Rilke Poems in French, here it is Poem #53


Je ne peux pas m’engager ‘a accepter ses idées frivoles. Jamais, jamais, je ne l’obéissance pas un meneur, cela ne mène a rien.
Rereading Rilke’s poems in French. It was a masterful exercise in testing his knowledge of the poem and if he could communicate th senses of things felt in French as well as in his native German. The same stands for us, the readers. We must allow that Rilke was just wanting right simply of things felt. But the desire to analyze is always there so it does take an effort not to fall for the pretentious inclination to work a hermeneutic on them, but he tell us not to waste our time, just let the poem be.
This is about the poem itself. Forget any worldly relations because that will muddy the clarity Rilke was looking to place into his writings, not about Alma Mahler or the pre Raphaelites, this is the poem, the 59 poems, then the prose poems in French. No outside world. No gossip of who and what as this is Rilke seeking refuge in his last writings, near last writings. The Duino and Orpheus works drained him, and the publicity wore him out. Works in French is refuge.
I think he went beyond, beyond into an even more mystical and touched by the Heavenly Host as he sought God throughout the ways of language, in how we think and compose, how we think in a second or third language.
The beauty and spirituality is at times wavering between worlds of 2, 3 and 4th dimension.
Exhausted after the peak of excellence which pretty much drained him in Sonnets to Orpheus (my favorite of his collections) and the Duino Elegies (really neck and neck with Sonnets to Orpheus, but man, to write with such elevation and cloud touching as he did with his German sonnets he needed to do something in small ways of experience and things felt, so he used the French language to write of small things of the senses and almost by accident, of the mystical. 53, for me is one of those which begins as a lovely experience among rose bushes, which I relate to in many ways as I have always planted several different roses and Lillies around and in the path to the stairway entrance to my home. At one time I had 14 different kinds of rose and it was an ongoing marvel wonder and precious thanks to the Lord for such small beauties and inspirations.
Roses and lilies engage me physically and spiritually. So, I guess it is natural in terms of how I relate to a poem that I chose 53 to challenge our balance of being pretentious and being in awe. I am both. I seek to be held in awe of Gods gift of this earth which we so readily seek to destroy, and then for some we offer up our roses to the angels to decide. Yes, the wisdom of experience in things felt as sensory and No mind do elevate the soul.
If one is confused by the questions then no answer will ever offer consolation and the other will continue to live in a fantasy of made up imagery and conflicted slander and gossip rather than just looking upon the question and finding this is where stands the soul of the “I” or of the “other”.
It is so hard to be held transfixed by the most elemental of things. Now, the use of the “I” in my description of this pleasure in the text and in the relative meaning is not limited to me, but to all pronouns: I, me, you, yours, ours, theirs, they, them, us, he, she, You, They, Us, Me, Mine, I. All may be used and the meaning of the question and beauty of the answer reveals that it is in the question we find the true self. “but when will we find ways to be equal to the rose?”
The Greek poet Sappho asked a similar question in one of the fragments found of her poetry and it began:
“after so much giving I am exhausted.
where, my love, where are the roses for me?”
We, the reader, find so often that the poet, the writing, the poem itself asks where is there something in return for all I have given, and the poet must accept that what is of the poetic heart is not as it is for regular people except in time of reflection brought on by tragic or heroic events. For the Artist this question simply is a part of the lamented life where we wish the isolated life of the Arts were at times giving us a more social life just to be able to talk with others, to love others and to be free to enjoy conversations without boundaries. Yeah, the critical examination almost removes the delicacy of the poems intention in the first place:
“…
mais comment arriverait-on
a egaler une rose?”
“But when will we find ways to be equal to the rose?” and if we keep up this pretension of roses and tenderness will we then corrupt the angelic touch upon this moment? Right. There are those things written which just are as they exist in the poem, a moment felt and the fear of its being divided up and crushed under the pressure of cynics pen and paper.
Rilke poem Francais, #53
“On arrange et on compose
les mots de tant de focus,
mais comment arriverait-on
a egaler une rose?
Si on supporte l’étrange
prétention de ce jeu,
c’est que, parfois, un ange
le derange un peu.”
In English:
“We arrange and we compose
words in so many ways,
but when will we find ways
to be equal to the rose?
If we keep up the strange
pretension of this game,
it’s because at times an angel
deranges it a little.”

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THE US CONSTITUTION VS A NEO FASCIST HATE MONGERING ANTI JOURNALISM PRESIDENT


THE CONSTITUTION IS IN PLACE TO PROTECT US FROM NEO FASCIST POLITICIANS. WHAT DO WE DO NOW THAT WE DEFINITELY HAVE A VOLATILE, HATE SPEECH ENDORSING, DIVISIVE, OPENLY CALLS FOR VIOLENCE AGAINST JOURNALISTS AS OUR CURRENT PRESIDENT?

If anything I say and my stance as a hardcore American disturbs you then please remove me from your friends list and block me. Why? Because there is no discourse with such people. If there is no chance of a good argument, a good healthy exchange of ideas, if there is no open understanding that we do not vote party we are supposed to vote the candidate, but you are part of the reason why we have been forced to be red or blue or purple you MUST remove me and block. I do not want to hear a word from you because I will just block if you subscribe to Anti-American and Anti-Constitutional action then I am not your friend. I am your enemy.

