Reality is vibration perceived
Not something to face or to work into place
Vibration is made through thought that is focused
Not through random hopes that flea like the locust
And as thought gains momentum at steady pace
Within space and time all things are received
Magic is perceived vibration
It completes the circuit of what is real
Like a radio tuned to a certain sound
Will ignore all others that surely abound.
With antenna and tuner, we each know how to ‘feel’
Our way to a better situation.
What is is what was the moment it’s been.
The ‘carrot of time’ matches rhythm of gait.
Yet, there’s wonder in life as connection is made
To a Source of our choosing wherein Meaning’s conveyed.
To know how one feels is to set one’s path straight.
With such knowing, each cycle begins again.
I am what I am , and it is what it is.
‘To Be’ is not something to ponder about.
I’m here on this stage with others like me.
We all have opinions. Some stink with such glee
Intending on luring a lusty snout
Into noxious worlds that make the hair frizz.
So, what’s this ‘therapy’ all about?
I don’t have a TV, and that does some good.
Then, when I meet with the likes of you,
It seems you’ve been bathing in pestilent poo
That has oozed from an orifice too well understood.
Now, smell me again? You don’t need to shout.
“Did you hear what those niggers did the other day?”
“No, do tell. I was being one as well.”
“Well, by golly! You are one, for sure!
Why didn’t I smell that as plain as manure?”
“Sir, perhaps your world may be one of hell.
Maybe best I don’t hear. Who would care anyway?”
Served in serpentine segments or cast in crude clumps
Most emerge from creation a nation beset
With too little knowing and too much re-begetting
Of what makes people hurt and what makes life so upsetting.
When one utters some thing that someone would regret,
It’s best to just flush, and thus save our bent rumps.