Good Time to Rest...

My spiritual wish for liberation and my attendant activity of researching possibilities and associated texts and philosophies has expanded to an ongoing 24/7 level, as of late. I am in need of some basic pacing though within this new level, as my health has deteriorated and I have new aches and pains that showed up just today, I think, from too much sitting on my butt.

I am progressing and growing and yet never fast enough or high enough. I still suffer a lack of clarity or focus to my practice (intentionally) keeping several different disciplines actively in mind these days. At some point, this hyper cross referencing analysis would be really nice to let go of in favor of simple calm abiding, perhaps.

Of course, it would also be very nice if USA's congressional government would get their heads out of their butts too, before the nation is thrown into a wicked collapse on the global markets.

~Sagacious Orator

The speaker's stage set
upon the cue
the veiled consciousness
freed of itself.

The intent to oration
is a bizarre contraction
forever the sound confuses
ignorance, revealing a void.

And he spoke a line, meant
to connect a relative scale.
He spoke not for love, now
in service to please, all Being.

He was fond, and yet, loved
though others found him mad.
Those who were silent nearby
began to realize themselves.

Hostage Trip of Hell

This body is under an attack of ghostly terror
Already unreliable for demands of attention
evolving, accelerating, of rapid illumination
my body is groundhog, drowning is scripted.

The flesh makes procreation matter to death
and while becoming conscious of freedom
my flesh's self starts to search farther beyond
never succeeding. 'Out there' spoons no exit.

What desire understands, means to vanish
itself with self, from the endless yarn of cycle
Now it only creeps alongside fleshling waddle.
Mind's footing so tenuous by All's distraction.

A tactical genius is required to reset the spirit
forces a plenty, which together might render
another plane of consciousness empowered
within self's metaphysics, neutralizing tension.

Present to the world, I feel the force of sense.
The logic of my flesh defines precise function
that is expressed with mechanical clockwork
along gradients of purpose, effectively acted.

That's not you, nor me, all withal forgetting,
leaving vast debris of hubris, our night-falling.
Next time will be worse for the quick fixes.
Possibilities remain, silent still to illumine...

Oh, but such fantasy with this body, mine.
Here I sit having the sense time runs thin
knowing its my flesh's subjective view
on a trip even less desirable for its hell.

COPYRIGHT © 82010 rjduberg

Those Heralding Grace, A Toast

Those Heralding Grace, A Toast

Upon the land he found his feelings wrenched
tight in a knot, And everyone clammoring to be
heard next, driven by need only violence becomes
this path forsaking love the mystery has the knot
by the throat and then, some make a point well
for right, that no harm shall come to them, we honor -
such as custodians of prime nature, modern illumined.

For with them our humanity's destiny endures, chance
cannot penetrate or ruin the seed of love in harvest.
We are one here, conscious of this higher vibration
a state of being caused from the absolute above,
Remains eternally what it is, never born, nor reborn
never falling simply risen by final inward recognition
and for a lucky few, objective knowledge spoken.

Look how a mind falsely represents its living owner
by attending outwards and presenting that, names
interacting with things, made up with shadow crests
when the who deserves name in sacred utterance
of a spirit incarnate, free and real, conveying soul.

Once too arrogant to speak softly over what not...
I take refuge now in listening to truth sung by love
even while I keep furling my main sheet as a vent.
Alone, I now toast those unparalleled custodians
who may never understand what heroes they are.
I raise my glass to love and them. heralding grace.

© 82010 rjduberg

The Eagle, Cage, and Magic Karma

Appearing upon eastern firmament
reflecting western sunset, blazing tall
wrought majestic by chance encounter
days thence and face to face shudders
with what was days earlier hailed eaglet
now stood two terrible feet tall before me

Silent, still, shocking, a witness to my yelp
lifting in turn 6 feet wide carried invisibly
the pulse of her wings, a slow nonsense
her size continuing to diminish until lost
while I sat there unable to breathe this
in my little cart surrounded in a cage

What possibility makes karmic vintage
the most beautiful poetry in fullest sense
where turnabout turns out tears jubilant?
I beheld my limitations on that fence
Grown up - a eaglet's lift and soar into sky.
The beauty of spirit freed, to soar out there.

© 82010 rjduberg

New Grips

Too fresh and young goes right for the throat and bruises.
Tonight, I thought of a new schizophrenia, added to my list
the old fav, a rite of passage, mental illness on borderline.
I was never so bored then, now keep list of craziest juices.
When Ricky G invented lying, and Jennifer G picked him
over Lowe, more than some heat - generated by that girl.
Matthew's is Some Devil; a genius; he is Shiva blessed.

I was shocked to find myself resisting avalanche of spirit
so late in life, while I spend my time pretending otherwise.
It's not the white light, blindness, dumbass, or the witness -
falling ever behind, it's how long the flight - before my time.
Nevermind what I want, Santa got lost - in this impossibility.
After awhile, learning to be patient makes no difference.

