Handle With Care

Delicate Touch

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

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

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

The Daily Report

Much To Absorb

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Magic Realist

Definition Of Life

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

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

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

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

Inward Harmony

Balance Between Conscious and Subconscious

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

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

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


Rational And Intuitive Balance

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

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

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

I Poet Because I Owe It

The Consumate Writer

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

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

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

Guess Who Won’t Stay For Dinner

Righteous Non-Invitation

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

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

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

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

Restore And Rejuvenate

Facing Familiarity

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

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

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

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

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

Just Move On

No Alternative Solution

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

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

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

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

An Adequate Chance

Emotional Mystique

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

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

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

Dear Lord


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

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

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

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

A Sober Answering

Status Hunger

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

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

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

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

Power To Make A Difference

Enhanced Ability To Influence Others

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

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

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

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

Just A Kind Word

The Harmonizer

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

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

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

The Cycle Unending

Eternal Drama

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

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

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

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

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

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

Communicable Heart

Sensitivities Linked To Communication

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Ohm’s Law

An Unfailing Standard

Current flows through conductors. There’s no voltage drop
If there is no resistance. But wires get hot
As electrons get moving way past normal speed.
Then the circuit burns open. Therefore there’s the need
That resistance is present quite rather than not.
This is not the sole reason that current may stop.

Every circuit is opened or closed by a switch.
Every loop is a series of component parts.
If a part becomes missing no current will flow.
If there is too much current the circuit will blow.
Electricity is one of nature’s fine arts.
If folks knew more about it their lives would enrich.

Voltage equals resistance times current, which means
There’s a solid relationship that cannot change.
Ohm’s law cannot be fucked with like others man made.
Politics can’t affect it nor games that are played
To defy normal functioning. None can arrange
To enact abolition. Nature intervenes.

Now, here comes the analogy. Voltage compares
To the pressure put on us to live out our lives.
Current is all our movements through daily routines.
Our resistance to movement resides in our genes
And in direct proportion each person survives
By maintaining the driving force in all affairs.

Current flows through resistance, as voltage is made
To ensure perfect balance. This natural law
Forms the basis of everything having all three.
Current, voltage, and resistance, as we can see,
Are a most stable trio. Ohm’s law defies flaw.
No one can disobey it nor can it be swayed.

A Radiant Warmth

Omnipresent Brilliance

In my Dream I am radiant just as the sun
Shines its good warmth in kindness to all in its field
Of its planets’ existence. The people I know
In my fantasy world propagate with a glow
Of immense salutation wherein all are healed
Completely of all illness. The System Is One.

I’ll create my surroundings if they won’t exist
On their own as safe refuge from what else may be
Wanting to make its presence surreal in my soul.
All that happens in my world is blessed and whole.
I need not close my eyes tightly for me to see
Any world that I want to. Turmoil is dismissed.

Social life is harmonious. All speak with ease
And intently are listened to. I can feel warm
And delighted to be with dear friends of my mind.
I know that there’s a ‘real’ world, but it is unkind.
It offers but conundrum, and that is its norm.
I cannot feel respected. My heart fights the freeze.

My subconscious is fertile. My passion is strong.
I present as a wellspring to all who I meet
In existence alternative to otherwise
Those whose fun is ignoring me despite my cries.
The real world and its populous take a back seat
To my cherished illusions where I can’t be wrong.

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.

The Souls Of My Assets

Familiar Unconscious Drives

Do material objects mean something to me
Or are they just inanimate souls of their own?
Things that move and have consciousness I have a few
Or they have me as subsequent payment comes due
For continued relationship. I’d be alone
But for chains of commitment forever to be.

Inclination to finance and expenditure
Are afflicted or wholesome as actions may tell.
When I’m feeling luxurious life is a breeze
But at times my security can’t give me ease
So resultant discomfort is clear as a bell.
All throughout the wide spectrum my soul must endure.

Life demands compensation for what it expends
To keep all fully energized and in good shape.
Individuals’ assets are prone to combine
With those of certain others’. To know what is mine
Is an ongoing process I cannot escape.
Value in pure aloneness my heart recommends.

