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For Just A Moment… A Just Moment

For just another moment, I Am Here, in this empty box.

No,  just wait a moment, I know, Yes… It’s a paradox.

Pardon the bit of chaos, I’ve just this One Single mess left.

So, Maybe I didn’t always Fully “invest”… But I Learned

How to add, dress…and Love, my Self the Best… I Can.

I’ll keep on moving on to the next middle path that’s right for me…

Until there’s nothing left to see. Yes, No… too, is another paradox.

Limitations are necessary all through-out, and in, our lifetimes…

Even four lines two write lines we can read in-between need signs,

So too, necessarily, limits need limits too, to See and Be Seen.

This Is.. How.. I Am.. Praying.. Right.. Now.. For.. You.. and.. I..

Questioning the questioning if there is Really a Me And You, and Why

I felt tied, like some turkey gotten, wild, by forgotten prey… To Try,

Shocked Awake by what mistake we may have made, again, Today,

Or might make again Tomorrow wearing, fluttering, feathers so fake.

This Is All Non-Sense… I’m Sure I can’t be sure, you’re not so sure,

If I know, I don’t know, you know the Understanding that I should.

If I could somehow paint a different picture with words Alone… I Would.

Releasing these animals of fear into the relentless winds, clouds, and rain,

Which keeps swirling around, and around, pounding the bad out of a good,

Poorly damaged brain, into an-other-ringer, and then back into the woods.

This is the tall drink of water I asked for I suppose… it just must have been.

Seas had swelled into raging flooded rivers, and the lake banks overflowed,

Heading towards its other extreme, in an avalanche of glaciers, ice, and snows.

I didn’t, and don’t know, what other Self could had delivered such blows…

But me, for I don’t know why else it was so hard to breath My Very Own Breath,

Like My Lifelong Imaginary Bird Friend Was Mocking Me… Right, To Death.

Why there’s still a line running up my left sleeve to a UFO, again, I don’t know.

Though, it’s an Object, Flying, that Still, somehow may be in some motion,

It might become Identifiable-Under Any Ones, Reasonable, subjective notion.

Who’s Soul I may be talking to you through when I chew on-in their same ear,

May be just a left-over product of my Imaginary Free Will… that spills out…

Into the dreamers imagination of The Dreaming in Souls I hold Dear.

Either such ways, most all of these days have pointed me away…

From any such fears, and towards just One.. Magic.. Endless.. LOVE.

My Love! How could any of This… or That, go on without IT!?

How could we both be neither Here nor There, not Below nor Above?!

It has me thinking all sorts of wrong, from something I may have left behind…

Even though it never seems I tried, I always want to be Gentle, Loving, and Kind…

It seems an Age-Old chip on my shoulder though, might’ve turned into a boulder,

Which blew apart into shrapnel, as confusion hits, and as bits flew off of mind.

I’ve seen these Twos game-play before, written in that One cold hearted lore.

Every Soul checks their anger in standing before, The Endless Selfless Door.

Who will run, who will hither, and (Who?) will hit the bottomless floor…

Depends on how transcendently Within the Love, of the Lovers goes in,

Through… Into… and Out of… Every-Living-Dying-Beings-Core.

My attention might have been scattered, slightly further than my sword,

Though, when our Hearts re-connected, we saw them as broken and shattered…

In a flash, striking us with what Truly mattered, in the coldest, darkest chord,

You sat to my right, as ghosts in a tear appeared by the left corner of your eye.

It stopped a time of my wanting to Live Free to die, and run or hide to be high.

A prince, or a king, Is just one mask of Light to others darkness He brings…

However, I am neither now, so it is clear, why I don’t know, how you don’t know,

Where we keep struggling, and tripping over what their dead god sings.

You can still be my magical princess-queen as long as I See, You See…

Me… Through, The Consistently Changing Dynamics in All Things,

For, we can only relate to new systems changes, by relating back to the old.

Though, if I never Really face the Creation that’s Right Here in front of me,

There would be so much Presence of your True Goddess Self I would miss,

For Now I See, a fore-shadow of Now is in no matter, always, Being This Bliss.

So, I’ll continue on echoing into this box of mine, speaking to my Self in rhyme.

I might find Me in some good Present company, or here all by Myself…

Either way, as I go down, Feel Free to take me Up on what laughter’s left…

And Right off of that dusty high shelf… with the Shellfish, not the selfish.

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The Slip – Ups

Creating Is Re-creation, And

Praying through the Loving,

Imagining our contemplating,

Meditating, and Remembering,

The inventing, and re-inventing…

As WE Change The Whole Universe

In which our perceiving Eye realizes,

That we’re simply only circumventing

Through illusions of life-times disguises,

While opening hearts in mind, and patience

,
Our Telegraph Consciousness Hastes And Rises,

Towards new colors brightening the enlightened,

Oneness Together, that’s “known and heightened”,

When The Darkness settles slowly on down below,

Consistently in Creative Compassion, WE ALL GO…

Within the most beautiful love we choose to share,

Reflecting Self. While Reminding Ourselves Of Matters,

Eternally Benevolent Beyond A Worlds Illusions So Fair.

