Sunday, June 5, 2011

What comes to mind

This morning my musical and mental meanderings take me back in time just a few years to this song:




And this old poem:

Writing myself happy

As I sit
As I stare
As my office
Morphs into my lair
As my professional
Self
Disintegrates
And I feel
A little
Wild
Today
Not in a
CrazySexyCool
Way
But in a
Primal
And
Unencumbered
Way

In a way
Which makes me feel
Perhaps
I would like
To rip flesh
From bones
With my teeth
And roll naked
In mud puddles
And undulate
Wildly
In the pouring rain
To the sound
Of thunder
With
Flashes
Of lightening
Enlightening
My stagnant mind

I would like
To climb trees
And swing from branches
And take chances
Which will set me free

I would like to
Devour
The earth
And be
Engulfed
By fire
Then ride
The wind
To my
Watery
Grave

I would like
To crack my skull
Open
After jumping
Off a cliff
And feel
My medulla oblongata
Separate from my spinal cord
Creating a cessation of feeling
Between my brain
And my body

But here comes
My professional self
To stymy
My imaginings
And I
Will have
To go
Do work
Now

Friday, June 3, 2011

Abacus Levels Up

Yesterday we stopped at the park on the way home.  Abacus disappeared for a while so I went looking for him.  This is what I found...


I did not disturb him.  About 20 minutes later he comes over to me.  He informs me that "I just leveled-up on my meditation.  Now I have to complete level two, which will take about 2,400 hours."  He then proceeds to level two...


In case you're wondering, he has about 2,399.75 hours left until level 3.

Friday afternoon sounds like this...

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Oldies

An old song I've always loved...



And an old poem of mine...

 Slanted Eyes

You look at me
Through slanted eyes
Narrowing
As you surmise
Presume to know
All I choose to show
Is not just my disguise
But I am more
Than what you see
Knowledge is key
Locked inside the box of prejudice
To be opened by understanding
Which you swept under the carpet of arrogance
And left out on the landing
For you to wipe your feet upon
And then walk on
Walk past
To a whole world of things
That never last
More than a minute
A minute that is not always sixty seconds
But it counted
If you count it
You can slow it down
But discount it
And the truth is found
Time flies
Like society lies
And you look at me with slanted eyes

And yes, my eyes are slanted too
But nature slanted mine
Not my absence of mind
Power beyond me
What you allow yourself to be
Limits what you see
And yes, my eyes are slanted too
But my mind is open wide

Wider than your mouth at birth
When you came screaming out onto this earth
Sliding into the doctor's hands
So he could fasten yours with bands
That tell you who you are
Where you belong
Who's your rightful mom
Rightful mom?
Mom with rights
Birth may have taken her to new heights
But still she fights
To keep a roof over her own head
So to ensure you will be fed
She sold her rights
Never to turn on the lights
So your darkest nights
Are spent alone
In a new home
Groping for a comfort zone
In your seclusion
Mounting confusing
Impending delusion
Mental contusion
Laceration
Rejection of an entire nation...

Oh wait, that's me
Life through my slanted eyes
Now there's a hole in my disguise
I've been fed more than enough lies
To fill the hole
But the whole truth
And nothing but the truth
Is what I seek
And what I speak

You look down from the hightest peak
And no longer see the landing
The landing with the carpet
Under which you swept the understanding
Which would open the box
To release the key
So knowledge is not only lost
But not even sought
Because you won't come down
Long enough for it to be found

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Don'ts

I don't want
To teach my children
How to look at things
I want
To show them
How to see

I don't want
To instruct my children
On how to live
I want
To set them free
So they can Be

I don't want them to be hurt
Or sad
In pain
Or in trouble
But how else does one learn healing
If they never hurt
How do you truly feel happiness
If you've never been sad
How can you appreciate wellness
If you've known no ailment
And who can decide to be good
When you've never felt what it is to be bad

I don't want
My children to know
Some ideal projection of myself
I want them to know
The real me
That's not to say
I don't strive to give them my best
The difference is
I don't hide my worst

The future
I never thought I had
I never thought I wanted
Is in my children
And everything they take away
From knowing me
I want it to be real

Good Morning