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    Chaotic Thoughts


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    Chaotic Thoughts

      Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

      (in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)

      Copyright (©) 2017 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

      Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

      Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

      Cover picture by: Belovodchenko Anton

      Web Page: https://shutterstock.com/g/belovodchenko

      Space Pictures: ESA/Hubble

      I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.

      Contents

      Foreword

      Chaotic Thoughts

      A Look Into The Past

      A Naturist

      A New Path

      A New World Beckons!

      A Place Of Beauty (Revisited)

      Ain't Love Grand

      April

      Children Of The Wind

      Barefoot

      A Look Into The Present

      Birth Darkness And Rags And Death And Eternity

      Boys Will Be Boys

      Breath Of Change

      Buttercup

      Change: A Conversation

      Born Killer?

      Common Sense

      Concerning Earth

      Contributing To Society

      Conundrums Of Duality

      Cosmic Toolbox

      The Couch

      Creating A New World

      Death Insurance

      Deeper Experiences

      Destination

      Die From Poison? Hell No!

      Don't Think!

      Dream Voices

      Dying System

      Earth Is a Zoo

      Extreme Sports

      Fair Trade?

      Fighting Fire With Fire

      Finding Paradise

      Free Of Problems

      Freedom

      Government For The People

      Grandfather’s Dream

      Humans Not Of Earth

      I Want More

      If Only, If Only

      Illogical Mind

      Impression

      In Silver Drops

      It's Christmas

      It's The Apocalypse!

      Judgment

      Karma

      Keys

      "Know" More Money!

      Knowing Life; Doing Life

      New Reality

      Northern Forest

      On The Brink

      Orange Peel

      Shore Of Mystery

      Song Of The Cedars

      The Wish

      Spirit Wind

      Timeless Serenity

      Tranquility

      Unthinkable

      War Games

      Welcome The Dawn

      Why I Support Man's Belief Systems

      Winds Of Change

      “Ye Are Doomed!”

      Foreword

      These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.

      Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.

      It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

      Chaotic Thoughts

      Observe thundering waves

      crash upon a rocky shore,

      Hear the winds howl, tossing foam,

      pushing brown sands to frozen waves.

      Huddle against a smooth-worn rock

      and feel the trembling of the Earth

      with your tired, aching body.

      Should I end my life now,

      you ponder within:

      leave this darkened place?

      What use am I to this world that does not hear

      words I pour from a broken heart?

      Should I end my life-long dream

      of planting seeds of wisdom

      using the written word to touch

      hearts open to receive

      a million answers to their one question?

      Should I give up the struggle now;

      quench the fire that burns in my soul?

      I look up to see a white gull

      skimming the towering waves,

      up and down, sailing the currents,

      peacefully, gracefully, playfully

      as one with the wild winds, unafraid!

      Why couldn't I playfully navigate

      for another day at least, just one more day

      the chaotic madness of man's system

      and live to write just one more line?

      A Look Into The Past

      Cold icy blue eyes staring

      from the far side of the bed:

      how many times have you told me now

      you don't love me -and asked:

      "Why don't you just leave?"

      I can't answer you...

      I don't know if I love you -

      did I ever?

      But there's the kids: the family,

      the loans, the job, the normal,

      the expected and unexpected:

      a chance to help and serve maybe?

      I've held on this long for values

      I once believed to be inviolable;

      necessary as food on the table...

      But when you took in a lover

      I suddenly understood:

      even a very short life

      can contain great cycles of surprise;

      incredibly fathomless pain.

      I hope you never have to understand

      what I'm saying ten years later:

      I've travelled so many deserts

      crossed so many seas

      tasted the fruit of many a lifetime

      of an ordinary man: you set me free

      to learn about life on other planes

      -I thank you, really -

      but I've done enough of that

      for the four of us to carry on.

      A Naturist

      Human nakedness

      draping a sun-drenched shore:

      Ah, the shame, the sin!

