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The Perfection Of Matter

Dreamscape

Have we come to make happen a most astral state
Such that by merely thinking, things then come to be?
If we don’t, as a species, last this time around,
Is the next one for granted? Are we somehow bound
To evolve once a certain way that all may see
Matter made to perfection? Could that be our fate?

I was made to move matter. I feel that to be
Paramount, part and parcel to that which I am.
To feel or see another way would be untrue
To who I in reality could offer you
And still feel that connected. I dare to exam
What most couldn’t be bothered with wholeheartedly.

Psychic is evolution. Cosmic is our source
Of particulate substance. We mirror all things
That exist in the universe. All we can fear
Is the present condition. That which we hold dear
At this time, as a species, dangle by loose strings.
We can do this all over or steer back on course.

Life Review

Transition

Am I due a review? Am I in one begun?
So consumed with uncertainty, I’m at a loss
To know whether or not I’ve been dead for ten years.
Other souls see right through me. It heightens my fears.
If I can see through others, is my time to cross
Most assured in the shortest while? Is my life done?

This earth seems not a nice place. I’m taken aback.
Fallacious expectations of life making sense
Have not come to fruition. Instead, they reveal
An affront to all meaning. Today, as I feel
My profound discontent and diminished suspense
I see nothing familiar but madness and lack.

Does this mean I have work to do? What should that be?
I do know how to help myself out of this rut.
Guidance is deep within me. I must learn to trust
What has made me existent from cosmic stardust.
When I can’t digest life well, it sits in my gut
Where the threat of its bulk causes me not to see.

My words do have full meaning. My life does make sense.
Only when I am gut wrenched, the bowels and the mind
Cause me to feel invisible. Wounded, therefore,
I may choose to rewrite my whole life from its core.
Not a thing I need do here. My work is designed
To complement eternity with eloquence.

That which is human nature reflects within me
As it does in most anyone given a soul.
Indeed, I’m not The Beacon. I shine in the sight
Of all that is before me. Existence is bright
In its full understanding. What then is my goal?
That I keep the reflection as pure as can be.

The Trail Of The Master

Inner Peace

Take a walk on the good path. Some folks have been there.
They return to it frequently to be at one
With the earth and its cosmos suspended in space.
And this is the best way to put calm in your face.
One’s communing with nature is second to none
A complete remedy for exhaust and despair.

Put some food in your pack and just go for the stroll
Into beckoning nothingness and with no plan.
You will find there is life there you knew not before
Organized and more complex. One cannot ignore
Its immense ecoefficiency. If you can
Take a break from the rat race and make yourself whole.

Forest land has been with us for millions of years
Making home for their species and cleaning our air.
For their maintenance they have relied on no one
Through the eons. Without us, nature is well-run.
Life can tie you in knots, but if you really care
Take The Trail Of The Master. Don’t bow to your fears.

Hello, Cruel World…

Nativity and Death

What I offer to this world, this word doesn’t want.
That it’s been such a struggle is more than a clue.
How does it all affect me? My bowels are a mess.
I’ve made light of my issues, but now I confess
That I don’t have an inkling for what I should do.
I came with a few talents, but nothing to flaunt.

As it seems, the dark cloud hangs not over my head.
I am fully engulfed in it. None can I see
As a source of fulfillment. I cry right out loud…
Have I done anything for which I can be proud?
When the sole benefactor turns out to be me
Then it makes perfect sense that I’m better off dead.

But, of course, what seems obvious a remedy
Is a thing that society deems as unfair
So much so, it’s a crime among modern-day folk.
It behooves me to see I’m the brunt of a joke
Of profound insignificance. Shocked in despair,
I shall keep on expressing ‘til I cease to be.

Bathe And Begone

Psychotic Desperation

What compounds a sick joke is no one knows I’m bored
To the point of extinction. Yet, why won’t I go
To whatever is next for me? Am I afraid
That I’ll feel even worse than this hell that I’ve made?
I have lost vital patience with all that I know.
If this life is a game, indeed I’ve poorly scored.

I can’t stand my own playpen by now. It’s become
Prison-like in predation. I can’t let you in.
I can keep myself tidy. My soul needs a bath
From its foul incarnation. Am I on the path
Of profound transformation? What nature of sin
Have I done that my life is a tub full of scum.

Loosely rooted in this world, I am at a loss
To know it more sufficiently. Time has run past
Dissipating to nothingness of my free will.
This odd self I’ve created cannot learn to thrill
Anyone to sensation. How long will this last?
Is my health doomed to dive as I carry this cross?

If my complex of inhibition is a clue
That I’m not meant to be here, what could that look like?
As long as I remain here, I’ll do what I do.
Thinking that it has meaning leads to feeling blue.
My need for recognition needs to take a hike.
My hurt self along with it would be something new.

A Beautiful Story

Natural Variety

Vegetable buying in marketplaces makes
For an opportune time to meet folks and converse.
The product is important. The talk is sublime.
Sharpening bargaining skills can be done full-time.
In wholesome interaction folks love to immerse.
The communion in commerce can yield few mistakes.

A man once saw a vendor. Impressed by her light,
He became taken by her. Soon, pairs of eyes locked.
They both burst into laughter. The man asked of her,
“Why are you doing this? Aren’t there things you prefer?”
She then told him her story as he remained shocked
Throughout all of its telling while feeling contrite.

She got sick. In the hospital she was for days.
She was not getting better. She thought she would die.
As the days turned to weeks and months, nothing did change.
Friends and kin folk and doctors all felt it was strange.
Then one day, she just up and went blissfully high
With no sign of the illness. Who then does one praise?

She’d long since lost her day job. But fortunately
She’d sold veggies since childhood. It made perfect sense
To do that for a living. She now blesses all
With a life-changing sickness from which to stand tall.
We can self-diagnose and thus spare the expense
Of an outside solution that can’t really be.

