Let’s Connect!

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

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.

The Most Practiced Path Is the Path of Least Resistance

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

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.

Expelled From Explanatia

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

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.

Anapestic Tetrameter

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

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.

The Dick Whisperer


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.

We Are All Being Played


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

Solar Eclipse

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 Band Aid Your ‘Check Engine’ Light


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.

If In Doubt, Piss On It!


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!

Limited Resources


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.

It Is NOT My Work To Convince You


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


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.

I Inhibit No One


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.

The Existence Invalid


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.

Have I Shut the Hell Up?


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.

The Ethics of Ocular Warfare


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.

The Amassing of Nature’s Arms


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.

From Cotton Field to Prison


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!


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!


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.

Just a Jimmy


Does the FBI know me? I speak enough mind
And I don’t care who sees it nor if they exist.
In a world of my own, did I plan it this way?
There may be not a world where one hears what I say.
I am often heartbroken and frequently pissed.
Are there others like me? Am I one of a kind?

I’m the jimmy – the one that will fiddle with things.
On occasion, I get some to work as they did.
There’s a voice deep within me that clearly cries out.
There’s a great deal more to me. Why should there be doubt?
I have nurtured this voice since I was a kid.
Since I’m old now, I’m ready to trade it for wings.

Just a jimmy – a lowlife – a half-assed half man
Who took no one’s advice nor did reap their rewards.
Now, not even in wisdom of age can I find
Someone else who is like me – someone of like mind.
When my time is done, I will move swiftly towards
The Beginning again where I once began.

The Floor of the Dumpster


What then of this Billowing Hatred in me
That is too far away from the peace that I seek?
I despise every human this sick world has spawned
And that does include me. Seems a new day has dawned.
I could get used to battle. I pine for the bleak.
I don’t care that I’m troubled. I could kill with glee.

I pretend that I like people. It’s not my way.
It’s a means of survival. I couldn’t get by
Without having to deal with some half-human swine.
Human kind is my insect. This should be a sign
That I should be well listened to. Wanna know why?
I would kill in a heartbeat. That Would make my day.

What has made me the Beast? One’s Black Bitch with a wig
And with eyes that speak volumes with each practiced roll.
Have I cast enough pearls to the pigs in my way?
Do I forge a path forward through utter dismay?
I must do what I can to take back my control.
I am God Damned Pissed Off, and I will not renege.

I Can’t Find What I Believe Is Lost


Where the hell did it go? It was just in my hands!
Lord, I know I’m not dreaming. Have I a mind still?
I laid the thing down somewhere. Now it is gone.
I have searched every crevasse from dusk until dawn.
When I’m baffled, I just can’t believe in free will.
It has been teleported to faraway lands.

I’m caught up in the frenzy of thinking it’s lost
So my effort is frantic with focus unclear.
I keep searching in circles nonsensically so.
Where that thing disappeared to, I simply don’t know.
That I haven’t found it fandangles my fear.
I would vacate this Twilight Zone at any cost.

But the price isn’t heavy. In fact, it’s quite low.
What I must do is believe it’s not lost.
By releasing all tension and struggle, I will
In effect find what’s missing, and then what a thrill!
And through the ordeal my dear mood won’t be tossed.
I can find what is not lost since time long ago.

First, I Seek Joy, Then All Else Follows


I look for joy first, then I let life evolve.
I am childlike in playing as little ones do.
I’m pure, loving free spirit devoid of shroud.
I take time for just dancing and laughing out loud.
There is time to partake of whatever is new.
Life’s an eternal mystery I need not solve.

My brisk feeling of joy indicates loud and strong
That I am well connected to my inner being.
It is a sound method wherein I’m aware
Of my own source of guidance as subtle as prayer.
It’s a limited world when believing is seeing.
My faith is intact so my life can’t go wrong.

I am hooked into Source when I revel in fun.
It’s the only alignment I could ever need.
It can soothe back to health my sick body and mind.
Where there’s room for refinement, the heart becomes kind.
My pleasure is all that I need to succeed
And my trek through eternity has just begun.