      Human nudity walking free

      on a shore caressed by gentle waves:

      Ah, the wonder of it, the stimulation

      the thought brings!

      A naturist doesn't ponder these thoughts;

      life is to be enjoyed, not dissected

      not judged right, wrong, or measured

      but lived in the wonderful moment

      of pure enjoyment: let what comes just come.

      A free being learns to cherish

      the true beauty of personality, character;

      to fully enjoy the companionship in another

      while appreciating in openness

      the sheer excitement of the human body

      unbound from the disease-ridden rags

      of passing times.

      So, I say,

      rejoice! Be not shy, be not ashamed

      to express your own passion, your love of life,

      your freedom found in simple nudity

      among others of like mind.

      End the hypocrisy and repression:

      join in the great awakening.

      A New Path

      Beside a crystal stream,

      I sit and wonder:

      why feel so unsure of self and life

      on verge of entering a new path?

      A gust of wind, a mo
    ving treetop

      and in deep blue sky an eagle soars;

      it seems we touch in mind -

      in whispered thoughts he says -

      “Everyone feels unsure, afraid,

      thrusting out into the unknown:

      try jumping from a nest with wings untried!

      Just remember you asked for this path;

      that your poetry would soar above the clouds.

      New paths, new experiences, new feelings,

      strange faces, foreign tongues, unknown lands,

      altogether overwhelming sensations:

      be sure of this: all who fly stood where you stand!

      I, Spirit Eagle, watch over you.

      I understand your desire to fly

      coupled with the fear to try.

      When everything says: “Impossible”

      know that the goal is within sight.”

      A New World Beckons!

      Go, run, barefoot

      where there is no path;

      do not strangle your feet

      with industrially-made shoes

      or anchor them in synthetics.

      Swim and run nude freely

      within nature's sacred realm:

      laughingly leave the tattered clothes

      which a society’s shame,

      imposes on itself!

      Like the sorcerer of the sky,

      fearlessly lead violent storms

      to clean and renew life on earth;

      strengthen your faith in life’s lessons;

      then simply teach those whose

      desire is to learn the trade.

      Simple lessons teach appreciation

      of life on the organic level;

      the goddess energy.

      Within her we shall enter

      a beautiful new world

      prepared by those whose faith

      already brought them along

      this ancient and renewed path.

      A Place Of Beauty (Revisited)

      Create an island

      where waterfalls of joy,

      tumble into blue pools

      and call that 'peace;'

      where indigo nights

      pierced with fiery stars

      intensify the velvet beauty

      of dark jungle leaves

      entwined around a tabernacle:

      a snowy mountain top:

      call that 'home.'

      In the sudden awareness

      of deep sleep

      creative thoughts flow

      unencumbered.

      Re-create the moment

      that passed by unheard;

      that was lost yesterday

      behind the blare of a commercial.

      From your dream,

      find focus,

      discover passion

      and dare create

      a new reality:

      call that 'tomorrow.'

      Ain't Love Grand

      Love -

      can you feel the feeling it gives?

      Wonderful thing, love, isn't it -

      so warm, so safe, so comforting...

      So... well, loving, isn't it!

      What great things people do

      in the name of love!

      A man marries a woman

      in the name of love

      and she goes with it

      for the same reason:

      when she is found beaten to death

      this is what he's got to say:

      “I loved the bitch so much

      I had to kill her -

      she threatened to leave me.”

      People love their nation

      and in the blink of an eye,

      they're off to war, bombing, shooting, killing

      all in the name of patriot love

      (The raping, pillaging and looting -

      the fringe benefits of patriot love).

      People love their God of Love

      and wouldn't you know it?

      The only way they can find peace

      and express their deepest love for enemies

      is by slaughtering their opponents -

      even if these love the same God...

      What was it they said about love -

      “Ain't love grand!”

      Ah well, it makes great headlines

      (especially if the rich and famous are involved)

      It sells wedding dresses, magazines, flowers

      and weapons of mass destruction.