Fat Money. You who throw your children into the fire so your wealth may multiply off of the backs of working Americans. You are what we were formed to fight against, not to be ruled by as subjects to your fat money tweets and your fat money god. I will not look up and say Yes to anything uttered for to do so would be an action of terrorism against America.

Well, the rewards of Neo fascist rants against journalists, newspapers, magazines, books, columns, writers has become worldwide. Our dictator wannabe congratulates senator on body slamming a reporter, he calls out to attack them, to beat them up, to “drag ’em out of here, do what you want, I don’t care”, and berates journalism every single day and this is beyond the pale of the definitions of dictatorships and fascist and the enemy of fascism, communist, present day Islamic states killing and jailing or jailing and killing or “interrogating and killing and accidentally sawing them up and bagging his parts in diplomatic bags” to carry out of a country, poisoning, beating to death, being easy targets as much as clergy and Red Cross are in Islamic wars, and President Trump endorses all of this.

Does he put Sanders in his sights? She is a reporter. What if she speaks her conscience and finally says it is all a lie? What will happen? He has pushed Americans into such a horrific corner of anti human rights that he is compromised on being able to speak the truth about killing Kohshuggi.

Other nations look to America for leadership and in two years this maniac has undone every single act Jimmy Carter as done in the name of aide, advice, watchdog efforts, long hours in cooperation with opposing parties in other nations, work for the poor and the people who have no home, no land, no country, Trump has destroyed, happily destroyed everything that is good about America and the righteousness of a democratic republic or parliamentary democracy. He is the enemy. There is zero excuse.

If one is silent in opposition to his insanity then they are complicit. IF you or an elected official is complicit in attacks on journalism then you are Neo fascist. In fact we ought to have a check list like the “you might be a redneck if…” and I was a lot of redneck on that checklist. But wake up and see what is happening in America and the world. Look at how language is used in ways to openly and to destroy on the sly every single thing that made this nation great.

Single party rule is not a democratic republic. There must be equality in order for there to be open discourse, discourse which leads to compromise and in the end give us knowledge and a just leadership. Aphorisms like GOP creates jobs and Democrats create mobs is article number 10 of ‘you might be a fascist if..” He makes capitalism look bad. Capitalism is good, but unfettered and as a body of our government then corporate capitalism is bad. President Trump gives Capitalism a bad name. If we were not capitalist we would not be American.

Be an American. Do not fall for the use of violent language and angry language which leads to mass hysteria and a fear of truth in the world, of Truth as Truth is, and the word ‘truth’ is not a plaything, it is the real. If the real disturbs you when the real pulls back the veil on hysterical speech, yet you accept the hysteria because if might cause trouble. Well, this is article “12 of you might be a fascist if…”

Does free thinking disturb you? Does questioning rhetoric and lies make you find reasons to support the lies, to join the lie even though you have directly experienced wrong doing by the government because of their lies? You might be a fascist.

If you think that presidential powers should stand above all and that the president cannot be held responsible for his actions. You ARE a fascist.

If you think there is nothing wrong with our being a Corporate Federalist nation with every elected official having the right to hide their tax reports, for the president to refuse to reveal his income tax report even though it is not required, we are given reason to question the overlap and anti-Constitutional use of power for self use; and this is done by Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump having clearance and offices in the White House doing business with Saudi Arabia, and that by relation America is in favor of slave labor and sex trafficking. Well you are a Fascist of the highest order.

If you feel the need to tell me I should be careful and not speak freely against what I know, what is fact, what is reality, what is displayed, what is demonstrated by action as being or is Anti-American, Anti-God, Anti-Constitution then you are a card carrying Fascist and probably have a photo of Mussolini with lipstick stains in your closet. You support dictatorships if you are a fascist. This word is used a lot but the definition is to have corporation over democracy period. Just let that part be the definition because I do not want to confuse anyone.
Corporation over the individual is fascism. Our elected officials must wear tags of who they represent. They do not represent America. We have been the United States of America because we have fought against fascism, communism and dictatorships from our formation until 2016.

Our President of the United States of America swore an oath upon the Bible to support the Constitution and to defend Americans against all enemies of Constitution from outside or within the nation. Should he put himself in prison and judge himself guilty of treason which is a capital offense? Since President Donald Trump endorses beating up, body slamming and violence against journalists and news reporters does that mean he should or we should beat up and do bodily harm to his minister of information Sanders? She is a news reporter, she is an editorial journalist. Does this mean she is now open game in the Trump era of anti-American justice and terrorist actions against the Constitution and the the American people?
If our President has such hatred for the majority of American people is he the right person for the job? If he represents his own interests and those of corporations over that of “we the people” then he….is…..a…..Fascist Dictator wanna be or dictator in making or is made. He hates us. He uses the White House for a multi million dollar personal business through his children and in laws who have offices in the White House. He has defiled American. He is corrupt. His soul is corrupt. He is the definition of actions for impeachment.

You might be a fascist if…..

