Hair On Fire: The Strange Art of Turning Within

Hair on Fire: The Strange Art of Turning Within

Scheming mind accompanies the seekers of that which is beyond here and now

Hungry and thirsting mind wallows in the mirage of craving
Every moment we thicken or thin the veils of illusion

This version of us is most conducive to awakening from the sleep of pleasure and pain

Our fortune unrecognized will decay to misfortune
The means are available as is the pathless path
Balance of comfort and discomfort makes a polarity path of flow
The root fear is fear of death

We see the change that fast is but slow change often eludes us

We are death and decay
We are temporary guests in a temporary inn
Stability is a lie we fell for
Death will change us and those who know us

Activity leads to more activity of a similar nature

The shovel of habit digs a trench from which it is difficult to escape
Yet the mind only appears to be rigid
What we call reality is a compelling appearance – it seems
Clearing the smoke of selfness enhances chances for spontaneous compassionate presence
Death will take us to where we have journeyed toward all our lives

We put faith in futility and frivolous fun

The scheme to capture paradise is bound to fail
But we can capture awareness of the moment in perfect far-reaching activity
The nature of this body-mind state is not inherently heavenly
Even heaven is not ultimately heavenly
Death is merely the appearance of change

 

 

Synchronous Dancing

Synchronous Dancing

The air is filled with toxic memes

We cannot help but breathe

Do we lend a hand to strangers who define themselves by their enemies?

Is it just a faze, this craze, a dead end along the deathless endless maze?

Palaces within palaces and thrones within thrones

Kings and Kingdoms, the One and the Many

This is all of a rhythm this time touching

It seems a manifestation of longing for order in the chaos and randomness of emotion
And a longing for the many to be one

We seek surprise and signs

We stalk for meaning

Are you there? I am.

All this connecting and disconnecting and infinite chances of union

It’s like navigating a perpetual storm
And just now the lantern is hidden
And perhaps we are just being cautious till dawn when we will see the matrix-illusion
   spread out around us as contrast will find us and the long past will bind us

We appear to grow, to go, and to change, like the cup of the universe in which we dwell

We crawl along the web of our circumstances doing what we do
Occasionally we leap away or fend off momentums but overall we are bound to action

I long to watch and listen

Perhaps I should do just that just now
Join me if you like

 

 

 

 

Noob Mind

Noob Mind

Try ye to take me viginity away?

To learn me to be a knower of things?
Knowers miss the freshness of now hidden behind their batteries of presumptions

I wanna be ready

For anything

Be ever a child of the universe

The mind wanders, ever searching for pleasant surprises

Pleasure rises and falls and then we chase memory shells
We long and scheme and leave perfection unattended

The happy novice is unbounded by the fetters of mastery

The plain Jane is unstained by the vanity and exaltation of beauty
The elderly content are not blinded by the desires of life to come

Each arising moment is new and unexperienced

One can never “know” it until it has happened
The future is not ours to know

The Novice is alert, watching and learning, open like a vase

A vase uncracked and able to hold the water of wisdom
Yet all is the play of wisdom
Eventually the water will evaporate
The water was illusion dissolved by time

We can’t hold on to the body

Yet much of what we know we know through the body
How can we know beyond the body?
What lies beyond conceptuality?

Lantern Moon Escorts the Troop of Night Folk

Lantern Moon Escorts the Troop of Night Folk

Reality Tunnel Crossroads Network of Network Node

This is my charade this masquerade
This word parade
Words once ripened now rotten
Words once remembered now forgotten
Dream words come and go
We long to decipher hidden knowledge

Venus poses as her fetch the fly to spy on the moon

And her flight cloud with the moon’s light shroud
Gives me fuzzy depth as I disorient

Sound bites and headlines are coaxes that besiege us with opinions and hoaxes

Tricks of the light that made us look
And thus our addiction feeds prediction

Death cuts us off. It pulls us up from the roots. Only fading memories remain.

Birds of a feather chained together awaiting their fate in a wandering whirlwind
Game Over
Yet what can we do now?

