Twenty-First Century Acid Test

Love is a zero-letter word.

Love is an early sign of self-awareness.

Love is the universe before division thought

it was the subject to be taught.

Love is the image of my daughter

with her daughter and that great embrace

of all fertility goddesses to their left and to their right.

In the middle of our song of love,

I come to myself within a dark wood

where the straight way begins and ends.

As every second is the sign of one.

So what exactly is

the sound of cutting off our left trees

to save my right face?

Heraclitus never changes.

Change is emptiness.

Form is climate.

Nein

That I am not I am is the ultimate deconstructing neti neti koan psalm and parable. Holy apparition Batman, it's hard to believe but it's all good. Awareness isn't self-aware without the spelling of unawareness.

An unconscionable thing happens on the way of consciousness. And forgiveness is another way of saying I forgot. Turn on, bleach, and repeat.

Wood frogs before fireflies. Poetry before lightning bugs. Janis before swine. Here's another piece of my heart.

One great love exploding into disco balls. Or Jackie Wilson Said. Kingdom of Heaven. Red Queen of Wonderland. Awareness being self-aware. Get over it.

Length, width, and depth are the names of one dimension. Here without thirst. Now without a second. It's neither do what you love or love what you do—Love Does. Just try to understand.

June and the north is jumping. I don't know but Alaska. Form is transformation and emptiness is climate change.

Time  abbreviates. Space amplifies. Alton Bay and reds. The slow loud sounds of a summer night. In the egg. Not of the mescaline.

That one night of falling stars over midnight half moon lake. Silent night. Black hole night. All for one and one for all.

Of the moon. Not in the watery half moon. Frogs before crickets. June before August. Wooly Bully.

By being anything imaginable, I know what I’m not. Of firecrackers and the mouths of frogs. Something this way Moby Dick.

To be now or not, that is self-inquiry. Listen. Do you want to know the secret? Great intent is doing like a pendulum does.

A light year is like the speed of unawareness being self-aware. You will know division by the hat it wears. Love the one you're with as if yourself because why not?

Arjuna is the way of the warrior. Krishna is the way of the lover. Even the Gita is a koan.

999

1. think of.

2. feel as.

not of the dreamworld

but as dream being.

open head. swallow whole.

love

the day.

be

the night.

to the personal,

the absolute is death.

but consciouness builds the body now

like the grateful dead built their sound system

circa 1973. design by owsley.

can you even believe a speaker thinking it's the music!

as one is every idea imaginable. ten trillion galaxies. one flower.

and self-awareness is

the universe of pure awareness.

in the way

of the bird,

one being,

and

procreant

urge

without

check,

not even nothing.

imagining one

one is not

divided and one is not

without—

there is nothing

but vast integrity;

there is nothing

but high fidelity;

there is nothing

but the deepest whole.

for one is

the greatest concept

ever imagined—

all other concepts form

a thick and delusional fog

emanating from

one’s primal energy.

thus if imagining one to be

other than one is

the poison of conditioning,

then imagining one to be

one is

the quickest antidote.

.

Being in the core. Awareness from on high.

Awareness being self-aware is scientific myth—where science is just another story and mythology is fact articulated in the language of lies.

All thought is simply a virus like an Asiatic bittersweet vine and love is like the next tree over.

If the past is prologue, the preface is the way to original face. June and it's not easy being rare.

Forgive yourself. Heavy lies the crown of creation. Enjoy this ode to joy of June for there is where the absolute is living.

And the black hole sees itself within the sun. The Nova Scotia fog is lifting.

The colors of a dream after waking to the fact that black is white or vice versa.

Dropping off body and mind is like a flower. The fragrance of true eyes. In the name of pure awareness and all projection.

No preface. No afterword. See what. Touch who. Hear where. Smell when. Taste why.

Nothing but the net of now. Do you want to know a secret? Consciousness is the fountain of youth.

Different tribes. One truth. Anything other than one or zero thinks it's one or zero.

Growing old is my latest koan. Poetry isn't real. Late night perambulations. Trust is like a unicorn.

First there is belief but there's no belief but there's what there is. Love without check is instant karma.

Karma without love is a hungry ghost. The holy grail is not an object. The renaissance is all about perspective.

Nothing beats trump but no trump. Henry David Thoreau. Leo Tolstoy. Martin Luther King. Arjuna.

See through you. Like crossing the Mojave Desert. You can’t make a horse drink but you can’t lead a person to water either.

Act Nine

"The intention is to see the state of things in their correct perspective."

They're never going to catch the midnight rider. The eagle flies on Friday and Saturday I go out to play.

War is high division. And the workaday world is low war. Do not ask for whom the day remembers. The day is dreaming you.

Whatever isn't love is thought hiding as emotion. And philosophy is the blackest magic of all thoughts.

Love is that which thinks it's separate but knows it's not and thought is just a tool.

Joy is this child-like River Beyond adulteration. Joy is like the last number nine of number nine number nine number nine number nine.

Joy is my corrected vision. Joy is universal being without a personal check. And joy is a river overflowing its banks.

For joy is the default position. As if deep sleep is really what you are. And then you dreamt a big bad bang so I, pure awareness, am also self-aware.

Like take your stand on the highest ground you know. Dare to be embodied! No sin. No saint. No doing. Merit is intent. Being is Te of Tao.

The true trapper is like the Holy Trappist Who is waiting silently to be trapped. Like Thomas Merton at Polonnaruwa.

Learning to be is the final degree. Asking who am I is just like saying here I am. Sometimes you eat the snake and sometimes the snake eats you.

Heart Four

No Dream for Tao

You cannot eff the ineffable! You are not universal but I am. Deconstruction too begins at home.

As every wind cries Maya, my every shiver cries for Shakti. You say relativity. I say fake news.

If love is like the one perceiving double apperceiving all is single, zero is just that.

If free will can will what free will is free to will, then why isn't your free will just willing freedom?

It may be late May but where have all the frogs gone?  Altering consciousness is the scarlet letter.

All means of deconstruction rest outside the law but within love. And so I say unto myself, don't join them in division.

Unjoin them in one. Unjoin from your projection. Unjoin from the joint chiefs of staff god love them.

The personal is the little dream. Being is the big dream. No dream for Tao.

When the ghost of love appears, and questions if you know her, do not beg of her to listen.

Great love appears to be our tragedy but always is my comedy. Wilderness is in the eyes of the beholder. Mary and the silence of the frogs.

In the Mary month of May, mother of god, blessed be our flowering in self-awareness.

Remember, only the paradoxical is real. Three is the only paradoxical number that you've never seen. Blessed is the holy trinity of me you and I.

The personal is false. Truth is universal. Deconstruction is the holy spirit. But deconstruction without love is genocide.

Apple. Orange. Consciousness. Shiver as two. Feel like one. Let us dream as if pure awareness is being self-aware. Imagine that.