Money (haiku) * 1/31/14

belief in money

is our manifestation

of quote: “forward trust”

bass ackwards * 1/30/14

Every conclusion is yet another reference to the shackles                 we are confined to wear.                                                                   We bring a box camera to river rapids of life                                and expect kayaking to produce memorable stills.                    Every sensory identification named,                                                 is another brick in the prison, actually made                                   by the endless nametags given to everything                                   we encounter, in this insularly so fashioned.                               Mind into speakable sentences                                                          is a chain gang’s song of the day.                                                     All perceived subject/object displays are lowbrow            comparative truth comedies.                                                       Time is the ultimate metaphor,                                                          for not being real                                                                                by lying and then being in wait.                                                       The essence of history is as the essence of now                             but revealed as results rather than isness.                                    Knowledge is a tourist’s point of view.                                             Breath is a deeper mundane truth of this expressed.                           To hold up a mirror is to view                                                            the wily imminent recent past with steadfast intrigue.                     Our notion of details says more about                                                our observational style than the ‘it’ we have confirmed                        at the very essence of reality.                                                          There is no audience at that very essence.                                     There is no reality there, for our pretend                                              is only by insular agreement,                                                              in our human offish sort of way.                                                        We are the pride of our own slop, forever refining.                          Like a negative Zen,                                                                          we are bound to consciously eliminate                                everything that it isn’t . . .

Out of context (haiku) * 1/29/14

any one in your life

that’s not face to face with you

is out of context

Open pit mind * 1/28/14

Open pit mind,                                                                 taking out all the supposed good stuff                                                      as if outed by conversation.                                                     The raw minerals of thoughts, removed.                             The nitty gritty gems of meaning                                becoming this raw material                                                      that drives the madness we live for.                                    We are always by refrain,                                                    our best thoughts breakfast shared.                                  Then that meaning, as a preserve,                                  spread over the bread of the day                                      tasty, topical, worthy of carriage.                                 Memory tucked under an arm of notation                                 to be further reviewed later with yet others.                            Call it hen house chatter if you must,                                      it leads to egg production as the proof of worth,                  always in the scrambled mix of things.                               Yes, there is an intimacy in another’s comprehension,             an endearment to be the understanding,                               even if not anointed in the particulars by agreement.        Sadly we tend to become DJ’s of stock responses                we have stored on recall circuitry.                                 Stories and anecdotes as if cards to play                                where conversation is at its toil best, that way.                    Open pit mind, without rational withdrawal.                          That’s more the take I would venture to enjoy.                 Authentic without the rules of presentation,                         without dress rehearsal, and censure’s mirror time.            Almost as if overheard, from one talking to oneself                 most honestly and directly.                                            Candid with the night sky as a soul listener                           is another way of saying it.                                                   Open pit mind and the sky tells no one else . . .

sincerity * 1/27/14

sincerity is true blue . . .

the sky never lies . . .

clouds are just passing thoughts                                        

giving way to the expanse of the heart . . .