Contemplation

Drama ensues.

The blues catch souls afoul of contusions
ephemeral illusions conceal goals of powerful
delusions that mislead the masses, sky-bound
impasses of glassed passages, flashes of brilliance
rippling across optical mazes, panopticon dreams,
phases of cognitive challenge, the balance pierced
by pinpointed lasers, managed by the anointed
sycophants of sin, intoning mantras of disjointed
harmonies, before the entire cycle begins again.

5 ages of Humanity.

When?

No man knows the day or the hour, the power
concentrated in towers of babylonic intensity,
showers of blood flood the megalopoli of men,
once again the story blends into cyclic tales open
to various interpretations, truth determined by the
proof of subjective knowledge, the soothsayers
amassed upon a ridge overlooking the people,
their fingers clasped in steeples, the foundation of
the church everlasting as dying souls lay gasping
upon the shoals of an ephemeral sea, while celestial
horns ring, beckoning you and me.

Silence deepens.

A ripple across the creative void, information masked
as light, the first flight of fancy, a current in the dream
of divinity, a stream in the river of the holy trinity, beyond
the creative intent of the limited capacities of men, friends
seeking the farthest ends, the farthest shores contemplated,
invisible doors revealed to the designated purveyors of
prophetic intent, it is all meant for common knowledge.

The akashic records abolished,

The open sky the guide to a better life, astride astral rides
we fly, hearts wide open we soar, the floor dropping away,
eternity revealing her face, beyond space, beyond
the rat race, beyond the face of everything we thought
we knew, we blew past dogma, met her mother destiny,
looking forward to truly being free, traveling across
the eternal sea, far beyond, singing our own personal songs,
blending in perfect harmony, strongly, right or wrongly,
we are here to be.

Perfection. Peace.

A Referential Awakening of Mind

Awakening to the time I find myself in line. I look and see an infinite number ahead of me, a cue twisting through blue horizons of cloud banked doubt, stout and slender souls intertwined, shuffling forward, gray shades of mediocrity played by life’s strife.

I look behind, to find nobody behind me. Last in line I am, last in time I stand with all of history stretched out before, a panorama of blood, sweat tears and gore. Of joy and laughter, happiness and peace, the entire human drama displayed, my mind awake, my eternal thirst for knowledge, remaining unslaked.

In the halls of the infinite the eternal is unbound, the chorus of the heavens resounds, the music of the spheres reverberates, pools of dripping tears instigate a referential awakening of mind, sublime chatter of altered voices whisper doubts, from the mouth of innocent babes, pouting recriminations slide out.

Shattered by realization, I look about to find myself upon a cliff, the cue of tortured souls still wending forward, yet I hesitate, and light up a spliff. I inhale, felling quite swell and as the smoke twirls round my ethereal shade I think I’ve got it made, apart from the crowd, loud with banal proclamations proud of petty achievements and institutional documentations they crow, bray, low and stay mired in the minor victories of repressed miseries made manifest.

The test continues and I choose to stand still. Watch the other souls shuffle up an ethereal hill, rounding a corner they disappear and I find myself alone at last, with my tears. Joy rises from center as the infinite beckons me, welcomes me, the blue void deepens to purple tones, construed landscapes sharpen to reveal the massive bones of dragon gods and alien goddesses, the landscape becomes holy, crimped with pagodas, churches and temples, dilettante sycophants groan dirges that surge, quite visible as urges never acted upon, unimaginative desires that refused to release that inner fire, regrets about failed tests, sorrows about non-existent tomorrows.

I blink. Look around again to find myself still at the end of the line. But you know what? It’s fine. The first shall be the last and I am content to let the wind determine my intent, blown by fate and chance, I arrive here at the last dance. My stance, determined, joyous and boisterous, violet flames arising, blue glades of pain dissipating, deconstructing, dying…

No longer bound, I’m flying…

Conceptions of Self

Difficult days typify the ways
Of the soul
It is said the strongest spirits
Experience the greatest trials
Tribulations through time
The woes of Job
The death throes of conceptions of Self.

Troubles arise and fall
Arising from someplace beyond us all
A wall of sorts seems to exist
Separating our perception
By means of deception from some
Deeper font of Wisdom and Truth
The proof we ever seem to seek
Indicative of the futile ruminations of
The weak.

Seeking existence of the Divine
Ignoring the times in our lives
When strife has risen like a tide
Engulfing our entire conception of Self
And purpose
Conveniently forgetting our soul-felt
Prayers soon after
Returning to blissful ignorance
Pride and hubris the restored face
Despite the willfully ignored response
Of the Master.