If you respond to this and use the words snowflake, crazed mob, dangerous, beware, honor our glorious leader, well any kind of name calling because I probably am what you want me to be. I am a Social Democrat. Take that. Get out of my country. America is anti-fascist. So leave. I am telling those who support presidential powers and support corporation over the people then leave now. Buy your one way ticket and go to Angola or Congo, go to Moscow, go to Serbia, just go, leave, let Americans have America back so we can be a great nation. Yes, I am speaking intolerance.

I have been made intolerant. I used to love good discourse and debate but the meaning of debate has been erased. Erase yourself from the USA. The recent actions of our government against me has shut the book on understanding and trying to find a middle way. Neo fascism allows no middle way. But boy howdy! do they ever love snake handling pentecost mocking Bible destroying evangelical anti-christianity. Yum yum eat ’em up and just keep on swimming, go, go now! You are killing the last embers in the heart of love and the heart of our nation.

Morality in the Neo Fascist Anti-Constitution American Dictatorship


AS WE BECOME SUBJECT TO NEO FASCIST AMERICA WITH ENTIRELY NEW RULES OF ANTI-ETHICS AND ANTI-CONSTITUTION AND ANTI-GOD, ANTI-MORALITY, CAN I BE A MAN OF FAITH AND CONTEMPLATION, OF HOPE AND LOVE, AND STILL BE AN AMERICAN?

This is one of those things I will delete or hide from timeline in this day or next. After enough writing and thought I ought to reach a satisfactory point of exploring this in a lighter and even deeper content of my soul. If I do maybe I can speak more wisely on the subject, but as things go this is a form of revolutionary thought and action. Point at me and tell your children do not be like him.

Any pronoun can be used, be it I, me, you, her, him, she, he, it, us, them, one or ours, is perfectly applicable to what I write. This Is not just about “I” or “me”. This is an important point as key in an introduction: any pronoun can be used and I use the “I” as a means of expression that makes it more easily understood.

I do wish some kind of comment, but expect none. If there is one who is in search, who finds the life the saints both East and West. Who considers the lectures of the 5th and 11th Buddhas, and importantly the songs of Milarepa as well as the books of the Law, of the Prophets and the Apostles, then you are one with whom I am search of commerce, commerce being a wealth of mind, the exchange of words and life, of actions and meditation which looks and asks ‘how can I become a better person?’

Many times I have sinned against my soul by impatience. I meditate and sing to God as I exercise and lean towards gathering energy and wisdom of the cosmos as a way of helping with my tendency towards impatience when faced with corruption and injustice. Yes, I am flawed. I asked “what is patience?” Then I ask “what is the culmination of events which leads me to be impatient?” What goes beyond our desires and becomes a phantom, a being without shadow or definition? How can I go beyond the many folding veils of deceit and lie in order to feel safe in country and safe in mind?

Must I defy the words of Christ and of the Prophets and give into the current great Lie? Must I give up my beliefs, my ongoing understanding of how to unite Catholicism and Mahayana Buddhism in such a manner that the way of Peace, of Love, of Hope, Of Fatih, Of Compassion is corrupted by hate and misunderstanding?

Must I go against all that I believe and strive to communicate as this great Hope and Faith in the Godhead is daily faced with an American government which commands we go against Fatih and peace, and place hatred and violence in its place? Must I LIE to be a follower of the Trump doctrine of hate and violence, must I beat up journalists and reporters, must I condone slave labor and sex trafficking in order to get along with nations that do?
Must I be silent and just go along?

Thomas Merton, for whom I believe is in Gods grace and died being brought to Him as part of the heavenly host, was martyred by bad electricity while meeting with Buddhist leaders to discuss the ways of likeness, of how the philosophy of life to over come desires and free ourselves of suffering, who was anxious to demonstrate through action and writing that the Mahayana and Catholic Christian, Scripture, are more alike than they are unlike. The salvation does come through the sacrifice and the blood and water of the Crucified Son of God, and we do reach towards the commands of action and faith. I can read and meditate on God and the supernatural nature of Christ to the end of my days without becoming closer to God because of my isolation. I can meditate and think through the 8 Fold Path and the way as taught in the Sermon on the Mount which we know as being the deliverance of the Beatitudes to the world. This was revolutionary. It remains to be revolutionary.

If I am to live I Imitation of Christ I must keep changing how and what I do and think. I am always pulled back into the path either by reading the essays of our Popes and Saints, and blessed writers such as Scott Hahn and Thomas a Kempis. The Agony in the Garden is eloquently explored and detailed by Cardinal Ratzinger in such language that you can feel his hand guided by Archangel Gabriel and his love by Archangel Raphael in his magnificent and lush with holiness and grace book “Behold The Pierced One”. You cannot read this book without being changed.

The same but in different manner of composition and direct speech is found in the pamphlet by beloved and so meaningful to me, Saint Padre Pio of incorruptible body 62 years after his return to the house of the Heaven, “Agony In The Garden”. It is maybe 10 pages but in meaning is as long as my life. I read each in time connected and keep going back to read passages when I am afraid and lost.

