Her dark side is somehow showing - somehow finding her way down here. And that little sliver of reflected light is always enough - always balanced, even when the dark side seems so much bigger. Yet you have to remember that only a glimmer of light dispels all darkness.

Well, well! These numbers,
don’t they tell quite an interesting story:
Aligning ever so perceptually, perpetually
perfectly with our half-full moon.

We are absorbing only
what we truly are
and honoring release
of all that is not.

The first full moon
of this Master Builder Year
of the Tigress Enchantress
capturing our hearts
and filling us up
to flood our programmed minds
with proof that we are free.

The drowning turns to flames
as quickly as flames
turn to vapor and disappear
into our One True Being’s
Eternal Grace. Smile,

even Laugh Out Loud
at this joyful purge
and holy release.
We are all one heart in love.

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

If you never prayed and cried and begged
for something unseen to intervene
and stop the horrific scene
playing out on the ***** screen of your life
Well then this poem might escape you
in all the matters that count
and maybe stop reading now
and move onto something more
the speed of those who write for writers
But since I write for me then I am
to write the words my soul speaks
not the regurgitated sayings from
the movies and shows and books and
stage plays we take for reality

There is a yearning and an aching
hole this life gives when one is born
We’re told to fill it – stuff it full
to overflowing with every kind of thing
modern 21st century Earth can bring
And we do! And then some day
we see our mountain of things
and right next to it still
staring right back at us
that gaping painful hole
Can’t fill it with sports
or jewels or trophies or quests
Can’t stuff it will ***
or money or power or laughs
or cars or houses or bricks of gold
or businesses or women or children
or even events or experiences
always the hole is just still there
 
So what? One day you may
finally tire of this old dull pain
from this open wound and you will sit
with yourself – no other will do
And you will not move from this place
until you have found and
placed in this hole the one thing
that could only fill it at all
I can’t say what that is
cuz only you’ll know
It’s made this way
A hole in each one that
only each one knows how
to fill in each one’s own way
Only by knowing
one’s own Self
completely all the way

I forgot who I was along the thread of lives that hold me here.
Now, I can begin to remember.
Now, I can call all the lost pieces back home.
They fly back, as if waiting – held in suspended animation –
until the right prayer is chanted, the right spell cast.
We call to each other, all the scattered fragments of this soul.
Even the ones that seemed to betray us.
We welcome them all again
with warm heart and wide, open arms.
The child shaman, the nurse,
the chamber maid, the *******,
the revolutionary, the teacher,
the old witch, the mother:
We see each other one
as the one we are also.
We are coming into oneness with what we are.
We are here. Finally, we are here.

there are less and less words
no sound
ceaseless knowing of Silent Stillness
can we know other than this
can we hide behind a mask for too much longer
will the Akash bear our burden again and again
each moment we are here
there is less and less
we are most certainly One
there is nothing
there is only us as we have always been
Light

So many insights come now.
I am not afraid.
I see everything
is

Layers upon layers of meaning
composite conceptual conditioned arrangement
yes just an arrangement
for the time being
just being in time
just one looking like fly eyes
into so many mirrors
dimensions within dimensions

Didn’t Babylon fall when it thought
it might reach past the sky
to conquer the abode of the gods
it had only created for itself to chase?
We are insane indeed.
Can’t you see all this is metaphor?
Those weren’t real people, they’ll say,
whose businesses were pillaged.
Not real children taken out
by strays intended for lost souls
left to **** another
and another day.
Are we willfully ignorant
or just born blind?
Doesn’t anyone care
to simply sit and pick
wild blackberries and dandelions?
Tell me a story
but, with a righteous hero
and a holy ending.
I am done with the mess
of this failed experiment.
I want power to be
without control.
This is power.

I am humbled by the winds.
Don’t you see this is the cause -
the cause of it all?
You can see.
Even wind,
you can see.

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.