Coincidence, we proclaim
As we continue the game of denial
Projecting ego through space
Blindly unaware of the blessings
That took us there
To that place of self-destruction
Of reticent self-deconstruction
The seduction of personality
Soothing fears
Whispering lies
In terrified ears.

Secret Lover

I have a secret lover and she is a harsh mistress indeed. Her fame, her name is Desire, the burning fire inside of me. She is a flame that flares and leaps without ending or surcease, she troubles me in times of action, but also, in times of peace.

She whispers in my ear at night when I am trying to sleep, she shouts and wakes me from my dreams, my soul she wants to keep. And when my thoughts rise past the pains and troubles of the day, she reaches out and snatches me right back without delay.

I’ve wondered how to best release her hold upon my life but she knows my every wish and thought, her kiss cuts like a knife. Her lips are sharp as razors and her hands are claws of pain, as she rips my life into little shreds, tears fall like drops of rain.

I think I’ve found her secret.

She doesn’t know I know.

By emptying mind of dreams and hopes I deal her a fatal blow.

By cultivating silence, mind at ease, her voice is gone, by living fully in the Now I am no more her pawn. And yet I hear her faintly still, a cry upon the wind, and slowly, yes, but surely, I can feel my spirit mend.

Her ties to me they dissipate as mind and spirit meld, my secret love Desire’s hold upon me is dispelled. I see her now with other guys, and girls too she’s not bound by societies anxieties she’s Queen complete with crown.

I smile and mind my business knowing Free Will is the key, I center self and contemplate my life, a dream of Eternity.

The Shibboleth of Fears

When I die, just let my body lie, right there, on the ground. Don’t bury me and don’t burn me, let me remain where I’m found. Let my corpse fester, bloat, molder and rot, let the Insects eat me, let the Birds and Animals feast on my flesh till nothing’s left but bones and ground. Let Nature have me, let Life consume me, returning me to the essence of Creation itself. The endless process of Birth, Death and Rebirth, nothing is wasted all is gained, as I return to the Earth. A smorgasbord,  real wealth, every morsel enjoyed, creatures large and small benefit as my cells are redeployed.

Don’t waste time on grieving, or mourning my loss, my Essence will be in the Wind, my Soul is not lost. Energy cannot be destroyed only transformed, that much is true. In the gaze of a Vulture or the sheen of a Fly, my genetic material will return by and by. The smell, it will pass, the grotesquery is not for long, the efficiency of Nature is a bounteous and beautiful song. Waste not an ounce of artificial preservers, no embalming fluids at all, the Stars, Dirt and Trees deserve the bounty of my Fall.

As my eyes glaze over and my vision is dimmed, a single, solitary blade of Grass shall be my last friend. So beautiful, so wild, so perfectly formed, as Darkness closes in that sight shall keep me warm. As feelings grow distant and movement grows faint, I look forward to the clarion call of Angels, the bass bellow of the Saints. The only Church I need are the Trees grown so tall, their crowns like wondrous temples, that beckon one and all. I seek not large Funerals, not accolades or words, the gratitude of the Ants is enough, or even the Birds. To give back to life is the highest of destinies, to return to mere Dust and to float on the Breeze.

Think of me when you look to the Sky and the Stars, when you hear a faint voice on the Wind, from afar. If ever your Thoughts should in my direction turn, remember my Words and my spurning of Urns. Of Coffins and Burials, of Ceremonies and Grief, to return to the material of Life itself eases my Journey Beyond, no more do I ask, because Love is Eternal and sharing our task. To some this may sound crazy and it is to you I speak now, this is no form of vanity but a norm of the Tao. We belong to this Planet this is known beyond doubt, our bodies are Stardust coalesced sent to scout out the vagaries of Life to seek Strife to seek Pain to live Joy to live Hard to live Right from the Start.

My Blessing was to be here and perhaps yours was too, to experience the bounty of Life’s fatal Brew to drink deep to drink long to eat, dance, sing and sleep, to greet the Morn with a smile to walk long and lonely miles, to find Companionship and Hate, to have Babies and to await the arrival of Death upon our Shores, to be thankful for everything and much more. These are the most transcendent Gifts as we approach that fateful Rift between Life and what lies Beyond, those places we go when we break our last bond with all that remains here in this fateful Vale of Tears, the recognition of true Origins, that Shibboleth of Fears.

So pay heed to my words and listen closely I plead, they come from my spirit and the highest of needs. To give back to Earth Mother and to seek the Father’s ear, to look forward to Judgement with the highest of cheer. We are not our bodies these are but  vehicles indeed, that served us as needed as we followed our Creeds. When I go to rest I care not regarding flesh, but if I have a say in it I prefer to nourish weeds. This is the Greatest of Loves, this Truth I assert, to witness the flight of a Dove, to forget harms and hurts, before my eyes close forever and my flesh returns to dirt, to you I send all that I ever claimed as mine as I surrender to the Divine. My laughter echoes Heavenward as my spirit climbs aligned with the Stairway to Heaven and the Highest of High. And the last you will hear from me shall be a well-contented sigh.