Deeper into the gaps of time and space we go to try and know the beyond within

Unadulterated being

Dharma is the essential dogma, the naked dogma without ulterior motives
First there is the prescription then there is the result of following the prescription

Fetterless Wisdom

As Is

Hidden, it seems

Hidden it Seems

Hidden it seems is the key to this and that, to flow through to and fro

Lost it seems is the skill to part the veils
Abandoned it seems is the vigor of the moon honey

Seems is unstable and seems betwixt, reality and appearance

What ghosts hold our cognitions together?
What demons murmur and moan within?

How efficiently do we invest in spirits and deities?

We make juju-flow in our transactions with unseen realms
Sometimes we are hidden in the pill that bewitches us with beauty and skill

Even the Great Benevolence gets lost among lofty clouds

The Great Fascinator called Appearance lures attention
And back to the breath we come, to tend the flower of now

Hidden it seems are codes and paths through mazes

Breakthroughs and traits be gathered and navigated
May tech and knowledge merge with kindness and foresight

Lost it seems is the sense of abandon,

  the common encounter of the quickness of danger
Feigning and training trade blows and fight-flight flies and flows

Secrets hide behind doubts, confusions, and fears

The revealer of secrets is the Great Seductress
Defend the nest yet know that there are billions of galaxies

Hidden channels reveal the stolen elixir

Somewhere in the moment is hidden the perfect Wisdom
The Great Mother of Being protects her children, the universe

She pervades all of the manifestations of her Great Phallus
She impregnates herself into a Great Palace
Within her circumference we dwell here in the center where was born expanding

We seem Pillars in the Void

Wombs birth wombs and erections of light pierce them
As center and edge hide within one another

We cosmological heirs weave our tales in the myth-mind

What treasure will you pilfer in the Underworld?
Great Seamstress, Mother of Tantra, she sows realms together with her ribbon-winds

Our form, our voice, and our inner word-machine,

   into pond-ripples our projections change
Those ripples are remembered, remnants read the residue

We are not the impulses. We are not the photons. We are not the ether.

We don’t know what we are.
Even our own nature is hidden from us

How can we know anything?

We employ the Great Thief, Hermes
To bring us news of our nature

Krsna wallows in butter and spreads in every direction

Peacocks of light emanate rainbow feathers like the Big Bang
This becomes the fruit that attracts the Great Yogi.

Bestowal

We supplicate gods and feed demons

We supplicate wisdom and tend delusion
Contemplation and ecstasy are cut by the wheel of duty

Come ride on the wings of Garuda

Come and mount the slithering Serpent
Come and witness the power of the Lion

Dragon is our brother if we but understand

Current of signal that crosses the abyss of synapse
All the young Thoth dudes carry the Goth news

Spreading memes litter the pond with sparkling glitter-algae bloom
Bias-police, hoaxes, ruses, hooker-headlines, wizards of sales, and suggestive poses.
Let us delve to deeper level of web pulse knowings

The common denominator is the mind of knowing for love

Brotherly and motherly may we move

 

 

 

The Mad-Laughter Ease of Befuddlement

The Mad-Laughter Ease of Befuddlement

Bifurcation point

Tipping Point
Metamorphosis
Twilit Threshold
Boundary
Horizon
New Stability Order

A mad chaotic symphony of desires constantly hounds me

Hunger, thirst, sloth, duty, ambition
Cycling along through day and through night
I am but a bewildered victim of this blight
Of my own habitual making

Through sincerity and faking

I waddle along befuddled
With plans gloriously constructed then scuttled

Oh to break on through and then what to do

Time and circumstances remind me of ripe fruit left to rot
Being is always possible
Going never stops
If only we could go thoroughly beyond the fetters of conditions
If we could root only in naked awareness
Unbodied by sensory domains and their endless illusions

Trending Now is what minds are tending now

Selective realities encumber us
Overlords and underlings in scenarios of hierarchy
The lure of view and vista says look out and savor the experience
The tasting of food is so transient
Like medicine that soothes pangs
We wander along making adjustments to various demands
Ever-tweaking the quest for the immediate experience
Deeper levels inaccessible as habitual doors lead us elsewhere
Apply filters. Filter out, filter in
Adjust the knobs on the receiver within
Tune into the emanations of the Multiverse and her children world-systems
May all confused beings discover and enjoy confusionless bliss and happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

