Tag Archive | philosophy

Father Tony


We know Father Tony Transubstancioni
Just like we know well what it’s like to be locked
On a wild roller coaster through theology.
We are young enough still that we’re able to see
Human nature’s innate tendency to concoct
Ways of selling salvation as if it weren’t free.

Now, some say that it’s not free. Someone paid a price.
Well, that’s good looking out. We’d have done quite the same.
So, what’s up with the guilt trip? We did nothing wrong.
We are new to your choir yet still sing your old song.
Has engaging with spirit become a board game
Wherein one can win only by great sacrifice?

With concern, Father Tony, do hear our advice
Given you who love torment as if it were sex.
Many acts are unholy. Please keep that in mind.
We would love to work with you, but first we must find
An environment safe enough in all respects.
What one learns from delusion is not worth the price.

How Does Dog Become Scapegoat?


Did your son kick the dog today? That isn’t cool.
It is wrong to hurt animals… or anyone.
But how does a good parent then deal with a child
Who may fear that he may be severely reviled
For an act that, at some point, all creatures have done.
It’s not easy to live by today’s golden rule.

If in fact he is spoken to, what does one say?
“You should not do that naughty thing…” as with the beast?
Put them both in the doghouse. They make a fine pair.
When the kids in the neighborhood come by to stare,
They will not think of hurting their dogs in the least.
If one took not an action, what would that convey?

Kids are low on the food chain in family affairs.
What they say isn’t listened to. Then they get pissed.
One consumed in frustration will not kick his dad,
But he’ll sure kick that dog around when he gets mad.
When the dog is gone, he knows that it won’t be missed.
When the dog becomes scapegoat, that means no one cares.

A Borderline Penance


As I wax purgatorious thinking I’m right
When my brain functions backwards in so many ways,
Do I make any progress toward reaching my goals?
Why my character takes on so many damned roles
Is a question I’ll ponder the rest of my days.
Nothing of the ethereal is the dark night.

I exist in my own world. I think we all do.
We concern ourselves only with things that we love
Among our inner circles… if we are so blessed.
What I may find of interest is not to the rest.
If my ego feels like it’s been given a shove,
Should I take solace in the fact I have one too?

I would like to be human when I think I’m not,
Yet I know I would have to be one of the whole
Of nature’s fine experiment: creatures who may
Understand with illusion much of what they say.
It takes courage to live well within my own soul
And to know not, nor care that I may be forgot.

Owe Me One, Then Owe Me


I could be Rumpelstiltskin or Pudding and Tang,
Yet a friend of Luke Flightjacket is who I am.
Way too many sci-fi flicks have taken the turn
Toward placating sensation with much crash and burn.
So whenever you find yourself in a big jam,
Just owe me one, then owe me, son. This isn’t slang.

Some would say I’m a Jedi because I kick ass
In the mystical lucid land on the wide screen.
There are dark evil forces in your world as well.
They take over your content and cast a deep spell.
Do I slice through your rubbish or make things seem clean?
If I do that, then my character isn’t crass.

And for this, you don’t owe me. Do know me to be
At my best with my light saber held tight in hand,
Strong and ready to offer diversion from hate.
With some imagination, we may gravitate
Toward the friendlier force, perhaps as had been planned.
If you know me, then owe me your living carefree.

Why Do I Cry?


In its essence, it’s innocence of the unknown
And the known joining seamlessly nestled in love.
I sometimes know why I cry, as most people do.
We all tend to feel deeply. We are creatures who,
When consumed in sheer happiness, wouldn’t think of
Somehow keeping it hidden, or else barely shown.

I grow older, and as I do, sometimes I find
There’s a mix in my energy that I can feel.
If I stop to take notice of my heart’s desire,
I may find that there’s nothing that I need acquire.
In that moment of knowing, I cannot conceal
Where the new thought has taken me as I’m aligned.

My desire is a yearning for that which is known
To be ideal implicitly for one and all.
We all come here from kindness and pure loving light.
We all know how to make love and frolic despite
Any emergent issue we’d deem falderal.
As I get used to crying, my spirit has grown.

The Comfort in Fear


I am going through major transitions right now.
That may seem rather obvious by my lifestyle.
I believe staying high is the best way to die
While I’m writhing away under fun colored sky.
I’m no kin to the present. I feel, though, erstwhile
To the fear of my failing. That I can’t allow.

When I feel fear, it means that my thinking is wrong.
Someone else who knows me has a much different take.
When we both think the same, then my living is fine.
When I’m fearful and he’s not, that is a sure sign
That I’ve made something up that has caused me heartbreak.
He is my higher self who knows where I belong.

There’s a comfort in fear that I know must be true
By the wisdom it stirs within my yearning heart.
When I find I’m afraid of the dawn’s early light.
I must know that’s not real and thus cannot be right.
There’s no world I can think of that’s falling apart.
All that which I had feared can be looked at anew.

It’s A Trip


“It’s a Trip what be happ’nin’ dare ‘round dat white house.”
Did I get that vernacular right? I must know,

Not for any known reason – just out of the blue,
Like what happens in government, vacant of clue.
You behave much like ‘niggers.’ Is that just for show?
There is no one’s attention to duty to rouse.