Starburst

Floating upon motes of sunbeam joy
bouncing and careening between photon
planetoids of microscopic complexity
fairy-songs uplift souls shining
emoting moments of pure experience
time encapsulated in the singular instance
of Now

Genies whirlwind between dimensions
coaxing nymphs and sprites
whispering sly insinuations as starbursts
light the void sending waves of cosmic energy
spiraling into perfection

Lost spirits hide in the shadows
their eyes pain-filled turned away from the light
seeking solace in black-hole tunnels
worming between dimensional spaces
embracing greater density in pain and heartache
power on the material plane a greater lure
than the weightlessness of eternal peace

Angels and demons dance between Source
and the lowest levels of earthen romance
hyper-dimensional vortices of consciousness
manifesting the divinity of the highest laws
destined to guide the stars cycling through
incarnation

Everything dies but God nothing is eternal
that lives no level of Beingness promises
perfection except the inevitable Return to Source
the invariable re-connection with that which
knows no End and no Beginning from whence
we all arise and then fall leave and then return
consciousness self-aware and growing
into Oneness.

The Circumvention of Fate

Desperation is in the air. Can you feel it?

It’s in that thousand yard stare you see sometimes, walking down the streets, gaze fixated mostly upon your own feet but looking up sometime, catching a glimpse of gazes, phases of mental gone medieval, often wild and feral, telescopic scopes above a cocked gun barrel, burning above tightened and frozen lips.

A sublime trip into the mind of the divine. You can see it in the eyes of many lost and bewildered members of the human tribe, hearts tendered upon alters of greed, frozen screaming, lost in the tribulations of their own half-unconscious but transcendent need. Almost everybody you pass is ass out, minds elsewhere, worrying about cash, about the job, about making ends meet. It’s that mad dash into the future we’re on, trying to appear strong while inside we’re quaking and outside we’re shaking, more or less, tested to the extreme, worry and regret struggling in the middle of life’s turbulent stream.

Time seems to be passing way too quickly, it’s sickly. Choices being made that we regret almost instantly, surrounded by temptation we forgo the mandatory oblations, giving in way too freely, it’s a mess. Really, it’s a damn shame, tested, like Cain, caught slaying brother Abel we swang, private parts in the wind, buffeted about by our own sins, looking around for someplace to hide, but we can’t pretend, there’s no solace from the wrath of God’s eyes, in the end.

But, we try. Finding those hidden corners in our minds, caught out, we gesticulate wildly, babbling like some kind of hideous street mime. Lies attempt to win the day as we play the game of life, causing strife, as if this is the only way to be, as if this is the only way to see through the illusions, trying not to fall, catching yet another contusion on the brain, half-lame we stumble through the mist of half-forgotten crimes, committed to do the time of life on earth, forgetting that we’re really here to experience a rebirth, of spirit, of soul, the goal almost beyond grasp, the sacred asp of the ancients the last gasp of mortality slipping from lips agape, awed by the utter immensity of Creation’s fell maw. A truly unenviable state.

And, by the way, maw means jaws for the uninitiated, open wide, our hearts pounding inside, words not accompanying intentions, our misguided actions necessitating the Circumvention of Fate, the intervention of a higher state of being, seeing beyond the mundane, the limited visual capacity of the temporarily insane. How inane is that? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, all the while pretending to be an adult.

And so it goes. And so we grow, deep in the throes of potentiality, creating reality with every breath, evolving as spirits of light with every test, committed until death.

That desperation that you see? It’s really a call to action for you and me. We are indeed our brothers and sisters keepers, street-wise sweepers of the detritus of life, we clean up our acts to move higher. Going through the dark night of the soul, hearts catching afire, becoming the phoenix of the dark morning’s dawn, harbingers of spiritual desire, becoming the angel that lost souls count on. Exemplifying the higher aspects of consciousness, forgoing the prideful excesses of pompousness. Yes, that’s the answer to it all.

The answer to our fateful and often inevitable fall.

Choose differently. Live gently, being kind to yourself. Release the pain and gain the clarity of peace, find your center and witness the turbulence and drama cease.

It is indeed possible. A choice to be made like any other, the choice to overcome any obstacle, to find the solution in the soluble, that which dissipates in nature’s flow, synchronicitous instances of life’s journey that cause us all to grow.

So there you go.

Choose wisely, and slow your roll.