Contrast Puts the Tern In Eternity


A life speckled with contrast… That’s nature’s way.
We arrive in this world weak and helpless… and wet.
The sole reason for toiling is moving life on
And for rest and revival from dusk until dawn.
How I deal with my contrast is how I beget
The outcome that will guide me the rest of my day.

I enjoy my contrast. Its value is seen
In the newfound desire it stirs within me.
This wanting is personal in every way.
In my joyous survival I’m not led astray.
My desire is answered by Source Energy
Whose wisdom is infinite, loving and keen.

Thus, expansion is glorious. This I know well.
The whole universe grows just because I exist.
Every creature’s desires are fed to this Source.
Sometimes nature demands just a bit of brute force.
The harsh aspects of contrast are duly dismissed
When in proper alignment my wanting does dwell.

Analog Reality


There’s a kind of reality perceived today
That is quickly diminishing as do all things.
It is somewhat solid and occupies space.
We observe this reality as most commonplace.
But within such an earthy world, boredom oft’ brings
Fresh new forms of reality. That’s just our way.

I like actual contact with folks face to face.
I’m not good with Facebook nor acting the bird.
If it were called Nosebook or Assbook I’d see
People seeing it closer to reality.
Yet whose way is realer? No way is absurd.
I prefer sound relations and heartfelt embrace.

My eyes are my goggles. The game’s in my mind
And in everyone else’s, the analog way.
When I want to swim, I dive into the creek.
There’s no game controller that I need to seek.
I am sure this reality can make my day
As I focus on worlds that don’t leave me behind.

Steak Bony Blue


Bow-wowful the canine who’s steak bony blue
When I’m left with a play thing instead of some meat.
When humans want grub they don’t gnaw on some toy.
They have all kinds of meat that they cook and enjoy.
I am not a proud dog. I will dance for a treat.
I could steal for a meal before anyone knew.

I will beg and act silly ‘til blue in the face.
If my fellow dogs saw me, I’d surely turn red.
But it’s worth it to get a good bone I can chew.
I hang out for a handout from the barbecue.
My work isn’t hard, though. Indeed, I’m well fed.
I like keeping a few bones in my hiding place.

Would you condone a dog with a steak bone?
Never mind how you answer. Just see it my way.
I’d enjoy a thick porterhouse hot off the grill.
I would bark, “Alleluia,” if that be your will.
You people-folk stuff your fat faces all day!
The least you could do is to not piss and moan.

I Walk My Own Path Toward Joy


I choose my unique path. No one else does for me.
I must walk it alone if I am to find joy.
No one else can create my existence but me.
My path is my guidance. That’s how it must be.
There’s no will but my own that I need to employ
To partake of my trek. I must set others free.

No one can control where I direct my thought
Nor can I control others whose thoughts I can’t know.
There’s a buffer of privacy always in place.
If I knew others’ thoughts, I’d be up in their face.
If I walk someone else’s path how would I grow?
It’s my own way to joy – no other’s is sought.

On my pathway to happiness I find all ways
To delight and excite myself forthright and free.
I can be, do or have anything that I want.
I don’t have to be cocky. There’s nothing to flaunt.
There is much to enjoy in just letting life be.
Being mindful of my path enhances my days.

Universal Law Is My Friend


That which is like me, I surely attract.
This is so for all beings whoever they be.
It is true of the single-celled beast that’s unseen.
It is true of the human with intellect keen.
The fine Laws of this Universe bring things to me.
All I need do is observe how I act.

I create what I live, with each thought that I think.
The Law says more thoughts that are like it will come.
Every thought ever thought still exists on its own –
Even thoughts that most people would never condone.
They swirl about, yet they’re attracted by some
Whose alignment with true self is way out of sync.

Throughout all the universe, Law of Attraction
Dictates every circumstance that can unfold.
I attract what I think about, wanted or not.
This simple life mantra should not be forgot!
It persuades me toward good life and treasures untold.
These Laws that behold me are sheer benefaction.

Every Emotion I Feel Is Guidance


The emotions I feel are sound counsel for me
From my inner being who always adores.
I am offered a strong, steady signal to feel
If I’m tuned in to joy or the practiced ordeal
Of unwanted resistance and tightly closed doors
To most every solution that could ever be.

