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Wednesday, January 31, 2018

the underdog 1/31/18

the underdog always wins
by not getting the prize
and therefore not settling for the reward
and eventually realizing
there is no reward
outside of this moment’s presence
the hustle pits this moment
against other moments as if benefits gained
so the sacrifice of this moment’s attention
played for the benefit of another
eventually gets discovered as bogus
no moment outplays another moment
even the dress up of a moment as prestigious
is a false notion of bracketed time
the indifference of time will reveal
presence of self, dressed up
in the costumes of time’s persuasion
is the fault-finding for memory’s sake
experience lobbies for that constantly
the underdog has a future
blessed by the skill of demystification
even the framing of underdog
eventually looses its appeal and characterization
the plot of vying for winning disappears
the notion of prize is deciphered
there are no prizes of worth to burden over
and reward is just an illusion as if promotion
one moment’s presence is not subject to being 
impressionably taken over by storm
presence is from the inside coming on
not from the outside coming in
advantage, underdog in realization . . .



Tuesday, January 30, 2018

all space 1/30/18

all space is filled
but we see emptiness
and then thinginess as the guardians,
destinations for our sight,
landmarks for tongue and touch,
residences of familiarity,
our bodily management
from projection’s feedback.
all space is dancing
but the music is so very soft,
maybe not sound worthy
for human ears to hear much less, listen.
but then, all of stuff is made of sound,
low frequency sound nonetheless.
couldn’t hum low enough
for the mass of it
to be a spirit joining in on the chorus.
our senses are dedicated to separateness,
to that which we come to distinctively regard.
worth is our funny set of oars
in a quantum ocean of means.
we are the attacks dogs for meaningful.
we defy Fibonacci’s sequence as if it were law.
we have peacock esthetics for show, in mind.
our playground has unconsciousness
plastered everywhere.
we bury our dead before they are born.
we are the witless ritual unaligned.
knowing, as our residence, does not help.
we could be that tai chi through all space
but our sense for mystery
requires for the confounded
to be unknown,
fact-check and conclusions as necessary baggage.
we can’t go home.
we can only make believe
as our religion of assumptions as bedrock.
we live behind the prison of distance,
under the watchful eye of time as the warden.
molecular is mocking us for our levelheadedness.
somehow we would rather be in control.
how small can a concept get
and still be beyond its own destiny?
space is reverent even unto itself.
we are in on that journey
but only effectively to look out the windows
as if a bus of intelligence takes us
where we, as tourists, want to go.
all space is there where it is
and we, are just here,
riding high and mighty . . .


Monday, January 29, 2018

the theory of words 1/29/18

words wiggle wildly into the wakefulness
are swept up by breath
to vast plains of comprehension
cue up as if quizzicals
bleed blood-dry in readiness
are architects as if for the reads
they titillate and full-bright
they ride the horses made of vocal tones
come forth from the haberdasheries of mouth
present for the illusions of agreements
can make-believe icicles into insults
become the welcome mat of outcries
give emotions crayons for syllables
are picturesque,
as if the only color worth seeing
is freshly read
words are ants farming and bees colonizing 
while others have utterances taking stances
words granularly bring down mountains
stone cemeteries
concretize absentias
forest for their bark
shadow cast as if to light the day
and most formally
are the ribbon cutting ceremony
for silence . . .











Sunday, January 28, 2018

joyless joy 1/28/18

joy is suffering’s experiential-version
of joyless joy.
for the experience of joy is resultive
as there is then
a reflection and search for cause.
meaning is asked to give assistance.
by then, past moments are bound
to be dressed up
in accountability’s renderings.
the true awareness of joy
is aftermath.
self-consciousness will see to that.
joyless joy has no surface
to conscious for.
it is impervious to interrogation of this sort.
it gives no appearances to events
as clamor.
joyless joy leads an inner life
beyond means.
there are no sag ways,
no interims, interludes.
what passes as notice,
does not penetrate
to joyless joy’s source.
experience steals versions
as storyable accounts.
the mind is rabid in its needs
of deeds and account.
but joyless joy is senseless, timeless
and without outcomes
towards surfacing.
joy to the world,
but joyless joy is spirit
as the seamless adventure . . .



Saturday, January 27, 2018

patience is the patient 1/27/18

patience is the patient.
for the observation of patience
is stillborn in every moment.
it is the act of patience
versus the art of patience.
one is looking at,
as if self-referentially
while the other is
what it is almost indifferent
to its self-awareness there of.
the reason for deed
is the compulsion of one
while the passion of presence
is the driver of the other.
willfulness can produce the behavior
but not the essence
that would be the draw.
go no further or go know further,
that that which drives one
is not the same
as that which draws one.
finding patience is not a call to arms.
true patience is full-out immersion
beyond claims or deeds.
for if the patient is resting comfortably
then patience is, at its core,
at peace within its broadcast . . .