Archive | November 2019

Dark Matter Blanket

Security In Contemplation

Swaddled snugly in comfort, the pure heart contends
With deep thoughts of the cosmos. The focus is keen
On the wonder of being while nestled in peace.
One can contemplate clearly the total release
Of the unblemished ego that may get between
Who oneself is and who it considers its friends.

I become like an infant as I fall asleep.
All that may have occurred in the wakefulness state
Dissipates into nothingness. What takes its place
Is a private contentment infected with grace.
In the womb of dark matter, my life has no weight.
I’ll release the day’s clutter, but calm I will keep.

Just how real is dark matter? Sufficient for me
Is that it’s gathered closely in elegant ease.
Warmth and caring embraces subliminal soul
With the cosmos’ cover. I want no control
Of a damned thing. My sleeping is my expertise.
My real Dark Matter Blanket is not one can see.

Hard Drive

Spatial Data Exposure

How much storage is left on this thing we call earth?
Many people have lived here since it’s been in use.
People may be concerned that we’ve not enough room
For the future. Indeed, we have visions of doom
At our own hands. We are like a virus let loose
On a path of destruction. What’s come of our worth?

We’ll admit it’s a Hard Drive to get to the top
Of one’s chosen profession or life as a whole.
Every life lived is sequenced in logical ways
That defy what is heartfelt through most of our days.
Perhaps defragmentation is good for the soul.
It’s not like we can find a new Hard Drive to swap.

Silicon is like plastic we cast to the sea
To outweigh all the life there. We’ve made of the air
Something suited for vaping. A bleak humansphere
Is not something that has to be looked at with fear.
There are way many people who fervently care
That this fast spinning Hard Drive continues to be.

The Giving

Process

There are times to be thankful. We set them aside
Because we are so busy with making time pay.
Times relate to the seasons the earth must go through
As it circles the sun making each cycle new.
Life cannot give up giving then call it The Day.
Each moment of existence is then justified.

In preparing for Thanksgiving, when to begin
All the planning and clockwork to make it worthwhile
To all who become present for one special day?
We cannot stop The Giving. We’re blessed in that way.
Now, we’re deeply divided and in no denial.
Life responds to our thankfulness – not to our sin.

In The Giving, relief from the drama at play,
On the world stage or this humble spot where I live,
Rings a welcoming echo and feelings of grace
That I have become thankful that I know my place.
I am thankful The Giving allows me go give
With no sense of confusion nor heartfelt dismay.

Momentum At Rest

The Motionlessness Apparent

An explosion in slow motion, as it takes place,
Is a consummate spectacle to human eyes.
As we place ourselves out there in body and mind,
We remain optimistic for what we may find.
Have we looked enough inward that we realize
What the nature of time is and how it makes space?

This star system created a vivified rock.
On the surface evolves a thin skin of smart moss.
It has leaped off the earth now to kiss the cosmos
Without asking indeed if it wants to get close.
If we stayed where we are, it would suffer no loss.
That, to many a human, may come as a shock.

Does it seem like it’s moving or standing quite still?
That pertains to our chaos as we find our way
On this Mother we’ve come to know as our birth place.
We exist through a larger will we can embrace.
There are ways to align self to live out each day.
When momentum is graceful, life can be a thrill.

Character Is Destiny

The Drama of Symbology

It’s a simple equation yet complex in ways
That can cause misconception and conjured up fears.
‘Character Equals Destiny’ sounds about right.
But, pray tell, what is Character? Shine me some light.
I’ve been lost in this forest for too many years.
As I watch them sneak by, they seem much more like days.

I do know well what destiny is, I do think.
It pertains to the future and how things work out.
If I live well, then good fortune may come my way.
If I don’t, then I won’t be immune to dismay.
To determine what ‘well’ means may free up some doubt
That would otherwise fulfill its job to hoodwink.

I should know what will happen if myself I know
As the sole story teller. To disarm all fear,
Am I known to be truthful in word and in deed?
People care about safety. Therein lies the need
For a code of behavior to which I adhere.
To thine own self be honest, then God’s grace will flow.

