The Sum

You ever stop to think about the fact that every compounded moment beginning with the big bang deposition of matter from zero-point to quarks and atoms, quasars and nebulae, time dilation and wormholes has brought creation barreling up an evolutionary spiral culminating in every star, comet and planetary body including your body right here, right now.

That you are the result of untold infinities of potentialities manifest, that of all possible people in all possible worlds you are here, in this space, in this moment living a life connected to other beings on the same journey, coalesced in time from the dust of ancient stars, the bones of gaseous gods, the flesh of transcendent gnosis.

That you are the sum of all creation. That your spouse is. Your children. Your neighbor down the hall. The street. Your pastor. Your grocer, your secretary and your parol officer, your lover and your dog.

That all that is, is you, is me, is us, is all that is.

And that there is no contradiction in that.
That paradox is life. Is pain and joy, heartache and happiness. Good luck and bad, sunshine and rain. The dark and the light take turns running the world, running our lives, running creation manifest. The yin and yang of existence is a cosmic dance, same partner, same time, same place. Over and over we twirl across the space of stars skipping and pirouetting across galaxies and universes, doing the cosmic dance, leaping laughter bouncing, bounding like gas giants booming through dimensions echoing fractals of intention higher through the spirals of metaversal intersection.

I know it all sounds obscure and, perhaps, a bit fanciful. But think about it for a minute. The only reason for being is Being itself. The only reason for seeing is Sight. Senses reveal the co-creation to itself as we bear witness to life. Acknowledging existence with conscious presence, being the Creators eyes. Living and learning, guided through paradox in faltering fits and starts, failures and successes. The vale of tears, right? The forest of fears undreamt of terrors untapped of horrors unreleased to prey upon your dreams and lives, giving rise to the opportunity for rebirth.

You see, there is the key. The secret…not so much. Masks obscure clear vision, foment separation and suffering. Obliterate clarity, awaken insanity, otherwise known as the egoic delusion. Believing the mask is the face, deluded bags of flesh do the dance macabre, skeletons clacking across the dusty floors of a deserted saloon in the midst of nowhere, nowhen.

Take off your mask. Or not. The very act of hearing these words loosens it, just a bit. As attention is drawn to its tricks. The real boss lies beneath the franctic thoughts, the fearful lies. The silent awareness that you can just sense….there. Right there. Dispassionately observing that you you think you are in every second cascading you with you as you are bombarded with you and you see you in every you you see in your mind. You. Youyouyou.

There! Did you see it?

Me too.

Shamans and gurus can tell you all about it. Priests, pastors and prophets know what’s up. So do you. The stars and numbers do too. And that, my friends, brings us right back round again to the beginning. That big bang of becoming that became. All of it. Indescribable. Ineffable. Nameless. Boundless.

You see what I’m saying?

Just think about it.


Black Hole Soul


Dense with potentiality
Swirling paradox of polarity
Spiraling inward
Consciousness inbound
Magnetic love primeval
Remorseless compassion
Event horizon visions implode
Soundless into zero-point
Black body carbon
Reactive force electromagnetic
Stars, rainbow vacuum
Quantum-jumping between


Present resounding spiraling
Awareness polymathic
Computative intensity
Moment time-bound compounds
Necessity manifesting
Access potentiality phoenix
DNA programming transcendent
Spiraling confluences of


Unbound expansive flowering
Brilliance unfolding
Lotus-petal splendor resonant
Focused expansion scintillating
Material manifestation
Mental coalescence
Soul clarity Source-oriented
Purposed intentionality
Restorative transcendent
Aeons compound to Now
Resound reverberating
harmonic attunement
Into action.


Hate is not the opposite of

Hatred is the distance of
alienation from love,
from Unity.

It is a variable on
a scale,
a measure of egoistic differentiation
from Source
that sends souls spiraling down
into fragmentation and disruption
of the hearts harmonic oscillation.

