in the public square
you are not to be questioned
just admired
for your dark demonstrations
of being
the hanging black spider waves its life at you
perhaps the arachnid lover is demoralized
by your hidden beauty
hard to tell
you cringe under its radiant otherness
in the public museum
take the tour backwards
let the man with the megaphone mouth
spin his webs not from the center out
but outer to inner
inwardness opens windows in closed walls
be kind to the blank eyed watchers
here is a beautiful oil on canvas
there is a spider in the corner
that no one notices
for it has no frame
its eight legs tremble
The man in the bus-driver cap
extols her still not living attractions
the ugliness of the moment
is memorized by the whole gallery
only the Picasso remains free
of the taint of paint
A fat woman sighs into my face
threads exude
multiple silky spinnerets
droop from sticky glands
I want out
the way I came in
but am now too endangered
to weave my way out of this
carry out picture palace
There are doors but you can’t knock upon them
And if they were opened
There is nothing to see if they did
Just a hollowed out space
Large enough for the width of a door
And no more
Some temples are like this
A dry sandstone and façade and fascia
Not the delving warrens of the tombs of Kings
There is nothing deep to them
The architecture is all outwards
A structure chiseled only far enough
Into the rock to suggest mighty halls within
All inwardness is written upon the outside
Depth only suggested
Rooms for these ancient vaults of time
Would be mere adornments
Their purpose is confusing
Perhaps they point to an interior
That is on the outside
An edifice that attempts to mirror
soul
He often thought that life below the world,
below the surface of any surface, on the inside,
might be a better way to know these layers of reality
he often imagined.
Not for him the outer stars,
not for him the high reach of any physical existence.
Core and interiority, essence, and center – no
not just the center, the heart of it all, the very inmost.
It was hardly a surprise to him
when he began to see the within of the within,
as if it were the eye that, all that is
orbits and arises from.
However, eventually it came upon him
that there was always an expanse, an immeasurable
sky within every substance that he would always be
unable to fathom;
he called that vastness: the God-space.
that space slowly began to probe his consciousness,
made him aware of the inwardness of infinity
and that made him, strangely enough,
discontent, leaving him feeling exiled,
as if he were only a bug gazing through
a frosted windowpane,
for the inner was too immense
(even in a single atom), for him to comprehend.
and now he must always be on the outer rims
of endless layers of reality looking in.
The sublime chorus of voices
Bring out a shamanistic praxis,
With brevity displayed,
With bravery supported.
How do you dance with your own destiny
When you are betwixt and between?
It becomes a sequence of inwardness,
And askesis of the will,
It manifests itself in resistance
As a precursor to a life-long battle,
And great wonders of exceptions
And concessions we allow in life.
I evade the ambivalent truths
With passion of a prophet,
And may I be I with a touch of divine,
Every time,
And time again,
As a fable of life, and of death.
And may I be I, a particle of truth,
An instance of
Self-indiscretion that is opaque in eloquence
But transparent in stanzas
Of the living whether it’s challenging or ecstatic.
Reincarnate weeping of the Eros
Is an indication of a grim future,
Hissing whispers of a serpent
Tell of it in the depths of azure oceans,
Passing the message onto the sirens
Who surface in the shades of willow trees,
And may I be I as I watch them efflorescing
To the most phantasmic beauty
That makes the living free,
And the Eros alive and well.
When a feeling is deep within your soul,
A sadness so prolific it begins to rot a hole,
Loneliness lingers like a dark cloud,
The words remain unspoken from you aloud,
The fear of judgement surrounds your being,
The voices of paranoia commanding and decreeing,
Unable to flee your muddled minds manipulation,
You have no choice but to bow to the voices damnation,
Dragged deeper into a mental vortex of darkness,
Shadows lurk awaiting to take advantage of your inwardness,
Procrastinating becomes your only capability,
Self worth, depression, anxiety ruin your minds stability,
Before you no it your trapped in a cycle off gloom,
It slowly closes in creating an all consuming tomb,
Now your trapped in your own minds labyrinth,
How do you escape an emotional counterfeit,
With no exit.