      (Do you wonder where have all the flowers gone?)

      Love, oh Love,

      Shall we give you another round of applause?

      April

      April's sun arriving,

      sparkling brilliance

      sudden unleashing

      of mountain harshness

      in rainbow hues.

      Changing of season

      from bitter cold

      of endless winter

      to loving warmth

      of sun-filled spring.

      Awakener of dreams;

      dissipater of mists;

      usherer of hope;

      renewer of strength,

      Bringer of the Dawn:

      April's sun arriving.

      Children Of The Wind

      Wild geese know when to migrate:

      they have no boundaries;

      call everywhere home.

      They fly away in their time,

      the meridians are their guides;

      their destination assured.

      So too must we learn to fly,

      innocent as the wild geese,

      living life freely

      from sea to plains to forests;

      soaring effortlessly

      on the breath of spirit -

      as children of the wind!

      Barefoot

      Let's all be willing today

      to take off our shoes

      and walk barefooted

      in the morning dew!

      Let's learn to enjoy

      the tickling of earth's skin

      beneath our tired feet

      kissing the earth gently,

      leaving no permanent mark

      from our reverent passing

      and new life may spring

      even in a human footprint!

      Let's even dare to run nude

      under undulating branches,

      enjoying a morning shower,

      laughing with the birds

      as leaves gently caress

      our tingling skin!

      Let's learn to respect

      our earth as a lover

      and we will always return

      from this experience with life,

      cleansed, refreshed and wiser!

      Let's ask ourselves, today,

      why we are so fearful

      of enjoying a life

      so freely given?

      A Look Into The Present

      Soft brown eyes smiling tenderly

      in early morning shadows;

      still grey light diffused softly

      through windows opened to the sky

      You lie there smiling, warming

      your nude form calling to mine:

      "'morning" you say sleepily, huskily

      your voice overflows with

      loving seductive rhythm pulsing

      with the beating of my heart

      I brush my fingertips gently

      over your smooth soft tan-

      slowly, slowly drawing helical cicles

      around your full breasts:

      your nipples respond quickly

      to my trembling touch:

      I stare a moment then move again

      over your stomach, around the navel

      down down, all fingers eager now

      caressing your thighs: my eyes

      eating your body as in a feast:

      I kiss your eyebrows, your lips,

      your throat, the fluttering skin

      below your right breast

      never stopping till I reach

      the bottom of your feet: I look up

      see your thick dark hair coiling


      over the soft pillow case:

      Beautiful? Desirable? Enchanting?

      All... and perhaps a little more.

      The hardest part in all of this:

      to believe this edenic dream:

      my friend, my lover, my reality!

      Birth Darkness And Rags And Death And Eternity

      he came into the world

      like all do who must come

      innocence expecting nothing

      (much)(uncertainty)

      and they watched carefully

      (the soul makers)

      this new thing they’d caused

      to see if the program took.

      he left the home in his time

      to see beyond Main Street

      he’d been told in school of course

      there was nothing beyond

      (he didn’t believe them)

      the dark grew in the alleys

      of the earth’s slums and favelas

      when the lights dimmed

      (for him they always did)

      and when they went out, grew darker.

      he walked on for such was his game

      something pulling, something pushing

      something crying, something laughing

      it was a cat (owl) a woman

      in a lighted doorway

      an infant cried into its silence

      and the woman cried into her loss.

      (the owl glided on by-nature’s ghost

      snatched the hovering soul

      disappeared in the forest forever)

      he ran from there.

      great waves tossed his spectral frame

      black oceans heaving black ships

      filled with black men and brown women

      (strangers in chains)

      chocolate colored children bodies

      floated on toothed waves

      (feeding bloated sharks)

      he came upon a stinking port

      anchored in rusty chains to a burning shore

      he heard the guns thunder

      in the ever night, the always dark

      he walked up stony smelly alleys

      heard something crying

      (inhuman)(harpy)

      in a smoky lighted doorway

      a child cried soft words muffled

      in its mother’s torn blouse

      he ran from there

      haunted by the gun shot

      that laid the man in the mud

      the woman’s scream

      (he thought he hadn’t heard)

      the soldier’s curse

      (he wished hadn’t touched him)

      the evil eye of the gun’s barrel

      in his emaciated face.