Cleaning Inside Out

The Sacredness of Ritual

Living life well means that we must keep ourselves clean
On the outside and inside. Our dwellings also
Must be kept clean and tidy. In filth and debris,
One cannot feel delighted nor can one feel free
From a sense of confinement. The shame won’t let go.
If ignored, the uncleanliness makes the heart mean.

What occurs in my life is determined by me.
With my senses, I determine pleasure or pain.
Therefore, senses need shelter and clean atmosphere
So that healthy decisions are perfectly clear
In the mind free to make them for optimal gain.
Any life is lived better when lived consciously.

To take charge of the seat of my experience
And to go into blissful states is possible
Only if I am disciplined. I generate
The experience that best determines my fate.
Any way that can cleanse me indeed is helpful.
I don’t like feeling dirty. The guilt is intense.

Destiny Mastery

Desperation in Episodic Failure

Destiny and calamity… equal are they
In my haphazard living. It seems that I’m stuck
In the crack of a sidewalk or some nasty beast.
From the path made for me, I pray that I’m released.
Those of my kind are those who must depend on luck.
So, the question is… How do I change come what may?

Destiny is a cop-out. It is an excuse
To explain all the nonsense amassed through the years.
Consciously or unconsciously, as I behave,
My own patterns entrap me. I become a slave
To my bad software programming and to my fears.
That’s the truth about destiny I may deduce.

If I can gain mastery of life energies
That control mind and body, the science can be
In accordance with Spirit. What have I taken
Into proper perspective that I awaken
To the truth that my destiny is made by me?
No one else know that better. I’ll proceed with ease.

The Choice Of Depression

Lonliness, depression, hoplessness...

I once met an attorney who thought she was good
All because her first case as a prosecutor
Was a suicide. She fought and won the damned case!
It would seem that some lawyers are fit for disgrace.
So, if you plan on leaving, you may be in store
For post-death litigation amid spirithood.

Things are screwed up with life. Isn’t that bad enough?
If I get depressed I’m amplifying the fact.
It’s my responsibility only to be
In a state of wellbeing most naturally.
If I get pissed at something, the way I react
Does determine my psyche and all of that stuff.

Do I choose my insanity? In ways I do.
The expression, “I’m mad at you!” is not benign.
Both subconscious and willing, it can get results.
Often times though, it ends up evoking insults.
I degrade my wellbeing when I piss and whine.
I indeed am my doctor. How so this is true.

It’s My Pleasure

Welcome to Reality

It’s My Pleasure. It’s not that I want to relate
To the general populous. I speak my truth
From a place where few humans are willing to tread.
I spend much of my time there. To most I am dead.
In the place where my heart lives, am I that uncouth
As to let those outside it determine my fate?

I relate to my darkness. I see it play out
In what is called reality. Myself I see
In the lava of hatred. Its volcanic ash
Has the taste of my writings retrieved from the trash.
But, again, It’s My Pleasure. I’m willing to be
The small voice from the darkness. That’s all I’m about.

It just feels good to do this. I know it makes sense…
Quite a bit more than spending time eating the war.
Unaware of the soundbite, it knows not of me.
To be grateful I’m unknown is not to be free
From a darkness that I have encountered before.
If I write, who will read me? I toil in pretense.

It’s My Pleasure… a saying uttered in response
To someone having said, “Thank you for what you do,”
Is a strong held assumption that I make with ease.
Army weapons could silence me. Who would that please
In this place become third world? That could well be you.
Does it matter that my speech is clothed in nuance?

Cosmic Geometry

Cosmic, Geometric Unity

It is not about twisting the body in ways
That resemble a pretzel. It is not about
Getting thin, fit or healthy. It’s Geometry
Of the body and cosmos. The nice perks will be
Granted to us by nature when there is no doubt
That our attunement with her has enhanced our days.

The cosmos is a big engine… powered by what?
Surely it can’t be diesel. The enormous roar
And the huge carbon footprint would kill us outright.
Does the Engineer chuckle as our minds take flight?
The body made of flesh can be just a bit more
When the door to our cosmos can remain unshut.

Being each a small cosmos, in replicate we
Are much like the antennas of old TV days.
Such contraptions must be moved to just the right spot.
If no right spot is found, then no signal is caught.
We may download perfection in ways that amaze
And delight the small cosmos, quite as it should be.

On Missing The Point

Attention To The Missing Point

Tell me… What do you see on this surface of white?
Give this its due attention and take it to heart.
It must all come from you. Not to any degree
Do I want to persuade you to how that I see.
What does it look to you like? …An ill-conceived start
Of a useless endeavor acted out of spite?

You can’t say that it’s nothing. I put something here.
Though it may not be visible, you were witness
To my having hand-placed it here moments ago.
So, I ask now, What is it? We’d all like to know.
Do I make a vague point here? Or need I digress
To that which cannot be the point, just to be clear?

“It’s a tiny black dot,” certainly some would say,
Or a spot or a full stop or a period.
Your impatience would grow if you were prodded on.
You’d complain, “What’s the point, jerk? Our interest is gone!
Are you paranoid that there are not myriad
Things to call a damned spot, friend? You mess with our day!”

That’s precisely the issue. The Whole Empty Page
Is the thing of importance – not the tiny spot.
With our focus on little things, big things we miss.
All that we know is nestled in enormous bliss.
The story of existence has us as its plot.
We act out our star roles on a minuscule stage.

Facing Death

Death As An Entity

It’s a constant companion. My mortality
And I are a tight couple. A bleak honeymoon
In a TV reality played out on earth
Had begun at the time of my subconscious birth.
And for me… Will it come late or maybe quite soon?
Facing Death, the departing are conscious and free.