Dirty Double Dog Stare

Benign Absurdity

May we be made aware of the Double Dog Stare
Most specifically, the discrete dirty ones?
Truthfully, dogs don’t give them. They get them from us.
When they behave more like us, we make such a fuss.
They have become, for many, our daughters and sons
And when they misbehave, we still give them our care.

I cannot take for granted what’s in a dog’s face
Because it leads directly to that creature’s heart.
The connection exists between mind and the soul.
Each can know of the other to make knowing whole.
They are friends with much love and wisdom to impart
To the whole of humanity as a sick race.

We have keen double vision in how we believe
Our realities mingle. This is how we are.
Is it used for survival within our complex
Constructions of necessity? Nature objects
Such a notion of grandeur as much too bizarre.
Other species can learn from us how to deceive.

 

With Eyes Off The Perpend

Wall of Analysis

Parallelness is tricked as it can perpendict
At no other locations than ninety degrees.
So to stay parallel can be done fairly well
When revealed that the strong perpendicular fell
Through a crack in the mortar when it had to sneeze.
Such a thing shouldn’t happen if properly bricked.

But what brick can admit that, solid as they are
Whether laid on their sides or prepared to stand tall?
Truth among brick is baseless and of no degree
That can be safely measured and accurately.
Most unnatural acts are done to the brick wall
When destructed in haste and without a memoir.

Don’t pretend that prepends are perpendicular
To stuff above and under them – not to their sides.
One should act with conviction expressing belief
In perpendicularity, as this is chief
In the building of structures where faith are the guides.
Keep your sense of alignment from flying too far.

The Solemnity Of Solitude

Autumn Serenity

I respect my aloneness. I am not apart
From the magic surrounding me. Each breath I take
Is reflecting what I behold as I believe
In a world more fantastic than I could conceive.
Can I do such with others without much heartache?
There would be much less known and much more to kick start.

I am but one antenna with one vantage point
Defined in this reality as separate
From all other transceivers within the same void
Of a chaos of consciousness most humanoid.
Should my being alone be something to regret?
Those who long for this freedom may nature anoint.

I exist in an acorn that hangs from a tree
In a mystical forest bathed in golden light.
All the world that’s around me, I’ll take with a grain,
Or a fractional part that produces no pain.
When I do hang with others, I do so with sight
Of my true self distinguished from all there’s to be.

Malefic Colonoscope

Colon Specific

A head made for examining places obscene
Is the best of a woman. This world view will change.
Will the goddess of old step aside for the new?
Will she be brushed asunder, her path laid askew
By upcoming young Goddesses? Can it be strange
That procedures be undone due to ill routine?

There are those who, nostalgic for good times gone past,
Need a detailed report on the colonic health
Of the king who she works for. The news sparks their hopes
That all women can be trained to be endoscopes.
It is made more appealing when tied to some wealth
And the praises of men through their lifetimes will last.

I won’t look at that colon. Suffice it to feel
On some subsonic level what goes on up there.
My head must be above all that causes distress.
All the feminine power that we now suppress
Is approaching expression. Is this but a prayer?
Naturally prophetic, it shall become real.

Cosmosis

Procession of Existence

The direction I’m pointed to is, by design,
Not of worth to the cosmos nor who they contain.
I believe it’s a good thing. What else can I do?
It’s become calisthenic when my heart is true
To the point of the exercise. Yes, for the brain,
Which is part of the cosmos, this effort is fine.

At six seconds per page view, this site is on track.
A deep sense of fulfillment becomes firmament
Above firm, fluid calmness. I’m playing my role
As the fool of the gene pool with no special goal
But To Be and respond to the obscene event
And to keep on existing without looking back.

I Was Here. Who need know that? What sense does it make
That I can feel significant only by means
Of the chronic Cosmosis, contracted at birth,
That makes me need attention to be on this earth?
Being sociable this way is not in my genes.
So, should I write a book to compound this mistake?

Simply being alive means I’m doing my thing.
Should the cosmos become not aware of its own
Then it must defy logic since I do exist.
When I’m gone I can know that my words wont’ be missed
Because they’ve been lent to me so that I be shown
What a glorious outcome this process may bring.

The Malignant Malingering

Impaired Executive Function

It’s a long time in coming. A change in game plan
Is now unfolding vividly. No coverup
Can be made to be foolproof. The world clearly sees
Conflagration of trouble due to his disease.
One who deals in delusion will drink from this cup.
Is the doctor in trouble or is the con man?

