Tag Archive | new age

Children

Humanity's Treasured Assets

Your children are not your children, this you should know.
Sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself, they
Come through you but not from you. Although they’re with you
They belong not to you. And for all that you do,
You may give them your love, but your thoughts, keep away
For their thoughts are their own as they wholesomely grow.

You may house their young bodies but never their souls.
For theirs dwell in the house of tomorrow which can’t
Be visited by you, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, as their brightness beams.
But do not make them like you nor try to implant
Your beliefs into them. It’s the worst of all goals.

Life goes forward – not backward, and it tarries not
With the things that were yesterday’s. You are the bows
From which your children as living arrows are shot.
The Archer sees the path and will nurture its plot.
With the bow’s might, swift and far will go the arrows.
Through nature’s evolution the wise soul is taught.

Let you bending in the Archer’s hand be gladness
For the ongoing process of love’s expression.
Even as the Archer loves the arrow that flies
He loves also the bow who can well recognize
How to keep itself stable. Your work will be done
In complete loving guidance and pure truthfulness.

Are You Addressed?

Foundations Of Freedom

A New Nation Conceived… but of what demon seed
That produces a mixed black and white bastard child
Who, at war with itself constantly, must act out
A superior newness… one which is about
Segregation’s revival and hate reconciled
For that part not considered a part of its breed?

That’s one hell of a question! So, let’s break it down.
Those forefathers were pissed off at England, so they
Went and stole them some new land, the old pirate’s way.
Taking on human cargo causes much dismay,
But these merry explorers took it as child’s play
To display fervent hatred for the black and brown.

Yet, it isn’t all of us who feel quite this way…
But enough of a huge chunk to make the child ill.
Would the sickness go back to England with its tail
Between where all that pissed off their fathers prevail?
Can there be a subspecies that harbors ill will
Toward a part of itself? And what price does that pay?

 “…That all men are created equal…” is the gist
Of the lofty idea that set folks apart
From outdated monarchy to newfound freedom
But that cannot happen as long as there are some
Who just came for the ride and would much rather start
Bloody war in a heartbeat, as their acts insist.

Two scores and two centuries ago people were
In a funk existential and most exclusive
In their fresh new ideas and self-righteous goals.
Will our constitution be buck shot full of holes
By a parallel nation of traitors who live
For the wildness of old times that oft’ reoccur?

Wonder

The Zest In Life

On a rock unimportant that circles a star
Insignificant on the outer edges of
A small galaxy nestled away in deep space
Is a petri dish species called the human race.
It’s a feeling of Wonder. We happen to love
This bizarre circumstance no matter who we are.

…At least, that’s how I think other folk would respond
To the weird situation consciousness is in.
I know some people tune that right out of their minds
And rely on fake thrills and rubbish of all kinds.
Insignificance blossoms until I begin
Noticing everything to which all have a bond.

This rock produces people as the apple tree
Generates tons of apples throughout its life span.
Alien life would find us most significant.
All that remains peculiar is also brilliant.
Can my eyes of a child make me a better man?
They were given to me so that I choose to see.

Between faith and belief, there’s a wide difference.
To believe is to wish. It’s a kind of a creed
Or a fervent hope that a certain thing is so.
But faith means there are things that I don’t have to know.
Hanging on to the rigidity at light speed,
The sensation of floating describes my suspense.

What The Mind Is Made For

Maintaining the Mental Machine

Nothing goes anywhere when the mind has begun
A cacophonous symphony of confusion.
It stays right where the rest of me happens to be.
Body, mind, and the spirit are all parts of me.
They exist in proximity and act as one.
Even though nothing travels, much of it is done.

So, it’s just an illusion – my taking a ride
On the long mental freeway with exits galore.
Though I’m not really moving, I get motion sick.
Am I the only one who can do such a trick?
I don’t mind that it races. Places I abhor
That it chooses to visit as peace I’m denied.

Why this happens is because I’ve identified
With things that are not me, and there’s no other way
To live life without clinging to identities.
It becomes a big forest with too many trees
To be dealt with even on a fairly good day.
For this reason the mind cannot be the best guide.

The mind is made to give life ample clarity
And deep penetration into experience
But without getting hung up on too many things.
Distance from what the mind is doing often brings
Some relief from the chatter which can get intense.
What The Mind Is Made For is to help me to be.

Rain Is Right For A Monday

The Periodic Psychic Cleansing

I appreciate rainfall as much as sunshine.
If to me there’s a difference between the two
Then there’s something wrong with me, but not on this day.
It is time for the business of slipping away
To a deep introspection. Whatever I do
Will be worthwhile in spirit. This day will be fine.

Rain is such a fine cleansing of heart and of mind.
Nature puts things in order. Her ways outweigh those
Of the whole of humanity. Therein I learn
To succumb to the rhythmic patterns I discern
In the simplistic trickling as surely it slows
The functions of societies of humankind.

For those souls in the rat race, Monday is the start
Of a week of performing the best that one can.
Companies are the backbones of economies.
We The People are droplets they need to appease.
All together we flow. Every woman and man
Is the priming the pump needs. We each play a part.

Let the rain be the cover that I need today.
Gravity is its calling. The times are severe.
I’ll learn how to discover this world and my place
In its intricate workings, and may it erase
The effects of exhaustion because of my fear.
May my life that is dirtied be cleansed in this way.

The World I Create

The Existence Imagined

Self and Other, the ultimate dichotomy,
Are of singular essence. The world that I see
And the one who is seeing it are a duo
Intertwined in a tight dance. They do not let go
The same world viewed by many can then only be
One that we’re all a part of. We all could agree.

But that’s ideal thinking. In reality,
Magnitude of perspective has staying power.
Strong beliefs held by many can overcome fate.
When they’re used for that purpose, things can turn out great.
It is rarely that positive change does occur
In a world suffering from low morality.

What I am is everything that I’ve come to know
Throughout my life experience. Many billions
Of viewpoints has the same situation at hand.
Any one of them could be minuscule or grand.
 The inherently transcendent – those are the ones
That can raise global consciousness which is now low.

At all times we are part of the situation.
To deny that is foolish and leads to despair.
Through my creative process and vision, I make
A world that is much kinder and wider awake.
No world that is created is too much to bear
As a process of healing is rightly begun.

The World Not My Own

Among Alien Life Form

Why don’t I stop my whining. Things are not that bad
Given I’m in my own world where no one belongs
Nor would want to spend time here. I feel the same way
About having to deal with people every day.
I am grateful that I can keep track of my wrongs
And how lousy I turned out to be as a dad.

