14 March 2013

Chapter 160 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CLX

The moment you are back in the ground,
The universe, despite its wonder,
Really means so little.

* * * *
Leave space in your calendar to breathe.

* * * *
Master of nothing journeying nowhere.

* * * *
Nothing is good.

* * * *
All pretty disgusting, really.

* * * *
Who says but the deluded who pretend to know.

* * * *
Chances are you were born
To the left of your right hand clapping.

* * * *
If you only see
What you want to see,
Then you really see very little.

* * * *
How can anyone who has lived as long as you
Be so naïve to the ways of the world?

* * * *
How did you become so vain for so little account?

* * * *
Funny how good intentions
Can be twisted into evil
And evil into good.

* * * *
What is your motivation?

* * * *
A woman can be told
She is loved every day
And still never be satisfied,
And a man told even just once
And it never have occurred to him
To have doubted it.

* * * *
Women think if men understood them,
They would want to be like them,
Which is not the case at all.
Men very well understand women
And comprehend that their role
Is the daily Sisyphean chore
Of attempting to make them
Feel both loved and secure.

* * * *
The days feel longer and shorter
As moons and suns slip silently
Across the ceiling of this mind.

* * * *
There oughta be a law.

* * * *
Obesity on a scale never seen in human history.

* * * *
Wistfully wishing it be so.

* * * *
It’s probably good to let them
Figure it out for themselves.

* * * *
Not easy to communicate with others
If you don’t have a similar interpretation
Of sounds, gestures, and the time
In which they cavort.

* * * *
In the face of stark reality, so much delusion.

* * * *
Some people just need to be eighty-sixed from the buffet.

* * * *
Enjoyable work is like playing
You don’t watch the clock
Or count the hours.

* * * *
Amazing how quickly age creeps up on you.

* * * *
You’ve been chasing mirages your whole life.

* * * *
An arbitrary measure of nothing.

* * * *
You call that an invitation?

* * * *
Too much of anything gets old.

* * * *
Everything has a clientele.

* * * *
if you can’t laugh at yourself,
Someone else will.

* * * *
Some teachers you cannot remember.
Some you’ll never forget.

* * * *
We have squandered our inheritance.

* * * *
Funny how so many wish it different than it is.

* * * *
Don’t you just relish the propaganda
Of people who rally have no idea
What they’re talking about.

* * * *
Eternity has so little to do with time
That you cannot really even call it forever.

* * * *
Saturday nights and Sunday mornings are good times to travel.
The drunks are in the bars and the hypocrites are in the churches.

* * * *
Think of all the words you will never know.

* * * *
Utter randomness.

* * * *
It’s the nothingness you deserve.

* * * *
How many days, how many ways
A water hose and pile of dirt
Can entertain a child.

* * * *
Destiny plays its hand again.

* * * *
And what do you offer this world?

* * * *
Whether you are open to seeing it or not,
Every moment of your existence
Is a walkabout.

* * * *
It’s the man that makes the man,
Not the clothes.

* * * *
Cherish your aloneness.

* * * *
Experience in itself does not bring contentment.

* * * *
Let others tell the world your deeds.

* * * *
Another lie of words.

* * * *
Tossing something may be hard,
But chances are once it’s gone,
The memory will quickly fade.

* * * *
It can’t always be good ny more
Than it can’t always be bad.

* * * *
Even the smallest cause/effect creates the next.

* * * *
Driven to do such a meaningless thing.

* * * *
No agenda this day.

* * * *
He came, he saw, he spoke,
He was killed for it,
And he ain’t coming back.
And if he did, he’d be killed again
By the same folks who claim to love him.

* * * *
Just another regurgitated pagan holiday.

* * * *
Obsession of any sort
Is the outcome of inattention,
Lack of focus, and absence of discipline.

* * * *
You are the dreamer of time, of illusion, of dualistic notion.

* * * *
Except for a few radio waves and pieces of trash,
Most of the endless follies of humanity
Will never leave this planet.

