Archive | April 2018

The Comfort in Fear

I am going through major transitions right now.
That may seem rather obvious by my lifestyle.
I believe staying high is the best way to die
While I’m writhing away under fun colored sky.
I’m no kin to the present. I feel, though, erstwhile
To the fear of my failing. That I can’t allow.

When I feel fear, it means that my thinking is wrong.
Someone else who knows me has a much different take.
When we both think the same, then my living is fine.
When I’m fearful and he’s not, that is a sure sign
That I’ve made something up that has caused me heartbreak.
He is my higher self who knows where I belong.

There’s a comfort in fear that I know must be true
By the wisdom it stirs within my yearning heart.
When I find I’m afraid of the dawn’s early light.
I must know that’s not real and thus cannot be right.
There’s no world I can think of that’s falling apart.
All that which I had feared can be looked at anew.

It’s A Trip

“It’s a Trip what be happ’nin’ dare ‘round dat white house.”
Did I get that vernacular right? I must know,

Not for any known reason – just out of the blue,
Like what happens in government, vacant of clue.
You behave much like ‘niggers.’ Is that just for show?
There is no one’s attention to duty to rouse.

I’ve watched candidates stumble as if by design
Through omnipotent forces unidentified.
There exists biased judgement in each human’s heart.
It seems you take to tripping to better jumpstart
This cold government engine. Perhaps you’ve not tried
Something else therefore it seems unwise to decline.

We each do our own tripping – both on and offline,
And through manifold systems we lay down our traps.
Anyone not suspecting some lead boot will drop
May avoid such an outcome and end up on top.
What is built upon, though, may be sure to collapse.
When I don’t pay attention, I’m doing just fine.

Swamp Refugee

How’s that swamp draining job going? Have you begun?
Or is someone appointed to do that for you?
One who says that it’s nasty there maybe would know.
You did say you belonged there some nightmare ago.
It’s ironic you went in there smelling like poo.
Now the task is too dirty? It’s no longer fun?

There’s a refugee crisis since office was took
Like a thief in the dark water. Bully for you!
Who is doing the cleaning? Just where is this mess?
I don’t think that it’s you, ass. You may well confess
To yourself that you’re finished. You could have made due
Out of office as just an old worldly wide crook.

As the myriad creatures emerge from the swamp,
One by one, soaking wet with shame for egg on face,
Is the swamp being cleaned by a man or a goon?
I think I know the answer. We all shall know soon.
There’s a deep, thorough cleaning indeed taking place.
When it’s finally done with, the worthy will romp.

Stop Pretending

You don’t think I’m pretending to hear things you don’t,
So why not then believe there’s a world you can’t know?
I may bark at what seems to you only thin air.
You would not contradict and say nothing is there.
I can sense there is something, though nothing to show.
I can smell things that you can’t and probably won’t.

Other worlds intersect ours. Some creatures receive
And transmit most effectively with other realms,
And within this one many vibrations reside
Well outside your perception. Indeed, you’re denied.
It’s the heart that denies this that this overwhelms.
Learn to trust in this knowing, then you will believe.

Stop pretending that I’m the one pretending, please.
There’s no crown of creation. We’re all of the stream
Of eternal life force ever changing in form.
It’s OK to be human if that is your norm.
But remember that sometimes things are as they seem.
What may seem to be unseen the wiser one sees.

Feeling Happy on The Way

I may pray tell this joke with a straight enough face.
The young guru on skate board with smartphone in hand
Knows a lot more than I do and zips right on by.
Everything is in order. Would I dare to try
To compare myself to others who understand
Only where they are going… perhaps the same place?

Can I be fully satisfied watching my dreams
Take on form incrementally as they evolve?
If I can love the journey while not at its end,
Every moment toward getting there need not depend
On some well devised plan for a problem to solve.
Destination and journey are not two extremes.

Happily Ever After begins with right now,
And in rapid succession each now takes a new
Form of manifestation through brilliant insight.
There is joy in my getting there, and that’s alright.
I cannot face reality and make it do
As I wish. That’s the old way. I’ll learn to allow.

