What is one is itself
but if you know someone else
you are partly also that person
you are also what was different
until that moment

And you observe that, it dawns
on you and you grow

That's interesting, we repeat it
in stories about people
and the gods they imagine:
the more souls, the merrier and the more
humor thanks to the differences

And the trick is to learn
to see that everyone is everything

Therefore, yes therefore there was
a feast in heaven for the wicked sons
at the end of their tumultuous lives
while the good sons
were taken to hell

And the supreme god laughed
at their illusions

I don’t need a crutch for creativity
I am clearly clutch creatively
Knowingly nurturing
Flowing, I’m furnishing
The room inside your mind
That you needed help to find
The grape fresh off the vine
The soulful spark of the divine
That which you can not define
Unrefined but never crude
Intimate but never lewd
Food for thought:
I consume thought for food
I transform it into rhythm and mood
I transmit it with my attitude
Take you to a higher altitude
Flying oh so free
Through clouds of crisp creativity

No man is an eye
Land and water make each other
Ever intertwined

Alone we suffer
Together we can endure
Stronger when we are tethered
That I can ensure

Connected together like birds of a feather
We can weather the weather whether we face hell or heaven
We can resonate and instigate a state of inspiration
We can rest and equilibrate, share a respiration

Forming a superorganism we transform
No longer lost in this chaotic storm
We take shelter in love, sharing security
Surging electricity sparked by common unity
Purging our anxiety, embark on a new odyssey
I’ll help you up and you’ll help me see
See how great this life can truly be

The mind at play is a rocking boat:
It goes along the flow of our thoughts
Between destination and arrival ports.
And on the boat we learn of causality.

The mind at rest is a quiet pond:
Its surface mirrors the world
As the edges are all withdrawn.
And in the lake we learn of unity.

The mind in a rush is a storm:
Waves collides in a frenetic waltz
Where one sees hills in eruption.
And in the storm we learn of identity.

...if we could get the vessel across;
...if we could face our own shape;
...if we could settle on the hilltops;
What more would be left for us to behold?

when we think
we are separate from
the world around us
pain finds its way in

I fantasize
about marching with my friends
down wellington
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe they're right."
but instead, they think
"shut it down."


i fantasize
about taking care of the wounded
doing my part
and truly feeling
that there is power in unity
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe we're wrong."
but instead, they think
"send more troops."


i fantasize
about singing "l'internationale"
with thousands of my comrades
as we fight for justice
arm in arm,
hand in hand
forcing the government
to look below,
and think
"maybe it's us."
but instead, they think
"casualties don't matter unless the goal is reached."

We are strangers
Yet my heart is open to you
Soon to be neighbors is the
American Dream
Not a greed machine feeding nothing but
Chauvinistic pleasure
Nor is learning how to hoard resources to one side of a body or border an active vision anymore
Instead this night aspires for green trees untouched except by skin, a home and morale for the fallen and free, even more varied cuisines
All faces spring forth just as fluently here, no need for same speak as we may share a smile and nod just as easily, duly noting
Our colors and diversity, who is suitably similar to the landscapes travelled throughout the states, a testimony to
Our uniquely cultured experience which yearns to preserve
forever under sparks and sprinklers in summer when things grow for all;
For me, for them,
For us, for We.