LXXXVIII
Peel off that skin
you are so enraptured with,
And see if your
desire is still kindled
By the underlying
reality.
* * * *
One wonders what it
will take
For the worshipers of
Mammon
To wake up to the
harsh reality
Of what they have
created.
* * * *
Women can be very
expensive.
Is it love or lust
which motivates you?
* * * *
Dress in whatever
costume you will,
You are ever forever
the same you.
* * * *
Some group is always
going to be
On the top of the
swarming heap,
And they are the law
of the land.
The little people can
only hope
Their ax is merciful
and quick,
And that revolutions
do not
Amplify their painful
fate.
* * * *
Rich man, poor man,
both die.
As to who had the
better life,
That is left to the
personal taste
Of the mortal
observers remaining.
* * * *
Some need castles and
others only long
For a pleasant siesta
on a park bench,
Or a bottle of liquor
and a cigarette
Shared with a passing
comrade.
Pleasure is a
relative thing.
* * * *
Peel off any exterior
and attraction dissolves.
What difference,
really, between a kingʼs garden
And a sordid,
maggot-ridden garbage heap?
Anesthetics is not a
reliable gauge of truth.
* * * *
If you were so
accustomed to seeing them,
If you werenʼt so
genetically possessed,
Your fellow human
beings might be
As ugly as any alien
or insect.
* * * *
Truth is beauty, but
is beauty truth?
* * * *
Piss will find one
mark or another.
* * * *
What is beautiful and
what is ugly?
Need one ask any
other the answer?
* * * *
Mother Nature yield
to none by her timeline.
* * * *
You forgive and
forget for peace of mind.
Resentment creates
its own purgatory.
* * * *
How lucky the
ignorant
Not to contemplate
deeply.
How blessed are those
that do.
* * * *
Outer law is required
for those who have no inner one.
* * * *
What do you really
know of the mind
Of Jesus or
Siddhartha or anyone else?
* * * *
All these people
trying so hard to be beautiful.
* * * *
What a bumbling idiot
you are at times.
What a genius you are
in others.
But most often you
are simply
Playing the middle
path.
* * * *
In competition
someone has to lose.
How well the winner
wins tells the tale
* * * *
The wonders of
technology are not always wonderful.
* * * *
Do you ever feel so
lonely as when
You are in the midst
of a crowd?
* * * *
Welcome to my abode
said the fly to the spider.
* * * *
The wind has no form.
You do, yet you are
the same.
Paradox and irony
rule.
* * * *
The truly blind are
limited by what is seen.
* * * *
So many things you
donʼt need to do anymore.
* * * *
Feel the wind drawing
through the nostrils
Deep into the lungs,
merging into the blood,
Pumping through the
heart toward the mind.
Taste the wind in
each and every thought.
Thou art That I Am.
* * * *
Your passion and your
ambition mold your dream.
* * * *
What kind of life is
it to always be so concerned
About your nails and
the color of your hair?
* * * *
Interesting how some
must be so cruel to others.
* * * *
A salute to those
about to die.
* * * *
We are all cast into
our caste.
* * * *
To dead relatives,
lovers, friends or opponents,
Say, “Thank you for
the reflection.”
Bon voyage.
* * * *
Everything is dust in
the wind.
Everything is wind in
the dust.
Dust is the wind is
everything.
* * * *
Who is a
professional?
Who is an expert?
Who is an authority?
Who really knows
anything?
* * * *
Lies, all lies.
* * * *
How much pain will
your imagination endure?
* * * *
Promises, promises.
* * * *
You are That I Am
And no form can
detain you for long.
* * * *
The weak cannot long
survive a determined foe.
* * * *
What you detect you
project.
* * * *
You wail of your own
losses,
But what of your
enemyʼs?
* * * *
How can you know the
one but through the all.
* * * *
What is anyoneʼs life
but a story to you,
As yours is to them.
* * * *
What are you but an
instrument of genetic command?
* * * *
Stop looking for a
point.
Discern the
pointlessness of it all.
* * * *
Both and neither.
All and none.
* * * *
All day till
infinityʼs done.
* * * *
What a wretched
destiny
To be born in Oz
And never see Kansas.
* * * *
Donʼt mess with
Mother Nature.
Oops, too late.
* * * *
If it could be
proven, there would be no paradox.
If there was no
paradox, the allure of mystery would be lost.
Without the mystery
everything would be right at home.
* * * *
If growing up means
being a zombie cart-pusher, forget it Wendy.
* * * *
Unless someone wants
to experience them,
Keep your fantasies
to yourself.
* * * *
Such a quiet state of
indifference sets in.
* * * *
Concepts are just as
idolatrous as any other form.
* * * *
What godness gives,
godness gives free gratis.
What godness takes,
godness takes without asking.
