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Have A Great Weekend!

Utter Helplessness

My last shift in the ER has left me a wreck
So, I don’t know if I can put out much today.
How’s your friend in oncology? ‘Heard that she’s bi-
But that’s none of my business. I’d bang her while high….
We do have a new patient right here, by the way
And whatever he’s got, he’s a pain in my neck!

He’s assigned to nurse Nuisance and Doctor Derange.
How about them damned Hayseeds. They shocked us once more!
“Everybody! We’re planning potluck for next week.
This job is such a hazard, as some patients wreak.”

Who’s that blond bitch I saw you with on the ninth floor?
Though it don’t seem like Friday, it doesn’t feel strange.

“Oh, this guy is a nutcase. Let’s step from his sight…
All he wants is attention. So What he’s in pain!”
We shall gift him no comfort. By fate he is here

And our subconscious mercy most rooted in fear
That a sense of compassion can lead to no gain.
Can you scorn our behavior because it’s not right?

How can you for a heartbeat not see it our way?
Sickness is complicated and vital business.
Interwoven, our tissue is the need to hate
On the grandest scale, focused toward those who don’t rate
Protection from predation. We need not confess.
Patience does that well for us when pushed to the fray.

Air Apparent

Desolation

What we leave to our children is what was left us.
It’s the same earth and climate, but how it evolves
On our watch, at our mercy, is ours to ensure.
Have we done a fair job, and is our conscience pure
With no semblance of guilt? Our uncaring dissolves
Any hope of a future that we can discuss.

Have I opened my eyes wide to all to be seen
In some part of a lifetime most present and sane?
How do I speak of sanity? I know it not
From a hole in the ozone we just plum forgot.
What is sane is unspeakable profit and gain
And success in the moment. I must see past green.

We have made Air Apparent in its toxic state
A dysfunctional challenge to posterity.
Have we made them the wise ones who must take control
Because we, as their leaders, are bereft of soul?
Should our own self-undoing strong-arm us to see,
Can we earn back respect, or is it much too late?

Underbelly Of The Crab

Extreme Emotional Turmoil

We’re to know what we don’t want to know what we do.
This concise definition of hell is complete
And effective an antidote to anything
That defies explanation. This mantra can bring
Clarity to the chaos and make it look neat.
Though its nature is fluid, we can see right through.

Everything is connected. The stars and ideals
That we’ve made archetypal through countless eons,
And events correlated and recorded well,
All configure collective subconscious and tell
How things may come to pass and how one’s life responds
To the Clock of the cosmos. This way, the soul heals.

One may not have belief in this practice at all
Nor the least bit of interest. It works anyway!
Infinite are the probable worlds that exist.
Lines of truth intersect all. Not one world is missed.
Fate and free will are integral forces at play.
Who can know what may happen? It’s anyone’s call.

 Cancer’s are often crab-like and look like the moon.
We’re a nation of phases reflecting outward
To reveal to the world our true face at all times,
And our dark underbelly that speaks of our crimes,
To ourselves and to others. Those whose lives we’ve scarred
Will someday see some justice. I wish that were soon.

With our Mars squaring Neptune, we can play the fool,
When through bold self-deception we sustain our needs.
As Saturn squares our Sun, we pay highly for fun.
Mercury’s opposition to Pluto is one
Aspect of our group thinking that most surely leads
To world class mis-attention and much ridicule.

Moving More Matter

Conundrum of Movement

The reason that the universe is hard to know
In its absolute realness is that it’s not real.
It exists to contain us and is made of thought
To maintain the impression we in spirit bought
As The perfect illusion. Our senses conceal
What the soul knows as spirit so that we may grow.

Everything made of substance that senses behold,
On the tiniest level, is nothing but pure
Mathematical formulae… truly abstract.
So, compounded abstraction is taken for fact.
We embrace the preclusion that it may endure
Until some better breakthrough is due to unfold.

Unfolding is a movement of things, as they are
Synchronized in connection and interwoven.
It expands subtle fabric that spirit has made.
It is by our design that true sight is delayed
Perhaps until returning to where we had been.
With such manner of movement, one can’t go too far.

Having thus been created from nothingness, we
Are made of the same building blocks nature provides.
To add to the confusion, we make it make sense
Through the rational process and some scant pretense.
Each, as part of the whole, is the one who decides
Their own place in reality and how to see.

A Virgin Puzzle

Mutable Earth

Is movement of matter a matter of movement?
It’s the quest of those mutable to rearrange
Things into simple structures that can grow complex
At the whim of the crafter. All things are subjects
In my cognitive kingdom. To who am I strange?
To determine what’s movable is time well spent.

I wish I could move anything. Some things I can’t.
They require special skill or much talent or both.
I can’t learn to move all things. No one can do that.
But a few things I move well. I have them down pat.
Some things move far beyond me. I’ve taken an oath
To stay focused on one thing and make it my chant.

Words are easily moveable as they exist
In the sea of the intellect. Simple creatures,
They obey their commander with dutiful grace.
My intent rains upon them. They fall into place
And perhaps could be of value to schoolteachers.
Would the world be at ease were that notion dismissed?

Am I proud I’m a virgin untouched by the seed
Of the animal circle? I’m well interlinked
With all motion existent throughout the cosmos.
The mind is not a womb for the world to prognose
Lest the self and the word become too indistinct.
Life proceeds as a puzzle wherein I am freed.

Why Am I Here?

Struggle For Existence

All of life on this earth is sponsored by the sun.
Without it, evolution could never take place.
Women’s bodies and water are linked to earth’s moon.
They would never bear children were they not attuned
To its movement. All is, as a function of grace,
A perfected geometry craftily spun.

