#dharma
Is being yourself sufficient?
Being true to oneself?
Is this what one feels to be their dharma?
What if being self allows unnecessary karma?
Does that make the self wrong?
If so, who should one call,
When the oneself itself is wrong?
And wrong for who? Them all?
Or you, or me?
But who are you: me, or we?
Is it just me, or is there some part of you as me?
Do you wanna belong?
Or you afraid to be wrong?
For you and me are...
S-A-M-E!
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 12:16 PM UTC
Range wars and water fights,
stories told and legends made up,
I am asking your attention, not per
mission, I am on my own, worth per
precept dispatched and reset per use
make the kind of man who believes
modern armies have one use, one alone.
War, for any reason, a warrior ethos,
X wars long form, whole whying wars,
with words working the balance co
gnostication wise knowing science all
that was Logos to Aristotle and Epimenides and Saul of Tarsus,
all wise citizen's when men's minds
and muscles and wills to resist insisted
come along or be ignorant of the worth
of war, come fight your own way out
from a cult that ate better men than
me-self and my weself, when I listened
while praying saying such ideas aloud,
as raised a momentary heart felt will
we may imagine thinking each word
as if it were formed from letters, many
as two letter words lie idle as pi to many
how
ever
here
we make some static and tip the balance
we ought to know what the prexy got
on his standandardard reason ings exam
srie, he passedemallfliyin ointment, hate
to say, but we just can't say, he's likely
was one of the top guys in military school, we can be sure he hates whom he believes are his enemies, including me and you, if you read this far and don't confess, holygnoshit they all cheated?
Life in the era of Ancestry.com
tipped toward hero story kings winning,
forethought, holiday season, annual
opportunity to make believe, next year,
look who had a baby, may be usual best,
look after children we sired, aware if it
does
happen, we both were savvy enough,
we agreed to share the care, and accept
true love feels good to make, and peace
is even better, good to make believe,
it can last, unless one of you breaks
pretend to be at peace, in mind,
and mend the gate to hell,
as we realized we are spirit creatures
already spent our last dime, caught this
old
cold
idea virus, think a tiny bit of it true
and it grows into a double minded you
one reader makes it work, sneeze it
one wonders if t'other what ifs
and most stories
capable of feeding a teller, needed
an ethos,
a bag of weights, agreed to locally
whose side was the wrong side,
in which war to get to where we were
when I woke up this morning, stretched
same yesterday lies, lie still today,
so today bets tomorrow's better,
calling all effectual fervent pray answers,
yeses pile to the ceiling, ah
you noticed, in the JWST sphere's edge,
I traveled 100 miles today in a car,
I could never repair, maybe a flat,
I once repaired a Triumph Spitfire,
with a butterknife, a VW carb float
and a Zippo lighter, on the northside
of Route 66, you honked and waved,
hippies were friendly, I was imagining
winding detcord around freeway bridges
before they got to Flagstaff and ruined
my own private four leaf freeway
exchange,
with no free way either way, a junction
in the middle of forest, Yavapai land,
Interstate 40, was approaching at speed,
speed of life then, speed of mind now,
fast as fine structural constants occur
constantly, infinite dirivitive knowledge,
constituting new knowing, new ways we
work while we agree we are two me and
thee whithersoever and whensoever we
cross purposes
in some classic gaseous spirit defined,
so fine, no finer, atoms, and then, we
boomers were born into evidence, we
learned central point gravity spinning,
and electromagneto coil winding,
in seventh grade science, needed
before we used power tools,
eighth grade, 13, hit, Donald Trump,
big kid bully rich boy, needs discipline,
so, when I was experiencing 1961, he
was experience the least possible link
me and him and that summer, except
For Mantle and Maris and ******
at the Drive In, double feature
Lemon and Remick, Days of Wine and
Roses, summer of bayou swimming,
chameleon seeing, and seen again later
such creatures live a sane and simple life.
Words as tools to think with, once,
then cast aside, to think with infinite
precision, not wrong, even a we bit once\
one drop om'gahdshesdonit, we bit
Muses entertainers users attend to
uses some fine ideas hate, in allergic
terms
sneezing, secret school records,
under secret power locked and keyed
all paper. All at once, nobody ever knows
manifest peaceability say to where Jesus is
peace be still,
stop and retake certain vows, try to remember
September Journey… once, on Earth, here, peace
se no se free from pressure all around centered
sense sapience from higher forms of well formed we,
we think and breathe, each day, time, per instance
now, we pray, truth be told,
and if its worth my time, redeemed per usual fees
puppy sneeze static, danger, will disease creep in fi
finest ratio of one to precisely this is not that, if we
thunk it… let it ride, I bet today becomes readily
available, easy read, cheap, free used spit images hit.
