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Wednesday, July 31, 2013

oneness in flight * 7/31/13

I am in love
beyond what mass represents
or experience can label.
No need of a demonstrative means.
The ocean of space is layers removed,
less than the presence of this feeling.
Even this feeling, full-blown,
only taps the surface as attention.
I have no consciousness within
to be a separate person
filled with this.
I left language on the ground
to deal with gravity and location.
My senses are not my providers with this.
All that I know and know of 
is just wardrobe
to fall back into,
props when moving
towards outward expression.
How we hold
what is so articulated as separate
is so minor, so very minor,
as to be small currents, minor eddies,
in an ocean of fluid connectivity.
I want to absorb the richness of you
from you then back to you
beyond the linkage of experience.
First we are tones.
Tones that we each hear.
Then we are matching tones,
a harmony bathing us
until we are swimming in that shared tone.
We are that one tone without separation.
We are no more a we but one sound,
one beyond the tone.
That tone is no more a sound
but an environment of being,
inviting and inclusive of everything.
Wrapping us in allness.
We are no more an exchange.
Oneness comes through,
the pouring has no vessel of frame.
The flow is all of consciousness in motion.
There is nothing referential to attend.
Intimacy, as the last form of identification,
melted and melded.
All the nouns have dissolved.
Meaning liquefied has no map.
Location has no pose.
Sense has no import.
Focus has allness without delay.
Wisdom has no trickledown language.
Words are mountains
and meanings are high cliffs
to jump off of, effortlessly so.
Now has being as all,
yet without shape or form
or sense containment.
Whoever is saying this to you
does not mean
to be offensive by meaning
or need for understanding
or relevance as if conversing.
This is just a wind across a wing
as all of oneness in flight . . .

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Note to sip (haiku) 7/30/13

am alive at well
underground running water
meet you at bucket

Monday, July 29, 2013

Birth canal * 7/29/13

For having labored down my birth canal,
contracted into first acts of self denial,
a first sense of self-exile,
placed upon an altar of false attention,
rendered, interpreted,
introduced to distraction as learned existence,
maximally visceral but diminishing,
yet more kinesthetic by invitation.
I am boundless energy,
assumed to be seeking containment.
I am open to an endless array
as if interest is activity,
struggling with edges and boundaries,
flatly isolated from before,
prompted for these interactionals,
given tidbits from home.
I am only a full cauldron of being,
longing for the ocean of spirit,
overwhelmed by the pronunciation of fear,
the commitment to symbols,
to eventual language but not truth.
I am blessed and cursed by what is inferred,
eventually swayed by temporality's appeal,
bound by repetition's insistence,
driven to disguised sensitivity,
developing an affect of being.
I am propelled by stories,
preparing for their roles
exchange with others
who are rarely presence.
I am living before conclusion's toll,
promoting as if pain offends,
polarized by confusing self demands,
bleak through the mediums
that lengthen time.
I am experienced
as if the journey's loot,
wandering amongst wanderers,
soulful before response.
When does inception's closure end?

Sunday, July 28, 2013

timely manor (haiku) 7/28/13

promptness of the mind
kissing up to the future
by cordial presence

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Waiting for * 7/27/13

Waiting becomes time wasted.
Waiting is time spent,
internally pimping a future.
Waiting is on the outside of now,
preoccupied with precepts from the past
as if their future confirmation will be fulfilling.
Waiting is an ambiguous position held,
without the aid of timing.
Waiting is un-creatively,
a deflation of charisma.
Waiting is a falsified sense of self
in a self-proclaimed affect prison.
Waiting is memory retention on override.
Waiting is time spent
in shameless expectations.
Waiting is opportunity,
deaf, dumb, and blind.
Waiting gives ‘idle’, a wayward life.
Presence of being trumps waiting.
Multitasking respectfully honors waiting
but does not heed the rise of absence.
Waiting is a guard pose
at the door of contemplation.
Waiting is a permission slip,
a free pass to enter
into a think tank ballroom.
Waiting is an imaginary moat
surrounding a daydream’s paradise.
Waiting, as respectful as it can be,
is free time granted
to inwardly travel the universe.
Tall trees may look like they’re waiting
as in waiting out the storm in passing
but they are really not,
they’re exercising
from treetop to root bottom!
In a still point, there is no waiting.
In the tea ceremony, there is no waiting.
In the presence of yourself,
in any moment,
there is no waiting.
From now on,
waiting should be a thing of the past
not a beckoning for a future . . .

