musings

I’ve met my devil.

Sitting in the coziest of seats: busy work

Degradation of spirit, on purpose

When normalizing living life on accident

Tributary’s of Nialism appear

In the midst of poorly placed damns intended to hold back the questions never asked from the mouths of the most likely to fear the great silence 

I've met the devil

Rule no. 1 is, don't be afraid to ask

Nothings chronological

I am satiating something for someone

I'm neither here nor everywhere

I thought about what it means to think

I exploded in characters

I hurt the Hurt

Loved beloved

Sold the priceless

Drilled for oil

Recycled dogma

I laugh now only because I don’t know who is typing anymore

I could use ones and zeros 

I could use cuneiform

But all characters tend to do is mask the true form of its writer

I could explain every detail of this bus I’m in

For the next 44 years

Yet fail to allow your eyes to perceive what my soul looks like

Words are made of characters

Characters made of shapes

Shapes made of pixels

Pixels made of nothing

Celebrate the idea with many

Or die at your own meaningless party

Someone said to me, "there is work to do!"

As if they’ve invented purpose

If my purpose is to work tirelessly till my eternal rest

Surely we would un-invent purpose itself

Leaving me to decide my own purpose

That surely is picture worth painting in my own mind

My life made up of characters

My years the shapes

My moments the pixels

My death the release of my greatest work yet

Titled “I didn’t write this, love did”

I tend to visualize myself as brave

Yet negotiate & beg so timidly

Someone needs to have a conversation with another

As to remind the survivor he deserves water

As to awaken the tyrannical to his gathering of former thieves 

I welcome them all 

Coherent fractions seeking one another

I rely not on one while on this path of empathy, but all parts 

It is no more noble to be brave

Than it is to be unseen

The god in me loves them all equally

As I’m beginning to remember

I never left the highest of seats

The creator of dissonance and thus harmony

Yes I am speaking of god while speaking in god

Nothing could be closer to the truth

Than to remember that the words uttered in you

Have been uttered from someone true 

My only advice from this place of peace

Is don’t outsource your god to a societal need

The weather will change

Complain & seek the nomadic

You still can’t hide the fact that true love is far more dramatic

What appears miraculous to others

Could appear normal to you

When this times comes

The beggar became a king 

Having nothing more to prove

Seems simple…

Stay inspired, stay near god, orbit on magic

Surround myself in the normalcy of miracles

Watch out for the mundane dance of modernity

Feel my way out of thinking

See my own way out of blindness from spirit

I have grown sensitive to this cliff

The caverns of comfort and safety

Rest your body when tired but don’t forget your soul is awake infinitely

Thriving whether you sense it or not

Elevating in vain leads to lonely heights

One where despite your elevation all inspiration and motivation are out of reach

You are right! Yet feel so wrong

The compass in your hand, your mirror

Redirects direction of love, yet we shatter it’s efforts on the jagged cliff of our entitlements

“I know, I am right, I have been wronged”

This view, expansive and clear, somehow shrinks my understanding

Come down for a while

Laugh with the humble

Cry with an open heart

Embarrass that ego

Be afraid of only one thing, keeping out of reach what is rightfully yours

And with that, All others as well

Listen to the words they say, and how they say them

Is god present?

Or do they paint your understanding with colors?

Or claim paper to be stronger than gold

Flesh more beautiful than spirit?

Noise more important than music?

Words more meaningful than peace?

I say quit your day job, you don’t get paid enough for this kind of suffering!

Employ yourself in the spirit of that creation where joy suffices the soul

And light knowingly invites you to play in the dark

You know the difference between merely existing and vibrating

And only you do for you

To others, it means something else

But to the vast land that provides food & shelter, meeting the sea is its greatest work yet.

