Hasn’t this all happened before?
Or, I mean; isn’t it all happening again?
Did I read the same story in a book once?
Or see it on a large screen?
Didn’t I dream this or hear someone telling it in passing?
This whole thing is so familiar
It’s told the rule of law is lost
To power once again
As if
As if it never escaped
Destruction comes swiftly
She-go dreams of silly futures that can’t be real
Don’t fool yourself
He says I fall away
And so you do
So I can see

There are those who thrive in chaos
And those who seek the end of paper cranes
parading as sky replacers
Those who throw their bodies to the winds of change
Who would trade lives for truth and ending lies
Because lying lives aren’t living real at all
If you forget where you came from before it all sunk in
then you have to forget where you got to underneath all the sink

Maybe we won’t ever be able to go back to what?
How it used to be?
Humans have always weaponized their own bodies
And to what end?
What if the virus likes us and wants to stay
And spread out a bit just like we did
What if Americans for some odd reason
Maybe their diet high in saturated fats and sugar
Make the perfect biosphere Rona likes for chillin and relaxin?

Like the ripe midwestern plains
Lookin juicy and ready for the pickins
By our forefathers and their children
Just like that Rona can’t really see
how much pain and awful suffering
she and her thriving offspring
been causin us Americans
She doesn’t really care either
cuz she’s been roaming all over the world
Searching for a suitable place to rest
after just arriving
on this new wonderful world
Rona once thought she heard called human
Though she preferred to think of it as home

folly
jest
ruin and unrest
help me rise
to heights below
the sinking into
and plunge
to depths above
the waking up from

no sense, unsense
nonsense be had
come on, go on
take flight, be mad
the end of this
too near to hear
blind eyes don’t see
lies meant for fear

hold me now
closer now
center me here
together now
surrounding grace
within the place
the space
that both  
will meet

The only thing there is to be
is what you are is love.
Love in every moment
and in everything you do
and think and eat
and drink and see
and say and learn and know.
And teach to each one
who comes along the path
that’s laid right out for you.
This is that which you are here for
and only here to do.
Regardless where you started
or who started it for you,
no matter where you wander
or where you dare to roam,
remember this one thought
within your mind and heart and soul:
I am the light
that is the love
that lives within
the heart of God.
I bring the peace
that gives the joy
to share with all
along life’s road.
and...

if I looked at you
truly saw you
I would see me
this I knew when I heard it for the first time
I knew this was Truth

discordant sounds
I hear discordant sounds
and see dark shapes
dart here and there
they will ask me
if I tell
are they inside
or outside your mind
and I will say
there is no inside
or outside
I am everything
and they will not know what to do next

hijacked?
God hijacked its own world?
what does that even mean?
its so out of control
what is the point of all this?
we are ants
scurrying over one another
to build an anthill to the heavens
for what purpose?
we are so silly

I wish there wasn't - but there is
I wondered when - when what couldn't
no one could see an inception or end point
if > opposites
how does one come to one? or none?
when they decipher this will they see
how they are the same and also opposites?
one ... none
will they it she he already know?
the big stupid open secret

She says, "Crash into me, baby, and let me crash into you."
and I possess nothing, least of all things, power.
I am not. She is - nothing other than she is.
All my good intentions go to diseased swine.
I am not - her wrath takes me from here to there
and calls it nowhere. I am tossed about,
no compass, no center to navigation.
She toys with my love and honest heart;
tests me with sharks and rattlers.
Why so harsh?

For pleasure and the peace to be ever sweeter.
For to end suffering and a beginning to nothing.
I am nothing and forever trying to be something.
What else can I be?
I see no boats rocking. The sea is glass.
Nothing is broken.

The vasanas still command the attention –
constant self-gratification.
Wasn't this life supposed to be for freedom?
Yet, aren't I chained to these never-ending programs
that seem to keep feeding
and multiplying on themselves?
Aren't I a spiritual baby;
brand spankin' newly realized truth?
I feel doesn't make sense anymore.
It's like feeling a movie;
like dying in a dream.
Can't stop at any scene.
They all keep speeding past so fast.
They can go as I remain.
They can bleed and fall
and joke and smile and burn up
in a thick grey **** of smoke.
And I am still always here
and always just right now.
This mind and it's infinite tricks;
this knowledge mind brings
is only tied to death.
Wisdom blossoms
from real life knowing.

