Tag Archive | new thought

Death And The Doornail

TheMagicRealist.com

We are big on comparisons. Why is this so?
It’s because we’re creative in manifold ways.
We’ll compare death to doornails and other objects
That were never alive once in all due respects.
Also mutton and dodo birds enter the phrase
That describes death by simile for all to know.

But is death like the doornail? There could be some doubt.
The doornail is a heavy thing, hard to the touch.
It hangs out in tough wooden things where it feels best.
Though it may rust in wet weather, still it is blessed
With steadfastness and presence. It doesn’t do much
But indeed it does something that we care about.

It could be that all doornails are living and well
In their silent dimension where motion is less
Than in other worlds. They might be having a blast.
How would people perceive from our world that is fast?
And to what mode of meaning do we acquiesce?
If a doornail should die, how on earth could we tell?

Inspired Insignificance

The Magic Realistlcom

The cosmos is the brain of God in solid form.
It is made up of nothingness on a grand scale.
What is nothing is space between what we can see.
And the things that we can’t see, most people agree,
Are made also of nothing in minute detail.
What would happen if God were to have a brainstorm?

Nothing does become physical. Word becomes flesh
In the Bang that is taking place now as we speak.
Nothing has not a barrier. It grows in size
Faster than light can travel. I do realize
We are not much to speak of, nor are we unique.
Our Inspired Insignificance is ever fresh.

This dimension is real. We perceive it as such
With the mind which is nothingness with consciousness.
We believe the perception. We haven’t much choice.
For this reason, do we have reason to rejoice?
A mere speck of existence somewhat in distress
In the vastness can’t be made to care all that much.

Perception is illusion. Consciousness is real.
We perceive through vibration. True Being does not.
We’re the neuronal processes within God’s brain.
We embellish his best and worst thoughts not in vain
But in humble acceptance of our tiny spot.
We have not but to think of our place as ideal.

Come Alive!

TheMagicRealist.com

A new life is upon us… a bundle divine.
There’s excitement and wonder with each coming step
As you find your way clumsily in a new world.
You are fully supported. Your fate is unfurled.
It won’t take long ‘til you’re filled with vigor and pep.
Once you pull it together, your newness will shine.

And along with the newness, there’s always some pain.
But for all, there’s more pleasure in life as a whole.
Things that aren’t done are done now because you are here.
They are done not in pretense nor resident fear
That an act done in carelessness may cast the soul
In a state of remorse. Such a fear is insane.

We may crawl on the floor now and act like a clown
Even if we are old and the flesh may be weak.
Your new life brings fulfillment and reason to play
Which had been for a long time not part of our day.
Nothing other than pleasure is all that we seek
And the new playful teacher will not let us down.

We have not much to teach you. Your soul is your guide
As you mingle among us. We owe much to you
For your gift of pure life essence. All we can teach
Is what’s not worked well for us despite what we preach.
You remind us completely that we’re alive too.
That is why our young teachers do bring us much pride.

Is Responsibility A Bondage?

I was once a young sailor. I did it for fun
At the start. It became then a means to survive
And provide for a family. So, this was life.
In a few months I’m blessed with four kids and a wife.
If I’m bonded to sea life, that should not deprive
Those affected by my choices of life begun.

But, it did. Time has passed now. I’m safer inland
To respond to life other most wholeheartedly.
To respond is not bondage to pent up desire.
The responsible one is one who will aspire
To what may look like bondage to those who don’t see
Life as binding by nature, perhaps as was planned.

Though, I could not plan life in the way it’s evolved.
Each new moment brings new choices, also the chance
I may make them in error. Still I must respond
To experience. There is no bondage beyond
What I make of an otherwise good circumstance.
There will come a time proper when all is resolved.

Leave It Alone

TheMagicRealist.com

Who can do anything better than I can do?
And to whom would it matter… the one who’s in need
Of some sense of divinity among his own?
Some good counsel for me would be: Leave It Alone!
One can start a religion if one has a creed,
But it has not much meaning to me or to you…

…Nor to any huge fan base unless there’s exchange
On some level that indicates we all belong.
If one offers a blessing, do not take his hand
To your head in the hope that you will understand
The value of a blessing and rightness from wrong.
Good can turn into bad, or at best, somewhat strange.

A feeling of inclusiveness straight from the heart
Generates spontaneity for a kind act.
Tenderness in the moment is not a decree
Yet it is for too many a commodity.
When giving and receiving become a contract,
We may hope to get closer, but we stay apart.

Marx And Communism

TheMagicRealist.com

There are rich folk and poor… There are those in between
In most free market systems. The economy,
As a network, responds to all systems the same.
If I don’t have enough, I alone am to blame.
I can’t rely on others to take care of me
And Big Brother is easier heard than is seen.

Rich and poor, black and white… ac/dc are ways
That I choose to perceive life and society.
That is core to my programming and of this land
Apprehended from Native folk by savage hand.
To fully comprehend Marxist philosophy
Is to take the sick mind through an alternate maze.

One who has an idea may think it’s the best.
And it may be for robots, but not flesh and blood.
If to know human nature is part of the plan,
We know then that charity makes folks feel ‘less than.’
Thoughts of wealth generation do bring on a flood
Of specific behaviors that irk the oppressed.

