Monthly Archives: September 2017

Enter: the Censor


Listen to yourself breathe.
Look outward with glossy stare.
Become the hunted.
Become what you seek.
Then never look into the mirror.

Press eyes into the sieve.
What’s left can only see through filter.
You sought the censor.
You never thought the censor was you.
Now never again look into the mirror.

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The Dreaming Self

Sensation is real
And suffering is true,
And freedom from pain is the dream we hold to.
This does not exclude everything else,
This does not define what is real for the self.
In my own dream I say what I see.
Though you may not see the same as me.
We all dream and are dreaming
The dreams our brains are selling.
What happens when one wakes up?
Now that would be telling.

On Fears

The mad who remember
Weaken, succumb to pain.
The mad who forget
How careless and hasty they!
But rare the one who remembers
And looks fear in the eye,
And when it seems to take a hold,
To let it pass by.
The strength to examine fear
And prudence to let it go
Is something we should all aspire to
When I find it, I’ll let you know.

New Light To Elsewhere


I see a sign to nowhere,
A door that was once there.
An empty room, gray.
Abandoned light: day.
Something becomes nothing,
Nothing is everything.
Nowhere to go, no worries.
Searching for a path long buried.
On this gray path a new one to nowhere,
From this forsaken dawn, new light to elsewhere.

Cities Crumble

When cities crumble after skies fall down,
A curious sun shines upon ruins.
I stand on oceans edge, dead ground.
One won’t see death here for bright day akin
To a cemetery, dry bones, and sin.
Cities crumble and leave no clouds behind,
No churches, or temples we’ve to hide in.
Nothing I see above that’s silver lined.
One doesn’t see God’s hand, raising up storms,
And torching the land. We mustn’t cry out:
“The gods! The gods!”. We’re to blame. On this shore,
I meet the sand and the waves, still with doubt,
God in His heaven, all’s right with the world.
I look on, as this too becomes unfurled.

My Ego Death

I am more than the sum of my parts,
More than this limiting human form.
My ego death, each one before it,
Are just pieces of me that die.
I am something new each day,
Each sun that rises has a thing new to say.
There will be darkness mixed with light,
The something new could be imperfect, it might.
With briefly nothing to adore,
My ego death will find me waiting,
And I won’t be me, anymore.