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Saturday, June 30, 2012

curiosity * 6/30/12

Curiosity has play pattern potential.

It respects certain quizzical rules.

It starts very subtly

from a unique place within oneself

more so than does inquiry.

Yet it uses a lot of the basic rules

of play that inquiry ignores.

Curiosity can have whimsy

with no comeuppance of certitude.

It can dally, dawdle and daze.

Inquisitiveness and curiosity

could be blood relatives

but obviously grew up

in different parts of the brain

and subsequently produce

different schools of thought.

Curiosity has a horizon line

that goes out of retention frame.

It needs a certain amount

of personalized scavenger viewing.

Curiosity, would claim of itself

as one of the nine

metamorphosises of catdom!

We should all be that lucky!

Yet, inquiry would ask of curiosity,

how is that so,

without purring as a possibility?

Friday, June 29, 2012

Here then gone (haiku) 6/29/12

so how can it be?

a short time, riddled good-byes

yet nothing completes

Thursday, June 28, 2012

State of mind * 6/27/12

I have no state of mind.

There is no placard of explanation.

I have no still shot to present,

nothing like that

as freely given away.

State of mind is an antiquation.

State of mind lives in the brains

of accusatory types

who seek their day in court

as validation

is their working premise.

State of mind is a miss-belief.

It is the work of a poser person

who thrives on frozen images

as a currency of exchange.

State of mind accepts these poses,

anecdotes, and otherwise evidence

as satisfactory means

for the declaration of living.

I have no state of mind.

I am not a genre of expectancy.

I am only genesis embracing you.

State of mind is never a lap dance,

for it is motionless

seeking stilled distinctions.

Lobotomy will give you brain-state,

but state of mind?

Hey, we are the river of life,

not a life raft floating onward

and you want to document,

state of mind?

It would be a statue,

fast disappearing in the rear view,

a newspaper pleading for sun fade,

what is left of a sneeze

that has landed,

where the image of Christ

had appeared

on a half eaten bagel,

or lastly,

that place in you

that holds you back

and demands that you

justify your life

and document your living!

That’s what you’d get

as a state of mind,

yet vastly disappearing . . .

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Heart matter (haiku) 6/27/12

heart of what matters

seems difficult and easy

both at the same time

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Senses on holiday * 6/26/12

I gave my senses a holiday.

Thus wandered around senselessly,

with feelings that have feelers,

not fingers.

Emotive, on its own,

is roughly a 4-paw harmony.

Sight without focus or frame.

Light was bleeding

from everywhere a forest.

Specifically nowhere to go

yet taken up by sudden exposures.

Gravity had a logic that drooled

and I had this bib on

but I couldn’t comprehend.

Worked with my sense of person,

shuffling a card house

of solitaire self clips

to no avail.

All these many givens,

posing as standup comedians,

do come with a slip of a tongue

and then bygones.

It seems like I am imprisoned

on a float in a slow moving parade,

where I am in a facial stockade

of a permanent paint on smile

and colorful jellybeans

keep popping out of my ass

to the spontaneous delight

of everyone I seem to know

yet as audience in passing.

Couldn’t put 2 and 2.

There was once,

from time to time,

a saliva from thought

as if a muffled pang of hunger

was vaguely overheard,

but then unconsciously swallowed

now lost again into muffledom.

I am a soloist in a choir

incessantly singing

“ninety-nine bottle of beer

on the wall”,

and I can’t remember my cue.

I seem to be holding up menus

I can’t, for the life of me, read

and ordering things

I can’t pronounce

from people who assuringly nod

while confusingly shrug.

This crowded elevator is moving

so pathetically slow,

but I can’t bring myself to ask,

are we going up or down?

Any suggestions,

other then sanity overload,

please come to the mind.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Heartfelt (haiku) * 6/25/12

I know these people

didn't realize the depth of love

heartfelt comes my way

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Coming from asunder * 6/24/12

I have taken you under my wing

as an upturn sky for my flight.

I fly towards a horizon line

of your lips, parting to envelope me.

Kazoos of feelings

give way to harmonicas of spirit

as shared breath continues.

These bodies are sovereignties

of our cellular-bration.

The audience of us

takes up conversation

while soothing liquidity continues.

Smolder and simmer

get up to dance.