Neither system is perfect nor is one more right.
Either one or the other if chosen can be
As an escort to solace or utter despair.
And whatever my circumstance, others do care.
That I know that I’m wealthy most inner mostly
Is a blessing to deal with to my heart’s delight.

Schidtfaced

TheMagicRealist.com

To be born and be human, one must have a name
And it is something given. We have not the choice
In which ones we will take as we make our way here.
If some knew what was coming, they would come in fear
That the names they are given might make people voice
Their obnoxious remarks, though benign just the same.

Linking faces to names… That’s what folks like to do.
It’s the best way to keep track of people we know.
A good face then can have a bad name, just as well
As the mug that resembles the bat out of hell
Can be blessed with a pretty name – one that does flow
From the lips like a butterfly… or honeydew.

If your name is a cumbersome one, it may be
That you also break mirrors remotely with ease.
One who has both these assets is lethal at best
And at worst a mere scapegoat that most would detest.
A good name with a good face may quite often please.
Names are not really faces, we all can agree.

From Which Well Doth Hell Speweth?

TheMagicRealist.com

Why to stay harder longer should make sense to me
Or should have some scant meaning to parts that I know
That know nothing of woe for not having retired
From a lifetime of work erotically inspired…
I cannot figure out. And this all goes to show
That Big Brother and TMI seem to agree.

Who the hell are they talking to thinking it’s me?
There must be a statistic to guide their campaign.
They will greet on my birthday and many days hence.
When I’m caught live on line, the ads can get intense.
It is not all that personal. I must refrain
From becoming too bothered by things that I see.

I need no bride from Russia nor Rolex device.
That may be because I’m not the one who they think
Pays attention to not much beyond what he sees.
They may spew as they wish. I will do as I please
And not be too resentful I’ll come to the brink
Of a backlash vociferous and not too nice.

Multi-Bean Pleistocene Bison Spleen Stew

TheMagicRealist.com

The best part of the bison indeed is the spleen
And the Pleistocene bison has one that is old.
Good gets better with age. How I wish it were true
All across the time spectrum, but that’s nothing new.
All I want for right now is to kindly be told
Where to go for some noteworthy bison cuisine.

I like Multi-Bean Pleistocene Bison Spleen Stew.
It’s gestalt to the gizzard. It dons the ribcage
With a cloak of endearment to utter nonsense.
It puts chest on one’s hair perhaps at one’s expense.
There is nothing that my silliness won’t engage
Even if my behavior is but for the few.

And cooked in with my bison stew there must be beans
In varieties plentiful for the best bowl.
I can be nice to bison spleen by marinade
Then when it’s fully stained pungency will pervade
Through the consciousness with only play as the goal.
Sometimes digestion favors peculiar proteins.

“Snithlitch!”

TheMagicRealist.com

What on earth is that sound as it echoes aloud
Through the canyon? It makes of my ears a new sense.
I’m not using my camera, yet that’s what I hear.
So how can such a thing make it into my ear?
The antics of the lyrebird pierce my suspense.
His supreme vocal talents perhaps make him proud.

Does he think that my camera is some other bird
That he wants to make time with? Might they then elope?
Or is he just a jester who likes to show off
His meticulous voice that no others can scoff?
If he does want to trick, it’s no matter of hope.
With his magic he’ll mimic whatever is heard.

So, ‘Snithlitch’ your cool heart away. It’s a delight
To partake of your presence and listen to you.
There are may neat things in this world to behold.
When I open my heart, miracles do unfold.
God’s most crafty creatures perform as if on cue.
I do honor them wholly. It seems only right.

Dead Language

TheMagicRealist.com

Why it’s called a dead language becomes grossly clear.
I must be dead to use it, and have it use me.
It did fall and has risen… this Roman empire
Though I’ll not call it wholly a truth rectifier.
It’s a speech of deception most arguably.
That is due to its nature to promulgate fear.

A big company must have a tight justice scheme.
In a two-party system, this works very well.
Each will speak his dead tongue as the other will wince.
Nothing ever translates but the need to convince
All the parties of relevance how to make hell
Something all can get used to, somewhat like a dream.

But it turns to a nightmare. Straight up the old crack
Of our binary system, unlike souls repel.
But outside is where I dwell. If death would have lost,
G.O.P. would blast FBI and at all cost.
Registration of right wings would triple as well.
Carpe Diem! Next month there should be some payback.

Take Off Your Shoes And Keep Walking

TheMagicRealist.com

If I ever sat down with a moment and spoke
Of my troubles and triumphs, would it lend an ear?
I suspect that it wouldn’t. It isn’t a thing
That is measured precisely. Scant hope does it bring
To the logical intellect that lives in fear
That a moment uncaptured is merely a joke.

Moments aren’t to be grasped intellectually
For the mind is a menace in manifold ways.
In each and every moment exists everything.
Every moment is dignity. I cannot cling
To a detailed analysis worthy of praise.
I must blend with the moment most respectfully.

Everything all at once in this moment makes sense
But that sense is quite limited if I need more…
Like complete understanding of all to be known.
I exist in a clockwork. Not much more is shown.
All that is has no logic nor meaning, therefore
I may think of my moments as sacred events.

Intellect is a pair of shoes – one with a nail.
As it sticks in my foot, I may think it’s a thorn.
But can I believe that with each step that I take?
I should take my shoes off, then I may come awake
To the knowledge that logic is illusion born.
If I can but walk through it, then I shall prevail.