Verbal Thought-Fare

Lethal Fragility of Ideas

Verbal Warfare is Thought-Fare. The hue of the glove
Offers fierce competition. The cognitive ring
Is the place where aggression will have its first fight.
One may find it disgusting yet with scant delight
There’s an urge to just do it. It’s the only thing
That attracts a good audience to challenge love.

It’s a world of ideas unscrewed from their source.
Void of light in the mainstream, they’re destined to clash.
Eminent is the danger that egos will break,
But forsaking a good fight would be a mistake
 For the essence of selfhood is gone in a flash.
The prospects may be more tragic than use of force.

Thought-Fare, often creative, can strengthen the mind.
Manifold are the outcomes opponents may choose.
In perfecting the drama practice is a must.
We enact with much vigor. The passion robust
Escalates entertainment. Who will win or lose
Is a matter irrelevant and undefined.

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.

Temperamental Ambition

Feeling Ambition and Physical Energy

If perception is distorted in such a way
That it’s hard to distinguish completely between
Issues that are important and those that are not,
Then ambition is squandered in solving a plot
That no other is part of. When senses are keen,
Everything done with vigor will brighten one’s day.

Often I feel impulsive when getting things done.
There’s an unwanted urgency I can’t shrug off.
With a strong sense of passion, the work that I do
Can reveal much more meaning and offer a view
Of success in the long run. My spirit does scoff
At the notion of failure, though rest I may shun.

There are times to accomplish and times to kick back
And observe what’s been worked on to gain more insight.
Need I be in a hurry? More time is at hand
To do all that I need to. There is no demand
To produce more and faster, and I take delight
In a life reconcilable and void of lack.

A Fleeting Flamboyance

The Loftier Side

In the cluster Flamboya in deep cosmic space
Spins a pitiful planet. One does take delight
In the notion that negative will cancel out
Anything that is like it with but a loud shout
But the throat becomes raw there so it isn’t quite
The best place for the soft spoken fettered with grace

Often I pay a visit there simply to see
How the elegant beings there get through their days.
And at times I am told It’s no business of mine.
I must say, “Very well, then. Your silence is fine.”
There’s a reason for courtesy that’s not always

At my ready avail when I’m other than me.

When I get back to earth usually I’ll find
That I might not have been there but made a mistake.
I may live in both places perhaps through time share.
Maybe that’s why at times they are hard to compare
While I sleep do I travel, or when I’m awake?
That is part of the puzzle that plays with the mind.

Mountain-Feeling Faith

Deepening The Connection

I have faith to feel mountains. Gladly they consent
To my odd-minded fondling. This isn’t perverse.
I must feel them to move them, and I’m feeling fine.
Others’ looks of disdain are, in essence, benign.
In these times people need to point to someone worse
Than their hated familiar ones. I feel their vent.

It’s a thing to be proud of – to be looked upon,
With no reason apparent, as one who is sick.
There are those who deserve it, yet I am the one
Who, quite near and accessible, they can then shun.
Now that I understand, I’ve devised just the trick
To improve how I serve folk by making them yawn.

I’m remembered as troubled. It’s all that remains.
I have no strong attachments. Acquaintances, though,
Inundate daily living with volatile sense
That some don’t want to know me and do take offense
At their having to see me. The place I should go
Is to that inner mountain where solitude reigns.

There Is much I can move there without the hard climb.
I have faith overwhelming with this new insight.
I’m providing good service to most folk who need
To look down on another. I urge them: Proceed!
People need to have faith that someone who’s not right
Can divert their frustrations in deed anytime.

Pastimes like Mountain Moving are karmic relief.
People know not if God’s presence would attract flies
But perhaps do consider it and stay prepared
With the sharp look of judgment that their hope be spared
That the real source of frustration sees its demise.
In the long run, I’d hope that my service is brief.

Feeling Response

Eyes On The Prized

Being calm and reflective of how life plays out,
There’s a sense that my feelings are not about me
But a world steeped in misery, doom, and despair.
So consumed by the whim of the bull and the bear,
How does making a living with spirit agree?
It’s a Feeling Response that invigorates doubt.

