Some Poetry About Life–and some about writing poetry

unadulterated shit (Owned by Donald Smith of St. George, New Brunswick, who loved this poem so much he paid me $25 to buy it in about 2001. MY 1ST OFFICIAL SALE!

i sat beside a mountain brook
and wrote a book
and when i read what i had written
i was smitten by the
inconsequentiality
of reality

the words did not make sense
and the plot was much too tense
for the mood and for the tone
which had shown the anti-idealism
of surrealism

so i threw it page by page
into the water which did rage
with laughter at each word
till a bird flew by and read it
and shit on it

a poem of silence

silence
noises unheard
not one word
no peep nor cheep
nor footstep creep
nor bleep!

alone
no one home
but me
does anybody be?
i cannot see

to be alone with silence
is to be alone
in the universe
not knowing for sure
if anyone else exists

this could be frightening
and border on insanity
but not necessarily so

silence can be:l,
peace of body
peace of mind
peace of soul

just me
and the universe
in cosmic harmony

be

a ball of words

sometimes i wonder
is it really worth it
to spend my time on rhyme and verse
to curse the world and all its faults
to praise the beauties i can see
and then i answer
it is
to me
even if not to anyone else
for myself it does wonders
to calm a confused mind
and straighten out my head

moments like these
are ever so rare
in our galloping world
that to curl myself up
into a ball of words
is a pleasure
of uncommon delight

the miracle

pictures are worth a thousand words
but poetry is worth a million
so on i write
into the night
cringing in fear
with insanity near
breathing new life
into words as old as death

isn’t it amazing
in all the length of time
humanity has spent upon this earth
someone can still combine
words into lines
that never before have graced
the printed page

miracles

are all around us

if only we had

the presence of mind

to see them

epitaph at birth

please
allow no man
to be my teacher
for he cannot live
mine life for me

therefore
allow me not
to be his teacher
for i cannot live
his life for him

but
let him help me
where he can
and i shall help him
wherever i can

because
we are brothers

let us remain that way

following my desire

like an eagle on the wing
soaring ever higher higher
trying to capture sun and stars
following my desire

like a mole beneath the earth
burrowing blindly through the mire
digging deeper than before
following my desire

like a leaf cast off by tree
like a snowflake softly falling
sliding down then gliding up
seeking rest — yet stalling

so i live my life each day
to opposing goals i do aspire
learning good exploring bad
following my desire

enigma

why do i see
divinity
when everyone i meet
sees mere humanity

is this a cursed blessing
or
is this a blessed curse

like a near completed puzzle with
just one piece to go
but the last piece doesn’t fit
that’s how i feel

i cannot fit myself into
the puzzle of this world
no matter how i stretch and strain
this enigma lies beyond my brain
to remedy

significant language signs

bark
goes bacon in the dead of night
awakening my neighbours
who pound on my door
who pound on bacon
whom i see nevermore

propound a baconism
if you know one
(i don’t
sorry
i didn’t mean to wet your appetite
or rain on your purr-aid)

a pound of bacon
for breakfast
a bunch of bananas
for lunch
and for supper a steak
with roast potatoes
mushrooms
and you

you are my night
if i were a woman
would you be my knight
i mean if you were male
wearing mail
i might add

twenty-two plus twenty
makes forty-two
but even douglas
doesn’t know the question
from adam’s
garden of eve

words
have no meaning
but the meaning i give them
when i write them
down

and if i believe that
you’ve got some prime property
(canada grade a bacon?)
in florida
to sell me
but i have no money so
i can’t buy that

so why do i continue to string signifiers one after the other (as if they were words in a sentence {You’re Guilty!}) in a vain attempt to communicate my thoughts to some imaginary being called ‘reader’ (providing they get past an even more imaginary being called ‘publisher’) whom i cannot be sure exists and who has no conception of me (that was my mother’s job)

i am a person
or
at least i was
until i wrote these words
at which point
i became
a poem

and that me immediately vanished
vanquished
by the ticking of the clock
ripped asunder
by the tickless time bomb
squashed
as under the foot of a flea
who got swept down the gutter
of gravity

imagine the coincidence
the play i saw last night
concerned gutters
kate and annie
maggie and polly and ellen
(they made a lot of offal jokes)

is that what inspired this crap
crepe-paper pancakes
inedible solid liquid
indigestible
barf

a lunar tune

to crash wildly
through jungles
of green
grass
to chase wildly
butterflies
on dewy
days
changing streams
in the middle
of a
horse
changing screws
in the middle
of a
dick
to follow
after none
but those
you don’t know
to fathom
the heights
of green
seas

A Philosophy for All Living Beings (The NEW Part 1)

