Monday, November 20, 2006

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Monday, October 30, 2006

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

~Sung Within Surreal

Not of time or place, this heart of mine
still beating as loud, this mystery of life
because good answers, a silent kind.

Death is coming for us, each day faster
challenging is our preserve, our purpose
religion made irony a fool for hypocricy.

I’ve been already and continue besides
asking myself how long maybe can take
against the innocent slaughtered by god.

Straining against the mechanical decibel
has always been a humming that’s mine
a wrap against the elements sung within.

(c) August, 2006, RJDuberg

~How This Heart Continues

Late nights trouble me
I lose track of time
how long ago was it
when fall began
the world left to me
in the ruins of my heart

Doctor attended my survival
but nothing has changed.
How this heart continues
I'd rather not say, can't;
especially late at night
when life craps this way.

Those I love, so far away.
Men not allowed to whine.
Lonely and abandoned...
Would it have helped a child?
Back then as I began
the ignorance was bliss.

Now I'm accused of being a child.
An old guy does childish things
absentmindedly racing by time.
I feel less than way back then.
The spiritual quest didn't fail.
I awoke in a fall from grace.

Women were always a mistake
I'm obsessed over the love lost.
The pain warns me of my ego.
It's my life, it's my right to wake
on this flight more an aftermath
of waiting that's killing outright.

Knowing worse in the world
doesn't stop an iota of pain.
The wings that kept me aloft
were mythological and rotten
adding insult to the injury
of time lost in coming horror.

The dawn inflates my facade.
I know pretenses that please
despite how bitter the taste
invoked by other's whatever
like Sharapova tennis reruns
virtual power by image elite.

I have been waiting too long
for me not to whine about
how my heart continues.
I am forced to make a move
though there's no reason to.
The paradox screws tighten.

(c) September, 2006

Saturday, September 02, 2006

~Eve's Secret

Why agonize over it?
The assumed quintessential source of man's pain
cannot be balanced by what makes his life fun
cannot be looked at with her cynical eye lash
from shadows of myth or mirth in rebellion.

The rib, the crux, the bone, the point of wars
men know all too well her move behind doors
her worth and the stakes that fools bleed on
if a lady would extend me her great patience
women are not men's rival or defective genius
wrecking happiness by temptation over desire.

To consider her origin, let us ignore a secret
women act competitive provoking unhappiness
their karma distancing them from this shore
where they must return this honorable desire
stepping here is a goddess' right of passage
the alternative is hope's unthinkable death.

The secret of eve is the challenge of love
man's possibilities evolve in proportion
to the heart of synchronicity, with another.
So dear Lady, men are inversely your magic
and your presence gives essence its beauty
that imperfections like Satan get cast out.

Freedom needs you to be free next to me
It's time you come home so I may survive
otherwise these creeps that surround me
will be my deminse on this sea of outrage
Could you be anymore feminine in mercy
when you step here to end love's isolation?

© 2006, RJDuberg

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Saturday, July 29, 2006

~Watching Grass Grow

ahhhhhhh, ummmmm, many things can be realized together
and this abundance is ironic and honestly a true misfortune.
Internalizing and understanding take time to circle yoga,
a quiet place to watch the grass grow and do catch up
with folksy music, old celtic lyrics sublime, Nicks sometimes.

With the result being future integrity's renewed compass
expands the perception in a higher more intimate plane.
Too many cooks spoil the festive grassy ground's growing.

ii.

When upon returning to the scene
of the first encounter with this theme
If your honesty is bright and real
You will find precise festivity
grown between your ears by memory.

For what is this growth in perspective
but a revealing and correction
And for the curious hint seekers
what can a cook do with a compass?

(c) copyright, July 2006, RJDuberg

Monday, July 10, 2006

~Improv This

To let the mind imagine anything
with a push pull rod connecting
the mystery of life to its living

this moment.

Very rarely can poetry make due
on the gift received we eschew
where illusions reveal this you.

