The Ugly Nymphomaniac

Book on the shelf of my mind, it knows, that I was the one who put it there, it needs no accompaniment and it knows that I will be there with it sometime, and its December and there is great mercy in the skies, in this apparent wintertime, and I discarded many clothes today, and I walked out, as I thought, even to the day, wondering about the ugly nymphomaniac, and where she might take her feelings to.

Children

Evil in the good, in the religion of Jesus, when the adherents don't adhere, and I wonder if they further question, or is the belief that they have sufficient to keep them comfortable and stable in the basic belief? And flowers cry for the little children, when they have been betrayed, and the priests are no longer priests, but thieves of the innocents, and in their hearts, they must encounter the truth of themselves, their lives have become statements, aggressive to reason and kindness and to the love and respect of the child. They walk in a selfish direction and every step that they take is contrary to the words of their speech, and the world spectates, sees the actions, condemns, and asks for answers, for it cannot understand how good can turn to bad, there is now ugliness in the face of beauty, but as Socrates once said, 'Beauty is Greatness' and the real of beauty, will assert itself and be free, and will be victorious.

Giving and Taking

To give is to receive, but to be asked to give, is invasive, it can be covetous and a threat to the independence of your freedom, and a slight on your generosity, your goodwill. There are those who wish to give, as there are those, who's only wish is to take, and to be subsumed is to surrender, be overwhelmed, allow for your own defeat. And there are people who will assault you, when they see what, what they pinpoint is your weakness, but this perceived weakness, that they may see in you, is just an attack on your beauty, the goodness of your heart, so hang close to your heart, and allow yourself, your personal freedom, and take care of yourself.

Fools

Fools have volume in their speech, and they will try to dictate, not knowing nor understanding, nor taking the time to try to understand, they know things that they do not know, and they can be invasive and provocative, and they will seek to overwhelm, when they feel intimidation from a person that they don't understand, and I don't think that silence is emptiness now, nor yet passive, just the way to deal with fools.

Reflection of the Sky

Indifinitive sky, changing like my perception, wondering what you really are, and which one of you is the truth of you, and then, I am a reflection of that same sky, and I think, am I any more certain about myself?

Awakening

Your body like an altar, where you yourself worship, on behalf of your collection of men, I remember that I stood to the side, listening to your expression, when I was lost in personal poverty, wonder how you eventually dealt with your duplicity, and to the world there was beauty, and then I discovered, that this so called beauty was deception and lied with your lies, and your version of events betrayed the truth of heart, and then I guess, at a point, you would have to stand alone and watch the film of yourself, and from an innocent sky, tears fell, and when they had subsided, there was still the tang of tears, and there was no touch, no, something to behold, no love, and no reason why, and in the innocent sky invaded darkness, and you walked on your indifferent way, leaving the pretence in your wake, walking toward your personal truth, to your reality, when I had been obliterated, and I wonder where it was, that you went.

On Not Understanding

Good and gentle spirit enveloping, rising to a positive moment, already there is successfulness, there is oneness in the day, and it seems to care, offer affection, and now I don't want to search and understand reasons why, just want to be still and silent and receptive, and return the affection that I perceived as I arose, and I can do that in spirit, and shine on the day like I feel that it has shone on me, and the day has its faces and its voices and its motion, it does in fact, have life, and the living, and the day is the world within the day, and the world within the day is everything that I can see, and everyone I can see, and everyone that I can connect with, and those same well trodden streets have a sense of newness to me today, and I have no words to say, I just want to listen to the sound, translate it into feeling, into the warmth that it has already given to me, and then I am back at the beginning, and my only attempt at understanding, has been through feeling, and through this feeling, I didn't even attempt to understand.

Dream

Rain falls from the sun in you eyes, and ambiguity leads one from truth, from oneness, and now there is uncertainty, and truth is a bird in the sky, circling endlessly, seeking the comfort of the tree at times, away from the storm, free from trouble, and this moment of the day wishes to escape, to a simple place, perhaps of an abandoned memory, now coming into focus, and there is a new moment, naked in itself, and looking for accompaniment, and the eyes are empty in indifference, and the mind is taciturn, in a neutral place, there is no knowing, and there is the mystery between the present and the past, with a question mark staring at your face, and your face refers to its eyes, absolving itself from responsibility, and you look for truth, perhaps from the memory of the dream that you dreamed last night, and the memory of the night, is but a dream also, and there is darkness in the eyes, in their search for discovery, and then the moon begins to moan, clouding truth, and truth, lies within, waiting to be expressed, and it gazes into its mirror of doubt, and the mirror looks back at truth, with a question that only truth can answer.

The Minister

She gives life to the bellringer, and her mind is free from her occupation, some say she is fake, while others let her speak for them, she is the God to them, of Sunday morning, and I have felt the kiss of her mouth and the touch of her breasts, yet, her love is for the man, Jesus, and she preaches her belief in him, and she will not let him go, not like, she let me go, like I have let her go, eye to eye and soul to soul, and body to body, and love to love, and severence, and departure, and the present and the past, and remembering.

That Masonic all seeing eye, may just rest in the shadows, neither in the third degree or the thirty-third, and then the kaleidescope continues in its whirling motion, and it journeys to peaceful places of soul and understanding, where you might feel that you belong, away from trappings of whatever society, and dreams hang on the edge of personal reality, and former relationships explode into some kind of hatred, and they are aside from understanding, and their feeling is confused, and extraneous to what once was, and in the evening, without any kind of touch, there is the suggestion, that makes you turn from the present place, perhaps to the wall, and there you are, clinging to the wall, lost to yourself, in a hopeless place, and then you study who exactly it is, that you are, and you are in motion, and the past enters the present time, and your life appears to be in oneness.

Awesome

The only thing that is awesome, is the beauty in life, when it enfolds you with its magic, to your fond embrace.