They disrobe

from their shadows of passivity

to be in motion,

freely into the light.

Experience is what wallflowers

would do with this.

The surreal disallows that!

Ripples go outward from the source.

Time passes as one hand clapping.

The pleasantries of sweet amnesia

have French-kissed into aliveness.

No one is wearing any meaning.

All that was previously visible,

lives invisibly now

basking in the light of this day . . .

Saturday, June 23, 2012

honesty (haiku) 6/23/12

when honesty comes

as a means of self passage

few words say so much

Friday, June 22, 2012

Attention and attending * 6/22/12

Attention or attending,

which came first?

Is this a chicken-egg conundrum?

Is it that you had to have attention

to see if you were actually attending?

Or, is it that you had to attend

to attention to make sure it was so?

So, without really asking

which is sort of like a self-dare,

how do you come upon this

without really calling

either one of them out?

Where would you go in your person

to secretly sneak back and observe

without either one of them noticing.

Go ahead and try it!

(So if I am attending to my attention,

my attention is on attending.

And if my attention is on attending,

then it takes my attending

to realize the benefits

of attention at work.

But if I don’t have attention

on attending

then the rigor of attending

does not work.)

No matter what, either one

or both, are somehow

standing behind me

real quiet like, trying to help,

not knowing what

slippery slope I am up to

but still handing me bits and pieces

without the slightest

self-conscious clue!

They are like Siamese twins,

conjoined at the mind

and I have no linear clue

as how to

surgically alter their situation.

No matter how small

of an increment of one

I can make clear to myself,

somehow, there is a smaller element

at work in there of the other.

Attention and attending,

they’re quite separate and unique,

but damn if I know

which comes first!

Thursday, June 21, 2012

here we be (haiku) 6/21/12

so how could we be?

happy, sad, it's part of life

steadfast we will be

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

you and I 6/20/12

Where were we then

when we were comparing

our past experiences,

in summaries of

each other's anecdotes?

Simmering towards

unknown romance,

deep within the struggle

to climb through each other

towards the mystery

presumed as self?

Does nostalgia ever transcend

its feet of clay and look up

instead of back?

There we were burning memories

in front of each other's face,

page by page,

to keep the light going,

to keep the reflection aglow,

driving us with charged cameos,

remembered and warmly so.

Would I be lost to myself

for not understanding

all these implications?

Would I be no good for you

if this is how I question now?

Are we both winding down,

tallying dramas against serenities,

blames against injustices?

Have I carried a sacred torch

and you embraced a faceless spirit?

Do I carry your embrace

of a faceless spirit

and do you embrace

my carrying a sacred torch?

From all these metaphors,

are we lessons to expose

and represent to the other,

riddles to be stripped away?

Are we that method of sacred silence

in the other’s presence

that can kibbutz yet reflect forth

energetic truth over time?

Are we monks of invisibility

to each other,

sharing the same

dispositional confinement of space

by combing each other's aura

within the same shared breath?

Are we force fed to the passion

in each other's nature?

Do we hide as being separate

yet mentors to the share of soul?

Did we make rubbings and pressings

of all that we are

to look beyond the evidence

for a faintness of spirit presenting?

Why, to have a mind for it all

and pawn everything

for another empty moment's

shared full embrace?

Seeking source is this painful stand.

There have been flashes and visions

but we honestly stepped over

everything of notice

for this shared empty fullness.

Maybe this all is a slow dance

as the death of disclosure,

a death of all we know

and possibly have cared for,

a death in deed

of purpose and doing,

maybe even a death

for the separateness

of you and I . . .

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

That which shimmers (haiku) * 6/19/12

beyond sensation

a world without audience

emanate the truth

Monday, June 18, 2012

Worthy of inquiry 6/18/12

Is there a short cut to efforting?

Where are there billboards

of only replies?

What is noise

really trying to proselytize?

What if the concept of boundary

is really just a made up rumor?

Is touch, in essence,

subconscious foreplay?

What if "cause and effect" is

only a three dimensional metaphor?

Why is silence used

to chauffer rhythm away

from being one constant sound?

Where is the common backstage

of all smiles?

How does the censor within us

actually turns us away?

Isn't understanding

just a unemotional means

of distancing?

