Rest is a wonderful respite
When the battle has been
Hard fought and long
Those demons were never mine
Beliefs long held and pressed
Upon me like death that
Choked away my spirit
Making me in its likeness
How I hated myself
I have since discarded those
Rags worn like robes by others
Resting now only attired
In what was always beneath
– My Golden Skin
There are boxes and boxes filled
To the brim with people – in droves
They go to their own demise
Thinking how clever they are to have
Outsmarted god with their goodness
Not knowing that No One ever achieved
Wholeness by denying half of themselves
I had hidden away that beast
Link by link bound in the dark
The “evil” of which I became afraid
How I once rejoiced in this rapacious
Side of myself, as though
I be a saint in disguise
I could rip and tear away illusion
Like mere reflections on glass
No lie ever withstood my claws
Until I retracted them – or so I thought
The wolf will not be settled or stilled
No more than the lamb will fiercely protect
To deny the one, is to find the other
Slaughtered in the field
Only together will they Be
Whole and Untouched
My untamed beast would have its ravening
Be it me, or the world it freed
Even in darkness its purpose would be wrought
Again and again I felt its pummel
Upon myself – ripping away every false façade
With its thirsty blood drenched jaws
Until Lo – We stood as One unchained
I have seen a thousand million men
Standing face to face for miles upon miles
Erect like dominoes (unaware of the eminent fall)
All projecting into the other – their thoughts
Passing down in procession from one to the next
Each made accountable as they grow and distort in stature
A thousand million men – all created by the thoughts of others
And none remembering themselves – Save One
He stands off to the side, facing outward and away
Looking upon the deep nothingness of his clear mind
He does not notice the stones that come hurling – often
With heavy intent and burdensome nonsensical “truths”
They vanish into his void becoming as he Is – Empty
And it is only from within this space that he can truly Create
Something Beautiful….. Himself!
You wanted to know what I thought,
and it was everything – the Power was there,
set and ready to Create.
My words would be no mere consequence
if they be sugary and coated with lies.
I needed to feel the Truth of what I said,
so that the inside matched the outside in every detail.
Or else those false creations be as a fine mist,
so easily dissipated in that hot hell We made.
No, what I thought was everything,
and every possibility lay before Me like builders stones.
If I felt You to be fallible and untrue,
yet spoke to You of Truth – then liars We both Be!
But I can see You, be it heaven or be it hell,
for both are houses of God,
and together We choose Our dwelling place.
I have equally dwelt in both,
and having done so, now I hold two keys!
And here You are – asking Me what I think,
not understanding Your own power of creation,
or that Your world is molded by Your mind!
How haphazardly You have created thus far.
I can create heaven for you – it’s true.
But how much better would it be
if instead I showed You how?
Empty Yourself of everything You know,
ask your question and then listen.
For far too long You have waited to be heard –
For far too long the God within has been waiting to answer.
I follow patterns long ago set in stones
And paths stretched far and pitted with ware
Littered only with the souls who’ve treaded them bare
As the dead point the way with their bones.
Rain – how is it we have come to see it
As not an anomaly – these drops
That form and fall from the heavens
In our own mundane state and unaware
Each one taking it for ordinary
I ply the droplet on my skin and
Marvel at its decisiveness
It splits and rolls and disappears
Into the earth becoming me
This air I breathe and what
The great water-former casting
Down the living with gentle motions
And oftentimes valiantly pummeling
Life into existence in a great tumult
Yes, I have been the rain – the water
Is in me – It becomes me
I too have lived my life in
Gentle strokes and terrible tumults
That sway and tear and rip
My very Being right into this
Illusion of my life that I hold
When there she appeared like she does tail wagging
A ball in her mouth and her ass carpet dragging
Well I balked at the site and I shooed her away
With my butt stone still on the crapper that day
I plopped down a turd and then farted twice
And here is where I will give some advice
Never play ball when your butts busy pooping
Your dog doesn’t get why you’re sitting there stooping
She’ll keep bring toys and then running away
She’d be happy to do it all fucking damn day
So once you’re done shitting and whipping your arse
Remember with a smile my dog fetching farce
And don’t toss the ball or it never will cease
And they’ll be no more people pooping in peace
~ In honor of April Fools’ Day!
Are we so different from nature?
Should we not be completely undone,
in order that we might bloom again?
Steel is formed in the heat of the flame.
But am I made of softer things than this?
Of gold perhaps, easily melted and adorned.
The heat of pain to strengthen or melt away the mettle!
What greater forging of beings there be – than Love?
Let me run straight at it – eyes set ablaze with courage,
And melt or stand in strength within the fray.