"Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek,
but a means by which we arrive at that goal."
Martin Luther King Jr. said that, and he was right. And
his wisdom holds true not only for peace in our world,
but for peace within ourselves.
All of our spiritual traditions teach the same thing. To
achieve peace, be peace. Yet how does one be what
one is wishing to experience? By a sheer act of Will.
10.4.11
9.4.11
Simplicity in the truth echoes and rebounds and always circles back to love.
Combing through times past
Contentment and smiles.
Joy and smiling eyes.
Dissapointment and staring at the ground.
Sadness, and crumbling, at the silence in the sound.
Rage and souls afire.
No black and white, in this heart of mine, in colors bright, as neon pyrotechnics fly across your skies, it burns.
Contentment and smiles.
Joy and smiling eyes.
Dissapointment and staring at the ground.
Sadness, and crumbling, at the silence in the sound.
Rage and souls afire.
No black and white, in this heart of mine, in colors bright, as neon pyrotechnics fly across your skies, it burns.
29.1.11
The grand river swelled into our yard in 93. Crawfish on the front porch.
A wood burning stove was the central heat in this old plantation home. Propane only on the most frigid of nights.
I hear people speak of this as suffering. I lived it, I loved it. Waking in the night to blow on the last embers that refused in the freeze to be put out, toss on a lil timber to get the fire going again. It gave me reason to wake to the coyotes singing their sorrows to the winds. Drifting back off to my world of dreams, ushered by the sounds of fire.....
Our home was the last on this dusty road to the grand river, although it was still a mile hike, my brother and I never let a sunny day go by without running to our freedom.
The pebbles in the river glistened like jewels, reflecting my eyes a million times.
Running in the corn all day, going to the river, or to play in the ponds and catch frogs in one of the ponds that surrounded the couple mile radius of our home, the rule was, in sight by dusk, or when you heard Dad whistle, My god how did we survive?!?
We must stop trying to protect people from themselves. Tragedy happens. But not often, thats why it is called tragedy not commonplace. I was most free on the farm there near the river, bringing home buckets of clay from river bottom to fashion and bake. Finding bones and imagining them to be the leftovers of the giants that once walked the earth.
This freedom, I want for my children, not gates and basements and straps, and choke chains.
They must be free, they must feel it for a time, to ever long for it in adulthood. Longing for freedom. We must create a generation of children that long for that which they have felt. That which they want to share with the world. Hair blowing in the wind, arms and legs scratched by the husks of corn, loving every blood drawing touch. For it is in this place that discoveries are made.
A wood burning stove was the central heat in this old plantation home. Propane only on the most frigid of nights.
I hear people speak of this as suffering. I lived it, I loved it. Waking in the night to blow on the last embers that refused in the freeze to be put out, toss on a lil timber to get the fire going again. It gave me reason to wake to the coyotes singing their sorrows to the winds. Drifting back off to my world of dreams, ushered by the sounds of fire.....
Our home was the last on this dusty road to the grand river, although it was still a mile hike, my brother and I never let a sunny day go by without running to our freedom.
The pebbles in the river glistened like jewels, reflecting my eyes a million times.
Running in the corn all day, going to the river, or to play in the ponds and catch frogs in one of the ponds that surrounded the couple mile radius of our home, the rule was, in sight by dusk, or when you heard Dad whistle, My god how did we survive?!?
We must stop trying to protect people from themselves. Tragedy happens. But not often, thats why it is called tragedy not commonplace. I was most free on the farm there near the river, bringing home buckets of clay from river bottom to fashion and bake. Finding bones and imagining them to be the leftovers of the giants that once walked the earth.
This freedom, I want for my children, not gates and basements and straps, and choke chains.
They must be free, they must feel it for a time, to ever long for it in adulthood. Longing for freedom. We must create a generation of children that long for that which they have felt. That which they want to share with the world. Hair blowing in the wind, arms and legs scratched by the husks of corn, loving every blood drawing touch. For it is in this place that discoveries are made.
