On The Cusp Of Charisma

Toward the Bounce In One's Step

Who appreciates ugliness in any form?
No one does. It is beauty we all want to see.
Well made objects and people who glow like the sun
Are all pleasures in life that no sane one would shun.
Charisma is magnetic. It’s healthy to be
In the comfort of company blessed and warm.

Sometimes I cannot look well nor feel fine inside.
Between inside and outside there is middle ground
Where the two can exchange paths and instantly find
Empathy in reclusion with brightness of mind.
In that magical moment charisma is found
Where the wisdom within one will shine with great pride.

They are not mirror images as it is seen
By the real world with limited pointless of view.
Yet, they are seen by consciousness. This is the fact
In both spirit and physical. Here we enact
How we all are connected. In nowhere we knew.
So can I beam like sunshine? That would not be mean.

Every day is a new day. The choice is my own.
Should I dream about ecstasy or gloom and doom?
Dreaming both inter-mixed well may be the relief
That the self should accept because this life is brief.
All within the encounter there’s not enough room.
I rejoice in the goodness that I may have shown.

Subjective Truth

Subconscious Desire for Nurturance

Seeing someone else’s point of view now and then
I can do but with difficulty, so it’s best
That I keep mine subjective as well as their own.
I will react to others in ways overblown.
Ways of looking at life sometimes shouldn’t be stressed.
If they are, I will falter again and again.

Sensitive and confounding, my feelings arise
From the depths of the psychic substrata within.
If I dare not to share them no change does it make
To the world’s points of view. It would be a mistake
To express what is true for me. It would be sin
To present my Subjective Truth to other’s eyes.

But under what circumstances can this be so?
Every human condition exists to be known
To the whole of existence. Now, if this is true
Then I can see my effort as something brand new.
Perseverance is futile if I am alone
Yet a part of all that is above and below.

I’m addicted to trueness as all people are
So immersed in uncertainty wanting to know
What it is we experience as we live on.
There is nothing but truth when this short time is gone.
What is known by true spirit is destined to flow
Into present awareness. Wisdom is not far.

Favors Granted

Knowing Opportunity, Goals, Ambition an Satisfaction

Giving gifts is a favor to oneself and those
Who receive what is offered. The gesture delights
Everyone who is part of it. And there’s no need
To ensure satisfaction. Our lives may proceed
With that sense of fulfillment that truly excites.
Elements of surprise are fragrant like the rose.

It feels good to influence folks in a good way.
Anything bringing pleasure to someone we know
Is a blessing from spirit translated to form.
Giving sanctifies feeling and keeps the heart warm.
Nothing else is of value but hearts set aglow
By enacting the favor that makes someone’s day.

Ambitions well-adjusted to giving freely
Enhance greatly the attitude and the outlook
On the otherwise uncertain times we may face.
We do ourselves a favor by living in grace.
What is favored the most is the spirit unshook
By the state of the larger world shunted from glee.

Favors Granted are magical in that they move
What has not seen much exercise in a long time.
They refresh what is stale and uplift what’s been down.
Are we fine with an act that can upturn a frown?
Despite all that is happening life is sublime.
When you give from the heart all of life will improve.

Healing Battle Wounds

All Those Enemies' Minds

Living to get things done – like survival and such –
Some can’t tolerate weakness. Impatient are they
To the world’s sensitivities. Presumably
There is no bad intention. With no need to see
Finer detail, some know but a world that is gray
With some parts of the blue and green but not too much.

Well-prepared to do battle, each day is a fight
For the lone interloper. Not willing to stray
From the tough straight and narrow, with pride some engage
What they sense as the other. The ensuing rage
Follows audible discourse. This must be the way
To survive yet another day and the dark night.

Seeing red isn’t possible but some detect
Full blown redness in others then want to respond
With what humans call hatred. But we cannot see
What it is in our nature that can set us free
From the need for predation. We’re one step beyond
What the beasts have in common. Indeed it’s respect.