Friday, July 26, 2013

water pressure (haiku) 7.26/13

every fire hydrant
so poised to assist when called
vein popping in wait

Thursday, July 25, 2013

the plane of understanding * 7/25/13

When I am shoved out
of the plane of understanding,
albeit a trap door release,
a swoop down with talons,       
a whap upside the head,  
or a push off a crowded curb,
whenever that door is that door, opens,    
I have never seen that door before
upon further review.
My plaintiff 'why me' comes to the door.
My logic argues that this door, right here,
is not my door.
But assuredly it is.
This is my door of entry
to a near 'creativity' experience.
What voice that surfaces from inside me,
is not all that familiar  
but it is still assuring me. 
What is coming on
is faster then admissible details justify.
I don't have time for justifications.
I have to get on
with what has a grip on my attention
and is force-feeding me along
on the periphery of my awareness.
It sort of feels like levitational flying
but I also feel out of control in the process, 
like a need to grow wings.
I feel at the mercy of what is happening.
I am getting smaller,
falling into a vat of victim hood.
A need to quickly hose off my psyche,
find a steering medium for my alertness
and expand my focus.
I have missed the richness
of these situations before. 
I need to feed myself
the richness of this free rise.
Maybe it is not the adrenal high
I would search for.
It is not so experientially extreme
but any frame-jumping-next-experience
in essence, offers me the same opportunity.
Understanding may be
just my safe hygienic way of non-involvement
as if identification of anything
is free passage around it.
How vacantly can I say
"seen it, done it, been there"?
How disenfranchised a lament can I utter
that does not say
more about me by response?
When does my sad commentary
solicit yet bore my own soul?
Searching unexpectedly now
through familiarity's crash-landed debris,
is the black box my soul,
until I open it . . .

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

mindfull (haiku) 7/24/13

mind’s sacred garden
it’s not what you think but how
brain’s eye is future

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

comfort zone caskets * 7/23/13

We live in comfort zone caskets.
Most of the time, not near the walls
but generally facing the vastness
across the casket floor.
Repetition is seen as being operational.
Short attention spans are a form of candy.
The ‘why’ questions seem to die in vain.
A bigger picture is a sense of the immensity
of the casket is one’s use.
Everyone is equipped with peepholes
for viewing their own journey.
Dreams represent ceilings
otherwise unquestioned.
A bucket list is a form of three-card monte.
Goals in life are like a form
of stylized penmanship.
Comparative truth is a type
of divide and conquer.
Membership upholds connections
but contributes mightily to biases
never to be personally challenged.
Success in life often offends
the welfare of the planet, thus ignored.
Enlightened economics is way too complex.
The ‘causal’ concerns spend their best efforts
on religion and the pretense of politics.
Real heath matters seek to be
business successes above all else.
The language of product description
functions best as a hucksterism’s delight.
Thus we take pleasure
from comfort zone caskets.
‘Terminal’ velocity is just being
predisposed to busyness.
Most everything rational is really
a form of reductionism
committed to memory.
‘Say’ is the world,
seen through a miner’s cap light
in the dark of objectification’s glory.
Why the ice of our spiritual lives is so thick,
thaw looks like living to the fullest.
The world of personal secrets is a richer form
of exploration for transformation
then dogma, or a code of ethics
could ever admit into existence.
Family, blood ties, marriage,
all represent shackles too cumbersome
for most people to live beyond.
If you look deeply into any person’s eyes
their spirit is evident, their journey confounding.
Comfort, as a result, is really a timeout,
a lower vibrational means for housing
one’s spirit, bound and gagged in passage.
Casket is self-containment,
a sense of separateness
as an inherent deformity,
a challenge without equal.
Thus we do apparently thrive
in comfort zone caskets . . .

Monday, July 22, 2013

bottom line (haiku) 7/22/13

probe reality?
figure out improbables?
follow the money

Sunday, July 21, 2013

trust of soul * 7/21/13

I glanced down her open blouse.
Her proud Mary’s were standing there,
in a shoulder-to-shoulder cleavage pose.
She was standing erect,
not leaning forward with interest or intent.
The opportunity, not over exposed.
It was my leering, accomplished
almost lustfully unconscious
yet giving me input
and providing a peculiar satisfaction
for the fantasy to consciously continue
without more visual input.
Then a studied gaze of her face
confirmed for me
some inner chemistry of mine
matching her face with her breasts
was rewarded with an urge for intimacy
a hunger revived
a permission granted
a confirmation of interest noted.
Not for her in particular,
for she is lifetimes away if at all.
But that she has this carriage,
that she was conscious behind it all.
And, for me, it had a visual deliverance
that allowed me to imagine
her personal freedom,
physically shared with another.
That there were women of such calling
with deep set eyes
a soulful trait evident
and capable of being
fully expressive in the moment,
was an affirmation along my journey
though not really as a search
as much as what this beauty
of the unexpected
awakening within me.
That trust of soul to soul to soul
will happen.
And I am a willing participant
reminded by this spark
of visual touch . . .

