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Friday, November 30, 2018

Grace (haiku) 11/30/18


grace administered
is a soft sell to others
when self-love’s present

Thursday, November 29, 2018

De-cision 11/29/18


a decision is the white-cane usage 
of the blind of the mind. 
substantiated, then realized,
every now and then, 
analyzed into judgement. 
It’s all just a proselytizing ritual 
of thought-form deeds . . .

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Gab (haiku) 11/28/18


the gift of gab works
when conversation dances
the listeners’ minds

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Some daze 11/27/18


change is change changing
and you’re asking me 
for spare change?
okay, let me see if I get this.
you’re in a pool.
a very large pool,
but you’re exceedingly thirsty.
you’ve been walking in the desert
for a long period of time
but it’s not so hot.
you need to go do laundry
because you have only one change of clothes.
but you have no change for the laundromat.
you’ve had a splitting headache
but otherwise you’re feeling all together.
you think that the child is the father of the man
but you will have to prove it to yourself first.
and you can’t cut me any slack
because you’re too uptight to start.
let’s just say, for the sake of discussion,
that we just went on a walk,
and I got off on the wrong foot . . .
  

Monday, November 26, 2018

Simplicity (haiku) 11/26/18


simplicity is
one’s straightforwardness expressed
language with feelings

Sunday, November 25, 2018

The self predicament 11/25/18


so, you’re too much 
by not being enough
pleading, offers no deliverance 
staging victimhood as presence 
is somewhat mindfully vain 
seeing predicament as environmental 
is furthering uselessness
proving one’s worth 
is a false notion of self
and self, as preoccupancy, 
is not helping 
your presence with others . . .

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Understanding (haiku) 11/24/18


all of life reveals
the complexity taken
as understanding

Friday, November 23, 2018

string theory of linear minds 11/23/18


all of behavior is only the mirror 
made of acting out
experience is but a set of eyes 
constantly into the rear view
always attempting to comprehend 
the say of our actions
yet efforts are clandestinely made 
to reveal findings of the inner context 
where the say is 
so energetically real
thus is the incomprehensible string theory 
of our linear minds . . .

Thursday, November 22, 2018

question 11/22/18


so when you are often praying 
to your higher self
then soon after
there is no religion involved 
How does that happen (?) . . .

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Melting (haiku) 11/21/18


its always been so
things that match like shades of blue
melt me into you

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Topic versus tone 11/20/18


our emotionality is under mental-equivalency siege. 
emotionality is not composed of rational constituency. 
our emotions coherently surface from beyond the rational,
even to embrace the irrational. 
emotions, are under the constraint 
of socially constructed rational considerations.
in many cases, producing the toxic environment for venting.
the in-depth language-base for venting 
has not ever been clearly understood.
the research, based on topic, is a false lead.
the research, based on tone,
takes one more directly to source.
topic only gets you the wrapping paper
around what is yet undisclosed,
while tone gives one a sense 
of its ambience and its constituency.
topic is just billboards glimpsed 
from the fast mind-lane driving,
while tone places you in the environment 
in which venting all occurs.
tone always has the backdrop of spirit,
while topic is only a mind-grip with a bullhorn.
mind is indoctrination towards topic-orientation,
while heart is drawn to tone as embraced-representation . . . 

Monday, November 19, 2018

Questioning (haiku) 11/19/18


I’m a curator
of my own successful means
how hollow is that?

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Primal free-speech 11/18/18


Primal can dress-up in the disguise of trauma
The source of being can be seductively hidden 
in the resourcefulness of act-outs
The fluidity of being can become represented 
by gush and fall-out
Then whim or rage
Admittance takes the form of emittance  
Where harmonics takes on the sound language 
of cacophonous expressed
Mutations set to represent original source
A lightness of being is constantly present
And possibly consciously watching 
Unburdening is its own language spoken
From that which is weightless 
but weighs heavily on the fabric of being 
but not on the texture of humanness
Even pathos has its constancy of pitter-patter 
For we can all tolerate meaning
If it gets us to the passion of cause
For every breath is an instance 
of time travel occurring
Travel in self-isolation is limited and slow
Travel in unity is vast and expansive
Travel in self-isolation yields
Particulars, details, relevance
Travel in unity reveals, escorts, embraces, immerses 
What the mind is ever searching for 
The heart, in first order, imbibes 
What the mind will come to impeach
The heart will be glad to be primal free-speech . . .