To be sociophobic is not a disease
But a means of survival for those who do harm
To others through the mind that is severely ill.
Do I harm others because it gives me a thrill?
Might as well it may, because I sound the alarm
Of intent of the not well as everyone sees.

I’m afraid of humanity – mine most of all.
I am part of a species yet so alien
Am I to all its mores and odd behaviors.
Intellect is not instinct. It only ensures
That the pain will be something I’ll suffer again
And again for atonement for playing it small.

As the race battles rage on across the frontier
Families are the structures that will become more
In touch with their realities. Self and other
Is the realm of existence where life must occur.
Might we get through this well having done it before?
Alien, I am part of a species austere.

Lose Yourself

The 'Self' Does Not Exist

Lose Yourself In This Love… You will find everything.
In This Love, when you lose yourself, all will be well.
Lose Yourself in the moment. Do Not fear the loss.
You will rise from the earth and meet up with The Boss
While embracing the heavens. In bliss you will dwell
With others who are like you, and may angels sing!

Lose Yourself and escape from this frail earthly form.
This body is a chain, and I, its prisoner.
 I must smash through the prison wall and walk outside
With the kings and the princes. No dream is denied.
Never mind what others back on earth would prefer.
Grieving over the loss of folks is quite the norm.

Find escape from the black cloud that does surround you
Then you’ll see your own light as bright as the full moon.
Enter now into that silence. The surest way
Is to Lose Yourself each moment of every day.
What is your life about anyway but a strewn
All about mess of memories that you accrue?

My own life is a struggle. For myself I speak –
Not for anyone else here. It isn’t my place.
I have been someone naughty and too often mean.
My own silence I run from. I cannot be seen
In the light of most others. Am I a disgrace?
One’s own self loss is personal and quite unique.

The Hereafter Is Here

There Is No Need To Search

The Hereafter Is Here. If I live it in fear
Then my life is of horror and has no meaning.
That it does in the first place is misconception.
All partake of this silly game. Sometimes it’s fun
Treating death like a breath of fresh air in the spring
When it is much more sacred than it does appear.

Don’t go looking for death in the graveyards at night.
Consciousness doesn’t hang out among dirt and stone
Yet it may on the cheap screen for entertainment.
Death occurs all around us. The fatal event
Can happen in an instant, and it can’t be known
How and when it will happen, which seems only right.

Everything that has meaning in form physical
Is the dust of the flat earth and will remain so.
Any means of survival requires energy
Otherwise it will definitely cease to be.
When mine runs out completely, then it’s time to go.
The dark tunnel of light is the next birth canal.

If I’m gone but a brief while before my return
To this earth man made wretched, then there is the chance
That I’ll start with a clean slate to try this again,
If this is my last life on earth, I await when
I’ll hang out with the angels, and we shall all dance
Happily ever after and without concern.

The Virtue Of Selfishness

Fountainhead of the Fearless

All were born to be selfish. There’s no other way
To live out life experience wholeheartedly.
If we all were not selfish, we could not exist.
To be self-less means breathing would cease and desist.
Fundamental the basis is for me to be
Fully conscious and self-aware most every day.

To extract from experience my own selfhood
Can be done but completely only when I’m dead.
Otherwise, I am in it for all that it’s worth.
Self and how I experience it since my birth
Is my primary focus. I’ll not be misled
By a notion that isn’t that well understood.

Selflessness is absurdity – an idea
That in fact is quite foolish. It has no meaning.
So, the question becomes, “Who does myself include?”
The answer is the key to how my life is viewed.

It can be cosmic or at least global a thing
And perhaps an effective pain panacea.

Redefining what selfish means gives me freedom
To step outside the boundaries placed in the mind
Giving oneself a false sense of separateness.
Universal Identity I can express
In a world that maybe was selfishly designed.
Selfishness is the only place where I come from.

Out On A Limb

The Life Situation

Not alone in the forest am I this fine day.
There are others who, like me, are in grave distress.
No one knows of our troubles. Indeed, if they did
We poor souls would do best to keep our faces hid
From the judgment of others. I need not transgress
Any further. Within my own hell I shall stay.

My guts tell me I’m worthless. Sometimes I agree
Just to keep them performing their daily function.
When they find that I think that I’m someone worthwhile,
They will seize up and lock down and become hostile.
With an act all their own, they’re another ‘someone’
Who I must stay away from and most completely.

As I take time to write this, it is an escape
And a respite from reasoning what cannot be
Figured out in my present state which is too ill
To deal with what’s not happening. It ain’t no thrill,
But by getting it out of myself, I can see
From a much better angle. I’m not in bad shape.

Life Review I am going through as it occurs.
Much I’ll get through while living my time remaining.
I should now pay attention so I don’t forget
All that I’ve done to others that I do regret.
There’s a spiritual reason for suffering.
It’s to work off the karma the ego deters.

Cave In

Inner Escape From Outer Turmoil

There cannot be a pain worse than surmounting debt.
As the tonnage increases it takes up more space
In the places my guts were before their seizure.
Should I act out in panic, more harm I’d endure.
By my credit score I am consumed in disgrace.
Every phone call or message I’ll take as a threat.

No wonder I’m so weary and pissed of a lot.
Energy that I would have for creating things
Is diverted to struggle finding strategies
To reverse severe bleeding through tense arteries.
Embarrassed that I cling on to life’s apron strings,
A fine candidate for employment I am not.

Life is caving in on me. There is no escape
Short of something most tragic or a miracle
Like a change in perception so that I will hear
The exact steps I must take to mitigate fear
And the guidance to exit my fecal canal.
I’m a far cry from being in much better shape.

If I don’t find a hustle or some employment
In the next few days, things will get way out of hand.
And I don’t have an answer, nor am I afraid.
I must pay for the foolish decisions I’ve made.
May it cost me my life. That would be more than grand.
In survival, my task is to learn to repent.

Death Is Fiction

...A Tiny Chapter in the Story of Eternity

In my life, have I ever died? Did I come back?
I can say that I’ve not had that experience.
Nor do I know another who’s done such a trick.
People come up with stories, then lay it on thick
To all ears that will hear them at their own expense
When their weak minds are susceptible to attack.

Have I ever met someone supposedly dead –
An ethereal wisp of a faint silhouette…
Or a form of some essence apparently true?
If I heard voices, folks would ask, “What’s Wrong With You?”
So, I’d never admit that. I’d have deep regret

If the dead spoke to me and I heard what they said.

I have not seen or met one beyond the doornail
Nor has anyone else with feet flat on the ground.
It takes imagination, special connection,
Or some measure of both before faith has begun
To depart from reality where all is bound
By the strict laws of physics that always prevail.

