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.

The Mark Of Great People?

Fountainhead

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

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

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

Dark Matter – Dark Energy

Interplay of Dark and Other Forces

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

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

Can a dirty old theory be made to look clean?

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

Nominal Ecology

Simplicity of Names

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

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

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

Become A Powerful Human Being

Union of Human and Cosmic Power

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

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

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

Always Make The Right Decision

Enigma of Choice

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

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

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

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

Symptoms Of A Sick Mind

Fantasy Flight

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

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

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

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.

Phallusy

Ornate Provocation

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

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

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

Testimony

Paragon of Patriotism

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

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

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

Forgiveness

Prayer In Desperation

Can you forgive someone with his foot up your ass?
He must take the damned thing out first. Then you’ll get there.
Or are you quite the mystic who seems not to be
Part of this world and all that most others can see?
I will pray for my enemy that he beware
That the hell dreamt and hoped for shall not come to pass.

Can the dull, aching nausea evolve into grace
When presented the miracle of guiding light
From omnipotent beingness? Can I believe
That the enemy’s shoe is something to receive
As a most gracious lesson? That doesn’t feel right.
Perhaps God can find someone to then take my place.

“On Your Knees,” demands Putin, consumed in much hate
And profusely delighted his plan is in play.
“Pray that fate may release you from my evil grip.
You will get used to life under my rulership.”

Is this sounding too farfetched? I’ll fetch any way
That can give the soul solace as I ruminate.

Fuck A Ballot Box!

Playing It Straight

You, the hell, say that waiting… then voting again
Is the proper way forward to rid the white house
Of the white beast within it? I say with no grin,
I done tried that before, boss. My patience is thin!
Did the shit work the last time? Vomit you espouse
As I smell that come from you, I must count to ten.

We are Butt Fucked and Hog Tied. Our system is Screwed!
You sound as if you’re Goldilocks or bitch Bo Peep.
“Just say no” to the ogre, then he’ll go away?
You’re a nightmarish fairytale for present day.
What’s become of my country? My hatred is deep
Yet my fear can surpass that and keep it subdued.

I’m afraid of what’s happening. Shit Is Dead Wrong!
It don’t take no collegiate to use common sense.
There’s no damned motherfucking thing that I can do
Than keep civil while bent over nailed by the screw.
Don’t tell me not to feel this. I take great offense
To perfuming the stench and singing a nice song.

Breaking Up

Image Scatting

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

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

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

Swamp Replacement Campaign

Swamp Maintenance via Russia

“Drain The Swamp,” was the slogan, then “Put Up That Wall!”
Foreign enemies know well how our nation works.

First, they watch us for decades. The patterns they see
Then can be used against us. We are completely
At the mercy of dark forces whose evil lurks
Like a thick, stinking, heavy cloud over us all.

How the Hell does this happen? The forefathers planned
Well for this kind of crisis. It’s built into law!
Some are helping the enemy to get around
Many rules of our nation. These people are bound
To some other commitment. Therein lies the flaw
That entraps the electable weakened of stand.

We all know this happening before our eyes.
This slow-motionless train wreck is ours but to watch
Somewhat helplessly while waiting for it to pass.
I am not a black Russian. Putin, Kiss My Ass!
As our leaders get off theirs, I hope they won’t botch
Up this process. That could well lead to our demise.

Rich White Trash

Convergence of Economic Realities

There’s a need to sound racist. It gets to some truth.
Human rubbish are one race. We make oneness smell
Like a trip to the outhouse that we keep inside
Where the heart is a black hole releasing no pride.
We’ve made this world our dumpster. Within it we dwell,
Self-Importantly arrogant and quite uncouth.

On the flip side of privilege, there are the poor.
That’s the primary reason we don’t get along.
Most will never know wealth nor the pleasures thereof.
Somewhat sick as a race, then, it’s hard to show love.
So, we single out certain groups and make them wrong.
There’s a point at which reason we vow to ignore.

Yet is this too simplistic? To speak about hate
In a tame enough manner and still get things clear
Is a task not worth trying. The trash in my mind
That blows in from the outside is not of my kind.
All my hatred can do is rekindle my fear
That we’re all not the same trash. I’m here to create.

Crucify Her!