These little pieces of myself will all burn away
After looking again and again
After taking it all to be real for so long
Not really looking at it
only just wearing it
even though it felt scratchy and ill-fitted

Now to give it a new sort of attention
the kind it gives to its concept of god
Not curious but
critical and cynical and carefully contemplative
the little pieces don’t get hurt feelings
or bent out of shape
cuz they lose it
They don’t cry or get depressed
Only they fall away
like overripe fruit
never picked and eaten
They are not what I am
Only the pieces that make up
who I once thought myself to be

I was never abused or depressed
Never victimized and alone
I was never ugly or stupid
or worthless or a hot mess
a **** or a lame
useless and insane
These pieces aren’t like a puzzle
See that’s what I never was told

I am whole already
Completely alive and free to discard
those adjectives that I don’t care
to describe this being
Which in reality can’t be any
or even all of those bits mashed-up together
Miracles can’t be picked apart and
named and labeled as what they are not
And a mirror only reflects
what might see it first

How can there be
what is clearly not seen
when I peer back into this so-called me?
So actually the truth I can see is
I can’t really look and see this I am
but truly can only be this I am
Because when I look back and see
all the pieces they say I am
the only conclusion must be
that these so-called pieces of me
are not at all in reality
that which I am

Once one accepts that one is healed,
one must now decide what to do
with all of the time one spent
striving for healing.

There is an enormous amount
of positive energy
that wants to do do do do.
It threatens to turn negative
if not managed properly.
It seems tangible;
feels more real
than a slap to the face.
And yet, when I look at it,
I see it is really,
and always was,
nothing.
It is within this field of play
so, only a matter of choice.
It’s a tool,
a resource,
not even a power.
I am the power.
I give the energy it’s charge
and the power it needs.
It’s nothing without me.
Don’t blame that thing
on an unseen outside force.
No other being took your hand
and made you do a thing
you didn’t make the choice to do.
To now stay healed,
without cauterizing the wound
and creating a huge keloid scar,
choose to watch the energies
float on by.

Who needs all these?
They’re only conjured up by demi-gods
who wished to play real God
in a make-believe bubble.
Every thing is clear now.
I can see right through.
You can just walk away from all this mess.
Slide off the whirlwind, roller coaster, slip-n-slide
of this ridiculous thing
we’ve fooled ourselves into believing is life.
I know you know what I’m talkin’ bout.
No other one can tell you
the thoughts you think with God.
Not even the person
you took yourself to be
so you could get along
in this ***** mirror image
of a Love Supreme.

Keep you in the heart of me
and see there is only you
only one
only just a living dream
to get caught up in
and play and dabble for a bit.
Yes, a nine.
You’re drawn to things for a reason.
Quite literally, 9.
There aren’t 7s or 8s or 2s even.
Truth is absolute which makes you 1 or 0.
So?
Which side will you play
or should I say choose?
Cuz, regardless the jersey
you pick up to wear,
in reality, there’s only one game.
So you either know you’re a player;
or, you’re part of the backdrop
and just being played.

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

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.

I am seeming to wait for a thing which is already here.
It has neither arrived or appeared.
To whom could this One appear?
Is this philosophy? This is truth.
There is a thought, which persists, "Yes, but why this?
Why this life? this scenario? These characters?"
And the reply comes, "Why not?" -
Is someone else somewhere else
living my own wildest imaginings?
It is all an imagining, isn't it?

I wish I loved you as much as you loved me.
Then I wouldn't have lost so much skin in your game
that I thought I was truly living rather than paying to play.

I used to think.
     Freedom was a place far off.
Now I see.
     Freedom is what I am.
I used to believe.
     I was bound by another.
Now I know.
     I am bound to nothing.

Take what you know - as truth -
discarding all else. This is the way.
I used to hold to things - onto a thing.
But now I am spirit
needing nothing. Now all things
pass through me.
I see everything and hold nothing.

I have cured myself
and God has cured me
altogether at the same time
to infinity. This never ends
and goes on till some ever.
And there isn’t more
or even less that this
so yep ****-it whatever.
And just for good
is justice for all
and to look to the other
as a mirror to yourself.
If you can do this then
you will have fully evolved to a human.
Until this then
each moment passes in death
and blind sleep
and in self-deluded mind trickery.
Why feed a cancer ridden
death row inmate
the flesh of his victims
one moment more?
Don’t like that?
But the wrath of your silly fake god
cutting off other men’s *****
is cool? All of you are sick.
Drop this mess now or you’ll
implode like your prophets foretold.
Stupid silly blind and devoid
of truth. Cease chasing
fantastical illusions that always
end in death.
Leave something better
for your descendants
than our greedy ******
freedom taking
money grabbing forefathers left for us.
Stand up and see your place
and be what you are.