INSIDE CAUTIONS…?
Knitting some dreams within my heart
Hastly I wished to become her part
Unknown to hurdles ,I stand out for my emotions
She refused but,after giving some “CAUTIONS4”
Havoc started inside the Inwardness
Is that a girl…?,whose name is happiness..?
Seldom I flavoured, such a pain over past
However its gorgeous to annoy her inside the class
Intensely the Time travelled with memories
Variying the emotions,within life theories
Anew bond cognate us along a clearance
Memorise those “CAUTIONS4” ,contains LOVE FRAGRANCE…..
spectrums
of art
bring
wonder
and ecstasy
a
fleeting
inwardness...
a heightened
sense
of the infinite..
so distinct
a visual
chord
yet
out
of key,
an
idiosyncratic
act
of freedom
and chance
evolving..
into
a complete daub
upon
the canvas
of experience
Dreams dashing in daring dragoon
People prancing in purple picturesque paintings
Tourist touring transubstanciating terrain
The world is not just an oyster
The world is my oyster
Like a sunrise in aix
Or a sunset in Florence
It connects my inwardness to the vast labryinthe of world consciousness
World capitals and ancient villas spread out before my soul
I am the dreamer who dreamed himself into his dream and loved it so much it became true.
Why would I care enough
to open your recipe story?
Why don't I care enough
to pour you in to enrich mine?
I love your wild seasoned willingness,
can't say the same for our salty willfulness
to exchange our sweet belonging
for side-by-side sour longing.
for being karma's relentless instructions
when we could more peacefully
become simple incarnate
co-productions.
Prime cooking together
feeds my soul to yours,
organic compost
sublime breakfast
wild voiced beings
with choices
stir-flying nice.
Freedom from recipe's half-baked inwardness
evolves freedom toward half-fried out hypothesis.
Natural nutrients grow strong values
folding our stories with care.
His life is reloaded with indomitable passion
Thirsty for power and lustful enterprises
His love bleeds on the filthy streets
In dreams he haunts his enemies
Committed for no commitments
he whispers into my ears
his dynamite lips explodes my nerves
I break down in his heavy arms
He believes in detached love;
Sex with no strings
Inwardness never ruled his heart
He seeks pleasure in breaking rib cages
For gangsters are born to kill
He has survived the darkest prison
Hell and heaven far from his reach
A brutal death awaits his arrival
Graveyard will smell the flesh
Of this giant monster
My life ends in love with a gangster…
inwardness budding
spiritual renewal
blossoms faithfully
“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof but canst
not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth.” John ch 3. vs 8.
In a plain bound book
I tattoo white paper in blue
Then wrap myself in this shaman’s cloak
To fly with the eagle to a sky renewed.
I sing words salvaged from the press
In the intervals of Te Deum,
Stolen from its church,
Sung so only its melancholy shines.
Pärt turned to church and tradition
Amidst a century of horror,
And I turn to these conjured spirits
In a world polluted by podcast trash.
Inwardly, I turn – not without question.
The simplest words are sewn with elaborate doubt.
But into the image of inwardness
I dive deeper, and there find reasons to go on.
In the mandalas, strange mazes, of this book
I encircle, tame, and then hold fast
The sound of the blowing wind.
Remaining norm-
Within barbed wired fence?
Never going beyond the call,
Placing it all,
Threshing floor,
Dream's vision?
Breathing every waking moment in the quest,
Freely expressing,
The moment,
Oneself,
In the living,
This earth,
God given one of a kind,
Uncommon inwardness,
Sharing in love?
Did I loose in the muse?
Time,
Opened more,
Read again,
Observing,
Precious life,
Granted,
Only once,
Than that is it,
All one wrote,
On one's blog of life.
Answering to Another.
Asking,
The question,
Did one live to be,
Beyond the everyday,
Seeing?
Mirror migration,
Puzzle Solver daily,
I choose to journey,
Hand in hand,
While I still live,
Making a difference.