Tag Archive | social commentary

How Big Is Your Dream?

TheMagicRealist.com

Yes, I do have a dream. And it’s bigger than me.
It’s so big it will be there way past my lifetime.
Knowing that I’ll fulfill but a small part of it
Is the best way that I know to keep my mind fit.
What occurs well outside of me cannot begrime
Any part of my big dream. Its size is the key.

It is more than a blessing things don’t go my way
All the time. That would be just an absolute bore!
But, besides that, life helps me to engage my dream.
Too much life must cooperate in the extreme
Just to make the world something that I world adore.
What goes on in my heart and soul… I have full say.

So, how big is your dream? Does it satisfy you?
If it does, then it’s too small. It will be fulfilled.
Or it won’t. Either way, life will offer you more.
Life is only a nightmare when lived like a chore.
You may not need a guru nor one highly skilled
To help you with your big dream. That’s for you to do.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!

TheMagicRealist.com

Hey there, Sam! Is that you?
We’d thought that your partner would stay ever true.
Compromised before our eyes… Entrapped within white petty lies…
Most women know that they will pull us through.
There’s only one thing that we’ve left to do.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to make you feel that you will survive.
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We can pre-celebrate because there’s no time for waitin’.

Sammy boy, you’re the one
Who’s personified us since our fate had begun.
We can feel discontentment. We know you do too.
…Woken up from a wild night, we’re all feelin’ blue.
You done married the bitch! He done gave you the screw! So…

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to give you courage to carry on.
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
Pretty soon well be votin’. Much time is worth devotin’

…To talkin’ ‘bout livin’ lives in much better ways.
Until now we’ve been caught up in malaise.
Fairly soon we will see better days.
But we’ve got to care enough that we pull this thing together

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
It’s like nothin’ else to make you feel that love is alive.
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
Leadership of a woman could well make our nation thrive.

Talkin’ ‘bout things like thick ceiling glass
That had almost been broken but for some world class
Operation that lead to the major impasse
That befalls us, a woman may well kick some ass.

We’ve got to hook you up with one who has been around.
There are plenty of good ones. Indeed, they abound.
She may show you that what has been lost can be found.
Sam, it’s time to listen to a different sound.

We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We Gotta Get You A Woman!
We Gotta Get You A Woman!

And after we do, we may live life anew.

The True Joy Of Eating

A good question to ask you is… How Do You Eat?
Yes, your heard this correctly. How do you connect
With what you put inside yourself. Do you make peace?
Or do you stuff it quickly so hunger will cease?
With a heart of devotion and utmost respect,
The food that we eat is meditation complete.

Food prepared is for plenty. Abundance clearly
Is the mindset of those who are willing to serve.
Give and take is a clockwork of eternal grace.
Idle chatter is useless. Silence we embrace.
Eating is an experience we can preserve
As an act of communion with divinity.

Wholesome food is made simple. As drawn from the earth,
It retains ample lifeforce. In humbleness then
We return what is waste to the soil whence it came.
Interacting in consciousness is but our aim.
Those who’ve eaten will clean up – both women and men.
Everyone has a fulfilling sense of self-worth.

A Small Measure Of Balance

TheMagicRealist.com

We’re the ‘Crown of Creation.’ I’ve heard that before.
It’s no rumor, hogwash nor misguided belief.
Many millions of years have resulted in this
The evolved human mind placed above an abyss
Where it must become balanced, or life becomes brief –
Not because of the fall, but because we keep score.

We all have the same brain matter. Why then do some
Find their genius delightful while others feel pain?
Is intelligence higher in those who feel good?
Is there magical influence not understood
By those who may be driving themselves quite insane
When through misguided action no progress will come?

It is balance or lack of it. That’s what is taught.
And it comes from the knowing that I am the one
And the only one who is in charge of my life.
If I try to blame others, I will welcome strife.
This suffices as balance. New life has begun
When from this simple premise no pity is sought.

Lefty Lucy – Righty Tighty

TheMagicRealist.com

There was once only monochrome. Called black and white,
Every spot on the CRT was off or on.
The electron beam painted, with raster sharp force,
Every other line interleaved so to endorse
Double composite imagery. What an eye con!
Left to right, as the eye scans, it knows not of sleight.

Right to left is less often the way we believe
That perception should be read or well understood.
Rightness can’t coexist on both ends of a scale.
One will rebuke the other. Conflict will prevail.
Leftness is like the darkness, in all likelihood,
That the beam cannot visit nor can it perceive.

A mnemonic appropriate to here and now
Clearly is indicated so we redefine
The depiction of color in technical grace.
Right and left are now concepts we need to replace
With ones more systematic by nature’s design
Where one needs no schematic to simply allow.

If I call you a lefty, does that mean I’m right?
And if I’m called a righty, is that from left field?
There is one kind of spectrum we need not reveal.
It’s the one that is based on the way that we feel.
If we censored our labels, would all hearts be healed?
It would seem there’s no alternative but to fight.

A Much Better Story

TheMagicRealist.com

The old up and down mood swing thing is a device
Like an ink-filled contraption ordained to release,
For the writer accomplished and of nimble hand,
Its darkness upon whiteness. Though not a demand,
Both machine-like and cyclic, they merge into peace.
If my words can release me, should that not suffice?

