20 September 2009

Chapter 250 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCL

There was no plastic on the Titanic.
How humankind will abide without it
Is a very real and compelling challenge
For those raised on the udder of consumption
In a globalized, increasingly uncivil world.

* * * *
Ironic that all this technology,
Despite its being invented to connect,
Seems to be quickly cultivating
An even greater divide.

* * * *
Curious how truth is able to contort
In whatever whimsical fashion
Imagination concocts.

* * * *
When it comes to computers,
Always save, always back up,
Because out there, somewhere,
A power outage or nasty virus,
May be coming your way.
Paranoia,
In moderation,
May be a good thing.

* * * *
At some point, likely in a not too distant future, the generalists,
Those who can plant a seed and wield a sword,
Will again rise, and survive.

* * * *
Consistency is for novices.

* * * *
A harsh future in the human paradigm
Is not all that hard to reasonably discern
For anyone who has a finger on the pulse.

* * * *
What need for false fabrications of mind
Once snared by the clarity of awareness.

* * * *
So-called secret societies and cults
Are just another vain way of passing time,
Another imaginary path to glory
More likely than not
Entirely missing
The real point
By at least a lifetime.

* * * *
A world of cow pens,
Fish farms and pulp forests
Isn't much of a world.

* * * *
Those who are ambitious
Drag along those who are easily hypnotized
By delusions of grandeur.

* * * *
How is it we are so pathetically blind
To the reality creating our every breath?

* * * *
What burdening, binding tyranny
Blood ties all too often manifest.

* * * *
If you can’t do what’s smart,
Do what’s right.

* * * *
The propaganda of fear
Wears innumerable masks
In every venue of imagination.

* * * *
Regarding getting this silliness marketed,
Let's put it this way: It ain't Harry Potter.

* * * *
If you think there are too many potholes right now,
Imagine what it will be like in another few decades.

* * * *
Every life must be endured
In its own unique way.

* * * *
Dear Progeny:
Sorry there isn't much of an inheritance,
But we sure had a really great time.
You can probably read all about it,
And maybe even watch some of the DVD's
If those sorts of things are still being made in your time.
If not, well, just know that we love you
And wish you the best.
Take care.

* * * *
By the end of the 21st Century,
The civilized world that entered into it
Will more than likely be a very, very different one.

* * * *
After the Great Fall, a good portion of what
Currently seems important in any given existence
Will more than likely become superfluous
In light of the striving it takes
Merely to survive.

* * * *
The things we in our time believe important,
The future may well not understand,
And are likely to condemn.

* * * *
The horror . . . the horror . . .

* * * *
Meet your newly-arrived cousin,
That minute swirl of freshly-minted lint
Reposing anonymously on the bathroom floor.

* * * *
Adapt and overcome.

* * * *
Earth abides, but will we?

* * * *
The innocence of youth cannot help
But be squandered lightly.

* * * *
Who knows what goes on in any given mind.
Sometimes the door is opened with a few friendly words,
And the exchange becomes a pleasurable dance.
Other times, the portal is hastily closed,
Never to be opened again.

* * * *
Gravity and other natural laws of this world
Temporarily fool the many creatures great and small
Into believing up is up and down is down,
And other such unlikely things.

* * * *
Words, words, words . . . on and on they go,
Until silence they in some do eventually sew.

* * * *
New age, old age,
It's really all the same
In any given age.

* * * *
Organized religion
Is fueled by the idolatry of personalities.
Call them gods, messiahs, prophets, saints, seers, martyrs, ad infinitum,
It is ever the same avoidance of one's own inner vision,
The same evasion of direct relationship
With the truth within all.

* * * *
Give anyone too much power fame and wealth,
And a demon they will be tempted to become.

* * * *
The awakening spoken of herein
Is not about waking to breakfast and a day of work,
But about the mind aware of the awareness
In a fashion relatively few entertain.

* * * *
What absurdity will be endured this day.

* * * *
Just monkeys with highfalutin ways.

* * * *
Minds gone wild.

* * * *
Anybody who judges this work
By how well or poorly it’s written
May well be missing the whole point.

* * * *
Time is in reality
Little more than a temporary weaving
Of neurological thunder.

* * * *
Ultimately, everything is an assumption.
Attach your Self to as few of them as possible.

* * * *
If you discern the impersonal,
There’s nothing to take personally.

* * * *
These aphoristic thoughts are for a time
When the idolatry of religion has turned to sand,
When materialism has fallen on its sword,
When Mother Nature in her fashion
Begins cutting out the cancer
That has so embroiled her garden.

* * * *
Just remember, it’s not about the scribe.
Please do not make that mistake ever again.
It is the message, not the messenger, that counts.

* * * *
Immersed again in your own private well of misery,
As if it is really all that different than any other’s.

