fresh baked clouds 10/31/19

the ever refining thermal utensils 

are divinely working 

on the shaping of every cloud.

while ever in transit, 

invisibly riding on the tall backs

of windblown elephants of air

pachyderms, pushing vapor, 

who stealthily graze on the prairie sky

are in search of whirling dervish furies 

that are baked in the hothouse 

of the sun.

cooked and churned by its daily gaze

and constantly with the heat-spoon stirring

yet as if always, 

oven fresh in the making.

for we, in the weather lunch line 

are there, to breath and see,

to tastefully to dine

on the buffet above and before us,

to sip each breath 

and to climate-like every sight.

how fresh baked clouds

are delivered to us,

with the intent 

of overwhelming delight . . .

for humans 10/30/19

for humans,

the fundamental currency is consciousness.

everybody is their own bankroll.

trust is the only instrument used

to initiate interactional means of exchange.

your wallet is really your heart.

and you are as rich as 

your deep pockets are based on self-love.

where giving to others,

is gifting yourself,

with a deepening sense of oneness, 

realized as a wealth of consciousness, 

ever expanding from within . . .

enormity’s generosity 10/28/19

cramping enormity into logical binds

looking for illuminating words, 

that are yet still dragging their feet

with meaningfuls untied.

aesthetics living on the saliva of the brain

before the chew of understanding tastefully provides.

putting the kites of content in the sky of context 

as if the vast blue is a ring bearer for that ceremony.

waiting for the winds of suitable comprehension

to ceremoniously give stillborn thoughts

the wings to inwardly fly 

towards amelioration’s view.

when all words fundamentally abjectify

simply by any definitional sense implied.

old soul wisdom doesn’t reach for mental clarity.

its residence easily encompasses vast and deep,

where words taken up with meaning can’t really go.

it isn’t what they say so much 

as where from within

it comes to be said 

or even just viewed as a presence.

the wisdom encompasses the surround of the topic.

the feel doesn’t back away from the implied meaning.

it’s everything you would want

from a campfire of meaning

but without all the cerebral necessarily in tow.

there is no pride to this type of understanding.

the mind relinquishes its status 

for the generosity of the feel ignited.

enormity at a sensory level is like this

but brought on by emotional establishment’s deeds.

I want a mind-fill that is an extension of this.

I am not looking for a context of contrasts

no cutting edges of issues holding outline form

but more so a land of confluence mindfully registered.

I am not looking for a change of heart

but more of an expansion to include. 

enormity as the generosity of oneness 

vastly expressed . . .

divinely so 10/27/19

if the divine has eyes 

you’re looking through them

if the divine has a face 

you’re composed within and behind it

if the divine has a gender

you’re androgynously living it alive

if the divine has life to live

you’re here to richly express it

if the divine exists before existence

you’re creatively bringing it to light

but please note:

the concept of divine mindfully conceived

is an emotional withhold

for as long as you are understandingly mindful

that divine is perceived as out there

and not truly through you

you can be conceive of divine

but to be conscious of that is possible

only if it is allowed 

to naturally come through you . . .

dark-field in waiting 10/26/19

I go into the void of think.

once there, 

instead of the pursuit of seek,

I begin to undress from think,

dissolving into a more refined energy, 

pouring throughout,

somewhere sourced from within.

radiance abounds outwardly expanding.

no sense of gravity, 

replaced by embrace.

meaning falls into a oneness usage.

no more need for understanding

to hold my hand.

particulars loose their sense of identity.

mindfulness is now 

not a vehicle of transformation.

the spoon of time is taken out

of the stir of the isness tea.

movement is its own language,

as if talking and listening occurs simultaneously.

this dance has no surfaces.

all these words are fleeting in the meltdown

evaporative into the melt-through.

integrity doesn’t have any need for uniforms.

trust has no face-to-face in delivery.

implementation is surrender’s ever-expansion.

that I speak is disrobing,

loosing the concepts of form and delivery

into formlessness and omnipresence transmission.

comparative truth is now as a useless prothesis, 

as if still a language 

but no words, only tones.

meaning is all ocean-beach, 

interpreting wave action

by revisiting wetness, rhythmically.

identify is all the lip-service, 

away from source.

all of spoken language is from notes in bottles,

floating in the sea of oneness.

slip-stream is the last experience of self-in-dissolve.

