Tag Archive | life

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?

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.

A Critical Eye

Deep Serious Mindset

The lone eye, having feeling, will learn where to peek
To gain insight and hopefully get the best view.
Seriously, the looking can alter the heart
And the mind, ill-affected, feels not much a part
Of the unwanted image. Forget getting through
To a deep understanding. It makes the soul weak.

Focusing on the negative shouldn’t be done.
That is what most psychologists clearly advise.
Common sense and cold logic do keep me secure
But too much looking outward I cannot endure.
The seasoned disposition to uncover lies
Contradicts common courtesy and having fun.

I may make my assessments and put them to verse
With the ease that the artist in me is allowed.
Careful, critical thinking while feeling alone
Can’t resolve any issues. This too has been shown.
I remain of this species not frightfully proud
But somewhat more accepting of my human curse.

The Struggle

Stormy Encounters

Interacting with others… Sometimes it’s a bear
To maintain good composure. Things get out of hand
And straight into ferociousness in word and deed.
Anger does have its purpose. The demon is freed
In the hope that the other will well understand
That when strict lines are crossed others then should beware.

The mind may be more active with hostile intent
When two wills come emergent in heated debate.
Animals of one species are just like the rest.
When prepared for a challenge, we’re put to the test.
But is there a derivative reason for hate
Among human existence? What feeds our dissent?

In these times there are lynchings. The noose has evolved.
The mindset of the niggard is still much the same
As it was in the good days. Some folk need an edge.
Black men are still in season as white racists pledge
That there will be no struggle. They will cheat the game.
In the long run our issues are damned to be solved.

Advancing That Notion

Tactful But Fearless

Can I make an impression with just a big smile
And a tiger of confidence caged in my soul?
I most certainly doubt that most people would see
Any point that I make in a way that suits me
Unless it’s made brute forcefully. It is my goal
To make sure that I’m listened to once in a while.

Now, I can be quite sociable when I’m at ease
With not much to impart to my circle of friends.
But when I get a notion that people should hear
They’d damned well better listen or I’ll show them fear.
Would one feel that I’m right seeing life through my lens?
I’m one hell of a bastard to try to appease!

Otherwise I am charming and soft like a dove.
Never mind that my bat I may keep by my side.
Just pretend it’s not there if you think that I’m cool.
If I’m not it makes no sense to then play your fool.
All I want is respect. This not about pride.
When housekeeping is done we may speak about love.

Led To Excess

Too Much of a Mediocre Thing

Having fun while it lasts may be one thing to do
And another may be to command some restraint.
If I feel like indulging to my heart’s delight
Until something inside me is not feeling right
It will put out my wildfire. Then I will feel faint.
I’m way out of my league when I’ve too much to chew.

I exaggerate goodness, and sometimes that’s bad.
As my stomach grows smaller my eyes become big.
I just want to play hooky from any hard school
And behave as I please. Maybe acting the fool
May reveal if I’m human or much like a pig
With immutable entrails that are iron clad.

I’m not feeling like royalty alone while in place
So I notice the error in what has become
A new routine unstructured. Can I gain control
Of my loss of ambition and take back my soul
From confounded complacency? Life is ho hum
Until I take a moment to get off my case.

These Bowels

Entrails Exposed

These Bowels toil through the night just for you.
These times are hard enough to get through.
The onus on us is no urgent fuss.
You give us your trust, and we take it. We don’t fake it.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels are working in support to your cause
This work we do with no thought to what was.
We do this for free. We hope you can see
That you’re worth it. Why not mirth it?

Come What May

Awaiting the Inevitable

Is the human condition prepared for the worst
That can happen? Are we smart enough to survive
Our deliberate instinct to implement fear
When the call is for clarity in times austere?
It is somewhat amazing that we’re still alive
As it seems that our living is meant to be cursed.

