Friday, March 28, 2014

We are One

We are One


Gaze upon new faces,

Some that are familiar

Some that were forgotten

Others, we have found again, different somehow

Though not-a-single-one-to be-considered foreign—

Subject to the same hand that feeds,

Borne of the same God that bleeds and bled life into us all aren’t we

The trees in fields

Behind the over-ah-tired suits in conference centers

Doing loop de loops in vacant parking lots

Between the lines of passages from classics found in high school classrooms,

Always headed somewhere,

On a plane, over the sea

Don’t these new faces say the same things we

Have all taken as truth

At one point or another in time

Some moment in un-ticking space

((The same place we verbally deface

And chastise as a suffocating chamber

Of many mortal dangers)

Filled with the collective divergences of memory and present)

Sparks a universal truth like a shooting star across the sky

Colliding and converging with particles of openness

Turning and transforming into wisdom

Reframing this prism,

(That is only fine artwork,

A replica of something we all think is real)

Crystallizing infinitesimal possibility,

No longer concealing our potential as a race behind a one dimensional veil of unawareness.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

We Are Exactly Who We Tell Ourselves We Are

When we tell ourselves we are not good enough we are instantly right. We have bought into what we perceive others are saying, with their words or actions. Our perceptions of their renderings of us put us back on our heels. The emotions we feel push us down. Our self-judgments knock us out, cold.

What we consistently tell ourselves ends up being all that matters in this life. Action is routinely tied to perpetual thought. As Rust Cohle of True Detective concludes with point blank certainty, in terms of the human race: “Look, as sentient meat, however illusory our identities are, we craft those identities by making value judgments. Everybody judges all the time. Now, you got a problem with that, you’re living wrong.” I am with myself every single day, 24/7. So are you. I am solely at the mercy of myself. As are you. As we sidle and straddle, filter through and flock to, different energies, good and bad, the tendency is to self-judge. There is the energy of the environment in the absence of humanity. There is also the environment we humans co-create and inhabit, arguably dominate. Nowadays, this environment is nearly everywhere. Nowhere is humanity unheard. Though, there are some that may argue, this isn’t humanity. Either way, we are all affected by it. Every type of people is a person. Even the grotesquely inhumane are in some truthful way representative of all latent humanity. This is perhaps the best evidence of a greater dimension; otherwise we would all fall prey to absolute evil. Nonetheless, we are good and we are bad. It is who we choose to listen to that determines how we choose to act. The one dimensional existence is full of lots of neat, fancy thoughts and notions, standing atop tall buildings looking down on anyone that is not them. The voices of these people are primarily full of shit. We all have been on top of these tall buildings before. We have all been below the ground, unfit for breathing the same air as our fellow humans. We have all been full of shit. Even when we all walk side by side, our sense of self is rarely on par with what others think of us. In short, we are thinking way too much about what others think of us. What will they say? What will they think and not say? What would I say or think if the roles were reversed? This last question is telling. Asking is in short, an admission of guilt.

We all judge. I won’t deny that I do. I will state matter-of-factly, if and when I judge, it is rarely malicious. None of our thoughts are ever absolute. There is always redemption. I observe and notice and sometimes infer. An inference about a person is a judgment. We take sensory information and perceive that something about that person, based on what we have seen through firsthand experiences and interactions with that person is true. It is how the human mind functions. When we gather new information, we formulate new thoughts. A judgment is not a conclusion. Conclusions are final and high-stakes, condemning and damning. Most judgments we make are forgotten by the end of the day. Yet there is a tendency to hold onto self-judgments, as if they were written in stone. I am lazy. Tell ourselves enough and we will sink into the sofa every single day and sleepwalk through tomorrow. I am not smart enough. Tell ourselves enough and we will settle for something less than what we truly want. I have bad genetics, I will always be overweight. Tell ourselves enough and we will enlarge and atrophy, at the same time. Sigh. I can’t show my true self because no one wants to see me for who I really am. This is never the case! The world would be such a much better place if we were all less afraid to be ourselves. We all need to just go for it, hand in hand.

I can forgive someone one thousand times over if they have good intentions and a good heart. However, I have trouble forgiving myself. I have trouble accepting failure as something less than final judgment. I have concluded, the following: We aren’t really living if we aren’t failing, in the conventional sense. Life is paradoxical: it is static movement. There are so many factors, nuances, and change in a fraction of time that our unique, individual experience is ultimately impossible to track. The graphing model is “anything goes,” within a range of personal response that has much to do with individual personality traits and tendencies established in our earliest years. Though we may very well hold onto the same mannerisms and quirky behavior long ago structured, that makeup a part of who we are, we can do something to redirect the energy encircling our insecurities, stifling the negative thought patterns that are merely illusionary intertwinement. Dead in their tracks, these negative thought cycles no longer exist. Our insecurities are now just insecurities. In the absence of fear, these insecurities no longer hold any real power over us. They no longer reverberate throughout the spaces of our mind. They no longer control our actions. We are free. To live fully.

We become graffiti, or caution tape, a faint outline of our true being when we habitually ignore that whisper from a higher plane that tell us: Get up. You are good enough. Failure is necessary. Judgments are mortal.  Fears are formed out of a singular primary fear that we are somehow imperfect. And yet, we fail to see that imperfect is an imperfect word, as are all words, and therefore each and every label we ascribe to ourselves or place on others. After all, they are all human constructs. We are all perfect, our true selves are all perfectly spherical. This is our destiny, and to question is normal. We need to be careful though, not to ascertain; for it is in vain. There is a higher plane a piece of each of us is a part of. But where do we come from?