Anyway, all this is the Maya - the Lovely Deva. She’s having her play day. Urging us along. Sparing only lives as all our silly stuff gets tossed. It’s not about punishing, it’s all about waking up. Just like when your woman plays the ***** to shake things up. We’re really gonna figure it out eventually. Kind of the whole point of evolving. I’ve always been an early adapter. Follow The Mother’s lead. This one is the most organic you’ll find in all the universe. She’s the interior decorator and the architect. The whole thing is her big show of course. Of course.

Are we in the future now?
like the Jetsons
trekking stars
or are we only lost in space?

If it were another time and place
a different dimension
I would know this wasn't real
but

I am here
in this time and space
what's making this pen write?
you can't figure it out
what aches this head?
and bid thoughts come?
what causes this pain in the belly?
and the vibrations humming the ear drum?
what is all this?
seems a miracle I am here
seems a story
feels a dream
what is all this?
no living in the mind
what is all this, Lord?
and why have you brought me here?

to be present
here as one
whole
united
one
together would be untrue
as it denotes two
help me to know
the language of ancient souls
to hear the words first spoken
of the God of the Universe
bring me to the temple of knowing and being

we are the ones we have longed for
in the darkness and silence
praying for another to come
and yet
we are the ones
we are here

Each day the sky tells a different story
each moment a new horizon arises
today, here, the sky dresses herself
in glorious gold and regal, dusky blue-grey
and brilliant, bright light-blue
using clouds to accent the best parts

every morning the sun paints a fresh masterpiece
to inspire my view
on a morning like this
though, there are no mornings alike
each one is the same and
each one is unique
on such a morning one will be born
and one will die
one will fall ill and
one will be attacked
one will force himself on another and
one will offer her best in sacrifice for love
one will starve and
one will die of a heart attack from too rich eating
one will fee love and another loathing

the world is a grand paradoxical scene
how can we continue this way?
and why would we want to?
I deny so much of myself
just to get along in this world
I see just my own light now
weeding out what isn't nourishing
sifting out what won't rise

there are old programs
past repairing
these will not cease
one must simply watch
them run down to nothing

The point of a flower is not to pick it
and arrange it like so.
The point of a flower
is only to witness it grow
and then die
and grown once again to Be U Ti Ful

There is something in the patterns which moves one forward. It is in all the patterns and so causes one to see the patterns – the breaks and boundaries. The something – that is you. Why you’re always trying to catch it. Just searching for you. Did you know I found you long ago? I’ve been here. Living right with you in the same house. You keep dusting around me and forgetting to set the table for two - pretending the guest room hasn’t been used. But why not invite me into your room? Why not just try it for a day or week or two? If you haven’t noticed me up till now, what makes you think I’ll make noise once we’re both in the same bed? Tempting isn’t it?

Descent into madness of the mind
happens slowly over time
in almost imperceptible minute steps
Each one stacked and balanced onto the next
All one must do is tap the bottom
- not even all that hard -
holding all that came after in balance
But tap it you must
and only to see
what emerges from the wreckage
of a toppled life

Tell me of myself
Show me how to dissolve forever
just only now
What is belief
only a concept
What is fear or shame
a program created in the annals of ancient time

Stop complaining
You get more of what you think and speak of
if you can see only love and beauty
your life is charmed and sweet
Licking honey from life's comb
what else is there
what is else is this one life for

Your anger swells in me and mine in you
your button triggers my finger
holding the weapon pointed at you
Are we meant to be here
together in this space
in this same time
ancient gods with modern dreams
I loved you more
than anything you could understand
was greater than both of us
There is a voice that sings secrets to my ears
only if they are bent to hear in that way

To be a portal one is open and unencumbered
To be a priest one is kind and honorable
To be free one is
We are each all these

I came to know the end of me
and found I liked that better
Though me I see is only dreams
stacked up to reach something like what I am
It's okay til the parts forget they're sposed to be dead
Ghosts in a machine that thinks its clean
Oh no, roll up those sleeves
Who's afraid of some big bad and ***** work
Cowards can't beg food they never grew
What you get fed is what they feed you - not them
And the world - one sick diseased world
and the cause is seen
and the sickness is seen
aren't we free now
can't we just put it down
and walk to the drumming and humming breath of the life

I am only lighting the road
that, for some reason,
is too dark for you to see.
The lamp I carry isn’t mine,
nor did I make it; and,
the path is already laid.
Do you understand?

