Memory as Life

From the unknown to known, I get to know the “You”
From the known, I fight for the you, I take flight with the you, making the you, an image of the You within me, making the me

I fight for the You to keep our memories alive, my memories alive
I come back again and again and again from the unknown to the known to make one more memory of you, with the you, for another dance with the you, a dance of me and you through me

Like a bee that searches for honey, I search for memories with the you, to make memories with you
Memories so sweet, sweeter than the sweetest nectar
Just like a bee that builds a hive to store all its honey
I build walls around my memories to store the memories of the you

In the memory I live, for the memory I am alive
In the memory I think, for the memory I drink
In the memory I blink, for the memory I ink
For another memory, I link

My mind loaded with so many memories of the you and the me, I go on creating more memories of me and you, to hold you, to feel you, to get to know you, so I can hold on to the memory of the you.

But,
The harder I try to hold on to you, the smoother you slip through
The slower I lift you towards me, the faster you slip through
Only to show me that I too one day have to slip through my own fingers, through my own memories back into the ocean, to the unknown

Just like the water is no water to the ocean and the ocean is no ocean to water
For the memory has no memory to itself, to hold on to itself

So will I live in my memories making memories from memories, will I live in my memory of my memories?
I wonder…..
I wonder of life with no memory of life.

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Reality of Reality

The reality of reality has no reality
The selective reality of the collective reality makes my reality a reality
When the mind thinking of reality is no longer in the collective reality, I create my own selective reality based on my experience, my memory of the selective reality
And yet a different selective reality within the collective reality but of the collective reality

Those that are of the collective reality may not understand this selective reality of mine, may not belong to, may not confirm, may not affirm to me or this selective reality of mine
For it is not their selective reality
For their reality is a collective reality of memory of each other, a selective reality of the collective memory of each other

When my selective reality is different from that of the other, I call my reality a delusion, an illusion
For my reality is an illusion, only when compared to the others memory of their collective reality, trying to make it my reality

Yet when the selective realities of a different collective realities form, come together to agree upon, to confirm each other, I gather myself to stand up for this new collective reality
For I am always looking for comfort in the others memory of the reality
For I am looking for a confirmation, an affirmation from the other of my reality to makeup my own reality

For I am even afraid of my own selective reality, I am afraid to stand ALONE!
For I have only been lonely but never ALONE.
So I go after more of the same reality to stay in the collective reality and yet create a personal reality based on the collective reality

This way I go after more and more of the same collective reality, a comfortable fantasy
For I always seek some more of the more
OR I go after more and more that has no more
For then, I also seek some more of no more

And the more I seek, the more I bleak
The more I want more, the more I need more
The more may not need me but the me needs more
For the me is the mean that wants more to need more
So I make a new me that wants no more and needs no more
Only to realize that no more is also another more of some more

Maybe the some more of the no more and the more of the some more is also more of the some more
For the quality of the more may differ but there is always more

Now with no more and no some more of no more, I mar the me that wants more and needs more
With no me to me and no more of me, I have no, no more or more of more

For all realities are illusions of my mind and all illusions are realities of my mind, that is seeking, that are peaking

And maybe when the me that is seeking, peaking and creating these realities reflects back on to its own selective nature of the collective and the very collective
Maybe then I may have no I, no I am, no me, no you that is neither you, nor me, nor you & me.

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Thought, Knot & Not

A thought is only a thought with no act to the thought
But when a thought becomes an act, the act has its own thought to influence the thought and thus another act, another thought
For the act involves the others act of the others thought

With two acts creating two thoughts influencing the thought, creates a new act of the thought which I never thought I would act
May be such is the nature of the thought.

I wonder if there is such a thought as a primordial thought, a fundamental thought
For the thought of the act and the thought from the act is the very act itself creating another thought, another act

I wonder where this thought comes from
Only to realize that the thought of the thought is another thought transforming the thought

With no thought to thought and the very thought to thought
I make up the thought
I wake up the thought
I rake up the thought
And I speak of the thought
For the thought of I and I of the thought to the thought has no thought to think of the thought

So I look not for the face
For the face is a trace of the mask of the eye
The eye that has dyed itself to another eye, another I, another thought

I Look not for the space of the thought nor the pace of the thought
For both the space and the pace is another thought hiding behind the thought

I Look not for the quality of the thought
For the quality has no equality and is only of a locality that makes up its own actuality but not the reality

Just like, seasons may come, seasons may go
reasons may come, reasons may go
For the season has no reason for treason to another season