Please Die, Old Men.

You old men are my brothers in age and in ways.
It’s a shame that you mirror me. I do lay blame
On myself for ignoring the stench of my time
Indicated by hatred and well-ordered crime.
Old white men when in leadership are much the same
And they’ll honor that sameness ‘til their dying days.

The mere sight of you sickens me quickly by now
So I have learned a lesson important in life:
There’s no sense in expecting that truth will unfold.
We The People rely on whatever we’re told.
When to fathom your souls causes me mental strife,
Then it’s way past the time that this world should allow.

Get the Hell off God’s green earth, you nasty old men!
Drag your sick hags behind you to your waiting graves.
I don’t care if you go first or I do, just so
You are barred from my consciousness. Drop dead and go
To the nether dimension. How my heart behaves
Reflects how much I’ve wasted again and again.

There’s no justice… no honor, nor fair due process
Meant to deal with the raw truth until you are gone.
You’re a withered old structure in body and mind.
To return to the dust soon would be awfully kind.
It’s the young who are here now who must carry on.
As we old bastards die off, the world suffers less.

The Book Of Simon

TheMagicRealist.com

There’s a book about Simon. It is tree bark bound.
Though I have never seen it, it seems to be real
Because what it is full of is every command
Wish or quizzical whim whether sudden or planned
That a person could think of. It finds great appeal
Among those who run leadership into the ground.

Simon says I’m a citizen of this great land.
So be it! I will do that. No problem with me.
But if Simon should tell me that bad folks are good,
That tells me to do nothing. Who would say I should?
Since I’ve never met Simon, I cannot agree
That he has my best interest as part of his plan.

Those who know all about Simon play his game well.
I do not run for office. I bark at our law!
Justice is silly putty. Can this Simon see?
It is reshaped the way one would want it to be.
Simon says that the shady one has not a flaw.
That is not a commandment. My conscience can tell.

The Sense Of Thought

TheMagicRealist.com

Are there only five senses? I think there are more.
Many doors of perception are open to me.
Each presents as an organ – a simple machine
That reacts to vibration. It stands in-between
Yet another sense organ and reality.
Can the brain be a sense organ I would ignore?

A gelatinous mass of neuronal concourse
To the path kundalini may travel in trance,
It’s a sense organ complex enough to cause thought,
And transmit and receive such, if we are so taught.
If some person is on my mind, it’s not by chance
But by translating vibration into thought force.

So, the purpose for thought is precisely the same
As the reason for seeing and hearing…. By way
Of the movement of molecules, we make believe
To the best of our being, all that we perceive.
As we craft our conceptions we dare to convey
Our subjective most episodes deemed as fair game.

By The Way

TheMagicRealist.com

By The Way, there is no news occurring right now.
There’s a recurring respite from running the race.
There is time to recover what living has lost.
By the way I perceive, I’ll recover the cost
Of believing that in this world I have a place.
It’s the way toward contentment if I but allow.

By The Way, I feel freshness in life-infused air…
A far cry from the chaos prepared as a gift
From our sponsors. They keep us too grossly informed.
When the news starts to age, they will serve it lukewarmed.
Rather than entertainment, I need a damned shift
And a place I can go to that no one will share.

There is peace By The Way as it is in the heart
And wherever the centered self happens to be.
Every way can be helpful in shedding some light
Upon how well I’m doing and feeling despite
What may seem to be happening most vividly.
By The Way, I can always go for a fresh start.

Don’t Fret

TheMagicRealist.com

I don’t play the guitar, but at least I don’t fret.
If I wanted to learn how to play one I would.
There are plenty guitar stores and people to teach
A worthy word technician prolific in speech
How to master the six-string. Perhaps I’d feel good
If I gave a performance that none would forget.

Good musicians don’t fret when there’s hard work to do.
They will take up their instruments and go to task
With due diligence until they’ve learned to play well.
If they make a mistake, not too many can tell.
Enough time for much practice is all that I ask.
There is much here to play about. Fame may ensue.

There’s one thing about fretting not fretting the neck
Of the beast that I make of life. How can I play
Everyday as in instrument crafted by me?
Having no expectation, I think, is the key.
Can I make my own music and play my own way?
Simply, it is a way to keep passions in check.

Mysticism And The Occult

TheMagicRealist.com

All of life is dichotomous, and life is all.
That’s the basis of knowledge and all to beheld.
Within knowledge and knowing, there’s that which is not
To be known without being. When locked in the plot
Of the drama of consciousness, I am compelled
To become all about it. This then is my call.

To contact and to interact with the unseen
Is the purview of both schools. In that, they’re the same.
I’m aware of the mystical. It is a state
Wherein I am connected as I contemplate
Pure existence. Contentment is its only aim.
Blending in with the greater good is what lives mean.

The occult, somewhat different, is meant to control.
To manipulate forces with gestures and speech…
Incantations or symbols – this is the desire
Of well-tempered occultists. What they may acquire
Are some insights that no other methods can reach.
Though some mystics would say this is bad for the soul.

Lying Star Choir

TheMagicRealist.com

We mistreat a fine angel who walks upon earth
By not seeing he’s perfect in every which way.
He’s a nice guy… mild-mannered and with a cool head
Meant to judge with a heart that is rooted in dread.
Did our battered choir boy throw a tantrum today?
Is the innocent girl coach deficient in mirth?