I’ve watched candidates stumble as if by design
Through omnipotent forces unidentified.
There exists biased judgement in each human’s heart.
It seems you take to tripping to better jumpstart
This cold government engine. Perhaps you’ve not tried
Something else therefore it seems unwise to decline.

We each do our own tripping – both on and offline,
And through manifold systems we lay down our traps.
Anyone not suspecting some lead boot will drop
May avoid such an outcome and end up on top.
What is built upon, though, may be sure to collapse.
When I don’t pay attention, I’m doing just fine.

Swamp Refugee


How’s that swamp draining job going? Have you begun?
Or is someone appointed to do that for you?
One who says that it’s nasty there maybe would know.
You did say you belonged there some nightmare ago.
It’s ironic you went in there smelling like poo.
Now the task is too dirty? It’s no longer fun?

There’s a refugee crisis since office was took
Like a thief in the dark water. Bully for you!
Who is doing the cleaning? Just where is this mess?
I don’t think that it’s you, ass. You may well confess
To yourself that you’re finished. You could have made due
Out of office as just an old worldly wide crook.

As the myriad creatures emerge from the swamp,
One by one, soaking wet with shame for egg on face,
Is the swamp being cleaned by a man or a goon?
I think I know the answer. We all shall know soon.
There’s a deep, thorough cleaning indeed taking place.
When it’s finally done with, the worthy will romp.

Stop Pretending


You don’t think I’m pretending to hear things you don’t,
So why not then believe there’s a world you can’t know?
I may bark at what seems to you only thin air.
You would not contradict and say nothing is there.
I can sense there is something, though nothing to show.
I can smell things that you can’t and probably won’t.

Other worlds intersect ours. Some creatures receive
And transmit most effectively with other realms,
And within this one many vibrations reside
Well outside your perception. Indeed, you’re denied.
It’s the heart that denies this that this overwhelms.
Learn to trust in this knowing, then you will believe.

Stop pretending that I’m the one pretending, please.
There’s no crown of creation. We’re all of the stream
Of eternal life force ever changing in form.
It’s OK to be human if that is your norm.
But remember that sometimes things are as they seem.
What may seem to be unseen the wiser one sees.

Feeling Happy on The Way


I may pray tell this joke with a straight enough face.
The young guru on skate board with smartphone in hand
Knows a lot more than I do and zips right on by.
Everything is in order. Would I dare to try
To compare myself to others who understand
Only where they are going… perhaps the same place?

Can I be fully satisfied watching my dreams
Take on form incrementally as they evolve?
If I can love the journey while not at its end,
Every moment toward getting there need not depend
On some well devised plan for a problem to solve.
Destination and journey are not two extremes.

Happily Ever After begins with right now,
And in rapid succession each now takes a new
Form of manifestation through brilliant insight.
There is joy in my getting there, and that’s alright.
I cannot face reality and make it do
As I wish. That’s the old way. I’ll learn to allow.

Creating Despite Oneself


I’ll create some calamity throughout my act.
This is par for one’s strutting upon the life stage.
Some things come unexpectedly as if by chance.
If I’m not good at magic, could I sing and dance?
I’m an actor who sometimes performs out of rage
When through my misalignment I run low on tact.

I continue creating despite my stage fright.
The anxiety strengthens and quickens the heart.
There’s no fear of an audience. All play a role.
We are scripted observers with one common goal.
We can make co-creating an elegant art
As we play under pressure beneath the spotlight.

I should know what my magic hat may well contain
If I would be professional and of good taste.
Even if I react in convincing surprise,
I may just know my lines well without a disguise.
My bad acting has karma that can’t be erased.
I can clean up my act, though, for maximum gain.

Crow Whisperer Training


Listen Up, human rookies! This isn’t boot camp,
Nor is it rocket science. I’m nothing like that.
This is all about noticing what all birds do –
Not just good looking black ones among but a few.
We deliver insight at the drop of a hat.
We can offer a clue when your spirit is damp.

I may look straight up sober and matter of fact.
That is just a façade to get closer to you…
Not too close, though, that you might suspect something’s up.
We know something of fear because of the sick pup.
We are here to remind you of what you once knew.
In your knowing, then, all the best you will attract.

Learn a bit from the wise ones, but much more from we
Who, in touch with the spirit realm, deliver to
Those receptive enough, messages from the dead,
So that you may not look at death with so much dread.
Whether you can receive us is all up to you.
Live your lives well and prosper, but mostly be free.

Quiet the Mind and Receive


Words evolve into traffic, then don’t convey much.
They are not the best teachers because of their traps.
They routinely ensnare us and leave us confused,
Yet, without our content, we feel further abused.
A brief timeout will reset my tuner, perhaps.
Words can mimic advice, but they’re often a crutch.

When I offer vibration, I get something back.
What that is depends wholly on what I put out.
If I quiet the mind before starting my day,
Then my words do have meaning – to me, anyway.
So that I may receive well, I’m better, no doubt,
To unplug from all that I would call soul attack.