Saturday, November 17, 2018

Digging deeper (haiku) 11/17/18


I dig into me
to find deeper hidden truths  
to live them alive


Friday, November 16, 2018

The lifeguard of cynicism 11/16/18


the lifeguard of cynicism 
is where the personal watch-tower of self
is filled with critical views
as the protagonist for needed protection.
there is ever-urgency of this watchfulness from afar.
how high and mighty is muted, yet stands in reserve.
fool-me-once generates a guarded internal narrative.
if so, when does self-dialogue 
become the ever-watching private self-lecture?
the self, as a bystander of course, with reservations.
the keep-safe sense of self that is ever near by.
for there is a place within
whereby you know you are being self-watched.
monitored while internally producing accountability.
some people are always in character,
no matter the wide range of their circumstances.
maybe their projection is a pretend 
but appears to be necessary,
for all of the screw-ups that could possibly happen.
some accomplished, showing incidental merit
while others, lending to long-term gloom.
there is a buoyancy to cynicism,
but also featuring a silent distance to all-in.
there can arise an eventual venting exposed.
the what I thought before, that then becomes
expectations that challenged the worth to start with.
in cynical modeling, history repeats itself,
but the vulnerability to the act or event
has been carefully minimized by cynical account.
therefore monotone never becomes colorific.
the conversation of intrigue is only overheard.
belief has a hammock in a private woods.
do-me-a-favor has appropriate distance respected.
impulse lives under restrictive house-arrest. 
spirited conversation can only happen then,
when cynicism is guaranteed to have the last word,
as if viewed from that watchful tower
overlooking a vast ocean of potential dismay . . .


Thursday, November 15, 2018

Soul worthy (haiku) 11/15/18


pearl of emptiness
clarity of existence
vision of my soul

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Confluence is the choir 1/14/18


I want the sweep of the land 
to be a mouth-watering gaze.
For my eyes to rest on the visuals in motion,
those that hold me in an intimate embrace,
hypnotically, as if it were mirror reflecting.
This outpouring of self as composure,
as this moment’s exude, coming through me,
confirming what is blessed about being,
amongst all of the beings present
and dancing that which makes us all so.
can’t we all be without the need for claim?
for there is no stage or audience approval.
everything is broadcast as self fulfilling. 
narrative is for absenteeism to partake. 
but then, that be mindfulness away from source.
Radiance is self permission
without the need for concessions.
what yearning into existence does
is very much the same
as birthing oneself into the light of being.
that we all can be, is invitational.
all of nature is only asking that of me.
come and be the intimacy of life with us
as confluence makes us all,
a choir by being . . .


Tuesday, November 13, 2018

silent ode to self 11/13/18


every sound bite of speech is stillborn blasphemy 
blather articulated into thought-form meanings
soon, sinking from the horizon line of awareness
settling beyond any cognizance of concern
the carpet of attention absorbed it into mute
the parade of sensory attention moves on
the backdrop yawns with ambience reborn
events shuffle by, one dance-card slot at a time
these frames of reference make up our story
page-turns happen as next thoughts come
the world reads to me as a childhood story
I am my own parent presenting
and my own self of child watching and listening
rhetorically, what is that real that is all in my head
but that’s the way we do this itness as humans
our reality is a gloss and accepted as such
our lives are self-myopicly fulfilling
the God out there blesses us all right here
as if we all share in a common dream
lego-linked by sound-bites and thoughts-forming
we made up these right-angles to stand for truth
yet the sacred cut reveals truth 
everywhere before our eyes
we would make circles to be dazzled with perfection
but the universe is all spirals in full fast-moving display
the universe has no surprises for itself
but we implore a narrative as if comprehension
and stage our experience as if audience intended
how can that be so as if we stand for truth
because we literally made up the concept of truth
as a self reflecting mirror 
based on our self-consciousness revealing
and we never leave behind the stories we tell ourselves
indoctrination is mean and cruel to self administer
but love is everywhere and yet concealed
our heart-mind already knows this
what our brain-mind yearns for
we are made of the math that lives beyond calculation
we made the word quantum up
and stare at it conceptually for starters
God within us starts where conclusions end their journey
are there any questions that God would ask of us?
that would be self talk without the use of words . . .



