Sunday, January 8, 2017

My Pretty

You are the chosen one.
The big bang is the black whole.
Evolutionary intent is the greatest story ever told.

Thirteen blackbirds are playing blue guitars.
I saw thirteen outhouses coloring the Acoma churchyard on Sky City.
Ah Matsushima Acadia ha!

Love is good for nothing.
But love is what I dream the best.
For love is this dream of pure awareness knowing
pure awareness despite the clouds of deep belief.
  
Look at all the pretty colors in the void!

untitled


Dream is emptiness. Emptiness is love.

Love your super dream star character
As if it is one’s faithful shadow dancer.

And love oneself as if one is the great god
Pure awareness being a mirror to see itself.


To whom it may concern: dream. Oneself, my child.

Basho was the last avant-garde.
Cold Mountain is the highest hermit shaman poet.

Deep blue skies inform
The river watch over
Your valley spirit


Absolutely let this universal being guide
The worldly personal to my deep blue sea.

Along the way there will be jellyfish and
Monkey business and your cheating heart.

Attention check. Who am I?
I am that dreaming this to know I’m That.


And to devote my dream to oneself

In the name of generations of women,

All the blessings of love to my daughter
And my daughter’s daughter to be.



Saturday, January 7, 2017

A Tree Grows in Canyonlands

An intentional universal dreaming coincidence—

Energetic karmic streams of sadness
burning like the Cuyahoga River—

Messing around in the personal is like playing
with the piss and shit of ignorant conditioned
consciousness and stinks to high heaven.

Love begins with oneself.

In the middle of a desert, a green river
flows within its canyon and cottonwoods
go growing in its mystic morning mist.


Friday, January 6, 2017

The Imperial Division of Knowledge

Keep on dividing, disoriented one. 
Split a universe and the world appears. 
Split an atom and all hell breaks loose.
As above and so below.

Like looking for truth with science is
like sailing the sea with ice skates,
like looking at the sun with sun-colored glasses,
like a surgeon cutting open her own chest
to heal her patient’s heart.

As white is the presence of all color
and black is the absence of light,
fear is never object-oriented
and love does not objectify.

So how does it feel to be on your own
living in the last house at the end of the world?

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

The Big To Be

Belief wasn't built in a day. Render unto thought 
this thought. I am. Therefore I am.

Self-awareness is as ordinary as a caterpillar 
turning human.

For awareness to be self-aware, there is this big
'to be' that happens.

I am that I am is prologue to That I'm That.

Whereas I am, awareness is self-aware. Whereas
I know I'm empty, open, spontaneous, and indivisible.
Whereas infinity, eternity, in high fidelity.


Monday, January 2, 2017

First Poem In 2017

All these enlightened flowers forgetting their roots—my words and your words are hanging out clothes.

Knowing what the story is and not just knowing it's a story—all projection is reflection or deception. Which ghost gets your vote?

Like child's play. Playing with fire. Fire in the hole! Totally feel the affectionate attention of self-awareness.

Meanwhile, while knowing being is pointless, hipster-headed angels nonetheless measure out the eye of a needle.


Saturday, December 31, 2016

Last Poem Out 2016

Never send to know for whom the sirens sing. Suggestion is the mother of belief. Exponential avatars tonight are permeating Times Square.

There are 108 ways to love your lover. There are two ways of looking at a blackbird. The most crooked street in the world is one way.

Dream your dream and not exist within another one’s reality. Dream your dream as if some god is dreaming you to know there is a god. Dream your dream with dragon power until there is no dragon dream to dream.

Chuang Tzu says far beyond black magic and far beyond white magic is my Zhuangzi magic. There is no me and you but I am. Maybe money doesn’t come from trees but flowers don’t come from earth.

I would retweet this if I only could. Maybe money doesn’t come from trees but flowers don’t come from earth. I am until I’m not. Love is the best!
.

Friday, December 30, 2016

This is That

This is self-awareness. That is awareness. No one comes unto that but by this.

But the mind divides this unity of self-awareness into grand intent and word of light and ten thousand strains of holy holy holy mass.

Know this: identification with a part is harder than the whole.

Waves rise and fall beneath a full wolf moon or dark as new but who is the solar controller beyond the big bipolar pond of black and blue?

Look away! The world's knowledge isn't gnosis; it's hypgnosis. Look into another I and see that blue-eyed blood-shot white-whale black-whole. 

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Merry Sunshine Love

The projection is strong tonight. A rose knows it's the only rose that is a rose. Self-awareness is an infinite music. I am its only note.

If Christ Consciousness is unborn, what day is Christmas? Love is neither right nor wrong. That's why it does not compute. But you can always want what you get.

You only get what you love. So love it already! And make room for the next love. Thus acknowledging the sunshine of one's love is like the law of one attracting sunshine.

To make the future like the past, it never ends. Because it never is. Self-awareness is participatory. Like love and evolution. Never take; receive. Always give, but never give to junkies.

And this will be a sign to you. You will find a child wrapped in the natural. If awareness is conditioned to be unaware, and evolution is that so-called object of awareness being self-aware, then Yosemite!

Glacier Point, bad cell-phone reception, intuition half-dome shaman, macaroni, neti neti. Kokoro kokoro kokoro. We only want what we have. The unbelievable!


Saturday, December 24, 2016

Condensing the Dreaming


The dark night of the soul. The dark side of the moon. Conditioned dreaming is the shadow of a lucid vision.

And so dream on John Donne. The only knowledge is being and being is the only dream to know itself.


Spontaneity appears to be random because. No one knows the wild infinity of causes. One can say there is infinity of causes

or one can say there’s causelessness. Narrative becomes created as some causes are selected. Narrative is changed if other causes are selected.

This is called the art of dreaming. To change one’s dream, just drop its causes and assign some other ones. There is no other effort needed.


Lucid dreaming is the love to love without a world of their conditioning.

If dreaming is about which cave of cause has been selected, magic is the art of wild coincidence.


The three dimensions of the third dream.
Love, compassion, and forgiveness.
Christ the middle way negative capability.

In other words, being is the only way of knowing and dreaming is the only way of knowing it.


The special effects of any dream
Depends upon specific causes
One is choosing to assume.

Have faith in oneself.
Choose love.
The greatest special effect is
Self-awareness.


This dreaming in the third degree: with intent; as creation; in receipt of realization.

In the name of cave-dwellers, deconstructionists, and sky-dancers, oh my!




this self-sampling is from the previous poems: ‘Dream This’ and ‘Welcome to the Hotel Mahamaya’ and ‘I’m Not Nothing Just Because It Isn't Known’ and ‘A 3D Seventh House Spiritual’ and ‘Dreaming Upon a Winter Solstice’ and unaffiliated