In “Does It Matter”, a book on our relation to materiality by Alan Watts his five page chapter “Planting Seeds and Gathering Fruit” The quality of change and of surrendering to a divine Will is the fertile seed becoming fruiting tree and sustaining life even when the winds of humanity and mutability to the earth is greater than we can take, then we must give in, we must plead mercy, that we are so small, we are but a speck in the tail of a comet yet we must learn and find wisdom to pass on to others so that our mistakes do not become their mistakes, and that the good and holy we have learned becomes a part of the lives of others who are wanderers and searchers towards becoming better in soul, mind and actions. If we are not striving we are not bringing to fruition the teachings of those greater than ever we could hope to be, so we take the teachings and are always in a state of becoming.

At times it hurts, it hurts deeply as I kneel before the Eucharist and am immobilized. It has felt as if St. Augustine is holding me down in place until I understand why and how my sins brought me to this place. I am held until I am given the slightest understand such that I may write and speak in a manner that best embraces the Light and the Truth of Being. I am always being towards. I wish I could be otherwise. My desires are at times mightier than my will, but I do not always, in fact rarely, act on desires that are in opposition to the great Teacher and Teachers of mind, morality, ethics and God, the Godhead, the collective consciousness of the world. When I see evil take over our nation as if gobbled up by Mammon and the words of our government are crumbs dropped by sloppiness of the evil one, of the army of Mara, the Whispers of Lucifer. I speak of this in the manner of a country blues guy from the 30s and 40s.

I wish I was eloquent enough to communicate the teachings and how we may apply ourselves in this early 21st century. I am such an easy target because I think so much on the page and wish for someone wiser or as curious and in love with God and the teachings of our great teachers East and West. So I write essays hoping for communication or that I may reach a conclusion in which I find myself in the way of the Holy. It is so easy to look at me and my life and call me a disgrace and shameful. I understand this will to power by denigrating me to a lowest caste in the American caste system. It is so easy to make fun of me because I speak openly of my experience and crazy actions. I say if it makes you feel better about yourself then please do so. Please repeat, please chant the darkest moments of my life as if a spell to lower me down for an easy kill and to make yourself feel better by being so powerful as to crush a man when he at his lowest point. Well done. But do not add self reflection to ones action, do not seek self actualization because by crushing one who is a searcher, who wishes only the love of God, and to be devoted to becoming a better man, then do not look into the mirror for you will se only the face of the devil, the face of evil.

Can I be an American and a man of Peace and Faith?

Response to Question: “What is the Meaning of Life?”