If a judge on an interview acts like a ‘bitch’
And she’s female, her ass would be escorted out
To ensure that none present are exposed to harm.
When a male does, it more so should sound an alarm.
What has given this white man protection from doubt?
Why has such mundane business become a sales pitch?

Should The Court be a choir? In one way it should.
We The People are one voice of manifold tone.
And The Court can reflect that. No voice should be loud.
To our system of justice all can be avowed.
In some time a star liar will fall from his throne.
Even with confirmation the outlook is good.

Talking Heads

TheMagicRealist.com

Talking heads talk to talking heads throughout the day
About all that is newsworthy. People must know
Every detail of tragedy as it takes place.
Media will abuse you and shout in your face
Just to get the damned story to air on their show
Before anyone else does. Why is this our way?

Talking heads are paid big bucks to say what they say
Because they have been saying things for a long time.
They are qualified heads… some with talking degrees
And with egos attuned to sharp shooting the breeze
Yet, without common decency, talk is a crime.
It helps keep women silent and truth locked away.

I don’t want to come forward. I’m not made of steel.
Neither are my young children and our privacy.
I can’t count on our congress to safeguard my word.
If the FBI checks things, why is that absurd?
Trust and faith in my system is quite hard for me
And my strong sense of duty reflects how I feel.

Watch The Miracle Happen

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s a miracle that I have made it this far
In a world of much color and lots of fresh air.
And the sound of my breath can put me in a trance.
I don’t think that I’m random and placed here by chance.
As I focus my breathing, nothing can compare
To the peaceful state I will reach. I’m up to par

When it comes to escaping… I will do my best
With so simple a process of power supreme.
God grows me from the inside and works his way out
So it’s easy to find him, not having to shout.
Could the miracle be to live life as a dream?
That would be the whole point, as through him, we are blessed.

Miracles are a normal thing. They are not rare.
It is when they don’t happen that something is wrong.
I just need to make myself aware of such things
And the blessings that time out for deep breathing brings.
Afterwards I will feel that I truly belong.
One who lives by the miracle lives without care.

Look At Everything The Way It Is

TheMagicRealist.com

Do I decorate raw truth to improve its looks?
There’s a reason expressions of color take hold
And reshape my mind as if it were softened clay.
Using adjectives is what folks do every day.
Much of discourse is bullshit without the blindfold.
It will pass as nonfiction, so people write books.

 Two friends met after twenty years being apart.
One declared to the other, “I’m doing quite well.
I’ve a Mansion in Meaningville and a mink stole.”
Said the other, “That’s Wonderful!” That is her role

Because she went to charm school. She is trained to tell
Everyone things are ‘wonderful’ right from the start.

Whether mountain or mole hill, they both are the same
Through the lens of reality and nothing more
Than the will to see clearly all things as they are.
One big challenge in life is to not to stray far
From what I am observing. Is this such a chore?
If I am misperceiving things, I am to blame.

How To Succeed

TheMagicRealist.com

There are two basic forces at play within me.
One is self-preservation – the need to build walls
To keep that which is not self from taking what’s mine.
Separation is useful. In it I define
A safe structure. The ego self rarely recalls
Where it last left its faith in things that it can’t see.

At the same time, expansion does motivate me.
I must break through the walls that define who I am.
This does seem rather opposite, yet it is fact.
They’re two sides of the same coin with meaning intact.
To detach from what’s limited is a program
I would do well to follow and most faithfully.

To succeed is to balance these two forces well.
Walls are built to be broken then built up again
And again until all involved come to some sense
That there’s no movement forward with all the expense.
I can say I’m successful, and truthfully, when
I can grow far beyond self, yet within self dwell.

Father And Son

TheMagicRealist.com

Family is like the mafia. It is a crime
When, organically, we’ve cut a deal to be here.
Family should remain loyal. Blood ties should be strong.
When we outgrow biology, we get along
Much more amicably with the ones we hold dear
And our moments together will endure through time.

Pledge allegiance to one’s own. Is this nature’s rule?
It is true, and it limits all that I can be
If I give it importance that it can’t deserve.
If my guidance is wanting, does that strike a nerve
In the pit of my being? Most regrettably,
If I claimed to be worthy, I would be a fool.

Man must have a young buddy to carry his name…
Someone he can be tough with and tender as well.
Often times there is friction as he comes of age.
When he must outperform you he’ll find his own stage.
As the decades march forward warm stories they’ll tell.
I do learn this in hindsight and feel little shame.

Don’t Believe, Don’t Disbelieve

TheMagicRealist.com

Will I be born again? Have I been here before?
These are questions I could ask, or I could care not.
My keen eyes don’t have vision. It’s me who’s inside,
Just as windows can see things. It’s they who reside
Squarely on one side of them. Is this what is taught?
How I wish this were so. Then we’d suffer no more.

I know I’m not my body. It is loaned to me
By the Mother of all matter born of this place.
When the loan time expires, I will pay it back.
She’s the best at collection. She keeps perfect track
Of all molecules managed in her time and space.
I exist to incur the loan most frequently.

This is only a story to those who have not
Had the kinds of experience to offer claim.
Don’t believe in the story if it makes no sense.
But don’t disbelieve either for your own defense.
To consider what’s said to you is not a shame.
Wise is one who observes and is open in thought.

