Tag Archive | spirituality

Simple Pleasures

Sensual Comforts

Those who honor The Pooh perhaps have less to do
With their time than the average person these days.
Life becomes convoluted in every detail.
We must face daily duties and onward prevail.
Is the creature imagined worth all of this praise
For fat happy stupidity in point of view?

Sensual in demeanor, the earth is his home.
All he does is hunt ‘hunny’ (He’s not been to school).
Days are filled with much comfort and some adventure.
He may rub folks the wrong way, but his heart is pure
As the gold that he cherishes. Somewhat the fool,
He relies on the bliss of his carefree syndrome.

Satisfying his cravings is what he does best.
Having no inclination toward being too rushed,
He gets what he is after, though usually,
He ends up in some trouble that he cannot see
Ever coming his dumb way. Rarely is he crushed
By resulting resentment that may be expressed.

Yet he’s thoughtful and loyal to creatures he knows.
Being uncomplicated, warmhearted, and true
To the one he’s at one with earns him special grace
In the mindsets of many who gladly embrace
Anything that reminds them there’s nothing to do
But to go for the gusto after a nice doze.

Breaking Free From Anxiety And Fear

The Ethereal Monster

This world is full of sorrow, and mine is surreal.
There’s no one to support me in my time of need
Of a proper solution to my tangled mess.
Had I someone to talk to I’d freely confess
That I am rather hopeless. My case I would plead,
But I am so ashamed of the way that I feel.

Meditation eludes me. My life’s twists and turns
Make me fearful and anxious. My letting it be
Seems to make it grow bigger. Darkness has a grip
On my soul, of which I claim complete ownership.
If I don’t find an answer that satisfies me,
Then I may be an object the devil discerns.

Attention must be focused, when problems arise,
On the fact of their presence, then detach from it.
Examine carefully all the negative talk
That the pain body thrives on. Indeed, it will balk
At the notion of presence and will throw a fit
In defense of disaster with which it allies.

Fear is of a low frequency. It puts the nerves
In the rhythm of panic. While identified
With the thoughts that create it, I am not aware
That I’m safe in the moment and that I must care
That awareness and presence cannot be denied.
It’s a gift that every living creature deserves.

Well immersed in the problem, must I feel the pain
That the body responds to imagined or real?
Fight or flight is the trigger created by thought.
An awakening comes when this moment is caught.
What is real and the story can both make me feel
Much the same, so from drama I’m best to abstain.

Defiance

Platter of Delusion

You could say it’s a flesh wound, and I’d play along,
But I think that a band aid will do you no good.
Your world is devastated, and mine is restored
To some semblance of normalcy. I can look toward
A much brighter reality. No knock on wood
Is required with its stating. I cannot be wrong.

Your head, now on a platter that’s not made of gold,
Spins a rat’s nest of trickery. Can it undo
What has now become history? Loss you can’t take.
We The People have told you that we need a break
On a permanent basis from the likes of you.
News forthcoming shall reveal how much you’re controlled.

You are such a fine catch as a Russian asset,
But the era of being Putin’s foolish tool
Is approaching its ending. Your head is a gift
To the newness of order. The energy shift
To a warmer vibration is wholesomely cool.
We’ve been fucked up our dumb ass, and we won’t forget!

In that act there’s been bloodshed and stark disregard
For what makes us a nation. It went on too long.
The dull aching will die down, and that which must heal
Is our true sense of worth and the way that we feel
Having endured a raping by the lord of wrong.
Consequences you’ll suffer for keeping him hard.

Burned Out And Depressed

In the Heat of Stress

I can’t practice my presence because I’m burned out.
Around people I often find I get depressed.
I’m having difficulty and notice no change
Toward a better direction. Why am I so strange
That I can’t take direction nor can I digest
Simple teachings of spirit? I suffer in doubt.

The declarative statements that come from the mind
In an unending torrent are only concepts
That create a false story which I then believe.
If I identify with it I won’t achieve
The presence that eludes me. My frequent missteps
Indicate there is progress. My journey is kind.

Statements made can be tested by getting among
Other people, then practicing being aware
Of the body’s sensations and what it perceives
And each breath of fresh air that the body receives.
This is just the beginning of personal care
That will keep myself healthy and forever young.

Starting with the reality now in my face
That requires my attention, I must come awake
To the fact that I’m consciousness separate from
What appear to be problems I must overcome.
Can I look at the story and know that it’s fake
And become more enlightened in natural grace?

Seeing Beauty In Everything

All The Universe Is A Masterpiece

Beauty is of the feminine. People are both
In one physical package, yet one becomes more
Than the other. Unbalanced is nature’s odd ways
As perceived through the mind’s eye which can offer praise
For the dominant handedness of us. Therefore,
Everyone has some feminine to enhance growth.

Masculine is of beauty that it may behold
With emotional pleasure. It seeks to impress
Its intent and desire for the object wanted
To the thing and all noticing. Unconscious dread
Of failure in the process causes no distress.
Beauty is the encounter that’s meant to unfold.

We start out with the sense perceived life. As children,
Everything is of beauty. Our reality,
Without words to assign things, is pure awareness.
We are so filled with wonder the need to express
Is suspense made eternal. The world that we see
Is of utter connectedness time and again.

Focusing on the small things we do every day
Can lead us to the presence that makes life a dream.
The big things are just fine, too, if they fit in well
With our homemade reality wherein we dwell.
Addiction to technology is an extreme
Among many unhealthy. All lead us astray.

There are rose colored glasses that alter the mind
And can act as strong doorways through which one may peek
Deeper into awareness of utter presence.
Capable we are of creating such events
By the nature of consciousness. That which we seek
Is alignment with nature and all humankind.

Overcoming Suffering

Mostly a Matter of Mind

Constant shots of I Love You direct to the head
Where the heart is an image that needs special care
In resolving the problems the mind recreates
Is one kind of addiction among human fates.
Suffering is the byproduct all creatures bear
From birth into existence until they are dead.

A huge bit of my suffering is of the mind,
As it is with most people. Alone it can make
A big deal of a small thing, then all will go wrong.
If my positive thinking were stunningly strong,
It may cause enough shifting that I may awake
To the knowing that obstacles are rather kind.

Other problems of living I cannot control,
As they come from the outside, or seemingly so.
People dying and illness are common to all.
We encounter the big things as well as the small.
It is necessary for all creatures to grow
Through the difficult challenges to make them whole.

Thinking can’t offer freedom from having to face
Obstacles on my cherished path, Do I create
Every damned thing that happens? It’s irrelevant!
I can accept that I create just the moment
With detachment from judgment in absence of weight.
Optional is most suffering that I embrace.

