Archive | January 2019

Whiteface

TheMagicRealist.com

Does America have a big whiteface again?
Or can we ever have one that all can call ours?
Do we seem like a friend to bewildered allies?
Has the fate of our statehood become someone’s prize?
Is it likely that we are now governed by czars?
Do we act out in whiteface like proud gentlemen?

What’s the state of creation in our nation now?
Is it one of relationship or battle cries?
We’re at war with our damned selves! No thing leads us on
Like rekindled resentment from which hope is drawn.
We’re a state in a state of most lethal white lies.
We could redeem ourselves if we only knew how.

We depend on our dough-people maybe so much
That we think they aren’t human. Therefore, the machine
Of self-government needs a full check of its gears.
But it is somewhat human. It does shed its tears.
Absolute in snow whiteness, much chaos is seen
And the heat of our drama is cold to the touch.

Why Am I Stressed?

TheMagicRealist.com

Do not work, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.
You may be under pressure but make no mistake.
I will clothe you and feed you and give you a roof.
One who’d make such a promise is made of disproof.

If my thinking is heavy and clearly opaque
Is there anything worthwhile that I can then do?

Can I sit and be blissful alone in one place
For a brief march of minutes? That should not be hard.
If it is, then it means only one sundry thing.
I have not done what is necessary to bring
Simple mindfulness back into proper regard.
If the masses can’t do that, is that a disgrace?

Like the fragrance of jasmine on life’s summer breeze
I’ve no choice but to linger until lingering
Dissipates in completion of purpose assigned.
What I’m thinking and feeling are so intertwined
That I can’t blame another for what life may bring.
On that basis, can I put my stressing at ease?

Head Or Heart

TheMagicRealist.com

Head and heart are two totally separate things.
What is seen on the surface also is within.
We alone complicate things. The creatures of wild
See all life as one simple thing – much like a child,
But with intent well focused. I’ll dare to begin
A statement of inquiry as if it has wings.

Can the heart speak of anything? I would think not.
It just wants to keep blood flowing. That is its job.
It need not be articulate – only steadfast
That its date with my breathing will not be its last.
Now, there are quite a few things that make the heart throb.
People could say it’s speaking then. I’d say they ought.

The heart has only two sounds: Dub-Lub and Dub-Lub.
Only on rare occasion does it verbalize

In an aberrant manner. But, unlike the brain,
Nothing can happen to it to drive it insane.
If I came to believe that the heart can be wise
Would that mean I’d be giving my poor brain the snub?

Meditation is not interrupted by thought.
I would not ask the kidneys nor liver to cease
Their sustaining their function as peace do I seek.
It’s refreshing to learn that all organs do speak
In the language they’re used to. The mindful release
Of the unwanted chatter is then what is sought.

Wisdom, Meditation And Bliss

TheMagicRealist.com

Mysticism means exploration into things
That I have not the knowledge of – so far, so good.
Everything that I know not, I can’t understand.
If I find one with wisdom and peacefulness grand,
Is that person anointed with true guruhood?
Is what I know that others don’t worthy of wings?

If I lost all my assets and felt quite depressed
My mind would try to trick me into true demise.
But if I held my breath for two minutes, I’m sure
That abundantly free air would act as the cure
For my habit of teetering on compromise
Of my spirit. Sometimes, it’s adversely expressed.

 The most sophisticated machinery here,
The unique human body is of pure design.
Yet it can be encumbered with high maintenance.
That appears true for most folks and seems to make sense.
Living totally means that there is no deadline
When it comes to engaging all that we hold dear.

Put Your Bitch On The Street!

TheMagicRealist.com

Messed with government workers, here’s some good advice.
I can tell that you’re just a tad miffed, but don’t sweat.
So you’ve tried a few yard sales, and that didn’t work?
I can show you some sympathy. I’m not a jerk!
You may eat cake and suffer my unyielding threat.
I’m profoundly grotesque, and it’s hard to be nice.

Have you talked to your landlords? They should share the blame.
After all, there is plenty. You all must partake.
Everyone in this nation is under my rule.
Anyone who thinks otherwise is a damned fool.
I can’t care about you. My own ass is at stake.
Fairly soon I’ll feel justice. You should feel the same.