--- pro eh profess protest… promethean fame
Epimethean shame, we shouldalistened, we
refuse union containment, aweforms as us
awful old man gaseous weform reforms
jokes broke
whenkidpreachers told'em yokem
ropem ridem vaquero, kpow
Dunson land brand, on Jesus, this Christmas
witness an abortion survivors testimony,
unfortunately recorded when delivered
glossalia-wise lies lay lady lay. Big brass bed
I shined such a thing, I know what you mean,
they were noisydamnedsprings what you mean
mom and dad did that and did not know kids could
just up and grow old and good for nothing, fair trade
boomers alive today survived, by living
through everything that made Donald possible,
nothing makes believing him good is peaceable,
non sense thinking circa 1865, wonder ifery fiction
hmmm, shotgunweddins, in my times
as a witness, some times, I say I knew then
as a freeborn child to as far as I knew then
aiiiiiii zooms to infinity, if that's your per
spective, point, a star out in ever sense
freeborn grown men, in National debt.
My credit got me old, and this wise, no mas.
My legacy is my only actual effort at art,
for goodness sakes, aitia causal effectuality
I saw a fiddler fiddling child tunes, cartoon tunes
turkey in the straw or something, but he was not
a good fiddle player, he was missing something,
a muse used to amuse such as find me amusement,
no thinking needed, free standing logos, word wise/
fervently I pray, forgive thinking you misunderstood
see, I feel you heard our whole storied idea wrong.
The mediating wisdom, truth itself in spirit form, pi
proves infinity we form from wisdom making pi known
so we have precision pivot gem stones in our time pieces
Generated Enemy Mind, the gall, yokes break,
who blames the fastest faster ever methed up?
Set the captives free, we did the needful thing,
we realized we
become more mental, as we age,
we become more like our selves, as seen
on tv
I'm like that guy, digitized self help
back to Norman Vincent Peale,
with proven war service
under every flag that ever flew
over Texas, as claimed by John Wayne,
mind wind
1948, Red River, 2025, enduring
to this end, my wits ending endurance
see that John Wayne, and me, and Jesus,
who comes down from the cross to correct
some wrong thinking mis uses of social authority
to make believe, free mind expanse, free thinking
produces lieve being right minds, used universally,
we can agree when we can use near cognate ideas
behind words, the way Pauli and Jung agree about numbers
and things
attracted to shiny things, oddities,
allowing for recognized movie scenes,
all most all boomers alive today, once saw
John Wayne **** a man from Mexican Texas,
and say to him, It's my land now,
brand'em all, any brand, it's all mine now…
that John Wayne, looks Jesus in the eye, I know
he drawls, he took the formula and became you know
Stupid is as stupid did, he lied,
we listened, he guiled us, we learned and live;
we live with liars, we need not lie, I write all day,
and count it my fair share, picking up trash,
by the freeway, I knew a guy, did that
every day, came
to hear me preach,
once a month, I got the call
in an indian casino, the will
to say sure,
all in.
circa just
before the Civil War, patience
testing all who endured
to the end,
with Trump
in some other people's reality, mine was
in therapy
we teach patience used
to preserve the soul idea,
sticky vessles formed
from unfired final escape clause
riverbottom mud made men
power to imagine peace
for a minute
at thought speed experienced,
in fact, all four Zoas dancing ballet, then riverdance
attempted
at once, Watson Brake, Louisiana,
in time tune
ing
runners carried abalone t
o the desert, and carried points,
obsidian scalpel sharp points
across the sea
of grass,
down the edge
of long ago, past the wells full
from rains
run run run and tell good news,
the circus is coming
to town,
wisdom forms
from schadenfreude Freude woulda loved
to have
known, it is not all about ***
as beguiling is understood
to mean, I was lied to,
so bemusing is understood
to mean musing use made
classically trained
to amuse
usefull goodness be mazed see
amazing, looking down, see, we knew
we knew what could be known, we saw
those intaglios from the air, Patten broke lines
learned as practical proprioception wind sign eyes
- no secret codes, any thing I say I thunk and knew it
fact check me from let this mind be defined a term
the weapons of my warfare, for which I will admit,
I prayed and fasted for fervently, expertise with these
edges
prepositions mind may achieve indeed, assisted, rules wise wrap around type no ding at the end it frowardly finally wraps, so width of window, experienced today,
from seashore dawn, to even ing notice ing experience ing today
at time speed politically speaking, alienated outlaw inlaws, still, we relate
if your father was a broken man, and you, kinda,
let him see, he broke you,
at thirteen, Boss John Wayne, drawls
let's see kid, who really is that kid sent t
to boarding school in movies.
Did it happen to you, or while you were active
in everything serious upto now.
