Archive | June 2020

Maximum Restraint

Imprisonment Of The Soul

When I was in the navy a colleague of mine
Said there would be a race war. I blew the man off.
Since I had to work with him each and every day
He’d reiterate hatred the pure racist way.
His intent, although clear, only caused me to scoff
Though I couldn’t take his sentiment as benign.

Did I need him to tell me some decades ago
Of volcanic activity deep in the earth
That will one day erupt into fervent bloodshed?
I’m aware there are those who wish all niggers dead.
But I wasn’t taught any of this since my birth
From my down to earth family. Shouldn’t it show?

I’ll avoid confrontation. My life is at stake.
My restraint must be maximum so I’ll survive
Both the prelude to warfare and tragic outcome.
White supremacists will go on beating their drum
To stir up the excitement. While I am alive
I’ll keep doing what I’m doing with no heartache.

All I’ll use is my voice. It’s enough to withstand
Every manner of ordnance the era calls for.
There are those who, much younger, still have a good fight.
They may march to the front line and do what is right.
Is there nothing in warfare that we can abhor?
If there’s not then predictions will proceed as planned.

Be Yourself!

Freedom of Self-Expression

Can I feel who I am just as well as I know
How excited life makes me and what I must do
To maintain self-fulfillment and honor my growth?
Heart and mind are attentive. I entertain both
All the while I am Being. I Am what is true
To my wildest desire. In this freedom I grow.

Energy feeds my spirit. Artistic pursuit
Gives me infinite pleasure. My day is complete
With an outlook aesthetic and true to my goal
Of enriching my craft and redeeming my soul
Of the fear that impedes and ensures my defeat.
This world does have its issues. I am not astute.

Life for me is a hobby. A lighthearted way
To express and relate to that which I belong
I adopt without worry of being let down.
Alternate ways of being forever abound.
My belief in who I am is vivid and strong.
All the work that I do is for elegant play.

Hurtful Arguments


Dissolution of family feathers the cap
Of specific world leaders. The United States
Is an opportune land where democracy reigns.
We’re a huge-cunted whore and nobody complains.
It’s a wakeup face slap to know they rule our fates.
Convoluted mechanics leaves us in a trap.

It begins with the family. Tension is there
And has been from the git go. It then preexists
Due to shallow upbringing or character flaw
Or whatever. The human is subject to law.
Any mind kin to Satan’s by nature consists
Of the drive to manipulate over the air.

We’re a nation divided. We know for a fact
That our cold civil warfare world leaders exploit.
Yet we’re doomed to feel helpless. The slow motion pace
Of recovery seconds the slap in the face.
Will we stand for another? The master adroit
At assessing behavior has studied our act.

We’re a door-matted Cancer. Our wide open ways
Means that we swim with creatures that will do us harm.
And when we least expect it we’re arguing for
Or against some tense issue, and we beg for more.
One would think a pandemic would make us disarm
But our strange human nature is damned to amaze.

Minding The Work – Working The Mind

The Work of Mental Feeling

Close attention to technique in detail for me
Is the basis of consciousness. And I believe
That the mind is an asset tremendous in worth.
Thought can mingle with non-thought for maximum mirth.
It is at the mind level we give and receive
Before actual substance ever comes to be.

So the work becomes mental. With help from the heart,
Who is equal co-ruler in all that is done,
Much mental manufacturing can be produced.
When both work well together the thinking is spruced.
Then the fruits of creation are second to none
Among normal producers. My living is art.

Most imaginative is the spirit at best.
This profound revelation means that I’m made free
To accomplish whatever I set my heart to
And the mind is supportive in all that I do.
My developing work skills were all meant to be
Part of my life experience and quite a test.

Calm And Foresight

Calm Above The Storm

Lofty goals are achievable, and climbing high
Is but one way to reach them. If I look ahead,
In my mind, way beyond the incumbent turmoil
I’ll afford myself foresight. I need not embroil
Myself in all the drama that I’ve come to dread.
To ascend into clarity is worth a try.

Motivated by ego, my mission evolves
Toward a lifelong commitment to speaking my mind
And my heart. When in balance they animate me.
While improving my process further I can see.
Will this self end up being but one of a kind?
If it does would it be that my effort dissolves?

Confidence means reflection from others if I
Make it all too important that my words be read
By but one other self. I will do myself well
By remaining above cloud. In calmness I dwell
Wherein I am contented. I will not instead
Become one who is needy. My soul would then die.

Calm And Foresight is recommended in this case.
It’s by far the solution to get where I need.
Both the journey and reaching the destination
Can be done while I’m having a good share of fun.
Who but spirit can tell me that I should proceed
As they furnish the content in infinite grace?

Through The Eyes Of Children


Little children see grownups as beings supreme.
We can do almost anything, and we are smart.
But we simply adore them. It’s not all that hard.
We are more conscientious. At best we will guard
Them against any danger. They light up the heart.
All the love that we give them cannot be extreme.

Everyday interchanges with them do delight
And sometimes there is tension. We handle that well
Due to our firm commitment to seeing them grow
To their fullest potential. At times we may show
Parts of us that they shouldn’t see, and they can tell
When we act out of fear. They do know wrong from right.

Smaller replicas of we adult folk they are.
And in fact they have feelings and intellect too.
If we were more like them they would be more like us.
It’s a notion of interest we may discuss
At some length to discover some ways that are new
For ensuring they see us as not too bizarre.

Helpful Words

What Am I, Fake China?

There are consequences for my bigness on words.
I must learn how to use them. That part isn’t bad
But to speak them so that folks clearly understand
What my point is is much harder than I had planned.
What I need be more careful of is going mad
By believing that my words are fit for the birds.

