31 December 2014

Four Hundred and Sixty


You cannot hold onto the good any longer, nor get through the bad any more quickly.
All must be enjoyed or endured as consciousness allows.
And the awareness ever untouched.

* * * *
What quality of parenting is there when parents are staring into screens,
And their offspring beside them, inhaling burgers, sucking up sodas?

* * * *
It is not original sin, it is original separation,
And it happens every instant one forsakes the eternal moment,
Every time one embraces the pretense of knowing
Imagined by the mind bound in time.

* * * *
From the bliss of the womb,
Through the birth canal, into hell.
Thank you, Mother, thank you, Father,
For an excursion surely no one of sound mind
Would ever even more than fleetingly fantasize taking.
And the real nightmare is you know what:
That it might well happen again.
Bwahahahahaha …

* * * *
Never forget that you are a part of the insanity,
That no matter every exertion of mind,
You are separate from nothing.

* * * *
Any definitions of that which is godness,
As ludicrous as all delineations ultimately are,
Should always be as nebulous as imagination allows.

* * * *
Each and every mind falls pray
To whatever instigates the greatest delusion,
To whatever carves the deepest furrow in the patterned mind.

* * * *
Smoke and mirrors at each and every turn.
How can anyone who is truthful be anything but agnostic
About questions whose many answers can never be more than speculation?

Four Hundred and Fifty-Nine


One moment so quickly gone, another hour an hour too long.
Every one passing exactly the same no matter the weather of any given mind.
Every one witnessed by the same omnipresent quantum awareness
That permeates equally all things from great to small.

* * * *
How quickly every moment passes the same.
Sometimes as terribly, swiftly ruthless as an enraged sword.
Others, as softly untroubled as a butterfly’s wing.
Yet ever the same, ever the same.

* * * *
Insanity in every nook, absurdity in every cranny.
Who can be helped, who will not help themselves?
Who can be saved, who will not save themselves?

* * * *
Opinions, opinions, opinions,
Opinions about this, that, and the other thing,
What do they really, truly mean?

* * * *
We quarrel over anything and everything,
As if anything and everything really matter.

* * * *
The variety of hallucinogens
That Gaia across her orb offers,
Take those open to experimentation
Down many trails, across many borders.
For those who would pursue a greater vision,
It a journey to be taken as dauntlessly as will allows.

* * * *
Why would anyone ever need or want to duplicate,
To imitate another’s life in any way, any shape, any form?
Live your own existence, free of any history, free of any burden.

* * * *
Many if not all things end up being very different from what they started,
And yet the same all the while is the irony and paradox
Of this quantum matrix of a theater.

Four Hundred and Fifty-Eight


What is existence but every moment fathoming, navigating, negotiating,
A quantum dreamtime that will never even once stop
Until death do you merge.

* * * *
How can anyone ever even begin to settle
For any infinitesimal egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric vision
Of this beyond-all-pales enigma of a mystery?

* * * *
The true scientist, the true historian, the true anything,
Never gives up questing as accurate a rendering
As their swirl of consciousness can muster.

* * * *
All life is born of the same origin, the same source.
Despite our attachment to genetic bloodlines,
We are all cousins of the same puddle.

* * * *
Across the universe, throughout eternity,
There are an inestimable number of perceptions
Within each and every imaginary moment,
From each and every imaginary angle.
So boggling as to make any mind
Singularly serene in wonder.

* * * *
Satisfy your Self first and foremost.
What others think of you means nothing.
They will think whatever you think they think,
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
The quantum either of genesis is still evolving,
And we are all equal players in the dreaming of it.
Intelligent design, free and clear of idolatry or dogma.

* * * *
If this were your final minute, if the Reaper was hovering near,
What would you be doing? What would you be thinking?
Would you be all alone? Or surrounded by family and friends?
Would you be filled with sorrow? With regret? Or content to the brim?

Four Hundred and Fifty-Seven


There is no duality until consciousness diverges into the self that is not.

* * * *
Holodeck … Holoworld … Holouniverse … ever an infinite matrix of unknowable origin.

* * * *
How does god create but by being you and me and everyone and everything else.

* * * *
How small is small, how large is large, depends how well you can see.

* * * *
There is a bridge for sale in your future if you are that gullible.

* * * *
Awareness is the quiet hum of the quantum awakeness.

* * * *
What imagination sows, imagination reaps.

* * * *
Only in consciousness do you suffer.

* * * *
Are you not weary of all the pretending?

* * * *
And this is what we in all our vanity have created.

* * * *
Political correctness is the great malady of the monkey-mind.

* * * *
What are you to do with your brief flurry of time but whatever time bids?

* * * *
There are those who create history, those who regurgitate it, and those who ignore it.

* * * *
You are as alive as you have ever been, or will ever be, in this very much right-here-right-now.

* * * *
The challenge is to never believe any speculation to be more than speculation.