28.1.11
........
Lost in memories of the future
Sifting sands of time.
Building castles only to tear them down.
Braving the rough surf for hidden treasures
lying beneath the violence of water.
What lies ahead, is it a dream
or a lie?
On a path lit by moon
Alone walking the night, holding your hand.
Afraid to let go and to hold on,
for castles built in sand
eventually wash away by tide or wind
Searching desperately for solid land.
Hiking this unknown terrain
Footing unsure, yet knowing. I cant stop moving
forward.
Sifting sands of time.
Building castles only to tear them down.
Braving the rough surf for hidden treasures
lying beneath the violence of water.
What lies ahead, is it a dream
or a lie?
On a path lit by moon
Alone walking the night, holding your hand.
Afraid to let go and to hold on,
for castles built in sand
eventually wash away by tide or wind
Searching desperately for solid land.
Hiking this unknown terrain
Footing unsure, yet knowing. I cant stop moving
forward.
29.9.10
Grieving the Loss of our Amerika pt.2
Awaken from the Illusion
Denial.
That ache in your belly you try to ignore. The nagging pull on your mind; and the images that flash in crazy psychedelic patterns, permeating the very, inner skin of your brain. Interrupting the wonderful mirages offered up by those that would choose to think for you.
Until, you blink.
You choose to think,
about something else. Anything else.
Busy hands. Busy feet. Busy. Busy. Busy.
All is, as it is suppose to be. All is right with the world.
But you know that it is not.
You blow away the shadows in hopes their cold embrace will never reach you again. Run. Run. Run.
Chase that damn tail. And so the cycle goes.
Avoidance.
Paint the shadows with rainbows of colors and pretend their kisses are sweet. You imagine they are.
You are startled and wake; in a cellblock. The color machine that resides in your mind, does not work here.
They took your shoes, the floor is clammy; the toilet seat frostbite cold. Your thin mat on concrete and no blanket, have you permanently tattooed with red, blotchy, goose flesh. Your head pounds like never before, and the breakfast smells like the vomit that is not yet in the silver, lidless john.
Then it hits you. You can’t escape the reality of prickly skin, wet feet, pounding head and you can’t shake the icicles from your legs. You CAN NOT deny what is true existence for you. This harsh, bleak and cold cold world is nothing like you once imagined.
When your truth is inescapable, you face it; and end up with frost on your nose that will only melt with the tears you cannot cry. For all that you knew is GONE. GONE. DONE. FINITO.
No more rainbow tinted shadows, the darkness creeps in with your every breath, and doesn’t even stop with your bones. Your core is rocked, it has rendered you without words, to process this strange new world you have found your feet in. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Paralysis. The lies. They are almost laughable, almost.
Paint drying on the wall wont escape its new home and, neither, I’m afraid will you. You’re awake.
It takes effort to put calories in to your mouth so that your lungs will keep giving you air. This, at least, is almost inescapable. Instinct.
Can you shake this anxiety? Trembling hands, quaking soul, twitching eyes.
Stolen are the colors that lived behind your eyes. Terror. Absolute. Unfathomed. Break your neck. Leave you for dead.
SILENCE. Wriggles in, until it takes up the place that used to be. Replacing the bubbles and holographic reflections with deep, echoing SILENCE.
Look around this barren desert where you woke. Do you recognize a damn thing? Purse your lips and gently blow the sand away………
You tell yourself, “your just dreaming.” Close and open your eyes as many times as it takes. Nope. You are not asleep.
Rocks in your socks, now baring down, and eating holes in your ankles; as you trudge along trying to fight this barren newness. Will you soon wake from this foolishness? Madness? Unreality?
Turn to look from whence you came, only to see your shadow dragging its tail through your bloody footprints. *realization*;
No more trudging. You won’t wake to find the blood gone.
This is no dream. You burn with instinct. Dig. Dig damn you. Dig for your life, for your water!
This barren desert will swallow you whole.