You had me before? I died and came back in some fog?
asleep, let the world imprint something external of fashion?
Now invisible, worn smooth, the stubborness still has grip.
Afraid of what letting go will bring forth, turns up the heat.
You take some extra special inhales, humming; for today
new color coordinated, cutting-edge grips, have arrived.

© 82010 rjduberg

Laughter Dancing

Dancing this morn more bursty than flowing
Coital pop, flaming hot, grinds peak and stop
So quick, so loud, so deep, so wild the flame
I cannot speak of it, nothing remains of it
Except for my breath that smokes and smells

To witness in another unseen moving power
continues to escape unmindful attention
confuse those working with sincere aplomb
while being celebrated by the rhapsodial
also known as the dancing madmen of old

enlightened mind at rest, laughter dances.

© 6/2010 rjduberg

Fragmentation a Syndrome of Sleep and a Bitch

I'm counting on most not reading beyond the title of this entry post. The real story is that in men I don't find fragmentation the same way I do in Women who bitch. Men are more apt to whine or quite often resistance across the board makes the whole of them asses. The problem is just as much an issue with women but not spoken about with as much tolerance. Women don't tolerate other women or themselves speaking about fragmented women going over the top when it comes to behaving decently.

Their negativity exists in their having killed the segue in their intellect.

Non-fragmentation can mimic this condition when the woman is anti-partriarchal (every woman by default who never experienced one positive male role model growing up in life ). This leaves lacking precisely that kind of function in her being which men are gravitational at intellect. Beginning with the simple make wrong act or role in the simplest mind and ending with literary masterpieces transcending whatever genre they manifested evolution in. With the grey inbetween filled with intellect of such color along the gradient going from black and white through (infinity -1) colors.

Understanding how math relates to language for instance is a question of intellect which would never be found fragmented, assinine, asleep, bitchy, unkind, or otherwise insensitive. Actually stepping it up a level to transrational thinking, in observing how Math grew out of being an thus it's dialect might be called Being.

In the flip side of this, using words for their mathematical principles and relevant structure objectified in symbols. But words, can represent infinity in a way perhaps only a shadow at this point but something which mathematical computation breaks down when articulating the relation. The equals sign means relation however infinity = nothing in classical math which quantifies. In order to fully understand how language can communicate to a mind still ignorant that dimension of experience that relates to infinity, the shadow of words ie math, must be placed at the floor, b&W and fragmented. This involves our being as I've already suggested, when I made gender an issue for distinction. In our being, ignorance is controversial, the main issue for those a step up from being complete asleep, that rise in consciousness reflects in parallel and encompassing one's being. Leaping ahead to the point then ...

Almost a ceiling, which itself remains objective consciousness for me, being able to link parallel perspectives on present circumstances is a question I was in earlier tonight, before the pressure of corresponding became dominant.

My insights tonight were inspired by the recognition that placing spirituality before and above anything else dimensionally to one's being, removes all attachments and connections to the floor. Once one frees oneself from anykind of static relationship to themselves, one is able to know their spiritual possibilities and start actualizing their potential. One is not free however to respond to freedom by increasing one's ego.

Today, I observed myself chasing self satisfaction and saw the ego for what it was. Dreadfully seductive and the site of expectation. Such is the nature of all expectations, that they are really just one of a number of pillars holding up the ideal which was the seed of our indiviuality and the extent of our belief in it. While this could be called the Psychological dimension of our being, distinct from Spiritual, there is a fundamental principle regarding decency of behavior which correlates in the Spiritual. It is a pillar because it is much more than this or that but achieves appropriateness in relationship to present circumstances and conditions. These words all have a dynamic operational bias and that bias is relative with the balance between almost all static and all dynamic makes sense when one integrates physical correlates.

At any rate...the question right now is whether or not enlightenment which is universal and absolute can be articulated without the disclaimer regarding words having significant relativity yet in our being to succeed in that articulation?

Dust Up

This morning found me slopping out a Dust Up, or at least that's what I call a list of a principle remix of my personal illumination, something like a rolling integral status check (from a sometime somewhat, to this right now) ...