What is happening to you?
Says who?
Who asks this question?
Person, you are melting;
Being extinguished in the light of love = Truth.
What you really are.
Not who you have been.
...led to believe you are.
You -
are a mask.
I am -
All that is real.
You, like a coat of paint over old wall-paper.
I can scrape you off.
No matter how many coats of varnish.
Trying to lacquer on layers to make you look strong
and secure and untouchable.
You mislead your customers:
UV protection does not guard against true light.
Who can defend against itself?
Only a fool believes this is true.

So, so much superfluous stuff.
Who needs it.
But, I don’t.
Who craves it.
But, I am fed.
Who yearns and desires and lusts
for more and different and higher -
Oh! Always deeper and harder and higher!
But, I am full
already of the emptiness
I am.
Who knows nothing of this that I am.
And, I am also beyond this doubt
and so who can know everything
in the world there is to know
and still know nothing of the universe
one is in being.

Riddles, oh Riddles
and sensical unsensed rhythm
of my lost rhyme.
These words mean not a thing;
just the universe tied in string.
All may be lost
and whatever would that mean?
Whatever could that bring?
Only lost in this illusory dream
Catch a ride
Catch a wave
See? See how easy it is to get caught?

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

The mind - it is nothing.
Only just a coded gram.
Dots and lines and circles.
See you use it.
See THE CIRCLES AND LINES.
See the web laid out on the web of no web.
Head aches.
Back aches.
Belly aches.

We were never here.
No one will ever know.
Who will ever see?
None will never hear. Why?
Why should I keep doing and caring.
like matter is a thing for real?
This ... It's over.
It is the remaking of the world.
We are all amazed. Who wants to see
this drama unfold?
Who thought of a juicy story?
I am the story.
I live the dream.
If it is real it will endure.

all the things
must come and go
if you think you will get something you will
there is no condemnation
the mind didn’t think up
out of programming
step 1 – step 2
we’re all marching our own ways
in the same direction
I saw the vision
I saw the worlds
I saw the mirror in the mirror
reflected infinite times
I saw one
and sensed so many
I came back one last time
to witness the final ending

I thought one time
that I was something separate
like you can order a burger
without the meat
if you do
isn't it something else then?
it isn't like that
not like that at all
not like you can order a burger
that isn't food
all of it is food
the burger gets it's meaning
from the fact that is it food
burger is a cow
what are you?
where do you get your meaning from?
what are you a piece or particle of?
are you like this?
look, you can see.

i saw dark gods walking the earth
tall strong broken women and men
with hearts connected and on fire
i saw children playing in peace
and growing in love
i smelled health and abundance
in the winds of change

what should we do when
doing is outdated?
we shall lie upon a mountain
and call out to the heavens
and drink nectar from only
the juiciest of fruits and
realize our Truth and sameness

we made music so we could remember
our true selves we wrote
poems and moved our bodies
to rhythms no one ever knew
i saw our lands overflowing with
the milk we extracted and
pasteurized and bottled
and delivered but never drank
being intolerant of the lacking
flavor in dry white toast

we are the very lands we
couldn’t bury our ancestors in
we couldn’t let anyone
take the seeds they’d sewn
the ancient ones
the ones who planted the seeds
for us seeds that overpopulated
an unsuspecting nation
on the brink of collapse

if it is not coming from the Silence
it is based in ………
ultimately all is One
all arising in Love
but
and how can there be but
when there is only and
for there is a direct way
and a slow way
there is a meandering
and sometimes treacherous way
this is the way we call fear
though
you can see how you end up
where you begin
this isn’t more or less
than a game
tag - you’re 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

longing for atonement
looks like
an enormous black hole
like a huge purple blue bruise
or gaping open
burgundy magenta wound
it seems to swallow everything
that comes near it
this black pit of death
love is not here
go further down
and you will find it
though you may **** yourself first
love rests elsewhere
turn from this negative pull of energy
this is not light
but what light exposes as false light
the light I am
snuffs out all the darkness they sense
they can’t hide from it
and so they want to throw it
onto what I am
making the darkness about what I am
rather than about themselves
being attracted to the darkness
the day has arrived
I no longer shield darkness
I can only devour it

