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.

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

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.

How do I begin to pick up a pen?
How does a thought take me to Neverwhere?
They never can ever tell us the reality
of the realest questions
and, for some, it’s just fine.
The rest need more.
Something? Not a thing.
Someone? Quite plausibly.

Won’t let go the tap tapping
or drumming or the pokey poke.
It’s there. But, you keep your head in the game.
Cuz, ya know, what else is there around here?
Spiritual desert with no substantive food.
Like biting into a juicy hamburger
and tasting sawdust only.
Only if those ones
could just keep their blinders
in proper position,
proper place to look and stay
and march along on
in single file lives
to mark one existence onto the next.
Who though?
All for who?
Or, what?
Surely,
God needs no marching ants such as these?

They who can’t see
will surely deny the real world
you know is here
and call you a blind fool. Ha!
Jokes on jokes on yokes
of jellied stroke marks.
Get off my back and let me live
how I see. Not through your grimy,
filthy, streaked and yellowed seeing.
But with clear and pure eyes
you hadn’t touched yet.

What happens to those ones?
Where have they gone?
Looking, looking close and away
and all eyes sense
is dust mountains and cave dwellers
and absence of light.
Where are the true ones
filled with the light of the rising Sun?
Come home!
The place with the voice pointing out cracks
is singing a song so longing and sure
and cannot look away.
Not with COVID and all of this world
awakening to see what they -
the blind ones -
have done while the rest have been sleep.
Blinders melt in sunlight
and aren’t needed
by the light of the moon.
Here one finds the way by heart.
Here one sees for real
where we truly are. And then?
Ah! And then,
what else can one be except
free.

Claustrophobic
Cockroaches in corners
Concrete slabs
Clutching, cloaking, choking

Confined and
Constrained of a
Counterfeit life, I was the perfect
Charlatan of my encompassing separation.

Compelled into Self, oh yet
Cumbersome conditioning
Cultivating awareness within
Concentrated compression. I,

Cave!
Capitulation. Cannot withstand these
Currents of clouded
Compensation.

Comfortable in this
Chaos, as I've finally
Concluded: It comprises all of me.
Completely void

Contently
Containing nothing,
Clear from attached perceptions
Captivating Silence.

Come through me
Crawl into my
Caverns
Crash unto my shore

Caressing sensuality
       Continuously
Cascading        down, down, down
Composing my entirety.

you're thinking too ******* much

Soft Forgotten Whisper
Caressing the corners of
my truth
Stirring a sweet and gentle remembrance
It goes beyond thought,
mental comprehension,
but a solid knowingness pervades
in the tender sounds of silence
when I allow myself through
the thick façade barricades
that, at times, appear so automatic.
They dissolve, of course
with a sticky residue intact
But that sense seems to grow
Beckoning me with permeating tranquility
Stillness
Radiance
It comes to me, without seeking
I Am here;
I Am home.
Distractions attempt to evade,
through this
I realize
the knowingness does not wane,
steady silent presence
Continuous composure
In awareness.
No thing to grasp ahold
Swimming in serene emptiness
Relaxed into my creation.

Faded daydream
like continuous clockwork constantly
reaffirming itself in cycles of limitations.
Who is talking
which one is speaking?
The actor of many characters that
have become so real.


The awareness cuts through
and
shows it's not you.
But the patterns still remain,
a flickering between
an old life and the new.

Fluctuations, Frustrations
A Dragon tears apart emotions
A Master tapping on my shoulder
Bewildering, indeed,
But are you going to open?

I snap my fingers
Deep breath, palms extended
Music plays
I move along

What words can describe
these contradicting times?
Layered with clarity
Awkward and confused

But I'm done with managing
False control dismantling
No means of direction
or need for protection

This is all mine

How easy it is to play with distortion
what a misfortune
to pervert such purity
assuredly, this takes maturity  

Open
Open
Open
to all that I am

It does not require definition
Just allow this transition
No force No exertion
This is the simple emersion

There is No Separation
This spirit is mine
This Energy is me
My awareness is no one else's
In my own oneness, I am free

enter ego
tainting, tinting, spiking
now with its foreign substance
always to manipulate and alter What Is
already natural is only good

One did not think one could improve on God?
Did one think this lie?
Did one account for one’s own blind ignorance?

as if one created something new
within the realm of What Is

Step aside and see your own insignificance,
if you can stand to look -
stand the inferno of your own gaze.
And, if you cannot,
how could you believe you are a king?
A king of what?
The lost.

busy the days working in time
making some nightmarish world

You think you are making paradise?
You are building your own funeral pyre!
Must you go to the bitter end,
dragged and gagged and beaten?

it isn’t a giving up

What have you taken?
In order to give something up,
you must have taken it in the first place.
You have not.

only think it so,
making all suffering seem real.

What is this you have made?

don’t know
can’t see
won’t stop and tell
just keep spinnin
and rollin
and truckin along
leanin in and gettin ‘er done …

To what END?