My’s I life

My, defining the I
I, confining within the My of the I

My, as a memory, living through the memories story
Repeating, reiterating and rejuvenating through this memory
Memory as my dictator, I am just an actor, a rag doll, a puppet in the hands of this memory

Reliving through this My, my very existence has become dependent on this My
Existence as my persistence, my abstinence from everything else
Confining, confiding and enslaved to my memories, I have become the very definition of memory

Clinging to the past, the characters of the past, I have become the very character of the past’s mast (my race, my religion, my country, my culture, my this and my that)
Past’s comfort as my predefined path, I shadow my present with my past
The idea of hate, the idea of love as my dove stringed to the memory of the past, I have caged, aged and staged a different version of the same past

Each idea as the extension of my past, a detention through the past, I am just a pretension of the past in the present
Game and my name, I have no shame to play the blame game
Looking for the same old fame, I invite the players to build up the layers for another game

Wearing the glasses of the game, not understanding the nature of my own imprisonment in the name of the game, I seek out those who wants to play, who wants to lay and who wants to quay my play
Caught in the tides of this play, the only way feel loved, feel nourished is by the game

Gamer’s, scammers and shamer’s looking for another gamer, another scammer and another shamer to justify my way of existence through the validation of another’s existence, feeding, needing, clinging on and creating more of the same to seek comfort, to not have to look at me nor change me, to sleep through life enslaving myself and every other life form I come across

Focused on my dreams, dreams as a result of my past and habituated mechanistic ideas that are inherited, I forget the one who is sleeping and keep dreaming within this sleep of mine

This I call LIFE.
And when there are no escape routes, I see comfort in another idea, in another new scape, that this is all hallucination, just an illusion, just another justification to avoid, to actually look at myself

Life is not in the lie of Life or in the inherited image of life
Life may be in the fullest expression of myself, so I can look at myself, become aware of the self I call myself
Like Truth, life is not predefined and that which is lived upto is just another lie

Life is not in the rules, not in the procedures and certainly not in the bait of the habituated mind defined by the My and the I of the MY
Life is in Communion with life
For, Life is its own life.

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Reflections

All is a reflection of myself, reflecting myself the reflection of the self I call MY self
I see my reflection in the eye and in the I of every thing around me and within every act of mine
The reflection is in my act and the very thought of myself about MY self and thus the other self in reference to myself

Not knowing this, I reflect the reflections within the reflections of my reflected self
And when I reflect the reflections of the reflections, I loose the essence of my self
And become a reflected self that is neither a reflection nor that which is reflecting

In this new reflection, I am neither MY self nor the reflected self but an idea of a self of reflection, a concept of reflection of the reflection
In reflecting the reflection, I become a hallucination and in this hallucination I become a delusion to myself, a deterioration of myself

In this deteriorated hallucigenic reflection of myself, I wander to render the wants, wants covered in needs and needs covered in wants, the wants of these reflections that I have become, that I am being
Always trying to satisfy my wants and manipulating the other to satisfy my wants
And I forget that I am also another want of the other who wants to satisfy their wants
For the other only comes to me for their own wants but never my wants

Every relationship as a want whether it takes the cover of fear/like or love. The words may change but the essence remains the same
Every “WANT” in every relationship is simply a want of the other to the other, even when it is the others want to satisfy my want, it is still their want and not my want
Knowing this what will I want from the other? and most importantly, what will I want with the want within my self?

All of my wants are reflections of my wants within my reflections to myself
All reflections are realities and all realities are reflections of myself
when I actually know this and be this, I may become and be a different kind of reflection
For there will still be the perception of reflection but only as an expression and not in essence nor in the very thought that is creating the reflection

And when the very essence of my thought has changed, what would such kind of reflection reflect?
what kind of reflective reality will I live in, for myself?

For, to reflect is not to reflect at all
In not reflecting, I reflect that which wants to reflect to itself but not to me
I no longer reflect the other or become the other or my very thought from the reflection of the reflection but I let see the reflection of the reflection to itself within me and without THE me

Maybe then, there is no longer me/my/I or a self that I call MY Self.

Reflecting

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All Selves as My Self

When a Business man becomes a Service man
When a Farmer becomes a Father
When a Artist becomes an Enlightener rather than a Entertainer

When Flags become Rags
when Racial Separation becomes a Radical Union within my self
when Color becomes Colorless and Clueless
When Religion becomes a Legion of Love within me

When Division is no longer a Diversion
When Labels becomes a Babble
When Corporations become units of Compassion
And when I no longer want the other, thither me

Then, maybe then, I will see myself with an eye that has no division of I
Then, maybe then, I will BE the society that I wanted to see, I will be the experience I wanted to be
Then, maybe then, I will actually, myself and through myself, will see all selves
ONE SELF, Myself as all selves

For, myself is the self that sees the other self, through myself and within myself

Passport

Bestow

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No Time to Know Time

From no time to time, I wake up to time
I run after time, for time, time after time, with no time for time to know time
Hoping one time to have time to know time

And when it is time to know time, I have no more time
For I have spent all my time chasing time, thinking it’s my time
But it was never my time, for I had no time for time

All of time is a waste of time
The bad time, the good time, both are a waste of time
For both are time but not my time or the very time

To perceive time with my time is to split time to watch time
And that is also time, time within time
I may know fast time, slow time, this time and that time but I may never know time, in no time
for I am time

The very thought is time and the very trot is time
what is time that has no thought of time?