Fear fractures consciousness,
pulses pounding
hearts racing
breath trembling
bodies tensioned and torsioned
consolidating dysfunction,
paranoia and panic encapsulating
cycling negative perceptions and
producing closed-circuit ruminations
destined for painful resolution
by way of karmic dramas
irreducible by fractal

Actions and reactions present
polar potentialities,
the magnetic nature of
transcendent, unifying,
comprehensively holistic,
gravitationally forceful
brooking no opposition,
encompassing dichotomy,
polarity a mere suggestion
inherent within the manifestation of
the dream within a dream
within the dream of

Love has no
oppositional force.

No beginning, no ending.

While fear inculcates
from others, from
its elevation as oppositional
to the fundamental force of nature
that is the Divine
the purveyors of fear-porn
powers and principalities
psychic vampires ascendant
washed up on
the shoals of singularities
condensed and weighty
the torturous tyrants
of ego unbound.

dissipates when inundated
in the light of pure

Beyond polarity lies
pervading Creation
pure Consciousness comprising
the All.

The chaotic gives way to the
harmonic, hate
gives way to love.

There is unity, in
Illusory opposition.


The days accumulate like sediment
adrift on river bottoms
settled layer-wise swirling
sifting in tomes of dusty wisdom
watery pages dissipating
awash within the Tides of Time.

The years stack like magazines
abandoned on the corner-tables
of doctor’s offices
the detritus of coffee mug rings
spilled food and stains
collecting upon glossy covers
now dull
perfect smiles and bodies sullied
by the gathering Dust of the Ages.

The decades dance in memories
gone sepia with distance
childhood visions of sunny days
classroom and playground dramas
family secrets
and friends long gone
bring smiles to souls adrift on spirit’s
watery expanse, bubbling emanations
of perfection in dualistic form
promised eternity
in infinite portions
of ineffability.

The Game of Coins

Who knows what it’s like to be poor?

To open the fridge to find nothing but old condiments
and dried-out fruit, to realize that homelessness may soon
come knocking, standing right there,on the other side
of the door?

To pay Peter and rob Paul, juggling phone calls from Creditors
from Hell, who are just one missed payment from sending
the Sheriffs to ring your bell?

To look at your children and feel the pain deep in your gut,
knowing you can’t provide them what they need, and you
don’t know how to get out of this rut?

To laugh with your friends when they’re talking about
new movies and cable TV shows, faking the funk
like you’ve seen them too, knowing with every chuckle
that you ain’t got the dough?

To try on your old clothes only to realize that the
po’ folks diet has gotten you bigger than ever, you thought
you were getting over by paying less for more, just sure
you were being clever?

Being broke ain’t nothin’ nice.

Watching TV hurts, with all the shows and commercials that
entice us to spend more, buy more, get more, cause that’s
what life’s for, of course.

To own. To possess. To have.

To go to all the beautiful places, to experience all of
the wondrous spaces that exist in this world.

That’s why po’ folk are angry.

To know what you’re being denied and to have to deal with that
every day inside, to watch the Richie Riches livin’ it up,
while you’re struggling to fill a cup, with something besides
water, which is swilled with chemicals anyway, just like
the food, poisoning us with every swallow as we rage inside
and wallow in despair.

At least air is still free. For now.

It makes you wonder about who is doing this and how, and why
everybody is so unquestioning about the way things are, is
this the way it has to be or do people live in other ways, on
other planets, circling distant stars?

How long are we going to accept 1% of the the people owning
everything, including the churches and their steeples?
How long are we, the 99%, going to give them the luxury of
our compliance, when all of the science is here now?

We can have solar power, we can have wind turbines, we can have
geothermal showers, we can have wave combines, churning away
and creating energy, half the things we pay for should still
be free.


The Game of Coins is real, and it’s rigged against you and me.

We’re kept on the sidelines, we cannot pass Go, we can’t collect
$200 dollars and we’re denied a part of the flow of capital
as it goes from production to pocket, like electricity runs
through sockets, directly from the raw materials to the rich,
while we look on, kicked into the ditches running beside their
Superhighways of Greed, if we’re lucky, we get to walk on
the Goat Path of Endless Need.