That it brings satisfaction is function at worse.
And at best, it may be of some value to some
Who are like me – a mood swinger extraordinaire.
Tragedy entertains, and I’m willing to share.
Clearly it is a safe way to best overcome
What, in mental health circles, would be called a curse.

I don’t write from delusion. My shit is for real.
Were it not, then what part of whose psychotic mess
Have I assumed in essence? Indeed, I make sense,
To myself and to others without much expense,
Of that part of existence I seem to possess
By exposing it and all that it may reveal.

Neverlanduendo

TheMagicRealist.com

Never mind that he’s dead now and has been for years
We continue to judge him for acts he has done…
…Or has not. Much uncertainty is what remains.
Any truth worth uncovering, nothing explains
So to do so brings answers. Debate had begun
Because we are obsessed with sex and children’s fears.

Never landing in right ways as we fall to earth,
Taking off points must differ among all of us.
We all need to be children. He had not the chance.
Children don’t have sex feelings. They don’t know romance.
How a man can be childlike is what gives us fuss.
Does our wild speculation preclude our self-worth?

Never fear that the truth will come out in the end.
That will take may eons. We will have moved on.
Close encounters with children must be scrutinized.
Interrogative processes must produce lies.
Never willing to question what doubt we may spawn,
Can we reconcile bashing what’s left of a friend?

“Disturbing… NOT Surprising”

TheMagicRealist.com

Should I leap from a pot into obvious flame
Just so talking head news folk and brilliant experts
Will stop sating the obvious with sarcasm?
And they don’t seem to have much enthusiasm.
Disturbing is surprising, as long as it hurts.
Have ‘disturbing’ and ‘boring’ become quite the same?

What a fine thing to get paid to sit on your rumps
Before cameras and people to fart from the face
Your opinions on tragedy and status quo.
Spell that shit to your family. They ought to know.
All the hellish news is worth some verbal disgrace
But if it’s not surprising, how still the heart pumps!

People dying in plane crashes all due to greed…
How severely we’re sodomized all from within…
These are mere talking tidbits ‘til more breaking news.
Can’t we clean up our language so it won’t abuse
And lull into complacency our will to sin?
When the water gets too hot, then will come the need.

Transformation Through Annihilation

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s the Mars-Pluto dance. There’s some danger involved
On a regular basis between parts of me
That are both hyper masculine and most intense.
Just because I can know that, I claim no defense
For my violent eruptions. At times I can’t see
Any way but destruction to get problems solved.

That’s a rat-trap-glue bummer! So, this is my fate?
There’s a nice guy somewhere buried deep in my rage.
Yet, unconscious to me, he also gets pissed off
Over strong indignations that others will scoff.
What is ego and what is not plays out on stage.
Would it be hard to say I’m acquainted with hate?

The two can be good buddies, but not in my chart.
And, because they’re in fixed signs, much focus is spent
On how to ignite dynamite effectively.
I need some kind of outlet to rectify me
That is wholesome and physical and heaven sent.
It’s one hell of an aspect to evolve the heart!

Osiris, On Papyrus

TheMagicRealist.com

We are three deities of Egyptian belief
Who, way back in our time, had not much to write on.
So, my fine colleagues Isis and Horas and I
Took a vow of importance, in that we would try
To come up with both topics and stuff of some brawn
To facilitate permanence and banish grief.

We invented papyrus, though I took the lead
Not because I am special, but that my name rhymes
With this fine plant we cultivate organically.
So, it syncs with the title, as you can well see.
It’s eternal. We need not keep up with the times.
When papyrus is written on, it’s a good read.

If you don’t have papyrus, though, you need not fret.
Heartfelt thoughts can be placed on plain paper instead
…Or perhaps on the background of your consciousness
Where it may become lost in the cluttered thought mess.
My advice to you is get what’s locked in your head
Out on something, as long as it is not a threat.

Past And Future Lives Of Children

TheMagicRealist.com

Sometimes children will speak of a life lived before
They became part of this life. It gives people pause.
They’ll recall how they died and what killed them and such.
Some become quite insistent and we don’t pay much
Of attention to their stories mostly because
We think that they are made up of folly and more.

We don’t have to believe them and neither do they.
Whether true or not makes not a big difference.
Nature’s veil is designed to cocoon us from all
But the present and this life. Our focus is small.
If we recalled our past lives, turmoil would commence.
The torrent of confusion would cause great dismay.

It’s a good thing that children forget who they were
Before they became who they are now. So, in time,
Memories of the lives lived before dissipate.
We then focus on this life and what we create
So that getting through this life won’t be a hard climb.
We succumb to the circumstance that we incur.

Farting Your Way To Awesome Mental Health

TheMagicRealist.com

I Can Fart, and that’s something! Though I’m not the best,
I would be a good mentee to fart paragons
The world over, who fart with unfettered finesse.
And with the first amendment, I’m proud to express,
Either butt naked, or wearing rugged nylons,
What my innards have been through. In that, I am blessed.

I remain fire retardant. I don’t feel the heat
As I rip the air ragged while blasting my horn.
I can be quite the nemesis of CO2.
It will run out before I can fart ‘til I’m blue.
And I get much fulfillment. I feel I’m reborn.
I do take proper time to wipe soot from my meat.

I’ll admit I am powerless over most things.
There’s no soapbox to stand on to make people hear.
I don’t need to be listened to. Freely I break
Enough wind to set time aflame. Make no mistake,
It takes patience to process and to digest fear
And all manner of discord that life often brings.