      (he’d hoped not to see)

      I am the innocent

      he mumbled and fell

      in bloodied battlefield mud.

      he died no longer innocent

      no longer expecting (nothing)

      wise and knowing it does not matter

      what you think or what you do.

      for the ever night is the arena

      and the rider on the black horse

      is the fate master.

      (eternity is a curse)

      he remembers as he runs

      followed in the always dark

      by steely galloping hooves

      (let there not be another)

      but he knows, oh how well he knows

      there will always be

      he knows the nightmare

      they call humanity must run its course

      on its eternal merry-go-round.

      Boys Will Be Boys

      Boys will be boys

      so the saying goes:

      they'll have their fun

      their pleasure,

      in full measure:

      they'll have their games,

      proving their manliness;

      their balls, bats, stick and clubs,

      they'll grunt, moan, swear

      at the TV, rolling their bellies,

      crushing empty beer cans.

      Sometimes I listen to the boys

      talking about their games,

      bragging of their scores,

      expressing dead-end fantasies:

      -I would laugh out loud -

      at so pathetic

      breathless gobs of flesh

      but it isn't that funny:

      little girls

      must put away their dolls,

      their make-believe

      to learn nature's survival skills

      to prepare for their role--

      nurturing, life-giving, loving,

      mother-hood;

      plus work, care, responsibility

      in the world of boys

      while they kill her world

      with more violent, destructive

      "grown-up" toys.

      They play in larger yards

      spend more money on thrills

      thinking -if they think at all -

      such is their due

      according to the rules,

      No need to ask why

      boys never grow up

      look around and see

      how the system operates,

      guaranteeing the boys

      their leisure; their pleasure

      though the world's gone mad.

      Woman:

      Atlas holding up the world

      did less than her:

      she's still the slave,

      (despite the speeches and books)

      to cook and clean and mend;

      to nurture, love and care,

      to support and to give

      to suffer, silently hoping

      for a little passing praise

      instead of endless blame:

      "the wife" "the broad" "the bitch"

      "she wants more money for the house,

      I want to buy Joe's snowmobile,

      I need a new set of clubs: you think

      she cares? She wants the kids

      all dressed up for school

      like it was her money!

      You stopping for a pint after, Joe?

      It's game five tonight!"

      The pubs, the clubs,

      the games, the courts:

      everywhere the boys play;

      while the girls, now women,

      tend the ancient fires:

      first, the boy's business to run,

      then the boy's kids to feed,

      the home to clean and tidy up,

      Finally,

      keeping the bed sheets warm,

      his last cheap playground:

      "What the hell do you mean,

      you're tired?

      I know, all is not this bleak,

      some women do get to enjoy

      their own games too

      but remember this, always:

      exceptions prove the rule.

      Breath Of Change

      Clouds of darkness dissipate;

      a breath of change;

      a breath of new wind, new spirit,

      scatters them far and wide

      across measureless skies.

      These clouds of darkness

      have rained fear and hatred

      upon this earth far too long.

      An era of hope emanates,

      frees the yearning for change;

      creates a rainbow of bright colours

      for all to see and rejoice;

      kindness and love may yet set

      a timorous walk to bold,

      to follow that rainbow's path.

      A new world arises from the dawn,

      from Spirit's awakening.

      Buttercup

      Imagine a summer sunrise

      dressed in pink cotton

      caressing hilltops

      and rolling meadows

      where buttercups splash

      bright yellow smiles--

      none of this matches

      your impish smile

      and carefree stance

      when you stand thus

      every curve exposed

      in a backlit doorway.