Prayers are the
illusory, futile hope that there
Can be mercy in a
merciless garden.
* * * *
You are at the end
what you were at the beginning.
You are after the end
what you were before the beginning.
* * * *
Old news, dude.
* * * *
How can masturbation
ever drive anyone insane?
Orgasms are the
release of physical tension,
More akin to a good
bowel movement
Than admission into
madness,
Lest it be seen
divine.
* * * *
What makes you feel
bad about anything you do?
Why did you do it if
you know youʼd regret it?
* * * *
Oh, how the young
play and play in that happy day.
* * * *
What a mess we are
in.
* * * *
Who wants it to
continue but those
Who see no more than
life can offer?
* * * *
What a primitive
organism this body is.
* * * *
Same tired old song
played
Again and again and
again.
* * * *
On three, ready,
switch.
* * * *
Ainʼt no expert but
you knows enough to catch the drift.
* * * *
Would we be so
interested in sex if it were not so pleasurable?
* * * *
If you want more you
are still touched by Maya.
* * * *
We wander from crises
to crisis,
From pleasure to
pleasure,
From agony to agony,
From all things,
situations, places,
Cycles ever cycling.
* * * *
Your flexibility
urges you on.
* * * *
Surely sheʼs
flawless.
Haw, haw, good joke.
* * * *
So many waifs, so may
wraiths.
* * * *
Oops! Too early, too
late.
Shuckey-darn, another
party missed.
* * * *
Donʼt allow yourself
To be indoctrinated
or brainwashed
By any group dynamic,
no matter how large or small.
* * * *
Organized religions
teach you to fear
The advent of those
who are without idolatry,
Those who refuse to
sustain superstitious mythologies,
Those who decline to
observe the many scams
That have been so
carefully cultivated.
* * * *
The same indivisible
intelligence occupies all,
But is acted out
according to the patterns
Of existence into
which it weaves.
* * * *
Practice dying
occasionally.
Kind of like you
would a fire drill.
* * * *
The intent here is to
rip away all romantic notion
And discern the
clearest view of reality imaginable.
* * * *
Let that thought
drift into oblivion.
* * * *
Upstream or
downstream
Its all the same
stream
In the same dream.
* * * *
Mmmmm ... Sure smells
like cookies.
* * * *
You know how time is
between friends.
* * * *
A mind divided
against its Self
Will only fragment
further and further.
* * * *
Transcend or perish,
Or is it transcend
and perish,
Or is it transcend
and never perish?
Depends who’s talking
and what they want.
* * * *
Old mythologies,
traditions and all they espouse,
As true as they may
have seemed in their heyday,
Are losing out to the
accelerated passing of time.
* * * *
Talk is just air
blowing through the larnyx.
* * * *
Will today bring some
memorable event,
Or will it join the
anonymity of so many others?
Life is as long as it
is short.
* * * *
For all we pretend to
know, we know so little.
Rejoice in your
ignorance.
* * * *
Thereʼs certainly
logic in the argument
That if the pieʼs
already nearly consumed,
Why not do whatever
it takes to get a piece?
* * * *
The memory of your
perceived life,
Whatever you embrace
as knowledge or truth,
Is likely fairly
distinct from how anyone else sees theirs.
* * * *
Have many friends and
acquaintances
Who donʼt necessarily
agree with you.
* * * *
Let us not confuse
lust with love,
Nor love with lust.
* * * *
How frustrating time
can be
If you expect a
quixotic passing.
* * * *
In what now will you
experience a heaven
Any more pure than
the one available right now?
* * * *
The ultimate growth
is to let go of all your vain notions.
* * * *
How inevitable that
you would pen all these thoughts.
That is just the way
this life has come to pass.
Just donʼt be deluded
that anything
Will ever come of it.
* * * *
How could anyone
conceive the media
Would ever consume
the hand that feeds it,
Or an educational
system ever deeply question
The assumptions
founding its mythological motive,
Or a government not
become such an entity unto itself
That it no longer
protected the hive from which it birthed.
* * * *
Arenʼt all times
interesting?
* * * *
Put simply, the devil
in each of us
Idolizes its Self
separate from godness.
The coyote, the
trickster, the thief, the prankster,
Analogy after analogy
across timeʼs play,
Describe the same
truth for all.
* * * *
So many ways to pay
for a life.
* * * *
As delightfully
enchantingly terrifyingly horrifying as it may be,
All plays are as
ephemeral as the light from which they are born.
* * * *
You want sound-bytes.
Well, hereʼs a few
for ya.
* * * *
The only glory in war
or anything else
Is just more of that
same old self-absorbed,
Fabricated center
born of imagination.
* * * *
Love and hate are
only different ends
Of the same worm
a-turning.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The
Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
©
Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World
Rights Reserved