This is a lengthy academic essay in response to the question or statement: What is the MEANING ot life? My first is to say through imitation of Christ; then I considered world religions I had also studied. I walked in the woods and sat by the pond down from my house and just watched. I later read through, get this, three sets of encyclopedias when this was knowledge hunt not dyadic hunts through an irrational yet fully rational set up access to knowledge. It just took time to absorb. Free yourself. Stop. Your Meaning of Life is the meaning of life. Want a universal? GOD. Godhead. A thousand names of God leading to the Trinity or one God. Break apart all you have learned and put it back together again, and I mean tear your mind and emotions, your desires and subject of your desires, solace in silent mind but beware the temptation of the veils you cannot clear away, they will appear, and move forward through them, stop and I mean do not Question an absurdity such and the meaning of life. whistle back to a mockingbird at 3am. Dig peace and find substance in what it is that interests you. Stop copying and pasting nonsense. There are badly framed questions when we are not asking from No mind. East and West, as is pointed out in a famous Tennyson poem “I saw a flower in a wall, I plucked and wept” compared to “see the bodhi tree. see the earth. Breath. I touch the earth.” The students to Gautama waited, hushed, as they had learned to silence the racket of their inner voice always offering jabber and otherness not nowness, so they waited. Gautama said simple nothing. He placed his finger upon the ground, thus without words expressed the cycle of life and death and rebirth until we found out way to enlightenment and suffered no more the crushing Shouts of Mara to create a scatterbrained mass of a. world who were and are unable to Be. Be Love Now, and sink you’re cut and past pasteboard concepts of What is the meaning of Life or Is knowledge power. This moves us into post structuralism and the miasma of searching for meaning in secondary and tertiary definitions in order a simple act of peace. Hermeneutics is for Biblical studies and finding the many meanings within poetics. Speaking of poetics we can go Zen for a Monet moment and say: I see the lotus floating by, the river flows and the waters rest, I let them be. Why let them be? Why to encourage cause and effect as expressed in the expense of water and plants so that the seed may mature and drop or be eaten by a bird and pooped upon fertile places. Let things be and yet also know when those things must be messed with as in organic farming, you have to protect your garden without dousing it with chemicals. Chemicals are that noise in the brain preventing the blessed and yearned for to become something that occurs throughout our meditations and being now and new in each month without being stupid. To let it be with the outcome being stupidity or wiping away what we have learned through counting breaths, chanting blessed mantras, listening to the sound of holy bowls hum and ting, bong and still keep that lower D hum and hum as it is the sound df the spheres holding us all together. The meaning of life is that we do not destroy life by overthinking it to the point that it is rendered infertile. As the great molder of mind and thought Alan Watts said, we must sometimes be cloud hidden known only by our presence in the clouds. Being. The miracle is not birth. The miracle is that we live. We did a great job destroying this magnificent earth with our end set to 2030. What will one do? I seek deeper meditation, I want to read more and more new translations of the Buddha talks and his students discussing while the 500 gathered in a a cave and developed a way, the way of Buddhism divided into Theravada, Mahayana and Zen. Most do end up in Zen land. Too much Zen in the wrong minds brings us the WWII in the Pacific. The rape of Korea, Taiwan, Southeast Asia down the peninsula to Singapore and over into the vast islands of Indonesia an dup into the Philippines. There is a limit to the meaning of life when that meaning becomes a subject object reaction of dominance and destruction of personhood, the individual. We must look upon our modern age, what is left of it. Consider the mocking bird at 3 am. Watch an osprey hunt. Watch tomatoes and broccoli blossom and fertilize the earth while you gather what is needed to eat. Tonight the meaning of my life is lotus, rose buds, tulsi leaves and honey. I will sleep and dream of conversations with my heroes, those whose life and words I place upon my pedestal of life.that place at the head of the table or not even at the table but with me in my thoughts, guiding me, being that voice of consciousness to be aware in each moment. as much as I wish.My truths of my wild life get friends in trouble by their friends or employers who bring it up of how can they be trusted if they are friends with me. I said send them to me. My life is to teach and show ways into doors where those doors ought not to be. Bu they are there, and those doors are also called layers of an onion or the many veils of mind and world keeping us from what is. What is it that keeps us from what is? Preconceptions, that formidable but hard to move aside, enemy to our evolving into the dust from which we emerged after a few 100,000 years from two legged mammals to the destructive enemies to ALL life we have become. I cannot lie. I want to lie. To lie is to fail in the 8 fold path. I often fail in the 8 fold path. I want to blame it upon others, but it is me. It is me conjuring spirts when those spirits either become as good people or must beg exorcised as if a Taoist monk were dividing women from power and pushing men into play acting games such as Will to Power derived from is Power Knowledge or is Knowledge Power. Why, dear one, why create what does not require creation yet does require obliteration. We must Rise. We must act up. We must be breakers of rules. Do not the me to extremes on breaking of curls. What my words mean is that we must, we ought to break the rules the ensnare us in silly questions which remove our thoughts from what is most important for the body and soul. I want this to be my last cycle of life and death but I have no idea if I will make it. Meditation is not a means to an end, nor is the end to any means. Meditation and yogi physical practice, in my case the Kundalini, and for many Hatha, and for many more just to site 20 minutes with sandalwood Inscense burning and counting breaths going back to 0 each tie a new thought holler thought the room of breathing and gentle should seeking forgiveness and to make us the dessert. Writing is meditation for me in many ways because I am emptying my mind of clutter, even if it is as beautiful poem I have ever published, a great book, columns in food and world cuisine, philosophical papers or just to write, to follow Yeats and let the pen do my speaking while my mind is silenced. Amazing things take place on the page. But the meaning of life never does anything at all. It is a wind into and through me. Dust spirals, dust cones through sunlight in my dawn windows before this now tropical Georgia lights up with death dealing heat. Watching and listening as new pines collapsing takes place. This roar and burst that in every aspect is an attack upon the order of things. I am that thing. I am the pine falling. I argued with devoted Hare Krishnas once about this One-ness that Westerners learn to find and flee the crowd so as to think and meditate on this world we have set about to kill us off. Life will go on. Waters will flow and oceans will again rise to cover the High Desert to the desperate for attention hills of Texas going down Kings Hiway and just going down in a David Lynch movie night made real by my being in the right place in the right time. I respect the words of Gautama, I chant the Amithaba chant to life as I hold power that many a time ha me cussing out the power to shut up already. Then I know I need to hum and vibrations to take a little longer. When I have been hit in the face with a bottle or knives pulled on me in attempts to destroy me I fight back hard. I usher up the years on a Judo competition team in college and am able to disarm and flatten an of pent in th time it takes to say “hey man, I need something, come here….” I see the pocket bulge. Action saves my life. Knives out and ready to take me down for looking like an easy attack because I tired after 15 hours work nonstop as an Executive Chef with 3 degrees and a minor, paying my way though University and M. A. by work. I put my hands to work so that I could quiet the childish squeaks and cries actin on behalf of my soul; to move far from the path. Many paths to One God. I come back to the path not of extremes but of acceptance of my journey. Knowing each precognition is to be followed, and if it feels like success in business is occurring hen I am at ease for my actions have brought