Every once in awhile

Every once in awhile
the lights go on
and there it is,
right there!

And you walk up
touch it gently,
look at the eyes reflecting
and are astounded
by the clarity.

You giggle at
your sillyness at not
seeing it before;
little things like
this and that;
do you see it?

birdys sing

i don't believe in forms and rituals
codified truths don't dance the night away

i don't believe in Darwin’s thesis
monkey man i'm not, i come from bears i say

i don't believe in doubt and reason
they play fear games and run out of lies

i don't believe in newspapers and tv
they just steal your rhythms and they don't rhyme

i do believe in make believe
it’s how we dance on shifting ground

i do believe in you and me
we can play and laugh and roll around

i do believe that stars made us
so we can be shining all our light

i do believe in transformation
that change is out of sight

and i believe we can all hear
the birdys sing

and they don't need to be believed either...

mist

the mist this morning,
earth and sky are hidden,
everything is mutable

death is like this mist;
ghosts everywhere,
no time and space;
murmurs.

dreams are like this,
ephemeral, numinous
what could be real
when you are not.

the mist clings today,
wet everywhere,
the earth is sleeping
and dreams of the sea

the Secret: nine one one

My phone rang! I was startled out of my morning meditative reverie, my eyes blinked open taking in the daylight and scanning the clock at the time. It was just before 7.

Too early for a phone call. I grabbed the phone. It was my eldest Son. ‘Dad, have you seen the news?’ ‘Huh, what? You know I don’t watch TV! Well what’s happening, Son?, I stated with some irritation at being questioned so early in the day.

‘It’s World War III, Dad! Holy shit, Dad! go look at the news!, he exclaimed with a note of incredulity and surprise. I got up and went to the living room and turned on the blasted TV.

Right away I saw the footage of a plane hitting the first Tower. I did not believe what I was seeing at first. Was it a ‘movie’ prank or what? It began to sink in and I felt shock and then despair.

Like everyone else that day, I had a wake up call. Eyes wide open!

Many questions and many more questions, until questions are irrelevant. Conspiracy theories are weaving tapestries of fear now. Questions and muddled answers.

We need to have a scrupulous realism when it comes to man kinds triumphs of ignorance.

That man is more often a destroyer then he is a creator, is written in our DNA. Our Tribal echo and all of our bad education.

"... man plays with Fire, without actually being aware of the detrimental consequences to humanity.", a great living Teacher stated.

Everything is burning, a great cleansing, perhaps!

There has been a flurry of New Age Spirituality movies of late, such as 'What the BLEEP do we know' and 'Conversations with God'. A kind of ‘Chicken Soup of the Soul, for all those who have been wounded by this upsetting tragedy. A ’balm’ to settle the ‘fear’ reaction we are having.

The Secret is such a movie which describes how we all can create the world with our thoughts, our wishes and deserves an objective viewing.

"In truly spiritual work, the very concept of planning may be a redundant one. How does one plan for an activity in a field where thought and action are simultaneous, are really one? In the spiritual field they are not two separate things. "Think that such and such a thing shall happen, and it will happen. All that is necessary is an unfailing will.", so a Teacher has written.

Use Occam's Razer when excising the true story of Man: the arrogant destroyer. Yet the Secret takes the concept of 'we are created in God's image' to a new level of pitched salesmanship.

Where I find the Secret to fail, is in its very protracted execution of the ideas of manifesting: Raja Yoga. Imagine if we all decided to manifest a Monster House and a new SUV as portrayed in the movie. There is the rub ... Twin Towers falling because of resources, the fear of lack. Homeless desperation!

In our ignorance, drunk with Powers, we have become like Heir Doktor Frankenstein, creating all manner of Some Scary Monsters. Samskaras! A sanskrit word for ‘impressions’, the fears we keep in our Hearts and Minds and Bodies, and see as Reality. No wonder! No Awe! Just I, me, mine!

The Secret leaves out information in its positive approach. In a style commensurate with Propaganda campaigns in the past, honed to a cleverly Western style. Two stories, the one of Alladins Lamp and the other of the fabled King Midas of Phrygia to whom Dionysus gave the power of turning to gold all that he touched. Both are incompletely used to shore up the idea that we can be great creators and manifestors.

It is the 'moral' of each of these stories, that any child knows, which is completely avoided and ignored. The 'moral' as paraphrased in the statement, 'be careful of what you wish for, as you may get it'. Some Scary Monsters!

I believe the Universe grants what is necessary to our personal evolution. A relativistic Truth, objective all the same, toward the Goal: Love. Miseries must be transmuted in that Mystic Fire.

New Age propaganda is a lie too. A diversion into flowery niceties avoiding blood and guts and shit. They have covered Truth and Realization in flimsy forms and rituals like Religions have. The real conspiracy derives from Dancing on shifting ground, Beautifully, in tune with the ever revealing here and now.

A Brave New World is always made up from some of the bits and pieces of the old, after breaking the Icons:Towers ... The World is not breaking, Nature does not ‘break’, it roils in transformative longings; our ‘World’ is breaking.

In summary, we are Masters in the making. Yet we are fools of our own predispositions, a veil of ignorance covering our sight from the very Heart of it; the bliss of Reality.

We become what we Think in Joy! Remove the veil of fear and despair no longer. The world is breaking, and Love is the breaker. Let us become what we ought to be; Simple and in tune with Nature. Agents of the change we want to see this world become.

‘Power corrupts, absolute Power corrupts absolutely’, as the saying goes. We make worlds. Use the manifesting principles at your own risk! Risk the breaking and shaking, and Dream Up, Love Up!

'The poet is one who is able to keep the fresh vision of the child alive.'
- Anais Nin

That's how we start the change, with Wonder...

kiss: Binary attraction

the 'kiss' I referred to above, is all the little infinity of convergences in time and space, even beyond our foolish sense based metaphors... where water meets land, sky meets mountain, light meets eye, lips meet tounge, pen meets paper, yabyum you know, is that sort of convergence. This is a kiss and the kiss is a metaphor for 'attraction' and LOVE, that ancient ache ... and we are always being 'kissed' this way and never alone, separate, as this LOVE embraces us within and without ... a timeless recycled ravishing, consuming and reviving us over and over again on the edge of forever.


'twinkling' is what happens when the earth kisses a star and our eye
is ravished in awe and wondrous rapture makes our Heart to flutter euphoric...

Attraction;
an ancient ache,
vortex prayers and
fractal wishes.

frequencies combine,
harmonics converge,
over vast distances,
longing is cast;
crescendos and catastrophes.

two stars; disa-stars
orbitally dancing
time and space matters.
letting themselves
be consumed and revived
over and over again.
an invergeous ravishing
over the edge of forever

Dream of Narada

This morning I was dreaming of Narada, he came to me as an Incan/Aztec Saint and could grow and shrink. He was brown skinned and had a golden shine and white teeth sparkled with his smile. He told me to sing devotional Love songs, that my gratefulness has been graced with the boon of this talent. I hugged him close to my Heart, ecstatic. He is Dream walking between the worlds ... he plays his flute rapturously in my Heart, even now I am swooning ... teetering on the edge of forever

the secret of the kiss

rain drops
kiss the surface
of a quiet pond,
ripples converge
kissing, merging,
making many reflections,
entice the eye to the kiss
of light flickering

glittering
synaptic resonance,
neurons kissing
mind merging, fractal
dendrites musing
making many reflections,
entice to a breath,
sighing into eternity.

our Hearts know this,
Love attracts Love,
the secret of the kiss...

how to quiet Dragons

Where is my Muse this evening,
the rains fell and a red sky laid upon the mountains
I watched the sun breakthrough the clouds
and a turquoise Dragon fly alight on my finger
near a Japanese pond
thinking all the while of my Muse

Singer of Love Songs
Poetess and Beauty Divine
like Goddess Venus
She laughs like a girl
her mind is quicksilver
yet she will know
how to quiet Dragons
and play the viola

my flute wept a song for her
melodious resonances that played on water
every note a bird song
adoring her naked approach
even now
she smiles with glittering eyes

I am inspired

Body, speech and mind

No man is worthy of
such refined treasures!
don't keep them to your self
but let them have wings;
broken hearts fly this way.

Let no thief take your Heart,
hiding it in his pocket book,
when its only desire,
is to merge in seas and mists.

You are a Mystic Bird,
frail and hungry for the sky
your feet are on shifting
grounds, dancing beautifully.

Your mind is an instrument of Love
Crazy, piercing like a knife,
yet full of fresh wisdom,
as stars are to sky.

When your Hymn
breaks to Loves
passionate crescendo
and you awake sweating,
lust abated,

there will be your answer,
to heaven or hell…

You are easily lost,
Love is like that!
beyond the confines of our,
body, speech and mind’s.

I am easily found,
love is like that!
open arms,
open mind,
open heart…

That's why we Love
having each other
around!

The happenstance of meaning

The happenstance of meaning,
in a hodgepodge of words.
unskilled in writing;
deception...

