Tag Archive | social commentary

Why Hardworking Folks Fail

Illusion In Fulfillment

Often goals have a price tag. We pay with our health.
The product of achievement sits firm in our minds
Though our hearts may be aching and flesh may be sore.
We survive to feed well the illusion of more.
Gain through pain strengthens muscles. Therein the fool finds
Faulty misapplication producing false wealth.

We must work hard and study hard. Why is this so?
But, to hell with that question. Let’s ask ourselves this:
Can we do our work lovingly and love to learn?
We don’t need to get lazy. What is of concern
Is that medical science, not by hit and miss,
Has determined happiness is the way to go.

Only when we are pleasant are we at our best.
Mind and body engage in an energy dance.
If we’re stressed out and anxious, we don’t work so well.
Then, after a few decades, we’re shot close to hell.
Stress means our minds have failed us. We cannot advance
To a meaningful outcome while we’re self-oppressed.

Ideal Wife?

Pre-packaged Perfection

A young woman may ask of someone who may know,
Like a guru or grandma or her closest friend,
What it takes for a girl to be an ideal wife.
The advice most would give her would mess with her life.
Girls of one generation should never depend
On those not of their age group. Times change like a flow.

Marriages made in heaven work well only there.
Firmly here on God’s earth is where we’re all alive.
People screw up a wet dream when God is involved
As we make life a puzzle that needs to be solved
By struggle through devotion that love will survive.
That does feel somewhat alien, and we should care.

The way to a man’s heart used to be through his gut.
Nowadays, that is meaningless. Guts have become
For some, sports… others, mental things. All are fulfilled
In ways that are too numerous. All are distilled
Into one common substance with no zero sum.
Knowing this keeps a couple well out of the rut.

Living Stress-Free

Finding Calm in the Chaos

I am doing my work, boss. I know it’s your time.
But I am the one responsible for my health.
I must keep in alignment the three parts of me –
Physical, mental and that of my energy.
How I respect my being determines your wealth.
I can’t share your concern. That would be quite a crime.

Lucid Living is what most I want to achieve.
Throughout most of my waking life, I want to be
In a kind of a deep sleep, but only inside
While outwardly my beingness can’t be denied.
A stressed worker can’t work well. Proof you need not see.
Put your faith in my wholeness. In that I believe.

My pulse is a fine timepiece. It is not a bomb
That will respond to pressure by holding stress in
Or by forcing the tension to get through the day.
My work in that case may cause you loss and dismay.
Just another five minutes, boss, then I’ll begin
What I’ll then find delightful. So, please remain calm.

RoboHoe

Human Assimilated By Its Own Technology

Female voices on robocalls is a smart thing
If considering range of vocal frequency
And inflection as ideal to perfect the nag.
Nothing else does it quite like a bitch on the rag.
The worst aspects of women’s voices speak to me
Of well-planned-out annoyance to nerves that will ring.

When the phone rings, the ears ping. The eyes take a leap
Toward the caller ID window. What does it say?
…Something vague or ‘unknown’ to the fuckwit device.
To believe that’s how bitches are comes with a price.
To get under the skin, is there no better way
To promote shabby service or goods that are cheap?

You do get my attention. You cause me to Write!
For that much, I am thankful. Opportunity
To assess and express well what most folks blow off
Is a sharpening exercise no one can scoff.
With a RoboHoe Blocker, I’ll be somewhat free
Of perpetual nuisance. Have I won this fight?

Duodenal Diesel

Incongruance of Purpose

We’re Duodenal Diesel. We suck from earth’s gut
Her most coveted resources without a care
For her health and wellbeing. We Do This For You!
We believe our dear mother deserves a good screw.
We excel at earth fucking. We’re known everywhere
As your Whole Earth co-owner with motives clear-cut.

Volatile amber liquid as toxic as tea
Brewed to putrid perfection, it moves resources
And your fat asses hither… then thither and yon.
Asses continue moving from dusk until dawn…
Then again into sunset. Habit enforces
Numbing of your perceptions so that you won’t see.

All our moving about on this earth has become
An erect carbon footprint that points to the sky.
Movement does cause excitement for such phallic drive.
Ill-prepared for the climax, we may not survive.
But at least we’ll not care about wondering why
To Duodenal Diesel we should not succumb.

May Your Dreams NOT Come True

Dream Come True

What becomes of the dreamers whose dreams are their goals,
Where a lifetime achieving them robs them of peace?
Situations are flexible, but goals are not.
When the former change, often the latter are shot.
This may lead to disaster. There is no release
From the grip of the timeline entrapping their souls.

What we dream of can only be of what we know.
With some exaggeration, we make it seem new.
We do this so unconsciously we often trick
Ourselves into believing that they’re fantastic.
I would wish that those kinds of dreams seldom come true.
Infinite possibilities make one’s life glow.

Let the things you can’t dream of unfold as they may.
Setting goals may be rigid and blind to the grace
That exists to enhance us in unconscious ways
To the vast opportunities just beyond gaze
Of the eyes that are focused well on time and place.
Let the universe enchant you in every way.

Sarah Bee

Blind Conviction

It’s a story – one of glory – of the bold Miss Sarah Bee
Who became the meanest bulldog that the press would ever see.

Once a simple southern lady, she became a superstar,
But the light she was reflecting left her with a psychic scar.

Those believing her deceiving are as blind as they can be
To the dog that barked behind her. They respect their Sarah Bee.

Once a darling and a starling to the big dog of the pack,
She has lost their confidence. Now, she has left not looking back.

…Quite assumin’ of a woman that her bonnet for a bee
Could protect her form the specter that most others cannot see.

There’s no reason not to go for governor of Arkansas.
Working well in such a crime scene, she knows much about the law.

Who defined your bleak one-niner? Do you have an enemy
Such that meeting with The People is something you cannot see?