To do one's duty, love demands definition, hate,
to be fair, has no say, eh, hates is worth nada
ignorance
absence of knowledge believed
to be power, has no power here, today
smell the victory, or petrichor, stoners blood in mud.
as above, so below
or so the story was being told
by the time of the baby boom.
Blessed events and no oil of Croton,
the child would have swallowed, could have,
had she known, ah, holy misconception, may if
only,
we woke this morning and drove in one hour,
give or take a few minutes, fifty miles to sea level,
from where the sun had begun to fill our 4K valley
meadow, wet with dew, begun this day as it were,
except for the freeway, and the Hybrid CVX.
this beautiful a morning as ever has been,
between the divide and the ocean, since ever was
these granite waves I sit on as I write, were ever waves
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 8:49 PM UTC
In the era of demons, who loves God?
In the era of lies, who follows truth?
In the era of body counts, who loves the soul?
In the era of Kaliyuga, who is human?
In the era of pretenders, who is trustful?
In the era of rapes, who is respectful?
In the era of killings, who makes sacrifices?
In the era of Kaliyuga, who follows dharma?
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 10:21 AM UTC
truth be told,
the ticking hourglass will never be our friend.
cos it keeps pushing my milky way
farther away from yours.
somewhere along the way,
you found dharma.
leaving me to waltz on that dance floor alone,
like i did to you, millenniums ago!
back then, i became
poet, philosopher, king and the lord of the universe.
while you stayed behind,
a shy country lass with lotus eyes
pining for my love.
in the quarrels of love and life,
you hid my golden flute
and threw away my loaded dice,
which helped me win
the mundane games of *** for tat.
leaving me now with an inexhaustible quiver of karmas eager to fructify.
as i stand here in a tree pose
regulating my incoming breath,
i the yogi
eagerly await for our galaxies to turn,
perhaps, even collide and kiss some day.
© 2023
Oct 8, 2023
Oct 8, 2023 at 9:45 AM UTC
The cycle of rebirth,
Concealed in a blood orange...
With a bite missing.
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
we come to rest in peace awaiting answers and
I slip after to the land of Nod...
woke, for a joke, we hope...
we see dis
similarities, I am shackled
standing five ten before
a trio of judges
in wigs, Shirley Temple wigs.
I grow three feet, or about two cubits,
and I stare my judges in the eye
my chains expanded with me, as bindings,
worthless, I conclude.
I can just, if I wish,
walk out, chains and all, standin tall.
---
being holy is easier than being sane in interesting times.
crazy
un mented real ization in
matters,
such as these: do we rule or obey or is there
another way
,
would seem holy right, hidden, for none to see, save
believers
who have been bred to the task of telling this story
holy story, jots, tittles, pimples and farts and all
standin' tall.
---
Drama of dharma, don't we know more good than evil as we grow?
Who would hinder knowing growing good?
An evil being, or a lie believed?
The lie, right? I know, Easy.
Answers come so easy some times, we forget the questions
on the test.
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
a mind that feels no gratitude to the forest
is a coarse mind indeed—without siladhamma—
the body feeds off doubts the mind will seed.
© Matthew Harlovic
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
I Can Write But I Can’t Speak
I can write but I can’t speak.
It’s as if God says,
“You have a message. Write the words.
I’ll give written words a glaze,
But eloquence that can be heard’s
Off limits, for I slow you down
For honesty, integrity:
To **** the vanity you’ve sown.
I’ll make you stumble, clumsy, dumb,
Slow-thinking, witless,
Sounding somewhat girlish.
I’ve obscured your verbal self
So that you can’t impress.
I keep you in the house
So you must guess
What is and what is not success.
Left there to stammer,
Lose my language;
Syntax, grammar
In a sandwich
Of aphasic doublethink,
The phrases weak,
Technique oblique,
My karma manifestly leaking,
Left to do my dharmic seeking,
(Swim or sink)
Through scribbled, scratched and silent ink.
I Can Write But I Can’t Speak 2.11.2003
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
*Your cuteness is my beauty,
Your prosperity is my lookout.
Your smile is my compatibility,
Your affection is my pout.
Your job is my duty,
Your happiness is my Karma.
Your satisfaction is my responsibility,
Your health is my Dharma.*
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Just like a wisp of smoke
Swirling in the air
I am here, there
And everywhere
We were introduced
But never met
We were both blind
And deaf
You didn’t stay
For very long
Maybe my memory
Is wrong
I was almost known
But not quite
Your sense of me
Was just not right
You tried to touch me
Again and again
I tried to let you
Now and then
I’m a memory of
Someone, somewhere
Who used to be
Just over there
Behind the wall
That never fell
The other three
Made up a cell
We thought we knew
Each other too
You, me
And me, you
But we were not two
We were more
We were not two
We were four, or more
I looked for you
In your limbs
And underneath
Your silky skin
You looked for me
In my heart
And in the mind
You took apart
We never found
Someone there
All we found
Is smoky air
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Take off your soggy shoes
Put them to the side
And come with me
Enjoy the day
As we splash and spray
And play
Watch the water
Feeling real
As it runs
From here to there
Spreading everywhere
Walk with me
Through our fountain
Of Reality
Sean Hunt Sept 11 2016
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
Where does inspiration come from
When there’s none where has it gone
Where do thoughts come from
When they go where have they gone?
