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Saturday, May 31, 2014

richly sacred (haiku) * 5/31/14

extending ones self
to make life richly sacred
is self rewarding

Friday, May 30, 2014

consciousness * 5/30/14

Consciousness offers me the prison of everything remembered. What is the difference from imposition? Eventually I have agreed whether self imposed or dictated by others? I make familiarity my self-punishment, whether dumb down or dulled out. Either way, the distraction the world offers by variety is soon reduced to an inner journey of interpretation to alter these apparent views. The external views are much the same, day-to-day and so some become internal as storage sights for emotional baggage rich with history but hidden from the obvious world itself. Only I can take you on that journey with dialogue and fervor far removed from animation in an original sense. Yes I thirst for nectar of any kind. The only provider stumbles on inside of me in a somewhat random fashion throughout the day. Nothing major, just minor shifts that trip off inner responses from an unknown party within. The dialogue continues, monotone, sometimes murmured, or mumbled in anguish. Bored with the self responses, repeated too often to furnish a theme forward with any richness as the subterfuge of avoidance made evident then rears its head as a response without otherwise merit behind whatever words were spoken. This keptness is its own prison as the senses keep working as the punitives themselves. They are guards with rules of sensory limitation and a promoted sense of vacancy for the viewing, again and again. New thoughts must come from the private garden within, hidden in the depth of being, continuously needed for self discovery to have a life on the inside of being. Look, what was the crime? It was the crime of consciousness. Consciousness as in receivership of the world external and the surround. Baited with story and driven by desires, encouraged and encase all as the same moves, not compelled by inner vision or a sense of spirit looking to come forward. I am a medicine cabinet full of self-drugsto cope with the world around me. And what I don’t immediately have internal access to, I can purchase. It is a one-dimensional logic as basic as simple math. Reality some how taught me to order from the menu, as if that was the realism of choices available. My mind- trap is my best friend indeed. We’re stuck in this together, bunkmates, in a shared life sentence. So why am I telling you? Hey realize the collusion that surrounds you and do something about it. Defy logic and sensibility. Fuguritively spark and light fires that are out of control. Give up on the contract of self as brand. Hunt for vibes that introduce you to an expanded sense of yourself. Don’t expect it is out there but discover that it is in you to get it out there, out of you. You are the magic but without the need of audience. In the light, discover that the prison is a plaything, that reality is consequence and you are the spiritual mischief of invention and delight. Please remember or make the discovery: consciousness precedes experience. Reality is a residue fill with audience views. Consciousness is creativity coming into reality view. In that way, you are always free, never captured, never contained. Channel the light from within and then see where your spirit takes you . . .

Thursday, May 29, 2014

no say but hold (haiku) * 5/29/14

I don’t tell others
I am one to sense someone
so they feel their way

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

when you scratch my back * 5/28/14

Your hand as a half sunken cello on me.    
Your fingers are strings to aliven.
Your slow touch bowing as sound-wave-tremors
are the acapella whispers of fast talkers.      
Where your fingertip skin forms mouths
is that touch as lips on me,      
as an ocean bed of skin as ears listens
for your finger tongues are dancing.     
The fluids of my senses find your calm,      
drink your nearness, feel the sky weight
of your Albatross gaze.      
Each touch-gesture drips a weep impress,      
conveys soft as heavy while light.      
The passage of our time is muted shades of impress,
feathery notes in passing, leaving mystical as melody
ascending beyond any memory.
My skin becomes your daydreams' absent mind,
tells me comfort is within.
The way your grace attends,     
tells me of trust's ambient confidence
that your free spirit to me, so lightly blends.     
You are the maestro-touch that molds me from clay.
Drawn from your contact, a river for me to swim,      
a current of breath to flow-attend.
To match your breath with mine,
is to lie in the hammock of your heartbeat,
standing over me as downy lightness.      
You are my sky of inquiry,      
igniting liquid lava out of my mindful surge ascending.      
I am my fire place of listening,      
to learn of the lucidity
between what your finger-leaves across me
and my now-skin of breeze,      
to become the soul-stone of wind
solid, to the touch from your trees . . .

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

moment’s magic (haiku) * 5/27/14

this moment's magic
I embrace what is, grateful
now for what I have