Children And Teachers

TheMagicRealist.com

‘It’s a living.’ Some conclude that this is the case
As they try to make ends meet and pay off their loans.
It is stressful to work eighty hours per week
When their students’ wellbeing is all that they seek.
The most effective teacher is someone who owns
That our young are most valuable to the whole race.

It should not be ‘a living,’ yet we make it so
Through glitches in the systems that lock teachers out.
Education/Production… They both are the same
To the bodies that rule in the financial game.
Children should be what child-rearing is all about.
Teachers’ pay should reflect that for all that they know.

Does this make too much sense? Is this why it’s not done?
Something must be amiss in our handling of things.
If we had volunteer teachers, would that bode well?
They should have wealth already so in calm they dwell.
If we can’t treat our children as if we were kings
We should not welcome them until growth has begun.

Being Human Is Super

TheMagicRealist.com

Do I like being human? The question is moot.
Sometimes I feel like Superman; sometimes I’m weak
With my grip on reality. Nevertheless,
I delight in the wonder that I may express
Without effort. There’s no sense in my feeling meek,
As my writing, at times, can seem rather astute.

But is this an illusion? It’s human, at least,
To believe I control things to mitigate fear.
I can make it my costume and face the stiff wind,
Then hope that my identity is not chagrined.
When it’s found I’m no hero, will my fans still cheer?
When in tune with my nature, is my fame increased?

If I learn how to manage my thinking and heart,
Then I know that my actions are taken care of.
If I can do all this, then I can stroll through hell,
And find it of scant interest, but no place to dwell.
Humans are possibilities to express love.
Thinking ‘I’m only human’ is not thinking smart.

A Sweet Relationship

TheMagicRealist.com

There is sweetness and bitterness carefully mixed
In a strong psychic potion that makes the heart glow.
It begins rather physical. Senses behold
Possibility for chemistry to unfold.
Those in tune with their natures cause blessings to flow.
When in each other’s presence the two are transfixed.

One cannot extract sweetness from some other soul.
If you place such a burden on someone you love
Then resentment will fester until such a time
That it comes to the surface where it will begrime
What had once been as pure as the white turtle dove.
Those who tend to be needy cannot meet their goal.

Your expression of joy is your best loving gift
To your partner, deserving of all who you are.
Sweetness comes from the inside when one feels alive.
If two lovers can know this true love will survive.
When in wholesome commitment, no dream is too far.
Both will have but the will and the joy to uplift.

Dimensions Of Mind

TheMagicRealist.com

There are many dimensions of the human mind.
To be very specific, they number sixteen.
Those of Eastern tradition adopt this belief
While the West waxes mindless, befuddled by grief.
Sixteen bank accounts may make a person feel green
Even if sixteen dollars is his worth combined.

Broken down into four, it’s a much simpler task.
There’s the Intellect which is a double edged sword.
It can dissect a problem or cause lethal harm
And sometimes it’s a challenge for it to disarm.
It’s a tool that, when misused, can cause some discord.
For a while, it’s a beacon; then it’s a death mask.

There’s Identification with all that one knows
Whether it is illusion, delusion or fact.
There is Memory conscious in each living cell.
Everything that the species knows, each cell knows well.
The dimension of Being is rather abstract.
It is purest in essence, as nothing it shows.

It’s not I who’s informative. It is my race,
Both prolific and human. Perhaps I’m its voice,
Not opposed to explaining things that I have learned.
If I write from the ego, no fame will be earned…
Nor from otherwise. I live life’s drama by choice
At this point. No kind act shall reveal my disgrace.

Solicitors, Knock At Your Risk

TheMagicRealist.com

I’m not running for office and neither are you.
And I know you don’t think this is Beverly Hills.
I don’t need my damned soul saved. It’s doing just fine.
You’re a fool if you think I don’t know the divine.
Most professional pests seem to get their cheap thrills
With their in-your-face tactics and hullabaloo.

My FICO score isn’t at mark of the beast
And that’s none of your business. Don’t patronize me
With your slick condescension. I hear very well
Hidden language that lurks where the sea plankton dwell.
Just because I exist you won’t charge me a fee.
Those who prey on the poor see their profits increased.

I don’t need my damned lawn mowed, dear neighbor of mine.
Your con game is as thick as the prick in the suit.
Keep your eyes off my yard and my yard off your mind.
Your kind gardening guidance is of your behind.
When to all I’m considered a tree bearing fruit
I’ll assume all are hostile rather than benign.

The Service

TheMagicRealist.com

Who avails of The Service? Look at the bell curve,
With many at the center and few at the ends.
It’s not poor ones nor rich ones, but those in-between
Who partake of the process, because they have seen
What a burden new life is. On she it depends.
There’s demand for The Service and for those who serve.

It is all about sex lives, convenience and things
Others would judge as selfish and of barren heart.
But we scorn not the many. We lecture the poor
At one end of the spectrum. All they want is more
Just as anyone finding the need to depart
From unplanned deep commitment and all that it brings.

When you think of The Service, as this much is known,
Should there be a commitment to see with more light
Toward all women in general for who they are?
The whole question of ‘choice’ is one rather bizarre.
We may think that we know what is wrong and what’s right.
Take a look at the numbers and see what is shown.

World And Local Leaders

TheMagicRealist.com

The best folks aren’t in leadership. Is this the case?
And are we derelict in our putting them there?
Our democracy means each of us is the boss.
We’re the ones who have crafted a game of dice toss
Through our indolence or simply out of despair.
If we care not to vote, all are in a bad place.

