It’s funny really
how I’d been thinking
the exact same thing.
And how everything’s different.
And how nothing’s changed.
And how things are fine enough
without throwing a wrench in the works.
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the bliss of ego-manic thought
There’s something happening when
There’s nothing left to lose—
The apple of the eye
Is begging for the truth—
I admit, it’s possible but
The language that we use—
To disengage, it’s all the same
Our fears of being used.
There’s something distinct in the
Absence of yourself—
Like when you manifest
Your love in someone else—
He’ll seem incapable but
The patterns that you choose—
To disengage, it’s all the same
Our fears of being used.
Now there’s a sinner and saint on the corner of the block
One’s got a rifle in hand believing that he’s God
They’re both wrapped warm in the bliss of ego-manic thought
To disengage, it’s all the same
Believing that it’s not.
An Observation—early 2021
People would do anything to be different.
Anything to stand out.
People would do anything not to fit the norm—
that after a while they all became the same.
Miraculous People
What I saw that day, my mind insisted were people,
running back and forth—silhouettes—they were equal.
What I saw that day, I just couldn’t conceal
their shape was mine, it almost didn’t seem real.
See original thought comes before the prequel,
because the love we’re born with exists before evil.
What I saw that day, sure I know they were people,
while my beginner’s mind worked, I couldn’t help but feel
—their heart’s skip beats—my heart was healed,
by what I saw that day on a beach filled to equal:
coexistence at birth, we’re miraculous people.
Words Of An Average White Male 