Monthly Archives: November 2016

Inflated Glory

In the confines of obese rooms and bodies they spew out green words like, ” the greater good” to justify their evils. Poor folk know their ain’t no ‘greater good”.

In laboratories and dark barns they created a cash cow. Now our rich folks are lithe while our poor folks are fattened up. “Your health is important”, they say while they count the dollars and blessings from checks with corporate logos adorning the back like coupon packs.

Out in nature surrounded by life and decay they sit in plastic molds eating banquets while discussing hunger and homelessness. “The downtrodden” they sing with beautiful voices collecting blessings and dollars to continue the conversation in another season.

Poverty is the clothe that polishes the middle class brass. They need the fabric of our existence to add to their arsenal of denial that they to are supply in the demand of the wealthy.

We don’t hide in our trash, we recycle it in the hopes there’s a Diamond in the ruff. Life is equal in the end. One mans Ferrari is another mans Corvette, and another’s mans truck, all are aspiring. This is how we stand proud in our position.

So we’ll continue to build calluses and joy in our labors. Thanks to technology you are becoming our spare time. Entertaining the “downtrodden” with your deeds and intent while we sit back with our own economy and enjoy thanksgiving with family and friends without a dollar.

You can continue in your belief that death will be more glamorous or fruitful and we’ll keep watching your heirs squander your inheritance until one day we’re all sitting around once again talking, not about how your wealth served you, but how you served your wealth for a lie. Our time was always here, patiently waiting for your return.

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Universal Guardian

Miles and minutes are the twins of time and space. The distance they wedge between our bodies can’t deceive the space between our spirits, that is the illusion.

It’s out there, we’re out there everywhere
Not a single space unoccupied
And all we see is air, because memory can be the curtain of fools

Within each of us are the collective echoes of all that is, it has to be denied to walk with now. This battle for the seed, the soul, is guarded by the spirit of mankind, which knows no time or space, it’s infinite and eternal.

Remembering can be a function or reaction. The space between the two is where the spirit lives. Like a sentry guarding a tomb it stands silently, eternally vigilant walking unseen, yet reverberating within us. Our soul can be stolen, but our spirit belongs to the universe, waiting for nothing.

Walk with your heart wide open to the possibility that biology is a collection of historical facts, lineage is an evolutionary illusion, the spirit is where time and space have no quarter. It knows no boundaries, because you thought.

A Brush With Life

If pictures can paint a thousand words, our words can paint a million pictures, so speak your mind carefully. Remember that your heart and mind beat as one in a delicate balance.

The art of life is free within the confines of our physical world, but our thought, our dreams, are a world without boundaries. A gallery of wonder revealed within every vessel of hope. Create with your mind and paint your spirit with the rainbow of light.

Death looms for most, a release for a few, and a new beginning for others. The patina of time glimmers on fading memories like water colors running on canvas. A landscape of light melding into a blur of colors washing what was coherent. This is why the light within the tunnel is surrounded by darkness, we become the color.

Be your own portrait, don’t be painted by time or circumstance. Everyone’s an artist. Some with their hands, others with their minds. The difference in the medium is irrelevant, it’s the one who choses their brush carefully and let’s their heart move their hands that creates beauty.

Self Less

Self, a universal mind alert
Moving in shadows
Leaving dust swirling
Around darting eyes

I Am self, strong and proud
Withering behind ideals
Crushed by culture
And the desire to be

You hide your self
In pockets of emptiness
Stuffed with decayed dreams
Fidgeting copper coins with bony fingers

My self ruminates in the sunlight
For all to see and mock

I don’t have to be you
Or anyone else hiding behind flesh

And smiles that dimly light a facade
Don’t glow, they’re merely coals
Warmed with yesterday’s fire

But the eyes tell all, windows to the soul as a scrim for your self.
Open your heart to your mind
And learn what freedom reveals.

Don’t fear our selfs, they’re one in the same. Dissected by station and aspirations that tear at moral fabric
Like a fat man dressed in a small suit.

I’m above and beyond being a symbol of time, culture, or class.
I live now, for this glorious moment
Because everything else is a dream.