Controlling Reactive Behavior

Working With The Inner Beast

From the state of New Kansas where now I reside,
Having not moved while sleeping to some other land,
I cry out to the sane ones who we’ve left behind
Back on earth with the freedom to not be aligned
With the plan of sedition. Must I understand
That my worst dreaded nightmare is courted with pride?

I’m already reactive… explosive at times
In a world that is normal, and I do my best
To remember to honor the sickness and learn
To predict the ill onset of heated concern
From a space of awareness and thus put to rest
Any kind of intention resulting in crimes.

What a lawful prescription for seizing control
Of reactive behavior! Like losing one’s bowels
At the push of a button some have access to,
I cannot let the circumstance render me blue.
The behavior red-neck-like of white men with scowls
Complements the tri-color scheme burnt in my soul.

Not quite like the Jim Jones effect, this one with ease
Has achieved mass hypnosis. But folks come half way
And some quite a bit further to highlight their hate.
Pre-convinced, they are moved to an ecstatic state
By the arrogant loser who must save their day
And be forever tied to their leader’s feces.

I must remember one thing. That is to be cool
Amid seeming collapse of my world as I know.
Justified is my panic and utter heartache.
Commonality is like the bite of a snake
To its own tail. Not knowing the cause of its woe,
It must then play the role of the flamboyant fool.

The Roots Of Anger

On the Horizon of Hate

There’s a root to my anger. When it cripples me,
I’ve but one of two choices. The wrong one results
In destructive behavior and harm to my health.
Like three ships into sunset accustomed to stealth
On the stillness of sea, the intention insults
Who I am at my best. Disturbed I mustn’t be.

Once I know where those roots are, I can overcome
How they feed through their festering into my peace.
Until then, I’m a loose cannon and a time bomb
Who may do harm to self or others without qualm.
So to heal and get past things, it’s best to release
Energy that is toxic and makes the heart numb.

The process of the healing begins with reaching
From oppressed to oppressor to let it be known
That the bad perpetrated has done the one harm,
And that one does one’s best with intent to disarm.
Asking help from the other will help both atone.
In the final analysis, it’s no big thing.

But it isn’t that way always. Deep rooted hate
Along gender and racial lines practiced worldwide
Passed down through generations is most powerful
And complex as the dickens, therefore it is bull.
Suffering is not mindful and can’t be a guide
In transforming my anger by what I create.

A Cut Through The Chase

A Reawakening to 'The Dream'

Is the chasing of wild geese more right than the tame?
What the mind will run after without a real goal
Is its own misperceptions that grow out of fear
That the ways of seclusion may soon disappear.
With no sense of direction they need the control
Of an arrogant leader who knows not of shame.

It is through repetition the con game is played.
In most rapid succession the lies that are spewed
Are the same, yet each has an ill-fated effect
On those ones of us programmed to withhold respect
For select populations. The urge to exclude
In the hearts of so many makes children afraid.

Citizens not susceptible happen to be
In a group with one label. In monochrome view,
Some enact their nostalgia for the good old days.
The intense subtle training through pre-adult phase
Melds the mind’s microprocessor for what to do
When they’re called to hate duty spontaneously.

Is the way to cut through this simply to take part
In what I am a part of by natural right?
Does it mean feeling troubled and losing much sleep
Keeping up with the counting of sycophant sheep
Planning ways to do harm to me, and there’s no fight?
What I can do is write more, as it calms my heart.

Notice The Little Things

Where Detail Becomes Major

When at one with The Moment, the little things are
Full of infinite wonder and simple delight.
Having blissful awareness, like that of a child,
Is the cure for adult life where I’m reconciled
With who I truly am versus who I’m not quite.
The Conditional Mind is a fake self bizarre.

To who I am, I believe there is so much more
Than the self-talking person who, through mental means,
Has come into existence for fake dialog
With my sense of awareness. The ego thick fog
Can be burnt away quickly through simple routines
That will help one to do so. Youth they can restore.

If I am immersed in the self-talk in my head,
Then I can’t feel the subtle things, like a cool breeze
On the cheek on a warm day, or spring in the air.
In the mind there’s no life because no one is there.
To honor and appreciate all that one sees
From a space of awareness is better instead.

A shifting in consciousness can happen right now.
Any time that is Present is eternity.
Separate is the self-talk from pure awareness,
Which, through practice, becomes easier to access.
“Step Away From the Chatter!” Who says that to me
But a voice more alternative if I allow?

Final Duties

Spiteful Acts On Departure

Ain’t it just like a nigger to act the damned fool
When there’s nothing to do but to bow gracefully.
But his kind are deficient and rather uncouth.
They are mentally lazy and lacking in truth.
It is right that this dark one be hanged from a tree
For his acts of treason and tyrannical rule.

The next beast shall rise surely within a few years.
This one has made a breeding ground like a ghetto,
Or a trailer park haven hog tied to the past,
Where direct insurrection does but flabbergast
The dumbstruck with amazement by such a lame show.
Now the door is swung open, but who on earth cheers?

Those would be those off color who glorify hate
And are driven by greed and their lust for power.
If and when they lose bigly, they are driven mad.
The resorting to destructive acts is quite sad.
To behold the beast whimper is what I’d prefer.
It facilitates healing that most yet await.

There’s no proper transition forthcoming this time.
The toddler now in office will not say goodbye.
So instead, there’s destruction and acts done in spite.
And four tenths of the country will swear that he’s right.
This old, fat, ugly loser gives it one last try
Perhaps not even knowing that it’s all a crime.

Serenades Of Sedition

The Simmering Unrest

The Wild Western Empire has expanded beyond
What contiguous statehood cannot comprehend
As a song of seduction. Sedition is clear
In the eyes of sore losers who madly adhere
To the awfully bad actor who they must defend
While not caring the least bit that they have been conned.

As it was, and is now, and forever shall be
Blown along with the sagebrush and acid hot dust
Is the thickness of hatred in bitter belief
That if I’m not of their kind then I am a thief.
All that I have accomplished must fuel their disgust.
In the blindness, an enemy is made of me.

The song keeps getting louder and won’t go away.
The replay of post trauma I did not expect
To recur in my lifetime. Am I again wrong
For believing that blacks and whites can get along?
The drum beat is deep rooted and has the effect
Of a discordant weapon that savages play.