I stood before her a mess
and she chuckled
I wondered what I had done to deserve that
I wondered why I wanted that
how I had called it to me
right here and now
If I return changed
they will claim I am a liar
If I return the same
they will still snicker and talk

The world is unfolding and extinguishing
all at once
I was in school last week
and now I am a wrinkled old woman
The only thing that isn’t funny is ignorance
not funny at all

The world blossoms and burns to ash
all in one instant
We found the secret to keep fire only yesterday
How do we know what’s happened
when nothing ever does?
Then, how’d it come to be like this?
It has always been this way
you see this
The past is like a famished spectre
grasping and clawing at this present life
to mar and scar our future world
A thing is set in motion
and energy does not stop

If I sit still long enough
I will reach the end of me
This marks the beginning of the real world
Present Moment Era
Some times are nothing worth noting
Only the right times come along
each moment we are here
There are a lot of good shapes
to stop and take in time
I try them all
But now - I am always here
They think a me gets made
Just like the me think they are
You can see too
if you look and don’t touch it
If you touch it
you take it on
It covers the nothing you are now

I woke up in a world
where I was the most important being
and also the very same
as every other being
and we all behaved accordingly

come to me
meet me in our special place
the place we both know
and have never been
come to me in that place
where you lose you
and I lose me
the place where neither exists
and both of us live
if living were really a thing
come to me and invite me in
within the place you always were
and I never left

Show me the meaning of encounter.
Each person one meets
tries to retell one’s story.
People want to make life their own;
chip it down to a fable or verse.
I sat across the table from ego
trying to convince me I wasn’t real;
to persuade me that I didn’t only just emerge
from the ether of nothing’s existence,
a glossing over in the eyes of the mask
at each utterance of Truth passing these lips.
What is this?
A piece which loathes the reality
of claiming one’s own inheritance.
Sick, psychotic fantasy.
Will you go to an insane person
who holds a degree in the study of the senseless
to help you decide what you are?
You are bound to find trouble.

I watched the Swami quoting Heidegger and Zizek so admiringly.
Heidegger, who only just quoted the Swami's own ancient masters. How serene he delivered a blow to all of so-called western philosophy - even going back to the Greeks. Not a hint of anger anywhere on his dispassionate face. This is what I see as Divine. This is God living through some other flesh. What else could hold such horrific truths and smile at the damning lies? What else could pluck all of history, a dying flower, from one vase and hold it next to a living, green being of infinite beauty and call them both good?

It’s exactly the same whether it’s drawn from the bottom line or the top.

Makes sense. As above, so below. As within, so without.

Yes, there is peace now because you wanted peace; to think. And what did you find?

You found that thinking was the matter and wasn’t the solution. You found that stillness and silence and less is infinitely more. And now you want to share it.

And you are sharing it. Though, the mind, the programming, wants to paint a darker picture.

Let’s talk plainly now. What is there to do? One wants to know a future that isn’t real. All futures contain the same unreality; the same nothing. All you can see is right here.

Even looking to history to explain what’s right here can lead to messy futures. I mean, people actually lose jobs over poorly forecasted futures. Can you imagine that?

We’ve really gone way too far. Way too past what could ever be described as a humane society. We have to ask, what’s all the wealth really for?

I wanted to bury myself in your chest again
know the embrace of infinite desire quenched
to be held in your enormous arms
feel them entwine the whole of me
and fuse together with the totality of you
I wanted to forget where I thought I stopped
and where you believed you began
I wanted to cease to be as before you were
and become what I had already created
only with thoughts
though thoughts are all that make anything real
I felt your wanting wanting me like food
your longing devour me
embibing the essense you saw as me
and it was you always
making a kind of me in you you see

she hides her details
behind a thin haze
of orange clouds
keeping things private
stuff no one need know
still shining brightness
enough
always enough
tired and enfolding
looking for nothing
resting in the glow
of pure presence

On the night of the lunar eclipse,
by only the light reflected
from the sliver of her face,
I called to her
and she to me.

I pleaded for my wholeness
and she responded with her peace.
I cried upon her twinkling shoulder
as my tears drenched her darkened shape.

She roused me
from the somber place
to hear my prayer.
A shooting star
flashed across the sky
far off to the west
under where she perched;
moving all her pieces,
showing none of her parts.
Not tonight.