Put Your Bitch On The Street! Leave the kids on their own.
Her income will replace yours while I break some wind.
If she’s not in the best shape, offer a discount.
Anyone with cold cash and is willing to mount
Is an asset you cannot afford to rescind.
All this talk of a crisis is way overblown.

Mow The Grass, Tyson!

TheMagicRealist.com

Oh, go Mow The Grass, Tyson! Please shut your machine.
No one else is as smart as you. We all get that.
Your profound observations and statement of facts
Are akin to how one with an attitude acts.
If Einstein were alive now you’d get tit for tat!
You may not be the smartest one this world has seen.

You don’t have to wear black so much. We see that too.
Perhaps done quite unconsciously, there’s no mistake
That there’s pride in your presence. The smug in your smirk
Is a testament to your most outstanding work.
But when you are on camera, please give us a break.
Few can understand most things the way that you do.

Mow our minds, Mr. Tyson. We all need a trim.
Some intellectual aristocracy can,
In the course of a short while, enlighten the heart.
The bright mind and warm spirit are not far apart
In the person of this brilliant jerk of a man.
After ten minutes of him, I’m filled to the brim.

Compassion And Virtue

TheMagicRealist.com

When I do not identify with anything,
Then in absolute virtue my living will be.
I am filled with compassion for all that exists…
Even those who, in blindness, are flailing their fists.
Only when not identifying can I see
What I may have to offer. What peace may I bring?

People are sympathetic to some noble cause.
But in being so biased, compassion declines
For all else not identified with what we love.
Therein lies some resentment. Can we get rid of
Unbecoming behavior? The heart undermines
The intent to think clearly from adequate pause.

When compassion encompasses every last one
On this planet or wherever consciousness plays
Throughout space-time and being, will we have done well?
Within every infinity chaos must dwell.
So, it does well behoove us to measure our days
As if all of creation had never begun.

Gratitude Is Not Attitude

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s an intricate fabric of which I’m a thread.
There is always a place where I’m part of the fold.
Neither feelings of loneliness nor perceived guilt
Can convene to antagonize what has been built
Over eons. My true heart cannot be controlled
By illusions of misfortune that lie ahead.

As life happens around me, the thing I see most
Is how much is involved in the moment at hand.
Every bite that I take… many did make it so
Through the chain of production, as most people know.
What goes into each moment, then, is rather grand.
I can take time to be and be fully engrossed.

Gratitude is not attitude. It’s a wellspring
That flows freely from feelings of utter content.
To call such thing an attitude doesn’t say much.
It implies I’m aggressively cold to the touch.
Gratitude is a break from my will to resent.
It’s a pleasure to be a part of everything.

Decisions

TheMagicRealist.com

Much of life is of choices made throughout the day.
I can meet every moment in torment or joy.
I can help this behavior through clarity keen.
No one else can act for me nor stand in-between
Me and what I’ve decided. My will I employ
To live life as I choose to. Is this not our way?

My emotions go up and down. Talk in my mind
Is quite often chaotic. It makes not much sense.
It says nothing of import. It changes its tune
Pitching one thing at breakfast… its counter by noon.
Clarity in the moment is one’s sole defense
Because therein, one’s choices cannot be maligned.

Difficult are decisions made under some stress.
I’ll become then compulsive with clarity gone.
As I make them in happiness, clearly I see.
If I fuss much about them, confused I will be.
Yet there is inner guidance I rely upon
If I can but remember when under duress.

A Peaceful Mind

TheMagicRealist.com

As we grow to be human, our lives get complex.
Other creatures with stomachs full just lie around.
But when humans are satisfied, really, we’re not.
We will seek out new problems and give them a shot.
What is sought after diligently is then found.
One’s illusions are built upon what one expects.

Life ends not with survival for we human kind.
It begins with it, and that is not a good thing.
We’re not meant to be busy. We’re meant to chill out.
Most our illnesses come from our stressing, no doubt.
If we did much less of it, would happy hearts sing?
Everything is at peace to one who is aligned.

Yet, A Peaceful Mind is not the highest of goals
As it is fundamental to all that we do.
If done so in enjoyment, all acts must be done
In the state of A Peaceful Mind. Can life be fun?
Surely turmoil is lessened with a clearer view
Of a much grander clockwork engaging our souls.

