Like Bliss

I lay in bed

drifting to sleep,

dream of your hands

caressing me.

You lay behind,

my soft curves,

a gentle kiss,

like bliss, slips into this....




The night grows long, slow and deep

some how we do not manage sleep,

window's open, fresh sea air.....

breathing life without a care,

I whisper something in your ear,

you reach out and draw me near....

the whole caress begins again,

from passion to dreams, to succulent screams

forget the now, the how,

live the when this feeling begins...

instead of chasing futures round the bend,

you find desire within two hands,

a man of men, knows the place,

where ecstasy and beauty embrace,

and decides just where to bury his face...

oh pass the glass, lover dear

fill it with wine, or if out, with beer!

i'll share with you, and we will drink it clear,

until i'm done blushing,

and whisper...

"oh lover boy, come over here...."

Now it's my turn to raise the tides,

the current swirls and passion's high,

a lovely whirlpool gives swift rise,

to my lover's delight
and it's his turn to call out to the night...

an echo across the sea, sweet moonlight

something is feeling more than right...

rise and swell,

ring your bell,

tell your tale,

of two young lovers on the sea at night.

enjoying every lovers delight,

free to drift in ecstasy,

oh rising waves, carry me....

The Sea is Calling the New Day!!

The morning wakes me from painful visions,

Of a time, and a way that still haunts my mind,

when my dreams relax and let the things in the corners crawl out.

He was like a spider, and still the web pulls on me every now and again.

But on my horizon is a different ship,

Zen lightness meets intricate curiosity,

and I tell the script writer to send me something epic this time

Someone who melts the sunlight in his hand and offers a diamond,

Delightful!

Who plays with rainbows just to see what they are made of...

Who cuts you off at the pass to share a great story and sweet wine

Someone who seizes time, by will of mind, shares the dance and dances the sea,

and swiftly sails away with me...

and laughs all the while I set myself free!!!

The Muse's Passing

The muse,

runs and stumbles,

as I overtake her,

I find that she has sunken into the ground,

death has stolen her light,

and empty fallen eye sockets

stare back.

I remember how she danced in me;

carrying my feet,

the full spirited thrusts of passionate movement,

all living within,

a fire burned.

daring the world to think that it could steal that light away...

daring everything with the vibrancy of soul shining...

and now I sigh,

and check my pocketbook,

wondering if today has been a good day.

so she lies there, a limp, dead, rag-doll,

resting on cold, dry ground.

waiting for me to exhale my passion,

into her dry-ing and broken shell

but, I have nothing.

I lack even the desire to be carried by such waves

moved to such heights,

and plunged to such deep, cold valleys.

I have been exhausted.

I have been exploited.

I have been embraced, carried so high

and dropped so swiftly

that I became that empty rag-doll-of-death-eye-sockets-staring.

tired, letting the earth carry me,

eat me, I do not care;

for the spirit has gone out of me for so long...

that the only art

that comes to me

speaks of the muse's passing.

of her absence

of the resounding emptiness left after she held residence here for so damn long.

the silence echoes off of the inside of my head,

a spider web,

that every thought presses against in the dark,

like a thread in the night on a naked leg, I cringe

remembering what this mind used to be like,

when passion was a warm cushion for each inspired thought,

that bounced around,

and leaped into flight,

soft young wings meeting the cool blue night.

now it is just broken cobwebs and silence.

Many Shadows of Ourselves...

This is from www.zaporacle.com, written by Jonathan Zap :