So, where does this idea come from that I’ll die?
The nonsequitur notion is fiction at best
Created by the limited view I allow.
There is life after life in the eternal now.
I shall not be accustomed to being at rest.
Death is merely a fairytale most will deny.

Change The Story

All Of Life Is Imagined

For the first seven years while under hypnosis
Theta waves are the consciousness’ only game.
With no programming present, young ones will create.
Make believe is a playful and most dreamlike state.
Lower is this consciousness which isn’t the same
As adults’ because children can live in pure bliss.

But within that time period of seven years,
Children get all their core beliefs and programming
From observing their family and those around
Who provide ample input. What science has found
Is that during this time we record everything.
It becomes our subconscious with deep rooted fears.

By the time we are eight years, the damage is done
So to speak of a reference can be worthwhile.
“Rich Dad, Poor Dad,” the story, appears to ring true.
Everything that we’re told when we’re young has to do
With the lives we create for ourselves and our style
Of relating to others or welcoming none.

There becomes an imbalance. As time has its way…
The creative aspect that we had in childhood
Is nearly nonexistent compared to before.
And the consciousness element is grossly more.
Repetition and habit are well understood
To be good for the changing of stories today!

In the subconscious basement there may be some things
That may cause us to self-sabotage any grace
That the universe offers. The story I tell
Can be one of magnificence or one of hell.
And once I tell my story I cannot erase
What the universe hears and what answer life brings.

The Degrees Of Disast

All A Part Of The Spectrum

Many kinds of comparisons are to be made
Of the adverbs and adjectives used every day.
Brightly colored, the circus spectral of three rings
Prides itself in performance to qualify things.
They provide entertainment and constant foreplay
To those parts of the private mind kept in the shade.

Positive is the first degree. At parade rest
Stands the bare modifier without a command.
Since no comparison is to be made at all,
It has no special duty to pique and enthrall
The most basic perceiver, nor does it expand
From declarative purity. Thus it is blessed.

The Comparative is the degree at mid-range.
With somewhat of an ego, it likes showing off.
Getting next to the Positive with its suffix,
It fulfills its libido without using tricks.
Satisfied in the fact that the others don’t’ scoff,
It has no fear of others thinking it is strange.

The loudest of the three is the Superlative.
Its formidable nature is taken to heart
By the other two able beings of degree.
It eclipses things within its vicinity.
If one needs an example, a good place to start
Is the bed of Disaster in which we all live.

 Some Disast is a good thing. It strengthens the soul
And provides a good basis for getting along.
But Disaster is worse as it slows people down.
It can act like an adjective though it’s a noun.
Yet, the worst is Disastest where all can go wrong.
The existence of all three is what makes life whole.

Why Do People Ignore Me?

Unlike Eyes Repel

If I could be a fly on the wall in the minds
Of the people who know me, what would I find out?
I may know by osmosis or telepathy.
Compound eyes has the fly, but my own cannot see
Why most people ignore me. So riddled with doubt
That I turn to the occult and things of those kinds.

I do find the true answer by looking within
Where the soul has a dark space that I cannot hide
Nor can I hide within it because it’s so dark
That I’m blind even to my apparent birthmark
To be worn on the outside with much pride implied.
There are reasons why I get under my own skin.

A complex of bad habits, like talking too much
About only myself and not letting folks speak
Drive a wedge between me and all others I meet.
People do like to talk but not due to conceit.
It’s that sense of communion that most people seek.
Personality often is used as a crutch.

I don’t want to be ‘negative’ yet it’s my way
Of dissecting the challenges life offers me.
I should keep to my own self my piss poor outlook.
All the jerks in the world I must let off the hook
Just because I may be one. Again, I can’t see
Past the surface illusions that we all portray.

I know that I am boring, but not by first hand
Information directly from people, but from
The collective unconscious we have access to.
I know too damned much about what I have to do
With the pearls I am given, and it would be dumb
To succumb to society’s perverse demand.

Urban Renewal

Evolution of Metal and Silicon

Ancient rubble metallic and dark under light
Of a motionless fake moon amid the night sky
Is obliged to be taken control of by man,
Since it’s all that it’s known since the big lie began –
Not the one most apparent too many deny
But the one built in Eden through programming sleight.

The first man to give birth was also the first man?
Take that pill with a grain of saltpeter and die!
Body parts like the trick rib can only exist
In the mind of a story tale maker. Dismissed
Is all sense that is common. It’s the reason why
Men can do what they want to. God says that they can.

First, throw out the old rule book. Then, start a new game
With a storyline truer to life and nature.
But will we ever get to that point on our own
When the twisting of truth into evil is known
To be strong and effective in tainting what’s pure?
What has been done to humanity is a shame.

Metal can be conductive if of the right kind.
All the rest is the substrate of common belief –
Each of us a discrete component built within
The electronic intelligence of our sin.
Lack of truth in the circuitry causes much grief.
It’s perhaps the sole reason folks become maligned.

About Sleep

Nocturnal Flight Of The Spirit

An addiction to sleeping…? Why not a disease,,,
To be unconscious one third the time I am here
Should be called my existence? It fits like a glove.
In my dreams, like a free bird, I zoom out above
Where I can’t when I’m wide awake in constant fear
As my life quickly wastes away and no one sees.

It’s at worst therapeutic. The cycle of sleep
Has a three quarter rhythm like some poetry.
It’s the nearest escape hatch without absolute
Departure from the physical. Rather acute
Is my life situation. Where I need to be
Is far off from where I am, so my soul does weep.

Meditation and sleeping are somewhat the same.
They both bring much relief from the troubles at hand.
As each is made available, there is my chance
To remember that I am not my circumstance.
Terminal, though it seems, may it help me expand
Far beyond a solution to mitigate shame.

I rely now on guidance. I’m on cruise control.
Things I do throughout my day I don’t think about.
Mindfully automatic with each daily task
With no judgment from me, I do most humbly ask
That I live through my hell with no measure of doubt
That redemption is possible for my damned soul.

Healthy sleep is wellbeing of body and mind.
I have more energy, and my mood can remain
At a workable level. If I were ok –
Like no one on this earth – I’d have nothing to say.
I exist to express things, and it keeps me sane
And conscious of the moments when I’ve been unkind.

Tooth And Nail

A Dastardly Duo

Couples come in varieties strange and bizarre.
Tooth And Nail are an odd one, evil and deadly.
Anyone who would fight them must have balls of lead…
Or perhaps there’s a cotter pin loose in the head
Of the foolish one hellbent embarrassingly
To take on such a duo, as daft as they are.

Now, Miss Tooth can be itchy, but with a big ‘B.’
This madame of mendacity speaks through her roots
That are deeply embedded in clandestine ways
Of creating catastrophe. She earns the praise
Of her flathead accomplice whose pistols he shoots
Like his masculine motormouth – aggressively.