I will not have this sharp mind forever, I know.
Time and nature dictate that I will suffer loss
Perhaps in a mere decade, or sooner than that.
I’ve done well having gotten obliqueness down pat
Long before I’d returned this mind back to the Boss,
Even though I still feel I’ve a long way to go.

People generally believe that they won’t die.
“It will happen to others but never to me,”
Seems to be the erroneous tape that we play.
The spiritual process is the only way
To address the reality that I will be
But a brief time in this form. On that I rely.

Become Silent

Serenity In Solitude

Where did all the noise come from? It’s all I can hear.
The less others are near me, it gets louder still.
Why can’t it shut the hell up… the voice within me?
Do I think way too much of this thing that I be?
If that is but the issue, how do I fulfill
What the ego demands of me? This is my fear.

There’s a need to become silent… sometimes, at least.
But is there a good process that I can apply?
I am sure there are plenty… ancient, tried and true.
To think not much of myself is so hard to do.
Any method that works well I’m willing to try.
If I am just a piece of life, fear is released.

It is not psychological, though of the mind.
Existential in essence, the way leads to peace
In the mind, heart and body. Silence can replace
All the recycled thoughts with contentment and grace.
If I place value on my thoughts, there’s no release
Of the internal chatter. To it I’m resigned.

Natural Enlightenment

Plethora of Pathways

Just how much of humanity is enlightened?
I’m not one to be offbeat about such a thing.
Nor am I being serious. This question is,
Although frigging hilarious, just a pop quiz
For the wide-open psyche. What hope will this bring?
Not too damned much, considering we are frightened.

But a wee few are masters of spiritual ass.
So, at least they’ve an answer to why it is so
That, much on the whole, our species lacks consciousness.
Our lives have become serious, therefore a mess.
Fallacious self-importance, we must come to know,
Makes for gross limitations we cannot surpass.

We can be like the carnivore with sharpened mind
Focused dead on survival and always alert
To all possible danger and life saving break.
We don’t need to be stressful and worn for the sake
Of our hollow accomplishments. That will pervert
Any path that is shown to us, leaving us blind.

Why Hardworking Folks Fail

Illusion In Fulfillment

Often goals have a price tag. We pay with our health.
The product of achievement sits firm in our minds
Though our hearts may be aching and flesh may be sore.
We survive to feed well the illusion of more.
Gain through pain strengthens muscles. Therein the fool finds
Faulty misapplication producing false wealth.

We must work hard and study hard. Why is this so?
But, to hell with that question. Let’s ask ourselves this:
Can we do our work lovingly and love to learn?
We don’t need to get lazy. What is of concern
Is that medical science, not by hit and miss,
Has determined happiness is the way to go.

Only when we are pleasant are we at our best.
Mind and body engage in an energy dance.
If we’re stressed out and anxious, we don’t work so well.
Then, after a few decades, we’re shot close to hell.
Stress means our minds have failed us. We cannot advance
To a meaningful outcome while we’re self-oppressed.

Ideal Wife?

Pre-packaged Perfection

A young woman may ask of someone who may know,
Like a guru or grandma or her closest friend,
What it takes for a girl to be an ideal wife.
The advice most would give her would mess with her life.
Girls of one generation should never depend
On those not of their age group. Times change like a flow.

Marriages made in heaven work well only there.
Firmly here on God’s earth is where we’re all alive.
People screw up a wet dream when God is involved
As we make life a puzzle that needs to be solved
By struggle through devotion that love will survive.
That does feel somewhat alien, and we should care.

The way to a man’s heart used to be through his gut.
Nowadays, that is meaningless. Guts have become
For some, sports… others, mental things. All are fulfilled
In ways that are too numerous. All are distilled
Into one common substance with no zero sum.
Knowing this keeps a couple well out of the rut.

May Your Dreams NOT Come True

Dream Come True

What becomes of the dreamers whose dreams are their goals,
Where a lifetime achieving them robs them of peace?
Situations are flexible, but goals are not.
When the former change, often the latter are shot.
This may lead to disaster. There is no release
From the grip of the timeline entrapping their souls.

What we dream of can only be of what we know.
With some exaggeration, we make it seem new.
We do this so unconsciously we often trick
Ourselves into believing that they’re fantastic.
I would wish that those kinds of dreams seldom come true.
Infinite possibilities make one’s life glow.

Let the things you can’t dream of unfold as they may.
Setting goals may be rigid and blind to the grace
That exists to enhance us in unconscious ways
To the vast opportunities just beyond gaze
Of the eyes that are focused well on time and place.
Let the universe enchant you in every way.

Just A Dirty Day Old

Perceived Adequacy

I did bathe yesterday. Should I take a day off
And recover from being so damned spanking clean?
In my mind, I am spotless and earthly scum free.
When I look out my window, the brightness I see
Is enough to re-sanctify. It’s good hygiene.
Maybe it can also cure my persistent cough.

When I find myself wearing a suit and a noose
Do I think I’m invincible belching a smile
To the ones who belittle me? I’m in good luck
If I know that I don’t need to feel like a schmuck
Nor a slave to a lost hope or lavish lifestyle.
I do long to be clean of the system’s abuse.

…Just A Dirty Day Old, and I don’t feel like scum
Because it’s become cyclic and psychic as well
To refresh myself daily. My much higher needs,
When fulfilled, are the means whereby happiness leads
To lasting satisfaction. The soul can excel
At the business of Being while beating the drum.

Letting Life Roar

Exileration

We each are a fine engine. Our Maker, who knows
How all things can best interact, also knows how
We can best govern ourselves and act as earth’s friends.
Economics and ecology each depends
On the other for survival. We must allow
Coexistence, or sickness we’re doomed to expose.