* * * *
The great isness.

* * * *
Of course you are godness awakening yet again.

* * * *
As ephemeral as the farthest star.

* * * *
There are probably very few people in this world
Who don’t premeditate genocidal acts
Upon one creature or another
At some point in time.

* * * *
Pass it on.

* * * *
The masses will win out.

* * * *
Wisdom is an anomaly.

* * * *
Another flimsy veil of pretense.

* * * *
There is little reason or benefit
To bear children
In a non-agrarian society.

* * * *
Oblivious,
Hopeless,
Beyond redemption.

* * * *
Another day of waiting
For what you do not know.

* * * *
How can all not total one?

* * * *
All nothing
Just different densities.

* * * *
Memory is such a brief affair.

* * * *
It’s like the universe telling you,
“Don’t bother, be happy.”

* * * *
Yeeesch!

* * * *
When young, you want to fill up on the world.
Aging just makes you wish you could be empty again.

* * * *
Is it fear which breeds us so?

* * * *
What difference between something
Given away, tossed, broken, lost or stolen?
In any event it becomes but a trace
In memory’s passing whimsy.

* * * *
To every gain there is a loss.
To every loss, a gain.

* * * *
Who cares but a figment of self-proclaimed imagination?

* * * *
For you to be reading this,
You must have come here
To discover and do nothing.

* * * *
Loneliness is a state of attitude,
Aloneness a state of mind.

* * * *
Life is a mystical malady.

* * * *
Hovering, just barely.

* * * *
Suffering takes one down many paths.

* * * *
But what does it mean?
It means nothing.

* * * *
There is carving
And there is uncarving.
Carving give birth to limitation,
Uncarving is limitless.

* * * *
Right here to be.

* * * *
Who’s the who who’s asking who?

* * * *
You continue reading, writing, thinking and watching
Because you do so enjoy the conceptual play.
It is the pleasure of intellectual attachment.

* * * *
Creation and destruction,
What differences are real
To an indivisible coin?

* * * *
Maybe I’m not making my Self clear?

* * * *
Even young flesh shows the tarnish of aging.

* * * *
Time and space can never be proven
Without the collusion of its source.

* * * *
Without measurement, where would you be?

* * * *
The subject-object duality exists only in imagination.

* * * *
Everything you think you are is merely identification
With habitual, patterned movements of energy.

* * * *
Bliss is never forgetting to remember.

* * * *
You need not be burdened by existence.
The weight of thought is your attachment to it.

* * * *
From infant to young child
To pre-adolescent to teenager
To young adult to older adult
To elder to sage to grave,
Realities are ever-changing
Till death wipes the dream clean.

* * * *
Narcissus resides in any mind
That ever caught even a glimpse
Of its reflection in a passing pond.

* * * *
Even if you are the most evil diablo
This world or any other has ever seen,
You are still godness acting out
A temporary role born
Of imagination.

* * * *
See the universe through the senses
Of a plant, a bird, an insect, a fish, a reptile
A drop of water, grain of sand, a rock, a moon, a sun,
Or a galaxy well beyond the farthest vision,
And you will see the relativity
Of the universal dream
You falsely distinguish as your own.
We are a vast multiplicity within the same one,
Reflections of an ocean which knows
No limitation or separation.
Do whatever you will
All is divinely
One.

* * * *
A Self proclamation.

* * * *
Self-absorbed consciousness
Invariably ferments an isolation
Born of mind’s countless limitations.

* * * *
Space-time will change forever, but it will always be now
No matter who, what, where, when, why or how.

* * * *
The gypsy-vagabond-nomad-wayfarer-traveler
Journeys from harbor to harbor,
Ever home in all.

* * * *
You will always be able to find those
Willing tell you whatever you want to hear,
And those who believe whatever you want to tell.

* * * *
It seems the nature of the mystery
To achieve every possibility possible.

* * * *
How can humankind ever abide peacefully
If we cannot tolerate all the imaginary differences
Forged in the deep dark jungles of long ago?


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