Note:

All writings are over one year old.

This Blog is arranged in no particular order so a lot of the good stuff is at the bottom.

Thoughts are for Thinking

We are all relative programmers, programming each other at all times. We are all satisfaction machines, constantly attempting to satiate our insatiability. On auto-pilot, we satisfy as best we can our pattern recognition system, which operates from fear/love. We are always holding on to something. Something is always at stake. Death is already here. What is there to be scared of?Fear is the name for the mechanism of action through which contraction takes hold. All mask emotions stem from fear.

Love is the name for the mechanism of action through which expansion takes hold. All emotions stem from love.

Mask emotions serve the purpose of a decoy. If one is not able to experience emotions closer to truth, a level of emotion farther from truth will be experienced, for your ego's safety, to cover up the more expansive (but more ego decimating) truth of Love. Mask emotions create and perpetuate a sense of duality and tension in day to day life. They are created through psychological projection of one's own insecurities and fears.

All that is ever truly experienced are your own projections. If you are full of hate, you will surround yourself with an energy field of hate, and the world will appear hateful. If you are open to Love, Love will be open to you.

This is the story of the ever-evolving struggle between contraction and expansion, the No-Flows vs. the flow. It's an incredible absurdity, all based on the identification of the imaginary (Ego) with the imaginary (Form (including language, thought, and any other structured symbolic offspins thereof)). Naturally, evolutionarily, we've got no choices. The only constant is the quality of impermanence.

Attachment is like trying to swim upstream. Structure is innately repression. Control is innately contraction.

Metaphors

Metaphors;
Confronting me with open doors,
Exposed for my pleasure,
Exploited by my experience,
And in cahoots with time,
As both make gains,
Evermore.

Like white sand slowly slipping,
‘Tween my fingertips,
Silky in gestation,
Transcendent in gesture,
And finite in guise,
Led to follow moments dissolved,
(Which are still accrued)
So that they may be,
Swept up in the stream,
Carried down and away,
Like time as it escapes,
through my pores,
All of them breathe freshly now,
And Eternity speaks to me,
Through my skin;
Evermore.

Gravity piles them atop my toes so that my feet may stay warm.

The Perfect Fulfillment

The (in)variable is variability,
progression regression,
homeostasis,
inDifference.

Cyclical circumnavigation (with)out/with(in).
Traveling nowhere.
Arriving with increasing haste.

Exponentially towards infinity,
The linear becomes circular.
In the realm between absence and presence,
Existence rolls the nodice.

When time makes verbs fly solo,
Maps events onto the matrices of probability and,
Nouns are none.
Here it is,
While here it comes.
Transitive forces.
The wave of NoThingness,
The Crest
Plus
The Trough
of Absence.

Can it be?
Everything and No Thing?

The perfect fulfillment of a desire that never was.

Always will be;
Never Was.

Ovary Nation

Words, like birds, flying overhead.
The effects of earth’s density,
The gravity,
Causing meaning to fall upon me.
With every concept my consciousness migrates.
My mind’s eye salivates, for more.
Each thought a modification,
I’m changing,
an alteration,
of what I used to be.

Once born, I left the station,
The train I’m on is made of contemplation,
Ever evolving revelation,
Last stop: Elation.

This is Ovary Nation!

Freedom: The Absence of Thought

Society,
The uber-industry;
That of mentally manufactured malady.

Veracity,
Cure what ails me;Destroy my philosophy and set me free

The Ego's Concession

When walls no longer surround,
There’s no ground on which to stand,
When nothing is left to believe,
I Take the Void’s hand.

When all boundaries dissolve,
When illusion is escaped,
The infinite creeps in,
Reality is finally embraced.

I realize all is truth.
I realize God is me.
Within ecstatic rapture
One-thousand ineffable epiphanies

Sitting, eyes closed,
Yet nothing more to see.
I hold fast to the void,
And I am finally free.

