Paused in the Garden Lot....
....heading towards Sand Dunes Path & Sunrise Beach
Paused at top of Sand Dunes Path
BREATH IS FREED TO OXYGENATE
TRUTH OF BEING’S EXPRESSION
Why scurry about looking for the truth?
It vibrates in every thing and every not-thing,
right off the tip of your nose.
the pine tree?
it by accumulating more knowledge.
Knowledge creates doubt,
and doubt makes you ravenous
for more knowledge.
You can't get full eating this way.
He eats the understanding
that the named was born from the unnamed,
that all being flows from non-being,
that the describable world
emanates from an
and becomes completely content.
The foolish are always making impulsive moves,
but the wise know that victory and defeat
are decided by something more subtle.
They see that something perfect exists
before any move is made.
This subtle perfection deteriorates
when artificial actions are taken,
so be content not to disturb the peace.
If you can do this,
you will gain everything,
and the world will become healthy again.
If you can't,
you will be lost in the shadows forever.
without experiencing anything
that shaped the nudity
that solely confronts our conscience!
A Snap of Delirium
THE UTTERED SOUND
IS WORDLESS BREATH
Friday, May 02, 2003
IN THE POMP & CIRCUMSTANCE
OF WORLDLINGS’ EARTHLY
THE SOUL SWOONED INTO WEEPING
REMINDED OF HOME
AND WHAT IS NOT FOR ME
AS OTHERS EXPERIENCE.
SO WASTE NO TIME WITH SHADOWY MAYA
BE PRIMORDIAL DARK’S GOLD
THE LIGHTS ARE ALWAYS THERE
...IT MATTERS NOT
WHEN ONE IS HOME
Saturday, May 03, 2003
DEATH AS MOTHER
OF THE ENGORGED BREAST
WAS THE FIRST
SHADOW OF NOURISHMENT
IN THIS MAYA PLAYGROUND..
RETURNING NOW TO
THAT WHICH HAS NO SHADOW
WHAT THEY CALL DEATH
IS THAT WHICH IS
ALL THAT IS
THIS BREAST- SUCKLNG BABE
Sunday, May 04, 2003
*!ATIAH! = All That Is AH!
Write to get to know your madness better.
Write like it’s the only way you’ll ever meet
your other unfathomable half.
And to fathom the inexplicable is the purpose of art.
Forget about relevance.
Forget what makes sense.
The kid watching with his wide sparkling eyes
how his father is coating the last tinges of paint
on a certain someone’s car
may not be part of a story.
But it’s part of your vision.
Write about the kid.
BY THE GREAT BREATHER...
REGARDLESS OF FORMS
Monday, May 05, 2003
Even if ruins stink of rotten antiquity,
poor’s hands and mouths still search
for treasures in ruins, and one dense night
they get to lick one or the other edible pearls
and deposit them in their box of ‘everyday’.
There’s always hope in gutters;
there’s always a bright possibility lying wide awake
before the road bends towards End.
Those who aren’t willing to live haven’t lost faith in life,
but lost the loud murmurs of searchlights.
They want lightbearers,
to speak up the sign language of mirth
and to bless their empty lives
with green apples, oranges and pineapples.
For million years onwards,
we are bearing our beards,
our smells and the rest of the billions’.
You are an imperfect product
of a long tiring chain
and that chaining effect can be shed,
even if others may tell you
that past can never be relinquished.
It cannot be forgotten, but it can be given up.
If it lurks at your nightmares,
let go of the nightmares....
but can be
punched out to the storm.
Believe me it’s a sin
not to murder your nightmares.