Archive | June 2020

Semi-Lucid Dream

Those I interact with in this vivid half dream
Can be only part real, as subconscious creates
From a playbook of lessons I’m destined to learn.
People who I encounter can’t be of concern
Nor can I demand substance from non-awake states.
Characters in this half-life must be as they seem.

Nothing that I derive should make substantial sense.
It de-sanctifies logic. I should stand at ease
In pursuit of perfection of nebulous form
Where most intense emotion is rendered lukewarm.
I must know that all actors will do as they please.
What directs all behavior denies self-offense.

I discern from conditions while fully awake
What I’m most having trouble with. Then I recall
An enlightened absurdity present and strong.
It becomes a nonsequitur that I ‘belong’
To the world that I’m dreaming. I don’t know it all
Nor can I make believe anything is at stake.

Obsessively Driven

Jun6

Sustenance is a given but not on this earth.
In the world disembodied such isn’t the case.
When existing as pure spirit nothing one needs
But divine grace, whereas in this world what proceeds
To hijack people’s focus is all that we chase.
We exalt acquisition and give it much worth.

The concern is with getting all that we may need
Multiplied by a factor ensuring success.
We must win by a landslide to mitigate fear.
There’s no notion of ‘too much,’ and what we hold dear
Will endure dissipation. Some can’t go for less
Than their oversized visions that rely on greed.

So Obsessively Driven our indigent souls
See less value in providence offered for free
By all mightier powers of spirit unseen.
Fearful feelings of worth feed the grotesque machine
That supports the few families efficiently.
Luckily we have free will to temper our goals.

Goal achieving is reckless when out of control
Of the peace ever silent that guides from within.
We become, then, pugnacious and lacking in charm.
In pursuit of our pleasures we do others harm.
Earthly structures are rigid and wear the heart thin.
What on earth besides spirit can render us whole?

This Old Child

Jun5

This Old Child needs attention. It that how it is?
It’s a shame. I’m embarrassed. I meant no one harm.
Is it time I surrendered and be an adult?
Most grownups that I know act as if they’re a cult.
I apply for acceptance, but I must disarm
Subtle rigors of consciousness. It’s a tough quiz.

I still think that I’m dreaming this life that I live.
At profound disadvantage, I know but a part
Of the unfolding story. Others know it all
As they move with a swiftness where I can but crawl.
Uninsured innuendo is meant to impart
But small bits of the puzzle. This I must forgive.

Do I feel I’m that different and out of place
Among others who “get” things that I can’t conceive?
Does my aberrant youthfulness make me a fool
Among those who consider my tantrums a tool
That I use out of boredom? Am I that naïve
That I see life as something that I can’t embrace?

Are these questions that children ask just to annoy
Those who can’t help but hear them because they’re so loud?
My emotions aren’t pretty when out of control
And it causes severe detriment to my soul
Yet somewhere in my illness I feel somewhat proud
Of rare moments when I can exist in pure joy.

Hole In One

Jun5

Games of leisure have goals just as those that are not
Of the type where complacency plays a big hand.
If the goal is exciting the crowd will then cheer.
If it’s not then the spectators often will sneer.
Either way folks participate by their demand
For wholesome entertainment throughout the game’s plot.

Games are meant to be played in the spirit of fun
For all parties involved unless pleasure received
At the expense of others is what it’s about.
The ulterior games being played leave no doubt
That shared secrets are kept from the one who’s deceived.
Such games make that one foolish then pain has begun.

Holes In One are resultant if One takes to heart
All the petty collusion of those who are bored
With their lives that are lacking of genuine goals.
Acting games cause severe damage to certain souls
So most heartless game players may claim their reward
In sadistic refinement of their gaming art.

Winning moves are not rare ones. They often occur
In elite social circles and those more mundane.
With no shots intervening to get to the goal
Winners smug in achievement think they’re in control
Of the grand game of living, yet little they gain
As the debt of their playing they cannot defer.