And so you do, you dig; for days and nights on end, watching the stars shift on the horizon. Your mouth, dry as the sand.
When you reach the cool depths of moonlit, mirrored reflection; you know you will survive. You can face whatever beast lies waiting for you in the night above.
You sit. Sweating. Finally. Giving. Back to sweet mother what she has given you. Truth. Stunning. You are now awake. Trembling. Malnourished. Afraid. Alert. Mindful.
Realize, all media has an agenda. A death grip on your perception, and how your “suppose” to react. Reject them. Listen gleanfully.
Look for the foreboding between phrases. Between breaths even they cannot hide their humanity.
What is missing? Why isn’t anyone doing anything about (insert your favorite topic here)?
You. You are what is missing. There is a role or many you can play real-believe with and FIGHT the ILLUSION.
You were never free of scorching days, starry frozen nights, digging and bleeding. That part is REAL.
Everything you knew before, those, bubbly rainbows, filaments, and flakes in a globe. The unreal. Gone are soft holographic dream-like steps.
All that is real is today. What are you going to do with yours?
Still bleeding? That’s ok. It will slow and eventually stop when you begin to push back the illusion. You will find your footing and ride your waves into shores of truth. Aching, yet blissfully Alive.
~no one said waking would be easy. only, that it would be worth it~
Denial.
That ache in your belly you try to ignore. The nagging pull on your mind; and the images that flash in crazy psychedelic patterns, permeating the very, inner skin of your brain. Interrupting the wonderful mirages offered up by those that would choose to think for you.
Until, you blink.
You choose to think,
about something else. Anything else.
Busy hands. Busy feet. Busy. Busy. Busy.
All is, as it is suppose to be. All is right with the world.
But you know that it is not.
You blow away the shadows in hopes their cold embrace will never reach you again. Run. Run. Run.
Chase that damn tail. And so the cycle goes.
Avoidance.
Paint the shadows with rainbows of colors and pretend their kisses are sweet. You imagine they are.
You are startled and wake; in a cellblock. The color machine that resides in your mind, does not work here.
They took your shoes, the floor is clammy; the toilet seat frostbite cold. Your thin mat on concrete and no blanket, have you permanently tattooed with red, blotchy, goose flesh. Your head pounds like never before, and the breakfast smells like the vomit that is not yet in the silver, lidless john.
Then it hits you. You can’t escape the reality of prickly skin, wet feet, pounding head and you can’t shake the icicles from your legs. You CAN NOT deny what is true existence for you. This harsh, bleak and cold cold world is nothing like you once imagined.
When your truth is inescapable, you face it; and end up with frost on your nose that will only melt with the tears you cannot cry. For all that you knew is GONE. GONE. DONE. FINITO.
No more rainbow tinted shadows, the darkness creeps in with your every breath, and doesn’t even stop with your bones. Your core is rocked, it has rendered you without words, to process this strange new world you have found your feet in. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Paralysis. The lies. They are almost laughable, almost.
Paint drying on the wall wont escape its new home and, neither, I’m afraid will you. You’re awake.
It takes effort to put calories in to your mouth so that your lungs will keep giving you air. This, at least, is almost inescapable. Instinct.
Can you shake this anxiety? Trembling hands, quaking soul, twitching eyes.
Stolen are the colors that lived behind your eyes. Terror. Absolute. Unfathomed. Break your neck. Leave you for dead.
SILENCE. Wriggles in, until it takes up the place that used to be. Replacing the bubbles and holographic reflections with deep, echoing SILENCE.
Look around this barren desert where you woke. Do you recognize a damn thing? Purse your lips and gently blow the sand away………
You tell yourself, “your just dreaming.” Close and open your eyes as many times as it takes. Nope. You are not asleep.
Rocks in your socks, now baring down, and eating holes in your ankles; as you trudge along trying to fight this barren newness. Will you soon wake from this foolishness? Madness? Unreality?
