Meta-Rêve : Beyond the Dream

Today on the train to work, ”Gigantes” by Tortoise...

Wed, 15 May 2013 23:52:00 -0400

Today on the train to work, ”Gigantes” by Tortoise popped onto my shuffled music, and I was struck with memories upon hearing the instrument driving the melody of such a heavily syncopated song.

I was reminded of Hans Zimmer’s Sherlock Holmes theme song. That same instrument is present in it. And more sentimentally, was I swept into memories of a gypsy quartet playing in the Piazza Santa Croce in Florence, playing every Saturday. I once inquired as to the name of this mysterious, unique noisemaker, and I had never remembered the man’s muddled Italian response.

The Cimbalom. A Hungarian dulcimer, it looks like a baby grand or a harpsichord with its top casually discarded in favor of mallet-banging and a wider range of percussive possibilities.

It looks hard to play. Watch this magnificent (and very recent!) example of what one can do with enough practice. Enjoy!

Waiting

Wed, 15 May 2013 10:43:39 -0400

Simple pleasures

Were derived from

Complex tragedies

I’m here and now for you

But only if you please

Vital measures

Were taken from

Ironic comedies

I’m flash and wow for you

And I am on my knees

Waiting

Put off by the times

And I’m debating

Talking tough

And Giving up

Under bridges

We’re running from

Idle wishes

I’m drown and out on you

Swimming with the fishes

Broken stitches

We’re bleeding from

Being officious

I’ve got my doubts of you

I’m quite suspicious

Waiting

Put off by times

And I’m debating

Talking tough

And Giving up

Would you so softly interrupt?

Please break the rules

Render the game

Old & Lame

And quietly pack it up?

Questions bought

Were sold back to

Whence they came

I’ve no more strong thoughts on you

No love yet no blame.

Matadors.

Thu, 02 May 2013 11:17:42 -0400

We are both matadors

In the ring we meet

We only know just how

To gracefully retreat.

Awake to whispers in the night

We both know what in our hearts is right

But we ain’t brave baby

We just stand there in fright

It’s just one step and a hand

To lead the dance along

So since you’re the girl and I’m the man

I’ll try to be strong

There’s only so much to stand under…

There’s only so much time to sit and wonder…

Spectacular.

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 20:41:36 -0400

Spectacular.

River of Soul.

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 23:20:45 -0400

Digestion being digested

Digressions of suggestions being divested;

Pieces formed too fit to mold,

A molecule in the river of soul.

An egg floating in the Morne Trois,

Boiling at the end,

Adjacent to law,

From switch deepend,

Of which to fall,

This force reckons us all.

Gorrrruppp

Gorruppp

The bubble mountains stagger up,

They sheen the hills ablaze,

Among fire and trees,

Blues a morning sage.

Curvaceous quests,

They direct,

The winds swept

In vapors,

Journeyed architects,

Rumbling tabors

Of taunt and guest.

Politely,

Fold thy lips nightly,

Wait until aware

Of the depth’s holy prairie

Out which from scandals come

The wax of candles crumb,

Bore late but son of thumb,

Thy wakened worlds humbly become.

Constant fluctuations,

I feel my machinations human,

Buried of the tomb in

Ways I’ve tried parades,

Days have all chimed in,

Caress the whales in tow,

Fornicates the flow

Moons ardent

To the feel of now.

Script fold to scene,

So quells the Queen.

Bodhisattva.

Wed, 06 Jun 2012 00:03:55 -0400

I am not perfect, and I am doing what I can to acknowledge and extinguish my ignorance. The only person you can truly understand and change is yourself. As such, change does not come from affecting the outside world, it comes from within. Because as you change yourself, so too does your perception of everything around you change. NOTHING is permanent. I do not blame you for seeing me as someone who may never change, everyone at one point or another does that because it is our consciousness grasping for and trying to itemize a reality that is anything but concrete and immobile.

If you read this blog, please go to the youtube channel SageBodisattva, and watch all his videos where he wears a tiger’s mask and speaks, starting with the oldest videos, to the most recent. The older videos deal with more concrete issues, but then he begins to get really deconstructionist and you cannot really understand those kinds of ideas without first dealing with what issues plague the world at large. I still have a long way to go with his videos, but he is teaching me a lot.