Someone may have a lifestyle but not have a life.
To know spirituality as nothing more
Than the spirit rambunctious with throbbing lifeforce
Is the kind of spiritual path I endorse.
That which satisfies oneself and makes the heart soar
Among a nation’s populous mitigates strife.

The earth is where life comes from and where it returns
So we have deep connection. The food that we eat
And the land that we walk upon and every cell
Of our bodies is related. We would do well
To treat our earthly nature as nothing elite
But neither as immobile nor wrought with concerns.

How Yogis Know

Ancient Wisdom

What’s it like to be human? A yogi knows well.
Our bodies are made up of but just a few layers.
They are interconnected. The cell’s DNA
Holds a wealth of intelligence. Each can convey
That to us in a manner that answers our prayers.
Those who don’t feel quite human, in error they dwell.

And indeed there are pathways – some tens of thousands.
Major energy centers connect the body
To that which is nonphysical. No time or place
Is what we have emerged from. We’re here by the grace
Of the infinite cosmos. That’s how yogis see.
It is in one’s best seeing that one understands.

We exist within cycles, and as we evolve
From concerns of survival, then naturally,
We become more perceptive of much higher things.
When the breathing is slowed down, the inaction brings
On awareness of all things the eyes cannot see.
The ego becomes useless. It then may dissolve.

How One Takes It

Sensory and Cognitive Overload

How do I take what’s given me, asked for or not?
To take things as an insult is not the best way
To make friends and influence folks. I’d rather be
As neutral in my taking as I can best see
The benign verbal nuance in what people say
As but ripe for a mental chuckle, then forgot.

People may assume I take things a certain way.
I can hear the inflection ascend toward the end
Of the utterance, therefore I safely conclude
They’re just asking the question. They’re not being rude.
In such case, there is nothing that I need defend.
I can then leave in peace and get on with my day.

If an amateur poet with no training can
Push those details aside and continue to write
In a manner consistent, I will take that black
With a lump of fulfillment to keep me on track.
How I take life’s assignment may look like a fight
Yet it seems to fit into someone’s divine plan.

Tuned To A Different Dicklength

Phallic Omnipresence

Do I mistreat the meat of another trombone
In a mystical orchestra conducted by
A half-Klingon deep space skink of talent profane?
Would the world become saner if dick were to wane?
What depends on one’s Dicklength is not worth the try
When one knows that in time it will be overthrown.

One’s Dicklength is one’s heartbeat. A suit and a tie
Or blue jeans and a hardhat are symbols well-known.
It is by competition the better succeed
While the best make their way to the top through their greed.
  It pertains to both genders though it’s overblown
As an ideal condition. Things have gone awry.

The inverse of one’s Dicklength may be Latency.
Each divided by one, the other it becomes.

Could this be about time to do some simple math
To determine the consequences of our path?
It may be wise to take time to beat other drums
So the curse of the Dicklength dissolves completely.

Fix The Real Problem

Sickness

One goes to the mechanic when something goes wrong.
What’s wrong with the mechanic? He should bear no blame.
Fix the foul thing you’re damned self. No one knows your car
Like the one who’s been driving it. Dissimilar
Is the service provided by each. Not the same
Is the heartfelt commitment. In some, it is strong.

 All the while as I’m driving along life’s highways,
Care and constant attention from me it requires.
I must also keep my eyes focused dead ahead.
This complex combination of acts brings me dread
When the maintenance man, with his handbook and pliers,
Has no clue what he’s doing. So, there are delays.

I can’t possibly fix everything on my own
All at once. But I can start with one simple thing,
Then proceed to the next. Fixing things in sequence
Is efficient and easy and does make good sense.
The mechanic one knows and loves only can bring
Restoration to one’s vehicle, it’s been shown.

Dissolve The Drama

Dissolution of Drama

As the old fable goes, the captain of the ship
With his egoic drama, one dark, foggy night,
Sees a light in the distance, commands it to move,
Then is outraged when it doesn’t. It would behoove
The defiant unknown to back down from a fight.
When he finds it’s a lighthouse, he’s ill to give lip.

Strange weeds may be collected and placed on my grave.
Though I’ll not rate a monument, I need not be
Quite as confounding rigid as one as I live.
Life would be a breeze were I not so combative.
There are many a lighthouse in life’s raging sea.
I create every problem by how I behave.

All the problems in my life come from within me.
Since they’re self-generated, they need not be solved.
As my thoughts and emotions play the leading role,
The director, whose cast has gone out of control,
Needs to know that the sorry act must be dissolved.
It is done in an instant and most easily.

If I seek a solution to something I made,
Then I tread toward insanity. None does exist.
If I made such solution, it would be a fake.
So, to think that it would work would be a mistake.
The confounding of drama indeed will persist.
It takes nothing at all to just stop the charade.

Losing Laziness

The Absolute Innocence of Relaxation

To the tune of postponement, the things I will do
That I don’t much like doing lie languid in lack
Of my utmost attention. Don’t mention those things.
Sheer paralysis of the will is what it brings.
I would be fit to fist fuck were I given flack.
Such things are mine to put off as guilt may accrue.

Why the hell am I doing things I clearly hate?
Will I get something for it? Is it of some worth?
Who will build me a statue? All in unison
Shout it out through a bullhorn. Not much have I done.
Were I a human doing since my ancient birth
Instead of just a being, would my life be great?

There is nothing to get here but our daily rest.
We live life in a manner intense and profound
Or we don’t. In the end, what will happen to all
Is a burning or burying. What will enthrall
And excite me can keep me from running aground.
My preponement of such things ensures I am blessed.

Trueness To Self

Dichotomy of Self

Life is like an umbrella. Our lies are like rain.
When they pour, we’re protected. If held steadily
And if it has no holes, the umbrella works well.
We can feel that we’re not wet. No others can tell
That we’ve got a storm going. Not even we see
The fake self we’ve created, yet we expect gain.

