When the man doesn't want to deal with humanity, He goes down to the trenches, pushes weights from his benches, And he clenches his fists. When he hits a target, he hits it with a twist. Trying to be as passive as the morning mist, Feeling as aggressive As a yellow jacket when it's pissed.
Bottled-up, frustrated anger boggling the mind and bogging it down, Like a frown-painted on face clown. No matter what is inside, the eyes cannot hide, for they paint the picture that you see. I am only me because you say I am me. You tell me, "This is you." as you point. What would you do if I pointed at you and said, "You are not you!" If I was convinced that it was true? Would you cease to be you, While I could continue to be me? The scenario is trite. This twist has wrenched the muscular tension of the ego tight. Reciprocation happens while at rest When the thoughts that you entertain become less and less, Then you do not have to wait on them, Like an underpaid, beaten up, disheveled waitress. What is that picture you paint of her in your mind? Could your picture ever accurately describe her? Will you think of her from time to time? There are so many people you never think about again, But she seems to reoccur within the song that goes on and on and on and on in your head. Here comes the chorus,... Oh, back to the first verse again. I guess it is worth listening to, If that is the music that pleases you. If the songs do not make you happy, Why listen to and produce those songs? You don't have to sing along and this ain't no sing-along! Your thoughts are not like the water in your bong. They are not even the smell that you smell when you smell something and say, "What the hell?!" Thoughts are not a thing, Nor do they make you “do” things. Do your thoughts make you a person, as opposed to a "thing"? Thoughts do not make you better than that rock. Thoughts are not the thing that make you feel "Better," Feeling better is an observation. Feeling is a production of thoughts, And thoughts are not real. But if thoughts exist not, What is the paper on which you read this ink blot? Thoughts are the words you read. Read is a word that means two different things in the English language. Have you read? Ha! Thought you would think the word read, and not reed or about a water melon seed, or about the color, red. Twisted out of your head your ego builds it's homestead. You can evict ego, just like you can stop recording that song. Though it is a process that takes very long. After all, shouldn't your ego just go "run along!" But would thoughts run away with ego, like ego and thought are friends? Or is ego a bunch of thoughts all holding hands, when broken apart, They alone cannot stand? How to break that hold Of the ego Is not much a lesson, as it is a story to be told. And it cannot be told through thoughts and feelings. It can only be told by living. Ego can be discarded only through forgiving! Forgiving lasts a longer than a while. Holding grudges plays a frownie-faced clown song forever, while the clown of your conscious tries to crack a smile. Listening to words of a song that he wrote In order to forget that same very song! The song needs to go, As does the hurtful ego. So, to evict the ego, ‘Tis a process that time spent in forgiveness. Forgiveness can only be proven through a smile. the eviction process takes a while. Never complain for it to go away. Your process has made it this way; and like an engine in a car, to start, some parts have to move first. What could be worse Than a car that, instead of the starter spinning first, The first thing to spin Would be all four of tires? Seems there is a process in play, Otherwise, when you turned your key, Your starter won't work, Because your tires Would already be on their way! Seems like you're broke down. Like the deshevled waitress, You put your guard down. You don't even try to look like a smiling, frownie-faced clown. You let your expression fall down, And your sad song is the only thing you hear, Over and over again, that same sound. "Turn the beat around." Let your eyes be like disco balls. Your face is already a mirror. Your thoughts are not what steer you. It is what you think of your thoughts That can clear you. Trick is to forgive, but it is a process to let go. Forgiving of yourself is something you have to let the rest of your mind know. It takes daily action, Daily practice to reach a point where you, by deed, practice what you preach. When you think by example, You can live as one. Not just an example, But instead of being just a sample, you are the complete you. Simply Whole, not a hole, because wherever there is a hole, There is always the thought, "What's inside?" And people would never let preside, Within the camps of thought within their minds, That you are a big A-hole; Unless you proceed to act that way, or continue to process things in your mind the way that an asshole do. The only difference between pointing at someone and declaring, "This is Me. That is You." Is that you think that when I poo It is something different from you, Like you and my poo are two. But I think there is a oneness between my poo and you. Like this thing we call "life" is a shit stew. I must be the potatoes. Are you still going to be you? You might just drown, If you don't carrot-up, Do you think that you could breathe submerged in poop stew? But I don't think I see The picture the “I” wants my eyes to paint for me. Seems I squint sometimes At things I find. Either they are strange, Or my binoculars are out of range, but the canvas seems to have already been painted all over and changed. It seems I am only doing touch-ups As I try to fit my Paint where it would fit the whole picture. You are You and I am Me. My poop is separate from you, But at what moment did it become separate from me? At what point is your A-hole no longer a "hole"? But just part of you And at what point does it become your whole ass, not just your asshole. And how did your asshole leak onto your thoughts, Covering them with shit, making you feel lost, like you’ve lost your grip? If you have shitty thoughts, You exist in shit. If you see shit and say, "I am one with that shit!" Than you've got it! As your music changes through the process. Sort through this shit. thoughts are what you find when you attack your own mind. When you seek that which cannot be taught, Your words are at a loss. You are as serious as a monkey With a handful of oneness Moments just before the toss. October 4, 2012