Well, my darlin’, like a marlin who’s escaped back to the sea,
You are free form close encounters involving misogyny.

Highfalutin, verbal shootin’, tyrant rootin’ Sarah Bee
…Hope you’re lost and gone forever. We The People do agree.

Just A Dirty Day Old

Perceived Adequacy

I did bathe yesterday. Should I take a day off
And recover from being so damned spanking clean?
In my mind, I am spotless and earthly scum free.
When I look out my window, the brightness I see
Is enough to re-sanctify. It’s good hygiene.
Maybe it can also cure my persistent cough.

When I find myself wearing a suit and a noose
Do I think I’m invincible belching a smile
To the ones who belittle me? I’m in good luck
If I know that I don’t need to feel like a schmuck
Nor a slave to a lost hope or lavish lifestyle.
I do long to be clean of the system’s abuse.

…Just A Dirty Day Old, and I don’t feel like scum
Because it’s become cyclic and psychic as well
To refresh myself daily. My much higher needs,
When fulfilled, are the means whereby happiness leads
To lasting satisfaction. The soul can excel
At the business of Being while beating the drum.

Letting Life Roar

Exileration

We each are a fine engine. Our Maker, who knows
How all things can best interact, also knows how
We can best govern ourselves and act as earth’s friends.
Economics and ecology each depends
On the other for survival. We must allow
Coexistence, or sickness we’re doomed to expose.

Someone may have a lifestyle but not have a life.
To know spirituality as nothing more
Than the spirit rambunctious with throbbing lifeforce
Is the kind of spiritual path I endorse.
That which satisfies oneself and makes the heart soar
Among a nation’s populous mitigates strife.

The earth is where life comes from and where it returns
So we have deep connection. The food that we eat
And the land that we walk upon and every cell
Of our bodies is related. We would do well
To treat our earthly nature as nothing elite
But neither as immobile nor wrought with concerns.

A Barbie Doll Chewed By An Ugly Dog

Exaustion and Desperation

Barbie Doll was invented by one who could see
That young girls can dream mightily and can go far.
They can take on most anything done in the past.
The future can be hopeful. Impressions can last
Through a life of achievement. It is not bizarre
That a doll becomes something girls don’t want to be.

Some dolls end up in landfills, unfortunately,
Or else tossed near a dumpster, no longer of use
To the one who perceives it as just a plaything.
The dog then will adopt it. No hope will that bring
To plastic and its meaning. It’s now an excuse
To keep womanhood portrayed as something ugly.

We have taken our Barbie and made her a bitch.
Her face radiates horror at what we’ve become.
Don’t tell me it’s your job, bitch! You know wrong from right.
God should denounce your womanhood, you sorry sight!
You broadcast to the world that your heart has grown numb
To the incessant chewing while trapped in the ditch.

Independence

Much More Time Than a Life

A dick dipped in molasses attracts oral sex
But from creepy creatures not concerned with one’s meat.
…Odd that people don’t get that. They’re doomed to dick dip
Into exotic substances. Good dickmanship
Means that one keeps one’s dick not averse to retreat
From the sky burst of color to pay due respects.

As all patriots do on the fourth of July
I will spend some time watching the fireworks display.
Many times before, I celebrated with pride.
But today, somehow, pride in my country has died.
I don’t care what’s been happening nor what folks say
About just about anything. My, What A Sky!

It’s just my way of bitching. It’s but a few sense.
To pay much more attention to this would be great!
Living colorful powder may light up my sky.
I must know that I’m willing to live, do or die,
Through the elegant chaos that we recreate
As the clock tick defining offense and defense.

How One Takes It

Sensory and Cognitive Overload

How do I take what’s given me, asked for or not?
To take things as an insult is not the best way
To make friends and influence folks. I’d rather be
As neutral in my taking as I can best see
The benign verbal nuance in what people say
As but ripe for a mental chuckle, then forgot.

People may assume I take things a certain way.
I can hear the inflection ascend toward the end
Of the utterance, therefore I safely conclude
They’re just asking the question. They’re not being rude.
In such case, there is nothing that I need defend.
I can then leave in peace and get on with my day.

If an amateur poet with no training can
Push those details aside and continue to write
In a manner consistent, I will take that black
With a lump of fulfillment to keep me on track.
How I take life’s assignment may look like a fight
Yet it seems to fit into someone’s divine plan.

Tuned To A Different Dicklength

Phallic Omnipresence

Do I mistreat the meat of another trombone
In a mystical orchestra conducted by
A half-Klingon deep space skink of talent profane?
Would the world become saner if dick were to wane?
What depends on one’s Dicklength is not worth the try
When one knows that in time it will be overthrown.

One’s Dicklength is one’s heartbeat. A suit and a tie
Or blue jeans and a hardhat are symbols well-known.
It is by competition the better succeed
While the best make their way to the top through their greed.
  It pertains to both genders though it’s overblown
As an ideal condition. Things have gone awry.

The inverse of one’s Dicklength may be Latency.
Each divided by one, the other it becomes.

Could this be about time to do some simple math
To determine the consequences of our path?
It may be wise to take time to beat other drums
So the curse of the Dicklength dissolves completely.

Android Emotion

Uncertainty of Technological Friendliness

Does my droid need emotion or just a swift kick
Up its digital tailpipe to give it some class?
It’s a sweet, sleek and sultry bitch with a loud charm.
Every frigging five minutes it sounds its alarm.
I don’t get what it’s telling me. I’ll take a pass
On new nuisance technology programmed to dick.

So, I must ‘get to know’ you? Are you now my mate?
You don’t seem all that human, but that you’re an ass.
You draw forth deep emotion from inside of me.
Were that your makers shared it only partially,
There would be resolution and change. But alas,
To be human means making things that irritate.