Urgent broadcasts deliver what we need to know.
Some of it is conflicting by will of its source.
Alternate motivations of egos involved
Undermine any hope that our problems be solved.
Greed and psychic neuroses are par for the course.
As a species, it seems we’ve a long way to go.

It is best to examine our cyclic routines
While we now have the respite of keeping our space
Free of outside influences vacant of hope.
We decide individually how to cope
With our man-made disasters. The infinite grace
Made available is by spiritual means.

The True Fragrance Of Thought

Knowledge Plus Experience Equals Magic

I express my affection in uncommon ways.
As it is with most things, this is normal for me.
Some can get rather syrupy when they display
Heartfelt sentiments. Tears are most often the way
They convey tender feelings to such a degree
That sincerity blesses them throughout their days.

People say that I’m mental, but am I a case
To be handled with caution? Or is there a way
Of restraining my intellect? I can’t do that.
Does it mean that my loving is fatefully flat?
I have feelings within me that clearly outweigh
Ideation of doubt that I am of this race.

Feeling generates thought, and the thoughts that I feel
Are as real as the passion that pumps through the heart.
Thought can bloom into fragrance depending on how
They are fed by my feelings and what I allow
To affect my expressing. Thinking is an art
I can only get better at. What a Great Deal!

No Place Like Home

Warmth of the Hearth

Simple practical playtime often through the day
Brings about a new freshness and warmth to the heart.
Answers to human problems are perfectly clear
When the spirit is filled with the ones who are dear.
Sharing love among family is a fine art.
From the hearth of acceptance one seldom will stray.

Understanding compassion is learning it from
Those who are closest to us. Their teaching is kind.
We preserve precious moments not due to our pride
But because we are moved with true love as our guide.
There is No Place Like Home where our roots intertwined
Give the earth of the homelife strength to overcome.

Personal transformation occurs in the home
That is helpful and healthy. When problems arise
They’re met with understanding. The fear that we know
Comes from outside the homestead. No harm can it show.
It is best then to nurture familial ties
Than to be in a dark space where spirit can’t roam.

Effortless Service

Virtual Community

People are now religious but not in quaint ways
That seem all too familiar. Well in mid stride
Of preventative galloping toward saving lives,
There’s a sense that the one who is better survives.
There are none but our best selves in whom we confide.
We support through our Service to get through these days.

Optimism is warranted! People do care
And are free in their giving. No matter how bleak
The outlook for the future, we shall carry on.
In the meantime, we may let some hatred begone.
Many know now that Spirit is what we all seek,
And we’re finding effortless ways we can do prayer.

Our emotions are plowed through, as one human soul.
Never mind that full healing is nowhere in sight.
That will take place in spirit while we are still here
For the most part. All that in our lives we hold dear
Will sustain us in service throughout this dark night.
We shall grow as we comfort, uplift and console.

Psychic Awakener

Anxiety In Stolen Freedom

The routine isn’t normal in anyone’s eyes
But those better, more well off and in touch with God.
Young dreams wrongly imprisoned become nightmarish.
What becomes of the children who don’t get their wish?
If they end up in prisons, why would that seem odd?
Could it be that those fortunate wear a disguise?

Out of nowhere rebellion ignites in the soul
Yet it has no direction. Wrath takes a back seat
For it has not an outlet to relieve the pain
Due to common neglect and the everyday strain
Put upon such a young one. Therefore, in the street
He will search for an answer and maybe a goal.

No one need be awakened nor prodded to shame
For the ways life evolves for some is colored by
An ineffable ugliness deep in the face
Of our selfish and arrogant subhuman race.
We’re awakened, but psychically, and this is why
There’s scant hope in our knowing that all feel the same.

Joint And Final Affairs

Preponderant Emotional Encounter

Beginnings are like endings in so many ways
That they often are seamless. Sometimes we can’t tell
What they are or they are not so we are resigned
To accepting whatever our lost hope can find.
If it’s found in a place that competes with Bethel
Then it’s wise to prepare for this time’s final phase.