Thank God There Are No Flames

TheMagicRealist.com

I do have gap insurance. I am in good hands.
There is no crash-and-burning that I won’t survive.
Populated with anguish, souls acting in vain,
Like the world is a friendly place of loss and gain,
Have come here on a mission to just stay alive.
One small sliver of hope one rarely understands.

But at least there’s no flame nor the searing of flesh
One can say that accounts for the pain that is felt.
That which generates heat comes only from within.
And without an escape from original sin,
Does it matter the least bit which hand I’ve been dealt?
Agony through the lifespan is doomed to refresh.

It remains a harsh semblance of purgatory.
Scripting of revelations is acted out here
In this physical world I have custody of
And where I must proceed with a tough fisted glove.
I’m consumed in the depths of it. What do I fear?
…That it could become eternal? That could not be!

Programmed Obsolescence

TheMagicRealist.com

Who accounts for the elderly absent at home
That is earth and society? There is no one
But the family, if I were trapped in that way.
Far much worse, I have consciousness and will to stay
Just a little while longer. My time is past done.
My Programmed Obsolescence does cleanse the genome.

The objective accounting subjectively done
Will examine my assets then come to assess
My depreciation as accumulated
Over too long a lifespan of sorrow and dread.
The one character defect I need not confess
Radiates like a beacon to warn everyone.

Keep away from me, new world, I will do my best
To detain my detachment and preface my pain
With a footnote to contemplate from whence I came
To create such a nightmare where I am to blame.
Since I don’t recall having been driven insane,
I’ll assume that I am so at my own behest.

The Dirt On Our Clinton

TheMagicRealist.com

A heartbroken scapedonkey with dirt on her back
Stands alone and recalcitrant to public show
All because of the video game that we play.
Finding dirt on our leaders can brighten our day.
As the searching is aided, opponents will go
To extreme lengths to engage in lethal attacks.

The assaults, often vicious, leave nothing revealed
But much talk and conjecture yet nothing of truth.
All the while life keeps happening. There’s no mistake
That the drama befuddles us, and for the sake
Of induced sanctimony, we show to our youth
In the worst way that our nation needs to be healed.

Our fine system of government is a machine
Made of people by people. It has not a mind
That is single and unified. Is this the case?
I do not know the answer nor can I embrace
The collateral damage. I won’t become blind
To the dirt that becomes us. When will we come clean?

Compassion

TheMagicRealist.com

When you are not identified with anything
Then you will become virtuous absolutely.
Only then you are capable of compassion.
If in some way you’re biased then you will have none.
You can be most compassionate genuinely.
It exudes from the heart in a loving wellspring.

I can be sympathetic to a certain cause.
Can I call that compassion? It’s compassionless.
The root word here is passion. It means energy
In the form of behavior that’s not about me.
I am somewhat deficient in that, I confess,
As sometimes in attempting, I wait for applause.

All encompassing passion about everything
Precludes pity or sympathy for anyone.
Everyone is as oneself, and life is a breeze.
One becomes an example that everyone sees
As a person of virtue. It’s not a reason
To become self-appeasing. Just let the heart sing.

A Person Of Morals

TheMagicRealist.com

Everyone wants the best one to be at the top
Of the chain of ideals to which all good aspire.
We may think we are good, though we lose perspective
With the life that surrounds us who are effective
As a minefield morality steeped in crossfire.
We can’t all be as preachers. Somewhere it must stop.

That which invents morality is based in fear –
Something that the fine intellect could put at ease.
We would become wild animals without our laws
Which, derived from our morals and mad flapping jaws,
Form the basis for people to do as they please
Just as long as their acts are both benign and clear.

We are much like the animals. In that we may
Put them in exaltation without meaning to.
In the ways we are different, we should take note
That they don’t live by morals. That way they devote
Every bit of awareness on just what to do
To steer clear of illusion and have a good day.

Venus And Mars

TheMagicRealist.com

There’s a thing about gender folks tend to get wrong.
People mix it with sex and get very confused.
Gender is of mechanics and hardwired ways.
Sex is something that’s done to give nature its praise
In the spirit of sharing. Sometimes it’s abused.
It depends upon how well lovers get along.

We’ve all heard of the concept of Venus and Mars.
It’s often understood as collections of things.
Nice and Nasty, they’re labeled and sung to the young.
Ignorance is society’s most fluent tongue.
But the two planets mentioned are all that hope brings.
Throughout eons we’ve extracted truth from the stars.

 Nice and Nasty…  parochial as Black and White…
Conjures up silly imagery then becomes part
Of collective unconscious desire to pass
The buck of the wisdom that we might amass.
All of life is a consequence of Will and Heart
Carried out in full drama often with delight.

Harmony

Can I speak of world peace from a heart that may doubt
It could come about ever? For granted it’s true
That I must feel harmonious from deep within
Before I go crusading to cast away sin.
Even if I could do that, it belittles you
In a way that my fervor renders me devout.

Do not look up to anyone and don’t look down
On another who’s made of the same stuff I am.
Don’t put folks on a pedestal where they may fall
And do not disrespect others I feel are small.
If it’s such a tall order, is it an exam
Where I am to be noticed should I wear a frown?

I can get really pissed off and livid with rage.
Other folks also have the volition to fight
In acute preservation of identity.
Does an eye for an eye cause each other to see
That our precious illusions can never be right?
Habits formed over decades are so hard to change.

