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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The whole world is my stage
The catwalk on which I pout
Performing My sexy sexy –
Look at Me, look at My life,
Look at My happy happy image
Filled with My stuff, My shiny things,
My tits and My gym body bliss
And all the holidays
I could ever wish
Distilled into one perfect shot:
One contrived glass of fizz
Against a perfect sunset
Where all the angst of life
Is edited out
And brushsstroked clean,
Proving Me special
And different without doubt
In a tsunami of content, this
Bland-sewering-scum-tide onslaught
Of same and same and Noisy same
Ejaculated on to the face of My screen.
🤪👍💪🏼🤮
I am the black man
And I love my skin
And the life within the body.
And yet I am the white man,
Pale as the purity of snow.
And still I am Asian.
And so too am I mixed,
With all the races blood
In lattices twisted up in the
Ages DNA, conjuring diversity,
Bringing beauty and ugliness
Time and time again.
But I too am a woman
For there is joy in that form,
As there is joy within the masculine.
And the body of a child is mine.
And sometimes I am sexless,
Indefinably between
The boarders of mapmakers
And nationality.
And I am every class and cast
There ever was.
All this I have in me.
And as I am,
So too is other,
Not one
With jurisdiction
Over emotion, attribute or worth.
Not one less than
And not one more than.
All of us
Looking upon the world
From the same different place,
Infinitely capable
And with equal potential
To be all things.
is when being away from yourself is no crime, and where wrongdoings are smiled upon, attracting no shame.
it’s when Ill thought is not made Ill with thought, but allowed to be but thought in the cosmos of your being.
it’s where there is no requirement for change, for already you are whole, and where need itself is looked upon with equanimity, and even calming is calm beyond calm.
it is when being is simply seeing what is being, and when warmth is all there is or could ever be.
distilledvoice 