      Chan
    ge: A Conversation

      Listen, have you heard?

      Winds of change are blowing earthward

      Really? The weather man did say

      the winds would change direction

      and bring clouds and rain:

      I should have my umbrella ready

      and my rubber boots. I wonder if

      the tires on my car need...

      No! What I mean is that you will be

      profoundly moved in spirit.

      You may even discover a state of mind

      where you can communicate soundlessly

      with all living things.

      Yeah? That reminds me I've got to

      make a stop at the bank machine,

      pay some bills and do some shopping

      before the storm gets worse.

      You don't seem to quite grasp

      what I'm trying to say here.

      I'm talking about change coming in your life

      so you may become spiritually enlightened,

      learning to live within love and truth.

      Sure, I understand. I've spent a lot of money

      on making changes in the past,

      wasting a lot of time: All I ended up doing

      was a lot of things I don't like,

      please, don't talk to me about change:

      I've done all I am going to do!

      Born Killer?

      In a lonely darkened alley,

      a killer's obsession is set free

      savagely, pointlessly (so it seems)

      upon the innocent (the victim).

      A suspected felon, hunted, he runs

      breathless, out of his mind, out of control,

      he runs in fear: so it must be

      on a remote, primitive world where God's law

      still states: vengeance is mine, and eye for eye

      and tooth for tooth, and all shall pay the price!

      Many say the killer is deranged, mad

      and should be put to death when found.

      But I wonder, seeing as they're the same ones

      who prepare for war and start them,

      who daily starve the weak

      and steal from the innocent...

      Who can I trust to learn my truth from?

      And I wonder, maybe there's a spiritual level

      where one still needs to understand,

      by actual experience, this urge to destroy life;

      whether murderer or General, Banker or Scientist...

      I must reason his action,

      for my friend provided the sacrifice

      while fate let me

      experience the horror of the moment.

      I need time to meditate,

      to consider every facet of the truth,

      forcing myself to understand

      reasons beyond reason

      why certain things transpire.

      We all have the ability to murder

      but some have moved beyond that level,

      though still at times

      indulging in acts of violence

      toward others.

      I hold no anger towards him,

      only love and compassion

      for I realize his pain at this moment

      is much greater than mine could ever be.

      Common Sense

      God is love, says someone at my door.

      God will damn you to hell, says another

      who didn't like my politics,

      or was it my coffee or the colour of my hair?

      God created the world,

      God made man in his own image...

      God, Supreme Being, Creator of the Universe

      (dictionary definition, I'm not that smart!)

      God, God, God, God, God...????????

      God has a lot of attributes,

      most of them are anthropomorphic too

      which means 'God' is whatever

      anyone wants He or She or It to be...

      spell it backwards and you can see for yourself!

      I've pretty well given up on God

      He's just too many things,

      to too many different people

      and way too many religions

      vying for my trust and money...

      He's become meaningless and redundant.

      (I know, it's a big word, but then, God is big,

      and I'm not saying He needs to go on a diet.)

      I think there is a better way to understand

      what the word 'God' might possibly mean:

      could we not think of 'God' as a concept

      and define that as 'common sense'?

      After all, love is common sense, is it not?

      Yeah, I vote for common sense.

      Concerning Earth

      (Chronicles of the WindWalkers)

      "And they shall be endowed with great intelligence

      And turn it ever to evil deeds even to turning light to darkness.

      And they shall be given a home but will not understand

      And so shall they destroy the gentle fabric of it.

      And they shall be clothed and fed but turn on their benefactor

      And so shall they tear her apart.

      And they shall have children born of Earth matter;

      of wind and rain; of earth and fire,

      And shall make them children of the damned.

      So it was prophesied long ago to the Spirit of Gaia

      before she set out to give life

      And in tears she wandered in the darkness,

      afraid to face the light,

      afraid of the life she carried.

      Yet it came to pass that she found a place in the sun,

      And gave birth in pain and sorrow

      To a life that would proliferate wildly,

      Turn upon itself and eat itself unto death.