A quick trip to the hospital on a work night
May suggest some activity might have occurred
Involving hypertension or panic attacks
And those close in his circle must all watch their backs.
We must tell the world nothing. This way is preferred.
This is not a good story. We must spin it right.

Soon the president will be given the big choice.
He will quit due to illness as all play along.
Never mind that he’s not ill – just screwed in the head.
If he keeps the shit up, pretty soon he’ll be dead.
One who’s sick and in office confounds what is wrong.
There may soon come a reason that all may rejoice.

Rationalization Of Pain

Objectification Of Fear

People utilize pain pills. They do a fine job
But they are problematic and otherworldly.
Addicted to their side effects, folks then become
Naturalized as an alien. Feeling made numb
In an effort to banish pain but completely
Is a crisis most urgent. Life Force does it rob.

Yet there is a solution to deal with deep pain.
One can look at it upright and study its parts.
In a rational context they all look like fear
That the way of existence is rather austere.
The nerve throbbing profoundly is how it all starts.
It is good to know that pain is not felt in vain.

I cannot dramatize it nor give it import.
As a signal, its job is serene and secure
Like the crash of electrons throughout their highway.
Drama only moves traffic and causes dismay.
If pain is seen as plastic, may I then endure?
Would I feel much less of it were I to fall short?

Verbal Storm

Thought

Our thoughts are like the weather. From out of the blue
They are born of a nothingness wanting to be
In connection with other thoughts. They coalesce
Out of need for expression. Life isn’t a guess
When they’re free of distortion and mental debris.
When they are well constructed magic one can do.

Thoughts need words to communicate much of the time.
Many ways to convey thoughts are at our avail
That are strictly nonverbal. Much art is this way.
So sublime a dichotomy can’t but portray
Possibilities boundless and rich in detail.
To get our points across is the thing that is prime.

In the space that is parallel to what we think
Is a vortex syllabic and vast beyond sight.
People learn how to speak well, but what does it mean
When words yield much confusion and actions obscene?
Words proceed from our thinking, and knowing it’s right
May be what keeps one balanced and well in the pink.

Saint Peter Was Once Just A Rock

Mineral Tribute

I take metempsychosis as I do most things
Like a big grain of salt I can study with care.
Those before me, like Plato and Pythagoras
Were most elegant thinkers no one could outclass.
Before I had heard of them, I was not aware
Of the bounty of wisdom philosophy brings.

The most unified theory of all that exists
Is so woefully wanting. The puzzle remains
Hopelessly uncompleted. I want to know more
Than the flesh can reveal. I have been here before.
From a source otherworldly the wise one obtains
Information restricted as nature insists.

There is never an ending. The Big Bang is part
Of an unending cycle of absolute change.
Consciousness is infused throughout all the expanse.
Everything is a soul which is given the chance
To evolve through all matter. Does this sound too strange?
For a ride in the Theme Park, it’s somewhere to start.

Who Is That Strange Soul?

enigma

Life speeds by rather quickly from this vantage point.
It’s just like at the movies, but I am there too.
My believing it is me, though it’s crystal clear,
Is a grand paradox – one that causes me fear,
Not of that which is unknown, but of this post view.
I can’t be that strange fellow. Why such a disjoint?

Have I acted so foolishly? I guess I did.
Somehow I can’t deny I’m the actor played there
Who appears ill and clumsy while caught in the light.
I thought I was a peaceful soul. This one does fight.
He would have people know that they’d better beware.
Indeed, when he gets angry he acts like a kid.

Has there been a mistake? This review can’t be mine.
Some screwup has occurred in the Akashic Vault.
One bored astral librarian made a mistake.
But who is there to check that? No sense does it make.
And can those who are in charge say this is my fault?
If I suspend all judgment, will things work out fine?

The Trials And Triumphs Of Tina Treasuretoosh

Showoff

When one’s toosh is a treasure, life can become strange.
For oneself, the ambition to stand out in crowds
Is a righteous and just one and follows the need
To be noticed and envied. We’ll fail or succeed
By the free wills of others. Vanity enshrouds
All the parts of our bodies that we think can change.