There's No Stopping It Now

This period of introspection
Has found my preconceptions
And now what’s to do,
but push on through?
To annihilate them all
And watch the boundaries fall.

Truth has taken hold
And, boy, it’s got iron claws.
As I watch the mystery unfold
I’m crushed, within its jaws,
My preconceived notions
Are washed away in the ocean,
Of infinite possibility.
And, really, I’ve got no choice at all.
‘Cause, there’s no stopping it now.
There’s no stopping it now.

I’m falling deeper down
That infinite hole
Now, that I’ve
relinquished control,
But how can I give away,
what was never mine?
How can depth be
without relativity?
How can light shine
without casting a shadow?

When all is truth
How can anything be a lie?
And whose mother isn’t my very own?

If there was no heads,
There’d be a no coin to toss,
No little people,
There’d be no boss.
And I’m here to look into your eyes.
And tell you there’s not.

Truth, Love, and Bliss are;
And so too am I.

Understanding, Compassion, and Existence are;
And so too am I.

This Manifold of Thought

Wearing away at this consistent resistance,
This manifold of thought that breeds flesh,
That breeds the forms that I behold with my senses.
This light that comes through my optical lenses.

And as I breathe through my respiratory orifices,
It is this manifestation that surfaces,
Causing electrical impulses.
Taste, touch, sight, sound, and smell,
Don’t forget space-time as well!

As I’ve learned through life’s lessons,
Existence is just a product of perception!

It’s an edifice of confusion,
Causing dissolution,
Ever-altering illusion,
It’s a subjective intrusion,
Mistaken for movement, for meaning,
But separation is only a delusion.

Meaning comes in context of relationships,
The distinctions made when language is formed with lips,
But mandatory division of the whole I decry!
All is truth, and so anything divided is a lie!

Therefore, everything with meaning is falsehood,
Because articulate thought is intellectualized, not understood.

A portion of the total does not equal the sum.
Understanding is gestalt and does not easily come.
It is this edifice that seems finitely tall
But when compared to the foundation it is infinitely small

The goal then is to get back to the foundation
On which is built this manifestation,
And whether young, or whether old,
To see God permeating throughout this manifold.

Merging

Merging,
With the walls,
Melting into space,
Silhouetting,
Subconscious fears,
Against the floorboards
of my face,
With open eyes,
Again I find
Myself wishing,
That I wasn’t blind.

Watching

Watching,
Shadows in the dark,
Creep by,
Looking, as I lie,
With unkempt eyes,
Silence begs,
For open doors,
Swinging wide,
And the ends are frayed,
Tonight.

Your Mind Needs Fresh Air

A container is to the physical just as dogma is to the psychical.
A glass from which to drink; Beliefs from which to think.
The water is contained; it is subject to the form the glass imposes.
The mind is contained; it is subject to the form the belief structure imposes.
Go outside.

Formlessness is infinite potential.

The seed of manifestation
Arises from the ashes of Eden
Lending the illusion of the finite,
Giving form, to the Infinite.

DXM Musings

Extra cirricular vehicular spaceship. Lets go. Forward ho. Time to show the no flows what its like to blow a no no. Tea cups and tin kettle is when I know its right, Your mothers last words found me ingeniously specious. Just because Juniper blooms outside your home means your throne is gone. Kinetic frenetic qualm. Ranqoun foosdust. You can’t do such a thing inside this life. RealITy is whaT YOU CAN THAnk DIREXTION HOME. HOW CAN WE ALL WORK TOGETHER If WE ALL HAVE A DIFFERENT PURPOSE? Up Up up. Shlanker the envelope to the next stage of the devilish diminishing develop, ment whence came the dimension of Thanadou. Hearts splashing. Whered we there? I love my feet.

