Tag Archive | spirituality

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.

The Leash

Escape from normal reality

On which end of the Silver Cord am I the pet?
And which end does the owner command some control?
Between owner and thing owned, which damned one am I?
Only when I am traveling far past the sky
Do I recall most lucidly what is my goal.
As I come wide awake here, I’m doomed to forget.

If I am not this body, am I then a probe
Self-controlled most remotely by some higher me?
People say they’re connected – the selves at each end.
The role each plays, this body cannot comprehend.
On this end I am blinded, but there I can see
How the soul makes a trap of the prefrontal lobe.

We all leave, as we slumber, the body at rest
And go wandering thither to spirit’s content.
Some will visit a hot star, examine it well,
Then, upon their awaking, think they’ve been to hell.
We’re connected to God Source. What we represent
Is the hope of creation. We truly are blessed.

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.

A Generous Gift

Uncommon Generosity

A young yogi went out to seek guidance within.
As is customary, to the forest he went.
When he needed some food he went in town to beg
Then went back to the forest, with purpose not vague,
To continue his mantra consumed in content.
Well attuned and strong willed, there is but to begin.

As the night came he noticed a disabled fox.
He was well fed and healthy but had no front legs.
The man knew nature’s cruelty so did wonder why
She’d allow this sick creature to thrive and not die.
His concern was not too great. No questioning begs
A significant answer from out of the box.

Then the sound of a lion’s roar scared him from trance.
Quite astonished he was when he saw the large beast
Leave a big piece of meat for the lucky lame one.
He was deeply moved by what this lion had done.
He came to the conclusion that he too should feast
With no effort whatever. So, he took a chance.

After several days no food came to this man.
He became weak and withered. Then nearing his death,
An elder yogi saw him. They spoke for a bit.
“Why did you choose the lame fox? That doesn’t seem fit.
Be the generous lion ‘til your dying breath.
Don’t resign to be helpless. Do all that you can!”

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.

The Definition Of Is

A caricature of Clinton, the master sophist

The past tense of will be is the now tense of was
When is has the same meaning as is always has.
Although is is of present tense, is can get past
The court of raw opinion. Need one be aghast
By how words can be worm like? Much in as much as
Is is ripe for discussion, is fits in our laws.

As is was in the first place, is is as it’s been.
Is can be unspecific and tricky a verb
When used just in the right way spoken with a tongue
Impregnated with quicksilver mixed well with dung.
If is isn’t the issue, why should is perturb
Anyone if it’s used as a tool now and then?

 Is is as it is because is always will be
Though it can’t be until is is something perceived
As a thing of some essence imagined or real.
There is something within is no sense can reveal.
When an air of confusion is rightly achieved,
The is who’s most important turns out to be me.

Re-Walk-In

Etherality Of Existence

I’ve walked out of this life many times, I must say,
Thinking each time I’ll never see this one again.
I’ll expect I’ll walk into another life, but
I’ll find soon that I’ve entered the same frigging rut.
I’d be happy if I could forget where I’d been
Until I’d reached the point where I don’t want to stay.

Yes, I’ve heard about Walk-In’s. I think it is strange
That some soul on the rebound would want to enter
Someone’s hell of a half-life. Can spirits go mad?
Or are they simply willing to be a comrade
To the soul in a tailspin? Indeed, I’d prefer
Infinite horizons as I wander free range.

Could I make this a boring life? I could well try.
How much effort it would take depends not upon
Anyone who may share my most chaotic realm,
But upon my perceiving, in life’s overwhelm,
The life I must walk into, come hell or new dawn.
As I re-enter this life, need I wonder why?

Inner Exploration

Multilayered Nature of Existence

Mysticism comes from within – not from the east.
Both the east and the west have come to conclusions
simultaneous and similar in essence.
All things are constructed of but five elements.
Earth, Air, Water, and Fire are the obvious ones
And the fifth is Etheric Space, yet not the least.

We are made mostly of Water. Life does it give
To all parts of the body. It has memory.
Our thoughts and our emotions can change the structure
Of the H2O molecule. I should ensure
That I keep mine as positive as they can be
So that Water within me supports how I live.

