3 AM So This is Now

3AM So this is Now

Ghosts of beauty and ghosts of talent

Haunt me no more

Bits and pieces of culture, fusion and fission

I long for brothers and sisters

For family

I can’t sleep

The hidden glory of the past unscathed

I wither away in foreign lands

A few measly moments here and there among sort of kin and the rest with strangers

I am tired of longing

Perhaps I should take you or break you or abandon ship

False worlds of language and pictures occupy us

We seem to long for change in a world that never stops changing

Please come and stare at this wall with me

Let us abandon all thought and mind together

Let tendencies rise and fall

Cherish order yet accommodate chaos

Youth has faded and everywhere I go there are only crossroads

The world is vast and multifaceted

What shall we do and where shall we go?

Whom should I court and how shall I ensnare them with the hook of love?

Authenticity is hard to find and hard to hold onto once found

We retreat into our forests of habit and fall prey to folly

These wretched words they stain my moments

All I am doing is cowering from silence

Slight agony is persistent but bearable

So this is now

Moonflower

Moonflower

Moon flower bright in the sun’s night light

Bloom power sprite in fun’s right might

To leap alight allure aloft oh leap across the moon

Fairy and scary and skald and skunk oh paint a tune a rune

Glowing globe smiles down on threads of a connected world

Wave-particles travel space and wires in no time

Packets are sent, encrypted, received, and deciphered

The soft folds of her petals conceal secret essences

Concealment and revelation is her cycle of slivers and circles

The body language of nature ever babbles

Tenseness of times and planning and wooing and mucky yucky work

Her curves interrupt my problem-solving trance oh Lotus Goddess

   who allures with the infinity of her petals

Gestures of offering give order and peace to the motions of the body

Can we seamlessly morph from one trance to another?

Nothing to grasp or keep in dream-like Samadhi 

All appearance is play at the moment’s interface

Moonflower Night flower Winter flower

Flower out of place and flower out of time

Moonflower uniting the realms of poets

Hidden in the facade of consensual reality

Unseen by conditioned eyes

Exquisite nectar flows, in my dreams

May we be free of clatter says the hypnagogic chatter

Moon salutation balances tire the prana container

And corpse pose balances the twilight state betwixt awareness and slumber

Then the body falls away and naturalness abides

Rahu comes to swallow yet again as the cycles of appearance ever unfold

The nodes are a much longer series of phases, seasons of the sky

The sky and time revealed secrets to the watchers

More dreams of secret towns in this ever foreign culture land

The dying peck at the dead and we hide away their corpses

I hide my way back along the gully, an unlikely deceiver

I casually converse with my would-be pursuer

Anxiety hovers

So what comes up from this mix? I wonder

I dream often of the field where the moon rises

Another place too with a deep dark river current

That is a place of gates and dams

And a hill where appeared alien ships

Dreams and memories of dreams

This is too a record of the time

Oh Moonflower you only come out at night

In the long night of winter you shine lonely as beings cave up

The illusion of the line is betrayed as an endless series of crescents,

   zigging and zagging through curved space like streams on globes with nodes and lobes

Subtleties beyond our grasp dance before us

We give chase

This is an endless song of realization, to whatever degree of refinement

It is a record of the time, of dreams, ideas, aspirations, of currents current

All swimming together in a mythic soup spiced with meter and rhyme

   and alluring alliteration

Strands dissolve and combine. Birds disappear and return. Seasons eclipse one another.

I am alone. We are all alone. Captured in bodies that we encourage to betray us.

I attempt to touch you with words. Probes of hair seeking strange knowledge.

Songs of strangers and news of the day.

Strangely I long for swirl, the whirlpool’s invincible force sucking universes away

Water seeks the lowest spot and the truth it seeks the surface

Guilt sometimes pushes it out and then it becomes worthless

Searching for a lie to tell my friends in hell

Back there in your nervous chair

You take it so easy that you just don’t care

Song words of a questing boy child. Oh how time goes on

I am still tribeless except for this small clan of disparate elements

Possibly, maybe, even probably – they all fall away without wily pestering

Availability and offering chances of glory shall lure them, yes?

We shall see

Putting out kin feelers and waiting for cha ching

Oh how I long to recognize my spirit family in others

I breathed in your presence oh Rahu of devouring

Dark moon of the full

Now to recite the words of goodness clothed in qualities

And to see the flower after and beyond the great devour

Oh how appearances deceive the mind of the unmindful

I swooped in and entered the heart of the city but courage fell silent

   in the places where each is to his own

I manage to read about the folly that that the yogi transcends

No matter as I make my way back home to be among the species in the clan

I am sitting in a room and “something” is all encompassing

Or so says the hypnopompic word machine

Did we make words or did words make us?

