House rules (haiku)

if you eat ice cream

try eating it with a fork

from the container

A timeless now

Life is not

an entitlement of response

though almost every moment

is evocatively enrolling.

The senses are trained

to report unceasingly so.

There is the underwritings

of concept, working premise,

actualization, intended outcome,

and demand of documentation.

The insistence of deliverance

is forthcoming.

Experience then becomes

the momentum of alibi.

Struggle and sorrow are

the disclaimers of reverence.

Pain is the impetus

of understanding implied.

Fear is the private entrance

to a self-devotion

where the veil of blindness is

temporality’s pleasure as deeds.

Morality is as a rope-bridge

across the apparent desolates

of now.

Our commonality is

aloneness unto death.

Our lives are of acceptance

and thus we compensate

with hearsay and belief.

We are richer every moment

forward of a lesser kind.

We are truly manifested unity

in disaster and dismay.

We are listless in chorus.

The song, as a waking state,

journeys the planet in surround.

We are prisoners to the want

of freedom’s claim.

The treasures are

of the ambience of soul

that comes through

despite the apparent spikes

of personality

and the predispositions

of circumstance in override.

Only in the birth and the dying

does soul seem so evident

of field and of being.

Why doesn’t this illusion

as life method

fosters purity of heart?

I beg for a radiance

to overtake my sensing,

for a flush of brilliance

to dissolve the bones

of my thought.

I am to disrobe of conclusion

until absolutely nothing

of objectification resides.

I am not the summons for peace

that is a human

self-administered refrain.

If I am lost in the oneness calling,

so be it by its own means;

a vessel, a conduit,

an absence that feeds.

May a desperate wholeness

shape my last remains.

Where one manifests as many

of the one

in pronouncement of the one

of unknowable means!

No persuasion

as with time or space.

Grace be emanative throughout

as about a timeless now.

Tragedy (haiku)

the blessed result

of our dashed expectations?

today’s tragedies

The special weave

The special weave

is that it weaves of itself

a fabric so delicately made

of essentially everything

and yet so fragile

in that all elements contribute

and it wears of itself

as a oneness.

It is not an apparel

for it covers nothing.

It cannot be layered

nor ever so folded.

There are no buyers

or sellers or market.

It is of all fashions

without provoking interest

or purchase intent.

It is an ever constant.

It is being woven

while also unraveling.

Life and death are

an apparent weave pattern.

Breathing is part of the lace

of the active wear.

The sky presents a subtlety

of the massive intertwine.

The universe is garment size

as much as socks are also.

Fathom, comprehend,

appreciate and grateful

are four of the techniques

that the weaving takes on.

No one of us

is clothed within it either.

For we are all like that

of the silk worm

as much as its secretions

make obvious.

We are

of entwine and interlace,

interlock and knit.

We are part of

that weave

that weaves of itself.

Cats (haiku)

cats usually

take tongue showers every day

for their enjoyment

The Tao of playing tag

You can only be it . . .

and not know

You cannot be tagged . . .

and then be it

Once you’re it . . .

there is no one to tag

okay?

Let’s play . . .

You’re it!

Doubts (haiku)

bar trick of the mind

leading doubts to certainty

by making them wink

The power of purpose (Part 4 of 4)

It is only later in life,

far down the tapestry

of doing life

that the power of purpose

seems to be buried

beneath the agendas,

the responsibilities,

the upkeep

of cultivated identities,

and the contractual agreements,

that the power of purpose

has all but lost

its essential source place

of being.

We may catch a glimpse of it

under a spontaneous set

of special personal circumstances

but to rekindle or reclaim

is all but out of the question.

The present momentum of being

does not really subscribe

nor possesses

the essential knack to re-enter

that wellspring of being

in an authentic self-present way.

Anyone who authentically re-enters

this state

is subsequently obliged

into a simultaneous split sense

of self-situation

where by one part

is grateful to function metaphorically

as if they have won the lottery

and therefore

redistribution of the wealth

is responsibly in order

and second,

they are under

the speculative scrutiny

of everyone near

for breaking the contractual code

of projecting

a somewhat uniform placate being.

This zeal, when lit,

provides for an apparent

transformational environment

that can feed others

from their inside out.

Purpose is not the billboard.

Purpose is hardly the manifest.

Purpose is an alignment

from within.

The power of their presence

is life force applied

as their consciousness

becomes the embrace shared,

from their power of purpose . . .

The power of purpose (Part 3 of 4)

Every child born

has the radiance of being

to be worthy of

the power of purpose

to manifest as a life direction.

Few make it

into purposefulness

in a full blow way.

There are many checks

and counterpoints

in every person’s life

that discourage

this power of purpose

from embracing

a course of action

without circumventions

and diversions

along the way.

Even scaled down,

the power of purpose

can be ignited

in anyone’s life

by empathy, understanding,

unconditional love,

shared vision, and simply

the chemistry of beings

brought together.

Purpose is the momentum

of self-permission expressed

into manifestation

yet in all ways transforming

the being in the process.

All healthy and vital infants

express the power of purpose

as their instilled being.

They exude this purpose

to the level of presence.

All of doing

can be permeated

by the power of purpose

for that being brought forth

and ever expanding.

To see this light in another

is to encourage it

to manifest even in oneself.

This fertile ground

is this consciousness shared.

Spirit expressed

is the highest order

from the power of purpose.