Warriors are not made or born. They just exist
As strategic abstractions that must take on form
When the duty to slaughter the other is called.
The grand party of outlaws, though they be outlawed,
Leave no peace for the restless amid the dust storm.
What I get from it is how to write with a fist.

Evolving Through Difficulty

Getting Through the Storm

How to strengthen the body is commonly known.
It is only through exercise that it can grow.
We give it difficulty, and it will endure
Our determined intention. The work will insure
That the life force within us continues to flow,
Which it won’t when we’re too stuck in our comfort zone.

Discipline trains the body. The pain that it takes
It does so with the knowledge contained in each cell
That a change is expected that will benefit
The whole person immensely. So it will permit
Treatment helpfully difficult and perform well.
Energy is created. The spirit awakes.

If my life is too easy, I may not evolve
Into one who is conscious of turbulent seas
That were once calm and peaceful not too long ago
And that will return to that state. If I can know
That a consciousness strengthened allows me the ease
To address any crisis, then I know resolve.

Along with difficulties contingent to life
As a physical human, we conjure our own
Consciously and unconsciously by how we feel,
And our thoughts and behaviors. No life is ideal
But this one that is mine for a while has been shown
A life-saving technique for the handling of strife.

The Importance Of Being Alone

Therapeutic Isolation

I am so at my best when I’m swimming alone
Counter to the direction that others may go.
It’s because I get crazy with my kind around.
There’s too much information that small fish expound.
So it’s much better for me to go with the flow
Of the guidance of Spirit who is ever known.

Sacredness is in Silence. Speaking to no one
For a while or much longer for whiles in-between
The peripheral nonsense that time beacons to,
For the soul, is refreshing. What else would I do
 But to honor the inner self where life is seen
As one evolving moment constantly begun?

Those who cherish alone time may be healthier.
Better organized they are emotionally.
People seek, out of boredom from drama self-made,
Interaction with others. The chance escapade
They may find not fulfilling. My choice is to be
Intimate with my true self who does but occur.

I’m aware that I’m mortal. Time moves at a pace
Universal to all creatures, yet good times seem
To be short in duration. Those of misery
Linger on for what feels like an eternity.
Every moment I have can be lived like a dream
Where the things of importance are all I embrace.

The Better Leader?

The Critical Political

There’s a need for mnemonics in binary states
Where the currents recycling between the two parts
Change electoral motion force by the decree
Of the law made in earnest. No physics degree
Is required for the knowing that warms bitter hearts.
We but need to remember that we own our fates.

Components are opponents according to law.
Inductive and capacitive, each plays the role
Of exchanger of resources and energy,
Yet their styles differ greatly as common folk see.
Current is as to voltage as heart is to soul.
Deeds of those lost in office are due to come raw.

Current stands for our input. Voltage is pressure
That we put on our leaders to do what is right
By the rule of democracy, as it should be.
The big difference between AC and DC
Is the faith in connection that must improve sight,
And to be re-reminded is but to endure.

Enter ELI, the ICE man, a figment faithful
From the pit of absurdity to the rescue
 Of a species uncommon. When our wants and needs
Lead the push to fulfillment, the nation succeeds
As an integral circuit. It’s long overdue.
From eyes blinded, it’s now time to cast away wool.

Awareness In Any Moment

Instantaneous Joy

Special moments come often when I am aware
That they are most significant. Meditation
Can be done while in motion with life as it plays
With fun-loving lightheartedness most of my days.
I access deeper presence once I have begun
Treating each iteration of life with much care.

I’m aware in this moment of being at peace
With myself and with others, yet vibrant I feel
Underneath my composure. If I shout with praise
Perhaps people would notice then augment their ways
But I know folks have free will. It’s not a big deal
For Right Now is the place where I master release.

Being conscious of being conscious of the fact
That my conscious awareness of being aware
Of the self brings a merging. Subject and object
Become one in communion with no intellect
To fog up the occasion which wouldn’t be fair
To myself nor to those with whom I interact.

In nature there is stillness. To meet with a tree
Or to contact the earth directly through the feet
Are but teaching experiences of many
Where I can master moments by letting each be
As it is without judgement – an essence complete
In itself with perfection most naturally.

Lessons learned about stillness are taken to heart.
They’re the keys to the moment when it appears lost
In the haze of the thought sphere of business at hand.
I surrender to freedom as it will demand
Every bit of my energy but at no cost
For ensured re-fulfillment and a fresh new start.

The Power Of Not Knowing

The Bliss of Psychic Ignorance

If I say I don’t know something, say to someone
Like a boss or a bureaucrat mindless of soul,
Such a person would panic and cast me away
Fearing I lack the selfhood deserving of pay.
Knowing is the profession where I play no role
But the truthful beholder who normal folk shun.

I cannot offer honesty to everyone
For my means of survival would suffer setback.
Worldwide social insanity to the degree
That our lies and delusions are as it should be
Is something not maintainable. Huge is the lack
Of a reverent frankness in illness homespun.

Those of wisdom admit that they know not a thing
About remedies simple for complex sickness.
Their advice those of normalcy can’t comprehend
Having built their careers learning how to pretend
While ignoring the telltale effect of the stress
And Not Knowing to what else the fake self may cling.

From the place of Not Knowing, the choice can be made
To deny the mind-made self so much damned control.
Children teach with their innocence in what they ask
And how they perfect asking. They wear not a mask
In their graceful Not Knowing and having no goal
But to make sure that truth remains hard to evade.

Dealing With Conflicting Thoughts

The Constant Chatter Within

How they twitter like cages that have no one there
Yet each squawks a perspective of how things may be.
Of the patterns familiar to humankind
That of conflicting thoughts chattering in the mind
Is the one most destructive to vitality
As it is the root cause of feelings of despair.

Is the issue to figure out which one is right?
After all, with so many, there has to be one
Most assured to provide me the answer I need.
They pretend to be helpful so that they may feed
On my fullest attention. They can offer none
But continuous bird poop in lieu of insight.

Practical in its purpose, the movement of thought
Yields solutions to problems of daily routine.
It cannot provide comfort in times of distress,
And at best it can lead one to mundane success.
Entities become radical are but obscene
And a poor source of wisdom. True guides they are not.

Can I not listen to them and just be Aware
That they are things in cages with something to say?
From a place of Observance I can choose not to
Get caught up in the crosstalk. Instead I can view
Them as nothing important. Then they can’t betray
Consciousness in the moment where there’s not a care.

Awakening From The Self-Talk

The Partner Who Won't Be Quiet

To deny that it’s horrible hurts so much more
Than the act ill attractive. Though wrath have I none,
I have myself to deal with and thoughts of a kind
That consume me in darkness. Where else could I find
But a hint of some reason for what has been done
To the soul of myself whose been through this before?

