A collection of poems written on February 6, 2012 while living in Pejeng, Bali. Needless to say this was a time of great self examination (and writing) for me… some of which I am still deciphering and some of which may never fully be understood… but, I am at peace with that. Because, if I wait to share (until I feel I have grasped what it is I am trying to express) I fear I will miss an opportunity to relate. And, what’s worse- forsake two true purposes of poetry– to make us think more and/or to help us think less….

(One of Seven)

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DEAREST MIRANDA,

“You have the right to remain silent”

amidst the chaos

“Anything you say or do may be used against you”

in the karmic sense

“You have the right to consult “an attorney”,

or your inner child for guidance-

But, “before speaking to the police”,

a friend, stranger or animal…be mindful.

You are permitted,  “to have an attorney present”

or your ego, however it is not advised

And it goes without saying that “during questioning now or in the future”

you are encouraged to listen more than you speak…

“If you cannot afford an attorney,”

sit in lotus and meditate on the fact that you are abundant

and financially supported

Have no fear, my dear,

“one will be appointed for you before any questioning, if you wish”,

by your dear Ol’ Uncle Sam…

But, mind you… we make no guarantees that he actually cares about your livelihood…

With that being said… there’s always this “other” option…

“If you decide to answer any questions now, you will still have the right to stop”

being mass manipulated.

So, Miranda, I ask you… “Knowing and understanding your rights as” 

a Divine Being of Intelligence, Light and Love

and as “I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions?”

OR ARE YOU READY TO START ASKING THEM?

(Two of Seven)

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“SHAPESHIFTERS”

What a strange revelation it is-

to feel your own weight-

in weightlessness.

To live for twenty, thirty, sometimes- One Hundred Years,

without ever seeing your face, Purely.

And what a bizarre experiment of a species we have become.

Declining politely, of course, to get to know ourselves.

“I’m really sorry. I can’t be honest today,

I’ve got the dis-ease.”

Money covers the rubbish, which covers the people,

which are covered by more money…

Whom suggest they’ve found clarity-

in an evolving pit of self-hatred-

Is it righteous to be the blindest of the blind?

To be the most gleeful sinner?

One(s) must question a “next stage”-

or quite possibly, Not…

as is the case- of some existence.

(Three of Seven)

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“WELCOME”

I find the challenge as it awaits,

greeting the day- like a coconut ripening,

only to fall.

my mind wanders the fields of epiphany

Dis-covering in it:

climactic urges,

fiend motives,

And a collectively eager Society-

Suspense-fully,

curiously, mindlessly,

evoking- me

to “get lost”.

Why, Thank you friend.

For “I have seen the light,”

And, however lonely this may feel-

(when you are no-where near)

I feel “happier” without you,

And, in me- my skin:

that which hears as much as it feels,

sees as much as it tastes, and thrives,

un-penetrated by the maddened chaos

I deem to call: “My (sweet) Life”

swallowed by silent cries of lonely inhabitants,

in this cement jungle-

whispering  “Welcome”

and enticing me-

to make myself comfortable…

But, not this time.

not this life…

Not on your life.

(Four of Seven)

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“THE QUEST TO PROTECT HUMANITY”

Soothers make grand entrances

Dis-tractors:

in a Distracting Array of abstract images-

contorting to come to sense-

placing titles

call all by its rightful name,

identifying with-

categorizing to arrange

the misplacement of a brain-

formulating laws,

running for presidents,

One-uping the rest,

How dare you ask for help?

Make them,

Break them,

Deny them-

oblige them-

Rules…

Poetically twisted,

useless-

tongue twisting,

mind numbing-

heart weakening-

Regulations,

Regulating that which will,

and can,

never be simmered-

A “thing”,

which must boil-

as lava

lavishly bubbling-

And, oozing

from every dark space-

Rocky road or serene being-

Nectar of a sweet smelling-

feminine pedal falling woman-

erupting at once-

it must boil !

Down to- the core.

and long enough-

to create,

the heat of life-

The molecular brink of creation-

Always attracting-

never detracting

its own force

(Five of Seven)

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“GOOGLY EYED”

“Curious” use to be praised

And then we gained-

“The Internet”

And no longer need our own brain, to think.

I found it all a bit hard anyway,

Thinking- tiring really.

Exhausting sometimes,

But,

Thankfully I no longer require the ability to extend it.

Thank you Google-

hopefully you offer insurance

on under active minds-

or, we’re all fucked.

(Six of Seven)

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“THE IDEAS OF A MORTAL”

When the “being” gets to Be too much,

I turn against the immortal

And find-

A human being.

Sometimes me,

other times- You.

To despair in-

To “Build-up” with-

or frequently just,

and simply,

observe.

For it is in the watching,

of our self destruction,

that we can see.

“US” and-

self implosion-

As no means – to no end.

For infinitely we bask,

we subtly sun gaze-

to build up on Energy,

Potentially –

that which can transform

the existing scenario,

into some- “thing”

much more-

Appeasing,

Appetizing,

Compelling.

Because, to think of it all as meaningless-

would surely bring momentous meaning.

And- that, of course,

would only suggest-

A means,

a purpose- Intention:

For us to climb

and change.

And, for our tired selves-

this seems a tad- daunting.

But how, on earth, could I  survive

more than one of these?

How could i physically,

emotionally-

mentally-

withstand the idea

of “re-incarnation”-

When as i stand,

in this shell,

I am more lost than I was in infancy?

Crawling to walk,

only to crawl once more,

on bended knee-

with half realized revelations and,

a fabricated God as my idol?

Drooling at the mouth

from an education that did me no good,

in the final exam,

And having lost out-

on a plentiful chance

to Embrace- what was given.

I suppose I’ll leave the “Living”-

for the next world-

And, take me a side of self-criticism “to go”.

Thanks but, no thanks.

(Seven of Seven)

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“DEAR TEACH,”

After 28 years…

I still haven’t a clue

as to the subject matter I have been presented.

I fear I’ll fail the course,

if better instruction is not implemented.

No one told me-

I would be forced to teach myself.

I beg of you…

“Step away from the pulpit”

and speak to me- as we are.

You surely could not know MORE,

However deceiving you are-

in your matured state of appearing.

Your gray hair, it lies.

And, lines of sorrow on your face

they say it all-

How grueling a challenge to learn,

“the ways”,

amidst humans… who are no help at all…

next time,

I think I’ll try it with an open heart,  four legs and a tail…

(just sayin’)