Laws of physics are finite yet stable and strong
To ensure a reality we can believe
Is as real as no other, imagined or not.
Can we learn any more from them or are they fraught
With inscrutable essence? To them, I’m naïve
In my quest to gain knowledge. Yet, here I belong.

That which comes into being is from that which was
Of another reality now quite unknown.
It evolves to peak balance and stays there a while.
Something of such enormity none can defile.
A brief speck in the cosmos, I am not alone
Among earthly inhabitants of the first cause.

The Mark Of Great People?

Fountainhead

It has done us some harm to sustain the belief
That we can’t be in heaven while still on this earth.
What it does is effectively let us forget
We can do much for ourselves with minimal sweat
To achieve what is best here and true to our worth.
Heaven is stolen from us, and we are the thief.

Much of heaven in this life means plenty of rest
But not too much. The body can take what it needs.
Exercising and eating well… All can be done
To maintain the life game and to score a homerun.
We succeed not through misery because our deeds
Seen by others seem those of people who are stressed.

Consciousness is a candle. In each the flame burns
Bringing that which is unseen into better sight.
As each candle gets closer, the light grows in size.
It illuminates everything. All become wise
To the Dark Psychic Forces that lean too far white.
Those who stand with integrity ease our concerns.

Dark Matter – Dark Energy

Interplay of Dark and Other Forces

It’s the beleaguered baryon brought forth and bathed
In a soup of some essence known only to God.
Of the whole soup, only a small bit we can see.
What is most of what’s not is called Dark Energy.
How do they know it’s not then? It seems rather odd
That we’d managed the big loss quite largely unscathed.

What becomes a Dark Matter is not to be seen
And is labeled mysterious. It interacts
With no resident substance nor energy source.
It holds big things together by some unknown force.
Standard exotic particles are browns and blacks.

Can a dirty old theory be made to look clean?

Who are the vast majority? Who are the few
Grossly visible and in great need of control?
Can dark forces be sorted out to the degree
That quantum resolution can set us all free?
What we make of this Dark Matter is of the soul.
What we can’t wrap our minds around often is true.

Nominal Ecology

Simplicity of Names

Some would call him John, Elton… others, Elton John.
Either part is a first name… or last name, it seems.
The whole name is exchanged for a whole different one.
Due to image cosmetics or done just for fun,
Names become an economy steeped in extremes
Of flamboyance and freedom and what they may spawn.

Those whose last names are first names are people of class.
Woody Allen, Vince Neil and Will Lee are a few
Of the ones become popular to a degree.
Those with last names for first names are definitely
Born to be perhaps rustic with rakish a view.
A name like Taylor Swift is a name that kicks ass.

If my first name or last name or whole name, in fact,
Is not one I’d have chosen, a change must be made
That does not call for action. I need only see
I’m related to Shakespeare, and we both agree
That our names are like name tags. Yet, they can’t degrade
The aware and wise owner whose worth is intact.

Become A Powerful Human Being

Union of Human and Cosmic Power

Human hands hold potential. They are the control.
Like the mouse to computer, they do many things.
When the energy system is tuned properly
We can know this in ways we don’t usually.
As we use our hands rightfully, good things this brings.
The slightest movement of them will touch every soul.

One whole fifth of our energy goes to the brain.
There, it can dissipate through our incessant thought
And reactions to living and anxieties.
If we spoke less and meditated, this would ease
The poor brain of its workout. When no longer fraught,
It will stop wasting energy much to our gain.

So, do that which is necessary and with grace
To oneself and to others. Power, we can know,
Is about being empowered. Domination,
Often taken for true power, truly has none.
It takes only some practice and patience to grow.
Notwithstanding my station, power I embrace.

Always Make The Right Decision

Enigma of Choice

How do I make decisions? Sometimes with some stress.
That’s because when I make them, they are right or wrong.
But, who then makes that judgment? Does anyone know?
Right and wrong are each concepts evasive, although
When I take life at ease and just carry along
With a pure heart, there’s nothing I need to confess.

My exam paranoia I could deal with first.
Many levels of conflict in life I can make.
And in living that way, I’m reluctant to move.
If I make a mistake, others will disapprove.
Should I err, then in joyfulness, I shall partake
Of the most gracious lesson and not be accursed.

Those who think they are right fairly much of the time
May well turn into tyrants who dictate what’s right.
I don’t need to do right things. I need only be
In a right place with others and also with me.
For some eons, the question is used to ignite
Tribal conflict instead of the peace paradigm.

Animals are exclusive. They need boundaries.
Nature makes them that way, yet what sets us apart
Is that we are inclusive. We strive to be more
Than our limited views often leading to war.
Life for us means involvement in soul, mind and heart
With the whole of existence as we reach for keys.

Symptoms Of A Sick Mind

Fantasy Flight

We’re a high-flying species. We take to the air
That grows ever more toxic. All there is to eat
Is of minimal value to what bodies need.
Our perverted economy is ruled by greed.
So, to deal with our ailments, our fate is complete
With reliance on big pharma and managed care.

Were my hand to betray me and strike at my head
One would say I’ve a problem. I’d have to agree.
Yet, the mind beats the crap out of all that we are.
That it would create illness is not so bizarre.
Our own science has proven this to some degree.
On the whole, our humanity remains mislead.

The external conditions we cannot control.
It takes painstaking effort, then most must agree.
We have made illness natural, and of wellness
We have cast to the wayside for some sick success.
We can know this and take action to the degree
That we’re grounded in nature. That can be our goal.