Though a dwindling minority, those of my kind
Have a keen observation of what’s taking place.
All I need from a smartphone is that it knows well
Who’s the boss of it. If not, it shall go to hell.
Vacuum data collectors will fall in disgrace
As our tissue technology is undermined.

Advanced Placement Afterlife

Impressions of Life and Afterlife

The ‘Accelerated’ they were called way back when.
I was but a mere idiot due to my grades.
I was coerced to worship them. Damn them today
And the teachers who fucked with my mind in that way!
From the callously perverse school system cascades
Condescension toward those ‘less than’ time and again.

Something happened to me my last year of high school.
It’s a loose-fitting fragment that moves while in place
As a traumatic episode. Mister Feeney
Chose to instruct the whole class to make fun of me.
My life changed in an instant. I left in disgrace
Both from school and from home to escape ridicule.

Sometimes I can’t remember that. Others, I do.
When it happens, contempt for all pumps through my veins.
I did manage to graduate with no time lost
But not from that same Catholic school. I had crossed
Their red line of defiance. The nightmare remains
One of psychic incontinence. It’s sad but true.

 During my brief hiatus, my sick teenaged mind
Felt enough guilt that it thought that it could assume
Quite another identity… go back to school.
Since I had advanced knowledge, I’d have to be cool.
Thanks to God and the angels, I was plucked from doom.
But I must prove I’m not stupid to humankind.

This is not about pity. It’s coming to light
Of the full realization that I am of worth
To myself and the whole world, as all people are.
I persist in the myth of the mind superstar,
Using it as a weapon, also to unearth
What my soul needs to express. It seems only right.

So, how bad a residual can this become?
I’m hellbent on displaying this cursed intellect
In its absolute brilliance. Do others seem bright?
Most would pale in comparison next to my light.
On your grave, Mister Feeney, I’ll give due respect.
I shall defecate gleefully, you rotten scum!

If you know me, do not make the stupid mistake
Of thinking that I’m stupid. I’ll Lay You To Waste!
Just because it’s been twisted, my mind can do harm.
It also Commands English with masterful charm.
Don’t you dare look down on me, or you will be faced
With the wrath of an intellect none can forsake.

It’s A Hell Of A Mantra, But Fuck It!

Frustration With Technology

Is the mass-produced smartphone that fails in a year
A fit toy to include in a box of corn flakes?
When it, on its own, places calls, what should I do?
Those damned things have a sex life. They’re willing to screw
With an old, flesh and blood man. They make their mistakes
Due to vengeful young code geeks whose motives are clear.

My solution is Fuck It! I’m on my way out
So I’d give a sick rat’s ass were I to be kind.
But I’m not. I am fed up with technology
Engineered to insult and to embarrass me.
Fuck this Damned generation, ill-mannered and blind
To what is truly social. Clearly you have doubt.

I don’t need a damned ‘escort’ to hurry me on
To my ending. But Fuck It! Your ways can’t be changed.
Degradation of humanness, as my demise,
Is a function of nature. That’s not a surprise.
Obsolescence, the dark cloud that keeps me estranged
To the real world, will be here long after I’m gone.

The Past Remains The Past

Realization in Defeat

“How did I come to marry you?” is what she asked.
She had past life regression hypnotherapy.
Ever since then, my life has been turned upside down.
Why I’m out in the forest and wearing a frown
Is because there’s no reason that she should leave me.
She should love who I am now. The past remains masked.

Holding on to someone who one’s been with before
To some seems quite romantic. Some people feel stuck
In a bad situation. What Purgatory!
I should want to be with you so that I can see
All the good things about you now – not those that suck,
Nor the things of another life. Those I’ll ignore.

Once it was in the feudal times people were seen
As a function of their family and its worth.
People weren’t seen for who they are. They were objects,
More or less, so it seems we’ve evolved in aspects
Of the ways that we view life. A love life of mirth
Is the one lived in this time with outlook pristine.

Dissolve The Drama

Dissolution of Drama

As the old fable goes, the captain of the ship
With his egoic drama, one dark, foggy night,
Sees a light in the distance, commands it to move,
Then is outraged when it doesn’t. It would behoove
The defiant unknown to back down from a fight.
When he finds it’s a lighthouse, he’s ill to give lip.

Strange weeds may be collected and placed on my grave.
Though I’ll not rate a monument, I need not be
Quite as confounding rigid as one as I live.
Life would be a breeze were I not so combative.
There are many a lighthouse in life’s raging sea.
I create every problem by how I behave.

All the problems in my life come from within me.
Since they’re self-generated, they need not be solved.
As my thoughts and emotions play the leading role,
The director, whose cast has gone out of control,
Needs to know that the sorry act must be dissolved.
It is done in an instant and most easily.

If I seek a solution to something I made,
Then I tread toward insanity. None does exist.
If I made such solution, it would be a fake.
So, to think that it would work would be a mistake.
The confounding of drama indeed will persist.
It takes nothing at all to just stop the charade.

Losing Laziness

The Absolute Innocence of Relaxation

To the tune of postponement, the things I will do
That I don’t much like doing lie languid in lack
Of my utmost attention. Don’t mention those things.
Sheer paralysis of the will is what it brings.
I would be fit to fist fuck were I given flack.
Such things are mine to put off as guilt may accrue.

Why the hell am I doing things I clearly hate?
Will I get something for it? Is it of some worth?
Who will build me a statue? All in unison
Shout it out through a bullhorn. Not much have I done.
Were I a human doing since my ancient birth
Instead of just a being, would my life be great?

There is nothing to get here but our daily rest.
We live life in a manner intense and profound
Or we don’t. In the end, what will happen to all
Is a burning or burying. What will enthrall
And excite me can keep me from running aground.
My preponement of such things ensures I am blessed.

