The Earth-Bound Body
Ascending up
Is a story of the lost
On a barren mountain side;
Compassless
And in the void of dark.
Incorruptible body is form.
Can the Son be distinct
From the formless
And be God?
Can his arm reach
Into a cupboard In Beijing
While his foot is massaged
In New Orleans?
New birth
Is a blood bath
And tiny screams
Are culled
From the finite surprise
Of material realness
And stainless steel tables.
Only in City Unactuality
Can I be shod
With anti-gravity sandals
To commence a flight
To my darling planet.
The abstract hymen,
Acting as the velvet rope
To all mass particles
Seeking asylum from space-time
Will allow my infinite cock
To penetrate
And make fertile
The potentials of the Undefined.
The machinations
And social engineering
That bind minds
To a bio-genetic co2 generator
Can now be allowed
To fall to the wayside.
Brethren and sisteren find the guard asleep,
Pull the heavy skeleton key
Loose from its ring
And make like the Jews
Celebrating a new Feast of Lots.
The Telling Of A Lie
Living in the atmosphere
Of magic possibilities,
Roots grasp at new soil.
Seen now:
Little flowers of happiness
Between sand and stone,
Bartering the solid earth
For the water.
Lightly rocked by the winds of fate,
I escape the clogs of convention
With wings of youth and poetry
While being kept quiet
With praises and chocolate.
From green and leafy shadows;
Dissolved in the intoxication of festivity,
Hope was created
For revelation
And God's nearness,
Making rents in reality's disguise.
At the last turn
Of the Labyrinth of Chaos
There arose a fleeting foam
Over a sea of suffering;
A violent and ill-fated
Abortion of the Primal Mother.
She dressed herself
With artificial flowers
Of wire and glass;
Zealously piling on lie upon lie...
The Valley Before the Mountain
Buddha looked down
From a 333rd Buddhaland cloud
To catch up
On the theatrical show news.
The finite mini-gods,
In their staked
Spacetime land claims,
Finding and losing love
Millions of times a day,
Had an unusual aura of sulleness;
Pulpable grief
Pouring up from the earth.
The link in the causal chain
Has finally been met,
The one that has egos
Permanently bewitched
By the image
In Narcissis's mesmerizing Pool.
After today,
They no longer gave respect
To their Origin;
Instead, making fables
So as to make life
One no longer needing explanations
For mind nor emotion.
No longer agents of will;
Now puppets of meat
In prisons of determination;
Rejecting now eternal birthrights,
As fables of superstition
And foolish naivety.
Gone was intuition,
A gift used to raise suspicion
When mischief appeared
To cause havok and turmoil,
Or to rain on their joyfilled parades.
Knowing was taboo,
Non-chemical-caused love, too.
Size took off its relative nature
To cast the spell of Insignificance.
So tiny they now were
That the blood was drained
From all of life's gleanings,
Making stones and trees
Surpass, in value,
The ones who dressed them
With names and their meanings.
Journey's path now crosses
Devestation Pass,
Where the shroud of darkness
Takes siege
And the Player feels full
The terrible effects
Of a lost soul's state.
Phase of the New Moon
And days of sourceless joy,
The light given off
Now, mere shadows cast,
As forewarned in Holy Writ;
"If thy light within thee be darkness,
How great is that darkness!"
Enough was enough,
This sorry sight,
Though He tried with great might,
Could no longer bear it.
Most Beneficient Buddha,
Planted a seed
In a hand-picked womb
Of a chosen vessel,
Impregnating their world
With Divine invigoration,
Holy breath twisting
The lattice loose,
The ego's unconscious invention.
A trap they set,
The same trap that snared them,
While being drunk
With the waters of apathy.
This moon child alone,
Was keeper of moon's phases;
The one to come,
With solitary goal
To make the moon full again;
Unfailing promise's sigil;
To restore the loved earth
Right again;
Faithful to Source's plans
From the Mind without limit.
Divine Love and Wisdom
Demands this creation order willed.
The Worthy Journey
Stained in indigo,
We headily tromp true north;
Light snacks
And a freon thermus
Keep needs occupied,
Making the ascension,
The astatic,
The erratic,
White-knuckling the rusty bars
For fear of the swallowing gyre.
Ruby noses peak through boughs
Of the evergreens,
Keen to forecast
Their maledict purview
On the crew.
Blinders were provided
So as to keep the eyes on the prize:
Ego,
With a heavy thud
To its backside,
Is sprawled
With tangled intangible limbs,
And prey to the mawing jaws
Of the Limelight.