Tribal Emnity

“Crucify Her!” They cried, and did so with Great pride
And their own word for greatness and times as they were.
“Go back to where you came from,” some group said to Christ.
Since before we were ‘upright’ we’d been sacrificed
By profound racial venom and what we ‘prefer’
To what is our reality. Hate Does Divide.

No war is ever civil, and all war goes on,
Never ceasing completely. Forever we are
Reconfiguring old hatreds to make them new.
History is a clockwork. We are the cuckoo.
The teen-aged-acting harem and their superstar
Is the darkest point, I hope, before a new dawn.

…You pathetic white women! …You whores of us all!
Why condemn who your white man treats as he does you?

Grow grotesque in your fondness for ‘good old boy’ days.
Let your husbands bull fuck you, then sing in their praise.
You are not my America. You are those who,
By the numbers, are likely to see your downfall.

Piss Like A Man!

Ill-perceived Manliness

If a man sits to piss, it insults his manhood.
Don’t behave like a sissy. Respect your damned ass!
Even if you’re an old man, do not lazily
Plop that ass on a toilet to just take a pee.
You can drain the mad bladder and do so with class
If committed to standing. This does a man good.

Why is this so important? Good posture is why.
Men must take on the attitude of feeling tall.
That can’t happen while sitting. You’ll feel like a bitch.
Pubic hair remains covered to prevent crotch itch
While you’re standing with hand braced against the hard wall.
You can’t piss with a hard on, so don’t even try.

Men, stand up to your manhood with dick firm in hand!
If you’re sitting while pissing, how can you feel proud?
What if something emergent occurred in such state?
You’d be caught with your pants down. It would have to wait.
Let a urinal see how well you are endowed.
Keep your ass perpendicular to the flat land.

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.

Living Stress-Free

Finding Calm in the Chaos

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

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

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

RoboHoe

Human Assimilated By Its Own Technology

Female voices on robocalls is a smart thing
If considering range of vocal frequency
And inflection as ideal to perfect the nag.
Nothing else does it quite like a bitch on the rag.
The worst aspects of women’s voices speak to me
Of well-planned-out annoyance to nerves that will ring.

When the phone rings, the ears ping. The eyes take a leap
Toward the caller ID window. What does it say?
…Something vague or ‘unknown’ to the fuckwit device.
To believe that’s how bitches are comes with a price.
To get under the skin, is there no better way
To promote shabby service or goods that are cheap?

You do get my attention. You cause me to Write!
For that much, I am thankful. Opportunity
To assess and express well what most folks blow off
Is a sharpening exercise no one can scoff.
With a RoboHoe Blocker, I’ll be somewhat free
Of perpetual nuisance. Have I won this fight?

Scientists Do Bizarre Things

Benign Insanity

Can one dissect existence down to the last clue
To a firm understanding of how life evolves?
Can the physicist smash enough atoms to gain
Sub-particulate knowledge to blow up the brain?
Anything that is physical the mind resolves
With experimentation and intent askew.

Somewhat like the Aghori, most science folk are
Absolute in their outlook, not trapped in the ways
Psychological processes obscure their path.
That’s why they must be savvy also at heart math.
Is what they do to lab creatures worthy of praise?
Or has our rabid culture evolved way too far?

To encompass the universe in its fullness
There must be people willing to expand their minds
To a size that approaches the infinite realm.
Is it wise then to have scientists at the helm
Of our ship in the sea with creatures of all kinds?
Just so they keep to themselves. Their minds are a mess!

Duodenal Diesel

Incongruance of Purpose

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

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

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

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.

Sarah Bee

Blind Conviction

It’s a story – one of glory – of the bold Miss Sarah Bee
Who became the meanest bulldog that the press would ever see.

Once a simple southern lady, she became a superstar,
But the light she was reflecting left her with a psychic scar.

Those believing her deceiving are as blind as they can be
To the dog that barked behind her. They respect their Sarah Bee.

Once a darling and a starling to the big dog of the pack,
She has lost their confidence. Now, she has left not looking back.

…Quite assumin’ of a woman that her bonnet for a bee
Could protect her form the specter that most others cannot see.

There’s no reason not to go for governor of Arkansas.
Working well in such a crime scene, she knows much about the law.

Who defined your bleak one-niner? Do you have an enemy
Such that meeting with The People is something you cannot see?

Well, my darlin’, like a marlin who’s escaped back to the sea,
You are free form close encounters involving misogyny.

Highfalutin, verbal shootin’, tyrant rootin’ Sarah Bee
…Hope you’re lost and gone forever. We The People do agree.