We can all live in harmony. There’s no such thing
As a global solution. All begins with me
And with each of my species. We’ve evolved thus far
Toward potential magnificence. That’s who we are.
And often I forget that. Well… Oh, golly gee.
May my emancipation help make the world sing.

TRANSACTION DECLINED!

TheMagicRealist.com

Your account has been locked! You’ve been paying your bills
And we don’t like to see it. Suspicious is that
The most recent activity these past few days
Tells us that you’ve been spending in flamboyant ways.
Don’t you know we’re your parents, you poor little brat?
We’re at service to fuck with your life for cheap thrills.

It’s too bad it’s the weekend. We aren’t alive now.
Although you may be, we cease existence at five
Every Friday, then come back on Monday at nine.
You can hold your breath that long. Things will work out fine.
Even though it’s your money, we’ve right to deprive
Access to it at anytime fate may allow.

So, you’re stuck at the cashier? TRANSACTION DECLINED!
That should get your blood pumping and loosen that bowel.

Now, just give us a call. We WILL keep you on hold
Then interrogate you with an attitude bold.
We’ve succeeded when we sense that your mood is foul.
And in step with your credit score, you are defined.

Oh, you don’t speak Tagalog nor can understand
Foreign accents uttered over bad connections
From a call center thousands of miles from your mind?
We don’t have to remind you you’re of the wrong kind
To speak with us directly, as we are the ones
Who depend upon others to market our brand.

Popularia Febrifica

TheMagicRealist.com

The most Popular Fever afflicting the souls
And the hearts of some women who’ve reached middle age
Is concern for the herbal as a remedy
For related discomfort. Some indulge in tea
Hoping that lofty promises are a true gauge
Of their product’s effectiveness and of its goals.

It can be in Pueraria if it’s the best
And exotically cared for by smart native elves
Who imprint their indigenous blessings upon
Every magical fiber from midnight ‘til dawn.
What we would call Mirific, they would not themselves.
To remember the names of things is the big test.

One can bang out an aria on a keyboard.
It could be that Pueraria is a mistake
Because taking it may wreak some havoc, at worse.
To the volatile body it could be a curse.
When it’s safe to experiment for one’s own sake
Then wellbeing for all women will be restored.

A Living

TheMagicRealist.com

What I do for a living is cast to the wind
Every breath I am given. I breathe every day.
Some may say that’s not working. It earns not a wage.
But we all are paid actors upon the world stage.
Everyone makes a living by breathing their way
To the ultimate calling that one can’t rescind.

Do we choose our professions or do they choose us
Through a whirlwind of circumstance factored from fate?
Some are so well advised as to what they should do
That they end up bewildered because they aren’t true
To their true heart’s desire. This doesn’t feel great.
One becomes in a short time an ornery cuss.

Take you breath for a living and give back your best.
The earth’s plants will respect you and give in return
What you need for maintaining. If you call that pay
Then the earth will support you in every which way.
Only if you stop breathing should there be concern.
What I do for a living is know that I’m blessed.

What Manner Of Cule

TheMagicRealist.com

When caught up in the minuscule one must take note
That a cule can minus but nothing much more.
There’s no word such as pluscule. This should give us pause.
Bigness has no derivative in grammar laws.
Among adjectives equality we ignore
As a consequence of the outlook we promote.

Many words have a culeness about them these days
Thanks in part to advances in science. There are
Cules of every variety, way, shape and form
Punctuating perceptions. They’ve become the norm.
Cule can also mean cute and cool. It’s a bizarre
Little word that means both. So, in short, it is praise.

Any self-righteous wordsmith considers the cule
A suffix of some suffrage. Narrowness takes
A long time to flush through what evolves of our speech.
Language can be machinelike. It can also teach
People how to think critically for their own sakes
And those of those who feel that they are no one’s fool.

Inescapable Ease

TheMagicRealist.com

People can suffer burnout from doing too much.
At the point of exhaustion some choose to go on
Until illness becomes a part of the whole mix.
Doctors’ pills and procedures are peddled to fix
That which has become broken. Conclusions foregone
Demonstrate how we’ve shifted from nature and such.

As is so of our bodies, the earth is alive.
Inescapable Ease is her method of choice.
As she meditates for a brief time everyday
Many creatures upon her will see it her way.
Every part of her body can feel her rejoice.
We can make what we want of our quest to survive.

Nationalistic notions devolve, in due course
Of their own lack of life force, to pathology
Of the mind, heart and spirit. So, do take the time
To invest in serenity and life sublime.
Take the load off the overworked secondary
Winding of you transformer and get with your source.

Any Jesus In Ya?

TheMagicRealist.com

Jesus is not a genie who comes from a lamp
In the form of frankincense, smoky and obscure
Nor does he hang in churches disguised as a flame.
All our vessels are magic lamps. We are the same.
Jesus makes himself known through the heart that is pure
And knows nothing of winning although he’s a champ.

Jesus was not a ‘good’ man. He pissed people off!
A major source of disruption he was to all
Who were tied to the ruling regime of that day.
Otherwise, he was wonderful. He’d often pray
And do magic by healing folks until his fall.
Anything heard about him made mean people scoff.

That he does live within us is nonsense to some
And to others, nothing could be further from truth.
All that is esoteric is rooted in fact.
There is conscious decision in how people act.
Does it make sense to seek out a sayer of sooth
When there is but one’s rigidness to overcome?

