Peering down from a terrestial heap,
contemplating the debate at the seams,
exposing dim lights and the ones asleep.

I sat awake, in solitude, lost like a sheep.
Per(re?)ceiving all the secrets in ones dreams;
beneath the veil, and the ones that we keep.

What the bars in ones mind are made of are cheap:
confining and containing what one can gleam
from the empty gaps and the mental leaps.

I hope those objects and night-lights help you sleep;
Plato's shadowy projections move with moonbeams,
the brimful moon ebbing causes the shadows to creep.

The farside is bare, in twilight;
the mind becomes a maverick:
turning fireflies to winking sprights.

Can you regard all that I see
when you dream with eyes-closed?
And In your dream do people speak in poem or prose?

Are you transmitting dimensions of three
or are you given your dreams?

Do you wonder who contains those moments
and where they are received?

If heaven is dreaming nigh
I wonder what we would be

If God sent a message
what might be the presage;
And what might be the conveyance?

When you're dreaming Angels touch the ground,
revealing all that is bound.
~dancing with the beyond~
And (angels) evaporate in the dawn, or atleast seeming..

Let your eyes unlock~
Quick! The Gates are sealing
Run to recapture all that they've been stealing:
From all those who wish to lower your cieling.

---

A gypsy is whistling who's been up all night.
The dreams of many slip into hidden spaces:
Closets and under the bed; spirits dissipate.

As morning's light eminates
What do you see?

sugar cane berry stains

lost friends life's bends

mountain still, in the end




there and back, i've been

we were kids, you were teens

we learned a lot, what we've seen




one more shot before we go

that sacred breath you always know-

when to call it a day

sugar cane berry stains

lost friends life's bends

mountain still, in the end




there and back i've seen

we were kids, you were teens

we learned a lot where we've been




one more shot before we go

that sacred breath you always know-

when to call it a day

giggling i dash
phases and i slip passed
cloak caught on mara's thorns
no one looks within
but only at what is worn
follow the barren arrow
toward the ancient barrows
where the winding ways become narrow
and all is resting still

Nothing is what for i asked
where simply i am present
no future or past
And ones mind isn't molded
like an egyption tomb
explicit in caste
but warm in the womb
display shoshin in bloom
to inherent the present's heirloom

and when all is like before it begun
does any other stand higher than one
because if we fight over either
we're bound to be done

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV-Khs9Rqxs
Listen while reciting - Enjoy!!
-----

Alchemical Butterfly
wing in the sky
eastern diamond bay
we were born this way
everyone will cry

Shhh It's all okay
Garden of God at play
megalithic dao
mirror of now
everyone is gay

I'm tired of the human race
But have love for god
I want to leave this earth
but float among space
And look back, from a pod

Im forgetting all name and form
And feeling as if I were never born
I cannot tell if it is after or before
All is now wet, I smile as it pours
Another barrier between my place and yours

But thats okay I like it inside
Closer to my heart for my soul to untie
Where there are no clocks
because people don't have the time
Life is a lie and the truth is everyone will die

So set me free from here
the land of the sun
where people are blind
the land of the gun
where humans **** their kind

My soul is a boat
Distant from shore
Bending the horizon
onward to nevermore
no body to tote

Ill walk one hundred thousand steps in the night
I made the flight with no map or light

Stumbled through brier and thorn
Upon my soul like a garment, torn

Yet my mind is like a stallion
Stampeding with my battalion

The spirit of the heard(herd)
Is trans-Luci-dating the power of the third

I'm stuck here now on earth
But the lines are getting blurred

Each letter a note to the infinite song
Channeling the word of god all along

I know why god made waterfalls
Or why birds fly

When you cast thy mind to the call
your feet will lift to the sky

And if by gone ages be deaf
And no great minds be left

Then cast my mind astray
Like an owl lost in the light of day


God poured a waterfall in my heart
Once my soul was an arrow but now 'tis a dart

Flying flying towards i know not what
But i think they call this art

I am listening and it is getting louder
Nature is giving birth we must surround her

The future is an angel in your mind
With love and compassion we must ground her

So I trek with compass and staff
Because they **** with  mind
And suffocate with number and graph

