30 May 2014

One Hundred and Thirty-Seven


Absolutely anything can be usurped.
Truth has been an unwitting collaborator to every sort of lie
Ever since consciousness first parlayed the whimsical notions of irony and paradox.
What would existence be without their ever-brewing absurdities?

* * * *
Congratulations to humanity for transforming the world
Into books, slideshows, video clips, vanity faire tweets,
And ungainly garbage dumps of every size and décor.

* * * *
What need or concern could god possibly have
For the shenanigans born of space and time?

* * * *
If you were a king or queen, you would …

* * * *
Yet another reason to hang alone.

* * * *
A waking dream,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
Nothing but.

* * * *
Stone cold still.

* * * *
Of nothing, ado alleged much.

* * * *
You were not, you are not, you need not care.

* * * *
Whether so-called alive, whether so-called dead, You are.

* * * *
The senses are ripples away from the awareness where you abide.
The eyes, the ears, the tongue, the nose, the flesh, all feeding into the mind,
How can they ever be the one and only you but through attachment to an assumption?
How can they ever be more than distant devices to be witnessed however consciousness allows?