30 May 2014

One Hundred and Forty


The perfect crime is the one no one ever even suspects happened.
And many are likely guilty of who knows how many
Heinous thought-crimes in any given day.
What sordid monkeys we are.

* * * *
The kaleidoscoping senses are the gateway to perception.
Without them, what is any universe,
If not nothing.

* * * *
Why would any god worth a tinker’s damn
Be a proponent of any dogma, whatsoever?

* * * *
Each and every snowflake is the first.
Every one must discern its own way.

* * * *
What an absurd idea
To believe you are an identity
Distinct from totality.
Sheer madness.

* * * *
You cannot be what you are not,
Nor teach what you do not know.
What is false is not of long duration.

* * * *
What to do when you look within
And clearly discern your soul no different
Than anyone or anything else’s.

* * * *
It is consciousness that steeps in passion and fear.
Awareness is incapable of knowing any difference.

* * * *
There is really only this ephemeral nowness,
Envisioned in the mind via the senses,
Filtered into your version of an imagined universe,
The mirage through which you daily wander your dream of time.