I whistle upon the dixies
As I sneak around with pixies

In the end of it all
It seems a bit chaff
Inward thinking to myself, I laugh

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxI3t67cspw
Listen and recite on tempo with the space between preferably
--------------------------------

Let us sneak past the beholders
And fall through the hedge

Twist and tuck your shoulders
Careful not to slip the ledge

Where that speaking plant rose
'Till all noise is scant

Pass the root that slows
'Nd Keep the leaf that quickens

Follow the vine that goes
Passed the sign of picking

When the lone holt rises
And the deep mire thickens

There are three stones stricken
Standing of similar sizes

There it is the time of all ages
'Nd it doesn't matter what your age is

Where the wind flower is always a toss
And where the rocks are growing on moss

I have had it with signs and maps
At this next crossroad I will try to get lost

Nothing feels familiar and I've lost all name
Here life feels only a process, maybe a game..

I'm feeling wayward
I hope you are feeling the same

Forget all clocks
We will look in each others eyes to tell time

Forget all forms
The great Dao is a mirror and you are a mime

Whistle 'gypsy' to meet a sekret of my kind
Passage to a garden of thistle and thyme

five fold colors from the canopy above
rest warm and low on the mushroom land of love

With draping crowns of brugmansia
and fragile ground of foxglove

tip toe the maze and careful where she lept
for where she landed is where many had wept

the life giving rivers we swim
are the same some were sweptt

or have you ever thought
that where you are now is where once a soul's body was left?

where one is complete
another in this life is bereft

so respekt what beyond that hedge lies
everything may be separate now, but everything is one when it dies

And if I were to shapeshift into a fish
my swirling ocean, i would call my sky

And if that fish had one wish
Would be that the world would never run dry

See your spells of intention and what you imply
dictates what your world is run by

And that is beautiful
no one can deny

But quick! cover with the shade of mind
because beholders of beauty are everywhere
yet some give the evil eye

so I shade with the hedge of night
And gaze with my third of sight

so my body can be hidden
and my soul in soaring flight

Because something in the air in the city doenst feel right
But I see it in every one of your eyes, your own starry night

if you are still weary on the path to unite
this spells scroll recite

in one lord and lady
in darkness and in light
i cast this as tinder for your soul to ignite

Twenty thousand steps
winding to the left.
'Cause right was wrong
and wrong was right.
At the end of the road
there was nothing left
so I bent a right.
I love you so much,
but share a night,
          alone;
Something I know so well,
Better than I know you.
But, I worry you've not known
'cause I've gone and well-
I'm worried the message
I've written won't tell.
I'm tired of 'the' shell-
So, I break boundaries and yell.
A life you didn't make
but a life you are willing to take?

no rules-no mistakes

no words
Just Motions
no mind
no world
Just Devotion
somewhere
somehow
Odd(old) Notions
something
sometimes
Magick Potions
no tide
no wave
Just Ocean
nobody
no soul
Just Emotions
no face
no image
God is Remoting


Thrice fold bent,
    one arrow gleaming-
from which we are sent
    all is one
          or at least seeming.
God must be asleep,
          yes, dreaming.
Side road tent,
    plastic tarp teeming-
Come one come all!
    Torii gate beaming~
Some rise some fall,
    Krishna consciousness streaming-
Ten Thousand beings enthralled,
    now just for the meaning...

I'm going under cover
where all vibration is a hum.
And where I tend to hover,
I lose track of where Im from;
Or what direction I'm going,
But, I am indeed in contact~
With something in the sky, glowing.
Accept that as a fact.
They are speaking to me,
teaching me to attract.
It only takes a whisper
for my tongues to get flowing;
And, I start to look crisper~
Upon the world as an artifact
Of art and unknowing.

I'm going under cover
where all vibration is a hum.
And where I tend to hover,
I lose track of where I'm from;
Or what direction I'm going,
But, I am indeed in contact~
With something in the sky, glowing.
Accept that as a fact.
They are speaking to me,
teaching me to attract.
It only takes a whisper
for my tongues to get flowing;
And, I start to look crisper~
Upon the world as an artifact
Of art and unknowing.