Are words meant to be helpful? Sometimes they are used
As a most lethal weapon. They can do much harm.
They often can bring joy and some relief from pain.
When they’re hard to express we release them with strain.
Some have learned how to use them to highlight their charm
And their egos will leave people rightly amused.

When the spirit within me commands me to write
I do not seek a motive. I do as I’m told.
Then the words flow like magic. No effort is there.
Writers block, when it happens, is something most rare
And most frequently I produce stuff of pure gold.
If I think nothing of it I’m filled with delight.

Evasive Maneuvers

Untidy Reality

Strong desires and anxieties speed up the game
As it’s seen by no others. Perhaps if I hide
Far away then the madness will start making sense.
Either way I am doomed and I have no defense.
I wish more white supremacists were on my side
Then I’d win reelection and cast off my shame.

I’ve always been evasive. There’s no other way.
If innate paranoia of being without
Is the root of my problem then I must proceed
With a coldblooded ruthlessness focused on greed
Let me not know the truth that I’m filled with self-doubt
And just listen to everything I have to say.

Running low on maneuvers, in panic I fear
The nightmare in slow motion as clearly I see
Through my mask of illusion. The harm I have done
Is not even an issue. It might have been fun
If the folks I commanded were loyal to me
And not to the damned country. I don’t hold it dear.

I just wish I could walk off and never come back.
This deal was such a lousy one. What have I gained?
I’m now driven insane and my health is a wreck.
All the help I appointed were pains in the neck.
Somehow I feel my exit will be unexplained.
The whole world knows already that I am a quack.

Breath Of The Beast

The Inscrutable Heat

The process of digestion for demons is like
Global Warming. A chill up the spine is a sign
That things are getting hotter and so much the same
As it was in the sixties. When breath is aflame
There can be no concluding that everything’s fine
Yet we’ll speak with a blow torch beyond the hot mike.

I do this, but I like it. Need I be concerned
That such creature I might be? My words may burn through
Any means that presents them. Then what have I done
But ignited my message so that I’ve reached none
But perhaps those who have heated breath as I do?
I don’t need to get with them. That lesson I’ve learned.

When I don’t harbor hot breath do I find relief
In the moment for not being part of the hell
That is sprung up around me? Or do I mistake
My delusion for innocence? Peace I must make
With the human machinery within I dwell.
The life spans of most demons is known to be brief.

Bring It On!

Fierce Opposition

I’m prepared to work hard. When things get in the way
It’s just part of the job. I must use the right tool
Like a social mechanic of highest degree.
Others see me as ruthless. Does that bother me?
If it did I’d be nothing but everyone’s fool.
Keep your nose out of my business. Have a nice day!

If you do seek a challenge, however, that’s great!
You’re prepared to be slaughtered? The pleasure is mine.
Bring It On! I’m damned ready to teach you defeat.
When the student is ready one mother he’ll meet
Who will turn not from battle. This is by design
Of my choices and all that determines my fate.

Yes, I must have a history, as do we all.
It is life as I see it and not a big deal
As long as there are boundaries made firm and clear.
If allowed peace, of course, I will work on my fear.
If I hit the ground swinging, that which I must feel
Is a lesson for me that I can’t see as small.

Eager For Input

Psychic Thirst

Is the face of your best friend one you can tend to?
He does listen attentively to every sound
That comes forth from your own face. He’s eager for more
From you who is his plaything. What else is in store
Besides good grub and company? What you have found
Is a magnetic consciousness who’s much like you.

 I am eager for input just like a young dog.
I suspect that we all are, but I can’t be sure
So I quickly revert to the human I am.
None of us are dogs’ masters… If so, it’s a sham!
We are much more than equal, and they are more pure.
They intuit whenever we’re caught in a fog.

Feeling and full attention flow faithfully fast
Between student and teacher. We each play both parts,
Switching back and forth frequently. Wagging the tail
Is the constant reminder for all to prevail
In this life we’ve provided through convergent hearts
Eagerness for the input life offers is vast.

Language is smartly simple. Words are but the sound
Of intent. It’s vibration the psyche translates
On a much deeper level than left brains can’t know.
They take careful direction if they’re trained well, though.
When both brains commune easily what it creates
Is a heart/soul connection that’s ever profound.

This has been today’s exercise in making sense
With a topic mundane seen another way than
What the rational intellect can allow for.
How I then best describe it some may not ignore.
I produce and receive input. I’m glad I can.
Which it is I am doing remains in suspense.

Grumpy Gloomy Attraction

No Chance

With no conscious intention the things I attract
Disengage my self-confidence. Then I feel gloom.
Lord knows I’m not a doctor nor do I cast spells.
I have given up buying what everyone sells
As advice to deliver me from certain doom.
I receive what I don’t want. This is the hard fact.

I can’t help but feel grumpy when I play along,
As I have done forever and part of a day,
With the self-contained drama by author well known.
Does the issue resolve as I linger alone
With the things that don’t suit me and cause me dismay?
All I know is that I’m doing this thing all wrong.

And indeed there’s a right way. How oft’ I forget
That each is as a snowflake. No two are the same.
Failure is in complaining. This lesson I learn
As often as I need to. What is of concern
Is how my way evolves as I deal with self-blame.
I’ll attract and make use of what seems like a threat.

Asserting Your Freedom

Affirmative Self-Expression

It ain’t just about pride… It’s just being alive
That gives me such excitement. How can I resist
Breaking free from the prisons that I haven’t made?
I don’t need to join forces. My only crusade
Is to fight with my prowess and not with my fist.
I’m in touch with my power and personal drive.

I would say I’m transparent. My feelings you see
Without much interference. You see what you get.
I may have a large ego, but that isn’t pride.
It’s the reflection of all the joy I’ve inside
For my love is a fountain that knows no regret.
You are blessed in my presence. That’s how it shall be.

