Some books are well read like the readers they own. They don’t lie around dormant nor do their soul mates. Some books stand amid dust upon vacated shelves. Since their readers don’t read, they are left to themselves To embelish what every good book advocates: The desire of folks to explore the unknown.
Some books like to run, but no book likes to swim. It’s a matter of preference what books like to do. We don’t need to work out, but it helps, just the same. We’re as different as snowflakes. We each have a name. In fact, we’ve a few names, each giving a clue To our true inner nature without pseudonym.
Some books come in yellow… Not all, by the way. We’re a multiple mixture of chroma and hue. Most folks call me Ron, and I run super-fast. I’m the mild-mannered type. I’m not here to kick ass. I am Ron Running YellowBook. That name will do. It’s as weird as all get-out and easy to say.
…A magnificent lineup – A feast fit for kings… This life is a Banquet for palate and taste. And it’s simply no matter that things may be there That are not to my liking. ‘No need to despair. I just pass those things by. There is no time to waste Finding fault with the lineup and other such things.
By default, I’m invited. I’m one of the race Of the billion-fold dining in this earthy hall. The fine dishes are many – too many to choose. How could I sample all? Some things I must refuse. I don’t think that my preferences cater to all. We each eat life differently. That’s no disgrace.
It’s not wise nor appropriate that I complain About food that I think shouldn’t be in my sight. Because I’m just a guest at this feast like the rest. I should bless people’s differences. This way is best. You may like eating things that, to me, don’t seem right But through mutual respect, we have so much to gain.
When one stands at attention, one’s focus is keen To receiving command from the cause of such act. And benign is attention that’s focused from will. It’s a good thing to mention, and not overkill, That attention is how we are prone to attract All that’s nice and congenial and all that is mean.
I create what I’m living, for good or for bad. I was born with magnificent guidance to know Whether one or the other is affecting me. With such guidance onboard, it is easy to be In alignment with that which just wants me to grow To my fullest with more joy than I’ve ever had.
As it is my desire, first off, to feel good, And as I practice nurturing such thoughts that feel Pretty good when I think them, this much I do know: Only good things will come. Inner guidance will show That whatever I focus on is the real deal. I respect my attention. It’s well understood.
My future cannot be about what is past. The two are like apples and lug nuts to me. Of course, I’m the same then as now, in a way, But by growing, we’re distant, as night is by day. If I live in right NOW, I can very well see That this moment is powerful, but it won’t last…
…As, the next moment, powerful… fast on the heels Of the previous one, will take form in the mind. Not a thing that has happened pertains to right now. It’s a cumbersome paradigm shift, given how Our programming goes against how we’re designed. One should pay better listening to how one feels…
…Every day, every second… from this moment on, If I keep my now current, I’ll be as I am. I’ll continue to think and to speak of what’s now And then come to know that I’ve not changed, somehow. Fresh new thoughts for today is a worthy program. Through Eternity’s Portal I am ever drawn.
When one ponders the nature of cause and effect There’s a peace in one’s knowing that surpasses all. It’s desire that causes creation, we know, And creating in joy is what makes our hearts grow. Desire is the calling; we answer that call With the things that we do and the lives we erect.
In allowing desire to find way to you, You not only gain pleasure from having it done. You will have new perspective from which to want more. If that sounds quite peculiar, it’s best to ignore Any thinking that doesn’t yield absolute fun As misfortune can never come out of the blue.
So, do want what you want. This kind world will comply To the will that is in you and lighting your fire. If you don’t follow through with desire that is strong, Everything in your living may just turn out wrong. There is nothing to shame about full-blown desire. What is shameful is scorning the will with a sigh.
There’s a thing about rain that my heart won’t disdain. It will keep folks inside, out of others’ affairs So their shape-shifting eyes, in their neighborly fare, Can’t catch up on my business. Folks should be aware That I do my own thing, not that anyone cares. If you’re that hooked on folly, come out in the rain!
Put on your best tutu with water resist And gavotte past my window with smartass in hand. Take a me-mie of me as you’re tempted to pee. I might stream you my shtick so you’ll do it hands free. It’s a shame your garage door is shut by demand Of a powerful Lady who seems rather pissed.
I dare you, dear neighbor, delight in the storm Just the same as I do but with just a slight twist. Park your butt in your yard like you usually do And collect all your intel with rain helping you To deliver wet gossip no sponge can resist. I’ll enjoy the rain. You just stick to the norm.
Feeling Better’s the root of my every desire. It’s the reason for anything that I could want. Feeling Better, in fact, is the sole reason why Any creature wants anything. Should this imply That our feelings are fickle – a bit nonchalant? They are guidance for us so that joy we’ll acquire.
If you had one goal only, then what would it be? Were it to feel good, you would soon meet all goals. You’d be happy, successful, and full of pure love. You would shine like the light of the sun up above. Know that heart is the master; the mind it controls. Be successfully happy, and dare to be free.
Feeling Better gets closer to what we desire And the two are connected in general sense. Practice feeling good, then anything you give care Will turn out just fine. Feeling good is like prayer And our life becomes purposeful… filled with suspense About dreams that come true and the lives we’ll inspire.
One may ask of the kitten, “What justifies you
To just lie there immune to the chaos around
While we humans run ragged with cares up our butts?” That which can’t be addressed will then drive ourselves nuts. But the kitten will answer with softness of sound, “I just purr for a living; that’s all that I do!”
There’s a lesson the kitten is willing to teach To the human who often gets lost in the game. The basis of life is the freedom to be And its purpose is joy, most emphatically! When one cares less more often, one might take the blame For all others’ misfortunes, as heard in their speech.