Monday, November 12, 2018

last lines spoken 11/12/18


there is the involuntary charm 
from the whence of this moment.
from the soul-searching eyes of deference, 
there to shake my hand.
ponderous is this meeting
but instantaneously explanatory.
this is where the sky-seeking fumes of seethe 
meet the sedentary drop-cloths of sooth,
just to be held up 
for a human frame of reference.
where documentary, in terms of observation,
turns to us to ask to the question,
what are the odds(?),
while handing us the first image every taken
of hope, with talons forward and presenting.
knowing that we, as humans, 
have many times traveled 
up the rivers of smiles
to find their common source.
we have the patience with our shallow breathing
to adventure towards its hibernation-cause.
for we have always wanted to live 
in the land of instantaneous melt,
right where the last breath of solid
exactly transitions into first breath 
of tearing into thaw.
where the expectations of solids 
become the humilities of liquids set free,
from the hard edged ever-formed 
into the ever-humble of liquidity,
where the parental guilt 
is becoming the guiles child,
as the haunted forest into the guiding light,
where gargantuas is giving audience 
as receptivity becomes wisdom’s revelation.
we are there
to discover the land that has no matter
and the liquid that is only made of flow.
please, hold on to my nearness
while I embrace your afar.
conversations abound and may reign upon us
from where we are but now the constant see.
knowing in this realm 
is all about surface tension
yet love is there is the ever-most of viscosity. 
this is the land 
where gravity is ever begging for embrace,
and you and I are but the stand-ups
to express ourselves as the human comedy. 
fully knowing that,
our last lines spoken in deliverance 
never take another breath
in entering into this deeper rhapsody . . . 


Sunday, November 11, 2018

be, then do 11/11/18


I wear awareness-moccasins to walk gently
on these inner fields of thought.
I see into seeming emptiness with soft eyes.
I listen up for self-conversations 
from these muted inner quarries. 
I have renderings made of pensivity,
woven from flexible conclusions
and wicker baskets in mind-stacks
full of topicals and pejoratives.
there are landscapes all around
to wonder about and wander through, 
made of other people’s presence.
some is territorial,
some forbidden,
others freely accessible.
each next moment is simply addressed.
at least consciousness makes that claim.
I haven’t found that to be true.
memories, as storyables, slows me down, 
apprehension in response, 
alters my pace.
I feel like I have inherited
a compromising whirl of distractions.
my senses over-cued to reality-react
when what I meant to do ,
embraces the moment without declaration,
or feel for the ambient confluence
as if the surround is the all of graciousness.
I would have liked to think
that I was native to this task
but in all my sense of human heritage,
I am the pretend
until it is so authentically real.
there is a light bridge to get there.
it is not for sighting any beyond.
it is for inward passage
through all of the obvious
that overwhelm has to offer.
they co-exist for me in this life time.
futures and pasts may offer 
to banquet quite differently.
but I can only praise this moment
with the deepest effort of my presence
as if my soul handed me a purpose
without any sense for the particulars.
just to wholly be 
and then, 
follow through with do . . .