Aspects of the Self

text and photo © Jonathan Zap 355 We tend to think of ourselves as a single coherent personality, and expect the other to be a single coherent personality as well. But a single human being can support many personalities. The dramatic example is Multiple Personality Disorder, which is extremely rare. The familiar example, which is anything but rare, is how different we or the other can think, feel or act based on different moods and outer circumstances. A human being is almost always an aggregate of subpersonalities, and each of these personalities calls themselves "I" when they take over. One of the principle goals of individuation is to build up a central witness personality that is aware of the subpersonalities, that communicates and empathizes with all of them but doesn't allow any of them to rule unnoticed. A powerful way to build up the witness and reduce fragmentation is to listen attentively to the various voices that speak in your head. Silent meditation is one way to sharpen awareness of the inner voices, but even more effective is mindfulness throughout your day on the revolving cast of inner voices/subpersonalities. Throughout the day there is an almost continual soundtrack, a voiceover monologue (to use a movie analogy), and the voiceover is usually in your native language. If you're honest with yourself you'll notice that the voiceover monologue is not controlled by a single personality. Listen to both the content of what the inner voices say and also the tone in which they speak. I might, for example, hear a needy, childish voice in my head say, "I want that!" Another voice that sounds like an anxious and irritated parent says,"You know you're not supposed to have that." Another voice sounds like a gruff pirate and says, "Aaargh, what the hell, just grab for it!" Still another voice has a wheedling tone and says,"I really shouldn't, but just this once, and starting tomorrow I won't ever again," and so forth. Similarly, different drives within us can personify into inner characters that become the voices of those drives.At first glance the shadows in the photograph look like two different people, but actually they are shadows of a single mannequin created by two track lights pointed at different angles. One of the essential purposes of an oracle is to act as a mirror of the psyche and confront the inquirer with various aspects of themselves. It takes a great deal of moral courage to be willing to face the multiplicity of selves operating within us. Depending on the position of this card, it could mean that this is a propitious time to strengthen your central witness personality and/or a need to be more aware of the many sides of others. A good rule of thumb with relationships is to realize that if you don't know someone's shadow side, then you don't know the person. Idealization is a state of dangerous blindness that purposefully overlooks various subpersonalities in the other to form a unified but false picture of them. For example, a romantically infatuated person thinks of the beloved as an angel, or a guru-worshiping person thinks of the guru as a god. Such idealizations are likely to turn into equal and opposite states of bitter disillusionment as they inevitably discover that the idol has feet of clay. Be wary about listening to (or becoming) inner voices that are not calm and compassionate. The same holds true interpersonally. You may have to listen to voices that are carping, anxious, wheedling, self-pitying, angry and so forth, but listen to them with calm, compassionate understanding. This empathy may gain you influence over the subpersonality (or the outer person) and it will certainly limit how much those uncentered voices can influence you. Thomas Jefferson said, "The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." The real freedom is free will, and free will requires eternal vigilance with our inner process.

A Blossom

soft flowers,

gently yield a fragrance of delicacy

when i walk into the slightly too warm room

i remember

how they came to be

in the desert heat, a blossom

it reminds me of the heart

opening;

yielding to it's nature

an embrace,

a petal,

my smile.

Sweet Fruits

He had come to her again, bringing strawberries and mangoes. So sweet on your tongue, he said, if you will just try, you will see.

She held up her hand impatiently, her other hand holding the phone to her ear. Couldn't he understand that she was busy? There was so many things this week pressing on her. A deal had gone bad, equipment needed to be sold, employees reprimanded. She had no time for fruit!!

He stood there watching her, swirling around her center, caught in the whirlwind. Not seeing, he thought. She doesn't see. She is looking for the water while running circles around the pool.

All he wanted to do was throw her in. Toss her in the cool water, and see her wake up to her life, wake up and breath and taste the sweet fruits. It really troubled him, as he saw her struggle so. Every little thing and big thing she encountered, she identified her whole sense of self to the outcome. Every win, her sense of self soared, every loose, she fell.

She was chasing herself around and around. But she hadn't always done that. He remembered days, the best days they had ever had, where she had allowed herself to just be present, engaged with the moment, alive. She often spoke of these moments, moments when two people became more alive by merging their universes, sharing by being present, enjoying the simplicity of holding hands.

For her, it had been an accidental stumble into the world of tantric practices. For him, he had been gently guiding her there. He wanted to feel her feeling the sun on her face. He knew when she tuned in, he could sense when she arrived. She noticed it too, but her vision of it was with hindsight. She would notice, as one looking over her shoulder at a magnificent palace, that something amazing had happened behind her. She would remark about it, not realizing that this very moment awaited them, this very moment embraced them. Embrace it back, baby!! He wanted to yell to her!! Join me, yield your grasping, my love! But she thought somehow, that to yield your grasping would be to yield her success. And her pursuits would carry her mind tumbling forward, and she would be lost to him again.

So he came by her office today. A simple gesture. He wanted to say, take a moment with me, it is only one moment. Be still, eat these fruits, and remember yourself. Just be. The world will be there waiting for you. Instead, he just smiled, and said, I brought you these.

