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R Moon Winkelman May 2010
Look in the keyhole
see into infinity
climb through
back where I started
turn around
look in the keyhole
see into infinity
climb through
back where I started
turn around
realize the door is standing in the middle of infinity
I put it there on some drunken night
thinking I was clever in my devising
never realizing I would trick myself with it too
kick the door down
and turn it into a flying carpet
a person can travel forever here
I see others at their own doors
seems my little game wasn't original after all
that's ok
I see others on their carpets
and wave hello
I see rockets and planes and balloons
There is a buddha hovering over a planet there
at peace, in zenful meditation
she is beautiful.
what wonders to discover
what glorious souls to meet
we are all family
we all know each others names and faces
before our first meetings and introductions
Saw a friend knock down her door
and fly away with wings, rapture on her face
I wept for joy to see her go
knowing our foreheads will touch again when it is time
and the stories she will tell!
Oh the stories!
All of these tales from divine lips
weaving into the fabric of the infinite
weaving us together as a whole
We Are - I Am
We Are One
Each experience becomes a story
Each life is an epic journey
retold with the tongues of cosmic bards
the words resonate in swirls and patterns
making sacred geometry with the stars
I see, I see, I see
there is so much to take in
and so much to give back
dancing with the bear and the wolf
the eagle and the raven cry out above our heads
reminding me of the regal heritage which death wears on it's crown.
Supping at a feast of the gods, Inanna on one side, Ganesh leaning on my shoulder
they laugh and cry and tell cheesy jokes like the rest of us
when we aren't looking
we are in the infinite, there is no rush
for there is no time - it's all Now
RMRW 06
G J O'Brien Aug 2019
Personal development and good habits are really the only true path to happiness, envision your full potential and greatest self, discover new limits, and know no boundaries, curiosity and experience comes in abundance, explore ones wholeness. Be zenful, paint your aurora with the emotions of acceptance and gratitude. Open your spectrum of anticipation, widen your view of the mind. Develop a habit of healing the restlessness. Feeding it calmly with thought.
Ken Pepiton May 2020
To all dispairing of the future:
Fret not.
No lie, I lived the full average, mediocre mortal span;
and I have learned more than most,
in terms of starting from flat scratch.

This is a brief autobio to see if there is an autopoet
me, who may tame the beast,
before we are forced to take its *******
being gone, as a given,
ere we chase off on our own to catch the glimpse again,
pursuing haps of enlightening worth,
it must needs be an ox
for a true zenful experience... the option,
a full rut bull,
at first glimpse, who could know, is it
bull
or ox?
{see his mind wandered, a meander at the edge of any gulley,
looses little flecks of common truth we notice, you may
miss. Not intentional,
a man's treasure is where his heart/mind is balanced toward
goodness sakes alive,}
I never seen the like...

The bullriders in my past, all first rode sheep.
Beguiling creatures,
especially the little lambs from 4-H.

sappy provencal call me all the hicky names you know,
but I say true,
according to Ancestory.com, my line
was never civilised...

so call me stupid, as you wish... we
was never civilised... kind and helpful strangers, at best.

The kind of people who came to America to be true.
No other reason nor intention.

It was ten, tied to the mast, or one and run to the jungle,
so we run, son, so we run

run past the contender temptation,
run past the life of a rockstar on tv,
run past pickin' grapes as scabs on historic times...

Starting over and over and over again, in

interesting times, historic times, may you live on and know,
these are those.

And there remains, as long as you function in full double sapience,
time to start all over.

Imagine that. Speed of thought, weighing each ought for significant
power to frame evil into engines of provacative

encouragement.
Known magic spells loosed in silent songs, sung to the tune
of the assembly line,
or the helicopter encompassing my viable space,

at the time, a certainty appeared and dared me see, the worst
possible
place, imaginable and it took no time at all.

Actual worthlessness is as unthinkable as nothing, itself.
Sophists of no evil intent,
serve us well, life goes on, starting, after sudden stops,
if possible at all,
is possible to do with more sense of the blue marble being

only a tic of a historical cultural clock from any point
where ever began in the past,

a tic ago, we saw earth, from the moon, with trusted augmented eyes.
Who imagined these eyes we have,

we earthling intelligences, we thought experi-mentalists,
generally as intelligent as any mortal before us.

