oh for the grief of it 9/30/18

grief features two kinds of imperfect.

one of frame and one of presence.

the one of frame is the assumption 

of living separate from significant others 

as styled by most of our methods for knowing 

and appearing to be 

who we then claim we are.

the one of presence is 

not being the ongoingness of presence 

but being the capture of the necture of presence. 

as if by storage, 

we have the richness of life 

in a personal memory bottle 

that we can sip in times of isolation or boredom.

grief assumes the benefits of mindfulness 

as if understanding is the personal guide. 

the meditation of grief pleads 

for the apparent missed opportunities to go away 

but also begs for the memories 

to be a form of private forgiveness

in the sea of unrelenting sorrows. 

this is a futile spend of energy 

as if correction comes.

that emotions are heightened in this process 

has its worth but not as this recoil, 

but more so as an opportunity 

to discover an emotional richness 

that could be available ongoing 

every moment, present as an awareness. 

and a blossom of being grief 

could be that messenger 

even though culturally we are trained away 

from that possibility. 

grief frames the death of the expected, 

the demise of the familiar 

and a false sense of closure. 

grief assumes a posture of presence 

that falsely reflects the past, 

in denial of the present 

and a false construction of the future. 

grief admits to the depth of the connections 

but fails to creatively participate 

in the other levels of ongoingness 

now featured 

in the privacy of the individuals involved. 

we serenade as if departure is what is happening 

instead of the transition 

to a clarity of spirit now ordained.  

grief is sacred as a ritual 

for transcendence and transformation of the self 

and the circumstances as they have arisen. 

grief has the potential for depth of soul 

in the deepest sense of energetic honesty. 

but if played as a loss, 

may the burden then continue 

as if to immediately cleanse one’s heart . . .

to grieve 9/29/18

to grieve 

is to emotionally 

darn one’s rational socks

only to wear them yet again 

in another emotionally filled day.

where the badge of sadness

is warn, 

very close to the footprint of soul . . .

rationality (haiku) 9/28/18

rationality

the sheen of it fills our lives

surface’s frozen lake

presence 9/27/18

presence is an anachronism 

for emotional un-spoken-ness.

it is a language base 

without pronounceable nouns.

not lip-service possible,

all constant broadcast of field.

the living experiment 9/26/18

if you consider your life 

to be an experiment

then is it happening through you 

or just to you?

are you witness to the player of it 

or an audience to it?

are you a person of destiny 

or are you bound to prove your worth?

is your life the buoyancy of the unforeseen 

or the dead-weight of conclusions?

are you a benefactor from your needs

or are you a caretaker for having used them?

do you feel for the groves

or do you mind-travel into ruts?

when doing a jigsaw puzzle

are you more for finding 

the last border piece to start

or for placing 

the last piece in the puzzle

as if believing you’re finished?

grief is 9/25/18

grief is 

only our mind-full attachment to method.

by grief, we are in review 

of the myopia we have lived.

as if the sameness 

that we have come to experience 

ever conquers the uniqueness 

of each sensory second imbibed.

that we conger into recognition 

brands us into sensory intakes 

that, in the short-form, 

feature repetition into remembrance.

we generate memories on this basis. 

grief is a life born out of conclusions.

we identify with what we call familiarity. 

we ease away from the uniqueness of each second 

specifically for this purpose 

as a passive entrainment of being. 

reality is then the production of boring composition. 

and so we fight that off 

by perceiving newness  

in the same light 

as we already hold deeply on to the past. 

it is a war zone of contrast and comparisons. 

thus we create value terrains 

that are under-dimentionalized 

for the zest of spirit 

or expression of soul. 

a thirst yet we linger in 

but never quite quench. 

and so we sip from grief 

as if it is unknowingly,

a taste of whine. 

in our genes 9/24/18

we all live beyond the paradoxes 

that we daily imbibe.

maybe not consciously so much

but never the less

endowed for the journey 

of possible discovery

as if evolution was in our genes.

human 9/23/18

we as human,

where all of the renderings of content 

are only the carrier

of undisclosed emotions.

and the smolderings that irrationally surface

in self-talk 

that hardly catch breath to say

as if the deeds of a momentary calm us down. 

all of recognition is just a fix-method of containment

as if that focus fills the need for sensibility.

referential is just a method of that reach

as in the rest of the people

that get off on the elevator floor you did

but behind you.

and you feel them 

but never look back to see.

attention is but a fire hose mentality for usage.

break glass, pull lever, 

as if a form of personal permission

to engage and be engaged.

what else you got going?

a sense of spirit 

on an invisible trampoline within you?

a call of destiny the remains faintly audible 

but ever-reality out of sight?

a feeling for soul

that can’t find an appropriate wardrobe 

to wear out in public?

yea, ‘human’ is an odd costume 

to be wearing as if presentable . . .

clandestiny 9/22/18

the secret search for the meaning of life

each person on their own

searching the mundane for revelations

luck, fate, coincidence, chance, windfall, 

providence, farsightedness, fortuitousness, 

may cross your path

however clues may appear to be embraced,

the journey to a deeper truth of self

is all about vibrational integrity 

and vaguely to do with common sense.

drivenness can run you in circles.

drawnness when possible, provides.

expansion invites.

surrender proposes.

caring can give clues.

success is but a sidebar to a mishap along the way.

not asking for a meaningful life

as substitutional

no handrails like these

as part of the process of distraction

just the perpetual motion machine of self-love

and how that gets channeled 

into presentable existence

clandestine plus destiny equals clandestiny

wanting you to look into this mirror 9/21/18

having an identity crisis of being

not of doing, just being

for once, 

to have given up on clarity from shadows

it is not even mirror time to reflect

of course there is my feel

and the grip overwhelming my feel

it is hard to peel away the tension

layer by layer

but for this feel as my feel

where vast has a self-assurance

where emanation and animation have resource 

as from soul-home

before, beneath and behind the complexities of karma

find me the driver of drawnness

where my oversoul had a lightness of being

before circumstance became representational

more than having my service serve humanity

I want my evolution to provide for others as invitational

for them to awake into their lightness of being

beyond the wardrobe of common sense and predicament

I bleed for a pronouncement 

beyond emotional self esteem as the driver

for my want to allow a channeled existence

I have lived as a truck driver of spirit

long journeys on a daily basis can happen

intuitive focus is my medicine for cause-worthy-ness

I existed before I exist is to tell myself

I am worth before I have search, apprehension and ponder

I am visionary before the concretization of thought

I am over-soul connected with everyone I meet

light feeds me by confluence and contradiction

my feel-think is more fluidly efficient than my think-feel

I can present as an aura of details

but know of me then know me

by my heart to yours . . . first

recognition 9/20/18

recognition, in receivership,

can be but a band aide 

on a lack-of-self-love wound,

an emotional poultice applied

to a personalized unconscious group-like trauma,

an over-soul need to be felt for 

from the collective into a symbolic embrace

but recognition, as from an audience, 

does not complete that immersion of encirclement.

it only infers the windswept possibility there of.

recognition, either by gratitude or appreciation,

is acknowledgment in the first person,

that can be face to face, eye to eye, 

looking to impart in a genuine way

as a soul to soul by some energetic means,

an opportunity out of performance

that reigns in that sweep of feel.

know of yourself for what is offered.

we all bleed for the likes to happen.

from minute to massive

the bandwidth for caring 

and being cared for is unsuspectingly vast.

the ode to recognition lives on in silence

until per chance, as maybe fortuitously,

recognition becomes a needed 

but unanticipated subtle soulful embrace . . .

we came as brain-baggage 9/19/18

coming to the boredom of the quintessential

when serenity is not any more 

a land-lock of a comfort zone

when bliss is not fluidly experiential but rumbling

when the art of knowing is a river-rage 

coming back to haunt the being of the being

when meaning is only the sheared wool

coming off the sheep of words

when next thoughts as flashfloods 

have no directions as come-ons,

no sense of frame, boundaries or complexity

when no one in the sensory audience is moving into fluidity 

when all projections loose 

the cutting edge of their significance

when the pitter-patter of meaning is no more the raindrops

but much more so, 

the intimacy of understanding is

as if it is in the cadence of the rain 

only the to discover that

knowing keeps us from the essence of being

knowledge is a state of retentive placards as stand-downs

linear thinking is only a vibrational mime existence

that our method for certitude is a negative affirmation promoting separatism 

where everything is wearing a nametag in our mind 

as a convention of separates

there the secret message hidden within the word ‘there’ 

as code is that ‘there’ already includes ‘here’ 

it is more then that we lack the wherewithal 

to be ‘there’ as ‘here’

even by the perpetual specificity of a here 

there is the constant production of an evidential there

such a locational mystery

we fail to comprehensively grasp

as a unified oneness 

beyond our means of presence,

much less description

the crux of the matter world is

we have to have a ‘there’ to sense it

and we have to have a ‘here’ 

to sense it from.

thus the affirmation promoting separatism 

continually gets addressed as a way of sensorial life

experience is living for the decals 

as retentive memories 

on the brain-baggage as us . . .

ever the inhalation 9/18/18

I would never 

be that part of the obesity of plump,

that does not sense, 

feeling-wise 

any ever-distant muted soul-filled rumbling,

no matter how indirect or roundabout 

they would occur.

even the smallest of faint ripples or trembles

would get my deductive bee-line attention.

sure familiar is a form of sedentary, 

and recognition is baiting me that way, 

constantly with lullabies 

from languages usage as cradlesongs.

but I would forever look for the serrated edge, 

even through the soft collective 

to find that smiling grit 

of passivity’s hidden might in platitudes, 

apparently boring to the core,

or feel for the faintest of any current’s nose-tip orientation,

to find the vibrational meat, 

that muted subdued thunder,

that tells me, 

by its lip-service of subtle movement,

where and when and how 

isness might be happening.

even when three-dimensional ignite 

is in stand-down

and anticipation is still sleepy-eyed, 

just above somber.

I will have heart-wings unfolded 

with the in-breath of spirit-updraft, 

ever the inhalation of consciousness 

in mind attending . . .

my post secret 9/17/18

I have been seeing this woman 

for sometime now

I just recently discovered 

that she has been cheating on me

with another guy, me

it’s like every time it’s different

I don’t know who I am

or who I am going to be

I am hoping to discover 

that I am also cheating on her

with guess who?

with her, but in a different light

maybe this has been happening 

all along, all of the time

but I was too much in lock down, 

so to speak

I hate to admits this

but maybe I was attending to the safety mode

as if familiarity as security would claim

and not paying much attention 

to the adventure from within

before me . . .

to clearly become 9/16/18

just here, as a bystander to my own breathing

as if always taking still-shots for thoughts

imagining my facial composition in response

creating access to my own judgmental facial posters 

then to share appropriately with my private self

this is all floating just slightly above 

the fast flow of boredom rushing by

I’d give my eye-teeth to see more clearly

but then that redundancy only runs into it self

some place within me

I have restless leg syndrome on the brain

not sure if anything can happen too fast

but I know that you know

that that is an audience response to being entertained

one of the secret contracts of language

is that there is a listener for the enactment

does talking to oneself fully qualify?

I am not sure if I am listening

or do I almost accidentally overhear?

yet, such a loud voice requiring no breath to speak it

the funny thing is that that voice never stutters!

some part of me pays more attention to my breathing

then I do

it’s like I am rowing a kayak in a tranquil lake

and my hands are more aware of the water than I

they are like otters with a task at hand

while I am somewhere between a palate of water colors

and a canvass of approval, mind spent

once in a while I have to convince myself

that what is happening to me, like this

is happening to thousands of other people

almost at the same time, but we can’t link up

we’re like a giant telescope staring out

at the same predicament of being

but can’t collectively connect the introspective dots

I really can’t wait for real to get to this level of share

without having to go to a major athletic event

to fake the whole thing as if we are only audience

still waiting for self-consciousness

to become, to clearly become

a common conscious mind

as a oneness thing . . .

oh, for the way 9/15/18

I feel for the steel of soft 

in the deep dive overwhelming me,

for the stoniness of fragrance 

racing through me unending,

for the hands on fresh peel 

coming from every next thought,

for the penetrative claws 

from the front paws 

of this moment’s grip on me,

for the weightlessness impacting me

around visions’ next arrival

and then the seamlessness of sensory inputs 

settling ground to ceiling within me,

and for the passive-aggressiveness 

of my dualistic thinking.

oh, such longing for the way 

that summary builds a permanent nest

out of the twigs made of my conclusions nesting,

for the flat bridge sighted of that horizon line

when I am ocean beached, horizontal, 

then staring straight away,

for the spontaneous expression that comes to me

as if finger painting

that comes forth 

from every feverish next touch,

for the way that the foreignness of cold 

grabs at my attention

with such consistent intrinsic insistence,

for the way that agreement expects to hibernate within me,

for the way that the deeps of the sky 

look back at me, fondly,

for the way that time is the only race

as we are but a species of its participating inhabitants,

for the way that motivation is like catchy sing-along jingles

that eventually come to reside 

in my silent constant hum,

for the way that passages are like popups from books

that I would rather walk through and under than ever read,

for the way that turmoils linger like laundry hung

on an outside line 

but still attention grabbing in view,

for the way the memories are sent my way

like pictorial postcards as if my ears are tenderly burning,

for the way I come to familiar by my daily stare-downs

with the weather front-door facing me,

for the way amusement comes to me 

from the visual geometry of passing cars,

for the way I am endlessly yet zestfully impressed 

with the unceasing visuals of curvature,

for the way that sound humorously hides 

as if it is in the musicality of instruments,

for the way that the sun’s movement 

is so sneaky steadfast amusing,

for the way that the wind is always the whisper

but never the subject matter of the message we share, 

for  the way that I would feel completely nude

without this clothing made of my experience,

for the way that I have conviction 

as if I am on the forever road, 

traveling home,

and for the way that my every next breath-in 

is my back stage pass 

to the front stage presence 

of now, as presenting . . .

feelings (haiku) 9/14/18

feelings will thrive best

in fields without conclusions

as their fertile ground 

immortal wisdom 9/13/18

oh, to live beyond life being summational,

past the precepts of perception’s gain,

just for the excitement of isness 

percolating from within

that is so bubblicious, 

beyond experience’s grasp,

beyond the trance of habits 

and the fixation of circumstance.

