20 September 2009

Chapter 253 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCLIII

The inevitable oil crash will be the pandemic
That will bring this unsustainable human drama to its knees.
After the initial hysteria and chaos subsides,
Thoughts such as these
May receive a bit more attention.
But then again, it is more than a little likely
That this haggard paradigm will adapt to the new scale,
And carry on in the same oafish, no-win pattern that it always has.

* * * *
A mad vision must play out
To its mad conclusion.

* * * *
So if you really want
To get a sense of what is coming,
Find a really strong fan, and throw some shit into it.

* * * *
Future generations will wander
A mutilated, depleted, polluted, abyss of world.
So sad that we have so indifferently
Modified their inheritance.

* * * *
Ironic madness toughens the skin.

* * * *
Another research project
To tell us what we already know.
Yippee, ho-hum, yawn.

* * * *
It is an unfortunate fact
That most of us all too often
Learn at the expense of others.

* * * *
All diversity ever totals into one.
There is no maybe about it.

* * * *
Most of us probably deceive ourselves
Far more than we do the many others.

* * * *
You may be a human being by design,
But if it is your time to awaken, the immortal nature
Will sculpt a much more expansive inner vision.

* * * *
It will not be the cheerleaders
Whose positive thinking will get humankind
Out of its ceaseless preoccupation with limited thinking.

* * * *
We daily continue to allow history to color our thinking.
Maybe it's time to take a long solitary walkabout
To see for your Self what's really going on.

* * * *
Relatively few seem to realize or care about the future
That their unrestrained breeding practices
Have already set in motion.

* * * *
Why beat yourself over the head
When the result is obviously inevitable.
It is all really quite hopeless
In a wondrous way

* * * *
Curious how the liberty worn by one man
Turns to torturous shackles on another.

* * * *
There is almost always
Some sort of price to pay
For the excesses of hedonism.

* * * *
The vulnerability of childhood
Is challenging to re-master.

* * * *
Time for a long saunter.

* * * *
We really should be humble
In light of the fact that all our original ancestors
Were every sort of slime.

* * * *
The quiet revolution.
Is long overdue.

* * * *
We are all liars, cheats, thieves and murderers.
To what degree is the only question.

* * * *
Morality, if there is such a thing,
Isn't found in libraries or bookstores.
It is insight, empathy and compassion
Written in the heart of the mind.

* * * *
My mistake,
I took that light in your eyes
To be intelligence.

* * * *
What matters is what you discern
With your own awareness, your own insight.
Still all the knowledge and vain triviality
That has been poured into you,
And look for your Self.

* * * *
Repeating what everyone else tells you
Is not independent, critical thinking.

* * * *
Once a revolutionary,
Always a revolutionary.

* * * *
Doubt until there is no more to doubt.

* * * *
Any given moment
Is as fresh, pure, uncorrupted
As you allow it to be.

* * * *
More than enough stories have been written.
Time to live now.

* * * *
Is time moving forward, backward, up or down,
Or is it moving any direction at all?

* * * *
Plead ignorance.
It's far closer to the truth
Than any fabrication of imagination
Ever can be.

* * * *
Just be you.
That is enough.

* * * *
Godness is not out there in some far distant, future place,
But deep within, right now, in the most inner space.

* * * *
The dissolution of consciousness is but a breath away.

* * * *
Piles of gold
Counted again and again,
Ever again.

* * * *
Another voice echoing in the tumultuous crowd.

* * * *
Ain't no one here by that name, Occifer.

* * * *
Time to declare.

* * * *
Be friends,
Whenever allowed.

* * * *
Who is it does anything, really.

* * * *
Join this or that group if so-inclined,
But be watchful that you not add your ego
Into the inevitable collective synergy.

* * * *
You are as alien to other creatures
As they are to you.

* * * *
If you can discern across the expanses of time and space,
You will perhaps also see that you are one with it.

* * * *
Six-plus billion delusionary human beings
Do not for truth make.

* * * *
You may be repulsive and deplorable,
Yet you ever remain that which is absolute and real.
Do not be encased by the many assumptions
That endlessly attempt to mold you.

* * * *
So many look to the lights of others
Rather than discern their own.

* * * *
The ostrich plugs its head into the sand
And pretends the world passing by
Is whatever it wants it to be.

* * * *
Old soul, young soul,
It is really all the same Soul.

* * * *
We all buy into so much conditioned nonsense.

* * * *
Another day of chameleon make-believe.
Try not to take it personally.