Creating Despite Oneself

I’ll create some calamity throughout my act.
This is par for one’s strutting upon the life stage.
Some things come unexpectedly as if by chance.
If I’m not good at magic, could I sing and dance?
I’m an actor who sometimes performs out of rage
When through my misalignment I run low on tact.

I continue creating despite my stage fright.
The anxiety strengthens and quickens the heart.
There’s no fear of an audience. All play a role.
We are scripted observers with one common goal.
We can make co-creating an elegant art
As we play under pressure beneath the spotlight.

I should know what my magic hat may well contain
If I would be professional and of good taste.
Even if I react in convincing surprise,
I may just know my lines well without a disguise.
My bad acting has karma that can’t be erased.
I can clean up my act, though, for maximum gain.

Crow Whisperer Training

Listen Up, human rookies! This isn’t boot camp,
Nor is it rocket science. I’m nothing like that.
This is all about noticing what all birds do –
Not just good looking black ones among but a few.
We deliver insight at the drop of a hat.
We can offer a clue when your spirit is damp.

I may look straight up sober and matter of fact.
That is just a façade to get closer to you…
Not too close, though, that you might suspect something’s up.
We know something of fear because of the sick pup.
We are here to remind you of what you once knew.
In your knowing, then, all the best you will attract.

Learn a bit from the wise ones, but much more from we
Who, in touch with the spirit realm, deliver to
Those receptive enough, messages from the dead,
So that you may not look at death with so much dread.
Whether you can receive us is all up to you.
Live your lives well and prosper, but mostly be free.

Quiet the Mind and Receive

Words evolve into traffic, then don’t convey much.
They are not the best teachers because of their traps.
They routinely ensnare us and leave us confused,
Yet, without our content, we feel further abused.
A brief timeout will reset my tuner, perhaps.
Words can mimic advice, but they’re often a crutch.

When I offer vibration, I get something back.
What that is depends wholly on what I put out.
If I quiet the mind before starting my day,
Then my words do have meaning – to me, anyway.
So that I may receive well, I’m better, no doubt,
To unplug from all that I would call soul attack.

When I silence the chatter, I better receive.
To get in the receptive mode, all that I do
Is to fixate on some gentle noise in the room.
If my focus should falter, I simply resume
Until I feel detachment, and blissfulness too.
Then the more I receive, I can surely believe.

The Most Important Question to Ask

Life is jam-packed with questions – both big ones and small,
From the stuff between atoms to deep outer space.
We are curious creatures – some more and some less.
Certainly I have questions, and I must confess
I would not see the answers in front of my face,
Yet there’s one simple question that stands rather tall.

“Is this universe friendly?” If I think it’s not,
Then a life marked by defense and putting up walls,
And fixations on weaponry would be my style.
If I think it is friendly, I greet with a smile.
Life becomes, then, fulfilling and truly enthralls.
I could mitigate hatred and give love a shot.

Many simply profound questions Einstein did ask.
This one is most important. In it we decide
If we’re feeding our fears of the unknown with doubt,
Or if we choose to learn what this life is about.
How I answer this question is my only guide.
Then my own friendliness can be kept well on task.

An Evolution of Perspective

I can see much more clearly when I’m flying high,
Looking down at where here and now happens to be.
I can wave at ourselves from the wide-open sky.
From my alter perspective, no troubles have I.
A new world of adventure is given to me.
With my wings of alignment, I need no ally.

Here and now is a nice view when wings are at rest.
Down here can be obstructive of a better view.
Structures that we call obstacles get in our way.
If we can’t see around them they screw up our day.
My intent upon flying is past overdue.
And it’s bright up here. My Goodness! Who would have guessed?

I just want to be happy. We all want the same.
Any life situation is one point in time.
From that point I can zoom out as far as I need
To see where in the big picture I may succeed.
I need not even find some tall mountain to climb.
From the broader perspective life seems rather tame.

Remote Access

Don’t make fun of my accent. I’ve practiced it well.
Either that or my English still gives me away.
Anyway, I will help you. Your system is screwed.
I’ll access your computer and then I’ll get rude.
I’ll have problems to show you and too much to say
While concealing the fact that this is a hard sell.

 This is like the old shell game with quick sleight of hand,
Only I open windows and spread them around
While explaining how sick your machine has become
In this short while I’m with you, you simpleton bum.
I will find every bad thing there is to be found
Then create a few more. This is what I had planned.

Just sit back and relax while I fill up your screen
With my scribbles and doodles and fancy artwork.
You won’t owe me a fortune. Just half one will do
To restore your computer to something like new.
What I tell you is true. I’m a desperate jerk.
If I knew any better, I’d surely come clean.

I Don’t Need A Damned Hero

I don’t need a damned hero. Please give back my face.
And… my name is not Robin. I’m no kin to you.
I did quite well without you before you arrived.
Things now aren’t any better, yet I’m not deprived
Of my sense of humanity. If I but knew
How to ditch you completely, I’d reclaim my grace.

Something tucked in my pocket may act as my friend
As long as it behaves well and gives me respect.
It will act like a smartass and make me look lame,
When, to others, the thing is a fanciful game.
This is not about something that I need protect.
I’m the one in its shadow with thought to portend.

It’s a hero. Big Whoopie! It does a great deal
For most assholes convinced It’s a survival tool.
But for me, it’s a smartass. We don’t get along.
Every time I do something with it, I am wrong.
That’s according to it, therefore ‘it’ is a fool.
This hero doesn’t save me. That’s just how I feel.

Stop Noticing The Absence

I establish my lists and may check them with dread.
Rarely I feel like Santa as always I should.
How unbalanced my balance sheet is reflects how
Misaligned with my purpose I seem to be now.
How I find myself lacking is not understood.
I would rather look elsewhere than torture my head.

I must know there is absence. This makes common sense.
It would be very foolish to ignore the facts.
Thankfully, I don’t linger there for very long.
I’ll head toward the solution by way of a song.
When presented with absence, the wise one reacts
In ways most beneficial for mending that fence.

Right now is but a snapshot arrested in time.
It does not have an impact on moments to come
Unless I keep now active and feed it my gloom.
When receptive to insight there’s plenty of room
In the now for my outlook to beat like a drum.
From absence to abundance is not a steep climb.

It Gets Busy On Tuesdays

It does get rather busy most Tuesdays for me.
I catch up on relaxing while doing my best
At observing my habitat most of the day.
Yet on Tuesdays I’m busy with still much to say.
I will say it but at my own spirit’s behest.
There’s no need for alarm. There is no urgency.

I’ll spend time with my fellows. I’ll eat a good meal.
Then kick back into slow mode. That much will suffice.
Ecstasy is my basking. I long not to be
Someone else’s fulfillment… eventually.
I’m laid back and I’m mellow, therefore I am nice.
What takes place in my jungle is not a big deal.

I did quite well today. Did I get a lot done
With today’s interactions? I feel satisfied
Even though there’s a deadline some would call midnight.
I need not create frantically. That’s just not right.
This is easy by now. Time has taken my side.
What has worked for the many does work for the one.

Words Don’t Matter Much

Many words are not needed to labor my point
When the point is to unleash the artist in me.
Words do have some meaning… too much, as it seems,
And sometimes they mislead. They’ll engender extremes
Of misinterpretation inadvertently.
Yet, at times, they’re a blessing with which to anoint.

Verboseness speaks of labor when untethered to
The intent that derives it, no matter how much
Meaning is well packed into it. How can I tell
If my aerosol speaking can cast a nice spell?
That is simple! My speech must be fun to the touch.
If I spoke plain and simple, would that do for you?

On the walls of our journeys, we tag with our hearts
The intenseness of color held tight in our souls.
With some pressure released, with expression of thought,
We may sigh in accomplishment and want for naught.
Many words, some do use, to accomplish their goals,
But the meaning behind them is where it all starts.

The Value Of Contrast

Monochrome is the cosmos of darkness and light
Wherein we find discernment in what we perceive.
If it were not for contrast, then it would be hard
To make out what to work with and what to discard.
We take stock in perceptions. That’s how we believe
And make judgements about what is wrong and what’s right.

We appreciate color where it may be found
In abundance or scarceness concealed in the seam
Of the over stretched canvass. There color hides well
When there’s no need to see it nor anyone tell.
Life plays out in the mind, though, in vibrant extreme.
We delight in creative expression unbound.

Contrast does lead through chaos, but to clarity.
So it matters profoundly. It leads me to more
Of what life has to offer. I need only see
That my challenges are of much value to me.
There’s no problem that I should not love and adore.
Each, if wise, is a service – one offered for free.


There may be a resemblance, but only in jest.
We should not take to joking, yet that’s what we do
With sung heroes of wealth among young and alive
Who appear in good health and have prolific drive.
But this man is NOT ‘Data,’ the character who,
As an officer, turns out to be of the best.

I believe he is human and brilliant of mind,
With a knack for precision and logical view
Of what people hold precious. Could something be flawed?
Has our Data been beamed to some dark force abroad?
What should be know by all is known but by a few.
The ‘real’ Data knows Duty and is truth aligned.

“Senator, I will have my team get back to you.”
Well, that sounds good in theory, born of the abstract.

Put your ‘team’ on the floor if they have answers, please.
Your dorm room is now worldwide. A future that sees
You as more like our Data, is one based in fact.
You could show some emotion, as most androids do.

Wanting Something Badly

If I want something badly – too badly to know
That the ‘badly’ will dominate over the want,
I may get what I want but with badly involved,
Or receive not a thing, then no thing is resolved.
In the spirit of joy I am willing to taunt
The prefect of good fortune and master of flow.

If I wish upon good stars or bad stars, who knows
How the cosmos is biased? Is that in my chart
Of the sky at the time I was born? How could I
Overcome what is destined? Should I even try?
Every good thought unravels the will of my heart.
I receive of the universe what it bestows.

So, to want something goodly would be quite the way
To at least be receptive to what I have drawn
From the bountiful infinite. I can do that
By not being so needy. The proper format
For a life of fortune is to rely upon
One’s own wealth of alignment beginning each day.

I Came As A Creator

I am one with the canvas and paint that I use,
As with palette and brush, and my own unique style.
I intended to be here to do what I do.
I believe that the universe helps me with who
I’m creating. That’s Me! And I’m here for a while.
Since I am a creator, I’ve nothing to lose.

The whole world is vibrational? That’s hard to sense
On the onset. Things seem to be solid and ‘real.’
It is fact: What is unseen becomes what is seen.
This is true, most of all, with the cosmic machine.
I can know what is real by the way that I feel
All ethereal things and all things that are dense.

I am born of vibration. My senses detect
Things like texture and color. I sometimes pretend
That what cannot be seen surely cannot exist.
Though I harbor scant truth there, the bulk is dismissed.
I am here to create what is real, and I spend
Most my moments creating – much out of respect.

No Assertion, Just Attraction

There’s a spell in the air. Surely I put it there.
It’s my life force exuding throughout the cosmos,
Calling all things to me, be it bird or it bee.
I’ve no need for assertion, as all can agree.
I attract what I need. In no way is it gross.
I’m the kind face of nature, most gentle and fair.

I don’t need to keep busy. I delegate all
To those forces whose business it is to take care
Of the details regarding what I need right now.
I remain still and blossom the way I know how.
With my point of attraction, I’m fully aware
Of all drama around me, though fragile and small.

I am in the receptive mode most of the time.
When I’m not, I’m the giver to that which knows me.
Is there much on my mind? There is not such a thing
As the heel that may crush me before I can sing.
Had I eyes that knew color, how proud they would be.
Through the law of attraction, my life is sublime.

Kool-Aid Charade

As the head of the elephant, stuffed on the wall
In the house of it’s owner, the bear in the ice,
Must be well taxidermized to make it look real,
Is it rough to the touch? That should be a big deal.
One who drinks the red Kool-Aid does so at a price.
It will take down the heavyweights and make them small.