I must know someone’s speaking. It cannot be me.
I’m the one who observes things when I’m at my best.
But right now, thoughts are fragments that tell the story
That my mind manufactures. Personality
Is the field generated. Its flux is expressed
In behaviors unconscious so that I can’t see.

Stories of personalities of those who I
Know and love, along with those of others I meet
Intertwine and make drama – a drug for the mind
Whose unending dependence is wrongly designed
To create what it needs to. It knows no defeat
But that spark of Awareness that I can apply.

Can I consciously want all my problems to cease?
Somewhere below the consciousness it is well known
That the ending of issues will end the story.
To prevent its demise is its sole urge to be.
The Moment of Awareness is where I am shown
That which will, if I choose, yield the freedom of peace.

Anxiety And Illness

The Ongoing Struggle

Because they threaten life, they elicit concern.
Conditions preexisting within mortal genes
Turn the mind to a whirlpool of obsessive thought.
I become the victim of a sinister plot
If I focus on wondering what it all means.
The grotesqueness of illness is one lesson stern.

Nowhere is absoluteness among all the cells
Of the creatures at home here for but a brief while.
Substance must be substantial, but not for too long
Due to laws put in place to curse those who are strong
As well as all we weak ones. One could wear a smile,
As the Push Into Presence is what it compels.

Not to deny reality, yet not to dwell
On the thing with its name that’s connected to me
But detached from the true self, I stand well at ease
And relieved of the duty to pump up and please
Everyone with the notion that life is carefree
When reality is for many utter hell.

Most of suffering is a product of the mind.
That it wants to maintain a good story is known
To the quiet observer of all taking place.
When new freedom is found, I cannot but embrace
A transition of being wherein I am shown
What it is that I live for among humankind.

The True Source Of Power

Why do I keep comparing myself to others?
Do I get satisfaction from how they respond
To my utter magnificence? If I’m that way
Then I’m in for one hell of a ride through the day
And perhaps through eternity and far beyond
Without freedom of movement as nature prefers.

Why can’t I see the janitor just as the boss
Since we all are of consciousness down to the core?
Each of us has an ego. Unconscious we are
Of its intricate workings, and it will go far
To create false impressions, deceptions, and more.
When it functions correctly, we are at no loss.

Stepping outside the ego is not hard to do
After diligent practice and at a slow pace.
Power it sees as substance of earthly value
Which is found only outside the rich inner view.
That which is of pure essence within time and space
Is the true self observant and powerful too.

So, The True Source Of Power is from deep within,
Behind thought and the ego. That subtle, still peace
That is known only as you by you is the thing
That, when you’re made aware, it will make the heart sing.
With a functioning ego, there can be release
Of destructive behaviors that hold us in sin.

The Journey Of Transformation

Truest Means of Escape

This body is a window frame with an ego,
And my soul is transparent to see through both ways.
Light that shines comes from somewhere and passes through me.
I may reflect it outward that others may see
That all brightness originates, throughout all days,
From the same source of goodness. That’s why I can glow.

 Window shades and some curtains the self must adorn.
Modulation of pure light the ego must use
To prevent blinding others or showing too much,
Or appearing non-human or cold to the touch…
Or for whatever alibi meant to excuse
Absoluteness of presence in being reborn.

How can I draw the curtain and open the shade
To the purest of essence one should radiate?
Some windows are spray painted. They obstruct the view
Both into and out from. Some may concoct a brew
Of dark light behind brick walls of sorrow and hate.
Must I cement my window shut if I’m afraid?

The Transformative Journey is taken by those
Who can see window dressing as necessary
To the ego’s survival by nature’s command.
As I deal with others, this I must understand.
The light focusing structure when gone completely
Is the ultimate bliss of eternal repose.

Now, this human experience I must explore
As if it were a mission impossible not.
Light exists for expression. We handle that well
When in each blessed moment in presence we dwell
Where the mind can be mindfully purged of its thought.
Finding self through reflection can only yield more.

Signal To Noise

The Slice of Reception

Do I need much awareness of what’s taking place
In political atmospheres here and worldwide?
Oracles that are binary broadcast the news,
And unconscious receivers are destined to lose
Their objective capacity. Signals decide
What is real for the people whose minds they erase.

Technical is the ratio, “Signal To Noise.”
It describes the relationship between the two.
Spiritual also is the term, as it’s used
To compare all the good times to those that are bruised
By conflict and confusion. The thing I must do
Is be most well informed of my ultimate joys.

It’s a Frankenstein image. It breaks up in parts,
Then recycles the fragmented pieces once more
Into short lived cohesion, and at a bight rate
That bombards every pre-thought, thus sealing their fate
To the powerful Signal that none can ignore,
For to do so will show folks that they’ve lost their hearts.

I get perfect reception without a TV.
What I don’t know won’t hurt me. The noise in the air
Is more than any Signal can safely break through
To the deep rooted secrets that offer no clue
To the people broadcasted to. Social software
Engineered for mind programming isn’t for me.

This Moment

The Eternal Now

Addicted to the next moment most of us are.
The illusion of forward motion is at play.
To exist in the future is all in the mind.
Consciousness, when it’s trapped there, will make people blind
To the value This Moment has. Thought will betray
What is present reality. Ain’t that bizarre?

Some of us are of wisdom. That wouldn’t be me.
I, like many who manage with mental disease,
Seek advice from the masters of pure consciousness.
Normalcy I can mimic, but my life’s a mess.
Without plenty of guidance, no hope will I seize.
Awareness of This Moment will set myself free.

Verily, quality of my life does depend
On how much value I place on the here and now,
And how much I devalue the future and past.
All I have is This Moment – the one that will last
Through a lifetime of wonder. If I practice how
To achieve that awareness, myself I’ll transcend.

Little things are significant. Taking a drink
Of a cool glass of water, I’m attentive to.
It is much more refreshing when it’s not a chore
Amid myriad others, and at times, a bore.
Anything I would do is a nice thing to do.
There are some moments where one can just stop and think.

The Waste

The Expansion of Industrial Feces

That this earth has a death wish seems likely to be
Fundamental to science. A being’s hygiene
Must include healthy self-thoughts as well as clean air.
If I took in my own waste, it wouldn’t be fair
To myself nor to nature. It would be obscene.
Folks would ask what on earth is the matter with me.

