Nagual - Hello Poetry

I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber; The ***** disturbing, demented disorder; The distortions of the lights we bathe on, Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems. I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste Of a late night's substandard drink, In the midst of true lights and shadows And the uncertainty they cast upon us, Over the orderly and satisfactory-- The dead pleasures and securities that Exist nowhere but in feeble projections. I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt-- The dirt, the dizziness of true treading Across the muddy shallows--, Over the clattering of an overflowed, Certain mind. I favour doubt, earnest doubt, Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt-- A smile in a pitch-black room, A journey on a lukewarm air balloon, A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--, Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions. I favour the endearing messiness of reality; The chaos of light and dreams; The mystery, so out of reach, Of you and me and the space in-between; The stained, torn, shattered, burnt, Twisted texture we find ourselves upon, Over the smooth, marble-white, Sterile surface where false certainties Slide, grinning, before they find themselves On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground. I favour the acknowledging look Straight into the eye; A ladder with one step; A race with no competitors; A contentment without resentment; A bread on your table that's good enough, That doesn't tease you and promise you more, And more, And more, So that you forget what you should really care for, What lies deep under your skin, What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts-- You climb to the hilltop Which finally allows you to have A peek at the next one. I favour uncertainty and risk, And walking too close to the edge; I favour barely enough, And cutting it too close; I favour throwing all excess over the board, And lowering standards; I favour the taste of imminent failure And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint; I favour meagre means And big dreams, free of currencies; For they all remind me what the world Really looks like, Who I really am, And what the winter-night winds Really feel like. I favour the ways of nature, often erratic, ***** ugly and convoluted, Often dumbfounding, Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious, Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions, For there is no such thing As a straight line.

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Jan 9, 2019

Jan 9, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC

Wednesday Manifesto

I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber; The ***** disturbing, demented disorder; The distortions of the lights we bathe on, Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems. I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste Of a late night's substandard drink, In the midst of true lights and shadows And the uncertainty they cast upon us, Over the orderly and satisfactory-- The dead pleasures and securities that Exist nowhere but in feeble projections. I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt-- The dirt, the dizziness of true treading Across the muddy shallows--, Over the clattering of an overflowed, Certain mind. I favour doubt, earnest doubt, Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt-- A smile in a pitch-black room, A journey on a lukewarm air balloon, A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--, Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions. I favour the endearing messiness of reality; The chaos of light and dreams; The mystery, so out of reach, Of you and me and the space in-between; The stained, torn, shattered, burnt, Twisted texture we find ourselves upon, Over the smooth, marble-white, Sterile surface where false certainties Slide, grinning, before they find themselves On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground. I favour the acknowledging look Straight into the eye; A ladder with one step; A race with no competitors; A contentment without resentment; A bread on your table that's good enough, That doesn't tease you and promise you more, And more, And more, So that you forget what you should really care for, What lies deep under your skin, What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts-- You climb to the hilltop Which finally allows you to have A peek at the next one. I favour uncertainty and risk, And walking too close to the edge; I favour barely enough, And cutting it too close; I favour throwing all excess over the board, And lowering standards; I favour the taste of imminent failure And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint; I favour meagre means And big dreams, free of currencies; For they all remind me what the world Really looks like, Who I really am, And what the winter-night winds Really feel like. I favour the ways of nature, often erratic, ***** ugly and convoluted, Often dumbfounding, Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious, Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions, For there is no such thing As a straight line.

70

Your tread has become dreary, Heavy and weary; You have forgotten why you walk. Long ago, You stepped on your once innocent, Brightly burning wick, Obliviously, Until it was out, Cold and buried, Many feet underneath the dull landscape You now walk across. You have forgotten how to see; Your eyes have sunk Into the recesses of your thoughts. They jump from light to light, Like a frantic moth, Following instincts yet unaware Of its own light, Its senses hammered By its impulses. You taste only extremes, Overindulge in fanciful delights; Your tongue gets drunk, Then passes out, Your mind convinced it has tasted Satisfaction And nothing more can be Or is required. You have forgotten yourself, Your colourful visions, Your raw sensations, Your honest perceptions. You have forgotten your Uncontaminated, Uncorrupted, Uninfluenced yearnings. The clouds that once beckoned you, Taking your mind for a spin With an outpour of Tingling excitement, Have come to symbolise The nondescript background Against which your silent struggle Unfolds into Nothing in particular.

