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?

 

 

We and the Worlds

We and the Worlds

The sun seems to say – Go make hay!

These moments are all we have
Sweet ones and sour ones
Weak ones and power ones
Moments in the light and moments hidden in the darkness unseen unaware
Always racing the moments as they fall away into the past
But in the dead morning of sleep there is no racing
The deep night morning seems to scoff – Blow it off!

Things are always rising and falling, without and within

Turning in and out by day and night, by summer and winter, by youth and old age

The sweet sun’s power makes strong focus in its hour
The heart of the day seems to wail – I cannot fail!

The darkness leaves a hint of the restful, yet foreboding

   that sleep will rise soon and take thee from this realm
This time seems a question show – Should I stay or should I go?

We travel nightly. We rest. We dream. We scan. We recharge. We learn.

We traverse from here to gone to here to gone
We take off one time and put on another
Are we then continuous or broken into fragments?

Perhaps we are the Source Code, a flower emanating from the center of the Universe –

each of the infinite petals a possibility, a parallel universe,
each a child of the Mother-Universe that is impossible yet just is
Wisdom Play of infinite sphere and infinitesimal point
Speck-Father and Space-Mother
Innies and Outties

 

 

Yokers

Yokers

Eye and object seen

Eye and the visualized

Self and Other conjoined in selfless otherless liberation

Binding, bondage to reveal that all is boundless
Istadevata Sri Mata devours her children

Tied to the moment

Connected to the techno-child

Temporary Illusion

Shramanas and makers of mystic heat

Extremists of desire, conviction, and enthusiasm

She is fierce who can pierce the veils that sow our fails

United into One into None

Space is their domain who hath dissolved into the void of awareness

Empty of selfness is the lila dance of wisdom mind
The whole universe is our body
Laughter is our joy and our invincible weapon
Fearful projections fall away in its presence

Bloodthirsty Mothers bite away the umbilical cords and divide
We become us and sup with the skull cup of blood and pus
The gore and toil and greed and spoil of sustenance
We, once yoked to our mother
Now sent off to become father or mother or something or other
So much is cyclic and we wish to be selectively psychic

We battle changing mood and conjoin with food at hunger’s call

    as suns and moons rise and fall
But some of us long to mix with the All
    if just to dwell for a spell in the universal well
To rest in heaven and grace
To be yoked to space
But alas there is the duty of the Mother, to tend to the other
Those which are not specifically us, are the children of us.

Love 

Harvest Moon Cleansing Tune

Harvest Moon Cleansing Tune

Darkness of tree shade and walls shield the bright moon for now

Time flies away and we get old and gray and day turns to night turns to day
Tomorrow is another strange opportunity for something or nothing

Restlessly I watch and cringe at the images of ignorance posing as pride

We only have those who are around
We only do what we can
Availability and Access

Seven powers the bird that flies the spared child to sea

Time keeps moving and changing and no one keeps time
Habit follows well worn paths and everyone follows habit
Mind directs body to move and do but what directs mind?
We are creatures of time habit mind

Howling dogs in one ear and rumbling thunder in the other

Outer and inner nature both call to our attention

Anger

Beautiful but Cold is the woman of my dreams

At the first twinkle of starlight there were clouds and no starlight so
   all is subject to availability

Causes and Conditions blah blah blah

One day is like the next

Predictably bland and unsatisfying
Samsara blah blah blah

I long for this and that

Desire blah blah blah

I cower and avoid this and that

Aversion blah blah blah

I ignore and fail to apply what I know

Ignorance blah blah blah

And yet the moon reigns in the storm

And I long for a day I can work and not sweat profusely
Comfort is subtle delicate balance unmaintainable
And yet we think we are up to the task

Harvest Moon

What is it that we harvest?
We take what we give in the raping fields of want and not want
The auto-pilot of habitual action is our driver

Same old same old same old stolen moments falling away

Then back to the matrix of maintenance

Free time is fallacy, is time free?

Sun rises and falls and peaks in and out of clouds and this becomes that becomes this
The wheel of time creates and destroys so that forever is never in its field

What comes goes and what goes comes. But nothing really goes or comes.

All that began will end so seek to know the beginningless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cut Et Paste

Cut Et Paste

Blurred can be the lines ‘twixt hero and villain

Subtle the nuances of mixtures bred and stolen

Into the arms of the mother

Into the focus undaunted
The active and the passive fall away and merge

Life goes on and on and then we’re gone

Everybody poops and everybody dies
Through ups and downs and loop-de-loops and lies

Love and war with its gentle and gore seem to offer more than routine and bore

We cut into parts then merge into a whole
Bodies, minds, and hearts all pervaded with soul
One is not the other and all we gain here we lose there
Quantum conundrum and reality does not seem fair
Zoom in too far and you begin to zoom out
Know with too much confidence and you begin to doubt
Go east and eventually you will end up west
    in the curved-space universe that we infest

Analyze and synthesize and all composite phenomena are pieces in disguise

The god-self delusion carries hopes and fears afar through times and lives
There is no core
Yet illusion habit rides illusion self on and on and on
Till we see and know beyond such intricate fetters
   and somehow cease to be debtors, no more go-getters, but letters go of all we know
   and ho ho ho it’s Christmas and down we go down hill of snow that is Odin’s beard to
   the timeless placeless wyrd.

Here beyond the gates we weave our fates
So mote it be So mote it be great