Is there anything

with only redeeming qualities?

Is breathing related

to reasons for living?

Are answers only another method

of interpersonal connection?

Does anyone sleep

with the sameness in every lover?

What stops you

from your knowing more?

What is worthy of inquiry,

and how does meaning

get off this page?

Sunday, June 17, 2012

her sigh (haiku) 6/17/12

the sound of her sigh

leaves a burden on the table

of my hurt feelings

Saturday, June 16, 2012

the feathers of forever 6/16/12

The talons

of inner voiced self criticisms

sit poised on accountability's perch.

Wide eyes connect

with every oncoming

dart directed casting eye,

readiness meets up with

every curious mind's revving.

Personage responds to every frisk

of dialogue for motives.

Yet smoldering lives

behind congeniality's three veil juggle.

For centuries of repetitious banishment

have calloused over our souls.

The inner fire is tended

but the bruising of existence

is a constant cloudbank.

Misery has many campsites

in a wanderer's fix for stability.

In a way, almost any snake in alarm

will stealthily recoil

behind the face it is revealing.

But what is a ‘self’

if in a sea of oneness?

Has each grain of beach sand,

as a solemn oath from the mountain,

respectfully submitted

to the grinding down?

Is the ocean of oneness

that much of a dream

that never ends,

in which each grain is

an intimate morsel of surrender?

Is each grain

becoming the rock once again

but without the claim,

but as a fluid mountain of presence

without the need for form as majesty?

What, is there no need for

solidification's evidential enterprise?

How empty do we have to become,

to give up the rhetoric and posture,

to become a slip of the tongue

as a lifetime,

to be a stillborn twinkle

in someone's eye

and have merited

safe oneness passage?

Where have we signed on

and did not have knowing

do the work?

I want to tell everyone,

we are the conveyor belt

of an illusory self propulsion,

we are the metaphor

of space/time gravy,

poured outwardly as the masses,

we are the dignity

of rigid indifference melting down,

we are the hysteria

of right-answer immediacy

without soul depth’s migratory means,

we are the tauntings from aloneness

hawking an audience of like kind,

we are the rosary beads

who undress

with each prayerful fondling,

we are the life cycle of all skin

with insights beyond our stay,

we are the consumptive passion

that leaves no evidence in its play,

we are the light beings

who travel far by self-inclusion,

we are the invisible flame

without the need for any oxygen,

self-promised our votive rights.

Yet the wee grains

from mountain masses

to the beach do dissolve!

When is dust almost all electrical

and reflect more than

the auric dance of subtlety

rather than the populous of confetti

that celebrates as fanfare in the wind?

For yet still,

in the confluence of oneness,

we are the feathers of forever,

( across the brow of form ) . . .

Friday, June 15, 2012

Her beauty (haiku) * 6/15/12

fear is robbing her

lying, a heartache journey

but I see her soul

Thursday, June 14, 2012

in response to 9-11 6/14/12

in response to 9-11

(more than a decade later)

The gate was opened,

tragically opened

in the cost of human life. I

as Americans,

it gathered our attention

by the use of prominent symbols

we all could related to.

We then were coping

with what appeared surreal,

attempting then to make it real.

It certainly was more real

then television would present.

After all this time

it has come to represent

a beckoning for an ongoing response

as well as a backlash response also.

It was more than a mortified reaction

in what way, even now,

we sort through realized sorrow.

We tend to honor those closest to us,

those of innocence,

the injured and the families

of those who perished.

Surely there is a respect

and an engendered reverence

as well as an acknowledgment

of awareness as ongoing prayer

along with a quickened

attention and alert.

For some now,

their actions of being

are a lesson learned from then

through living forward.

Will the hidden truth actually surface

in our lifetime?

Still hard to attend to

for those who have lost love ones.

There is still a need for resolve

to come forth for everyone

as a livingness from within.

Yes, eventually there will be

some street justice.

Yes there are those

whose strength is to clamor

and for the major news media

to allege and conclude.

It is still not clear what lesson learned?

Maybe at the most important scale

to cherish life as in the sharing of it,

to reclaim our sense of connectedness,

to reach out

for the humanness of others,

in spite of our diverse orientations,

to find the spirit in how

anyone holds themselves,

to seek to connect to spirit

through how everyone looks out

into their world for life's support

in the eventual expressions

of local and global perspectives.