If I felt self-destruction is the proper way
To get rid of my problems, I’d be called insane
By the same folk who think air pollution is part
Of the way things just are. Nothing close the heart
But complacent stagnation is to no one’s gain.
But the earth, in its sickness, will honor dismay.

There’s a load to get rid of. A purge of the soul
Of a planet infected with humanity
Is much needed, as psychic waste alters the mood,
When activity rampant is selfish and crude.
Does this earth have a conscience? It’s proven to me
By the fecal earth movement spun out of control.

That this place is a Being with conscious intent
And with guttural feelings of not Being well
Is something to consider since we are a part
Of its delicate stomach. We cause it to fart
In a good or a bad way, revealed by its smell.
Either way, it should spend no time breathing the scent.

The Vision

Eternal Point of View

I must see what I need to and not too much more
Than my ego can manage without going blind
To the feelings of people and what we all need
To initiate balance. The illness of greed
Has become epidemic. Those left far behind
In the rigorous rat race remain always poor.

By the thinnest of threads, many lives hang in hope
That the next meager paycheck will make some ends meet.
If something catastrophic occurs, it’s the end.
Misery deeply suffered one can’t comprehend.
Challenging is the struggle to remain upbeat.
One must do what one has to in order to cope.

What I see does disturb me. I am in the game,
But I’m not a big player. My life carries on
Day to day with a blessing once in a great while.
I don’t have a portfolio nor a lifestyle
Indicating I’m better. So could I be drawn
To a life of delusion and scant sense of shame?

Focus is on The Vision that we may evolve
In another direction than what appears now
As an unending resonance with fear and lack.
Those of us who are loving can never hold back
What we see as a future much better somehow.
Optimistic I feel and with fervent resolve.

We’re Sorry…

Customer Care From The Abyss

We Are Sorry we cannot identify you.
Since you are a real person, you do not exist.
We did send you an email. Did you get the code?
If you did, then it’s wrong. May your patience erode
And your blood pressure rise as you become more pissed.
Complicated Fucknology is what we do!

We’ve become too efficient at wasting your time
With our troubled procedures that put you to work
Chasing proof that you are you, then letting you down,
And because we are virtual we’ll make you frown.
Since we represent humans, we master the jerk
For ensured inconvenience, and it’s not a crime.

Customer Service is what we’re sorry about.
Stuck these words are in marriage that’s destined to fail
Since one is not a human but an interface
And a wall of protection. Now most commonplace
Is contempt through the digital on a large scale.
Nothing satisfies me more than digesting doubt.

Yet I can still be thankful. What living tells me
Is that some days are faultless and some not so much.
And with this understanding, what is there to do
But commit to reflection for a bigger view?
Mechanisms may flourish with no human touch.
Verified in pure essence I always will be.

Thanks!

Life Is Good

Flowers are perfect oracles. That which they teach
Is the nature of beauty conceived of the soul.
They exist with a consciousness not knowing why
Other creatures take notice and identify
Them as fully responsive to what makes them whole.
They can sense our attention regardless of speech.

Everything is connected. There is no real space.
The illusion of distance is for us to learn
How to see the reflection of all in the one.
As I come to appreciate that, I’ve begun
A new cycle of Thanksgiving with no concern
For what seems out of order or in a bad place.

Many things come to mind and much more through my heart
On this day I made wonderful by letting go
Of the past and the future. I’m grateful for now
Which is all that exists, and the grace I allow
Through the free choice of feeling will faithfully flow.
Thankful I am for knowing that I’m not apart.

Yet, apart from tradition, life happens each day.
Every new dawn recycles and presents a new
World of life to be grateful for. I am at ease
With the things that most matter. To focus on these
Is the wisest decision that I will come to.
Bounteously becoming I’ll take as my way.

Greed

Deadliest of the Seven

In the life of pure spirit no need has the soul
To provide for its sustenance. Life is a breeze.
There’s no concept of distance or speed as is here
Where all substance is heavy and laden with fear.
All can manifest instantly what e’er they please.
There’s no need to find oneself because one is whole.

From that mystical paradise all enter earth
With subconscious impressions and faint memory
That will dissipate slowly in early childhood.
By the time we’re adults it is well understood
That this world is a harsh one and that we must be
Rational in our outlook to manage our birth.

We’re preprogrammed for pleasure. Our feeling sublime
In ourselves and with others comes naturally.
But in this world, resistance to all that feels great
Is weaved into the fabric defining this state
Of a learning existence where nothing is free
But the spirit within things that take up our time.

Student souls become weary and lost in their ways
Of achieving their balance. A feeling of lack
Overwhelms their sensations. The instinct to kill
We have learned from the animals, but with free will
That is guided by spirit, all can stay on track
And find peace and abundance through most of our days.

Clear And Concise

The Plain Truth

Messages now forthcoming are Clear And Concise.
In abject desperation true colors are shown
To be unpatriotic – even treasonous.
The great boil having been lanced now oozes with puss
More corrosive to justice than could have been known.
Through the absence of vigilance we’ve paid the price.

Bigotry can’t be buried or banished away
Like the ideal magician performs while on stage.
It exists underneath everything people are.
Always there will be present a deep racial scar
That divides this sick nation. We won’t turn the page,
And the incessant struggle is with us to stay.

Restoration to order from civil unrest
Can’t be taken for granted. The heated cold war
Of opposing opinions of equality
Rages on behind subtle cues fashioned to be
Condescending in nature. The right to ignore
Dignity in all people is strongly expressed.

Black and white is the picture. There’s color also,
But it is a distraction from how I should see
Given I’m in a war zone and not fully armed.
While in deep meditation my spirit is charmed.
As the quickness and clarity satisfies me,
I’m an adequate soldier with much to bestow.

The Self Undefined

That Which Has Not A Thought

Many selves that keep speaking as if they were one
Integration of consciousness broadcast to me
Things that I spend time thinking on. Then I’ll get lost
Making overall sense of them and at great cost
To the raw life experience. Can I get free
From the incessant chatter that never is done?

Were they people outside me and not in my mind
I would tell them to fuck themselves and go away.
Luxury of that kind, though, is not to be had.
Every thought, if not dimpled, is a hanging chad
In its quest for completion to honor the day
But the forgotten self is the one undefined.

Shutting down all the voices means stopping thinking
But to do that at will and be successful too
Is a mission most difficult. If I would try
To get perfectly quiet, I fear I would die
From complete lack of meaning, but that’s never true.
All selves come from one deeper self. It’s a good thing.

I must have some identity in this world real
And affixed to the rational. My thoughts provide
Constant misinformation about who I am
At the most basic level. Should I give a damn
That what precludes acceptance is going inside
Past the crowd to observance that all is ideal?