A Fatter Of Mact

TheMagicRealist.com

Is the mact of the fatter that it is in need
Of explaining itself to the mind inside out?
Keystrokes built from a mirror reflecting the soul
Differentiate sameness from parts of the whole.
Is the brain not so wired the one we should doubt,
Or the one that is normal and of a good breed?

The brain processes images like the birds fly.
All of one mind, in unison, they are a force
Of unfettered fluidity. Some break away
On their own and quite often. So, who is to say
That the way people see things, as matter of course,
Is a lethal indictment that they can’t deny.

People see eye to eye only when they want to.
It’s a free will decision. We can educate
And in turn seek our own knowing from the vast whole
Of an in-touch humanity. What is my goal?
Could it be just to say things and stir up debate?
Intent moves me to action and will to pursue.

Undying Devotion To Life

TheMagicRealist.com

The new baby is home now. She’s such a delight.
The old home is made new again. All is aglow.
Just to hold her is heavenly. A magic charm
She becomes to the family. She will disarm
Built up concern about her that she shouldn’t know.
Through our focus upon her we do what is right.

As she’s seen as the highest lifeform in the home
All around are enlightened. Wellbeing takes hold.
New life makes the world healthy. Can this one debate?
Anyone who would do so is mired in hate.
The birth of an idea innocently bold
Is the chance for fulfillment and freedom to roam.

Earth gives birth to all living things. This we all know.
Can we call ourselves ‘precious?’ Why even go there?
Keep the bullshit subconscious and buried with Freud
Because when that stuff surfaces folks get annoyed.
The earth is super-consciousness, just to be fair.
Our devotion to living makes living things grow.

Asleep At The Urinal

TheMagicRealist.com

Stay awake, my old friend. You seem lost in a trance
And your hard, heavy breathing is almost a snore.
It does take a long time for that bladder to drain,
But at least it is steady. There isn’t much strain.
Goodness Grace! Is this what growing old has in store?
Have I time to develop my urinal stance?

Just hang in there, old timer. It will take a while.
In the meantime, however, I’ll hang by your side.
The old plumbing is pensive in its simple task.
That it carry on smartly is all one would ask.
Since we are somewhat private, there’s no pride to hide.
Though your body may trick you, I shall not beguile.

Urinating in unison while holding hands
Is one way that a fellow can help an old friend
Through the process. While daydreaming, he may fall down
Then become an old geyser. You’d become a clown!
Give the man’s hand a manly squeeze. He may depend
On that firmness that only he could understand.

Rainy Days And Mondays

TheMagicRealist.com

…Talking to myself but feeling sane.
Some days there is no sun.
Does that mean I can’t have fun?
…Stuck for a while, but it doesn’t cramp my style.
Rainy Days And Mondays Always Make Me Smile.

What I’ve got I would not care to know.
People mostly don’t like rain.
I delight in the mundane.
Is this exile? Then so is my Facebook profile.
Rainy Days An Mondays Always Make Me Smile.

…Funny but it seems that weather can’t be predicted with ease.
…Nice to know there’s human error.
Unrequited flames may rekindle as raindrops concede to appease.
Solitude is the preparer.

It’s a blessed day. I could not ask for more.
People tend to stay inside.
With their own stuff they’re preoccupied.
I am an isle. It doesn’t mean that I am hostile.
Rainy Days An Mondays Always Make Me Smile.

No Toga Yoga

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s been vogue to take yoga as something to spread
Like a condiment onto the cusp of the soul.
Yoga is something once taught by only a few.
Nowadays anyone with a promise will do
For attaining enlightenment. This is the goal
Of the one who is captive inside of one’s head.

It is quite irresponsible to seek someone
Or some book or a video. These are the wares
That evolve because people must sell to survive.
Some may be underhanded with will to connive.
Yoga takes much commitment from the one who cares
That the practice embarked upon won’t be undone.

The industrial era gave birth to great change.
Scientific development grew at a pace
To where there was much quackery. Science became
Something scoffed at tainted. This brought science shame.
Clarity and strict discipline has regained grace.
Now there is much consensus on what is called strange.

To be calm in the spirit and have peace of mind
And of body is everyone’s ultimate quest.
But the old ones who’ve mastered this lifelong technique
Are unfortunately not who most people seek.
One proceeds well in life when one is not obsessed
With someone with a blindness who’s leading the blind.

Be Becoming!

TheMagicRealist.com

Be Becoming! The summing of all I become
Can be looked at in ways that defy status quo.
There’s no need for believing the world is a mess.
My own life force and consciousness, I must confess,
Can at times overcome me and all that I know.
I can be life its damned self or under its thumb!

 Sometimes people are speed bumps. I need to slow down
When I see others that way, although it feels right.
If I rush them, my own ride is bumpy – not theirs.
And when they reprimand me, I feel no one cares.
Surely as it will happen, I’m good for a fight
But when I get defensive, I look like a clown.

Things don’t need to be taken so personally.
That is why there is passive voice. No entity
Nor subconscious collective can single me out
To remind me that I do exist, without doubt.
I shall keep on becoming, as long as I’m me,
And providing some selfhood for others to see.

Indemnity Of Class

TheMagicRealist.com

Can my class be protected form free open air
In aspect desolation? No students appear
To take in a good lesson. There’s no one in sight.
Are we well educated yet ready to fight
For what seems to be obviously so austere
That there can be no learning? Who needs to take care?