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Dec 17, 2018

Dec 17, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC

Nothing in Particular

Your tread has become dreary, Heavy and weary; You have forgotten why you walk. Long ago, You stepped on your once innocent, Brightly burning wick, Obliviously, Until it was out, Cold and buried, Many feet underneath the dull landscape You now walk across. You have forgotten how to see; Your eyes have sunk Into the recesses of your thoughts. They jump from light to light, Like a frantic moth, Following instincts yet unaware Of its own light, Its senses hammered By its impulses. You taste only extremes, Overindulge in fanciful delights; Your tongue gets drunk, Then passes out, Your mind convinced it has tasted Satisfaction And nothing more can be Or is required. You have forgotten yourself, Your colourful visions, Your raw sensations, Your honest perceptions. You have forgotten your Uncontaminated, Uncorrupted, Uninfluenced yearnings. The clouds that once beckoned you, Taking your mind for a spin With an outpour of Tingling excitement, Have come to symbolise The nondescript background Against which your silent struggle Unfolds into Nothing in particular.

44

A trillion hazy days Of holding yourself back Unworthiness grips tightly And pulls you out of track You're glued to your concerns You melt away through time You look through shattered windows Your tongue too tired to rhyme There's nothing to being human Just give yourself a try We're all apes trying to reach Out for a chance to shine You blend into the pebbles Of conquests and defeat When none of them do matter You'll join the joyful fleet

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Dec 9, 2018

Dec 9, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC

Diving In

A trillion hazy days Of holding yourself back Unworthiness grips tightly And pulls you out of track You're glued to your concerns You melt away through time You look through shattered windows Your tongue too tired to rhyme There's nothing to being human Just give yourself a try We're all apes trying to reach Out for a chance to shine You blend into the pebbles Of conquests and defeat When none of them do matter You'll join the joyful fleet

16

Time is like blood, running through my veins It's like the ocean floor on a moonless night It's there But not quite Every morning I interrogate the clouds I run my fingers through my thoughts I dip my toes in the crater of an active volcano And try to grapple with the idea Of running through the valley Deaf and dumb Head first into a wall Every afternoon I dig out some tree roots Tie them together and make them promise me They'll stay like that, hand by hand, Like a gleeful band, forever And I watch them twirl I seek refuge in the shade of a mountain, Pretend I climb it with my arms stretched out Fingers running through its edge Full of silly conviction Every night I settle down, take a break From all the birds, germs and pachyderms I bury my head under a beehive Close my eyes, dream of honey, Look for a key I never lost and Open a door that's not there Leading to a sweet world of merry moments To the midday song of The bird of tomorrow, where All ideas, colours and shapes Erupt in a boisterous reverie Of mellow madness And I watch Placidly

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Nov 26, 2018

Nov 26, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC

Chores Through Time

Time is like blood, running through my veins It's like the ocean floor on a moonless night It's there But not quite Every morning I interrogate the clouds I run my fingers through my thoughts I dip my toes in the crater of an active volcano And try to grapple with the idea Of running through the valley Deaf and dumb Head first into a wall Every afternoon I dig out some tree roots Tie them together and make them promise me They'll stay like that, hand by hand, Like a gleeful band, forever And I watch them twirl I seek refuge in the shade of a mountain, Pretend I climb it with my arms stretched out Fingers running through its edge Full of silly conviction Every night I settle down, take a break From all the birds, germs and pachyderms I bury my head under a beehive Close my eyes, dream of honey, Look for a key I never lost and Open a door that's not there Leading to a sweet world of merry moments To the midday song of The bird of tomorrow, where All ideas, colours and shapes Erupt in a boisterous reverie Of mellow madness And I watch Placidly