Skillful means and voracity,
inherent meaning allured.
writing is playful;
conception...

One is Joy,
another addiction.

From word
to
meaning.
From pen
to
inkling!

Like me,
like my
inflated sense
of word.

Flags waving,
Look at me,
and my group
we are WRITEoUS!
We are what we
Write.

Write flowers
and streams
and
windy chimes.

Face facts,
Words escape
meaning
with cowardly
defences like
paragraphs
and
syntactical
alliances.

Prepositions
pasteurized,
so that whimsy
and
freedoms are
battered,
suffering
split infinitives.

Similes with
spiritual
accents
and
distinctive
adaptations of
cunning.

Read deLiberatingly!
Fight the
oppressor, as
the maker of
Meaning,
is
You!

sen·ryu: this longing heart

sen·ryu : a 3-line unrhymed Japanese poem structurally similar to haiku but treating human nature usually in an ironic or satiric vein.

Pattern:
Three line poem with a 5-7-5 syllable pattern that does not rhyme.

Oh this longing heart,
dreams of flying in freedom,
always falls in love!

Language and Meaning

Language is a bridge, connecting; Poetry is the stream below, meandering, murmuring, reflecting many Suns; meaning!

Love Up!

Man is what he loves.

If he loves a stone he is a stone;

If he loves a man he is a man;

If he loves God--I dare not say more,

for if I said that he would then be God,

ye might stone me!

-- St. Augustine


We become what we Love so Love Up!

Psychomachia; heroic journey

Embracing the moment, kindly with ease;
Within the voracity of that little bliss,
All is convergence without separation,
Hearts beat, memories disintegrate.

When you emerge from that anomaly,
Searing, aching, retrograde passion,
The fullness of meaning in longing,
Souls drink from this sweet forever.

Consider the world turning, ellipses.
Whirling realized organic orb, feeling!
Formed from attractions to a Star,
Dreams; heroic, reaching, infinite, far!

That is the journey of every particle,
Made whole by willing mass surrender,
Waiting on the edge of gravities reason,
Is the Sun, your Soul, evolving further…

Between each breath

Sweet Soul lingering upon a Heart beat,
This effulgence precipitating within.
Like a frail butterfly alighting so briefly,
Intelligent hunting eyes often miss!

A Rose glitters jewels of sparkly dewdrops,
Richness gathered where Hearts connect.
Enraptured by this soft meaninglessness,
An intelligent probing mind would miss!

Between each breath my Heart is longing,
Comes a second wind of fresh new Grace,
This probing and hunting mind remembers,
I do not exist when in that place.

Let me speak in silence

After gripping studied meaning,
let loose the Heart,
this seeker of light,
come of longing in the night



Let me speak in silence,
the feat of the pause,
potential in space,
the first cause!
Words of reason; pictures.
Sentence syntax; logic.
Language a bridge,
Poetry the river meandering,
reflecting many Suns.

Picture the sigh,
or the fluttering Heart.
fragile perception,
in between,
darkness and dream,
where the seeming,
oft is master of
reality and silence
the gift of Peace.

dumb, feeling heart

... how does one share through words the fragile percepts, that lingering 'kiss' of Peace, that comes of sweet effulgence in the Heart? ... this roiling bliss, this synaethasian inebriated surrender of a Soul reeling from drinking that ambrosia; sweet nectar of Divinity!

feeling Heart,
dumb,
idiot,
Fool of God,
giver,
lover,
staring at forever!
grinning,
empty,
free of meaning!

Cosmic time

In the light of Cosmic time, both great and small are extinguished in that infinity, yet it remains important that we create, explore and evolve with the courage of a Loving Heart.

Comparing ourselves, or anyone else, with others, only makes for vanity or bitterness. Always there will be greater or lesser than ourselves. (paraphrasing Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata" here)

Yet greatness in another, brings us all up; no one is left behind. When a Writer or a Poet lifts the veil, revealing reality, we are all made more by this feat! Nature always sends us Visionaries, Poets, Mystics, agents of change; mutations. They take us to the next evolutionary level.

The Heart does not differentiate,
it beats in the rhythm of the sea;
the head makes the distinction,
that you are not really me!

an ever prayer

While meditating,
time expanded,
disappearing into
a forever present.

While contemplating,
Beauty appeared,
revealing perfection
empty of meaning.

This ever prayer;
remembering always;
swimming in Divinity,
drowning in Peace …

In time and space

Meditation expands time;
there is no time,
like the present!

Contemplation folds space,
revealing beauty,
in everything.

Prayer in time and space,
is constantly remembering,
how sweet it all is ...