When I silence the chatter, I better receive.
To get in the receptive mode, all that I do
Is to fixate on some gentle noise in the room.
If my focus should falter, I simply resume
Until I feel detachment, and blissfulness too.
Then the more I receive, I can surely believe.

The Most Important Question to Ask


Life is jam-packed with questions – both big ones and small,
From the stuff between atoms to deep outer space.
We are curious creatures – some more and some less.
Certainly I have questions, and I must confess
I would not see the answers in front of my face,
Yet there’s one simple question that stands rather tall.

“Is this universe friendly?” If I think it’s not,
Then a life marked by defense and putting up walls,
And fixations on weaponry would be my style.
If I think it is friendly, I greet with a smile.
Life becomes, then, fulfilling and truly enthralls.
I could mitigate hatred and give love a shot.

Many simply profound questions Einstein did ask.
This one is most important. In it we decide
If we’re feeding our fears of the unknown with doubt,
Or if we choose to learn what this life is about.
How I answer this question is my only guide.
Then my own friendliness can be kept well on task.

An Evolution of Perspective


I can see much more clearly when I’m flying high,
Looking down at where here and now happens to be.
I can wave at ourselves from the wide-open sky.
From my alter perspective, no troubles have I.
A new world of adventure is given to me.
With my wings of alignment, I need no ally.

Here and now is a nice view when wings are at rest.
Down here can be obstructive of a better view.
Structures that we call obstacles get in our way.
If we can’t see around them they screw up our day.
My intent upon flying is past overdue.
And it’s bright up here. My Goodness! Who would have guessed?

I just want to be happy. We all want the same.
Any life situation is one point in time.
From that point I can zoom out as far as I need
To see where in the big picture I may succeed.
I need not even find some tall mountain to climb.
From the broader perspective life seems rather tame.

Remote Access


Don’t make fun of my accent. I’ve practiced it well.
Either that or my English still gives me away.
Anyway, I will help you. Your system is screwed.
I’ll access your computer and then I’ll get rude.
I’ll have problems to show you and too much to say
While concealing the fact that this is a hard sell.

 This is like the old shell game with quick sleight of hand,
Only I open windows and spread them around
While explaining how sick your machine has become
In this short while I’m with you, you simpleton bum.
I will find every bad thing there is to be found
Then create a few more. This is what I had planned.

Just sit back and relax while I fill up your screen
With my scribbles and doodles and fancy artwork.
You won’t owe me a fortune. Just half one will do
To restore your computer to something like new.
What I tell you is true. I’m a desperate jerk.
If I knew any better, I’d surely come clean.

I Don’t Need A Damned Hero


I don’t need a damned hero. Please give back my face.
And… my name is not Robin. I’m no kin to you.
I did quite well without you before you arrived.
Things now aren’t any better, yet I’m not deprived
Of my sense of humanity. If I but knew
How to ditch you completely, I’d reclaim my grace.

Something tucked in my pocket may act as my friend
As long as it behaves well and gives me respect.
It will act like a smartass and make me look lame,
When, to others, the thing is a fanciful game.
This is not about something that I need protect.
I’m the one in its shadow with thought to portend.

It’s a hero. Big Whoopie! It does a great deal
For most assholes convinced It’s a survival tool.
But for me, it’s a smartass. We don’t get along.
Every time I do something with it, I am wrong.
That’s according to it, therefore ‘it’ is a fool.
This hero doesn’t save me. That’s just how I feel.

Stop Noticing The Absence


I establish my lists and may check them with dread.
Rarely I feel like Santa as always I should.
How unbalanced my balance sheet is reflects how
Misaligned with my purpose I seem to be now.
How I find myself lacking is not understood.
I would rather look elsewhere than torture my head.

I must know there is absence. This makes common sense.
It would be very foolish to ignore the facts.
Thankfully, I don’t linger there for very long.
I’ll head toward the solution by way of a song.
When presented with absence, the wise one reacts
In ways most beneficial for mending that fence.

Right now is but a snapshot arrested in time.
It does not have an impact on moments to come
Unless I keep now active and feed it my gloom.
When receptive to insight there’s plenty of room
In the now for my outlook to beat like a drum.
From absence to abundance is not a steep climb.

It Gets Busy On Tuesdays


It does get rather busy most Tuesdays for me.
I catch up on relaxing while doing my best
At observing my habitat most of the day.
Yet on Tuesdays I’m busy with still much to say.
I will say it but at my own spirit’s behest.
There’s no need for alarm. There is no urgency.

I’ll spend time with my fellows. I’ll eat a good meal.
Then kick back into slow mode. That much will suffice.
Ecstasy is my basking. I long not to be
Someone else’s fulfillment… eventually.
I’m laid back and I’m mellow, therefore I am nice.
What takes place in my jungle is not a big deal.

I did quite well today. Did I get a lot done
With today’s interactions? I feel satisfied
Even though there’s a deadline some would call midnight.
I need not create frantically. That’s just not right.
This is easy by now. Time has taken my side.
What has worked for the many does work for the one.