Turn to look from whence you came, only to see your shadow dragging its tail through your bloody footprints. *realization*;
No more trudging. You won’t wake to find the blood gone.
This is no dream. You burn with instinct. Dig. Dig damn you. Dig for your life, for your water!
This barren desert will swallow you whole.
And so you do, you dig; for days and nights on end, watching the stars shift on the horizon. Your mouth, dry as the sand.
When you reach the cool depths of moonlit, mirrored reflection; you know you will survive. You can face whatever beast lies waiting for you in the night above.
You sit. Sweating. Finally. Giving. Back to sweet mother what she has given you. Truth. Stunning. You are now awake. Trembling. Malnourished. Afraid. Alert. Mindful.
Realize, all media has an agenda. A death grip on your perception, and how your “suppose” to react. Reject them. Listen gleanfully.
Look for the foreboding between phrases. Between breaths even they cannot hide their humanity.
What is missing? Why isn’t anyone doing anything about (insert your favorite topic here)?
You. You are what is missing. There is a role or many you can play real-believe with and FIGHT the ILLUSION.
You were never free of scorching days, starry frozen nights, digging and bleeding. That part is REAL.
Everything you knew before, those, bubbly rainbows, filaments, and flakes in a globe. The unreal. Gone are soft holographic dream-like steps.
All that is real is today. What are you going to do with yours?
Still bleeding? That’s ok. It will slow and eventually stop when you begin to push back the illusion. You will find your footing and ride your waves into shores of truth. Aching, yet blissfully Alive.
~no one said waking would be easy. only, that it would be worth it~
6.8.10
"Grieving the loss of our Amerika" pt. 1
"Grieving The Loss of Our Amerika"
Part 1
This will be a series from my perspective of Americans grieving the loss of Amerika. I chose Anger as part one, due to the chatter I hear everywhere I go and within the "movement" towards rEvolution. We must empathize with those still angry or angry again, we have all been there.
Creedence, in my ear, warnings and solutions. The state of our affairs is not new, nor should have been so unexpected. There have been voices for decades for the cause of freedom, warnings of tyranny; Shall we wake now, and heed these warnings?
Anger is only bad if you let it fester, if you take the energy from such a powerful emotion and use it for positive action, there is NOTHING wrong with said anger. If you are a festerer, you are self-inflicting yourself with poison. ACT. PLEASE; in a peaceful manner to affect change on something close to your heart. (whatever it is that has you up in arms)
In school I read every reading assignment in history, English, chemistry, you name it. I swallowed it all hook line and sinker. I started debates in classes with the teachers most of my peers did not like. (these brave teachers were rogue, they expected more out of you than a passing MAP test score). It was after one such heated discussion I finally won a smile from a teacher that smiled the least. He happened to be a great history teacher.
Let’s change gears for a moment. It was freshman year, for 3 days we got the US and MO constitutions shoved down our throats; in cramming style to take and pass the test for state standards. I remember not one good discussion on this topic of “rights” “freedom” “liberty”…… It was crammed, passed, and mostly forgotten…..We complained the whole way; having no idea, we were being robbed of the most important piece of history. This piece, seems to be a mute point when it comes to “state” run schools. Why would they want more educated masses???? Or students who ask thought provoking questions. It was a robbery of the highest order.
No matter how much I disagreed I still held onto that “American Pride” for quite sometime, no matter our differences I viewed us as one big tribe. I mistakenly thought other people saw us that way too.
I cant point out the exact time I became VERY angry, because I have always run against the current; but at some point I became, angry, enraged and infuriated! All that I had come to believe was a lie! A sham! And for every federal reserve note I passed I had more blood on my hands! For the first time, I was completely disgusted and disenfranchised at how you and I are being seen by the rest of the world; as a collective people. The portrayal is such a farce, a complete polar opposite of how most truly are and what most truly believe in. Those on the hill do not represent who we truly are, and strive to be. We have become the bully, one to be feared; instead of the beacon of hope…….
