The New Day

Rise And Shine

Preceding the new day, I am already here.
The first thought that emerges must come from somewhere…
And that place is within me. I notice the mind
Fishing frantic for personhood as it’s inclined.
I need not engage with it but just be aware.
My emergence into now becomes ever clear.

It is not yet a habit but good exercise.
If I practice it daily – just being Present
I will notice my true self within a vastness,
As the mind like a butterfly finds its egress
From the space that allows it, I’ll find deep content
With myself, the new day, and the life enterprise.

Be aware of the nothingness in the expanse
That allows all to enter. The things that arise –
Memories and projections that must coalesce
And precipitate personal powerlessness
Pale pathetic compared to my Being in size.
Simply Being Aware does the process enhance.

Being hugged from the inside out by someone whom
I’ve made some scant acquaintance I’d like to occur
As often as is possible. While getting there,
My awareness of progress I’ll nurture with care.
I can get the day to unfold as I’d prefer
From the Presence and Beingness I can assume.

Before Sleeping

Bedtime Routine

I can incubate good or bad things while I sleep.
Getting up on the wrong side of bed results from
Waking up to the harshness of an alarm clock
After dreams of unpleasantness cut short by shock
Back into hard reality. Nasty moods come
From nocturnal nurturance of crap that I keep.

Sleeping not well not only does harm to the mind.
Over time it can also affect the body.
So, it is most important that I be aware
Of some things I can do so that I best prepare
For a night of excitement and true fantasy.
To wake up feeling joyful I am so inclined.

Men perform the three ‘s’ functions when they arise.
Likewise, before it’s bedtime, a wholesome routine
Must include my not eating three hours… perhaps four…
So the digestive system can aptly restore
Itself to proper balance. It keeps the pipes clean.
To demand that they work night shift ain’t too damned wise!

Since I am mostly water, at night I should drink
Just enough that the body can do what it needs…
And a long lukewarm shower relieves certain stress
As it flushes the crud and the day’s toxic mess.
Neither mind nor the body, my true self succeeds
By observing wellbeing evolve in the pink.

Getting Better All The Time

Can't Get No Worse

I’ll catch life by the corner. By pulling away
The dim layer of perception, I’m given new sight
Of the same world yet different, and hugely so.
If this is just a lucky streak I’d like to know
Directly from Divinity… Am I alright?
Am I worthy of having a wonderful day?

When to me something good happens, upward I’ll look
For things resembling big shoes. Some lack of control
Is what I feel. The tiger I’ve grabbed by the tail
May simply be so much that I cannot prevail
On my path of alignment, which is not my goal.
To my God I am read like a bestselling book.

If it gets even better, what then will I do?
If I ask for mere millions and get way much more,
Should I melt in humility? God would say, “No!”
I deserve and can handle abundance and flow

Of all goods, resources, and wellbeing in store.
I must know that I’m truly worthy in God’s view.

There is always a clear path of least resistance.
The Divine is right on it and leads me along
With encouraging nudges of inspiration.
We were put here to journey and have as much fun
As this world can provide us. How can this be wrong?
All I need do is chill and enjoy the expanse.

Selflessly Selfish?

Balance Between Self And Others

Deadly sins are perhaps more than one hand can hold.
They could simply be seen as the process of growth
Of the healthy young ego into an adult.
If the challenge is too much often the result
Is arrested development and evil both.
Most hold on to their false selves until they are old.

Somewhere in early childhood the ego is born.
Behaviors that are noticed include jealousy,
Envy, greed, and self-interest in a big way.
They learn to become hurtful by things that they say
In response to feelings of inadequacy.
To be sharp and offensive the ego is sworn.

There are times we hurt others but unconsciously
By fulfilling one’s own needs instead of those whose
Expectations manipulate others’ free will.
To withhold one’s true inner needs just to fulfill
Selfish wishes of others is to put the screws
On the spirit’s development definitely!

But to do but for others means not to deny
Deeper needs within true self, for included there
Is the need to help others because it feels good…
 Never from a constructed image of falsehood.
Evolving past adulthood, the need is to care
For the whole human race with no thought about why.

Can Bugs Mess With My Mood?

Microbes That Control Us

There’s a ‘brain’ in my gut? Someone say it ain’t so.
If it’s true then it means that what goes on down there
Is of its own intelligence and has control
Of my thoughts and emotions. Yet it has no soul.
I thought I was the smart one. Now I must beware
Of the microprocessor that resides below.

It can’t generate thought but affects those of mine
In a way that science is beginning to see.
But for eons before now the yogis have known
Of this brain in the fuel tank. In fact, it’s been shown
That the vagus nerve, when stimulated, can be
Good for one’s mood adjustment by nature’s design.

Nearly one hundred thousand neurons all along
The canal alimentary form a network
Linking lifeforms that live there. The ‘vagabond’ nerve
Is the pathway they use to get what they deserve.
When they don’t, they can cause people to go berserk.
Neither they nor others know what the hell went wrong.

Managed mood modulations are magnificent.
Enhanced neuroplasticity and happiness
Comes about through the practice of yogic technique.
All those microbes we live with need their way to speak
In support of their function. Their will to express
Is for us the most vital and true of intent.

Feminine Rising

The Emergence of Nature

Human life, as it flourishes, looks like disease
Become species specific. Prolonged imbalance
Between Yin and Yang forces in society
Causes improper focus on economy.
Some respect for the feminine stands not a chance
In the context of finance and games such as these.

What is called The Economy is a machine
Convoluted in function and so needlessly.
Complicating the survival process is done
In support of the greedy who have love for none
But themselves and their own interests. Brutally
Consciousness is held captive by the godly green.

When our economics is the main driving force
Then the role of the feminine will become less.
Women must act like men in order to compete.
But to give up the feminine is their defeat
Despite their being team players. They must suppress
Expressions of aesthetics with latent remorse.

Only when the more subtler aspects of living
That involve creativity… music, and art…
Are of equal significance to science and
Math and technology, women worldwide will stand
In honor and significance. Such a new start
Comes about not by sitting and doing nothing.

Never Feel Negative?

Achieving The Impossible?

There’s this thing called “The Stream.” Everything in it flows
Only in one direction. The current some fight,
And this taxes the mood. People bring themselves down
Putting forth so much effort perfecting the frown.
Others let “The Stream” carry them and find delight
In the places it takes them. Their happiness shows.

To believe in “The Process” is simply to know
That I can always catch myself losing control
In a ‘tense’ situation. I’m pointed upstream!
My emotions cause me to act in the extreme.

In the moment I realize this, I’m more whole.
Letting go of the oars, I can let “The Stream” row.