To politicize warfare is to no one’s gain.
Socially we are triggered by every detail.
Our perception of color in manifold hues
May be much to our detriment if we so choose
To denounce evolution. All that can prevail
Is incompetent vision and ongoing pain.

Trivial Pursuits

Positive and Friendly; Appreciating Harmony

It’s seen simply as trivial… all that I do
From sun up ‘til sundown and the time in between.
Though to me it’s important, and I shouldn’t care
That the gift that I offer is not meant to share
With any but this troubled self. Why am I seen
As the fool who does nothing? Am I ugly too?

If folks took me more seriously would I be
In this hellish predicament victimized so?
I suspect that the answer is all up to me.
I am friendly to no one because none can see
I’ve a genuine purpose. It just doesn’t show.
I’ve become quite embittered, yet who can agree?

Someone started a joke in the form of a game.
Too late into it I find no reason to laugh.
Maybe I’m not supposed to. I feel I should cry
While awaiting complete withdrawal when I die.
I came here not to play, so the best epitaph
Is a statement of substance to honor my shame.

People don’t want to know me or read what I write
Because I’m lacking something. Clearly I’ve no clue.
It remains a big secret to me yet it’s fun
To the world and its players. For me there is none.
I feel I’m being punished, but what did I do
To deserve the aloneness? Why am I uptight?

When depression evolves into anger it’s seen
As a worthwhile improvement. I’ve given up hope
That getting any better can do me much good.
I’ve been at life a long time. Its blatant falsehood
Leaves no meaning where I can successfully cope
With abject isolation in my sick routine.

Love Of Mystery

Exploring Infinite Inner Dimensions

I’m in love with the mystery. Can this be true
When so much is uncertain and not to be known
To this self and all others caught up in this dream?
I will not find most answers though I am extreme
In my quest for enlightenment. This life has shown
That the point of the asking makes cloudy my view.

My incessant inquiries made to the vast whole
Of existence I trust are received with respect
To my fervor in asking. My focus is keen
And I hope that my effort is rightfully seen
As a labor of love that I cannot neglect.
Be it that all my probing will strengthen my soul.

 Superficial are explanations that provide
But the least bit of substance. To get something more
Is the work of a lifetime. And I am prepared
To search hard and discover what then can be shared
With those ripe to be whetted like never before
By a deeper connection to serve as a guide.

Mystery is astounding. To investigate
Is the path to fulfillment. The thirst of the soul
Is the mission in living. Wisdom is revealed
In the process of being. The soul can be healed
Of all things that will keep it from reaching its goal.
Love Of Mystery accents my will to create.

Emotional Support

Freedom to Express Self Among Friends

Does it come from a help line or android phone app,
Or perhaps from a bottle, a joint, or a pill?
Where support is most needed is known to the soul.
Nothing outside the body can render it whole.
Expression of emotion is by one’s free will
In the hope that compassion will fill in the gap.

Measures out of the ordinary one must take
To ensure that connections with others are such
That support is forthcoming and always at hand
At the moment most needed. Yet, one can’t demand
What is not being offered but wanted so much,
For the consequence will put the friendship at stake.

My thinking is progressive. If I feel a pain
That I can’t fully process, I must go within
Rather than cast myself as a creature of need
Otherwise friendship with me most people would heed.
I’d prefer not to be caught committing that sin.
People have their own issues. Why drive them insane?

Sociable and gregarious… I’ll play that role
As long as there’s a measure of truth in my act.
I can learn to perform well to honor the peace
Of the human collective. I may find release
Of my social misgivings. Then I may attract
What is offered in kindness to my aching soul.

On The Line

Hypre-Attentive to Detail

No relief in the martyr game is to be found.
Pretending things are alright with me, all the while
Subtly signaling horror, I am On The Line
Between dream and reality. Everything’s fine

Even though I’m aware of my blatant denial
Of the peace that betrays me while high off the ground.

