Serenity is the ability to cope with conflict

Serenity is the ability to cope with conflict

Nothing every exists, entirely alone
Don’t let perfection concern you
You’ll never reach it
Everything is in relation
To everything else

And the facts of your life
Will not cease to exist
Just because you happen to ignore them
Don’t depend on anyone
In this world for even your shadow

Will leave you when you’re in the dark
And when you live truly
The world stops, it stops and all
That exists is staring at you
Nothing ever experiences, entirely

If it’s not completely immersed
In what it is doing
And finally, there is nothing
On this earth better
Than a soul you can connect

With on every level
So be sure to not chase perfection
Be sure not to live in isolation
Be sure to depend on others
Be sure to walk with shadows
And be sure to find a soul.

The Purple Fat Feelings

The Purple Fat Feelings

I can never read all the books I want
Never love all the people I’d prefer
Hoping to live and feel
All the cursive of the human palette
I was left feeling horribly limited

I learned not to expect
Nothing from anybody
As the surest means of being surprised

I wanted to be startled by life
And found everything in life was scripted
The outgoing guts and
The ability to improvise
With a touch of self-doubt

I took deep breaths and bragged
Inside my own heart
For taking-in kisses left me feeling

Self-important and in love with everything
That was the Spring’s ingredient
The stars still go waltzing in blue and red

And if all the world dropped dead
I fancy love would still exist
On stars, for sale, for youthful fancy
Perhaps if we ever find ourselves
At peace, it will be because

We are dangerously close to wanting nothing
For now in my own prayer-silence
I’ll dream of books, love and fat purple feelings.

The Unconditional Will to Live

The Unconditional Will to Live

Say tomorrow doesn’t arrive.
Say tomorrow doesn’t come
Say we don’t make it, what

Would you do, in your last
Year on the home planet?
In your last revolution

Of the Earth around the Sun?
Live like it, like that
From the pit of your stomach
From the top of your lungs
With the moments staring

At your mortal beating heart
Don’t say, it doesn’t matter
Every moment does, we are
As common and rare as stars
With thoughts knitted together

Acts of helping that knit together
Communities, families, countries
Peoples, groups, lovers of
Knowledge, art, cities, humanity

Say tomorrow doesn’t arrive
Say you never get to have children
Say we don’t make it, what
Would you do for real

What really matters, what
Makes you feel lucky, grateful, heroic?
So do that more, and say

We never got a chance to meet
Say you stayed home that night?
Say you want to feel alive, then do.

The Joys of pain

There are evenings
Without angels
That burn with the feeling
Of human pain

You know what it brings
A voluptuousness
Of poetry in lunatics
An eternal orchestra

Of spirits gone unrealized
Broken dreams, unfashionable
Alienation and furious sub-selves
Sad men made angels of the sun

And the moon became
Our attendant ghost
Of the Sea and the mortals pain
So very brief, but not as

Brief as our love
Before AI we had no memory
Only a little advice from
Half-hearted parents

The antiquest of society
An accord of repetitions
Blunt and dull and flashing
For something new

That never seemed to come
A future of pointed night
That never burst properly.

Earth-Love

Earth-Love

Oh what an effort it is
To love you like I do!
Or not effort at all
For love of you

Is simple and clean
It is true, this grief as white
This joy as pure
The air is in my heart

My blood is born of sunlight
My handkerchief made of
Ocean, sound reverberating
In my crown chakra

And my cotton pants
A comfort for the dry and green
Days of gratitude and good weather
The Earth, that’s what I love

Her wonderful sustainability
Her waist is slender and her
Seasons are ever young
A tree, a town, a meadow and birds.

The spilled blood will have no fragrance

The spilled blood will have no fragrance

Angel.
Dissolve my tears
My drama is too personal
Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me
The torment is without
Fruit, or just reward
Winter is the night copied
When all the stars are blind
God.
Leave some birds
The seeds that were dreams
Have been wasted
Youth.
Let go of me now
I am no longer a virgin
Or opportunistic or idealistic
Time.
Needle in the water
Of my health
Do not think we do not see you?
Melting the sun like a great center
A snake of flesh
The wood-cutter does not know
When, my heart grew pale
With stress, or
How the silence became moist and wise
Beneath the burden
Of the escaping years
Angel, woodcutter, God, youth, dreams, time
Do not imagine just because
I am now old, that I know
What experience is
Perhaps, perhaps I was hiding all along
From living.