I was raised in a middle class black family.
Has this any significance? Or is it just
Digitized information fed to the class bank?
If the answer is frightful, then who do I thank?
There’s an aspect to power. It is judgement lust.
The great teacher, when I’m ready, I’ll clearly see.

We can’t all see the same way. That wouldn’t be fair.
Humankind’s evolution is steeped in process
With the creative spirit we make and we break
Any rules that we need to for survival’s sake.
Distribution of judgement is meant to oppress.
Those who have only class only have that to share.

Powerless

TheMagicRealist.com

Some cheap-suited-assed bank pawn behind a small desk
Who is one third my age has the nerve to treat me
Like the club I belong to is not worth the time.
Thanks for giving me something to process. Since I’m
To be rendered nonthreatening, then I can be
Free to curse you in ways that are truely grotesque.

One would think that your mamma knows well how you work
Like an indentured maggot. That makes her a fly
With no sense of a conscience for what it has laid.
The dried snot up your nose gives away the charade.
You are more worthless than this verse, yet I will try
To get through to the meaning and not to the jerk.

So, I’m made to feel powerless. Ain’t life a bitch!
I cannot slap the piss from your arrogant face.
Nor can I disrespect you in any damned way.
Pray that our paths don’t co-mingle on your off day.
The McJob you think highly of is a disgrace.
Your engaging their power will not make you rich.

Jealousy

TheMagicRealist.com

If my friend does not do well, then should I feel bad?
I could feel just the same if she’s doing just fine.
So however she’s doing, I am at a loss
Should events quite outside me present the coin’s toss
That determines how I feel? And do I define
All that goes on around me as happy or sad?

I’m the sole CEO of a small company.
Am I wise and efficient with management skills
Regarding my own feelings and ways I behave?
Or do others ensnare me and make me their slave?
Is it that human nature is based upon thrills
A good reason to indulge incompetently?

One point two three percent of a gene-scape we are
From the humble chimpanzee. I take a step back
When I act out or withhold in bitter contempt.
And because I am human I am not exempt
From moments of mismanagement and self-attack.
A small rip in the genes will not leave a big scar.

Sustainable Future

TheMagicRealist.com

Our ecology is not a subject in school.
It’s our means of existence. Connection we’ve lost
With what is most important – that which sustains life.
If we’d just pay attention we’d mitigate strife.
If our minds may be opened to truth at all cost
We may offer the future something that is cool.

We see most things as opposites. Ecology
And Economy are the two parts of the same
Basic function of living. Business can be kind
And compliant with nature. This shift in the mind
Would do much on our part to ward of an end game
That includes our extinction most definitely.

Degradation of soil is a most urgent threat.
We cannot artificially fertilize land
With toxic anti-substances forever more.
At some point, nature hits back and evens the score.
Soil enriches through decay, as nature had planned.
Perhaps we will outsmart her but we haven’t yet.

We see spirit and nature as separate things.
They are not. They’re combined as the eb in the flow.
Leaders must become conscious outside of self needs.
Righteousness in the heart of the leader who leads
With a sense of inclusiveness and will to grow
Is what is surely needed. Therein goodness rings.

It’s not up to our leaders alone to take part
In the business of living. We each play a role
In the work of our government. Democracy
Means wholehearted involvement in how things should be.
Through cooperation we can reach any goal.
Within every new moment there is a fresh start.

Take Care Of Yourself

TheMagicRealist.com

Whose red, white and blue uncle is drunk and obscene?
And am I without parents? Who has custody
Of the way I am feeling all throughout my day?
It is I alone who causes myself dismay.
When I choose to see clearly, much better I’ll be
At behaving and maintaining mental hygiene.

Who tells me what to wear and what foods I should eat?
No one else on earth does that. It is only me.
I would be but a mere slave if this were not so.
All that takes place within me is all that I know
So my own thoughts and feelings should be just as free
From control by whoever I happen to meet.

I’ll admit I know nothing, nor does anyone,
Of the things most external. They are of debate.
They cannot up and make me something that I’m not.
I don’t feel I’m involved in a sinister plot.
What is real for me simply is what I create
As I take care of myself ‘til my time is done.

Dummy Load

TheMagicRealist.com

So now what’s the next theory? This one didn’t work
Like I damned well expected. At least it makes sense.
I have tremendous output, but it doesn’t reach,
Through the airwaves abundant, the world I beseech.
Is there off-time reserved for the load who repents?
Any semblance of feedback for me is a perk.

When at all I’m turned on and transmitting, I feel
Like a well-tuned transceiver with standard high gain
And acute sensitivity to frequencies,
Sometimes sanguine and subtle to put folks at ease.
Could the truth be that I have been rendered insane
By believing that what I say is a big deal?

Dummy loads are transceivers who do so alone
With themselves and no others – not in the small room.
Those with voice of high wattage are heard peak to peak
By those who digest carefully all that they speak.
Feeling hot like a dummy load, does passion fume
Even though interaction is not to be shown?

I will just keep transmitting, perhaps in the blind,
And receiving what’s out there. Might I be there too?
After all, what I want is only within me.
Am I fortunate that I can finally see
The stark difference absent between me and you?
To myself and to others, I should be more kind.

