A Mind that Doesn’t Know

To a mind that doesn’t know, it only knows through the kind it knows, through the bind it knows
To a mind that doesn’t know, it only knows the no through the know but never the no
To a mind that doesn’t know that it doesn’t know, it only knows the unknown through the known but the unknown through the unknown

For such a mind,
Life is a Game, Life is a Name
Life is a Fame, Life is a Blame
I become a Muppet to the name of the Game and the blame of the fame

In this frame, I only know the name and the fame, the games and the blames
but never the very life
For all I have known is only that which I have known, the known of the known

With such a defined mind, constrained mind, will I ever know life

I may know life as a highlife, as a lowlife
Life as a Strife, life as a knife
Life as a fife or may be, life as a Rife
But never life as life

For to the mind that knows the meaning of life, only knows the definition of life, a description of life to make it a prescription for its life
But never the very life

May be to know life is to be life
To be life is to unknow that which I think is life
May be then, I may find out for myself the very life
For when I am within life, when I am life, I will never know life as life.

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System & Custom

A system is a custom to accustom to the custom
Accustom the individual to the system, to be controlled, to be manipulated, to become dependent on the system, to satisfy the system
While all of my wants/needs are actually stemmed from the system’s wants, the systems customs
Thus my custom and I become the pillar for the establishment of the system

All systems fail whether it is today or tomorrow, for the system originates from the other, another and not from neither.

I look to the systems of my religion/my race/my country etc to provide me with the IDEA of security/comfort both mentally and physically, so I hide behind the doors of this system, protecting the system, as a system
While all along I am not hiding behind the door but I am the door and the security I think I have is my own illusion instilled within me by the system, for the system
For I have become the system and I am the system

One day I may wake up to this realization and think I want to change the system
But the security of my mind, the thought, is the same, so I override by changing the quality of the system, from one religion to another, one way to another, one method to another
For the mask is the same, the custom to accustom is the same

I substitute religion for new age, new age to no age, no age to spirituality, spirituality to no functionality, one meditation to another to another and always some OTHER
But the security the mind is seeking is the same, my attachment and dependence to have a system, to be in the system is the same
The satisfaction of my wants and my needs is the same

For the system behind the system is the same.

I watch the nature and think It has a system
Forgetting that the only system lies in my eye and in the I that is watching the nature through the perception of a system, perceiving through the mind that is accustomed to look at everything as a system
Thus making my want to match my watch creating another system but actually not of nature.

In this idea of the system, I have become the system
My every act, every thought and every movement in the moment has become a custom of the system
No one to be with, the very idea of being alone is scared of, I have confused being alone to being lonely, not realizing that my very being is always ALONE
No where to go, the very idea of having no thing, pulls me back to the system ten fold
The very idea of being free of the system makes me run to the darkest depths of the system for comfort, even when it is a painful comfort, for it is also a system of comfort

I wonder how can my mind be free when all it knows is “a way”, always looking for a way
I wonder how can my mind know that which is free when it is always reliving the comfort of the past, modifying the past in billion different ways, in billion different “A Way & The Ways”
I wonder of the mind, the thought and the resulting experience that has no system, no memory of the custom to accustom to the system

I wonder of the individual, the individual who is not part of the whole nor the whole
And maybe a indivisible individual that has no system, no self
No self to itself, with out self to know self as a self with no self

Control

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A Seed & A Thought

Every Seed has the potential
some seeds are grown, some seeds are thrown

Every thought has the potential
some thoughts are Sown, some thoughts are blown

Every act has the potential
some acts diminish, some acts flourish

The seed that is sown has the thought to be grown and the act to be glown
In the thought of seed is the act to flourish and in the act to flourish is the birth of the seed
For the seed without soil and the soil without seed is the thought without an act and an act without a thought.

The seed is not a weed to fill my need but the seed is a deed to the one in need.
For the seed and deed are indeed in need and not in greed

The seed is a bead of love indeed to bead the love of the deed.

To know the seed, to sow the seed is to know the thought, my thought.
For in the very seed lies all of the life of the tree
A tree that is free from the seed and yet bears a seed that has all of itself within the seed

So is in every thought and in the very thought, is the life of the thought of myself
A thought full of experiences, a thought full of memories and a thought full of thought

For in the thought that is full, has no thought to think of, like the seed that is full bears no leaves to see
And yet all of the roots & fruits lie within the seed and so are the acts of my thoughts to the thoughts of my acts.

So let me not be a dot in the thought or a drought of the thought
And maybe the thought as the act and the act as the thought with no knot

For in my thought is my tree that is free
To be Free of a thought and the very thought

Roots

Tree

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Scarred Mask of Man

Great Wars are fought, Great scars are marked
On the Face of the earth and on the mask of the man
Wars remembered but the masks still rotten

With the rotten masks, wars are fought again and again
Only to remind me of my rotten mask

When I speak of war, I speak not that which lies beyond the walls
But I speak of the war, that lies within the walls I have built
For the walls I built is the reason, is the very reason for the season of war

Blood is spilled and the hearts are chilled
And I bask in the memories mask of the bloody heart
For a bloody cold heart can only create another muddy heart.

The memories that were drilled, made my thoughts dulled
Only to fortify my walls and prepare me for my battle
The battle that rattles me within the confinements of my walls
As I color a rag, call it a flag, raise it on my back, to carry it on my crack.
The crack in my very heart and in my very thought

Not knowing this, I go beyond the walls to tear down the others wall in the name of protecting my wall

The more I tear, the more I wear
The more I wear, the more I smear
The more I smear, the less I care
And the less I care, the more I tear.

When I realize this, I realize its time
Its time to tear my walls, bore out my battles and pour out my bloody heart
For the heart that cares, never scares nor scars.

Impression

Scars

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Escape to a New Scape

Some wants to Escape, Some wants a New Scape
Some wants to Escape the New Scape, some wants a New Scape to Escape
For some wants a scape that is a cape to cope with the escape

In name of hate, in the name of fate
In the name of the love, in the name of the dove
I play the same game, again and again for the same gain
I say the same name, again and again for the same pain
Wanting the same thing again and again to cling on
For repetition has become my petition and my repetitive petition has become my imagination

With my hand full of experiences
Mind full of memories
I live in the thoughts with knots and not’s
For I am caught in the knot and I fight the not

My fight has become my flight
My night has become my light
And In the name of light, I take my flight
and in the name of flight I hide behind the might
Filled with might and the imagination of light, I lost my sight
For my sight has been blinded by the darkness & brightness of the light alike

Thinking this is light, I escape to another scape
A scape formed from my own memory to commemorate my memory of my repetitive imagination of the same name and the same game, Same gain and the same pain
Which I label my life

For I know of no life.

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