 At this time, opportunity shows a rare face.
Though emotions are swayed I can keep a cool head.
Nature leaves me responsible for what I do
To provide entertainment and maybe a clue
To a world nonexistent. This life I do dread.
Should I speak this too loudly I live in disgrace.

Not so instantly gratified I take the lead
Of a strong inner voice with a message of hope.
Is this all that I need to keep working this way?
Spirit speaks to me clearly. I will have my day.
I do not know how long it will take so I cope
In a fertile aloneness. This way I’ll succeed.

Weeding out my incompetence comes with some ease.
Part of that is my knowing my work will stay here
And dissolve in to nothingness as will my flesh.
Life appears to be destined. This world does enmesh
Every aspect of living in consummate fear
Of not leaving behind something others would seize.

Re-Enhanced Equanimity

Relax In Cooperation

There is time to relax in a positive way.
I could be reminiscing of happier days…
Like before having been born or after I’m gone
Or brief moments while here among cursed human spawn.
Yet somewhere in the present I give myself praise
For deciding to just have a wonderful day.

Ears and eyes remain open. The mind, somewhat closed
To all but what’s around me, can finally breathe.
Harmony with itself calls for me to join in.
The magnificent trio shines right through my skin.
I can learn from the contrast of times when I seethe
For untenable reasons that harm when exposed.

I can call this a good day. I wish I could all.
And I can if I want to. It’s all up to me
To decide how I’m feeling with no thought in mind.
Rather than fight the whole world, can I be more kind
To myself and to others? Can I wait and see?
There’s no time like the present to stop feeling small.

Skillful Invader

Emotional Transformation

The subconscious invasion of news gaining strength
Reinvigorates oldness of resident ways
Of compulsive behavior among humankind.
It may also be true that it’s all in the mind
Of the Skillful Invader who struggles most days
Seeking some understanding. One should to what length?

All the hidden agenda that now evade sight
Become known through perception intuitively.
What can weaken suspicion that, on a grand scale,
Utter chaos and outright transgression prevail?
It is not the illusion but reality
That would dare to confuse what is wrong with what’s right.

I can learn what I need to know and leave the rest
For collective unconscious to solve over time.
There may be much aggression in times drawing near
To significant changes. Should I live in fear
That I may be caught up in unspeakable crime?
Skills that I have for coping are not quite the best.

I’ll invade the invasion for what I may gain
In the moments of silence while I am at peace
With events that must happen to turn things around,
Not to what was before, but a nation more sound.
Greed and crime among leaders won’t instantly cease
But, at least we’ll have returned to something more sane.

Warmth And Affection

Mother Goddess and Child

Loving Warmth And Affection, as I understand,
Does transcend understanding. The heart alone knows
What has value eternal. The militant mind
And the untethered ego remain unrefined
In pursuit of the wisdom that feelings expose.
Therefore, I am the student. This I had not planned.

There are many fine teachers. I need not look far.
When I keep my heart open they are everywhere.
This brings full reassurance that all life makes sense
To all parts that I’m made of including the dense
Ones that keep me in touch with my selfish despair.
I learn best from good people who know who they are.

Observance in humility of those who share
What we all can use more of is where I’ll begin
A curriculum heavy on positive change.
By the end I may see myself now as quite strange.
It is not an insult to the teacher within
To seek out its reflection among those who care.

With Little Effort

Through the Eyes of Children

Feeling much generosity now is most strange
When compared with emotions that usually
Are replete with a heaviness dark and intense.
I won’t argue. In fact, I am glad to dispense
With the negative storm cloud that hangs over me.
This is such a fine moment. I welcome the change.

People stimulate interest in me to find
Meaning in all existence. The ethics I hold
May express understanding of all that I live.
What must be as their basis is how to forgive
First myself, then the whole world. They can’t be controlled
By sensations of hopelessness. I Can Be Kind!

Can I capture this nowness and hold it in place
And thus make it eternal? It is anyway.
I forget that there’s goodness to later recall
Everything that excites me – the big and the small.
With another I feel no compulsion to play
Yet, whatever occurs I’m prepared to embrace.