I go no further as overwhelmed.

past tense offers no memories

and all futures are dressed up in the now.

the impudence of time is deftly in revelation’s deliverance

and space no longer nurtures the concept of small.

if you open your eyes to this

everything of mass in the universe is staring back,

wondering, about the nature of your separateness. 

and all of the dark energy in the dark field,

is timelessly waiting for your return . . .

can we question the universe 10/25/19

it isn’t the universe that is in question.

it is the nature of human observation of it

that is the quandary.

how we view it

and what is our retake from viewing?

even the nature of the dynamics of viewing

and how that translates into words

and subsequent meaning is a grand conundrum, 

unto ourselves from our methods of receivership 

and what we conceptualize from what we take.

we suffer from depiction observation.

we falsify what is taken by our linear thinking.

we expect that our way of thinking 

allows the universe to subscribe 

to our way of knowing about it.

how we do the think we do

as translated into the thoughts we derive,

completely misses the essential point of being

as it scribes to a version of knowing as satisfactory.

knowing is the oddity in this equation, 

not the universe of itself.

we have quantum as bricks, layered by thought derivatives. 

we have not become the experiment 

of fully immersing as out there

but respectfully wait for the universe 

to come around to our way of thinking about it

and provide for us a practical form of understanding.

there is a perversity to our wonderment,

a false sense of scale and dynamics involved,

in which we labor to understand

as if understanding is the great beyond 

coming our way.

we are like a mountain onto a grander landscape,

wanting the sky to come our way 

as if we are the confessional of need 

for the universe to reveal its secrets to us.

we created mindfulness, almost pridefully so,

as if anything revealed, 

withstands our stage of observation.

we have an audience-syndrome version of existence,

yet so much happens through us, 

but we are not conscious of 

from with it.

we dismiss our isness for the grossness of experience. 

cognition is a pomposity, as a false relevance posturing.

the mindful retention of principles is in no way

the same as the sense of empathy 

and nuance-caring that we can feel.

fear as a fulcrum proposed and propagated as necessary

then diminishes our conscious awareness of anything 

more profound then the made up structures 

and their presumed consequences.

we can hardly address essence 

when power, ownership, and control,

govern our think styles 

and labor our perception of being.

we are syntactically dismissive of deeper truths

because we want them to be evidential to us 

for the way we are.

our questing the universe is more about reflecting to us

how we falsely address, 

by what we want to know

without actually immersing ourselves in any way 

except by the think we already use 

having a false confidence and expectations 

for results to appear to us

when it is us who are strangers unto ourselves, 

about all of this.

we assume ourselves to be the constant fixation

of our ever further questioning.

but our method of questions and answers 

is always in our mindset ways.

there is nothing static in the universe 

and yet we want hold that pose 

for answers to come to us for our memory’s sake

as if understanding bring us any closer 

to our own divinity in all of this. 

how strange to ask in a mirror-like method

and expect the method of answers from that

to resolutely complete us in evolutionary ways.

when we only ‘mind’ our own business

and yet we feel so ‘self’ involved

at such a greater scale 

than we are grandly not in touch with 

in operative ways of evolutionary advancement.

our curiosity is filled with excess baggage 

when answers only come to occupy 

a status of mindful positions

and evolution remains for us

as just a point of interest . . .

black sheep (haiku) 10/24/19

a lot of black sheep

gathered together in sync?

clearly, un-heard of

as if in essence delivered 10/23/19

for humans, mass is idealized

but it is the biggest pretend of all.

if location is dependent upon placement 

and placement is a sense of fixed position

then our view of everything is quite illusory.

the art of human behavior 

is a form of slow-motion act-outs 

compared to the actual occurrence 

of vibratory as mass.

objectivity only reflects the prejudice 

of us as the viewers.

the world, as we know it,

is a biblical version of ourselves 

as observation’s caste.

as long as we have time 

as part of the observation equation,

nothing exists that we can generate 

as evident as such.

as long as we pride ourselves

as audience with interest,

we are distant and imprisoned 

by the concepts we keep generative.

connectivity is non-negotiable. 

it is the universe’s prayer 

by the same way, degree 

and one pointedness of time.

where by the invocation of itself,

is spot-on and therefore timeless.