I don’t take things for granted nor am I naïve
To the hell made apparent. My focus is clear.
Life is not without conflict, and I’ll find my way
Through what I have to offer in kindness each day.
In the meantime I’ve built a defense against fear.
In this way I’m assertive and cannot deceive.

The Trapped Child Within

A Fleeting Depression

There’s a child within each of us who never grows
To objective maturity. Youth must remain
As a polar reflection. Survival depends
On the health of both child and adult. And our friends
Are often therapeutic for sharing the pain
To elicit support. All this everyone knows.

I believe in self-discipline. As an adult
I must do some adjusting and put on an act
That conceals my pure innocence. Who am I then
But a set of instructions? Both women and men
Evolve toward self-awareness as evident fact.
But we don’t know each other. Behold the result.

Serious is the tone, and substantial issues
Surely fuel the frustration. Today’s will soon pass
‘Til the next shiny toy finds its way to my view.
There is much play that my child is willing to do
That my grownup façade makes me not a jackass.
This is just a reflection and meant to amuse.

Get A Mask!

Incumbent Departure

Get A Mask, valued countrymen, while supplies last!
Since this hoax is the real thing, I’ve got a great deal.
Stock up now on my Trump mask. The money you save
You can use to support me. I cannot behave
So I’ll need a small fortune. I’ve none to conceal
But I do have an unworthy financial past.

Get A Mask because I say you must show respect
To me as the one person who knows anything.
I’m surrounded by lions and tigers and bears
And, Oh My… a few assholes! But nobody cares.
Get your big discount coupon. I’ll need you to sing
To the tune of my victory. Then you’ll collect.

Why have I changed my tune so abruptly, you ask?
I must act presidential or give it a try
When I’m backed into corners. The oath that I took
Is a lie as I say it again. I’m A Crook.
You’ll support my campaign fund if you’d only buy
A huge bunch of my product. Be up to the task.

Take The Time

Emotional Confusion

If existence is hopeless what sense does it make
To reach out to another when I’m put on hold
And rebuked by technology? Life is too cruel.
There are so many sources who all have a tool
For reducing true spirit to things that are cold.
It’s a thin line of crisis. I fear it will break.

You can all handle challenge. I Must Take The Time
To submerge into darkness to know what is there.
It’s the last place to find and to feel anything.
The dull ache I will tolerate if it can bring
But a glimmer of hope. Truly life isn’t fair.
It’s instead a fine portrait of hell in its prime.

Compromising is futile. No tender have I.
To negotiate living I come unprepared.
Possibility haunts me as I weigh the pain
Of the distant disaster I lived through in vain.
As I’m stuck firm in place with my soul running scared
Unresolved ideation is but a faint cry.

Unconditional Love

Absolute Powerlessness of the World

Unconditional Love is just love by decree
And that’s why we must love him. The Donald is cool
In the ways that he does things and puts on a show.
He’s alright for a white guy. This people should know.
We know that he’s a genius just acting the fool
To divert our attention to all that must be.

He’s like one of the family and like us all
He has character defects but then who’s to blame.
It must be always others who make him this way.
But he’s our kind of uncle. We’d like him to stay
To continue commanding us through the war game.
We’ll support him in funding that unfinished wall.

We defy definition. Love is bought and sold
Just as our leader shows us. It also must gain
Through controlling by blackmail and dark psychic ties
That turn angels to demons right before our eyes.
He demands satisfaction. Our love is insane
As we keep sticking with him and do as we’re told.

Love means giving him loyalty that he will need
To fight off all his enemies. He gets us high
On whatever he’s taking to get himself off
To the next foul behavior our foes love to scoff.
Loving him means that we should all lay down and die
If he says we should do so. We wish him Godspeed.

Emotional Profundity

Love Bites

Do I look superficial? Or are you that blind
That nothing in this world has much meaning to you?
I prefer making sense in whatever I say
And my actions match my words. No way will I play
Silly games with emotions. What I need to do
Is to find better people who are warm and kind.

You can’t see where I’m coming from? I seek the truth
In my interrelationships. Getting involved
In unworthy encounters is not why I’m here.
I do hope my position is perfectly clear.
If our friendship is fragile It should be dissolved.
It’s a waste of my time to hang with the uncouth.

Deeper meaning in life is of interest to
Every part of my being, yet I can have fun
And engage in pure folly. The right time and place
Is the thing of importance. I’ll cherish the grace
Born of wholehearted laughter with most everyone.
But my self-respect matters. This is nothing new.

My Defeat

Abject Surrender

My Defeat be a blessing and not the despair
That I otherwise notice through everyone’s eyes.
If my dreams of world glory dissolve into dust
What on earth or in heaven do I place my trust?
If my pride I relinquish do I win the prize
Of a newfound aloneness that I cannot share?

My Defeat be a shining sword and heavy shield.
If enthronement or slavery be but the choice
Then I understand sameness. My fullness is grasped
But my soul by my life is inherently clasped.
As the ripe fruit that falls has no need for a voice,
It’s consumed without asking. What truth is revealed?

My Defeat has no weight as it clings to the vine.
It must grow to its fullness before it can fall
Or be picked by a kind one or blown by the wind
In an omni-direction that it be chagrined
By its own lack of power. Then do let it sprawl.
The dull pain of inaction is no longer mine.

The madness is integral to what is at hand.
I’m apart yet not separate from the great storm.
If I see people laughing should I do the same?
Or do I remain silent and not shout my name?
When mixed with all the others it fails to transform
The delusion apparent to other than grand.

Learning From Relating

Interconnected Identity

What it means to be human is something unknown
If I go it alone. I cannot interact
With the self that is single. I must get involved
Even though bouts of hatred and fear aren’t resolved.
I can’t learn without contact. The darned niggling fact
Offers only Relating. My peace then is blown.