How I Think Is How I Feel

TheMagicRealist.com

If I think like I give a fuck how come I feel
Obsolete in my usefulness to humankind?
Is my thinking fallacious? Does it sound profane?
With my thoughts in a bad place, ‘damned right I feel pain!
I would not be a thing to which thoughts are assigned
Nor a non-willing subject resigned to ordeal.

If I think someone’s wonderful I cannot hold
Deep resentment toward that person, nor can I think
Someone’s awful and have feelings of sheer delight
For that person. Indeed, I may be prone to fight.
But often it so happens I am out of sync
With my thoughts and my feelings. This makes me grow old.

It is this fluctuation within mind and heart
When one acts, in my judgement, not in a kind way,
Pent up feelings can’t turn on a dime and concur.
Might adjusting my thinking do much to deter
Out-of-phase oscillations that may screw my day?
I have choice in the matter. I need not take part.

Taking part in existing is simple enough
When I take not for granted all things as they are.
Life will be as it will be. I am as I am.
A possessed algorithm within a program
In a system of consciousness, I’ve not strayed far
From the nerve I am given to call my own bluff.

The Shoes People Choose

TheMagicRealist.com

When some people are wealthy they tend to buy shoes.
It’s a faint curiosity as with most things.
But for sole reinforcement it is but a farce –
An insult to the poor one whose wardrobe is sparse.
Incomplete satisfaction self-indulgence brings
To flamboyantly rich ones compelled to abuse.

Our feet must have protection. The soles must be tough
To defend well the tenderness of the bare feet.
Our lives must have fulfillment or else we will feel
That we have not a reason to deal with what’s real.
Nothing beats the reality of sheer conceit
Intertwined with our natures. We can’t get enough.

To master economics and stay in the black
Or to tread life in true work – which path is more wise?
Shoes require some polishing. They’re prone to wear.
If some look at my shoes I don’t need them to stare.
They may speak of my status. They are not a prize.
They get me where I’m going, and I don’t keep track.

Dealing With Insecurity

TheMagicRealist.com

I believe in telepathy though I have mind
To curse others who have it because I do not.
If I’m not good with social cues, why am I here?
Since I am so disabled, should I live in fear?
Hanging tight to my own tree, I’m destined to rot.
Life would be a breeze if human nature were kind.

Am I out of my element? Which would that be?
The same one that we all are suspended within?
Why can’t I see what happens the way that you do?
Are we kids on the playground where I have no clue?
I feel so damned transparent and riddled with sin.
I sequester an anger that may become me.

Is there any way out of this confounded mess
Surely of my creation? I should not forget
That I’m here to experience – not to avoid
But a measure of wonder. All will be destroyed
At some point in existence. I feel not regret.
There is nothing to gain nor lose, therefore why stress?

I’m A Christian

TheMagicRealist.com

Can’t you tell I’m a Christian? I only do right.
With my face bright and holy I edify God.
He and I are best buddies. He gives me his word
Then I act out in ways in which I had preferred
All the while feigning praises as those close applaud.
I’m a Christian, and I know damned well how to fight.

But with who am I fighting? God points out the ones
Who deserve condescension and my holy wrath.
Controlled women, more guns and straight sex is a must
Unless I’m made a preacher immune to distrust.
The direction I choose is always the right path.
I’m a bible technician whose mind has the runs.

What you do is my business, dear brother in Christ.
It’s made clear in the document, therefore repent.
We shall sing halleluiah together Sundays
Then right after revert to the usual craze.
To identify that which can cause ill content
Is a God given talent, and not highly priced.

A Danger To Self Or Others

TheMagicRealist.com

I do not what to be here. I’ll cut to the chase
And the heart of the truth about being alive.
To be made to feel gratitude is servitude
To the aspects of nature that make creatures rude.
So, how come there are apes now? Or did we contrive
Our cosmetic comparisons to praise our race?

We are doomed to the drama. We can’t get along.
Neither pair nor two dozen or whole nations full
Of a vain human species can hope to be kind
To all persons at all times. This serves to remind
Me that life has no meaning and bull has much pull.
Latency becomes blatant with numbness to wrong.

Are we bored? Then let’s argue. It’s all just a game
That we may end up making a fight to the death.
Don’t you dare disrespect me whoever you are.
I don’t like being human. That should leave a scar
On the face of psychosis ‘til its dying breath.
That I’m still here and breathing, I do take the blame.

We are locked in our corners. We each have our views
Of how things must be looked at. This is a good thing.
It will grow to infect us and hasten our will
To engage self-destruction unto nature’s thrill.
If I weren’t feeling dangerous you’d hear me sing
Like a sick sack of suds who has nothing to lose.

Successful Introvert

TheMagicRealist.com

How dependent on labels our lives have become.
Confusing exhalation with inhalation
In the midst of one’s breathing is how one behaves
When engaging delusion. It only enslaves.
One’s direction is set only by intention
But one must take the journey and celebrate some.

No such thing as an introvert or extrovert
Does exist in reality – only in thought.
Some of us feel the need to stand up and take charge
While some others are not so inclined, by and large.
So they’re not using twitter. Contentment is sought
In their own way of life with no will to assert.

No conclusions are needed to identify
What I see right before me with an open mind
And clear vision of what only I can provide.
In pursuit of the outcome, process is denied.
As I’m focused and engaged, I am more inclined
To be much more successful than fate would imply.

Forest In The Trees

TheMagicRealist.com

There’s an awfully big picture. I’m told this is so.
They do call it a forest. I only see trees.
And each one monolithic is massive and whole.
What is outside the forest I cannot control
Nor all that which is inside. My mind clearly sees
Conflagration of detail with passion to grow.

