I’ve been released from my own hatred spell.
So, this thing about ISIS… Their orders come from A great force whom they know not nor that they are charged With the duty or ridding the earth of its trash. Their mission: To Make Mankind Smolder in Ash. It could have to do with the penis enlarged As the rape aspect feeds the desire to cum.
Many species have war. They wipe each other out. But they harbor no lame excuse like people do. They just tear at each other until there’s no more. We have much to learn about studying war From the beasts and the insects, to name but a few. Humankind is no master. There should be no doubt.
Nature has many allies, among them, mankind. And we’re stupid enough to ignore that it’s true. We exterminate much of our kind on our own. Yet with deadly diseases, we’re extinction prone. I’m not one of the many, nor one of the few. I’m one focused observer by nature’s design.
Why Black Men are in prison is no mystery. No sociological study is needed. No well-crafted survey can capture the pain Of the Bitches who put them there. Could I refrain From the use of brute force when my sense is not headed? This drama is played out throughout history.
Sour notes can be read. They don’t have to be sung. And to feign utter silence is way below par. You say you want everything from your black man? Any fool with a brain would have picked up and ran! Why depend on some man to define who you are? You treat him like a wasp then ask why he has stung.
Why not give up such talents as rolling your eyes And that trick sliding head thing you’ve practiced so well? It takes courage to deal with that knot in your face. This is not about color and not about race. It is easy to put any good man through hell. Does it make any sense to applaud his demise?
Happy Forth! There’s a path to the dawn’s early light From the twilight now smoke-filled in lands near and far. The white plague is my nemesis. So is my race. I attract rolling eyes from wherever I place My attention. And my door will not be ajar. I’ll be locked down and safe with my shutters closed tight.
Happy Forth! Carry onward, delirious fools! Make your sudden loud noises mean what they’re worth. Your bright blasted colors I won’t see tonight. Been there-done that, my fellows, and I have the right To block out all that mankind has done for this earth. We’ve become nature’s enemies – not her best tools.
Let the frigging land breathe again! Now, that’s a thought. Clear the air of sick news bites that fray at the nerves. It’s our hate-spangled manner that’s destined to wave. We could make the state tanner and then self-enslave. In the end I recall that all living deserves Every chance to diminish whatever is sought.
Happy Threeth! What a third day of julie this year! It begins with some fresh rain to loosen the slime Of the breadth of humanity from the day past. Wash away all the sick news and rancid forecast. How about a New World Flood? I think that it’s time For this Plague of Humanity to disappear.
Keep the ground nice and soggy… the air thick and damp So a respite is forced on the kids for a day. Why we simulate ordnance I understand. It’s a species-wide death wish by nature’s demand. Mother earth wants to excrete and flush it away. She dislikes that her children treat her like a tramp.
Happy Threeth! It’s a pre-day for havoc untamed In the streets – everywhere with bombs bursting in air. It’s as festive a carnival cruise shipman’s show As the prancing and drinking that goes on below. On the whole, it’s a good thing. This life is a fair. I do celebrate contrast and will not be blamed.