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Saturday, December 16, 2017

what intuition perceives 12/16/17

(about decision making:)

a decision is a hung-out-there piñata
searching for a performance of inner approval
by whacking the daylights
out of an all too familiar situation
and getting somewhat obvious
yet apparently delicious results
that linger as if rewards for efforts made
all quite ceremoniously involved
for the consciousness of the attendees of self
but in the bigger picture,
momentously, signifying nothing
but myopia . . .
(then heard in the background
of deeper self in witness dialogue,
“clean up in aisle me

near change my life for good”)

Friday, December 15, 2017

a residence behind the think of me 12/15/17

a residence behind the think of me
I sense it is back there
maybe more so the feel of above and behind
but definitely there
took awhile to feel for that
almost an overheard backseat conversation
that never really happened
but that how it all started
very different from the core of me
the core cognitive voices of me
they all have their roles
from analytics to morals delivered
from smartass to compassionate response
but I know them and they are all habitual
but this voice, not summoned or intruding
speaks from a larger room or residence
has a lot of say that has a particular tonal
clearly, not heated or reactionary
a not-me but me voice
not confusing
but a much more expansive point of view
speaks to specifics that are more in depth
requires me to be more penetrative
than just conclusions as self replies
feels like, has observed for a long time
chose this moment as if relevant
gives me a field of vision
more than I was normally having
but nothing said of the kind
I just sense a deeper scope for myself is needed
I kind of impulsively want to ask
so where is home or how long have you been there?
but this does feel terribly familiar
even though I have never seriously paid any attention
sort of like what woke me up?
it’s like space I had but didn’t know
now is the reverie of previously stupid in review
there must have been a thousand in my life
I could have used this kind of self-insight
can’t be pissed for now
cause it is kind of secretive and magical
damn, a residence behind the think of me
where do I go from here? . . .

Thursday, December 14, 2017

what I want 12/14/17

what I want, I really don’t want
but I didn’t know that until
what I wanted became what I got.
it seems only then
that I somehow realized.
now I am stuck with what that is.
really how does wanting work?
did I over-want?
what is it or who is it in me that wants?
there is the rest of me
that looks at the wants gotten
and almost inner laughs at me to my own face.
who is that of me that does this wanting
and for what did I get?
now I have the malaise of stuff
soon abandoned as if it was ever relevant.
there must have been a then
when it was oh so precious in the want.
now I have to live around
all the acquired from wanting.
some part of me is crazy to want.
I must be looking past what is right here.
when I think about it,
the want for me
is like a potential turn on switch.
I must be significantly bored
to turn to want.
if this is a learned habit of mine,
I certainly need to go deeper within
or be present enough
to see what is right before me.
want is a fool’s gold business.
yes, I can value it, over the short haul
but then it all turns into stuff,
maybe memorabilia stuff
but still just more stuff.
it seems I do want
but it’s frustrating.
what, in my most clear moments, I want
is something out of me
not something from the world for me.
how did that get so confusing?
it is as if the world is a trip
totally dedicated to turn me on
but not really.
just passing the time,
still waiting, still wanting.
it’s like I have an inner voice
that has a bullhorn.
it just shouts out this ‘I want’ stuff.
I know, just give it a rest,
but it’s not that simple.
it’s a habit, there is conditioning
and lots of momentum without much resistance.
want just jumps up and demands attention
as if there is a mandate
that I should be entertained.
I am tired of being the audience to this.
there is no real passion to wanting,
just a preoccupation into almost an addiction.
I don’t really want a life.
I want to create my life.
but the contradiction continues
and the paradox lives in my mind.
I don’t even know
if I am making any sense of this.
something deeper is going on in me
and I find it hard to attend directly.
want is really easy
but create is vacant and yet vast.
the search from within is for a drawnness,
something that commands and compels,
where I am an operative from within,
not knowing or wanting
an exterior want in mind.
I want what want can’t give me.
that, there is, the conundrum of,
I want . . .

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

experience is not enough 12/13/17

experience is just not enough
sometimes it just feels vastly platitudinous
as a one-sided dialogue, launched
only hearing sidebars of inner earnestness supporting
as if in self response
echoing in the canyons of personal solitude
feeling for the vapid anguish
as hot breath leaving over muttered utterances
existing for now, as the ascendency of all-ears
wide open to any registry of other-worldly response
open to any omen as if as a reply
however my sensory environment is aware
experience, as but this audience provider,
is just not enough
not wanting a cloud-break
into instant sunlight appearance to justify
no exoneration as if to pacify
experience is just not contextually deep enough
miracles are just made-ups to mollify
any deeper truth is more than personally environmental
answers are just tongue-lashings to rationalize
still having needs beyond a symbolic coin toss
finding myself as an expanded parade of pleads
beyond my singular GPS location
faith is just a fabric of covering-up
experience is only the overrated override
as the audience wading in superficial plunder
the island of isolated witnessing
the harvest of bystanders’ rewards
the bible of memorization then retorts
wanting beyond the billboard of beliefs
experience is only the well lit room
of storyables recited repeatedly
feeling like an audience mishap as listening
caught in faith happenstance
as if all of life is pitched as
‘why’d the chicken cross the road’
for it seems that all of questions are just to mollify
and all of answers are destinies dimming
disguised as initially well lit
experience in receivership is that which euthanizes
where quandary is only a near-death
as if experience is the enterprise . . .

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

life in bed 12/12/17

just lay it out there
as if life is a bed of lessons
some you sleep on
others you roust
some you seduce
time placidly smiles,
clock-face overlooking
yes, there is a time for a wash
a clean spread of sheets
prop-ups from pillows
dialogues in overrides
too many or too few of covers
too hard or too soft a feel
want for bigger bed
medical foam over coils
headboards and canopies
life is the spread
for now, just rollover  
as if in a philosophic snooze . . .