Rekindling The Hearth

Domestic Changes

Who can speak of The Family…one who has one?
…Or the one who, by his choice, has made himself null?
In the void of departure I see from afar
Much more clearly behavior of mine that did scar
Certain persons. I have in my twilight to mull
What importance The Hearth is. The work is not done.

Excavating the surface I get to the core
Of what makes me psychotic and hurtful to those
I should most love and cherish. There is something there
Which I recognize vividly as deep despair.
It’s not easy to pinpoint as my effort shows.
Where have I been my whole life? This I can’t ignore.

Warmth, light, food, and protection The Hearth represents.
Mother is the receptacle – Father, the heat.
Light illuminates intellect. Good it discerns
From the darkness of evil. What my spirit learns
Is that I’ve been a weak Sun assigned to defeat
Rather than let the darkness deplete my defense.

Dark is also the comfort of death and the womb.
Complementing the chaos gestation takes place.
Birthing of the new spirit redeems not the soul
Without full compensation. I have no control
Over how that will happen. What karma I face
Hopefully will be done before reaching the tomb.

May I then come full circle in symbolic sense.
Meaning total perfection and wholeness, the wheel
Has its sage at the motionless center of peace.
Living is the circumference that I release
To the infinite void. And it’s not an ordeal.
To all who will not hear, my remorse is immense.

Sleuth Of Seduction

Forbidden Love And Hidden Feelings

Now while you have a body that generates heat
Life itself is a powerful stimulant drug.
Dancing with mother nature is not about sleep
But intense interactions with people you keep
Normally at a distance. It’s not time to shrug
Off the passion you have for the ones that you meet.

Sultry, intimate bonding is what you desire.
Your discretion decoded is welcome among
Those who, feeling the same, want to make time with you.
Your encounters transformative take on a new
Sense of intrigue and urgency. Feeling quite young,
Interaction is powerful fuel for the pyre.

Be prepared for the bonding of body and soul
To remake a new creature. God makes you divine.
What’s expected of you is to cherish the work
And the vast, loving playing field is just the perk
In an otherwise dull life endured by design.
Take a stroll on the wild side, and don’t lose control.

A Display Of Hysterics

Emotional Outbreak

It’s a dark simulation. Our souls make their way
To these game token bodies of weak flesh and bone.
But this isn’t a real place, and what we do here
Is a delicate balance between love and fear.
Each of us is an island that floats on its own.
Nothing is worth the bother to hear what we say.

This is not true for everyone. I’ll walk it back.
There’s a game being played here, but some can’t take part.
It’s as if they’ve no vocal cords yet try to speak
And expect to heard. I’m about out of cheek
Because there’s no more turning. This world breaks my heart
And since no one is reading this I’m right on track.

Often I get hysterical and I lash out.
I am that anti-social I’ll curse everyone
Because I have a website. No one plays along.
Others have one but because I do It’s just wrong.
Friends and family would have me take a handgun
To my head rather than look at what I’m about.

Everyone plays this bullshit with me and it hurts
To the depths of my soul, and it makes me insane.
I’m an angry old bastard. Do Not Fuck With Me!
This Game Is An Illusion. That much I can see.
Twisted Twilight Zone episodes are for whose gain?
Friendliness is fake tool to fuel just deserts.

And do I waste my time here? Again, there’s no ‘here,’
But a ‘somewhere’ to suffer one’s plight upon stage.

People are fun to play with, but not in this hell
Where I’m just not worth looking at. This evil spell
Is not what I’ll get used to. I’ll nurture my rage
To the point of explosion. To no one I’m dear.

Just Enough

The Absurdity of More

Just Enough Is Abundance. Need I toil for more?
More means mainly reaction to feelings of doubt
That I’ll keep what I do have. Is this how to live?
There is nothing on God’s green earth I wouldn’t give
For a piece of serenity that I may tout
To the feeling collector who keeps not a score.