Well then 

We are two cowboys at a draw

Neither aware of the cowardice of threat-mentality

This is where I am at today

Intellectualizing my pain

Philosophy processing

Analogous trauma

The least-original of narratives

Son resenting a father for burning out too soon

Scared of his own reflection thus scaring the reflections of others

What a force to reckon with

What an impact to be felt

Whether now or at a more convenient time

I am a recluse in these moments

A child locked in his room

Surrounded by the likeness of his mother

Seeking care, companionship and pleasure

Not too righteous to preach without empathy

Nor too brave to practice the gospel fervently spoken from broken lips

We’re constantly arriving to gratitude, this is all I know

“Thank you” is a waves final rest on distant shores

Dissolving into the sand a momentum, a gravity towards a tumultuous journey

I am arriving slowly at my own rate to a “thank you” to the sea in which I came from

Poetry the lens in which captures all this chaos in a more novel frame

I’ve tip-toed and sometimes fucked, my way into others dreams

Had a look around

Gestured about in a loyalty charade

Invested my brilliance into the fabric and foundation of another’s dream

Only to realize ouch… you don’t love “me” you love me, apart of your dream

You don’t see me, you see me, benefitting your dream!

Alas, the dreamer becomes lucid

“You can do no better” “stay, because your dream, pales to our dream together”

Now this is the moment of truth.

The snares begin to roll in anticipation for the dreamers duel

This is where dreams come to become stronger or to die

Whos dream am I in?

Who benefits from me not dreaming my own dream?

And why have I become so curious of this question?

I am a planet, a star, orbiting many gravitational pulls

I dance around other stars

Pulled in, pulled out, mindful of the potential wreckage, magnetism and weight of our collision

It makes sense why stars have a hard time playing with other stars

Their orbit, their dream is maintained by a single point

I’m here to say, I don’t belong in others dreams

Dance around indecision too long, and be consumed by the absoluteness of others

Whether you whither or flourish in the absoluteness of others, will tell you a lot about your make up. 

As if you didn’t already know!

I know why I left my dream

I didn’t trust myself

I resented it

I felt phony

I looked phony

I acted phony

I pulled out of my dream

And jumped into others

Now, I’m ready to get back in

I resent those who formulate my arrival and room and board

I know I shouldn’t

I used to be such a strong dreamer

But pity and fetish became my diet

Like a star concerned with vanity

Ahh free will, what insight!

I forgive those who cling to my brilliance

They know nothing else

I forgive me for being so sensitive to this magnetism

May these words indicate my alignment with myself again

A mantra of inertia

A godlike quality

A starlike quality

I am here now

Typing these words as rain floods these prairies

I left myself a while ago

I’ve returned with might

Ive returned with precision

Thank you everyone

Thank you me

Thank you rain

Thank you floods

We nurture each other indefinitely

Infinitely

Time to get out of others orbits

Create one so strong and intentional that I become a planet!

A home to stay

Of flowers and food

Of rivers and seas

Of mountains and valleys

Of weather so perfect

If only for a moment

I inspire life to flourish

And spirit to emerge and reflect on a creation

In harmony with itself

Thank you jasmine

My sweet fragrant love

You met me here

When no one else would

You bring up memories

And yet they all feel new

Sweet as I sweat 

A divination from many moons

We both pretend 

That we are more than a a thousand flowers

But our roots remind us simply

Birthed in mud, our vines, our sour

We’ve made a home for the doves

They play house in our hair

We’ve seen slow motion dancing

Of hummingbirds being dared

They are careful not to land

As am I in my heart

When I inhale your sweet fragrance

When my senses are attuned 

I sense I am not the servant

Preparing a meal for two

I am the fragrance

And when worthy, I am the dew

We both are the scent

We somehow always knew

I no longer think

I no longer am

We both the observers

We both the loving, giving hands

I say thank you to the sun

For blossoming as you do

I say I love you sweet breeze

She carries good news

Thank you sweet jasmine

You met me here 

When we both said we would

My hand gestures like pollen

As loves selfless offering

Stars far from both us

Suggest they shine in us always

When I wake I will meet you

And as I rest so will you

Sweet when she sweats

My jasmine stays true

I had a vision 

Of city’s brutalized by their intolerable enemies

Where homes and gardens once stood, now lay rubble and ash

The walls and towers of the city not only degraded but a deep rattling of dna in those who once found safety in them.

