Tag Archive | food for thought

Pluperfect Precognizance

To suggest writing being channeled to earth from spirit

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

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

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

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

The Storm

Evoke awareness of the current political climate

When at last will this storm pass? It’s acid-like rain
Eats away at my mood swing. A simple flatline
Has been cast into turbulence. To be seasick
Amid faint, rumbling thunder and words that are thick
Clouds that offer confusion is of whose design?
That, of course, is my choosing. I cannot complain.

Back when I was a sailor, they gave people pills
To more easily cope with the random motion
Of the steadfast and mighty home known as our ship.
Would it make a difference were I to equip
My soul with some salvation by having some fun
As the wayward commanders configure their wills?

Every ship needs a captain as well as a crew
That is shipshape and sober and plays by the rules.
Being that we don’t have one, can we stay afloat
And maintain our direction in waters remote?
Those who now are in power will go down as fools
And the storm that exists now will simply blow through.

 

Fun Filled Flavors Of Time

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Global Guide

TheMagicRealist.com

Who believes in one nation? Believe in them all!
In this world of sensation, our experience
We judge pleasant or unpleasant. So, sensation
Is not always sensational, nor is it fun.
Stimuli from outside us, though sometimes intense,
Do not really control us. That part is our call.

We respond to sensations. We’re happy or sad
Or somewhere in-between the two. We are in tune
To the music we’re used to. Some people may feel
That what we care to listen to isn’t quite real.
We need not end up fighting nor dare to impugn
The sensations of others. That would be our bad.

We are made up of spirit – a set of ideals.
More than physical substance, we are consciousness.
If we can but explore that aspect, we can be
An enlightened and much saner a country –
One in which all are worthy of earthly success.
Any nation is only as well as it feels.

Most important to culture is finding the way
In the rhythm of living. We speak much of God
And the nature of heaven. How we feel within
Is the place where all thought and action should begin.
We need not then be guided by such a façade
As a toolbox of morals put up for display.

Other countries do consciousness better than we.
This is not such a put down. We’re good at some things.
Boundaries are inevitable in this life.
We struggle to support them, thus generate strife.
When we are of a right heart, enlightenment rings.
We need not seek for guidance on how we should be.

Lunar Return

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Destiny Design Fundamentals

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

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

A Master Plan

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Why All The Frigging Space?

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

An Incredible Thing

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Falling In Love

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Embrace Life

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Nmemoir

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

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

Beyond Right And Wrong

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

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

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

A Better World

TheMagicRealist.com

We can change how we do things… How we work the land,
How we clothe, feed and school ourselves, and how we think.
This green earth is no baby, nor is this country.
Opened eyes and pure senses are all they can be.
We revisit the grim thought that we’re on the brink
Of some kind of catastrophe lethal and grand.

It’s better that we do so. At least we’re aware
On some level that this world is not in good health.
Now, the way things are done – nothing short of abuse –
Borders on what is violence. What’s the excuse
We too often come up with? It clearly is wealth.
We mistreat what sustains us and don’t seem to care.

Populations will migrate as wealth remains held
In a handful of areas scattered worldwide.
The news does not report the thousands of lives lost
Anymore. They’re not wanted and not worth the cost
Of the world’s close attention. In vain they have died.
No one mourns in the country where they’d been expelled.

Savage issues require solutions of peace
Wherein we are inclusive in action and thought.
The mindset of exclusion keeps us separate
From connection to all things, much to our regret.
What could happen to our world if peace is not sought?
We shall know, as time plays out, which problem will cease.

…As It Should Be In Heaven

TheMagicRealist.com
Life, according to Plato, reflects the ideal.

This world is but a replica of the real thing
That exists in the abstract as perfect and whole.
Here only is the body – both places, the soul.
On this side, it’s a chess game. Those who would be king
Know that their wills are done on earth, yet it’s surreal.

Folks have called it a barrier; some… a thin veil
Separating the two worlds, both mother and child.
Some can see somewhat easily the other side.
Others won’t see. Indeed, if they did so, they’d hide
That from everyone, fearing they may be reviled
Just for being so gifted. Why such an odd tale?