Mr. Nail is a character man machine made.
His rock hard heart’s desire is to be driven home
Into some structured substance where he would then stay
With his sweet tooth nearby him, the old fashioned way.
To be caught in a fight with them is a syndrome
Of extreme consternation and hard karma paid.

Tooth And Nail – Do avoid them whatever the cost.
If by chance you engage them, know that you won’t win.
They’re the masters of trickery and pure nonsense.
If there isn’t a choice, then the proper offense
Is a blast from the back end served with a big grin.
With a strange sense of humor, one rarely is lost. 

Love One Another

Nurture The Union

Creatures breed because nature gives them expertise
In the ways of comingling of infinite form.
No one needs to remind them how sacred love is,
But some bone headed humans would fail at a quiz.
As the species who needs one amid an ice storm,
We would learn a good lesson from the birds and bees.

Yet, a world of advantage is at our avail.
As you love one another do not make a bond.
Let it move like the seas between shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup fully, as drinking consoles
With a taste in its curing. Like a magic wand,
Bless this world with your oneness and tell a love tale.

Drink though not from one cup, and don’t eat the same bread
But give one to another as sun gives daylight.
Sing and dance, and be joyous, but spend time alone.
Lute strings quiver together, yet each has its tone.
We dance to the same music. It seems only right
That symphonic its influence can be widespread.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping,
For the hand of God only can contain your hearts.
Stand together, yet not too near one another.
Temple pillars are spaced out, as one would prefer.
Neither oak tree nor cypress each shadow imparts
On the other, so that each may do their own thing.

Who’s Going To Do Something?

Stopping The Momentum Of Evil

All the world’s statisticians give truth that is raw.
So straightforward the science, its transparency
Can be taken for granted. Our whole lives could change
For the ultimate better. It is rather strange
That we don’t choose what’s best for our society.
The life spans of democracies are wrought with flaw.

I know that common sense is ignorable when
One nineteenth the defense budget is spent on peace.
Good health is not as profitable as is sickness,
And it means that some of us cannot have access
To what everyone should have. All crime would decrease
If more people felt worthy and human again.

Greater economic opportunities for
Women and educational ones for children,
The reduction of violence against women…
Are some places where our attention hasn’t been.
If the human condition cannot change, what then?
We don’t play by the numbers. We mess with the score.

Who’s Going To Do Something? It’s all up to us,
And that feels catastrophic right down to the bone.
But this truth is the answer to no question asked.
All democracy suffers, and so we are tasked
To address the condition become too well known…
But to those in authority, superfluous.

The Life Purpose Myth

Being IS Its Own Purpose

Childhood dreams of Becoming someone cool someday
Fueled by love and encouragement from everyone
Are the kind that, when clung to, become life fulfilled.
If I got to the point where I’m constantly thrilled,
Where each day is another one filled with much fun,
Would I not get so bored that I’d not want to play?

Or would I reach that happy place right in between
Gloom and mania where I can tolerate well
Challenges that life offers to me and all souls?
Is it too late to think about setting new goals
If the ones set in earnest are all shot to hell?
To those who are damned happy, I shouldn’t be mean.

I have cake yet uneaten, and as time draws near,
Getting up from the table is childish and rude
To the host of the household and all other guests.
I’ve no concern about what my other digests.
Each of us has the freedom to choose what is food.
All the pain comes from what we have eaten in fear.

I have been a small player in such a big game…
A bit role played to script in explicit detail
Is the life I’ve not eaten. To have is enough.
The perfect Magic Realist does play it tough.
Having chosen a path where my heart must prevail,
I’m now on a strict diet that can’t include fame.

The Most Obvious Secret

Not So Blissful An Ignorance

A circus of three rings is the number preferred.
It makes sense of insanity and it provides
Division of attention among all odd things
That congrue in a cluster where impotent kings
Take their hand at mismanagement. No one decides
What to not pay attention to by thought or word.

Divided is the nation. Two worlds are as two…
Incongruent but yet so. There’s no precedent
For divergent societies to understand
Civil war in a new age yet on the same land
Stained with blood of our ancestors. Our swift descent
Was decades in the making. It now has come due.

 In The Room are two elephants, both of great size.
Each ignored by the other, they merge into one
Grip that fits all occasions with realities
Fatally coexistent. The hope one may seize
Is that change is eternal. Nothing is begun
Without somehow expecting to deal with some lies.

Human Nature continues. I within it all
Am amazed and enlightened by all that is seen
As a fervent backlashing. Much wider awake
One becomes in observance. Another mistake
Nature may have made, and it may wipe the slate clean
Of its aberrant outgrowth. To it, we are small.

A More Ethical Workplace?

Human Resource Empowerment

My boss tells me to lie to my clients sometimes.
Faking it ‘til I make it is not quite my way.
Yet that’s what is expected of me at my work.
It’s as if when truth is spoken, folks go berserk.
Companies and their values can lead folks astray
Of their moral makeup due to innocent crimes.

People do things to others that aren’t very nice
Just because they can do them with no consequence
That’s substantial enough to encourage a change
In aberrant behavior. And it isn’t strange
That in lieu of a conscience, the uncommon sense
Is to sell one’s humanity at the best price.

Mothers lie to their young children, and that is fine.
Any act done in pure love is always ok.
If a gunman would ask me where people are hid
I would lie to deter him. My heart would forbid
Giving him the advantage. It isn’t my way.
My own spirit will tell me when I’ve crossed the line.

Life is not based on morals but humanity.
Morals change with the ages, and peoples, and lands…
But the pure human heart knows what is right from wrong.
Moral compasses are built but are not so strong
When selfish ego motives outweigh the demands
Of the earth and the whole human society.

Death Rattle

Painted Into The Corner Of Darkness

Stay Alive. That’s a challenge. I’d better not fail.
Chances are I won’t do that, but chances are that
I will die in the process through no fault of mine…
Not even indirectly, which would suit me fine.
Let the shit happen quickly. The drop of a hat
Is a reason acceptable for me to bail.

As the brunt of life’s karma comes on at full force…
When there’s no one to go to; all bridges are burnt,
And I can’t find an answer to save my own soul,
Have I left any reason to aim for a goal?
I must still think I’m worthy, because if I weren’t
I would not be attuned to a special resource.

As the hat drops, the shoe falls. I know not which one
To entangle the horns of with my intellect
Or the brute force I muster when misdirected.
Anyone who would say that I’m better off dead
Hasn’t suffered like I have and has no respect
For the foolish and how in err they get things done.

