blank blank fullness

My opulence is limitless

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, January 14, 2013 0 comments

He said,

I am the Supersoul,
seated in the hearts of all living entities
I am the beginning,
the middle,
and the end of all beings
of lights I am the radiant sun,
and among the stars
I am the moon
and of bodies of water
I am the ocean
of vibrations I am the
transcendental om
of sacrifices I am the chanting of the
holy names
and of immovable things
I am the Himalayas
of all trees I am
the banyan tree,
of horses know Me to be Uccaihsrava,
produced during the churning of the ocean for nectar
of lordly elephants I am Airavata
and among men I am
the monarch
of weapons I am
the thunderbolt
among cows I am
the surabhi
of causes for procreation I am Kandarpa, the god of love
and of serpents I am Vasuki
and among the dispensers of law I am Yama, the lord of death
among subduers I am time,
among beasts I am the lion
and among birds I am Garuda [eagle]
of purifiers I am
the wind,
of the wielders of weapons I am Rama
of fishes I am
the shark
and of flowing rivers I am
the Ganges.
Of all sciences I am
the spiritual science of the self
and among logicians I am
the conclusive truth.
Of letters I am
the letter A
and among compound words I am
the dual compound.
I am also inexhaustible time,
and of creation I am Brahma.
I am all-devouring death,
and I am the generating principle
of all that is yet to be.
Among women I am fame, fortune, fine speech, memory, intelligence, steadfastness and patience.
Of months I am Margasirsa [November - December],
and of seasons I am
flower-bearing spring.
I am also the gambling of cheats
and of the splendid I am
the splendor.
I am victory, I am adventure, and I am
the strength of the strong.
Among all means of suppressing lawlessness I am punishment,
and of those who seek victory I am morality.
Of secret things I am silence,
and of the wise I am the wisdom.
Furthermore, I am the generating seed of all existences.
There is no being--moving or nonmoving--that can exist without Me.
O mighty conqueror of enemies,
there is no end to My divine manifestations.
What I have spoken to you is but a mere indication of My infinite opulences.
Know that all opulent, beautiful and glorious creations spring from
but a spark
of My splendor.
With a single fragment of Myself,
I pervade and support this entire universe.

bhagavad gita 10.20 - 10.42, divine list, krishna, the supreme personality of godhead, the top of the top |

A Little List to Reflect

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, January 11, 2013 0 comments

An interesting break to take and ask, from this list:

What do you have (implying, "thanks, I'm set on what I've got")
What don't you have
What do you want more of
?

Intelligence
Knowledge
Freedom from doubt and delusion
Forgiveness
Truthfulness
Control of the senses
Control of the mind
Happiness & Distress*
Birth
Death
Fear
Fearlessness
Non-violence
Equanimity
Satisfaction
Austerity
Charity
Fame & Infamy*

*you can't have one without the, other

reflect |

Fly Poet

by trulymadlydeeply On Wednesday, January 09, 2013 0 comments

"Late Poem"
by Cynthia Zarin

" . . . a matter of changing a slide in a magic lantern."

I wish we were Indians and ate foie gras
and drove a gas-guzzler
and never wore seat belts

I’d have a baby, yours, cette fois,
and I’d smoke Parliaments
and we’d drink our way through the winter

in spring the baby would laugh at the moon
who is her father and her mother who is his pool
and we’d walk backwards and forwards

in lizard-skin cowboy boots
and read Gilgamesh and Tintin aloud
I’d wear only leather or feathers

plucked from endangered birds and silk
from exploited silkworms
we’d read The Economist

it would be before and after the internet
I’d send you letters by carrier pigeons
who would only fly from one window

to another in our drafty, gigantic house
with twenty-three uninsulated windows
and the dog would be always be

off his leash and always
find his way home as we will one day
and we’d feed small children

peanut butter and coffee in their milk
and I’d keep my hand glued under your belt
even while driving and cooking

and no one would have our number
except I would have yours where I’ve kept it
carved on the sole of my stiletto

which I would always wear when we walked
in the frozen and dusty wood
and we would keep warm by bickering

and falling into bed perpetually and
entirely unsafely as all the best things are
—your skin and my breath on it.

except for the Parliaments part, fancy free, goodness, leather or feathers, like an animal, lovin, poetry season, sweet hedonism |

Addressing "The Blessings of Atheism", or "The Curse of Willfull Ignorance"

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, January 06, 2013 0 comments

This article on "The Blessings of Atheism" from The New York Times' Sunday review opinions page, and the 'believers' therein addressed, are simply misplacing the role and existence of 'God'. Suffering (employed in this article to defeat the possibility of a loving God) is part of material, human life, and ignorance is attachment to the physical and material entity, namely, the body and mind, which are causing this suffering. This is not God being merciless, this is man being ignorant of our true nature (I am not the body, I am not the mind, I am something divine). Sentimentality is the cause of all this grief, which if one were rooted in true knowledge, would be able to transcend via the understanding that our purpose is not to control and enjoy for our selfish pleasure -- to be the masters of external nature -- but to submit, and serve the higher potency of God, therein becoming the masters of our internal animalistic propensities and receiving automatic benefit from 'watering the root'. I admit, it might seem extreme to be cold and indifferent to suffering and death, but one could argue that that's just viewing detachment in an extreme way, or, "it doesn't matter til it's you in the hot seat". What I'm arguing against, is the use of suffering and death -- inherent results of material existence -- as reasons to refute the existence of God when we have the chance to look as suffering and death as reasons to serve God and be delivered from the material world (while still inhabiting it!) by this service. This isn't about squaring off in 'the next world' by doing good here in this world, this is about doing good now as the means and the ends, not for the benefit of the human entity, but to give the goodness up to the all-pervading God entity which, when served, naturally controls our material ignorance, and liberates us, a kind of service which true religion promotes.