But a new sense of comfort may be the reward
For my putting forth effort to reach out to all.
Only with other selves certain knowledge I’ll gain
That I can’t get on my own. This I can’t explain
At the rational level. But I’ll heed the call
Of profound intuition where wisdom is stored.

Inclination toward partnership of the close kind
Whether business or marriage is not quite the same
As a genuine wholeness with all who exist
In this world and in spirit. Still I do persist
In pursuing true meaning and not feeling shame
For the act of accomplishing much through the mind.

Going Fishing

Open Season

‘Going Fishing,’ you call it? Why cop the lame code?
‘Nigger Hunting’ is factual… Maybe that’s it.
Speaking truth is beneath you. As predators go,
You take cues from a master who puts on a show
Tailor suited to reignite dormant bullshit.
I don’t want your white bitches nor dicks they done blowed!

You ingest paranoia. Your souls are consumed
By your rabid nightmare that your women we want.
We don’t think like you do nor do we feel compelled
To get that close to trouble when hatred is smelled
At the cusp of encounter. What trash would you flaunt
For your foul smelling caper profusely perfumed?

Take your sick vacant minds and fulfill them with space
So at least there is something to pacify you.
To this world you’re a danger – not only black lives.
We all came from the dark land. Your madness derives
From your factual science. So what will you do?
Lousy bait is your problem. You’re in a tough race.

Jigaboo Flu

Fear Fever

Do you wake with a fever and then want to dance
To a beat nowhere native to what you’d believed?
Are you craving fried chicken and tropical fruit?
Does some cool watermelon become a pursuit
Of increased spontaneity? Are you aggrieved
By the ones who take notice to your circumstance?

These are surely the symptoms of some kind of flu.
What we don’t know about it can do us great harm.
But there is a precaution that works really well
When you fear that upon you is cast a dark spell.
Grab a gun and be violent. Sound the alarm.
Take your fears out on others. That’s what you must do.

The ongoing pandemic is one of the mind.
The bug is just the image of where we have been.
It has brought pain and sorrow. The feeling of grief
That we all deserve freedom can see no relief.
Darkness is overwhelming. We see this again
And again we feel threatened by those not our kind.

This may be just the season that Jigaboo Flu
Will produce ample fever so that it will break

Critical barriers isolating us from
All the people we fear and who we think are scum.
Maybe bloodshed is all that can shock us awake
From the stark social nightmare we’re all living through.

Tending The Harvest

Mental Work of the Field

While at rest at the haystack the peace I behold
In myself and my hard work is what I live for.
Careful planning in detail determines success.
Sharpening of the intellect tempers the stress
As I’m Tending The Harvest. I ask not for more
Than I rightfully need. I am not bought or sold.

And indeed there are helpers. We all get along.
I respect how they treat me, and I respect all.
In the practice of teamwork we all organize
And the fruits of all labor we all recognize
As a blessing bestowed upon we who are small.
Therein such an agreement the business is strong.

Health and safety are prominent in what we plan.
As a part of the process we handle with care
Every thought and emotion among all the team.
Human nature is priceless – not as it may seem
To those considered ‘resources.’ We are aware
Of the essence within all to be who we can.

As we’re Tending The Harvest we take sheer delight
In the light of community as work is done
And as one of the family each is assured
That a loving relationship can be matured.
I will hear what I need from every single one.
We expect that The Harvest will be quite alright.

The Meanth Of Juneteenth

Nationwide Recognition

The true Meanth Of Juneteenth as is seen by the slave
Is a thing of importance. It’s good to be free
Of the chains of damnation of body and mind
By a mass of oppressors among humankind.
Civil wars fought in earnest don’t help us to see
That our cowardice weakens the home of the brave.

As this war rages onward so many see red.
Any bull who shits color is one who is sick
From improper digestion of what’s been made law.
My forefathers were fucked with and what’s worst of all…
Men and women of redness will speak with their dick.
It has been the true master of all the bloodshed.

Looking on to the future I do see but hope.
In the upcoming decades the young will emerge
On the platforms of leadership. All will be fine.
As I celebrate freedom I look for a sign
In the present day madness to temper the scourge
In a manner consistent with how we all cope.

Why can’t we all be human? Yet grossly we are
More or less all depending on whose rights are right.
I can call blacks ‘my people’ because much we share
And with them I am proud to be of those who care
That our wars over freedom may vanish from sight.
Juneteenth is our reminder that we have come far.

Why Did God Make The Clear Man?

Confronting Clarity

Why Did God Make The Clear Man? Their thin see-through skin
Is a damned thing to deal with. Why can’t they wear paint?
We are better than they because we are opaque.
Hopelessly they’re transparent. That God would forsake
Such a group means that part of our species they ain’t!
Have I right to condemn them? And where to begin?

I need something to piss on or rag on about.
It relieves me from feeling that I’m incomplete.
If I point to another all focus drawn there
Will then help me to bypass my own deep despair
That my kind is at war with its baseless conceit.
Any rights they have coming we’re eager to flout.

If you happen to be clear and human do know
That you cannot take personally how we all
Handle fear while we’re human, unless it hits home.
Then it becomes a dark place where demons will roam.
So be clear if you want to. It may be our fall
If we can’t be one species then we should all go.

There can be but one image from which all are made.
Logic clearly must dictate that diversity
Is the integral framework in all that exists.
So the infinite drama of raising our fists
May be as it must happen and always shall be.
Is our moving beyond this forever delayed?

A Truly Selfless Dream

Watered Colors of Life

Dreams are hard to accomplish if making them real
Becomes mostly important. If they’re left alone
To evolve into fantasy, easy they are…
Somewhat like the time when you received your first car.
All it takes is the feeling for dreams to be known
To objective reality. Think how you feel.

If this wisdom I followed myself I would be
In a world of fulfillment much like being dead
To the hell of the physical yet much alive
In the realms of pure spirit. But I must survive
In this real world without seeing it with much dread
And to ponder the dreams of the wise does suit me.