Just let go of the bullshit. It’s not worth the harm
That it does to the spirit, and in the release
I will notice The Turning immediately.
And in time pleasant manifestations I’ll see.
Confidence in my worthiness must then increase.
“The Process” takes some practice but works like a charm.

“The Stream” moves rather quickly after turning me
In the proper direction. So, my letting go
Of the thoughts that upset me is all that I need
In any situation to get myself freed
From my having turned upstream. And now that I know,
No excuse have I for acting negatively.

Laziness

Insult to Action

Consciousness pacifiers becoming high tech
Is a viral infection the same as the need
To do something unwanted to get a reward.
Does it really pay off to be bored out the gourd?
It matters what I’m doing if I’m to succeed
At my chosen life purpose despite the paycheck.

There is nothing ‘to get’ in this life in the end.
Either I live intensely profoundly or not.
What I ‘get’ in the end is a small plot of land
Or a ritual burning… but nothing too grand.
Am I best to forget all the things that I’ve got
So that life is a blessing devoid of pretend?

If I keep putting something off, what does that mean
Other than that I’d rather not do it at all?
That there is no alternative isn’t the point.
Going not with my true heart can only disjoint
Cohesion of awareness. There forms a brick wall
Between parts of the self. This is often not seen.

It’s the process in living that means everything –
Not the things I get from it, but what I add to
All that was here before me. How wonderfully
Do I live every moment? This matters to me.
Energy and postponement simply can’t congrue.
If one forces them to, laziness it will bring.

Pathways To Positive Change

Perfecting The Possible

A tough time with the way things are to the degree
That I don’t even bother keeps me standing still.
Lost and stagnant I am in my daily routine.
To see no sign of progress is not good hygiene
For the one working too hard by brute force of will.
What must give must be something deep inside of me.

Writhing down things I’m grateful for, studies have shown,
Is a powerful pathway to positive change.
Memory is not perfect, and time passes by.
But forgetting the best things does make the fool cry.
Gratitude is worth fostering. Well within range
Of the best life can offer in time will be known.

Now, the skin is a tissue that needs proper care
Since it’s the largest organ. It shows how I feel.
Inflamed skin, brittle nails, and the thinning of hair
Are the physical signs of some mental despair.
Each reflects well the other, therefore it’s a real
Diagnostic revealer as I’m made aware.

Making up a ‘to do’ list can lead to no end.
Much more success comes from much less work that I do.
The percentage is eighty to twenty always.
So, the cream of the top of the list is my gaze.
Daunting tasks can be tackled when broken into
Smaller ones that are much easier to attend.

The two halves of the day I know as day and night.
My routine must by geared differently for each.
Things done during daytime should increase energy,
Stimulate inspiration, and let the soul free.
In the evening, de-stressing, I draw back my reach
And prepare for my slumber with these words I write.

Living In Accord With Nature

Tao Of The Earth

Yin, the black… Yang, the white, in a dutiful dance,
Define all that is nature. In darkness must grow
Any seed that is planted. It reaches full light
In the process of growing. Its will to unite
With its other component is what people know,
But it’s deeper than that. It’s a rugged romance.

Ancient myths, rites of passage, and natural ways
Were designed to connect the body with the mind.
The latter can go off and do quite its own thing.
It wants things that the body prefers it not bring
To the table organic because it’s designed
To adhere to its nature throughout all its days.

Messages in the bottles from shores far away
Over eons eroding not, myths tell a tale
Of the human condition in ways subjective.
The collective unconscious teaches how to live
In accordance with nature and on a large scale.
Those who’ve mastered the passage have so much to say.

I must know that I’m mortal and all that it means
To move out of a sphere of achievement into
A relaxing refreshment enjoying it all.
I have given up big things to honor the small.
Rather than the lightbulb, I’m the light that shines through.
Consciousness is our essence – not fleshy machines.

The Saddest Lines

The Story Unending

I could write some sad lines with this sorry assed life,
And it don’t take too damned much to jerk myself off.
In some ways it’s a blessing perfecting the fool
So that love has a purpose to earn ridicule
From the sensible masses. The dog whistle cough
Is a thickness I cut through with my psychic knife.

In her heart she defeats me, and I know not why
In the midst of eternity now should occur.
 Incremental dissolving of love not cared for
And forever unspoken I cannot ignore.
How I long for the sweetness of things as they were
Is the reason I can’t go for a second try.

Some unknown evil spirit has occupied me.
What has taken my feelings infiltrates the void
Where my heart felt at home once. The unwanted guest
Is the hermit made harlot at one with my nest.
Will I get myself back without being destroyed?
Time I have plenty of. I shall just wait and see.

I can write through the darkness as if it were light.
Make believe is an artform the whore understands.
Illusion may expel her or turn her into
A benevolent entity. These lines are few
And the last to be offered. Survival demands
That I learn, then move on with improvement in sight.

Memories Cherished

Indelible Impressions

Many kindhearted people, some angels by now,
And with uncommon patience, have made who I am.
What is wrong about me is my own tangled mess
Aggravated by madness. I am, more or less,
Created in the image of those who I damn
With my inverse reflection, full well knowing how.

Beating up on myself I’ve made into an art –
Just as those who cared for me and those who I played
An unworthy role model… ruthless and profane.
I took every advantage and caused awful pain.
With my bed made, I’m sleepless and cannot evade
The grotesque beast that I’ve been with sickness of heart.

Planted deep in my conscious soil germinates seed
From the heart of the righteous. Love once within reach
Now is longing disabled. Survival logic
Is a piss poor facsimile and a cheap trick.
This I’m fully aware of. Lessons others teach.
Acting out as the student, I had failed to lead.

Not at all melancholy, pleasure now I take
In the clearness of knowing what my makers knew
Since before I had met them. The thoughts I embrace
Generated by feelings of knowing their grace
Satisfy but the least that my writing can do
To give some indication that I’ve come awake.

What Else Could Go Wrong?

Words Never To Be Spoken

Lapsing into the luxury of commenting
On downturns heir apparent and workplace remorse,
One can only become a cantankerous cuss.
The attraction time buffer I’ll take as a plus
I can use to make changes guided by the Source
With the widest perspective who knows everything.

I attract what comes, but there is no real delay.
If I stay ticked off long enough hell will brake loose
In a mean millisecond. “What else could go wrong?”
I shall never repeat. To the Source, it’s a song
That sings, “Bring me much what else…” This is self-abuse!
How can I expect goodness if I am this way?

