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2.7k · Sep 2020
Black Lives Matter
Chad Young Sep 2020
O noble light, o noble lights!
The babe has learned to crawl,
and the virtues which we possess
call continually to the poor and
oppressed among us. I don't know
when this cry may ease, but
the Bugle tells us to buttress the hearts of
these oppressed folk.

We are not to stay still upon our light, rather
we are to make it burn brighter in our hearts.
This is the day to make our character known in the
hearts of the oppressed.
Standing in line at Wal-Mart
640 · Sep 2020
Chad Young Sep 2020
Now I'm tired of romance and I just want
a gorgeous naked bombshell to ****.
I see those water-filled balloons.
I see the slit of a navel.
Those sultry eyes speak of betrayal,
but those are the kind of eyes
that tell of the hottest, sweatiest love.
Her fake blonde hair gives away her cheapness.
I just want to take off her bra and *******.
I see no vein or artery of life in her.
I remember beer and bars.
I affix my eyes to the shadow made by a ****.
I see the silk lines of her collar bone and neck.
I realize she's standing in front of a window.
I meet her eye of innocence with mine of admiration,
and I tear up.
You look like you'd take me to court
because I haven't touched you yet.
You look like you'd smoke a cigarette with me.
I imagine she's hiding a ***** she's not fond to look at.
Your chin reminds me of a pickup truck.
You look like you have a baby inside,
then I look at your eyes,
and I realize,
if we really ****** it could be true.
So much for chivalry.
"Bombshell" duckduckgo picture
637 · Sep 2020
Chad Young Sep 2020
O diver, crush this body of union, to possess
a greater diamond.
Alas, all earthly joy is crushed by the wet
All spirituality seems to turn back to the
Spiritual images, though seen, are not felt.
Spirit only reaches out, but finds just another
human, some invisible princess to grasp with its
Should I pray, meditate, study, practice, smoke, or do nothing.
516 · Feb 9
Atheist eyesight
Chad Young Feb 9
Last moment's image of my eye's pupil causes it to look like drops of ink.
That is, along with the muscles of the eye and face.
The blood rush from the back of the eye changes the color of the pupil.
The blue of my iris gets mistaken for my pupil.
Blue dispersing back from the eye changes it too.
Green is simply the 'filling-in' phenomenon.
Same with yellow.

Are dreams merely a filling-in between life lived from one day to the next?
Is spiritual vision merely a filling-in of beliefs with physical sight?
Mirrors are fun
Chad Young Dec 2020
The pyramid is the final vision beyond which there is no passing.
It is a moving Kaaba, carried away by angels and forces.
There is no way out of the pyramid.
When I reach the top it becomes less important as a top and a point.
The only way out of the pyramid is to attack it, which would attack beauty and attack simplicity.
Observing it is like having every answer given and every mystery solved, except Its own mystery.
The Messenger is the Pyramid of Reality.
More meditation...
470 · Nov 2020
Unnamed but living
Chad Young Nov 2020
"A" crowned my head with a crown like
twigs while "A" was seated on the Throne.
Notice how Baha'u'llah reverberates that it is a different
throne, yet in essence the same One.
Fire like a rainbow.
Notice how a Prophet would gulp when another Prophet is
Notice how a Prophet does not need to "believe" in else
except God.
"C" is same.
If I am a Prophet without a voice from God, please
don't let me speak.
All the Prophets have transparent beauty like
Above the City of Immortality is the Valley of
the Manifestations.  Where the Sun of Reality
is home and all the denizens are refreshed
and find God again from whence they have
left.  Nothing but God lies above this Valley
and the Presence of the Beloved is aglow every limb.
The Presence is enlivening and heavy
in vitality.
"I hate you, I love, I hate that I love you",
echoes to hearts not attune to the Transcendent One.
The Presence has a unique energy that allows
Them to change the universe of lower natures.
All stresses dissipate away.
Those Eyes that see all of me.
Energy as if from another world,
as if always awakening from bed.
It is sitting in the Manifestation's Tent.
It is feeling Their skin become mine own skin.
Light so warm that it is cool.
Names have no place here,
only Spirit - the Transcendent.
I forget myself and
instead caught up in "A".
The fullness of the Manifestations will soon, soon
manifest in all of us.
24 karat Golden DNA.
459 · Sep 2020
Oh, That
Chad Young Sep 2020
"Were ye to emerge from the obscuring dust of
utter nothingness, then ye would recognize
that all things declare the evidences
or your existence."