When we speak of The Kingdom, which one do we mean?
There is only one ideal one. It’s in us all.
All we need do to know this is to look within.
If we do that, might we shed concern about sin?
A significant change in the soul’s protocol
Yields a glimpse into heaven that was yet unseen.

Matter Of Heart

TheMagicRealist.com

If I feel I’ve been cheated, I’m in a bad place.
Yet, that’s just what has happened. Should I go to war?
I’ve the right to seek justice for what has been done.
I can’t promise that I will not harm anyone.
In my blind, mindless rage I must even the score.
I’ll exact some remorse and do so with no grace.

As I replay this monologue, like déjà vu,
Can I see what is happening as a program
That I coded my damned self? The mechanics speak
Louder than any morals the pure heart may seek.
People do as they please, and they don’t give a damn
For the heart that is broken from lack of clear view.

Morals and life’s mechanics seem always at play.
What has broken is an understanding. That’s all.
People misunderstand things as par for the course.
I can learn to accept that or live with remorse.
Am I not a whole human? How then did I fall
For the myth that some other will brighten my day?

Creator and Creation – This relationship
Is the one most important. It is absolute!
Those with humans can’t be so. They’re subject to change.
I could hook up with dead folk, but that would be strange.
Should I thank the damned bastard and yield a salute,
Or just carry on smartly and not give a rip?

People are free to live life. I’m free to live mine.
It is then most acceptable that I find peace
In the knowing that in growing complete, I’ll be
Most attractive to those most in common with me.
There’s no such thing as cheating. There’s only release
From one’s own self-undoing. All is well and fine.

Culture Beyond Compare

TheMagicRealist.com

Cultures differ in ways in which time is perceived.
Westerners think of life on earth in terms of time
Left to do things and gather things while we’re still here.
By the time death approaches, we cower in fear.
I am here, but I’m mortal. It seems like a crime,
Therefore, I seek a system that is well believed.

The way some other cultures look at the whole thing
Is that life is a process. When we are aligned
With the Cosmic Geometry expressed as God,
We become full of life. Now, to some, this seems odd.
If large groups could achieve this, would they be more kind
In relations with others? What hope could this bring?

The skill of a good teacher to bring down to earth
Principles of the cosmos is something valued.
Any form that has motion can’t exist without
The same force animating all, without a doubt.
All in all, with these simple facts, I may conclude
That immersion in culture is something of worth.

The significance of being human is that
We can all come to know this. We may find relief
In believing that death is another name for
Life unknown past a certain time. Could there be more?
We cannot know the answer. This is our belief.
Fear is all that our culture would need to combat.

There’s A Fly In The Soup!

TheMagicRealist.com

There’s a fly in the soup! Is there much I can do?
I don’t feel quite like eating now. Who the hell would?
Yet, you say with a poker face, “Just scoop it out,
Then the soup will be edible.”
I have great doubt.

Scooping out every bit indeed does the most good…
Then, sandblasting the soup bowl ‘til it becomes new.

But, not even a clean bowl am I ready for.
That my fast waning appetite for common sense
And some truth and civility can’t be ignored
Is the number one reason options are explored
For alternative nourishment. Screw the suspense!
When I’m served what’s not wanted, I don’t ask for more.

The fly and all its maggots and compromised germs
Make what was once a good meal something become foul.
But what will die of hunger is only my fear.
I can feed myself elsewhere. Thank God that that’s near.
In that place, I’ll not hold my nose and wear a scowl.
I, the ultimate chef, shall prepare on my terms.

Self-Transformation

TheMagicRealist.com

Any change worth one’s going through offers the chance
For the growth of the spirit. The mending of ways
That have not been as useful in reaching our goals
Is a personal process no one else controls.
Is it appropriate then to give ourselves praise
In the midst of a most transforming circumstance?

No matter who we are – how accomplished or strong
on the path we have chosen – no success is found
Without some sense of grace in our arrogant lives.
One can be most successful if one simply strives
To become more accomplished at standing one’s ground
In a world all believe in and were all belong.

What Is Self-Transformation? It’s changing the way
We, in each given moment, affect what is real.
What will make oneself a wonderful human soul?
To answer this correctly is not quite the goal.
It’s the quest in the questioning and how we feel
That can bear ample witness and brighten our day.

