Inheritance

Like the time, I was born, I dint know I was born
Maybe, when I leave, I wouldn’t know I have left
Maybe, such is the nature of birth and death
And everything in-between is not mine, it is of the other, it is the inherited thought of the other to the other to another

So I ask myself, how can I rejoice of my birth, that which I dint know
How I feel sad of the approaching death, again, that which I don’t know
For both the sadness and joy are of the known, are of the inherited thoughts

Maybe, such is the nature of hate and love, fear and fantasy
Maybe, it is someone else’s fear, somebody else’s definition of love that I made it mine
Maybe such is the nature of relationships, it is someone else’s thoughts I have made it mine and started adapting, adopting, acting them, passing them on to the other to relive another day

Maybe, so is the reason that each of us is called a person, meaning, a mask
For each of the masks I mask myself in, I task myself with to bask in my many masks

The mask of the male, the mask of the mother, the mask of the female, the mask of the father
to create a cask for the masks to fit, called relationships
Like a fish in the water, unknown of its water, I swim under the ship of relationships, carrying, storying and marrying my masks

For in these masks I makeup my life that I call mine to relive to revive the marriage of my masks
Making Life a knife edged with good and bad within which I find my pleasure of the strife

Maybe, one day I may realize that Life is neither in the good nor in the bad. Neither in the light nor in the dark
And that day, maybe I let not the opposites be a requisite for life

For the day of departure may arrive within any moment
The moment of suffering can move in within any movement
I let not my power over the other be my own cower

The mask of Suffering is real, as real as the body
The task of my perceptions are real, as real as the perceiver
The basking of pain is real, as real as the memory of the pain brought into the moment within the movement of its elegant expression

I cannot change you, I do not want to change the you nor the world
I do not want to wait for the day of my departure to realize, to actualize, to mesmerize the beauty of life beyond the walls of my masks

For the end of the rainbow is near, very near
So maybe I sacrifice the me, to be born form the ashes of the me’s me
to give freely, to outlive that which I give to maybe relive really

For the path of truth has no path of the fruit
It is a path I have to unmask and face it on my own two feet
to stand up to the habit and to the uncomfort where no other stands, where no other walks, where no other marks
It is a path that I create for myself and myself only to walk alone, all alone
For I am that has no claim for I am is always alone

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Life through a few Loaves of Bread

For a few loaves of bread and a few grains of grub
In-between the joys of pleasure and the sorrows of pain
I find my life I call life, I define this as my life

Enslaved to my desires
Engulfed by the objects of my desire

I make my desire my attire
And I roam the streets of slavery in the savory of my sorrows

Unable to create a life on my own
I recreate and procreate on the knife of pleasure and pain

Lost in the images of imagination, I build walls of hallucination
And I deck my walls with accusations of the other

Comfort as my fuel
Comfort of Security as my duel
I burn in the flames of my own habit

Unable to open up to the unknown
I stone the unknown for the known, to the known

I trade freedom for security to find freedom through security
For I know of no freedom without security and purity

I wonder if I am dreaming, if I am asleep
Only to realize that the dreamer and that is being dreamed are me, one and the same
I wonder of that which I wake up to, I wonder if that is another dream within my dream of the dream

Unknown of my own known, I weave a web of a prison, a prism
Where I am the thief and my own grief

Tired of the games and afraid of the memes and the names of the memes
Walloped by my own imagination, I no longer can gallop through my memory of life
For my life is through and for a few grains of grub and few loafs of bread

Sympathy

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Like of the Likes

Living in the Likes
Liking the like of the likes

My life as a like
I frame the likes to farm more likes

And in this war for the likes
I forage the rage of the like and unlike
For my life has become a like and unlike alike

Striving for more likes, I strike for more likes
A strike that I box in, my life, for another like, another unlike

Like as my connect, I have become a disconnect
Disconnect of my own life, the very life

Living in the image of the like and unlike alike
I forge the unlike to like and like to unlike

Like and unlike as my reason for the season
And the Image of the like as my creation
I became the I of the eye that imagined the I through the eye

Images creating images from images to imagine the image of my imagination
I have become an image, an image I feel as a privilege
Intoxicated in this beverage of the image of privilege, I pillage every village of my image

Image of my Body as my boost
Image of my mind as my feast
I scavenge through the bodies and minds for another boost and another feast

In this feast, I have become a beast
A beast that exist, just for the yeast
So it can be the so called priest

Maybe when I let go of the feast of the yeast, the image of imagination, the creation of this imaginary infatuation
Maybe then, I may come across the provision of the like, separation of the imagination and confront my hallucination

Maybe when I move from this memory of the moment, a moment of the like, a movement to the like and the moment of the images imagination