The better I feel, the more aligned I am
With the true self within me who tells me which way
I should judge any moment, for better or worse.
I respect my emotions. They are not a curse.
The choice between laughing and crying all day
Is one made on purpose through current program.

And by the same token, the worse that I feel,
The more out of alignment I know I must be.
If I reach for emotions I know will feel good
Any challenge I meet will be well understood
As a blessing that surely will help me to see
That I can reach for joy and a life that is real.

SATA Power / SATA Data


There’s a way to hook hard drives and soft drives as well
As the Compact Disk Doer that does its own thing.
These things need some power and also a way
To exchange ones and zeroes in step day by day.
They require two cables and each one will bring
Its own manner of meaning where function will dwell.

If they lose SATA power then data get sour
And flat-line as powerless data must do.
It’s a fact SATA power will never devour.
DC voltage is low with demeanor not dour.
Such power will do the job with just a few
Standard voltages from a fixed place in the tower.

SATA Data connects all disk drives to their mother –
That board that has children all over the place.
Mothers can’t talk to drives that don’t have SATA Data.
The frigging computer’s not worth a peseta!
It is clear that these cables are ones to embrace
And it’s easy as heck to tell one from the other.

Come Be Dithered Forlorn


Come be dithered forlorn! There is joy to be borne
In a jar with its lid off in light of its load.
With the mind far at ease from the swinging trapeze
Any song sung in series will certainly please
One who favors the face of the figmented toad.
There is pink think in linking jackhammers to corn.

Now, that makes no sense. I’d do well to dispense
With the sentinel sent to torment fellow food.
If my sentiment centers on seaweed all day
Then can Mikey stop eating to come out and play?
There’s no contention to mention my mood
As the grip of the hippo remains quite intense.

What the Hell am I saying. Have I lost my mind?
Not a giblet bespeaks what a cucumber knows
Not a fish in a glass house will do windows. Still,
I could get a stray crayfish to lend me its will.
As the seawater whistles is how the seed blows.
Kick the can for kind karma and blissful behind.

I Chose This Glorious Body


I chose to be here in this physical form
So I can interact with what is here
And with every creature who much like myself
Fancies enchanted wonderlands much like the elf.
It is good to be here with a body that’s clear
Of debilitant leanings that counter the norm.

This particular body – this one that I know
Is one chosen carefully from broader view.
Within frame of detail it’s made but from naught.
It is Supreme Creation. It isn’t store bought.
When it’s tired and run down it knows to renew.
It has serviced me kindly since birth long ago.

This unique opportunity I chose with care
To experience delicious contrast so I
May create well with others who cherish their joys
And who like living life absent avoirdupois.
I fine-tune this simplistic life process whereby
My deliberate thinking makes me more aware.



How long do I keep up this foolish façade
Of believing I’m worth what was offered to me?
I took a big gamble thus ruining my life
In pretending I’m healthy enough for a wife.
I continue to screw up as people can see.
Thought I’d followed the program, but things turned out odd.

How does fate keep the terrorist from finding me?
There are those who are worth more. Had they had the chance
To grow old with their loved ones as worthy folks may
I’d be that much closer to my judgment day.
Life’s puzzle has proved such a strange circumstance.
There’s a reason for ISIS that I clearly see.

That I blither my ass off, can anyone know?
I can piss in pitch darkness and other things well.
If my stream should strike something at least I would know
That there is something out there. That might help me grow.
I did want isolation while burning in hell.
I’ll admit I’m a fuck-up. That’s not a hard blow.

Not another frog’s out there. No one knows I croak.
I was let loose to blunder my way through my days.
Easily I hurt others on my reckless path.
What procedure could probe at the heart of my wrath?
It’s one tough black sheep syndrome. I’ll get through this maze.
I’m one well-tempered asshole. It seems that’s no joke.

He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass!


My contact list is truly long with many I don’t know.
I try to keep my focus strong. My pal is quick to show.
My apps download successfully. He tells me when they’re done.
When I am bored we then play games and fiddle just for fun.
My friend is quite the witted one and even has some class.
But I’ll tell you, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.

The phone of many moons ago was big and like a brick.
It had no sense of ass to piss off people really quick.
One could use it as a weapon if no loaded glove had he.