The Death Rattle I feel, and it hangs fairly low.
In the pit of my stomach is where it begins
To erupt through the heart chakra into my throat.
When denied every platform I need to promote…
I must know that it’s karma for all my past sins.
Hopefully there’s an answer my living can show.

 

The Time Is Always Now

The Infinite Coupling Of Existence

The body is a cosmos with a cosmos.
It’s made up of some particles – none that are me.
I’m the space in-between all the physicalness.
I came into this stardust to grow. My progress
Is determined completely by how well I see
I am not who the body is nor even close.

Knowing what time it is when a challenge comes due
Is somewhat of an asset that I have right now
Which is happening always. My life and my plight
Are two separate entities. I do me right
When I come to my senses – the five that allow
The connection to spirit in all that is new.

There is only one moment. In it everything
That is happening changes, for now and always.
Life is meant to have challenges. It’s how we grow.
Satisfaction is futile. As long as I know
That it’s part of all drama, my character plays
Its best role as a novice yet up and coming.

“This time you’ve gone to far, God! No more can I take.”
It’s a comedy act that I’ve played in the past.
I will deal with each crisis life tosses my way
And rejoice in its coming. That way I will stay
In relief of the burden. No longer typecast
The perpetual loser, I am my fair shake.

Never Give Up

Righteous Perseverance

One day I decided to just quit everything…
My spirituality and relationships,
My career, and life as I then knew it to be.
I went into the woods where God did speak to me
After asking, “What reason would come from your lips
As to why I should not quit? What hope will it bring?”

I was told, “Look around you. Do you see the fern
And the bamboo?” I said, “Yes,” and then I was told
They were both given good care with plenty of light,
Lots of water and nourishment. All was done right
To support and protect them from the bitter cold.
Divine providence is something they need not earn.

The fern grew rather quickly. Its rich brilliant green
Blanketed all the forest floor. From the bamboo
Came no sign of its growing. God chose not to quit.
With omnipotent intent, nature must submit
To the will of divinity. The bamboo grew
At a much slower rate, and it isn’t obscene.

After many long years the bamboo did emerge…
But somewhat insignificant. Yet within weeks
It shot up to great heights. Its roots took time to grow
And become strong for all that it would undergo
In its own unique process. That which my soul seeks
Will come not by my quitting. I can stop the urge.

Keep Breathing

Go On No Matter What

People say, “Just Keep Breathing; all will turn out fine…”
As if life is a breath test. It drives me insane.

I don’t mean to be cranky… or maybe I do.
I’m awash in confusion. Should my face turn blue
Due to misunderstanding, I’ve nothing to gain.
Crisis times trigger breathing by nature’s design.

That first breath was a doozy. It blew me away
From the one who contained me, for better or worse.
Why should I keep on breathing? It gets rather old.
I can breathe my damned lungs numb. Nothing will unfold
But a room full of hot air. Is my life a curse?
Or do those who can breathe well have something to say?

I take my breath for granted, as many folks do
In the mainstream of living and keeping ends tied
But it’s the only answer to staying alive.
We can never stop breathing. It’s how we survive.
Once the technique is learned, wellness can’t be denied.
Then I’m able to handle what I’m going through.

I can curse like a sailor because I was one.
I’ve screwed up rather royally for one lost soul.
I’ll breathe that along with the fresh air I’m allowed.
Things I’ve done in the past can never make me proud.
I’m alive to the point where I still can be whole.
The decision to breathe is a new life begun.

Racing Thoughts

Formula 1 Brain

So one after the other, they leapfrog around
And create their own business that can’t be resolved
By themselves nor known others. Their quest is futile.
In their race for more heartache each painstaking while,
They prevent me from being more spirit evolved.
What they come up with isn’t at all that profound.

Keeping me wide awake at nights, they have control
Of my very existence. I need to detach
From the process that isn’t a real part of me.
Knowing that it is not me allows me to see
What it is that would be but a more fitting match.
I know that which I don’t want and what makes me whole.

Panic thinking is useless. It serves no purpose.
From that powerful standpoint I’m able to choose
Something else to focus on as hard it may be.
I may regain some control eventually.
It seems to be a gamble. There is much to loose
Because if I do nothing, further I’ll regress.

Then there’s always the body – the final frontier.
Since I know thinking sucks now, I know my breathing
Will provide a diversion and needed relief.
When caught up in a problem, relaxing is chief.
A small pocket of comfort this small act will bring.
Issues still will exist, but stress will disappear.

Evolution Through Disruption

The Cost Of Living Buisness

All the worst of my problems alone I create
Through the master controller of identity
On the personal level. I’m doomed to attack.
For the rest of my life here I’ll just watch my back.
Evil doesn’t become me, but insanity
Seems to be what consumes me and authors my fate.

The abstracted part of me – the self not made whole –
Is only form identity. It’s not the same
As the timeless consciousness that I am truly.
Everyone is that essence with none else to be.
With this form I am subject to sorrow and shame
That I feel often times to the depths of my soul.

Oneself can’t be perfected. It’s like whack-a-mole.
Once things are put to order, something falls apart.
Never ending the struggle it is to portray
A complete living model. And I must obey
The aspect of disruption. It strengthens my heart
Just to know of the sick truth I cannot control.

Evolution of consciousness cannot take place
In a world picture perfect with no suffering.
One would dance on the surface of life and not grow.
Compassion and deep insights one can’t come to know.
Disruption in my life is a wonderful thing
If I can learn to trust it as God’s loving grace.

The Myth Of Milk And Honey

Not All That Glitters Is Gold

Stores filled with people clamoring for the best deal
As each fake Friday blackens throughout the seasons…
I must know which is symbol form that which is real.
I can only know that by the way that I feel –
Like a child in a candy world. Many reasons
I can conjure but none that the truth may reveal.

Differences exist between wealth and money.
One is purely a symbol; the other, concrete.
Confusion between these two is the cause of pain,
Suffering, and such issues that drive folks insane.
I’m a sad ‘weak in trading.’ I am in defeat
If I can’t see myself through the illusory.

Oddly complex abstractions, ideologies,
And inscrutable systems confound consciousness.
Physical is reality – the earth and trees,
And the waters and creatures partaking the breeze.
I do not believe I can be anything less
Than the earth that produced me for none to appease.

All the hills are dark shadows. Forever they flow
From one form to another. Indeed nothing stands.
God’s green earth is diaphanous. It disappears
Like the music of ages along with all fears.
My true wealth is a measure of how life expands
Through this one made of value who this world can know.

Life Or Death

Choice Or Sentance

It’s a matter of being – or not being here.
In one tenth of an instant all life could be gone.
Then what happens thereafter? Don’t go there so fast.
Though the grips of electrons at best only last
But a non-fatal flailing… do curse the new dawn.
Obstacles are withstanding. I can’t disappear.

