the work on bad-faith by angels 3/31/20

the work on bad-faith by angels

the work done by angels working against bad-faith

is secretly practiced

when subjectivity rules one's perspective taken,

when the timing is so far off 

as if to cause unintentional harm,

when betrayal is not what it seems 

but ultimately revealing,

when duplicity has become a pattern 

of overwhelming lying to oneself,

when dishonesty will hurt oneself 

much more far later discovered,

when being cunning started with a bad concept 

to begin with,

when one-upmanship devastates 

a deeper chance at true love,

when one's hypocrisy will eventually 

only come home to roost ,

when deceit become more formally 

a self-injury later discovered,

when double-crossing does not help one

get from here to there,

when the art of one's deception 

becomes an image others know to well.

this is then the work on bad-faith by angels.

so, can you blame them?

( especially if they were yours?)

to a now without a self 3/30/20

understanding is a complete desecration of the now.

therefore, experience is a complete imposter 

of the present.

it makes us all shills unto ourselves.

we are not unlike spiders. 

for we are the fabric 

of the webs we weave.

only to catch ourselves 

as evocatives of self consumption.

we are vicissitudes and peccadillos 

in self in consumption.

now passes through us 

without any hindrance or mire,

as if in the air we breathe,

but not a breeze to ride high.

give me a now, 

dressed in the wardrobe of being

and I am the exiting of my self 

as finally, 

fully complete . . .

sculpted (haiku) 3/29/20

we sculpt each other

I'm clay for your perception

as you are for me

the wake-up call 3/28/20

the wake-up call

is not that sudden.

more like sun-up from behind clouds,

feeling for the warmth 

before the impress of the glare.

there is a knock on the door inside one's head

before there is room with a door to knock.

there is a flood of inner space 

where think occurs,

but yet not crowded with thoughts 

normally waiting in line.

drawnness overrides any sense of distraction.

the appeal has heart presence

before it has mind fill.

compelled is accomplish with soft encouragement.

a bigger picture registers with a soft gaze.

the intention has a fluidity 

before any real physical movement happens.

it is as if a flood of grace

over a landscape of previous mired resistance. 

perspective has lift off.

the camouflage has shoes, 

realized behind the curtain for looking.

time is not sluggish in its invitation.

so many props are in support and applause.

wings have hand skills to boot.

no more statues to honor

in the latency park of resistance. 

wake up has melody,

done only with inner sound.

it is like warm snow-melt has formally arrived.

welcome,

inner self has animation into life . . .

the wake-up call 3/27/20

the wake-up call

is not that sudden.

more like sun-up from behind clouds,

feeling for the warmth 

before the impress of the glare.

there is a knock on the door inside one's head

before there is room with a door to knock.

there is a flood of inner space 

where think occurs,

but yet not crowded with thoughts 

normally waiting in line.

drawnness overrides any sense of distraction.

the appeal has heart presence

before it has mind fill.

compelled is accomplish with soft encouragement.

a bigger picture registers with a soft gaze.

the intention has a fluidity 

before any real physical movement happens.

it is as if a flood of grace

over a landscape of previous mired resistance. 

perspective has lift off.

the camouflage has shoes, 

realized behind the curtain for looking.

time is not sluggish in its invitation.

so many props are in support and applause.

wings have hand skills to boot.

no more statues to honor

in the latency park of resistance. 

wake up has melody,

done only with inner sound.

it is like warm snow-melt has formally arrived.

welcome,

inner self has animation into life . . .

oh that initial smile 3/26/20

the smile is a sword

planted in the grip of the face.

the fist muscles are mostly in the cheeks.

the eyes can be highly focused

as if a target is in mind.

but the secret to the intention

is in the corners of the mouth,

as if the face were a bow 

and not really a sword.

for those two corners will reveal

the sense of intention,

either for delivery or reception,

aggression or response.

at that point, 

a view into the eyes

will confirm,

one way or the other,

looking for embrace,

or for appropriate distance

to conceal inward remark 

held as conclusion unsaid.

this is easier to notice in a photo

yet more intriguing 

in the rush of a face to face.

the energetic exchange as such

can alter the original stance.

maybe verbiage is also exchanged,

but the first order of reveal,

mine for yours

turns swords into all kinds of magic,

from lunges of direct intention

into shared flutters,

from billboards with flat surmise

into surprising animation,

from icy snow-melts 

into the same river of cause,

or from surface ice

into deep wells to mutually drink from.

for all swords are well crafted,

consciously so,

or otherwise.

yet we all have weapons of wonderment

as engagement, 

also deeply and readily at hand . . .

nothing lasts forever 3/25/20

nothing does last forever,

in the dissolution of everything

as common place observant.

but everything is only a pretend of ours

by our methods of meaningful depiction.