Thinking of health and fitness and proper hygiene
Is a most useless exercise in times of strife.
With my nose to the grindstone and steeped in routine
None can notice discomfort. In fact, I’m not seen.
Everyone in their own way responds to this life
With insight and emotion to keep the heart clean.

Taking care of the details in my daily life
With concern for no other may feed my distress.
As the human condition wreaks havoc on souls,
On The Line I tread carefully needless of goals.
My contingent response is a lonely process.
An inscrutable puzzle is dealing with strife.

Improving and perfecting the ease, that I know
Is a part of my essence, may set my heart free
From malignant perceptions. This world and its ways
Are not for me to judge nor to offer my praise.
I can find some relief in just letting it be
As it is and may always be. Then I may grow.

Deeper Understanding

Transformative Words and Healing

What comes next is the healing of unresolved pain.
Deepening is the discord that lies at my feet
In the form of a crystal ball I will not lift.
I await what some speak of as the major shift
That will lead to the dark force’s righteous defeat
As the whole world rejoices the death of their reign.

What is outside is inside. This time that I take
To digest what has happened to this land and I
Will be used for reflection. Rejection of harm
To myself and all others is my psychic charm.
Are there some more effective that I’d care to try?
This nightmare most atrocious will scare me awake.

A Deeper Understanding of all that takes place
Cannot come without courage and faith of the heart
That is otherwise broken beyond all belief.
I am caught in a stranglehold, therefore relief
Is of utmost importance. Indeed, a fresh start
And a change in the weather comes only by grace.

The emotional messages fall like the rain
From collective subconscious clouds near overhead.
They uplift, yet I fear them. The hopelessness felt
Undermines my composure in what is now dealt
To the ignorant masses and hearts that have bled.
Yet the depth of my knowing has not come in vain.

The Collector

Easy Appeal to a Broad Audience

Constantly I collect things. Are they of much use
In my everyday living? Or are they a waste
Of my precious soul’s energy? Should I take care
That some of what I’ve gathered may cause me despair?
If I get rid of some of them are they erased
Completely from my memory as in ‘Vamoose?’

What I have does fulfill me. Some I must let go.
Since I no longer need them, why keep them around?
Do I feel I will want them at some future time?
I should be in the moment where life is sublime.
Things I feel that are lost now are not to be found
In the past nor the future. This I should well know.

To achieve complete oneness the balance I seek
Must involve getting rid of the things I don’t need
If I see them as clutter. The urge to collect
Is one thing that I have and that I can perfect
With some careful attention. It could turn to greed
Which can lead to disaster and make the soul weak.

When attached with emotion to things that I own
I may feel they’re a part of me. This is the flaw
In the otherwise logical process of thought.
If and when it’s discovered in grace I am taught
That the things of most value are those that bring awe
To my humble existence, as living has shown.

Something New

Too Bored To Look Back

There’s no reason for boredom. If life drags me down
Then a crap load of mind clutter must be the cause.
Taking on Something New, then, may remedy that.
Moving forward is something I don’t have down pat
So, whenever I do, I give myself applause.
If I stay where I am I can wear but a frown.

There’s so much to explore in this world made most real
To the physical senses and magnetic mind.
They all work in conjunction and focus my soul
Into fact-finding consciousness. It’s not my goal
To not be interwoven among humankind.
Something New resurrects me. It has great appeal.

 Before me there’s a corridor made of pure light.
I cannot see what’s in it, yet I must go there.
All the trust in my doing so comes from within.
All points leading to one place is where I begin
An exciting adventure I would not compare
To the sameness I know now. The future is bright.

Not content with the mundane, I need full release
From apparent entrapment the self has allowed
To take over its spirit. It’s loving life force
Does return to its natural wholeness, of course.
With a thirst for discovery I am endowed.
Something New is a blessing of ultimate peace.