Thrice fold bent,
    one arrow gleaming-
from which we are sent
    all is one
          or at least seeming.
God must be asleep,
          yes, dreaming.
Side road tent,
    plastic tarp teeming-
Come one come all!
    Torii gate beaming~
Some rise some fall,
    Krishna consciousness streaming-
Ten Thousand beings enthralled,
    now just for the meaning...

Twenty thousand steps
winding to the left.
'Cause right was wrong
and wrong was right.
At the end of the road
there was nothing left
so I bent a right.
I love you so much,
but share a night,
          alone;
Something I know so well,
Better than I know you.
But, I worry you've not known
'cause I've gone and well-
I'm worried the message
I've written won't tell.
I'm tired of 'the' shell-
So, I break boundaries and yell.
A life you didn't make
but a life you are willing to take?

im sinking down
To a place where i hang out
when no ones around
where the birds fly, maybe soar
a memoir of yore
when i used to lay on the floor
and imagine an upside down world.
Where people jump in and out of doors
and balance on beams nd round the bend they twirl
Overdone masculinity rules this world but in mine it twas a girl
No sides were taken, no war, no fight. and she was black
History moves forward and you cannot take anything back
when i look back to back i tend to think we have two faces
the breath is being lost and we've all gone missing in our paces
I want to evolve my system but there is no racing
I want to speak and there is only facing
No missing, just placing
until our spirits are interlacing
towards one envisioned nation

because everyone thinks its in stone
and aint no body carving
im moving and leaving tracks
and i must be a martian
I'm tuffed with a bag of bluff
and im on my last rice pack
i had followed a beating sound
and now i cannot find my way back
I hope you send a call for me to miss her
But when that bend turns im alone at a vista
and i can see so clearly
infact i can see so much more
and im growing yearly
It's just you all tend
to get stuck ina trend
An echo of an imprint that years ago you sent
And never heard back from that now so
And by the way i can read your brow like braille
all the beautiful ways youve been sent and from where you hale
All the ignorant discrimination is getting stale
And one of us is on the brink and the other looking up from the sink
Wondering when will be the time
And time only moves in one direction, right?
Day shines after the chill of night
And earths cycles seem to be wound so tight
Yet i seem a loose end
I've already wondered when will be the end?
But i heard a whisper to grow a garden and to start to tend
and now its in bloom
and all the bees are in full zoom
and i can see the cycle of life clearly
we invest everything just to lose dearly
so that another may have
like the relationship between a son and dad
The sound of the chimes
as the wind passes by
And all the bird is teaching us lessons
but what if the wind blows and no one is around
does the tear ever touch the ground?
and if my heart stops does it matter why it pounds?
and if i was lost would it matter that im found?
Hi my name goes here
Wishing you were awake and here
but life goes on
After all shoes are tied with stories
and where ever you left them, is where they led you
I think everything has a sound when no ones around
and that everything goes husshh here they come when we come stomping around
Like all the flowers giggling that the seed has foundd groundd
No judging your petal little guy
We love you and know you are shy
My story is ending this is your sky
But only within my coordinance can you fly
Like a limb retarding it's direction
As if you have any detection
you read machines and are practically becoming one
you should go outside more and practice being one
Oh here you come uup that hill
I've been here for years.
Feels like lifetimes when you are light years away
Nature blooms all sorts of ways.
don't judge the petal
all alchemy comes from the ketil
and lets admit thats pretty ******* metal
yes ive been through some ****
when i preach i might spit
but brush me off and let me shine
super natural in the son, align.