Parts are part of the parcel we dare to enhance.
To give one part attention more so than the rest
Is what people fall into because of demand
Of our parts-centered natures. Who can’t understand
How it can be offensive if wrongly expressed?
No one should have to fear that they’re taking a chance.

Some big butts are a magnet to wide erect eyes
That don’t mind stimulation. Tina knows for sure
She is much more than her cultivated asset.
Those who can’t realize that are not her regret.
She proceeds with a fine ass and heart that is pure,
Knowing that all the parts we have are a disguise.

A Night Of Awakening

Hope

The vampires and the zombies compete on the stage
As their werewolves howl constantly into this night.
It becomes fairly fecal. The sponsored live stream
Drives the country to consciousness, as in a dream.
Feeble sounds mocking justice are silenced by light.
All that’s missing from this scene is fervent outrage.

Nestled in the fluidity, we may see stars…
Bright but blurred in our vision, they do but their best
As they have always done. It’s ingrained in their souls.
Noble service and duty are their only goals.
With the issues at hand finally put to rest
We may return to daylight by healing our scars.

The night sky is a spectacle for human eyes.
So attracted to contrast, they follow the flow.
Seeing aesthetic balance is best for all sides
Of the One coin united. The one who divides
Will go down in world history as a great foe.
We will soon be awakened to friendlier skies.

Infrared Neck

Visual Revelations

Is the image of heat loss enough to evoke
Irritation and feeling stiffness in the neck?
It may be therapeutic to use infrared
To support diagnosis – not to be misled.
Why elude the believer? It’s proper to check
With a sensitive instrument to see what broke.

We should care for our Gelicals in the best way
Because Evan delivers the pain in their necks.
Redness responds to infra because it’s below
And indeed further on to where people can go.
An aching for a race war is not so complex.
Simple minds need a leader to plan out their day.

The right book states an Imperfect Vessel shall come
And his mission to usher in Armageddon
Is fulfillment of prophecy. What a delight!
Those who beam up to rapture will only be white.
All religion is human. Spirit makes us one.
Consciousness is an illness. We can overcome.

Do I Need A Container?

The Questions of Life

Is Defining My Life Force a worthwhile pursuit?
Or should I remain timid regarding nonsense
As is seen by this busy world? Is what I do
Of a value consistent with right points of view?
Silly world, I am childlike! My faith is immense.
Self-discovery for me is an absolute.

Do I need to be guided while I’m on my way
To wherever my spirit has pointed my heart?
We all are flesh containers. Those older than I
May be of some assistance. But I can get by
On the infinite wisdom of which I’m a part.
I must know who I am or I’ll surely decay.

Within me there is substance. It and I are one.
This complex earthy medium makes a fine tool
That I’ll use to explore to my true heart’s content.
There is nothing more meaningful than good time spent
Looking inward. It increases my psychic fuel.
There’s no end to my searching as long as it’s fun.

Afterlife

Transition

I have died, and I’m here now in this afterlife.
It’s not what I expected. It looks rather bleak
Like the life left behind. I discern no big change.
Things that are in both places I can’t rearrange
To my liking. Forgive my most honest critique
But what I see ahead is continuing strife.

Have I made this illusion upon psychic death
In a knee jerk response to prepare me to see
The Omega of afterlives waiting ahead
All because I believe now that I’m truly dead?
In believing it’s so, then it’s all up to me
To live up to what follows ‘til my dying breath.

Is there light? I don’t see that. At least, not right now.
I was told I must go to it, moth-like in trust
That reality will vanish once and for all.
This world that I’m believing could be my downfall.
How I deal with non-time here will still be discussed.
This death is a transition I humbly allow.

Keep It Simple

Simplicity

How can I keep things simple? My life is complex
Not because I’m a Virgo, but that I’m alive.
Saturn transits my Neptune at ninety degrees.
My wake up to reality gives me unease.
Somewhat lost in confusion my ill thoughts deprive
Me of life force and clarity in all respects.

The depth of my uncertainty too is unknown.
I don’t feel that I’m meaningful in a big way
Nor do I feel connected with those of my kind.
Until Saturn moves onward, the fog in my mind
Will try to hang above me and damage each day.
I must know I’m still worthy and not so alone.