Fear Of Judgment

Ominous Unknown Nature of Fear

If someone says I’m wonderful, I’m on a cloud,
At least for that fresh moment. Then when I’m around
Folks who know and dislike me, they’ll tell me I’m crap.
When I step back and look at this, what a damned trap!
When the heart is a harlot on life’s battleground,
Then it can’t love in freedom, nor can it be proud.

The collapsing of heaven and hell in the minds
Of a population no longer in need of
Information established leaves us to conclude
We are free to create each. With much gratitude
I may bless the judgmental as creatures of love
Even though they are fettered by faults of all kinds.

When I catch myself judging, as I have just now,
I can know that, contingent to who we all are,
Judgment can be a sickness as well as a tool.
One who responds to judgment will end up the fool.
In my own heart I must believe I’m up to par.
To have others control that, I cannot allow.

Why Suffering?

Hopelessness of Suffering

Take a close look at suffering – not yours or mine
But the hell of the hopeless. No matter what kind
Of dark cloud overcomes one, all translate to pain.
And it all has but one source. Through profit and gain
Few have grabbed up most resources. Most are resigned
To the struggle the gamble in life does assign.

We may call ourselves human, but what’s in a name?
Like Hell’s Angels, we rev up the atmosphere with
Our own brand of excitement despite nature’s nerves.
Have we not come to learn that our Mother deserves
Peace and silent cooperation? It’s a myth
That we’re separate beings and not all the same.

Every morsel that enters this body today
Is connected to some stomach writhing in need.
Every good time relates to the drug overdose.
Taking time to acknowledge that, I can get close
To an understanding of the nature of greed.
It is best that I eat well, but after I pray.

Cost Of Living

Signal to Noise Ratio

Governmental machinery takes care of things
Like our vast infrastructure and military.
We are certified born as we’re certified dead.
That which cannot be corporatized will instead
Be dismissed as irrelevant and legally
Free of interconnection with government strings.

We chose capitalism in democracy.
Perhaps it’s not the best way, but we can’t turn back.
Socialism was tried, and though it sounds ideal,
It is most detrimental for folks who are real
In the lives they are living, languid in their lack
Of a sense of fulfillment most wholeheartedly.

We can’t turn back because, stepping off the road tread
Into different directions, we end up nowhere.
A free market is this world and life as we know.
Government complicates both, so progress is slow.
Can we build an economy focused on care
That the cost of our living is nothing to dread?

Trueness To Self

Dichotomy of Self

Life is like an umbrella. Our lies are like rain.
When they pour, we’re protected. If held steadily
And if it has no holes, the umbrella works well.
We can feel that we’re not wet. No others can tell
That we’ve got a storm going. Not even we see
The fake self we’ve created, yet we expect gain.

I must bullshit myself in sophisticated
Ways that I’ve learned from childhood, impressed upon me
by religion, my elders and society.
Then I’ll add my own bullshit most egregiously.
The truth does not come easily if I won’t see
All of it with full clarity… not self-mislead.

Life can only get better at catching my lies
And should they become hail-like, the life torn to shreds
Will then have to come up with one that is more real.
Living in simple truthfulness is most ideal.
I can stop second guessing what’s in people’s heads.
Myself in its true brilliance is my best disguise.

Can A Building Do Laundry?

How a building can enhance the quality of life

Can A Building Do Laundry or take out the trash?
If it did its own windows, would that make the deal
Even sweeter? If so, can our dwellings foresee
How its occupants fit geometrically?
To some people, a building must have sex appeal
So much so they’ll become flowing fountains of cash.

Everything that is physical – a blade of grass,
Or the body, our planet, or vast galaxy –
Is a work of geometry. Nature, for earth,
Is the capable architect of immense worth.
How we build where we live and work, one would agree,
Is The thing of importance. What nature is class?

Need a building be classy? It is a class act
If indeed it’s designed well. We’re crafted by God.
Yoga is geometric. The body improves
In the ways we are conscious of how well it moves.
If our architecture is in any way flawed
Yoga can realign it as matter of fact.

Geometry is seen in the things that we wear.
So, our fashion would ask of us conscious intent.
We may wear any odd thing or live in a place
That is not to our liking. But what a disgrace!
Ancient structures of burnt brick and not of cement
Remain standing to this day, as if people care.

We behold any structure as whole and complete,
Self-contained in its beingness… made into form.
We have been in survival mode up until now.
A new way of existence is best to allow
Our behavior to sharply depart from the norm.
What is done with one’s dwelling can make the life sweet.

They Do Think We’re All Stupid!

Conflagration of Troubled Leadership

The disease of entitlement has become vogue.
White men stuffed in silk jackets must each wear a noose.
Why this is so is custom and much too absurd,
So, one wouldn’t be wise taking them at their word.
Slavery is professional as is abuse.
There’s a reason our government has become rogue.

We elected Obama. That was the last straw.
Not just once, but twice, we went and did the wrong thing.
Now, one hell of a backlash from nigger ascent
Reminds all that the fruits of our nation were meant
For the few white and wealthy. What freedom will ring
Is America ‘great’ again made into law.

They said, “Screw it! The People don’t know what they want.
They make foolish decisions. It’s now up to us
To return us to sanity and the white way.
We declare infiltration has seen its last day.”
One dose of the right nigger scares whites treasonous.

So, who’s up for the running? Who’s our confidant?

Why Good People Don’t Get Anywhere

Helping thee Helpless

Goodness knows there are good folk found most everywhere.
They consider themselves not particularly
Beatific in nature. They do what feels right.
It does not seem a burden. It seems a delight
To do kind acts of service most wholeheartedly
For those who are quite willing and able to care.

There’s a counterfeit goodness that makes people ill.
It’s the notion that some things are good and some bad.
As we develop labels and take to our sides,
Nothing of what is goodness inside us resides.
When goodness must rely on badness, it is sad.
It is much like a sickness brought forth through our will.