Phallusy

Ornate Provocation

Logic is ever phallic. It is of the mind.
An affirmed web of meaning for unruly speech
Is something we deem vital in making good sense.
We begin with an argument that needs defense.
We assume that attack is the fate bound to each.
So, to speak means to make war as it is defined.

Phallusy takes effect when emotions are stirred.
They contaminate logic. It then must respond
With its cold, calculating assessment of heart.
Words can hold us together or blast us apart.
I rely on the former to take me beyond
The confines of pure logic. This is much preferred.

Not a feeling I know of obeys a rule book.
Every soul needs expressing, each in its own way.
Words that spew through the phallus of logic are meant
For sustaining our battles. With verbal content,
Those who use words to bend logic have more to say.
Meaning makes its own methods to not be mistook.

Testimony

Paragon of Patriotism

I once did serve my country… not as a Marine
But a navy radar tech of enlisted class.
It was more than a job for me, though it was that.
It’s to those who face danger I take off my hat.
Most Marines I knew were all about kicking ass.
They’re the noblest of creatures this nation has seen.

They can get loud and boisterous when drunk in a bar.
I’d prefer not to be near them when they’re that way.
I would trust no one else, though, were I in distress.
They will leap into harm’s way with no second guess.
Truly they are united. That’s how it will stay.
All Marines are of one heart. Divided we are.

I can tell a Marine when not in uniform.
One can sense their commitment in all that they do.
Loyalty is to duty. That’s all that life means.
Any wimp that can choose to cast doubt on Marines
Is perhaps one entangled in living untrue
To oneself or the nation caught up in the storm.

Breaking Up

Image Scatting

Are there but fifty ways to re-sing an old song
Before there’s no more flavor like over-chewed gum?
To depend on the song writer or the girlfriend
Or professional actor astute at pretend
Is to take foolish guidance. The heart will become
Battle weary and broken. Something has gone wrong.

“How to undo the loving?” The hurt or bored ask.
Heartbreak is something everyone has to go through.
Why then should we go through it? It’s good to get free
Of the fear of commitment. The hope we can see
Is that serial heartbreak escapes but the few.
We must trust in another. …Why such a grave task?

Nature guides our behavior as we come of age.
From then on, with our species, the earth has its fill.
Within healthy companionship humans survive.
We may act as we’re animals, yet we’re alive
To do so more aesthetically and with free will.
Any two can be more as each come to engage.

Living Stress-Free

Finding Calm in the Chaos

I am doing my work, boss. I know it’s your time.
But I am the one responsible for my health.
I must keep in alignment the three parts of me –
Physical, mental and that of my energy.
How I respect my being determines your wealth.
I can’t share your concern. That would be quite a crime.

Lucid Living is what I most want to achieve.
Throughout most of my waking life, I want to be
In a kind of a deep sleep, but only inside
While outwardly, my beingness can’t be denied.
A stressed worker can’t work well. Proof you need not see.
Put your faith in my wholeness. In that I believe.

My pulse is a fine timepiece. It is not a bomb
That will respond to pressure by holding stress in
Or by forcing the tension to get through the day.
My work in that case may cause you loss and dismay.
Just another five minutes, boss, then I’ll begin
What I’ll then find delightful. So, please remain calm.

Duodenal Diesel

Incongruance of Purpose

We’re Duodenal Diesel. We suck from earth’s gut
Her most coveted resources without a care
For her health and wellbeing. We Do This For You!
We believe our dear mother deserves a good screw.
We excel at earth fucking. We’re known everywhere
As your Whole Earth co-owner with motives clear-cut.

Volatile amber liquid as toxic as tea
Brewed to putrid perfection, it moves resources
And your fat asses hither… then thither and yon.
Asses continue moving from dusk until dawn…
Then again into sunset. Habit enforces
Numbing of your perceptions so that you won’t see.

All our moving about on this earth has become
An erect carbon footprint that points to the sky.
Movement does cause excitement for such phallic drive.
Ill-prepared for the climax, we may not survive.
But at least we’ll not care about wondering why
To Duodenal Diesel we should not succumb.

Independence

Much More Time Than a Life

A dick dipped in molasses attracts oral sex
But from creepy creatures not concerned with one’s meat.
…Odd that people don’t get that. They’re doomed to dick dip
Into exotic substances. Good dickmanship
Means that one keeps one’s dick not averse to retreat
From the sky burst of color to pay due respects.

As all patriots do on the fourth of July
I will spend some time watching the fireworks display.
Many times before, I celebrated with pride.
But today, somehow, pride in my country has died.
I don’t care what’s been happening nor what folks say
About just about anything. My, What A Sky!

It’s just my way of bitching. It’s but a few sense.
To pay much more attention to this would be great!
Living colorful powder may light up my sky.
I must know that I’m willing to live, do or die,
Through the elegant chaos that we recreate
As the clock tick defining offense and defense.

Android Emotion

Uncertainty of Technological Friendliness

Does my droid need emotion or just a swift kick
Up its digital tailpipe to give it some class?
It’s a sweet, sleek and sultry bitch with a loud charm.
Every frigging five minutes it sounds its alarm.
I don’t get what it’s telling me. I’ll take a pass
On new nuisance technology programmed to dick.

So, I must ‘get to know’ you? Are you now my mate?
You don’t seem all that human, but that you’re an ass.
You draw forth deep emotion from inside of me.
Were that your makers shared it only partially,
There would be resolution and change. But alas,
To be human means making things that irritate.

Though a dwindling minority, those of my kind
Have a keen observation of what’s taking place.
All I need from a smartphone is that it knows well
Who’s the boss of it. If not, it shall go to hell.
Vacuum data collectors will fall in disgrace
As our tissue technology is undermined.