once we come to be in oneness

then there is no need for observation.

there is no sense of separateness as means.

therefore no claim of anything

when all is one.

and nothing is the departure 

from the everything viewing style

that we are so now accustom.

at that point,

nothing has no language to speak it.

there is no source point of observation

to make that claim,

much less to speak it,

nothing does last forever . . . 

we are water 3/24/20

the illusion of time and space 

are the only elements that separate us from oneness

sure, we are sensory deprived of that confluence

and we spend 24/7 religiously promoted into separateness

but still from within and deeply all around

there is access to oneness

all of mass is deeply committed in the most subtle of ways

we have adopted perceptions and methods of denial

only to spend a lifetime in discovery

to dwell in the self as separate 

yet to be compelled to connect

as much as we flavor with the obviousness of experience

we have other subtler means of being coalescent

heartfelt and emotion delivered

it both radically and subtly occurs

eventually experience is the only thing left

promoting individuality as prominent

but even experience gives way

common mind and flourish-meant of heart

give deeper evidence and insight

oneness is not in need of evidence

the surrender from fitfulness happens

ever so slowly as if living the water metaphor

from ice to water to evaporative to sky to frozen

once again but with a viscosity of wisdom in carriage 

lifetimes of passage in the persuasion

maybe even personalized 

as tears of sadness and of joy

for we are water 

until we are all one . . .

permanence (haiku) 3/23/20

to want permanence

as if validation lasts

ever be the search

when a house is not a home 3/22/20

when one is:

trapped in the lighthouse of unrewarded caring

or trapped in the penthouse of worldly valuing

or trapped in the treehouse of distant memories

living trapped in the watchtower of wishing for hopefuls

or trapped in the warehouse of overwhelming possessions

or trapped in the townhouse of upscale overkill

then again,

trapped in the roadhouse of unfulfillable travel plans

or conversely, 

trapped in the deckhouse floating on an abandonment sea

or trapped in the storehouse of fear driven impending needs

or else 

trapped in the log house of nostalgia's demands

or trapped in the doghouse of other's approval

or on the other hand,

trapped in the big house of criminal redemption

or trapped in the doll house of what other's say is pretty

and the worst case scenario,

of being virtually trapped in the outhouse 

of any of these, as petty disclosures, 

is when a house,

any house of one's own making, 

is not really a home . . .

empathy is hardwired 3/21/20

how is empathy hard wired but yet denied?

what is this learned intercession that confounds?

is it the self principle that overrides?

on the internal motherboard of each person,

where is that empathy switch located

and what will it take to rewire it back on?

does feel, in some, have no forthrightness?

does caring get worn-out by self-neediness

or overwhelmed by the lack of intentional initiative?

how barricaded can a person become

where empathy has no basis of existence?

maybe for some, empathy is suspiciously selective.

in that they can care for what they don't prominently fear.

while still for others that blade of caring has no sharp edge.

mood has the grip 

and mental compartmentalization has control of the handle.

how did this character of override happen?

what made that line become a wall?

the essence board is still in place

but the access into consciousness is vagrant or lost.

it is shorted out or melted into oblivion.

heartfelt is completely muted but deeply carried along.

what tragic act out became the override?

how much was declared as self

and the more deeply denied?

one could say that trust became profoundly self operative.

a self into an isolated existence

in which no other being

can knock on the compassion or empathy door.

the doors are all still there 

but to hear the knocking as permission to care 

seems to be barren of response.

those knocks only register as self in its own isolation.

frozen in the quicksand of fear as self claimed.

feeling barren does not source the ability to give.

and the feel from there is concretized in tragic.

the motherboard is there 

but the juice has no direction to present or be present.

and the motherboard has no sense of being self nurturing.

in this case,

heartless is the motherboard in disfunction

while the wiring is in a pattern of chaos interrupted

and the love, caring, empathy dwell deep within

but have no or very limited carriage 

either to or through that self of being.

we all need a love from within

that allows for reverse engineering to occur

may we each become a schemata to another in need.

that in the privacy of their person,

they see, read, feel,

as the template hardwire of another provides

that which was otherwise lost to oneself.

but now to venture as on

as empathy is the gene to oneness . . .

natural state of being 3/20/20

I was somehow lead to believe

that standing on the diving board of language

and executing meaningful as my dive

was somehow to effectively be 

a displacement of the sea

yet meaning has all the impact 

of only a splash

maybe I am better 

as part of the contemplative sea

as part of the current of connectedness

as part of the compassion that viscosity reveals

and as part of the feeling action of togetherness.

maybe belief is all about surface 

as it evaporatives

that regathers in the mindful sky

and find the rain of language

as way back 

to a more natural state of being 

there to clarify, intermingle and coalesce . . .