Rather than listening to the negative news
And the gear shifting gossip… Before leaving home
I can focus the new day into how I feel –
Morning fresh and abundant. I’ll notice appeal
Where I had not expected. Freed from the syndrome
Of the ho-hum habitual, I may amuse.

Before manifestation of good things or bad,
The perception of time is the steering away
From the path that was chosen, then coming right back
To the track one was on but with some sense of lack.
Knowing Source is a process one learns day by day.
Benefits that are promised remain ironclad.

The Mountain Of Gold

The Essence Of Richness

Bigger, better belief battles fought over land
In the mindscape millennial these times evoke.
Prophecies’ perseverance does panic prepare
Those of good mind and spirit for others’ big scare.
Who have made a fine art of the blowing of smoke
Up through those they attach to despite the left hand?

Somewhat hard up for content, this is exercise
For my dance anapestic of daily routine.
Writer’s block’s not the issue. I pick of strange fruit
Then attempt to digest it when not resolute
In my wanting to tackle it. But to come clean
On the matter is infinitely much more wise.

An end times tale of interest to everyone
Must involve a gold mountain so people can fight
For the right to possess it. Is this a new sign
Or an old one rescripted by man, the divine?
Gold erections seem sacred and common a sight –
One in which all religion is faithfully run.

Does the fan hit the feces before the crow cocks?
Or is it somewhere written that men may become
Awakened by the madness set into motion?
We keep looking for signs, yet we’ve never begun
Being truthful about where our evil comes from.
Once we do, we will want to avoid the soap box.

On The Cusp Of Ides Fear

Panorama Of Perfection

The ongoing transition from darkness to light
Is sustained by refreshings of blessings and more
Than my conscious awareness can ever recall.
My desires over lifetimes, some big and some small,
Form an energy vortex of all I’ve asked for.
Memory can’t keep track of all things that excite.

Knowing then what I’m wanting, I’m quite far along
In the creative process. What had to have come
Before wanting is feeling contrast and the need
For a worthy solution. The will to succeed
I dare keep to myself lest my spirit succumb
To destructive opinions that may be flat wrong.

The two basic vibrations, belief and desire,
Operate but rarely at the same frequency.
When they don’t, discontentment is all I can feel,
But when they’re in alignment, my dreams become real.
I am born to create my own reality –
Not to face someone else’s. Now, that would be dyer.

To become an Inventor is to be aware
That intentions are mothers that love to give birth
To gestating desires brought about through some pain.
My mood is most important. Therein I may gain
Access to things I’ve wanted since being on earth.
Thankfully, this is not all that urgent to share.

Love Is Enough

What Keeps Earth In Its Orbit

As the birth of the ego in real time is known
By the saving of daylight, no more do I need
To spring forward in righteousness. Love Is Enough
To free me from a state where I sweat the small stuff…
Like this world with its darkness and malice of deed.
The woods whine as the wane, yet few wicked atone.

All the while, it’s intriguing. The shadowy hills
Hide a beauty unrecognized without the stroll
Along paths made pursuable by pure desire.
Love can all on its own get forces to conspire
Orchestrated excitement. My feeling more whole
Is itself more important than learning earth skills.

 Wet and low hanging laundry – this world and its hate –
Puts its weight on the clothesline thus pulling it down
To the mud pool below it. Love launders alone
In the heart that is steadied by all it’s been shown
By celestial theatrics performed in the round.
Love at least has the good sense to let me create…

…And create I do freely. By now it’s a breeze.
Frustrating, negative, and too often too hard,
This void’s also fulfilling. The love that I share
Is the best way to offer the cross that I bear.
Will love ever allow me to let down my guard?
Effort is sometimes needed for feeling at ease.

Rebound From Failure

To Err Is To Learn

Before Saturn’s return to the place in the sky
Where it was at my birth, I have already failed.
As my hopes and dreams vanish, the worst of my fears
Is that time may have run out. I’ve wasted some years
Derelict in my duties. This fog has prevailed
A long while undetermined. May I wonder why?

“What do you mean exactly,” the wise one will ask,
Knowing that all have screwed up by thirty or so.
What would be recommended is diving within
To dredge up all that which I can only call sin.
I may then write it down because it’s good to know.
I could make it a rather significant task.

Documenting in detail the ways I’ve gone wrong
Is an exercise not only in good hygiene.
A component inherent is spiritual.
Any plan then constructed is beneficial.
If I stick to it, in time, a change will be seen
In my life as a whole, although it may take long.

Little things I can focus on – work I can do
Of a trivial nature. As I complete each,
Incremental progress is its own just reward.
I’ll do best if I keep some self-loving onboard.
Hanging fruit exponential is well within reach.
Failure is something everyone gets to go through.

The Mind After Death

Release Of The Intellect

A small child with a lollipop is full of joy.
When it’s taken away, there is true agony.
These extremes felt by young ones are intense but brief.
Older children won’t let themselves show that much grief
Over what they consider triviality.
The discretional mind they have learned to employ.

My pain comes from inside me; my pleasure as well.
There are stimuli outside, but I am the one
Who decides how to take them. The cause within me
Is the source of feeling experientially.
The discretional mind is the only reason
I can feel like I’m in heaven or else in hell.

The source of all my human experiences
Always is the discretional mind, ‘til it dies.
With no lack of discretion the disembodied
Will be flooded with feelings that greatly exceed
Any felt while in human form. I’ll realize
That without the gray matter, I’m left in pieces…

…Until those in the spirit realm whom I have known
While on earth here will greet me and offer guidance.
By the force of my habit I create my hell.
With no mind to sort out things, in darkness I dwell.
I do not want to end up in that circumstance
So my quest for alignment is not overblown.

Daily Minute Miracle

A Few Moments Of Magic

The magnificent body is as a machine.
It is crafted divinely and has all it needs
To combat any illness. Some say it is smart
To be able to do that, but that’s just a part
Of what it does efficiently. And it succeeds
At maintaining illusion as daily routine.

Reflex points on the face correlate and connect
With the organs. The facial points are the controls.
The trigeminal nerve is the circuitry through
Facial-Organ contact we are able to do.
But what is facial massage, and what are its goals?
Simply feeling much better, with all due respect.

Stimulation of facial points causes release
Of data to the thalamus. It then sends more
To the cortex cerebral where it gets processed,
Then throughout the complex body system to best
Make me feel better than I had felt right before.
Mood and energy levels can greatly increase.

So then what’s the procedure? I can’t tell you here
Because I’m just a poet – no medicine man.
One can google the search term, ‘deep facial massage.’
Somehow I know that I’ll never get a barrage

Of contaminant comment. Since all this began,
No one has ever reached out… perhaps due to fear.