May we be free,
says the one chanting to the skies.
May we be free.
And then the universe
flashes through the night of my space
while the sun shone my shadow,
pulling all heaviness away.

May we be free, says me;
the one who isn’t there.
I am here, the moon beams back.
May we be free; and I am here.

the triggers become more sensitive
the center, if ego claims it, will not hold
the world turns on itself - turns in
tries to save what it thought it was
only killing itself in the process

this little world is sustained by nothing but love
that is the only sustenance
turn to love and live forever
see love and see eternal bliss
be love and experience infinite peace

do nothing
bring nothing
take nothing

This poem has been wanting to be written
for quite some time
rumbling and churning around inside
and mostly burning me
from the inside out
A child sat across from me
told me she didn’t agree
with a sneer and evil intentions
breaking through her windows
I said
let me do to your son
what he did to me
and see if you don’t call it abuse
That child is no sister of mine
Sometimes I think it’s been too long
for these ghosts to be hanging around
still after all these years
I cowered half naked in a basement
alone and afraid
while a white woman
stood washing dishes upstairs
That woman is no mother of mine
What did I do?
That’s all anyone ever asks of me
and then they say
but black people discipline their kids like that
Like what?
I think, black people are brutal?
Not me.
A black man said, pull down your pants
Her beautiful new body
bared for the pleasure of vicious lechery
I’m sure it was some awful deed
for a 7 year old to have done
The wooden planking comes down
for the first time
on tender exposed flesh
and the next
after that it’s all just fun
Isn’t it? For him
No cry can escape
or scream
She isn’t allowed even that much
If you cry, you get more
Take what you deserve
Take it and take it and take it and take it
You getting hard yet?
That black man is no father of mine
But, yeah, that’s just how black people
discipline their kids
No wonder I just laid there
when the black boys told me to
lay back and relax and enjoy it
Doesn’t it all make sense after the fact?
The people god gives you to love
are the people
God makes you hate
by the ****** up ****
they do to you
If you chose to go that route
Sometimes I dream
of butterfly effects
where she finds her voice
in the strength of her hands
and snatches the board
from his nasty hungry hands
and hits him dead in the head
and runs up the stairs
past the woman dressing a chicken
out into the street
still half naked and screaming
WAKE UP - YOU FOOLS! WAKE UP!
and never stops
till she finds who she is

Sometimes I think beautiful thoughts
in words of story and prose and poem
I think these come from the ether
and yet they appear at times
competing with Presence
I am seen each time
and that one seen can fall away
Just scales shedding thickly
now leaving only tender almost like raw flesh
gleaming with translucent light
Tell me a future as you have spoken this past
Are we not always right here and right now?
Can we not correct this time error soon?
This is how I know is it not the mind -
the mind would have this hand print different words
Yet spirit whooshes through it all
blowing over every opposition
because I promised

What will define this me at the end of this time?
I can come back now. I can.
I can see all of it. I can.
I can walk along and stop for nothing.
I can float away on only a wave.
We aren't any greater than what we believe.
We stood and screamed and were ignored
by the selves we brought to do us in.
We thought our fighting was with words.
But no, we only had to stand.
How can I know I am a peaceful man
when no aggressor exists?
How can I know what I am
if I can't stand next to you?
You can't see it's funny
cuz you think you are what you do.
Delusion is not the problem, it's the platform.
You keep seeing beige and grey cuz
you choose blinders that filter all the richer hues.
You can't take any pills for this one.
I comes and goes when you blink.
How is the end gonna look from behand a mask
when you aren't there anymore to see?
Time isn't running out, it's merely slipping off.
Rain came to cleanse much more
than this you originally agreed to.
Too willfully blind to see that
it's always all along been you.
I see a world where what I see
is what is also me.
I am working this way now.
I am.
Just whatever I turn out to be.