From the time the term came into my mind, “A PHILOSOPHY FOR ALL LIVING BEINGS,” upon which I posted 3 entries on my blog during February of 2018, I was completely dissatisfied with my writings, they were not a dissertation on my philosophy, but turned out to be more of a “How To…” discussion on to to become a self-aware, self-actuated or self-powered, spiritual being, providing you were human, and able to read English. These posts were so bad (as they did not relate to my philosophy hardly at all, though they were decent renditions of what they really turned out to be) that I developed a writer’s block that lasted many months. Where did I go so wrong? I might not be a talkative person, although that is in the process of changing, but when I pick up a pen, or sit at a keyboard, I usually have so much to say I cannot keep focus on what I am trying to write about, even as in this very minute. I love to explain, and even more I love to digress. And digression led me away from my original purpose in Part 1 of my earlier attempt. So now, if I may be so rude as to repeat myself, I am going to quote a few of the paragraphs I wrote in Part 1 while I was still trying to stay on focus, then go on from there. My sincerest apologies…

Sanity is a condition of life that LOCKS us inside a universal (or should I say, at this time, planet-wide?) shared concept of what reality is. Insanity, in its turn, appears to mean something like unable to live in that shared reality that sane people exist in. But unsanity, as I use it, means able to go beyond the shared planet-wide concept of reality without losing that concept of reality. “I feel like I am unsane because I can see through the veil of reality while still being able to live in that shared reality without making other people think I am insane, or unable to cope with that reality in some way. As I see myself, and the reality around me, I am not locked into that reality, but able to transcend it whenever I see or feel the need. Therefore I am more than sane, I am unsane.” To wit, I am unsane enough to believe I can write a philosophy for all living beings….

“…I did not start out to discover a philosophy for all living beings, because to even have had that concept before I stumbled onto it would have been insane, even to me. All I was looking for was something I could live with, a thought or idea or maybe even a purpose about my life, or for my life. You might say I was adrift in a sea of concepts, all handed down to me from the people whom I thought understood the world into which I had been born. Yes, I believed what I was told, for maybe the first 10 years of my life.” But then I started to grow up…

And lastly, “Reality on Earth is many things, but is not always the same for all people as one would think it would have to be if there was nothing beyond reality.” — rawgod (Feb. 2018)

But there is something beyond our shared concept of reality, at least in my opinion. In fact, I have experienced things, drug-induced, to be truthful, under the influence of LSD, that turned out to be very similar to Near Death Experiences (NDEs), only my experiences were not induced by life threatening accidents, or even intential suicide attempts, or Out-Of-Body (OBE) events, they were induced by taking LSD caused by my hope to discover if there was anything beyond our shared concept of reality–beyond sanity.

If you care to stop reading right here, that is your choice, I will not hate you for it, but I am going to keep on writing, even if nobody but me reads my words. Please remember, however, everything I am about to say is “in my opinion,” or “from my personal experience,” or arrived at through long consideration by my mind or by my spiritual self. To go on…

There is life beyond the reality we see around us every day. Mostly, no one gets to see this other Reality-Beyond-Our-Reality (RBOR), or (“arbour,” also “arbor” like a group of leafy trees designed to create a shelter), or (a place to rest unseen due to blocking of penetrating vision–rawgod) except those who have died in this perceived shared reality we call life on Earth. “Death is the ultimate trip,” hippies were wont to say back in the 1960s, but even we did not see how close we were to RBOR. Close, but yet so far, because for most living beings in the after-death, a return to life is barely an infinite blink away. But, what can occur during that infinite blink!

The body dies, and the mind detaches from it. A door opens inside the mind, and as mind dies the spirit flies through the the door. A tunnel leads the way to a shining welcome. There are no eyes and yet the sense of music of the spheres. There are no ears, yet notes and chords are brought to notice with more colours than are in the rainbow. There is no nose, and yet the communication of telepathy . There is no mouth but yet the warmth of sharing. There is no skin but yet the beauty of being. There is no me, but yet there now is us. A movie reel (real?) starts and runs from birth to death, yet no judgment hammers the view. Then all is all there is, yet is becomes, and life is formed and sent to start anew. A womb or egg or seed or spore or splitting by mitosis is chosen, spirit is set in life, and reality closes the door, and us is back to me…

Poetic, don’t you think, in every sense of the word. But this is death in my experience, or as close as I could come without dying, and bringing back with me things I did not know were attached. It has taken me 50 years and more to move from delight to insanity to fear to confusion to maybe to possibility to finally a sense of undertanding. But understanding is not yet complete, and may never be, unless I live another 50 years or more. There is so much beyond the capacity of even spirit to hold while on this realm, this plane of mainly physical being. Social workers, of which I once was one, now retired, have a word for life on earth, biophysicalpsychlogicalsocialspiritualbeing. Not all social workers ascribe to this or similar views of life, but that depends on many factors, including the willingness or unwillingness to understand life as a spiritual experience. Like social workers, people from all backgrounds, all races, all nationalities, all physiologies, all psychological types, all social communities, and all spiuritual communities, or lack of any acceptance of all or any above states and biologies of being, may choose for themselves what they want to believe, or even not choose to make a choice. All reactions are welcome, and all choices are acceptable. There is no right or wrong. There only is.