It is drunk behind closed doors. Consumption is kept
Well concealed and performed as a drama most grand.
Almost all the king’s horses have elephants’ heads
And a loud trumpet’s bellowing that the heart dreads.
What could be so perverse that we can’t understand?
Can we follow a leader whose heart’s never wept?

There are some dead men walking… and talking these days,
Where throughout the vast jungle, the things that take place
That may cause severe damage to my way of life
May drop free of the spectrum of doom and world strife.
Those who have drunk the Kool-Aid are doomed to embrace
Consequences severe for their treasonous ways.

From the Desk of D. Dudley Dickinworth, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

Sir, we give you the dickens! This time it’s for sure.
Why have not you responded? Where’s your sense of greed?
We have offered you millions. Don’t say you don’t care.
You won’t find a more urgent email anywhere.
You must answer me ASAP so we can proceed
To maintain cockamamie discourse. You Are Poor!

From our records of outstanding contractors due
A large payment, we find that your name does appear.
We now need your full address and bank info too.
We will need up front payment to cover a few
Incidental expenses, like campaigns of fear.
Make that check out to me. I will take care of you.

I don’t want to get nasty, but, damn it to hell,
You have not yet replied to me! Don’t be a fool.
Don’t you know how to act with a dick in your face?
You must give it attention. I know there’s some place
In your heart for some jackass who thinks he is cool.
Once I have your phone number, I’ll call you as well.

Better To Give Than Receive?

Many fowl do their giving while gathered in flight
When they find one deserving of what they possess.
We could learn from the birds and cast fate to the breeze.
The mind makes a fine camera as long as it sees
Something other than chaos and emergent mess.
So, whatever life gives me, I must know it’s right.

I create what befalls me before it takes place.
Through the lens of the mind’s eye, I craft what I get.
If I got up this morning with crap on my mind,
Then neglected to flush it, that wouldn’t be kind
To my outlook. My day would be filled with regret.
I can’t reach good conclusions when stuck in that space.

“It is better to give than receive,” people say.
That depends on one’s outlook. Again, that’s the key
To receiving abundance in whichever form
We attract it. To live life apart from the norm
Is to be truly mindful, most diligently.
I have freedom to give what I don’t want away.

A Wonky Relationship

Things appeal to the wonk (who is happy to plonk
Down his sanity for a mate as strange as he)
That have not much bizarreness when pictured alone.
When they’re seen as a pair, though, their union is shown
To be as odd an odyssey, if such could be.
Can it be held together, or will someone conk?

Every plate has a wobble. Each soul has a plate.
It may be full or empty. Some skill it will take
To ensure that momentum is constant and swift.
When all balance quite well, what a wonderful gift!
We may choose co-creation along with heartbreak,
Yet, to do so without self is such a blind date.

If I find satisfaction within my own skin
And not bother my partner with all that I lack,
Perhaps I’ll come to know the odd one within me.
Once that we are acquainted, my true self will be
My own best source of guidance who will have my back.
Anyone who is strange enough could be my twin.

Too Alone Prone Persona

When alone in a shoebox and weathered by time
And neglect of the home life within the dark soul,
No one comes by to visit. What life could be there
But one filled with delusion and utter despair
For not having attained some significant goal?
At the moment of birth one seems way past one’s prime.

Maybe better with family, a dog and some beer,
There is guidance available to one who seeks
Strong alignment with some cause related to blood.
I salute the self-righteous supremacist flood
Of the fictional family with tongues in their cheeks
That will tell this sick nation that it’s time to cheer.

To propone the persona of flesh on a throne
Does extract from the owner some measure of heart,
And from those of the kingdom, much trust and respect.
There is no sense of honor that I need detect
In the souls of the leaders I choose. A new start
Is something I can’t handle. That’s why I’m alone.


