Your truth.
'Tis your train tracks
sitting upon the track bed that you dug

leading you into infinity.

Stay your course.
Hold fast to these rail lines
that you've *painstakingly* laid.

The ties
that from your toil, you have paid.

Follow your destiny
whose spikes
you have hammered
and will continue hammering.

Your imagination is now stowed.

From your platform,
the next train is departing.
The conductor's whistle is sounding.
Enjoy this free lift from Source
and the new panoramas, exploring.

-

Everything is energy.
The rest is labels.

-

Untethered

Is the sun tethered to its sky canvas?
No, it moves across the horizon
and is a mood ring for time.

There is no drama in this.
No ego.
No what-needs-to-be.
The sun just is.

There is mind-gear halting
and ravishing freedom,
in watching energy just flow
in every Present honoring.

-

Walk with me,
And I'll walk in you.

-

In the 18th century, Jeremy and Samuel Bentham
Designed an inverted colosseum prison
Called it ‘panopticon’, from a late-night brainstorm

Value added is omnipresence on maximum
A bit like Amazon, but without the online stores
Corporate prison system, paid by public funds
For the criminal Jims, but mostly for the DeShawns
Traveling the half arc of the school-to-prison pipelines

Blueprints for this special jail are custodial watchtowers
Circumnavigated by prison cell blocks
Prisoners, and the language apparatuses that define them
Are housed away in a crypt, concealed, forbidden
Innovative infrastructure of penal control
Once barbican, now Closed-Circuit TV patrol
The panopticon takes a real political toll
Every state is omnipresent, every house, a mole

“To pan”: an infinitive verb for this con
As Blanchot puts his finger on
There is timelessness in punitive scans
A million sweeping eyes in minion security pawns

-

Look upon a woman as a Goddess, whose special energy she is, and honor her in that state of Goddess.

~ Utara Tantra

-

In the past, you are reminded
When you couldn’t escape
The intensity of emotions
Inside you,
Or the flood of confusion
In the quiet, you’d play Music,
And dive in

What you pour into Music

The Vessel

It listens
It heals and it advises
There’s something cathartic
In being zen, listening to the blues
Music captures the suffering, your Catcher's Mitt

Without Music or the suffering
You know, deep down,
That you would not seek to know yourself

-

I can feel you behind me
Looming giant
Wingspan goes
From here
To all the way over there

Oh, Saint of the Scoop and Cup
I admit it,
You’re a master at drawing me closer
And I would publicly defend
Your rank
As the world’s greatest
Agitation entomber

A caress here
And a touch there
And suddenly my worries
And cares,
Nagging drips from the faucet
In my mental condo
Have dripped themselves
Right down
To a glistening puddle on the floor
Meniscus-intact
Fact.

-

The eternal feminine draws us upward.

~ Goethe

-

There is heart in Music
And mind and soul
Music is the vehicle for a three-part knowing
Music is a third ear that sees with your third eye
And on the turntable you hear it put down
The needle rides the grooves of the record
And across your faint hopes
A jazz album singing your emotions stolen
The saxophone and piano resonate, notes un-shown
And your being is unsewn
The threads start unraveling
Because you can hear yourself in inception
You feel trepidation
The sounds of the instruments dance on
In the gaps between the bars
In the valleys of rising and falling notes
-- Like mountains --
The pauses surround you
What you feel is much more exquisite
Than the expression of noise
Because those gaps and valleys and pauses
Drown out the breath and the keys of the instruments
The sounds that are emitted
Give your life momentary breaks
They have a life of their own
An expression of manifestation
Being consciousness and flow
Living and breathing animation in formless form

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