Earth we are twelve percent of. What’s beneath our feet
As we touch our Earth Mother in our daily stroll
Is where all of life came from. We must keep in touch
With this wholesome soul being whom we owe so much.
Keeping close to the Earth indeed makes one’s life whole.
None among all Earth’s species she deems as elite.

 We are six percent Air. The most dynamic part
Of our complex system, from moment to moment,
It keeps us most aware of each breath that we take.
We must ensure its purity for our health’s sake.
Do something aerobic. It can be infrequent.
This will cleanse well the blood and give life to the heart.

Fire is but a small part of us. We need sunlight.
That which burns within everyone is the life force.
Whether greed or compassion… resentment or love,
Every flame that exists is from the sun above.
Connecting to our Fire, we do honor our source
So that everything we do in life will shine bright.

The most expansive of the five, Etheric Space,
Exists throughout the cosmos and within us all.

How much access we have to it determines how
We align with the moment and saver the now.
To look up and give reverence is nothing small.
Within ultimate intellect we find our grace.

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.

Silicon Mind

TheMagicRealist.com

AI has been a part of our world for a while.
A digital infection of technology
Will quite soon overwhelm us and take away jobs.
Will there be consolation for whom the bot robs?
A profound transformation, most definitely,
Is what we are now faced with. Are we in denial?

We evolve from a time when we take certain pride
In how well we remember and figure out things.
Machines now do much better all that we can do.
There’s no use for the intellect. Can this come true?
Not At All! Only comfort technology brings.
We may all take vacations and travel worldwide.

We need not become lazy nor fearful that we
May become something or other not to our good.
People will value what kind of people we are
Instead of how much mental skill makes us a star.
Machines will out-perform us. Those who know they should
Will look forward to great times for humanity.

Human intelligence is of a different kind.
It remains fundamental and rather unique
In that it creates servants who then procreate
In a manner consistent with our hopeful fate.
There will be time to find what of spirit we seek.
Which is better designed? The machine or the mind?

A World Post Humanity

TheMagicRealist.com

If the insect species suddenly went extinct
All the rest of life on earth would cease to exist
In a matter of months. But if humans were gone
All of life that would remain would see a new dawn!
Putting two twos together, the drift can’t be missed.
We’re an arrogant species who’ve been out hoodwinked.

We are shown from a young age that we must survive.
That means strength in aggression toward one’s enemies
Is the way to succeeding at living life well.
If we chose to defile nature, where do we dwell?
Creation pays as much attention to the bees
As she does to our species. Who gets the high-five?

Earth will miss other creatures before missing us.
We are good for her in that we make fine manure.
Other than that, we’re detrimental to her plan.
Should we self-destruct, surely she’s better off than
If we hung around making her fresh air impure.
Violent reaction from her remains prenuncious.

Microscopic we are even in the cosmos.
Our bright sun is a tiny speck. Who then are we
But self-super-sized beings with much self-esteem?
This problem is no simple one. It’s most extreme
Because we’re causing damage. Most don’t want to see
That we are much the illness we should diagnose.

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.

Spin Yada

To Illustrate the Innanity of Process

We’re a while past the main event, yet we still play
At a game that has no end in sight, so it seems.
He who beats with Spin Yada has not a big stick.
Sophistry becomes useless performed as a trick
To protect well the guilty one. His ‘honor’ deems
That the thug is unbudgeable and here to stay.

And within the Spin Yada the truth is contained.
The pet hog with the magic wand flails it about.
While pretending to hit it, he spins it instead.
In the process, the people are sorely mislead.
Why the hog deserves ‘honor’ and is given clout
Is a thing that the people do not need explained.

The Spin Yada had broken a long time ago.
We behold an illusion performed on a stage
With a bunch of bad actors who’ve not learned their lines.
We, the audience, notice through clear, telltale signs.
It’s a sorry performance. It cannot assuage
We The People who have seen a much better show.

