“The problem for you as a challenge is whether or not you will be capable of developing your will, or the power of your second attention to focus indefinitely, on anything you want.” - Carlos Castaneda, The Second Ring of Power
No stopping this, my entity observed as a process
has always had me, my life is right until now
without a way to completely word it.
Rather despite every effort and result
so far, seeming to obscure and obliterate
this true flowing of process defines au natural.
Short events of clarity do nothing, in fact calm
by an evocation in spirt that allows evil chaos
to return expanding fully its utopian negations.
Left unattended, forgotten mediocrity rules life
dramatically enough to inspire myths of mystery
while willful resistance is friction making possibility.
The haze of the gaze has my droll drooling now
my mediocrity red line bottoms in short spurts
while the wretched struggle splashes cooler.
This totality worded, leaves that flow, onward.
Impeccable perception reflects pure actions
beyond but bringing magical collaborative unity.
Bits and pieces, kibitz deceives to please us.
All style points awarded and prizes given.
Real men buy better, women win the credit.
Underneath assessments and all contrariness
the flow is everyone’s worst fear imaginable
self words cannot conceive nor understand it.
© 2/24/2005, RJDuberg
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Saturday, January 01, 2005
The Wash
He/She sparring repartee always leaves man bloody until he sees and understands he can only be friends with women who already are in love with another, not himself.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Just Once, Revised
Just once, if my entrance here
came instead down chimney
not to steal St. Nick’s thunder
or revenge by grench on appeal.
Arising my spirit cross past’s future
where Santa and Savior live still-life
in the magnificence of the very young
unassumable choice resigns devoured
without hesitation by shadow’s dream
something alive otherwise for light fades.
I would walk through the walls
but that beat been over winter run
Scifi magic itself is sink with a drain
immune to flow of desires passing
but the peddlers’ junk in street
makes Dracula’s Werewolf howl
something our mech of blech
reminders would call merciful.
Shown for the illusion, repetition
generates less in interior’s face
where slumber is destined event
through which shadows abate
while all rescues long await
in a haze while craziness reigns
requests for help form echoes
saviors’ mistake sheers back
way beyond the individual
so that
here
long ago departed
already our arisen shrinking inner
we are stopped by
would stop nothing
itself
a blind self aware light.
© 11/2004 RJDuberg
came instead down chimney
not to steal St. Nick’s thunder
or revenge by grench on appeal.
Arising my spirit cross past’s future
where Santa and Savior live still-life
in the magnificence of the very young
unassumable choice resigns devoured
without hesitation by shadow’s dream
something alive otherwise for light fades.
I would walk through the walls
but that beat been over winter run
Scifi magic itself is sink with a drain
immune to flow of desires passing
but the peddlers’ junk in street
makes Dracula’s Werewolf howl
something our mech of blech
reminders would call merciful.
Shown for the illusion, repetition
generates less in interior’s face
where slumber is destined event
through which shadows abate
while all rescues long await
in a haze while craziness reigns
requests for help form echoes
saviors’ mistake sheers back
way beyond the individual
so that
here
long ago departed
already our arisen shrinking inner
we are stopped by
would stop nothing
itself
a blind self aware light.
© 11/2004 RJDuberg
Thursday, December 16, 2004
~The Teeth of Shadows
The teeth of a shadow
hides certain paralysis
anthropomorphic, it's life.
Wider illumination blinds
my dearest cynic finds
in whiteout by avalanche.
Clear water shady flows
makes moisture lighten </>past and gone, undone.
cycle to cynic crown </>hope drowns thereupon.
hides certain paralysis
anthropomorphic, it's life.
Wider illumination blinds
my dearest cynic finds
in whiteout by avalanche.
Clear water shady flows
makes moisture lighten </>past and gone, undone.
cycle to cynic crown </>hope drowns thereupon.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Recurrence Records as Resource
I keep a sliver of boards
(others’ have shoes, zen masters
their cranium whackers,
my choices concern the art of surfing
both ocean waves and digital)
to match conditions I find.
It's always been about exploration,
aesthetics, community, celebration,
humor, and effort.
Some planes and surfaces
allow for optimal magnitudes
to be broken,
I cultivate relationships
which support beautiful process
and values, even when I'm selfish
and egocentric I know not to fret
or believe it as life is
much more satisfying when shared
(Buddha farts and all, etc.),
the party rages onward
even if on the exterior all is still,
while I don't always remember
to evoke loud and simple laughter
from the start of an encounter
it never fails to work when I do
to align and ally all those present,
I'm still struggling with effort
however I suffer less unnecessarily
every day I continue to learn...
recurrence records as a resource.
© RJDuberg, 12/11/2004
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Wandering High Too
Full moon craters sun
White marooned even golden
Lazy blue for sky.
A majestic being
Petite feminine living large
Sublime bomb will fly.
© 11/2004, RJDuberg
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Monday, September 06, 2004
uncle
Like this ink sketch I found in Flickr today when I was uploading some sunset pics I took. Using it as a test run on blogging pictures from there
Night of the Vampire
People who lack attention to listen
In weird wedding singer like fashion
know dramatic panache is primary
to weasel wisdom in wear and tear
with the resigned fade of forgetting.
Healing this fiendish vampire bite
is an art of training in great humor
freedom delivered by punch line
to surprise new laughter eruption.