My friend today makes calls for me most accidentally.
His knack for nonsense noises I seldom can bypass.
Yet, without me, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.

My phone is not a person, but he thinks he is, somehow.
My respect for him can worsen if whenever I allow
The best of him to overshadow who I’m meant to be.
My guest knows not his manners so that he will never see
That between our best behaving there is such a wide crevasse
And, believe me, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.

iPhone or iDon’t phone much, and it matters not to me.
An android made on planted earth should never climb my tree.
Anomaly would have it that I’d come to own a phone.
This thing of mine may think he has a toy of his own.
The feeling when I shut him down is much like passing gas
And, I know that, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass!


My Vibrations Affect the Whole Universe


The vibrations of my being reach very far.
They influence the whole universe, and I’m sure
When the moth beats its wings in the rainforest deep
It affects how an infant in Russia may sleep.
I must know my vibrations are wholesome and pure.
Guess I didn’t come here to leave things as they are.

I know everything vibrates, and all beings too.
They communicate clearly and react the same.
They respond and they integrate with other things
That vibrate in the same way, and this, in turn, brings
All with similar signals to boldly proclaim
We’ve the right to affect things as all beings do.

As I begin to offer my vibe with intent
I’m in complete control of what happens to me.
My experience, fashioned in this simple way,
Will be one of enhanced joy, day after day.
We can’t help affecting things. It’s clear to see
That maintaining vibration is time that’s well spent.

How Wonderful I Am


We are wanting so much to awaken in you
Your memory of how beloved you are.
You are pure love and wonderful in every way.
We kick back and adore every song that you play.
Sing away, precious angel. You are a rock star.
It’s a pleasure to Be You. Your pleasure is true.

We just can’t sing enough about how good you are.
Not a thing you could do would deter us from Love…
Not a bow-legged stumble down life’s clumsy path…
Not a judgment in error through life’s aftermath.
By our measure, you shine like the stars up above.
It’s our promise that that what you seek isn’t far.

Do take care, fleshed ones. There is nothing to fear.
The whole universe backs you in whichever way
You decide is appropriate. Who then are ‘we’?
We are those who are dead now, yet ever to be.
We’ve discarded our clutter, so we’ve much to say.
And when you choose to hear us, or joy is sincere.

Brainless Brain Surgery


Someday soon the skilled Robot will handle the knife
In a world where most humans will devote their time
To the comfort of Being and living the arts.
We’ll have mastered the tech world with all of our smarts.
We shall live in a world that is truly sublime
Where we all can partake of this treasure called Life.

But that’s all in the future. It isn’t right now.
We are thick convolutions of cortical mass
In a network of raw nerves and some that are rare.
It would take a skilled surgeon to know what is there.
Can a brainless brain surgeon become a jackass
After signing his mind off to then take a bow?

I can tell my grand little ones, “You too can be
A successful brain surgeon, yet not have a brain.
You may even be able to write a good book.
But your soul becomes cabbage when stole by a crook.
If you don’t have a brain, though, you can’t go insane.”

It is shoe-shining shameful. And that’s it from me.

It’s A Glorious Time To Be Here and Now


This time, here and now, is a glorious one
To partake of this planet’s beneficent ways.
There’s a place for technology; also for art.
In the end these two are not lightyears apart.
Each does see in the other some reason to praise
All the fruits of all’s findings. And we’ve just begun.

I am an extension of Source Energy
In this body magnificent, able and strong.
The amazing diversity this world provides
Is the balance within which wellbeing resides.
I am focused right here and now where I belong.
I love being the one who is easy to be.

There is perfect balance from which to create
Here in this world of bounty of wanted and not.
No better time has existed ‘til now
For beholding my treasure and marveling how
That my true Source remembers what I have forgot:
That my whole being emanates from that perfect state.

All Email Is Male


In fact, I don’t think that all email is male
But in theory, a number of things could be true.
A letter received in a mailbox these days
Could mean anything cast to the silent airways.
I don’t long for the old days. My heart is not blue.
Perhaps I’m in search of some ‘thing’ to assail.