      Contributing To Society

      The idea persists, folks:

      if your chosen field remains

      the realm of writer or poet...

      you are not contributing,

      but taking!

      Now here are examples of noble professions:

      politician, lawyer, businessman, banker...

      and to some lesser extent,

      doctor, dentist, engineer, designer;

      architect or teacher.

      Is it still believed that these people

      contribute the most to society?

      Well, obviously, that must be true:

      income levels say it all!

      And so, blue collar workers,

      plumbers, bus drivers, technicians,

      carpenters, handymen and janitors

      to name a few

      deserve little but the left-overs...

      But woe unto you if you happen to fall

      even below the level of the janitor

      collecting some form of social assistance:

      a handicap pension, unemployment benefits

      or perhaps that lowest of all places:

      receiving the shameful welfare cheque.

      Get a job, bum! Say the sheeple

      echoing their government's lies

      that the nation is in debt

      because of lazy welfare types!

      What woeful ignorance

      these mindless drones display.

      Who are the ones who steal from society?

      Look up, not down: look up there

      to those ivory towers of power:

      there are your thieves, folks,

      but they do it in grand style

      to the tune of billions of dollars!

      Conundrums Of Duality

      We speak of darkness and of light,

      what do we imply by that?

      Seek the light, work in the light;

      carry your light in a darkened world

      we counsel and encourage each other.

      We call darkness evil; light good

      and it seems to make much sense,

      but does it? Are these judgments

      based on incomplete understanding?

      Consider the ni
    ght sky, full of shining stars

      consider the day sky, without the stars.

      Perhaps it’s time we realized

      darkness plays an equal role in creation;

      that without darkness, there may be no light?

      The night sky is the backdrop for the pearly stars

      we love to see; to wish upon; to dream under.

      It is not the evil place old beliefs cling desperately to,

      for much of man’s creative output

      saw the light in the dreams of night.

      Why not think of the night sky as a canopy

      upon which the light anchors itself?

      Perhaps then we would find it easier

      to understand, to accept

      the darkness in ourselves and in others.

      Cosmic Toolbox

      The old tools we have been using

      these thousands of years

      are out of date: there surely must be

      new ones to find, to put to use!

      God: father, mother, creator, lover,

      provided man with a universal toolbox

      full of practical, wonderful tools

      with which to create and evolve;

      to build a universe of wonders and delights

      for God and friends to contemplate and enjoy.

      Sadly, man saw only the top layer:

      a few religious books, a scattering of 'isms',

      a few incomplete philosophies,

      grabbed at by power-hungry fools

      declaring themselves god-chosen rulers.

      From these they interpreted a god of war

      of greed and blood, of petty thoughts

      a god, in short, so afraid of man

      he willfully plunged an entire world

      under a watery flood, knowing full well

      man's woes would but continue and grow

      regardless of punishment meted out!

      Ah, what are these wonderful things

      man failed to find in the toolbox?

      They’re called love, joy, peace, patience,

      kindness, goodness, faithfulness and yes,

      even gentleness and tenderness... towards all things.

      All things, we now should understand,

      are native of the spirit called God:

      rock, salamander, tree or man, we all are one!

      The Couch

      Someone got lonely,

      always sitting alone,

      so He or She invented the couch;

      to provide Her and Him with

      a more comfortable place

      to spent an intimate moment

      but they got bored doing that

      and invented the boob tube:

      complete with bombarding ads

      filled with endless lies,

      so the next step was inevitable:

      the remote control,

      and that, as all can see

      provided irrefutable proof

      for the theory of evolution--

      (or de-volution)

      for late twentieth century

      saw the birth of a new species:

      the utterly useless,

      the sexless,

      the mindless,

      the...Couch Potato!