Dance Of Creation

TheMagicRealist.com

All existence is Dance. That which we call divine
Is the cyclical motion in all that exists.
Circles have least resistance, therefore does the Dance
Of the boundless creative force give us a glance
At the knowledge cohering a world that consists
Of too much to make sense of… And by whose design?

In the words of the physicist and the mystic
There is similar meaning. Nothing makes much sense.
But when observed closely enough, one will then find
That there is a deep system to process designed
For no logical purpose but to be intense
To the lucid perceiver most realistic.

Must I learn how to dance well on God’s ballroom floor?
Would I worry that we’d step on each other’s toes
On the outset, and thus cause some embarrassment
To myself or to others in my discontent
With how well I am doing? The best of me knows
I must Dance… or just watch the Dance. There’s nothing more.

Great Individual – Great Society

TheMagicRealist.com

Geographically, nations protected from war
By a body of water or rough mountain range,
Did experience times of peace more than did most.
Wartime, now superficial, is our glaring host.
To ignore that we’ve been screwed is something most strange.
Battles fought now are done so behind the closed door.

But, nestled within warfare are pockets of peace
Wherein we allow ourselves to grow and evolve,
Through enlightened electorate, society
Most abundant in resources. Yet, are we free
If we don’t know which problem we need to resolve
Above all others such that much warring will cease?

A Great Society is built from inside out.
From our Best Individual, we form the best
That a nation can call itself. If I can be
But the best superhero to self and country,
Then my loyalty is freely put to the test.
Of the greatness of this nation I have no doubt.

Attachment And Suffering

TheMagicRealist.com

It is hard not to suffer. Like taking a breath
Of the short life I’ve lived, I inhale tragedy.
Nothing else should become me except for my grief.
Friends and counseling offer but little relief.
I’m attached to my suffering. I cannot see
That attachment to living must well include death.

Can I speak of detachment the way others do
Who know nothing about it but what they have read
Published in someone’s textbook of Buddhist belief?
Would someone with a moment give that to a thief?
Krishna was quite involved with life. We are misled
By contingent complexities. What else is new?

I’m detached if I fear pain. I want to withdraw
Then construct for myself an escape hatch through which
I will not have to live life on its harshest terms.
I would not then be living. Yet dying affirms
Absoluteness of process. The call to enrich
One’s own path through survival is natural law.

The Halstead Of Heindseidtner Hollow

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Beyond Physical Intelligence

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Is It Just A Machine?

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

From Yogi to Guru

TheMagicRealist.com

I was told that a guru can digest a rock
By someone who once watched one do such a strange thing.
As my friend kept on watching, he noticed not much
But occasional chanting and belching and such.
When the guru had finished, no clue did it bring
To all those who’d beheld him. So, they felt no shock.

His disciples believed him. That’s what it must take
For the vibrant thought process to breathe on its own.
One makes magic of matter to one’s own delight.
If we want to learn how to, we seek one who’s right
But the right one, we know, cannot sit on a throne.
Kings cannot become teachers. They are not awake.

Rocks are not hard to digest if you’re a guru.
It is harder to sit cross-legged upon one.
Yogis are to their gurus as ebb is to flow.
Is it in both their interests to thoroughly know
Where each other has traveled since life had begun?
It may not be. It may be that much is untrue.

A Knee To The Anthem

 

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

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

An Enlightening Experiment

TheMagicRealist.com

We become scientists by the nature of things
So that methods developed to yield the most good
Become our way of living. Therefore, we’ve the need
To come up with effective ways to keep us freed
From conscious misperception and hidden falsehood.
We can observe The Moment and all that it brings.

All I have is this moment. I don’t have the last
Nor the one coming soon or much further along.
This moment is the only thing that does exist.
All the rest is illusion that can’t be dismissed.
In the moment that is now is where I belong.
All of time and space pales within consciousness vast.

Is this moment inevitable? I should ask.
In the answer, stability can be assured
For the moment – the one upon which all are built.
In the moment, I’m mindful and absent of guilt.
With experimentation, can my ills be cured?
It is quite possible with my will put to task.

The Affections Of Phineas Phuthworthy

TheMagicRealist.com

Phineas is a fun guy. He means no one harm.
Yet, sometimes he gets frisky like a puppy dog.
Friends and family love him. He’s not a pervert.
Not a thing about him should put one on alert.
Would one fear being kissed by a funny bullfrog?
We can know that our Phineas knows how to charm.