Ancient Kemet

Roots Of Civilization

Many ancient stone carvings found in Africa
Somewhere in upper Egypt a few decades back
Have the features of black folk. Is this a surprise?
It’s a fact, just like taxes, that no one denies.
Would it be of concern to me were I not black?
There’s a reason for why I’m in America.

Yet the average negro with eyes cannot see
The resemblance most blatant. While still yet asleep
The connection is dismissed. But why is this so?
One would think one’s own history is cool to know.
Tribal waters, when entered, can then become deep.
I must know where I come from so I can be free.

Knowing myself can’t free me from acts done in hate.
I avoid confrontation head on and get by
With sincere understanding of what makes me proud.
In the midst of a race war need my voice be loud?
Human teams all have uniforms. That would imply
That we came here to play but mostly to create.

They were masterful chemists. Indelible dyes
They concocted. For work lasting six thousand years,
Today still they are treasured and kept on display.
Someday our viral hate may be treated this way.
Handfuls of human heritage mitigate fears.
Going to the museum is something most wise.

Moments Before Death

Apex Of Transition

The release of the struggle is all I live for.
Anything else is trivial if I so choose
To believe in no meaning in all existence.
All I do here is try to make some human sense
Of the whole damned experience. I pay my dues
To the denseness of this earth and long for but more.

It will come in its own time, and I know not when.
But when dark death approaches, I will be prepared.
Knowing just what might happen, I anticipate
Party time with the spirits. The mind can create
The illusion of afterlife, and what is shared
Is a scrutinous story heard over again.

It’s a humbling experience being around
Those approaching transition. Their final moments
Are spent with their focused eyes in one direction.
Looking up before liftoff, new life has begun.
The eyes follow the soul, and the last of events
To occur is a feeling of comfort profound.

When the dying look past me I know what is near.
Ego death is the only death that can occur.
It is also the only thing that can be born.
Should it be of my nature to grieve or to morn
That which gets itself from me? Do Not call it sir
For It’s but an illusion that knows only fear.

Conscious Life Management?

Organized Living?

Today’s topic is relevant as everyday’s,
And these times are especially dark and severe.
Tribalistic behaviors among our species
Reap the karma of having a worldwide disease.
All the while the most ignorant will not adhere
To the ‘useless’ precautions that alter their ways.

One of ten human beings on earth, it’s been said,
Has a conscious awareness of more taking place
Among all the aspects of the body, the mind,
Energy, and emotion. One being aligned
With their daily behaviors knows living in grace.
If such folk ruled the planet would we be misled?

Most compulsive behaviors are not conscious ones,
Rather they aren’t thought out. Clarity isn’t seen.
The live bulk of the body and caverns within
The emotional psyche, to most folks’ chagrin,
Are places where awareness is not all that keen.
It gets lost in the cells where no consciousness runs.

If in fact we were not human eons ago,
We have made quite a journey. All that we have done
To get where we are now may fizzle into waste.
Our most destructive issues will have to be faced
If our evolution is to be then begun.
Naked apes had not much choice, but we’re here to grow.

I’m Done With The World…

Resolute Abandon

Closing my eyes on this world and everybody,
Then, they’re all dead and gone. Do I dare make that so?
Or do I reach out willingly to those in need?
From my own human nature I want to be freed.
Many things I have done, but I’ve nothing to show
That can make any difference others can see.

I hope this is illusory, at least in part.
Were I not of some value I could not exist.
Everyone has a place and their work to be done.
Doing something worthwhile could be barrels of fun.
No more should I gain from it. The point would be missed.
Selflessness in one’s service is true to the heart.

Worthy I am as others are of loving grace.
In the depths of compassion is where it is found.
I may be disillusioned by current events
And prospects for a future that makes human sense.
Can I let the momentum start messing around
With my health and wellbeing? I’d be a nut case.

Four o’clock in the evening depicts my life’s day…
Sailing into a sunset that’s much prettier
And not nearly as visible as,say, high noon.
Before it sets completely my life I’ll attune
To the needs of my species as I would prefer
Rather than giving up before sailing away.

Why Worry About What Isn’t Real?

It's ALL An Illusion

The future is a figment. It has no meaning,
Yet I fix my attention on what is unknown.
I can’t fantasize endlessly nor possibly
Predict any outcome. It’s for no one to see
Because it’s nonexistent except in the zone
Where spirit and the physical are the same thing.

I need things to be real so that I may survive
As a being of spirit in physical form.
To exist in the future is not being real.
Manifold are illusions that make an ordeal
Of the process of living. The mental thought storm
Undermines everything else that keeps me alive.

Oneself is like a mountain top always exposed
To an enduring blizzard it cannot control.
Different shapes and sizes of snowflakes it sees
And in many directions and speeds in the breeze.
It can’t predict what’s coming, yet I have a soul
And the same goes for me. My mind cannot be closed.

Evidence shows that worrying makes people ill
Over time. Luckily, there are some antidotes.
Fortifying the weak mind with logical thought
Based in certain reality, one can’t be caught
In cascading delusion. Good judgment promotes
Confidence in one’s actions, much peace, and goodwill.

Busy Without Stress

Work Equals Play

“Hurry Slowly.” This concept is truly ideal.
Taken from the Zen masters, it means letting go
Of the outcome desired in what I am doing.
Doing so burns the ego – a cumbersome thing
That distracts from the moment. My routine can flow
As if I’m lucid dreaming a life that is real.

 Sometimes during an illness that’s long and severe,
There can be an awakening post surrender
To the forces beyond one. Then peace ushers in.
It’s a feeling like being absolved of all sin.
Feeling better, so that depression won’t recur,
Vigilance is a must. It will mitigate fear.

I need not become sick, though, to let go of stress.
I need only be present in the enjoyment
Of the thing that I’m doing now and not much more
Than the eternal moment existing calls for.
On the outside I’m busy. Inside, I’m content
In the slowness of working in full beingness.

It becomes an addiction but one that’s healthy.
Things that used to perturb me, like waiting in lines,
Are now fine chances for me to practice presence.
Otherwise I’d be elsewhere at my own expense.

No one likes a damned worker who constantly whines.
The nonsequitur self is the best worker bee.

After The Riots

Foresight Post Trauma

A diehard chump supporter, not feeling at ease
Even though it’s a dark stage, is mostly unseen.
That’s because he’s a coward who will only share
His psychosis verbosely with heartfelt despair
If he remains anonymous. Mental hygiene
Is of newsworthy focus and analyses.

 Self-described as soft spoken, this family man
Made a trek across country to participate
In the great resurrection and stopping the steal.
Knowing not what is hogwash from that which is real,

All these ‘boys’ groups of stunted growth live but to hate,
And the wages of such is a shorter lifespan.