The power of purpose (Part 2 of 4)

The power of purpose

is contagious to others

when it is essentially this;

the presence of spirit intentioned

and the passion

of sacred action manifest.

So many of us

directly search for purpose.

So much of purpose that arrives

is of a lesser kind.

It is the purpose

that justifies accountability.

It is a purpose

that answers to justification.

It is a purpose

that is not essentially seeded

in the heart

but it is in a context

suitable amongst others

for agreement’s sake.

It is a purpose of convention

but not of a calling.

Surely it may have spirit

but it is spirit that is subjugated

to the limitations

of others evaluations

and determination.

It may have been purpose

as inspiration

that lost its momentum

in the mire of production

and interpretation by others.

Purpose waylaid by concessions

that lacked the zeal of being

to go on.

Purpose driven by will

eventually lacks soul.

Will, masquerading as passion

as the driver of purpose,

will eventually enroll no one

but will allow others to mule

the original purpose

into fodder for their claims

and then is really

seen no more . . .

The power of purpose (part 1 of 4)

Purpose is essentially passion

applied to action.

True purpose is

a singular honesty of being.

This kind of purpose

translates into a being

exuding of presence.

A being with this kind of purpose

has purpose that transcends

their actions

and becomes the power

of their presence

in all of their actions.

Purpose that has this kind

of power introduces their spirit

as the source of their intentions.

The power of purpose comes

directly from the engagement

of spirits towards the manifestation

of the same purpose.

The subtle physics of this effort

can be demonstrated

by the example of a great singer

who by their voice

and personal presence

can enroll an audience’s attention

so much so that the audience

becomes of the same unified purpose

and has responses with feelings

that pervade the entire room.

The majority of beings in that room

share the same purpose

as an expression of common feelings

brought on by the singer

and the power of their being

through their applied purpose

in the form of a song.

This method of medium-ship

has many styles

that humans relate to.

We are all thirsty

to experience the power

of purpose in our lives.

In fact, we are daily scavengers

on behalf of this search.

Purpose many times,

although it appears to be

outer-directed,

is all about representation

of spirit into the “real world”.

Finding unity of being

in everything manifest we do

links us to this deep feeling

for purpose.

As children,

play was a loose assembly

towards the commonness

of purpose.

The joy of play was the expression

of the commonness of purpose

in a simpler way.

Many times the elements essential

in purpose

came from the fundamentals

nuanced through the course of play.

There was a combust

that could be generated

that presented itself as play

in an activity

but the essence

of the mutual swarm

came from within.

This essence was permission

as a passion.

This was a permission

to be and to do.

Purpose when it is full blown,

is this combination

of being and doing.

Why bother (haiku)

"why should I bother?"

is a voluntary act

of self criticism

A complexity died (my tribute)

This elderly woman ceased.

She gave up on withholding.

She set her newfound sights

and passed through them.

She found inward images

that guided her

with self-permission.

Her riddle

of perplexing circumstance

is released.

Her tremendous need

for solitary intimacy

was quenched

by solemn aloneness.

Her emotional persuasion

of distance

not denied but escorted along.

Her driven-ness

to exert rigid control

over nothing, not ignored

but respected into repose.

Her duplicitous nature

never to be revealed.

For on the one hand,

humans that disappoint

and on the other,

felines to love

but not

in the presence of the other.

Her inspirations,

on the material plane,

an appropriate disaster

from the love of her life,

a betrayal beyond recovery.

The talents of her being

shared into a warehouse

of memories.

That her low self esteem

could ever be replaced

by the acknowledged love

from another,

a fruitless effort

and subsequent distraction.

Spirit beyond means

is what she ultimately possessed.

She wore robes

of emotional long-suffering

as under-garments

and the appearances

of keen observation

as the adequate protection

of self-mentorship.

She was an in-fighter,

excused from all lesser wars,

for the art of self-perseverance.

She was blessed with a sharp tongue

but she often bellowed

with electric silence.

She was always the guardian

at the gate

as part of her natural richness

of kingdom.

She had no treasure to give

if you could not pass her test

of a trusting manner.

She knew the primal code of living

but not what it meant

to anyone else.

Inspiration was a mole

to her emotional self

but she was also a sensitive

to where she was vulnerable

from within.

She liked responsibility

as if it were a hobby of choice.

She thought at many levels

at the same time

and she wished for telepathy

but was rebuffed

by disagreement all around.

She surrendered to the failure

of popularity

and settled for candid

often bluntness of truth.

She found herself

to be internally vexed

but lived it down

in the privacy

of her own sweetness of exile.

She comforted her own torment

by spiritual means.

Her best life on the planet

was off the planet, so to speak.

If you were dismissed by her

you could get in line behind herself.

She had investments in theories

about many things

the way some people

do needlepoint or crochet.

She could stare out into space

and see something relevant

for her being.

She was a self-imposed orphan

of observation

and wore a vacant mirror for a mask

in all first encounters.

She identified with the down trodden

of the domestic animal kingdom.

She would always take the time

however short that would be

to give you the once over.

You could be pardoned

for your ignorance

but never for your actions

in her presence.

If scrutiny were a discipline

then she often wore it

as a long suit .

Beneath it all,

there was a rose

though seldom offered.

Behind it all,

she wished for your light

to shine through.

Above it all,

she was a profound love

though rare to freely share it.

And with it all,

you had to know,

there was a diamond in the rough.

A complexity died,

beholding and never broken . . .