Samhain Night Musing

Samhain Night Musing

Far far away from the merry month of May

Corpse of the grain king torn asunder, turned under
Twilit passages pass messages ‘twixt hidden states
While fates are strangely woven
Hooves cloven stomp barren earths
And tread girths of land on lonely forest paths
As wintry wraths threaten and growl
Now moon dogs howl at milky shimmering stars
And wind scars the snowy tenders
The veil renders await conditions

Now becomes then and chance gates close again

Back to the world of foes and friends
And to a kingdom that merely pretends
Green Man and Flower Maiden snatched by the lusty royals of Hades
Both men and ladies with thou strangely glowing shades
But high time fades and we are bound to our fates
Our loves and hates with but a smidgeon of luck
We wade through the muck of our days
With rarely a gaze beyond and between
Our programmed sheen of moments
Joys and laments rising and falling like waves
Enter the caves of the mother’s dark womb
Warm silent room of comfort and terror
And she the bearer is also the changer
So safety and danger rarely know one another
For each is the other and that is the quality of a lover
To cross over and explore the unknown
Conjoined or alone we can only but roam
Deeper into our home, the vastness of here and now

 

 

 

 

Lost Moon and Stormriders

Lost Moon and Stormriders

Green Man goin’ under, Gray Sky threatening thunder

Ghost Moon concealed as the abandoning sun retreats further

The days of fall, fall closer to winter’s barren frost

And the summer’s green boughs are lost
Their crispy corpses cover the ground
The land wears their dead bodies like a crown
As the Green Man goes down

Desolate landscapes reach lonely into distances vast

The basking humans have gone within to their gnome holes

Ancestor Moon, Bride of Frankenstorm Surge and One Wind Purge

Clashes and Faery Rides, Ice and Fire and Love and War
Forbidden lovers and children and chases
Walls of Folk in the Sky do battle in the Wild Hunt Storm

Round orb of imagination lurks in the shadows
Cloudy Ghouls hide it and no one can taste the countless reflections of glow
The power of shadow, like great wings across the meadow
Jack “Coldfinger” Frost promises to snap at us like a hungry rabid wolf
Serpent wind with swirling head
Please be gentle
Please be kind
Spare the little ones and ease their mind
Fire glow below, the Hearth, the Center, the Smoke Hole
The Spirit Moon Glows Yonder as queens take tithe and kings make bitter pledges
Snowy toes call out for fire

Oh drowned beings – be at peace

And frozen ones, frightened ones, desperate ones
Every change is a chance for freedom

Going Through the Motions and Resting in Potions

Going Through the Motions, and Resting in Potions

We are all so fallible, and some so blatantly gullible

  that it is hard to bear, hard not to tear them out of their dumbshitness
We are all so hopelessly conditioned, and some so clearly deficient
  that it is hard to care, hard not to scare them out of their numb-fitness.

I wonder and I wonder again why I am so invisible, so miserable, to other humans

Brahmamayabrahmamayabrahmamaya

Machine-gunfire peppers the cool autumn air

A bit of anxiety grips me but time rolls in and out of this and that

Optimism and security are illusory yet compelling

Searching for applied kindness opportunity and the building of community

Or so it seems as the one and the many tango in the big illusion of separateness
The lost finesse of bridging the gaps but the artist now naps with money
And the hive lacks honey.

We do what we do according to the cultural formulae

I wish I wish that depths could be plumbed and pains could numbed a bit
Just sit. Just so. That is All.

Easy and Difficult mingle in strange ways that baffle the sleepy aging mind

For better or worse we grow old and die
In sickness and in health we wander on as far as we can.
Why fret? why worry? Why regret? Why be sorry?
Just do as well as you can now.