I must bullshit myself in sophisticated
Ways that I’ve learned from childhood, impressed upon me
by religion, my elders and society.
Then I’ll add my own bullshit most egregiously.
The truth does not come easily if I won’t see
All of it with full clarity… not self-mislead.

Life can only get better at catching my lies
And should they become hail-like, the life torn to shreds
Will then have to come up with one that is more real.
Living in simple truthfulness is most ideal.
I can stop second guessing what’s in people’s heads.
Myself in its true brilliance is my best disguise.

Can A Building Do Laundry?

How a building can enhance the quality of life

Can A Building Do Laundry or take out the trash?
If it did its own windows, would that make the deal
Even sweeter? If so, can our dwellings foresee
How its occupants fit geometrically?
To some people, a building must have sex appeal
So much so they’ll become flowing fountains of cash.

Everything that is physical – a blade of grass,
Or the body, our planet, or vast galaxy –
Is a work of geometry. Nature, for earth,
Is the capable architect of immense worth.
How we build where we live and work, one would agree,
Is The thing of importance. What nature is class?

Need a building be classy? It is a class act
If indeed it’s designed well. We’re crafted by God.
Yoga is geometric. The body improves
In the ways we are conscious of how well it moves.
If our architecture is in any way flawed
Yoga can realign it as matter of fact.

Geometry is seen in the things that we wear.
So, our fashion would ask of us conscious intent.
We may wear any odd thing or live in a place
That is not to our liking. But what a disgrace!
Ancient structures of burnt brick and not of cement
Remain standing to this day, as if people care.

We behold any structure as whole and complete,
Self-contained in its beingness… made into form.
We have been in survival mode up until now.
A new way of existence is best to allow
Our behavior to sharply depart from the norm.
What is done with one’s dwelling can make the life sweet.

Good Karma – Bad Karma?

Simplistic Duality

There’s this notion that ‘good’ karma cancels out ‘bad.’
That is way too simplistic, so here’s the detail.
The word ‘karma’ means ‘action.’ It means nothing more.
We pour meaning into it and tend to ignore
All but our explanation, then proceed to fail.
There should be clarity when the word is unclad.

There are four kinds of action. While we are awake,
Or even when we’re sleeping, the four are at play.
Most action is unconscious, like driving a car
With one’s eyes closed. No driver would get very far
Before causing some turmoil in someone’s fine day.
If we could be more conscious, a good life we’d make.

Our actions are emotional, mental, also
Physical and of energy. Those are the four.
We seem not to control them. They make us instead
Think that something outside us is how we are led.
Were we to become conscious, we would perceive more
And become more enlightened and able to grow.

There’s no boss who’s controlling us from up above
Karma means we each have full control of our lives.
We record and we process through sensory tools.
Memory becomes blatant. We’re locked in our rules.
In a sense, we are sensory input archives
Who behave out of fearfulness or out of love.

The Leash

Escape from normal reality

On which end of the Silver Cord am I the pet?
And which end does the owner command some control?
Between owner and thing owned, which damned one am I?
Only when I am traveling far past the sky
Do I recall most lucidly what is my goal.
As I come wide awake here, I’m doomed to forget.

If I am not this body, am I then a probe
Self-controlled most remotely by some higher me?
People say they’re connected – the selves at each end.
The role each plays, this body cannot comprehend.
On this end I am blinded, but there I can see
How the soul makes a trap of the prefrontal lobe.

We all leave, as we slumber, the body at rest
And go wandering thither to spirit’s content.
Some will visit a hot star, examine it well,
Then, upon their awaking, think they’ve been to hell.
We’re connected to God Source. What we represent
Is the hope of creation. We truly are blessed.

High Spirits In Hard Times

Solace

Hard times sometimes befall us like leaves when they fall
In the fall time when color becomes nature’s form.
They can be overwhelming. When spirits are low
One can feel uninvited with no place to go.
How does one come to weather a strong psychic storm?
It may not be that easy. It hurts, most of all.

Must I learn to accept things? Is that the right key
To unlock what’s the matter and cast it aside?
It reeks of some resentment, but perhaps it will
Redirect me to some wish that I can fulfill.
Things of life that are pleasing can act as my guide.
What I want is the right path that clearly I see.

Right now is but a fall time. I’ll give it no more.
The next now I anticipate will fall in place
To complete my life’s puzzle, or partially so.
There are those who accept me. This is good to know.
Living life to fulfillment is done so in grace.
I am ready to pass through the next open door.

Do What You Love – Love What You Do

Blissfulness of Engagement

You can love what you do or else do what you love.
There’s no other alternative to living well.
Neither is of more essence. They both are the same.
Spreading into the framework of life is a game.
One need not be the expert but simply excel
At achieving the peace that all are worthy of.

People do things they don’t like and suffer lifelong.
Their commitment to duty or ill perceived need
Can enslave them to lifelessness. Is this the way
To a life of fulfillment rather than dismay?
What comes naturally will help one to succeed
At whatever is chosen. One cannot go wrong.

Doing what is allowed, one can then safely say
That comfort in belonging suffices for growth.
Doing just what is needed, and joyfully so,
Is the way to enlightenment with room to grow.
There’s no reason apparent that one can’t be both
In love with what one’s doing and with every day.

A Generous Gift

Uncommon Generosity

A young yogi went out to seek guidance within.
As is customary, to the forest he went.
When he needed some food he went in town to beg
Then went back to the forest, with purpose not vague,
To continue his mantra consumed in content.
Well attuned and strong willed, there is but to begin.

As the night came he noticed a disabled fox.
He was well fed and healthy but had no front legs.
The man knew nature’s cruelty so did wonder why
She’d allow this sick creature to thrive and not die.
His concern was not too great. No questioning begs
A significant answer from out of the box.