It’s A Hell Of A Mantra, But Fuck It!

Frustration With Technology

Is the mass-produced smartphone that fails in a year
A fit toy to include in a box of corn flakes?
When it, on its own, places calls, what should I do?
Those damned things have a sex life. They’re willing to screw
With an old, flesh and blood man. They make their mistakes
Due to vengeful young code geeks whose motives are clear.

My solution is Fuck It! I’m on my way out
So I’d give a sick rat’s ass were I to be kind.
But I’m not. I am fed up with technology
Engineered to insult and to embarrass me.
Fuck this Damned generation, ill-mannered and blind
To what is truly social. Clearly you have doubt.

I don’t need a damned ‘escort’ to hurry me on
To my ending. But Fuck It! Your ways can’t be changed.
Degradation of humanness, as my demise,
Is a function of nature. That’s not a surprise.
Obsolescence, the dark cloud that keeps me estranged
To the real world, will be here long after I’m gone.

The Past Remains The Past

Realization in Defeat

“How did I come to marry you?” is what she asked.
She had past life regression hypnotherapy.
Ever since then, my life has been turned upside down.
Why I’m out in the forest and wearing a frown
Is because there’s no reason that she should leave me.
She should love who I am now. The past remains masked.

Holding on to someone who one’s been with before
To some seems quite romantic. Some people feel stuck
In a bad situation. What Purgatory!
I should want to be with you so that I can see
All the good things about you now – not those that suck,
Nor the things of another life. Those I’ll ignore.

Once it was in the feudal times people were seen
As a function of their family and its worth.
People weren’t seen for who they are. They were objects,
More or less, so it seems we’ve evolved in aspects
Of the ways that we view life. A love life of mirth
Is the one lived in this time with outlook pristine.

Fear Of Judgment

Ominous Unknown Nature of Fear

If someone says I’m wonderful, I’m on a cloud,
At least for that fresh moment. Then when I’m around
Folks who know and dislike me, they’ll tell me I’m crap.
When I step back and look at this, what a damned trap!
When the heart is a harlot on life’s battleground,
Then it can’t love in freedom, nor can it be proud.

The collapsing of heaven and hell in the minds
Of a population no longer in need of
Information established leaves us to conclude
We are free to create each. With much gratitude
I may bless the judgmental as creatures of love
Even though they are fettered by faults of all kinds.

When I catch myself judging, as I have just now,
I can know that, contingent to who we all are,
Judgment can be a sickness as well as a tool.
One who responds to judgment will end up the fool.
In my own heart I must believe I’m up to par.
To have others control that, I cannot allow.

Why Suffering?

Hopelessness of Suffering

Take a close look at suffering – not yours or mine
But the hell of the hopeless. No matter what kind
Of dark cloud overcomes one, all translate to pain.
And it all has but one source. Through profit and gain
Few have grabbed up most resources. Most are resigned
To the struggle the gamble in life does assign.

We may call ourselves human, but what’s in a name?
Like Hell’s Angels, we rev up the atmosphere with
Our own brand of excitement despite nature’s nerves.
Have we not come to learn that our Mother deserves
Peace and silent cooperation? It’s a myth
That we’re separate beings and not all the same.

Every morsel that enters this body today
Is connected to some stomach writhing in need.
Every good time relates to the drug overdose.
Taking time to acknowledge that, I can get close
To an understanding of the nature of greed.
It is best that I eat well, but after I pray.

Cost Of Living

Signal to Noise Ratio

Governmental machinery takes care of things
Like our vast infrastructure and military.
We are certified born as we’re certified dead.
That which cannot be corporatized will instead
Be dismissed as irrelevant and legally
Free of interconnection with government strings.

We chose capitalism in democracy.
Perhaps it’s not the best way, but we can’t turn back.
Socialism was tried, and though it sounds ideal,
It is most detrimental for folks who are real
In the lives they are living, languid in their lack
Of a sense of fulfillment most wholeheartedly.

We can’t turn back because, stepping off the road tread
Into different directions, we end up nowhere.
A free market is this world and life as we know.
Government complicates both, so progress is slow.
Can we build an economy focused on care
That the cost of our living is nothing to dread?

Why Good People Don’t Get Anywhere

Helping thee Helpless

Goodness knows there are good folk found most everywhere.
They consider themselves not particularly
Beatific in nature. They do what feels right.
It does not seem a burden. It seems a delight
To do kind acts of service most wholeheartedly
For those who are quite willing and able to care.

There’s a counterfeit goodness that makes people ill.
It’s the notion that some things are good and some bad.
As we develop labels and take to our sides,
Nothing of what is goodness inside us resides.
When goodness must rely on badness, it is sad.
It is much like a sickness brought forth through our will.

If I’m good, I’m not hungry. My stomach is full.
But the others are starving. So they must be bad.
As I pray for them, if I take righteous delight
In their suffering, what craziness makes that right?
Which goodness liberates one becomes one’s comrade.
Those addicted to goodness are steeped in the bull.

The Definition Of Is

A caricature of Clinton, the master sophist

The past tense of will be is the now tense of was
When is has the same meaning as is always has.
Although is is of present tense, is can get past
The court of raw opinion. Need one be aghast
By how words can be worm like? Much in as much as
Is is ripe for discussion, is fits in our laws.

As is was in the first place, is is as it’s been.
Is can be unspecific and tricky a verb
When used just in the right way spoken with a tongue
Impregnated with quicksilver mixed well with dung.
If is isn’t the issue, why should is perturb
Anyone if it’s used as a tool now and then?