Passing Through the Gate of Darkness

Passing Through the Gate of Darkness

Dark of Moon, Dark of Moon

Listless and barren gray, as the dusk paints over the day
And I wander around this lonely border land

I keep thinking I see sparkling gems but when I get closer I see

   that they are just tricks of the light
I remember longing for belonging and being led on by appearance
It’s a tyranny of experience this fake show of shells
Style o’er substance in a stuck dance of bimbo gods
And this is just the odds of clanning where this he dwells

Not waning nor waxing this limbo is taxing

Lest we summon the talents to rest in this balance
   of neither here nor there, betwixt the moving and the fixed
Where the crooked and the fair dare to compare the sublime and subliminal
As I rhyme like a criminal condemned by rage and old age
Or so I fear yet Now is still Here and the mage in the cage is a sage I wage
But not so says tomorrow as we go down the roads and put on the loads
Our minds change and change and wax and wane and wander and wither

Work and work and yoga and food and in this timing and rhyming

   there is nausea and unease
An anima enema to subdue the animal enemy
What fate would intimidate?
What intimate sentiment would dominate the gate to knowing?
Swim well ye in the afterlife dance, oh fish woman of going.

Corn mother Cow mother

Norn mother Sow mother
Smother me in your bosom for I have fallen, er leaped, into the sky of hell
Anger bodes not well
Speech is demonic when the toxic eclipses the tonic
Oh how I wish I could flow with the mad rush of fierce companions
Perhaps a tiny sliver of crescent light will heal this deluded fool.

 

 

Reckless Random Wishes and Longing for Flow

Reckless Random Wishes and Longing for Flow

I wish there was more to see

I wish these tribes did not falter into bullshit minds
I wish there was a composite with flow and intricacy
But most off all – a heap without murderous hearts and ego greed

I aspire that it would be so

That someday a clan-mind will come about without such flaws
I see fools honoring fools
I wonder what the wise ones do
They keep to themselves I suppose

People all push one another’s buttons

I have a button that rarely gets pushed
That is the – This is Truly Fucking Awesome – button
Is there nothing that is truly fucking awesome?
Oh occasionally there is but nobody else seems to notice it –
   they are too busy oohing and awing over petty shit

I guess I’m just sifting through the dukha looking for sukha

It is a pointless task but I can’t help but wonder

It is important the things one says, writes, and posts to others

Formalities and conventionalities aside, she is right – it is all just
   regurgitated slop. All the fanfare of cutesy jokey posturing courtesy is there to protect
   us from the intimacy that we fear. We show no fucking skin. We are hooded and 
   armoured machine-things. We hide things. We hide among those things.

We flip flop and see what we want to see. We choose plastic over gold thinking we 

   got the best deal but we fail to see beyond Us.

We look for Love in rules and dogma and flee the intuitive heart
We fear Compassion as weak and foolish and call this fear wisdom
We are too lazy to look deeper
We do not see the need for training

I feel powerless to affect humans and their world

I lock horns with companions over style but this passes
It all seems to wear me down though as I long for flow
They – they disappoint me with their smug cheap show minds
And the way they wear the colors of heroes but go act as thoughtless beasts

But patient indeed seem the forces that ne’er seem to cede

Guess I should be patient as well but sometimes I fall into madness.

 

 

Circle of Life and Death

Circle of Life and Death

Time devours us and the Great Mother devours Time

It is the goal of our journey
Every day we decay

This life is just a stopover, a quick go-through of a life

If we could but see with our mind the timelessness behind the moving reality

Function and Structure play in love and wisdom
In words the nouns and verbs dance in a synergistic resonance of rhythm
We are and we do

The body falls. Strength abandons us. Our hold on living weakens. We die.
Our material goals immediately disappear to nothing
Memories remain and people cry
Then time slowly erases us except perhaps as examples of some principles or deeds

Lifespan is built in to our genetic programming for the most part

Longevity is a luck factor influenced by lifestyle
But time will win and the monster will eat us
What should we do in the meantime?

The sages say we should let go of the foolishness of grasping

To worry and fret is to steal from ourselves
To strive for false ideals and worldy dharmas is short-sighted
Our interaction with this world is limited
This node of us and the world of here and now is a blip in time

We can contemplate with our mental concept-words

We can watch with our openness of technique
We can do while constantly remembering the here and now that envelops us
We can watch and listen and give aid when it is possible
That is about all.   