Ohm’s Law

Jun4

Current flows through conductors. There’s no voltage drop
If there is no resistance. But wires get hot
As electrons get moving way past normal speed.
Then the circuit burns open. Therefore there’s the need
That resistance is present quite rather than not.
This is not the sole reason that current may stop.

Every circuit is opened or closed by a switch.
Every loop is a series of component parts.
If a part becomes missing no current will flow.
If there is too much current the circuit will blow.
Electricity is one of nature’s fine arts.
If folks knew more about it their lives would enrich.

Voltage equals resistance times current, which means
There’s a solid relationship that cannot change.
Ohm’s law cannot be fucked with like others man made.
Politics can’t affect it nor games that are played
To defy normal functioning. None can arrange
To enact abolition. Nature intervenes.

Now, here comes the analogy. Voltage compares
To the pressure put on us to live out our lives.
Current is all our movements through daily routines.
Our resistance to movement resides in our genes
And in direct proportion each person survives
By maintaining the driving force in all affairs.

Current flows through resistance, as voltage is made
To ensure perfect balance. This natural law
Forms the basis of everything having all three.
Current, voltage, and resistance, as we can see,
Are a most stable trio. Ohm’s law defies flaw.
No one can disobey it nor can it be swayed.

A Radiant Warmth

Jun4

In my Dream I am radiant just as the sun
Shines its good warmth in kindness to all in its field
Of its planets’ existence. The people I know
In my fantasy world propagate with a glow
Of immense salutation wherein all are healed
Completely of all illness. The System Is One.

I’ll create my surroundings if they won’t exist
On their own as safe refuge from what else may be
Wanting to make its presence surreal in my soul.
All that happens in my world is blessed and whole.
I need not close my eyes tightly for me to see
Any world that I want to. Turmoil is dismissed.

Social life is harmonious. All speak with ease
And intently are listened to. I can feel warm
And delighted to be with dear friends of my mind.
I know that there’s a ‘real’ world, but it is unkind.
It offers but conundrum, and that is its norm.
I cannot feel respected. My heart fights the freeze.

My subconscious is fertile. My passion is strong.
I present as a wellspring to all who I meet
In existence alternative to otherwise
Those whose fun is ignoring me despite my cries.
The real world and its populous take a back seat
To my cherished illusions where I can’t be wrong.

The Untended Soil

Jun3

When earth’s soil is untended then mankind sets in.
Not a thing about nature man treats with respect.
What results is deep scarring. A cancer grown wild
Aims to threaten earth’s surface. Behold the stepchild
Of the semen of Satan. Not through God’s neglect
Does the gross infestation become mortal sin.

Man commands his undoing. The soul of the earth
Can withstand many eons of outright abuse
At the hands of its waste product stuck to its skin.
She could use a strong bathing, but where to begin?
Were that left up to us would we not reproduce?
Man perpetuates sickness. It’s his right by birth.

All were meant to support nature’s all-giving soul
With our rational faculty and open hearts.
But that’s not what has happened. We’ve tried many times
To get past our own egos and arrogant crimes.
We’re a species encumbered by glaring false starts.
Earth may see our extinction as it’s righteous goal.

Preexisting Pandemic

Jun3

This kind virus has nothing to do with our war.
It exists to bring healing to dear mother earth.
She’s infected with humans. Severely she’s ill.
All the bloodshed of hate form a thick whirlpool swill.
It maintains her high fever. For all that it’s worth
That which is sick before sickness comes to the core.

The condition’s onset was with Adam and Eve…
Or whatever trite fairy tale authored by man
Our disease cares to cherish. It has been here long
Before some bug so vicious would show us who’s strong.
We may struggle worldwide to come up with a plan
But, in contrast to nature, we’re born to deceive.

Surely we’re the pandemic – the scourge of the earth
Who as fucked mother nature in so many ways.
How much longer will she accept being our whore?
Something outside must show us and even the score.
Consciousness is the natural thing that must raise.
As a species it would seem we have little worth.