As if Alice in Wonderland married Sambo
And gave birth to some colored dwarfs, then took a vow
To denounce her snow whiteness – these poor folk are sick!
Like lost bullshit dispensers, they lay it on thick.
Any trick of the mind they will use to allow
Complete justification for their redneck show.

Their false godhead betrayed them, yet some still have hope
That return to the good times of wholesome hatred
May enforce understanding that racial divide
Is the way God intended. Malefic white pride
Is the scourge of the nation because it’s widespread.
Waiting for their next orders, in limbo they cope.

“Don’t believe what they tell you; they’re all full of lies,”
The conservative mantra is echoed worldwide.

Bigotry is convenience in making things fit.
Yet some facts in the mix that they try to omit
Are that people of color have nothing to hide
And things won’t change to suit them despite futile tries.

Ego Death

Melting The Mortal Idea

Predetermined is the exact moment of death.
I can’t leave this earth one single moment before
Nor an instant beyond the time I’m allotted.
What is not set how that I will end up dead.
I must know my surrender is the open door
Through which ego is deprived of its dying breath.

That which I know as myself and separate from
All else that must exist must be nonexistent.
It is only then that knowingness can come through.
To give up my person is a hard thing to do.
I survive by the providence of blind consent
Of forces of divinity. I must succumb.

My persona is not the essence and the source
Of affirmative consciousness given as me.
Rather it’s a well-constructed survival tool.
It behaves well mostly, but it can act the fool –
Something my true self tolerates to some degree,
For it knows not of judgment or will to enforce.

Ego death is the only death that can occur
Since the true self is selfless in every respect.
When it dies, the ego’s agony is but brief.
What is left after grieving is profound relief
From the weight of existence – the need to protect
My assumed personality and saboteur.

Anger Management?

To Hot To Be Cool

Situations control human emotions, But
This is simply ass backwards. The way it should be
Is that consciousness creates circumstances all.
Anger is not a program that wants to install
Itself in vulnerable people. Consciously
Is the choice made to be upset and in a rut.

I need not avoid anger. When driving a car
I’m aware of all obstacles and the guard rails,
And of people mis-crossing, and critters, and such.
I don’t watch for the moon, though, for it doesn’t touch
Any part of the circumstance. Madness prevails
When the path becomes cluttered. I have gone too far.

So, the moon is no threat to me, nor I to it.
Satellites in their orbits that I’ve created
Often drop down and menace my mismanaged mood
To the point where I can be most hostile and rude.
Anger fucks with the body. Should I end up dead,
It would be but my own fault, I’d have to admit.

When outside situations are fine, so am I,
And when they are a challenge, let down I do feel.
Circumstances control me. This cannot be good.
My control of my faculties, if understood,
Then allows me the freedom to release and heal.
I create what I live through and love knowing why.

Wealth

The Pursuit Of All Evil

Money has much importance but little value
To the ones who must have it because they want it.
But it comes never simply by heartfelt desire
Nor by jumping through hoops that others may require.
To my own sense of worth I’m obliged to commit.
Money comes from the energy in what I do.

Famous entrepreneurs only want to create.
It’s the main driving force – not how much it will make.
They don’t think about what their fine efforts will earn.
Making something worthwhile is their only concern.
They do not wait around for the next lucky break
Nor waste time contemplating the workings of fate.

If it’s of immense value to many people
Then the joy in producing it is just enough
To jumpstart my momentum to do but my best.
Focusing on that only, in time I’ll be blessed.
My value can’t diminish through times that are tough.
When engaged in a love effort, my cup is full.

Certain breakthroughs in technology come about
Through the cycles of circumstance known to no one.
It is best that I not attempt searching for those.
Waves of time are unconscious and cannot disclose
Any hint of an outcome. The journey begun
Stimulates my self-confidence without a doubt.

Don’t Force Anything

Most Force Is Excessive

Coming into this earth life and all that is known
That I seem not to know is my grand illusion.
I am here before coming. Never am I gone.
There’s nothing of nature to be acted upon.
Following then her course I’m a threat to no one.
All that is came before me, and I’m not alone.

It’s much easier to cut wood along the lines
That are with the grain – no against. Yet cutting wood
Does not go against nature if done mindfully.
The Tao is what is nature, a democracy
Self-contained and self- governed. The bad and the good
Coexist in a strange dance that no one designs.

I can’t force a lock open because it will break
Or the key will be broken off in the keyhole.
I must jiggle it until it wants to behave.
If it chooses not to, I will not be its slave.
In accordance with nature I give up control.
Peace of mind and contentment is what is at stake.

With the patterns existing I am subject to.
To flow with what creates me is to live in grace.
The contract between bees and flowers is the same
As the one between birds and worms. There is no blame
In what seems inappropriate. To know my place
Is to be one with nature in all that I do.

No Fear

An End To Suffering

(A Time/Place Appropriate Interpretation Of
“Where The Mind Is Without Fear” by Rabindranath Tagore)


Where the mind is without fear and the head is held
High by nature and posture for citizens all
Is a place of contentment, freedom to exist
In a state that is healthy with strength to resist
Governmental dementia, and all one would call
Paradise in a nutshell most unparalleled.

It is where knowledge is free for rich and for poor –
Whose McJobs, two or three, barely do make ends meet.
All people have the right to good education.
Privilege is a blessing upon everyone.
Grand Old People care not if we’re left in the street.
To all citizens it should be an open door.

What breaks us into fragments is easily seen.
Things like social classes, religion, color, creed,
And so on toward infinity, tear us apart.
There will always be those who are bitter of heart.
With our hate-spangled history, how we proceed
Leaves one doubtful that closure will wipe the slate clean.

Words come out from the depth of the truth in the space
Where my countrymen speak what they feel honestly.
Truthfulness is a virtue, and hypocrites are
Not guided by clear thinking. The right will go far
To induce insurrection. The world that they see
Is a cruel one divided by gender and race.

Ever-Widening thought and action are called for.
With mentality shallow yet tightly focused,
One has lost what is human. The heart has grown cold.
The enrichment of thinking that’s not mind-controlled
Both broadens horizons and allows all to trust
In divine intercession amid civil war.

Eye Contact

Window To The Soul

There’s no one at the gas pump or convenience store…
Just a robotic servant that works for no pay.
Automation and AI replace human heart.
The machine with a touch screen is parcel and part
Of a system evolving that siphons away
What is human. The issue one cannot ignore.