happiness to people who need a smile and a Mel unknot. I love. We must Love. We must love now as when nature takes us down I want to go with the word ‘Love’ upon my lips. 35 years meditation and visits to monasteries of Zen, Mahayana and of Theravada, even into forbidden waters and woods. My M.A. was in Philosophy of Hope and Expectation, the references were to the great monk philosophy of Ludwig Wittgenstein. He leads as Alan Watts did lead, and even had one philosophy which changed 20th century academic thought with his discourse on cause and effect or symbolic logic. He then spent the next 30 years arguing against the thought of his youth. Philosophy of Psychology and Psychoanalysis. B. A. Modern American Literature, B.A. Philosophy of Religion with a minor in Humanistic Psychology; these titles are meaningless alone, but as part of an intellectual and spiritual passage through the sunlit Bardo I am given language and was taught to think. You know how hard it is to learn to think? Watts and his gang of enlightened rogues changed how the think today in academic and spiritual circles. There are those who will defunct him and Fritz Pearl for being hedonistic when it comes around to sex and sexuality. I see no wrong it in because they wanted to Live! To Be. To seek. To silence the twisting of thought before offered up for debate and discourse. The meaning of life is the moment of silencing the mind, what comes after is up to the student. Please free your mind of these trappings of fuzzy mind, which leads to a corrupted soul Interact with love and attention to the flow of needs for those around you. Be empathic and compassionate. Do not distance yourself, be in the moment and the vibrations and eventual flow of things in this ‘great chain of being’ which we seek to break yet to break without harm to others and basically with attention awakening our own soul in return. We are here because we Seek, but we do not seek aphorism veiled in plaster board statements or versed in the interrogative. Now, I still think the meaning of life is to laugh and to spread love, humanity, justice, right thought, vision and action. Do not be victim to the whispers of darkness. The meaning of life is to be here now. I was at a Ram Dass lecture where he talked on and on from his journey, an amazing journey rising and mellowing out like focaccia built with starter fought from the 1970s, he talked for so long people just started to leave. I at my spot. My place before the great yogi. Eventually he ceased and it was close to 4 hours. I was awakened before him. I spoke with Rolling Thunder when was in health enough to travel to universities and speak to us in our positions as part of the listening life of this world. We met in private in the woods and he spoke with those holdouts who just wanted to hold his hands, look into his eyes and way. My question? How can I become a better man. His answer: Never to be spoken as it was a private meeting with an enlightened warrior for place and soul, here and No mind. Parliament Funkadelic: Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow. I think that sums it up well. I know there will be opposing and hopefully well thought out debate or a new view into what has been a new view into Life, while understanding cause and effect. Please read as many of the Books of Alan Watts as you can, his autobiography is a Joseph Campbell directed to speak of what he wished and had thought he did but once it hit the typewriter hammer and rod into the a coherence we gladly understand to day that the Books of Alan Watts were explorations of his own thought at the time. As a poet, author, restauranteur and Executive lucky enough to afford University and Masters Studies. The treasures offered and shared with me along eh way are without measuring and without the sentence “what is the meaning of life” or “does life have a meaning:, set after “The truth is not the truth” by Rudolph Guilliani, who had his minutes of fame come and go many years in revers, and to please keep him off the air Is it not enough that we caught in the side winds of a hurricane the like so which destroyed the Panhandle, parts of Alabama, and nonsense what was this Buffon shouting in imitation of Mussolini not in Imitation of Gautama Buddha or Imitation of Christ, both of his are overrunning with knowledge, wisdom and eternal confessions, answers and the Will itself unveiled and standing cleansed, just turn off the tweets. Change channels or do not listen until we are resolved. I see the flower and admire its isolate gorgeous existence where none ought to grow, then I smelled the flower without touching it. I was absorbed by the flower and dared, dared not to be sought or move this Sweet William away from the packet of soil, yet not moving it in distance from itself bty into one of my yard areas devoted to Sweet William with other Sweet William, being wild flowers and rye grass ,it was an easy and short move. Good on ya flowers!and then came the bones, the deaths of loved, the loss of beloved; but admit I did. I meditated upon this flower out of place (it was where it ought ot have been) a while it appeared as living and breathing as I in that extended moment. This king of snakes was my protector as I later was deceived he would have passed away from loneliness t. Who am I to take what is not mine to take? I was a hunter and avid fly fisherman not using barbed hooks because I was able to release them in the nicest fashion without disturbing its life beyond our moment. I rarely hunt or fish anymore. I walk my beautiful old gal dog, Daisy. I sing to her. I joyfully and without worry sing to my dog as we go out for her several walks per day. Doing so I find the meaning of my life becoming another sublime way o being both love and now in the same breath. This is a prime example of being in the right place, doing the right thing, right thought, right protection and bringing happiness to boxer rescue. The meaning of life This is where we find our self in the moment Now. I beg you all who read this to forgive me and understand I am thinking on the page, seeking my self and if that self is an illusion, is a veil thrown down by upon me by my actions on the page. Sing out! Laugh! Dig a garden and flower them before planting. Best vegetables come from placing a seed or baby plant on top of a lake fish such as bluegill bream, crappie, cod chopped up, the seed and planting will grow strong and delicious. This is the mind, the soul and eventually the spiritual dasein of the flower or vegetable will be realized and nourish out bodies.. Dasein fits in to the philosophy of compassion in cause and effect, the animal and I spoke with our eyes and body muscle flexing, please consider Dasein as the collective consciousness. This is the meaning of a life born of dirt, fertilizer by the fish, warmth and will teach you therapeutic faith. I wish I could have presented this in paragraphs so the coherence would be more evident. In all humility I present my discourse on “the meaning of life” in complete sincerity and hope to learn. I cannot or will not move beyond hope and expectation as long as I allow their emanation from my soul and body on a daily basis. Hence Meditation and reading of the Vedas so that they are prepared, knowing ones religion and path I am able to help their thistle lined walk to what I is called “Home”. I have had it. I cannot live without it, but I felt such a need for contrition and repentance that I was dead for the Eternal light which called out to me, instead I drowned my self in drugs and alcohol. I was cleansed. I looked around and knew in that moment now, that I was changed for the better. Enlightenment is not forever if we become lazy. I know. I also know the seeking for the meaning of life is impossible to answer. Ask word from the Vedas, the Myths which were religions not myth at all, we find our way to the great and horny, wise and well learn’ed Teacher, our Yogi, Alan Watts. My wisdom derived from his essays and his own writing to find himself. I wish I knew the “meaning of lie” as precedent for in the rising in this moment I would die and be reborn, or dancing with the sofa a meaning to life of the Buddhas, dancing found on the 3rd level of Heaven known as Pure Land Heaven as described b the 11th Buddha, Amithaba. for the newcomer. OK. I beg your space, time and intelligence cycle in patience as I think on the page I am tired. I am the clay eyed sent down man. The night absorbs me in its mystery and I cling to this ever-student incarnation. As an acolyte to the Gautama and to the Holy 500 Buddhas who gathered in a cave the day after He demised and left his body as we do today for our farewell, and that choking feeling released and new air is beloved to our flash, and sudden tears of love fall, the Heavenly Host fell to help them rise above our evils. And then I died with Him, our Catholic Christian God, the Enlightened One, as I lived with Ateachings of Guan Shin Yi,