That happens every time I pull an all-nighter.
Will I need sleep later? The quote is from Baha'u'llah.
451 · Dec 2020
Chad Young Dec 2020
As Plato stated:
First study sound,
then philosophy,
and finally physics.
So too, in the inner school:
then silence,
and finally visualization.

For once all three are studied,
all can work in harmony.
438 · Mar 2018
Grunt Work
Chad Young Mar 2018
Hour by hour down the highways,

Minute by minute down the neighborhoods,

Get out tha' truck,

go to the door,

open the back.

Talk to the customer,

bring tha' furniture in:

"where does it go?"

"how do ya' want it?"

In five minutes to an hour your furniture will be in place

for you to love.

How much overtime did you have this week?
404 · Feb 5
Emma #2
Chad Young Feb 5

Studying, studying, working, and sitting in zen.
She mothers her child and tends her home.
A denizen of her city's life, an outing here and there.
I see her as compartmentalized in all her facets.
Reading, reading, writing, writing.
So competent she is.
Dealing with life's struggles - they are so big to her if she compares them to all her angles.
When will she be mine? society makes me say.
But when will I be mine and she be hers, when will we take time for ourselves?
For we have so many things to contemplate, so much knowledge to fulfill.
We go to the school of God together, in college now we are.
Why take time to love when insights guide our star?
So take a break from the affection, accomplish your goals thus far.
The next time we see each other we'll have grown so much.
I want to be a better me, and see you a better you.
Let's share only the best fruits and rarest blossoms.
For life is so mundane if not working toward them.
My friend and buddy
396 · Sep 2020
On the beach
Chad Young Sep 2020
What is over there?
You're going swimming.
Your swimming suit fits well.
Your brow speaks of knowledge
your ear catches my tune
I think of a brush when you pull back your hair.
Too bad these hands are unfit to touch you.
"That's okay Chad, I get it," you whisper half to
The weather fills up your gaze
Half looking at me, half looking away.
I enjoy the paleness of your skin.
I notice now the sun on your face,
a dancer's chin.
347 · Jan 29
Matter of opinion
Chad Young Jan 29
O naked breast, what do you have with me?
You're a picture taken from another camera see.
Though your smooth skin entices.
Though your areolas are a museum of love.
Though your hair is long,
Though your eyes are wide.
Though your vaginal lips hide a salty sea.
Though I mistake my sweaty smell for thee.
You cannot have me.
When will my lover stop showing me her image?
I just want to explore reality.
Why reality so sensual?
Why not matter-of-factual?
Why not in layers of languages unknown?
Instead, so macrocosmically.
Why so lovely?
Chad Young Feb 20
Half of math is knowing the possibilities.
The other half is knowing the impossibilities.
One without the other is not reality.
If you live only in the possible, then math is not for you.
320 · Feb 25
Her again
Chad Young Feb 25
How do I speak of my love for you without any ludeness?
Why are you such a ****** creature to me?
There is no dimension which is not ****** to me, why?
That you have never spoken about any theory? Or any event?
Should you not just be detached from the world to me?
Not concerned with the wider world, but with your own people?

She concentrates on attracting others.
She wants good money, a good job to get the things she wants.
I try to find a way within to behold her desire, her beauty.
Like there was a secret door that could make her step out of my body and into my room.
Like my heart must subtly feel for her presence.
I must make her my goddess to be worshipped in the land of beauty.
To let my heart be swept up in her world of people.
People talked about, people hated and loved.
A world of opinions about people.
So many people.

I fear her beauty will one day fade.
Not in ten years, or even twenty years perhaps.
But later in life.
I hope that by that time her world will grow beyond people, beyond drinking and fun.
I hope she reflects on her life, and comes to great discoveries about herself.
But she reminds me of the song "girls just want to have fun".
I've never known how to be with that kind of girl except to drink, smoke, or do the drugs that they are doing.
At that point I become an experiencer who thinks only of my reality.
The other people, even her, would become secondary.
I would seek the mysteries of reality and seek to explain them.
To unravel what aspects of life are that could build a bridge to the mystery.

Yes, she is a beauty to behold, a dear to interact with.
But I feel my destiny of love lies elsewhere, not in ****** beauty, but in beauty of thought.
319 · Dec 2020
Celestial Egypt
Chad Young Dec 2020
It is more than breathing forbearance, but
being forbearance itself. Like the back of my head is
pushed to the wall and I am allowing the Spirit
to push me further away from the middle.

The pyramid is the greatest source of God's Might
and is the most hidden retreat of Light: in the realm
of shapes and symbols.
The body takes on the quality of a pyramid.

