quips as drive-by thoughts

you are fountaining functional anatomy 

of spirit

belief gives me a residence for reaction

exactitude is a wardrobe worn 

to prove one's worth

expectation is fixated 

internal motherboard usage

when love is responsibility, 

it's reduced to dutiful 

self defined is 

an isolation functioning premise

the hobby of penetrative insight 

is life changing

mind-fuck: pornography 

of conclusion's-made industry 

experience is the prism 

of distraction for oneself

a mirror's self-reflection is 

just a solicited kibitzer account

the bones of meaning are all dressed up 

in the flesh of self

how did thinking inside the box 

originally get gifted

god is observance, love is permission, 

being is

views on life and politics generally meet 

in dark places

go figure yourself from the inside out, shadows not included

every crisis is a frying pan for soul food, privately served

to live for the outing of now

beyond the ways we meet

 

whatever the topic is,

the further one gets into it,

the more it's not about the topic.

whatever the context to start,

the deeper one goes,

the more it's not about the context.

whatever the content,

the more one feels for the subject matter,

the more it's not about the content.

sure, that is the cover, 

if anyone else ever asks,

topic, context and content. 

but really, so much of relevance, 

can't be said

or placed succinctly 

in a reportable conversation.

we live on highlights 

and then judgmental accounts.

we are always fundamentally nude 

inside our say,

but who sees through the language apparel.

who has ex-ray eyes 

and deftly floats on the sea of say?

find me the intimacy 

that has no voice heard,

no topic spoken,

a context from beyond

and content that dwells deeply within.

where the dialogue is vibrational

and we once meet in these ways,

we never ever separate 

from that way, 

ever again . . .

reflex behavior (haiku)

living conclusions 

gives us reflex behavior

as life's reactions

beyond the comparative truth

 

soul searching, 

beyond the format of comparative truth

yet feel trampled by the sensory obvious,

but probing for the subtlety 

of approaching serene,

inwardly discerning for the artisan feel

rather than the satisfaction 

of a jealousy purchase,

being enchanted by eccentricity's appeal

rather than accepting 

popularity's pronouncement.

there is the want for yearning's assent

rather than a brazen bucket-list 

checked-off,

deep down searching for reflections 

that reveal

rather than images presenting as approval,

to live for a journey of insightful exposure

rather than travel that excites the norm,

the want to live for the intrigue 

of inward earnestness

rather than for the crowd appeal 

that celebrates,

to explore inwardly, 

for the simplicity of spirit

rather than sightsee the world 

for the experience.

there is a want for inner wisdom retained

rather than outer knowledge to expound,

to become the bareness of absolute presence

rather then the sophisticate 

of society's calling.

give me my emotions, heartfelt ascending

rather than the manifestation 

of worldly reward.

I would have rather lived 

my love alive

than loved the alive 

that I lived . . .

what are the odds?

 

out of a thousand simulations,

this is what I got.

out of a thousand points in time,

this is where I am.

out of a thousand thoughts to think,

this is what comes to mind.

so what is the likelihood 

that this is real?

are we just the slippage into incidence?

does probability produce 

predicable presence?

but are we beyond 

what thinking not so generates?

can I really be asking myself a question

that is not rhetorical before it is formed?

does mind always circumvent the truth

that can't be pronounced in words?

wisdom requires more than mindful words

to get wings that lift my being.

I want where that is as home,

whittle the rest of this down to nothing.

I just want essence before it got named,

just the shimmer of it 

before it got movement,

just the gusto before it got wind,

just the fervor before it got force,

just the verve before it got nerve,

and just the richness of unlikelihood,      

before it got mindful as to,

what are the odds . . .

between the tidelines

 

I live between the tidelines

of the ocean of light and dark.

for when the sun comes,

even an hour away,

I am aware of the lumens 

already stream-pouring in my direction.

it is a liquidity-stampede 

of light-force approaching.

giving animation 

a recognition impact factor.

it is the stealth of sight coming into frame.

providing a backstage pit-pass 

to today's daily life.

sure, night's shades will still longingly stay

and present as persuades.

but the soft frenzy 

of clear-sightedness is appealing.

I take up the prayer of cognition 

for all that I see.

I will wander 

between these tide-lines of light and dark

the whole day long

until the bleed-out begins,

as I move towards becoming 

a creature of the night.

the death and the birth embrace in a dance.

in role reversal, 

one leads and now the other follows.

there is the sight of agony 

dancing with ecstasy.

shaded-ness surrenders 

from its impudence. 

long shadowed faces that sang the now 

began the deep throat hum.

I loose interest in lyrics

and become fascinated with the melody.

the overwhelm of exit in upon me.