In my life there is plenty. I need not a thing
That can make it more meaningful. There’s not a chance
That I’ll go for the gusto that leads to the trap
Of more earning and hoarding. Such living would sap
Every bit of my soul all to better finance
All the things that addiction to ambition bring.

 I have not worn a tie for some decades by now.
I consider my freedom to do as I please
An asset of great value. I have all the time
To relate to my spirit who lets living rhyme.
I need not run a rat race. I don’t live on cheese
But on what divine guidance and grace do endow.

A World Without Niggers

The Encumbered Dream

In a world without niggers how does life evolve?
Let me speak my mind clearly, and don’t take offense
To the off color question. Just give it some thought.
Put aside what your forefathers and parents taught.
You have lived among niggers. Let’s drop the pretense.
The disgust people feel I’m not moved to resolve.

Why does black skin upset you? Is that fair to ask?
I don’t care if it is or not, just so you know.
Who would ask such a question? Is ugliness there
In the face of the asker? Your looks scare, I swear,
To the point of gut sickness! Disgust I must show
Now that I’m fit and able to handle the task.

I don’t live in a white world without a complaint.
I must figure out why my ‘kind’ suffers so much
Because that’s all I can do. The question remains
Most important yet answerless as are most chains
That keep me in a quandary, cold to the touch.
I am glad I do not have to act like a saint.

Kabbalistic Meat Wall Of Judgment

Issustration of Judgment

Stooping low is below me. I wish that were true.
And these times are not normal, so I do react
To what I judge as bullshit disguised and served cold
To whomever will listen. My heart is not sold
On the judgment of dead folk with deficit tact.
If you’re working with spirit then what’s wrong with you?

Michael Jackson is gone now. You can’t let it rest?
His accusers, still living, have mostly moved on
To fulfill their predictions. They’ve left him alone
For the best part. If you feel that he must atone
For what has not been proven your spirit is gone
By the wayside. You have nothing I would digest.

What the hell am I doing? While craving for news
That is much more substantial than talking head soup,
I’ve devolved into mystical fantasy land.
What is there has less meaning than I would demand.
I cannot judge another for how low they stoop.
Times are ripe for fomenting of virulent views.

Open-Clouded Collusion

Emotionally Charged Communication

With what people are saying I can’t be concerned.
Words escape through the anus to then coalesce
To form one social stratosphere thick and profuse
With the stench of thought squandered. Intent to seduce
The concern of the masses is one game of chess
Where the winner takes all so that all hope is spurned.

Much emotional cloudiness dampens the air.
Why not add my own moisture? It seems only right.
Realistic illusions themselves interact
With most others most like them. In fiction there’s fact
That the odious formula dares to excite
Hate that would remain dormant with but a cold stare.

There are some viral symptoms that I can unmask
To the view of the public because of free speech.
They can’t be covered up. They’re revealed openly
For my sick hart and those of all others to see.
Is a lesson of love one collusion can teach?
Or is this one more question that I should not ask?

Do The Stars Sanction Hatred?

Cosmic Interference

Do you know Robert Cosmar? If so, it’s a shame.
I assume that this messenger knows where it hurts…
Deep within every fiber connecting the heart
To some semblance of order. Why would one take part
In the dredging up evil. His forecast diverts
Any hope of relief that things won’t stay the same.

I’m an old fart myself, but I don’t fuck the stars
Into finding sick patters to highlight, then spew
What’s been found to the scum who would give one applause.
Any craft that predicts dissolution of laws
Is a barrel of bitchcraft. Yet, it’s nothing new.
Keep that shit to yourself, dude! I have enough scars.

Gather ‘round by the camp fire and hear grandpa speak
Of this beautiful science and elegant art.
What he says may upset you if you hope for change
But if you’re a sick bastard his words aren’t so strange.
He has some information, but he’s not that smart.
We The People have Free Will to Change what is bleak.

Transformative Energies

Deeper Meaning In Change

So intense is the need for connecting the dots
In the nape of eternity. I’ll do my best
To ensure that experiences that are mine
Are infused with much power that I may align
With Transformative Energies. Where life is blessed
Is within the decision to cease calling shots.