Be careful not to mistake the mutt
who we all will find a tire and blame
once in awhile for our own lackluster.
Make no mistake on cainine value
as a genuine antithesis to vampire’s.
Human beings, closer than we admit
suck our energy in vein of sucker lore.
For their need is only to feed evilness
and they don’t know a puppy’s love.
Their loyalty and trust is oxymoronic
real impossibility never with alternate.
Put them together and you’ll observe
in a generous gamut gossip of vocals
no surprises, but a useless consistency
when collected, fit to be paved over.
You might hear it squeal as you finish
and stop killing yourself by feeding it
When you move forward in direction
You listen wellness granted to owners.
© 9/5/2004, RJDuberg
In weird wedding singer like fashion
know dramatic panache is primary
to weasel wisdom in wear and tear
with the resigned fade of forgetting.
Healing this fiendish vampire bite
is an art of training in great humor
freedom delivered by punch line
to surprise new laughter eruption.
Be careful not to mistake the mutt
who we all will find a tire and blame
once in awhile for our own lackluster.
Make no mistake on cainine value
as a genuine antithesis to vampire’s.
Human beings, closer than we admit
suck our energy in vein of sucker lore.
For their need is only to feed evilness
and they don’t know a puppy’s love.
Their loyalty and trust is oxymoronic
real impossibility never with alternate.
Put them together and you’ll observe
in a generous gamut gossip of vocals
no surprises, but a useless consistency
when collected, fit to be paved over.
You might hear it squeal as you finish
and stop killing yourself by feeding it
When you move forward in direction
You listen wellness granted to owners.
© 9/5/2004, RJDuberg
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
There! Eternity is there! All around! Do you know that you can extend yourself forever in any of the directions I have pointed to? Do you know that one moment can be eternity? This is not a riddle; it's a fact, but only if you mount that moment and use it to take the totality of yourself forever in any direction. – don Juan Matus
My Greatest Lie
Humility and surrender, my kneeling being of will
has not stopped the wrongness I feel in my heart.
I pretend, itself absent, for the sake of my sanity.
I don’t know why or how to speak the truth here
of an essential loss felt in the aftermath of loving.
Each day, more painful as the memory is distant.
Here and there, I imagine and propose solutions.
Pyschological babble was never more realized.
Means to possibilities misunderstood for the end.
Am I obsessed with ghosts I loved, holding tight
not letting go, I think this angle will end the best.
Like religion, if you don’t get it, blame a mystery.
But like religion, such possibilities once believed
haunt the experience in its best state with hope.
I am only learning as I waste my life in the pain.
Only by stopping the belief will I gain freedom.
Yet, it is the thing I believe more than life itself.
You are and have always been my greatest lie.
© 8/31/2004, RJDuberg
My Greatest Lie
Humility and surrender, my kneeling being of will
has not stopped the wrongness I feel in my heart.
I pretend, itself absent, for the sake of my sanity.
I don’t know why or how to speak the truth here
of an essential loss felt in the aftermath of loving.
Each day, more painful as the memory is distant.
Here and there, I imagine and propose solutions.
Pyschological babble was never more realized.
Means to possibilities misunderstood for the end.
Am I obsessed with ghosts I loved, holding tight
not letting go, I think this angle will end the best.
Like religion, if you don’t get it, blame a mystery.
But like religion, such possibilities once believed
haunt the experience in its best state with hope.
I am only learning as I waste my life in the pain.
Only by stopping the belief will I gain freedom.
Yet, it is the thing I believe more than life itself.
You are and have always been my greatest lie.
© 8/31/2004, RJDuberg
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Onward This Morning
Without a look, the light rising
Outside my body this morning
Has come but within to shine
inward a notice silent and kind.
Today cracks lightly onward
Outside every word spoken
Unnoticed crackless interior
Scales the cracks' complexity.
A calculus determining lift
Organizes the rift of glyphs
The non-intuitive factuality
Our words ideally captivate.
This onward moment wanes
Unlike words said with strain
to quantum mechanical edges
My body refrains in illuminati.
© 8/26/2004, RJDuberg
Saturday, August 07, 2004
Summer Whitewater
Cozy rockin’ Imperial Beach
with a half mile, into throngs
numbers up a quarter million
unlike Hampton’s ambiance,
the scenes value the unseen
leaving ghosts to roam free.
Space expands with wealthy
and divisive corrupt purchase,
creating vaults and museums
instead of a homey welcome.
Weird how life creates this dust
For signature in death's process
In outward transport of matter
excreting, separating, uttering…
It’s all the same shedded stuff,
A pooping matter makes room
for consumption or production
and a rare fast transformation.
IB Summer’s dirty causal nights
Intoxicate repeat dross offender.
The ocean sprays wet salt, spice
on constant, wash up and down.
Makes for every sort of dreamer
on beach to splash heat of sun.
Everyone is free to muster poop
without fear of shoes to distract.
The planet’s payback of poop
is sand we proudly track in home.
There’s flatline of ocean horizon
giving seashore its spectacular
clarity; sunsets or rises, bathing
color to sky, cloud, and memory
for last moments of light's ebb.
The reverse character and power
of moon led flux of fluid dynamics
rush to sandy crash of whitewater.
© 8/8/2004, RJDuberg
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