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Spiraling (Towards) Justice

What Is This “Energy”

Spiraling up before Me?

Shoots of Dead-end thoughts –

Written in green bamboo stalks.

Glyphs that seem to have no end,

Fighting blindfolded in its thickets,

Running from losses. as I’ll Pretend

I’m Hiding from such senseless kills…

Forced into a corner with a box-er

Stance – standing in our blood spills.

Dodging, and weaving, bullets to the head.

Bobbing, darting, ducking, and sparring

The Others, praying for their predators,

Sparing nothing for ones Survival, and

Seething Like A Wild Lion Unfed…

Where, yet again, I will play the prey

In ones loneliness toppled on down

Through-out the moon-less-night,

For a warm spot in a Lionesses day.

Walking out of what (never) was…

A senseless, war torn, past, worn…

As a martyrs’ badge from a forlorn

Decreed with a for-sight to bleed out

All of Who Does, from what doesn’t last..

Projecting myself forward with forces

Still.. Unbeknownst to me, and my horses,

Trotting off the battle fields in a dying light

Trying To Divide, our Inherent, Inner, might.

Of walking straight away… practically, unscathed,

With only, just a few minor scrapes from the fight,

And a couple of scars, fire-bathed in muted hind-sight

Of the horrors and devastation by blasts of radiation,

From misguided missiles, in a sub-Atomic explosion,

For immature protection in acts of Self(ish) propulsion,

Blinding One to the miracles stringing US All-Together,

And surviving “The World” turning itself up-side-down,

In what is Up-On One Righting the wrong, Forever NOW…

These Eyes Will See More, not Less, than One Love complete,

Living with every hand of Justice, landing at my very own feet.

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A Racketeer

Writing up and down a riders storm,

Left on the edge of a fashion norm…

Signaling no defeat of humility at this seat,

Or humanity Centered on, or off, two feet.

Retreating within Silence is never wrong.

We might see Qi, while singing the story’s song.

A tool, or toll is unknown until union in separation.

Now here, while still not there, with more intention

To somehow be made clear, with blinking eyes near,

I find my Self appear… and disappear, quite effortlessly.

Not in this game, that’s gotten Even too gamey for wrong.

A feeling kind of rotten with a slow, webbed, rolling along…

Folding double down on this burning house of cards.

It’s a Holy House, not despite, but in light of, all happenings,

Striding out of stranger days, and into a spiraling daze…

Wrestling with none greater than all “I have” “known” as “Me”,

Through thoughts tied in knots, or too complicated,

To ever be contrasted or compared with the I… To Be.

This is not a Heaven, though it IS of IT, and from IT…

It’s Always as close to IT… As IT Never Seems… We Are

Right about to enter IT, If we Believe in IT… as in our Self,

Like we did as we were children, playing TAG… You’re IT!

Its OK if hesitant… as a fox crossing a stream, and gets its tail wet.

Though, Oh, what a relief it’d be, if only for a moment, to share IT, Again,

For it, Still, feels like a sanctuary and a Haven…. In Mind, When Freely Set,

Coming, and going, anywhere blindness sees, as does the days raven.

Questioning an Ageless Folk=lore is a matter of which we Love more…

Free=Will to Love Everyone or No One, in a simple Hello or goodbye.

Real=Eyes Changing, Understanding The Tree, as seasons live and die.

Realize we couldn’t fit how we got here, or why, on a page, or in a book,

As we could never Really Imagine the quantity of infinite energy it took,

For the Quality of a Spirit to arrange every note in this Symphony,

With all of our Moments To Be FREE… in Eternal Synchronicity.

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E=Quality

Everyone, and Everything,

Contains Infinite Energy…

Trying to accumulate it,

Destroy, or control it, is futile.

This is irrationality at its best.

It seems far more Reasonable

To Just Be Aware, at rest,

How, Why, Where, and When

We hold potential to Guide it…

Simply, Patiently, and

Compassionately.

As We Can See Clearly…

Heaven has no test.

True Love has No Quantity.

It cannot ever be

Diminished or replenished.

It Only Exists In EQuality…

To Be, working out its Self

In Creation with a Peaceful,

Eternal, Harmonization,

Which is Never Finished…

And Always To Be Relished.

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Haiku

You don’t have to go

To Mexico, To Know It

Takes Two To Tango.

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If Anyone Was Listening…

They'd hear my heart beat ever so slightly

Falling, following, every note in Her voice,

And the effervescent tones of Her skin

Wrapping Herself around the wind.

They could hear the slipping in my wrist,

With crinkles, and creaks, writing down this

Dream, of sleeping closer to Her streams

And waking in a Familiar hope of bliss.

They all should head what they've heard

And run for the hills to protect, and to serve

The projections of their own Self, flickering onto

Screens from the lovers who are Honest, and True...

Back into the Me, and You, in everything We do.