Same way, thoughts may come, thoughts may go
For the thought that sought, is the one that becomes a KNOT and a NOT

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Sense And Nonsense

Blinded by my senses
Minded by my senses
Binded by my senses
Bounded to my senses

Grinded by my senses
Reprimanded by my senses
I roam the streets of sorrows
As a prisoner of my own shadows

Shadows of my perception
Shadows of my deception, of my own deceptive conceptions, making them my own inceptions
Inception of my senses as my fences
And my fences as my stances

Confronted by my senses
Confined to my senses
And defunct of my own senses
All I sense is another sense to sense the sense of my sense

With my narrow sense of the sense, I borrow another sense to tense my sense
With a sense so intense, I loose my sense to sense, making another sense my sense to make sense of my sense
With this new sense that I call my sense, I become a nuisance

And maybe when I actually become a nuisance to the nuisance
I may sense the nuisance of my sense and the very nuisance of the nuisance
Maybe then, I may realize that I have no Sense and I am no sense making sense of non sense with my sense that has no sense and yet is a sense of the very Non Sense.

A non sense of the non sense to the non sense with no sense or non Sense.

Blindly
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Skin

Skin as my Title, I hide behind its subtitle
Skin as my vital, I became its recital
Skin as my entitle, for I feel so belittle

Skin as my mask and skin as my cask
Skin as my task and skin as my daily flask
Skin as my fin and skin as my kin
And skin as my bin and the very cause of my akin

I flip and flap in the skin for the skin
With the mind of my skin and bind of my skin
In skins I nap, through skins I tap

Skins I feel, in skins I reel
Skins I appeal, for skins I seal
And in skins sins, I deal

My Skin is only that which I take, that which I make, and that which I rake
Skin misrepresents and does not represent
For the skin is temporary, is a memory but not exemplary

So, I must peel the skin, heal the kin
Feel the akin and deal with the breaking
For I am not just a skin

Let the skin not decide on the brother or sister
Let the skin not decide on the hate or mate
And Let the skin not decide on my fate

Let the mind be free of the skin, free of the kin of the skin
Let the thought be not of the skin or the akin of the skin
Let the mind, see the mind behind the mind, so the skin is no longer its bind

For the MIND that is FREE, is like a TREE that is FREE

Temporary

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Human & Numen

A human needs no high-rises nor 10 bed townhomes
A human body needs a shelter within nature, within the nature of nature

A human needs no company of a companion
A human needs to accompany the mind of the human

A human needs no security of tomorrow
A human needs to scrutinize the human mind of today

A human needs no fort of comfort
A human needs to get to know the confinement of the comfortable mind

A human needs no needs of the wants to haunt
A human needs to daunt the wants of the needs

A human needs no free will nor the free will of choice
A human needs freedom, from free will and free will of choice
Freedom, from my own known voice

Freedom is not a dome that it is confined to but maybe is the home that has no dome
Freedom is not in the blame of the other nor in the acceptance of the other, but in neither

Freedom is not in the experience of the yesterday nor the repetition of the memory of the yesterday but maybe in the birth of the awareness of today

Freedom is not in the labels, not on the tables of the labels, nor in the fables of the labels
But maybe, in the unlabeled, in the un-tabled, within the un-fabled

Freedom is not in the confinements and conditions of hate or love, chaos or peace, for both are simply refined confinements, refined conditions
However refined the confinement, The refined, is only as fine as its confinement
But maybe in that which is neither confined/refined nor conditioned

Thus, a mind that is unexplored beyond its confinements, beyond its own known refinements,
is a mind that is unexamined

For a human that is free is like a numen and a lumen that know of no numen or lumen
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Wake Up

The Treasures of the Earth
The Sisters of the Earth
The Brothers of the Earth
And the Mothers of the Earth

Step up, soak up, tee up and wake up
For we make up, the cup
The cup of the earth
We birth up to dance up
Dance up, to the song of the earth, to the dance of the dreams

Don’t bang up but drum up
Don’t bum up but dear up
Don’t gunk up but gear up
Don’t tear up but dare up

Dare up to bare up, bare up to pair up
Pair up to gear up to glory up one another, each other
For I walk on the earth, I drink of the earth, I eat of the earth
And I breathe of the earth

Bow up and glow up
For in the love of the other is my glory
and in the love of the other is my story

So, stand up, not for the cup that is up there
But for the earth that is my cup and the birth on the earth is my UP

Earth

Treasure