What Is This Land?


What is This Our Land Becomes
What is this where I have tumbled
What is this where I have been denied
What is this my life and labor
This thing that was my heart and love
What is this where waters flowed
And now rubber tubes clog and litter
What is this I looked upon and adored
Only to find it eaten and destroyed
What is this my work left behind me
So undone unfinished desired and waiting
What is this I tried so hard and found
Dead in the leaves of the gutters above
What is this knowledge denied and rotting
That for thousands of years was designed for now
I held my hand to feel the rough edges
Gone now are my knife calluses soft
And cumbersome where once they raged
What is this when I walk alone unafraid
And still in search for a challenge
Who are you in my garden today
You who would rise up to snatch my life away
What is this I believed for so long
My love of faith spat upon by of course the faithful
Where are you when I speak of my love
Who am I when desire and the sexual
Are fed to the dogs waiting outside the door
And so I know what this is when life rests
And says no more so I accept who I am
See this flesh wilting from my bones
There is little else to smell but rose and jasmine tea
The smell of cigarettes makes me want to vomit
I cannot stand the stench of tobacco and addiction
Long freed from needs of drunkenness and the wild
I was still looked upon as if sparks would
Fly from my fingers and all around bursts in flame
What is this I have called my family who scowls
When I know just how they see me
Wishing I was no longer a man better dust
And a marker with just my name
A thing to be forgotten left lame and rotting

Poem: Material Essence


 

 

 

 

 

MATERIAL ESSENCE

A Pot left sitting in the grass
On the roadside
A four lane intersection
Lights and roars,
Talks and shrieks,
All things being what they are
The Pot sat silent
Till one day it grew
Two legs
Stood and walked away
To another place
Being a pot it needed to be used
So it found a home
All filled with dirt and tomato seeds
It became itself
Finally
The absence of being long gone
And far away

Prose Poem: Look Me In the Eyes Judge Me & A Part Of You Not Me Dies


I said I don’t know how it is happening, this rolling through hidden, painful diseases, migraines unfolding over the years suddenly, calmly, admiring the sun casting shadows over the horizon edge into the elms, oak, maple and yellow pine, thinking this is beautiful, this is sparkling and bending into a kaleidoscope with Isaiah steaming and proclaims He shall not be broken…

Darkness. I don’t know. I was sipping orange blossom tipped water and then I awoke in a bundle, water all over me, time what time? There was no marker beginning and ending.

I looked at my right leg, my leg, knee down and around my arch and ankle back up again in splotches of gorgeous purple and saffron bruises.

I stare. I cannot stand. My entire body was stretched and beaten, reformed and disassociated. It was a seizure. I was terrified. Five more in a few weeks. So I told my neurologist. I was afraid to speak. But I did. Thus began two years of barbaric tests and medicines. Time to time they still return, shadows pulling me to a cavern Of night. A cavern Of bright souls singing from Psalms and sometimes chants, songs of Milarepa as I swim through the Bardo and again awaken. My lip swollen, tongue bleeding, I know where I had give and reflection makes it a whirring set of waves of fear. Few things are stranger than never knowing when they will emerge. Seizures. Meds no meds many meds new meds murderous meds then meds work ok looks good let’s cut back What? Ok so I do and click Jello legs and hello floor. Scratches. Bruises. Gazing into the wooden floor and hoping here nothing was broken. Deal with it. Give warnings when Lyme’s takes new forms old forms beware stay back it strikes do not touch me the muscles more powerful than the steroids they were injecting. Life. Deal with it. I said Doctor, the only thing that really worked without burnt bay leaves and thyme in my mouth without side effects killing me or making me wish it would was medical marijuana. Thank you, Georgia. Lack of legislation for medical for Lyme’s and all the disorder leaves me tsk tsk tell me no drama so fuck off it hurts keep personal effects out of my definition. Through cancer through the many legged Lyme’s nerve damage disc disorder white blood cells contour and dominate into another gate of hell and idiots try to place blame on divorce and I cease speaking into that void. I lived. St Padre Pio St Raphael St Patrick and the 8 fold path. And so as Lyme’s rises as it does now stay on track understand that all this pain is not a choice.