That’s not all that we all can do. We can all act
As the HR department, collectively so.
The system does have instruments that we can use
To shape government according to our own views.
If a leader thinks he should rule, then he must go.
That is Our job assignment – not fiction, but fact!

It’s a two-party system we’ve put into place.
We have mixed oil and water as much as we can.
It is futilely feudal, our democracy,
When through party alignment we must disagree.
We can choose a good leader who has a good plan.
There is much about democracy to embrace.

Who Decides My Life?

TheMagicRealist.com

Some old man up there put me here. That’s what I’ve heard.
Among those who are like me, should that make much sense?
Who decides where I’m going and who I should be?
That would only be me. I should think you’d agree.
I decide what I’m doing at my own expense.
I seek out what is choicest from what is preferred.

People die of starvation. Did they make it so?
This is such a hard question. The answer is yes.
One’s decisions are shaped by one’s life circumstance.
And in tough situations, we’re given the chance
To emerge all the stronger. Life is a process
That involves interaction so that I may grow.

People also can die from consuming too much.
Our most personal choices are long to play out.
I can make the decision that I’ll do my best
To be more conscious of them and seldom be stressed.
My decisions control my life without a doubt.
I must therefore refine them to soften my touch.

How Important Is Thought?

TheMagicRealist.com

People sometimes complain I’m too much in my head.
This is true, and I know it. Is it a good thing?
Thinking is for engaging the physical plane.
If one goes far beyond that, he might go insane.
Nothing of existential value it can bring.
And when in search of wisdom, the mind is misled.

Too much value is placed on the thinking process.
Some old fart, way back when, said: I think; so, I am.
Well, he was, and he is now and shall ever be
But a fountainhead of Western philosophy.
Just because someone is, does the world give a damn?
We make much of our thinking the means to success.

Thinking can get addictive if it makes one high.
It has social significance. With other minds
One can start a big movement and trigger some change.
I am, so, I think, and this doesn’t sound strange.
I’m awash in deep feelings of various kinds,
And my thoughts are a small thing to help me get by.

If You Have A Child

TheMagicRealist.com

If you do have a child, life can sometimes get wild,
But it needn’t. Although there is lots of advice
From the many child specialists with all their books,
What cannot be expressed well, the book overlooks.
What determines if they will be naughty or nice
Is their own generation and times they have styled.

Much that you want to teach them, they already know
On an unconscious level. Most naturally
They will shy away from that which may cause them harm.
If mistakes are made, there is no cause for alarm.
Make the nest too well feathered, then they will not see
The potential within them to help them to grow.

Little children must know that ten fingers have they.
I would rather they’re taught how to use them instead.
Take you child out in nature and let him behold
All the wonder of life in its splendor untold.
Facts and figures are fanciful fluff for the head,
But they can, in fact, leave the mind in disarray.

Love your child when he knows not what you’ve taught him well.
He is not here to live your life nor work for you.
He will make his own path. You can’t point out his way.
You can fully support him in life, come what may.
To give loving acceptance is all you can do.
You have given him platform. His story he’ll tell.

One Who Feels Down And Out

TheMagicRealist.com

One who feels down and out as if squeezed through a spout
Of a sphincteric nature need not fret alone.
There are many who feel the same. And what they do
Is to find an escape hatch that they can crawl through.
Either that or they find a way to somehow own
Circumstantial fecality nestled in doubt.

 I look fine in the mirror, at least wearing clothes.
They obliterate nothing that gives me away.
How I feel is the question – not how others see.
I’m eternally grateful that I can be me.
If I feel like I’m lying in this that I say
Then there’s work to be done on myself, I suppose.

It’s another off day. I’m not feeling in sync
With the heart of the cosmos and neighbors and such.
This is not a big deal for me. It will soon pass.
I’ll respect the momentum of relative mass.
Comfort is in detachment and keeping in touch
With the part of oneself that one knows doesn’t stink.

Both Sides Now

TheMagicRealist.com

Dems protest our social ills.
The Grand Old Party thwarts their wills.
Divisive is one who instills contention day by day.
Most leaders promise change will come…
If not to most, at least, to some.
No change will come to lowlife scum if leaders have their way.
Who looks at change from both sides now?
I surely can’t. I’m thwarted somehow.
My own illusions are quite tall.
Perhaps I don’t know change at all.

Gut wrenching stories true to life
Expressed by people who know strife…
The disenchanted man and wife… Who yields unto their plea?
Not those who sit in places high.
Most human rights they would deny
If all in favor would comply with group insanity.
Who looks at hell from both sides now?
Who stews alone with sweat on his brow?
Will mad illusions brace his fall?
Right now, he knows not hell at all.

One’s nightmare is another’s dream.
Things rarely are quite as they seem.
Our system has embraced a scheme to undermine the deeds
Of he who has become insane.
I’d hope their efforts aren’t in vain.
Some look upon them with disdain, but stronger are the needs
Of those who have seen both sides now.
Tyranny we cannot allow.
What is most urgent is our call.
I really think there’s hope for all.

On The Creation Of ‘Vine’

TheMagicRealist.com

Now, it seems I’m a playwright. I’m having a blast!
And I’m proud of directing. It is my first time.
It’s been years since I’ve done this, and now, among friends,
We can craft good theater. Our success depends
Only on our believing we’re ready for prime.
People should take delight in a well-seasoned cast.