 Is is as it is because is always will be
Though it can’t be until is is something perceived
As a thing of some essence imagined or real.
There is something within is no sense can reveal.
When an air of confusion is rightly achieved,
The is who’s most important turns out to be me.

Exam Fear

Examination Anxiety

I’m somewhat unprepared, therefore, I appear scared.
Had I known that my whole life would be an exam,
I would not have entered into such a contract
Such that fear overcomes me with stunning impact.
My life I feel as study. In earnest I cram
For the uncertain moment. Why can’t I be spared?

Flight instructors will turn off the engine in flight
Unbeknownst to the student. One must be prepared
To notice when there’s danger and how to react.
There is tension involved. That remains a cold fact.
Life and death situations are equally shared
Among all of life’s students, whether wrong or right.

Suppose that the flight teacher notices no fear
And the student performs all the actions required.
Many teachers, in kindness, would express concern
That a fear about dying the odd one should learn.
Fear as qualification should not be desired
As the keystone of learning. That’s rather austere.

Memorize and regurgitate, then make the grade.
We promulgate deception. What is the purpose
Other than to look better compared to the rest?
It’s no trick for the mindless to pass a damned test!
When someone else’s failure leads to my smugness
What a mockery of education we’ve made!

Failure in the small story can cause some lament
For a brief moment. The qualifications of
Alertness and a willingness to fully know
What it is that excites people will make them grow.
Opportunity fits like the hand in the glove
To those free of Exam Fear who live in content.

Silicon Mind

TheMagicRealist.com

AI has been a part of our world for a while.
A digital infection of technology
Will quite soon overwhelm us and take away jobs.
Will there be consolation for whom the bot robs?
A profound transformation, most definitely,
Is what we are now faced with. Are we in denial?

We evolve from a time when we take certain pride
In how well we remember and figure out things.
Machines now do much better all that we can do.
There’s no use for the intellect. Can this come true?
Not At All! Only comfort technology brings.
We may all take vacations and travel worldwide.

We need not become lazy nor fearful that we
May become something or other not to our good.
People will value what kind of people we are
Instead of how much mental skill makes us a star.
Machines will out-perform us. Those who know they should
Will look forward to great times for humanity.

Human intelligence is of a different kind.
It remains fundamental and rather unique
In that it creates servants who then procreate
In a manner consistent with our hopeful fate.
There will be time to find what of spirit we seek.
Which is better designed? The machine or the mind?

A World Post Humanity

TheMagicRealist.com

If the insect species suddenly went extinct
All the rest of life on earth would cease to exist
In a matter of months. But if humans were gone
All of life that would remain would see a new dawn!
Putting two twos together, the drift can’t be missed.
We’re an arrogant species who’ve been out hoodwinked.

We are shown from a young age that we must survive.
That means strength in aggression toward one’s enemies
Is the way to succeeding at living life well.
If we chose to defile nature, where do we dwell?
Creation pays as much attention to the bees
As she does to our species. Who gets the high-five?

Earth will miss other creatures before missing us.
We are good for her in that we make fine manure.
Other than that, we’re detrimental to her plan.
Should we self-destruct, surely she’s better off than
If we hung around making her fresh air impure.
Violent reaction from her remains prenuncious.

Microscopic we are even in the cosmos.
Our bright sun is a tiny speck. Who then are we
But self-super-sized beings with much self-esteem?
This problem is no simple one. It’s most extreme
Because we’re causing damage. Most don’t want to see
That we are much the illness we should diagnose.

Dealing With Desire

Draw attention to the surreality of desire

My desire is the cause of my sorrow and pain.
I’ve heard that, but not recently. Does this ring true?

If it does, then I’m hopeless. I’d much rather be
Incorrect in recalling. It would seem to me
That there have to be teachings with a different view.
If I could get rid of desire, what would I gain?

I can’t banish desire. To do so is to die.
Contingent to my nature, it is like a sense
To expand toward the infinite through conscious thought.
If desire is unconscious, the journey is fraught
With profound disappointment and useless expense
Of the most precious life force. Can one wonder why?

  My desire is unending. Never satisfied,
It is life ever cyclic. It gives me motive
To do all that I care to, but consciously so.
People, places and things can be part of the flow
Of my conscious expression. The best way to live
Is to think of desire as a wonderful ride.

Dialogue

TheMagicRealist.com

Holy Spirit, meet Science, and Science, likewise.
There is time for discussion… eternity too.
Speak of things of this world and how they interact
With the things of the cosmos in theory and fact.
Do the things that we think about have much to do
With expanding beyond knowledge seen with our eyes?

The brain is a computer, in that it’s a tool.
Made of neuronal networks, it is but a part
Of the Whole self. The deeper self it cannot reach.
It controls the identity who will beseech
All the skill of the intellect like a fine art
Yet the part that the art plays is quite minuscule.

Even now, we can make brains much smarter than ours.
Surgeons, teachers and diplomats will be replaced
Soon by androids, efficient beyond our control,
So that we can kick back and take care of the soul.
What would be the significance were this embraced
Against our present backdrop with visible scars?

That future may unfold for us if we’re still here
And the earth hasn’t marked us as a lethal threat
Or a serious nuisance to her existence.
She does respond with violence in her self-defense.
We may delve into consciousness with no regret
Wherein we may address some root issues like fear.

What then is evolution? We were the machine.
Then out of great necessity, we look within
To find ultimate meaning. Our being human
Will demand not much doing. Could this be the plan
Of the conscious collective infecting earth’s skin?
Is it worth our considering futures unseen?

