Poem

Somewhere inside, some wrong message, keeps repeating and, – mind-identified, – I keep listening: that I’m not worthy, that I don’t deserve better. cuz I am wrong, cuz I’m not divine and that’s the how and why: how I rationalize, all my past abuses were personally meant for me? (confusing the intensity of experience for…

the right to exist, the unwanted child, must give to them self, or, live dyingly: bleeding out their own presence, from every scenario and situation, until paler and paler, their truth vanishes into whispering dust.

There comes a point in therapy, where no further healing can occur through the personality. A point where a stable, conscious ego has arisen out of the tidal danger of the subconscious. And yet, where the ocean of inner information still carries the magnetic knotted loops of thought and psychic energy that distort the natural…

Speak. What is there to say? Words rip apart the unity of silent presence into voice and audience: into You and I. So long as you take yourself to be this continuum of thoughts, speaking your heart is how you give yourself back to silence. Do not be ashamed, let yourself be received into grace,…

Past experiences and self-image are irrelevant. The absolute value of this beingness that you are is ever self-evident. In the here and now – be now with your Self now, and open to, acknowledge, and receive your own all-transcending worth. Welcome and receive with warm gratitude your own presence this moment forever. Take no position…

I fell apart again. Behind closed door, without need to perform, I let the body lay on the floor, like piled rubble. It really is from day to day, that the life in me rolls into motion, or sometimes not, and then exhausted, collapses, into an impersonal open blankness: like an empty ruin without roof.…

When a psychic indulges in sexual fantasy, real energy is transacted. On some level I even knew but was too self-absorbed to care. So to my horror, I am an astral rapist. Putting it into words – draws into light – a thread of unconscious violence – that running through the tapestry of human consciousness…

The faces and names of this life’s time-tale: are just this season’s flowers. Their “he did”s, and “she did”s: impersonal toing and froing in the wind. The unseen ground, beneath the field of display, from which the dances of all these lives and deaths arises: beyond all seasons, beyond all time, unknowable by face nor…

All your lofty wishes, and your most tender heart-felt prayers, are just sexual frustration, and demands for gratification: just sleazy fuck-talk and pick-up lines. You can not molest the beloved with the filthy fingers of self-will, nor woo her with the gutter-words of your linguistic consciousness: far too crude, far too shallow. All your asking,…

In all the emotional abuse: the violent and destructive words, and, the spectacle of unconscious human drama, that heaves and vomits up the untamed subconscious into display, yeah, in all this, there is no one here. All these thoughts, words, and deeds are empty of self. These bodies, personalities, and compulsions are empty of self.…

One presence: Our presence. A room full of faces, like a field full of flowers, or a tree full of fruit: one presence through all. The one presence in all – in one and all. all and one. What names are there to call? What faces are there to exchange a smile? Who speaks through…

To be in the thrall of a goal, and look through the lens of purpose, is to walk through a maze, of projections and shadows, of walls and ways that thwart and aid you. To surrender it all, is to walk on open plain, surrounded only, by the presence of God, whose living spirit guides…

There’s a darkness in this house. The taint of misdeeds registered in omniscience but to which the personal psyches of the family have built a psychic wall. The price paid by the children for the selfishness of the parents. My grandfather’s well of love was empty, dark, and dry. And try as she might my…

Don’t you know? This can’t be known. This vast and open spaciousness: the womb of all beauty, can not be admired. This vast silence: ever listening, can not be heard. This unborn and empty absence: eternally omnipresent, can never be embraced. This unconditional love, overflowing for all forms, can not be adored. This eternal instance:…

I am sorry for all that in me which is not pure essence of mind: pure presence – for all information in me that misinforms a sense of personal self. I am sorry for my personal identification with this memory – for taking ownership of something that does not belong to my formless and timeless…

O Beloved, you dress yourself up, in purity and goodness, but a good person, or a bad person, are still just empty roles an I plays. Take off your costume, my blushing bride, and accept this gift of love, from noone to noone – a transmission of love from, naked space to naked space. A…

In Varanasi, and Napoli too, and all ancient places: that are and have been continually inhabited until this day, human consciousness has cut out age-old psychic channels: greased pathways of human thought and expression – torrents of emotion, energy, and desire that flow in their streets. Where mind-streams of casual unconscious passers-by, can easily fall…

I don’t know shit about reality and consciousness: all my constructions and mental knowing are little pedestals of arrogance and assumption that I constructed while in the thrall of the simian need to climb and put myself above others in the social hierarchy, as I stand upon mental knowing to set myself apart in vain…

Unable to feel safe with others, my attempts to connect at some point always failed. I used to push past my fear: to force myself to be social, but others – making me feel unsafe – I try to overpower or with bravado put them on a back foot – trying to make them feel…

Trauma is illusion. The self-fulfilled light has ever been perfectly self-fulfilled. This life has ever been lived with love. This life has ever been lived with the light of presence. Never has this life known lovelessness. Never has this life known the darkness of unconsciousness. Never has this life been less than perfect. Your memory…

My mum thinks I am her son. My sister thinks I am her brother. My step-dad thinks I am his rival. My friends think I am a nice guy. My personality thinks I am a story it is telling itself. My consciousness dreams I am the form it experiences and animates. But, They see only…

Regarding my own person with impersonal neutrality loosens the constrictions of my personal self-judgment, softens the hardness of my personal self-beliefs and self-concepts, and releases life and consciousness from the recursive re-enactments of a self-manifesting self-repeating personal identity with a certain outcome: opening up space for unconditional love, and blessings the person didn’t imagine it…

There is so much more space and peace in my mind now that I no longer take my mental ill health personally: that it is not something happening to me, but rather simply is. The main branches of my mental weakness seem to be a lack of ability to concentrate and keep concentrated – my…

This body is your body too. These loving thoughts are your loving thoughts too: this mind is your mind too. Let the concept of other fall away like these clothes. Beloved, predestined lover, enjoy this sacred dance, enjoy our predestined union, allowing sacred causes to play out in our mutual absence in this moment. The…

I am deeply sad about the life I am experiencing. Asking: “who is sad?” the pain becomes a bitter pill that revitalizes my inner light: pain brings into impersonal light the yet overlooked untruth of assumed personal identity. In the absence of the person; of the sense of first-person, there is a deep rest that…

Nameless creatures, countless anonymous lives, lives that were lived, are living, and will live, and we among them, live lives that won’t be remembered. Our thoughts, our names, our squabbles, our grudges: trivial. The insignificance of life is a great liberator, a peace and balm, that lift’s the weight of desire for fame, meaning, and…

No Mother welcomed me into her womb, No Father welcomed me as his child, No Family welcomed me as a member, No Friends welcomed me into their circle, No Community welcomed me into their tribe, No Partner welcomed me into their heart, No school welcomed me as a student, No Guru welcomed me at their…