(no subject)

A forest in the sky

So what awaits me is a forest in the sky. The forest of knowing is this forest. A forest of feeling is this forest. A forest of love is this forest. And everyone who lives here understands everything, not with thought, but with feeling. And everyone will live in peace with acceptance in the core of their hearts. Everyone will know, they will know the art of knowing. And the secret to life lies on the leaves on every tree. And love exists in the raindrops as they fall down to the ground and seep slowly into each magical seed. The bark on every tree will heal the troubled minds of all who live in this forest in the sky. And the branches will hold the massive weight of the love of all as a whole, in this forest in the sky…

And I shall wander within the darkened depths of my mind
But wander…I wonder, how I’ll wander?
That decision I’m afraid will be determine by the pureness of my heart
But wander…I wonder, where I’ll wander?
That decision I’m afraid will be determine by my guide’s guiding hands
But wander…I wonder, what I’ll see while I wander?
That decision I’m afraid lies in the eyes of my demons

And I shall see demons of many colors
Red, white and blue and the stars of control
Horns shall grow from the mirror
The mirror of denied truth
I shall kiss the lips of hel
And bestow an intriguing smile
And I shall return the favors
Of a thousand tormented souls
Being enslaved for hundreds of years
As nothing but a mere walkway

Without fear. Without regret I shall walk right out again
Walking tall, Walking fine
I’ll walk back into the depths of reality’s fool
And live among the blinded
And then, then I shall return to my home
I shall return to my forest of knowing…
  • bardia

"... leaving aside for the moment our own 'selfs' ..."

If,
as Plato teaches,
'vision'
consists of 'something'
entering the eye, from 'without,'

and some other 'something'

exiting the eye, from 'within,'

how are we to
'account for'

one's
'vision'
of one's
'self'?

leaving aside the absurd
notion that we 'are'
our physical bodies,

one's 'vision,'

one's 'impression,' of one's 'self'

clearly pertains to what is often referred to as

'the mind's eye.'

the questions are:

what is 'entering' this 'eye'
from within ... anything at all?Read more...Collapse )
  • bardia

Hymn for the drowning

when
Socrates,
at his 'trial,
was asked:
"Of what state are you
a citizen?,"
he replied:

"I am a citizen of the world."

he was,
as we know,
condemned,
to death,
for

"teaching disbelief in the 'gods,'" and

for

"corrupting the 'morals' of the young" --

A.K.A.,

for encouraging
people to
think --
for themselves.

such
'encouragement,'
it would seem,
is
even more sorely needed
today --
so very many
centuries
later.

we are like show-offy,
superstitious
jingoistic
children,
wielding
sophisticated
death-dealing
toys --
while the duller,
more cowardly among us,
cheer
us
brazenly on ...
... are we not?

is it any
'wonder'
"Jesus" said,
as he hung,
dying:

"Forgive them,
Father,
for they know
not
'what' they
'do'"?

'they'
do
not
still.

our
'enemy'
is never,
in reality,
"the people"
of some other
'country,'

is never
"the people"
of some other
'ism,'
or
'system,'
or
'religion.'

it
is
ever
a mere
'few' ...
in the
'higher echelons'
of same --
primarily unseen --

and unknown,
the 'salaried priests' of

our currupted
'religions,'
the corrupted
'leaders'
within,
and behind,
our much-tauted
'systems'
and
'isms' ...
... all of whom
'see'
"the masses"
as (just) so much

'grist'

for their greedy,
power-hungry,
monetarily-driven
'mills' ...

and we,
the washed,
and unwashed,
"masses,"
both near-at-hand,
and afar,
in our
childish naivette,
look up to,
and follow,
those
who
have little more honest
'regard'
for us --
-- certainly no
'feelings' of
equality --
than for a
fish
they might catch
at one of their esoteric,
'working retreats.'

Buddha
replied,
in answer to the question,

"What are you?" ...
"I am awake."


... "Is there anybody 'out there'?" (Pink Floyd)

Anyone
'awake'?

'sleepers'
become
achingly 'attached,'
to
their
'dreams.'
one 'awakens'
them
at one's own
peril.

Gandhi,
(in 1912),
referred to
"modern civilization"
as
"a great hypnotizing machine..."

... it
is
so
very
much
worse,
now.

who,
if
'I'
may be so bold as to ask,
are the
'hypnotists'?

'what,'
if
'I'
may,
are
'they'?

it
is
(almost)
an unbridgeable
'gap'
between our
'modern-day'
hypnotic
'subject's'
state of consciousness
and that
'state'
which has 'realized' (that):

"If we all knew our true business,
life would be a contest of smiles" ---

is
it
not?

leaving aside
(for the moment) the
self-proclaimed
(pseudo)
'enlightened,'
(numbers growing daily),
'happy'
'blissed-out,'
in their
fuzzy-wuzzy
cloud-cuckoo-land
nothingness,

it
is
necessary for
true Seekers
to avoid both
nihilism and,
equally contemptible,
conscious,
or unconscious,
solipsism.