Why then would women scorn him? I know no all do.
Yet should he run for office, he wouldn’t get far.
Most women would adore him and give him their vote.
Others would castigate him, then that’s all she wrote.
Do men’s innocent actions define who they are?
Does a worse man than Phineas satisfy you?

Phineas is an old man. Does this make him wrong?
Promulgation of character warfare is not
Done from any one platform. It comes from within
Wherein we implement our original sin
By infecting the narrative with our own plot.
But a leader like Phineas at least is strong.

Those Unstoppable Thoughts

TheMagicRealist.com

A racecar with no brakes travels at breakneck speed.
The racetrack is an oil slick of slippery thought.
Do they happen at random as I barely try
Not to think them as they seem to swiftly fly by?
If I’m thinking them, that means there’s something that’s sought
That is not most essential. Therefore, I’ve no need.

In the moment I identify with something
I start thinking about it. I cannot just stop.
If I eat something bad for me can I expect
A good outcome? The body I have will reject
What it knows is not good for it. Were I to swap
Every thought for a blessing, would my freed heart sing?

Any thoughts that I think cannot be part of me.
They are things I collect as I live day by day.
Every cell of this body and things on my list
Of the things most appealing to me coexist
In a conscious relationship with me by way
Of my strong need to fit in with society.

Ego thinks of survival. The body alone
Is concerned with existence. The rest… not so much.
Yet the need, for the most part, is always fulfilled.
With plenty of fried chicken, the body is thrilled.
But that which is me truly can be more in touch
With the realm of the thoughtless – the ID free zone.

Corn Off The Cob

TheMagicRealist.con

I’ve got ding for your hum. Because I’m not a bum,
I can hum ding most ringers around a horseshoe.
If my ding don’t feel funny, should I contemplate
A new day job apparently due to my fate?
I could do what most cobs are expected to do.
If I did so, though, I’d be mistaken for scum.

Being bright yellow brilliance, no problem have I
Acting like I’m pure sunlight reflecting the glow
That surrounds me whenever I’m feeling my best.
I don’t fret being popped or steamed, so I’m not stressed.
Were I used in a foul way, I’d care not to know.
I embellish my prime where the sun meets the sky.

I am sworn to be corny and free to, with glee,
Pull the string on a plaything as if it were nice
To be feisty in hindsight of good chances missed.
Yet, if you are not into this, I will persist.
It’s enough for right now, so I’ll keep this concise.
My delighting in wordplay is not just for me.

Don’t Do Life In Installments

TheMagicRealist.com

Human needs are, as Maslow says, a pyramid.
When my stomach is full, I have one problem solved.
After that, there’ll be more that I’ll need to fulfill.
The need to escape boundaries is but our will.
As discrete homo sapiens we have evolved
To the point where we scoff at what life may forbid.

We’re designed to make hay of life perhaps because
In our quest to break limits, such freedom brings fear.
That we can’t have it both ways is matter of fact.
Other creatures upon earth know well how to act.
Nature’s boundaries they know well and hold them dear.
They’re ideal citizens. They abide by her laws.

The problem we have is evolutionary.
We seem not well contained in a home made of flesh.
Maybe some kind of ectomy would offer cure
But to live without passion is hell, to be sure.
Once I have achieved one thing, then I am enmeshed
In life lived in installments most definitely.

I’ve a physical body. The reason it’s here
Is to prove that I have one to that part of me
That cannot know the physical. And by no means
Through these meager five senses can carbon machines
Come to know the non-physical. Simply to be
In a state of fulfillment? What hope to endear!

The Linearization Of Eternity

TheMagicRealist.com

Let’s put God at the center. The center makes sense.
But does God? That’s the question I need to rephrase.
It makes sense to be centered in some firm belief.
One who drifts about aimlessly often finds grief
In the chaos created from ill-fated ways.
The center is a real thing. It’s not of pretense.

Can one define the center? I’ll give that a try.
There indeed are quadrillions raised to that much more.
In fact, so many centers there are, there’s no space
For acceptance of all of them. Our human race
Is a finite retainer – a half-open door
To a wellspring of meaning. We’re blessed to get by.