Still, there is so much missing.

July 2006, RJDuberg

(c) July 2006, RJDuberg

Saturday, July 01, 2006

~In The Dead Men's Chest

The first time I felt true love has remained
a high water mark atop my Everest peak.
My stand, with 360 degrees in love horizon
wasn't without its cold spot or great needs.
Unprepared, I stood destined for the falter
now fallen, I struggle to regain that ground.

Simply closing my harbor to reckless illusions,
staying committed to remembering myself,
applying lessons that stood the test of time,
keeping hope and faith distinct and apart.
For what hope desires, faith has not a basis.
Adapt to changing times is infinitely better.

The ambiguity I face to peak's preparation
compared to a one memory of being there
vanishes in immensity of starry light passion
whose twinkling silenced clambering fright
from spoiling the awesome truth I realized.
And then I fell to memories failing in decline.

My preparation sunk in blasts of resignation
with legend pointing at dead men's chest.
Life is a drama of pirates battling undead,
ghosts, represent surreal absence of light.
Though imaginary interpretation of normal
they express mystery's lament under peak.

On the fall, on the way down, they remind
if we are able to keep awake for the call
our new position in the universe in reverse
is the possibility for being alive totally in love
our basis for a faith returning hope to a chest
owned by dead men, cursed by faith in disguise.


(c) July 2006, RJDuberg

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

~Wakes of The Void

Jobless is a circumstance concluding in dangerous boredom.
Love seduced my soul before I knew the scourge of denial.
It ruined my life, stole my compass and sanity, in a flash to go.
I'm lucky somehow, despite being violined by maudlin romance
I continue to remember what was taken before being ready.

So powerful is true love it serves the purest opposite negative
when not guided and ruled over by higher conscious men,
and it is here where I have found the greatest divide
between dogma and pragmatic satisfactions I've applied.
Very few see to that distant far shore across dogma's plane
having its own horizon for lower perspectives, most will forget.
Those lacking access to such principals to contain soul's fount
encounter the worst liability to being alive in an ongoing grind
where souls could play lube and bearing over dying moments.

I've tried to stop the process of mind seeking solutions to find
it continues I suppose until my romantic soul, my muse is mine.
Intuition tells me the doors are locked and the guards are deaf
rendered blind to any impression resembling me from that time.
I've reached hard into the world for guidance without success
and I'm at the hilltop where knowing my limits and failure in fact
confronts me as the downside pulling me back forward to anew.

The best of times, the purest hearts in love with just being alive
The celebration was a raging roaring conflagration which engulfed
leaving the deepest imprint and causing me to face my oblivion.

To accept and share with any reader the fruit and wisdom here
requires one to understand a moment and precisely how temporary it is
at once the result and production of time, and how they vanish
and this vanishing is life today, This moment, anything, knowledge
is just a bubble of consciousness which is about to burst and dissolve.

Always and forever, this moment now, has and always will kill you.
Whether in memory, or in grim finality, this moment has one purpose
aimed at cessation, to die, to lose momentum's form, to end as totality.

This time, leaves us now. Please honor and observe wakes of a void.

June 2006, RJDuberg

Thursday, June 15, 2006

~Of Sky

Must be too much time on my hands
and lost love from some urgent land
that makes memory prick of a plague.
An illness of recurrence, sad sashays
when someone was listening thunder,
our hearts resonating, so far beyond
the beautiful opening flower of sky.

(c) copyright, June 2006, RJDuberg

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

~Acrimony is a Midlife State of Mind

The tragedy of my being haunts me
and increasingly takes more from me
now cresting my midlife point I seethe
over the invariable moments of what
in my youthful innocence was a strut
seductively about life, an ignorant slut.

Resting upon this horrific peak of time
knowing pricelessness lost to its crime
I understand man's rise from the slime.
This mystery plagued me well then
and what I lost remains deep within
the memories making in me a wind.