It’s not always a heartbreak. Sometimes there’s relief
From all feeling and thought for at least an eon.
Parting is no sweet sorrow. It has not a taste
Nor an alternate function but expelling waste.
When there’s peace in the parting, the prickle is gone.
So when looked at that way, one’s made out like a thief.

All affairs become final. Some blossom through age.
Others last for an instant to then pass away
To subconscious oblivion. Why are we here?
It has so much to do with how we handle fear.
There will be much rejoicing on that final day.
Until then, there’s this journey that I must engage.

Heart Of The Prankster

Packaged Humor

With a mind for amusement conceived of the heart
And a fun loving spirit, The Prankster appears
To bring rip roaring laughter with ample surprise.
When we’re tickled from inside our spirits will rise.
It’s the job of The Prankster to mitigate fears.
None are fit but the joyful to play such a part.

Those with energy output more powerful than
That of most others have no way to keep it in.
As they peak in excitement, they want to spread fun
In discrete foolish packages smartly home spun.
Yet the trouble they instigate can’t be a sin
So they just get away with it because they can.

Put your faith in The Prankster and know that there’s hope
In the darkest of times when there’s nothing in sight
But mass death and calamity as its response
Instigated by pure greed and shy of nuance.
We have scum among leaders to deal with this plight.
While it’s on, don’t bend over if you drop your soap!

Emotional Security Administration

Indirect Support

Be secure when emoting? Is there such a need
That precautions be taken in order to feel?
It depends on the feeling; most people would say.
There are those who would keep all and hide them away
So they can’t incur damage for being too real.
Yet, conceived of the real world, therein they are freed.

Emotions, when expressive, bring on a response.
Truth is what feeling seeks as it parts with the mind.
The security needed is due to the fear
Of becoming an outcast, yet one who’s sincere.
So, it’s hard to be truthful and harder to find
And appropriate feeling for faked nonchalance.

There’s a sentient administer of loving grace
In the form of security for how earth feels.
It’s the spirit collective, perhaps, of her soul,
Who is here to reshape us so we become whole.
How much longer will it take before the word heals?
Can that be up to us, now, while sick as a race?

The Neighbor Nonsequitur

Fenced And Scapegoated

It’s a question of Character. Therefore, I’ll fail
At resembling an answer that people can’t judge.
Every clan needs a scapegoat. I fulfill that need.
Every manicured front lawn has at least one weed.
Making eye contact sickens them. So, it’s a drudge
To acknowledge our presence. I’ve been placed in jail.

Do I choose to accept this then try to escape
By acting as a victim? Do I disregard
And dismiss the perception as not being real?
I appear to be cold blooded with heart of steel
And the brain of a robot that works way too hard
At some meaningless purpose. I’m in shit for shape.

I’m the Neighbor Nonsequitur. Making no sense
And being unpredictable aren’t friendly traits.
Do I search deeper in me to find what went wrong?
I am not in a space where I feel I belong.
With a true understanding my life recreates
A connection to clarity with no offense.

Appeal Of The People

Requirement For Toughening

Time gets tougher with age. It’s a shame It’s not wine
Or some pre-potent substance to put all at ease.
But time does not have essence the way that wine does.
It exists in eternal transcendence because
It enhances illusion, as everyone sees
Either deathly disaster or something benign.

I’ll explore the subconscious where I am at home
And in absolute comfort. How I keep in touch
Is through daily reporting on just how I feel.
What I get instantaneously I’ll deem real.
Cheering done in the game world can’t offer me much.
I must score all my touchdowns where I safely roam.

And apart from the drama, I am at its core.
Just a tiny reflection am I on the field.
So can I make a difference in how life plays?
If I can, does it mean I’m entitled to praise?
Only through introspection can my heart be healed.
This work may be of value. I need not know more.

