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Monday, December 31, 2018

self-love has no why but is 12/31/18


self-love is not noticeable for having any worth
if you go to measure or account for self-love 
then you have stepped out of the essence of that love
and replaced it with an account demonstrating self-love
or that which shows evidence of self love
and therefore the obvious results of self-love
rather than the exudence of self-love 
or the radiance presence of self-love
which exists as a broadcast 
but not a projection
it has a cast 
but not a directedness
there is no scheme to self-love
as if a mental directive can cause or procure
self-love does not have a defining appearance
as if smiles or pleasantries, calmness 
or dignified composure
self-love can have an unbeknownst innocence 
as if one is not knowledgable about their first-person self-love 
in a self sense way
self-love has a fluidity to it
even though experiential distractions can abound
it is not a life long work of construction
self-love finds a means of surrender 
to a deeper sense of self as truth opening
any account is only an attempt at seduction or capture
control is not a means of self-love in the operative
conveyance can have a presence of self-love expressed
communication maybe only a forest for the trees of self-love
not that it can’t be there 
but may be disguised behind the stature of meaning imposed
emotional can be a messenger of self-love 
but it is not at the essence
self-love is a vibrational presence 
and possibly a subsequent broadcast
but not by mentally directed intentional means
yes, there can be compassion and empathy expressed
but they are not of the essence either
but may be in part perceived 
as an element of the intentional broadcast 
with emotional overtones in play
self-love is not a commodity that the mind can venture with
can’t trade it, bargain, contract or create an agreement with it
it is not a commodity but more of an ongoing outpour
a mindful creation of self-love as a concept 
can be topically interesting 
as if subject to or for debate
but mind has very little control there of
gaming self-love is as a costly enslavement process
as if to give up being to gain a sense of self-control
our culture features that process as having a worth
a sense of self-worth
but that places oneself in the conundrum 
of always proving one’s worth
rather than existing as a richness of being from the inside out
I am not saying that self-love is exclusive to one’s being
there are those whose self-love is greater than their being
there are those who have a collective soul capacity
as part of their conscious existence
and for them, self-love is expansive and inclusive.
their being is part of a greater collective 
yet not defined by body count or identity
self-love is not a product of a conclusion-driven sense of being
self-love carries an ‘isness’ to it that flows without restraint
it does not have to be evident by behavior or mood
we all have it but possibly present in a denial style
as we are held captive to a mind-style version of being
we all can see the uninhabited self-love in babies
more by their presence than their behavior
some have survived the onslaught of indoctrination and culture
and still possess that self-love straight-forwardly
everyone is self-love
until they believe themselves not . . .







Sunday, December 30, 2018

happiness is an inside job 12/30/18


happiness is an inside job
not the one claimed by experience
as if from the search there in
not the one with eventfulness all over its face
not the one that feeds into the story line cast
happiness isn’t a weathering condition
as in right place, right time
happiness is on the internal motherboard
it is built in but overshadowed
maybe hidden in a dark room
I know, sounds so strange
well then send out a search party
from within 
but then, for pause,
it is not found that way
and is not a payoff for effort exerted
happiness is not in response to anything external
sure, it can mindfully looked that way
as in things that make you happy
but upon further review
that you would use an external switch
to turn on your happiness 
is a very culture-bound notion of method
as in a training and a set of beliefs
that we all have gone through myth-fully 
as if the truth be now known that way
nope, the only thing you get for those efforts
is a justification for exhibiting happiness
you have an account, an excuse,
a set of circumstances 
in which exhibition of apparent happiness
is plausible and accepted as such
but that happiness has a timeline
on it means of cover and circumstance
in the mind game way
you can only be happy when appropriate
you can tap that place within
but you, in your mind-game, 
better have cover for it
like a reason and a storyline to keep safe
happy without reason is suspect
yet happiness exists before and beyond reason
it is a realized state of being
but properly unknown to most by that means
happiness is a consciousness before self-consciousness
yet, for most, only to be realized in a self sense
and thereby in need of cover and confidently so
in our reality sense
you couldn’t be happy in the middle of chaos
or in paradoxical situations, or perplexed
or totally down and out
and still be fundamentally happy from deep within
most would view you as a sick puppy
dilemma-land is hounding your ass
and you still feel essentially happy?
for most, not a clue as what that would mean
or be like.
but it is there and available
it like a kind of vibrational honesty
that you can’t justify to others with or about
that happy is beyond sensing
cognition is relevant but minimal to the cause
that happy is uninterruptible 
but also easy not to authentically notice
as in oneself 
without all the drama and circumstance imploding 
yes, it is a kind of focus 
but not wildly effortful 
more like letting go beyond letting go
it doesn’t play as a conclusion to anything
there is no reality dismally involved
it is just there from within
heartfelt, without mind intervention
a happiness that prevails without effort
it is a surrender to a deeper truth 
then reality can conjure
it has no face to respond
no mindset to travel on
no time that is inappropriate
you breath into without notice
until it comes to pass
that you do as you are . . .