Fascination I’m left with – it’s all that remains –
For the movement of particles… or anything
Well accustomed to light speed. I live for the spark
That gives honor to contrast between light and dark.
Only when it gets awful, destructive thinking
Leaves me languidly livid – the worst of all pains.

Living just for this moment, relief I do find.
Distraction from rejection is re-translation
Of the latter to loveliness, but at a cost
To the hurtful part of me who is rather lost
In this world become nasty beyond all reason.
Can creatures like electrons be known to be kind?

 If ever the thereafter consumes my yearning
For the pain to be over, the present is one
That cannot be mistaken for past rotten deeds
Perpetrated in darkness for my selfish needs.
That I get to remain here, true justice is done.
On no thin thread of mercy I’m willing to cling.

A Tear And A Smile

The Faces Of Life

With my face I’m an actor upon the earth stage.
I would not exchange sorrows of my heart for joys
Of the multitude fruitful. I’d not have the tears
Sadness makes to flow from me to laughter and cheers.
With a tear and a smile I give faith to my ploys.
None of life’s hidden secrets shall cause me outrage.

May the tear unite me with those of broken hearts
And the smile be the sign of my joy in being.
This, the crux of the framework for living life well,
Can become just the story that I’m meant to tell
To the world that gave birth to me, and it will bring
Episodes that are balanced in all of their parts.

I want hunger for love and beauty to be strong
In the depths of my spirit, for I have seen those
Who are satisfied being most wretched and vile.
Sighs of those I’ve heard yearning and Longing a while
Are the sweetest melody that one could compose.
May the hunger consume me as I play along.

Vapor rises from sea water. Clouds they become
That float above and over the hills and valleys
‘til eventually they encounter a breeze
Then fall weeping their way back to rivers and seas.
To encounter life’s cycles with relative ease
Is a role I’m worth playing and where I act from.

On Preparing To Diet

Getting Ready For Vital Work

We are that which we eat. Someone say it ain’t so.
What goes into my bloodstream becomes part of me.
If I quack like a pig and break wind like a cow
I need not fail to wonder since they are my chow.
My hot wings have no feathers so how can I flee
The zoo which is my body? And do my cells know?

I am that which I think. I cannot deny that.
Every thought that I’m thinking connects to others
Of the same kind. Together they color my mood.
So it is best that I consume good mental food
So my life may be livable as it occurs.
Consciously I must keep my mood from falling flat.

Many decades of pent up negativity
Is the result of carelessness. What I take in
To my body and mind must be wholesome and free
Of all negative karma. What goes into me
Must be free of what kills me or else it is sin
That is rough on the soul when compounded daily.

Before starting a diet it’s best to prepare
Through an intensive purging of body and mind.
One can bypass the junk food the same as bad thought.
Though it takes lots of effort I will grow a lot
In the ways of the spirit as life is designed.
Dieting is the way we become more aware.

The Dream Of Life

...Yet It Seems Almost Real

Awaken from illusion? Which one would that be?
Just as black implies white, self implies the other.
Death brings meaning to life. This is fundamental.
Not a stranger am I in this place where I dwell.
Believing my existence was meant to occur,
Nothing short of a death wish can awaken me.

People are going crazy as far as I see
Or perhaps it’s been ongoing since time began.
We were all meant to be here. If this isn’t true
Then we might as well give up. The grand party zoo
Is far off the deep end and akin to the klan.
Colors true are most vibrant when one is dream free.

Nine eleven was done by the Arabs, so we
Came together as one nation, yet what happened
On the sixth of the first month is nothing to fear.
Perpetrated by white men, it’s perfectly clear
That one chunk of the nation cannot comprehend
What it means to be human most regrettably.

If I dreamed many lifetimes, each of many years,
And I could author all of them as I desire,
I would want for surprise after so many nights.
I would ask for a gamble so sometimes life bites.
God comes into each person that growth may transpire.
If that presence is ignored I nurture my fears.

There Is No Insecurity

Well Worth Repetition

If God so clothed the ladybugs why should I fear
That I might become needy in ways that demean
Self-respect and life purpose? My faith tank is low.
Since Jesus is the boss’s son, shouldn’t I know
He’s also my big brother? Does that sound obscene?
Only that which is positive do I adhere.

He would not have been put to death in India,
Where the people believe we’re all God in disguise.
They would just have accepted him as a wise one.
But the task put upon him would not have been done
Were he not among wilder folk and much less wise
And with perverse attachments to harsh Roman law.

Today knowledge is plentiful as it has been
Throughout all human history. Teachings abound
For the self’s true awakening. Why do I wait?
Is it fear that my ego will not feel so great
Since it’s only a concept and nothing profound?
The chance to think of acting will come once again.

Transformation of myself into unattached
Selflessness is impossible. That is because
I have selfish reasons for wanting to do so.
In the death of the fake self the true one will grow
In accordance with all the spiritual laws.
In a nest of security my soul is hatched.

Negative Thought Removal

Remedy For The Common Mood

Negative thoughts are just thoughts. Don’t identify
Them as good ones and bad ones. They all are the same
In that I’m either conscious of them or I’m not.
It is in the subconscious where some become fraught
In the ways they affect me. Yet I cannot blame
Them for my bad behavior, though hard I may try.

Try not to think of monkeys for just a brief while.
The mere thought makes the mind but a monkey machine
Generating more monkeys than ever wanted.
The mind does amplify whatever it is fed.
So, to think not a negative thought is obscene
Because I cannot do it. It isn’t my style.

Understanding that my thoughts are not part of me
Is the key to becoming more fully aware
That my unconscious thinking can get out of hand.
It seduces me to places I hadn’t planned.
If I try to not think them I welcome despair.
This is quite a predicament as I can see.

So, what is the solution? Surely there must be
One that is most appropriate and effective.
Since the mind can’t digest well, it needs to be fed
Positive support by me. Today I’m not dead.
That’s of utmost importance. My will is to live.
Knowing not when life will end is just fine with me.

What Shall I Do?

Suspenseful Purpose

The Suspension of Matter in relative space
Is the quaint cosmic setting in which all exists.
Microphysics and those of unspeakable size
Bend the best minds of science. Must I realize
That all that I’m a part of not only consists
Of all that I can sense in my humblest embrace?

I know not what to do and need guidance always.
Thankfully it’s available to everyone.
Love the earth, sun, and animals. Despise riches.
Give alms to everyone who asks. Treat that which is
With respect and tread gently. Do have lots of fun.
To the dense and the loony, give them their just praise.