Lunar Return

TheMagicRealist.com

Suppose I am as real as all that I perceive.
That’s a bold hypothetical! I can’t be sure
If my being has meaning. Prue rage leaves no doubt
That perceptions perceive me. Why do I act out?
All existence to me is an ill with no cure.
If I felt any other way, I’d be naïve.

Is it because it’s Wednesday? I’m mad every day
Because days become vicious then shift into night
Then along comes the next day. All remains the same.
Life plays me like an audio/video game
So the way that I must act must be wrong or right.
Every month, when the moon howls, we both have our say.

Yet, the moon isn’t full now. Have I then misspoke?
It remains full of itself regardless of how
We on earth may perceive it. I guess that’s my point.
Tidal waves, like emotions, are doomed to anoint
Every moment that I have, except for right now
Where all meaning available I may evoke.

Destiny Design Fundamentals

TheMagicRealist.com

The design of one’s destiny is done within –
Not by someone’s agenda or tarot card deck.
The designing is done from the observation
Through perception as we come to the conclusion
That what is fundamental and truer than heck
Is that all things are cyclic. That’s how things begin.

As we come into consort with life’s ebb and flow
We partake of machinery divinely made.
And indeed we become it for but a short while.
Cycles do lead us nowhere. Is that nature’s style?
Were not life so ellipsoid, growth would be delayed.
We’re our source of geometry. We seek to know.

Everything is determined by myself alone.
It may seem that the universe moves me around
Like a cog in its clockwork. I have much control
Of how every clock tick reengages my soul.
Life becomes superficial if wound or unwound.
It is but a life lesson. I need not atone.

And we are a community – each much the same
In the ways we perceive things and form our ideals.
Our freedom is our culture. Friction is relieved
In the ways that our destinies are interweaved.
Those ways are everchanging. Designing reveals
Anything of creation that would show us shame.

A Master Plan

TheMagicRealist.com

Once, the whole world was clothed in fine Indian goods.
Always crafted with much skill, textiles was a thing
That the Indian people did superbly well.
Then, along came the British who blew that to hell.
Notwithstanding abuse at the whims of a king,
Art contained within people ain’t left in the woods.

Clothing worn by most people in this world today
Is completely synthetic or partially so.
That means it’s made of plastic. It gets in our blood
Through our soil, food and water. We wear and are crud!
Toxic microfibers, gathered data will show,
Are a world class polluter. Should we live this way?

Changing this situation can be ours to do.
All it takes is some consciousness in what we wear.
Though all are not from India, all can take pride
That there is still a model to act as a guide.
Ecological balance is placed in our care
Quite by accident perhaps to brand us a clue.

Why All The Frigging Space?

TheMagicRealist.com

There is space between everything – big things and small.
Were all space nonexistent, what then would remain?
Everything would be shrunk down to minuscule size.
Mass and energy would don a different disguise
But in terms of expansion, there would be no gain.
Self-contained Singularity… Does this enthrall?

It Should Not! It’s a notion for purposes of
Entertainment by threading the mind through the eye
Of the needle traversing the fabric of thought.
It is with exploration true knowledge is sought.
There is much more space than any thing else, but why?
Would I be disrespectful if push came to shove?

I’ve been told that the reason there is so much space
Is because it provides room. Much room with a view
Into infinite vistas is what we behold.
Matter is but the framework for journeys untold.
Is there room for improvement? What more can I do
To add something of value to my human race?

Nmemoir

TheMagicRealist.com

“Bridge Freezes Before Road Surface” – That’s Been My Sign!
Although not to my liking, it has served me well.
It’s been easy to recall. Had I not been born,
Then at least I’d have had that sign, not to be sworn
To the animal star groups and their vicious spell.
As it came to remembering things, I’d done fine.

Somewhat subsequent nowness submerges in mist
As the signs of perceived times emerge from the past.
But what creates illusion is immune to sense
While it does at the same time come to our defense.
When commencing life hacking the trite trick will last
Like an imperfect fragrance with a psychic fist.

Is a life worth remembering after it’s gone
Even though when alive here it offered not much?
My technique is a riddle. My life does it speak.
It is original. In a word, it’s unique.
Words can often be forceful while soft to the touch.
Would I care to be recalled as part of a yawn?

We are all Magic Realists. We each have our rhyme
And our ways of arranging words. Some call it style.
Yet whatever we call it we tend to recall
Many parts of the big picture, then make them small.
I am learning to not live in doubt all the while,
By considering if I am wasting my time.

The Halstead Of Heindseidtner Hollow

TheMagicRealist.com

Sunny woods with fresh hallways is where we should be
At our best happily ever after our win
At the clubhouse, notwithstanding those who, in need
Of the basics of living, unveil social greed
That somehow can’t become us. In freedom we grin
As the world far beneath us is too small to see.

All of fate that beholds me prepares me for this
Life of untold abundance. We’re high on the fog
Of exhaust from our industry. We’re in the black!
That is all that has meaning, without thinking back
To the backs we have weakened. The strong epilogue
To our story is something we don’t live to miss.

Safely nestled and nourished in prime nature nook,
We, apart from the riffraff, have evolved a notch
Above most folks. This entitles us to the best.
There’s enough for the few of us. Screw all the rest!
We were born to have plenty as you were to watch
How this life game is played well. Do have a good look.

Beyond Physical Intelligence

TheMagicRealist.com

Science tries to achieve things through physical means.
Measured physical quantities and nature’s laws
Are the building blocks used to thus mirror the ways
Of our own complex functioning worthy of praise.
One predicts with some certainty probable cause
For this mode of behavior expressed through our genes.