Would I fear esoteric things were I not cast
In the mist of the mystical and made of flesh?
Chances are, there would still be some doubt in my soul
About dealing with fear and then reaching my goal.
By my simply engaging life, I do enmesh
Myself deeply. I’m part of the universe vast.

To conceive the unknowable and make it known
Is the quest of those qualified. It’s good to know
That all have the authority to understand
What is put here before us and seems like it’s planned.
It can be complicated, decidedly so.
Yet it can’t be all that. Could it be overblown?

Some see spheres as concentric, like thin onion layers.
Others couldn’t care less because life is just fine.
Those who see things as simple, content in their bliss,
Glean the best out of good times and then reminisce
On how well the unknowable knew the divine
Through supreme evolution, and all without prayers.

To Transcend The ‘Unfriend’

To transcend the ‘Unfriend,’ I would most recommend
Referendum regarding the chronic disease
Of indifference to what’s in front of one’s eyes
Unless it has a touchscreen. I don’t criticize.
I’m reminded that when I’m too willing to please,
Some may find me a displeasing fool in the end.

Face to face we are fickle with flamboyant fluff
That we flitter like glitter. We seem made that way.
Now, we’ve replaced our faces with iFucking tHings.
What an overpriced plaything that sings when it rings!
Please forgive me, I digress, but hear what I say.
How much more disrespectful are we with this stuff?

Every ‘friend’ has a face. Every face has a soul
And a heart that can feel and therefore can be hurt.
Was the purpose of Facebook that we all join hands?
Perhaps so at the start, but now, it’s about fans.
On the playground, some seem to treat others like dirt.
Would you ‘unfriend’ your mama? That would be quite droll.

There Is No Exclusion

If I say I don’t want something, that is the same
As declaring I do want it. There’s no escape
But to turn my attention from what I detest.
My advice to myself would be give it a rest.
When I heed my direction, I’m free to reshape
My condition from turmoil to one that is tame.

There’s a Unary Infinite Input OR chip
At the base of all consciousness. How I attract
What is wanted or not wanted are quite the same.
My strong focus on either will bias the game
Toward the outcome that matches the way that I act.
It makes sense to be mindful of which thoughts I grip.

That there is no exclusion is good for us all.
Such a law gives us logic to live out our lives.
We attract what we think about much of the time.
I could craft much displeasure with thought pantomime.
It’s the thought that’s most constant that surely survives.
Anything that I dislike can be rendered small.

Knee Jerk Reaction

Tally Ho! I’m the knee jerk. Although a day late,
I know you will forgive me because I’m a fool.
I react all the time – not just one day a year.
Everyday I make merry to mitigate fear.
I can be quite spontaneous but never cruel.
I believe foolishness is the cure for most hate.

If you think this is silly, you’re right, I must say.
I put much time and effort into what I do.
Does it make people chuckle? That, I’ll never know.
There’s no choice but to tread on and go with the flow.
If my ass ran away from me, I’d have no clue,
Because it dons no butt bell to give it away.

All I need is a good knee to utilize me.
Every knee jerk depends on a knee to perform.
I can spring into action, but never will sap
The insanity dormant beneath the knee cap.
It’s a pleasure to tap a good jolt to the norm
From the heart of the knee jerk who’s daft as can be.

To Forget Being Gotten

If I need to be understood so I feel good,
Up the creek of the fecal and minus the oars
Would be I with my sorrow and deep seated fear
That I’m too odd a creature and don’t belong here.
When I don’t believe I’m the one who life ignores,
I am scaling the brick, and not knocking on wood.

Are my words so elusive that they don’t make sense
To the asshole majority? That’s fine with me.
They’re the same words that everyone uses. I just
Rearrange them in ways that are meaningful. Trust
That I came here, as all do, to live and to be
Plentiful in creating in full present tense.

I can’t get a damned thing that most rappers exude.
Most of it is a voyage, for me, to nowhere.
So, I don’t listen to them. That’s not ‘tit for tat.’
I’m an alien being, and no diplomat.
Should the gallery peanuts sound off, I don’t care.
One whose heart glows with passion cannot be subdued.