There are man-made, divinely inspired, objects.
These are all micro aspects of the pyramid.
The city within the pyramid has many aspects hidden
behind "doors".
The letters and words written on the pyramid's parts allow
for the splendor of mankind.
All lights in this city get their power from the Divine.

The pyramid is the owner of Silence.
The sides of the pyramid are upheld by the
straight back of silence. Its apex is held by
the inner observer.
Silent meditation
318 · Sep 2020
Chad Young Sep 2020
Your ******* remind me of S-curves
on a mountain highway.
Like the curve of the windshield of a Lamborghini.
Like the stick shift of a new Corvette.
Your shoulders remind me of the breaking
of a newly frozen ice cube tray.
They are the tops of the pillars
of your skinny arms.
The flash of your blue bikini
takes my mind away from
your secret face.
Its temperature tells of a moist nose
making a puckered upper lip.
I'm reminded of Cranberries songs.
We should've met with your shirt on.
The rim of your head tells of
a hundred men who would swoon.
No fat on you at all.
Would you even care to look at me
for one more moment?
The roses of your eyes are not yet
in full bloom.
Your blonde highlight tips are like
needles on my skin.
Could I even give a hug
that didn't give away my devotion?

blood rush to my inner thighs
tip brushes
light blue sky behind you
deep blue ocean behind you
three curves tell of your waist
and your navel.
as you stand in this shade
eyes like gray clouds
masking their brown color.
"I don't really want you" she says with a sigh.
"You cannot handle me, why tell a lie."
"Most men only dream of me," with
a Kawasaki Ninja in her eye.
To press against her would sooth my nerves.
Hard or soft its all just fantasy.
Her body's arteries and veins so tightly coiled by her skin.
I'm still here after ******:
untouched and unfelt.
I will always be that picture
written in the story of your life.
She will not let me love her.
She just makes me stare.
317 · Jan 29
Sacral exercise
Chad Young Jan 29
She says, "Chad, **** me hard."
She puts her hands on my shoulders and slips on to my *******.
She bangs herself while she thinks of me.
She knocks on my front door and disrobes in the entryway.
I cup her ******* with my hands as I **** her from behind.
Our rocking motion ebbs and flows.
I kiss her neck as she pulls back her hair.
My lips slowly go down her shoulders onto her chest and I taste her salty skin
We walk through a forest in daylight hand in hand.
We bicycle to a coffee shop together and sit down at a booth with our warm mugs.
Then I read this poem to her.
The words dance in her receivers, she says "thank you".
Then she walks away by herself
With her memory of us together.
Knowing we will meet again.
Laying contemplation
314 · Feb 19
Chad Young Feb 19
Words, words hurt even if they are just restating facts.
Facts somehow now twisted by how they were originally delivered.
Passing on information to people I think should know.
Know for my heart, know for my peace of mind.
But jealousy it seems should always be forgotten.
Talking about it magnifies it beyond what it is, just slight and simple.
I made a man into a monster in her eyes.
Something he doesn't deserve.
I sit in the midst of a love triangle in which the woman doesn't want either of us.
She just wanted to be friends with both of us.
Now her urge to be more intimate with me as a friend is blocked by a barrage of concentration on a subject that should be so light and whimsical.
And a friend who had his heart crushed by seeing that intimacy.
I feel like a wolf, these words bite and wrangle, and won't dissipate for 100 years, says Muhammad, pbuh.
I always think work will become easier, but tests multiply, and it stays hard - hard in heart.
309 · Jan 29
Nutmeg, trip? Maybe.
Chad Young Jan 29
I am the salivic twinkle in the eye.
I am the loss of vision when I look at a light.
I am the placement of a thing now, only put in my past, and played in my future.
I am the thing there now, that I placed in the past, and will leave there for the future.
I am too many to count
I am too dark to describe.
I am the colorful shades and lines of the inner eye perceiving my physical body.
Physical isn't quite right.
More like eternal-like being.
More like eternal-like spleen.
"Me" is so far out,
I don't know what this body is here before me.
What do these clothes cover?
Asymmetric from the center out.
Saying this like I gave humans life, made them walk upright.
I am the multichrome of closed eyes in a lit room.
I am faux wood.
I am that thing from the past, placed in the now, and still doesn't understand it's creator.
I am the question "why" which was never meant to be answered.
I am realizing those who are sanctified in their breath.
I am nerve meets bone meets skin meets hair.
But all in one form, I can't see how it happens.
I am what my eye looks like without seeing it, just imagining it.
"I am what I am" when I ask this question.
Sort of a mix of shape, mind, and hue.
Or is it head, line, and imagined body?
Does my hand touch my skull? Then is the hair and skin something unknown or forgotten?
What comes of the thought that is unrecognized during contemplation?
Are these really the bait for the goldfish in the mind's pool?
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" as a "bad" trip shortens my view.
The bone dry feeling of the fear of God, crushing every tendril and way that once carried me along merrily.
"What if I lose God by taking too much nutmeg?"
"You can't (or shouldn't) do that" a voice whispers to both losing God parts and taking too much nutmeg.
Now I'm contented and thoughts will no longer emerge from the pool.
So I must dive into sleep.
Good night.
Subtle thoughts after 2 tblspns of Nutmeg 4 to 6 hours later
304 · Dec 2020
Knight of the Forest
Chad Young Dec 2020
O silver and black knight of the forest,
what goal have you taken up for the castle?
"I seek to slay with my beauty only..."
"Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels."