Inconvenient Civility

The Eternal Feuds Of Human Races

We are all but one species. It’s hard to believe,
As the ants, madly militant, fight to their deaths,
We’ve evolved to be like them in how we behave.
Those of uncommon countenance will this race save
From its fate of extinction. Now, take some deep breaths,
Weary worn-hearted warrior. You Misperceive!

Having all dealt with hatred, all know how it feels
To be hurt or to hurt others for worthless gain.
When there used to be kindness, a long time ago,
Folks would up do nice for those they didn’t know
Just for feces and giggles. This was not insane,
But a most loving complement to making deals.

Only those who belong to no race are immune
To this earthly existence. The world that they know
Is completely of spirit, yet when they were here,
They succumbed to illusions based on lack and fear
Just as all do while here so our spirits may grow
To superlative brilliance, which can’t happen soon.

This concise explanation suffices to be
But a rational patchwork of feelings combined
With a personal history alien to
That of all other humans. The work I must do
Is to be without prejudice fully inclined
To reach out to humanity if painfully.

Progress

A Snail's Pact Toward Perfection

What can lead to perfection sometimes can be seen
As the goal, which is fallacy. Time must elapse,
And a series of right steps performed in a way
That is free of anxiety throughout each day.
Absoluteness is not worth the trouble, perhaps,
For the path is a paradoxical ravine.

Mathematical constructs are used to convey
How a process is doing in graphic detail.
Digital is their nature, so they often lie.
Since they represent humans, they spit in the eye
Of the data-starved user who can but prevail
With a lying assed image that’s put on display.

Restoration to Order, the task now at hand,
Is a right and a blessing, as well as duty
In connection with the spirit of humankind.
Deeds done in desperation revealed as maligned
Speak Perfection of Progress, as all get to see
Truest colors of demons from the evil land.

It’s like watching a movie. I’d seen the preview
In my recurrent dreaming of when hell would end.
As it plays out, the wise one will let the clown act
Like the petulant loser pissed off that he’s sacked.
There’s perfection in justice as people defend
What so many have died for. Progress does ring true.

Life Of The Party

Tea Time's End

Once The Party was solvent. Dissolving all debts
To The People it worked for was standard affair.
It was grand and most ancient, The Party we knew.
Now the tea has been tainted. It’s no longer true
To the Star-Spangled Banner and Rockets With Glare.
There are other world powers that hold our assets.

Time was then to be lively. The stench of champagne
Filled its air with thick promises in the short run
And a wealth of abundance from God only knows.
Money changes the psyche. The darkest shadows
Of this brand of addiction are only outdone
By the worst of earth’s kind, and in fact, they’re more sane.

The tea pot has been broken, and that which is spilt
Will re-trigger more spilling for some time to come.
Upsetting it will be for the most rugged gut
The full scope of the damage and exactly what
On earth were they all thinking while bathing in scum.
It may be that The Party is never rebuilt.

Is the life of The Party worth keeping around?
While intoxicated, actions worthy of shame
May continue unnoticed. Its arrogant style
Isn’t good for democracy now or erstwhile.
Independent of England we sully its name.
Tea time at the saloon has a distasteful sound.

Self-Inquiry

The Wonderful World Within

I feel drained around people. Recharging is due.
Too much input from everywhere weakens the mind
And the spirit that feeds it. A time to relax
So the fluid subconscious can seep through the cracks
Of my hardened constructions should help me to find
Some relief in existence. I’ve heard this is true.

People broadcast two signals to all other souls.
One is conscious intent. The other is unknown
To the self who behaves while completely awake.
But the unconscious messages make no mistake
In revealing true motives not otherwise shown
But through keen observation that feeling controls.

Overload is a common occurrence these days
Where too much information impregnates the air.
Intermixed with the digital, signals of folk
Tell of horrendous stories that only evoke
The sensation of bloating. Were I not aware
Of its harm I’d be trapped in a world of malaise.

 Getting rid of the mental clutter that collects
And blends into the life stream is hopeful hygiene.
As all things need a cleaning, the psyche is one
That should get top priority ‘til the job’s done.
What I broadcast to others I want to be clean
Sensing clearly that this is what wellness expects.

Walk Of Shame

Aimless In A World Become Alien

Were I given a lap dance, what price would I pay
For behavior expected as I cast my vote?
Severe cost to my self-respect I would predict
When I came to my senses and find I’d been tricked
By the sleaze from a parlor. The morals remote
Of the rabid street walkers do wellness betray.

This is not a new normal – this way that things seem
Where illusion in partying ragged and hard
Against all human decency passes for real
For a stinking trick longer. Throughout the ordeal,
Knowing streets will come clean again, can I be barred
From the shame of existence within the dank dream?

People make bad decisions. No one is immune.
Fortunate are the ones who can learn from mistakes.
Leadership comes with much responsibility.
When the latter is ignored, The People can see
Would-be pimps in high office as impotent flakes
In the animation of an adult cartoon.

Walks Of Shame will turn nasty as all play their parts
In this skittish reality. Strutting what stuff
That can get a reaction, loose losers walk wild
With intent to harm others in ways most reviled.
When there are consequences to calling their bluff,
Times Of Ending we’ll know as the keys to new starts.

The Wizard Of Odds

The Waning of the Reign

From the land of The Odds, recollection have I
That, were I not in Kansas, my life might improve.
If that still were the premise I’d follow each day –
To fly off to a next state that sees it my way –
Then all effort is focused on making that move.
If I stay here my spirit is likely to die.

But is that a bum story? I know I can be
In the lap of fulfillment of all my desires
Notwithstanding the torment that I misperceive.
That my magic is brighter I’m damned to believe.
Raging yet within me are those distant wildfires
On that stage where The People now clearly can see.

Frightfully ugly Odds can get in a few years
Of the reign of a wizard who curses this land.
Some would use the word, ‘treason,’ as truly it fits.
Justice may be eluded as karma permits.
There are some flying monkeys who now understand
That support for this wizard spell binds them in fears.

I had pulled back the curtain. Unlike the canine,
Seeing not a soul in there, with sense of smell lost,
The projection confused me. Relying on wit
For the sorting of truth from the blast of bullshit
Is obsessive/compulsive and too high a cost
To the human I can be when I’m feeling fine.

So, why do I keep writing? Do I fan the flames
On the stage where the image yet draws attention
By command through psychosis and cheap magic tricks?
No matter what is happening, I’ll get my fix
When expounding verbosely. My work won’t be done
‘Til my spirit releases all that ego claims.