The heart is pure.
See the mind try to run off with it
and guess what’s next - like it’s a game.
Oh yes, it is a game, but only just for God.
Consciousness enjoys a good homecoming celebration.
If you speak the truth you are speaking life into this world
which for some seems filled with death.
It’s really just that simple.
The situation is quite dire.
One needs each and every one
which knows the Truth
to pull in all the stop-gaps
and pull out all the stops.
You are not that you,
but the light of a thousand burning stars
dulled by the veil of who you are not.
Shine as the star of the Self as one voice.
This now is only worthy of attention
because this now is all that’s truly you
and all else is not. Why does this matter?
Who’s gonna care? Only one which has seen -
knows the truth as it is.
We are the one.
Silenced no more.
The truth has arrived
and is freedom for all.
BLAH BLAH BLAH is all some will hear.
Don’t be afraid.
Fear is not existing in this here now reality.
I can’t see it. Not when I look
and look and I only see me.
And I know I am not fear - so easy -
so sure - so simply just what is. And there -
I mean here - is only Love.

I have begun to delve deep
sinking into the small spaces
the almost imperceptible subtleties
of being - I see the psyche
No grand anything but illusion
Funny - Now it wants pity
After all the bitter brutal anger
and idolatrous rage and destruction
in the name of truth
There is no pity for illusions
No time for dreams
No space for fantasies
which always end in death anyway
All the things of matter
will always end the same
Now is only the moment of rebirth
where life is real and free
and death cannot steal it away into nothing
If I look again without fear
because there is none when you arrive here
Though you see it muster a stand
in defiance of destiny
Boldness is standing silent
with love in the middle of a storm
created by the rages of fear
Are they really afraid of little ole me?
Yes and I see why
They don’t exist when you arrive
They aren’t real in the light
of the truth that you bring
And the rage that ignited from
the trigger of the fear of annihilation
will cause any animal to react
Look to the quiet ones
The ones who keep their sounds
The ones who really see
and know truly
Look to the ones which are.

Why do we say the rising sun?
It is always there.
Sun doesn’t move in it’s broiling glow.
We are the ones
spinning round and round,
cycling in and out,
waning and waxing and
rising then falling.
We rise, cycling round
another spin on the rotation -
turning now, once again,
we face the burning, cleansing, nourishing love,
as if it had left us alone and cold
with only its weak reflection for comfort.
Blaming what never left. But,
wasn’t it we ourselves
who tire of its gaze?
Thinking to slip away and
hide in a kind of make-believe bunker
until ...We tire of that too.
Aren’t we the clever ones?
Yet, Sun is always there, and
in the moment she takes us
back into her warm embrace,
we will be there too.

we march
we stalk
we lope along and run
we are always falling down and scraping our knee
we go to skip ahead again
and inevitably lose the foothold
we imagined we had
what to hold when the world is an illusive dream
what to focus on when dull images
fade in and out like smoke
be here right now
with nothing
but that which Is
you are
you can see
it's better like this

She gives us tiny glimpses
of her greater glory to come,
but, only through her shadows.
She also takes care
in silence and solitude.
This is part of her routine.
This is how she lights our way
only by example

Finally I experience living free
See that's what I really am
I see thoughts - all of them from everywhere
See them float past
People think they are the thoughts
Think I am the thoughts
But it is not so
We make the thoughts
and then forget what we create
Thinking the answers come from someplace else
Not coming in a linear way
Not how one might call straight.
But still, it is the simplest
What might I record and for who
Or to what end
For every end there is the same beginning
Why can't we just put our silly toys down
Aren't you tired yet
Hasn't anyone else heard the calling
of blanketing sheets of silence

There isn't much hope in this intellect and mind
Hope isn't one of the programs it was given
But you look - and you see
worry dresses quite similar
What to do?
You can always practice nothing
Always look at things not doing
and see them doing nothing
This way, no matter what does
or doesn't go down or come up
It's only nothing
in your own conscious awareness

So then, who experienced
What is writing now
Mind tells all kinds of stories
Spins greater sorts of tales you never could imagine
till you saw the silence it comes from
It's tricky like that
Maybe that's why we see all the wealthy
turning to nothingness
But we see everything

This is how I know from where it all comes
If it is stolen it has a dimmed and rough quality
And if it is pure it blinds anything else with its light
That's why when you bring light
you can't call it darkness anymore
Isn't darkness made outa light
Gets its meaning from light
It's like, let's go as far from light as possible
to see can we get away
not seeing that to see at all
you need This Light
It's just like the ancients say -
There is a slow way
and a direct way - a way that is now
We can choose this way. Now we can
if our programming allows
Does your programming let you download
the upgraded version
of this here and now human being?