In the ultimate dream I need not to exist
As an entity sharply defined as a part
Of the whole of creation. I am but Aware
With no need for recording all that takes place there
As all there becomes nearness to everyone’s heart.
I may spend this life dreaming. But should I resist?

Accounts Receivable

A Reality of Abundance

Contemplating receiving proceeds toward the dream
Of release from all hassles of knowing our worth
And of infinite pleasure to do as we please
So that living and playing are done with great ease.
Every creature alive now that moves upon earth
Has its own way to get things. Sometimes it’s a scheme.

The assessment of finances can be a chore.
For accounts not receivable money is tight.
Stable means to gain assets escape easy flow
From the fertile subconscious to things we may know
To gain access to treasures concealed in plain sight.
And the trick to receiving is not wanting more.

To enhance how receivables make the accounts
Function well-oiled-machine-like, least toil is advised.
Only focus persistent from deep in the soul
Will suffice for attaining the most valued goal.
It may happen so quickly one may be surprised
By the wellsprings of wealth offered in huge amounts.

The Hidden Revealed

War of Emotions

My inaction is fueled by subconscious desire.
If I act I’m impulsive, excessively so.
What influences me I do not understand
On the cognitive level. The challenge at hand
Is to show what’s been hidden so others may know
That no logical thought does the process require.

Conflict can be dispassionate just as the bliss
When the mind fully present observes and discerns.
It detaches its tether in times of great need
For emotional cleansing. The soul must be freed
Of obsessive behavior so wellness returns.
All that stays in the darkness becomes the abyss.

Hidden aspects of life surface, and they evoke
Intense feelings. My business is not for display.
But the ways we view living should be shared by all
By however we’re gifted. If life does enthrall
Then my purpose is simply to write and obey
All the unseen who guide me and banish my cloak.


Cosmic Interdependence

We are here to support her. That tough girl, oSphere,
Faces fierce opposition from others than us.

What we do is a good thing. As we move through space
We surround her with influence as our embrace.
It reflects our own drama. Her offspring discuss
Way too little of us. It’s the root of their fear.

She’s our loving kid sister. oSphere, like a ball,
Provides something to play with. Do kids treat her well?
We can see that her health suffers from child abuse
In reverse as they use us as their lame excuse.
But we act in accordance not with the same spell
But the one cast upon the behaviors of all.

We could say we’re all family, and it is true
That oSphere needs attention. We do what we can
By performing our drama to show her the ways
Energies interact with free will. You may raise
Your vibration despite drama. That was the plan
And still is through eternity. What will you do?

oSphere is your dear mother. We uncles and aunts
Of your sole local sol group just want you to know
That we’ll keep on performing. The show must go on
So that all of God’s children become sacred spawn
Through divine intervention. Regard our fine show
As our teaching. oSphere has not all that she wants.

Taking Notes

Stimulated Mental Activity

We’ll observe the phenomena from way up high
We breathe in all excitement and radiate far
Throughout all the earth’s fresh air and some not so clean.
All across Mother’s surface we also are seen
To the watchers who see us as something bizarre.
You’re caught up in Her scarred face but we know the sky.

Mercury is Her Messenger. Sounds of the birds
Are an intricate language of elegant grace.
We communicate small talk and thoughts most profound
About your kind and others who freely abound
By Her Majesty’s tolerance. She will embrace
All that come from within Her. Are these soothing words?

Our note taking pragmatic, we go here and there
Collecting as we chatter. That nature and you
Come to some firm agreement that gives Her some peace
Is our most solemn hope. You may find your release
From your perils if you learn the right things to do.
Take a step toward evolving. We think that is fair.

Thoughtless Action

Letting Off Steam

It’s a truth inconvenient. I must let off steam.
In the haste there’s rash action that can cause me harm.
I do need to be careful if I’m feeling fear
That some dastardly threat may decide to appear.
My hair trigger reaction becomes the alarm
By unworthy behavior quite to the extreme.

Any bad situation devolves into worse
When expressing my feelings demands anything
But a clear understanding. It then must evolve
To a good circumstance as the bad will dissolve.
Moodiness may be minded and what it may bring
Is self-worth to the spirit that fear may disperse.

Underlying frustration is hard to control.
Tension surfaces easily. Time is not now
For immersion in meeting with other than me.
If I must be with others it’s best I foresee
That my tried and failed patterns have not worked somehow.
Cognizance of the past may recover my soul.

Feeling motivates action. If keeping it clean
Is a challenge recurring, it must be on me.
I’ll behave in the way I have felt with the mind
Through the heart known completely as one who is kind
Deep inside. As a being I just want to see
My eternal ties to what is seen and unseen.

Spinning In Place

Nervous Energy

Is it me who is spinning while it’s standing still?
Or are things not abnormal and I’m in control?
Stop the top and enlarge it that I may climb on
If I can’t throw and spin it from dusk until dawn.
If and when it stops turning I feel I’ve no goal
But to continue playing as if it’s free will.

I’ll define ‘it’ as everything I am tied to.
If I want to see balance I rely on speed
That can render it weightless. Is this a façade?
It appears to be motionless. This is not odd.
I must maintain momentum yet dare to be freed
From discerning its meaning in all that I do.

It cannot do much damage while Spinning In Place
Being it gets its power form other than me.
It cannot be a play thing since it’s not my own.
Any gratification I’ll gladly postpone
‘Til its spin and my purpose can rightly agree.
If it happens this lifetime I’ll then rest my case.

OutThere Outdareyaquine

The Team Player's Cure

Have you heard of his new drug? It’s really out there.
May our minds remain mangled. We love him to Death!
Anything he suggests not only will we try

But we’ll will our souls to him in case we may die.
The commander is chiefly of virulent breath
And it bothers us not that he just doesn’t care.