The truth had been our standard. It will again soon
Be what we’ve been accustomed to in leadership.
We’ve a predator nation up our sick behind
And our dick headed system should be redesigned.
The Marine is our standard. He has a firm grip
On the truth of our nation about to be strewn.

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.

Glimpses

Seeing Through the Barrier

There are two sides to meaning. It is a great wall
That puts up the big question: “What’s on either side?”
Fancifulness of thinking is some people’s way.
Others dare to be practical. What does this say
About the human intellect? Does it provide
A glimpse into things deeper in life? Not at all.

Everything that I know not, I tend to believe.
I don’t know the full meaning of what I don’t know.
What I have is this person – a complex machine.
I have not seen the user’s guide. What does that mean?
Wild excursions of my logic just go to show
That to question the meaning of life is naïve.

When I know that I don’t know, I’m in seeking mode.
I don’t know a damned thing about anything. So,
I could be carefree as when I was a small child,
Or grow older, less joyful and so self-reviled
That the only contentment that my life will show
Is belief in what I don’t know, thus growth is slowed.

Life is beyond all meaning. The guide tells us how
To commit that conclusion to our memory.
To live life to the fullest, the phenomenon
Of life I must experience. Depending on
My concoction of meaning, I choose not to see
That life is too fantastic to settle my brow.

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.

Dialogue

TheMagicRealist.com

Holy Spirit, meet Science, and Science, likewise.
There is time for discussion… eternity too.
Speak of things of this world and how they interact
With the things of the cosmos in theory and fact.
Do the things that we think about have much to do
With expanding beyond knowledge seen with our eyes?

The brain is a computer, in that it’s a tool.
Made of neuronal networks, it is but a part
Of the Whole self. The deeper self it cannot reach.
It controls the identity who will beseech
All the skill of the intellect like a fine art
Yet the part that the art plays is quite minuscule.

Even now, we can make brains much smarter than ours.
Surgeons, teachers and diplomats will be replaced
Soon by androids, efficient beyond our control,
So that we can kick back and take care of the soul.
What would be the significance were this embraced
Against our present backdrop with visible scars?

That future may unfold for us if we’re still here
And the earth hasn’t marked us as a lethal threat
Or a serious nuisance to her existence.
She does respond with violence in her self-defense.
We may delve into consciousness with no regret
Wherein we may address some root issues like fear.

What then is evolution? We were the machine.
Then out of great necessity, we look within
To find ultimate meaning. Our being human
Will demand not much doing. Could this be the plan
Of the conscious collective infecting earth’s skin?
Is it worth our considering futures unseen?

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.

Pluperfect Precognizance

To suggest writing being channeled to earth from spirit

I continue to write even since I am gone
From the earth plane. Explaining this I can well do.
All of time is eternal. I write from a place
That knows nothing of substance nor wanting for grace.
That this world is both here and there is more than true.
I will do my best writing where it’s always dawn.

And it ain’t always dawn here on this wretched earth
With its lethal life lessons and lead-laden laws.
Here is my remote office. There is where I live.
While I’m out on assignment, my best I do give.
All the work I am given is of the First Cause.
I compose in contentment until my rebirth.

As the soul disengages from this earthly plane
And I yield to due process, my words dissipate,
Like the flesh I have borrowed and things I have done,
Back into the whole clockwork where all had begun.
Nothing said is immortal. Should this be my fate,
Life becomes an enigma. There’s nothing to gain.

How do I reconcile this? Or is there the need
To make meaning from meaning? My recycling will,
For the most part, eliminate work that is bad
In the viewpoint of others. Had I a comrade
In consumption, perhaps that does improve my skill.
Counterparts in eternity do intercede.

The Storm

Evoke awareness of the current political climate

When at last will this storm pass? It’s acid-like rain
Eats away at my mood swing. A simple flatline
Has been cast into turbulence. To be seasick
Amid faint, rumbling thunder and words that are thick
Clouds that offer confusion is of whose design?
That, of course, is my choosing. I cannot complain.

Back when I was a sailor, they gave people pills
To more easily cope with the random motion
Of the steadfast and mighty home known as our ship.
Would it make a difference were I to equip
My soul with some salvation by having some fun
As the wayward commanders configure their wills?