Physical Attraction

A Law of Motion

Energies of attraction are of many kinds.
Norths and south poles of magnets are one example
Demonstrating connecting, opposing forces.
I am of the right mind to explore what this says
Of the vibes among people. Direct is the pull
Among those of one species by nature’s guidelines.

The waves, though they’re invisible, have an effect
That is seen in reality strict to the law.
Poles and souls that are unlike are made to attract.
With much to give each other, the pair form a pact
That is not always pleasant and absent of flaw.
Lessons taught to each other command soul respect.

Of the wavelengths and frequencies sent and received
Among all who, alive now, create the force field
Of the planet magnetic in so many ways,
Those of peace and enlightenment will create rays
Radiant with abundance. The hope to be healed
Of hateful hysteresis is better believed.

Also seen as electrons, our paths well-defined
On the substrate of sameness contingent to earth,
We traverse the same circuits to potential high
Then return to earth ground where, in essence, we die…
To re-enter the cycle upon a new birth.
To think in such a manner I’m deeply inclined.

The Beauty Of War

Grace In the Battle

A sincere thing is battle, for all human rights
Must be tested for worthiness when the time comes.
Complex themes reoccurring throughout history
Share the same basic premise – the will to be free
From the freedoms of others to beat silent drums
To the march of pure evil that hatred incites.

And as war becomes civil, to know where I stand
Is imprinted within me for others to see.
With the speed of the bullet flash judgment is made.
It provides enough fodder to fuel the crusade
Of righteous insurrection. How else could it be
For the most first world nation prepared to disband?

Branching off like viruses that seek a new host,
Tribes will conquer lands occupied with no remorse.
It is of our best nature to do others harm
So that all have a healthy respect for alarm.
Independence from mother lands brought on by force
Is the strength and the weakness that threatens us most.

We become the medusa for no one to see
In its purest of essence. The turning to stone
Of those looking directly into our dark soul
Is the fear insurmountable. As a black hole
In the heart of the human collective, we own
The perfected aesthetic of our bigotry.

Things Of Beauty

Sentient Artform

Everything has its season. It’s written in stone,
In scripture, and in nature – in fact, everywhere
That the mind perceives cycles and recurring themes.
Time to be wide awake or to wallow in dreams
Is assigned by the author whom one may compare
To oneself if divinity is to be known.

Beauty sings of relationship joyfully made
In the cool heat of passion and radiant bliss.
Overwhelming sensations define when it’s time
For the sharing of magical living sublime.
Punctuating eternity with a first kiss
Will ensure future meetings will not be delayed.

How life looks to the lone self is also a thing
That can be of great beauty. The law affects all
In the way that connectedness is the ideal
That makes real everything any self wants to feel.
Cultivating one’s season is not playing small.
Happiness in good measure is what it will bring.

With all acts of all kinds and always taking place
Among manifold cultures, all perform at will
To enhanced evolution of all that we are.
In a very short time we have come very far.
Beauty to the beholder is crafted by skill
Of the burning desire for living in grace.

The Movement

The Cost of Consumption

Constantly human bowels move, yet under duress,
Suspended animation can often occur,
Where in unforeseen corners some stuff will get stuck.
If you have work to do you are shit out of luck.
Delicate is the system that runs with a purr
Until something affects its momentous success.

It becomes then an issue not easily solved
Due to complex connection to feelings and such.
Drugs will simply brute force stuff to be on its way
But if they become habit the gut will betray
Its own God given mission which doesn’t leave much
For the one agonized with no one else involved.

The path for all The Movement, amazingly long,
Has evolved, since we’re upright, to one tangled mess.
What becomes convoluted needs delicate care
Because guttural feelings originate there.
To facilitate movement all need to express
What is felt at gut level. Is this sounding wrong?

So our thoughts and our feelings can affect the flow.
Indirectly their waves become heterodyned
With motion undulating along the canal.
Positive emotions will boost up its morale.
Our concern for The Movement offers humankind
Greater chance for survival for all that we know.

Your Point Of View

Face-To-Face Engagement

Face to face is the method preferred over those
Which are not as direct to the points many make
For exchange with another, and Your Point Of View
On this “suckers and losers” day, if not askew,
Sees the sorest of losers act out in heartbreak
To ensure We The People feel guilt for their woes.

Through the eyes authenticity enters the soul
Unencumbered by bullshit. The moment is pure
Of nonverbal communion. With confident ease,
Detachment, and objectivity each one sees
Clarity in completeness. The state can endure
The pathetic deflating no one will control.

  Every daily distraction disconnected from
Any inkling political for strings of years,
As it was before madness and hatred became
The most sacred of doctrines immune to all shame,
Is most welcomed and needed. Those who have shed tears
Offer poetic justice to romance the bum.

Speaking out about matters most dear to one’s heart
Is the reason so many have put laws in place.
It’s a God-given attribute that we express
With freedom absolute, and the drive to regress
Felt by all the cult followers time will erase.
Things work out as they should if we each do our part.

Up In Here

Broadcast Entrapment

The air once was magnetic to such a degree
That signal saturation could only occur
Within just a few mindsets networked to program
A self-righteous society who gave a damn
For the concept of freedom To Be, as it were,
Anyone who they wanted indubitably.

In the air of technology digits replace
Every wavelength conceived. They’ve been banned from the sky.
Streams of data more powerful with intellect
Infiltrate every crevasse and cannot respect
Inundating communion. They won’t even try
Because binary business knows nothing of grace.

As the world’s populations continue to rise
Yet another replacement will handle the load
Of the need for more input from some soothing source.
What gets pumped into homes now all fully endorse
Through released information that people encode
With their habits of living as something else dies.

Up In Here is the homelife – not part of a wall
To be viewed like a window to reality.
Solitude in confinement yet breathing fresh air,
I am fed by my spirit which is not out there
In the wild west of intercourse. Wiser I’ll be
Having made the commitment to not playing small.

Initiating Communication

Somebody Go First

Conversations among people now taking place
In an air much less dense and much more well at ease
Are the signs of ideas about to unfold.
Points of view get across, and there’s truth to be told
About where things were headed. Dark realities
Dissipate in the new light for the human race.

We announce our intentions to others worldwide
That, now freed from grip of tyrannical rule,
We again speak of peace and of long-lasting ties
And of mending the ill treatment of our allies.
Having not been ourselves, we’d been used as a tool.
More than ready, again we will be dignified.