So I laugh find a way Rise. This is Lyme’s. A strangers sneeze could kill me. So benefits are cut and SNAP goes down to $15 a month I ask do I starve or face the hydra headed threats of death in my veins and dna. It does not matter between Medicare and the state I wonder who will pay for my ashes. Look me in the eyes and say you understand That is all I want Just understand.

SONG ABOVE THE CAVE OF MILAREPA (2nd draft line changes)


Meditation Song Above the Cave of Milarepa
A darkness upon your soul rises.
There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises.
There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return 
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
The first with rotted scalp and beautiful face says his
prayers and meditations
are folly.
The first with rotted mind and fallen face says his prayers
are all wasted
and drawn from lies.
The first with love for the Great Deceiver tells me my prayers
could be turned to ways of disordered mind and deceit.
I say no.
Leave me or listen. You have the choice. 
Listen. 
Demon flesh is not sexuality.
It is destruction of self.
God gives us compassion I say. I can only wish they find
the 
path that leads to God and frees them from this demon flesh.
God gives us compassion I say. I can only wish the find the
path that leads to God and frees them from this demon flesh.
God gives me compassion I say. I can only wish you find
the 
path that leads to God and frees you from this demon flesh.
Love, I say.
When is it not enough? We must Love. 
God does not waste his love, he maintains
and holds strong for 
any who come to him, who contemplate upon
the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains
and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for 
any who come
to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
 God does not waste his love,
he maintains and holds strong for 
any who come to him, who contemplate upon
the Sacrifice.
Choice. We are given Love. But evil rules our land.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred, 
here stand the enemy
and the will to love is yet even stronger…
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy
and the will to love is yet even stronger.
  Evil fucking evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
I know who lies.
I know who lies. What names you choose is up to you.
I know who lies. Our dharma is our choice we build upon….
I know who lies.
All that is solid melts. I pray my eternal soul 
melts and flows endlessly flowing
in and out of Life’s plan.
I know who lies.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul and only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soil, only of ends…
never the continuation
of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul, only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
In all our oceans
and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we
.
In all ahr’ oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts,
many die, as will we.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes 
and adapts, many die, as will we.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to       them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
It does.
It does matter.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect…
It does matter
for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith
.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper
into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do 
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do 
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover…
I know. I must repeat. I must chant.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know, I, it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word…
I know you.
I repeat because I see you. 
I was you. I destroyed that “I”.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm…
I know your lies.
They are known. Leave me dark spirits.
Many paths. One God.
Shut up you gossips and fools!
Giving over to the home of Siddhartha, hammered singing bowls
Of seven holy metals that ring then vibrate me in to sleep and Awake!
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who 
makes it possible to love my friends and family.
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible to love my friends and family.
I sleep on the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through        me,
I love you my friends, to love God who 
makes it possible we love friends and family…
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch
my aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my
 aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my 
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats…
I see the growing thunderheads,
heat lightening…..strikes.
Oh, I stretch because I see so much beauty, so to love,
 so to thwart the minds
who think to fight for life is sadness,
 but that is to have it wrong, so terribly wrong,
we live to live,
 to strike back demon Mara’s devils and those gone to fight Ezekiel,
for beauty is daily and daily reward we live as grace as eternal.
 To strike back Mara’s grinning evil and risen dark angels, do it!
New paths for beauty and skies seen like ocean tides as wind.
Each path begins from suffering and evil, and each path ends
 when skies are sky
and beauty becomes us; not as struggle town
but as gift, each path begins where Life has suffered, yet pure
heart and pure intention is not enough to paint sunsets orange.
Never stop, always never ever stop, for if we do then it has ended,
and with ends come dreams of was, when what we need are times
of is
and then
the works of yet to be. I could say, to the glory of God
I cannot help it,
this compassion I love. I beg, in your own wisdom
to understand we must scare the demons away as Milarepa sang,
to enchant the devils as Ezekiel fought that they die this very day . . .
And yeah, that’s it . . . yeah, that’s it.
(and this crew for conversations with my beloved friends,  the table I dream of as last meal and conversation because you all inspire me. My dream of life. They each wish to be unknown but here no links condemn them to me for my wanderers life.)

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Eclipsed Words

Aspire To Inspire

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

𝓡. 𝓐. 𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚒𝚐! 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel Gutiér

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Eclipsed Words

Aspire To Inspire

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

𝓡. 𝓐. 𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚒𝚐! 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel Gutiér

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Eclipsed Words

Aspire To Inspire

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

𝓡. 𝓐. 𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚒𝚐! 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel Gutiér

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

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