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Elephant Journal Publication

Please read and share.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014


Like a full spectrum hue,
I struggle to say what I mean
Around you—
So many different colors in your rainbow
Melt and merge and meld
Sometimes, all at once—
My heart into yours, every single shade
Giving life to every single blade of grass that is my inner landscape—
I have so many things I want to say to you, where shall I ever begin?
My fingers lightly graze
The soft, light curves of your silky smooth skin, I am reborn again
Rich and thick, too
Porous, so that light and dark passes through
If either present—
So beautiful is your human form I oft think ye are immortal, this is my fault baby girl
You deserve the strength and support of foundational firmament
True love builds, and it is this same guild that binds us—
We will work together humbly on our structures,
For true love never fusses, nor does it follow after the needy speed of ungrounded emotion of the moment
True love between two humans aids to create—
An ocean, with waves of varied pace that give and take air, land and space
True love is part of something bigger that has always been, deeper than either of us could ever envision
Timeless and immeasurable, patiently
Letting the fragmented charges of scattered ions settle back into one, lifting up in unison
Full circle and complete,
True love is the perfect ring inside of every sentient being embracing selflessness—
It exists within and around, above and below
Singularly known as the beat once found that is followed, centrally—
True love between you and I is squarely at the heart of my existence
A unique substance, part of
The ebbs and flow of ground and sky
Only the heavens know what to make of
Walking in flight while swimming with the current
Like the interplay of sand and water along a beach’s shore
Part commingle
Others separate, wanting more
Absorbing, enduring
Traveling to and fro
Only to go back home again—
An understanding between us, sweet lover
That not every part of your land is meant to feel the affect of my imprints,
That although you will always have access to every part of my ocean blue, certain ports will always seem closed off to you—
The consistency of your two lips, soft and metered kiss
Whipping feminine scent of your will set in motion, 
The firm and steady bend of your thoughtful stance,
Overblown by the mindful clarity to which you romance over in tongue and
Dance to lightly on your feet as if a cat with looks that could kill,
Giving my ego a thrill ride evermore enjoyable if I let go
And connect to the precision of determination held in the pupils of your eyes holding my gaze and affections with an open heart,
I am like the growing more peaceful olive tree found in the ground,
Awakened and enlivened by everything around,
Ever since the seeds of our existence were bound. 


Pass away moment
Returns in memory form-
Foam drips down,  bubbles from a carwash
I give to my loved one’s transportation-
Transcending time,
Holding so much more, life that I adore
In her belly before
This memory came knocking at the door
Outside of you in blacktop basketball shoes shooting jumpers-
You were the news, everyday they don’t report-
You were the news, the stability and support
Every family needs-
Actions unheeded, the quiet one
Going about his business
Fulfilling his duties of fatherhood and husband
Good deed after good deed
Godspeed, day and night
Emotions out of sight if not for the occasional outburst-
We were okay with it, in a way it reaffirmed that you cared
About how we fared
Out in the cold air,
Filling our hearts with love
Giving sis and I a good start, and we’ve never grown apart-
These are the memories stored away I won’t ever part with, of you and mom
Unconditionally giving,
We all go on living, extending this family
That grows with tender loving care,
Nurtured and nourished, as it always was
And will be.




The leaves of tall, mortal trees

(Part of the landscape of every free nation,

(Part of the immortal seed)

Tumble helplessly,

Withered, bitten and stained

Like good, decent men—

Loyal to the roots

Loyal to the birth of mortality, our humanity

Loyal to the foundation and structure constructed

By men who came before, standing large and proud

Though none higher than our mortal trees

(Part of the singular deity),

Bearing many different kinds of sweet, juicy fruit in our time,

And for tens of thousands of generations coming before,

History tells us.

If man were lucky

He might touch,

Nest, nurture and grow for himself

A roundish piece of ripened unique, maybe a few—


But will man ever ask himself if this is worth going to war for?

Does man ever ask himself what is worth going to war for?

We are all instinctual animalistic things.

What do I preserve?

What do I protect?

Who do I serve?

Questions go unasked. 

Am I more than this influx of adrenaline?

That which I have named,

That which I have observed.

We are all freed men, those standing under unwavering flags of “justice,”

Yet all we do is fight amongst ourselves.

And every season men die faster

Then leaves already falling

Come to rest at the feet of grieving widowers—

Many words on the lips of men and women.



Like those in captivity having no voice,

For we must be their voice,

And yet we turn a blind eye—

It is no wonder,

For we stumble in search of our own

Clumsily interrupting the peaceful silence of dark.

We cannot see clearly the very truth,

That this is no dilemma, free against free—

It is illusion, a perpetual, worldwide, drama-plagued hypocrisy

That will rot and die with the unified enactment of a single vision:

Uniting all of man

With freedom,

Ending suspicion.

Or else each tree will fall.

There is almighty fruit of this generation

That can spell the end for us all.

Now and Long Before Our Time That is Now

It’s starts with a poem,
Sung before the stretches of lands
And all other plans for seascape and life, daylight and night
Crawl into focus under brushstrokes of right intention—
Slowly birthing innocence beneath the hurried scrawls of adulthood signature on
Every dotted line
That account for all things material,
Atonement for the debts of bets lost or won, chances taken or not
Other avenues of existence
Possibility, potential
Thoughts and ideas minds might otherwise dwell on and use
To formulate worry out of past folly and mortal foible
Losing sense of the present, gifting life to the nonexistent
Giving up rights to speak, scurry
Once we have learned to listen to the good sense of our souls
And behold the power inside the chambers of heavy hearts held hostage—
Golden gates open, everything else fades
Worries dissipate, embracing fate fully
Left with nothing to do but honor what is true.