'other people'
ARE
real ...
... all of them ...
no more,
no less,
then you
are ...
they,
like you,
want
'happiness,'
as H.H. the Dalai Lama
often points out;
they,
like you,
feel,
at times,
the 'burden,'
the 'suffering'
of incarnated
human existence;

they,
like you,
are mortal ...
... and do not,
like you,
know
'when';
they,
like you,
have their 'illusions' --
masquerading,
in their minds and
hearts,
as 'knowing.'

truly,
did Socrates teach (that):

'the cause of most human suffering
is "double-ignorance" -- thinking
one "knows" ... when one does not,'

hence, his other teaching (that):

'awareness of one's (fundamental, ontological)
ignorance is the beginning of wisdom.'

Teachers
are
needed,
not 'gurus,'

not 'celebrities,'

not propogandists

not 'educators,'

not 'trainers,'

not 'instructors.'

"Where
are the
Teachers?
Why do They not
show Themselves?"

Alas,
the ancient (now cliched, as much else)
'maxim'
still applies:

"When the
pupil is
'ready,'
the Teacher
WILL
appear,"
For,

That

IS

the

Law.

thus,
if you,
lonely, sore-footed pilgrim,
have yet
to 'find'
your
Teacher ...
you

are

not

yet

'ready,'
And ...

"readiness is all." ("Shakespeare")

rather than
blindly follow
"the jesters and the fools" (Bob
Dylan),
why not

"Look inward,
thou art
Buddha"?
("The Voice Of The Silence," H.P. Blavatsky)

... for,
'out there' ---
--- truly ---
"nothing
is
'what'
it
seems,
or appears,
to
'be.'"

your
'alarm'
is
going-off --
don't you
'hear'
IT?

the
first
'awakening'
may be a bit 'rude,'
but,
if
you
can
"stay
'with it,'"
the now
dull
horizon will,
gradually,
open ...
"unto the span of
all three worlds."
(ibid.)

wishing
you
"all the very best,"

018

5:48 p.m. = 17 = 8 + 6 = 14 = 5 + "H.T." = 8.


P.S.:

NOT
"God bless the U.S.A.,"

NOT
"Allah bless the Moslem 'Freedom Fighters,'"

NO.

rather ---
"in so far as
there
are any
'blessings,'
may
they
fall
upon
ALL of
US ...
... for peace."

(have you not heard of HUMANITY,
as a whole?)
  • bardia

Summer Safari

African desert desolate,
liberated from the expanse openness,
hellacious sun detrimental to my icy aureole,
come to me wild lunatic monkeys,
elevate me to your heights giraffe,
teach me your animalistic Mystery’s lion,
endless nothingness contrary to the excess pollution of usual space,
walking about shoeless free and connected,
to my inner essence,
to the perennial spirit,
to my hallucinated roots,
in Africa manifested Zen madness of present moment,
free forevermore where I wish we could meet on the astral plane,
but for now I’m with you in the dry solipsism of my minds mental phenomena.
  • bardia

Revelation

Cigarette lit lighting the night with its hypnotic flare,
light ends left with impermanence,
this impermanence illuminates the nature of ancient imperfection,
the primordial impermanence rings eternally in mind,
emptiness and abyss stare back in the Voidness of black,
and I’m left shaken,
contemplating on death,
the truth remains the same,
my life forever changed by this affirmation of ephemerality.
  • bardia

Shapoor

Raining, Raining, Raining till tomorrow,
flooding the emblem of my aureole,
falling, falling, falling down again,
I don’t believe in anything but me,
everything is everything speaks the smoke to its Muse,
curb your enthusiasm and up your cynicism,
love isn’t logical,
the desperation of the phantom which disperses his idiosyncrasies upon me
burns, burns, burns my inner inspiration.
Who is the phantom but the shadow of I?
Searching for perfection I find the corrosion of I,
awoken when I understood human life is imperfection,
but still I keep on dreaming in search for the impossible.
  • bardia

Winter Solstice Solitude

Winter Solstice Solitude
Life’s greatest wisdom is fortitude,
but raindrops gnaw at the insides of my brain,
freeze freeze freezing my mind,
rain drops and pain rises,
black cold commences and all hope disassociates into the cosmic astronomical black hole.
How do I escape the suffocation of the winter cold?
True solitude is isolation,
real isolation is suffocation,
absolute suffocation leads to alienation,
and alienation is the essence of Me.
  • bardia

Actors Aren’t Activists

Me I’m no actor I’m an activist,
Self-destructive mental malfunctioning machine.
But yet I still subsist, but why?
Am I coward or fool- or both?
Sometimes I wonder what a revolvers bullet bursting propelled through my arm would feel like,
sometimes I see colors, shapes, things that aren’t there,
my precious memory has been had,
my inner demon speaks to me in my dreams,
but I always forget.
I try to dust off my anxiety’s but they’re rooted deep,
someone once shouted “You Must Change Yourself,”
lethargic conditioning disrupts this frequency,
every word that comes out my mouth sounds like poetry to me,
exhilarated by my mouths energetic motor,
loving words and sounds,
I guess then loving life,
but always in vain.