I have also been reading books like Meditation and Life by Swami Chinmayananda, The Places that Scare you by Pema Chodron, and How to see yourself as you Truly Are by the Dalai Lama. They have all also taught me a lot about myself, my spirituality, and what it means to be conscious and eliminate ignorance.

I have not given myself the time nor the peace in my life to meditate as of lately, but I would like to re-integrate it it into my life, as it’s been a source of serenity and awareness that I truly cherish.

Please respond if you feel you can help me be more self-aware. I am open to making improvements in my life and would love to help you with yours :)

This or That.

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 22:58:00 -0400

The I,

or rather the arrangement within me,

has stumbled upon

contact with a being formless.

An unknowable truth,

A ruse,

And yet

a candle in this world of we.

This my-ness stares up and blunders

at what will of conscience

There is,

And what we make of

What truly isn’t.

The Storm Becoming

Wed, 30 May 2012 22:24:58 -0400

I see the clouds in bitter forms:

I feel the winds coming on,

Now where is this supposed storm?

Where is the flood they talk about?

There’s no end to the drumming

To the inevitable march of the storm becoming.

I’m finished with doubt

I see the dirt and the clout

When will it be enough

To let the rain pour out?

I’ve got no more secrets

And I’ve all lines tapped,

No longer any regrets

And yet still here I stand trapped.

The waves push and pull me,

The silence does anything but lull me.

My mind’s edge is razor sharp,

You cannot do anything to dull me.

I hear the winds humming

Their weary songs of a storm becoming.

I will keep trying

I will push through

With all the lying

I’ll let my words ring true:

I’ll be the bolt of lightning

That starts it all,

I’ll be the flash

That gets the iron bell tolling,

Gets this immovable ball rolling.

I’ll be the fire under all your asses,

I’ll whip the masses into frenzy:

I’ll be the only one to mend me

For you can never break, only bend me.

You’ll all have hell to pay

And all the cards you play

And the empty words you say

Will come crashing down

In a crush of fury:
You’ve no need to worry

About what is coming,

It is I, the storm becoming.

The water that washes

This world all over,

Best wear them galoshes.

For my darts and dashes

Will leave you all to ashes,

And after that,

I shall lay the world flat and wide,

For I am the storm becoming,

Turning the world on its side.

Cracked.

Tue, 29 May 2012 12:17:51 -0400

And you want me to be strong

And you say we’ll get along

Like fine china in a glass case

But just in case you weren’t listening

Your war is lost, in having extended truce to me

And truthfully this is one damn

I won’t be giving anymore

I flew out to the finest technicians

Just to see what was broken could never be fixed

And you’re one day of the week i’ll always miss

But I’m fine knowing I’ll always have the other six

Keep playing your cards right

And you’ll see me at another blight

Rushing in to the fire to burn myself alive

But aim softly now, I’ve turned a cheek

And there’s no room in my mind for you to survive

And you want me to be a bird to fly

You want to stay in my life and be a spy

And when envy is the apple of your eye

You’ll come running back

And you want me to hold that

love you thought I never lacked

I know you fear looking in the mirror

Cause that mirror is most certainly cracked

Oh Me, Oh My.

Tue, 22 May 2012 23:46:17 -0400

I lost my soul when I got a tan

Saw it talking to a homeless man

Shedding advice.

I breathed my last words

Into the mouth of a stranger,

Like a ventriloquist,

Fueled with anger.

No, must I shed these wings

For imperfect trials beyond

The miles of tomorrow?

Or must I tread these things

Like Jesus did the cross

For miles in sorrow?

This weekend, never a getaway,

A trap into the same conversations.

The arguments we know we’ll have

To make our reservations.

Fists piled high

This consternation sweeps sleep.

Oh me, oh my.

This constant inflation keeps things steep.

Upon

Wed, 09 May 2012 20:36:24 -0400

This great Thunder

rumbles within me,

it compliments the flashes

and the rains beyond

my windows and walls,

sometimes I’ve

stumbled with sin,

only to repent the

Gashes and the pains

upon my skin and my galls.