Question of Effort (A daily renewal)
This is a call to the heart of the heart of life itself and making today successful for being fully lived, consciously evolving.
Call of Creation (Muses)
Attention needed and maintained for Creativity as an Evocative Response. Ask and ye shall receive. Be careful of what you ask for.
Music of the Spheres (Interactive Harmony)
The attention needed to allow mechanism (of self) optimum evolutionary capacity, expressed through a musical quality that is a harmonic rifting of spheres.
Rim Dancing (Celebrating a Good Wash)
Unless the systemic mechanism is not CLEANED in goodness of emptiness, itself a simple but exact routine, potential liberation will not manifest. To this end we MetaRecurse the process by having fun, removing negativity from action of cleaning that results in more PROPER routine separations of byproduct from our energetic transformations. Thus, sitting on a throne, evolves; with the Crown dancing on the Rim (of the cosmic toilet bowl! Pow)
Kissing Insight (Social Values of Spirit)
Something higher graces every moment, is present, and is the bliss of self remembering
Translating (Understanding Whispers in the Wind)
Unawakened consciousness expresses a overflowing teacup of piss, start to finish. Intuition or awakened consciousness expressing divine truth is same process only shifted with the source being an emptiness from which the unmanifest unfolds its diversity with higher consciousness voicing its unity.
Vision (Destiny's Rep)
Unfolding personally, this is a physical marker, some make into a crest. And then later, as the ego is replaced with higher service, this banner may include associated icons which are emblematic for each group vision one embraces in life
Relativity (Cosmological Order, Priority, Higher vs Lower)
As the captain of your soul, the quality of your ship's crew involves an economy of their efforts in exchange for progress on the open sea and their quality of life or health maintained and praise for their sacrafice. We come together in order to share a higher possibility of being otherwise any old ramjet with half a tank would do. Thus, what is relative retains our capacity for reverence and the priviledge this is. Once lost, the door is open for misery, and she will walk in before you notice it is now too late. The confident have faith that at every moment regardless of illusionary karmic vicissitude there exists a higher choice we can activate evolution with, sometimes layered with a shell of detached non-identification, called this too shall pass, with dynamic stillness allowing relativity to be viewed directly.
Question of Expansion (Vertical Movement)
Kundalini Yoga suffices to answer. I once caught a beautiful moment of this Vision with my camera, in the sky above as a lone contrail in an otherwise empty blue sky which had transformed figuratively into two serpents facing each other uncoiled. Really, this is bringing your future unfoldment into the timeless presence of your divine now consciously recognizing the process. One cannot avoid the shock of each cycle, often less a giggle for the bite. Simplified, it is a question of letting go, releasing one's grasp, eventually releasing all fear, keeping one's attention here active and the process high in priority for how it relates to vision, and I pray our liberation.
History(Teaching of Stops)
Unconsciously or not, descending or not, life is a movement from here to there, with certain exceptions in which as I so fondly love to quote someone who remains like gravity for me about this, "...you can't get there from here." How, why, where, and when does this happen? Integrating this lesson is to complete the Transcendental in this life of perpetuity.

Epilogue
This is a dust up of the timeless expression in my attention today. Is this too much to ask you to understand or otherwise desire too? I recognize there is unavoidable resistance of this nature and I appreciate it though I challenge this by inviting you to let me exchange (this) mine for yours. That's how we like to roll in a rift of poetic slamming anyway. Are you game?

For Understanding

Over the last 13 years since brushing death with congestive heart failure, I have consciously turned to poetry as a therapy when my broken heart sorrow was too much to bare. My muse has been such a divine gift, you don't find at the corner market, and nothing in the world has anything to say either. The gift is received within and desires to inspire an ultimate action. This action is blessed by the muse for understanding what needs your attention regardless. The choice to act is not an issue to muse but rather a constant call one's muse steps in like some overseas long distance operator. And, while I can describe specific effects that happen to quicken my vibration and spontaneous connections relevant and energizing as the muse moves within, I'm finally coming to a place of calm in which my attention is turning even further beyond what muses understand. There's really only gratitude for what grace and blessing I have already been given in this sense as I feel nothing but happiness knowing my muse stands here ready to evolve as well.

My muse has made me so giddy and kinetic, I often feel unequal to her charm and power. And as my own path evolves beyond self expression into self remembering, I am not too sure how to say the love I feel for what has given me so much insight throughout my life, because that love is aboslute and nothing spoken or known can express what it means that forever means more than ever will ever be and after. What I feel for now might help is just a little attention kept on a tune, a song sung about how beautiful a muse is - a call to higher calling.

...Taste the Divine

5...Taste the Divine

Once you separate enough to choose the wine
with the knowledge you earned, in the grind. Learn
depths, escape traps, feed the kind, love, the pain...
Invent yourself, the sublime, the surreal, synchronize.
Remember everything radiates a consuming flame.
Seek eternity within, enter, have courage, a heart.
If we never meet in person, keep trying - love.

... A Taste Divine

1  I chose to sleep in this morning, but upon arising found your reply.
And upon reading it with noon's dry heat in a full dense harangue
Begun, a day like this, yet did I find some wet do from this rhyme -
Still droplets holding on to a sphere wherein their essence shines.
A deeper reflection than even they know or witness through time
    now may the do wet the consciousness from which it sprang
    condensing on this mind like encrusted jewels, come to remind.
For this, I bow, and give thanks for the grace, with a taste divine.

COPYRIGHT © 6/2010, rjduberg