Me, the Prisoner of My Perception

Me as a prisoner of my own mind
I am a miner of the grind of my mind

Bound by the imagination of my infatuation
I am the reincarnation of my infatuated imagination

My imagination as my perception
My perception as the perception of the imaginary imagination
I make up my the destination of perception
Reality as my perceptions reality, I make up my perception as my reality, I make up my perception as my actuality

Perception as my creation and my cremation
Perception as my formation and my destruction
Perception of my ratification as my gratification, I have become a decoration of my perception, to my perception

To the perception of the perceivers perception perceiving the perception of the perceiver unto its own perception
I make up my Perception as my feed

My Feed as my need and my need as that which I bleed, that which I breed
I seed the need of the deed
And for the deed of the greed, I make up my web of the weed

In this web, I move step by step to loose all of my pep
Lost and frost in my own knots, the knots and not’s of my thoughts
I search for a way out, a way out of the web through the web, only to go round and round in my own web of perception through the deception of the perception
Until the moment I realize that I don’t know that I don’t know

Maybe then, I knock on the door of that which is not known
I try to stand on the floor of that which is not known
to undo that which is through the known
For every perception is of the known and every known is through the perception of the known

Maybe then, I may come across the unknown that which is not known to the known nor to the known-unknown
For I am neither the well known nor the known or the unknown through the known.

Imaginary

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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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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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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

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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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