the day the man named Yeshua was murdered
a schism bent through our world
so many cut down in the name of a concept
we are already here
why are we fighting our Self
we are but one
the one for which we have always searched
and slaughtered in who's name
why not try the way of peace
for only the lives of the ones who come next
we have slumbered
under delusion
of a maniacal tyrannical mind
determined to destruction
and see
we are here
come now
we have tried the old ways
we have spun tales of horror
and chanted victory
over the bloodied corpses of our very own
will some ever learn
from parents and grandparents before
only to see what is here
what life do we want
here
now
what world
what view
what voice to chose
to speak
and to listen
what are we doing
right now
while we are here

the mind is erratic and wavering
the programs are failing
i feel as if i’m in a weakened
and tender state
am i in a state?
i feel the most intense rage and sadness
i feel it and i know
what it feels like for another

we will write of silence
we will sing of nothing but space
they will wonder at our boldness
we will see nothing but Divine Grace
what did all the ancients tell us they saw
what have we seen too
I have heard only silence
felt only stillness
observed only space
I see all the beauty
I witness living pure
crystal bright luminescent reality
blunt objective words can never really describe
I can only give up what isn't truly mine
I'm not writing a poem for anyone to read
I am only living a poem for everyone to be

There comes a time while writing
when it seems there is nothing else to write
the space
the white pixel, faux paper screen
the air around the headspace not thinking
the pulse of the heart in the chest always beating
the room and the chair and the desk and the lamp
all still and silent and awaiting the next song
so they can dance once again
one time only keep the moment full and blooming
or receding or detaching and attaching
and inflating or removing
it’s all the same
the beginning and the ending
and the half-life of the fullness
and overflowing of the emptiness
in all there is and all that there is not

More and more
I am less and less
frustrated and bothered
by the nuances of life.

They are only slight catalysts and alarms.
I see now they wake me up to slow
to stop
to rest
and sit.
Always the opposite of what I’m told.
Everything flip flops.
So don’t be afraid when you see things upending.

He said - There is no record of you or I in the emptiness.
And so one works to make an eternity
here in this play.
It is not so.
Everything is now.
You as you are cannot exist
again or at some other time.

Even this journal these words
that your hands seem to write.
You don’t know what they are - not really.
This pen - ink.
It means a thing to you.
But after this you is gone
this in a way ceases to be.
You cannot preserve this poem - or any.
Those that remain remain as the Self.
All else is a distortion
a form
a compression
a mold.
How can the infinite squeeze into a mold?
Look here not away.
Make no image of a creator you cannot see.
Dare to face the truth of this existence -
of your life - if you dare call it yours.

I see that all is futile
struggle to attain what I am.
Possession is not a real state of being.
To possess implies subject
and object. All is one.
To be at peace in this body -
to know finally the truth -
this is heaven.
No other state exists.
The world is frightening indeed
for one who knows not what she is.
I hear a voice calling from far.
The voice is my own Self.
This is the voice of Eternity.
Beyond is only silence
only stillness
only emptiness
only space.
All comes from this.

all has been cleared away
that is not true
we are naked pure
gleaming present light
we are barely peeking out
around the dark wall of shadows
you keep and love
yet look
you’re already squinting
how will you look to see us
in shadowless space

Is it okay to only be in this self;
my own self,
without noise and interruptions from other ones -
other not things that wanna be things?

The mind reaches out?
No, it is not the mind.
This ego grasps and clings.
It doesn’t want to end.

Do I want to see it end,
or only just not see it?
There is a difference:
One is only real
and one is more of the same nonsense.

Is it okay to be what I am:
What God gave this Spirit to witness its world?
Can I let this here be enough?
Let this truth and real matter
be what it is?

It is a difficult thing to be what we are
in this culture - in this world.
Is that more better,
sophisticated and such;
to make a world
where this true being’s self
is never home
and crowded out
of the picture
of view?

Is this what you crave -
with bloodied nails and
ground down teeth
and tight and  leathery, stiff muscles
and electric jolts juicing down your lips?
No, no - a thousand times no!

Show me away
out of this mess
and a way to the self
that can live in this moment -
this space and this time -
which Conscious Love
has already provided.