This is also my debut for acting a part
Whom I myself fashioned from somewhere in me.
Most of us act as flowers. My part is a Vine.
Somewhat odd in the garden, his heart is benign.
It’s a play to make flowers the powers that be
And to give true compassion a healthy jump-start.

Vine is absent his mind and seems one of a kind
Yet he needs to be noticed and ignored as well.
He does blend well, eventually, but not at first.
It may seem he may try things to see if he’s cursed.
We shall know that our message is clear as a bell.
Love is wholesome theater for those so inclined.

Can Yoga Cure Disease?

TheMagicRealist.com

There are two types of ailments. Infectious is one.
That means something outside of me made its way in.
It may act with a consciousness all of its own.
Pharmaceutical treatments may make me drug prone.
Logic would seem to dictate that’s where to begin.
Both enter from the outside to make an end run.

Chronic ailments, however, occur from inside.
In this case, it’s the body that makes itself sick.
Why on earth would my body attack me this way?
Has my mistreatment of it caused it to betray?
There’s some misunderstanding. To be specific,
On a cellular level, something is denied.

All it needs is some balance. It gets that within.
Everything that the body needs, it has on store.
If it doesn’t, it makes it from things that I eat
And from infinite wisdom. Indeed, I’m complete
In the sense that my body is its own doctor.
The best cure for most ailments is under my skin.

Akashic Cloud Storage

TheMagicRealist.com

I’m confused, and I should be, as well as content.
That means I am still searching, through dawn’s early light,
For some deep understanding beyond what is flesh
Wherein hard fact and spirit can easily mesh.
We are made the recording by our own birthright
Into firm physicality for fulfillment.

The Akash is an ether, but unlike the sea,
It links many dimensions that dare to be known.
I’m aware of my grossness of physical form.
It looks like it has weathered a horrific storm.
Can I look far beyond that and thereby postpone
An event unbecoming my reason to be?

I am things that are subtler. There’s lots of space
Between atoms. I’m also essentially wet.
I burn fuel and make heat, and I do that each day.
There is much less confusion in thinking this way.
I contain basic elements. Need I forget
That the force that enables me is not of place?

We are at once the record and whom which records.
Like sea coral, we imprint experience on
The fabric of existence. Pure wisdom it holds.
Truthful permanence permeates as it unfolds.
What remains of one’s being when this life is gone
Will take note of what living has moved the soul towards.

Acute Fear Of Failure

TheMagicRealist.com

Failure is an abstraction dependent on fear.
As it can be well crafted, it can be undone.
Before my self-undoing, I dare to swing high.
Should it be of concern that someday I will die?
Is there sense to one’s living if it’s not begun?
Would it matter had I something real to hold dear?

All of life is a steppingstone to only more
Of whatever I’ve held onto up until now.
I can alter the nowness, therefore, how I go
With my life without having to strut through a show.
I’ll act out my performance and then take a bow.
Within triumph and downfall there’s much to explore.

I’ll do well with my planning and setting my goal.
It’s a worthwhile activity to stay in shape.
But it’s also a huge hindrance to my soul growth.
Should my goal be to honor and integrate both?
It’s my self-condemnation I need to escape
And my gift of free will that I need to extol.

Righteous Nicety

TheMagicRealist.com

I will call you my sweetheart, but what’s in a name
When someone of sheer beauty defies such a thing?
Do not call me romantic. That is a name too,
For someone who is head over heels about you.
I’m not good at name calling. My true heart I bring
To my lover whom I hope will do just the same.

Just because it’s September, that hardly can mean
I can’t offer confection to my heart’s delight.
Noble knights do seek honor as currency for
The affections of fair maidens whom they adore.
I’ll respect you as equal, but it’s quite alright,
If you will, that I court you like on the big screen.

Let me love you, my darling, however I can.
If with flowers and chivalry, let it be known
That my love is as limitless as both are we.
Let us play our parts well, then in bliss we will be.
As two birds of a feather, forever we’ve flown.
We were meant for each other since being began.

Can I Heal Myself?

TheMagicRealist.com

I was once just a small thing – a fertilized cell
In my mother’s warm body. That’s how I became.
I have nothing to do with my being alive,
Nor with where to find love and how best to survive.
I and that which maintains me are one and the same.
I’ve a body that serves me and functions quite well.

It has innate capacity to itself heal.
It needs no outside influence to make it well.
The magnificent body has knowledge supreme.
It will manage my mismanaging to extreme.
Anything it may want, it has wisdom to tell
Its commanding assistant who knows how to feel.

If I eat a small piece of bread, it will become,
Within hours, a part of me. This is a feat
Most miraculous. I can put down the iPhone
And get back to the ‘I’ with some time left alone
So that I find contentment in soulful retreat
Wherein I may align to the beat of my drum.

What Am I Seeking?

TheMagicRealist.com

I want more, but what of? I cannot clearly see.
Possibilities populate densely my heart.
I could get more specific. There’s pleasure and wealth…
Love for God and for country, and excellent health.
I exist now. Can this be an adequate start?
I know that what I’m seeking resides within me.

All I want is expansion. That’s basic enough
For the weary mind needing release from the fog.
Every wish has one purpose: That I can be more
Than I was before wanting my spirit to soar.
To engage the Almighty in warm dialogue
Is something to consider when wanting gets rough.