I already ate, and I have deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, and a meeting in an hour. You enjoy them for me, she said over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

He sat down in her office. All of a sudden it was very cool, and empty. Her heard the hum of the flourescent lighting, the soft whir of slightly aged computers as they stumble thru information. The stillness left in her absence.

He wondered why he tried with this one so much. He sat down in her chair, and leaned back, closing his eyes, and looking for answers. Why this one woman? There were so many others, but he wanted this one to find a way thru it all. He knew she could find herself, he knew she was capable. She had felt it, in those moments when their worlds touched. Nervous systems aligned, they had become more than themselves at times. She was so hard, coming so close, and always turning at the last minute.

Baby girl, he would say. Just pause. Stop. You are missing your life.

I know I am missing my life she said, I have all this work to do, and then I will be free to enjoy things.

He thought to tell her that now was the only moment you could be free, but he knew she would interpret that wrong, as if being free meant shirking your duties, not working.

What he meant to tell her, was that being free, being present, finding truth in every moment was a beautiful dance. He wanted to tell her to let the weight of the world be looser on her shoulders. Be in the world, but not of it. See yourself in your life as you would watch an actor moving across a movie screen. Remove your identification of yourself, to yourself. But these were only words indicating something, and could not replace understanding.

He thought she wouldn't hear him, and if she did hear him, she would misunderstand.

So he leaned back further in her big chair, and tried to see the world thru her eyes. They had decided to stop dating before he could begin instructing her in tantra. But he had channeled it into their lives together whenever he could. He knew she felt it, the way the world, this life is a living breathing form where everything is possible.

I can't deal with everything at once, she exploded the other day. It's too much!! I am backed into a corner.

He wanted to tell her how to shift her awareness, how to move the walls of that room she was in, how to tear them down. It was a subtle kind of letting go, the very opposite of throwing everything away. But he could only remain silent, because he had once been there.

The dark night of the soul was setting in in her life. And that was what it felt like.

He remembered how it went for him. He felt like he was sitting on the edge the universe, swaying in the darkness as waves of pain and confusion washed over him. Everything that had brought him solace and respite had been made dirty, unclean, and repulsive. He could no longer hold onto anything. The light had been obscured, the world no longer had order, no longer made sense. He was blind, he had no meaning, nothing drove him forward, everything he tried to grasp, to identify with, slipped away. He was nothing, he was no one. He had been there for eternity.

Struggling with every demon, every thing he had ever thought to be true, every person he had spoken to in untruth, unclarity, arrogance, deceit. It was all there, washing over him in inescapable waves.

Then one day, it had stopped. He was clean. He recognized one tiny thing about the world, his toes sinking into soft grass, sunlight graced his cheeks. His inner world was silent. Something new had taken root in his soul. Something that would continue to grow until the end of his life.

Amazing grace,

How sweet the sound,

that saves a wretch like me.

I once was lost

and now am found

I was blind

but now I see.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iT88jBAoVIM

He hoped one day she would join him, when they still had some life to live together, before it was too late, before the world tore them apart for not seizing this precious opportunity. Our lives are so short, so short. Each moment yet eternity held.

He placed the fruits on her desk, knowing they would make the room fragrant, and maybe she would eat them.

He hoped they wouldn't just end up in the trash.

So it goes.

Angel Piss

love was an angel pissing on my tongue

sweet, but still angel piss i guess.

i constantly found myself wondering if love was a good thing.

is angel piss good?

a broken shadow, hovering inside yourself

in spite of all your delusion

a little bit of the light was beginning to peak thru the cracks

and you were tentatively liking this...

but what would you do with this brave new world?

would you let it blossom inside you?

or would it be like a shattered mirror?

little cracked pieces of fractured self reflection?

i listened and moved on,

finding my groove to the tap, tap, tap of startled rooftops,

here san francisco rained as i tossed on my bed and thought

of the undoing

how things come apart

a badly woven tapestry of misunderstanding

and soaring devotion that just looked sickly

hanging there on a wall of accusations.

hey, do you remember me?

i'm the one who didn't kick you when you were down

i'm the one who picked you up, and dusted off your corduroy teddy bear

making sure you had a friend even though you didn't know it

so why do you cut and run ?

why do you always choose to leave me before the most important conversation that could change everything?

dust devils and sand castles swirl you away.

chasing, chasing, chasing.

running, running, running,

when it had already been found.