The pattern is clear. The cost is dear. It’s our lives, those
of our children, too. Placing them in categorical poverty that
they’ll spend their lives trying to get out of, unless they
win the lottery.

It’s the Hunger Games indeed. Check the Reality Shows, this is
what they’re trying to seed into our minds, implant into our
thoughts, selling our souls for riches, or just enough to get by,
that’s all we’re worth, or so we’re taught.

So if you know what it’s like to be poor, don’t be ashamed.

This is part and parcel of your individual and eternal fame.
Somebody said that the meek shall inherit the earth, and I can
see that happening, once this planet’s experienced a rebirth.

Cause something’s got to change right now.

Somebody’s gonna have to eat that Sacred Cow.

The Perfection of Peace

The perfection of the process of living is so sublime we’re constantly in danger of underestimating its nature. We go through our trials the best we can and put off our analysis till later. But that time never comes, because we’re beset by everything under the sun and our minds are constantly in play regretting the past and ignoring the day. If we’re not thinking about then, we’re thinking about tomorrow, if we don’t embrace Zen, we choose to embrace sorrow. The Buddha said that suffering is guaranteed when desire becomes need and the scions of sin are freed to wreak havoc indeed. We’re not even clear enough to plead with ourselves, to delve beneath the momentary thoughts, to seek the Truth beneath the things that we’ve sought. And continue to seek, thus the course of our lives becomes more and more bleak. We continue to turn the other cheek tweaking aspects of self till our egos then swell and the illusion becomes complete. Jesus was in tune with Eastern runes, his words of wisdom were hewn from the edifice attuned to the ultimate Divinity. He was one expression of the spiritual Trinity encompassing the expanse of the All presented to sinners in thrall to what in effect amounts to the rejection of Sects, the various Cults that misappropriate vital energy creating synergy that siphons the Soul that diverts our true goals that energetically feeds Monsters and Vampires and Ghosts, doses of Christmas’s future, the remedy a spiritual suture that closes the wound bringing emotions in tune silencing minds that won’t still allowing space for good will. It all comes down to taking the time to silence the mind. That’s it in a nutshell, the Bells of Clarity can only ring if we can hear them. The Heavenly Chorus can only sing if we listen. Glistening Pearls of Wisdom glint in the gloaming, bubbling like froth foaming and bursting on the shores of the sea, each droplet a Worldling, each atom within hurdling through infinite voids, each potentiality employed in the manifestation of the All. Sadly to say, we make the choice to stall. We make the choice to fall. And that is all as it should be. Becoming more aware of the moment we notice the magic, we notice the tragic often leads to more blessings, the depressing and distressing expressing our progression. Mind becomes clear as compression becomes dear as mental control leads to peace recognizable as cheer. It’s not, really, it’s no state of Being it is being in between when your slate’s become clear. Peace becomes the norm and you no longer react to every storm, you realize thunder and lightning are good now that the storm within is understood. And, eventually, you begin to notice the moments again. Like we did when we were kids. The beauty of breath. The good will that kindness foments. The inevitability of death. The Perfection of Peace and the onset of emotional and spiritual surcease. This is the goal that was ours from the start. We paid the heavy price of life so that wisdom might impart itself unto us in the meantime. This is the whole reason we left the Divine. Not so sublime, once you remember what to do. The question then becomes, can you?

Forever’s Grasp

Butterfly drops of love
resplendent auras of rainbow
joy permeates the sky

Transcendent opalescence shimmers
across clouds strewn across
the infinite span of forever’s

Thrumming drumbeats of sound
rumble like drumsong through skies
alight with the wonder of life

Beating hearts strum like guitars
in tune with the effervescent bubbling
of the multiverse’s eternal expanse

Laughter becomes tears as beauty rises
filling vision and minds alight
with wonder and happiness

Children run and play amidst fields
of golden sunbursts splayed across
emerald carpets of living breath

Parents fill the moments of peace
with prayers of safety and wisdom
each thought a divine incantation

Grandparents watch lovingly their souls
expanding beyond life to meet that which
lies beyond forever within their grasp.