just right there, 

where your prominence exudes you

yet you are so, in human form, 

unabashedly shy.

being, without the redress of self, assured.

for there, diversity 

is the most unique expression 

of oneness 

faceted from its sourcefulness 

but in the grandness of immortal wisdom, 

unified . . .

symptoms (haiku) 9/12/18

symptoms have no cause

current medical theory

big pharma’s research

govern-meant 9/11/18

we all have closet minds 

in the culture we keep 

personal distance and internal dismay 

provide for that

the inner dialogues 

that never get sounded

the conclusion’s weight 

is more than opinion

belief is brick heavy 

with these unsaid remarks

visioning is through 

shattered safety glass views

the fractures of unsaidness 

give perspective a bad name

the hen house of respectability 

is haunted with 

bad egg syndrome undisclosed

mental compartmentalization 

is a thriving art-form

a puzzling disguise that is edgy 

but has no borders 

leading to the eternal question

what kind of mind thought that to be,

in essence totally and unabashedly true?

we are all hurting 

with the details of that

done in our absence, 

so to speak

such is the work of closeted minds 

cloistered together

making this rhetoric 

their stand-up routines

and we naively call that 

the pronouncement 

of what govern meant . . .

just a theory about gun control 9/10/18

it isn’t the gun that is the issue.

it isn’t the mind behind the gun, either.

it isn’t the state of the mind of the shooter.

it isn’t the resolve in the moment 

of the mind of the shooter.

it isn’t the weeks or months leading up to that act of itself.

it isn’t the state of mind that developed over that lifetime.

it isn’t the combination of all of these factors together.

it isn’t just the mindsets that that person has gone through.

it is possibly the culture we keep 

that contributes to the emotional isolation 

that then gets privately thought up.

it is possibly the dualistic thinking we excessively do

that fosters positions taken of right or wrong,

good or bad, approved of or dismissed,

friends or enemies, likable or not.

it is possibly living in a culture where conclusions reign,

worth is status-relative to those in our surround,

the definitions of success 

that are driven by proving one’s worth,

where the value of self is a compromised ongoing,

where species entitlement makes it all

a series of dramatic act-outs,

where ego is a skill-set of projections unto others,

where the context for reality is a chase after chase,

where empathy, compassion and consideration

are only commendable traits as to a way of life,

where ‘going towards’ is a selfish concern

and going ‘away from’ is a natural response.

it is the cause of our personal lives

that are full of the irrational unseens,

that eventually, are vented by disguise 

into positions of value.

we seem to all have prejudices 

without adequate soul searching.

pursuing actions and reaction towards value and worth

by these means renders us superficially distracted

from the collect heart of the matter that resides 

in each of us, every moment ongoing.

a gun is only the final draw.

we, by the culture we manufacture,

are psychologically the early makings of those guns.

we are the generators of the fabric of the environment

that eventuates, predicates 

and in absentia passively permits.

so that all that has happened and is about to happen

is the result of a long history of false leadership,

propagandized perception, 

human entitlement in overwhelm,

capitalization bent towards dehumanization for profit,

and the isolation of each of us as humans

from the collective heart as common knowledge. 

we are vacant of shared and respected elements of culture 

that are affirmative from the heart,

evidentially sharing of collective soul

and respectful of circumstance 

for the human predicament to ever evolve.

in beingness, topic only leads us 

into understanding as a form of isolation.

to be a vessel of self-worth to be shared

does not seem to be a cultural working premise.

we are collectively, a lightness of being

but not of a culture that supports that unceasingly . . .

so for now, right this moment,

going forward.

the only relevant politics 

you have readily available to you

is the face-to-face 

with every next person you meet, 

to see how much heart to heart 

you can make consciously communal

as a way of reawakening this 

as cultural inheritance.

this message has to get out. 

face to face is a tonalized feeling of this,

conveyed by presence

confirmed, eye to eye.

the myopia of fright 9/9/18

in shortsightedness’s finest moment,

we are marginalized by overwhelm,

in a peephole’s perspective.  

squirm is a legitimized reaction.

panic as acting out.

death as a backdrop incentive, 

to be guarded against results.

we are armed to the gills;

first the word,

then the wheel,

now the gun,

next, complete isolation. 

for safety means, of course.

western medicine suffers from the same,

treat for the symptoms,

so as not to address 

the deeply engrained real causes.

capitalism is in the deep of psychology 101.

glean profits are as an emphasized necessity.

war is only highlighted as incentives.

war is essentially an ‘us versus them’ reality,

an isolationist’s anthem.

the myopia of fright provides the lyrics.

we are all unobtrusively coerced to join in,

to the singing of that song . . .