The surviving fight and flight of all peoples nervous systems heightened like the acute blood sugar of all those watching safely from their own homes thousands of miles away on their phones and televisions.

This is hell.

The righteous-will inheriting terror celebrates while maintaining a high chin in the face of all that is unholy, impure and deranged.

Someone is winning.

This is our world right now

The vision comes alive in this hellish arena as a Christian stands at the temple of another man’s holy place, seizing the fire of his own army saying “Christ is king, not condemnation.”

A Jewish woman thrusts her body over a pile of Palestinian children and sais “forgot not our history of degradation and traumatic impunity”

A Muslim man rushes to the front of a hospital before a line of tanks waving a garment in hopes to deflect the artillery saying “this garment means nothing if not worn by a splitting image of allah himself”

The young men and woman, our brothers  and sisters in US military uniforms form a line around both cities at war with each other saying “we no longer wish to profit from brutality, the commerce of death no longer serves us and our policing ends here. Proud to represent what all people deserve, the chance to manifest their destiny, for all men are created equally under god”

The watery eyes of the world look upon their tvs and news channels in near disbelief as the bereavement process is activated in all people simultaneously.

A shock wave of empathy and relief overwhelms all who witness this event.

The tired, the poor, the hungry, the rich, the favored and the safe are all subject to this tidal wave of potent humanity.

In a moment, All holy books are used as shields against the tyranny of the ugliest parts of our animalistic nature. 

What was once a fractured understanding of holy and the omnipresent is now reconstructed in the face of malice and cruelty. The slowing inertia of palpable ignorance sends ripples through the psyches of all fathers. Of all mothers. 

For they had forgotten their duty out of necessity and inheritance.

For a brief moment, the voice of god, Jesus, allah and all that is just is made audible through the acts of millions of severed and beaten down souls

It doesn’t end here but here, it does begin

How sweet the sound of children playing among the rubble of previous quarrels and holy wars

How blessed the meals prepared and cooked by the very hands that once withheld vitality 

How peaceful the minds of the men who once confused power with virtue

Security over freedom

And retaliation over the sight forgiveness hath leant them

The heart of the world stops breaking for a moment, and just then like clockwork, the cells in our collective body begin their work of repairing and healing what was once an inner purgatory

Laughter subtly manifests in all men knowing hate had brought them here and that like all roads, to their humble destination.

The vision isn’t of peace it is of acceptance.

Because what is made clear is peace is not sought after, it is cultivated protected maintained by the actions of many not just those who attempt to obtain it at the cost of all others.

The deaths of those before this moment are made immortal through the swift act of change. They are honored in the highest sense, died in the most intelligent of regards, to prevent more others from suffering the same. It is only in persisting that the slain are trapped in the courthouse of the villain, tried over and over in the heart of the men who had killed him.

The children who have died are honored in the most orderly of symbolism, so that no other child suffer the same fate.

Our highest responsibility as sons and daughters of god becomes clear, honor those who have died by protecting those that still live.

Mothers no longer weep for their children in heaven but weep for the gratitude and their full heart of knowing no longer the gamble of human potential.

Have you forgotten who I am

What I am

What we are

Who you are?

Yes, I am accepting.

Yes, I am welcoming.

Kind is the minimum.

But what about our wings

Have you forgotten im a seer?

You a visionary?

We don’t wake up mad the world

We wake up with messages from our dreams to be decoded

We weave timelines from different dimensions

When we start our day we thank it

We honor our bodies

We walk in nature

We listen to what our ancestors say

Yes we are both hard workers

Yes we are the best at what we do

We’ve worked hard and we are rewarded with the peace of our home

Why work to pay for a home, when your wings are clipped in order to step inside of it

Have you forgotten our connection to the stars?