Are not these people, by their acts,

in response to extreme isolation?

Are not all superior positions

under-bellied by causes

of doubt and or greed

as in response to deeply ingrained fear?

For all our socially correct postures

of ingrained omission,

do we not eventually pay a price

for our silence?

If our priorities are towards

safety and comfort,

then have we not sacrificed

opportunities for community,

for collective human endeavors,

for the birthing of common soul?

How much disenfranchisement

needs to be reflected

as outbursts and outcries

in daily mundane ways

for us to realize this deepening pain?

This is the same pain of isolation

that is felt around the world

yet somehow unfamiliar to us.

Everyday more than ten thousand people

die these deaths

though less graphic to us,

less reported as front page to us,

but nonetheless real for humanity.

We are that unrealized pain

and yet that shared suffering.

It is our species, unto itself,

boldly and vulgarly,

on the face of earth itself

acting out the face of its drama.

Our myopia is only and always

a global reflection.

We are coming into a time

of recognition of these frames.

For many centuries

we have known intuitively

as well as psychically

but we, by our apparent lifestyles

are allowed to ignore.

We are permission self-granted,

driven towards a self destiny,

somewhat aloof of heart and spirit

but no less supported

by a culture of denial.

We are a culture

of almost residue affect.

Disaster has become

as the great commoner

in a symbolic world

and for some reason

we can and do rally

under these causes

of tragic circumstance.

Does it have to be

in direct proportion

to the size of the incident

that we show a character of concern?

Could we not fashion out of a chaos

a caring?

A caring that goes beyond lingerings,

a caring that stands up consciously

and expresses it's deepest causes

most definitively and clearly,

a caring that shares its humanity

in a broader life changing way?

A way of social recovery,

that is a reclamation of souls

who feel only into the loss,

who vacantly go about

as living in the lost,

a caring

that celebrates connectedness,

that moves into lifestyle efforts,

that revels in rituals

for their creative collectiveness,

for their conscious endeavor

at living these lives.

We as a people

are astute enough

to feel for our loneliness.

We as a people,

all have interior dialogue

that has needs to be

shared with others.

We, in this land of freedom,

have more opportunity

to do so.

But by our omissions and silence,

we absently walk

solemnly towards our graves.

It is by our hand as a people

that all deeds come to pass

even if others by their actions

appear to act out for us.

It is our interpretation

that we consign as our lives

however extreme

and vivid and graphic

this gate has appeared.

We are very free

to react or respond.

If our response is

to the soul of our being

then we live into the richness

of our being with everyone.

This contagion of caring,

expressed as our humanness,

turns us away from the emphasis

of devastation and fear

and self ordains us

into a collective

of eventual conscious intent,

into the global sense

of species on planet, in time.

No people should feel

so isolated as to event a culture

that perpetuates enslavement

and human degradation

as a viable life means.

We can no longer conquer

as an operational mechanism.

We can no longer avert

what is so from within.

We can each honestly admit

to the hunger for human contact.

We can each profess

a spirit towards shared worth.

We each have stations

and ascend from them to others.

Life is this weave

from here, there is no denial

of person or individuality.

But this is a multi-realmed existence.

It is not captured by language

or even communication.

It is communed.

It is conveyed.

It is celebrated from within.

And though there are many souls

who only feel for the pain

and primarily express the hurt,

there are many more

who harbor the light ,

who engender ideals,

who seek a self-permission

to be whole

in the presence of others.

Now is this time.

These events signal opportunity.

We give towards a permission

to risk inwardly our truth,

grieve with those

who are of the first person experience

and resolve to be the one

who takes from these events

permission to reach out to others,

permission to look deeply

inside oneself

and see the livingness

that is ours to come forth

and endearingly dare

to act from this place,

share from this

as ongoing source.

An event may signal

but it can never suffice

for the constancy of being

that we each possess.

We are an ocean

no event can divide.

We are a collective spirit of liquid

that no concept

of separation can hold back.

We are a resource

unlimited by task

or measure or effort.

It is well past 911,

more than a decade later,

yet we go the way,

however faint of flame at times,

as beings of light ,

always in movement

towards the light

to become

the expression of that light . . .