Saturday, December 29, 2018

capitalism (haiku) 12/29/18


capitalism is 
study of psychology 
strictly for profit

Friday, December 28, 2018

map of being 12/28/18


I live in the town of clothes
surface is a block away
fibers are my next door neighbors
microbes are my house-pets
I have tunnel vision
and my earring is paired
on the map of being
‘I am here’ . . .

Thursday, December 27, 2018

mindfulness ongoing 12/27/18


mindfulness is the common lie
we all share by self-consciousness.
language lobbies for our containment of thought.
if you can’t think outside of words
then a billion monkeys only say a billion words
and meaning only becomes a surmise
as living is but a free-fall conjecture.
and if we all only agree to agree
then what is the point (?), 
if there be one,
beyond self-consciousness?
if I could go anywhere as in everywhere,
do I have to take the luggage of ‘I’ with me?
does ‘I’ have to be (?),
to account for my experience?
‘I’ has so much unresolved method as usage.
and ‘I’ want to take the contaminated ‘I’ to Mars,
as if to get away from it all!
so as to leave the mess behind
by cleverly, but unannounced, taking it within me,
yet hidden in my deepest intentions for worth!
mindfulness may be just a drive-by 
as if experience counts as blessings and curses.
as if change would actually make any difference
when change is basically only substitutional in nature.
trading in on versionary as our reality context 
for a new frame of reference
but being of the same mind and memory 
so as to justify?
what does predicament consist of?
the claim, the causes, or the method of mind?
science always wants self-consciousness as a sidekick.
science is a myopia but common-mind justified.
every human being is a personal experiment unrealized.
the wardrobe of self-consciousness doesn’t seem to help.
mirroring is a false front and superficially so.
so what if Zen were quantum
and nobody reports back 
on their assumed personal journey?
words provide just enough rope to hang on,
enough know to float 
and enough conveyor belt 
as if time runs this whole process 
ongoing . . .



Wednesday, December 26, 2018

positivism (haiku) 12/26/18


positivism is
negative affirmations
cleverly disguised

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

circumstance 12/25/18


circumstance is superficial
but prominent and sensorially impressive.
circumstance is like the clothes worn for the day
even though people are all constantly nude 
inside their clothes.
there is the kept notion of being clothed
as the fundamental presentation of one’s being.
therefore the projection is all about upkeep.
there is a secret society of self in every day,
an inner self-dialogue 
that goes on, without verbiage.
appearance stares back at the self 
without remarks made
yet there is cultural heritage 
for all of this to be happening.
and yet, there is a sense of being
beyond the influence of circumstance
parading around 
disguised by the marvel of appearance.
it is from there, in this space,
when circumstance, 
for all it apparently is and its gloss,
is but a sideshow to the self of you.
circumstance is dress-up time, 
costume assumed.
but back there, 
the source of your being
is caught up in a prop-fest
and you play with it every day, 
you play as it lays . . . 

Monday, December 24, 2018

anger is passion 12/24/18


anger is a callous of passion.
passion has a soft grip 
while anger is an over-gripe, relentlessly so.
anger is the use of the throttle
without real concern about engine-results.
anger makes loud as if over-emphasized.
passion exudes,
makes coalesce with all available spaces.
anger makes ruble into expressive art.
anger claims issues
but goes with exaltation and fumes.
passion has seductive seepage, 
in the way the sky calls for the bloom of spring.
passion has cells dancing in their stillness.
anger is hunting for firewood in every topic.
anger would claim that there was always smoke
way before the appearance of their fire in hand.
but then anger and passion have the same seed-base.
the difference is where they were planted
and what nurturance served 
as their nuance for growth.
anger has the essence of passion
but spent on boulders of conclusions
and not on the fragrance of vision expanding.
hurt me with highly charged posters 
being vocally waved, raining down on my head.
but pleasure me with secrets of insight, whispered,
as if the future embraces my coming . . .