Words Don’t Matter Much


Many words are not needed to labor my point
When the point is to unleash the artist in me.
Words do have some meaning… too much, as it seems,
And sometimes they mislead. They’ll engender extremes
Of misinterpretation inadvertently.
Yet, at times, they’re a blessing with which to anoint.

Verboseness speaks of labor when untethered to
The intent that derives it, no matter how much
Meaning is well packed into it. How can I tell
If my aerosol speaking can cast a nice spell?
That is simple! My speech must be fun to the touch.
If I spoke plain and simple, would that do for you?

On the walls of our journeys, we tag with our hearts
The intenseness of color held tight in our souls.
With some pressure released, with expression of thought,
We may sigh in accomplishment and want for naught.
Many words, some do use, to accomplish their goals,
But the meaning behind them is where it all starts.

The Value Of Contrast


Monochrome is the cosmos of darkness and light
Wherein we find discernment in what we perceive.
If it were not for contrast, then it would be hard
To make out what to work with and what to discard.
We take stock in perceptions. That’s how we believe
And make judgements about what is wrong and what’s right.

We appreciate color where it may be found
In abundance or scarceness concealed in the seam
Of the over stretched canvass. There color hides well
When there’s no need to see it nor anyone tell.
Life plays out in the mind, though, in vibrant extreme.
We delight in creative expression unbound.

Contrast does lead through chaos, but to clarity.
So it matters profoundly. It leads me to more
Of what life has to offer. I need only see
That my challenges are of much value to me.
There’s no problem that I should not love and adore.
Each, if wise, is a service – one offered for free.



There may be a resemblance, but only in jest.
We should not take to joking, yet that’s what we do
With sung heroes of wealth among young and alive
Who appear in good health and have prolific drive.
But this man is NOT ‘Data,’ the character who,
As an officer, turns out to be of the best.

I believe he is human and brilliant of mind,
With a knack for precision and logical view
Of what people hold precious. Could something be flawed?
Has our Data been beamed to some dark force abroad?
What should be know by all is known but by a few.
The ‘real’ Data knows Duty and is truth aligned.

“Senator, I will have my team get back to you.”
Well, that sounds good in theory, born of the abstract.

Put your ‘team’ on the floor if they have answers, please.
Your dorm room is now worldwide. A future that sees
You as more like our Data, is one based in fact.
You could show some emotion, as most androids do.

Wanting Something Badly


If I want something badly – too badly to know
That the ‘badly’ will dominate over the want,
I may get what I want but with badly involved,
Or receive not a thing, then no thing is resolved.
In the spirit of joy I am willing to taunt
The prefect of good fortune and master of flow.

If I wish upon good stars or bad stars, who knows
How the cosmos is biased? Is that in my chart
Of the sky at the time I was born? How could I
Overcome what is destined? Should I even try?
Every good thought unravels the will of my heart.
I receive of the universe what it bestows.

So, to want something goodly would be quite the way
To at least be receptive to what I have drawn
From the bountiful infinite. I can do that
By not being so needy. The proper format
For a life of fortune is to rely upon
One’s own wealth of alignment beginning each day.

I Came As A Creator


I am one with the canvas and paint that I use,
As with palette and brush, and my own unique style.
I intended to be here to do what I do.
I believe that the universe helps me with who
I’m creating. That’s Me! And I’m here for a while.
Since I am a creator, I’ve nothing to lose.

The whole world is vibrational? That’s hard to sense
On the onset. Things seem to be solid and ‘real.’
It is fact: What is unseen becomes what is seen.
This is true, most of all, with the cosmic machine.
I can know what is real by the way that I feel
All ethereal things and all things that are dense.

I am born of vibration. My senses detect
Things like texture and color. I sometimes pretend
That what cannot be seen surely cannot exist.
Though I harbor scant truth there, the bulk is dismissed.
I am here to create what is real, and I spend
Most my moments creating – much out of respect.

No Assertion, Just Attraction


There’s a spell in the air. Surely I put it there.
It’s my life force exuding throughout the cosmos,
Calling all things to me, be it bird or it bee.
I’ve no need for assertion, as all can agree.
I attract what I need. In no way is it gross.
I’m the kind face of nature, most gentle and fair.

I don’t need to keep busy. I delegate all
To those forces whose business it is to take care
Of the details regarding what I need right now.
I remain still and blossom the way I know how.
With my point of attraction, I’m fully aware
Of all drama around me, though fragile and small.

I am in the receptive mode most of the time.
When I’m not, I’m the giver to that which knows me.
Is there much on my mind? There is not such a thing
As the heel that may crush me before I can sing.
Had I eyes that knew color, how proud they would be.
Through the law of attraction, my life is sublime.

Kool-Aid Charade


As the head of the elephant, stuffed on the wall
In the house of it’s owner, the bear in the ice,
Must be well taxidermized to make it look real,
Is it rough to the touch? That should be a big deal.
One who drinks the red Kool-Aid does so at a price.
It will take down the heavyweights and make them small.