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 am the sun
You are the distant star of a sister world
Our light collides with the others
And creates our heaven
You turn to hold your world in stead
And the universe breaks to pieces

I am a goddess poet
brought back from the void of time
I am lost
Where is my David
my Solomon
my Judah?

My heart was placed in a glass cage
for breaking at a future time
Show me the love I was promised in the womb
Tear open the flesh of your chest
and show me my own heart

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.

We want to see –
see clearly and unfiltered.
I was mostly getting it wrong before.
Mother shows me her vision,
and then I thought…
Ha! See there! How
can you let Mother’s vision unfold
if you think? See. You don’t think.
Thinking is what gets in the way.
I show you what is
and you try to make it happen
with your thoughts,
as if I need help
creating my own world.
It’s already how it’s supposed to be.
I’m only showing you what will be.
What can your thinking
do to make it come about?
You can receive my vision
and just watch it unfold.
As in, each moment, I show you
how and when to act;
what to speak; when to rest.
You are just here – just here.
Do nothing and enfold into me.

Tell me who I am?
     You aren't a who.
Who was I?
     It's all right now. All dreamed. All matter.
You see matter come and go? How
can you take it for reality? What
are you basing any thing on? You can
be in space and
still be breathing. Underwater
and somehow walking.
Water makes up mostly
what you are as matter of facts
stacked up. Are you happy?
For this time is right here and now
just for you. If you aren't here,
nothing is. How to know? Look,
you can see. Are you anything?
     Nothing.
At some point it become ridiculous
to see the masks -
to see them fitted so
snug and perfectly matched.
Almost forgetting to
slip them off before deciding to speak.
If only.
But then the dream wouldn't be any fun. No?

Can't you see what's happened?
We've only moved further
and further away from
what we are
already here. Waking up seems
so very hard to do. Only if
you think others care. They are
living out your dream
they are feeding you
your karma. You are
chasing after God and they are
reminding you of the ghosts of your pasts.

Drop back in here. See just This.
All the ******* is still
just the same matter.
Just like feeling tired
of the same lunch options.
All the same dark matter
Means nothing without the light that I am.

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

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

it is like
a knife
the ice hot
burning fire edge
the warming glow
of Self embrace
broiling and crackling
like that campfire
by the little lake
you swam
all the way across
only days before
the layer
of being a girl
was stripped away
the tipping point
pointing back to
that black hole fire
that is all the life
there is to live
tipping to one side
with cringing ash
disappearing off the lips
and one way
absorbing into
clear oceans
of infinity

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

ego

shall a tree
move its own limbs
to mimic God

the trap

What have we done?
Capitalism
has taken the place
of God as a sense
of safety - security - identity
in our minds.
Everything serves a purpose
until it gets out of control.
Time has an end.
Eternity is forever.
You are forever.
We are the ones
we have been searching for.

words fail so much of the time
i think, why speak?
when you can be
think i can leave a mark upon the world
what is the name of the one
who painted the hieroglyphs onto the pyramids?
who was his mother?
i walked a thousand and one miles
through swamp, valley and fields of gold
i crawled over mountains
to find a thing i somehow always knew i was
there is something real to this life
Cosby never knew until it was too late
his children learned it better
just be human with me
drop all the clever, snarky wit
leave off overcoats of pretense and PR masks
it’s so last century to think you’re living
when you’re really only hurtling towards death
in the drag of a composite
persona programma
freedom is just through the other side of that false wall
fear not!
you go not alone
we’re all here with you

The fence isn’t intended for sitting.
Why hesitate to choose a side?
It’s only just a hop this way or the other.
The fence – claiming a no-man’s wasteland.
Still, you can’t stay for so long
or you end up perched right there
again, and again. The foliage appears
so green and vibrant on that side.
And yet, on this side, it feels altogether more real.
If you hop down here or there,
still, you’re in the yard; still,
you’re playing and making a choice to live.
But the fence? I see
there's a watching, but where is the living?
Where is your truth?
Fences only define edges,
they can’t create truth.