Where do dreams come from
When they die where have they gone
Where does love come from
When there’s none where has it gone
Where do memories come from
When they leave where have they gone
Where do mothers come from
When they die where have they gone
Where do ideas come from
When there are none where have they gone
Where does death come from
One day it will be gone
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
‘Inception’ implies
Much more
Than the word
That is commonly heard
When we dig deeper
This well has no bottom
Dive like a swan
Into that pit
And you’ll not find
The end of it
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
We are not a thing, We're a happening
We're coming and going all of the time
Never staying still, just like my rhyme
We are not a thing, We're a happening
You can't point at me! If you try
I will disappear in the blink of an eye
We are not a thing, We're a happening
You can't drive a wheel because it's not a car
If you try you won't get very far
We are not a thing, We're a happening
Doctors know this because they've seen
Inside our skin with an Xray machine
We are not a thing, We're a happening
Still looking for the book, for some thing to read?
Or maybe the beginning of a seed
We are not a thing, We're a happening
Without the fish and egg where would we be
There'd be no you, there'd be no me
We are not a thing, We're a happening
We're coming and going all of the time
Never staying still, just like my rhyme
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC
Meditation
Is an art
So it can be hard
For us to start
If we write reviews
And read critiques
Before we sit down
On our seats
Sean Hunt
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
Meditation is an art
But mostly
We forget
To start
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
The Lion points the way
Touching the ground
With one hand
Stillness within
Is found
Human confusion
Is all around
Us
But
Like leaves in the wind
We will all land
And touch the ground
One day
Sean Hunt June 15 2016
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
How far away am I
From that place
Called
‘Stillness Within’
Suspended in empty space
Silence
Instead of the din
Inside
This place I will find
When the waters
Of my mind
Are unrippled by
Movements from below
Or
Movements from on high
Sean Hunt June 14 2016
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
We have our Rising Moon
That brings light
In the darkness of night
And the rays of our Sun
Will make our sky
Clear and dry
We have the Shade
Of a leafy tree
How lucky can we be?
And our Medicine
That works so well
Let’s now ring all our bells
And our Bridge that crosses
The Galaxies
To where there’s nought to see
Sean Hunt June 12 2016
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 5:30 AM UTC
Where is this WORD
Is it the W
No
Is it the O
No
Is it the R
No
Is it the D
No
These are parts of the
WORD
And not the
WORD
Maybe the collection
Of the parts is the
WORD
A collection of Things
That are not a Thing
Cannot be
A Thing
A collection of foxes
Cannot be a sheep
We will have to look
A little deeper
The WORD
Exists
As mere
Imputation
Or
Hallucination
As mere
Appearance
To mind
There is no WORD
To find
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
Do I leave, Do I stay
Do I play or run away
Which way today
Go left, go right
Do I stay, do I fight
Who’s my brother, who’s my mother
Who’s my wife, and who’s my lover
It’s me, or them,
It’s now, or then
Maybe my community,
Or a dangerous lion’s den
Do I tango,
Do I talk
Do I break
Or make a wall
Do I fly
Or do I fall
Left right Left right
Wrong Right Wrong Right
Far right Outta sight
Loose Tight Loose Tight
Left right Left right
Well now I’ve come to the crux of it
I’m going to be a Bodhisattva Brit
All this self, cherishing spin
Explains the state we’re in
Our imperialistic past
Built the wealth of our state
Now we’d better give some back
Before it’s way too late
Sean Hunt June 7 2016
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
Another Me
Today
Is over
Once again
Tomorrow
A new one
Will begin
How many more
I wonder now
Before
The sun is new
And the day
Is different
Maybe
More moons
Maybe less
How many legs
Will I have
A hundred
Ten
Or one
Or none
Which label
Language
Will I learn
How many days more
I wonder
Before
There's
Another me
For me
To be
Sean Hunt June 3rd 2016
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
Every thing you see
With all of your eyes
All of your reality
Is shifting
Like the sand
And the sea
Do not cry
Or wonder why
Accept this truth
Like a lover
In your youth
Drink deep
With all your senses
Taste
Embrace
This wisdom consort
Of yours
She will take you
To a place
Of bliss and grace
Far away
From the human race
Sean Hunt May 14 2016
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 5:12 AM UTC