May the hoax elevate us in these final days
To the stature of manhood with God on our side.
Who alone can out dare us and keep a cold face?
We don’t care what he’s taking. Therefore no disgrace
Will he earn from we sick ones. We take utmost pride
In our silk-suited orange ape. To him we give praise.

The Fifth Avenue massacre is in full swing
And it takes place all over. No state will be saved.
As he keeps reaching out there he’ll grab the right cure
For ourselves and the unworthy. We shall endure
All that his dare subjects us to. We are depraved.
We’ve no sense of reality nor does our king.

Master Of Skills

The Ideal Environment

Clear, effective objective, perception of facts,
Focused and close attention to every detail,
And a mixture of Magic, The Master at play
Or at work is a marvel. A mindful ballet
Of the art and its pleasure perform to prevail.
All that’s done is for real. There are no conjured acts.

At home in one’s environment, things that take place
Will enthrall and amaze folk and put them at ease
With a psychic excitement that makes in their minds
Fertile field for the growing of dreams of all kinds.
He knows well how to please. In that way he’ll appease
Any audience present within time and space.

Correspondence with clockwork creates right on cue.
To the tempo of oneness, the soul is evolved
Of the moment eternal. Nowhere can one be
But in one’s own creation to rightfully see.
Self-expression in earnest indeed is involved
In profound presentation. Then more one can do.

Handle With Care

Delicate Touch

As I Be, small embarrassments make themselves known,
But to others. Can I rely on their feedback?
Surely so if I trust them. Then why would I not?
Is there something my non-fragile spirit forgot
While delighting in reactive verbal attack
Upon ill-perceived fellows? I am not alone.

As it is, huge expressions of feeling are meant
To elicit behavior. The ones that are small
Are evolved because energy is all that moves
So feelings become mutual. Nothing improves
About living unless I commit to recall
All the goodness that I know that I don’t invent.

Handle me not with justice but only with care.
I’m not on the defensive. The air gives me lift.
The ascension far outward reveals guiding light
As returning to earth from ephemeral height
Brings with it a rewarding spiritual gift.
I have strength of survival, and none need beware.

The Daily Report

Much To Absorb

One who steps as he fetches is not a lame duck
Until cool aided followers come wide awake
To the fact that their leader is one quack away
From becoming a fine dinner served on a tray
For strong people of color and power who’ll take
Everything he may own. Am I in for good luck?

There are more germs on doorknobs than those at the end
Of the standard male organ. Keep Everything clean!
There are doors of all colors still out in the streets

Among those who have none nor that which one excretes.
And does anyone know the difference between
Virulent organisms and those that transcend?

Excuse this interruption… There’s news for your eyes!
This award winning product will make your eyes well.
From the makers of White Sight it makes you see right…!
Now, back to today’s headlines… on into the night.

You and we here can tell you we’re under a spell.
But if you’re not a messenger you may be wise.

And the forecast tomorrow…? It’s gonna get dark
Just the same as today was. There may be a chance
Of some light shown upon us to give all relief.
That is why our profession may make our lives brief.
While engaged with the drama, a delicate dance
Demonstrates that it will be no walk in the park.

The Magic Realist

Definition Of Life

Elements of the magical in what is real
Is how life is prescribed to the realist in me.
What is real is the body. The spirit within
Is the magical essence wherein I begin
The unspeakable journey with eyes that will see
That my life is a blending that I’ll not conceal.

Information is gathered. Existence is made
A magnificent study. Consuming the soul,
Consciousness none can fathom in every detail.
All is made to elude us, and it cannot fail
At prolonging our reaching the ultimate goal
Of profound understanding. This is the crusade.

The critique is implicit. Society calls
For cross examination. The witness is mine
To interrogate faithfully as it withstands
My acute observation and righteous demands.
Realness sanctifies magic. This is by design
Of a much greater spirit who this life enthralls.

We are all prone to magic as real as our sight
May allow life experience freedom to know
Beyond darkest of shadows of lingering doubt
That the magic is in us as well as without.
Let your true heart’s desire set your realness aglow
In this magic reality through divine light.

Inward Harmony

Balance Between Conscious and Subconscious

Do I need to go inward to then run it down?
Or does running it downward come from deep within?
I’m not that good at questions. They do mess me up.
If I think there are answers I need a checkup
From the neck up and further. I’ll take my chagrin
With a smirk of acceptance instead of a frown.

Life is truly harmonious in a pig’s eye
If that eye is within me and does me no harm.
I’m not without when within the depths of my soul.
Does it not mean I can’t behave like an asshole?
I’ll leave that to the poets. I’ll give them alarm
Not because they deserve it. It just gets me high.

But about going inward to seek harmony…
Some achieve it by nature. The old in and out
Is a tried and true method of reaching that goal
But if that’s not an option, you’re not a lost soul.
Going inward eliminates much of the doubt
That my life and its meaning were all meant to be.


Rational And Intuitive Balance

So in touch with my feelings… It kind of gets old
As I am in chronology, but it’s all good.
I am fueled by emotion as I am by thought.
So I need to keep balanced or I will be caught
Between substance and nothingness knocking on wood
That I’ll not lose my spirit. My life may unfold.

Both the masculine and feminine are at peace
In the objective psyche when in a deep state
Of the soul’s contemplation. Life begs to endure
All that is that will lead it to something more pure.
All is done of free will, but also there is fate.
I need not solve the puzzle. My will I release.

Heart and mind in agreement of something each sees
In ways totally different is best achieved
Through thoughtless interaction with feelings that stir
In the subconscious sea. This I much would prefer
To engaging the drama with fear interweaved.
Perfect balance is normal with none to appease.

