Drifting Bodies & Shifting Minds

Drifting Bodies and Shifting Minds
Gifting memories with rifting experiences

Living in the differences, finding the difference within the difference of the difference
I have become a nuisance to the wants of the indifferent
Flicked by each one, flipped by everyone
I am no one to raise the one in each one

With no dimension to mention and with no mention of a dimension to make my illusory mansion
I await in the depths of my breath for my dear friend, death

Death as a memory to relieve me of my memories, to relive another memory
I am tangled in the web of my own fury

In a world that bows to the glory, I make my story a fairy
A fairy story to makeup my dairy, A dreary dairy

Bounded by the pleasures of the flesh
Hounded by the measures of my minds mesh
I am found within this mesh of the flesh

Bodies as a manifestation of the thought
and thought as expression through the bodies
I have become an extension of the thought of the body, living in the knot of the shoddy

Unaware and unable to recognize the nature of this thought, I go about being a feature of my own drought

The thought that is crowned, the thought that is downed, the thought that is abound
And the thought, thinking of the thought of the thought that is confound may come across the nature of its own nature
To liberate, to desecrate, to negate, to disintegrate each thought and every thought

Maybe here, maybe then, I may come across that which is not of the body, through the mind of the body nor the knot of that which is taught
For the thought that is not caught, is not of the taught and not of the sought.

Adrift

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Love, Memory & Thought

That which springs from the memory is not love
The mechanical repetition of memory is not love
The re-iteration of memory and reliving of memory in billion different ways is not love
And the inheritance of memory of love from my environment is not love

The pleasure of a memory is not love
The fear of a memory is not love
The escape of a memory is not love
The experience resulting from memory is not love

That which belongs to me, that which I think is mine, that which I think I posses is not love
It is only a memory, a memory of the thought
A thought of the memory

so many thoughts, so many not’s
so many not’s with so many knots
so many knots with so many thoughts

My own thoughts and the resulting memories are my own confinements, my own comfort
The more I try to escape, the more I try to cope, the more knots I weave, the more memories I cave myself into

How many thoughts till I am free from the memory of thoughts
No thought that I know thought as the thought

From no time to time I create time
And from time to time and in-between time, I create a space, space for a time, for a thought

Can this thought of mine be free of memory, can this thought be free of recollection, reliving of the memory?
If so, what would such thought and the resulting action if everyday life be?
And most importantly, what would the resulting I that I call MY, of such thought be?

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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, isnt 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…..

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