Sunday, December 23, 2018

cruel shoes 12/23/18


Cruelty has the clarity of kindness’s intentionality 
and yet completely withdrawn from usage. 
cruelty knows of the tenants of kindness 
and abuses them in measured degrees. 
cruelty has all of the means available of kindness 
as if strings on a harp in hand 
but plays them wickedly 
as if disruption intended. 
cruelty has the same stance as kindness 
but abuses that position 
from a claim of isolation 
in launching their malice. 
cruelty has all of the instruments 
for the sympathy of kindness to play 
but selects to orchestrate distance, 
humiliation and rebuke.
as if to dance with cruel shoes  
on a reality stage with others . . .

Saturday, December 22, 2018

change for the worth 12/22/18


fell into a happenstance
much like cut logs posing as a lumberyard
or cars parked as a counter lineup 
of baked loaves of bread
but without their flavor overriding 
or there, as a grove of the same type trees 
appearing as an oversized scrub brush 
turned up facing the sky, 
wanting for the grab-hands towards usage
“spare change” as a vocal out of my mouth
you’d think I was feeling homeless and in need
but really, not that kind of ‘change’ is needed
more so, life in a different direction
spontaneity blooming each minute alive
less ruts more novelty addressing me
in-breathes that are inviting me
perception that exudes with possibilities 
here as a blessing of circumstance
wonderment to share ongoing
what is so child-like about being
that is not in the now before me?
happenstance be knighting me
asking for a permission to come forth 
from within the perusal 
perception is such a funny game 
when then, 
expectation was the only paying customer . . .


Friday, December 21, 2018

look up (haiku) 12/21/18


I look up to see
airplanes are punctuation 
in a cloud phrased sky.

Thursday, December 20, 2018

intima-see 12/20/18


intimacy is not the impact of the painting in view
but more so, the feel of the brush strokes used.
intimacy not the turn key in its motion
but more so, the eventual impact flood upon the opening.
it is not the fallen leaf lying upon the ground
but more the read of the timeline in its coloration.
not the cut of a garment worm for its view
but easily, its threadbare, for the story it tells from its wear.
not the bouquet as it stands boldly front facing
but the embrace beckoned from the visual intimacy offered.
not from the pace of the gate used in walking
but more self-intimacy 
from rush of the scene as seen in passing.
and not the thickness of the ice, secured below me 
but the see-thru clarity that is secretly inviting
intima-see . . .

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

personal directives 12/19/18


projecting oneself is an ongoing situation 
of privately depleting in weakness.
imaging oneself steals from one’s essence 
to make presentable means.
one’s lip service fights for its platitudinous worth.
passive-aggressiveness, as a verbal display,
sculpts away at the supposed ice burg of being.
and one’s physical presence is supposed to account 
for all of this?
what white-board of the mind has the sharpies 
to handle the full expanse 
of all of these 
as one’s personal directives?

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

love is hate is love 12/18/18


hate is love in the full dress of self-isolation
the venting is to account for the distance self-perceived
all of the claimed particulars of hate
are then the kindling for the burn to further exist
it is a fire with, only fuming for warmth
this is an example of how underground fires exists
the emotional smoke is bad for one’s health
the self dialogue has gone far beyond 
what words could say
it is where pent-up-ness produces 
the by-product of seething
one becomes a bumpy-ride 
even in a soothing journey forward
hate is love in self-denial’s creation
a conclusion becomes a judgment 
becomes the end of free-range as self aware
heat and love are the same oven
one cooks from a recipe of resentment and rage
while the other cooks from scratch with a feel
all baked goods are eaten
while flavor is a given 
some have thick crusts as if over-cooked 
while others are tasteful and nutritious 
the world feeds of love and hate
one’s diet then becomes a way of life . . .

Sunday, December 16, 2018

purpose 12/16/18


purpose displaces me.
it’s when I get all dressed up
with next moment’s potential, 
adorning.
I now have bee-lines of attention,
stringing next moments’ causes,
as if into one, one elongated theme.
I am being held at story-point,
with the firm grip of resolution,
determination ablaze, 
somewhere within
sweating beads of reason,
feeling impenetrable 
as if now justified,
captured by the cuffs 
and the shackles of tasks.
of course, I took the drug of intention.
how else did I get into this predicament?
yes, I had ambition
but I enjoyed listlessness with it.
and there were aspirations
but more enjoyed in the dream state.
desire, for me, was like a cigarette break
or a glass of cool water.
if I had wishes for the future,
I enjoyed them laying bed
under the covers 
with the warm body of me.
zeroing-in is a foreign task for me.
purpose has too much audience approval,
embedded in the unsaid about it.
I’m watercolors without a canvas,
a figurative breath of fresh air.
purpose has clothes-like hangers, 
a note pad, lost pens, 
and demonstrated order.
I don’t want to live for results.
I want what next moment comes,
not me with an internal bullhorn
yelling at the outer world for order
to be restored bases on purpose.
order is cruel shoes,
taking me where I don’t really want to go.
purpose falsifies my world into evidence. 
my life becomes a line-up 
in front of others’ perusal. 
weeds are my heroes.
sudden storms save my soul.
I don’t want to get on the purpose-bus
and ride along to wherever. 
what happened to tranquil pools
and spontaneous unexpected bobbing fish?
I don’t want my next breath
to become a sigh
or to have a heavy heart
always on the go . . . 





