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.






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.



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





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



Game of Love

In the name of Love
In the game of Love

In the fame of Love
In the frame of Love

In the blame of Love
In the shame of Love

I try to fit in to the same name to play the known game and share a little fame in the big frame while all along I am my own blame and my own shame!
For there is no such “thing” called Love, no “description” called Love, no feeling called Love
For something to call love is to separate it from it entirety and label it, isn’t it?
So is separated part called Love?

The Love that I call Love is another confinement, a refined confinement to fill myself with the idea, to live in the imagination of this idea
A comfortable idea per say that provides me with the fort of comfort and the hidden pleasure within this fort

In this idea, in this imagination that I have borrowed from the memory of the other and repeated unto myself, experiencing other’s memory
I live in this idea, hide behind this idea, Abide by this Idea
Is this idea Love?

I say I love you unconditionally, with no condition
Isn’t that another condition that i borrowed to study the rules of an unconditional condition of an idea called love?
Isn’t uncondition a condition, for another condition

I say, I love the world, “I love” everyone and “I want” every one to be happy, want every one to live in love
What is that which is common in all these statements? is it “I Want”, “I Love”, I this, I that?
Am i not satisfying “MY OWN WANT”
Even when I want good for them, isn’t it still my perception of my want of them that I am trying to satisfy within myself?

So How can I love someone else, when all I love is my own perception, my own image of my own idea of the other?
Is that Love?

So to satisfy this idea within me
I tag along, drag along and brag all along
I hide behind the tide to abide and confide
I become a strife to my very own grief

Walking in these perceptions of myself,
I become a deception to myself
A contradiction to myself
As I walk this path of addiction to satisfy my own satisfaction of my own restrictions
I make this my jurisdiction

Never to ask myself who is it that is within me that thinks about this notion of love to make it my motion of love
Where did I get this thought of love to begin with

For all my life, I have known of the known making it my known which was never my known
So I wonder if the so called idea of love that which is known in million different known’s called Love?