All there is was the center and is that way now
Only now it’s much bigger. The Bang that occurred
Many billions of years ago from tininess
Was and is now the center. All place does express
What is central to all things. That which is preferred
To line up with eternity we must allow.

The Manufacturer Is Within

TheMagicRealist.com

We are made from the inside out while in the womb.
If but one drop of this knowledge enters my day,
I’ll be living life naturally magically.
For a while I am human. Some day I won’t be.
The magnificent body is not here to stay.
It will remain efficient by will to consume.

If I eat a banana, it soon becomes me.
There’s a ton of intelligence present within.
It allows for survival and functioning well.
It’s as if a grand master has cast a deep spell
Upon matter become me. Original sin
Is the conscious decision to not clearly see.

What exists is a competence driving this beast.
With complete understanding of its complex ways,
It then is its own doctor, effectively so
When I don’t interfere with all that it must know.
Illnesses may befall me the rest of my days
But the maker within me is harmed in the least.

Who Or What Is God?

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

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

Secret Waters

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Insight Infusion

TheMagicRealist.com

Success cannot be taught. Only processes can.
And with crystal clear dreams and a bit of support,
Everyone will aspire to become something more.
There may come discontent in trying to keep score.
One can find yet the sweet spot and rarely fall short.
Insight comes from attention to one’s own game plan.

How intense the attention determines insight.
If it’s strong enough, insight will come like a flash.
A component of leadership, insight evolves.
Definiteness of purpose all through it resolves
Problems as if by clockwork. All fear becomes trash.
And the way one does business is never a fight.

Inspiration, keen insight and integrity
Are the tri-fold ingredients to great success.
To be one of integrity is to commit
To the much larger vision wherein we all fit.
Success is judged by others in how I express
My life as conscious process that happens to be.

Prank On America

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Am I In My Right Mind?

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Love And Grace

TheMagicRealist.com

Love and Grace are two forces that blend into one
But to speak more about grace is nothing but fair.
No analogy perfect is there to explain
How the blessings of nature can balance the brain.
Gravity in this world is what we can compare
To the unyielding lawfulness beneath our sun.

When released from this physical world, grace will burst
From the soul given freedom. This too is the law.
Is it not made available on certain days?
Can we open up to it as we change our ways?
Gravity is abrasive, but grace is of awe
And as free as its spirit, it can’t be coerced.

Each tradition of inner work has as its goal
To make oneself adequately fit to receive
Enough grace to meet gravity lightly in air.
What could be more important than what I may share
With another that I myself want to believe
Will enhance the momentum and thus make it whole?

Half A Shot Of Sick Puppy

TheMagicRealist.com

Half A Shot of Sick Puppy I’ll add to the mix
When I’m upside down on a two-legged bar stool.
The bartender within me knows that I don’t drink
Yet I’m intoxicated by thoughts that I think.
I could blame that on current events like a fool.
Is all that I am drunk on an effective fix?

Half asleep to the counter of what people say
In the background, I am then aware of not all
There is to be revealed in this dark, smoke-filled room.
If it were not a swamp, all we’d need is a broom.
Could that ever become so? Would that be my call?
Chaos is a perception. It is not the way.

Since I’m one of a tribe, I am doomed to imbibe
What I don’t know I’m thinking. My drinking is such
That it does medicate me in maddening ways.
What should be the reality has become haze.
Could the fix in the mix be to not expect much?
That would be but the best thing my soul could prescribe.

Social Incarceration

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

Loneliness

TheMagicRealist.com

When the flip side of freedom does loneliness bring,
Which perception of madness is best for the soul?
To belong to someone special is to feel well
On the way to fulfillment. The story we tell
Of that someone we’ve chosen to make our life whole
Is of one who’s evolving. One does one’s own thing.

We would each have our freedom if given the chance
And without thinking fully of what the word means.
With the door open widely, we sit in a cage
We could fly away anytime, but we engage
In entrapping thought processes. And our routines
Are the backdrop that we want to label romance.

Freedom is a blending of courage and madness
To explore one’s own being which is like a sea
Of specific complex chemical interplay.
To endeavor to know that may brighten our day.
Loneliness is a blessing that we rarely see.
We’re alone to begin with. Why make life a mess?

