also for viewing

check out my video haikus
and slideshow videos on youtube at "junahsowojayboda"

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Your life as the answer (part 3 of 6)

Part 3

We are all party

to a 24/7-workout gymnasium
of conventional and sometimes

unconscious habits

in the exercise

of replicative manners.
We tend to repeat
until it is ingrained

and unconscious

as part of our lives.
We are rarely

the tea ceremony

of every second

shared with each other
that does not then fall prey

to the phenomenology

of an event status
as our experience

would account for it
and thereby dismissible

from the cynical choir within.

Every second has a new voice

but the lyrics of familiarity

leads to a chorus

unconsciously sung.

Luckily melody has soul

and rhythm has heart

and we are all destinies

of song writers

to sing our own works

until the spirit rises

from the chamber of within.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Your life as the answer (part 2 of 6)

Part 2 of 6

We have many methods

that we use extensively

and they dysfunctionally

affect us on a personal basis.
Judgment is a technique

of isolation.
Observation is a technique

of distancing.
Understanding of itself

offers paths of denial

and limitation

as impotent best regards.
Actions are emissaries.
They may carry the spirit

or the denial of spirit
as the backdrop

to the apparent message.
For whatever your concerns,

the circumstances

that you find yourself in
are the mediums

of this human transformation

of consciousness.
It is leaderless

and it is everyone.
Everyone’s actions

discreetly speak for

the state of the whole.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Your life as the answer (part 1 of 6)

Part 1

Your life as the answer
goes out from you
every nanosecond of your

apparently mortal existence.
The quality of your thoughts,

the state

of your emotional well being,
your physical vessel

of transition as well,
are all part

of the manifestation

and account of life

as we all live it.
You are real to some,

symbolic to others,

and yet remain

part of the whole.
You vote with your breath

and you consciousness.
The election only lasts

the length

of the intentional time

of the voting
and then begins anew

again and repeatedly anew.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

The door opens (haiku)

the door opens wide

revealing hinges as smiles

with wood screws as teeth

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The only permission is being

Go ahead . . . be somebody.

Make the most of what you have.

Be the best you can be.

You have a lot of potential,

do something with it.

The contract of permission

does not exist.

There is no relative context,

no dare, no death threat,

no deeds to repay,

no parental expectations,

no grand crusade,

no right time in your life,

no golden opportunity,

no perfect moment,

no survival of the fittest,

no for the sake of others,

no demand of duty,

no opportunity to make a bundle,

no there for the taking,

no for the love of,

and no

there was nothing else to do.

This means that there is

no intervention for permission.

This contract of permission

does not exist.

This permission is a state of being.

It is not contextualized.

It is non-performing.

If it is realized,

it is incidental.

It is not a moment

in conjunction with

any other moment.

It is timeless without consideration.

It is non-addressable.

The only permission is being.

As a statement,

this is non-descriptive.

The only permission is being.

As a concept,

this exists as a conundrum,

an enigma

of experience itself . . .

The only permission is being.

Sunday, July 25, 2010



makes us

full-time custodians

of lives

harvested for memories

that feed us futures

where we settle for less

as a person

as a people

and as a communion

of spirit.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Details attention (haiku)

Detail attention

a sense of scale and focus

stringing thoughts as beads

Friday, July 23, 2010

Why wake up

Imagine if the feeling

in each of us

was to be

of the same shared lungs.

In a bizzare other realm

Siamese fashion

yet split by apparent locations

each to our own

for personally experienced


while every inhale

was a consummately shared


into these same

etheric communal lungs.

Such an expanse

of emotional space

convening as one.

Coming together each inhale

from this simultaneous surge.

The eventual closeness

of that in breath pause.

Proximity fitting us together

where breath molecules

with emotionally spun cores

are as a giant breathing school

in an awe ocean of aware awash.

Each of us

from that one pair of lungs.

Diverted with separate lips

giving appearances

of misdirection

yet serenaded

by the body heat

providing a soma

physical closeness.

We appear to be standing apart

but adding

to the collective sound,

like a distant surround of hum.

So many warm hands ignited

holding hearts . . .

why wake up?

Breathing on . . .

Thursday, July 22, 2010


pain is messenger

suffering’s celebrities?

are those who listen

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

I would not say

At this experiential outset

I find in myself

a full steadiness,

comfortably honed

with full attention.

There is a quiet consuming focus

in a relaxed and attentive silence

yet really active

but not distractive within,

like rowing a canoe

with a simple gaze on the water

and a body feel working the oars,

not looking up, consumed

in a motion and the rhythm feel.

Yet somewhere in the distance,

a slight compromise of attention,

enough to be slightly recruited

to curiously track what that is.

Sound that demands

more attention

to comprehend exactly what it is.

And slowly

my deliberate introspection

shifts in its ongoing manner.

There is tone and cadence,

I hear it as a voice.

It does not sense me.

Of course,

I am inwardly saying this

while this voice,

much clearer now

conversing in full sentences.

I know the language,

understand the words.

It is meaningful

like a conversation

at a next table.

It floods other levels

of my person,

alerting me

in unexpected ways.

The voice is almost familiar.

I am now flush

with expectation.

Impending surprise

is forth coming.