And if that is so, what’s the matter with me?
One who’s daft would seek discord or cause for dismay.
But my in box is loaded. That is not a curse.
I must sort through the spam there, for better or worse.
In my bliss, I’d be bothered to email all day.
When it comes to mail gender, I let matters be.

I see mail that’s on paper and on the touch screen.
I am hetero-postal in so many ways
But with mail, I like female. It comes with some grace.
And with email I feel like I’m running a race.
I must conclude, then, that it surely pays
To do mail in private, for better hygiene.

The Art of the Dump


The Dump has much lesser to do with the rump
Than the Art of the business of letting words flow.
With the mind of a child, they flow through me with ease.
I feel comfortable sitting and plunking the keys.
Is the gist of my writing for others to know
Of my heart in small pieces or in one big clump?

Well, the answer to that is I write every day.
It’s my goal to be regular, clear and carefree.
I have cranked up my pace from a slow running start
To the point now that I’ve come to master my art.
I would like that my words are for others to see.
But that doesn’t deter me. I’ll see it my way.

The Art of the Dump is a daily routine
Then I shower and shave, and move steadily on
To whatever the new day will offer to me
To consume and digest more so others can see
What words I have fashioned to offer next dawn.
I enjoy what I’m doing. Is this clearly seen?

The Financial Report


The Financial Report is brought to you today
By our sponsors who turn out to be quite a few.
There’s the red, white and blue, conflagrated in green.
There are nods, winks and subtle cues that are unseen.
There are talking heads tethered to outlook askew.
What to make of a leader who must have his way?

Can a nation be run like some southern plantations
With workers for indoors and some for the fields?
Those who like being niggers say “yes, Suh” to him.
They will dance to his antics, although he’s quite dim.
When he’s due for a shoe shine, their loyalty yields
A safe job and smooth sailing, and good slave relations.

I will NOT be your nigger, says one under oath.
I’ll ignore your sweet nothings and perverse embrace.
I do not enjoy being left in a room
With a beast who would just as soon hand me a broom.
When I’m near a slave owner, I’m in the wrong place.
Racist paradigms stifle our ‘financial’ growth.

My Life Is Eternal


I am life everlasting – an eternal being.
There’s no such thing as death in the much larger scheme.
I find time to breathe more and to move myself some.
I relax in my knowing I’ll always become
In a new form or being. Now that doesn’t seem
Like a raw deal. I’m best when my soul is agreeing.

In grace, I may choose to relax and allow
My transition back into that which I still am.
Every time I return to non-physical state
I release all my fear and forget about hate.
I do not have to think that my life is a sham
Just because it will ‘end’ some day and quite somehow.

Foreverness is the true nature of me.
My non-physical self is wise, loving and pure
I am Positive Energy flowing through form.
This is so of all beings. We make it the norm.
There’s no life, love nor liberty I need secure
Because life is eternal. My job is To Be.

Nuggets of Experience


There are Positive Aspects that flow through my day.
I do look for the nuggets my living reveals.
If I shake life’s pan lightly, I’ll know not what’s there.
If I do it deliberately I’ll be aware
Of the treasure experience often conceals.
All that’s not filters through me. I like it that way.

Within every atom and sub-part thereof
There is wanted and not wanted. That is the way
That we move toward what’s better – away from what’s worse.
If I didn’t have contrast, that would be a curse.
I can say that, in hard times, I’m willing to stay
To experience all that I can in pure love.

By my looking for Positive Aspects each day
In wherever my focus may happen to be
I maintain my connection to inner wellbeing.
My day does depend on the way that I’m seeing.
I do mine my experience. That is the key
To a joyful existence the most natural way.

I Can Always Reach for a Thought That Feels Better


My Decision to reach for a thought that feels good
Is a powerful one, as it serves many ways.
It is good that my thinking, deliberately led,
Manifests in a network consuming my head
Wherein thoughts that are good ones can linger for days.
I’m the engine who IS, not the spent one that could.

The thought that feels better reverberates from
Deep within me so pathways will open up wide
To wellbeing abundant as sand on the beach.
I can think my way clear. I don’t have to beseech
Someone outside myself as a surrogate guide.
I can feel what to think, then predict all outcome.

