also for viewing

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

Thursday, May 31, 2012

I am gone * 5/31/12

I am gone from here completely

but for what is left that remains.

And I would gladly

and freely give all that away.

For what had become of me

is of no real measure,

for what it is of now

that lives through me,

and leaves no benchmark stains

in its method of departing.

I used to live like an alcoholic,

but, for me, it was

only between the post-swallow

and pre-physical-surge stage.

Now I have no obvious addiction

like that to claim.

Sure my favorite food for the soul

maybe a tear filled sponge

to wring in this moment.

My favorite organ's function

maybe vampire bats in my lungs,

flying the air flow

in shadow's permission

to live out the night's instincts

as sleep that never satisfies

and awake-ness that never replies.

I leave a trail of dander

as disrobing tissue

then on to the deep hollow

of my bones.

I use my belt as a hangman's rope

around my waist

for death to be politely slow.

I fully breathe

to intimidate the inevitable

as any action

is smiting death's smile

by staring back.

I can sigh ironic laughter

and plead with reason's deliverance

but all sensibilities are inflatables,

buoyant on the sea

of misery's made

as motion sickness.

Oh someone with a lit candle of spirit

will turn this way

and I will thrive on how their flame

warms their very being.

This gift of witness

provides me untold nourishment

of the kind that neither strengthens

or weakens me straightaway.

Just that embrace of itself,

as best as can be had

will feed me invisibly.

I plead to be with all beings

through their circumstance

yet no storied account

in which to cast remarks,

no lingering in which to stabilize

what could become of memory,

just a procession of moments

that glow their light in passing

and take their spirit evocatively forward

through the brokenness

of their cavernous expectations . . .

as joyless joy comes through

as what is momentously empty

it seems,

becomes the whole of me

and I, am gone . . .

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Answers (haiku) * 5/30/12

so while you’re alive

focus as if for answers

but don’t live by them

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

time is a way to dress * 5/29/5

Give me your ‘now’ look,

without the cosmetics overlay

of time.

Put on some ‘occasion’ wardrobe

to give me a sense of purpose

and a definite orientation

for what to wear

as a perfumed mind into the future.

Let this be an ‘instance’ sip

in a soup kitchen of candid views

as if by taking this moment,

we, you and I,

have a shared sense of embrace.

You, otherwise,

have the look of an era

until our eyes do meet.

This may seem like only a minute

of true face to face,

but in that instant,

of eyes into eyes,

we may escape from being in time.

We may have only a few seconds

of this timeless feeling still left.

And then, in a flash

we are here, once again,

time burdened, as in a phase.

I pray for this jiffy, once again,

of timeless interaction.

I would be so pleased

with even just a flash,

just the slightest glimmer

would serve my spirit well.

I want to escape this periodicity,

as if it were made

from tentatives of mood

as passing dark clouds,

thick with conjecture

and forever overlapping.

But in my heart of hearts,

although time is a way of dress

we, in spirit,

we, that is you and I,

eye to eye,

are always totally nude . . .

Monday, May 28, 2012

Immediate needs (haiku) * 5/28/12

immediate needs

billboard before my mind's eye

puts me in motion

Sunday, May 27, 2012

The rosary * 5/27/12

If it is

for one to say the rosary,

that takes a week, a bead,

let it be so by this means.

Five days of full articulation,

then two days

of restive recoil into recovery.

Such is the order necessary

as invocation

towards the next bead,

to grapple with the next interim

of daily repeated particulars

with an inwardly soft presence

but firmly grasped rituals

that provide a carriage of concern,

yet vital whispers of sincerities

in actions of conscious intent,

that treat as sacred, next emotions,

yet speak to find heart amid

the great silence

amid consternations.

This rosary,

bearing souls so privately

while burning paradoxes

of peopled predicaments

before one’s eyes.

This rosary,

is saying it so clearly

until it, this rosary of itself,

the complete thoroughness of it

is saying you,

the bare bones bottomlessness

of life as you.

Until it is pronouncing

all the illogicals,

until it is enunciating

all the preponderances,

all the inconceivables,

all the disquietings,

bound by absurd

reality constructions

that abound,

word after word,

phrase after phrase,

week after week,

as bead after bead.

This rosary,

a ritual of resounding passage

in repetitive responses,

made meaningful,

out of menial and the necessary,

out of unreasonable

and the irrational,

out of awkward

and the perverse,

out of empathy

and the ever concern,

out of soul searching

and the sweet dignity of being.