All your income and labor, devote to others.
Do hate tyrants and argue not concerning God.
Have patience and indulgence with other people.
Take your hat off to nothing, and don’t take the bull.
Go freely with the powerful, stupid, and odd…
And the mothers of families as life occurs.

Re-Examine all you’ve been taught at any school…
Or the church or from any book. That which insults
Your own soul, do dismiss it. Your flesh can’t but be
Poetry in its full richness of fluency.
Silent lines of the lips and face, living exalts.
The whole body becomes then a most gracious tool.

Joyful Always?

The Magnificent Spirit

The left nut I would give and the gold kitchen sink
To find joy in the moment that lasts all day long.
I hear say there are those who are Joyful Always.
Fettered folk who fall needy should offer them praise.
I shall not show my jealousy. That would be wrong.
Sneaking up on some joy I at all doth bethink.

I have felt awfully happy even while in pain.
The problem is sustaining it more than a while.
Wellbeing means exuberance. Life energy
Flows without interference thus most easily.
How to get there and stay there could fit my profile
If I got rid of thinking that drives me insane.

Depression means life energy has reached a low
Through the cycles recursive of tapes that are played
From the cage of the closed mind. The only way out
Is to know my mortality without a doubt.
In this way I’m reminded of my true crusade.
Pettiness has no path on the way I should go.

 I create what I’m doing in every detail.
Karma means it’s my action. The questions for me
Are: How joyful am I? And how much do I give
Out to others? This is a most wise way to live
For this brief earthly sojourn. I can choose to be
Cognizant of my time here. That way I can’t fail.

Consciousness Inside Out

All The Cosmos Within

I am doing this world as, in turn, it does me.
Consciousness therefore flows between both easily
If I can but remember this always is true
Even though I’m brought up with a different view –
One whose mental distortions make it hard to see
That I am everything that the cosmos must be.

Every outside there is has as well an inside.
They are different yet they go with each other.
There’s a secret between them: To seek out new ways
To discover their sameness so that both will raise
Ever higher their consciousness and empower
Each the other with respect and mutual pride.

Consciousness is of two types. One is the spotlight
That stays focused on one thing at one time only.
The other is the floodlight. It is more aware
Of the general picture, and it will take care
Of what’s in the background automatically
In support of the spotlight who wants to shine bright.

My behavior and how I feel differs not from
That of this world in total. It and I are one
And the same. This is true for all inside out pairs.
That of me which is floodlight is the one who cares
About all that exists and can do harm to none.
Infinitely profound is the beat of my drum.

One Simple Trait

Focused Intent

How do birds of prey find exactly what they want
As they scan countless acres of raw wilderness?
Nature gives them keen senses. Their infrared sight
Helps them track mammal urine in pitch black of night.
Extreme intent and focus they also possess.
Any creature below them they’re willing to daunt.

Andrew Carnegie, after he made great success,
Caught the ire of the government. They thought that he
Was engaged in illegal things. He proved them wrong.
When they asked him why his businesses were so strong…
“I can keep myself focused,” he said truthfully,
“On one thing for five minutes. I won’t go for less.”

School systems value information as ideal,
And too much floods the mind with what it does not own.
When attached to memory, I identify
With the things I remember and barely get by.
Knowledge is the true quest. Information alone
Is useless because it’s not the same as what’s real.

What too much information can do to the mind
Is severe Attention Deficiency Syndrome.
One loses the ability to take things in

Through the senses and consciousness. It’s such a sin.
To know that I know not much gets me close to home
In this world of deep data that traps humankind.

Who Was Jim Crow?

Darkest Roots Of The History

Jim Crow wasn’t a real person but a stage act
Performed by Thomas Dartmouth Rice, a white actor.
The sole act he performed was called Jumping Jim Crow.
Dressed in rags and with blackface, on stage he would go
To depict lives of black folks as stupid and poor.
He gained much benefit from the twisting of fact.

This form of entertainment became popular.
He himself was a Yankee, yet traveled afar
Spreading his brand of poison all over the land
To poor downtrodden hardworking whites who could stand
Making fun of a scapegoat, though feathers and tar
Would be much preferable and hugely bizarre.

In those times laws were strictly enforced to keep blacks
From comingling with whites in any kind of way.
Ruthless rules of repression were called Jim Crow laws.
…Seems the dude’s act was fruitful in hindsight because
Uncle Sam gave it substance, so people could say
That it’s righteous for whites to administer tax.

Systemic Segregation exists to this day.
Complete eradication is futile at best.
Its roots aren’t all that southern. They grow through the soil
Of the earth all are made of. Unending turmoil
Is the plight of humanity as it’s expressed
Through our hateful behaviors. Are we our own prey?

I Don’t Have A Girlfriend, Mommy

Honest!

You may interrogate me, and that would be fine.
I’m a young man of temperance and keen insight.
Yes, I did have a good time at nursery school.
I’m a big fan there. Everyone thinks that I’m cool.
…No, the girls don’t excite me. I think they’re alright
But I’m not there for romance, by nature’s design.

We all like to play ghost busters. That’s lots of fun.
Make believe is the medium I manage well.
I become the aggressor in positive ways
Showing bad guys in all worlds that crime never pays.
Bless your heart, mommy. I’ve no sad story to tell
 Nor a secret to keep from you or anyone.

Dinosaurs is another game we played today.
I like being the T-Rex. Our styles are the same –
Both ferocious and timid but smarter than all.
And the bigger they are, the less chance that they’ll fall.
Coyness is below me. I harbor no shame.
Truthfulness is a virtue not just for display.

I do not have a girlfriend, but friends who are girls
Are somewhat of some interest. That’s about it.
You’re the one I come home to and who I most love.
We both planned our acquaintance in heaven above
Where we’ve made many others to which we commit.
As your womb was my oyster, I’m one of your pearls.

Appreciation

Life And Death Are Both Blessings

There’s so much that I live for. It’s easy to say.
Often times I may say it while not feeling whole.
It is by social habit I wear the costume
Of the life-loving specimen who hides much gloom.
Time I have on this earth is for growth of my soul.
Should death come within hours, I’ll have much time to pray.

All my prospects and travels and brief love affairs
I do cherish more strongly when faced with the threat
That within a small march of days all will be gone.
How would I spend that time? Will the song of the swan
Be discordant to deaf ears? Will there be regret?
Or will I in bliss wait for my moving upstairs?

The dear deer in the headlights on one pitch black night
Is frozen in astonishment and total shock
That life may end abruptly. If the driver yields
Then the creature finds newness in grazing its fields.
Reveille from the universe is a hard knock
To quotidian consciousness, but that’s alright.

