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Monday, August 31, 2009

Soothe my longing heart (re-post)

is this some trick of the mind?

is there a hammock or a trampoline

made exclusively of inner dialogue?

am I in a self-talk conversation

on an elevator going up or down

within a quivering building

in a massive earthquake

on a trembling piece of land ?

have the earth’s poles

radically shifted

and a tsunami is about in passing?

or are we just out of orbit-sync

with the moon?

I am in search

of an ultimate disclaimer

in a proper personalized scale

something of substance

to hold the hand of my mind

and to soothe my longing heart

that is in audience

awaiting in the sway

no swoon will eventually come

to soothe this form of longing

yet only by letting go

can my being . . .

be heartfelt and clear

Early morning mindlessness

all forms of references

are also subtle forms of idolatry

small pleadings away from oneness

how can I hear myself say this

and not be in the self of denial?

reality is in all ways

a Judas away from action

this faith in accountability

is not a defendable style

it has no posture for regroup

it cannot leave home

without itself in hand

it asserts tenants as positions

it can only work for confirmation

it cannot exude itself

it is indifferent with claims of the mind

not by emanation but by eloquence

the mind may come to here to drink

but not to cleanse and bathe

nor to take from beyond

its ability to claim and confine

every early morning mindlessness

appears but only as a mist

of mysterious and gone

Sunday, August 30, 2009

you cannot say (re-post)

you cannot say

what has to be felt first

words, they come like ushers

after the event

to clean up, to escort

to appraise, to appease

there is no medium of earth

not saturated

with human’s feelings

even the lava

is quickly taken

for human cause

if I find

any two surfaces touching

they are speaking about us

by grind, by shriek

by hum, by noise

there is no wait involved

but constant is

as shape shifters allow

recognition is

on the other hand

over brow

loving as an antidote

as a portrayal

as an accomplice

or as an anecdote

is lost in translation

from you to me

or me to you

we are not cuttings

seeking existence

we are seed and soil

seeking to express light

as reflected through us

we are each

some of ground

some of kernel

across the fertileness

we these beings

you have left breath

in the megaphone

after the sound has passed

that which is done

with carelessness and abandon

leaves the crumbs

of in-breath essence

beyond the cause or carriage

I know of them in the well

and know of them in passing

they are the applause

of the journey undisclosed

they are the essential-ease

yet unrevealed

to the untrained sense

of passage

your silence s

peaks volumes

but cannot conceal

the fragrance of you

I am an array

in collective embrace

to your sky

small deaths come and go

with each breath

my violin

away from your touch

plays faintly

my song

is your lyrics codified

sung from deep within


with muted but crisp refrains

is bellowed

beneath and blinded bygones

yet sung beyond the appearance

of this solitude

you have an ear for it

where we are the acoustics

of what plays as us . . .

you cannot say

If I could

if I could

tell you about the future

I would . . . but I can’t

but if I could

tell you about the future

I wouldn’t

because telling you now

would alter the future

actually you would

alter that future

based on what you were told

so much so

that what I told you

either would be wrong

at that point in time

or not apply

because in a deeper way

all things

would have been altered

and even the situation

might not appear or resemble

what it might have been

and we would be no wiser

what you would bring

to that future

would not make it predictable

for then

it is a false assumption to say

predicting the future

would be a good thing

but not because

of what it would represent

but because

by our current standards

how we build towards futures

is filled with eventfulness

which disclaims us

from intentionally creating it

we literally

come from different places

in our persons

to claim eventful futures

and thus

for those supposed claims

only the symbology appears

which allows us that illusion

of what would

have really happened

or what is happening

as going and ongoing

are quite different and unique

each in their own unfolding

we can all predict the future

in a futile way

but for us to live it alive

is something quite different

in resourcefulness

manifest and deed

to the degree

hat we think in and function

like we are solids

in a solid’s world

is much like our limitation

to predict into the future

because by that way

we think and function

we claim

that we go to the future

or it comes to us

neither is essentially true

but there is great consensus

and convention towards that

as fact

when really

the future is always right here

immediately right here

before us

we could easily live into

and predict the future

by doing so

by being right here

right now

but not easily

by the methods

we pride our self-sense upon

we would have to

leave the predicament of time

and somewhat

the limitation of space

to face the future

in a fuller way

than as our current perceptions

translate into

our current recognitions

recorded into

our current experiences

all of which

really encodes and decodes

what was/is real into the claim

of and for the future

for we basically

have trained ourselves

into a 24/7 style

of perceptual distractedness

that that then

meaning the future

is translated

into a symbolic reductionism

and then past the time

immersed in retaining that then

ignoring a now which features

a very different presence

coming into being

so if I could

I would

but I can’t

and I won’t

and really . . .

neither would you . . .