“You can reach us by tweet, on Facebook, or online.”
This way has become standard but wanting in ways

That affect natural connection with people.
It is subtly psychic in detecting most bull.
Digitized socializing does consciousness raise?
The device being smarter perhaps is a sign.

How I got by without all this technology
I myself can’t remember. I’m not yet senile,
But I seldom see people somewhat face to face.
One can’t get from an iPhone a loving embrace.
Businesses promulgate the electronic smile.
The basic human factor is lost completely.

Deficit of connection can be corrected.
Everywhere that I go, with each person I meet,
I’ll attempt to make eye contact. Eyes are windows
To the soul of another. Something in me knows
That this form of connection is wholesome and sweet.
And there’s minimal chance I or they are misread.

The Importance Of Polidicks

Pillars Of Leadership

Nations need rock hard structure. The call to erect
A firm system of government for people who
Are by fate nonindigenous to stolen land
Is one most patriotic and perfectly grand.
Governmental management is set up to screw
Everyone but the worthy in cold disrespect.

Polidicks is an insecure noun even though
It may look like it’s plural. It loves to deceive
Through misrepresentation of relative fact.
Is this not how the pimps of the ghettos must act?
The perversion of leadership some may perceive
As a derelict dick dance and carnival show.

 We believe in a commonwealth headed by dicks,
But the kind that are female must rent a strap-on
And appear to be masculine yet with some grace.
It helps much if the woman/man has a cute face
And sucks up to the real dicks who think that their brawn
Is their birthright to battery and foolish tricks.

The importance of polidicks, once it is known
By the asshole gorillas whose knuckles grow raw,
May enlighten the awful body polidick.
The behaviors of cavemen on stage is quite sick.

What we have now are people who stand for the law.
It is refreshing to have leaders who are grown.

Human Resource Implosion

Demographic Inversion

It may look like it’s growing. It’s shrinking instead.
We’re top heavy with old folk, but young ones are few.
Adult diapers outsell baby ones in Japan.
Medical advances have increased the lifespan.
Soon the world’s elderly will surpass and outdo
Other groups in their numbers until they are dead…

…Which won’t happen as soon as it had long ago.
Overpopulation is a myth come and gone.
Until recently, birth rates continued to rise.
People aren’t making babies, thinking it’s more wise
To preserve their resources. The young are more drawn
To things other than breeding. They’re fine people though.

It’s an inverted demographic pyramid
Situation where age saturation occurs
At around sixty years. And as birth rates decline,
We may go on believing that everything’s fine,
But to replace this generation one prefers,
And that ain’t gonna happen, as time does forbid.

Populations diminishing of people who
Are producing wage earners who spend a lot more
Is the problem we face. Drastic change is needed
To reverse the condition, but looking ahead
Is a thing we don’t do well. What we are in for
Is severe yet not understood. What will we do?

Penis Envy

Cocks Strutting And Roosting

They all wish they had penises and some backbone
Since the time they were babies because they still are.
Between three and six years of emotional age
Is the period once known as the phallic stage.
Full grown men with this deficit aren’t up to par.
Arrogance and brute measures are all they condone.

Handicapped and ill-treated they feel at the loss
Of what most other men have. Someone they must blame
For their manhood arrested. Castration complex
When near powerful ones of the opposite sex
Can afflict them severely. Not knowing of shame,
Anything they will do to get their point across.

The republican party now is a cesspool.
The strong stench of fecality thickens the air
With disgusting male chauvinist racial banter.
Is it now normal that bad behavior occur
Among elected leaders? Should anyone care?
Some have put their blind faith in the closing Old School.

So amazingly blatant, the stereotype
Is grotesquely more obvious than one can take
With a mountain of salt or but one single grain.
While a chunk of our government appears insane,
I have learned to keep cognizant of what’s at stake.
Unevolved masculinity is phallic hype.

The Dunce

The Reflection Of Others' Ignorance

I just don’t understand things the way others do.
Life is so complicated, and technology
Has shot off into hyperspace. And I’m too old
To get up to that speed. I damned sure won’t be told
That my mind is declining, for as you can see,
I’m a masterful wordsmith and skilled poet too.

I ask plenty of questions. I can’t comprehend
People when they start spouting language only known
To those trained in specifics of complex detail
As if I know what they know. Therefore I must fail
To sit still and keep quiet. Though I feel alone,
There exists others like me. I would be their friend.

Once I was at a meeting. The smart people there
Were all tops in their fields. I was there to observe
And take note as the speaker with a PhD
Took offense to my questions. I just couldn’t see
What the hell his point was. I alone had the nerve
To be stupid enough that all were made aware.

At the height of contention, others one by one,
Chose to admit their ignorance as I had done.
The doctor was responsive and altered his tone.
Had I not been the idiot with a backbone,
All the lecturer’s students would have learned but none
Of the content presented. Fear is never fun.

Defeat

Temporary Loss

Don’t undo my undoing or my solitude
Nor aloofness. Dearer are you to me than one
Thousand triumphs and sweeter to my heart than all
The world glory I could have. Do knock down the wall
That protects my protection. Your work can I shun
If it shows me the falsity I have pursued?

Take away my self-knowledge and stark defiance.
Through you I know I’m yet young with swiftness of foot
Not to be trapped by withering laurels. In you
I have found my aloneness and joy overdue
For the scorn followed up with negative input.
If my pride attempts speaking, don’t give it a chance.

Take my sword and my shield. In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be in slavery,
And to be understood is to be leveled down.
I would be but a pauper if I wore a crown.
To be grasped is to reach but the fullness of me
Like a fruit to be eaten. What is there to dread?

Defeat my deathless courage, my bold companion.
You shall hear my song, silences, and feeble cries.
None but you will speak to me of beating of wings,
The urging of the seas, and such meaningful things.
With the storm we’ll both laugh, and what’s in us that dies
We’ll dig graves for them. Then we will stand in the sun.

Speak Your Consciousness

Be Thyself!

Satisfying World Hunger For Truth is at hand
By the shifting of powers to new ways and means
Of achieving more union. Intense is the pain
In the stomach collective after the insane
Inundation of falsehoods. Mendacious machines
In positions of leadership are to be canned.

We learn to keep our mouths shut when we are children
Sensing it may be safer. The fear of offense
Is sufficiently powerful as the censor
Of the truth of the heart that oneself can’t ignore.
I may rest in my silence but at great expense
To my sense of integrity. Weak I am then.

But the times, they be changing to something more real.
It had long been forgotten, but now truth returns.
Open to conversation, ourselves are transformed
In the space of acceptance where all hearts are warmed.
When we speak our true consciousness everyone learns.
Differences among folk we cannot conceal.