Maybe then, I may move with the movement of the moments movement with the movement within the moment that has neither the movement nor the moment

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I be a ZERO

I wonder why ZERO (0) has NO value of its own and yet used in our numerical system as a value.
I wonder of its relationship to my state of being (whether it is psychological self or the physical self)

Just like Zero, when Added or Subtracted from another number, looses itself to become that number (3+0= 3; 3-0= 3)
Same way, When I try to live in the other by taking on the other’s habits, following the other, become slave to the authority,
loose my way of thinking and living in the name of race/religion/country/Society, I loose myself into them, this may diminish me and I no longer exist except in the other, through the other

Just like when I multiply Zero with any other number, the other number dissolves into zero (3X0= 0)
Same way, when I try to manipulate the other by posing as an authority or guru or teacher, the other ceases to exist and becomes me, lives through me.
And when the other becomes me, there is only me and I cannot exist to me myself.

However when Zero, PAIRED with any other number, it not only retains its own value as ZERO, it also amplifies the total value (3 0 = 30 is greater than both 3 and 0)
Same way, when I be me and I let the other be them and when such individuals who are complete, pair up together, we create an experience
An experience that is amplified many times than any one of us

And in order for me to be me and let the other be other
I have to understand me, get rid of all the layers of comfort and security that I hide under and actually know the me I think is me
Not through the eyes of the other, or as the opposite of the other but only me

Because the other only exists to me as my perception. And my perception of the other is within me
For the other to exist, I have to exist first to perceive of the other, isn’t it?

So, maybe when I start to peel off the layers that is not me along with that which I think is me
I may come across that which is me, that which is the I that I claim as I
Not the word I, nor the qualities of the I
And maybe, I be the selfless self that neither has self or no self

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Unknown

I swing from the known to the known
for I only know the known that I have known

I find comfort in the known that I have known
I find pleasure/pain in the known that I have known
I am attached to the known that I have known
so I keep swinging from the known to the known

When I see the unknown that is known
I say, it is magic to know the unknown
I forget that it is tragic to know the unknown, for it is now the known-unknown

So I sing the known of the known-unknown
Never knowing that the known-unknown is also known
until it again becomes known to the known

As the days turn to night and night to day
I sleep and sleep walk in the known to the known
Until the day I wonder the unknown of the unknown
that day, maybe that moment, I may wake up to the unknown

The unknown to the unknown to unknown
And in that unknown I may find the unknown
For I am not known unknown-unknown
And maybe I am the unknown-unknown to the unknown-unknown.

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Truth & Life

Maybe “Truth”, “The Truth” is like water, it has no shape nor form and yet takes on the shape and form of the perception of the perceiver
Maybe this is what it means when I hear – “Truth will set me Free”.

Maybe it is the actual understanding, actual self realization, of this statement that the truth I perceive is the truth I created/accepted unto myself to fit into my mold, to satisfy my wants and desires at that point of time.
And since time is limited in its very nature, in its very quality,
Thus, the truth I created/accepted is always limited to fit the confinements of myself, the self that I made as mine, claimed as mine

So, when I claim to have the truth, I have my truth and not “The Truth”, for the truth I have is my perception, my filter of deception to myself and not “The Truth”

For example – when I go to the beach and hold water from the ocean in the palm of my hand and claim I have the ocean in the palm of my hand, do I really have the Ocean in the palm of my hand?

Such is the nature of every Ideology, every Practice, every Religion, every race, every boundary, every Separation, every division and every form/formless that claims to have the truth,
the way, or one way, or one of the ways of truth.

Each way, each truth is another perception, is another perceptive deception, but is neither the right way nor the very way itself, Including hate and the comfort of Love
For neither hate nor love is “The Truth”

And when I claim hate/fear is an illusion, “Love is all there is” – It is like holding water in the palm of my hand and claiming I have the ocean.

The healers, the dealers, the feelers, the kneelers, the hallucinators and the story tellers,
NONE, NONE has “The Truth”

For to claim the truth in any way or form/formless, is to separate the truth from the Truth and enclose it in a booth
A smoky booth filled with soot

Claims are blames
blames that aim at the flame
flame that is fueling the shame
shame that is the taming of the same name, same game
Same game in the name to rename,
rename to a different trade name, at a different place to play the different, yet the same game of fame

So I keep away from the claims, from the blames and from the names of the frames and of the fame

For Life is not a game nor of fame and both the game & the fame, are only smoke filled frames

Maybe Life is the very nature of the nature that is here to nurture the nature of the nurture

So I let Life arrive, to this hive, to be alive, to revive, and to thrive
For Life and every life has the right to THRIVE

Realize

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Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

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