I’ll rely on simplicity in my routine.
I’ve collected much clutter. It’s not justified
As a part of my makeup. It’s locked to the past.
I need to Keep It Simple and remain steadfast.
This thing won’t last forever. I’ll take it in stride.
It’s a time to examine my truth and come clean.

Toward A More Natural Order

Economies of Order

It’s a nonverbal language of lucid morphemes.
Acquisition or learning are possible ways
We may come to express what we see as our truth.
It is best that we learn how to speak in our youth.
That’s because when we’re young we put fun in our days.
We all read from the same book, or so it all seems.

Is there natural order to how life evolves?
Can we find a predictable sequence within
Spatial substance suspended adrift in the mind?
If the mind fights with nature, is it well designed?
All pragmatics, semantics and syntax are kin
To the global phonology as it revolves.

Language is as it should be… a social disease.
Subdivisions of virulence grow big in size
And compete for world dominance and point of view.
We become more programmable and less askew.
In the common collective we can recognize
How to become more fluent as our nature sees.

Volcanic Defecation Forecast

Extreme Privacy

A big blast from the small room where bathing takes place
Is the source of embarrassment for the house guests.
They know no one is bathing. The sound that they hear
Is the elimination of what causes fear.
The host must take accounting for what he digests.
A loud dump is the outcome before the disgrace.

In the Oval Office there is no air-tight room
With a stainless-steel toilet to muffle the sound
Of the violent expulsion of all the ill deeds
Because many an investigation proceeds.
The whole world braces for the bowel movement profound.
It’s a gross revelation of impending doom.

The blast comes in the form of a soundbite of news
Telling of something horrid. It gets even worse.
It will grow to a shit stream of disgusting facts.
We have not heard the worst of this wicked man’s acts.
The alarm is our knowing that soon the foul curse
Will be lifted from us. This man will pay his dues.

Bowels can be rather noisy, occasionally.
It’s a sign that we haven’t been treating them right.
If we stuff them with evil for decades on end
They will shout with a loud voice. They do not pretend
That they haven’t been messed with. Our future is bright.
The White House is no outhouse. They will come to see.

A Land Of Raw Milk And Organic Honey

Contrast Irony

I can’t double-click well when my fingers are cold.
The AC must be kept at the proper degree
Or I will not cooperate. I have my rights
Because I’m an American – one who delights
In detailing my comforts. Life is about me.
I can maintain some smugness in what I behold.

That land has to be promised by someone like God
Is a fact or a myth I can live with and hope
That I’m on the receiving end of what is good.
But what of all the others who would, if they could
Be providers and reapers? I broaden my scope
Of a true situation one cannot applaud.

Milk and Honey means bounty and everything nice.
To most, it’s an ideal… to few, reality.
All land has its own goodness. All life came from there.
We, the creatures who tend it, could give it more care.
Our world crises we nurture, not willing to see
Human nature is something earth can sacrifice.

Freewheeling Abandon

Freewheel

A visit from Uranus to Venus is like
Having Santa’s elves over to Feng Shui your heart.
I review my relationships. They need to be
Shaken from their sclerotic routines as I see.
All that I’ve become part of could use a fresh start.
To hell with an old mindset. My will is to psych.

That I do well. It’s not like I’ve not what it takes
To discover new ways of relating to all
Who indeed are my brethren. Commitment I give
Only to more excitement in all that I live.
What had been strong and stable has become banal.
When the heart becomes unstable, the soul awakes.

Uranus is the rebel rouser in the sky.
He brings on inspiration to seek out new ways
Of defining our values, our tastes and desires
…Those things that are of Venus. My spirit requires
Artistic stimulation, as my mood will raise.
Venus will be upset when Uranus drops by.

The Anatomy Of Feeling

Color Vibration

Electrons paint our feelings as they flow through nerves,
And like all good conductors, the nerves in return
Propagate waves magnetic, attuned to their flow.
Waves traverse space with great ease and complex cargo
That consists of our moments. I want to discern
What my feelings are made of as my heart observes.

Yes, the nerves are like wires. We’re much like the machine.
Our electrical systems respond to Ohm’s Law.
When our moments are transmitted and then received
Nerves within the receiver, so it is believed,
Replicate exact patterns felt and without flaw,
Though we may not perceive them unless we are keen.