Every ship needs a captain as well as a crew
That is shipshape and sober and plays by the rules.
Being that we don’t have one, can we stay afloat
And maintain our direction in waters remote?
Those who now are in power will go down as fools
And the storm that exists now will simply blow through.

 

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.

Why All The Frigging Space?

TheMagicRealist.com

There is space between everything – big things and small.
Were all space nonexistent, what then would remain?
Everything would be shrunk down to minuscule size.
Mass and energy would don a different disguise
But in terms of expansion, there would be no gain.
Self-contained Singularity… Does this enthrall?

It Should Not! It’s a notion for purposes of
Entertainment by threading the mind through the eye
Of the needle traversing the fabric of thought.
It is with exploration true knowledge is sought.
There is much more space than any thing else, but why?
Would I be disrespectful if push came to shove?

I’ve been told that the reason there is so much space
Is because it provides room. Much room with a view
Into infinite vistas is what we behold.
Matter is but the framework for journeys untold.
Is there room for improvement? What more can I do
To add something of value to my human race?

An Incredible Thing

TheMagicRealist.com

Children can be unruly without lots of space
Free of smoke and pollution and filled with bright light.
They can tell us what’s good for them. We could well learn
By means of trial and error. We needn’t be stern
In supporting their learning. Their keen appetite
For what life has to offer is our saving grace.

We consider the child who is troubled somehow.
Perhaps he has been orphaned and lives with some folks
Who are not well prepared to look after his needs.
He may act out in turn with unsociable deeds.
With disruptive behavior, the need is to coax
What is hurt in the child’s heart so love he’ll allow.

Gentle handling with a sense of warm loving care
And perhaps yoga practice in some simple form
Will do much to transform children who’ve gone astray.
We are best in supporting our children this way.
Would society flourish if this were the norm?
Our children are as healthy as we are aware.

Falling In Love

TheMagicRealist.com

I free fall in complete space. My life do I share.
Darkness is a cool warmth punctuated by light
Of a rarefied nature. I am meant to be
In consort with all goodness between she and me.
We’re not risen in loving as our souls take flight.
Unless something of me falls, there’s no love affair.

I’ve collected who I am for such a long time.
There is much to hold on to but much to let fall.
I know that in the falling, I’ll be that much more
In attune with the wants of the one I adore.
The expression is meaningful and a good call,
Being that, as I’m falling, I’ve no will to climb.

Someone else has become more important than me.
I do find it delightful and much like a spell
That is cast from a bigger source. So, with due grace
I succumb to my falling and fully embrace
Any space where my true love and I freely dwell.
Myself as just one being I no longer see.

Embrace Life

TheMagicRealist.com

God is all things in all ways imagined and not.
The existence of all beings merge into one
And become animated while yet standing still.
Every conscious experience adds to the thrill
Being supreme exuberance never begun.
What we know as divinity cannot be taught.

God becomes every human and wild and tame beast.
In all ways multiplicative, dichotomy
Is the mode of expression divinity knows.
Oneness is all-inclusive. Perceived highs and lows
Shift the focus from oneness in the quest to be
All there is to one’s being one may know the least.

Stillness, intoxication and exuberance
Are divinity’s attributes most clearly seen.
What we behold in nature and our complex lives
Is a part of the absolute. Being revives
The process of existence. Unlike a machine,
It exists through eternity. Need it make sense?

Nmemoir

TheMagicRealist.com

“Bridge Freezes Before Road Surface” – That’s Been My Sign!
Although not to my liking, it has served me well.
It’s been easy to recall. Had I not been born,
Then at least I’d have had that sign, not to be sworn
To the animal star groups and their vicious spell.
As it came to remembering things, I’d done fine.

Somewhat subsequent nowness submerges in mist
As the signs of perceived times emerge from the past.
But what creates illusion is immune to sense
While it does at the same time come to our defense.
When commencing life hacking the trite trick will last
Like an imperfect fragrance with a psychic fist.