* * * *
Until you see beyond your own genetic lineage
And the many geographical assumptions
By which you have been molded,
You will be blind to reality.

* * * *
Whether you did something once,
Twice, thrice or times beyond counting,
Your imaginary measurement of its passing
Is ever constrained by delusionary self-absorption.

* * * *
More progress . . . whatever that is.

* * * *
Idolatry is idolatry.
No matter the form,
No matter the concept,
No matter the vain intent,
All idolatry is blaspheme.

* * * *
Time to raise the bar.

* * * *
Another vain exploit attempting
To somehow dwarf time and space.
Whooh-hooh.

* * * *
To stand out
In another's imagination
Is more than a little meaningless, is it not?

* * * *
Nepotism, cronyism and favoritism,
The unholy alliance.

* * * *
Reality is seamless.
There is no separation whatsoever.
Only consciousness creates the pretense of duality.
Eden is as much present as it has ever been,
But you must awaken to comprehend
That it is everything, everywhere.

* * * *
Curious that you would care about
What even a stranger you will never meet
Would think of you and your legacy.

* * * *
Silly, is it not?

* * * *
Amazing what a handful of senses,
And a spark of imagination
Can come up with.

* * * *
So many sleepwalkers.

* * * *
Transcend your itty-bitty, infinitesimal self.

* * * *
What's a shrew to do
When her golden pussy
Starts smelling like rotting fish?
What's a nincompoop to do
When his rocky cock
Can no longer
Rise to the occasion?
Alas, life's only fair a short while.

* * * *
Truth cannot, need not be proselytized
Reality is not dependent on whether or not
The crowd loves or hates the messenger.

* * * *
Time to take out the trash.

* * * *
Infinity . . . whatever that is.

* * * *
This now or that,
All the same, all the same.

* * * *
Yours for the taking,
If you must.

* * * *
Human beings are merely animals with consciousness
Pretending they are for some reason chosen by god for greater glory.
Certainly a unique species, but in reality nothing more,
Nothing less, than any other life form.

* * * *
Are you a human . . . being?

* * * *
Just another mysterious grain of sand
On a beach with neither beginning nor end.

* * * *
Democracy,
A nice fairy tale,
A good excuse to shop.

* * * *
A thug is a thug
No matter the kingly title.

* * * *
Words can only conceptualize reality
They can never attain anything more.
'Tis, indeed, a pitiful state of duality.

* * * *
If there is perchance some sort of superior being,
Surely it is bound by its own set of limitations and capacities
Playing out in the same holographic mystery as you.

* * * *
It might not be the king of the road,
But a Volkswagon will get you there.

* * * *
I, me, you, he, she, they, them, we, us . . .
All the same oneness, no matter the dream.

* * * *
Never wise to put money on a horse
On its way from green pastures
To eternity's glue factory.

* * * *
At a certain point, you may realize
That what you did or did not do with your existence
Is less important than the awareness
With which you did it.

* * * *
From afar, anonymous.
Up close, ironic.

* * * *
It won't put the fire out,
But it might help quench
A few parched throats.

* * * *
Life is great saunter through dreamtime.

* * * *
Time passes on and on and on,
An unceasing backdrop upon which life,
With all its births, passing seasons, and inevitable deaths
Play over and over and over . . . and over.

* * * *
Same body parts,
But isn't it curious how things
As simple as proportion, skin tone or hair color
Ignite or quench the appetite.

* * * *
It does not take much of a natural "disaster"
To make any of humanity's creations
Look pretty darned insignificant.
Ants tempt the gods with their anthills.

* * * *
Dear Diary: What a life it's been.

* * * *
In an ever-churning universe, no mountain stands forever,
And even ocean beds can eventually rise to the greatest heights.

* * * *
Either everything is, nothing is,
Or they both are . . .
Sort of . . .

* * * *
For heaven to manifest upon earth,
It must be discerned, and cultivated, within.

* * * *
The sane are fools, and the fools, sane.
But who's who, and what's what?

* * * *
Can truth be conveyed to any whose vivid imagination
Rules out any insight into the simplicity
Prior to consciousness.

* * * *
"With the rise of any species, a fall is inevitable.
What factors play a part, however, are uniquely based
On the myriad permutations of space-time that are involved.
Humanity's case is all the more intriguing because so many decisions
Are consciously, rather than merely instinctually, fashioned . . ."
A historian, when there are few left to ponder the question,
Might, in some who knows how far distant future, say.
After all, at some point in the cursory play of time,
When there are none remaining to ponder
And record their conclusions,
Where history ends
Can only be projected.


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