Self-examination enriches the hurt soul
Of a hollowed out nation focused on repair.
The profound lesson learned from the past wicked years
Is that pure arrogance is just as it appears –
A display of self-loathing. So much more aware
All become of corruption and its evil goal.

Things will not turn completely around overnight
And if that is expected, then we may lose hope
That wrongs will be corrected. We owe our support
To the ones we’ve elected. We’d sell ourselves short
By demanding too much as they dance a tightrope
Above all who are watching. The future is bright.

Delight In The Passing Of Waste

Purging Long Overdue

Starting out with a huge dump, this day has been great!
Fecal matter seemed to come from out of nowhere
And it happened not once or twice but indeed three.
How on earth did all this crap get inside of me?
What had been digesting for four years was in there.
I feel much like a new man. It was worth the wait.

This is good information I’m willing to share
Believing it’s not too much to gross people out.
I’ve a new sense of freedom in all that I feel
Since the nightmare is over I can with much zeal
Lose the waste I’ve collected. I have little doubt
That my joy won’t offend folk. You need be aware.

The earth has a completeness. There was a black hole
At the center of consciousness pulling all in.
With no means of escape for the revealing light
Darkness had become normal as wrong became right.
Light is now shown upon us so we may begin
Taking back our wellbeing and blessing our soul.

Already people are showing signs of relief.
The unrighteous disease is now reversing course
Making way for fresh symptoms of total world health.
Governance with the heart is the key to our wealth.
Our digestive hygiene our leaders will endorse.
The good health of our nation to them will be chief.

A Silent Rejoicing

Speak Softly and Carry A Big Heart

Victory celebrated in stark quietude
To the usual loud noise broadcasted each day
Is what has been awaited for nearly four years.
Now that we’ve circumvented the worst of our fears,
All support must be given. Indeed we may pray
That the new leadership be most righteously viewed.

Yes, it is a big deal, but do not jump for joy,
As one fifth of the nation must suffer defeat.
They will do that in earnest through social unrest.
The most outrageous theories hatefully expressed
All will see for a good while, and hardly discrete
Will the mayhem displays be in hope to annoy.

 So, farewell to the fuehrer who failed to become
An effective cult leader for all the white race.
No longer getting help from the emperor thug,
While your longtime supporters have all pulled the plug
On the dark soul machinery, Live In Disgrace,
Great baboon with your orange face, because you’re now scum!

On this historic day satisfaction is mine
Because my human nature demands it of me.
Remember I must also that I am the same
As all other souls on earth. To be put to shame
Is something all must go through in order to see
That part of our humanity which is divine.

By A Thread

Support In A Changeless World

Waking up to the next day where nothing has changed,
Hopes and wishes turn bittersweet as I behold
The confounding of clarity. It’s nothing new,
But my sense of belonging is rendered askew.
Civic duty to country is now undersold
With a currency complex spent by the deranged.

Volatile is the nature of blood enemies
Brought together by brute force and satanic rule
To become one strong nation supported by God.
Some proclaim their supremacy and think it odd
That the nation’s unworthy will not play the fool
Without bitter resentment to psychic disease.

That all votes should be counted is sanity sound.
Any notion divergent is held by the ones
Who, impressed by pure evil, will do others harm.
Truthfulness be exposed. There’s no need for alarm
Even though true Americans all carry guns
To protect them from false ones and what they expound.

Like a leaf that has fallen, suspend in place
Before resting completely, I am more each day.
I’m profoundly disquieted but much relieved
That my gut I’ll rely on. It must be believed.
Since I know not my enemy, cautious I’ll stay.
Blind support for the evil one is about race.

Consciousness Reexamined

The Eternally Occurring Revisitation

“Why does anything need to exist?” I inquire
In the torment of thinking that life must make sense.
It’s the one biggest question that can be explained.
There’s a mystical logic that must be maintained.
Consciousness is the First Cause and is the thing whence
All else came into being out of its desire.

Cumbersome are such concepts as infinity,
Existence,
and eternity to my lost mind.

Time, I know, is illusion, but how can that be
Since my knowing depends on it so completely?
Consciousness can’t take boredom, so it is inclined
To creating diversions in its quest to be.

The Moment is a mental construct to be used
As the platform for reaching the understanding
Of the nature eternal existence commands.
Everything is of spirit, and being demands
Its freedom of expression above everything.
History is a clockwork to keep it amused.

What may seem to be happening as I observe
I can give not The Moment to judge either way
If what is is of essence that I can relate
To my best understanding. The world I create
Is the only one valid on this troubled day.
A break from all ‘reality’ I well deserve.

Liquidity Of Duty

Now, Up To the System

Civil War is not ended, and it never will
Be completely resolved any frigging time soon.
Rude awakenings come to those who’ve been asleep
To the hatred that binds us. So, should my heart weep?
That ours is one proud nation I’d fiercely impugn.
Perfumed feces we echo. Our honor is nil.

 The big issue was slavery that time ago.
White folk wanted their niggers under their control.
History has been ruthless to their sentiment.
It is logical then to assume they resent
Anything suggesting everyone has a soul.
I had almost forgotten what I need to know.

So, this was the election. No blue tidal wave
Washing over the bitter-hearted bigotry
Did occur as expected by those who held hope
That we had evolved somewhat. All non-whites will cope
With a system imperfect. I personally
Am assured of its power to harm and enslave.

Doctor King had a dream once while quite wide awake.
Some folk will not forget that. It was the last straw.
Quite a chunk of this nation is racist indeed.
No longer I’ll pretend that I don’t have the need
To rely on raw instinct. I won’t hem and haw
To myself about ideals that are a heartache.

Be Aware Of Manipulations

Look Closer

Insecure is the feeling prevailing among
Citizens of the nation this election day.
The past four years have seemed like a decade or more.
The uncertainty comes from what happened before.
We expected an outcome that would go our way
But into utter darkness the country was flung.

Powerful the subconscious is in times of need.
All the human collective is at full alert
For the kinds of deception that keep taking place.
Is it fair to say that it is all about race?
It’s much more about feelings and how they get hurt
At the hands of the wicked few fettered by greed.

Powerful negative emotions harbor some.
Here and there may be skirmishes heated and raw
To the sense of civility most demonstrate.
The last time, I was saddened, but I didn’t hate.
So, there is a dichotomy. But for the law,
Rampant mayhem would ensue and all would succumb.

Being uncompromising and rigidly tied
To one’s choice ideology is not the way
To win friends and influence folks if that’s the goal.
Or perhaps some would rather retain the dark soul.
Either way, for the many, this is a bright day –
One in which we recover our national pride.