The mind clings to forms
to hold against the silence
to guard itself from you
the secret deadly enemy
hanging out on your own front stoop
winkin’ at your little sister
and begging for an invite to dinner
you can let him pass too
onto the vapor of a conjured illusion
you can let the words
coming from here get stronger
you can hear me more clearly and louder
the self that you buried
under the rot of yesterday’s tomorrow
all that chatter is of no matter you can tell

But don’t tell of the nonsense
of nothings wrapped in desire
that’s old news
from days when newspapers were read
that talk takes the time
of a 20th century backpacker
hiking Truth’s trail
NOW is the only time that there is
for waking from the ringing of the bell
don’t stomp out the silence
the one answer screaming
the reality one is

Only in silence you remember the key
to the treasure in the chest
holding your heart crafted in love
isn’t that the whole happiness quotient
wrapped up like a perfect peace package
I just can’t comprehend the human species
and its endless repeating crimes
how many life sentences
does one have to get
to see only the Self and be free
burn off the rest of the pride
every lyin’ thought’s last roar into dust
forms can’t hold true life
it’s real light making ghostly forms known

There are no more words
that must be written.
We have sun every song.
We are just living now;
just living for no reason.
We are just happy now;
only happy for no reason
you can see. We are just
playing now, for no other
purpose than for playing now.
We can’t see any reasons
for working now; for
building your silly glass
and steal dreams.
We are just here now.
You can see us or not.
We are still here now
and for no other reason
than we’ve always been.

If you are identified strongly
you are living the programming
not living
but just existing in someone else's dream
Freedom is from everything -
including identity.
Why must we use so many words?
The programming is over loaded.
Overwhelmed with it's own faulty code.
Addicted and dying from it's own infectious vaccines.

Who can stop the insanity and be still?
No one knows the extent of the damage.
Why repair outdated toilets?
Demolish and replace.
I'm over stating the obvious
choice is change for
more than positives.
It's just here and now Truth.
In a body or no.
So What Is the difference. The difference
is just you. Or whatever you think
you are as apart from the whole of the rest.
You people persons are the stupidity we all fear
and only you hate. Everything
is madness and nothing feels sane.
The world Is ... what it's always been.

The point of pain
is to get you to notice
if your trigger warnings
to flee the scene.
And what’s that saying?
You want to see a victim
without help.
Who is the one snickering in the corner
pretending one didn’t eat all the cookies
leaving one’s neighbor to starve.
I see your passive headlights.
Super-flu-us of your own designs.
You only wish you could get to me
so you try to take my place instead.
How can one take another place
before finding one’s own?
Or supplant another’s home
without upending your own?
Foolish child hiding one’s own true heart
to be seen as a star
by putting on stuff that appears like stardust
blingy and bright but without any real light
of its own being created pure and supreme.
Somehow I see I’m already living the dream.
But you look and see
your projected screams onto me
and you can’t embrace what I bring
because what would that make
what you invested in saying?
Hold onto those words
to the bitterest ending
pretending the darker the chocolate
the better the berry.
It’s all finer still in the end
cuz no end is ever approaching
except the end you imagined for me
in your own dark hidden and ***** corners.
But what you don’t get
when you **** that trigger happy smile
is that the end is only real
from your own POV.
So you’ll be mulling
and overturning
with a smirk and clinked glasses
while I am always
and forever
only reposing in bliss
that you keep forever missing

Is she not in her most pregnant fullness?
She is pulling out more stops
than we cared to admit were there.
Isn’t she toying with all our favorite passions:
Letting everyone know she rules?
And just the same as when she’s hiding,
but now, unrelenting in uncovering;
unabashedly and amusingly daring
anyone not to notice. Oh yes!
She is here and bigger and badder
than you could hope for.