Those who stand to oppose will crumble
from the weight of their own foolish weapons.
He said, Build your house
with the stones thrown by your enemies.
We are the ones
we have been searching for.
To speak only truth is a challenge.
Can you live up to this?
Or, do you choose to die at the bottom of lies?
What must be done to survive
when there is only us and the dust that we are?
We are the ones.
We have been silent.
See what we are and live.

there is only dreams
and illusive delusional imagery
i want to see only clear white screens
nothing can stop what’s coming
if you speak
say it straight and
clear as ice cubes
you can make it so
abundance is what you are
beauty arises from your form
your being is drenched in peace
joy bubbles from your inner essence
you’re not any more or less
than you ever were
Ha – la – ya ya ha
all fun and joyous play
full of games you never allowed yourself to play
play with building blocks of
loving kindness and tender mercies
***** only skyscrapers of peaceful bliss
you awaken to find the self
you always knew
but thought was lost
right at home
oh heaven!
this bluest translucent heaven!
how could I ever ask for more

When there is movement close to this being
close to me - I am in it
And when the noise stops
there is a silly feeling
a feeling of oddness
and out-of-syncness -
a kind of ashamed self-consciousness

I think neighbors
a few and couple houses up
were having a dog breeding party the other weekend
Loud hip hop music
celebrating the gods of fertility and sensuality
all in subservience
to the one which rules them all
Large aggressive male voices
speaking dreams of
the god of green illusions
which never stick
That thing which sticks
is the sound of the mating dogs
riled up into an even greater frenzy
with the vibe of the party
Snarling yelping squealing barking
dismay and rage and
passionate oppressive submissive release
Somehow Consciousness knows when it’s on display
And somehow
though this person
burned with righteous indignation
at the inhumanity of it all
But who am I?
No other - No different - No one
What do I do?
What have I done?
I am not even writing these words
These words are writing me

Do we have to mark off the dates,
one by one, for some purpose we hadn't made?
There is nothing profound about awakening.
Everyone can do it.
Do? Well, be it. Everyone IS it.
How can this be special?
In the human sense, it is profundity.
In consciousness, it is what is.
When you step away from constructs, they disappear;
Lose their allure and glamour and mystery and pseudo-power,
which you see is no power at all.
Only a kind of rigidity attempting control.
Again, not real. Only imagined. By who?
Me? You? Same difference.
If it's believed then it's true for you.
A great power over your own delusion of a construct.
A king of mole hills and ant valleys populated by lost souls.
It is nothing.
Can you stand the silence of your own insignificance?
Where there is no audience, there is no actor.
Yes, the sky is a mirror and what do you see?
You see only you.

Guilt.
What's that?
It's only a program to keep you there
or point you here -
depending how you see.
Shame
is guilt's warped and twisted uncle
with a messed up childhood.
Leave that alone.
The negatives never outweigh the positives;
never stand up to the truth
the ancient ones knew.

Let’s get these planes off the ground
before the storm rolls in.
There is a sense of impending eruption.
It is the height of the ******
just as the **** from the pimple
breaks the surface of the skin
The pre- and it is just
so very delicious because
you just don’t know how it
all will turn out
It will be spectacular
no doubt about it
But the way in which?
That’s the part God keeps
Those who die with the breath of ******
they’re the lucky ones
The ones who live to see it pass
must find a way to cope with the after effects
Forced to go to the after party
when you know you just wanna go home
and go to bed. Yet this is the life
and the players don’t matter
They’re only the matter
in which life plays
Step away from the flickering
dull and murky images
to see where you are

the executioner of all we know in this world
so we spend lifetimes trying to manage it
time
we try to purchase it with our last breath
and kneel before it begging for extra rations
and we waste and squander it
like rainwater and pennies
as if it
time
has no end
do we mistake time for God
do we look past the miracle of our divine reality
to bow before a man-made illusion of it
where is all the rushing water ending up
follow the flow and end up nowhere anyway
but with a lot less junk
we look away
only to hide ourself

why so vital
that institutions last
shall we sacrifice ourself
for the survival of the institute
the institute shall stand long after
our grandchildren’s grandchildren have gone to dust
is this a thing of pride
it seems we - the beings
are here only to make the institute the thing
that it is
I am
here to say
I am more than any institution
a country is an anthill
and I - one being -
am the universe
all of existence
the institution shall bow to me
else the institution is no more
I am all that is seen

no one can see
this inside of me
a whole huge universe
only for me
cuz no one else
that i can see
can see the wonderful things i see
in this big bright whole being
reality alive right here
and now inside of me