* * * *
Two legs, opposable thumbs and a frontal lobe
Do not for a human being make.

* * * *
All thought is imagination.
Be wary lest you ever believe it real,
For none of it truly is.

* * * *
Prepare your children well.
Their future will more than likely be
Much harsher than your own.

* * * *
Delusion creates collusion.
Collusion molds delusion.

* * * *
Howsoever it is named,
The word has never, can never, will never
Be the thing itself.

* * * *
You are a function of life's desire for continuity.

* * * *
The many pretences of civilization set aside,
Is there any denying that human beings
Are likely the most violent species
Ever born of this garden world?

* * * *
Imagine never again imagining,
Never again existing in any manifest form.
Imagine dissolving, returning to the primordial oblivion,
Unencumbered by any self-absorbed thoughts,
Immersed in the totality of oneness.

* * * *
It is often with great trepidation
That most approach the aloneness within.
Such suffering the resistance to reality does imagine.

* * * *
The tasty morsel has no choice
In which mouth it will become tasty.

* * * *
No grades are awarded in the quest to become
As true to Self as is humanly possible.
It is a sum-zero measure.

* * * *
Why do all this?
Perhaps to feel a little less alone,
Temporarily distracted from the stillness of eternity.

* * * *
What is knowledge
But imagination
Given reason.

* * * *
No silence in that corner.

* * * *
Once you look seriously at all the religions
And philosophies across this spinning dream,
You realize none of them is sole purveyor of truth,
That all only assert geographic assumptions,
Founded on vain, insecure collusions.

* * * *
Curious how what most call love
Extends only to me and mine.

* * * *
The world is your child,
Your time its inheritance.

* * * *
Easter Island redux on a planetary scale.

* * * *
Arguing which religious delusion is true
Is an absurd waste of energy and time.

* * * *
The cacophony
Of the human swarm
Is just short of deafening.

* * * *
The first portion of life is spent gorging..
What remains is emptying out,
Especially the bullshit.

* * * *
As if your opinion on anything
Really matters to anyone.

* * * *
Death will be like:
"Man, finally, a good night's sleep.”

* * * *
A little moderation goes a long way.

* * * *
Anyone who plays middleman in the spiritual quest,
Anyone who sets up a tollbooth between you and the absolute
Is a charlatan whose fate should at some point include tar and feathers.

* * * *
I give you my mind,
And the Soul is yours, too.

* * * *
You may not ultimately be the body and mind,
But this old meat machine does allow you
To witness the mystery for a brief while.

* * * *
Sweep away the cobwebs of time.
Expand into the vastness of the quanta within,
The source of all awareness of this illusory manifest creation.

* * * *
All those little neurons just plugging away
In their little nuclear fusion storm.
Ain't it a wondrous thing.

* * * *
A mind devoid of boundaries
Is liberated from birth and death.

* * * *
It slowly reaches the point
Where you do not want to bother
Holding onto anything, anyone, anytime
Yet still you act out, play out the habits of a lifetime.

* * * *
Thank god for clothing and all the other coverings.
It would be really frightening having to watch
A bunch of ugly, fat, unhealthy people
Wander though a supermarket.
At least animals have fur.

* * * *
Your true nature has nothing to do
With the limitations of the mind-body vehicle.
Ultimate reality is in no way bound by arbitrary personality,
Nor any other creation of manifest time and space.

* * * *
What an absorbing distraction
Sexuality's weaving does play.

* * * *
A Christmas tree is dying to come home with you.

* * * *
To believe your dust superior to any other's dust
Is a definitive indication of your divisive delusion.

* * * *
Anyone can become a demon
Whose delusion fathoms themselves
Superior in any way to any other.

* * * *
Some days a demon, others an angel.
Such a mystery this mind-bound theater.

* * * *
All are you
Bound by every imaginable limitation.

* * * *
Your determination
To be absolutely free
Is more than a little challenging
As long as you're attached to this meat machine
Surrounded by a universe of delusion.

* * * *
Though tactics, strategy is achieved.
Through strategy, tactics are discerned.
From seeds, vast forests blanket mountains.
From unassuming beginnings, great ends manifest.

* * * *
All are given the opportunity
To discern a greater vision.
Curious how few are inclined.

* * * *
We have multiplied without the wisdom to live sanely.
We are like hungry rats packed into cages,
Fruit flies swarming in a bell jar
Bacteria in a petri dish.
The result is all but inevitable.
All that remains is for the horror to unfold.

* * * *
It is sickness, injury, aging, dying and death
That bring about awareness of mortality.
The young take so much for granted
Until the finite nature inevitably
Introduces their innocence
To the price every life must pay
For the opportunity to dream the dream.


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The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved