Within Rhythms of the Tide

my words gave you more confusion to your noisy mind,
scattered feathers floating never quite landed inside
oh how I wish I could silence all my speaking sounds
I’d have shown you how quiet clouds take to swimming
in clear blue skies the waters rushing roaring lullabies
flood my mind calming the blood-red rivers of my heart
your body floating, your eyes upon moon’s wax and waning
heart still beating sending waves up and down your spine
feeling our bodies in love within rhythms of this wild tide

Dare to Dissolve (In the Storm)

behold is the storm that mustered power long ago
men and women thrashing limbs into those winds
lightning dashing down the arms of their ravings
how quickly they’d learn thunder must meet thunder
fire versus fire as universe twisting world entire

and so heroes were born during those ancient times
to forge the paths of Hell and to Heaven back again
channeling the light that bleeds from devils’ hearts
mixing with their blood upon the stained sacred parts
to transform their fears into what dreams are made of

why, you wonder, would a god create such a difficulty?
but gods were born against all the odds of wickedness
to shatter their hearts not to die but to truly live
for birthing is a blessed agony that creates a legacy
the majesty of every rose emerges amongst the thorns

we have forgotten all of this in our skyscraper walls
in comforts and sweets we protect our suckled souls
hearts inside bars of steel and iron mothers’ kisses
lest we fall, to break and forget how cowards listen
and so we remain here, unmoved purposeless despaired.

behold is the storm that mustered power long ago,
I sing for those who dare to surf the winds of air
for as heroes they will dare to dissolve from within
as sure as the winter melts for new springtime singing
joy cannot arrive except by our momentary dying glorious
darkness broken with the dawn of who we are becoming

The Will and the Ego

Straightway, a forgetting wind
Stole over the celestial kind,
And their lips the secret kept,
If in ashes the fire-seed slept.
But now and then, truth-speaking things
Shamed the angels’ veiling wings;

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Uriel

The television, computer, or the media in general are externalized dreams to be delivered to mass consciousness. As consumers, we reflect and recreate these symbols and paradigms given to us. Our own dreams become variegated instances of that mass dream. This is why media is a powerful form of mental and subconscious programming. It is designed to weaken the individual human Will.

A truly creative person must protect – not their ego – but their Will. I have watched too many in their egos. They always disappear, as sure as the body wastes away in the grave, in silence, clutching their fears.

There are those who have a Will that is even stronger than their massive ego. We call them “old softies”.

The Will is not a stubborn and determined bull in a china shop, stomping on people, hurting them, and destroying all that is delicate and fine. No, it is the ego that is the bull. The Will is angelic. It is a force of light that is mighty, terrible and of the most exquisite beauty and inspiration. It is the cord that connects us to the divine. All that is dark will flee its presence. The ego will always believe that an egg needs to be cracked in order to build something good. The Will refutes this. It is always grace and gracious to all. It enlightens what it touches and what doesn’t want enlightenment will go back into Tartarus.

It is easier to not be creative. It is easier not to go to the gym. It is easy to overlook cultivating your Will. It is easier to dissolve the Will into the mass will that empowers external society. Socially minded people, especially those who absorb their lives in political and social issues tend to imagine themselves to be aligned to the heart beat of the universal consciousness. However, the truth is, they have lost their Will and their Soul to the created imagination of consciousness.

Most of the population is dark and blind and that is why they feed off the Will of others who are connected to the divine. Unfortunately, there are many who have that divine light, that natural Will to shine, who instead choose to throw their pearls at the feet of swine and roll around in the mud with them. This is usually due to bad upbringing and a mother who is jealous and envious of others, especially anyone who she perceives to shine brighter than herself, which would be most good people.

A mother who is jealous of her children overcoming her desires – will place them in front of the television. She instinctively knows that the television will keep her children’s dreams under control, preventing from strengthening their own Will, their resolve, and the love within that calls. She wants to cultivate fear and co-dependency. She especially supports medicating her children or introducing them to the numbing effects of alcohol as soon as they are of age to party.

Why would a population want their dreams to be directed, controlled, and produced for them? That same population also wants to be pay psychologists and gurus to help them overcome their depression, victim mentality, their co-dependency, their own feelings of powerlessness. What they are looking for is a strong Will. Instead, they go for abs of steel or a degree in Liberal Arts. They love this quandary that they are in because all forms and expressions of it are like the ones they see on the television shows and their Twitter feed. They feel “connected”.

There is a group of people who consider themselves to be ascended beings. These are the new agers and all those who associate with them. They fly together as a flock of birds fly together. Their transformation is simply the trading of one co-dependency for another co-dependency. If one of the flock were left to meditate by themselves for a lifetime, they would fall into the ravine below, transform into a rodent, and scurry away, never to be seen in the sky again.

New agers spend hours on Twitter and Facebook talking about their ascension symptoms like a group of grandmas talking about their cataracts and incontinence. There is much comfort in common misery. Namaste.

Depression, powerlessness, anxiety: all of them are a function of a hijacked dream state and a lack of awareness of who is actually running the show, the actors, the theater, the Wizard of Oz, the world, the stage. The dream we live in has many doors leading to more dreams. No one wants to own them. They don’t even know they are there.

I don’t need to see a person to read their energy. I see their internal structure very quickly, a structure they don’t even know is there. In a second, I can see a thought pop in and out of their consciousness. I can see the sudden surge of unexpected energy nearly topple their fragile constitution. This constitution is like a programmatic template/paradigm. Programmers would call this perhaps an “abstract class and/or interface”. My dreams often involve people I can’t see. I know exactly who they are in life, and even if I don’t, I know how and what they are.

We are all almost ready to fall apart. We should take Nike’s advice here.

If we would allow ourselves to fall apart, we could work towards creating something that won’t fall apart. But modern psychology tells us we must love who we are. Love here means to defend who we are. In other words, if you are a shitty dingy in a wild sea, save that dingy at all costs. Kill even the whales if you need to. Okay.

We have been untaught how to read the works of Shakespeare and Plato. We no only understand plot, character, and motive. We are obsessed with the ego-identities and landscapes of others, which fuels the self-loathing and sense of uselessness of the self. We rarely participate in our own stories. We still believe in Santa Claus and all sorts of toddlerized short stories. It all sounds the same and we like it.

A successful author tells the story that is most desirable for the children to hear. The state of writing today.

There is a great cost to achieving success in a sick society. The cost is abject failure and self loathing.

One cannot deliver to the cravings of the ill masses without making himself a sacrifice to them. Always make sure your sacrifice is for the greatest good and make sure that you are willing to perish most miserably at their hands.

Famous people lead miserable lives. The ignorant marvel at how so many die of drugs, suicide, or just plain self-neglect. The ignorant love to hear about the downfall of the stars. This is because they enjoy consuming them so that they themselves may live and continue to dream about being a “star”.

Talking to most people is like talking to characters either from the latest Netflix, YouTube series. Of course, there are some folks who are more elevated and sound like most of Twitter.

True knowledge will never be acquired until you are able and ready to see. A seeker of knowledge must first, not apply for University, but work on strengthening their Will.

A seeker of success in anything requires a strength of Will.

Most people confuse desire with Will. They think that because they want something badly, they will get it. They believe they should get it because Nike even tells them to “Just do it!” But the truth is, desires never lead us to the desire. Only a powerful Will is what leads us to what is desired.

The Will must be cleared of all desires in order to become powerful. The Will is like water. If it is filled with dirt and contaminates, it will, yes, quench your thirst, but the process of tasting it will be awful and the results could even be fatal.

Our modern culture is a culture of hedonism, not because we are like Romans puking in a vomitorium after dinner, but because we worship our desires and we identify with them as if they constitute the nature and essence of self.

Make no mistake. Most people think desire is love and love is desire. This is why love appears painful to them. Jesus tried to help with that. Results still uncertain.

We are told we live in a scientific, realistic, progressive society. We are told that older cultures such as those in ancient Greece and Rome, Ancient Egypt, or Ancient Sumeria, are practically like cavemen in contrast to our more enlightened and intellectualized world. Cultures who were motivated and absorbed in their myths appear primitive and even ridiculous to most modern thinkers. But this belief, that we have overcome the mythological and the symbolic, is also a myth and a story. We believe in our reality just as much as they did. In fact, we believe in our idols and our symbols even more than they did.

Ancient civilizations honored the past and their histories for they saw the thread of divinity interwoven within their mundane life. The modern ego doesn’t understand this and actually takes offense to it. This is the modern delusion. A time will come when we will be looked upon with shame and disbelief. How could they trust and put so much faith in an invisible ego?

The power and arrogance of the western ego is its own devil. And how many devils there are!

We become attached to entertainment and media not because of the pleasure it gives us but because we digest the expressions and symbols it offers us. They empower us or make us feel things. We weep and we cheer. We don’t do that often in our lives, unless we are feeling depressed because “life sucks”. We prefer the feeling of distance because it makes the ego feeling like a god. The ego says to itself when it is watching a spectacle: “And on the 7th episode of Game of Thrones, I said it was good.” Media offers us representation, meaning, explanation, a landscape upon which to judge and comment.