Bad Hair Day

TheMagicRealist.com

One might ask a Zen master if he has bad days.
After all, it’s a good question. Most of us do.
He would probably answer, “That wouldn’t be wise.
I’m alive and at peace below clear sunny skies.
If I labeled my days good or bad as do you
Any worm of a thought might engender malaise.”

Processes that define us, too many to name,
Are of yet a few categories to be known.
Existential are most, and we pay them no mind.
But the ones psychological are of a kind
That when focused on too long, the mind can be blown.
Most of us with no training can play an ill game.

The Creator’s creation must impact the soul…
Not the one that I made and placed inside of me.
Concentrate on the grandeur? Can such a thing work?
I’ve no choice but to try or go waxing berserk.
I’m some clinical label if I want to be.
But I don’t. Peace in tranquility is my goal.

God And The Scientists

TheMagicRealist.com

It so happened in the twenty fourth century
That a small group of scientists went to see God.
When they got there, they greeted him, “Hi there, old man.
We have something to say. Please do hear if you can.
You’ve done great with creation. For that we applaud.
But you can now retire because we are as thee.”

God replied, “Is that so? Tell me, what can you do
That I have done already in my divine way?”
“We can create a human! Just watch if you will.
We have evolved a billion-fold… so has our skill.”

They then zing-zapped some soil and without much delay
A new human the dirt became, with feelings too.

“That is somewhat impressive, if I may be kind,”
The prefect of divinity said in response.

“You have made a fine human from soil that I made.
Can you make one from scratch and without the charade?
It would seem you’ve not mastered the subtle nuance
Of existing. Until then, your wills are confined.”

Beyond Ego

TheMagicRealist.com

It is known that the ego does things the hard way.
It has not much concern for the way that it acts.
It is good at one-upmanship. That is its goal.
It can’t know what it’s doing. It has not a soul.
It may be quite adept, though, at verbal attacks.
And when it can put others down, that makes its day.

It’s a very sad way to live. I know for sure.
Satisfaction is bittersweet in effort strong.
It is like an addiction to struggle… For what?
…Some grand sliver of spotlight? But what of my gut?
It will get me believing that I can’t do wrong.
It’s a symptom, perhaps, that I am insecure.

I should maintain some distance between it and me.
After all, it is not me nor can life revolve
Around it. Clearly, it is a survival tool.
If I learn how to use it, I’ll not be the fool.
So the ego can be my own puzzle to solve.
Maybe life can be blissful most naturally.

Papa Bird Has Plenty Butt

TheMagicRealist.com

Papa Bird has enough ass to keep the chicks warm.
It ain’t like he’s a featherweight at nurturing
His young children while his mate is out getting food.
They will trade off their duties in brief interlude.
Papa Bird believes equal rights is the right thing.
He is not truly conscious of breaking a norm.

Papa Bird works his butt off. The lady does too.
…So much must be completed in so little time.
But to labor is pleasure. Fulfillment is keen
When in each given moment, pure splendor is seen
As the best movement forward in spirit sublime.
We can know that the Papa Bird knows what to do.

He’s no half-hearted father who clings to manhood
As if it were a big bird that could fly away.
That which takes to the air does come back to the nest.
As all bids of a feather, we do but our best
To provide for our families, while every day,
Acting out in the ways that we feel that we should.

Do I Need Confidence?

TheMagicRealist.com

When presented with some kind of chasm to cross
Where on one side is me and the other is life,
There is something that I need. It’s not confidence
Nor an imagination in lieu of suspense.
Simple fear of the unknown and possible strife
Can direct my believing in personal loss.

What I need is some clarity – not some belief
That if I should act foolishly, my intellect
Has the right to chastise me for my stupid act.
It will do so relentlessly and without tact.
Even though I’m not perfect, should I get respect?
Yes, I should, because time that we have here is brief.

Every year is a new one until it is passed.
My most favored illusions I clearly can see.
Every cycle completes itself with a new start.
All the knowledge I’ve gained is to reset the heart.
The mind wants to remember how good life can be.
It is good to let go of the year become last.

I would love to see clearly what life has in store
For the one who perceives it and says that, “I am.”
That I clearly can do so by matter of choice,
I can feel light and bubbly. Should I then rejoice?
Any confidence I have is not worth a damn.
All I am is delighted that I can be more.