"What business does an evil eye have in the land
of purity and repose?"
"I have many good deeds fine guardian."
"Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast
"You have no business here until your
wicked deeds are paid for, get out!"

"Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel
allows me to part from my solitude.
Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has
reached into the divine female and divine male.
Let those chakras make a transpersonal point,
but sacral business is all I see.
Maidens forever young.

It seems an eunich has breached our display.
But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose?
It seems the true goal of a babe's heart
at the lap of his mother has entered the lair.

Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge.

Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this
time, to exchange a breeze
of heartfelt love.
****** purity is sought after, yet
there is no place to hide a ****.

Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension.
The male/female chakras above the crown open up again
for sacral play.
The sattvic essence remains,
and I am held dearly at this party.

The children outlast me during the night.

I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals
into a deck of superstrength beings
of all colors.
A female face is grafted to mine.
She puts on silver and black armor
and the walls are crimson.
Meditation in front of a mirror and inside my pyramid made of clothes hangers.
302 · Feb 15
Chloe, if you get this
Chad Young Feb 15
Just awareness.

Thoughts too deep to be fathomed on the surface.
Such as "woman" which alludes mere objective reality.
It employs the heart, which gives only desirous and love thoughts, which even more so alludes singularity, but rather a memory of 10,000 women's pictures are categorized by the brain.
This in itself is taxing for any outer organization.
It is done by the brain by simply pulling out the latest woman on my mind.
The mind an old house of files and recordings which can't all be accessed, and when I write that the master of the house says "but here" and shows me a random memory.
Proving only that a random record can be accessed.

Why must love start to be forbidden by age differences, work settings, and lifestyle differences?
Doesn't love have any sense?
Her eyes are inviting and her body is youthful and vital.
A ripe peach.
The heart is so material, more than the brain.
The brain reasons, gives levels, and categorizes.
The heart simply loves.
It is sheer feeling.
The deepest seat of imagination.
Can she "feel my heart beating" in my wish that she was happy, that my love could be expressed?
Does she "feel the same, or am I only dreaming?"
The heart has such lasting imaginations.
They consume the attention and won't allow it to wander away.
The heart laughs because the eyes are mere spectators of the heart.
The heart says "I am reality".
It's more immune to observations, it is harder to change its interests.

My heart must cling to another heart every night, and my body sometimes adulterizes the heart I hold so dear.
I'm never alone in the imagination of the heart.

True love feels the same whether it is shared or not.
It makes the blood pump a little harder, and blush with joy.
The difference is its materialization.
Once love materializes the desire is met with responsibility.
The truest heart is the one that has consummated the least love.
299 · Feb 25
Math problems #5
Chad Young Feb 25
What exactly does this expenditure of energy for solving a math problem do?
After I forget about solving it, what do I have?
An accomplishment?
I have conquered a bit of logic and reasoning; just as this sentence does, but math takes more effort usually.
It is precisely the reason that math requires more effort than reading or writing that there is a following behind it.
That's probably why I'm into it.
Because not everyone does it due to its difficulty.
So it is an exclusive group.
This is why it is bothersome to know others have excelled beyond me in math, because they have put forth the work; that they were tired enough of their ignorance to accomplish so much.
It is nice to know what I
could and couldn't accomplish from seeing them.
99% of mathematicians will never put forth a new theory or solve a once unsolvable question.
It would seem my whole life of math would prove futile in light that this exclusive "club" only allows 1% to make a dent in human history.
Therefore, I must strive, see it as a process of unending steps, and pray that I will add some work to humanity's progress.
294 · Oct 2020
Like Madeline
Chad Young Oct 2020
O beauty in my horizon
You look at me like a thousand days
we've spent together, or
longer still.
You take pride in our gaze together.
You are the answer
to my every male instinct.
And there you recline,
as if you are made of starlight,
as if you've swallowed the moon.
Your neck has no point save
regarding me.
You are intent on setting
me aflame with desire for you.
My body aches to keep
its inner mojo.
Yet you snake around
my neck and seep into
my testicles.
You say "this is a test".
"For what?"
"You know" she replies.
"A test for me" she gives a second answer.
"To see if you can come on my star destroyer"
"Where does that lead?" I ask.
"To another time."
"A time when you're free."
Then Christ's neck holds me:
"Can you pray with Me, and stay resolute?"

