Moments pass empty,
Lest I sit forever.

Calling ritual,
Tied to the mountain.

Empty home,
Smudge with smoke.

For between it all,
I envision the Gods.

Translating the language
Is difficult enough..

I wonder if I could climb a tree~
Climb closer to heaven + what I think it should be.
But is it found in heights or when you are grounded and inspired to fight?
That heavenly day can reach you in so many ways.
Between + under the forest trees,
In tune with the bird's songs, completely free.
I know you know what it is + how it can be gained.
But what if you attained endless heaven today?
Wouldn't yesterday and tomorrow seem endlessly grey?

Time slows when the pen touches the pad.
Eternity gives me a bank of time, something I've never had.
Sand slithering and slipping through my hands.
Staring at the moment trying to get ahead, oh **** there goes my plans.

Part of a bigger picture.

I'll never fall faint to the pressure and the stricture.
Running till my heart stops.
And I reach the top.
But no I don't stop.
Return to the urn that my ashes are in.
Moving from one side to the next begin the end and begin again.
I go in circles. Back tracking everywhere I've been.

Learning and growing.
Owning and knowing.
My mistakes are plenty.
So many.
But I acknowledge the fact.
So I can make the pact.

To stand tall to that very same wall.
That stopped me before.
I'm tearing it down, but there's always more
but that's okay because eternity goes on forever
and this is war.

Let me tell you a story about a man who had a revelation:

When he woke that morning,
He could swear, it all seemed normal, and ever so.. boring.


He stood up from bed,
Wondered what he could instead
Of cleaning his body, teeth and much less his head.

He was a working man.
He swore he had a plan.
To one day, own a beautiful car and home, possibly some land.

You may say it's normal and safe to think that way.
I'd say, It definitely felt good when I got paid.
The high was nice and I would have stayed.

But evidently that's not how the game is played.
Either way, I've strayed.
Let me get back to the man and how he changed one day.

He would always wonder about different ways.
Possibly living freely and in the flowers he could graze.
To stand boldly in the warm summer rays.

But those thoughts crumbled as his job gave him so much praise.
One month, he even got a raise.
He was being ****** into these typical ways.

But he would feel empty and lonely when he would work all day.
Wondering, why am I doing this anyway?
I remember hearing our ancestors didn't live this way.

Getting paid to create devices that save time.
Heh, It sounds insane and you'd be right to think so.
The things these devices do to the atmosphere is clearly a crime.

And as science develops and we see more clearly.
I can clearly see, this getting worse yearly.
That's a message from the earth, signing off sincerely.

He felt so trapped in someone else's plan.
Like he was almost being scammed.
As if the human world was run by an elitist clan.

He tried to tell people.
They called him insane.
Pointed him in the direction of a white steeple
...it all sounded the same.

Ya know, we all here playing a certain game.
If you play out of role you simply get shamed.
This is when he realizes he has things he needs to reclaim.

He calmly walks away, no worries, the time is always now and it's here to stay.
I won't run after someone that won't listen to me anyway
I'll find who I can and I'll be on my way.

Searching through the crowded streets and after hour performances with empty seats.
He realized that he may not find what he needs.
In this city of always active speed.

Taking his boots to the gravel.
He takes the road never traveled.
His story continues to unravel.

He plops his *** down below a tree and begins to hum.
He felt so alive as he chewed on the delicious tree gum.
So happy to be far away from the city ****.

He had merely clothing to keep him warm.
No cozy, quiet dorm
Certainly no shelter from the storms.

At times he would wonder.
Why do I yearn for something yonder?
He could never answer, only continue to ponder.

He awoke the next day.
Oh boy did his stomach have something to say.
He was tired, weak and vulnerable to prey.

Being a nomad was hard work, you would be foolish to lie.
He was merely a man
Barely getting by.

On the brink of death but most certainly not failure.
He realized he would settle down somewhere familiar.
He needed meat and plants to grow.

Gathering seeds and herding animals he became a master of sorts.
These were big jobs. But he didn't want to resort,
To asking another human for support.

He had left those ways and would never go back.
It seemed so long ago, even the snow had devoured his tracks.
But he surely was struggling to get even a snack.

In all of his woe
He promised himself to go with the flow.
One day, he came across another human. He was bound to say "Hello!"