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.

A Barbie Doll Chewed By An Ugly Dog

Exaustion and Desperation

Barbie Doll was invented by one who could see
That young girls can dream mightily and can go far.
They can take on most anything done in the past.
The future can be hopeful. Impressions can last
Through a life of achievement. It is not bizarre
That a doll becomes something girls don’t want to be.

Some dolls end up in landfills, unfortunately,
Or else tossed near a dumpster, no longer of use
To the one who perceives it as just a plaything.
The dog then will adopt it. No hope will that bring
To plastic and its meaning. It’s now an excuse
To keep womanhood portrayed as something ugly.

We have taken our Barbie and made her a bitch.
Her face radiates horror at what we’ve become.
Don’t tell me it’s your job, bitch! You know wrong from right.
God should denounce your womanhood, you sorry sight!
You broadcast to the world that your heart has grown numb
To the incessant chewing while trapped in the ditch.

Independence

Much More Time Than a Life

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

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

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

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.

Android Emotion

Uncertainty of Technological Friendliness

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

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

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

Advanced Placement Afterlife

Impressions of Life and Afterlife

The ‘Accelerated’ they were called way back when.
I was but a mere idiot due to my grades.
I was coerced to worship them. Damn them today
And the teachers who fucked with my mind in that way!
From the callously perverse school system cascades
Condescension toward those ‘less than’ time and again.

Something happened to me my last year of high school.
It’s a loose-fitting fragment that moves while in place
As a traumatic episode. Mister Feeney
Chose to instruct the whole class to make fun of me.
My life changed in an instant. I left in disgrace
Both from school and from home to escape ridicule.

Sometimes I can’t remember that. Others, I do.
When it happens, contempt for all pumps through my veins.
I did manage to graduate with no time lost
But not from that same Catholic school. I had crossed
Their red line of defiance. The nightmare remains
One of psychic incontinence. It’s sad but true.

 During my brief hiatus, my sick teenaged mind
Felt enough guilt that it thought that it could assume
Quite another identity… go back to school.
Since I had advanced knowledge, I’d have to be cool.
Thanks to God and the angels, I was plucked from doom.
But I must prove I’m not stupid to humankind.

This is not about pity. It’s coming to light
Of the full realization that I am of worth
To myself and the whole world, as all people are.
I persist in the myth of the mind superstar,
Using it as a weapon, also to unearth
What my soul needs to express. It seems only right.

So, how bad a residual can this become?
I’m hellbent on displaying this cursed intellect
In its absolute brilliance. Do others seem bright?
Most would pale in comparison next to my light.
On your grave, Mister Feeney, I’ll give due respect.
I shall defecate gleefully, you rotten scum!

If you know me, do not make the stupid mistake
Of thinking that I’m stupid. I’ll Lay You To Waste!
Just because it’s been twisted, my mind can do harm.
It also Commands English with masterful charm.
Don’t you dare look down on me, or you will be faced
With the wrath of an intellect none can forsake.

It’s A Hell Of A Mantra, But Fuck It!

Frustration With Technology

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

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

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

The Past Remains The Past

Realization in Defeat

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

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

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

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.

Fear Of Judgment

Ominous Unknown Nature of Fear

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

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

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

Why Suffering?

Hopelessness of Suffering

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

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

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

Cost Of Living

Signal to Noise Ratio

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

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

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

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.

They Do Think We’re All Stupid!

Conflagration of Troubled Leadership

The disease of entitlement has become vogue.
White men stuffed in silk jackets must each wear a noose.
Why this is so is custom and much too absurd,
So, one wouldn’t be wise taking them at their word.
Slavery is professional as is abuse.
There’s a reason our government has become rogue.

We elected Obama. That was the last straw.
Not just once, but twice, we went and did the wrong thing.
Now, one hell of a backlash from nigger ascent
Reminds all that the fruits of our nation were meant
For the few white and wealthy. What freedom will ring
Is America ‘great’ again made into law.

They said, “Screw it! The People don’t know what they want.
They make foolish decisions. It’s now up to us
To return us to sanity and the white way.
We declare infiltration has seen its last day.”
One dose of the right nigger scares whites treasonous.

So, who’s up for the running? Who’s our confidant?

Why Good People Don’t Get Anywhere

Helping thee Helpless

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

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

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

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.