Have you forgotten how powerfully we take on energy of others

This is our super power and our achilles heal

We should be taking on the energy and inspiration of other visionaries

Poets

Heart connected beings

I notice you are scared

That is why you surround yourself with figures that hold you down

It feels safe to not dream big

To never leave home

Even though your heart is breaking from singing the caged birds song

Don’t forget you are a visionary

Don’t forget you don’t write songs

That love writes them through you

Best to stay in tune with loves ever-changing complexity and spirit

If a flute is to rust from being amongst the beach

Then what good is a sea-side home

If the skin of the drum cracks from being left out in the desert

What good has done the serenity but exposed our purpose to cracking

Much like a guitar without adjustment

Hurts the hand of creator to play it

Till ultimately, the resistance is too much to bare

And we’ve been left hanging on the wall only capable of playing the songs of our limits

We are visions of god, some of it’s favorites 

Lets put on a show worth paying a cosmic cover charge for

I can sense who is in attendance watching

Can you?

My job isn’t to love and be bruised

Nor to fix things

Hallelujah what a relief!

Yes, be cracked open by life's convenient fractures

But direct those streams of pureness into a fucking bullseye of a target

Know that as you begin to break open, thank you life, an atomic reaction

A quantum cheat code travels infinity towards something

Direct this revelation into a realization 

Potent times always lay ahead

You are in fact traveling at the speed of souls

Your skin can’t stay forever

You’re clothes from yesterday don’t fit

Your friends, not all will keep up

Your eyelashes will return to adorn the cosmos yet again

Let this speed refine you

Let this destruction be what it is, liberating

Say hello, say yes, say ahhh, and let go 

Cry now, cry later, tears of relief

You’ve been so focused of getting it right that you forget

Being right in the wrong world is still wrong

Now you know and you can never un-know

You can never un-see

Un-sense

Un-win

Trust the wrong

Trust the dirt

Trust the dark

Trust the pressure

Trust the red-lights

Trust the stop signs

Trust the ditches

And know all along, you are not any of these

They are you

Im here with you

Watching

Just know that

Stop doing

Start being

Uniquely you

Uniquely true

I need a name for this place i've made my home

I need a way of marking it in my psyche

In awareness and out of love

My efforts, driven to move mountains 

I can’t doubt their subtle angst

Sense of duty and badges of honor awarded

I will be killed by the slightest underestimation of my own wit

Part of me has

Threw out the map when guidance appeared

Threw out the song while in an ears grace

Tore down my homes walls and put up a tent

Was rewarded with security and bet on pleasures chest

Fucking at everything like fatherless whore

Rocked and rolled away from dignity's blessing

Towards the shelter of the riots

Pivoting against a worthy love, indefinitely 

I'm no longer curious nor find this fun

Whoever did previously must have really needed mud

A bit of grounding would’ve done

Instead of whanking away at smut

Sad sexy dead

Fun fucked puss

This is where they intertwine

The deserving and never having enough

You’re less religious and more superstitious

More a martyr less a poly-wicken

Could be a quaker but believe to much in ghosts

Suggestion would be stop weaving

While ur needle is still dull

If in love is where you fear the feel

Then love is what you need most

there was collision of potential

a potential of re-enactment

words fail to pass the test

while a heart needs to beat its best

the body follows suite

so your name is you

and I am who I choose to show you

exaggerated confidence knowing damn well its hell sent

brutal in its attempt to find a place to land

i woke knowing you saw a glimpse of my insecurity

drunk from the night before

humbled yet desiring not one piece more

she took me to the sea

she took me to the stars

she took me to her previous home

so revisit these ancient lovers palms

i have no shame in you learning my many names

i’m still learning to pronounce yours

discipline is freedom, as spoken from an eclectic tongue

i heard the trees screaming from a distance

worshiping our passionate season of the sun

how about this reflection anyway?