but on us, by our methods, 

we have a concept of details as our following.

yet all of matter reveals the conundrum 

mirroring this basis of bias of our human understanding.

to us, information is real 

and we are steadfast timely with it

as if conceived and captured within it.

we have invented a distance 

from the energetic truth

and now we have to resolve 

that distance we intellectually maintain.

and yet wanting to do so 

by still being here, the way we are,

but only more advanced,

yet in much the same mindful way.

maybe this is a perverse experiment:

imagine life after death as authentic, 

and how to prepare for it 

while still grounded 

in the supposed here and now.

in the way we are proposed 

as that, living in the here and now.

yet we don’t have a science behind the mind,

but only of it,

which impedes the essential process, profoundly.

as soon as we name or label 

or actually cogitate into thought,

we are proceeding 

into the displacement of being.

communication is already an island 

removed from being.

conveyance offers alignment 

but not guaranteed reception

in a thought driven world.

we live in the conundrum 

and yet propose its worth.

so how do we question questioning

and then go about with its worth?

the way our minds currently work

every question is only rhetorical 

as if in essence obliquely delivered . . .

captivated by closure 10/22/19

the tongue only tap dances 

to the impatient rational mind.

gut wrenching occurs

when the words don’t come blaring out.

couldn’t passably say what is meant,

since the mean out there already overwhelms it.

some how the gravity pressure feels more severe

as if 2000 feet below the sea level of stress.

limbs have lost their incentive to function

in service to the expression of the body.

it all feels like tunnel vision

but the tunnel is only half dug 

into the dark of the mountain.

there is a faceless crowd waiting for an arrival.

they are all spectators, not artists,

to the nude model posing.

there is nothing quite so frustrating

as chasing after the butterfly of happiness

when the creature is so invisible to the naked eye.

we all might as well stay in our tent of self-consciousness,

lay down, eyes closed, attempt relaxation,

assume the joy of the melodic surround of sounds

imposing their cacophony 

on our otherwise captivated selves.

for it is a free-fall of animated sensory intake

and we, as jugglers of notedness, 

can hum up and murmur a theme

that makes it all seem 

like the child’s play of privacy,

while being both at the circus 

and be the circus itself, 

on play before us, yet as us.

and no one, 

outside of our own head of captivating conclusions,

is the wiser . . .

as if essence is consciousness 10/21/19

the space out there,

if there is that.

that space between something and nothing.

not just beyond the tip of my tongue

but somewhere out there,

where that which was nothing 

takes on the evidence of something,

becomes the mass of being

out of vibrational existence.

that space that is between 

the integrated production of nothingness

into the densified substance of something.

even ever so small but still conformational.

yes, there is something there

how does that happen?

how come we are privileged 

on the side of substance

and so denied on the side of nothing?

nothing is not nothing

but something of something else,

something beyond our sensory range,

our way of perception,

our means of participation

in a conscious way

yet we interface but cluelessly so.

why can’t I take my mindfulness

and go there directly?

what is so much baggage 

that travel to is easily denied?

I can’t get even a mind grip.

I feel spoon-feed minor details

and no conscious immersion occurs

yet randomly interactions of this nature happen.

distortions in time and space-locations arise

and all I get from that is story

in delightful account.

I want expansion to include.

I am willing to strip away understanding

to exist in a more formal fashion

even if I don’t have a body 

or declared occupancy as a being.

I want to embrace the universe more directly,

leave thought,

be isness without self-declaration,

have the patience for time to exist

and for mass to live its integrity fully.

but not be so at affect

and displaced by conclusions from thought,

not be so quick to cite as magic

because there is a lack of understanding,

not be subject to positions of observation

as if that provides for understanding’s ruse,

to plead for a facileness of existence

among all of existence,

maybe mindless, 

as if so currently conceived,

but profoundly immersive, 

beyond any myopic account,

to forever leave the bleachers of experience,

to be integral 

as if essence is consciousness . . .

appreciate my own 10/10/19

you are one funny creature

in a smallish but intimate way.

you are your own off-broadway show,

inwardly sincere but outwardly comedic. 

maybe it takes five minutes of watching

to get the gist of how you do you,

but seriously, human nature on point.

no, it can’t be like a movie to watch

because it is too haphazard in that timeline.

but with the deeper theme in place,

like it’s just the experience of life,

makes the whole thing, gloriously rewarding.