Cold and bitter, biting into my soul
I exist humble on knees feeling slow
this wind of memory a ruthless mow.
Despite my acrimony over my plight
mystery, hope and beauty are right
together fusing into an inspired light.

A man is surely defined by his action
yet remember winds of complication
most strongly felt as a midlife vexation.
These times are perhaps the most difficult
For one remembers what did not result
when opportunity met this cluster phuck.

copyright (c) June 2006, RJDuberg

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

~Ways of The Call

The moments in life which produce a feeling
more intense than any other, we call the way.
During total movements hear spirits ringing,
calls of the most unique and singular kind
one almost has no choice but to have faith.

If the idea itself my laughter left light and dry;
The above and I would be solid, down to deal.
It doesn't mean I don't listen and learn though.
Intellectual trust is special human gift to start
and it alone exists, the suffering of spirit.

So, I don't cast my pearls before the swine
but think Jesus is genius for pointing it out
with one of his many catchy shizzl jingles.
I have one grand exception for the record
but it begs the question, they all call away.

(c) May 24, 2006, RJDuberg

Sunday, May 21, 2006

~How Does It Feel?

In love with you, made tightrope a view
strung up and listing over some four years.
Not one chance, no truth made evident
while you kept my attention in fixed crisis
little yips to shake me back on the stage
to play with your great facade of a shell.

For my own delusions, I was your #1 fan
and would have kept the faith for love.
All that talk of needing time and healing
turned out as hollow as your black heart
as the years brought the opposite about,
your increasingly poor judgement of love.

That last shrill projection struck as insanity.
Imagine love that wants to knock on you
only because it stopped honestly sharing.
Telling me unkindly to get professional help
defied my ability to maintain your illusion.
How does it feel to cheat love for your hell?

(c) May 2006, RJDuberg

Saturday, May 20, 2006

~The Clueless Grind

Running through this scene again
making up time for a greater plan
to get back the mistakes I made
after I lost my way and one brigde.
That power is my stumbling block
an intermittant awareness howl
for when it's off I recall, but a whiff
and the ferocity of spirit took.

There are certain events which help.
Certainly music like Rock n Me Baby,
extreme danger or attack by illness.
Here in the middle of life, all is passing
so fast, faster today, faster tomorrow.
There's no way to catch this stream
except by intellect and a slowdown
yet I'm tired with the clueless grind.

(c) May 2006, RJDuberg

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

~Legend of Silence

After the dust, there
where time disappears,
truth waits for the true
in clearing that is real.

My selfish pins pinning,
brake, a broke rendevouz
as sadness remembering
in a burning skid from hell.

Hopeless deniablity comes
with Lucifer singing along
unmuzzled with our misery,
the voice that speaks wrong.

May your spirit listen now
and heed this revelation
about the legend of silence
over love leaving us behind.

Accept no lies about it
and let a skidding break
end, for choice of destiny
begins and ends with that.

As love renews our world.

(c) May 2006, RJDuberg

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

~The Door's Door

Morrison's beach fire made band of light
and in his mad intoxicated spiritual haze
saw illuminated within a world with doors
This vision door boosting a mystical pass.

Today we work to pass recombinant DNA.
Science's answer to Jim's wildfire problem.
Just as The Doors made ruin into an art
GE will ruin evolution and nature will lie.

Yes, there are voices of alarm and caution
just as voices around Jim spoke back then.
We had need, his madness warmed us
enough, and a locked door kept him on.

It isn't enough to complain and exclaim
until those hearing can return in urgency
if only to confirm life remains truly lock free
correctly evolving on a dead-lock counter.

(c) May 2006, RJDuberg

More on Consciousness

Today saw the convergence of interest and encounter regarding neuronal space and I shall comment what for me matters most in my understanding.