Another night
that I might not know my pillow.
289 · Feb 2
Chad Young Feb 2
As much as the **** female is central to underground society, she comes to me in my bedroom.
Those sources of her pulsate with the richness of her beauty.
How many geniuses have been subverted from thought by her.
How many have plunged into desire's depths, reliant on her picture to allay their suffering.
Without sensuality they derobe as if to go to battle. With her in one hand and their shlong in the other, they make their towel wet.
Now with their desire fed, she looks as a mere distraction.
Just another human body she is now.
Her image has been worshipped and they have found no god.
Cloudy night
Chad Young Feb 2
What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces.
There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal.
Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology.
What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning.
Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience.
The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain.
When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture.
Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol.
The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image.
Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler.
Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself.
In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions.
What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality.
Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way.
Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.
laying in contemplation
275 · Jan 31
Chad Young Jan 31
The hologram of the mind is so vast that enlightenment would have to be like a complete update of my operating system.
275 · Feb 7
Chad Young Feb 7
My Self is rooted in a larger city than mine.
My Self is rooted in male comradery.
My Self falls into a group. The group isn't universal for all my traits though.
Thus comradery isn't a universal attribute in this sense.
However, if I feel I need comradery, and I'm not in familiar surroundings, I can shift to a reality of the oneness of humanity, where all share the same home.
273 · Sep 2020
Bedroom staring
Chad Young Sep 2020
I see it in her eyes!
"Guys look at so many girls," with a sigh.
Then I saw your heart was loving mine.
A being one with understanding.
A smile that caressed my shoulder.
An ease that could make me slip into sleep.
Like a beauty she slept
No heart to win
Spirit hovered over her
as if apart, yet a part of her.
I wondered what dreams she could be having,
Whose heart heaven could be sharing
I wondered how many breaths she'd ever breathed.
I wonder about the time I'm wasting
making you my center of concentration.
I wonder why you're not blacker.
Wonder why you're not whiter.
I wonder why there's no crust in your eye.
wonder why you're not more recognized
by colleges.
Then I realize the softness of your pillow.
I wonder what island you're from.
Your curls turn into a flame
of salamanders before my eyes.
I want to kiss the air you breathe.
I want to taste your makeup on your face.
I want to thank the taxpayers
for our food.
I want to thank the elements
for the extra bump off center in your chin.
I want to take away your hurt and pain.
I want you to rule over all men.
You look at me like I'm not mature.
You've found my secret
you won't tell.
I never paid any of your bills.
You said, "No, I need a man."
What to say?
267 · Jan 25
Chad Young Jan 25
"Someone at school was bullying me."
Well Baha'u'llah says that God loves the sighs of the oppressed more than anything else.
Because it means we are being kind and not trying to take an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Rather we forgive and suffer through oppression.
Thus, God will vindicate us either in this world or the next.
For Baha'u'llah also said that the paradise for the patient is the only paradise without limitation.
Thus, we sigh, we wait, we suffer.
Life's curve *****
Chad Young Jan 30
Esteem of reflection billowing up whenever one puff fades.
Day in, day out.
Pass in, pass out.
Staring off into space, am I getting better at geometry?
Looking into the line of nowhere.
Physical lines may just happen to converge with this.
Darkness may happen to eclipse it.
A point happens to be on it.
A light happens to shine therein.
Lines may also conflict with it.
Colors may not align with it.
Conglomerations may exist there without any congruence.
People happen upon it.
Muscles and nerve endings traverse it.
Needs cross its consciousness.
Predictions cross over it too.
Some ideas are superseded here.
The esteem of reflection scans all areas: physical, emotional, and mental.

The internal image is destroyed, or ground to dust.

Sounds are implanted upon it.
An imaginary self-concept is manifested on it.
The cycle of new crossings re-circulates.
Like this whole poem only affected my knowledge and not reality.

I sit up.

My body is placed on this line.
Like it is on stage acting for this line.
Cleanliness and neatness cross it.
The esteem of reflection takes on the form of part of my body.

I lay back down.