With time and gratitude,

The aches untie

themselves

each scar a gift in

its healing,

and I’m at the latitude

that wakes the sky

and delves

each star to lift

in its shining.

No more have I to

feign my thrills

for cheap ones

gotten at consequence,

of these gills

the lessening of

interpersonal debts

and yet the pile on

of paper bills.

It’s been unreal

to know my path

and that wrath

which dared sit

amongst my crowd

of thoughts

whispers of treachery

and deviations

poured wide into

this ego:

The mind’s

wine drips

upon this rain I sip

and here

we go

again.

Centurion

Tue, 08 May 2012 21:56:39 -0400

Dear centurion

Command my dreams

to release their power,

Call them to awake,

Pray thy ships’ pulsing

For sleeping’s subtle sake.

Whereby my years flinched in siege,

What thoughts escape me,

Are yours,

My liege.

Great centurion,

Blow thy winds upon my words,

Wisps in secret afternoons,

And give this gift upon the birds

Ripening the harvest moon

To take,

Your evening’s bell

Would sooner break

The task,

To shell a brighter sun

Under which to bask.

Holy Centurion,

This mountain bows graciously,

The mellow lion eats

Voraciously,

The seeds are pillows

Tight,

Billowing their appetites,

In heat.

Pliant Centurion,

Many of us await your congress,

Unveiling which to yield

And which to dress,

Making comfort’s whittled mess,

A whisper,

And yet a yes.

Wiley skies

The clouds usurp the day

The grass of the field

And the gray

The dust and the air

Interplay.

Coded Centurion,

Then,

Make meals

With which to mend,

So that

We all may bend

In the light of the breeze,

Set our minds at ease,

With what we all know

As the beginning,

The end.

Long Island

Tue, 01 May 2012 13:21:00 -0400

Out there on Long Island,

Broken down trust

In a desert of pain.

And there’s enough rust,

Ain’t no need for rain.

On the other end,

I am silent.

Long distance runaround

The same feelings

No sight, just sound.

I’ll be kneeling

And settling down,

Praying just

To have you around.

And all the advice

In the world

Couldn’t bring me

Back my girl,

For you’ve got

To break the chains

Of naiveté.

You’ve got

To find a way.

Out there on Long Island,

A warm couch is thy enemy,

The chocolates of complacency.

Pick thy battles carefully.

You said you loved

The way the tide receded,

How you felt needed,

But deep within your gut

Rots an agony

Too often kept inside

And breeded.

I search for you

Along the shores

Of this fragile state,

You don’t shout help

You don’t put your life jacket on,

You look for no rock to keep upon,

As far as I know,

You’re as good as gone.

I’ll book a room now

I’ll find a way somehow

But this is all too familiar—

I’ve not the multiplying limbs

Of a caterpillar

I can help those

Who help themselves,

You can climb down

Those series of shelves,

You can call and ask

A million questions,

And for your god’s sake,

When it stings,

Address your feelings.

Beloved Pearl,

Out there on Long Island,

Make me proud to be yours,

You’ve given me

The hope to succeed

Now if only my advice

You’d heed,

I might not be the boss

But I will swim across

The cold seas between us

For you’re my sunken venus

I shall dive down

To the threats of death

And retrieve you with breath.

The Highway

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 22:58:00 -0400

On the highway,

Changing positions,

Mergers & acquisitions.

Some forge forwards

To shave minutes off the clock,

Some fall back and cruise on lock.

Some fly into the mess of clusters of cars,

To make it out ahead.

Some dive off into exits,

Saying their goodbyes

Instead.

—
And then there are the accidents—

Random strings of events

From not-quite wrecks to broken necks,

To the littlest of fuck-ups

To trucks and cars piled up.

—

We drive by

Veiled in misery

But too curious to look away,

We wonder if

One of the victims

Had hell to pay.

—

There are angels scraping the roads clean

of any version of what it might mean.

—

And we are just onlookers

More gruesome than the scene itself

Who’d have known we’re the ones

That need help and divers

And jaws of life

Moreso than any of the survivors.

—

When the destination occurs,

And you get to the time

On which it all depends

You may realize

The road never ends.

Leftovers.