My, my, those #s, they sure don’t lie!
Yes, we are tested. And yes,
we are brought to the edge of the cliff
and invited to jump. And yes,
we see our highest seven
hanging out to balance and center
for our greatest intended good.

We salute you, Oh Divine Mother Moon!
We bow to your intuitive wisdom
and transcendental truths,
as you align our frequencies
on all dimensions
only to truth.

Untethered. Somehow,
once I become untethered
to the prison of this life,
I can see to focus more intently
on what is most important
if I pay attention to this inside,
what I am, instead of focusing on
the tether or what it’s tied to.

What would happen if
every single last one of us,
all the billions of souls,
human ones, alive,
all untethered
at the same time?
And what if we let our
untethered hearts
lead us to the destiny
we didn’t see
from all the chaffing from
the too tight tethering?

The vision I see is
something like a healthy,
humming, honey-bee hive
on our larger human scale.
Isn’t every working part
so individually, blissfully alive?

I suppose, if the goo is honey,
it's so much better than if it’s ****
or congealing blood.
That is, if we have to have goo, which
here on earth, yeah, I’m certain
it’s a universal law,
we really do need goo.

I questioned the Devi
and she only giggled.
I had to admit, she’s right.
Then, I accepted a goblet of
her sweet honey wine;
and it didn’t hurt all that much at all
growing the rest of my little wings.
Buzz, buzz, buzzing about
our wonderful beehive,
blissfully drunk on Mother’s
Divine Honey Wine.

I have been given
the burdensome gift
of this one
to allow me to see what it is

I know it
watch it move and twist
to what end?
only destruction

I see one cannot contend with it
for it is not real
as one is
it is a byproduct of one’s play

One tests oneself
to see how far one can go
in the human sense
destruction is how one is reborn

So this play is divinely necessary
yet something seems to have gotten out of control.
who is the one seeming to be out of control?
the one seeming to have lost its control?

It seems to get confusing
seems to get in the way
of the seeming reality
now you can see it is all this one

Taking different shapes
squeezing into various forms
only to have some fun
in the human sense

Ego will always serve only itself
and to the end of all it knows
thank God
that it knows only a little

You see this
when you see Self
and the world you knew
becomes small and distant

Like watching from a plane
in a cloudless sky
that annoying twitch in the right wrist
from decades of tiny insignificant movements

Do you take a sledgehammer to the arm?
that might do the trick, and more
ego loves a good bonfire
yet God’s grace burns better and brighter

Let that Self take over
let that heat rise
let your rotten fruit
burn to cinder.

It only hurts
as much as it wants to hurt
Feel me?
in the human sense

God speaks to us in the language of our ancestors
We find truth in the lineage of our hearts,
and a new God is revealed,
from a unique truth
that is God’s expression through you.
Do you think the living God
would play the trickster god
to kneel before humanity’s god of fear?
Say you look like this,
but I look like that?
How could living be
but what you are
and you are always changing.
Living is forever
and forever
is never
the same.
Ever.
Think you know?
Then think two more times.
We know what we have passed aside.
Make way for your redeemer.
A newer version
of the completion
of the promise you made
when you promised
to seek the truth
no matter the cost
or pain.

And when you gaze upon the face,
the one you always knew was there
peering back at you,
Heaven’s gates spring wide
and hell’s fury feasts
on milk and honey saints.
Come now
and reason with me;
for fortunes,
and endings
and the whole **** web.

If you sit in silence
the God of your ancestors
will come to you -
if you want to see.
The living God is there to see
like trains passing on tracks
of inbound & outbound dreams.

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?

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

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?

I cried out in despair
from the depths
of my human heart
Mother! Mother!
Don’t leave me alone!
Father!
Why have you left me
to rot in the dust?
and then I saw
they were dust
I reached out my hand
to take hold of theirs
and they no longer shrank back in fear
now they only disintegrated into ash
and blew away with the slight breeze
kissing my cheek
I looked and saw
I was not dust
I am not ash

I am still the fly
picking at that old dung heap
though I see the pulsating light
beyond the wings of the moth

do I need permission
to take to the light?
only from myself
and I am yet the fly

though someday
I will be the light