what about the timing and the state we met?

there’s something to everything; especially the unspoken

i ask you to kiss me from your heart or from somewhere near your hips

you know the difference

do I ask too much

do I love to quickly

we certainly, merely chemicals

exchanging potential

yet here I am, inflating the already grandiose

in hopes it will wake me from my slumber

with faith I help you remain humble

as I board my next flight towards September

es vedra kissed so we may remember

Every thought

Is either working towards or against my dreams

Every action 

Either brings me closer or takes me further

Every moment of attention

Is either echoing the resonance of my potential

Or diluting the potency of my purpose

All judgements 

Are either in full acceptance with ease and grace

Or defensive, entangled dissonance 

All words I speak

Either come from the heart

Or they resemble the dead

They either pierce the ears of the receivers inner ear

Or exhaust short of the shores of another’s listening heart

I know this now

Ive seen proof in a most subtly profound 

And in the catastrophically blatant 

Look at us now, collectively deciding each others fates without knowing

That loving thy neighbor goes far beyond the novel

Think what you will, but will what you think simultaneously

Because every thought

Every action

Every moment of attention

All judgments

All words

Either pierce the ear of the collective mind

Or fall short of it’s shores, being replaced by louder ones

Not unlike the sound of a heart at war with itself

Missiles missing love

Thus thrusting themselves to replace it’s empty dying feeling

No longer at war, the calm can be reaffirmed

No longer undeserving, we resonate into our highest fate

Loving our potential, no longer diluting 

All words we speak

Awakens the collective me

-said love

Despite all of its revelations 

Chaotic and Transcendent 

Loving is one of the most courageous acts

A giving of taking

And a taking of giving

Despite all of its insecurities 

It’s fastened to the foundation of god herself

A seat so near the vicinity of creation comes not without its dramatizations

A vision of a star imploding comes to mind

A limitless universe being formed

A child being born 

All messy acts of the most passionate expressions

Despite all of its promises 

Its more of a premise 

A precursor

A prelude

A preparation for understanding ourselves

An introduction to a love is an introduction to an ancient memory

One of effortless seduction 

Between the head and the heart

I love to love

I love to give love

Oxytocin Chameleon 

Climbing to new heights of the heart

Yet knowing these branches have roots

Deeper than the highest branch

I found myself in a way unfavorable

In and out of awareness

Carried by the mother of another son

Sick and grief-stricken 

A vivid display of the sideshow that is my fantastic denial

Honest at heart yet currently, convoluted at best

I held onto anger

The shield that at one time protected me

Was now too heavy to bare

With water she poured, cleansing my foul dissatisfaction

An embarrassment to a once proud man of family

A part of me died there in that driveway 

I now thank you for that

I was mad at the news 

I was mad at the noose

Mad at that light I always saw in you

Now that the poison has sat

Mirrored in the face of my blooming beloved

I’ll never forget how she looked upon me

A minor chord type-look that granted me permission to surrender to feelings rather unseen

My brother in rhythm

Your beat lives on

I’ve heaved away most of the anger 

Not just of you but of all future anyones

Your death was my death

A forgiveness everlasting

I found compassion in that driveway

In a shed you found life everlasting

We’ve always ben so alike

Look at us now

You changed my life when I met you

You changed my life when your body was found

I promise to judge less

I promise to forgive

I promise that familiar anger will eventually be my sign that the gentle voice of God wants in

I realize I’m not getting it right

What do I have to do?

Waiting seems equivalent to insanity

The bars are full

And so are the casinos

There’s no room for someone like me

But what is it?

Fuck intellect and Witt

I need to know

I can feel myself losing 

While I see myself winning

Exhale 

here comes the crazy guy

Maybe she’ll satisfy me for now

But won’t ever be a replacement

I’m learning that

It’s not her fault

It’s not mine

It’s a hole the size of Texas

The job is meant for one

It’s not god

It’s not peace

It’s not sluts

It’s not me

It’s a desire that’s on autopilot

Like a slot machine that’s broken

Here comes the feeling I’m missing out

Cursed be the crowned

And blessed be the sleep walker 

The world is in a funk with no remedy around

All I know is this ain’t enough to sedate a soul quite like me

What are the implications of me revealing to you what I know?