Emotional Stamina

Jun3

Those who find me “disturbing” are lily white trash
And among them are token specks playing the roles
Of Jemimas and Sambos with power to scorn.
Simply I detest bullshit from those who were born
To excrete through their fake smiles their niggardly souls.
All must know that in due time all flesh turns to ash.

Send your pigs to harass me, you dumb nigger bitch?
You belong in some hell pit, and that’s where you are.
My words speak with aggression. That won’t go away.
This black bear won’t attack you. I’d hope that your day
Burns a hole through your cheapness. Yes you left a scar
That I seem to be handling as if there’s no glitch.

Since hate Is on the menu. I will take a bite.
It is good for digesting feces of intent.
It invigorates clarity and common sense.
What I do with my blackness requires no defense.
I won’t go to a church to bow down and repent.
I don’t need a white preacher. I do need to fight!

Tragic lessons in mockery we all shall learn.
All the teachers among us pretending to care
And who talk down to me as if I were a child
Or some unsheltered animal snatched from the wild
I Do wish ill upon you. Don’t give me that stare
That says I’ve not the right to wish that you would burn.

I remain out of trouble. My life will be spared
Even though I’m a black man in turbulent times.
Taken off the back burner and back to the streets
Hatred is reignited. My hated heart beats
To abolish “correctness” within social crimes.
For conniving white faces I am well prepared.

Stirred By The Past

Jun2

It is best to keep record of all that I feel.
If for no other reason it takes back my soul
From corrosive erosion from playing outside.
In my heart and my intellect I must confide.
Spirit is not concerned with my reaching some goal.
I shall learn not from others that my life is real.

In my past there is heartbreak. The vile discontent
Is the resident framework upon which are built
Attitudes and convictions reflective of hate
That consumes my life essence because I don’t rate
Others’ tacit approval. My hopes and dreams wilt
And what I’ve learned most clearly is how to resent.

As I speak of the present I’m stuck in the past
And the manifold messages meant to do harm
Are what I most remember. The future is bleak
Since no one understands simple words that I speak.
If my forsaken nature should sound some alarm
It results in solutions that aren’t meant to last.

It’s a cruel world, but I shall not leave it just yet.
Spirit has work for me here that I will complete
Notwithstanding the torment that I will endure.
In the next phase of living my soul becomes pure.
What I cannot take with me dissolves in defeat.
I shall know in the long run that I’ve paid my debt.

The Souls Of My Assets

Jun2

Do material objects mean something to me
Or are they just inanimate souls of their own?
Things that move and have consciousness I have a few
Or they have me as subsequent payment comes due
For continued relationship. I’d be alone
But for chains of commitment forever to be.

Inclination to finance and expenditure
Are afflicted or wholesome as actions may tell.
When I’m feeling luxurious life is a breeze
But at times my security can’t give me ease
So resultant discomfort is clear as a bell.
All throughout the wide spectrum my soul must endure.

Life demands compensation for what it expends
To keep all fully energized and in good shape.
Individuals’ assets are prone to combine
With those of certain others’. To know what is mine
Is an ongoing process I cannot escape.
Value in pure aloneness my heart recommends.

Verbal Thought-Fare

Jun1

Verbal Warfare is Thought-Fare. The hue of the glove
Offers fierce competition. The cognitive ring
Is the place where aggression will have its first fight.
One may find it disgusting yet with scant delight
There’s an urge to just do it. It’s the only thing
That attracts a good audience to challenge love.

It’s a world of ideas unscrewed from their source.
Void of light in the mainstream, they’re destined to clash.
Eminent is the danger that egos will break,
But forsaking a good fight would be a mistake
For the essence of selfhood is gone in a flash.
The prospects may be more tragic than use of force.

Thought-Fare, often creative, can strengthen the mind.
Manifold are the outcomes opponents may choose.
In perfecting the drama practice is a must.
We enact with much vigor. The passion robust
Escalates entertainment. Who will win or lose
Is a matter irrelevant and undefined.

The Magic Realist

A Poet's Path

Archive | June 2020