Knowing deep pain or pleasure, each have the same feel.
Our high current protection limits either one
So the rational mind can measure in detail
What it is that we’re feeling so life can prevail.
We can re-tweak the system so that it will run
Like a fine feeling engine. Is this not ideal?

Keep Your Gum Off The Bedpost

Common Place

Keep You Gum Off The Bedpost. It’s not the right place
To park something retrieved from its oral abode
Entertained by the teeth, tongue and tonsils by day.
At nighttime can it be wise to treat it this way?
Gum cannot remain safe when its pace has been slowed.
It’s as if a good runner is pulled from his race.

And when parked on the bedpost, the germs in the air
Are free to make a fine home of its resting mass.
Gum will regain full flavor, not of what it had
But of crap in the funky air, and this is sad.
Any fool who would do this is quite the jackass.
One who chews funky putty needs wise mental care.

One must use proper hygiene when dealing with gum…
Never mind that the bedpost, because it’s erect
Through the night in a dark room may give someone pause,
Why put something disgusting back between your jaws?
The harm put upon gum from nocturnal neglect
Can come back to upset one and make one feel dumb.

Be Sincere

Social Performance

Film is rolling. Now, give the world your whitest smile.
Don’t tell me you don’t have one to proudly display.
We all have social standing. Is yours not above
Those who are at rock bottom? Do show them some love
By reminding them life is much better your way.
Don’t you dare let your mask down. It is your profile.

Be alive and in good health for all whom you meet
On the street, if they’re worthy of some time of day.
Use your keen sense of judgment to fully assess
How much they are like you or hopefully much less
So that you feel of value in life’s cabaret.
Claim your sense of fulfillment from Satan by tweet.

But be kind to the losers. We speak from the soul
With our hearts heavy-laden. Stage presence we lack
And our costumes are tattered from playing our parts.
We all have one director who knows all our hearts.
In a heartbeat we’ll leave here without looking back
Knowing non-actors exit with none to condole.

Do I Need A Co-Writer?

Programmed Terminal Distraction

Hanging on past my world worth, I seek not my own
Group of lighthearted losers. Alone I decay.
One misspoken raw truth or a social faux pas
Once a day should not get me involved with the law
Nor should it take my birthright to be here away.
Nature does still support me in its Twilight Zone.

Gnats don’t help with my writing. They get in the way.
I’ll assume that it’s personal then take offense.
Their obscene aeronautics hijacks attention
Even if there’s no light source. They do this for fun.
They are faster than I, so it makes perfect sense
That for such a transgression I shall make them pay.

While in flight, I can spray them with something that burns.
Rubbing alcohol works well. A delicate mist
Knocks them flat on their asses. I take much delight
Because now they’re so dazed they can’t put up a fight.
When they start fucking with me, I cannot resist
Brushing up on my mayhem against all concerns.

As they frantically gasp and flail after they fall
I now master the last laugh and take back some pride.
As I watch them grow weaker, I’ll spray them again.
They’ve messed with the wrong creature among insane men.
As I see that they’re hopeless, I feel good inside.
After that, I will kill them. My wrath isn’t small.

Do I draw such contempt from those of my own kind?
Do I act out in consequence of being cursed
As a highflying nuisance disrupting the show?
That I know nothing of it causes me to grow.
Someday I’ll cease my wars, but right now I’m submersed
In one of my own making. It’s all in the mind.

Women And Power

Strategy In Power

When and how to use force are the questions to ask
Among so many others before waging war.
We’d prefer conversation and working things out
Yet throughout all our history there’s little doubt
That we are prone to fight and to even the score.
When it comes to destruction we’re up to the task.

Have there been female generals in the wars past?
Who knows how they would fight and what harm they could do?
There are some of a fortunate few who could tell
Of the hell they went through that we cannot know well.
We know only of fighting men. Women, we view,
As still much less than lethal and of lower caste.

Women have been in office, but playing the game
On a man’s world stage and with the rules now in place
Is a leadership lacking in human resolve.
We can remain one-sided in how we evolve
But our old ways embellish our racial disgrace.
When women define power things won’t be the same.