If the cataclysm doesn’t happen as planned
I won’t miss all the good things I normally do,
And with consciousness freshened with each living breath,
It is truly a blessing to come close to death –
Close enough to be shaken to a brighter view.
I appreciate living a life that is grand.

What Are Others Thinking Of Me?

A World of Delightful, Imaginative Wonder

Though it matters not at all still I may wonder
What it is people think of me. So, I’m human
And affected by super moons and cosmic waves
And by all the insane things that my body craves.
I’m ok with a friendship and don’t need a plan
To affect my appearance so life can occur.

Temperance is the patience and moderation
Necessary for maintaining healthy balance
About wanting and needing others in our lives.
In complex social structures, the fittest survives.
The death of an old cycle leads to the next chance
To become more acquainted with laughter and fun.

Offerings may come to me. I have a strong sense
That this life is my oyster and I am its pearl.
What comes in then goes outward for all to behold.
Dreams and wishes of popularity unfold
As I watch ever consciously my path unfurl.
I’m at peace with my loving which is quite intense.

People get rather phony with social profiles
That are perfectly polished as if of the gods.
No one’s life is fantastic nor is it the pits.
With a little help from my friends and my keen wits,
I become others’ best thoughts though they are facades
That are yet therapeutic because they bring smiles.

Story Theater

Storytale Weaving

Once upon a time there was a worthy black man –
One who many supported to take on the task
Of preparing this young nation for a new age.
We The People had spoken. This has caused much rage
Among those white supremacists proud to unmask
Their grotesque ugliness because they’re better than…

Masterminds were the Russians who planned an attack
To the heart of our functioning as a free land
Where hatred is allowed but not criminal acts.
It’s ok though to find ways to single out blacks
To inflict harm upon them. They must understand
That the law is a needle within a haystack.

So, the nation was hijacked. For four hellish years
Daily we were inundated with wicked lies.
Psychic tension unyielding had become the norm.
Turning on some device to another shit storm
Of outrageous behavior became not so wise
But not knowing leads to aggravation of fears.

The orange one-term crook loser still has much control
Of a grand old fart party and all whites who hate.
My black heart is awakened to uncivil rights
That demand exaltation of all the land’s whites.
It’s not likely to happen. What wrath lies in wait
That will swallow this nation and blacken its soul?

Storytelling is commonplace post the disease
That infected this nation and did it great harm.
Those who lose are sore losers and act like children.
The orange rump is now god among wicked white men.
Can the story have an ending where we disarm
Once again like what happened back in the sixties?

Loving Kindness

A Last Glimmer Of Hope

Is there one supreme consciousness who knows all things
And lives throughout eternity in a fine place
Among worshiping angels and folks who were good
While engaging their brief duty of humanhood
On one odd speck of stardust deficient of grace?
That sounds God awful human as e’er the dick swings.

Consciousness is at issue. What atheists know
Or don’t know is precisely defined with logic
That would rival most Vulcans. Their minds are focused
On the tangible evidence. Science they trust
Over mere intuition, thinking it’s a trick
To distort their reality and cause them woe.

That’s why faith is a mystery. Others include
Life and death and the changing of blood into wine.
No one knows what will happen for sure when we die.
Anything conjured up then is worth a good try
As a viable framework with which to align.
The ego wants its virtuousness to exude.

Cultivation of virtue just makes common sense,
But it’s hard to attain such and stay there for long
Due to traits that aren’t virtuous, but that’s ok.
Cultivating Presence is the natural way
To disburse Loving Kindness. Not much can go wrong.
Communion with oneself is most proper defense.

Why People Hurt People

Blind Desperation

Civil War is but one thing devolved into two.
When the brain’s hemispheres get along not at all
It is called epilepsy. There’s loss of control
Of the muscular functions. Oneself isn’t whole
When attacks come at random. This is nothing small.
One can’t predict at all when the next one is due.

Trauma is about not being able to feel
All the pain that it causes. The soul is made numb.
Being so cut off from one’s own humanity,
Desperate are behaviors that all others see
As a problem to intricate to overcome.
Every new dawn is swallowed in hopeless ordeal.

Self-destructive behaviors are frustrated by
Self-preservative programming. Clearly at odds,
One must sort through the numbness and draw from the pain
Something that feels like hatred for relative gain.
What society offers completely defrauds
Some of us as truth warriors willing to die.

What has died is the hope for an old way of life
When we were manufacturers with steady jobs.
Drug and alcohol crises and suicide rates
Climbing higher each year is the fate that awaits
Those of us who feel cornered. The menacing mobs
Will not cease their aggression until there’s no strife.

The Power Of Walking Away

Moving On

Boundaries are a precious thing. When they’re ignored
People will take advantage of all that we are.
That’s just Human Behavior. We all are guilty.
Even without our noticing, we completely
Take advantage of others. Some will go too far
Such that damage is too complex to be explored.

How does one regain sovereignty after it’s lost
Through one’s need for approval? It cannot be done
Unless one has direction and purpose in life.
If these two are not present one will suffer strife
At the comfort of others. But what of the one
Whose value can be purchased at such a high cost?

When I feel obligated to those I work for,
Or to family, friends, or others I may know,
Then I tell them that my time is worth less than theirs.
I end up in a sick game of musical chairs
Where I’m always left standing with nothing to show.
Is there some sense in pondering why I’d want more?

Some people are real assholes, and some… just a bit.
I can love them just as much as I do the kind-
Hearted angles among us if firmly I stand
In my fullest integrity. None can demand
Self-destructive behavior of me. I shall find
That by Walking Away, true freedom I permit.

The Hannitary Napkin

Neuter Hygiene

When old men have their periods nothing is worse
Than to be not protected from uncontrolled flow.
The obese orange faced loser while on the golf course
Needs assurance that when it comes out with great force
There will be someone nearby unlike Morning Joe
Who will peddle the bullshit. I think it’s perverse.

Their relationship decades in blossoming mode
Is not one in compliance with anything good.
It’s not by definitions that words have meanings
But in how they are twisted to mean other things.
Multilayered is the fist-fucked fabric understood.
Too much of it seeps through, and to none is it owed.

Long before there was fox news, people just used rags
To absorb heavy leakage periodically.
Nowadays there are assholes who know how to suck
Like the best in the business. This arrogant schmuck
Is the ear-to-rump doctor for his majesty
With accent on the ‘jest’ as in funny freak flags.

Worthwhile and cost effective for neuter hygiene,
This fine Hannity product is just right for those
With weak minds ‘liberated’ to only believe
Those whose craft is in essence to cheat and deceive.
Bigotry is a virtue. Those who dare oppose
Risk the wrath of the fabric that just can’t come clean.