Is a life worth remembering after it’s gone
Even though when alive here it offered not much?
My technique is a riddle. My life does it speak.
It is original. In a word, it’s unique.
Words can often be forceful while soft to the touch.
Would I care to be recalled as part of a yawn?

We are all Magic Realists. We each have our rhyme
And our ways of arranging words. Some call it style.
Yet whatever we call it we tend to recall
Many parts of the big picture, then make them small.
I am learning to not live in doubt all the while,
By considering if I am wasting my time.

Beyond Right And Wrong

TheMagicRealist.com

Far beyond the dichotomy of right and wrong,
There’s a place to negotiate. I’ll meet you there.
In relationships, is that place called acceptance?

Rumi was quite the wise one. He breathed common sense.
Well in tune with the mystical, he had a flair
For expressing what’s hard to express like a song.

Love is one way to get to that space in-between
Our liking or disliking all that we behold.
But it is not the only way. It is but one.
Engaging with the texture of life has begun
In the moment one’s journey is left uncontrolled
By contingent discernment in all that is seen.

To be righteous, behaviors are scrutinized well.
To function in society, this is a must.
If one cannot discriminate, he’ll not succeed
In a world overcome with a measure of greed.
Is it wise, then, to nurture a strong sense of trust
In a world that can only be heaven or hell?

To succeed in one’s inner world, one must let go
Of all thought and emotion – all attachment to
That which causes selection to be the journey.
It is the destination one must clearly see
As devoid of duality. Can this be true?
Wise ones who’ve gone before us should very well know.

A Better World

TheMagicRealist.com

We can change how we do things… How we work the land,
How we clothe, feed and school ourselves, and how we think.
This green earth is no baby, nor is this country.
Opened eyes and pure senses are all they can be.
We revisit the grim thought that we’re on the brink
Of some kind of catastrophe lethal and grand.

It’s better that we do so. At least we’re aware
On some level that this world is not in good health.
Now, the way things are done – nothing short of abuse –
Borders on what is violence. What’s the excuse
We too often come up with? It clearly is wealth.
We mistreat what sustains us and don’t seem to care.

Populations will migrate as wealth remains held
In a handful of areas scattered worldwide.
The news does not report the thousands of lives lost
Anymore. They’re not wanted and not worth the cost
Of the world’s close attention. In vain they have died.
No one mourns in the country where they’d been expelled.

Savage issues require solutions of peace
Wherein we are inclusive in action and thought.
The mindset of exclusion keeps us separate
From connection to all things, much to our regret.
What could happen to our world if peace is not sought?
We shall know, as time plays out, which problem will cease.

…As It Should Be In Heaven

TheMagicRealist.com
Life, according to Plato, reflects the ideal.

This world is but a replica of the real thing
That exists in the abstract as perfect and whole.
Here only is the body – both places, the soul.
On this side, it’s a chess game. Those who would be king
Know that their wills are done on earth, yet it’s surreal.

Folks have called it a barrier; some… a thin veil
Separating the two worlds, both mother and child.
Some can see somewhat easily the other side.
Others won’t see. Indeed, if they did so, they’d hide
That from everyone, fearing they may be reviled
Just for being so gifted. Why such an odd tale?

When we speak of The Kingdom, which one do we mean?
There is only one ideal one. It’s in us all.
All we need do to know this is to look within.
If we do that, might we shed concern about sin?
A significant change in the soul’s protocol
Yields a glimpse into heaven that was yet unseen.

Matter Of Heart

TheMagicRealist.com

If I feel I’ve been cheated, I’m in a bad place.
Yet, that’s just what has happened. Should I go to war?
I’ve the right to seek justice for what has been done.
I can’t promise that I will not harm anyone.
In my blind, mindless rage I must even the score.
I’ll exact some remorse and do so with no grace.

As I replay this monologue, like déjà vu,
Can I see what is happening as a program
That I coded my damned self? The mechanics speak
Louder than any morals the pure heart may seek.
People do as they please, and they don’t give a damn
For the heart that is broken from lack of clear view.

Morals and life’s mechanics seem always at play.
What has broken is an understanding. That’s all.
People misunderstand things as par for the course.
I can learn to accept that or live with remorse.
Am I not a whole human? How then did I fall
For the myth that some other will brighten my day?