Maybe that which is matter to time is time to matter
For that which doesn’t matter has no time in my time to matter time

Knowing I am time, can I be time?
And can I be time when there is an “I/I am” in time
Is that Time?
And is it time to know time

Timely

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Freedom from Self

To be FREE, is to be free from the self
To be Free from the self, is to need no self
To need no self is to heed no self

To heed no self is to need no shelf
To need no shelf is to claim no self

No self as myself and no shelf as my shelf
For every self, is another hail for help
Hail for help from the self i call my self

With no self to call my self as myself, i may come upon that which is no self
And when i come upon that which is no self, there is neither the I to know that which is nor that which is, to the I
Here, may be here, no where near here, i may come across that which is different, entirely different

For everything i write of the unknown is a lie
Every word i speak of the unknown is a lie
And every thought i think of the unknown is a lie

For i may use words to silence the words
Thoughts to silence the thoughts
And never that which is neither, for each other is another tether to one another

When i realize that there is no other
When i actualize with no other
When i materialize with none another

Maybe then, i may come across that which is the absence of another, absence of another in its totality, in its entirety, in every possible eternity
With no other for another, here i wonder……

Spin

Spin of the spin is a pin in the spin
It may look like a spinoff of the spin but is also a spin
It is neither a sin nor a win but just a different pin in the spin
A pin that is not the twin of the spin but a slightly different kind of spin
For every pin is a another spin and every spin is another pin within the spin

Same way
The thought watching the thought and the thought hatching the thought is another thought
The quality of the thought may be different to satisfy me of my want, whether it is the thought of the heart or the thought of the mind
But it is still a thought

I have to watch my thought, for it may become my memory
I have to watch my memory for it may give me another thought to make up another thought
For I am living in a pocket full of memories
heart full of worries
mind full of stories
while my memories hurry me for more stories

Bound by my memory
Found by my memory
Drowned by my memory
Crowned by my memory
I am married to the dairy of my memories

Memory as my base, memory as my face
Memory as my grace and memory as my chase, giving rise to my thoughts

Caught in my thought, caught in the thought of my thought
Bought by the thought, I plot for more thoughts
Brought back to my thoughts, I rot in the knot of my thoughts
I flip and flop between thoughts, not recognizing the very thought, the very nature of the thought

I wonder of this thought that wanders to the thought, that ponders of the thought

For it is another thought thinking of the thought, that is thinking of the thought within the thought of the thought, that has a thought to think of the thought of the thought

Above

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The “YOU”

Living in the YOU
Loving in the YOU
Teaching in the YOU
Preaching in he YOU

All I TALK about, is the YOU, in every word
All I WRITE is, for the YOU , in every sentence
All I walk is, in the YOU, in every step

Unable to know me, I have put an end to me, to be YOU
Unable to think of ME, All I think is you, All I ink is for you
Unable to look at me/Myself, all I blink is you

Every thought, is of the YOU, Every NOT is from the YOU, through YOU
Every fight is for the YOU, Every might is over the YOU
My every division is for the YOU, my every revision is in the YOU

As I live this LIFE, for the YOU, Full of the YOU
I have become you and the “I” & the EYE I am is that of YOU, only in reference to the YOU, only a comparison to the YOU

Such I, that lives in the YOU, makes the YOU of the YOU, to the YOU that I think of You, is another I, of the You to the YOU, to the You to the You

Such I only dwells in the You, swells in the YOU and smells the same as the YOU
Such I, WRITES in the YOU, plights in the YOU
Such I, dictates to the YOU and procreates another YOU

Such I, aid’s in the You, abides by the YOU, confides itself in the YOU
Such I, can never change the YOU, for it can never ever change itself, for it has never looked at itself, its own self

I wonder why there is so much of such YOU in me
I wonder if I will ever get to know me, with no more of the YOU, no more comparison to the YOU, no more hiding behind the YOU that I have become

I wonder if I will ever actually realize that
For the YOU to exist to me, I have to exist to me
And if that is true, then the YOU is only there because I/me the perceiver is there to acknowledge the perceived/YOU, isn’t it?

If that is so, why do I use YOU so much, both as the word “YOU” in writing, and in my thoughts in thinking/feeling?
And what happens when I eliminate the word and thought of the YOU? can I still think and communicate? Can I still write without the word YOU,
if so, what would such writing be? What would such teaching/preaching look like?

So I question myself, who is this me that is there when the other, when the YOU is no longer there (in any shape/form/thought/feeling/thinking etc.)
Who is this me that has no YOU, no reference to the YOU?
I wonder…..

Blink

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