The self-concept reiterates itself.
As if my body's forms must assert themselves.
Afraid to look at bold symbols.
Afraid to act like I touch the things in this room.
A sense of shared humanity is spit out by my head.

I am the weak and selfish one.
Not esteeming another.
Only esteeming me and my reflection.
Not sharing a room.
Like I'm pulling down and in.
With my head in the sand.

I consider knowledge that isn't directly observed as secondary.
And I don't mean observed in a book.

This self-concept becomes the center which organizes the things that cross the line of nowhere.
It is the best comparison to my physical self, yet a figment of my imagination.
It is shaped more by attention than by materiality.

It's funny how anointing is at once a rising over and a descending.
Yet it cannot fully transform my mind.
For even this blessing crosses the line of nowhere.
And the esteem of reflection rises above it.

But when the line of nowhere becomes the self-concept then the mind is fully transformed.
The esteem of reflection would have equality with the self-concept.
250 · Dec 2020
Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Chad Young Dec 2020
O wind, o air of present day wisdom. O insightful brethren of the gardens of reality. O ominous depth which no one has crossed in a day.
O head and eye, symbols of understanding and vision.
O hole, o void, on the floor of my being: consuming every normal thought I can muster.
O reflection of a reflection, distracting me from my first attraction.
Now I'm lost in this crystal cave of imagination, which breaths in the Spirit of the present day.
Was not this what I was seeking: to enter the boat rowing on this sea,
To look further in this void of my soul, which swallows every normal way and intention.
Rhymes here mock the true story.
Every creature of normalcy is swallowed by this nothing.
Only building a stronger ship and stronger rowing arms gets me further.

The Hood of the Worlds is worn by my guide
Sick with illness of body, this is the only way to cross the waves.
For nature is now forgotten, only winds of destiny remain.
Here comes the winds of despair blowing next to this ship without sail.
The writer's body fails mid-row.
Will the normalcy give it's cure to the seeker of the philosopher's stone, and cause this ship to sink?
The weird is precious here, but a day of normalcy before has shut weird's way as well.
I breathe into my gut the winds of sorrow, now the poison of malace wafta over the waters.
What will I stumble upon on this journey?
What could be in store for this adventurer?
Even the normalcy of the elements try to cure my disease of unrest.
Why not sail a ship by the winds of tomorrow?
With that last word, normal has bound my heart, now my limb.
I place my hand more firmly on the oars, but now wonder if I even need to row to find what I'm looking for.

I step aboard another bigger ship of a fellow seeker true.
He has sails that already blow,...with tomorrow?!
What have I done?
My poor boat was best, stricken by death.
But he reassured me: "I have food and supplies until sunrise".
But tomorrow is too normal still.
It's sun and Ray's, the billowing clouds, all make for me to sink back into the hole, the void.
Maggets fester, worms intrude, in the dark water.
Yet even these creatures' nature to decompose my body, is too normal for the void.
Being me, being man, being human, too normal too.
I'm only a spec, a mark, a dot, and once I manifested I get merged.
So I'll remain partially hidden in everything.

Is that what this is about?
That what I see is partially hidden for a point?
For a point to not sweep itself away?
Yes, the kingdom of heaven"in your midst" or "within" is just a way to keep the light just right for my own edification and entertainment.
Too normal this purpose is, for me to cross this void.
No, the point still hidden, that wondrous spec, is hidden due to weakness of me, it's observer.
Or else hidden and manifest would be one.
Look what I've found, I've come to "He".
A normal thing I do all the time, I know.
So this reason is too normal to bring a shade of new to this void, so peaceful it is.
"He" knows too much to seek out anything.
"It is you I seek" He says with utmost adoration of me, His subject.