A very clear illustration was presented in the current Scientific American Today on the physiological process associated with pain producing corresponding awareness. There was given a classical Newtonian description, scientifically verified down to the molecular level. This level is biochemical and based on electromagnetism at the subatomic level which requires quantum mechanics to calculate and begin to quantify. For my purposes, let us simply understand that our physiology posesses the ability to channel bio-electrical signals up our neurological stem into our cranial matrix we call our brain wherein our consciousness "has pain." Also, realize the speed is not instantaneous and thus there exists a measurable delay between real-time and our consciousness our sensory signalling in response. While we witness our world its important in order to negate the illusion to understand that what we witness is precisely out of phase and at best a quantum echo and nothing more. (Giving rise to Plato's Cave and our mistaking the shadows on the wall for reality)

First and most important is to distinguish between these signals ( all of them not just those signaling pain ), the neuronal space (which is the integration and maintains the "living life's" integrity on a functional level, and consciousness.

What Jim Morrison was a visionary for supports the mind's comprehending the infinite mystery or limit to our ability to measure and ultimately detect or describe how little we actually know of true reality given everything we sense combines to be nothing more than an electrical matrix of signaling taking place in our neuronal space after the fact.

No amount of useful syngergistic proposing will satisfy via the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. That is NOT an answer, although it defines synergy quite nicely. Consciousness cannot be reduced to synergy. Nothing can in fact, and while this does not invalidate consciousness since those of us that are awake and conscious know who we are, what it does do is drive a stake into the heart of the content and the truth about it. The world we can sense must be recognized as unreal.

If one realizes that our link to the real world is defined by this matrix, in light of the irrefutable facts we must recognize that the world we live in is an illusion which our consciousness somehow manufactures as its content, drivenas it were somehow by the signal matrix.

How is this possible, just how imprisoned our we in this framework, and negating the bias presents us with what new possibilities. Just what can be said meaningfully in the knowledge that what we are aware of but a very small piece of the reality bandwith and then by remote and very imperfect facimilie? Given the quality of this illusion we take as reality what does that say about reality itself and when are we going to muster the critical mass necessary for the will to realize a means to directly encounter that instead of this?

This is a rabbit hole from wonderland though and the quality of our life being a relation to an illusion manufactured from a matrix of signaling neurons extends into our entire cognitive life dow this wellspring of confusion and limitation. Thus was the famous proposition by Plato regarding Ideal Forms given a foundation in reason however, to give a cue to the depth of the hole. What we consider perfectly valid notions and abstractions are just as much a reproduction of the real as our tactile sensory awareness in our conscious experience.

There are many questions which can be raised at this point and I suggest they all have merit and are worth "chatting about" as it were. I would be happy to have related discussions or join entirely different ones as well.

thank you for reading,
Rj

Sunday, May 14, 2006

~A Poem about my Mom this Mother's Day 2006

Poise of Moon

She consumes your world
granite oceans to sky passions
her fuel, as light from darkness
into a shining jewel, her smile.
You pass her by but do not see
but the path faintly, her need.

I feed her, I embrace and heal her
awakening finally, weakly cursing
to see this largest of magnificences
poised, this world's only true heir
an angel fire lighting your night,
waiting to digest your every misery.

I'm a fool for her mooness blossom
I must attend now to her every one.
Her orb so brilliant to see, a mystery
reflecting more love from all eternity.

'Tis there reflected, the true mystery!
And there, to find, our immortality.

© Dec 1999, RJDuberg

revised this Mother's Day 2006 for mom

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

~Encapsulation of Leary's Limits

Innocence, OK?
Ignorance a shame.
Love to recall all
from the very start
immortal,
and a god.


(c) RJDuberg, May 2006

Thursday, May 04, 2006

~Color of Light


Emily Dickinson
remembered the fly
before she died.

Ignorance, eternal and
innocent, remembered
science, forsooth.

MOM's liquid voice
was my recall
born with a heart.

One lover of mine
remembered for now
makes this worthwhile.

The sparkle of mind
remembered all that
and what, in time.

Dreams of Future's delight
remembered,
make color of light.

