Tick tock
You cannot stop
Scrolling
Your
Time away
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Endlessly consuming
The slop
Tick tock
Tick tock
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Images
Rolling
And scrolling
In and infinite loop
Never giving
Enough of what you need
Tick tock
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Giving you life
To the machine
That feeds
And feeds
And feeds
From your attention
But never returns a thing
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Inspired by mind
Scrolling – a cautionary tale
It seems such an innocent
Picking-up-of-the-phone
A moment of boredom
Fleed from -
The first video watched
Then a second
Then the endless stream
Of promises never kept -
Searching mind
Looking for the end of a rainbow.
To disengage
Is like tearing our sticky eyes
From the screen’s magnetic touch
As we pop back into the real world,
Shocked at how far we fell
Under its influence.
Someone conceived
This hand-held drug,
Intended the capture
Of the mind,
Wished the restless hand
Fidget for the scrolling picture
Which feeds on emptiness
And delivers more of the same.
Casually, we’d say
What’s the harm in it?
And yet all of us know
That half the walking world
Are caught in the phone,
And scare even look where they go.
It’s as if an evil hypnotist
Had created a magic device
Into which he bid us all look,
Yet, hid the dire cost;
His corporate wish
To enslave us to his corporate tool
And make us forget
The route home,
Calling us to climb into our phones
And never look back.
Forget your bodies, he says,
You no longer need them.
Equals In Seeing
You cannot really share the light.
It does not travel
from here to there
from you to me
or me to you
as if there was
some sort of ownership
and transference.
But you can rise to it -
find the frequency
of yourself
attune to the light
in another
which is only
the light of yourself
and be
the light you are.
For all
are equals in seeing
equals in light
equals in being
and there are none among us
without this divine capacity
to be
and live
and love
in truth.
http://bentruesdale.substack.com
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The Two Lookings Of Me
Always, and first-off, I reach for mind,
Spewing story forward
Or back in time.
Invariably Imaginative,
I dwell in the colourful imagery
Of that dull and flat land,
Wishing for more,
Ever, ever more.
Later, I speak the words: “I am”
And feel the colourful future
Withdraw from absent lands,
While the past retreats into me,
Coalesces where I be,
Ever and always myself.
And here, the colour is love
Where fictions are impotent
And the warm smile of being
Dissolves all but itself.
The Path
In the ever present now
We find ourselves
Expanding
In knowing –
That we are infinite being
At the crisp edge
Of happening:
Becoming ourselves
In the unfolding of the universe.
And sometimes we forget,
Dawdle lazy
On the road
Of our making:
Obstacles scattered
By our own hand
That make the journey
Seem tiresome and long
And effortful.
And sometimes we remember
The ever present now,
And step inside ourselves
And the universe,
And the being
That we always were,
And see
We too are always infinite,
And the road
And its obstacles
Are but illusions
On an illusionary path.
Only Our Thoughts
Only our thoughts
Deny the lifting spirit
Holding us buoyant
In the being alive.
Only our thoughts
Cage our minds,
Eclipsing
The wealth
Filling us
Until brimming,
Until our hearts
Are overflowed.
Only our thoughts
Obscure the love
Streaming out
Through ever cell,
Streaming out
Irrepressible:
Infinitely giving,
Infinitely wise.
Only our thoughts,
Our harmless thoughts,
Our transient
Substance-less thoughts
Believed to be strong,
Believed to hold
Power over us,
Believed for so long.
Only our thoughts
Are burnt
Under love’s internal sun,
And brought to nothing,
Our bonds loosened
As thoughts are seen
In freedom,
Seen for what they are:
Just fleeting thoughts,
Not owned,
But passing through
Unhindered, unclaimed, unchained
From who we are.
The Wealth
Not one of us
Upon the earth
Is anything less
Than the whole sun
Shining in being,
Illuminated in the endless wealth
Emerging from the formless realm,
The nothing and the nameless,
Our infinite self
Ever at our finger tips,
Infinitely Infinite and infinitely free.
–
It is only our crowded thoughts,
Straight-jacketing us rigid.
Gripping us to an idea
Of a drought-ridden self,
Stiff within our skin
And so hopelessly lonely,
That thinks us
Thought-severed from the Source,
And made bleak as a separate entity.
–
And yet, those thoughts separating
Are but tenacious thoughts,
Combined, conjoined, layered,
Believed, stiffened, judged
And felt solid enough to be real,
Each one hiding us from the truth:
–
That universal love
Is the absolute fundament of our nature:
The life force propelling,
Filling us up,
Upholding the fleeting entities
We call our selves,
Buoying us
Even when we deny we out buoyed.
–
Not one of us
Is anything less
Than the soul
That is all,
The one,
The only one,
The love emanating from Source
Becoming something,
Ever unfolding as the form-ful manifest.
Love Connects Us
Though the days
Are heavy with loss
And the winter of grief
Holds us too close,
Love is yet
The deeper principle,
For all are borne
On love’s unknowable meandering,
All are borne upon life’s lifting back,
And though we are all
At some time recalled
Beyond our mind’s reach
And beyond the veil
Of substance and reality,
Love accompanies our passing,
Holding our hands
And whispering
That we are loved
And that those parted
Are not truly torn away
But still connected,
Still with us
In the union
That does not faulted
Or ever end.
Awareness
When he speaks from Source
His heart is whole in his chest
And fears do not trouble his thoughts.
Even his troubles are untroublesome
For the Source holds all,
Sees all with beautiful clarity.
With time and memory absorbed,
There is but the now to behold,
A now of infinite plenty
Where he is alive,
Alive with innermost energy,
New as a universal birth.
When he speaks from Source
He stands at the expanding edge of the
Universe, singing the song he is,
Being none other than himself,
None but he who sees:
The very wellspring of reality.
For The Politicians
Your incendiary words
Are the kindling
In the pyre
In which you stand.
Your hatred
Are the sparks
Falling into the hot oil
Smoking at your feet.
Excite the crowd with an inciting speech,
Encourage the rage of the rage-full
Until they are hot for blood and vengeance.
But ready yourself,
For what you give out
You’ll receive in measures multiplied.
The wounds you inflict
Are both the wounds on your soul
And the wounds
Your enemies
Will flay you with.
distilledvoice 