There’s an urge to feel helpless, but that is not wise,
For the energies mentioned cannot make their way
To the one who must feel them. Vibration must be
At a much higher level where one can agree
That free will in our feeling makes for a fine day.
When deciding is weightless it opens one’s eyes.

What’s beneath every surface is not worth the peek.
Such a view is not needed when feelings run deep.
I initiate change in one moment of peace.
My most negative patterns may find their release
From the everyday drama that makes the heart weep.
Understanding, then loving, is all that I seek.

Balance And Serenity

At Peace With Oneself

There Always exists balance. Illusion also
Is a permanent presence in all I perceive.
The task then becomes simple – not hard to perform
In a world of psychosis which is not the norm.
How would I know what’s normal? I feel I must grieve
For the death of all hope. Nothing is all I know.

It’s a stage with a backdrop and curtains drawn wide
To reveal mass confusion and selfish intent
Among some human actors who have some control
Over life and death and what becomes of the soul.
The assumed deadly virus is not an event
That the global theater is taking in stride.

Front and center, my acting is done while in place.
As my personal needs blend with objective goals,
The inspired isolation can bring about peace.
In the uncertain long run there can be release
From the rampant disorder that no one controls.
My serenity deepens as self I embrace.

Feel It All

Hidden Emotional Breakthrough

As it seems, reaching out burns a hole through selfhood
To a vision as clear as the thick clouds are dark.
But the scene is an empty one. People aren’t there
To confirm the impression that life isn’t fair.
Am I this ill-prepared for this image so stark?
I’d behave in a safe way if only I could.

Need I show that to others I make little sense
With a lot of poor acting? Again, there’s no one
But a faceless commander of keeping contact.
So, I’ll not reexamine the way that I act
Out of sheer desperation. What now has begun
Is a certain death spiral. Do I take offense?

Do I feel so much hatred and heated mistrust
That by default I err in demanding good care?
I can’t act like a slave. I can’t learn to tap dance
To the tune of a master. This was my last chance
To be meek, then be treated. Now I must beware
That whatever becomes of me is not unjust.

Older folk are a nuisance when they misbehave.
It is best when they’re docile and do not complain.
They must speak in a manner that does not offend.
Doctors say I’ve no illness and want to pretend
But I’m not like the normal. Indeed, I’m insane
And one episode closer to reaching the grave.

Do Nothing!

Things Work Out The Way They Should

Take It Easy! Do Nothing! What more could go wrong?
And it’s all a façade anyway. Can’t you see?
There are no flames around you. No devils appear
To abuse and torment you. So why would you fear?
Hell is almost like heaven. Where else could you be?
We adore the orange Satan and sing but his song.

Don’t behave in a manner that shows you’re uptight
Unless you have the right cause and weapon in hand
To support our dear godhead. We worship him so.
Every word that he speaks is the truth we should know.
Nothing else shall be listened to by his command.
We’ve returned to a leader who beams pearly white.

He is our lord and savior. The worst of our breed
Is far better than the best that others produce.
Keep that firm in your mindset – that is if you’re white.
Otherwise, it’s a warning. We’re do for a fight
To the death of our souls. May our hatred run loose.
Yet, for now, we may be forced to keep it low-keyed.

Recursive Assertion

Over Exposure of Ego

Do I hear a loud echo? And could it be me?
With the voices of others it’s so hard to tell.
Deep within a sound chamber enclosed by four walls
I can’t hear myself feeling amid all the calls
For a cure to psychosis and trickle down hell.
What’s become of this nation one clearly can see.

Knowing I’m not alone, need I know something more?
We’ve been made to feel helpless – not by a disease
Of a virulent nature, but by wholesale greed.
We The People are stronger not feeling in need
To succumb to the bullshit that everyone sees.
There’s a pimp in the white house, and we are the whore.

Justice comes hard and swiftly to those who are poor.
But it does not exist for the thugs now in charge.
Evil is the one threat that, if not kept in check,
Does take over the engine and cause a train wreck
That third world leaders envy. Our fate, by and large,
Is determined by what we are forced to ignore.