After this I came to. I write:

“Thanks for the good times old boy. I’m finished with you. I’ve had it I say! Get out! Why don’t you just run for the border cause im gonna be coming after ya.” What is this some kind of bizarre scheme? How have you survived so long inside this projection? Tell me your secrets and Ill tell you lies all night long. Believe me, though. It’s not that hard. Ill tell you what. Squeeze it, then lick! Inside-(with)out. Referential data-set reflexive in the MIND. Beats are meaning and I’m Gaphythurgood. Juxtapositioning the supraliminal space set one influx to the left. Give me that dollhouse. While you’re at it bring me Louise. And one Mallard. I’d like green beans on the side.

EVERYTHING!EVERYTHING!EVERYTHING! IS IS IS!!! RELATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don’t bite.

Play nice.

Go look at the Milky Way.

Ciao.

And I'm Alright

go or stay, I see and am


who I am



and Im alright with this peculiar thing
that’s happening





Things are happen ing


happen

happenstance
happenslouch

happenhappenin’ mystery

And Death Envelops

Somewhere on the border death erupts,
Like, molten magma expelling into lava,
And Life rages onward with energy.

With tears like fire ants,
Racing towards the next revolution,
Life erupts
Through the threshold
As the door opens
And death envelops.

Am I not the Sky?

What is this division?
Nothing, but Absurd.

Wherefrom does it come?

Where am I?

Am I not the sky?
Am I not the stream?
Am I not the forest?
Am I not the stars?
Am I not the Sun?
Grounded in the Earth,
Flying in the Heavens?
Of course! And full of mirth.
The mountains and wildflowers gave me birth!
And whose mother is not my very own?

One ever-present manifold purely flowing,
This oceanic infinitude, is ever-knowing,
That from which perception arises,
And of which only probability comprises.
A holograph, balanced to naught,
Of energy, of light, An undivided current flows,
Gathering towards, within it goes.
The mind turned inside out,
Expanded to the outer limits,
Yet delved deep.

The boundaries, the structures, the edifice is gone;
I am that.

A Poem for Sat Daya

Freshly flowering,
Bud wide open,
Wide, wide, open,
The fertile pollen,
Carried away,
When the winds of life command,
Such is that.

Flowering becomes fruitful.

And sweet nectar,
Oh! Sweet, sweet, nectar,
It pours forth-
Effortlessly.

Such is life.

Feel The Feeling

Feel the feeling.
Can you feel that feeling?
Feeling that feeling I felt today,
Dissolving into Experient,
Experiencing with experience at bay.

And I’m alright
with this peculiar thing
That’s happening.
And I’m alright
With this happenstance
Romance of chance.
And I’m alright
Even though,
I’ve got no say.
And I’m alright
with this peculiar thing
This peculiar thing
That’s happening.

I’m alright today.

I’m dissolved into Experient
Experiencing with experience at bay.
Because The lake below,
reflects the sky above,
Because surrender is Love;
And Love is the way.

Seargent Foosedust

I’m eating Ranquoon Foosedust today,
Going to Thanadou for a while,
And it’s definitely gonna make me smile,
So let me shlanker it to you,
Hearts splashing giant tongues of all your fears.

Whence came the dimension of Thanadou,
Now we’re in the dimension of Thanadou,
It’s too late to turn back, you know,
You’re in the dimension of Thanadou,
You’ve got no choice but to let it flow,
Whence it came, Whence it came ,
Whence came the dimension of Thanadou.

Electrical Kinetic ears,
Still moving, yet still.
Understand with empathy’s insistence,
That we ride a juniper made bus,
But I’ve got no frenetic qualms.

Do you want to stop or go?
I thought that I would ask for show,
Because the bus sings its song,
Whether or not we sing along,
So what will it be for you?
The no-flows must go!
Now that we are here in Thanadou.

Letting Go

Purity in Awarity isn’t about clarity or mental dexterity,
It’s letting go of security in exchange for anonymous obscurity,
Embracing uncertainty, full bore unsurity,
Making a rarity, a scarcity, of consensus reality.
The absence of polarity brings about gestalt inclusivarity,
Infinite possibility spiraling out from Alternity,
Melding into the mystery that is me,
Eternally.