What people are responsive to is honesty.
So fed up with the bullshit, enough we have had.

No matter how we’re programmed, we sense energy
And go by our gut feelings. We may not agree,
But we may be moved and enlightened just a tad.
Our beliefs do not matter, we will come to see.

Pain

The Gravitational Inverse Of Pleasure

With my best understanding enclosed in a shell,
My pain is but its breaking. Even as the stone
Of the fruit must break so its heart may see the sun,
It must know pain. This is true of most everyone.
My heart, if kept in wonder by all that I’m shown
By my life’s daily miracles, in joy must dwell.

My pain is no less wonderous than is my joy.
My heart has its own seasons, and I must accept
Them as I do the same passing over my fields.
I embrace barren times as those bringing high yields.
I observe in serenity. No pain is kept
In the unconscious darkness where it may destroy.

Much of my pain is self-chosen. The physician
Within offers the bitter potion that will heal
My sick self through my winters of grief. I must trust
In the good doctor’s wisdom that will readjust.
Though in silent tranquility through my ordeal,
I partake of the remedy as the best plan.

His hand, though hard and heavy, I know beyond doubt,
Is guided by the tender hand of the unseen.
And the cup that he brings, though my lips it will burn,
Has been fashioned from clay. From the potter I learn
That it’s moistened with his sacred tears. My routine
Fluctuates as my mood does, but I’m not freaked out.

Happy With What I Do?

The Vocation of Being

The Workforce with its power is just not enough
To blow past the established wealth of the elite.
It would take innovation that most can’t afford,
So they work jobs that may pay well but leave them bored
To the depths of their souls. This kind of self-defeat
Ruthlessly sucks the life force. Despair cannot bluff.

There are two types of people. One are of a kind
Who feel safe in stability. Conservative,
They prefer stable income and steady workflow.
They are unlike the others whose passion to go
After what they love doing makes them creative
In their ways of risk management and peace of mind.

Judgement is not appropriate to cast upon
Those who find satisfaction in their comfort zone.
Circumstances dictate choices that can be made.
One can be happy in them or maybe afraid
That endured discontent the health cannot condone.
One may fret in seclusion and become withdrawn.

Some must go for the passion in all that they do.
Wasted energy on work that doesn’t feel good
Becomes dense and sclerotic. To be more alive
Is to trust in one’s true worth. The need to survive
Is by infinite intelligence understood.
  When it’s time to move on, always there’s something new.

Is Telepathy Real?

The Unapparent Connection

Self-contained in a ball of bone, Loctite on gears
In the prefrontal cortices of one and all
Keeps the thinking processes inferior to
Those beyond our existence. Yet there are those who
Can with others communicate like a phone call
But with no means apparent, or so it appears.

To believe this is true, one ought not take offense
To the programmed stupidity thoughts have become.
European influence has given too much
Importance to thinking. The true self we won’t touch,
Fearing that to most others we would appear dumb.
The more active the mind, the less there’s common sense.

It blocks communication, the rational mind,
Through the pure nonexistence, with others we know.
Everyone thinks they’re smart, and this gets in the way.
No one dares call me stupid. I’ll fuck with their day!
Yet I must overcome this in order to grow
To a deeper knowing of the state undefined.

Thought, the thin outer layer of something much bigger,
Can be trained to be silent. The innermost core
Connects to the nonphysical which is the lap
Of the whole of existence. We’re able to tap
Into infinite intelligence and much more
Than the mind can imagine. This has to occur.

Otherworldly insights from that which is beyond
May flood into the clockwork of rational thought.
That is its highest function – Be Still And Receive
And send out to all others. I firmly believe
That the time-gravity curve in which we are caught
Provides us means to infinitely correspond.

The Shadow System

Acts Of Invisibility

Ego knows not the shadow. It’s only in dreams
That it may become possible for them to meet.
The shadow is the blind spot that ego can’t see.
Consciousness of darkness is repressed completely.
Psychic mechanisms are difficult to cheat.
Living with someone unknown is just as it seems.

It is called the unconscious. Much trauma lives there
From experiences that come on with a shock
To the nerves of the system. It shapes the posture
Of the general attitude and the nature
Of one’s personal history. Every hard knock
Is absorbed by the shadow so grossly aware.

In the dream state, the shadow can make itself known
Through symbols or through imagery. Symbols can be
Easily deciphered. But the images are
Linked directly to myth which is broader by far.
All the experiences of humanity
Form a grand pool of consciousness science has shown.

The collective unconscious contains the spectrum
Of all human behavior throughout history.
It is through myth and archetypes truth is revealed
In the hope that the hurt of the psyche is healed.
We cannot well interpret what we cannot see.
But we now have clues as to where darkness comes from.

An Old Man’s Advice

Eyes Of Recorded History

Interestingly boring, the wisdom of age,
When one has but the patience to be enlightened
By someone of longevity, is worth the while.
Difficult life has been yet robust is his smile.
To the young of this world what the old recommend
Is to keep forging onward and fully engage.

His firs car was a Model A. Many first things,
Like the mule-driven ice wagon, and the ice man,
And the first jet airplane, all he was witness to.

That the world is against him he knows is not true.
There’s no reason for not being all that one can.
True contentment is what appreciation brings.

Having taught himself to read and write, he went on
To pursue a computer correspondence course.
He started a few businesses and authored some.
Once he lived in an old car. He has overcome
Obstacles to achievement. One need but indorse
One’s belief in oneself – a conclusion foregone.

Forge ahead. Do No Stop. And diminish your fear
To a point imperceptible. Young people are
The backbone of all nations. As future leaders,
Pessimism is useless. As madness occurs
Among those now decrepit, you’re wiser by far.
Be yourselves and take full charge. Your mission is clear.

Illusions Of Survival

Convoluted Conundra

Save the planet? Or screw it? Before we decide
Just a moment of silence everyone should take…
Not the grim kind reserved to honor famous dead,
While programmed thoughts of sorrow run loose in one’s head.
Thoughtlessness of real silence, and not the opaque,
Is reality’s essence and intimate guide.

All manner of illusion confusion does breed.
Is ‘reality’ spiritual or of mass?
Concepts, constructions of words, and complex theories
Are but well-crafted entities of brain feces.
Since it’s not an idea, we reach an impasse
When we try to describe it, so on we proceed.

Living means surviving from pre-birth ‘til the end
Of a process uncertain as time is concerned.
So we need time and ego as well as money.
These three are the most rigidly illusory.
There is no past or future that can be discerned
In the present eternal where one may ascend.