I am glow as a murmur 

of my last daylight breath.

but I am now then freed up

to participate in a different dimensional see.

once again, in the course of a single day,

I have been through all of the postures

of a rose photographically in bloom, passing.

I have been allowed to have access

to full-circle wisdom, 

in the life of existence

between the tide-lines 

of light and the dark . . .  

 

anxiety as a prayer

 

emotionally die 

at the hands of every next person you meet

and then simultaneously inwardly discover 

that you continue to privately live 

in the self secret.

please continue to die 

with every one of these deaths

as monotonous 

and yet instinctively overwhelming

as each of them secretly is, 

until you discover the deep-well 

of empathy in your being

that represents the evident 

and yet hidden fear in them 

that you humbly and respectfully honor 

by dying 

in your silence in their presence

so they can uninterruptedly and unknowingly live on.

come to realize the power 

of your mystical presence

in its original source and stance 

and not the appearances of 'now' circumstances as overbearing consequences that you can only react to 

and that overwhelms you in this your current reality context.

but realize the deeper calling 

that resides within your awareness

that has confounded you 

from going forward

but inwardly compels you to do so

deeply admit to your anxiety 

and the subsequent self-disguise.

risk sourcing yourself in a deeper way

as presence in this moment

from a deeper place within

then the emotional unconsciousness 

of those around you.

you are not here to be in mercy 

for them or for you

but you are here to boldly be present

in the richness of your sightedness

and the wisdom of your spiritual clarity.

be a healer of soul

and not a victim of self 

dressed in the false karma of apprehension.

your anxiety should be 

a contradiciton-prayer for permission

to rise above and through 

that which vexes you

as if it is applause beckoning you 

truly forward

to source to the true depth of who you are

and share from there 

in your evolutionary service 

to humankind . . . 

I as the shepherd

 

living amidst the loiter of linear thinking,

logical is stylistically present everywhere.

I am the shepherd constantly searching

the sensible land for any sheep of oddity;

the in-camouflage but otherwise standouts,

the emotional appealers 

that inwardly call me,

the ever disturbing 

to my sensibilities, noticed,

the freakish standouts wildly unattended,

the 'had's-to-be-there' in the first person 

o observe,

even the pleasantries 

from those cooperatives

as well as the subtle novelty-ones 

from a distant land,

or any sheep the automatically defy 

normal routines.

for them, I am the awareness shepherd

that lives as the deeply interested.

just any sheep that call out,

heard by my curious mind

or even just any sensory input from them

that alters my lockstep existence.

really, in all honesty, just any palate of color

that changes the complexion 

of my sensory observation style,

I am there for them.

for them, I would breath in rough road

if it allowed me deeper penetrative insight.

I would surrender my sense of ownership

if it gave me an opportunity 

to inwardly experience delight.

for then, I would sing my loud silence 

as if it were a song, 

I couldn't get out of my head.

I would become 

my own inner alternate perception 

shotgun buddy,

riding within me as one.

I would glean 

from the abound of their curious-wool,

surrendered to me, 

from these sheep of my interest.

my textile then 

to be become 

the woven of compassion and of empathy,

as my pasture land would become 

an earth embrace

and I, as the shepherd 

would then be my spiritual calling . . .

 

on the passing of this torch

 

how sacred keeps me 

from outright agony.

how cherished, 

in each moment, 

keeps me 

from the sincerity of sorrow.

in the honesty of essence,

we are always one.

in the marking of time, 

we now have the poignancy of reverence

and the presence of soul-full humility.

this blessedness 

of earnestness comes forthright

as the sacredness of living gives way

to this deeper presence of light.

transition is realm expansion offered

to a vaster sense of conscious-being.

a sense of being, unlike any other.

an entry into a dimension 

of presence, witness and honor.

to be able to look down upon,

from within,

with clear witness 

and to see thoroughly through,

with a facility for conscious soul.

gifts offered by life in passing

are gifts received, 

by deep love 

in recognition's stance.

never again to be small in perspective

or limited of self in carriage

or blind from a deeper sense of awareness,

as in spirit-to-spirit truth.

sentience survives these moments

and thrives on our eternal.

this countenance becomes 

the constant backbone-prayer 

of your consciousness.

go forth, as bonded and embodied.

to be going forward,

in the mystery of two, 

where now becomes the share of spirit,

on the passing of this torch.

for the two interface, 

as dissolving into the one.

thus this is the sacred movement 

that has no moving parts.

for it is the blessedness of presence

that comes to live outside of time.

and the sourcing of love

that seeks no identity.

and the sense of self 

as spirit beyond any mortal stance 

from limitations' reach.

be the becoming

beyond memory's reach.

embolden, enhearten, and far reaching

into the hearts and minds of others.

for your life is in service 

to this cause . . .