It is drunk behind closed doors. Consumption is kept
Well concealed and performed as a drama most grand.
Almost all the king’s horses have elephants’ heads
And a loud trumpet’s bellowing that the heart dreads.
What could be so perverse that we can’t understand?
Can we follow a leader whose heart’s never wept?

There are some dead men walking… and talking these days,
Where throughout the vast jungle, the things that take place
That may cause severe damage to my way of life
May drop free of the spectrum of doom and world strife.
Those who have drunk the Kool-Aid are doomed to embrace
Consequences severe for their treasonous ways.

From the Desk of D. Dudley Dickinworth

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

Sir, we give you the dickens! This time it’s for sure.
Why have not you responded? Where’s your sense of greed?
We have offered you millions. Don’t say you don’t care.
You won’t find a more urgent email anywhere.
You must answer me ASAP so we can proceed
To maintain cockamamie discourse. You Are Poor!

From our records of outstanding contractors due
A large payment, we find that your name does appear.
We now need your full address and bank info too.
We will need up front payment to cover a few
Incidental expenses, like campaigns of fear.
Make that check out to me. I will take care of you.

I don’t want to get nasty, but, damn it to hell,
You have not yet replied to me! Don’t be a fool.
Don’t you know how to act with a dick in your face?
You must give it attention. I know there’s some place
In your heart for some jackass who thinks he is cool.
Once I have your phone number, I’ll call you as well.

Better To Give Than Receive?


Many fowl do their giving while gathered in flight
When they find one deserving of what they possess.
We could learn from the birds and cast fate to the breeze.
The mind makes a fine camera as long as it sees
Something other than chaos and emergent mess.
So, whatever life gives me, I must know it’s right.

I create what befalls me before it takes place.
Through the lens of the mind’s eye, I craft what I get.
If I got up this morning with crap on my mind,
Then neglected to flush it, that wouldn’t be kind
To my outlook. My day would be filled with regret.
I can’t reach good conclusions when stuck in that space.

“It is better to give than receive,” people say.
That depends on one’s outlook. Again, that’s the key
To receiving abundance in whichever form
We attract it. To live life apart from the norm
Is to be truly mindful, most diligently.
I have freedom to give what I don’t want away.

A Wonky Relationship


Things appeal to the wonk (who is happy to plonk
Down his sanity for a mate as strange as he)
That have not much bizarreness when pictured alone.
When they’re seen as a pair, though, their union is shown
To be as odd an odyssey, if such could be.
Can it be held together, or will someone conk?

Every plate has a wobble. Each soul has a plate.
It may be full or empty. Some skill it will take
To ensure that momentum is constant and swift.
When all balance quite well, what a wonderful gift!
We may choose co-creation along with heartbreak,
Yet, to do so without self is such a blind date.

If I find satisfaction within my own skin
And not bother my partner with all that I lack,
Perhaps I’ll come to know the odd one within me.
Once that we are acquainted, my true self will be
My own best source of guidance who will have my back.
Anyone who is strange enough could be my twin.

Too Alone Prone Persona


When alone in a shoebox and weathered by time
And neglect of the home life within the dark soul,
No one comes by to visit. What life could be there
But one filled with delusion and utter despair
For not having attained some significant goal?
At the moment of birth one seems way past one’s prime.

Maybe better with family, a dog and some beer,
There is guidance available to one who seeks
Strong alignment with some cause related to blood.
I salute the self-righteous supremacist flood
Of the fictional family with tongues in their cheeks
That will tell this sick nation that it’s time to cheer.

To propone the persona of flesh on a throne
Does extract from the owner some measure of heart,
And from those of the kingdom, much trust and respect.
There is no sense of honor that I need detect
In the souls of the leaders I choose. A new start
Is something I can’t handle. That’s why I’m alone.



Would I fear esoteric things were I not cast
In the mist of the mystical and made of flesh?
Chances are, there would still be some doubt in my soul
About dealing with fear and then reaching my goal.
By my simply engaging life, I do enmesh
Myself deeply. I’m part of the universe vast.

To conceive the unknowable and make it known
Is the quest of those qualified. It’s good to know
That all have the authority to understand
What is put here before us and seems like it’s planned.
It can be complicated, decidedly so.
Yet it can’t be all that. Could it be overblown?

Some see spheres as concentric, like thin onion layers.
Others couldn’t care less because life is just fine.
Those who see things as simple, content in their bliss,
Glean the best out of good times and then reminisce
On how well the unknowable knew the divine
Through supreme evolution, and all without prayers.

To Transcend The ‘Unfriend’


To transcend the ‘Unfriend,’ I would most recommend
Referendum regarding the chronic disease
Of indifference to what’s in front of one’s eyes
Unless it has a touchscreen. I don’t criticize.
I’m reminded that when I’m too willing to please,
Some may find me a displeasing fool in the end.

Face to face we are fickle with flamboyant fluff
That we flitter like glitter. We seem made that way.
Now, we’ve replaced our faces with iFucking tHings.
What an overpriced plaything that sings when it rings!
Please forgive me, I digress, but hear what I say.
How much more disrespectful are we with this stuff?