If you seek me, and I seek to build a ship that can bridge the dark and the light, is your Ark, so strong, just another ship to poke a hole in?
"Why I don't know" was His reply.
I guess I'll climb aboard, and be His guest.
What do I seek?
A gem like no other, a tale fabricated that even I would be amazed at.
"I know what you seek" He says as He steers His Ark in it's direction.
"A million stars?" He asks.
"Even that is a common normal thing".
"A ship to cross them?" He wonders.
What is there our there that is more amazing than transcendence?
"Hmm, I wonder," He gives a smile of admiration.
"That's what I've said too" He agreesthe tale is told to a degree.
I didn't want to go to bed.
249 · Sep 2020
Our eyes met
Chad Young Sep 2020
it wasn't a lie.
You stared into mine
we gazed as if two souls
from another time
with father loving eyes
I looked away.
you stared into mine
I noticed a darkness of pride.
When I stared back up
that spirit vanished
Your other eye
thought mine attractive
A little girl came out of you
you didn't back down
Your other eye grew wiser
Am I staring at your eye or your gaze?
It grew closer to the middle of your face.
Your mouth and cheek
gave out a slight pout.
I wanted to look nowhere else,
and you came to life.
I saw my female idol in your face
I looked at your mole, then I looked away
You kept staring, so I looked at
your shoulder and neck.
The bow in your hair,
now I regret.
I didn't see it when I first saw your eyes.
Do I want to kiss you
or just stare
at your eyes.
247 · Sep 2020
Pride and the ego
Chad Young Sep 2020
What is my pride?
I'm a Baha'i, I study math and physics, and I study
martial arts.
Then this is where people may hurt me the most.
They will make my dimension into a lie,
contradict what I know so well.
A shove or a push, even a slap or hit only affects my body.
Hurting my feelings by making me feel unloved, that
is only my mammalian brain.
But defying my reason and insight - this is where I am
most weak.
To call my religion a plan of the Illuminati,
by calling my science untrue,
by saying I don't know anything of martial arts.
This is where the ego of the world now dwells:
within the reasoning mind.
This is where my testing will take place:
letting go of knowledge
to meet the words of the naysayer.

I will take your words and
transform them into love.
Then I will wait until I find a companion
heart, to tell my truth to.
reflecting on life mistakes and the movie "Creed" where Creed goes to jail for punching someone
243 · Dec 2020
Teaching in the Next
Chad Young Dec 2020
The Pyramid is the Messenger
   of the Spirit world after we pass on.
We all must resolve to consecrate
   our actions to the Pyramid there.
The Orb is the handmaid that
   every soul is given for its care.
Pondering... I could be wrong.  Baha'u'llah said that His Revelation produces the "triangle and square fruits".
Chad Young Feb 15
The details are supposed to merge with the general branch of knowledge.
The general branch is where the "notes are played" as I see fit - the imagination comes alive.
All other branches meet at the trunk, the mind and heart, where the One exists.
226 · Jan 18
Tantra alone
Chad Young Jan 18
*** tries to be celestial
With the most reciprocal feelings.
The intertwining of consciousness
Around pleasuring each other
Until the bodies become one,
No difference is there between
Man and woman,
As they have taken on each other's
Soul and each other's form.
214 · Jan 21
Chad Young Jan 21
"How do you meditate daddy?"
Meditation is hiding how I meditate even from my own pen.
You may observe me meditating and learn that way.
208 · Dec 2020
Divine Cupbearer
Chad Young Dec 2020
O celestial mountain, let me climb the stairs of patience
that the immortal front may be birthed anew.
Cover thyself with the robe
of the Ancient Root,
and with the Hood of the Worlds,
that you may hearken to the
winds of mystery
and the tremors of the stock of oneness.
Suffer time
to pass thee by
that the eternal sun
may shine upon thee.
Let the Mother of Eternity
give thee nourishment
at the seat
of powerlessness.
silent meditation
207 · Feb 2018
Chad Young Feb 2018
A full day's work
is as the energy
of three hour's reflection,
but getting up the
next day with lying
down and no sit
is dogshit.
204 · Feb 7
Chad Young Feb 7
My eye tells me I'm still 17 years old.
Sharing time with these classmates,
Their strength and compassion.
I am my criminal acts and the response which the law made against me.
Why did I hide my light of character in them?
To refuse my brother's good?
That I may stand with my own eyes - evil though they be?
For to live always under the guise of another's eyes is not justice.
202 · Feb 2018
Another Day
Chad Young Feb 2018
A day of sit
open a book
write a verse
scroll the
write and categorize
vocabulary from
a published article
on the fundamental forces

