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
free verse
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.
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The Thoughts Of Us
When the heart swells
And thoughts are glossed in wonder,
Coming to the world
Wet with love
As if they had drunk deep
Upon the source
And imbibed
A draft’s worth
Of that subtle, unformed substance,
It matters not
What these thoughts are
For all are equal
Under love’s law,
All are painted in love’s sheen,
All are born of love’s significance,
And none are higher or lower,
Weighted bigger or smaller,
Nor judged to be greater
Or deemed to be less than any another.
Like us,
They are materialised
And glossed in wonder,
Coming to the world
Wet with love
As if they had drunk deep
Upon the source
And imbibed
A draft’s worth
Of that subtle, unformed substance.
Like us
They come to life
Imbued with light,
To dance
For the fleeting moment
Of their being.
Myself
Dearest and closest
Most intimate friend,
You are made of nothing
But being.
When I acknowledge you,
When I fall back into you,
I return molten with love
As if you had dissolved
All but the essence of me,
Dissolved all
But that which you are,
Dissolved all
To which I was bound
In mind, body and thought.
And for a moment
And maybe moments after
Or even when moments stretch to hours
And perhaps really
In the truth of timeless always now,
I am free,
Free in being
And free in love,
Free to be myself.
Old Lives
Sometime the old lives rise
From where they lie,
Undisturbed
But fully functional:
Scripts we once called ourself
And followed unconsciously,
Ideas we believed
But forgot we believed,
Whose presence
Steers us
On courses
Now obsolete and irrelevant,
The machine trundling on
In a groove set
Years ago,
Thoughts we ceased to see
Guiding us
In the robotic program
Of our walking sleep.
Dial In
You can dial into love
As simply as smelling a rose,
As simply as taking a breath.
Dial into love
And feel the love that you feel:
It doesn’t matter if it’s for a pet,
A person alive or dead,
It doesn’t matter:
The warmth of love is the same.
Dial in to love:
Love that love:
Love and be loved
And step into the expanding realm
Swelling in your heart’s domain.
Taste the love that loves,
The love you have always been.
Fishing
The Indian ocean,
In which the setting sun
Falls golden
To the wetted lips
Of waves infinite,
Speaks in white-water rumbles,
And the wind pulses warmly on my skin
And tussles at my hair.
–
These and much else
Call the mind to their sensational happening
And I feel my body in the world,
Sights and sounds
All around me.
–
But what is this me
In which the world appears?
What perceives
The golden mirror to the absolute west,
Laid upon the sea
Like an avenue,
The last light before dusk?
–
If, for a moment
I withdraw from my sun-warmed skin,
The buffeting wind
And my hair rustling like leaves,
What can I say
About being?
–
What can I say about the one
Who perceives these beautiful things,
The one who sees
The fishing boats heading out
To catch the night fish?
–
I try again,
Withdrawing from the worldly things,
Saying aloud “I am”;
Finding its resonance,
That to which the portal refers,
And fall from the sensational skin
And the light fading
And the wind’s playfulness.
–
I fall away into I,
Into dimensionless I,
Into love and well-being
And that which is indescribable,
That which defies the poet
And renders him
To nothing but inescapable warmth.
–
And then I open my eyes
To the perfect globe of the sun,
A ball of orange
Muted by the horizon’s haze,
And find being hauled with me
Like the fishermen’s silver clad nets
That come to the surface so bountiful.
–
Now, being seems wholly in the world,
In everything within earshot and gaze.
The waves are speaking
As if each drop were lubricated,
Each molecule part of the soft fluid whole.
And the wind too is a song
Of whispers gathered by the clouds,
Lovingly caressing
Those who’d be gladly touched.
–
Who is infusing
And who is infused?
It does not matter much
In beingness,
For no one but the One exists,
No one but the One
Is flushed by love,
No one but the One
Is as open as the universe is.
There Is Only Love
Whatever it be
Love conquers,
Not by show of force
But by soft movement,
Gentle allowing
And acceptance,
The truth unveiled
That there never was a thing apart
From love’s flow unbounded.
For a moment the thing:
Form, thought or emotion
Seems separate and real,
But what are borders
To the whole of God
But traces of nothing
Like ripples rippling
Upon the water’s edge,
Occurring but memoryless,
Fading at the very moment they arise.
Boys In The Cascade
In the falling freshness
We are at once
Energised and washed clean,
For in the frothing
We are nameless
And without language.
We know each as children
Playing in the stream,
Wet by the flowing moment
And doused
By ever-giving.
There are smiles
And gestures of friendship;
Locked arms to help traverse
The white water,
And brotherliness
In our shared refreshment.
All that we know of our selves
Is battered from our skin
By innumerable pelting droplets
And carried away downstream.
What is left
Is a thoughtless happening
Wetting us to oneness
And joining us
To the waterfall’s
Cool and cascading being.
Touched By Grace
Who is touched by grace?
For that one,
Separate an isolated,
Is washed away
As every cell bursts forth exuberant,
Every cell
A sun in its own right,
Burning in conjunction
With infinity.
Who burns in cosmic nuclear fusion
But the cosmos itself,
Alive with life’s infinite potentiality.
–
Who have I been?
I have walked as a dead man,
Dragging the corpse
Of dull seeing,
Sluggish and blind to the truth
Of unknowable life
Electric in the creation of the
Mind/body/world.
I have walked without wonder
In the wonderful,
Walked barefoot
Dismissing the cool grass,
Breathing the divine essence
And calling it ordinary.
I have looked
But missed my astonishment,
Daubing reality
With the dank dross of ignorance,
Overlooking the immense power
Contained even within a simple seed.
Of course,
The quick and clever mind Conceptualised
The quantum physics of germination,
And I did not taste
The end of the world
Exploding in bud, shoot and inevitable tree.
Oh, life,
I glimpse
But do not know you,
I taste
but do not know you,
I feel
Only the minutest drop of grace,
But drop to my knees dumbfounded,
Zeroed in the face of it all,
Pulverised and purified,
Awed
And silenced utterly.
distilledvoice 