Every ‘friend’ has a face. Every face has a soul
And a heart that can feel and therefore can be hurt.
Was the purpose of Facebook that we all join hands?
Perhaps so at the start, but now, it’s about fans.
On the playground, some seem to treat others like dirt.
Would you ‘unfriend’ your mama? That would be quite droll.

There Is No Exclusion


If I say I don’t want something, that is the same
As declaring I do want it. There’s no escape
But to turn my attention from what I detest.
My advice to myself would be give it a rest.
When I heed my direction, I’m free to reshape
My condition from turmoil to one that is tame.

There’s a Unary Infinite Input OR chip
At the base of all consciousness. How I attract
What is wanted or not wanted are quite the same.
My strong focus on either will bias the game
Toward the outcome that matches the way that I act.
It makes sense to be mindful of which thoughts I grip.

That there is no exclusion is good for us all.
Such a law gives us logic to live out our lives.
We attract what we think about much of the time.
I could craft much displeasure with thought pantomime.
It’s the thought that’s most constant that surely survives.
Anything that I dislike can be rendered small.

Knee Jerk Reaction


Tally Ho! I’m the knee jerk. Although a day late,
I know you will forgive me because I’m a fool.
I react all the time – not just one day a year.
Everyday I make merry to mitigate fear.
I can be quite spontaneous but never cruel.
I believe foolishness is the cure for most hate.

If you think this is silly, you’re right, I must say.
I put much time and effort into what I do.
Does it make people chuckle? That, I’ll never know.
There’s no choice but to tread on and go with the flow.
If my ass ran away from me, I’d have no clue,
Because it dons no butt bell to give it away.

All I need is a good knee to utilize me.
Every knee jerk depends on a knee to perform.
I can spring into action, but never will sap
The insanity dormant beneath the knee cap.
It’s a pleasure to tap a good jolt to the norm
From the heart of the knee jerk who’s daft as can be.

To Forget Being Gotten


If I need to be understood so I feel good,
Up the creek of the fecal and minus the oars
Would be I with my sorrow and deep seated fear
That I’m too odd a creature and don’t belong here.
When I don’t believe I’m the one who life ignores,
I am scaling the brick, and not knocking on wood.

Are my words so elusive that they don’t make sense
To the asshole majority? That’s fine with me.
They’re the same words that everyone uses. I just
Rearrange them in ways that are meaningful. Trust
That I came here, as all do, to live and to be
Plentiful in creating in full present tense.

I can’t get a damned thing that most rappers exude.
Most of it is a voyage, for me, to nowhere.
So, I don’t listen to them. That’s not ‘tit for tat.’
I’m an alien being, and no diplomat.
Should the gallery peanuts sound off, I don’t care.
One whose heart glows with passion cannot be subdued.

Gravitate Toward Feeling Good


There are things that attract one’s most critical mass
As the earth does with all things more heavy than air.
Of those things, there are many that can be much fun.
When engaged in, the business of life is begun.
To descend adrift freely and without a care
Is the kind of adventure no brave one would pass.

What can go wrong is not on the mind of the one
Most distracted by passion in each moment new.
There is gravity in what sometimes I attract.
It may pull me towards that which I don’t want contact,
At least, not as momentously as I accrue
Enough doubt to consume me and leave me undone.

I’m not ready to take to the air just right now.
I must visit the cockpit to see who is there.
I’ll make sure there is someone who’s flying the plane.
If I don’t find a pilot there, what would I gain?
I would land the plane safely, then perhaps declare
That I feel good already. I worthy, somehow.

Getting Around Hindering Beliefs


My beliefs are like boulders, yet some can dissolve
To embrace the swift current that carries me through
Life’s adventure as I paddle to get around
Other big rocks that won’t move because they are bound
By the mass that I give to them. I bang into
Such beliefs made of hard matter I can’t resolve.

A belief is a thought I continue to think.
I don’t think a thing of it as it gathers moss.
Every thought grows in power the more it is thought.
This is how I create belief and how it’s wrought.
My most nurtured beliefs come not by the coin’s toss,
Nor by scant inattention through will out of sync.

I accept that foundations are part of life’s stream,
And that momentum varies much, most of the time.
I can best get around them or face them head on
Through the spirit inside whom I rely upon.
I can’t slow this stream down, as my will is not prime.
My beliefs are my guidance, sometimes, it may seem.

All Of Space Is NOT Space


Wrap one’s mind around nothingness? That’s such a breeze,
As there is no such thing. Nothingness can’t exist.
There is space between particles, planets and walls.
All that space is a part of what science now calls
Something so complicated that questions persist.
There is nothing to nothingness that the eye sees.

Place a standard sized beach ball alone in the sand.
That’s the hydrogen nucleus in a nut shell.
It’s electron is hundreds of meters away,
And the size of a walnut, it’s worthwhile to say.
What exists in between the two has much to tell
Of the nature of nothingness if by demand.