I can move about freely. I make my own path.
I may meet other travelers and test their ways.
The big picture within the big picture, it seems,
Is the one I’m accustomed to because it teems
With more that I can handle in all of my days
Pondering its beginning and grand aftermath.

Somewhat safe in the forest, I should take some care
That the trees I encounter are worthy or not
Of wholehearted attention. The world then becomes
Not an unfriendly jungle where beating the drums
Of resentment can too often get one’s ass shot.
There are so many pathways that lead to despair.

Hoboken Hobo

TheMagicRealist.com

The Hobo from Hoboken has nowhere to go
Knowing he has no future nor past – only now.
He has time to consider mistakes he has made
While all others just like him are made in the shade.
The man does not feel lazy with sweat on his brow.
And for all his hard work he has nothing to show.

He’s the Hoboken Hobo who’s broken and beat
To the pavement from competition in the race.
Certainly there are others, but he is the one
Who is seldom believed in. No growth has begun
In his long run attempting to keep up the pace
As the corporation aims to crank up the heat.

Perhaps not quite outspoken, the Hoboken man
Is a token identity too often seen
Not on billboards across our divine fruited plains
But in urban streets where disillusion remains.
Is it fair that society is a machine?
Ask the Hoboken Hobo who has not a plan.

Make A Decision You Won’t Regret

TheMagicRealist.com

To identify dreams, goals and aspirations
Is to be a fine citizen worthy of praise.
What I did twenty years ago is not the same
As what I’m doing now. And by that I proclaim
That my dreams may entrap me in manifold ways.
Maybe I should have heeded my wise older ones.

Take a break from distraction and influences
That surround me, and take a long look deep inside
To discover what moves me. This way, I am told,
Is the way to choose rightfully that which is gold.
Quite unlike personality fettered in pride,
My true calling is absent of all weaknesses.

When you make a decision, do so from the heart.
Personality means that persona is fused
To the person. Indeed, I must pry it away.
If I leave it stuck to me all throughout the day
It becomes ineffective and then self-abused.
When it comes to your choosing, let spirit take part.

Wake Me When The Witch Is Dead

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s a good life in Kansas. I’d rather stay here
Than be knocked quite unconscious and grabbed by the house
To be dropped on a brick road of red, white and blue.
I engage with the storyline and as I do
Its perverse, wicked witchery I will espouse.
The suspense, a surreal thing, is rooted in fear.

I would be called a munchkin if I left my state
Of alignment with selfhood and lightness of heart.
In the dreamworld we see technicolor as real.
There’s a hint of nostalgia in how people feel
About wizards who strive not to drive folks apart.
Does this tale have a climax? We’ll just have to wait.

But while waiting, do I care to watch the grass grow
Through the cracks in the pavement? That wouldn’t seem wise.
I know that the big city is glittered in green
And the folks who play games there can play rather mean.
To be bored with the world dream comes as no surprise.
Wake me when it’s all over. I may want to know.

Why Am I Stressed?

TheMagicRealist.com

Do not work, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.
You may be under pressure but make no mistake.
I will clothe you and feed you and give you a roof.
One who’d make such a promise is made of disproof.

If my thinking is heavy and clearly opaque
Is there anything worthwhile that I can then do?

Can I sit and be blissful alone in one place
For a brief march of minutes? That should not be hard.
If it is, then it means only one sundry thing.
I have not done what is necessary to bring
Simple mindfulness back into proper regard.
If the masses can’t do that, is that a disgrace?

Like the fragrance of jasmine on life’s summer breeze
I’ve no choice but to linger until lingering
Dissipates in completion of purpose assigned.
What I’m thinking and feeling are so intertwined
That I can’t blame another for what life may bring.
On that basis, can I put my stressing at ease?

Wisdom, Meditation And Bliss

TheMagicRealist.com

Mysticism means exploration into things
That I have not the knowledge of – so far, so good.
Everything that I know not, I can’t understand.
If I find one with wisdom and peacefulness grand,
Is that person anointed with true guruhood?
Is what I know that others don’t worthy of wings?

If I lost all my assets and felt quite depressed
My mind would try to trick me into true demise.
But if I held my breath for two minutes, I’m sure
That abundantly free air would act as the cure
For my habit of teetering on compromise
Of my spirit. Sometimes, it’s adversely expressed.

 The most sophisticated machinery here,
The unique human body is of pure design.
Yet it can be encumbered with high maintenance.
That appears true for most folks and seems to make sense.
Living totally means that there is no deadline
When it comes to engaging all that we hold dear.

Compassion And Virtue

TheMagicRealist.com

When I do not identify with anything,
Then in absolute virtue my living will be.
I am filled with compassion for all that exists…
Even those who, in blindness, are flailing their fists.
Only when not identifying can I see
What I may have to offer. What peace may I bring?

People are sympathetic to some noble cause.
But in being so biased, compassion declines
For all else not identified with what we love.
Therein lies some resentment. Can we get rid of
Unbecoming behavior? The heart undermines
The intent to think clearly from adequate pause.

When compassion encompasses every last one
On this planet or wherever consciousness plays
Throughout space-time and being, will we have done well?
Within every infinity chaos must dwell.
So, it does well behoove us to measure our days
As if all of creation had never begun.