One toe tipped
Brink on the lip
Round that bounding tree
Wade and ascend until you see
Two rocks with crooked tops
Mend the bend and heed the avian's call
When you bound down
You will hear the river's sound
You are almost there
Follow the path etched in ground

Upon your breech
You will feel a wind in the tree's creak
Look for the pink flowers that peek
And listen for the spring that leaks
The journey takes weeks

So stop at the fruit bearing tree
When you are weak
Rest and prepare for the test
For soon you will meet Devil's Peak
MInd the ways you wInd

Once you spy the rocks that streak
Keep your eye out for the trees made of teak
Soon there is no sign
And the trail leaves no lines
You must move by the moon
And with the sun tell time
Here you find yourself all alone
The only of your kind

You must bare the brier that binds
And cure it with the tongue
Of the canine that bites
For the crane that flies
Holds the questions of night

When you stumble upon the prairie
And the sun is just right
Offer the indigo leaf
In the fire of the light
Say the three sacred words
And pronounce then with might

For this is the recipe
For your soul to take flight

Moon Dragon,
Paragon of the Night,
It winks and glistens to me
As it floats and flitters in flight.

Tubular tumbles and barrel rolls, it fills the night sky;
Chanting ancient scrolls of the lost astral souls
And blinding those with awe as it dives on by,
Working the space like water.

Around and beyond it curls and twirls,
Around each star, distant and afar.
Wrapping round for a celestial sweep
Searching for the veins of stars that run so deep.

So aloft it may tumble and mate with the night sky;
But, ever so rare one may catch a sign with a human eye
Of the Paragon of the night, Moon Dragon, as it dissolves
Into invisible flight.

High on Hawk Hill, where ancestors of past had danced and chanted tunes of yore. Sat a modern man, dressed in illusion and bold in his character. He was of a consuming nation, and regretted that, but what
could be left behind here at these healing mountains not even the local bellman would speak.

So the modern man and a group of individuals all from distinct cultural groups waded down and through the rivers. Dis-clothed, they would look each other in the eyes. The clouds would hang like lily pads of atmospheric magnitude over head the stage of man, waiting, smiling, wondering. Bathing and cleansing, the beings would draw steam to the heavens from their radiating bodies. Rinsing with the herbal perfumes and seasoned smells, they would dress in flowers and beauty. Long dryad hair wore the women of druidism. Feathers and clothes draped from tribal piercings and exuberant head wear.

They stood wooden spires over peering exceptional mountain ranges which held the coves and nests of spirits. Something deep was within the Raven's Caw or the magic that the deer's leg print led to.

Piercing the corrugated peaked ridges laid within winding and glistening river banks which brought leagues of fresh fish to the bay peoples. Poking from root-stock, the medium mammals would bore warm dens with fresh nuts and berries to feed. The red gloaming sun would reign overhead when bellies were full and out would the children play. Songs were crooned throughout the lands and together the creatures of the bush would wander to join. And when the sun would squint its last ray and the darkness kissed the land with hovering summer warmth. Something ancient would hold the stillness.

Across those gigantic ranges was the spirit of nostalgic history. A thudding would be announced like the marching of a great ocean of ones forgotten. Bounds of diverse souls and spirits colored of rainbows from differences would pour and not even the most contemporary and constricted could argue the depth of beauty of these myriad mixed marching souls.

Curls of vapor rose like dancing spirits from the hearth of camp. T'was a nightly ritual that invoked the spirits of ages. For one man locked in trance to envision the union of souls, no matter immense diversity. Songs would project from those hollow vocal cords of ghosts harmonized and jiving. Limbs of smoke would wrap around the enchanted man, lifting him to realm of the immaterial. Those disembodied chants and drumming of old seemed to converge as the
man was dislodged from a heavy body. What was left was a golden hum of unison, floating, floating.

Hovering light like a cloud of non-density, buoyant in a space which seemed to have no points of reference. Simple and overwhelming was a warm and ecstatic hum of bliss that enveloped what should have been his body like thin silk robes woven of divinity. Laced in caressing arms he would drift slowly and softly back to a solid and still world of night. Exemplified darkness would circle a single dim lit fire, almost gone out.

Those drawing off hums would change tone and become the snoring of lovely plump women and young children cuddled. All of energy which once was exercised, was left but just a simmering coal of fire and pipe.
The smoke curled once more from the feather dressed man's nose, seeming a dragon in the night.

Tired would the night drift along into those colored dreams. Smoothly, the hills would rise and awaken into a purple, crisp morning bounding with birds. Squirrels would perch and nibble. Winds would brush glittering  glades. Hushed but ever known would the spirits rest in their eternal vaults..

