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Saturday, August 19, 2017

secrets dignified 8/19/17

my so-called secret life has become vexing
and the reality fix has become addicting.
upstandingness is on projected overwhelm
yet subtle anger-driven-service is toxic.
emotionality is over extended but under enthused.
the wardrobe of this veiled story line is overused.
where did my self-nudity within loose its sensitivity
to be richly warn and then gladly shared?
inspired interpretations aside,
all the connections wind up
in my personal privated vexing code.
my, if I had, a little black book, is festering
in a digestive tumultous manner.
all others around become mannequins to this unknown.
I do weave a silver thread
and give it the light of day.
maybe I have only dared myself
to become falsely relevant
or important or justified
as a form of joyous internal seething . . .


Friday, August 18, 2017

some quizzicals of time 8/18/17

Time is a smothering outpost.
one goes and lives there to spot concerns.
it is filled with absurdities and pitfalls.
it has seasons of dreary
and memories as mildew.
prim lives there, on a reward basis.
forever is a crowded mirror, looking back.
everyone sees the same clock quite differently
or very very different clocks,
in relatively the same way.
there is a cloudbank of conundrums
ever on the distant horizon.
perfect days are only fictional for the taking.
pauses do not produce doorways of perfection.
the mindset of time awaits, in long lines.
you can get there from here
by skipping this moment.
breath provides the beat of nonobservance.
bygones appear as tumbleweeds in passing.
in time, everyone surfaces to declare.
sweet nothings seem to evade the precision of it all.
some seem to confront time with laugher,
while others pass, with coloring-book expectations.
psychology there, does not exist without a past.
membership is a lifelong guarantee.
the few that escape have become cage-free,
for them, times flies while they’re having fun . . .







Thursday, August 17, 2017

the face of death 8/17/17

the face of death,
looked into it and studied it.
not so much the it of it
but, more so, the transcendence coming through.
no matter to me, the battle that was,
the stubbornness in the face there of,
the unconscious habits that persisted through,
the blatant usage of self-image that persisted,
the lack of self-love evident now from then,
the persistence of false beliefs, so carried on,
the staggering ego relevance that is still afloat,
yet the irrational energetic evidences undeniables,
the reaching out, still now, in auric overtones
and the contradictions that finally came into smile.
in spite of all of this, a transcendence,
a spirit I come to face, has residence within.
between the spirit and the consciousness,
however minimal the self-dialogue
there is glimmer and persuation present,
within all of that as being’s life discourse,
I am finding ears now to that as conversation.
many did not bask but for some,
the still-face of blossom.
grateful for the sight,
is that way within me.
their livingness goes on
as it passes through me
in reverence and with shared stature,
instilled here and now, face to face . . .


Wednesday, August 16, 2017

what of realmness 8/16/17

I want for the fragrance of you.
for where you touch me deeply,
before the tree is a seed to be,
before the self is confined to secretly justify,
before, during and after the mind has become 
the apparent parade marshall 
to almost everything you do.
I am on the scent of the inner you.
I would not have let you task
or service your life in front of me.
At least not unless those actions
evidently evolved you before my eyes.
I want your rage candor,
to be of a vibration frankness,
as secrets of the wind
that dialogue with your breath.
take me to where you are empty-fullness.
as love is given to me freely from there,
even before truth existed as the powerful wings
of an eagle doing the work of clarity.
there are a thousand times in your life
I anonymously come up to you
and looked deeply into your eyes
and with that, unceremoniously touch you,
to remind you, to rejoice within yourself,
to re-enkindle sense of being,
to reflect upon your richness of soul fire
in the wilderness of a new moon night.
and be grateful for the warmth forthcoming,
be appreciative of your clean burn,
realize a connectivity,
without need of proof or linger.
we are a momentary oddity in time.
there is a oneness always inferred.
we are a realmness to be savored . . .



Tuesday, August 15, 2017

decode tweeter (haiku) 8/15/17

tweet without topic
is only all about tone
what are you voicing?