Then, I started connecting the dots on one subject (Iraq war, then another (history of the Taliban, and another (9/11, dare I say I questioned that too!); still freaking angry, only my blood is boiling at a raging pace now. Then one more thing fell into place(the indoctrination of our children from the moment they are put into school by the states curriculum/agenda). In my mind I was crying out!!! WHERE ARE OUR VOICES????? Then a few more and you begin to laugh at the absurdity of the reality, that has become quite a dark comedy. Entertaining, if it were not real.
Back to reality, there is injustice everyday, everywhere against our fellow brothers and sisters in humanity (here in the good ol’ us of a, countries far and wide, this is a whole new subject), by the establishment. Lets talk strategy now….peaceful civil disobedience, we have that one covered, thought out or not, everyday. We, you, them, are all criminals as far as the infinite law books are concerned. But thought out disobedience, dissent and peaceful revolt is our duty, its actually a law (can you believe that one) when our natural “rights” are treaded on in the slightest, they are no longer “valid”. The only way to get past the anger is to employ your own strategies, to take away your “permission” from the state, its brutality, and its hypocrityc ludicrous, means of getting “its” way. I came to realize that we may have to come together if our end goal is PURE Liberty, and Freedom (only then can there be “peace”), we will have to put aside our otherwise miniscule differences and come together. When it comes to math, we serfs have our kings outnumbered ridiculously well. The numbers are in our favor. Largely.
I think once this realization is made, you’re not as angry as before, you act on your convictions more. Unless the rapture comes real soon the beast will fall upon it’s own fatal sword and the strong enduring, Lovelution, rEvoloution and R3evolution will happen in its totality, end goals are in sight.
We have it within our reach to make amends for our atrocities around the world and at home, present and past, by our actions (“our” words mean nothing to slaughtered families and decades of suffering for our many senseless acts of brutality) and a different approach to each other and the world.
Once the sword hath pierced the heart of the beast. We can be the kind of people that our ancestors would be proud of, that we can be proud of. That gives me hope, that I am not alone, I know I am not the only one.
I still cuss like a sailor about it all at times, but we are many and they are few. Remember that much.
“First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.” Ghandi
In the end, the anger, it’s a good thing; it means more people are ripping the wool from their own eyes. We may come together as serfs to fight the kings, but blind serfs do no good. Be angry; just do something about it.
How did we get to a place where what we hold closest to our hearts, we keep from the worlds view? When we rob ourselves of dialogue, we give up everything. Never give up. Keep your spirits alive!
Part 1
This will be a series from my perspective of Americans grieving the loss of Amerika. I chose Anger as part one, due to the chatter I hear everywhere I go and within the "movement" towards rEvolution. We must empathize with those still angry or angry again, we have all been there.
Creedence, in my ear, warnings and solutions. The state of our affairs is not new, nor should have been so unexpected. There have been voices for decades for the cause of freedom, warnings of tyranny; Shall we wake now, and heed these warnings?
Anger is only bad if you let it fester, if you take the energy from such a powerful emotion and use it for positive action, there is NOTHING wrong with said anger. If you are a festerer, you are self-inflicting yourself with poison. ACT. PLEASE; in a peaceful manner to affect change on something close to your heart. (whatever it is that has you up in arms)
In school I read every reading assignment in history, English, chemistry, you name it. I swallowed it all hook line and sinker. I started debates in classes with the teachers most of my peers did not like. (these brave teachers were rogue, they expected more out of you than a passing MAP test score). It was after one such heated discussion I finally won a smile from a teacher that smiled the least. He happened to be a great history teacher.
Let’s change gears for a moment. It was freshman year, for 3 days we got the US and MO constitutions shoved down our throats; in cramming style to take and pass the test for state standards. I remember not one good discussion on this topic of “rights” “freedom” “liberty”…… It was crammed, passed, and mostly forgotten…..We complained the whole way; having no idea, we were being robbed of the most important piece of history. This piece, seems to be a mute point when it comes to “state” run schools. Why would they want more educated masses???? Or students who ask thought provoking questions. It was a robbery of the highest order.