After Journaling

There is no burnt paper anymore
My age of confessions is over
I have nothing to hide from myself
My journals are just filled

With spiritual musings
The drama has gone
And angst is dead
No saxophone haunting

From my bedroom
No squalor beneath my
Guitar-fingers, only
The meditation of poems

The slapping phantom of laundry
An old apartment, beaten up
While my screen paints silversmithing
Of this unusual alchemy

The beating of blackberry wisdom
Into ripe aphorisms, it’s enough
For procrastination and myth
We all have to cross those waters

One day, astounded souls
Leaving games of chess and flirting behind
And filter flowers for golden messages
And live in a quiet place in Canada

Where the stars are not so cold
And all dark advice of shame is gone
Open to the wilderness, ready
To learn how to be free.

Once upon a time you were free

Happiness is the absence
Of attachment, I know
It’s hard to believe
But in that freedom
You can empathize with
The cosmos, and are more
Aware of the unity-of-everything

Flow with whatever may happen
Let your mind be free
Stay centered in experience
A path is made by walking on it
Love is made by serving it
Happiness is turning inwards

In the solitude of awakening
Awakening to spiritual reality
Unposssessed by material things
It’s hard to believe bliss
Could be object-less, but
It’s only pleasure that requires objects.

Post-Modern Freedom

A self-help series poem

Post-Modern Freedom

Don’t be surprised by events
Experience is your teacher
Don’t be attached to what you have
Life has given you

So much already
Time is what may come to pass
Because today you were ready
Give up defining yourself

Live in the freedom of the moment
Don’t let past labels cloud your judgement
But be a clean slate each and every day
Die to yourself that you might

Love the world more, it’s sometimes
Necessary, to become somebody new
Change to adapt to the challenges
Push yourself to surprise yourself

Experience is your loving teacher
Time is your tender mistress
Abundance and simplicity will play
With you, as children you once knew

Do not be surprised if they call you names
Do not be shocked if they depart
You are who you are for a reason
Awaken to that purpose so you can

Clearly celebrate the moment
And finally, be grateful for the
Emergence of new experiences
Your soul likes them before
You perceive they are even happening to you.

We are most happen when

A Self-Help poem series

The giver receives
The selfish miser is miserable
It’s an easy thing to observe
Sacrifice for others and notice

If this enables you to think
More about the world
And less about yourself?
There are others less fortunate

Than you, the seed cannot
Know what will happen
Without water and sunlight
To focus on the self is to isolate

Oneself from the energy of life
Life is a relationship with itself
There are no actual boundaries
You create them, by distinction

By not sharing your life with others
Self isolation is one of the problems
Of individualistic societies, we pretend
We are strong, but people aren’t

By nature strong, we are tender
We were made for partnership, family
Clan, community, society, cooperatives
Fraternity, exhibition, theater, lovers

Nurturing others enables the energy
To circulate, like blood or light
Do not live a frozen life
Do not waste your time in selfishness

Or attempting to profit
For when we are alone
We are conditioned to think of scarcity
And when we are together we

Happen to muse about plenitude
So what does that mean?

I lose myself inside this soft world

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.
~Plato

Art Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/miss-universe-353517674

Everyday wonder makes a claim in my life
she kills me with delight
for an ordinary pleasure or a surprise

light on the haystack, breeze on the stream
hope in the eyes of the young
faith in the heart of a pure soul
I’d like to think I have acclimatized myself
To joy, but it’s not true

we don’t have an exceptional relationship yet
though we are bonding, building rapport
it can take years of untrimmed kindness

to sooth a weary soul, lips of spirit
kisses of altruism, echoes of passion
everyday wonder, makes a hole
in the place inside of me where
I make my daily presentation to myself

nudging me to celebrate, what I do have
love that has found me, friends who stay
poverty shows prosperity, hardship shows strength

while we are growing wise,
we are growing old, I’m not surprised
to feel a little more mindful sometimes.