I wish this was a mirror shot in reflection.

and I could appreciate my life as I do yours.

there has to be some learning premise

I can take from this

and appreciate my own existence

as much as I adore yours . . .

always and never 10/19/19

always and never share the same secret

it’s right on the tip of everyone’s tongue,

energetically speaking, that is

the camouflage is indisputable

its truth is unpronounceable by the human mouth

curious minds would ask why

but time will not reveal its source

is it in the space between 

looking out and what is seen?

the space between what is said 

and what is heard?

between what is taken to be familiar

and what is really there?

is it a race that time invented

but has no ending?

it is a beyond that has us

as in its immediate past?

what could always and never have to share?

is it that they mutually exist

outside our capacity to discern 

one from the other, clearly?

is it that they cause 

the same generic response in us 

for our eventual conclusion or account.

it must be that they leave us

perplexed in much the same way

with either one being the cause.

it must be the always and never

left discern at the altar of understanding

and never looked back 

to see that response 

that humans often have . . .

4-pleas 10/18/19

vastness is going to the zoo of language 

and looking at all the animals in murmurs and basking.

there are signs everywhere that say

please, don’t feed the animals by thinking out loud.

in the visceral and kinesthetic sense of think

please, find vibrational solace

mean while, understanding is just stink-fish of attention

in the sidewalk of meaning rolling by

all thought is the shrapnel 

made up of time debris as memories

where as memory is investigatory as method 

life in review this way maybe wore-torn 

please note: now is not time honored, 

never was and never will be

time is always the view of a bystander

now is all the action there is to the view

‘I’ is diminishment 10/17/19

I don’t do motion 

I am everywhere a constant

I don’t have view

I am of it, 

not looking out

what I sense 

goes no where in observation

there is no thought of it taken away

all is of itself

without any further account

‘I’ is diminishment 

ever dissolving 

everything is one thing 

of its own accord

purchase 10/16/19

purchase is a performing art.

desire is on an ear piece.

obligation holds you in hostage.

culture provides the staging area.

the act out is to come off smoothly.

the loot is held with dignity in the carriage. 

once home, all bets are off.

time will steal the value placed.

little altars of appreciate all have a shelf-life.

nesting materials take on a different light.

familiarity is the only safe zone that works,

the rest is all stage. 

always looking for audience appreciation.

bargains have a slight nostalgia to them.

front stage has value 

as long as story has worth.

ownership is such a human trait

as if God-given,

yet it provides for a secret inner story to continue.

everyone has the telling go on, quite privately.

others get excerpts to build anecdotals.

the true backstory has ever yet to be revealed.

acquisition has wide eyes.

for them, fall forward is enough permission.

it is as if the earth is just a merchant

and all of life is the market place.

open for business, 

twenty-four-seven . . .

thoughts that fly up 10/15/19

thoughts fly up, 

those that come 

from a feeling of the heart.

from there, 

rethink does not exist.

words swim, 

buoyant in their meanings.

meanings filled with emotional charge

as their pooling leads to 

short attention span evaporative means,

yet sacred pools are gathering

in the sky of caring

high above mundane 

and beyond the immediates of circumstantial.

these thoughts produce a fragrance in the air,

inhalations to the spirit of being,

moving beyond any boundaried sense of personage.

the confluence of self 

becomes as an energetic,

beyond the drumroll of cognitive instigation.

it is a pheromone of connectivity.

as an invisible embrace congeals, 

the collective heart awakens.

the surround is boundless

but deeply embodied.

we all live for that indoctrination to occur,

yes, the birth of being 

beyond the notion of self . . .

notice (haiku) 10/14/19

notice as an oar 

in the water of aware

self-conscious paddling 

the how of authenticity 10/13/19

authenticity in a person has no pose

but full range of interaction.

not as expression

but as emergent connection.

one seeks no audience from the surround.

confluence is its own majesty.

there is a share of radiance expressed.

wavelengths merge as a oneness expands

across species en mass. 

the language exchanged is energetics.

resounding has no features outstanding.

this is part of life without measure . . .

the method of circumstance 10/12/19

the method of circumstance

is forever building the narrative

for those presently involved. 

for each person

there is one internal line spoken at a time.

being is the predicament 

of fallback personage.

habit discovered is as momentum forward.

sensory input is as mic and video on.

notice is as an oar in the water of aware

where self-conscious is paddling

as if forward is the relevant direction . . . 

sorrow as a drug? 10/11/19

how good is sorrow as a drug?

put thunder in my bed

and draw down the blanket 

as if made of rumblings.