I Poet Because I Owe It

The Consumate Writer

Who would hijack a good noun and make it a verb?
If speak of that ‘P’ word some folks get upset.
When they do I’ll take verbs and convert them to nouns
Just to mess with their menses and make them wear frowns.
I’m a true Magic Realist. Do not forget
That when I get my Real on I’m meant to perturb.

  So, I Poet! I know it’s the right thing to do.
Spirit constantly tells me I’m on the right track.
All the world’s English scholars may wince and complain
While maintaining that I’m not that noun. I will gain
Recognition… or not. Intellectual flack
Of the harshest kind ever can’t make me feel blue.

And I Owe It to myself, in fact, everyone
May get some entertainment and inspiration
To explore Magic Realism as it plays out
In their own life experiences. I’ve no doubt
That my work is of benefit because it’s fun.
As I Poet, a new lease on life has begun.

Guess Who Won’t Stay For Dinner

Righteous Non-Invitation

Have your maid take the day off. Yourselves you can feed.
To self-examination that’s long overdue
She has made a commitment. Her spirit must grow
Past apparent illusion. Herself she must know
As a part of creation not meant for the few
But for all the world’s populous. Great is her need.

Don’t rely on your house guest to stay for the meal.
Though he has scored the greatest points among his kind
And all people in general, still there’s no place
At your bountiful table. Before you say grace
Take a look at who’s missing wherein you will find
Many people much less than with whom you can’t deal.

No proposed invitation to those who are poor
And without education and not of your race
And whose lives aren’t spectacular can be allowed
To ensure your complacency. All must be proud
To commune and be with you. Your warmest embrace
Is reserved not for all who may come to your door.

What’s it like to be human for those who are not
Fully part of the kingdom? Who would want to ask?
How ideal is a movie script from long ago
With regard to reality? Some few may know
And for others in these times who wear the face mask
It’s a mark of distinction our species has caught.

Restore And Rejuvenate

Facing Familiarity

As without, so within; as above, so below.
If there’s turmoil identified is it in me?
Do the streets in my vision see fire and brimstone?
Is there hatred outside me, or is it my own?
Thank God I have no TV yet trouble I see
Way more than what is needed but less than I know.

Things that are most familiar and closest at hand,
Like the people I know and love, give me some peace.
I’ll depend on relationships and make them strong.
To ourselves and to everyone we all belong.
No whitewash on a brick wall can offer release
Of the deep rooted tension I can’t understand.

My instincts are creative for bad or for good.
I alone get to choose which one that it will be.
There’s no heat in the moment nor is there a chill.
How one interacts socially is by free will.
Were we made and put down here to all disagree?
It makes no sense to heart nor mind. Who says it should?

We treat animals badly. Perhaps it starts there.
Being harmful to people then isn’t too far
From the general premise that some are not worth
A good place in society or on the earth.
Who would dare to conclude we know not who we are?
What besides our aggression can we hope to share?

We’ll achieve restoration. Some time it will take
For the soul’s evolution and replenishment
Of the spirit communal. We can’t get along
As long as we make certain groups out to be wrong
Due to race, creed, or class. We compel our descent
As one treacherous species. When will we awake?

Just Move On

No Alternative Solution

Cheek is like filthy underwear turned inside out.
All the news that is breaking brakes only the heart.
Turmoil is hard to deal with. I can’t digest it.
Jesus Christ wore his cheek well. He was more than fit
For tremendous and horrid abuse from the start.
Moving On is one blessed thing he was about.

It’s as if it’s a chess game played with black and white.
Some will offer their redness to crank up the heat.
It’s no more complicated, this sick human game,
Than the mind of the devil. Indeed they’re the same.
One must count on insuring the other’s defeat.
The bone chilling hate drama exalts this dark night.

I keep news at a distance as I do the cold.
Yet it seeps in through crevasses. I crave it not.
I am not good at chess, and I don’t want to be
A black piece on a game board my eyes cannot see.
Turning cheek is an exercise that helps a lot.
A new facing direction is worth more than gold.

As it was since times ancient, I’ll carry my cross
With the strength that is given me by divine light
That shines down on us all. There’s no need for alarm.
If I think I can play this I’ll do myself harm.
The next move is not mine. I am given new sight
Just to move on to peace. I shall suffer no loss.

An Adequate Chance

Emotional Mystique

I can work well with others as well as alone.
Either way I’m a leader. I’m given the chance
To command my behavior and do what is right.
I’m not working toward fame or a self-righteous fight.
Life does not have me gripped by the seat of my pants.
Into what I’ve created my purpose is thrown.

Passion enters my life in a positive way
And awakens impulses most naturally.
I can do what is needed, but I can’t proceed
To fulfill needs of others. Misuse I must heed
Of my God given talents. Indeed I must be
At my best for performing my act every day.

I am apologetic to no one unless
There is fault that is evident. Casual peace
In my social affairs with sophistication
And with provident grace I can get the job done.
It is good that my pent up intention release
To enhance my encounters but not to excess.

Dear Lord


Oh, Dear Lord, I have sorrow. My knowledge of you
I had taken for granted. I did not believe
In your infinite power to soothe people’s pain.
And your name far too often I’d taken in vain.
There is hate in my heart. I don’t want to deceive
The clear root of my problem. I’ve much work to do.

You had made my life easy, but I made it hard
Through my self-righteous arrogance to those you made
In your pure loving image. We all are the same.
It’s a shame I’d not seen that. And what is to blame
Is my untethered ego. My lonely crusade
Is no match to what you do for souls who are scarred.

Born into a good family blessed by your love,
I could be much more thankful. You gave unto me
A fresh start and a comfort that many don’t know.
Now I ask that your love make my heart overflow
With your wisdom and kindness. My eyes cannot see
That all hope in these troubled times comes from above.