Then the sound of a lion’s roar scared him from trance.
Quite astonished he was when he saw the large beast
Leave a big piece of meat for the lucky lame one.
He was deeply moved by what this lion had done.
He came to the conclusion that he too should feast
With no effort whatever. So, he took a chance.

After several days no food came to this man.
He became weak and withered. Then nearing his death,
An elder yogi saw him. They spoke for a bit.
“Why did you choose the lame fox? That doesn’t seem fit.
Be the generous lion ‘til your dying breath.
Don’t resign to be helpless. Do all that you can!”

Re-Walk-In

Etherality Of Existence

I’ve walked out of this life many times, I must say,
Thinking each time I’ll never see this one again.
I’ll expect I’ll walk into another life, but
I’ll find soon that I’ve entered the same frigging rut.
I’d be happy if I could forget where I’d been
Until I’d reached the point where I don’t want to stay.

Yes, I’ve heard about Walk-In’s. I think it is strange
That some soul on the rebound would want to enter
Someone’s hell of a half-life. Can spirits go mad?
Or are they simply willing to be a comrade
To the soul in a tailspin? Indeed, I’d prefer
Infinite horizons as I wander free range.

Could I make this a boring life? I could well try.
How much effort it would take depends not upon
Anyone who may share my most chaotic realm,
But upon my perceiving, in life’s overwhelm,
The life I must walk into, come hell or new dawn.
As I re-enter this life, need I wonder why?

Inner Exploration

Multilayered Nature of Existence

Mysticism comes from within – not from the east.
Both the east and the west have come to conclusions
simultaneous and similar in essence.
All things are constructed of but five elements.
Earth, Air, Water, and Fire are the obvious ones
And the fifth is Etheric Space, yet not the least.

We are made mostly of Water. Life does it give
To all parts of the body. It has memory.
Our thoughts and our emotions can change the structure
Of the H2O molecule. I should ensure
That I keep mine as positive as they can be
So that Water within me supports how I live.

Earth we are twelve percent of. What’s beneath our feet
As we touch our Earth Mother in our daily stroll
Is where all of life came from. We must keep in touch
With this wholesome soul being whom we owe so much.
Keeping close to the Earth indeed makes one’s life whole.
None among all Earth’s species she deems as elite.

 We are six percent Air. The most dynamic part
Of our complex system, from moment to moment,
It keeps us most aware of each breath that we take.
We must ensure its purity for our health’s sake.
Do something aerobic. It can be infrequent.
This will cleanse well the blood and give life to the heart.

Fire is but a small part of us. We need sunlight.
That which burns within everyone is the life force.
Whether greed or compassion… resentment or love,
Every flame that exists is from the sun above.
Connecting to our Fire, we do honor our source
So that everything we do in life will shine bright.

The most expansive of the five, Etheric Space,
Exists throughout the cosmos and within us all.

How much access we have to it determines how
We align with the moment and saver the now.
To look up and give reverence is nothing small.
Within ultimate intellect we find our grace.

Yin And Yang

TheMagicRealist.com

For people in relationships, sometimes there’s stress.
But is there a solution? Can love be stress free?
What indeed is the nature of romantic love?
Is there spiritual guidance to make use of?
A sweetness of emotion love appears to be.
And it will be compulsive by nature’s ingress.

Nature wants to perpetuate. This is her way
In a real way, we’re coerced by genes and the flesh.
As we approach adulthood, the mind is hijacked
By the hormonal chemistry, thus we transact
In such ways that are natural. Love is a fresh
And healthy expression of most reverent play.

When the chemistry wears off, as in time, it will,
There must have been an effort to form a strong tie
To each other on a level deeply conscious.
If done so from the outset, such bonding will bless
The relationship lavishly. Nature is why
We are made to fulfill her most intimate thrill.

 Should couples remain faithful ‘til death do them part?
There remains certain beauty in living as one
For the long haul. To surrender is a good thing
For any human being. The heart does not sing
For the one who is all about self. There are none
Among those who are lovers who are of mean heart.

On Accepting The Dickhead

Love Your Enemies

Many people I judge ‘bad’ in some kind of way.
It’s said most of us are this way. Could it be true
That all people aren’t angels? Some are dangerous!
Most I don’t have to deal with, but is that a plus?
Those I do have some contact with can put me through
An acute anal throbbing that fucks with my day.

Why can’t I just accept them? Why not just “say yes”
Like the mouse to the mouse trap before it steps in?
That, of course, is not easy. It does take much work
To get myself to where I can love any jerk.
If I still curse them mentally, is that a sin?
If it is, then I guess I’ve got shit to confess.

Or I could take their skin off so they better feel
Everything that I’m feeling so they keep their place.
Would they become more sensitive? Probably so.
If my thick skin were missing, surely I would know
A deep sense of intensity and teeming grace.
The empowering freedom does pique my appeal.

Maybe I can achieve this most fortunate state
Of assurance that all things are as they should be.
I may be overwhelmed, at first, but I’ll succeed.
A reorganization will happen, indeed.
Would the act of rebalancing rectify me?
I may yet curse the bastards, and it will feel great!

Glue Man

Healthy, confident... dutiful living

To be told I’m a Glue Man is not an insult
Nor a face-beaming compliment. It’s just plain fact.
I cannot live my life unless I get involved.
But when I get stuck, many things left unresolved
Render my life entangled and ill a class act
Instead of liberating the wayward adult.

Is the problem involvement? It clearly is not.
My entanglement is the infectious disease.
Anything someone gives me to hold for a while
I can then not let go of. Therefore, I compile
A huge mountain upon me blanketed with trees
That I can’t see the forest for. Is my life fraught?