I just want to be happy as I make my way
Toward myself as reflected in all that I see.
There’s no stress in my wanting to be who I am.
Ecstasy I may find with a simple program.
Seek contentment in self, then the spirit is free
To receive what is wanted each and every day.

Before Bedtime

TheMagicRealist.com

I have many identities. They are my clothes.
I must wear them to function in society.
I select from my wardrobe, before I go out,
Which identity suits me. Sometimes I may doubt
If my clothing tools will function adequately
So the spirit in me aims to be as it shows.

Mostly, they are invisible, I can forget
That they are so. So, when I have reached the day’s end,
I will take time to ponder all garments I wore,
Then disrobe and place everything in the night drawer.
My discrete personalities can’t help but blend.
If I slept while I’m wearing them, then I would sweat.

As I walk through the garden, I do so as me.
I don’t walk as a sun sign or beast with a name.
I exist as pure life force, but with the firmware,
I can work here with others and learn how to care.
My true self and the things I wear are not the same.
So, at bedtime, I pray that my spirit be free.

How To End Poverty

TheMagicRealist.com

Poverty is of conscious perception of things
With the physical senses. This reality
I cannot take for granted. I can only know
What my five senses tell me to help me to grow.
Consciousness of the physical helps me to be
In a state of wellbeing and all that it brings.

Consciousness is of boundaries, solid and real.
My strong notion of ‘other’ is deeply ingrained.
And I cannot escape that. I think no one can.
It’s The tool of survival for woman and man.
Things that aren’t of the physical can’t be explained,
So we tend to mistrust them rather than to feel.

Feeling also is physical. It’s of the heart
Which also is a sense organ found in the soul.
It connects what is physical with what is not
So wellbeing of all life cannot be forgot.
What is good for each part is a gain for the whole.
A deep inner experience is where to start.

Pecker Safe – Pecker Sure

TheMagicRealist.com

Pecker SafePecker Sure, who could ask for much more
As people take to pecking at what’s in the safe?
Could there be things salacious in vivid detail
About women paid off on a fairly large scale?
What becomes common knowledge will fester and chafe
What is left of a thin skin prepared to get sore.

A Shithole of a paper – disgusting content
Meant to trash all your enemies and make folks think
That outrageous contrivances with bold headlines
Can do much to convince them or trick their behinds –
Your fine friend of a pecker puts you on the brink
Of a full-fledged catastrophe you will resent.

Do be careful which pecker you put you trust in.
You pay him to dick others… or did you forget?
Maybe he saw your dick coming and took a dive.
Have you learned that most peckers will flip to survive?
I might cum in my pants were I to see you sweat.
Should you practice ‘safe’ sex? I don’t think that’s a win.

Over And Under The Weather

TheMagicRealist.com

To some, dark stormy weather, like women named Heather,
Provides somewhat mistily menacing thought.
We are meant to get over it, and when that’s done,
We are under the weather, and that isn’t fun.
Our most up and down movements are clearly self-taught.
We face challenge as we merge them altogether.

Again, movements are cycles, like weather patterns.
Each adheres to a rhythm unique to its own.
We can handle high amplitudes, both up and down.
When we’re under the weather, we do tend to frown.
We may think we would like to stay in the mid zone,
But remaining there too long will yield low returns.

It’s a pleasure to get over and under all
That we make without noticing most of the time.
We accumulate dark clouds, then whisk them away.
Life is made up of highs and lows throughout the day.
And from every low point we are willing to climb.
How we manage our weather is our only call.

It Happens Some Now Ago

TheMagicRealist.com

In an instant the world is, and I am as well
On the way toward no ending beginning with now.
There are things that take place in the now yet ahead.
They do happen before now. Nothing is misread.
My existence transcends what my mind can’t avow.
Whether past tense or pretense, my senses can’t tell.

Nowness is a wet fabric to velvet the gears
Of the cosmic machinery made to be known
By the senses and mind to be that which is real.
Within seas of perception there’s ample appeal
To decipher the cyclical until we’re shown
How to make sense of things and to conquer our fears.

So, this happens some now ago, as I partake
Of the presence around me. Some peace do I find
In the solace of mindfulness and a fresh start.
To engage with the nowness, do so from the heart.
Since there is but eternity, need we be kind?
It would seem wise to do so. Our souls are at stake.

The Mechanics of Time

TheMagicRealist.com

When under anesthesia we notice not time.
It would seem consciousness has an on and off switch.
When we’re ‘off,’ not a thing happens. It’s not like sleep
Where when one comes awake, memory one may keep
Of the things clearly dreamt about. Do I know which
Of the two states is more valid a paradigm?

We give meaning to observing cyclical things.
We mean for them to be what we make them to be –
A grand representation of eternity.
They are only perceptions most ultimately.
We’re all spinning in circles, as some would agree.
This should lead us to nowhere if nothing it brings.

We can study the footprints we’ve made in the sand.
The same pathways we walk notwithstanding the will
To detach from the physical and from the mind.
We know time to be something that can be defined
Only by observation and rational skill.
We make too much of some things to well understand.

All we know to be physical is made of time.
Everything has a birth and a time for its end.
Within substance is nothingness on a grand scale.
So to detach from nature in all its detail
Is the proper technique to help one to transcend
What has become activity just shy of crime.