Nothingness is without us, within us and more.
What’s perceived are but focal points translated so.
If we call space dark matter or dark energy,
Then it seems a good place holder ‘til we can see
Deeper down through the rabbit hole to what’s below.
Seems there’s plenty of nothingness we can’t ignore.

Homophonic Heteronymity

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

I had fear of the homophone right from the start.
Had I heard a thing of it, that would have been nice.
I was taught, as a child, of the word ‘homonym.’
Now, no one’s ever heard of it. Have I gone dim?
Could it be that my memory is imprecise?
Which came first with my schooling? The horse or the cart?

It seems Google remembers. This gives me some peace.
I would beg post-teen teachers to keep their acts straight.
That is, if I had nothing much better to do
Than pick nits with society and what is new.
As I keep to my own little world, I feel great.
I’ll admit to some old ways that I could release.

One may hire O’Glyphic or Heterophone
For the ones spoken most to and who listen well.
There may be some who heteroglyph their way home.
Homophonic profanity festers like foam.
When they’re making up new words, would someone please tell
The old retroverse wordsmith adrift on his own?

Bizarre Pharma Dharma


A life filled with bright color begins with child’s play.
That which makes the heart happy is sweet to the taste.
If the medicine tastes good, then I can believe
It will do what it’s made to do. Do I achieve
Any measure of some relief? Or, do I waste
Much of my motion hoping that meds are the way?

I need something for gut clog – a lethal depth charge
That will blast the pipes thorough of resident waste.
The condition is common, the symptoms as well.
They’re enough to debilitate and make life hell.
Yet, despite indications that aren’t to my taste
I seek help from beyond self… from ‘oneness’ at large.

All the fine meds available are much the same,
As they boast full relief from what ails me the most.
But the symptoms they claim that will then go away
Are the same as the side effects, to my dismay.
Should I therefore proclaim that my innards are toast?
That would be utter nonsense, and worse, a damned shame.

Often Easier to Be Sad


My old lady done left me and took both the cats…
And the keys to the pick-up she don’t even drive.
Maybe she hates my singin’ and playin’ guitar.
She ain’t said nothin’ of it, at least, not so far.
But she took off, and I don’t know how to survive.
I’m one sick sack of suds among soul democrats.

What’s got into my baby I just cannot say.
I’ve got lots of good TV and Coors Light on tap.
My abode is a breadbox on big cinderblocks.
I make porridge lukewarm for my fair goldilocks.
Maybe she would have stayed if I’d learned to sing rap.
Lord, wherever she’s gone to, I hope she won’t stay.

Like my dreams about coal mines, I’m left in her dust.
So, I could do the bar thing, but that gets old fast.
A big family reunion will do well for now.
If I don’t find a girl then, I’ve lost it somehow.
With a dickhead in office, my sorrows can’t last.
Though he ain’t keepin’ promises, in him I trust.

A Vulgar Display Of Power


Were your straps to be loosened by your holy base
In the midst of determining how you’ve done wrong,
Would the nation survive you? Or would we be cast
In demonic delusion designed to outlast
Your incumbent possession? You won’t be here long.
You will give up this nation and leave in disgrace.

So, you took a man’s pension? That’s such a cheap trick.
…And especially so, as it’s done in a way
That insures heartfelt insult to show the whole world
When you deal with the demon whose wrath is unfurled,
You will end up in Hades without much to say.
I would pass on possession. I’d rather be sick.

…Such a vulgar display of your power I see.
Does that mean you’re a waste even as Satan’s tool?
There are straps that will bind you. They won’t go away.
You’re a pomp prince of darkness who’s not here to stay.
Every nation of honor sees you as a fool.
We’re in need of The Exorcist most urgently.

Transliterative Transliterature


I’m not sure how the war started and couldn’t care,
Except strong indignation erupts in the soul
Of humanity, once again – this time through he
Who dishonors maliciously most frequently.
To divide through blunt brute force it seems is your goal.
Why make war with your soldiers? You’re Daft, I Declare!

‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ is still sound advice
I received from an old salt when I served my time.
It applies not to forces of service alone.
Within all things of life this is easily shown.
The commander in chief is intent to begrime
Every sane institution with torment and vice.

Check your skivvies, ‘commander,’ you’re in for defeat.
Karmic militant forces momentous and strong
Will engulf and consume you in treasonous shame.
You will be the apprentice whose lost his own game.
May you lose where you don’t have the right to belong.
You are trash in a silk suit consumed by conceit.

How Much Am I Allowing?


How much am I allowing? Or do dare I ask
Of a spigot controllable by me alone?
Does the knob need a turning to left or to right?
Then, how many degrees? What if it is too tight?
What flows into the bucket is more than what’s shown
To the eyes made of matter, the natural mask.

The life force that sustains me is fluid, at base.
It expands or contracts to get in everywhere
Any force wants to take it, assuming the shape
Of that which may contain it, not wanting escape
On its own, whether conscious and fully aware
Or intangible, totally, thus without grace.