Saturday, July 20, 2013

captive audience (haiku) 7/20/13

tall trees sip the breeze
tell roots the story of wind
gripping to listen

Friday, July 19, 2013

meaning, meaning what? * 7/19/13

Meaning, meaning what?
What does meaning have to do?    
It's its own subjective persona!
It dresses up in different topics,    
walks across the mind,
taking its sure footed time and attention,    
then boom, gone, moved on.
It's a stop light along
attention's crosswalk observance.
Einstein couldn't wait to get out of there.
What do you got, when you got know?
Why do you think creative people shy away?
Look, do you want the photo albums,
the retentive mind press clippings,
and the anecdotes,
or the ever-unfolding journey?
Do you want the clutter of trophy heads    
or the free space inside your head?
Sure we all do agreement    
as a form of life at gunpoint.
And meaning is the accomplice,
we all recognize in the lineup.
But if you want to spend your life as a victim,
then live for meaning
and all those haunting
ten most wanted pictures
at the memory post office of your life.
Meaning is really more like
colorful bougainvillea
you learn to live near but not close at hand.           
Meaning in review takes all this time
to digest, to store, to remember, to dispense,    
to exchange, to update, and to discount.
You'd have to give up everything else
eventually, to truly embrace meaning.
Meaning is a shower curtain     
that does not really reach the floor.
It is like a deodorant, in that    
it masks as much as it protects.
It leaves you holding onto a bouquet
of fresh cut but slowly dying answers.
It's like traveling around the world
with a video camera,    
meaningfully documenting your life
for you to watch later in your life,
as your life!
When does meaning get you?
Meaning offers you a version of yourself,    
that you, well,
spend a lot of time trying to prove.
Meaning is a mentor    
with its own hidden agenda.
It plays a three card Monty
that always underscores your worth.
Was meaning ever really the right lighting
to see anybody in?
Meaning has no curse words.
Meaning would not have your heart skip a beat.
Meaning has been recruited as a medicine.
It's like plaque.    
It's only a byproduct of chewing life.
Meaning steals truth,
just for dress rehearsals.
Eventually all meaning will be copyrighted. 
Meaning finds pictures
and makes clocks out of them,
to pass the time.
It claims to be the rain forest
but in a petrified way.
If meaning were solid ground
then living is an ocean.
Meaning is only the photos taken
with celebrities in mind, 
that they personally signed.
Meaning has the life of melting ice cream.
Meaning could never know
if it were a bother.
It is a desert kingdom    
where voices are constantly shifting as sand.
Meaning should never have its own way.
it would birth itself
and immediately assume the parental role.
Meaning could live for pose downs.
It is the metastasis
of collective consciousness.
Meaning is eventually a form of dander,    
though it was surely useful though as skin.
Well actually meaning is a kind of skin.
Maybe it is essential
in an embodied sort of way.
But in that way,
meaning is a lot like beauty
whether it is in the eye
or only skin deep . . .

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Every word (haiku) * 7/18/13

Open word’s meaning
eat energy, feed your mind
then throw word away

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

before the labor of content * 7/17/13

If I had been blind forever
and came to sight,
if I had been deaf from delivery
but now introduced to sound,
if I was comatose since birth
but now woke up,
what labor of content
lies before me?
It is as if I awoke
in a solo kayak,
in the middle of a feature race,
near the finish line,
to a roaring crowd.
There is startling movement.
There is shear momentum.
There is profound acoustics.
There is a blizzard of images.
I am in a body at overwhelming affect.
Yet there is bliss without frame.
Something on automatic takes over.
There is foreground intrusion.
My mind is in a dance of deluge.
I am hurt by depiction.
My senses are thrashing me.
There is this burden
to the labor of content,
yet I am totally free  . . .

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Writing (haiku) 7/16/13

writing these things down
can be an alternative 
to forgetfulness

Monday, July 15, 2013

Questions when entering stillness * 7/15/13

What do you take with you
when entering stillness?
Who of you is to go?
Who lingers and fusses
at the mere intension?
What of momentum
has a change of heart?
How is passage to be conducted?
Is this as an embrace or a surrender?
How does self guidance work?
Which way is perceived as going forward?
Does recognition have the same mentor?
Are the senses heightened or subdued?
Is there curiosity present?
What is the work of alert to do?
Who knows to give stillness as feedback?
Is time left behind but at the door?
Is the inner narrative featureless?
Does breath become a companion?
Do you disrobe from the awareness of posture?
Is there a special sense assisting?
Is identification maintained?
Is there an unobtrusive constant?
Does memory have a means of service?
What of self is still in frame?
Is there emergence or expansiveness?
Is there attachment to the manifest?
Are there haunts rather than intrusions?
Are there eyes everywhere or no where?
Is there eventually a sense of balance?
And are questions ever an avoidable refrain?

Sunday, July 14, 2013

life in review (haiku) 7/14/13

the joys and heartaches
trials and tribulations
so where do I start?

Saturday, July 13, 2013

physics of oneness * 7/13/13

The universe is emblazoned with emptiness
but there is a whole earth intimacy
that is ours
filled with a visceral ecstasy
as we are prototyped from stardust
in this awe of transcendent integration
yet we are indigenously, a canned reality.
We are hyperspace dimensions
removed from the multi-verse before us.
Immersion, on our part, is a necessity
for us to be stewards of our future.
We must embrace this physics of oneness.
We need to redefine
what constitutes information for us to behold.
The earth is alive and in response to us.
There is an Infinite connectivity
for us to discover daily and in depth.
Divisions of knowledge we have made up
have to be overcome
for us to get back into singularity.
We need to also turn our senses inward as well.
We are only
vibrational intelligence journeys away
from our future
forthcoming to meet us.
There is no ‘we’, just oneness
to this means of divinity . . .