Have we hit a glass ceiling? We don’t understand
What’s behind all the magic. We only know facts.
We can use math to map out the magical space
But without a Big Picture, a few ghosts we chase.
What is spirit will not be a slave to brass tacks.
It will not give up secrets upon our demand.

Most sophisticated is the human machine.
Unimaginable in complexity, it
Is a feat of technology we cannot know.
Yet a carrot or bread stick will make it all grow!
There’s a greater intelligence, we must admit.
It’s the heart of the physical and the unseen.

Is It Just A Machine?

TheMagicRealist.com

Is it just a machine? Or does it know something
That all things alive seem to have some knowledge of?
It’s a question some people ask. Others ask why
One would question in silly ways. Were they to try
To explore just a bit more, perhaps they’d find love.
Contemplating existence will contentment bring.

Single-sized, simple cellular suspended in
Spatial substance surrounding it, it has its plan
As any individual self-declared whole.
Does the cell have a conscience and perhaps a soul?
It does seem quite the team player. Indeed, it can
Follow orders efficiently with no chagrin.

When one looks at the cell’s life, one must then admit
That it does bare resemblance to those of us all.
Our behaviors may differ in obvious ways.
Ways in which we are similar deserve some praise.
If we can’t be more cell-like, are we thinking small?
If they dislike their boss, they can’t just up and quit.

A Knee To The Anthem

 

TheMagicRealist.com

When there is call to action, which one should come first?
…The one of my own business or that of my race?
…Or the one that we all need to take to be free?
Other nations behold us, and they clearly see
We’re united in many ways. Can’t those displace
What is doomed to divide us and bring out our worst?

People fought for this nation and paid the high price
Out of heartfelt commitment and sheer human grace.
Should I then disrespect them because of my beef
Having nothing to do with their survivors’ grief?
My issues I’ll attend to. It isn’t my place
To put principle above someone’s sacrifice.

We’re the melting pot model, diverse in our ways.
When they clash – often bloody – we struggle to find
Resolution, yet still we remain in one piece.
There may not come a time when the struggle will cease.
But we are of one nation. In that, we’re defined.
We’re a country that does need its consciousness raised.

I believe in the Anthem. That’s where it all starts…
With a hand on the heart and our eyes on the Dream.
We were taught this decades ago. Haven’t we learned?
We may protest in other ways. Are we concerned
With issues facing all of us? We Are One Team!
We would do best to honor the Dream in our hearts.

Who Or What Is God?

TheMagicRealist.com

That the soul can be sacred one can take to heart
On a good day when nothing disturbs inner peace.
But how can then the body be weak and unclean?
How can God be supreme but creation obscene?
Labored in observation, the mind grows obese.
We believe in creation, it seems, from the start.

So much happened before me. Now that I am here
I assume all I see here was made by someone
Who’s much bigger than I am. Does that make much sense?
If but through spontaneity all did commence
Then what difference would it make if I were to shun
Any faith in a deity and cling to fear?

God is black because I’m black. He’s white if I’m white.
And if one asks a woman, she says he’s a she.
Dogs would say God’s a Big Dog whose bark is the law.
With one paw on a biscuit, they’d raise their right paw
And declare that all humans were put here to be
But a curious nuisance… at times, a delight.

God, like self, is unknowable while in this form.
It is oneself exaggerated to the max.
Yet we cannot define it nor understand it.
We can only experience as we see fit.
By dissolving into it we learn to relax.
Seeking self-dissolution evolves as our norm.

Secret Waters

TheMagicRealist.com

How does one stay committed? A most sacred bond
Can be broken too easily. Why is this so?
Is it that the integrity of humankind
Has been compromised somehow by our own design?
What’s the best course of action that one can follow?
When beset with hard choices, how best to respond?

Many kinds of integrity make what we are.
One is that of emotions – another, of thought.
But our physical integrity is the one
That can cause discontentment but also much fun.
It may be through our upbringing contact is sought
With too much desperation. Is this below par?

People of many cultures are casual with touch.
We need hugs when we’re babies – not as we evolve.
Children are of their mothers until about five.
Until then, they should be hugged so they best survive
The dilemma most face with no means to resolve.
Secret waters are salty and don’t resolve much.

Prank On America

TheMagicRealist.com

“It was nice doing business.” NO! Why Should I Lie?
I and my kind are just an encumbrance by now.
An account becomes “obsolete” based on a whim?
That sounds like ‘reserved’ language – an apt pseudonym
For those not quite American. Less Than, somehow,
I am not told about this. Should I wonder why?

That sure as Hell feels like a prank, I must say.
So I must be American to some degree.
My ancestors were born here. They gave with their lives
To ensure that this nation of many survives.
You betray my America. That’s what I see.
Is there nothing to do but to see it your way?

Now, the Mask of America, you bring disgrace
To the name you have hijacked and paid for with blood.
What’s behind the mask is a monster that can’t fail.
Policies most corrosive persist and prevail.
More appropriate it would be were you named ‘mud.’
My business nor my feelings I need not misplace.

Am I In My Right Mind?

TheMagicRealist.com

Am I In My Right Mind? Often times I can’t tell.
Would I hope that a single mind is quite enough?
That I’m clothed by my skin and by fabric is true.
A mind that I’d fit into would mock what is new.
Right or Left mind irrelevance sought off the cuff
Leaves oneself far beside oneself. Is the mind well?

Are there many or just a few possible minds
I can choose to climb into at any instant?
Some would say there’s but one mind. The others are fake.
But someone with a handful, and all wide awake,
Can act out in such ways that are inconsistent
With established norms, wherein contentment one finds.

I have seven minds – one for each day of the week.
They are ruled by the planets, or maybe by gods.
If I wear only one mind a day, is that cool?
And if others wore many, who would be the fool?
I can handle one day at a time, so the odds
That I am in the wrong mind are rather oblique.

Social Incarceration

TheMagicRealist.com

Why the hell won’t she call me? What’s up with my friends?
Do my fingers find favor with social contacts?
All I know is what others know, and it’s a shame
That I’m drenched in the digital friendliness game.
Am I one in control or the one who reacts
To the paint I have chosen to color my lens?

People don’t want to do things I ask them to do.
Should they call that their freedom? And should I as well?
If I ask with persistence, am I to them fair?
If they asked something of me, how much would I care?
If someone doesn’t like me, need I make them yell?
They are not mine to mess with. I’ll bid them adieu.

Social life is imprisonment. If I react
To what goes on outside of me, I’ll be enslaved.
To respond is the better way. Then I remain
In control of the moment with no sense of strain.
I can keep myself connected and well-behaved
If I know I’ll do time for the way that I act.

Click-A-Mole

TheMagicRealist.com

Nowadays, we don’t whack ‘em. We click ‘em instead.
The moles consist of images placed on the screen.
They are put there by fisher-folk trolling for clicks
With pop-ups and page-unders and digital tricks.
If not fast enough, what I see becomes unseen
Just before I can click it. This fucks with my head.

It is not that my hand freezes up in the cold.
Is it that my reflexes are not up to par
That I don’t double click well enough to command
My own space with efficiency? I understand
That the slightest mouse movement while clicking will bar
An inkling of an outcome. Indeed, I’ve grown old.

My eyes are now the pointer. The mouse takes a break
From its small, cheesy movement upon the mouse pad.
I am yet the observer… the screen, a portal
To the sea of believing in all things mortal.
That we’ve made such a game of life, I should be glad.
Games are made for all children. We play for their sake.

Bad Mouthing The Bad Mouth

TheMagicRealist.com

Folks who hate doing windows, dentists they become,
And, like priests in confessionals, they condescend,
Being that their vows preclude a normal discourse
With those orally challenged. Indeed, they enforce
A demeanor of judgement once they apprehend
The ill orifice. They’ll leave one feeling like scum.

People think that such people might pee in the pool
Since they don’t seem to have a clue nor a strong wish
To maintain proper hygiene regarding their teeth.
Many smiles will shine brightly, but what’s underneath
Is the psychic assassin who’s cold as a fish.
Would you pay a damned dentist to call you a fool?

It’s a thing one must overcome. People are cheap
With their sheepskins and practices and clientele.
To get past human ego requires no skill
Nor a sense of repugnance or perceived ill will.
Those who get the best treatment are those who live well.
In an ‘evolved’ society, most are asleep.

Is Life Predestined?

TheMagicRealist.com

Is there right thought and wrong thought? It seems to be so.
But who makes that decision? And what is it worth?
My thoughts are not predestined. I choose them at will.
If they just happened to me, then what of my skill
To discern which ones feel good and offer me mirth
And which ones leave me hapless with nowhere to go?

I can choose this or that thing. Am I ‘made’ this way?
And if so, in that making, do I play a role?
If I make a wrong choice, I call that a mistake
Thinking predestination plays out for my sake.
But I make the choice consciously and from my soul.
My mistakes are my doing. I direct my play.

Some confusion exists about what is belief
As compared to what is known to be absolute.
I believe I have two hands? No! I know it’s true.
Even if I can’t see them. I know there are two.
I believe God exists, but to know that is moot.
Knowing this much about things should mitigate grief.

Now, to speak of deception gets closer to home.
We begin life with simple minds, then they evolve
To the point where some part of us questions most things.
Sorting out facts from what we believe, wellness brings.
Running with my assumptions my life won’t resolve.
With this firm understanding, I am safe to roam.

Herbal Renewal

TheMagicRealist.com

Many states have gone herbal. Soon all will be so.
Organic evolution can make nations whole.
We could change the flag’s colors to red, green and blue
With a few dabs of purple for those of a hue
Somewhere in between red and blue, such that their role
Is a blending of two beliefs that won’t let go.

We’re a nation of color and people of fruit.
Some of us who are vegan have given up meat.
Still remain many meat eaters. We are diverse
In this broad land where some things can always get worse
For the betterment of the whole. Life can be sweet
When our Herbal Renewal becomes resolute.

Any kind of renewal begins with a thought
Then it becomes reality as I proceed
To revisit perceptions of sheer psychic drought.
I can grow a new outlook. I’m herbal, no doubt.
If I keep myself fruitful, I’ll not have the need
To rely on what should be completely self-taught.

I’m A Stein – Damn It!

TheMagicRealist.com

I’m a Stein – not a Steen! I don’t mean to get mean
But, dog gone it, it’s high time you got my name right!
People tend to get careless and lazy with names.
Do you strive to be ignorant with silly games?
If I mispronounced your name, would you want to fight?
Names are special to people. Don’t make them obscene!

I’m a Stein, and that’s fine! So, don’t give me no guff.
There are manifold Steins populating this earth.
There are Feinsteins and Einsteins and stand alone Steins.
We have first names and middle names. These are clear signs
That the surname containing Stein at someone’s birth
Does not sound like the name Steen. Have I said enough?

The name Steen rhymes with teen. Can’t you honor that fact?
It ain’t like you can’t hear straight. Am I making sense?
Do not make me a Steen since that’s not what I am.
My name is not a plaything. Why not give a damn?
Please don’t pamper your clumsiness at my expense.
Disrespect can be subtle, with lasting impact.