Slightly Out Of Focus

Drifting Into Reverie

An impressionist painting appears before me.
It’s Slightly Out Of Focus. I cannot discern
Between shadow and color. The image is vague.
The reality evident does not but plague
My most natural vision. Is this a downturn
In my quest to see clearly? I doubt this can be.

Every confounding episode lasts but a while.
So I know that this one will eventually
Pass away into memory. I may forget
All about this experience. I won’t regret
Having been in a fog. At some point I will see
What I haven’t seen this day. I may even smile.

Random thoughts as they scatter the untidy mind
Coalesce in confusion. The fuzziness there
Cannot be quite the good thing that I might address
Totally in a confident way, I confess.
If the mind harms the heart in a fit of despair
I will pray that the world is attentive and kind.

I can paint a nice picture from all that I know
At this time as at any. This time I must take
To restore my completeness as I do always.
To keep track of events as they happen these days
Is a task unbecoming. I am wide awake
As the world plays the mind, yet I’m destined to grow.

Be Yourself!

Freedom of Self-Expression

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

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

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

Minding The Work – Working The Mind

The Work of Mental Feeling

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

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

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

Calm And Foresight

Calm Above The Storm

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

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

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

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

Helpful Words

What Am I, Fake China?

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

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

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

Asserting Your Freedom

Affirmative Self-Expression

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

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

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

Take The Time

Emotional Confusion

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

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

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

My Defeat

Abject Surrender

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

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

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

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

Tending The Harvest

Mental Work of the Field

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

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

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

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

The Meanth Of Juneteenth

Nationwide Recognition

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

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

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

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

A Truly Selfless Dream

Watered Colors of Life

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

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

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

The Hidden Revealed

War of Emotions

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

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

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


Cosmic Interdependence

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

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

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

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

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

Taking Notes

Stimulated Mental Activity

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

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

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

Thoughtless Action

Letting Off Steam

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

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

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

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

Spinning In Place

Nervous Energy

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

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

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

Master Of Skills

The Ideal Environment

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

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

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

Handle With Care

Delicate Touch

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

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

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

The Magic Realist

Definition Of Life

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

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

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

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


Rational And Intuitive Balance

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

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

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

I Poet Because I Owe It

The Consumate Writer

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

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

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

Guess Who Won’t Stay For Dinner

Righteous Non-Invitation

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

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

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

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

Restore And Rejuvenate

Facing Familiarity

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

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

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

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

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

Just Move On

No Alternative Solution

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

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

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

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

An Adequate Chance

Emotional Mystique

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

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

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

Dear Lord


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

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

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

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

A Sober Answering

Status Hunger

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

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

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

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

Just A Kind Word

The Harmonizer

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

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

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

The Cycle Unending

Eternal Drama

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

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

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

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

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

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

Communicable Heart

Sensitivities Linked To Communication

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

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

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

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

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

Semi-Lucid Dream

All Enclusive Anoneness

Those I interact with in this vivid half dream
Can be only part real, as subconscious creates
From a playbook of lessons I’m destined to learn.
People who I encounter can’t be of concern
Nor can I demand substance from non-awake states.
Characters in this half-life must be as they seem.

Nothing that I derive should make substantial sense.
It de-sanctifies logic. I should stand at ease
In pursuit of perfection of nebulous form
Where most intense emotion is rendered lukewarm.
I must know that all actors will do as they please.
What directs all behavior denies self-offense.

I discern from conditions while fully awake
What I’m most having trouble with. Then I recall
An enlightened absurdity present and strong.
It becomes a nonsequitur that I ‘belong’
To the world that I’m dreaming. I don’t know it all
Nor can I make believe anything is at stake.

Obsessively Driven

Examine You Attitudes

Sustenance is a given but not on this earth.
In the world disembodied such isn’t the case.
When existing as pure spirit nothing one needs
But divine grace, whereas in this world what proceeds
To hijack people’s focus is all that we chase.
We exalt acquisition and give it much worth.