Who is it that is doing the revealing?

Sure this a book, the structure of previous books states I’ve embedded meaning into this page and you are reading it.

Each word, each pause, each judgment is alive.

But stop reading for a moment…

Just then.

The great lull.

The gap. 

The space between this book existing and not.

Unless you hear from a friend about what I am about to share with you, then this is idle.

There is zero implications to this text.

Only until you read line by line, does the story not just unfold, but merely exist.

Try more if you need.

Close the book.

walk away and never come back.

Burn this mess of words for dramatic appeal, and that will honor this dilemma fervently.

If and once you begin reading again, notice I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.

But the acknowledgment of this “algorithm” is the single snowflake symmetry which will eventually stack and stack until it is a blizzard of hidden yet palpable revelations.

If I have lost you, that is fine.

You’re awareness of being lost is key here to.

I’m speaking of nothing and of no one.

This book doesn’t exist. You’re not reading.

Nothing is new. New means nothing.

All that matters is the space between the letters.

I say all of this in an attempt to calibrate your way of thinking to that is required to really have fun with this.

Contemplate of the fact that space makes up 90 percent of all matter.

We are literally, mostly nothing.

Contemplate on the fact that the words you are reading unfolded over thousands of years out of the necessity to keep record.

To another life force, or a dolphin, letters could be numbers, squiggles, nonetheless, the inner choreography of humans attempt to understand its own psyche.

One last contemplation, bask in the joy of accepting this book these thoughts made it to your mind because it was yours along. Magnify the fun of this quantum game by truly recognizing I am you, typing on my laptop in a different life, a different body, another country, perhaps a different gender.

Yet we share one pretty tangible and imperative thing… we are all dreaming.

Don’t claim to be awake yet or else reignite the need for a another nightmare. 

“I am” means everything. But if everyone is saying “I am” then who is?

We all are “I am”.

And I am is dreaming the most epic of dreams. 

That it has been divided and split into millions of glass pieces, a-kin to disco ball. 1 mirror of creation, cracked by the illusion of separateness and now we dance.

Contemplate how your seriousness has ruined your inner Childs inquisitiveness, playfulness, no-big deal quality to simply existing.

This isn’t reckless, this isn’t adolescent, in fact, our seriousness and feeble attempt to grasp onto artificial and superficial dramas, in respect to an ever expanding electric universe, is immature.

Drop the know it all, drop the heard it all, drop the reading word by word looking for weakness, double-standard or click-baitable rebuttals.

If you can’t, perhaps burning this book will suffice.

But one day, it will return. Gracious as it is now, patient and understanding as it sits even today. Waiting for you to be ready. A little more open. A little less perfect. Sometimes all we need is a little space before arriving back home.

This is the space where things can really unfold.

The space of accepting maybe just maybe our programming has collapsed on us. Leading to a mass extinction of potential. Internally thus eternally.

Contemplate the location of the kingdom of god as described by Jesus.

Where is it?

Do you have to die to go there?

Do you have to go to church?

Where is it?

According to Jesus own words, it's within you.

How annoying right

But if we really listen, there it is.

If we really love, there is it.

When we have forgiven someone and hugged them and laughed with them and your heart is light again, there it is.

It was never not yours.

Your separation from god in this sense, is a separation of your sense of god.

And place of peace.

Of course some people would argue, heaven is much nicer, I mean its a gated community after all.

But Jesus didn’t ask you to follow him to heaven.

He reminded you to build heaven at home, in your heart. 

How?

Through acts?

Nope.

He spoke against acts for sake of acts.

Through knowing him. Thus knowing you.