Life is given to me. I shall give in return.
I contain what flows through me for use while I’m here.
The world may dip within it. In fact, be my guest.
Easily, what is fluid, someone can digest.
What I do for a living, now, can’t cause me fear.
I survive quite amazingly without concern.

The Shift


When The Shift, as it happens, is one of the heart,
There can be none of greater importance to me.
It’s a move toward abundance from living in lack
And a shift from the worldly, that I may get back
To the way of the spirit. I most want to be
Part of all that I come from with much to impart.

It’s the upshift from lower to higher mindset
That I may become used to as I am prepared
To await the incumbent awakening of
A new consciousness worldwide conceived of pure love.
That beats scanning the news for stuff to make me scared.
Have the gears of smooth transmission shifted quite yet?

There’s a shift in the moment. Each one is a change
From one view to the next. Each one offers a choice
That I make in the moment for darkness or light.
No one needs special knowledge to know what is right.
As the world’s masses gather and speak with one voice,
The big Shift becomes viable and nothing strange.

The Barrier Transparent


Once I walked into glass… ‘couldn’t tell it was there.
And I felt like an asshole. Folks laughed themselves sick.
As for me… I was dazed, and I didn’t care much.
I have near perfect vision, yet I need a crutch.
Perhaps clicking like bats do would be fantastic.
Not a thing I could see through would become a snare.

Often glass is a ceiling. Sometimes it’s so high
That it cannot be seen by the one who grows tall.
If one ascends too quickly, before very long,
He may strike what is unseen and feel he’s done wrong.
In that way, such a ceiling can be a brick wall.
What is hopeful is that one can still see the sky.

Some things should be transparent, and some things should not,
Is, I guess, what I’m saying, not knowing from where
I find such things to write about, and that’s OK,
Just as long as I let spirit echo my way.
Surely flying through glass cannot cause me despair
As I keep myself focused with all that I’ve got.

Begin When It’s Easier


I will start when it’s easier to comprehend
All the chaos outside me – inside me as well.
There’s so much I could focus on. Some of it’s good.
Yet it’s hard to find, and hard to be understood.
I perceive much that is me. Within that I dwell.
I could push stuff aside, but that seems not the trend.

They behave much like pinballs, the eyes as they bounce
From one source to the other for dopamine hit.
Have I seen what I wanted? Have things become clear?
They just get more confusing and laden with fear.
I’m addicted to garbage, sometimes I’ll admit.
Toxic content delirium I can denounce.

Is this nation in disarray? It looks that way.
So, that means I’m in error. No mess I need clean
But the one in the mind that I made on my own.
I can start seeing better with crap left alone.
There’s a saner world out there that is clearly seen
By the one in alignment and not led astray.

The Question Is NOT the Answer


Don’t keep asking the question. The answer can’t come
In the midst of my asking, then asking some more.
As like poles of the magnet will surely repel
Strongly each other’s presence, this doesn’t bode well
For attracting the answer that I’m looking for.
This is counter-intuitive, but not to some.

When I ask, it is given, the moment I ask.
The kind cosmos receives it, then takes it to heart.
It is much like a heart. It’s a pumping device.
And whatever I ask for, it doesn’t think twice
In providing the answer. The cosmos is smart.
As much as I allow, it performs any task.

Is it wise to consider the magnetic mode,
Where receiving and giving are opposite ends
Of this segment of being? I have little doubt.
I must feel for life’s answer in stillness devout.
Is the answer forthcoming? Well, that all depends
On my mode of receiving all that is bestowed.

Talking Oneself Off the Ledge


I am told life is precious, including my own,
By behavioral science and men of the cloth,
But not by those who would leave me out on the ledge.
It is up to me only. To thy own self pledge
To remember the big picture – not the thin swath.
Any vision from that space is fear overgrown.

 I may long for the tunnel, then pure loving light
That I don’t seem to find here in this blurry realm.
What I see down below me I don’t want to face.
Down there needs not another. It would be disgrace
To give up such a fine face to life overwhelm.
What if I suffered greatly? That would kind of bite.

That is hardly the point, though. There are many ways
One may take matters drastically into one’s hands.
There are things about living that I may despise,
And my focus on those things would be my demise
Had I not a defense for life’s unmet demands.
There’s no hope in the pavement. There’s no need to gaze.

A Room With Some Padding


…Just a room with some padding. I don’t need a view.
I don’t want to see what it’s like on the outside.
What is out there is nowhere. I’m no one to it.
People treat one another the way they see fit.
Am I mad if I seem to be full of self-pride?
If you say so, there’s nothing much else I can do.

I can get used to white, though it does hurt my eyes.
Can you keep the lights dim enough so I can’t see
That I’m banging my head on whatever I find?
Were I made to see brightness, I might well go blind.
There is no mind more lost than the one that can be
Locked away due to mere obsolescence endwise.

I believe I’m a poet, still. Don’t say I’m not.
I embrace my delusion. Belief is steadfast.
Some who craft only bullshit get on fairly well.
To pretend to not understand me is pure hell.
If I don’t think about it much, I will have passed
Through a dark, psychic fugue, but with torment forgot.