Beyond the lip service to reality,

this rosary, as it is undertaken,

persists, as each bead,

in and of itself,

becomes the spirit

expressing the being . . .

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Influence (haiku) * 5/26/12

who you are to me?

from the magnitude of you

I learn about me

Friday, May 25, 2012

What is this? * 5/25/12

What is this?

Something above and beyond

everyday thinking?


I wouldn’t think to think?

Not even sure if it makes sense,

but thinking it anyways.

Screw logic!

Where is this coming from?

It’s busy

and I don’t have words yet!

It’s not just meaning.

It’s internally environmental.

There are feelings astir.

My feelings

but I don’t know what?

It’s like playing tag

in the pitch dark.

Some things touch me,

while others brush close by,

and pass without impact directly.

The room size, as a backdrop,

keeps changing

and the room itself

is not stable but moving,

outside of its containment of me.


I’m on a Ferris wheel, in a room,

that is on a barge,

in an ocean, while in a storm . . .


I can’t get a grip

on the atmosphere itself

or the mix of motions.

And that’s not

what is really in my face


This is not an “aha” experience,

because I know what that’s like.

This has some elements of

“I’m loosing it” in it.

I don’t have my personal residence

of self on the inside.

I could easily not remember

any of this

and go into shock

or amnesia afterwards.

Are you with me?

It’s like someone took

meaningful words

and wrote them

on large pieces of confetti,

that are blowing by me

in slow motion

before my eyes

and I get meaningful impact

from each word by flutter

or by whoosh,

but it makes no sense.

I am emotionally swept up

and heightened by it

but I have no clue as to what?

Part of me likes it,

really likes this

and part of me

is really not happy about this

and pounding on the door

trying to get my full attention.

Like “snap out of this!

Do something!”

But I don’t wonderstruck want to.

Regular meaning

gets me nowhere.

Really, I’m just holding postures

with that poser stuff.

I’m in check

and then recheck.

At least with this

there is some free fall

and possibly expansive delight

in a clueless way!

Hey, nobody knows.

This is all happening inside me.

I feel emptier

but more expanded,

with less identifying grip

and stupidly,

more love….

Yes, this is the closest

I’ve been to love, self love,

in a long time!


I have no identity here

but I feel like more of myself.

I don’t know how to say that,

but that’s what I feel like.

And I would love to reach out

and touch someone from here,

like with a magic dimension.

And have them turn

and realize the same.


realize the same . . .

What is this?

Thursday, May 24, 2012

intimacy (haiku) * 5/24/12

loving in gestures

seems so worth while as giving

shared intimacy

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Dance in the all * 5/23/12

You relate to me

as entertainment.

You view me with eyes

from audience distance,

as if I were separate from you,

from your immediate thoughts

and your current feelings.

Your experience of me

is a signature of dismissal

or at least compartmentalization.

Every time like this,

in almost every sensory way,

you exhaust yourself

in denials of our oneness.

You use the cleaver of time

to divide and separate us

as if it were a vast chasm

that occupies this space

as a dissection, as it were,

to formulate these stories

about us as separate

and thus as such remembered.

But I, rather we,

that is you and

your version of me,

are not separate.

And we have no memories

to use to separate us

from how we are in the now.

We are confluent as ever

in the dance.

You make decisions

as if they were rituals

that create your life

but they hold you

in preoccupation from me.

Only in our eyes and hearts,

there is no mass of distance

existing between us.

There is no space

that separates as an us.

We are of one quantum organism,

undivided as the universe.

But you,

as an oppressive consciousness

withhold with isolative methods

unto your self and your own,

as you claim them to be,

and thus become the passivity

of your aloneness.

These positions

may call you out

by they are a defilement

from the greater cause

of oneness.

You are an entrancement

but slowed to embrace.

You are an emergence

but vacantly so,

only to implore symbols

instead of your sentience.

There is a quantum of us

as you leave the use of words

to be and disrobe

from the definitional mind

to further be,

your mind, by its usages

as its habitual self signature

is also left behind,

in a never-the-mind manner.

We are the ocean of connectivity.

Even our concept of “nothing”,

as previously referred to,

is also sacred there,

for there is no act,

there is no audience,

there is no objectivity,

to claim nothing

as anything else.

The energy dances

but has no substance

of moving parts

to be in experience

or audience there of.

We are of everything,

given up to “nothing”,

yet dance in the all . . .