Saturday, December 15, 2018

the telling of itself 12/15/18


all stimulation is on the small screen
everything that has a frame 
demands to be a notice
that knocks on the door of recognition.
sensory’s flood is on the intake.
captions of knowing begin to register.
comparative truth sits prominent in the audience.
sensibility and logic always sit together
sharing refreshments.
the narrator is the voice within.
the experiential parade-route wanders 
sequentially throughout the day.
audience somehow becomes part of the frame.
campfires of conversation may be built
along the way.
the journey turns itself into memories.
there is a scrapbook of images retained.
recollection rides shotgun.
this supposed now is out and about.
self-animation becomes the necessary punctuation.
this is the untold story,
telling of itself.




Friday, December 14, 2018

the sacrifice of soul 12/14/18


the sacrifice of soul,
I can see it in her eyes.
a depth that otherwise 
would be filled with light.
so many moments of concessions made.
costly are these monuments of burden,
yet still attempting at their lightness,
that comes from so deeply in her being.
not a story that can be told by words.
one has to embrace that being, 
to feel for her efforts made,
that cut into the heart of the matter,
that that look reveals beyond her story, 
that one knows for oneself
in one’s journey, for being on this planet
transfixed in the human dilemma. 
when one gives from so deeply within
to provide for another,
when it is so costly 
to one’s deepest sense of self
that it can never be regained
and wears as if a part is missing.
it is an essential luster, 
that now has the depth of the dim,
an empty space of rich self occupancy,
still, a glow that honors, 
even in its hollowness,
a worth beyond its exhaustive means.
sacred in its exposure to my embrace,
from to see another, in their caring,
that you have come to realize
in the deepest possible way for oneself.
I have to ask of me,
how to honor her,
beyond one’s sense of time and circumstance?
this sacrifice of soul . . .
such love unto itself, 
given so freely
in the honoring of another.
all of this humanly happens
until oneness abides
as a wisdom above and beyond the darkness.
the triumph of light is the soul
that made these sacrifices so real.
we all want to live that alive in our journey.
then again, making it sacred, 
for those who sacrificed for others.
for they have come to know of worth
beyond the human predicament
and for them to lead us 
into a grander sense of scale of being.
where oneness comes into our conscious means
and all our eyes are filled with that depth of clarity.
no more darkness pervading.
where all the light-streams of being, 
are as one.
beyond the circumstance of these lifetimes in passing
and individual toils of soul existence.
where within our diversity and circumstances
we realize ourselves evolving 
into the soul of collective-oneness . . .

Thursday, December 13, 2018

topic versus tone (haiku) 12/13/18


topic versus tone
no topic tells the story 
but tone never lies

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

the beyond of consciousness 12/12/18


consciousness has no content
as if, flight without context,
free-fall without gravity,
sky without perspective,
meaning as a phase of emptiness, 
understood,
while holding the void hostage 
by full absence completely in the surround,
for where run-on sentences as if water falls,
judgment without temporality as tease,
drawnness without concern for cause,
how simplicity is a bystander’s conundrum, 
when adventure has no frame,
and experience has no depiction.
conscious as,
where-for is art thou . . .