Casual Relations

TheMagicRealist.com

Some unions lack emotion. Is that the complaint?
They’ve become somewhat casual and commonplace.
What are some to make of this? Is this it a new wave?
Things are more important than a marriage to save.
Yet, it’s all about memory. Our human race
Is a sponge-like existence immune to restraint.

There was once an old couple married fifty years.
The day after their celebration, they divorced.
Said the judge who was friends with them, “Why do this now?
You’ve had such a fine marriage. What’s happened somehow?”
“I went through some old photos, and then I was forced,”

Said one of them, “To hold back a torrent of tears.”

“My children don’t look like me. So, that’s the reason!”
Now, the judge, here, is anyone with common sense.
Some cultures aren’t so ‘touchy.’ They tend to know well
Memory that is tactile will act like a spell
That will then cast one’s life in a world of pretense.
It’s a question of sense, not of morals undone.

Is This Site Using Cookies?

TheMagicRealist.com

Is This Site Using Cookies? They claim to be smart
But not as smart as I am. No text file can be.
Were that so, then my writing would be at its worst.
So, attention to content must always come first.
I do eat cookies, but they’re no big part of me.
I take info from no one. It’s not in my heart.

Cookies are, though, a good thing, if used the right way…
Not to discern your habits to target you more
But to make things convenient while cruising online.
Things like shopping cart contents and such are just fine
If your online adventure, in fact, is a store.
I have nothing to sell you but part of my day.

I am not yet a monster, but hunger I feel
To record with expression what stirs in my soul.
Surely it is consumable and of good taste.
Someday, I may need cookies. Right now, they’re a waste
Of the energy I would devote to the whole
Of my sole driving purpose that I here reveal.

Click-A-Mole

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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

After Death

TheMagicRealist.com

After Death, what becomes of me? Am I still here
To grab hold of another life without a break?
Or do I become nothingness, absent of thought?
No one living knows really, yet so much is taught
Of the nature awaiting all. It’s my mistake
If I claim to be certain my knowing is clear.

Each of us is a pamphlet of many pages.
It’s a system of thought one may cater to heart.
Each page is of a different self. Some are more dense
Than the others. The purest self needs no defense
Due to its lack of seeming a viable part
Of our being and doing and earning wages.

Every page will disintegrate except the one
Least attached to identity with time and place.
That page is the pure spirit – the long narrative
Of existence eternal. What more can I give
To improve the condition of my human race?
I can speak of my own journey ever begun.

Sense Or Nonsense

TheMagicRealist.com

The spiritual process has gained ridicule
In the world because we must be entrepreneurs.
People selling a product will only sell waste.
Is it good to have most sacred teachings disgraced
By the marketing enterprise? Yes! It ensures
That the one making profit will not be the fool.

With respect to those teachers in far away lands
Who provided an atmosphere for folks to learn,
They do not want their teachings distilled into books
To be produced and peddled to folks with good looks.
Guidance is done in context. How does one discern
Its full essence when not a word one understands?

Is it Sense or Nonsense? This is all one may ask
Of oneself – not of wisdom that is packaged well.
Should one ask of one’s enemies and of best friends?
As the question is pondered, the spirit transcends
All the seeking outside oneself. Rather than dwell
On the nonsense abundant, put your sense to task.

You Can’t PROVE I’m A Scarecrow

TheMagicRealist.com

I know nothing of farming, but I’m the best one
To behave as your farmer by bullshit alone.
Is it that what elected me is a machine
Most corrupted and broken and makes me obscene
That erodes any hope you have down to the bone?
How I commandeered this field will be told to none.

Those who say I’m a scarecrow have gathered no proof
That betrays that I am one. This clears me of shame
On the outside, but inside, there’s only hot air.
That hot air can be blameless is not only fair,
It’s the best way I know of to win at life’s game.
Mentally insufficient, I can seem aloof.

The report says they tried hard, but they couldn’t find
Enough factual evidence linking me to
All who took part in stuffing me to make me look
Like something of a candidate. But, I’m a crook.
You Can’t PROVE I’m A Scarecrow, so all you can do
Is to ignore the hay you see. Pretend you’re blind.

Bad Mouthing The Bad Mouth

TheMagicRealist.com

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

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

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