So, 2020 kicked ye in the buts, but but but button, button,
who has
got the button?

All life requires of you is that you honestly, honed and sharp,
slice it thin enough to see through,

one side, soul, one side, spirit. Clap that hand, bro

and agree the nobelest quest in life is happiness, as imagined

in times of chaotic order rebalancing at the next level of complexity

-- some young folks continue to study war
-- that is not as wise as once tradition claimed, great worth
-- is waisted in fitting glory on war,
-- as vain as fitting a proverb in the mouth of a fool.

So, as I was intending to do, I have done.
Is there more I can do?

I may remind you, I do not boast of knowing been-there-done-that,
as a believable state in which to play this game.
But I do know it.
-- I live in a beautiful world every time i check, the shadow
of a neighborhood raven just now cooled my toes.
Start. from any stop state,
think
I can not lie. I think. I can. Reapeat as needed for fifty years.
Lemonade, persuaded, tasted,
ah, not impossible to eat, very sweet,
would you wear a tie again for sugar?

learn the lie told true through
plastic teeth in my dotage, donchaknow, we learned some things
the hardway, but did them easily ever after.

Go find the essence of the society of the free and easy,
then join, the right
of passage is pouring peace into the pool,
trouble the water and listen,

I believe I once was worth dying for, in a story I told.
Each time, I am finding, scientifical magi-techknackical,
augmentalated me, the made up mind, integrated,
I am thinking
I am thinking.
This is good. This works.
- it goes around, and comes around
wait,
suf suf ficientcy of evil is just enough,
knowing is a connection to truth,
knowing evil is
not the push
against your shove, or the pull on your tug of war,

proud knowers rise and come to heads,
like pimples destined to defile a mirror in those years of
Anxious, 'twixt twelve and twenty-seven or so,
to be safe... when patience first ****** you off and rebel
autopoet mode kicks in a
rush to finish
urging understood shelters to form
paths through the meatmind's frontal corext
before she gets pregnant and he goes to war, in shame.

But, even after that, if I were you, I would be happy.
Far happier than any imagined hell,
formed from bigscreen
ludological plots lacking the mortality sense real war has.

War is not needed in times of peace and common sense.
These interesting times,
consider, the actual minds who intended to imagine
a benign means of publishing truth,

Turing and Feynman and Chomsky 'n'em,

those guys made their disciples believe, this "global-brain",

serves mankind, all varieties and flavors...
therefore,

they built it to survive thermo-nuclear war.

With a we-bit of faith, any sane-hope can begin to be
re
alized, and seemingly suddenly, after fifty years,
and 68 different pay-masters, reboot
seems common as any
starting from scratch after losing every thing,
as if this
is the price my kind pay to keep from fretting about
civilization defiling the earth, i.e,

to keep from fretting that it is my fault
and my response
ought to be FUD

or fuggitit. Nay

I sigh, and say breath is our common function,
breathing is my job.
Resting in peace before its too late.

Ready reader and dear writer converge to make

sense of a reason, over looked, until the observers toes touch
the brink,

I can't go on, look up, I can't fly. Look, raven thought thought

there, a ledge, a trail, imagine that... magic as if
life could call you on an adventure,
and you know
you can
survive 2020 and beyond.
So much will never be the same. Life is like that from one generation to the next, some timeses several times
Bluejay Mar 2018
***, I'll never forget
you.

You made the mistake
of
fixing my heart
just to break it
again.

Then your ghost
somehow
made it into my
soul.

and goodbye became the
last
straw. While the memories

magically morphed into
daggers
soaked in a poison
called

L O V E
Laura Gallagher Feb 2019
Where there is a will there's a way,
That's what I always say,
Hope is a four letter word,
For a story that has never been told,
Time is of the essence,
Taken forgranted yet shines its fluoresence,
Digital fairytales seem the norm,
Forgotten are memories so free and warm,
Busy bee is searching for connection,
Smelling the roses, she expresses affection,
Mourning the sight of passers by,
Lonely stressed and ever so shy,
Bewildered and in a daze,
These people are lost in a maze,
A zenful flower is not the ideal,
For a world that is told how to feel,
Hope is a four letter word,
That whispers "where there's a will there is a way"

— The End —