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

You do (haiku) * 5/22/12

so what makes you laugh?

damn if I know what that is

but I’m glad you do

Monday, May 21, 2012

Pass through me * 5/21/12

Intention is the armament

of our shared presence.

Offer me the tea ceremony

of your being

without the possibility

of separation from each other.

Brandish the what of you

that is humbly so,

true of you and from you

from beyond

your presence of innocence.

I inescapably am taken up

by that cause of yours

as the signature of two souls

from the same ink of oneness

as the source.

You go forth

acknowledged in my cells

as I go forth

within your expanded means.

This linkage rigorously lives

as a quantum oneness.

In the darkness

of my separate self,

I cannot tell you

how this is so.

But from where it is hurled,

from within you,

I feel it pass into me

uplifting and through.

And I have no resistance

from within.

This linkage between us

is now this ever-expanding web

of conscious connectivity

as our embrace

is this in oneness . . .

Sunday, May 20, 2012

haunting (haiku) 5/20/12

so much of my life

is losing all my best friends

death is so haunting

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Beckoned by * 5/19/12

Beckoned by what can’t be so.

I can’t straightforwardly tell you.

I can’t cover my mouth

and tell you with just my eyes.

I can’t write it down

in scribbled notes passed your way.

I can’t leave it

as blood smeared script

on the daily dry wall

where you stare into space.

I can’t live a life

of pure dedication

to this cause

for you to admire.

Nothing of it would come across

as something you would recognize.

It doesn’t easily translate

from something else that it is.

You can’t overhear it

being said to another.

There is nothing personal

intended by its vacancy from you.

And it is not just you, for sure.

It is all of us.

We are all beckoned

by what can’t be so.

We can’t think it clearly.

We can’t compare notes

to somehow collectively identify.

But we are all part of it

and at worst, it is haunting us.

At present, it is more inviting

but not wholly admitted to

or consciously our wanton claim.

But it is coming

or rather we are going to it.

Not that it is an “it”.

It is more than just disrobing

from our absence from it

and therefore becoming more of it.

But I cannot say what it is.

Language takes me away from it.

Thoughts about it, are desperate

but also distant from it.

In fact, there is no it!

There is no entry, by a claim of it.

It cannot be possessed

by ownership or the like.

We actually have to give up on it,

well the “it-ness” of it.

For there is no separation possible.

It can’t be quantified like that.

It is quantum,

and we are it, but unrealized,

and without means of passage

without a shift of consciousness.

All of our referentials,

all of our recognition means,

only fight against it.

We actually fight with

and within ourselves

not to get it but to be it,

to be of it.

We want to not be stayed

by self-conscious means,

but to diversely channel

this oneness

towards a confluence of being,

towards a conscious diversity

that infers by expression

a oneness

as our soulful conscious means,

to be beckoned

by what can’t be so . . .

Friday, May 18, 2012

hard distinctions (haiku) 5/18/12

spirit to spirit

between living or dying

no hard distinctions

Thursday, May 17, 2012

get off * 5/17/12

I have to get off

on wherever I am.

No, not to get small

to appear to myself

that I am still getting off.

No, I have to stay expanded,

not reduced to a relative sense

and yet get off inwardly

on whatever appears

to be going on,

get off on whatever

the storyline says

is apparently going on,

no matter

about the numbers of people

who hold this to be so,

even if they are in my face

with their declaration

or drama about it.

In spite of the outward mandate,

I need to get off

on finding an inner way

to be present in the flow

and stay expanded

while honoring

all the props and rituals

that others hold as relevant,

even though they may be attached

to the forms

and may defend the memories

and the stories.

My self-generative energy

must keep coming through,

filling their fill

and going beyond,

as if everything around me

is a doorway to the same expanse.

And once that expanse is entered,

there is no more scarcity,

there are no more reasons

for possessions,

no more false causal-ness.

There are no more nor less

places of sacredness.

The lantern of light

is everywhere available

and every thing of frame

is of itself that light.

And life, as experience,

is honoring and celebration

without fanfare

or external acknowledgment,

without a two part involvement

of awareness and response.

Every all is the expression of light,

weaving time into a memorization,

the likes of Aurora Borealis,

with every sensory input

non-distractively alluring

yet simultaneously beaming forth.

The weave of subtle embrace,

is beyond and within.

Every form is forth coming,

no seams,

no edges,

no need for depiction or discernment.

Only always is every time,

as if there were time,

as if there were matter

that meant something,

other than the all of awe

as passage . . .