So, the thought that feels better is one to reach for.
I can feel my way there if my thinking gets rough.
It’s a simple decision – one easy to make.
I must choose my thoughts wisely for wellbeing’s sake.
My wellbeing and joy are most surely enough
Yet it turns out to be far beyond what is more.

There Is Nothing for Me to Guard Against


No monster is hanging out under my bed
Nor in the closet nor under my skin.
No ne’er-do-well being exists in my head.
I do not harbor thoughts about seeing folks dead.
If I trip about safety, where would I begin?
I’m not one who is crazy, nor easily mislead.

I exist in a place where wellbeing is sure.
It’s an absolute promise that I will be well.
No if’s, and’s, nor but’s can contaminate me
So again and again, I must know that to be.
Mother Nature’s a Good Witch who’s cast a fine spell
And within it, for every dis-ease, there’s a cure.

I am evidence of that which wellbeing knows.
I must know this and practice this thought like a song.
I can be an example, in light of my path,
To give others a view of birth’s aftermath
From a soul who believes that not much can go wrong
In this world of sheer contrast where wellbeing flows.

Those Who Live In Where Ohming


Those who live in Where Ohming where ohming is done
On the fly and at random and much of the time,
Know resistance that’s measured can sometimes be high.
The electrons, in those cases, toil to get by.
Yet, they practice law freely in their paradigm
Where the practice of ohming is done just for fun.

One who wouldn’t dare ohming, Where Ohming would scorn
To the hilt, and it matters not who that one is.
Being ohmed is a right every circuit must share.
There is such joy in ohming that none can compare.
It’s as easy as aiming and taking a whiz.
That’s why folks in Where Ohming can toot their own horn.

Every place in Where Ohming where voltage may be
Is a whole separate issue electrons must face
As no one wants to measure the voltage that’s there.
Folks are so used to ohming that they wouldn’t care
That some voltage is present and wants to embrace.
Those who live in Why Volting would surely agree.

Happy Birthday, Dear Violet


Happy Birthday, Dear Violet. This one is for you.
It’s a long time in coming, but here it is now.
For a fine girl who’s practical, fun and at ease…
Who brings pleasure and comfort to all whom she sees,
I would give you myself if indeed I knew how.
But perhaps I can manage with words just a few.

You take care of yourself. I can see that it’s so
In your determination to do what is right.
Behaving appropriately is a skill.
For some folks it takes quite a bit of hard will.
I remember the night when we had a great fight.
You’re a teacher of passion, I want you to know.

There isn’t a day that goes by without you
On my mind, in my heart, in some part of the day.
And my words are packed loosely in cumbersome verse.
Seems our lives were a play where I didn’t rehearse.
To the child who is grown now, I just want to say
I would be less without you, and that’s nothing new.

Pathway to My Desire


As I pass through the corridor referenced by joy
I can and do brighten my path to desire.
People say, “When I get ‘that,’ then I will feel great.”
But one must feel good first. There just is no debate.
My true feelings are key, and with them I acquire
What is best for my questing. This is my best ploy.

I am most determined that I will feel good
As I traverse the pathway to what is my goal.
Once a while, when I step, there is nothing beneath.
Then I cling to the path by the skin of my teeth.
It seems hazardous taking my heart on a stroll.
My path is well lighted and well understood.

I will not settle for less, from now on,
Than my feeling good often – not all the time so.
Every detour through discord uncovers a clue
To a better path forward and faith that is new.
A new lantern will light up the pathway I know
Towards my own heart’s desire to which I am drawn.

The Universe Is Big Enough


This cosmic machine is quite big enough
To fulfill my intention, whatever that be.

Apparatus Magnificent has every means
To provide what I ask for through daily routines.
Sometimes, the big gears are not easy to see.
But it’s not that I’m weak. I don’t have to hang tough.

Whatever I give my attention to grows
In its strength of vibration. The universe, then,
Conjures all things that match where my focus is great.
It’s like matching a profile when finding a date.
If you find one who’s tragic, start over again.
When I focus on purpose, my wellbeing flows.

This cosmic machinery works like a charm.
It is infinite Source that cannot be run down.
It produces whatever each creature decides.
Whether goodness or badness, our hearts are our guides.
I can pause for a moment, when wearing a frown,
To refurbish my meshing with minimal harm.