I am freer to choose newer pathways to joy With each dawning moment successive and pure. In my joyous growth I do add to the sum Of all that exists now and all that will come. All-That-Is will partake, and my joy shall endure. My life is my kitten, and I am its toy.
This world has my back and my mother’s brown eyes Just as surely as all things I’ve ever dreamed of. Since the world has these things – all existence, in fact, I should call that wellbeing where good thoughts are backed With the promise that goodness and kindness and love Are my birthright. I don’t have to listen to lies.
I must reach for the feeling of wellbeing first So that everything else will then fall into place. If I’m troubled, I feel like this world makes no sense. I oft’ sink into stasis when life gets intense. To remember life’s wonder is my saving grace. Pretty soon, lucid living will be well rehearsed.
I am selfish enough, now, to follow my bliss. When I do so, I tap into natural flow Of pure energy, positive and of my own. Should I act like I’m happy? I’ve no call to moan. So perhaps I should live what the wise ones must know… This world has my back. There is nothing amiss.
For my last day on earth I shall hang by the face To a branch that is sturdy, yet tender and new. To spring forth and perform natural acts is pure bliss. I don’t take life’s meal lightly; no leaf I’ll dismiss. I convert all to protein as fast as I chew. Though I’m slow and deliberate, I run a fast race.
I’ve a lifetime to ponder and munch as I go Automatic and focused on fattening fill. In a multi ring circus no tent could contain I’m an expert already and don’t have to train For the feats I will die for. I do have free will To remain from the spotlight. I steal no one’s show.
My death would come quickly if I became prey In the beak of some dinosaur with a sharp eye. Our act would end smartly, by nature’s demand. Those who strive toward the big top will well understand That the show must go on even though creatures die And replace one another throughout nature’s Day.
Krakkabukkle-KaBoooom! That’s what I like to hear. Mama Nature is talking. Let’s give her respect. Whether quick burning arrow with rumble in wake Or night whitening flashes that know no mistake, Nature’s message is clear. Our fair ego is checked By the Masterful Lady who crafts Atmosphere.
Show your thundermost cloud! Let me feel you shout loud! Even though I can hear every whisper you speak. There’s a world who don’t know you. You have every right To react in a voice of intent and of might. Strike me dead. I will join you. It’s truth that I seek. I’ll commune well among you. To you, I’m avowed.
Why I make such a habit to hear Mother speak Is a thing of scant value to ponder too much. I just like a fine Mama who’ll run it down hard. One is ill to complain that She plays the ‘wet’ card. She’s one bitch you can’t fuck with nor lie to or such. She’s the feminine version of deadly mystique.
Like the Maytag repairman, I came with some tools And some skills and a passion to find things to fix. I like breaking things down and then building things up. If it weren’t for my tasks, I’d be such a sick pup. I don’t run for office, nor do politics And perhaps that’s what separates me from most fools.
That would not be the case, though, had I not been told I’m not here to fix anything. Nothing is broke. Things are constantly changing and expanding so There is constant renewal and much room to grow. So, so much for my fixing; I’m best to unyoke My life from such missions that make one grow old.
Find release from all struggle and seek to have fun. Find joy, and in doing so one will align With the fantastic, expanding rhythm of being In a universe made for believing and seeing Wherein any problem will work out just fine. I’m not here to fix anything under the sun.
Does this count as a life? I don’t care either way But only in terms of the marrow and bone. There’s too much going on; there is thickening air. If the purpose of life is to love and to share, Have I done much of either? I quest on my own To unravel life’s mystery day after day.
This life I am given may be near its end. What manner of taste does it leave in the heart? I don’t care that I’m going; it bothers me not. It is where that I’m going that soothes me a lot. I just hope I don’t have to come back and then start A whole new exposure to re-comprehend.
This world is a trip. Any creature would say. And it ain’t like I’m troubled or deeply depressed. I’ve just seen enough traffic on these busy streets. I behold mass congestion’s miraculous feats And I come to concluding that I should invest In a starship where I would just then warp away.
Do I make myself clear? What a question to ask Of someone not even of scientist mind. I am sorry, Ron Hubbard, this ain’t about you. My notion of clarity has much to do Not with others’ perceptions and mine intertwined But with certainty that my speech performs well its task.
Do I make myself clear? I’m not sure that I do. Sometimes words escape meaning and thought fades away. I don’t speak just whatever comes into my mind. It’s the process of living among humankind That evokes from within me what then I must say. Though I seem partly cloudy, my sky’s nothing new.
Any poet who’s ever made home upon earth Has had ample reason to write through the heart. Every creature that speaks or lets loose with a cry Should have something to say that would brighten the eye Of its bated beholder who’s state of the art In its skill at perceiving and discerning worth.
Boy, have I been waiting for this special day! My mom’s been preparing me since my arriving. Today is my first time to take to the sky. All feathered youngsters must soon learn to fly. It’s a fun thing to do and the key to surviving. The reason I came here’s to splash and to play.
It’s like skydiving but without a chute. If my wings don’t work yet I just plop in the water, Flop around quite a bit and then waddle away. I sure act like a duck, and I quack when I pray. I’m fanatic for fun yet I’m not a sea otter. We have this in common: we’re all really cute.
I am not on my own; my mom’s watching above. She keeps calling, and calling, then calling some more. I will reach her in time, and for sure, I’ll keep trying. Life’s a current of ease; there can be no denying. These tiny wings may get a little bit sore. My life, as it is, is a labor of love.