It was awkward at first and words didn't know what to say.
He almost strayed away
When the man asked him if he needed a place to stay.

Tears were apparent but silent that day.
Maybe this is going with the flow and following his own way.
He was trying to hide his gitty insides but it was plainly on display.

He couldn't believe the amount of kindness that man gave.
It was very, very brave
For him to offer such a thing to a man who hadn't shaved.

But this was different, you know, not the same.
He had a keen eye for seeing through shallow games.
Being helpful and honest was his only aim.

If there was a moment that full filled any hole.
Any moment in time that proved we had souls
It had to have been the moment of the crunching of the gifted butter roll.


His belly was full and he couldn't believe it.
In his mind he had to admit.
Such a very nice thing from a man of the city, but he made no comment.

He learned that we need each other. We were born that way.
And is always reminded this lesson on a hungry feast day.

I want to tell you how beautiful you are.
This isn't dependent on your clothes or car.
Not dependent on your grades or how much you were paid.
This is shown through your altruistic understanding.
That every man and woman is here standing.
No one can fly, no one can breathe underwater.

I'm done with the *******.

You are ALL beautiful, and I LOVE you all.

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

I'll walk backwards through a mirror of smoke;
Convert my form into energy and transcend.
Empty in an ocean of ****** bliss,
Conceptual ideas are split in two.

Soft and rounded are the edges here,
Damp and full are the colors spilt ~
Melodic is even the wind of my haven!

What use is it..
This haven is our home!
Cleared could the smoke be,
By the beauty of universal unity..

Language is just a symbol,
when you understand its form.
But what could be said of the
beautiful emptiness from which it is born?

That is what I mean,
the moment of fullness
found in between.
It's like the mind of God
manifests through living dream!

Behold, in the creations
Of the Heavens and the Earth,
The disparity of night and day.
In the water which we sent
Down from the skies for
The benefit of mankind.

We scattered there in,
In the change,
In the clouds between
The Heavens and the Earth.
Here are the signs
For people who are wise.

Cloud watching
amid'st a child's spring,
where the hills rise high
and carrions swoop low.
What would be the magic
that the season mother brings?

Twiddling branches wash in breeze,
twinkling twilight bounding across infinite seas!

Gaia is a spirit and lush are her grounds!
Mother earth and father sky whisper and speak profound.

The naked winds are washing me with ecstasy of spirit.

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..

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

They dart with illusioned purpose,
I alone, am distant and far.

They speak on trivial affairs,
I alone, speak not of the obvious.

They delude intelligence,
I alone, can say no more.

What it is I feel,
Never could be construed.

I can offer no consolation
for those tied and unwilling.

This blind expansion of
unnamable multiverse
weighs heavy, might I say.

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.

You are my musical melody,
My love filled remedy.

But I sit quietly. Avoid the contemplating;
Eluding and evading, silently sedating.

Until the music breaks through.
That horrid moment of truth.

The moment where I finally say,
"I miss you."

But I could never sing a song so true.
To portray my love from me to you.
I just need to hear, feel, tell you once more.
"I miss you."

The pain has brought me to my knees.
Until something sounds and rejoice!
Could it be my musical melody of that precious voice?
One last time..

The sorrow has made me think of possibilities.
What lies beyond the process of growing from a seed
to an O so beautiful blooming tree. Could it be?
An encounter with a known and lost entity.

My hand out stretched -
Will the vibrations make it from me to you and back to me?
One last time..

The thought comes up but I am scared to face it.
Could I never think again and infinitely erase it?
Or should I embrace it?

A voice in my head tells me to push on through
and say those oh so meaningful words,
"I miss you."

Did I ever tell you that?

You are my musical melody,
My love filled remedy.

Until then I sit quietly.
Until the music breaks through
That beautiful moment of complete and utter truth.
The moment where I finally could say..

I miss you...

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

Independence is an illusion.
Dependence implies that some thing else must be independent.
¡Throw both of these words out!
Interdependence is the nature of reality.

Progression is one sided.
A ball moving through space must have a point of relativity.
If you can understand relativity: forwards and backwards are the same thing.
Relative reality is one sided, reality isn't.

Life and death are an illusion.
A line drawn by the mind of a fearful human.
After you die, which is inevitable,
You will feed the unity of life.

Keep these three truths close to you
And you can truly know freedom
from the illusions
of the human mind.