Saturday, November 10, 2018

this picture 11/10/18


this picture, 
as with each and every picture 
is each worth a thousand words.
and a thousand words is a charging herd 
that eventually transformed themselves
into a blinding cloud of dust.
and that cloud will become
a desert affronting me, 
on the rise,
eventually surfacing 
as a sunbaked flat-land before me.
in my intuitive wisdom, 
I surrender the tri-pod of a mindset
for these images.
eliminate my capacity to reframe.
breath in, by breath and pores,
as if first-hand over fist.
only then, 
to be my embodiment
that continues to quintessentially arise . . .



Friday, November 9, 2018

identity (haiku) 11/9/18


one’s identity
is totally composed of
recognition’s ware

Thursday, November 8, 2018

common threads 11/8/18


from the secret world of common threads,
our tear-ducts pouring etheric fluids 
from our common mindfulness that explores.
our shared breath-wealth 
from the sling-hammock of common lungs.
comingled puzzle-piece behaviors, 
cause for a greater interlocking frame of reference.
self-talk, overheard by the other 
as tonal charm.
walk me back to before we were
in this moment, 
we are eagles soaring 
as in high contrast to then
from this point of view,
enough for me to say for myself,
I have wetlands 
and native life within me abounds
where before, 
the vacancy of the soil of me,
was just in a stare-down, facing the sun.
now-time is the hobby of life with leisure
where before,
the day filled with job interviews, for being.
and in high contrast to then,
there are the common chords of song 
that we, in big-tent silence, sing.
themes of our diversity 
rooted in the same soul-soil,
we are the inner work of beavers
tilling the personal landscape of self, 
in search for profounder life.
we didn’t have experience for results.
we were a mutuality for expression.
experience wasn’t for the results.
our experience together
was for the uproar and the out-pore . . .


Wednesday, November 7, 2018

audience 11/7/18


for most
lying is a form of truth telling
but is done silently and not shared
you can’t persecute these folks
they are actually on your side
but held prisoner 
by vested interest
they have the same morality at stake
but financial conviction owns them
they have the same sweet of the land
in work and play
but can only leverage themselves
into being a participant by false pretenses
now there are those who really play differently
they do not have the same rules
the same mindset but falsely play
they have other convictions of character
some other storylines
read to them as a mild-child
and have gone with that version
and view the rest of reality as an adequate pretend
in which to perpetrate their narrative
yes they need help 
but are unavailable for reality-counseling 
there are probably unavailable for attention span either
they has strategies and counter measures as home-court
blessed with adequate cover based on silence
and financially driven logic
they co-inhabit but do not plan to community-share
they are the wardrobe of profit
they are the vision of themselves 
looking down upon
they may have superior intelligence
but in more confined and conflicted spaces 
for strictly myopic enjoyment 
as they would so describe
they feature the backdrop of others
based on control and ownership there of
they are well-wishers
if they own the well
they are a money back guarantee
unto themselves
for them lying is their story 
told first person
as if they are also first row audience 
their theater has very limited seating
you may have had to sell your soul
to get in . . .
(and that’s just to listen . . .) 

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

being well beyond 11/6/18


you have a deeper resident witness
than your act-out ever presents.
a constant inner dialogue 
that must, from time to time
surface into words
said to oneself
almost as if overheard.
like you are not formally in that room
but on occasion, almost at a table near by,
there is this overhearing
of the self taking about the self.
you fall into a curious state of being
like life is going on
and then there is this living 
working with you
but not so much as to interfere. 
like why am I not always in the room,
in that discussion,
part of those observations wholly involved?
why do you only get snippets,
one liners, sort of overheard?
you know they are about you
like you have a hidden agenda of being
but can’t quite land it on the planet.
is it that you don’t trust yourself enough
to be there in the first person all the time?
sure you get that reality is distracting
or at least attention grabbing most of the time
maybe you cater to that more than you admit too.
it seems you can’t be in both places
at the same time as a working premise.
did you invent that also?
you even know you have a feel for it, 
almost constantly.
but some part of you gets into override
and outer reality is sensory stimulating
and on auto-aware.
if you are like me,
then it is like you are unconsciously journaling
but don’t seem to notice
except on these peculiar moments
when a drive-by inner conversation
catches your attention.
it is beyond curious, I know and you know
but seemingly out of reach.
we each get excerpts, tidbits, little morsels
and then the ever so soft of a sigh.
we feel out of alignment 
but very privately so.
it isn’t like answers comes
and everything is solved.
it is a deeper scope 
and a bigger lay of the self land
yet to be fully explored.
something is vaster 
but don’t have a clue as how to grasp.
all it seems we can do 
is lean in, absorb, expand,
and be witness 
with a more profound sense of cause.
no surety, nothing to claim
but inner openness 
and to witness,
as if we were from before we currently are
and planning on being well beyond . . .