The concern is with getting all that we may need
Multiplied by a factor ensuring success.
We must win by a landslide to mitigate fear.
There’s no notion of ‘too much,’ and what we hold dear
Will endure dissipation. Some can’t go for less
Than their oversized visions that rely on greed.

So Obsessively Driven our indigent souls
See less value in providence offered for free
By all mightier powers of spirit unseen.
Fearful feelings of worth feed the grotesque machine
That supports the few families efficiently.
Luckily we have free will to temper our goals.

Goal achieving is reckless when out of control
Of the peace ever silent that guides from within.
We become, then, pugnacious and lacking in charm.
In pursuit of our pleasures we do others harm.
Earthly structures are rigid and wear the heart thin.
What on earth besides spirit can render us whole?

This Old Child

Emotional Immaturity

This Old Child needs attention. It that how it is?
It’s a shame. I’m embarrassed. I meant no one harm.
Is it time I surrendered and be an adult?
Most grownups that I know act as if they’re a cult.
I apply for acceptance, but I must disarm
Subtle rigors of consciousness. It’s a tough quiz.

I still think that I’m dreaming this life that I live.
At profound disadvantage, I know but a part
Of the unfolding story. Others know it all
As they move with a swiftness where I can but crawl.
Uninsured innuendo is meant to impart
But small bits of the puzzle. This I must forgive.

Do I feel I’m that different and out of place
Among others who “get” things that I can’t conceive?
Does my aberrant youthfulness make me a fool
Among those who consider my tantrums a tool
That I use out of boredom? Am I that naïve
That I see life as something that I can’t embrace?

Are these questions that children ask just to annoy
Those who can’t help but hear them because they’re so loud?
My emotions aren’t pretty when out of control
And it causes severe detriment to my soul
Yet somewhere in my illness I feel somewhat proud
Of rare moments when I can exist in pure joy.

Hole In One

Luxurious Delusion

Games of leisure have goals just as those that are not
Of the type where complacency plays a big hand.
If the goal is exciting the crowd will then cheer.
If it’s not then the spectators often will sneer.
Either way folks participate by their demand
For wholesome entertainment throughout the game’s plot.

Games are meant to be played in the spirit of fun
For all parties involved unless pleasure received
At the expense of others is what it’s about.
The ulterior games being played leave no doubt
That shared secrets are kept from the one who’s deceived.
Such games make that one foolish then pain has begun.

Holes In One are resultant if One takes to heart
All the petty collusion of those who are bored
With their lives that are lacking of genuine goals.
Acting games cause severe damage to certain souls
So most heartless game players may claim their reward
In sadistic refinement of their gaming art.

Winning moves are not rare ones. They often occur
In elite social circles and those more mundane.
With no shots intervening to get to the goal
Winners smug in achievement think they’re in control
Of the grand game of living, yet little they gain
As the debt of their playing they cannot defer.

The Untended Soil

Desecration of the Earth

When earth’s soil is untended then mankind sets in.
Not a thing about nature man treats with respect.
What results is deep scarring. A cancer grown wild
Aims to threaten earth’s surface. Behold the stepchild
Of the semen of Satan. Not through God’s neglect
Does the gross infestation become mortal sin.

Man commands his undoing. The soul of the earth
Can withstand many eons of outright abuse
At the hands of its waste product stuck to its skin.
She could use a strong bathing, but where to begin?
Were that left up to us would we not reproduce?
Man perpetuates sickness. It’s his right by birth.

All were meant to support nature’s all-giving soul
With our rational faculty and open hearts.
But that’s not what has happened. We’ve tried many times
To get past our own egos and arrogant crimes.
We’re a species encumbered by glaring false starts.
Earth may see our extinction as it’s righteous goal.

Preexisting Pandemic

A World In Trumoil

This kind virus has nothing to do with our war.
It exists to bring healing to dear mother earth.
She’s infected with humans. Severely she’s ill.
All the bloodshed of hate form a thick whirlpool swill.
It maintains her high fever. For all that it’s worth
That which is sick before sickness comes to the core.