If I’m good, I’m not hungry. My stomach is full.
But the others are starving. So they must be bad.
As I pray for them, if I take righteous delight
In their suffering, what craziness makes that right?
Which goodness liberates one becomes one’s comrade.
Those addicted to goodness are steeped in the bull.

Good Karma – Bad Karma?

Simplistic Duality

There’s this notion that ‘good’ karma cancels out ‘bad.’
That is way too simplistic, so here’s the detail.
The word ‘karma’ means ‘action.’ It means nothing more.
We pour meaning into it and tend to ignore
All but our explanation, then proceed to fail.
There should be clarity when the word is unclad.

There are four kinds of action. While we are awake,
Or even when we’re sleeping, the four are at play.
Most action is unconscious, like driving a car
With one’s eyes closed. No driver would get very far
Before causing some turmoil in someone’s fine day.
If we could be more conscious, a good life we’d make.

Our actions are emotional, mental, also
Physical and of energy. Those are the four.
We seem not to control them. They make us instead
Think that something outside us is how we are led.
Were we to become conscious, we would perceive more
And become more enlightened and able to grow.

There’s no boss who’s controlling us from up above
Karma means we each have full control of our lives.
We record and we process through sensory tools.
Memory becomes blatant. We’re locked in our rules.
In a sense, we are sensory input archives
Who behave out of fearfulness or out of love.

High Spirits In Hard Times

Solace

Hard times sometimes befall us like leaves when they fall
In the fall time when color becomes nature’s form.
They can be overwhelming. When spirits are low
One can feel uninvited with no place to go.
How does one come to weather a strong psychic storm?
It may not be that easy. It hurts, most of all.

Must I learn to accept things? Is that the right key
To unlock what’s the matter and cast it aside?
It reeks of some resentment, but perhaps it will
Redirect me to some wish that I can fulfill.
Things of life that are pleasing can act as my guide.
What I want is the right path that clearly I see.

Right now is but a fall time. I’ll give it no more.
The next now I anticipate will fall in place
To complete my life’s puzzle, or partially so.
There are those who accept me. This is good to know.
Living life to fulfillment is done so in grace.
I am ready to pass through the next open door.

Do What You Love – Love What You Do

Blissfulness of Engagement

You can love what you do or else do what you love.
There’s no other alternative to living well.
Neither is of more essence. They both are the same.
Spreading into the framework of life is a game.
One need not be the expert but simply excel
At achieving the peace that all are worthy of.

People do things they don’t like and suffer lifelong.
Their commitment to duty or ill perceived need
Can enslave them to lifelessness. Is this the way
To a life of fulfillment rather than dismay?
What comes naturally will help one to succeed
At whatever is chosen. One cannot go wrong.

Doing what is allowed, one can then safely say
That comfort in belonging suffices for growth.
Doing just what is needed, and joyfully so,
Is the way to enlightenment with room to grow.
There’s no reason apparent that one can’t be both
In love with what one’s doing and with every day.

Left Nut News

Absurdity of Cyclic News

One gets news from an old fart when one is convinced
That Old Fart News is flawless by virtue of age.
Some tune into world happenings via the net
With smartphones or their laptops or some other threat.
When news causes either nausea or outrage,
I then know what it feels like to have my nuts minced.

I’m aware it’s the right nut I care less about.
It hangs well on its right side and is of less worth
Although just a tad higher. My concern is with
The forsaken left-nutted who seem but a myth.
Minor to what is major and mired in dearth,
The left nut remains hopeful yet haunted by doubt.

I take news on the left nut with no grain of salt.
Not quite like bread and butter or milk and money,
Left Nut News is of service to flesh roots of grass.
I’ll stand up to the right nut but not kick its ass.
I’m a class act, as most other organs may see
If they are made for seeing, but not to a fault.

When The Cock Takes The Crosswalk

Apparent Normalcy on the Farm

Need I hear the cock stutter to know I’ve betrayed,
For the third and last instance, some semblance of hope
That a new day is coming? E’er when the cock crows,
All the sycophant chickens make sure that he knows
He can count on their loyalty. How do they cope?
Either they are well paid or just too damned afraid.

And maybe it’s for both reasons. Who know for sure?
It becomes a big mystery not to be solved
By our imperfect system – not anytime soon.
Would our congress act if we all barked at the moon?
It’s a shame that our leaders are not more evolved.
If I think of it that way, what must I endure?

When The Cock Takes The Crosswalk, as soon he must do,
He will then be crossing at the intersection
Of justice and confinement, perhaps behind bars.
We will pay for his upkeep and tend to our scars.
As the traffic increases, the cock comes undone.
He Shall Not Cross The Street Twice though he will want to.

Wipe Your Ass, Neighbor!

The Industrial Assault On Nature

People knock on my door. They’re concerned with my lawn.
By now, I’ve got a sign up that says, “Go To Hell!”
My yard needs not a manicure. This ain’t The Hills.

Folks are hard up. I get that. They need to pay bills.
But then so do I. That’s why I’m such a hard sell.
One would think that conclusion is clearly foregone.

So, am I a good neighbor? I keep my yard clean
Of debris that blows into it from other yards.
Yet folks keep their yards well-trimmed, then scrutinize mine.
When they think it needs cutting, their looks aren’t benign.
What looms ever more ominous a house of cards
Are the yards of the toxic industrial machine.

Such an animal belches and farts like a pig.
Many people in neighborhoods throughout the land
Act the same way with misguided taste for disdain.
I spend time making content. Others think they’ll gain
From the waste air-apparent from providers grand.
The unwanted neighbor is one who has grown big.

Exam Fear

Examination Anxiety

I’m somewhat unprepared, therefore, I appear scared.
Had I known that my whole life would be an exam,
I would not have entered into such a contract
Such that fear overcomes me with stunning impact.
My life I feel as study. In earnest I cram
For the uncertain moment. Why can’t I be spared?

