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A Message From God…

Special Delivery

This is not just a greeting. My promise to you
Is not one of a preaching on how to behave.
Many angels watch over you, and they report
All the troubles you’re having. Their job is to thwart
Any semblance of evil. The peace that you crave
Is deserved and forthcoming. What I say is true.

Times of feeling unnoticed are over for you.
Healthy change, new horizons, and drive to succeed
At your cherished endeavors are yours if you ask.
I must hear from the human heart. That is your task
So that I can completely fulfill every need
That you have now and may ever. That’s what I do.

Massive breakthroughs are coming. Get ready for that.
But don’t force your intentions to make things work out.
Your desires are most powerful. Let them allow
My Love to manifest them right here and right now.
All that keeps you in stress and turmoil is your doubt.
You must trust that I have this whole God thing down pat.

Breathe and let My creative power in your soul.
You will find it most healing if you will but try.
Nervousness in this moment shall wither away.
The only commandment I want you to obey
Is to love without prejudice and to rely
On My skill at divinity. I make you whole.

Are You Addressed?

Foundations Of Freedom

A New Nation Conceived… but of what demon seed
That produces a mixed black and white bastard child
Who, at war with itself constantly, must act out
A superior newness… one which is about
Segregation’s revival and hate reconciled
For that part not considered a part of its breed?

That’s one hell of a question! So, let’s break it down.
Those forefathers were pissed off at England, so they
Went and stole them some new land, the old pirate’s way.
Taking on human cargo causes much dismay,
But these merry explorers took it as child’s play
To display fervent hatred for the black and brown.

Yet, it isn’t all of us who feel quite this way…
But enough of a huge chunk to make the child ill.
Would the sickness go back to England with its tail
Between where all that pissed off their fathers prevail?
Can there be a subspecies that harbors ill will
Toward a part of itself? And what price does that pay?

 “…That all men are created equal…” is the gist
Of the lofty idea that set folks apart
From outdated monarchy to newfound freedom
But that cannot happen as long as there are some
Who just came for the ride and would much rather start
Bloody war in a heartbeat, as their acts insist.

Two scores and two centuries ago people were
In a funk existential and most exclusive
In their fresh new ideas and self-righteous goals.
Will our constitution be buck shot full of holes
By a parallel nation of traitors who live
For the wildness of old times that oft’ reoccur?

Africanized Forked Tongued Maricopa

A Radic alized Species

A day’s lesson in zoology is the news
Made aggressively in the streets of Lalaland.
Easily they’re excited by smells of bullshit.
Give them feces to feed on… My God! They won’t quit!
No one now recognizes that this is all planned
And pumped straight from the anus of whom all accuse.

The remote master chessman knows well in advance
How his pieces will play out his will, then begone.
So intrenched are his tentacles in our affairs
They feel righteously nice to some. Indeed who cares.
We can’t know how we’re fucked with. We’re not more withdrawn
But more prone to be entertained by circumstance.

These people are bananas! They’re stark fucking mad!
I thought I’d been the nutcase forever ‘til now.
Having been one, I know one, but don’t know them all…
And with these breeding maggots, there’d be no close call.
On I’ll go in damned comfort if I can allow
These assholes to amuse me. That can’t make me sad.

Checking for Asian DNANot for Bamboo –
Is the path of the brain ninja, but I digress…
Why not check for fried rice with traces of soy sauce
Through the most telltale patterns of slant Lissajous
Micro-minded for merit? You folk are a mess!
Next time your ilk go trippin’, I’ll know what to do.

What To Do While In Spirit…

Eternitity of Beingness

Not near death nor near living, for what do I wait?
…No sense of being conscious of self nor no one
Since the mere act of being is made of its own
Only substance of time flow ever to be known
As the thought come before next becomes the end run
Of this life come to be passed much due to dead weight?

This thought form of a body exists very real.
As an everyday model old, fine does it run.
Remembers it insanely well how to behave,
Or how to send its master to its early grave.
Incomplete thought entrapment can never be done.
Absolute nonexistence has no thought appeal.

From the viewpoint exalted far out and away
All of life is presented. Complain does the thought
Not of style nor of format nor technique surreal,
But for just being yanked from the world with such zeal.
Interruption? To think that, who then can’t be caught
In the fool’s web of arrogance for The Long Day?