The entertainment media has literally replaced tradition, ritual, mythology, storytelling. It has literally consumed us. As a result, relationships to each other have become either functional, co-dependent, or completely useless. The ego calls this its “independence” and “self-empowerment”. Women especially love this because they feel like they don’t need anyone, especially a man. They all secretly – or sometimes even openly – suffer. This is is why they need a gaggle of girls around them to engage in commiseration.

Millions of people talk about love on the Internet today, especially the ones who gain fame and money from the the ones they love so much. These are known as “followers”. In the past, they were known as licksplittles.

People need to be reminded by Internet memes that they are precious and special and loved by the universe. They have forgotten: they are the only universe there is. Another thing that mommy never told them.

citizens of heaven

they’ve mocked me for what I see inside them
for I see their rainbows shine over sunless storms
love in their hearts when they sting and scorn
spirits of the dead who comfort their silent crying
angels sending messages of comfort for the dying
wide plains of light beyond what their eyes can see
where we deathless forever walk as music harmony
the light that drowns our drama of somber sorrows,
only our shadows imagine pain in what’s tomorrow
but courage is a magic spell to ascend into our hero
who gives us the gift of love not to have, not to hold,
but to be love, you, me, them, we citizens of heaven.

Emotional Seas

you’ve built a boat too feeble for emotional seas
a toddler’s toy cannot survive passionate tsunamis
faring ill as ocean’s heart allies with angry storm
consumed with sea whose shores it once proudly rode
when mommy cheered as you ventured outside the home
thinking you’d survive her fear of dark tidal tomb

and don’t we all, don’t we all take uncharted risks
when the weather is kinder and happy beaches blissed
when we hear the children’s laughter summer running
our hearts open to the sunlight sailing away humming
never gone for long, never into the deep end straying

you and I are both desirous of the wild moon-tide sea
yet while precious treasures await our eyes for finding
you only know fear in the jetsam and flotsam surrounding
I tell you, when all of it has sunken to the bottom deep
love is what of refuse remains, love in and out breathing
floating far till you finally reach your hoped for stars.


I write to bring existence
to whatever it is I am
and I must do it every day,
because a poet is a flower
seeded in ethereal planes
who opens at the early dawn
to close forever in the dusk,
and when she finally awakens
she must from nothing grow
into a new space, a new time
strange new flower opening
to close herself for the night,
gone till she becomes again.

Love Wild

my love,you can only see me as the wind,
a mysterious force loud or ghost softened
trees have fallen and the birds have fled
children singing swirling what I’ve said
confusion is air that races passions afar
trying to send fires back to a lonely star
where they belonged but strayed from home
love is urging them back to hearth alone
but I’ve no idea where they’ll finally land
there’s more than a trillion grains of sand
burning hot beyond this stoic moon and sun
cooling when love wild will be together one.


animals know the ways of the dove,
giving their lives to mysterious love,
producing what others want to consume
the circle of life: we want to honor it
the circle of life: we curse it

which is it, my love, which is it?

even sparrows know the way they must go
driven away from the storm and snow
with no anger in their hearts they depart
in order to come back to start again
for sunlight inspires their magnificence

songs sing into streams of bliss and woe
rivers carry them far into ocean coves
what love removes, love always returns
what love embraces, love will then spurn
fearless as the doves of the ethereal skies
who rush back down to the denser climes
never too high or too proud to now return
seeing what’s won is lost, to laugh, to cry.

I am Blind

I knew you before I saw you with my eyes
for I am blind, my love, blind I stumbled
knees bleeding upon the pavement I’d crawl
feet of New Yorkers scurrying shuffle truth all
with lies, they’d mix us in their heavy dreams
pigeons begging ‘round these our heads sitting
feathered upon park benches as bumbling bees
swarming around young and fat sweet flowerings
drowning we have been drowning in sad designs
doesn’t matter if I am old and you are young
they tell us all that we must breathe the smog
with a smile if we want to gain their crowns
from where pools of their blood leak into ground
but I knew you before I saw you with my eyes
you, why I am here wondering awestruck alive
you are clear sunshine, stars, a poem, the moon,
I saw you then, my love, and I will see you soon.

you will heal them

quiet your mind waters calming all the voices
the wavy winds whisper from sea into open ears
eyes lonely watching you float in salty tears
absorbed in the sounds of nature’s instruments
music you will weave from strange foreign sands
intoxicating your long beautiful white hands
writing will free you from this burden of noise,
salvation from a whirlpool of a billion voices
you will give your sweet songs to free them all
energies ebb and fall from your mind to theirs
you will heal them, sacred soul, with your love