The man who tries to prove a point
Is unsure of how sharp it is.
A man who wars with blunt arms,
Is confident in his own strength.

The man who bears armor brave,
Falls heavy into his own grave.
The man who comes naked
Is sure he will return unscathed.

But, not every warrior is the same;
And no war can be fought
In the shadow of divine aim.

Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~

One may think:

"The world soon will sink,
                But surely the stars will glow."

"And on that day we shall unite,
                Realizing what we might."

~Longing for a brother and sister too late,
                                 Sent by war to Heaven's open gates..

On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.

I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.

All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.

To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?

Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?

No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~

Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.

Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.

Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance

To the goal of the heart.

---

You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.

A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.

Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!

But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?

"The Ultimate Peerer"

Among'st a non-judging expanse,
Creative clouds dance.

Through fields one might prance,
Find a tree and sit
Or take a different stance.

See it fully or just give a glance~

The clouds, they form in multiplicities,
Reflecting simplicity;
Expanding creative form explicitly.

What'll it be?
How'll it grow?

Beautiful sky of freedom's form,
Modify your figure and break the norm.
Show me what never dies and is forever born~!

And reveal to us in time what is on the inside,
Usually hidden when worn.

I saw this in the clouds today, when I was bored..

Watch them
Searching amongst a trifling heap!
Bear your watch ~
And gear your gaze,
Realize this dangerous maze.
-
Through the brush,
Along the hills,
Stands a little shack..

An outcast with a knack~

No one could understand this very odd man.
Yet even to reach him on foot or on yak
It would mean you must
Lead away and carve your very own tracks.

Where to go, following the road no one goes?
What to see or to learn, exploring what no one knows?
Speak! unique star of the universe,
Tell your stories of the beautiful adventure,
That only you chose..

You could dance or stand still,
Sit on solid ground or climb a sand hill!

Talk in verse
Or reverse your curse and present your prose
Into a rhythm only you really knowss
        Look, let me stop..
..
                                      ..

I admit, I'm just an ordinary man.

Dreams of mountain streams
And washing trees in the wind.
Let me leave this world
And start anew again..

Off I set with not much to tote.
Getting lost among the trees,
The mind has little to quote.
But here and there it shall roam,
Looking deeply for a small forest home.

One morning I cracked my door
And let the wind come in.
It sang songs of freedom
And hope for mankind.
But all alone a small man cottage,
Chirping songs of a free bird
But no one to hear the rhyme..

Weary traveler among'st a dusty world.
Emptiness and form dancing,
As if they stand for something.

Not many comprehend a man of solitude.
Let me cast my dreams like a *** against a sleeping tree..

Those November days I ought to know so well;
How they might often pass like a quick breathe,
Amidst you at once, and soon leaving nothing left.

The puddles after storms would emerge standing swamps;
And the cloudy sky would cast a constant haze.
Around, silently, life would go on, for countless days.

My journal would saturate like that of one
A bard weeping who had cried upon
           Just a mild tune to cast a moment away.

738 days in and it feels like prison;
To cast my will away would be to sign up for life.
Chains strewn throughout,
Held down, but nothing to grasp.
Grasping is the temptation of the Devil;
Twiddling idle minds, like thumbs.

The ebony shade had cast a dark distance;
The depth of night would swallow echos whole,
Leaving no trail and no solemn mark.

But, a million delusions would rampant rage,
Ripping and tearing at an illusory cage.
One fine mark, between light and dark..

Clarity would tease its way through the shaded groves
And the branches would create a labyrinth,
Showing the light where to go.

To my heart and the center of the circle.
Where, on the hill, the sun rises purple.
And the lonely chant drifts off like smoke..

On winter's last day's length
When the leaves display like drooping curtains
Washing away the white rain for a season to pass

The calm softness would wrap me as it would melt the last
Waiting for the next season of life; Rainbow flowers and grass.

How could I begin to convey my rage
Reaching pain's infinity in a single day..

Stable and stern, I watch with a downcast, I admit.
They are marching forever; follow the one in front..

Who is to say what is on the mind
Of a blind rover?

Or what winds are cast upon the back
Of a grand avian?

Let me pass without a second glance.