Flight instructors will turn off the engine in flight
Unbeknownst to the student. One must be prepared
To notice when there’s danger and how to react.
There is tension involved. That remains a cold fact.
Life and death situations are equally shared
Among all of life’s students, whether wrong or right.

Suppose that the flight teacher notices no fear
And the student performs all the actions required.
Many teachers, in kindness, would express concern
That a fear about dying the odd one should learn.
Fear as qualification should not be desired
As the keystone of learning. That’s rather austere.

Memorize and regurgitate, then make the grade.
We promulgate deception. What is the purpose
Other than to look better compared to the rest?
It’s no trick for the mindless to pass a damned test!
When someone else’s failure leads to my smugness
What a mockery of education we’ve made!

Failure in the small story can cause some lament
For a brief moment. The qualifications of
Alertness and a willingness to fully know
What it is that excites people will make them grow.
Opportunity fits like the hand in the glove
To those free of Exam Fear who live in content.

Yin And Yang

TheMagicRealist.com

For people in relationships, sometimes there’s stress.
But is there a solution? Can love be stress free?
What indeed is the nature of romantic love?
Is there spiritual guidance to make use of?
A sweetness of emotion love appears to be.
And it will be compulsive by nature’s ingress.

Nature wants to perpetuate. This is her way
In a real way, we’re coerced by genes and the flesh.
As we approach adulthood, the mind is hijacked
By the hormonal chemistry, thus we transact
In such ways that are natural. Love is a fresh
And healthy expression of most reverent play.

When the chemistry wears off, as in time, it will,
There must have been an effort to form a strong tie
To each other on a level deeply conscious.
If done so from the outset, such bonding will bless
The relationship lavishly. Nature is why
We are made to fulfill her most intimate thrill.

 Should couples remain faithful ‘til death do them part?
There remains certain beauty in living as one
For the long haul. To surrender is a good thing
For any human being. The heart does not sing
For the one who is all about self. There are none
Among those who are lovers who are of mean heart.

Dealing With Desire

Draw attention to the surreality of desire

My desire is the cause of my sorrow and pain.
I’ve heard that, but not recently. Does this ring true?

If it does, then I’m hopeless. I’d much rather be
Incorrect in recalling. It would seem to me
That there have to be teachings with a different view.
If I could get rid of desire, what would I gain?

I can’t banish desire. To do so is to die.
Contingent to my nature, it is like a sense
To expand toward the infinite through conscious thought.
If desire is unconscious, the journey is fraught
With profound disappointment and useless expense
Of the most precious life force. Can one wonder why?

  My desire is unending. Never satisfied,
It is life ever cyclic. It gives me motive
To do all that I care to, but consciously so.
People, places and things can be part of the flow
Of my conscious expression. The best way to live
Is to think of desire as a wonderful ride.

On Accepting The Dickhead

Love Your Enemies

Many people I judge ‘bad’ in some kind of way.
It’s said most of us are this way. Could it be true
That all people aren’t angels? Some are dangerous!
Most I don’t have to deal with, but is that a plus?
Those I do have some contact with can put me through
An acute anal throbbing that fucks with my day.

Why can’t I just accept them? Why not just “say yes”
Like the mouse to the mouse trap before it steps in?
That, of course, is not easy. It does take much work
To get myself to where I can love any jerk.
If I still curse them mentally, is that a sin?
If it is, then I guess I’ve got shit to confess.

Or I could take their skin off so they better feel
Everything that I’m feeling so they keep their place.
Would they become more sensitive? Probably so.
If my thick skin were missing, surely I would know
A deep sense of intensity and teeming grace.
The empowering freedom does pique my appeal.

Maybe I can achieve this most fortunate state
Of assurance that all things are as they should be.
I may be overwhelmed, at first, but I’ll succeed.
A reorganization will happen, indeed.
Would the act of rebalancing rectify me?
I may yet curse the bastards, and it will feel great!

Glue Man

Healthy, confident... dutiful living

To be told I’m a Glue Man is not an insult
Nor a face-beaming compliment. It’s just plain fact.
I cannot live my life unless I get involved.
But when I get stuck, many things left unresolved
Render my life entangled and ill a class act
Instead of liberating the wayward adult.

Is the problem involvement? It clearly is not.
My entanglement is the infectious disease.
Anything someone gives me to hold for a while
I can then not let go of. Therefore, I compile
A huge mountain upon me blanketed with trees
That I can’t see the forest for. Is my life fraught?

I am covered in sticky stuff. It’s not a sin
But I should remain mindful that I am this way.
When I carry my mountain, I do so with pain.
Making all things a pain is one Hell of a strain.
What I need is a solvent – one that will allay
My most adhesive aspects. Where should I begin?

I should drop all the nonsense about how to be.
Attachment, detachment, compassion and such are
But a complex configuration of a mess.
When I am not so sticky then I can address
The nurturing of the self so it’s up to par.
As the self begins blossoming, I am glue free.

Rights Worth Fighting For {?}

Standard Depiction of Patriarchy

If we’re doomed to identify with body parts
As but One Race, then why not did we choose the brain
Or the heart or some other part? Why sex organs
Have become for us magnets with legs, arms and hands
With one sex of more value is perfectly plain.
We worship the economy. That’s where it starts.

As it was then, the ‘go-getter’ is of value.
Everyone in the household gives him their support.
No one else is of mention except for the wife
Who looks after the kids and ensures a good life
For the more worthy workhorse. Designed to distort
Our perceptions, society has not a clue.

When we say, “He’s a big man,” has he a big heart?
It means he has a bank account fatter than most.
Women, by the mere fact that they excel at birth,
Are who we should be honoring. They are Our worth.
Yet, within men and money, we’re fully engrossed.
We make women subordinate. This isn’t smart!