The real self and the ego are never the same
Yet most don’t understand that so cannot believe.
A crude representation of self is ego.
If one values clear thinking, this is good to know.
To let go of all thought about what we perceive
Is to be in the realness that has not a name.

Now is not a clock tick – a specific instant
Where the future turns into the past. Now is more
Than the pop of a cork. It’s the sound of the gong
That awakens and resets all that is made wrong
Through our acts of surviving and our striving for
The true sense of fulfillment that living may grant.

When I Die

At The Point of Return

How can there be an ending? The sun, when it sets,
Will again rise, and swiftly. This world I’ll not miss.
Don’t lament, or feel sorrow, or shed any tears.
Know that I am in joy as your grief disappears.
I’ll have not fallen into a monster’s abyss.
Knowing then love eternal, I’ll have no regrets.

As my carcass is lowered, please don’t say goodbye,
For I won’t be there hanging out. I’ll be set free.
But a curtain is grieving to the paradise
That exists just behind it where being is nice.
Beyond cosmos eternal is where I will be.
There’s no need for a full-scale parade when I die.

From the seed that is buried new life will arise,
Every day and forever. This also is true:
When the bucket is lowered down into the well
It comes back full of water. My wish is to quell
Any feelings of loss to the awfully few
Who may come to become witness to my demise.

Much of this is from Rumi. I messed with it some.
It retains his intent, though. At least I think so.
Seriously, his outlook shows deepness of heart.
My respect is for what his ideas impart
To this poet in training. To others I owe
Gratitude for my content from who much does come.

An Attractive Model

All The Comfort of Style

You add to any showroom your glamorous style.
You know that you’re attractive. Important to you
Is how you look to others. Beauty is success.
It is your full intention to charm and impress
Everyone who’s around you. Intelligent too,
You’re engaged and outspoken yet cool all the while.

You devote all your energies to whatever
Profession you partake of. Your best work allows
You to express yourself and meet people as well.
Fortunate were the times when there was much to sell
‘Till the new route bypassed you. This did not arouse
Any feelings of loss one might think would occur.

Your dear husband, Ramone, is a blessing indeed.
His decision to not ‘touch a classic’ was true
To your intrinsic elegance. Your sassiness,
Though, can detract from better traits that you possess.
Nonetheless, your persona and all that you do
Overall is outstanding. In grace you proceed.

Your magnificent bodywork is but paint deep.
But you know that intuitively, as you are
Capable of compassion and relating to
All your satisfied customers and others who
Have the pleasure of knowing you. You are by far
One who knows what is of value and what is cheap. 

Educated Delusion

Degredation Of Sheepskin

Socioeconomic conditions prevail
That are nowhere near perfect. The rich and the poor
Have a chasm between them a galaxy wide.
The world’s uneducated are lacking in pride.
If one has not a sheepskin then closed is the door
To a life of fulfillment. This is a sad tale.

Need it be this way always as always it’s been?
Social class structures are part of human nature.
We cannot get around that, although it’s been tried,
But with failure and bloodshed. The growing divide
Among people in this way does not have a cure
Short of total collapse and then starting again.

Working class pawns are uniformed in suit and tie.
The neck must be encircled to show ownership
Of one’s time and behavior for indentured pay.
Do I like doing what I must do everyday
To maintain my existence? I’ll button my lip
To avoid condescension and stick with a lie.

Educational systems are pawn factories.
In assembly line fashion, workers are produced.
When curricula match students’ abilities
And their natural aptitudes, then with much ease
They’ll absorb like sponges and boredom is reduced.
Educated Delusion is not expertise.

Refresh

Recharge

It would be nice if energy came in a can,
Yet it is the container and all that’s inside.
People find it refreshing indulging in drink
To help keep their firm bodies and minds in the pink.
But when negative thought forms are identified,
Then to rid the mind of them requires not a plan.

Thoughts consist of live energy. If they are ill,
They will drain the brain quickly, and toxins are made.
When bloodwork is examined, it’s evidenced there.
But to mind thoughts and feelings may lead to despair.
I cannot just stop thinking the thoughts that pervade
Every aspect of functioning free of my will.

If no plan nor a drink conquers thoughts negative,
What then is the solution? The firmware I run
Is the same everyone has. I can’t forcibly
Make it stop its confounding life successfully.
It is to my advantage to mess with it none.
It makes worse what is wrong, and it’s no way to live.

Separation is needed between me and all
That I’ve gathered through life, the body, and the mind.
All that indicates life, like my breath and heartbeat,
I must concentrate more on. The inner retreat
Where the self knows distinction is where I can find
Satisfying refreshment. It’s always my call.

Chill

Let It Go

Sympathetic the system of nerves is to stress.
Somewhere in all the business throughout the long day,
Things don’t catch up completely. Into fight or flight
I am kicked as I’m flustered by anything slight
So that comfort offered is taken the wrong way.
Feeling this way is something I need to address.

A technique called deep breathing is fairly well-known.
It involves, as it implies, taking in fresh air
And releasing it slowly enough to partake
Of the presence awakened for wellbeing’s sake.
That I can do it anytime and anywhere
Makes it ideal a remedy done while alone.

 Breathing deeply means slowly and with awareness
Of the air going places it had not before,
From my body’s perspective. It knows everything
That I’ve done to it since birth. Right now I can bring
My attention to its health, desires, and much more.
What could be a more wholesome and easy process?

Inhaling through the nose to the short count of five,
And then holding it there for a few seconds more,
Then exhaling completely is good exercise.
If I want to be more things along with just wise
Then I need not feel burnt out. Breathing can restore
The lost sense of myself as it keeps me alive.

Always Ready To Act

Willing and Capable

A most self-assured fourteen-year-old girl with the mind
Of an avid go getter, the jobs given you
Bring you intense experiences. You’re unique
As a fine baby sitter. Your handy technique,
Playing Mozart to nurture him, is but a clue
To your take on reality. You are refined.

 Your training and experience help you get through
Challenges that test stamina and reflexes.
With enthusiasm you will get the job done.
Even when you are fearful you seem to have fun.
You’ll hang in and keep things from falling to pieces.
No one knows that your ‘frantic’ except for a few.

Unprepared for the infant’s emerging powers,
An enigma named Syndrome, a dark character,
Came to be your replacement. His criminal past,
Unbeknownst to you, led to him taking charge fast.
It turns out he was lousy, for what did occur
Was as one would expect and what no one prefers.

Dedication and confidence are yours always.
Trusting your gift of powerful intuition,
You’ll succeed and be recognized for bravery,
Your resourcefulness, and responsibility.
When you reach full adulthood you will be someone
Whose work will be outstanding and worthy of praise.