Saturday, August 29, 2009

we all (re-post)

we all keep in reserve

what we are born

to give away

we all deny

the confluent truth

in order to have positions

which occupy

we all proclaim ownership

as a breakdown away

from sharing the light

we all can profit

from what we claim

as lost in flight

we all have

that ‘we’ in mind

as for some potential

towards inspiration

and we all abide

at certain private levels

to transform into

the one

as the only destination



emotional immersion comes

from beyond naming

and subsequently meaning

awareness of this

provides a permission

where believing is doing

trust is the action of being

Friday, August 28, 2009

Compassion (re-post)


in its truest essential form is senseless.

it is not even logical or rational

nor is it contractual by its nature.

compassion is not a psychology

nor an ideology or a religious tenet.

compassion is a subtle physics of being.

compassion has no goal.

all of true compassion is celebrative in nature

as it celebrates oneness realized

beyond the limitations of our experience styles.

compassion in its means, is conveyed

inside of many constructive forms of content.

it is not limited by gestures or postures or outcomes

for its surrender to a greater whole.

compassion exceeds the expectation

and debunks the positions of withheld-ness

as compassion is creatively simultaneous

with all that is as a given

for it expresses the whole

from within the whole.

compassion is beyond empathy,

beyond sympathy, beyond reflection,

beyond cathartic recall.

formalities aside, compassion is as a constant.

true compassion is non-eventful

and yet, invites one home from within

and then is uneventfully shared.

compassion is breath by breath

beyond those limitations of sharing

for it has no real dignity in acknowledgment

as its life is beyond comparative truth

as its means.

compassion exudes as a human given . . .

looking for that light of day from within

for compassion has neither past nor future.

compassion is the banquet of now

in which you are the feast

freely given forth

for the awakening of the feast in others

as the same

and yet expanding . . .

One solution in mind

sometimes I experience reality

as looking through

imaginary fishbowls

in front of my eyes

kind of like floaters

on the lens of my eyes

but larger images

yet still imaginary

it is not so much their color or shape

that is anchoring me in a new way

but just their visual presence

as it reflects for me what is real

sure I know

they are not real in the world

but they provide for me

a perspective about what is real

as to how the depth of what is real

is shared or not

these are floating Post-Its

to remind me of the difference

between what is real

and where real come from

these fishbowls live in a world

where real comes from

but are not of the real

in the world

where reality flat-screens me

too easily

and these fish remind me

of the fluid they are in

which further reminds me

of the depth of field

where reality comes from

as opposed to

what reality symbolically represents

when I put it all together

it is all magically unfolding

as the source of the magic

is serene and peaceful

yet not static or still

for sure there is stillness

if I am there to surmise it

but to be of it

and live it alive

is not still

but fluid without evidence

that is active without content

it can be assumed to be imaginary

but somehow experienced as real

so as the fish swim by

and I see you there also

but you are sort of over there

and also here

as the fish swim around

and by you

it then appears to me

that we are here

yet you are also

still appearing to be over there

which tells me of a bigger intimacy

even though

there is always “over there”

in a real sense

I have nothing more to say about it

since you’re here as we’re here

while we are here and there to me

now you are part

of my fluid Post-Its world

and you remind me of a greater us

an emotional oneness of us

and nothing

is subjectively personal about it

as it just is

and there is nothing to do

to advance or confirm

what already is

there is no contention

it just is . . .

the planet has oceans

and my ‘we’ has fishbowls!

As at least one of us

being either you and me

or otherwise the ocean of us

is empathetically so

for we are something more

than a unified confinement

we are also this ocean

yet to be fully discovered

we are more

than a formula of audience

as participation

we are a oneness

but persist to swim

with reality fins

we identify as fish

and confine ourselves

to separate bowls

yet we are all the same fluid

but go for the glass

as the basis of our identity

I am supposed to proceed in reality

by my un-nameable bowl identity

even though my bowl is submerged

in a collective ocean

filled with a multitude

of separated bowls

in mind

there is only one next solution . . .

pull level

break glass

and oneness to swim . . .