Practicing hospice routine partakes pleasure’s peace.
Transition through reviewing as all it takes place
Has never been attended by one with a name
That has stuck damned fast to it butt gut wrenching shame.
My allowance here shows me the self I must face
For another while longer undoing my fleece.

Purpose

What To Do About Being

Logic lashes through meaning. The human in me
Knows too much to ignore not the way that things are.
This star system is but a mere speck in deep space.
Planet earth is a micro speck cursed by our race.
New York City, a super micro spec, is far
Off the scale of significance, actually.

So, the source of creation may not even know
Of this speck of a system of which I’m a part.
If it ceased to exist in the blink of an eye,
Would it fail to take notice? I too much rely
On some force not within me to enter my heart.
Arrogance hinders me from just letting it go.

There’s no God given purpose for me to be here.
That all comes by conditioning. Humans perceive
Themselves as having purpose, but insensitive
We are to other species that are here to live
As we do – without discord. The web that we weave
Is of total entrapment in unconscious fear.

I Exist. That’s sufficient for me here and now.
My believing in something is not worth the pain
Of expecting good service from nature because
I’m the most worthy species. It gets no applause
From the source of creation. Why seek, but in vain,
What my purpose in life is? I can but allow.

Keeping Tradition Alive

An Effort Of Endurance

Cost of Being increases are not to be paid
To traditional artisans of India.
Expensive raw materials increase in price.
They’re lucky to break even, yet they sacrifice
Time and effort preserving ancient media.
Artifacts from this fort town are craftily made.

Molten metals are used and lots of chiseling.
The process calls for patience, for months it can take
To produce just one item. Focus and detail
Are the skills necessary. All at their avail
Are quaint tools and equipment, and for culture’s sake,
They offer to the world an aesthetic wellspring.

Melted pieces of copper and zinc fill the mold
That is packed using body weight with dirt and sand.
After buffing and polishing, bathing is done
In a sulfate solution. Each and every one
Has a signature color. They then etch by hand
Captivating designs for the world to behold.

  Wire is tapped into carved grooves. The rare soil they use
Comes only from the city of Bali. Therefore,
There’s a special uniqueness to art from this place.
Gig economies prosper but at a slow pace
In these times become urgent with unending war.
What can help such a market that’s destined to lose?

You’re About To Ride The Lightnin’, Son…

The Good Old Days

“White Lightnin’ … White Lightnin’ … We’re in red hot pursuit.
We got one in escape mode… We need some support!”
This one’s awfully dangerous with his sharp tongue

But this black nigger bee is about to get stung
By the wasp of enforcement. His life we’ll cut short
If he so much as whimpers. Our thrill is To Shoot!

Up against the wall, nigger, with hands clearly seen.
Take your shoes off and tap dance on hot asphalt roads.
Lick my boots and then give them an excellent shine.
Since that’s one of your best talents why do you whine?
We take much pride and pleasure in hunt episodes
Where the prey are so many and already mean.

Lightnin’ strikes every day, son. This fine one is yours.
And for me it’s an excuse to let off some steam.
Family life frustrations and issues at work
Punctuate my history, so I Am A Jerk
And so fucking proud of it that often I dream

Of a nation of assholes and bloody race wars.

Oh, did we make a faux pas in being so rude…
Pepper spraying your dog and you and needlessly?
Well, that’s life on the lightnin’ bolt. What will you do?
 To the false right we claim, you’ve the real right to sue.
We’re still back in the forties as far as I see.
This one hell of a negative triggers my mood.

The Real Me

At The Brink Of Awakening

The performance of someone who seems to be me
Is audaciously tricky that it would attempt
To tempt me with the promise of full possession
Of what I have already, yet it has but none
Of the pure essence of me. The ego unkempt
On a world of stage acting has such need to be.

Its craving for acceptance renders it unseen.
If it lets down its armor this may not be true.
Ancient is the fine art that the ego knows well.
Its sole purpose for existing is to compel
Itself and perceived others to perform on cue.
If they don’t then the actor can be rather mean.

What it manifests matters but not a whole lot.
It may take reaching great heights to then realize
That it finds no contentment. So does it matter
That all hopes, dreams, and wishes surely must occur?
Both viewers and projectors are what are the eyes
Running a second story with another plot.

The Great Powerful Wizard Of Oz needs a rest,
As its body and mind grow weary of the act
That it thinks it must maintain to make a big name
Of itself on some world stage. It is not the same
As the one who is nameless. Staying in contact
With that one ensures me that my acting is blessed.