Just Seva

Just Seva

Day to day is just task to task, duty to duty

Nothing left to do but enjoy

Ah – the goals of aspirers and the wishes of desirers are mere distractions

I sleep I, wake, I do what needs to be done, I play if I can
Then I do the same again

Events appear, some I endear, some so so, some just blow

As I live till I die I vow and aspire to relax and do the duties needed
It is easy to feed the hungry, to offer a bit of comfort
It is easy to maintain the body and the home and the earth
This is true if one sees this as inevitably ordinary and not extraordinary

Sometimes the tasks are difficult

Sometimes the bodhi path is precarious and lonely
Yet with a bit of mind there is only the simple joy of simplicity

Desire rises and falls
Stupidity appears and disappears
Aversion comes and passes like a storm
If only we could see them as such we would not be carried away

Seva is simple happy action

To seek more is to seek that which is illusory
If one sees this as a temporary dance move, then fine
If one becomes a habitual seeker of the illusory, then duties go neglected
If mouths go hungry, then life falls away
What is the use of this?

My life is perfect yet I seek

I am a fool
Indeed I can only hope that I will not neglect my charges

 

 

Yes Tea Time is Near

Yes Tea Time is Near

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Possessive Repulsive Distorter

Tall tales, a tell tale sign of truth’s toll

Small fails, a yell wail find of fool’s gold

Aestre comes from the beginning realm

Best is that which is now
Incest of the gods where none are modest
Estimated are the impacts of our lives
We infest the planet like a virus
Yet we are a guest who ingests at the behest of fate
I establish my legacy through action and influence
Or is it all in jest?
We makest the gods and death lest we comest away from god-making
Into our reality nest we goest
But like a pest we resume our hazardous quest with ne’re a rest
And our hero shell is esteemed as we seem to pass the tests
So the guest now dons the vest of the brave one of the west
Flowing river sex estuary dumps into the sea
We payest our fees with zest.

Still Waiting

Still Waiting

I look out and what do I see???

The lynching of reason

The praising of mistreaters
The ignoring of sanity
The ridiculing of compassion
The flexing of bigotry

We are all stars, fuck rock star elitism

Fuck personality privilege
Fuck name veneration
Fuck credential waving
Fuck the stage, fuck the money tables

Bring back the circle and the council

I watch and scan and look for opportunities on the horizon

Yet – there is only more the same, the shitty same

I am lucky, I have resources

But what use are they if there is no one who can employ and enjoy them?
Shit Man – Wake Up!
I can’t be that ahead of the game
I’m too deluded and like everyone, dying more every day

I wish that heartful and mindful folk would appear and dance without feigning

All I see are heartless ego dances – all contrived to appear as something else

It is not easy to be authentic
It’s nice to inspire and yet keep to self-honesty

As for the players and fakers

Well Fuck You

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Craving and Grasping for Autumn Moon Splendour

Craving and Grasping for Autumn Moon Splendour

Questing beyond the craving-quest the questioner becomes the misbehaving guest

Liberation is ne’re a thought until the bonds materialize
Choice is not choice but habit

Desire, that unruly bully carries us away like a leaf in the wind

Stupidity, that fooly coolie carries our knowledge off in the night
Aversion, that cruelly ghoulie carries us under to dank and dreary shield shells
We chase and cower and bask in our bewilderment

Our pencil necks betray our protruding ponches

The she of the heart repels the assaults he launches
Catch and release and catch and release
The cycle of adoption and rejection is ever our infection

Well I eat now when I’m hungry but hunger is a memory and a time

Chemicals within cue me and woo me to consume and digest
But after the pageant of taste there is the relief of expelling waste
All this waxing and waning and insatiability confound the body-mind
We are victims of our actions, purveyors of our fates
We are trapped in a maze of our own projections
And now for some music

For the light of the moon I croon

Strange glow in treetops grow
I trace the rays to her crescent phase
Now open unimpeded
The light gate flow monthly meted

A wave is a circle sliced, stretched, and flipped

A circle is a wave clipped, flipped, and squeezed
This yet that

Mother of tides, within and without

Queen of moonblood, oceans, and sap
She lives in the water mirror and yet in the sky
Her nights go shimmering by
I know you are but what am I?