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

experience junkies converse 12/11/18


the conversations of experience junkies overheard.
a deck of event cards played sequentially.
comparisons made as pseudo embrace.
the declared expanse of value terrains exposed.
intimate maps of worldly adventures declared.
a toast to timelines and the titillations.
a tease for future investments to be declared.
for moments and circumstance
to know of the that which made it so.
the stigma of memories, that are haunting and heroic.
hearsay of self, made evident and personal.
this 'now' has no other business but for then.
these stories seizing as summary’s expression.
for what else is there 
beyond the roadkill of boredom,
monotony ever aging, 
recognition as each shallow breath,
account without oneself as audience, 
a self, empty of accomplishment, 
worth that has no lasting answers,
and all the efforts of projection, unmasked?
so in the eavesdrop of my listening, 
there is a kind of internal wonderment, 
stirred into my self privately asking.
how do trees rings happen within (?),
that the night sky is ever passing (?),
what are the nuances of force 
that cause ocean wave to action (?),
where from do creatures seasonally migrate,
cruising on or above the ship of earth (?).
not that those are legitimate topics 
for conversations shared.
but somehow, in high contrast, 
to what experience junkies would say
before me,
external experience, as if also a self process,
seems overrated.
but what can be said about that, 
that is not asking 
for the spirit of itself
to be the cause (?) . . .

Monday, December 10, 2018

retention (haiku) 12/10/18


mental retention
is stamped and coded with fear
we’re inventory

Sunday, December 9, 2018

when predicament winks 12/9/18


I drive this jeep of me into the mud 
to get stuck.
this situation over demonstrates 
that a transition is necessary.
this moment formally introduces itself.
no more the fanfare of far into the future
or the movie that expectations provide.
and this mud before me, 
looking up, 
smiles back at me.
I have to get out of this rocking chair
and sample the soup before me.
it seems to be very tasty 
to be in this moment.
no more wading 
into the world of indifference.
predicament slyly winks at me.
I inwardly smile back with gratitude 
for I have a wench in my back hip-pocket
as I look for caring volunteer trees.
each straining step now taken 
is a vacation from the norm.
I feel blessed to be in bouquet of circumstance.
the fragrance is both affronting 
and yet deeply appealing.
maybe this journey was all about  
going within.
and I had to set up this prop-fest 
to get there . . .





Saturday, December 8, 2018

why am I really here? 12/8/18


one has to discover that they are a self-experiment, 
in an original sense.
beyond the context rationally provided, 
culturally cultivated 
and parentally endured.
one has to have developed penetrative insight, 
not to live for answers 
but for deeper levels of questioning.
they have to realize there are no answers 
but only livingness beyond answers,
which provides for deeper levels of awareness 
in the witness sense.
one has to experiment 
and eventually see through rational constructionism.
eventually the deepest truths only exists as livingness.
for then, one keeps approaching the quantum of existence 
without standstill identification of it. 
real life does not pose.
‘why’ is a useless form of questioning…
‘how’ will take the hand of your mind 
and give you possible method.
the way we do think, 
in the learned and comfortable sense, is cozy 
but not actual lucid participation.
language is like a lint filter on the clothes dryer.
it is way after the process needed.
frontal cortex occupancy has to be released 
so that deeper-mind has conscious access.
eventually one channels oneself by these dynamic means 
that are readily available to them in this life time.
there are thousands of ways as means.
there is a basic integrity to being that needs to surface 
which is a form of surrender 
rather than contesting or willfulness.
most people settle for a lifestyle based upon conclusions 
which, in this case, do not help 
towards the cause of existence……
living in the get-by mode is very popular as success, 
dealing with fear-driven perspectives.
glimmer has to become a calling, 
as a drawnness, 
as an energetic honesty 
that is not mind driven.
life is a human maze of profound distraction 
that requires mind tools 
that are created by the self-impromptu 
with that wide-of-access within the self developed.
there are many levels of awareness on, 
all of the time. 
but access, in a conscious way, is limited 
by reality’s constant incestuous delving into answers 
that have no life-giving capacity.
one has to be in the stream of things 
to eventually know of the mountain 
that the snow-melt or the rain-fall came from. 
and then further, know of the sky circumstances 
that facilitated that specific rainfall or snow 
and then the nature of the sky circumstances 
that speak to and receive the weathering 
that is in constant thermal evocative flow.
the screen for viewing is always immersion.
that capacity is without restraint 
from a mindful-way of preoccupation.
most people become the wardrobe of their own making 
and then project their existence through that. 
it has a certain reality persuasion to it 
and is validated in a constant story-able way.
but that does not help with this process 
you are interested in explaining or expressing.
‘way’ has feel and is omnidirectional.
one has to challenge how think works, 
how feel expresses, 
how beingness manifest.
most people will go….
say what?
that one gets to an understanding
does not solicit actualization in the least.
actualization is the evolutionary process 
and one has to surrender into self-integrities 
that otherwise are not attended to 
by normal reality context . . .
so, why am I here (?),
is a false-lead.
how is my self-experiment evolving me
is loving the answer alive . . .