Perceiving Without Labels

Appropriate Futility of Scrutiny

It’s so hard not to use labels with or without
Specific information about what’s inside.
Human egos have them, and they place them upon
Anything possible. We depend so much on
Our conceptual symbols. No way are they tied
To the essences naming them. Be there no doubt!

We can sense life in two ways. Personality
Is a relative tool of survival we use
To communicate everything stored in the mind.
But the other way is of a different kind.
There’s the space of light consciousness which, if we choose,
Can get us to perceiving things quite label free.

The practice of perception is done anywhere.
Most ideal is the environment of nature.
There, one can just observe things simply as they are.
Dropping into this beingness is as bizarre
As the person who senses it’s calming allure.
Getting in touch with one’s true self shouldn’t be rare.

Consciousness on two levels – the transcendent one
And the self with its biases – both we engage.
What plays out in the foreground is of the ego.
In the background, the true self can lovingly show
Its full brightness. The false self may then come of age
Through the coolest relationship ever begun.

Like a lampshade, the person I am gives the light
From my spirit eternal its formative hues.
The conditioned self is dense and heavy a load.
Knowing of my true light source I’m well on the road
To then loving my neighbor as my true self who’s
The same essence eternal which is just as bright.

It’s Just A Ride

We're Here To Enjoy

It has bright lights of color. The faster it spins
The more strength in momentum is offered to all.
Up and down… Round and round it goes. Its thrills and chills
And its overblown loudness innately fulfills
The needs of every rider both big ones and small.
When one enters upon it adventure begins.

There’s no realness about it except in the mind
Which is powerful in its creation of things.
And in collaboration, the ride we create
Determines if we’re living by free will or fate
At the unconscious level. What consciousness brings
Is the blessing or lesson… Perhaps both combined.

For some time some have been riding this blue green ball.
They have questioned its realness enough to conclude
That it’s what we make of it. So don’t be afraid
Of the ride you’ve created. The choice can be made
To come up with another one. This attitude
Increases my amusement. This is nothing small.

Bigger locks on our doors and windows and more guns
Is a ride that is horrid, closed off, and insane.
The alternative ride is about humankind.
Caring for those who need it, we are more inclined
To survive as a species. It’s much to our gain
To examine how this ride we’ve created runs.

Mission Underground

A Mischievous Trio

Dedicated to mischief, this trio consists
Of a witch, a dead boy, and a handsome devil.
Halloween is their best time, for they trick or treat
The dark underground mission, secret and discrete.
Count on them to wreak havoc. For them, it’s a thrill.
They love messing with Christmas and all that exists.

Keeping secrets they do well, but they often break
Promises made because they had their fingers crossed.
Strategies of rebellion they use to reach goals.
The best mask that is worn is the one that extols
The true self in pure essence. No honor is lost
In pursuit of the mission. No chance will they take.

Boogie’s humorous henchmen, together always,
Sometimes get into arguments over small stuff.
Shock will solve disagreements quickly, if she can.
Being the most intelligent and not a man,
She believes she should lead, but she has not enough
Of an ego to overcome those she can’t praise.

What these three have in common is that they’re unique,
Individually and as one wicked team.
They are sharp and dependable for any job,
Like kidnapping or planning the next place to rob.
When it’s called for, they will go to any extreme
To complete the assignment with evil mystique.

Group Relations

Reaching Toward Freedom

Lofty are expectations of getting along
Anytime soon. The things taking place as I speak
Are of nightmare proportion. Like rats in a cage,
Every new lethal shock introduces mass rage
Nonspecific and mindless. The present is bleak
In the pitch black of darkness where evil is strong.

People coming together and taking a stand
Had been practiced forever. It was who we were
Long before Group Relations became infected
With the sickness of compromise. Chaos widespread
Is the image seen worldwide. Crime need not occur.
But we natives are restless, and change we demand.

Yet for ultimate peace we must then endure pain
As an inoculation against fear and hate.
Change begins in a few weeks and will last a while.
Once again I will see people wearing a smile.
We alone can determine what will be our fate.
We must get out the vote. There is too much to gain.

People speaking their minds about what they see wrong
Keeps a check on corruption in high government.
If I keep feeling helpless, then that is on me.
Everyone is a victim. United are we
The formidable force with power to prevent
Reelection of madness. Indeed, we are strong.