Achiever Of Goals

Focused Diligence

Mere self-confidence only describes how I act.
Slow and steady toward targeting that which I seek,
But with increased trajectory, I pick up speed.
Sound and simple direction is all that I need
To reach my destination. My path is unique
Among all whose are airborne. It remains intact.

Having high expectation, the work that I do
Becomes even more elegant with each new day.
I’ve achieved ample knowledge and skill to succeed.
My life’s dream shall become real in certain Godspeed.
My attention to detail won’t lead me astray.
But my technique and resources benefit who?

That’s the bug in the ointment. The stick in the craw
Is a felt misperception. Need I keep in mind
That no logical basis supports the course change?
To correct navigation at such a close range,
My whole notion of giving must be redefined.
Then the process resumes easily without flaw.

A Desire For Faith

Profound Sentimentality

Sentiments reawaken in bittersweet gloom,
As within the Before Time the present does yearn.
Nestled well in uncertainty, feelings betray
What the Now Time consummates through sanctioned dismay.
What profound global justice begets our concern?
Has the past made the nowness predictive of doom?

While engaging in manipulative techniques,
The collective unconscious collects, as designed,
What it senses as detrimental psychic waste.
If we cannot dispose of it, then we are faced
With a moral dilemma. What faith can I find
That I had once, but lost in a matter of weeks?

People speak truth on Sundays. Is this fact or lie,
Or an intricate mixture derived to deceive
The world’s sheep-seated flock safely off the Lord’s cliff?
Faith precludes insecurity but only if
I do not play the victim nor someone naïve
To the hell yet forthcoming. Need I ponder why?

Most Aesthetic And Stable

A Focus On Creation

In the eye, each beholder sees what is well known
On the integral surface of subconscious ways
That become human racial. The hatred all share
Figures mass-self-destructive a bloody affair.
Amid worldwide affliction there’s reason for praise
For the helpers whose love for all is clearly shown.

Taking care of the necessary gruesome task
Of transforming disaster to what was before,
Many toil with no notice nor means of support.
We may see our redemption in folks of that sort.
Though we seem suicidal, what is at our core
Is emergent compassion with no need to ask.

Passion looks like responsible with a kind heart
And an uncommon willingness to share the peace
That is found in stability in the ideal
That we all come from one source whose presence is real.
Lessons are given to us so we can release
What may cause our extinction and then a restart.

Emotional Deep Space

Rewarding Experience

See right through to the essence! What harm can be done
In removing appearances? Dense is the fog
That surrounds certain real worlds. I feel that I’m blind
Without deep exploration wherein I may find
What it is that I’m seeking. Sometimes dialogue
Is a dance of delusion before it’s begun.

 In order to dig deeper, what tool can I use
To uncover the secret that hides among clouds
Of pathetic indifference? I must get through
To the heart of the matter to find what is true
In all that I’m perceiving through dark misty shrouds.
I sometimes, as a being, come off as a ruse.

I do not get an accurate read on most things.
If by chance that it happens then it’s a good day.
Otherwise, transformation shall deepen my space
So that as I evolve there’s more truth to embrace.
All the things I’m not meant to know won’t go away.
What discordant contentment this utterance brings!

A Feeling Awareness

Revealing Change In Attitude

Feel the wetness of Being and all that it means
To be one with the ocean of all that exists.
One may then wax poetic and sing words of praise.
With no glass to fill half way my consciousness stays
In eternal awareness of life’s turns and twists
We are all simply liquid emoting machines.

Feeling vulnerable only emulates fear.
I can sense the reality, but I can choose
To rely on the guidance from deep in the heart.
I cannot feel rejected. My soul is one part
Of one sea that has many – each with different views.
My own take, although humid, is perfectly clear.

The pure truth in acceptance of who I’ve become
Is a source of contentment. While wet upon stage
I have acted the fool often. Is that a shame?
Yes It Is. I’m the one person who must proclaim
To those whom I’ve mistreated, I feel your outrage.
Is there something worthwhile to the beat of this drum?