But an unexpected trapdoor

opens to my certitude

of expectations.

Boom, that voice, is mine!

It is coming out of me!

I am peculiarly overwhelmed

yet a stealth approaching.

I am incredulously

in the same body,

behind a voice

speaking as me.

By slippery nano-seconds

of flurry,

I was able to blend back

into my same voiced

person’s delivery.

But I did it

as if script reading

without interruption

of deliverance.

Inwardly startled,

tickled, and flushed

but steadied

into a calm projection

as if continuing to speak

but from deeper inside me.

Shocked but reconnected

to the say.

It was bizarre inside

of commonplace.

I continued

in a multi-task way,


none the inwardly wiser.

I could answer

further questions

but none were needed.

It was like waking up

with no frame

in mid-sentence delivery.

There was a momentum

of speech

I pretended to own

as my own words.

No one questioned my say.

I let myself back in

but surely wondered

on what I just recently said.

I would not say

I was not saying

what I was

but what can I say?

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

cause-worthy Olympics (haiku)

a featured event

in cause-worthy Olympics

clean up the planet

please note:
this haiku as well as many others
are featured on my new youtube site
as video haiku with audio also.
check it out under junah sowojay boda.
feedback appreciated . . .

Monday, July 19, 2010

I am not the opiate

I am not the opiate

of myself

I need to be.

I am not an extract

from the rainforest

of my origin.

I am not enough

just to know this.

I do not want

a prescription,

a patch,

or a syringe for it.

Where is

the electrical switchbox

of it within me?

Autopilot seems

to intervene.

Nostalgia is

only a haunting.


I can only repeat my lines.

I am not the opiate

of myself . . .

I need to be . . .

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Bygones (haiku)

The life of bygones

is just helium balloons

already partied

Saturday, July 17, 2010

other than familiarity

other than familiarity,

a constancy

without determination,

an outpouring

without intention,

an expansion

without inclusion,

an awareness

without particulars,

a means without focus,

a method without application,

instructions without meaning,

a calling without direction,

emotion without affirmation,

cognition without conclusion,

rhythmic breathing

as pageantry,

movement as celebration,

silence absorbing sound,

birth and death

as the eternal flame,

an ocean-essence

without boundaries,

the cycle of life as spiral,

the spiral of life

as the turn,

the turn of life

as the embrace,

the embrace of life


and all is . . .

also our residence,

other than familiarity . . .

Friday, July 16, 2010

The news (haiku)

"the news" has become

a bystander's existence

listen up, feel down

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The rise and fall of character

I have spent my life

in a model of appraisal

with adjustments, corrections,

and refinements

all for the sake of character.

There is a cognitive place

within each of us

that does that work for us.

It does that work

for each of us

at being a kind person,

being a sincere person,

being a caring

and a concerned person.

All that effort

worked perfectly well

in innocence . . .

but then

life came to forks in the road.

There were conflicts

and contradictions galore.

There came complexities

that were hardly comprehensible

and yet part of life,

part of the enormous duplicities

of consciousness in living.

These experiences spread us

in all directions.

We got into ‘mis’ and ‘dis’ information,

into agendas and motives,

into control and ownership positions,

into relationships and postured priorities.

The simple beauty of character

instilled to be the directive perspective

across these perilous circumstances

was to be uniformly apply.

The reference was to having ‘character’,

somehow a method to being

but . . . not really being.

Much more than that,

it became the management

of a projection,

both outwardly as well as inward,

a proof of worth,

a documentation of self . . . justified.

There is a calm and peace

to being the caretaker

of the mansion of being.

It is an exercise

as a life process

and ever so slowly

one becomes that mentality.

The joy of job pervades

from chaperone to chauffer

from caterer to chief.

One is the master

of one’s self-sense

and by the eventuality that comes,

nobody cares for the projection,

everybody always wanted the juice.

This method provided for a life

but not for a means of living it alive.

The joy of being

is somehow buried away.

The essence of flame,

though still a flicker,

has little candlepower

to reveal the inner light.

Only in the last hours

before death

does that light return with clarity

and yet not fully bright.

That the character of the person

gives way to an integrity of spirit,

provides for the possibility

that the child of innocence

may fully reappear

though weathered and battered

with life lessons

as part of the display.

But there . . .

both before and beyond

as in the rise and fall of character

belies the precision of spirit.

No matter the form,

not really the labor of death

but the light of the life,

under a perpetual guardianship

despite the mentality

and projection of character.

It is as if we all are each

a metaphorical tray

upon which there is placed

a chalice of person

and within that chalice

is our nectar of being,

filled to the brim with being.

Our life becomes

the waiter of deliverance

that tray, as the concern

for that chalice,

all seems to demand management.

Its precious nectar of self

under some sense of guardianship.

Yet to be the trust of a life

in the endless supply of nectar.

For us to share . . .

to give up sips along the way,

to realize the ocean within

that eventually gives of us

as a final toast.

“To the rise and fall of character

as necessity . . . as purposeful,

as our self in a constant life

of spiritual reclaim”.

Yet here we are quite privately

with another toast

only to be unsaid,

only in every moment

so secretly so,

“until the ocean is our chalice

upon which we sip

of our innocence complete . . .