Some fall away meaningless and impotent

Others intrigue, inspire, and incite

Players enter pictures and what becomes? Interesting at least at first but I am wary

Moon dark offers to hand to old paradigms disguised as new

Good luck with that and more of the same only slightly ahead of yesterday

I wish I could find something to get behind but nothing presents itself

We are indeed Zombies, moving unfazed toward goals that call us like machines

We notice naught but our illusory goals

Time to cut off this trickling faucet of questionable questions

The Hero's Attendant

The Hero’s Attendant

What meaneth this or that?   Conversation is oral sex

There is struggle and seeking of the unruly blissful whirlwind of transformation

Dark night and dark green evergreen tree stretches to the sky

Then lies down ill in a bed

Gnomish dark-haired woman is the spirit of the tree

Seeking the hive I find it exposed and on fire but inside

First inside a van full of books, then inside an old and large store

Yet still aflame – what of the hivemates?

Dreams, thoughts, desires, and all else gather here on the pallet

   without too much or too little structure

The meaning balances with the flow,

   pattern recognition with the transfer of energy

Thoughts ride on the Wind

What is there to know?

Body, Feelings, Mind, and the Figments of Mind

Know is not the best word. We can only watch, observe, listen

Formulating these observations into models is the way of science

     but the way of meditation is to choose method over goal of method

What will become of us?

Will we transform and grow?

Will we die as confused as now?

Will we continue our charades and follies?

 

Balance. Equanamity. Impartiality. Evenness of Mind.

How can we invoke the unswayable?

We who cultivate the energy of longing

May we subtly channel it into aspiration

May this aspiration feed us and pervade our memory

May the hero of awakening be ever our companion

A Sigh to the Memory of Carefree Wanton Folly

A Sigh to the Memory of Care Free Wanton Folly

Wherever I go everyone seems a stranger

Barriers, everywhere there are barriers

For this cuts down on heartache and danger

Its disease of suspicion and we are the carriers

We hoard and guard the secrets of our folly

And hide our tender flesh behind rough armor

In the field of possibility we long to dally

But we settle to play the safe game of charmed and charmer

What I mean is this and this is it

We are weak flacid strings and ne’er tightly knit

Society has fallen into stale comfort custom

We, abiders and conformers to style and system

Even the dance of rebellion falls to the entropy of decay

For the protocol of support rarely smiles and shares momentums

For today is more of yesterday, and tomorrow more of today

And for that all beauteous dreams become phantoms

I merely complain of the lack of great fields of love and merit

I merely remain at the hands of this strange world of the human

We merely follow rules and repeat past patterns like a parrot

We merely hallow what they tell us and give conceptual noumen

To hell with your silly rules and your compliance endorsing glares!

False gesture smothers the chance for hospitable heartfelt courtesy

To hell with your rhymes and meter!

Come ye all down from your pedestals and wallow with us in the muck.

You know you want to.

Salt Strange Salt Sea Change

Salt Strange Salt Sea Change

White sizzling cloud of burning dry water flavor

Ye who preserves, protects, and slays us, piece by piece and cell by cell

The body succumbs to decay from the moment of birth

For birth initiates death

Ye maker of thirst and the cycles of polar energy

Balance of within and without

Ye have comrade ions

Component of battery-pump-motor of every little body within the Body

Ye endlessly separate and recombine changing form whether within or without

Ye hide unseen in moisture and the sea

Ye fence in mages

Ye anion generator under heat

Cleanser of parasitic bugs come to make new again

Clear the channels of sludge and debris

Ye are the Body and the keeper of the body

Ye are delicate and soothing yet dangerous and fickle

For I am not only me but “boo”

These are the bacteria that surround me and live among and within me

Ye regulate them and trim them from overpower

So I am only apparent, as one among many, dreaming that I am

Death takes us to invisible realms as the ocean takes you

But we can bring you back out with the Sun

What Sun can precipitate us?

They say there may be a Sun beyond the Sun that may be a harvester of souls

But no one Knows.

We paint pictures of unknown lands

And confound memory with imagination

Reality becomes lost in wandering moments

The sea may become trapped by earth and fill as its boundaries erode

Then the salt desert may be born as the sea dies

For ye are in the sea but is the sea in you?

May ye be medicinal for the dosage makes the poison

May we not crave to drink the ocean

For such fools are doomed to fail