What happened a while back? Many women took aim.
But, amid much confusion, the target was lost.
Women started believing that they should be men.
Do we mimic the mess and return once again
To the ways of perversion and gain at all cost?
As a society, we’ve not much depth to claim.

The front end of our culture should be consciousness.
If it’s not, then the fate of antidepressants

Will continue to be that of half our women.
When we recognize all people as equal, then
Evolution of society is immense.
The economy, and all else, will yield success.

Cocksocket Mismatch

To conflate rhetorically morality and mechanics

Someone grab that Cocksocket before it gets loose!
Lefty Lucys are legal, but only so far
As the man’s eye can stand it. Demand it, he must,
That he have full control of the whole hole. Unjust
Is the female contraption who’s not like a car.
The mechanic says there’s no such thing as abuse.

Who denies that the cock is a versatile tool?
It can brute force most stubborn things back into shape.
With the wave of the phallic wand, what was once law
Is now broke dick endangered. There must be a flaw
When every swinging dick has the license to rape.
Tools are inanimate, so how can they be cruel?

There’s a Cocksocket Mismatch. It’s not a tight fit.
There’s a sense of anxiety. Flesh is at stake,
And it’s that of one gender – the female machine.
What would happen if Spirit chose to intervene?
Of all tools in the toolbox, which one will it take
To restore what’s been settled? Why all the bullshit?

Please Don’t Go

Image of Silent Desperation

Mental maladjustment is sometimes what it’s called.
To lose all the connection to all that we know
Is to live in sheer agony. I can confess
That I know what it feels like. The mind is a mess.
It cannot function healthily nor can it grow.
In the living of life, one becomes unenthralled.

How would I comfort someone who’s feeling this way?
Simply because I’ve been through it, maybe I may
Offer some bit of clarity. All things are one.
When one cannot find within a sense of union,
A small shift in the thinking may better convey
That all are special characters in a big play.

We may all be mere pop-up’s on life’s big touch screen,
Popping in for a brief moment, then popping out.
But we all are the message we send to ourselves.
When one feels disconnected, it’s best that one delves
Into some form of practice to mitigate doubt
That the Myth Of Identity is the machine.

Every cell in The Body and person on earth
Has its duty to this life. How else can it seem?
Conscious obliteration of self can be done
In a way not so tragic, and it’s often fun.
We are not individuals. We are the Dream
Of Creation.
Don’t leave here not knowing your worth.

Heaven On Earth

TheMagicRealist.com

Can we make the world heaven? Is this a pipe dream
With an angel food topping baked in a kitchen
That is somewhat inadequate? If I think so,
Then, of course, it’s a notion with nowhere to go.
Some would tell me to dry up and quit my bitchin’
Because they see that hell is a recurrent theme.

In a way, that makes some sense. Life is not a crime.
If I could not be satisfied with how things are
Then I wouldn’t find peace with any condition.
That would be an astute point, in my admission.
If I made my own heaven, would that be bizarre?
Making heaven of myself indeed should be prime.

Heaven was made in spirit. All things are conceived
From the space that is no place yet still it exists.
Changing only the content in my life will make
Not that much of a difference. I come awake
When I alter the context of life. It consists
Of all tools that are needed for heaven achieved.

I can do the same things, but in different ways.
There are myriad ways in which things can be done.
They can be done carelessly or with mindfulness.
As our ways become multiplied, we may express
Ways of solving our problems. Heaven had begun
Long before our arrival to offer malaise.

Minutes For Health

TheMagicRealist.com

Everyone has a routine if conscious or not.
It can be one of good health or destructive ways.
Everything is the body. No such thing as mind
Nor as anything else is the body designed
As a separate entity. Worthy of praise,
The body and technology are the same plot.

It is for transformation that I’ve taken form.
As the ripples in time that I make offer change
In my present surroundings, they change parts of me
That I don’t know need changing. The body can see
On a cellular level the proper exchange
That is needed to maintain its optimum norm.

Spirit, body and mind coalesce, as it were,
Into unified consciousness. Activity,
Rest and healthy food will keep the whole self in shape.
Being mindful in selfhood is the best escape
From the ills that befall me so effectively.
When I am in alignment, good health does occur.

Right Leadership

TheMagicRealist.com

What can be called Right Leadership? What does it mean?
To the leader and leadee, are they both the same?
To some, it comes quite easily… Others, with pain.
One who is resolute and wise is to our gain.
Otherwise, in the world’s eyes, we wallow in shame.
We are hardly a model right now. We’re obscene.

We’ve been stuck in a deep pit for more than too long.
 To escape, what is needed is a special gear.
Enough force of momentum and focus of heart
In a leader can lead us out. All must take part
In maintaining the framework most of us hold dear.
Do we need the best leader to all get along?

Could we use some more pressure? Sufficient it’s not
For the depth we have fallen. It is a tough climb
To get back to the freedoms of democracy.
If we were ever there once, that’s were we should be.
Practical difficulties contingent to time
Hold us in a predicament within a plot.

Resentment And Anger

TheMagicRealist.com

I engage in self-poisoning if I hate you
Then expect you to feel badly. It makes no sense.
Thank you for this life lesson, you son of a bitch!
That’s how much concern you deserve, speaking of which,
Concern for my wellbeing despite your offense
Is my best course of action. I’ll see this one through.

It is not just a saying… an analogy
Isolated from nature. It is proven fact
That if I’m in resentment, my blood chemistry
Will begin to make toxins that will destroy me.
It is in my best interest to bless how I act
With the firm realization that I am worthy.

I can choose to live joyfully or live in pain.
Therein I have much power. My surroundings are
Not under my control. Much cooperation
And much effort I would need. It wouldn’t be fun.
Joyfulness is a concept that now seems bizarre
Yet to persist in hating you would be insane.