Monday, November 5, 2018

others of like-wise 11/5/18


I have a first person
but it is essentially not me
yes, I use to be that person
and I would act out accordingly
but then I got suspect about the script,
the stage, even the audience’s responses
yes, I still use that first person
but as a means, a medium,
a method of representation
the projection seems to be necessary
but the motives and the intent
have shifted vastly.
even the view from deep within
has much more energetically going on
than just behavior in action
everyone is their own personal maze
somewhat hidden behind what appears
I appreciate that, the behind the scenes
the concealed emotions 
and heart-mind at work
vying for real time 
in a human frontal way.
it’s so complex 
what with intimacies, friends
acquaintances, and the random public
there is evidence everywhere presented
looking for the chemistry, the permission
and the energetic connections
now I witness from a deeper place
with a wider sense of observance
and a richer gain of return.
just the way a person walks by 
can inwardly inspire me
conversation that leads to the candid unexpected
endearments that comes out of oddities 
the connections that sustain themselves effortlessly
the space now for inner self-dialogues
the link-ups with others
who also have private dialogues to convey
yes there is still ego and a self presenting
but way back there
witness has provided so much more
a deeper dimension to a reality context
that is otherwise grinding, 
and eventually a bore.
buoyancy coming from within
alters this process as self reward
and that to express 
when others of like-wise appear . . .

Sunday, November 4, 2018

timelessly becoming 11/4/18


I can’t tell you a ‘what’.
for, in this case,
it doesn’t come across as a ‘think’.
I don’t know of an ‘it’.
figure it this way,
there is immersion, then I am.
my think is naively along for the ride.
I observe that ‘translation’ does not work.
there is nothing directly substantive 
that I can put into words.
how ‘it’ is, 
does not play into experience.
comparative truth could stare at it all day
and get nothing as if in return.
the ‘it’ of it goes on 
only if I am attending.
that is all I can bring back into experience.
my accounting is only accounting
I made of it.
I can say things like whole thought. 
but ‘there’ is a means of placement
from ‘here’ to the concept of ‘there’
and all of that made of a that, ‘there’.
I have it that they both exist
but I can only claim 
that it is simultaneous.
proving it keeps me steadfast ‘here’
and longingly away from ‘there’.
that ‘there’ has no need for time.
if ‘there’ had sensory aware
it would not feed for a self-consciousness.
no ‘now’ occurs ‘there’ as referential.
‘there’, when there, has no space considerations.
for ‘there’ is no there.
our approach of taking understanding
and going ‘there’, 
makes for all of the there that we get,
which does not work.
for understanding is excess baggage
and an idle method in an evolutionary sense.
there is not payoff in return
‘there’ for livingness 
then becomes isness
timelessly, ever becoming isness . . .
so ‘there’,
(why have concerns?)


Saturday, November 3, 2018

The side that God is on 11/3/18


I’ve made an important discovery:
that discoveries don’t exist.
they, of that, were always so.
the issue is:
who let us in on the ‘it of it’
and what ‘us’ are we talking about?
we’d like to think that language is 
a sense of capture and observation,
something grandly myopic.
but we seem to sense otherwise.
as we used to old-school 
in summary say,
well then, 
God help us all . . .