© May 2006, RJDuberg

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Drink Merrily

Here in the not here is calling I say.
Fit but untried and unseen I am.
Christ cried forsakenly,
yet truth was and is given.
Never surrender freedom,
the ward against unbeing,
and all things boogiefying.

Here, sing with me,
drink merrily my tears,
and touch light with light.

(c) 2006 RJDuberg

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

While Virus Attacks I Make Funny Noises

The truth never arrived through the front door.
It has always been waiting for us round the back.
Where some notice, in a blinding flash by swivel.
Chaos and power conjoin influences in this sway
across eternity's distances defining a balance.

Separating truth from that trauma inside out
is our choice and choosing keeping well in place
but not the corrupt sir, or the sucking of care
for we all care, driven by beating love for life.
No arguing with results, reading this proves it.

Loving life is our given for which debt is soul.
Nothing raises what purely evolves as human
but source of truth revealed in press of inquiry.
The answer we finally note, as blindness ensuing
is elegantly summed, positively put, by negation.

The other direction comes upon this one to meet.
A meeting extinguishing the Void with paradox
where that which is distinct dances to perfect
possibilities evolving existence of humanities.
By his sacrafice of leaden awareness man lends
only support he's able with import inquiry offers.

Being stuck in chaos after that flash of blindness
may be primary cause of all our early expirations.
That here always is this, all and everything to us.
And, death is a fact of our living reversed in end.
Rational faith extends truth this coherent paradox.

(c) copyright, April 2006, RJDuberg

-Not very poetic, expresses honesty of criticism, whatever. My success is that in the beginning when I attempted to write a poem and turned out something like this which was not an entirely different but yet influenced by, I was there and still was moved with understanding my own language somehow a cryptograph of reality if not deeper meanings.

It's so very beautiful here today, and in the midst of it all my system is crashing with a very nasty and insistent virus keeping the flow from its normal freedom and unfettered spaces.

I would have liked more for this poem, I know there's at least another half unwritten which belongs here somehow, and I will simply close to say that truth you'll find in the cracks of what veneer is left over after the burn subsides from flash of blindness .




Sunday, April 02, 2006

Friday, March 17, 2006

Journal

Last night I heard a story of infidelity from someone who then talked to their spouse on their cell phone, forgot to end the call, and proceeded to continue speaking on their transgression while the spouse listened in.

Nothing ever turns out the way you want it to or think that it should.

Writing, especially poetry is becoming harder and harder to do. It's very difficult to even begin and I haven't written a poem in ages.

I'm watching Adaptation and appreciating its breadth and range of applied technique expressed brilliantly. What is brilliant then? There are standards, methods, and that sort of rigamarole, but what is brilliant to me is precision expressed through the storyline. Middle of the road, is always adviseable, but brillant as long as the road is not cliche.

Recapitulation for me in which I have relived my history eventwise has revealed some odd sensorial memories regarding smell which I never remember otherwise even when I access associatively on purpose. Why is that? Smells escape our intellectual associative memory framework somehow, yet when recapitulating, a memory of a particular smells comes write in and is unmistakeable. This is of course the hallmark of recapitulating, the power of attention given to one's memory which somehow transports one's conscious awareness into the past in a way so as to have more than the memory but to relive the moment.

There is a separation between the experience and the awareness, and one's conscious awareness becomes self aware in the process of remembering a moment not present. This defies logic and is yet another mystery, not observable in others.

But what it all comes down to in the final analysis is all about action. So then, what action do I need to take now to support what I action I need to take today. What actions are successful and effective? Mostly, people have already committed to their agenda, but the trick becomes magic when they or you or I can assume some new action in that agenda without limitation or having the action item destroy our agenda's foundation or MO, if you will.

