Manhood Rites

Ancient rites of manhood, virility unbound,
the echoing sound of trembling ground,
bass roar of the crowd soaring into glory,
brilliant skies wide consuming the passion released,
reverberating from deep inside.

The Coliseum shakes, Gladiators bake upon sands
soaked with blood, sweat and tears, the atmosphere
thick with the scent of fear, adrenalin pounding
aggression sounding like soprano songs of
encouragement.

Weapons glinting in the sun,
jewelry glittering in the stands,
the bands boom bass and airy refrains
blunted by the sand, man against man.

Media moguls banter, skyboxes and box seats planted
around the heights, the sights digitally delineated,
fated for eternal broadcast, electromagnetic signals of
multi-colored stallions brilliantly bedecked, prancing
upon courts of gold, bodies sold to the highest bidder,
commercials and riches promised to the winner.

Balls have replaced the swords, but the crowd ever
has the last word, ancient rituals reborn yet never passed,
the same inner turmoil released like stale gas,
societal controls pacify the masses.

Food, money and sex,
the parameters of the worldly test,
distracting the distractable from the intractable
issues of the day,
earthquakes and wars,
peonage and closed doors,
unequal wealth accumulation and slavery,
drudgery and promised damnation
trumps bravery.

Modern rites of manhood, virility remixed,
become blissful ignorance and sensual satiation,
the digital revelation yet another dream,
revolution televised on wide-screen
each moment captured by cam-phone streams,
endlessly clicking through albums
of forgotten scenes.

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Your silence sounds like
waves on the ocean of creation

Your distance breaths like
lovers lost in each others eyes

Your pain aches
like mountains crushed beneath oceans of air

Your laughter shimmers like
bubbles frothing upon pearly waves

Your voice penetrates like
sunlight diving through oceans of thought

Your love lives in me
like stars lost in galactic fields

searching for a way home.

Karmic Tender

Waste not the day,
the Way pays it forward,
karmic tender proffered
demoralized prophets buffered
by angelic hordes,
deplorable desecrations of nations
the evolution of civilization.

The Tao initiates bows
by the uninitated to those they deem
supreme,
genuflecting subjecting the Enlightened
to the worship of the unredeemed.

Seize moments in time,
life can never rewind,
reminding us of past moments sublime
sepia-toned remembrances
of street lights and picket fences,
innocent youth spent in unconscious exploration,
the commemoration of moments
the payoff of karmic debt foments.

Living in the Now frees
tortured souls to be despite the limitations
of their stations,
the documentation of genetic relations
the endless recycling of
instantaneous creation.

Time continues its remorseless dance
the days whirl, twirl, dip then prance
across the stage of spatial manifestation,
our honored relations observing
from beyond
as the Angels chime in with
heavenly song.

Angel Tears

Is this love, this low-level warfare of souls,
the higher dimensional fanfare of Oneness
the forgotten goal,
lost amidst the trials and tribulations of
daily life,
forgotten within the traumas and painful
episodes of daily strife.

When do we find the truth of things,
written in the stars as etheric bells do ring,
the angels watching over us
tears softly falling
their heavenly songs to sing,
as days pass by and time’s
pendulum continues to swing?

Trouble, trouble casts our days
as thunderous storms roll through
and we refuse to change our ways,
denying the quirks that others see
so clear,
while proclaiming righteousness
in words and actions
unaware that judgement is near.

Who loves so truly
that they know who they are,
intimately aware of their foibles and
issues, self-knowledge as close to
lived reality as the most distant
of stars?

As the brightness intensifies
and the world itself transforms
some choose ever to densify
to double-down on the norm
refuse to see the defamation
of their own spirits,
the sublimation of higher merit
hoisting dysfunction like a trophy
while soul’s urge continues to
flow free denied expression
day to day,
as love’s full vision continues
to play.

Somewhere distant,
beyond our ken.

Those angelic tears are falling,
once again.

Distant Rumblings

Distant rumbling beckons awareness
solar storms awaken the earth.

Gaia’s skin shifts, tectonic forces remorseless
absorbing the love of Sol, fierce and true.

Electromagnetic emanations bath the world,
emotional currents flow through.

Terran humanity oblivious to the ramifications
as the planet below does sing.

Her heart and soul scintillating brightly
her dance so pure and filled with grace.