34

I lost my dream In the haziness of night-time. It never was too bright, So finding it I never might. It was strange, Unfounded and confounded, And it changed While I wrapped my arms around it. I lost my dream But gained a glimpse Into something real That had been concealed; A beauty so ordinary And an ordinariness so beautiful, A beauty in the ordinary And an ordinariness in the beautiful. I lost my dream In the peculiar tunnel Of a sleepless night. And though I yearn for something Beyond my walls, I breathe peaceful colours While I calmy stall.

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Nov 23, 2018

Nov 23, 2018 at 6:35 AM UTC

Dream Lost

I lost my dream In the haziness of night-time. It never was too bright, So finding it I never might. It was strange, Unfounded and confounded, And it changed While I wrapped my arms around it. I lost my dream But gained a glimpse Into something real That had been concealed; A beauty so ordinary And an ordinariness so beautiful, A beauty in the ordinary And an ordinariness in the beautiful. I lost my dream In the peculiar tunnel Of a sleepless night. And though I yearn for something Beyond my walls, I breathe peaceful colours While I calmy stall.

24

How can there be A ******* universe? Look around you, Touch something with your fingertips. What the hell is this? How is it that there is anything? How is it that anything is happening At all? How can there be A ******* universe Which perceives itself Through the eyes of a human? Which questions how it began Through the mind of a mammal? Which ponders why it is here Through the words of an ape? Is there anyone else in town? Where are all the loons Freaking out Over the existence of existence? How come it doesn't happen Every moment Every day? How can there be A ******* universe? And if there weren't one How could there not be one? Not be where? Pondering, However, Can't go Forever; My coffee is ready And my mind's Getting steady.

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Nov 23, 2018

Nov 23, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC

The Universe Ponders

How can there be A ******* universe? Look around you, Touch something with your fingertips. What the hell is this? How is it that there is anything? How is it that anything is happening At all? How can there be A ******* universe Which perceives itself Through the eyes of a human? Which questions how it began Through the mind of a mammal? Which ponders why it is here Through the words of an ape? Is there anyone else in town? Where are all the loons Freaking out Over the existence of existence? How come it doesn't happen Every moment Every day? How can there be A ******* universe? And if there weren't one How could there not be one? Not be where? Pondering, However, Can't go Forever; My coffee is ready And my mind's Getting steady.

35

You turn around, You call my name But I no longer believe the same; There's paper stacked upon your window pane. The clocks are worn, My boots are torn, They've come some way since they were born And things that shine often do not conform. A whisper here Is a thunder there, A glass of wine to lay it bare; Don't tell me silence dwells behind that stare. You don't run fast Because you must; It's fine to break out from your crust And build a smile that's free from all your lust. We're far apart But all the same; Forget the shapes and forms and blame And you will see we walk down the same lane. I walk through eyes So close and distant Depending on how long the instant; Some grow warm while others grow resistant.

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Nov 22, 2018

Nov 22, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC

The Distance Between Stares

You turn around, You call my name But I no longer believe the same; There's paper stacked upon your window pane. The clocks are worn, My boots are torn, They've come some way since they were born And things that shine often do not conform. A whisper here Is a thunder there, A glass of wine to lay it bare; Don't tell me silence dwells behind that stare. You don't run fast Because you must; It's fine to break out from your crust And build a smile that's free from all your lust. We're far apart But all the same; Forget the shapes and forms and blame And you will see we walk down the same lane. I walk through eyes So close and distant Depending on how long the instant; Some grow warm while others grow resistant.