The condition’s onset was with Adam and Eve…
Or whatever trite fairy tale authored by man

Our disease cares to cherish. It has been here long
Before some bug so vicious would show us who’s strong.
We may struggle worldwide to come up with a plan
But, in contrast to nature, we’re born to deceive.

Surely we’re the pandemic – the scourge of the earth
Who as fucked mother nature in so many ways.
How much longer will she accept being our whore?
Something outside must show us and even the score.
Consciousness is the natural thing that must raise.
As a species it would seem we have little worth.

Emotional Stamina

Well-Prepared For The Worst

Those who find me “disturbing” are lily white trash
And among them are token specks playing the roles
Of Jemimas and Sambos with power to scorn.
Simply I detest bullshit from those who were born
To excrete through their fake smiles their niggardly souls.
All must know that in due time all flesh turns to ash.

 Send your pigs to harass me, you dumb nigger bitch?
You belong in some hell pit, and that’s where you are.
My words speak with aggression. That won’t go away.
This black bear won’t attack you. I’d hope that your day
Burns a hole through your cheapness. Yes you left a scar
That I seem to be handling as if there’s no glitch.

Since hate Is on the menu. I will take a bite.
It is good for digesting feces of intent.
It invigorates clarity and common sense.
What I do with my blackness requires no defense.
I won’t go to a church to bow down and repent.
I don’t need a white preacher. I do need to fight!

Tragic lessons in mockery we all shall learn.
All the teachers among us pretending to care
And who talk down to me as if I were a child
Or some unsheltered animal snatched from the wild
I Do wish ill upon you. Don’t give me that stare
That says I’ve not the right to wish that you would burn.

I remain out of trouble. My life will be spared
Even though I’m a black man in turbulent times.
Taken off the back burner and back to the streets
Hatred is reignited. My hated heart beats
To abolish “correctness” within social crimes.
For conniving white faces I am well prepared.

Stirred By The Past

Stirred By Unconscious Attitudes Of The Past

It is best to keep record of all that I feel.
If for no other reason it takes back my soul
From corrosive erosion from playing outside.
In my heart and my intellect I must confide.
Spirit is not concerned with my reaching some goal.
I shall learn not from others that my life is real.

In my past there is heartbreak. The vile discontent
Is the resident framework upon which are built
Attitudes and convictions reflective of hate
That consumes my life essence because I don’t rate
Others’ tacit approval. My hopes and dreams wilt
And what I’ve learned most clearly is how to resent.

As I speak of the present I’m stuck in the past
And the manifold messages meant to do harm
Are what I most remember. The future is bleak
Since no one understands simple words that I speak.
If my forsaken nature should sound some alarm
It results in solutions that aren’t meant to last.

It’s a cruel world, but I shall not leave it just yet.
Spirit has work for me here that I will complete
Notwithstanding the torment that I will endure.
In the next phase of living my soul becomes pure.
What I cannot take with me dissolves in defeat.
I shall know in the long run that I’ve paid my debt.

Emotional Fluency

Language Of Cooperation

Social intercourse takes on a special disguise
When the heart feels exuberance. People are fun
And a pleasure to be with. The variety
Among all earth’s inhabitants liberates me
From the prison of loneliness. There is but one
Way to deal with depression and be like the wise.

I’m the one who is errant. The world is just fine
As it spins on its axis. The wobble effect
Represents cyclic changes we all must go through.
I don’t up and feel badly from out of the blue
But through wrong contemplation. I then disconnect
From all harmony present. Then I piss and whine.

It is good that I know this. Often I forget
That my purpose for living depends on no one
But myself and my maker, the God of all things
Both chaotic and peaceful. At times my heart sings
To the tune of acceptance of how life is spun.
May the peace that I know now a new life beget.