I want a bitter taste as my pillow,

for me to sleep like recently felled tree.

full trunk, stiff and horizontal.

why have arms just to cover my face

from the woods of friendship gone?

they now look down on me departed.

my roots will give them my eulogy.

I use to chat with the night sky over breeze,

sing seasonal songs with charm and flair,

handle rain with leaf-ladles of dignity and care,

had night vision for creatures that come and go,

reflected on myself as a lighthouse on a sea of land,

was aggressive with the rigor of my stately stance,

yet quick-witted in the privacy with other trees.

saw beyond the rigor of time quite easily.

still thought of myself

as a human in the forrest of living.

so how good is sorrow 

as a drug for me? . . .

success as a false accolade 10/10/19

success exists as a false accolade.

expectations have kissed 

and made up in the moment

as the imprint of repeatability gains in stature.

repetition, as a state of mind,

lends itself to a false-notion 

of familiarity as it's home.

success piles-on, as a framing style.

there is a trophy room in this house of memory.

stature is the mood portrayed as worn.

life is then a version of simplified logic.

the syntax of haves and have-nots becomes evident.

doubt is a barking dog in every mind,

now is appeased, 

but for how long?

this becomes a viewing style of relevance,

non-participatory but ever watching.

it lives for the account there of

by whatever is confined 

and consigned to a task, 

burdensome or otherwise assigned.

there is a measure warranted 

to the privacy of self worth.

success is a mirror view in response

where the past is still applauding

as if as the keel 

on the submerge of the moment

rather than the viscosity of self aware

as the glide.

these payoffs eventually become payloads.

personality becomes a cargo bay 

and success becomes shipping fools 

out on the sea of monotony. 

living from interactional port to port,

delivering expectation’s rewards

as it becomes its own self-serving industry.

success then becomes a strategist’s operative.

now is never the act of itself

but the reverie of audience as the self in approval.

one is in receivership of rewards

as the self gains new grounds for stature.

success makes audience out of us all,

those claiming, 

those in judgment,

and those in envy.

self in the moment, expresses from within.

self in audience, looks for the momentous.

success is still-shots taken from passing events

for the building of self as superficial surface-wells

yet we all thirst for the running of water, 

to energetically, freshly drink of ourselves . . .

dimensions passing 10/9/19

dimensions passing through me

as if like a 4.1 earthquake tremor awakes me.

the source was really a hundred miles away

but I did catch the feeling within me,

for the grandness of scale embraced,

quickly that will immediately escape me 

and I will be left with this as a fading sensation

rapidly departing as experience is its toll.

I wanted to be within the full absorption

even if it is just as an awakening within me

adding to my range and depth of being aware.

just more of the intricacies of living 

below or beyond the norm reality proposed.

this is within the secret language 

on the other side of whisper.

not formed with tongue from mind

but sacred as a whole self-imbibed,

as a holographic sense in the emergence of being,

all moving parts with sworn integrity.

my mind, as a red wagon ,

along for the ride.

wondrous but insistent is ever in charge. 

this dance with no stage, no floor,

but all moving parts,

as the music is unto itself, 

as self is everything from every where,

as if falling up into a grander scale.

gravity is remembered 

as having a sideway smile.

right, I am still a person, right(?)

but no more a sense of self as commentary.

if this is metaphor,

then I am river flowing.

no I am not the river 

but this fluid of its composition.

not the thoughts there of

but the isness of itself,

as thoughts are only the vagaries in aftermath.

these words are all a meltdown.

just wave action on a reality beach to say.

know of me 

as momentous beyond ocean action

yet humbled to be seen as wave.

we are all of this heart viscosity

but mostly attached to the cling

and not aware of the magnetics involved.

I have this, as spillage on my brain.

I can’t be quoted as authentic, in this light.

you can’t discover me this way

but you only can discover of you, 

as yourself within this your insight 

and sigh . . .