      Creating A New World

      I see her

      as I am walking

      an alpine meadow:

      the wind moves gently,

      the warmth of Summer

      lingers everywhere;

      the flowers filling the air

      with fragrances;

      as we move closer,

      my heart starts pounding

      my passion throbbing;

      and as we touch,

      our passion, the love we share,

      creates a new world,

      with no boundaries

      a world we can return to

      again and again

      when the stress of Earth

      brings us down.

      Death Insurance

      Life comes with no guarantee,

      of that we are certain.

      Yet try they will, try they must

      to sell me life insurance.

      How do they do it?

      flavor it with just the right amount of fear,

      with a pinch of shame, a side dish of sadness.

      Why not call a spade a spade?

      No one can insure life – it's death insurance!

      'cause we are as sure of death,

      as we are sure of taxes – so they say.

      I remind death insurance salesmen

      the point of life is to be into life,

      not paying into death with debt.

      Isn't it true if we but remembered

      that death walks beside us

      step for step every day of our life

      we would not seek 'life insurance'

      to try to beat the great illusionist?

      We would live life as a spendthrift

      in joyful caring, arms openly loving!

      Deeper Experiences

      In our search for deeper experiences,

      we were no longer satisfied to just be;

      we took the animals acceptance of life,

      splintered it;

      what did we end up with?

      A overflow of new mind things;

      we call imperfections and perfections:

      when an animal stands still for hours,

      in wait for prey,

      it is not being patient,

      it is acting according to programming:

      not so the human.

      A human calls his act

      'patience':

      the opposite then becomes active

      in the human also: impatience!

      All our perfections

      have their counterpart in imperfections!

      We took duality many steps deeper:

      why did we do this,

      when it causes us so much confusion, pain?

      because our primary search or quest

      is for experiences,

      which broaden our minds,

      enrich our lives.

      Destination

      As I was sitting on a beach

      surveying the tossing grey sea

      I pondered the saying:

      "It's not the destination that matters,

      it's the journey."

      A young woman walked past

      and said with an enigmatic smile:

      "Which is most important:

      the journey or the destination?"

      I replied: they say it's the journey,

      not the destination.

      "Think about that," she said in a soft voice,

      "can you have a journey

      if you have no destination?

      Is it not the destination

      that calls for the journey?"

      I watched her as she went on,

      looking neither to the left nor right

      until I lost sight of her behind a dune.

      From that moment, I thought differently

      about my life and my goals, and I ask,

      what's the point of moving on

      if I have nowhere to go to?

      Die From Poison? Hell No!

      Should I eat that can of stew

      filled to the rim

      with deadly preservatives?

      Hell no: I’ll starve first!

      I won’t let those preservatives

      twist my gut in knots!

      Should I drink that tap water

      laced with hazardous wastes

      leached casually from the city dump?

      Should I ingest that chlorine

      intended for the swimming pool?

      Hell no: I’m not drinking the water.

      Should I breathe in that smog?

      Those diesel fumes? The sewer wisp?

      My neighbour’s Presto log smoke

      Or that deadly, unseen C-Monoxide?

      Hell no, that way I won’t go!

      And here’s the recipe for extended health,

      strong teeth, goo
    d lungs, healthy bones:

      Eat no food;

      Drink no water;

      Breathe no air:

      You’ll die quickly,

      relatively

      painlessly,

      sensibly virginal - no longer incensed.

      Don't Think!

      They say humans

      only use ten percent of their brains...

      Well that’s too much already!

      Too painful, too confusing!

      Don't wear out that wonderful blob

      thinking up thoughts about the world

      and the mess it’s in:

      just tune in a political speech

      the latest news, the final score:

      amuse yourself in mindless chatter,

      but whatever you do,

      protect your blob from accidental wear!

      Do not try to reason

      the why’s and wherefore’s

      of the system’s nefarious ways:

      someone else is bound to do it for you,

      so why create more headache

      with the unused portion of your anatomy?

      The mess we’re in is inevitable:

      that’s why you vote, isn’t it?

      To continue the mindless game,

      and re-create the problems

      we so enjoy not solving!