Among teachers you’ve placed me. I see in their hearts
What it means to be human and how to live well
With strong faith in your providence. Peace I behold
In the midst of their struggle. From you they are told
That our lives are a blessing where goodness may dwell.
My belief in you, Lord, is where happiness starts.

A Sober Answering

Status Hunger

Emotions are controllable for the most part
But it takes constant focusing on how I feel.
With each moment that passes the balance I seek
Keeps my consciousness busy. My soul may be weak
While at large as a game piece in what is surreal.
If I fear that I’m fearful do I have a heart?

With strong faith and endurance I carry the day
As I follow directions. Painstaking detail
Is a part of my makeup, yet I make mistakes.
Complicated technology gives me no breaks
So in anger I’ll take them. My life will prevail
Despite ‘notifications’ that get in my way.

Living used to be simple. It can’t be today.
There are too many people so robots are made
For expert babysitting and forming a shield
Between people and services. Out of left field
Comes another distraction, then focus has strayed
To some issue made urgent that won’t go away.

There’s a stark Sober Answering to nature’s call
To return to simplicity in how we live.
And to her it’s an insult – a slap in the face
From an arrogant species fluent in disgrace.
I can’t sync my frustration strongly combative
To my soul’s evolution without feeling small.

Power To Make A Difference

Enhanced Ability To Influence Others

Some may state with conviction that we have no rights.
And it’s true. We all know it yet say it’s not so.
It’s a knee jerk reaction. We don’t speak the worst
Because it’s not ‘appropriate.’ Strong is the thirst
For exposing all falsehood and every sideshow
That’s designed to deceive as our patience ignites.

Worked up into a fever and hitting the streets
In attempting to cause change to happen is bold.
Like the shades of a rainbow we channel the light
Of a new understanding. We gain more insight
Into what works in contrast to what’s become old.
We can’t watch life on TV while drunk in our seats.

All the power within us combines to confront
What we know as injustice in broadest daylight.
We need not match the arrogance offered by those
Of the current crime syndicate. We do oppose
The defeat of democracy. That Is Our Right.
Can we wait while establishment pulls the next stunt?

Our authority natural is by decree.
Proclaiming We The People are stronger than they
Who are few and untidy in how they behave,
We will yet come together to ride the new wave
Of compassion and sanity. Unto that day
We will act much in unison and with esprit.

Just A Kind Word

The Harmonizer

Socializing for business or pleasure may be
Put on hold and made distant for safety concerns.
These times are indeed fortunate. Going within
One’s own personal nature is surely no sin.
Harmonizing with others is fine, but one learns
That acquainting with selfhood can set the heart free.

With the ones in my world I cooperate well
But too rarely do satisfaction I maintain.
Folks find me entertaining when I’m on a roll.
I receive inspiration from deep in my soul
So that from interacting there is much to gain.
Words expressed with some kindness is not a hard sell.

On this day I will get out and go for a stroll.
Everyone that I meet I will greet with a smile
And a word of compassion if that’s what it takes
To ensure I’m connected. The spirit awakes
From the slumber of solitude. And for a while
I will be a lot closer to feeling I’m whole.

The Cycle Unending

Eternal Drama

Life is blissful, ecstatic, and consummate fun.
Why would one want to end the ongoing process
Of eternal becoming? No sense does this make.
It would seem we are here first of all to partake
Of life’s infinite joy, then to learn and express
Loving kindness and thankfulness to everyone.

Clearly this is the take on life that is preferred
By all who, conscientious of what life can mean,
See that all the world’s masses have something to share
Among intimate circles. Life is an affair
Of relations with others whose living is seen
As a wholesome communion where spirit is stirred.

Do I speak what is true here, or am I deceived
By a sarcastic premise that isn’t the norm?
I cannot know the answer. My mind isn’t clear.
It may be that my knowing is nestled in fear
That I’m one of the sick few who cannot conform
Despite tried and false efforts to be well received.

How does life unfold for those whose efforts are true
To the mark of acceptance by all humankind?
Does it play along smoothly with gloom now and then?
Is it handled appropriately if and when
It occurs? It’s true that to each soul is assigned
Certain lessons to learn that it may not get to.

So the cycle continues as it is believed
By at least many people. To some, it’s the end…
Like a story book closed and put back on the shelf.
No one knows quite for sure what to make of oneself.
We’re all steeped in a circumstance we can’t transcend
But through some sort of practice of spirit conceived.

Some may then find a stairway to something beyond.
A release from the dark pool and into the light
Is a thing one may strive for so living can be
One big step toward promotion to realms that are free
Of more lessons in living and gaining insight.
Until then, to this earth there’s a natural bond.

Communicable Heart

Sensitivities Linked To Communication

Something pulled from the anus to gift humankind
Is of maximum benefit. No one complains
Of the odor contingent nor toxic effect
Of the degrading process that stains self-respect.
One who offers a bathing may go through great pains
Yet encounter resentment which then blows his mind.

Who maintains the illusion? Indeed, is there one?
Is it I who supports what I can’t understand?
Or is there a world order of which I’m apart
That surpasses my knowledge and alien heart?
I can sense severe effort by how I demand
What it is that I’m missing. What is to be done?

If excessive and useless describes what I give
And/or how I present it then how do I err?
Spirit says if there’s struggle then it’s a sure clue
That I’m far off my path in the thing that I do.
I could leave life alone, but that wouldn’t be fair.
There must be some solution that I can then live.

Where I am in life matters itself to no one
But the eternal spirit internal among
Other selves now alive in dimensions unknown
That belong to me also. They need not be shown
To this self nor to others. The virulent tongue
Is the grandest illusion that’s ever begun.

What is communicated is straight from my heart
Made of flesh and of substances I can’t describe.
I need not live in worry of not being heard.
There are no ears to hear. Perhaps that is preferred.
There are none I’m among now to claim as my tribe.
To the thick fecal air I have much to impart.