Civilizations fall as the world heats quickly
Oceanic consciousness prepared for change.

The Vault

There is a vault within that most
hold dear,
the gestalt of sin, bound by a
chain of fear,
hidden, locked away from the sight
of brightest day,
unbidden, birds flock and spirits pray,
the power of gnosis found,
occasioning falling tears.

Without we seem to live
with no doubt,
while within we quail in terror,
the furor of internal conflict
the edict of self-condemnation,
remonstrations of failed creation,
stifled by trifles enlargened
and unbounded,
inside we flee screaming silent wails,
afraid of the tales of violent sound.

But this is the way of the earth,
the necessary culling in light of rebirth,
as the waters of the worlds wash sibilant
upon the shores of material innocence,
intransigent spirits spinning,
blending into the foliage, camouflaged
against the trumpet call of Divine Awakening,
slaking their thirst in the blood-filled wells
of the damned.

Man against man, woman against woman,
brother against sister against mother against
friend, and round it goes again,
a seemingly never-ending spiral, each iteration
a gyroscoping motion of devotion,
dedicated to pain, to repeating the same thing,
over and over again.

Is there a winning scenario?

Impresarios of pleasure wax eloquent, dependent
upon transcendent whims, denouncing friends,
family and strangers alike, gossiping,
dripping lies like sties from eyes awash with death,
steadily imbibing negativity until they take
their last breath.

This is the sinning scenario, the winning
being comprised of exactness and oppositional
proactivity, higher vibrational nativity born
within the crucible of spiritual knowledge,
the anvil of experiential college, the acceptance
of human frailty, of the failure of the will
to Be.

The vault within crumbles under the light
of awakened awareness,
the bareness of the opened soul the passage
through which spiritual light flows,
the space within which gnosis and transcendence
grows.

Take it slow, but steady, make sure to leap,
not step when ready, when that synchronicitous
event occurs, to do what is necessary
to fly, like the birds.

Chosen

Alabaster skies tinted crimson
witness the passage of time
landforms slowly shift
rolling waves of tectonic force
pushes light continental plates
across dense oceanic expanses
the cycles of life
born witness to
by deeper, slower forms
of consciousness
aeons in age
and existence
ponderous and fathomless
to quicker, more ephemeral
forms of life.

There exists within the mote
of a gnat’s eye fractal patterns of
co-creation, implicit in
every breath, every heart
beating to the rhythm of
the cosmos, expressly manifest
in the destiny of all life,
material accumulations
of consciousness
here today, gone tomorrow,
the cycle ever continues
as life expresses itself
in never-ending spirals
of higher and higher transformation.

Humanity quails beneath the weight
of recriminations endless
in nature of nature lost
paradise bereft
crumbling, wasting away
beneath the burden of mass genocide
and wasted opportunities
to shepherd Gaia’s fields,
maintain her pastures and mountains,
the quality of the water,
the air, the earth herself,
the etheric responsibility of
genetic imperatives ancient in conception
the family of life
and love denied,
minimized and enslaved to the power
of command and control.

The desires of consumption are simple,
childlike in actuality
and essence, the need for greed,
to consume without consequence,
ignoring the balance of nature,
the balance of the Cosmos themselves,
honoring the egocentric and selfish,
denying the holistic and universal
in favor of the desire to
feed one’s perceived need
irregardless of the cost
to the rest of us and the planet
herself, no set upon a path
of recovery and rejuvenation
with or without
her human horde.
.
Those who feel the pain of the planet
who live, in actuality, the truth
that the body is the temple,
as above, so below,
how the earth goes, so goes
humanity,
are those to whom the planet is promised,
the guardians of the co-creative principle
of perfection and peace,
the savage garden alive
with the imperatives of transcension,
moving forward, higher, spiraling into eternity
wafting upon the breath of divinity,
ever blowing from below,
lifting those chosen
to the heights of their
own, personal, spirit
of perfection.

Chosen by choice,
by the small whispering voice
within, exhorting them
toward conservatorship, toward acceptance
of the role of responsibility,
of being the high mind
bent upon representing the realities
of the divine, to return the earth to
her pristine state, to co-exist with
the plants, the animals upon this
soaring orb, bound upon a journey
of forever, travelling the cosmos
in search of its own dissolution,
knowing that this is the path of all
life, all things born must die
and all things lower,
must rise.