Creator and Creation – This relationship
Is the one most important. It is absolute!
Those with humans can’t be so. They’re subject to change.
I could hook up with dead folk, but that would be strange.
Should I thank the damned bastard and yield a salute,
Or just carry on smartly and not give a rip?

People are free to live life. I’m free to live mine.
It is then most acceptable that I find peace
In the knowing that in growing complete, I’ll be
Most attractive to those most in common with me.
There’s no such thing as cheating. There’s only release
From one’s own self-undoing. All is well and fine.

Culture Beyond Compare

TheMagicRealist.com

Cultures differ in ways in which time is perceived.
Westerners think of life on earth in terms of time
Left to do things and gather things while we’re still here.
By the time death approaches, we cower in fear.
I am here, but I’m mortal. It seems like a crime,
Therefore, I seek a system that is well believed.

The way some other cultures look at the whole thing
Is that life is a process. When we are aligned
With the Cosmic Geometry expressed as God,
We become full of life. Now, to some, this seems odd.
If large groups could achieve this, would they be more kind
In relations with others? What hope could this bring?

The skill of a good teacher to bring down to earth
Principles of the cosmos is something valued.
Any form that has motion can’t exist without
The same force animating all, without a doubt.
All in all, with these simple facts, I may conclude
That immersion in culture is something of worth.

The significance of being human is that
We can all come to know this. We may find relief
In believing that death is another name for
Life unknown past a certain time. Could there be more?
We cannot know the answer. This is our belief.
Fear is all that our culture would need to combat.

There’s A Fly In The Soup!

TheMagicRealist.com

There’s a fly in the soup! Is there much I can do?
I don’t feel quite like eating now. Who the hell would?
Yet, you say with a poker face, “Just scoop it out,
Then the soup will be edible.”
I have great doubt.

Scooping out every bit indeed does the most good…
Then, sandblasting the soup bowl ‘til it becomes new.

But, not even a clean bowl am I ready for.
That my fast waning appetite for common sense
And some truth and civility can’t be ignored
Is the number one reason options are explored
For alternative nourishment. Screw the suspense!
When I’m served what’s not wanted, I don’t ask for more.

The fly and all its maggots and compromised germs
Make what was once a good meal something become foul.
But what will die of hunger is only my fear.
I can feed myself elsewhere. Thank God that that’s near.
In that place, I’ll not hold my nose and wear a scowl.
I, the ultimate chef, shall prepare on my terms.

Self-Transformation

TheMagicRealist.com

Any change worth one’s going through offers the chance
For the growth of the spirit. The mending of ways
That have not been as useful in reaching our goals
Is a personal process no one else controls.
Is it appropriate then to give ourselves praise
In the midst of a most transforming circumstance?

No matter who we are – how accomplished or strong
on the path we have chosen – no success is found
Without some sense of grace in our arrogant lives.
One can be most successful if one simply strives
To become more accomplished at standing one’s ground
In a world all believe in and were all belong.

What Is Self-Transformation? It’s changing the way
We, in each given moment, affect what is real.
What will make oneself a wonderful human soul?
To answer this correctly is not quite the goal.
It’s the quest in the questioning and how we feel
That can bear ample witness and brighten our day.

Dance Of Creation

TheMagicRealist.com

All existence is Dance. That which we call divine
Is the cyclical motion in all that exists.
Circles have least resistance, therefore does the Dance
Of the boundless creative force give us a glance
At the knowledge cohering a world that consists
Of too much to make sense of… And by whose design?

In the words of the physicist and the mystic
There is similar meaning. Nothing makes much sense.
But when observed closely enough, one will then find
That there is a deep system to process designed
For no logical purpose but to be intense
To the lucid perceiver most realistic.

Must I learn how to dance well on God’s ballroom floor?
Would I worry that we’d step on each other’s toes
On the outset, and thus cause some embarrassment
To myself or to others in my discontent
With how well I am doing? The best of me knows
I must Dance… or just watch the Dance. There’s nothing more.