pray and sit
eat and sit
lay down and wait

get up and, go!
200 · Jan 11
Hunchback of Fairfield
Chad Young Jan 11
Oh eye, of a day gone by in ease
How I used to radiate light, now you are a messenger of gray.
You have a face of winter winds.
You never stay too long in the lighted center.
Don't you remember the dreams we've had?
In the world beyond the dust?
No, light does not come often from the lawful self, but is rather from knowledge or wisdom met with a hundred mercies.
My spirit is too diverse in colors to be seen as one light.
My creation does not lie in the fixation of a white or golden light, rather its creativity is seen in how I design.
My beauty is more than a point, it is as a flower held in front of a point.  Only by its being there does the point recognize the flower's value.
How I wish to be blessed with the point that my flower can hold it.
Hardly a petal is accepted, what an aged face I've become.
My own inner spirit must combine with my body to make beauty, which then must pass through my own acceptance - how hard it is.
Something's always afoul.
I should give up and say there's no such thing as beauty in an eye.
I am to be the saddest face if I behold your seas of bliss repeatedly.
A true smile comes from the Earth beneath me.
With enough shaking, it turns my heart to joy.
But it doesn't show on my skin.
There is no beauty in men.
194 · Feb 17
Math fundamentals #5
Chad Young Feb 17
Math must be seen as a spiritual practice or else the ego will never be satisfied.
Math is a way to enlightenment, a way to gain invisible bestowals.
To further the field of mathematics is in the hands of God.
The difference in views is restless dissatisfaction versus equanimity.
Chad Young Feb 16
Math is switching always between calculation and visualization.
Usually more time is spent understanding how to do a problem than actually calculating them.
192 · Jan 31
Early 20's
Chad Young Jan 31
I slide my hand down your **** and thigh from behind as you are bent over, and making yourself a toy for me.
I penetrate you *******, in and out as your shelf provides a suction on and off.
Your skin gets hot and flush.
You grab me like your fulfillment depended on it.
My ***** grows so large that it pierces though your heart and lungs and out your mouth.
Can you feel it in your abdomen?
The pulse and push against your intestines?
Rocking your ecatasy up your tummy as you grab at your heart - pounding with your man.
The rush goes up your ahoulders, up your neck, and your head and face come alive with mortal pleasure.
As you take your mouth over my tower, pressing your lips and tongue on its veins and arteries, digesting the salty skin in your mucus.
Pulsing your head back and forth as if you're not drinking enough, as if your mouth had the sensitivity of your ******.
Without ******* you press it into your pus and my head pulses and enlarges pressing the back of your tunnel.
Woman's immortal enemy: my ******, jettisons my *****, mixing with your wet walls, producing a torrent of film.
We both hadn't had enough.
Day dream
187 · Jan 17
One what?
Chad Young Jan 17
And alone?
Sleeping on benches?
We are one home
More central than one soul.
For a soul requires a 💓.
More than one person,
One home.
Meditation evolving
186 · Sep 2020
Soliciting the Night
Chad Young Sep 2020
Are there any words which capture wisdom?
Grief of Prophets.
Are there any words which speak enlightenment's prose?
Are there any words which tell of an artist's hopelessness?
Time: the comparison between two differing things.

Only age can gain age's beauty.
Only in time can tell the artist's proficiency.
Wishing to write a poem.
185 · Oct 2020
What is that in Your eye?
Chad Young Oct 2020
I sought visions;
I sought unific feelings;
I sought insights.
I got visions that churn imagination,
  history, and Gods.
I got unific feelings that made
  my whole body pulse together
  with the world and universe.
I got insights into origins, essentials,
  and outer limits.
All this through silence, and
  I ached.

Then I stared at the light,
  and remembered the darkness.
None of these seemed important
  any more.
The only thing that mattered
  was deed, good deeds.

Call it detachment from senses
  as the Buddha would say.
Call it an impulse to help others.

But all I can really say,
  is that I stared at the light,
  and it was so commonplace now,
  it was even as dust.
And all this inner travel
  and work meant nothing anymore.
How can I serve?
185 · Feb 8
Chad Young Feb 8
Transcending mind and emotion is a half in this world half in the dream world reality. "Like a new moon came into conjunction with a full moon."

The sleepier I am, the more present I am.

The more aware I am, the more closed my eye is.

OM unfolds on my inner tongue.
183 · Jan 20
Chad Young Jan 20
Why do we sit?
"Om" she chanted, the spritely tween she was.
Oh, the sovereingty of those at peace?
"sure" her older sibling said.
Why do we sit to look within? Does it make us strong?
What else makes us powerful?
Speaking, acting.
Does thinking make us powerful.
Does thinking, speaking, and acting create a lot of unrest?
It can.
Thus, we stop thinking, stop speaking, and stop acting.
"Isn't that what sleep is for?"
Yes. Do you sometimes dream in sleep?
Sitting in meditation, no thought, voice, or act, induces a dream state, but you are awake.
Do you like sometimes the feeling of dreams? yes?
This ecstasy one feels in a good dream is the same as in meditation.
But to see visions and have feelings like in a dream is only a biproduct of meditation.
So why do we meditate? "?"
TO go beyond, beyond acting, speaking, thinking, even beyond feeling and seeing.
This beyond can only be experienced for oneself.
It comes in many forms.
What is central to it is that you exist before it,
and you exist after it, but after you experience
it, you feel like a new you, a truly awakened you.
returning to square one
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