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 17:00:00 -0400

Well hey honey I’ve been where you are

Wanting to die but too timid to try

I’ll help you up,

I was given a mental massage,

And with it came a barrage

of the ones I thought never cared.

Knocking on my door such locked,

And as such I stared.

Well I just smiled and fell like a baby in her arms.

And as the tears and the diatribe lifted out,

The fears freed themselves and so did the doubt.

The last person you’d guess to let out of your life,

Is the key to all your four leaf clovers,

And the things you’ve sewed all too tight,

Let them out and feast on the leftovers,

Let them out and feast on the leftovers.

You’ve no idea the strength in the fridge of your mind,

You know there isn’t really such a thing as time?

There are memories,

And there are plans,

All throughout our lifespans.

And sacred like the hindu cow:

Is the power of now.

Swarm

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 23:19:00 -0400

This swarm of piranha smile,

They swim, they say nothing,

“I want your life.”

The perfect hound

Trains to stare

And wait

For the moment to fetch

The prey of its mind.

The monks

Pray around

The passed out

Human being.

The dreams themselves have soon to be taken

Awaken from their beds in nights of howls

And flashlights,

Owls

Who see

And tell.

Nature’s

Finally the one to betray

The wretched lives

We live.

Grooming The Sea

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 02:14:24 -0400

It’s been long enough to forget all of that

Now, now, breathe. Use words and other substitutes.

Keep calm, now what was it you’re looking for?

I just want to get along. What if it makes me feel better?

Come now, no time for these games.

But for you now is always the time to play,

Kindly step down and get your rocks off on another surface.

Justify intentions, balance the wisdom with energy.

Supplement the joy with whatever makes you uneasy,

Stay still with the anxiety bubbling inside you.

The witches brew stitches a burn, a subtle turn of the organs.

Surf the wave of harmful thoughts, without their words to guide,

Feel/perceive only the emotions of the tide.

Swim out. Drown down. Float above the town,

Pretty are the lights, so is swimming in the darkness.

The sea envelops me, I feel the wholeness of disrepair. Rocking, rocking,

The murk gets to me. Obscured is this sense. Something indescribable.

Hope in its willing despair, growth in grooming the sea for songs.

Moments of You.

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 01:50:00 -0400

your picture elates me

where words,

the presence of others,

even the winds whipping

can not.

don’t know where you are,

but i await

a sign

for you to tell me

you’ve got roots

somewhere.

an old friend

i can’t wait to see again.

something tells me,

you’re among schools of fish

climbing reefs

in an ocean of white light,

and every now and then

you come up to the surface

and climb into my lungs.

the air of telling me

it’s not as hard as

i keep telling myself.

you were always

so gentle

such a delicate one to replace

i’m with company

in longing for your

soft embrace.

and with fall’s trap

of death closing in,

just as the sun

becomes distant

how far I feel

from everything that ever mattered

and how you are a reminder

of where beauty

pierces the status quo

how peace strikes

the shaky moment

how this magic quality

pervades everything,

and nothing

can be touched

but the sincerity

of now.

The Mysts

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 23:32:00 -0400

Dear Mystery,

How I miss your eyes wrapping around me in the darkness, your pale stare in the trim of a moment. Well I caught it, kept it here, and sent it out to corners of the world, hoping it would write back.

It didn’t, but I remember the deep in the dark of your pupils there etched a wanting: forever there, I’ll be waiting. You kept walking on in your tall endeavors, braving the mists of weathers beyond mine.

Well if I’m a tempest, this dear life of yours is a tsunami, a killer wave crashing down on the empty praise of tomorrow. Footsteps clear a path to your redemption and mine; we can find each other in some gaudy tourist trap, singing the links to our past, as they connect to find the lips of one another speaking the same words:

Yeah,

I had a vague feeling

I’d find you here.

Pod

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 23:21:24 -0400

Space is confiscated,

Light is stolen,

Time is food

Regurgitated and swollen.

Emotions are satellites

With nothing to do

With the center of things,

Connection is never finite

The pendulum hovers rather than swings.

The magic is on.

The light is solid.

This aura is blinking,

Its colors are stolid.

The stream jumps,

The echo fades in to the atmosphere.

Hearing sounds of nature sing,

The ship needs not be steered.