When the body feels pleasantly, then health is good.
If it feels very pleasantly, pleasure it’s called.
If the mind knows no tension, we say it’s at peace.
If it is stimulated, it then will release
Endorphins to support joy and keep us enthralled.
As I regain my focus much is understood.

Higher Dimensions

TheMagicRealist.com

With a sense of devotion, consciousness can rise
Far above what is normal. This path is one most
In accordance with nature, although she does not
Reveal herself that easily. Tangled in thought,
We may balk at the progress that others may boast.
Is devotion in life enough to make us wise?

Wisdom is not a measure of how much we know.
That much is a collection of figures and facts.
Devotion is intelligence of a rare kind.
The best example of it is one with no mind.
Living life can be simple performing kind acts.
Finding those to give service to is how we grow.

There’s an ocean inside every consummate soul.
Most do not have much access due to ignorance
Of the way to be simple in living life well.
When involvement with living becomes like a spell
Wherein I’m insignificant, wisdom immense
I will gain in the long run. Should this be my goal?

Setting goals complicates life. They get in the way
Of accessing the wisdom we hold deep within.
We reach Higher Dimensions without much effort,
Complicated procedure nor need to resort
To hard, rigorous study to live without sin.
Every act of devotion is as a child’s play.

Fun Filled Flavors Of Time

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s a good life! The moral revealed at the end
Of the old classic movie is reemphasized
In the smile in a short while, or falling in love
With the wonder of Being. The sunshine above
Wraps me warm with its freshness. To it I am prized.
What dessert made in heaven would I recommend?

 It’s a romp through a funhouse of utter delight.
Every sight that beholds me, and I it, reveals
Everything that is wonderful. Does nature rhyme
With all that I’ve become and in such little time?
I am confident that I don’t need training wheels.
From my viewpoint, I see that my future is bright.

Time tastes funny to me, and sometimes it is sweet.
I have not lived life long enough to harbor doubt
That the goodness in this world is bigger than bad.
Nothing much about my life can make me feel sad.
I atone on my own with no ego to tout.
My digesting is joyful, and life is a treat.

Global Guide

TheMagicRealist.com

Who believes in one nation? Believe in them all!
In this world of sensation, our experience
We judge pleasant or unpleasant. So, sensation
Is not always sensational, nor is it fun.
Stimuli from outside us, though sometimes intense,
Do not really control us. That part is our call.

We respond to sensations. We’re happy or sad
Or somewhere in-between the two. We are in tune
To the music we’re used to. Some people may feel
That what we care to listen to isn’t quite real.
We need not end up fighting nor dare to impugn
The sensations of others. That would be our bad.

We are made up of spirit – a set of ideals.
More than physical substance, we are consciousness.
If we can but explore that aspect, we can be
An enlightened and much saner a country –
One in which all are worthy of earthly success.
Any nation is only as well as it feels.

Most important to culture is finding the way
In the rhythm of living. We speak much of God
And the nature of heaven. How we feel within
Is the place where all thought and action should begin.
We need not then be guided by such a façade
As a toolbox of morals put up for display.

Other countries do consciousness better than we.
This is not such a put down. We’re good at some things.
Boundaries are inevitable in this life.
We struggle to support them, thus generate strife.
When we are of a right heart, enlightenment rings.
We need not seek for guidance on how we should be.

Lunar Return

TheMagicRealist.com

Suppose I am as real as all that I perceive.
That’s a bold hypothetical! I can’t be sure
If my being has meaning. Prue rage leaves no doubt
That perceptions perceive me. Why do I act out?
All existence to me is an ill with no cure.
If I felt any other way, I’d be naïve.

Is it because it’s Wednesday? I’m mad every day
Because days become vicious then shift into night
Then along comes the next day. All remains the same.
Life plays me like an audio/video game
So the way that I must act must be wrong or right.
Every month, when the moon howls, we both have our say.

Yet, the moon isn’t full now. Have I then misspoke?
It remains full of itself regardless of how
We on earth may perceive it. I guess that’s my point.
Tidal waves, like emotions, are doomed to anoint
Every moment that I have, except for right now
Where all meaning available I may evoke.

Destiny Design Fundamentals

TheMagicRealist.com

The design of one’s destiny is done within –
Not by someone’s agenda or tarot card deck.
The designing is done from the observation
Through perception as we come to the conclusion
That what is fundamental and truer than heck
Is that all things are cyclic. That’s how things begin.

As we come into consort with life’s ebb and flow
We partake of machinery divinely made.
And indeed we become it for but a short while.
Cycles do lead us nowhere. Is that nature’s style?
Were not life so ellipsoid, growth would be delayed.
We’re our source of geometry. We seek to know.

Everything is determined by myself alone.
It may seem that the universe moves me around
Like a cog in its clockwork. I have much control
Of how every clock tick reengages my soul.
Life becomes superficial if wound or unwound.
It is but a life lesson. I need not atone.

And we are a community – each much the same
In the ways we perceive things and form our ideals.
Our freedom is our culture. Friction is relieved
In the ways that our destinies are interweaved.
Those ways are everchanging. Designing reveals
Anything of creation that would show us shame.

A Master Plan

TheMagicRealist.com

Once, the whole world was clothed in fine Indian goods.
Always crafted with much skill, textiles was a thing
That the Indian people did superbly well.
Then, along came the British who blew that to hell.
Notwithstanding abuse at the whims of a king,
Art contained within people ain’t left in the woods.

Clothing worn by most people in this world today
Is completely synthetic or partially so.
That means it’s made of plastic. It gets in our blood
Through our soil, food and water. We wear and are crud!
Toxic microfibers, gathered data will show,
Are a world class polluter. Should we live this way?

Changing this situation can be ours to do.
All it takes is some consciousness in what we wear.
Though all are not from India, all can take pride
That there is still a model to act as a guide.
Ecological balance is placed in our care
Quite by accident perhaps to brand us a clue.