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Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Serenade of separateness 12/10/14


The stampede from stillness overwhelms me.
All of it, as stillness, is traveling so much faster
than the speed of light
as if to give that light some contrast as background.
These too, my words, are the rinds from thoughts
as mindfulness toils at a second hand sensory store.
I live in this world of hand-me-down consciousness.
I can never just say what I mean
because meaning betrays me
placing me within the bindings of past-time.
All these words that I use
are hypocrites by profession and creed.
They give the truth
in and of the moment, a bad name.
And I am verbally liable for their deeds and decency.
My speech is both sacrilegious in the saying
and yet sacred in the song.
The words of themselves are renunciants
while my tone of voice is to the tenor of spirit.
I want meaning to stop interrupting
as mindful interjections.
There is a restlessness to order
that leads to common senselessly
but also a resoundingness to unfold.
I live for the wisdom that does not come as a response.
One-pointedness honestly has no path,
no pursuit, and no moment in time.
This ground figure stuff, for all of us,
is a fallback presumptuous alibi position.
As a story, this is a brazenness professing of itself
as a sweet vocal refinement of lies.
Isness within us, has nothing to give to us
to the upping of our stature.
Claims as our wardrobe of self-appraisal
have no shelf life or residence of value.
The more that I say, any of this,
the farther away that I am from my being.
Talk like this, is making distance
from my source more evident.
Forgive me for my serenade of separateness
but honor the sound that comes out of you
in your reading and more so your response . . .



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