No matter how much I disagreed I still held onto that “American Pride” for quite sometime, no matter our differences I viewed us as one big tribe. I mistakenly thought other people saw us that way too.
I cant point out the exact time I became VERY angry, because I have always run against the current; but at some point I became, angry, enraged and infuriated! All that I had come to believe was a lie! A sham! And for every federal reserve note I passed I had more blood on my hands! For the first time, I was completely disgusted and disenfranchised at how you and I are being seen by the rest of the world; as a collective people. The portrayal is such a farce, a complete polar opposite of how most truly are and what most truly believe in. Those on the hill do not represent who we truly are, and strive to be. We have become the bully, one to be feared; instead of the beacon of hope…….
Then, I started connecting the dots on one subject (Iraq war, then another (history of the Taliban, and another (9/11, dare I say I questioned that too!); still freaking angry, only my blood is boiling at a raging pace now. Then one more thing fell into place(the indoctrination of our children from the moment they are put into school by the states curriculum/agenda). In my mind I was crying out!!! WHERE ARE OUR VOICES????? Then a few more and you begin to laugh at the absurdity of the reality, that has become quite a dark comedy. Entertaining, if it were not real.
Back to reality, there is injustice everyday, everywhere against our fellow brothers and sisters in humanity (here in the good ol’ us of a, countries far and wide, this is a whole new subject), by the establishment. Lets talk strategy now….peaceful civil disobedience, we have that one covered, thought out or not, everyday. We, you, them, are all criminals as far as the infinite law books are concerned. But thought out disobedience, dissent and peaceful revolt is our duty, its actually a law (can you believe that one) when our natural “rights” are treaded on in the slightest, they are no longer “valid”. The only way to get past the anger is to employ your own strategies, to take away your “permission” from the state, its brutality, and its hypocrityc ludicrous, means of getting “its” way. I came to realize that we may have to come together if our end goal is PURE Liberty, and Freedom (only then can there be “peace”), we will have to put aside our otherwise miniscule differences and come together. When it comes to math, we serfs have our kings outnumbered ridiculously well. The numbers are in our favor. Largely.
I think once this realization is made, you’re not as angry as before, you act on your convictions more. Unless the rapture comes real soon the beast will fall upon it’s own fatal sword and the strong enduring, Lovelution, rEvoloution and R3evolution will happen in its totality, end goals are in sight.
We have it within our reach to make amends for our atrocities around the world and at home, present and past, by our actions (“our” words mean nothing to slaughtered families and decades of suffering for our many senseless acts of brutality) and a different approach to each other and the world.
Once the sword hath pierced the heart of the beast. We can be the kind of people that our ancestors would be proud of, that we can be proud of. That gives me hope, that I am not alone, I know I am not the only one.
I still cuss like a sailor about it all at times, but we are many and they are few. Remember that much.
“First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.” Ghandi
In the end, the anger, it’s a good thing; it means more people are ripping the wool from their own eyes. We may come together as serfs to fight the kings, but blind serfs do no good. Be angry; just do something about it.
How did we get to a place where what we hold closest to our hearts, we keep from the worlds view? When we rob ourselves of dialogue, we give up everything. Never give up. Keep your spirits alive!
5.3.10
Warehouse
Melted, I did, into the touch
of arms that were long overdue in their holding
Caution to the winds blowing
of our reality, just with you, smoldering
In a moment, never lost in time
I can feel your breathe and hear your whisper
Smell the smoke of the morning that
glassy look about your eyes,
My the morning went straight to night,
As we wasted the day into another
night unended
of arms that were long overdue in their holding
Caution to the winds blowing
of our reality, just with you, smoldering
In a moment, never lost in time
I can feel your breathe and hear your whisper
Smell the smoke of the morning that
glassy look about your eyes,
My the morning went straight to night,
As we wasted the day into another
night unended
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