Containers

A container is to the physical just as dogma is to the psychical.
A glass from which to drink; Beliefs from which to think.
The water is contained; it is subject to the form the glass imposes.
The mind is contained; it is subject to the form the belief structure imposes.
Go outside.

Formlessness is infinite potential.

The seed of manifestation
Arises from the ashes of Eden
Lending the illusion of the finite,
Giving form, to the Infinite.

Experience

Sensations mapped onto mind-made-matrices,
Echoing interference patterns, perpetually propelled, rippling throughout.

Reverberations.

The wellspring is founded on its nearest neighbor,
“Let me lean on you” it commands, subtly, unnoticed.
It goes on leaning, lending ideas of meaning.

Concepts.

Emotions navigated,
Reactions based on previous patterns, imprinted reverberations,
Still echoing into eternity ever-rewriting the matrices; the maps.
Conditionings, subtle, unnoticed; just echoes.

Imprints.

Memories re-experienced in ignorance,
Unrecognized; Thought to be external stimulation.
Navigation through previous programs, or new experiences?

Provocation.

Collectively protesting acceptance of Grandeur,
Pushings and pullings; graspings, aversions;
Born into societal perversions.
Hierarchal projections, professions, corrections, repressions.
Whoring away infinite potential.
Forgetting the unconscious desire to ignore; we drift into separation, gladly.

Floating.

Cosmic conduit; constricted, controlled, contracted, closed
The Media-cracy destroys, societal faux-joys conjure and deploy,
Girls and boys, Saturated in a Sea of Impotence.

Lies.

Negativity; conservatives conserving nothing but comfort based on past identity.
The infinite defined as, attached to, experiences gone, of presents that have passed.
Tomorrow is an excuse for the obtuse to use.
Floating on life rafts made of meaning to keep from drowning,
In this ocean of truth.
You continue to weave the fabric of yourself; only in the Mind.

Systems.

Antique worries come in flurries,
Basic needs seem to supersede those of lofty goals,
We need ascenders, understanding and kind, anti-contenders reaching up high.

Love.

Thinking requires division; language is rotten with fission,
And reading is scanning line by line.
You’re taking your time, yet reality is instantaneous.

Now.

Universal gestalts fall apart, the whole is decried,
And simultaneous apprehension is muddled with externally projected intentions.

Crumbling.

Reverberate, echo; interference patterns infinitely complex,
Suppress yourSelf into the unconscious for sake of fear.

Fear of Grandeur.

Realization destroys destruction.
Understanding annihilates apprehension.
But without constrictions, controls, structures, and poles
It’s one ever-flowing ever-present manifold.

One.

It’s too much to handle for fear of individual dissolution.
Attachments, feelings, personality, experiences crumble into the solution,
Absorbed back into the ether.

Vibrations.

Ideas. Echoes. Reverberations, waves, holographic frequencies, imprints, and memories.

You are not your experience,
You are not your ideas,
You are not your words,
You are not your thoughts,
You are not your fucking conditioning!

Masks.

You are not echoes of a moment dissolved.

The present is eternal, infinite; purely aware.
Neither going nor coming, leaving nor staying,

‘I’,
Dissolve away.

Ambitious Aspirations, Desired Directions, and Planned Purposes

I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m arriving with increasing haste.
And in this effort, I’m keen to give you all a taste.

With unbridled persistence,
I’ve got ambitious aspirations,
For realizing the depth of my relations,
In regard to existence.

So, my desired direction is away from mental protection, to remove the condom covering our experience, which keeps us “safe” and divided. It’s no way to live.

Constricted experience: spiral away, spiral away;
Open up.

The planned purpose of this blog is to share my extrapolations based on experiential sensations. I hope you enjoy watching me weave my web of in-site. Thank you, and don’t forget to enjoy.

In Joy,
Michael