I am covered in sticky stuff. It’s not a sin
But I should remain mindful that I am this way.
When I carry my mountain, I do so with pain.
Making all things a pain is one Hell of a strain.
What I need is a solvent – one that will allay
My most adhesive aspects. Where should I begin?

I should drop all the nonsense about how to be.
Attachment, detachment, compassion and such are
But a complex configuration of a mess.
When I am not so sticky then I can address
The nurturing of the self so it’s up to par.
As the self begins blossoming, I am glue free.

Glimpses

Seeing Through the Barrier

There are two sides to meaning. It is a great wall
That puts up the big question: “What’s on either side?”
Fancifulness of thinking is some people’s way.
Others dare to be practical. What does this say
About the human intellect? Does it provide
A glimpse into things deeper in life? Not at all.

Everything that I know not, I tend to believe.
I don’t know the full meaning of what I don’t know.
What I have is this person – a complex machine.
I have not seen the user’s guide. What does that mean?
Wild excursions of my logic just go to show
That to question the meaning of life is naïve.

When I know that I don’t know, I’m in seeking mode.
I don’t know a damned thing about anything. So,
I could be carefree as when I was a small child,
Or grow older, less joyful and so self-reviled
That the only contentment that my life will show
Is belief in what I don’t know, thus growth is slowed.

Life is beyond all meaning. The guide tells us how
To commit that conclusion to our memory.
To live life to the fullest, the phenomenon
Of life I must experience. Depending on
My concoction of meaning, I choose not to see
That life is too fantastic to settle my brow.

Please Don’t Go

Image of Silent Desperation

Mental maladjustment is sometimes what it’s called.
To lose all the connection to all that we know
Is to live in sheer agony. I can confess
That I know what it feels like. The mind is a mess.
It cannot function healthily nor can it grow.
In the living of life, one becomes unenthralled.

How would I comfort someone who’s feeling this way?
Simply because I’ve been through it, maybe I may
Offer some bit of clarity. All things are one.
When one cannot find within a sense of union,
A small shift in the thinking may better convey
That all are special characters in a big play.

We may all be mere pop-up’s on life’s big touch screen,
Popping in for a brief moment, then popping out.
But we all are the message we send to ourselves.
When one feels disconnected, it’s best that one delves
Into some form of practice to mitigate doubt
That the Myth Of Identity is the machine.

Every cell in The Body and person on earth
Has its duty to this life. How else can it seem?
Conscious obliteration of self can be done
In a way not so tragic, and it’s often fun.
We are not individuals. We are the Dream
Of Creation.
Don’t leave here not knowing your worth.

Heaven On Earth

TheMagicRealist.com

Can we make the world heaven? Is this a pipe dream
With an angel food topping baked in a kitchen
That is somewhat inadequate? If I think so,
Then, of course, it’s a notion with nowhere to go.
Some would tell me to dry up and quit my bitchin’
Because they see that hell is a recurrent theme.

In a way, that makes some sense. Life is not a crime.
If I could not be satisfied with how things are
Then I wouldn’t find peace with any condition.
That would be an astute point, in my admission.
If I made my own heaven, would that be bizarre?
Making heaven of myself indeed should be prime.

Heaven was made in spirit. All things are conceived
From the space that is no place yet still it exists.
Changing only the content in my life will make
Not that much of a difference. I come awake
When I alter the context of life. It consists
Of all tools that are needed for heaven achieved.

I can do the same things, but in different ways.
There are myriad ways in which things can be done.
They can be done carelessly or with mindfulness.
As our ways become multiplied, we may express
Ways of solving our problems. Heaven had begun
Long before our arrival to offer malaise.

Minutes For Health

TheMagicRealist.com

Everyone has a routine if conscious or not.
It can be one of good health or destructive ways.
Everything is the body. No such thing as mind
Nor as anything else is the body designed
As a separate entity. Worthy of praise,
The body and technology are the same plot.

It is for transformation that I’ve taken form.
As the ripples in time that I make offer change
In my present surroundings, they change parts of me
That I don’t know need changing. The body can see
On a cellular level the proper exchange
That is needed to maintain its optimum norm.

Spirit, body and mind coalesce, as it were,
Into unified consciousness. Activity,
Rest and healthy food will keep the whole self in shape.
Being mindful in selfhood is the best escape
From the ills that befall me so effectively.
When I am in alignment, good health does occur.

Resentment And Anger

TheMagicRealist.com

I engage in self-poisoning if I hate you
Then expect you to feel badly. It makes no sense.
Thank you for this life lesson, you son of a bitch!
That’s how much concern you deserve, speaking of which,
Concern for my wellbeing despite your offense
Is my best course of action. I’ll see this one through.

It is not just a saying… an analogy
Isolated from nature. It is proven fact
That if I’m in resentment, my blood chemistry
Will begin to make toxins that will destroy me.
It is in my best interest to bless how I act
With the firm realization that I am worthy.

I can choose to live joyfully or live in pain.
Therein I have much power. My surroundings are
Not under my control. Much cooperation
And much effort I would need. It wouldn’t be fun.
Joyfulness is a concept that now seems bizarre
Yet to persist in hating you would be insane.

When the body feels pleasantly, then health is good.
If it feels very pleasantly, pleasure it’s called.
If the mind knows no tension, we say it’s at peace.
If it is stimulated, it then will release
Endorphins to support joy and keep us enthralled.
As I regain my focus much is understood.

Higher Dimensions

TheMagicRealist.com

With a sense of devotion, consciousness can rise
Far above what is normal. This path is one most
In accordance with nature, although she does not
Reveal herself that easily. Tangled in thought,
We may balk at the progress that others may boast.
Is devotion in life enough to make us wise?

Wisdom is not a measure of how much we know.
That much is a collection of figures and facts.
Devotion is intelligence of a rare kind.
The best example of it is one with no mind.
Living life can be simple performing kind acts.
Finding those to give service to is how we grow.

There’s an ocean inside every consummate soul.
Most do not have much access due to ignorance
Of the way to be simple in living life well.
When involvement with living becomes like a spell
Wherein I’m insignificant, wisdom immense
I will gain in the long run. Should this be my goal?

Setting goals complicates life. They get in the way
Of accessing the wisdom we hold deep within.
We reach Higher Dimensions without much effort,
Complicated procedure nor need to resort
To hard, rigorous study to live without sin.
Every act of devotion is as a child’s play.

Pluperfect Precognizance

To suggest writing being channeled to earth from spirit

I continue to write even since I am gone
From the earth plane. Explaining this I can well do.
All of time is eternal. I write from a place
That knows nothing of substance nor wanting for grace.
That this world is both here and there is more than true.
I will do my best writing where it’s always dawn.

And it ain’t always dawn here on this wretched earth
With its lethal life lessons and lead-laden laws.
Here is my remote office. There is where I live.
While I’m out on assignment, my best I do give.
All the work I am given is of the First Cause.
I compose in contentment until my rebirth.

As the soul disengages from this earthly plane
And I yield to due process, my words dissipate,
Like the flesh I have borrowed and things I have done,
Back into the whole clockwork where all had begun.
Nothing said is immortal. Should this be my fate,
Life becomes an enigma. There’s nothing to gain.

How do I reconcile this? Or is there the need
To make meaning from meaning? My recycling will,
For the most part, eliminate work that is bad
In the viewpoint of others. Had I a comrade
In consumption, perhaps that does improve my skill.
Counterparts in eternity do intercede.

Fun Filled Flavors Of Time

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s a good life! The moral revealed at the end
Of the old classic movie is reemphasized
In the smile in a short while, or falling in love
With the wonder of Being. The sunshine above
Wraps me warm with its freshness. To it I am prized.
What dessert made in heaven would I recommend?

 It’s a romp through a funhouse of utter delight.
Every sight that beholds me, and I it, reveals
Everything that is wonderful. Does nature rhyme
With all that I’ve become and in such little time?
I am confident that I don’t need training wheels.
From my viewpoint, I see that my future is bright.

Time tastes funny to me, and sometimes it is sweet.
I have not lived life long enough to harbor doubt
That the goodness in this world is bigger than bad.
Nothing much about my life can make me feel sad.
I atone on my own with no ego to tout.
My digesting is joyful, and life is a treat.

An Incredible Thing

TheMagicRealist.com

Children can be unruly without lots of space
Free of smoke and pollution and filled with bright light.
They can tell us what’s good for them. We could well learn
By means of trial and error. We needn’t be stern
In supporting their learning. Their keen appetite
For what life has to offer is our saving grace.

We consider the child who is troubled somehow.
Perhaps he has been orphaned and lives with some folks
Who are not well prepared to look after his needs.
He may act out in turn with unsociable deeds.
With disruptive behavior, the need is to coax
What is hurt in the child’s heart so love he’ll allow.

Gentle handling with a sense of warm loving care
And perhaps yoga practice in some simple form
Will do much to transform children who’ve gone astray.
We are best in supporting our children this way.
Would society flourish if this were the norm?
Our children are as healthy as we are aware.

Falling In Love

TheMagicRealist.com

I free fall in complete space. My life do I share.
Darkness is a cool warmth punctuated by light
Of a rarefied nature. I am meant to be
In consort with all goodness between she and me.
We’re not risen in loving as our souls take flight.
Unless something of me falls, there’s no love affair.

I’ve collected who I am for such a long time.
There is much to hold on to but much to let fall.
I know that in the falling, I’ll be that much more
In attune with the wants of the one I adore.
The expression is meaningful and a good call,
Being that, as I’m falling, I’ve no will to climb.

Someone else has become more important than me.
I do find it delightful and much like a spell
That is cast from a bigger source. So, with due grace
I succumb to my falling and fully embrace
Any space where my true love and I freely dwell.
Myself as just one being I no longer see.

Embrace Life

TheMagicRealist.com

God is all things in all ways imagined and not.
The existence of all beings merge into one
And become animated while yet standing still.
Every conscious experience adds to the thrill
Being supreme exuberance never begun.
What we know as divinity cannot be taught.

God becomes every human and wild and tame beast.
In all ways multiplicative, dichotomy
Is the mode of expression divinity knows.
Oneness is all-inclusive. Perceived highs and lows
Shift the focus from oneness in the quest to be
All there is to one’s being one may know the least.

Stillness, intoxication and exuberance
Are divinity’s attributes most clearly seen.
What we behold in nature and our complex lives
Is a part of the absolute. Being revives
The process of existence. Unlike a machine,
It exists through eternity. Need it make sense?

Beyond Right And Wrong

TheMagicRealist.com

Far beyond the dichotomy of right and wrong,
There’s a place to negotiate. I’ll meet you there.
In relationships, is that place called acceptance?

Rumi was quite the wise one. He breathed common sense.
Well in tune with the mystical, he had a flair
For expressing what’s hard to express like a song.

Love is one way to get to that space in-between
Our liking or disliking all that we behold.
But it is not the only way. It is but one.
Engaging with the texture of life has begun
In the moment one’s journey is left uncontrolled
By contingent discernment in all that is seen.

To be righteous, behaviors are scrutinized well.
To function in society, this is a must.
If one cannot discriminate, he’ll not succeed
In a world overcome with a measure of greed.
Is it wise, then, to nurture a strong sense of trust
In a world that can only be heaven or hell?

To succeed in one’s inner world, one must let go
Of all thought and emotion – all attachment to
That which causes selection to be the journey.
It is the destination one must clearly see
As devoid of duality. Can this be true?
Wise ones who’ve gone before us should very well know.