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Sunday, October 22, 2017

quench (haiku) 10/22/17

drink lake in one sip
only by becoming lake

does quench realize

Saturday, October 21, 2017

the bother with discipline 10/21/17

discipline either fully exists or not at all.
habit is discipline, but without the parade.
repetitious is discipline, with memory in tow.
efforting is fondly associated with discipline.
the assertion of will also lends its fanatical support.
but mostly the celebration of discipline
is all about self-consciousness at work,
as in the need for an internal bull horn,
an insistent inner voice churning away,
while memory is hawking pattern recognition responses
and action harvesting a physical account.
discipline is getting a hero’s welcome.
it usually applies to a lack of attention span
or sustaining an interest to tasks deemed unworthy.
discipline gets rewards ribbon-cutting results
but it is an outside-in of activity.
if passion is involved then discipline is lather
for it has no drudge of weight bearing in passion’s light.
discipline is uninspired approaches applied,
as a leveraged pursuit,
go find a motivational fuel, wherever you can.
discipline leaves an ego imprint on whatever was involved.
it is horsing around, carrot-less-ly.
it is make-up for a why-bother situation
where there are priority mirrors in the surround,
offering reinforcement inner remarks.
discipline is not the natural fuel for doing anything.
there has to be a hidden agenda in the form of an act-out.
discipline is education without any spark,
featuring rough surfaces and silence squawks.
discipline is a drive through, not over,
roads full of potholes,
or an affinity for the spoken linger of …… “why?’
discipline, the term, is wasted on the observational.
it does not exist,
except in a world without passion
or with vision that compellingly insists . . .


Friday, October 20, 2017

the process 10/20/17

there is no surrender possible
but only embrace
actually embrace is out of the question
for the preoccupation of two separates
attempting to unite
can’t be separates in the realm of existence
only the illusion that that is so
all of the operatives, the reveal of the optics
only cater to audience appeal
but there is really no audience
for there is only a stylistic version of what is
as a superficial account taken to heart
but heart has no audience existence
heart is of the moment
before moment had time
and time had a sense as a framing style
experience is suspect in that way
all of these as fall-through methods
one upon another
surrender, embrace, separates,
illusion, optics, audience, version and moment
have no existence in the heart
for the heart is one with and thoroughly through
all of these reflections
all at once
timeless, without account,
unrendered by any of these as representationals
heart as oneness pervades
through all of these ripples as imaginable
heart, without surface or name-ability
can’t know in a grand way
heart is brain without time, language or need
heart is universe without seeking or display
everything else as expressed
is only smallness searching
in distracting methods of experiential means
can’t go to it as you already are
can’t be and realize as if to complete
can’t be the whole
without going through with surrender
surrender, to embrace, then separates,
into illusion, onto optics, then audience,
followed  by version and the moment
until you have no existence in the heart
that is not the all of it,
ever unending,
divinely so,
ever emitting,
in quantum unity,
without claim . . .



Thursday, October 19, 2017

nuances of nature 10/19/17

I am the frontline facial of flash flood’s arrival,
meeting up with wet kisses
for the firstborns faces of a dusty land.
I am the sprouting forest treetops’ smile,
upon first sightings of the distant sun
on its sweeping in, full-blaze beaming.
I am evaporation’s make-a-wish vanishings,
hoping to return as endearing clouds,
giving offerings of rain-downs upon revival.
I am the hearsays of warm and cool thermals,
creating the moody high and low updrafts
and swirls of gossiping skies
and the bickering fallout of weather
either as the clear skies of silence presenting serene
or the noisy busloads of clouds rumbling in passing by.
I am the symphony of all creature sounds in choir
and not ever as an utterance,
or inaudible
or cast in vain.
I am the ushers of the wind as kneading,
for all vegetation is soothed, nurtured,
and formally full-massage served.
for I am all of the nuances of nature,
by gradations and distinctions,
humbly in the feast of sweeping accomplishment,
fulfilling in a mostly subtle
but animated worldly manner.




Wednesday, October 18, 2017

now (haiku) 10/18/17

experience now?
revisionist history

now to testify