24

He dreams, he dreams Of creating Every night, Yet he wakes up In the desert Every morning. He dreams of putting Soft impressions, Wild emotions, Beautiful concoctions Into paper; Yet he wakes up Hands tied, Pitch-black, Every morning. He dreams of his heart Sifting through his chest Into blank pieces of paper That get flooded in deep red; And a heartfelt tune Comes gushing out his soul, Making his own guts grow giddy While he paints trees on the road; Yet he wakes up Lips heavy, Sight blurry, Heart wary, Every morning. He dreams of walking down The river bank, Shapes and colours flying past, While a haunted boat Projects its mast; Blue and yellow sensations Make him tread through his vibrations While he scribbles something down, Eyes and ears fixed on the ground; Yet he wakes up Full of doubt, Full of circular Pointless thoughts, Full of resistance And nobody's assistance Every ******* Morning.

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Nov 16, 2018

Nov 16, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC

Every Morning

He dreams, he dreams Of creating Every night, Yet he wakes up In the desert Every morning. He dreams of putting Soft impressions, Wild emotions, Beautiful concoctions Into paper; Yet he wakes up Hands tied, Pitch-black, Every morning. He dreams of his heart Sifting through his chest Into blank pieces of paper That get flooded in deep red; And a heartfelt tune Comes gushing out his soul, Making his own guts grow giddy While he paints trees on the road; Yet he wakes up Lips heavy, Sight blurry, Heart wary, Every morning. He dreams of walking down The river bank, Shapes and colours flying past, While a haunted boat Projects its mast; Blue and yellow sensations Make him tread through his vibrations While he scribbles something down, Eyes and ears fixed on the ground; Yet he wakes up Full of doubt, Full of circular Pointless thoughts, Full of resistance And nobody's assistance Every ******* Morning.

46

I never sat down and wrote a song All I've ever done Is bame myself For what's gone wrong I never sat down and told a lie All I've ever done Is eat the truth That pushed me aside I never sat down and shed my heart All I've ever done Is look away And press restart I never sat down and drew a mind All I've ever done Is search in vain For what's not mine Today I sit down and tell the truth There's no one in my room Besides my own self

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC

I never did

I never sat down and wrote a song All I've ever done Is bame myself For what's gone wrong I never sat down and told a lie All I've ever done Is eat the truth That pushed me aside I never sat down and shed my heart All I've ever done Is look away And press restart I never sat down and drew a mind All I've ever done Is search in vain For what's not mine Today I sit down and tell the truth There's no one in my room Besides my own self

19

Love life, love the world, for it is all you have. Love the stars, and the people, and the breeze and the rain, and the reflection of the lights on the water. Love because you exist. Love because you can read this, because you live in a time that will one day be thought of as romantic and golden. Love because you won't be forever. Love because everything is impermanent, because this day will end, and never be visited again. Love because all we have is enough, and because nothing we can imagine can match it. Love because there are others you share the world with, who love too. Love the night, the silence, the shadow of the trees by the water. Love the imminence of dawn, and of things someday gone. Love the light of a candle and the warmth of the earnest conversation lit by it. Love the joy of sharing the world with other beings as troubled but as sensitive to beauty and love as you are. Love nature's gentle rattle, and its tempestuous outbreaks. Love because you are all you will ever be, and life is immense and beautiful, even in its darkness, and it is yours.

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC

Impermanence

Love life, love the world, for it is all you have. Love the stars, and the people, and the breeze and the rain, and the reflection of the lights on the water. Love because you exist. Love because you can read this, because you live in a time that will one day be thought of as romantic and golden. Love because you won't be forever. Love because everything is impermanent, because this day will end, and never be visited again. Love because all we have is enough, and because nothing we can imagine can match it. Love because there are others you share the world with, who love too. Love the night, the silence, the shadow of the trees by the water. Love the imminence of dawn, and of things someday gone. Love the light of a candle and the warmth of the earnest conversation lit by it. Love the joy of sharing the world with other beings as troubled but as sensitive to beauty and love as you are. Love nature's gentle rattle, and its tempestuous outbreaks. Love because you are all you will ever be, and life is immense and beautiful, even in its darkness, and it is yours.

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