01 December 2014

Four Hundred and Twenty-Three


Faith, hope, love, are but ephemeral concepts born of the monkey-mind,
Bothers born of the wiring of an evolutionary t ack.
Nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
Those who abide in nature wander to a different rhythm
Than the hive-dwellers whose tempo is governed
By the frenetic creations born of mind.

* * * *
Without any surety of our fate, we wander forward.
What courage it takes to face and endure each day.

* * * *
If you do not doubt,
You may well mindlessly accept
Traditions, dogmas, rituals, symbols, superstitions,
And delusional ignorance in general,
As the mainstays
Of that which is truth alone.

* * * *
God and the Devil are drinking,
Dice-rolling, cigar-chomping buddies
Who take turns playing each other’s parts.

* * * *
What if you could simultaneously
Every vibrating aspect of the quantum matrix?
Far more than any measly Om, to be sure.
And by the way, ultimately, you are,
One drip-drip drop at a time.

* * * *
In the not too far distant dystopian future,
The world’s progeny will likely be asking,
“What in god’s name were they thinking!?”

* * * *
More than likely that once the commission is earned,
Once the fee has been paid, once the vein has been tapped,
The middlemen will fade back into the web to await the next mark.