Chain me down if you will,
Bind me with false freedom.
Go ahead, cheat and call it skill.
Drive me out from my own inner kingdom;
But, you will never drive out my will.

Muscular strain bulging at mental chains.
Glitter through the Elven Gates,
Return to an inner child-like state.
Bounding limitless in God's sky-lake.

How could I compress
translate, much less express
How one single mode of thought
Could release you from the illusion
          in which you are caught.

Never let your self be bound
by who are scared to go beyond;
Who think that their way is
the only way that has been found.

I sped to the temple.
Breaking human laws,
to align with universal ones.

I approached.
As my brow lowered,
grace entered my being.

Sunlight greeted me.
As I slowly passed
A stone Buddha.

No one was around.
Monks must be out.
Only a bird sat and sang
to all the flowers.
~
As I entered the main hall,
the wood creaked beneath me,
And my awareness became acute.

The large Buddha towered
over a myriad of empty zafus.
All in accordance and order.

I sat, emulating the statue.
Even my temporal imperfections
matched the stone carvings.
Yet, my mind was with the bird.

I stretched out my legs,
toward the wall,
after a long sit.
The flowers were still after a breeze
And that bird had flown away.

Fluid flowing, tapestry of space
Undulating, undulating.
Let me undress you
and see your true self.
The stars, life, space-
what in God's name is it?

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...

Bewildered and hypnotized, kotodama is present.
Spirit swirling in bounds in the air around!
Brothers and sisters, we are the enchanters~
Singers of song!
Bards of the bars!
Language is beautiful.

The vapors of desperation had crawled;
Fog snakes curling his body's form.
Stood half teetering along the edge
Of an unfamiliar precipice containing
What he knew not.

He had carried his medicine pack,
Heavy, a prison held on his back.
What was the use of sending a note
Caught on the air of the winds
Bounding from that deep crevice!

Would Gods and Demons meet him
In his pathetic descent?
'Let them join me!',
Suicidal, he said.

Taking his last short step
down...down...

And maybe..

He thought of the connections with people
Hard to ever make. Hidden in his mind.
It wouldn't be fair to take someone with him.
To share what had been stolen and ripped.
Oh, what a poor, poor soul.

He jumped after few sad thoughts taunted him.

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?

This moment is hushed by ecstasy.
The moment's breathe is held~
and you can see the dusty particles
floating through the pillars of light.
This is the exhale,
and is also the silence.
The observation tower of consciousness..
It all just orbits-
Minute molecules gyrate
in vast space.
The waves oscillate
in numberless meditation.
This is where thought
originates from.

It is the nature
of the mountain air.
It is the emptiness
in between speech.
It is the moment of possibility
when a loved one is leaving.
It is the moment experienced
when holding a baby first breathing.
It is the stem of
importance and meaning.

I am starting to remember
where we have been
and where we are going.

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.

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.

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.

Wind whispering ancient lullabies;
Hypnotizing its children, it smiles inwardly.
At rest, yet acting everything at once.
This is true effort, true power.
Hold the knowledge that the river
Carries the leaf effortlessly
Reaching its destination just on time.
Smile inwardly like the mother that holds you.

When you think you know, that’s you losing it.
When you write this down, that’s you erasing it.
Moments pass empty like the wind.
Oscillations are left.

People fear base oscillation.
They fear the quiet of the world.
If it gets too quiet during the night, we might just slip away.
If you are too loud in the morning, you won’t know what to say.

So the prophet sits alone.
On a mountain top and is shown
A larger picture
Reflecting his own.

Walking towards the mountains are saints
Unified sacrifices are made.
The God’s blood is paid,
As the Devil digs the grave.

Towering over the moon glazed groves,
Soaring phoenix of night-
What are the storms of your mind?

To what measure do your cloud wings extend?
From shores of salt and shells,
To the high rise of the wise old mountains,
But where therein is your essence hidden?

Flaming jewels for eyes,
That vapor of solitude,
Treading the night skies.

Lined by lightning feathers
And bold with thunderous clap,
Created are whole windstorms at a single wing's flap!

Great and noble, we know this bird.
As loud as the storms at bay;
But they say he is made in silence,
Speaking through things unheard
And words we cannot say..

So sailed across the star candled oceans~
Did the age-old secret scroll,
Stories of the Night Phoenix, adventures of never-told!