      It’s time to sit upon the couch again

      and stare at the flickering tube:

      Television, the great mind-saver,

      babysitter from two to ninety-two

      keeping the brain embalmed day after day,

      night after night, saving an entire species

      from wearing out its brains!

      Dream Voices

      Soft voices of spring riding a mountain breeze

      whisper among tree tops, sweep

      across green meadows asleep under the sun.

      They awaken dreams that speak of life

      upon vistas of achromatic beaches

      and translucent turquoise waves so far away.

      Like a child chasing a fluttering butterfly,

      I chase these golden dreams across my mind.

      Dreams flowing like rivers find their way to the sea,

      and the sea holds her island paradise in readiness

      for the daring or weary sailor.

      Here, the sun's warmth never fails even under the moon;

      Here, waves of joy softly mould

      a white shore in harmony to the wind,

      that mad lover who caresses my eager skin.

      Yet the land and the mountains are my home,

      my life circumscribed within borders --

      so says my mind as I, somnolent

      awaken from my summer dreams.

      But from those dreams I come to realize

      Earth can be an understanding friend,

      there with a nudge, a playful toss

      when loneliness invades my thoughts

      like moon shadows on a cloudy night.

      Dying System

      People struggling to survive

      on the fringes of a cold, dying system;

      hiding from the tycoons

      and their henchmen called governments -

      trying desperately to find a place

      in the global slave market

      (euphemistically called employment)

      where the chain is not too heavy

      and the price less than the wage

      with something left over

      to feed the children in the cold.

      The planet's life-giving mantle

      cracks, dries, freezes

      and oozes of poisonous fumes.

      The system has run its course

      but who is aware of this fact?

      Not those who still chase the elusive dollar,

      - the rich buying a corporation -

      - the poor, a lottery ticket -

      nor those who strive to keep

      the best place at the trough.

      And as the trough deepens or shortens

      fewer and fewer snouts fit into the opening.

      Ignorant government lackeys,

      with indecent laws and crippling taxes

      lick up the fat of whatever remains

      after bankers and CEO's take the cream.

      Miserly rich rail against starving poor,

      these left with but one option:

      to die for the god of free enterprise.

      Will this madness not end?

      An academic question already answered:

      Not if but when.

      Earth Is a Zoo

      It's been said:

      Earth is a zoo.

      Indeed

      and the intelligent life forms

      (humans that is)

      who inhabit it;

      who creep and crawl over it;

      who "own" it;

      and are destroying it

      are themselves

      but wild animals

      caged by belief systems

      that never work.

      Hating each other;

      eating each other;

      destroying each other;

      and all the while

      praying to the

      Great Keeper

      up in the sky,

      safe in his heaven

      silent as the grave...

      until his pets

      unleash the great worship:

      a crusade;

      an inquisition;

      a war

      against the Keeper's "enemies."

      Then He speaks

      with guns,

      with spectacles of bloodshed

      accompanied by marches;

      justified by great speeches

      from his mouthpieces -

      Preachers, Priests, Popes

      and whomever else

      benefits from His

      special attention.

      That's right:

      Earth is a zoo.

      Extreme Sports

      Contemplating

      the possibility of death

      at maximum pleasure –

      extreme your sport:

      engage the danger.

      Climb a sheer rock wall;

      race a hot rod;

      kayak thundering rapids;

      sky dive!

      Feel the rush

      being in the moment:

      on that edge

      between worlds.

      See the past fade helpless;

      the future scream away

      and the daily grind

      drop from the confines

      of a refreshed mind.

      Experience

      the intensity of a life

      borrowed for the now --

      release

      the stress of life endured

      moulded to a clock.

      Life is sacred – isn’t it?

      Fair Trade?

      I dream:

      I’m walking down a darkened street

      when an angry one confronts me with a gun:

      Give me your money and your watch!

      But my mind’s not on his words,

      nor responding to the threat –

      I think,


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