The subject of attraction and what we do to gain another's interest and attention, etc., is somehow kept fresher and more potent by a sustained mysteriousness which obsessing or analysis degrades, leading to a fullscale disintegration. Yet, once having accomplished this disintegration, one lives with the scar and may forever live hearing the echoes and speculative nuance when confronted with new possibilities of attraction and romantic discovery.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Saturday, February 25, 2006

What do you do when you can't find the words to express what you're feeling? In the past, I've always relied on confidants or therapists to help me talk myself through to some resolution or better day. At least that was their purpose in my life. It remains unresolved for me whether this is effective or whether talking with people whose only real purpose is to "pretend"or "present" a particular listening for you or I, whether that doesn't just create another entirely different set of issues. I spent years taking advantage of the so called "help" and then a few years back I suddenly started avoiding them and closing their access.

Close or intimate relationship with another person though brings with it this form of communication however on a more genuine level and having been denied that recently (rejected may be the more appropriate term) has really impacted my balance and center, turning me even more introspective and a degree or more less confident and insecure. The genuine form of the intimate connection I'm talking about does express real value which forms something truly real and living in our hearts and souls as human beings.

Any upset or damage to bonds or relationships like that, I think have the potential of complete ruin and the disintegration of our "sense of self" or ego. The only real strategy for coping with this possibility is to diversify oneself as well as one can without stretching one's emotional being too thin and thus creating a whole other set of problems and breakdowns. And, surely for me, at this point in my life, forcing myself to focus on group support and group networking, socially speaking seems to be the best antidote and aid for keeping a more positive attitude and anticipation for the future.

Certainly, the axiom that nothing is as important in life than having positive anticipation for the future, remains intrinsically valid. Especially in a situation like this, when a person could go round and round trying to analyze the breakdown which is complete and past now. A very hard process to go through. I offer my sympathy and support for anyone who understands what I've shared out of having their own first hand experiences.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Attempt to Articulate

In the deepest musical resonations
that matter to one, to me, to you
what exists there has always been
a dream, like you, then and now
a song that hurts with a longing.

For awhile, you seemed to speak
what I have felt as lost in sorrow
brought back with joy and love
in your magnificence I listened
only to realize tragedy progress.

Attempt to articulate this horror
finds no landing except blame
for there is nothing that expresses
that direct and in line with mine.
A confused attempt to articulate.

Feb 19, 2006, RJDuberg

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Analysis of Q(x)=Eu


Calculate a result in terms of the achievement of X amount of Energy in units(u) which completes and satisfies the highest relevant purposeful goal. Hold cultural variance constant, IE spirituality, factors of ecology and evolution.

Analyze effort to result, and remember that every moment of our lives are determined higher levels consciousness developed for effective and efficient repetitions of this analysis in REAL TIME as is appropriate to the harmony and happiness of our life and experience.

Without an exact and complete vision of the possibilities and potentials combined with a will to act, what happens in our lives is determined by accident and our overall mechanicalized boundaries.

With success as developing beings we witness the true payment humanity was created for fulfilling. Next to all the variable dimensions and factors in this process is mankind's isolation from higher ruling faculties, and his enslavement by ignorance and stupidity.

When measures result in a certain state in man, an unfolding and rebirthing of that man takes place from which a germination of free will is incubated and given essence and being requiring a paradoxical reversal of polarity along functional dimensions, such as attention.

Regardless of the depth and complexity of this topic, a truly essential scope is termed simply Know How Much Your Willing to Pay for "THIS" and whether or not you would stake your life on producing a precise transaction in the universe. All that given and considered, those who thrive within this challenge are my heroes ad infinitum infinity or eternity forever.

(c) Rjd, 1/2006

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Not Hope, Nor Hip Cynicism, but Better Day Today.












Recent yesterdays defy darkest imagination as they were and have begun to fade in their recidivism.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Meeting the Strays




My little flying doggy on the beach this AM after I pulled out the following two strophes reaching on cryptic legs that seem unlike doggy's but rather mired in quicksand, a destiny like that of a dump.

Well anonymous schmonymous
I'll not have strange minds
asking my dimwit a dime
when we've not the time.

Though talent unfurled in you
reminds me to curl the torrent
before I ride that broncness
and what snakeyes mean.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Monday, January 02, 2006