True empathy is serving the soul of man and not merely the body.

So maybe atheists are true believers with misplaced ends. That is, by merely engaging in charity and welfare service for the benefit of material man, we are missing the completion of the benefit chain. The big gap, the missing link that atheists circle around endlessly is that the common man we're lamenting over and giving charity to cannot make the most of this sort of goodness if he in a state of ignorance (which 99% of men/women are) regarding his true purpose (ignorantly serving body/senses/material reality instead of serving God) and his true Self (ignorantly identifying with his body and mind instead of endeavoring to realize the spirit soul, paramatma, that we are part and parcel of God). This does not mean give up your material duties and work to live in a cave, as the skeptical "yogis" out there love to say, or stop serving the 'materially-blinded common man'. This is about re-routing your service in the world to serve God directly, instead of your own limited material world of fleeting happiness, binding sense gratification, and misery-causing selfishness. And it is OVERWHELMINGLY possible for man to know if God exists. Man is just willfully ignorant in this endeavor, choosing instead to invest time and effort in sense pleasure and selfish materialistic life. There is plenty of scriptural guidance and transcendental scientific*** knowledge to satisfy even the most ignorant. Trouble is, one can't see what his eyes are not looking for.
For more information, start exploring Krishna consciousness.

***The definition of science:
1. The intellectual and practical activity encompassing the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment
2. A systematically organized body of knowledge on a particular subject

When your observation and experiment lead to a body of knowledge which understands that the material world is inherently a never-ending cycle of birth, old age, disease and death (a systematic understanding of the behavior of the physical and natural world ie material world) you might come to the stage when you ask yourself, “Is that is? What else is there?”. That’s when you might be lead to understand your nature as either a slave to the senses or a controller of the senses. Seeing as most of the world is under the bondage of the senses, setting that example for our eyes to see and minds to believe, it is hard to understand that it is possible to control them, transcend them, and come to the understanding that those senses were given to us to serve a higher good, a higher energy which (although apparently malefic if you identify with material misery, death and the like as proof that there is no God, see my argument above) if put at the center, will inherently take care of you. That’s the transcendence of it all, get over yourself, serve the source of all-that-is (which you first have to leave room for in your skeptically-conditioned mind), and use the benefit of that service to apply it to the darkness in the world. Experiment!!

If you're searching, don't stop there. Searching on its own is useless and any 'evidence' obtained from searching is merely speculation. Krishna consciousness gives you practical material answers and asks you to apply them in this life, for a better, higher life here and later (whether or not you want to believe in that 'later' part).

If this has piqued your interest and you're looking for some more answers and have more questions,
Here's a book that's a good start.

atheism, bhakti yoga, GOD, let's get really real, purpose of life, soul, yoga |

conversations straddling time

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, January 04, 2013 0 comments

L: I still feel different though
A: different from what
L: From what I expect it to be I guess. Joining a belief or cause
A: it's not a belief or cause
     it's every human being's true nature
     that's just more delusion framing Truth as 'belief'
     belief is an extrapolation of faith
     faith is the deep knowledge that you are part of something greater
     a conviction
     belief is an opinion supported by a cause or group of people who have invented some rules
     but faith is connected to the unshakable source of all-that-is
L: Wow
A: and at the heart of that is the need to love
     it's the soul's purpose
     and we cover it up with lust
     and envy
     and greed
     because material reality drags us, our senses control us
     instead of us controlling our senses
L: This is so much right now. But.. Yes, I do hear this
A: haha well when you wake up you can read it again
     and take it with a nice hot cup of tea
     and take care of your self

courage, faith, GOD, LOVE, self-realization, soul need, take care, truth bites, unshakable, you 'sleep. ima drop it on you. from thetopofmymind |

at home, it travels

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, January 04, 2013 0 comments

home again, micheal kiwanuka, Musical |

Swapping Centers

by trulymadlydeeply On Saturday, December 29, 2012 0 comments

Sometimes I wonder if God sits and laughs
at how little it takes to impress our silly human forms
He must be wondering
That's it?
You're just going to stop there?
And we do.
We don't go much farther
Yet there's a silent begging
Deep within us:
Shake the dust
from Me!
your real soul
Stop shooting
for this fool's gold
As Michelangelo said,
The greatest danger for most of us
is not that our
goal
is too high
and we miss it
but that it is too low
and we reach it.
The greatest danger these days,
is not that we're not
ambitious
creative
successful
enough
but that we're using
our skills
our talents
our abilities
for all
the lowest, easiest, silliest, most useless things
most tasteless things.
So aim high, my friends
Get out of your circle
your cycle
of comfort
Of same
sense
slavery.
And go for what might make you
truly
challenged,
not to prove that you can do it
but to admit that you
are not the center of the world

glimpse of god, hungry for something higher, original poetry, successful human life |

from the desk of Ms. Alexandra C Moga

by trulymadlydeeply On Saturday, December 22, 2012 0 comments

Be full and content with it all coexisting. The spiritual and the base. The love and the fear. Let it swirl in you who are confident in the present and open to the ever-elevating heights of a future. Whatever you wish, if it comes from deep inside, if you hold to it not with clinging desperation — but with gently cupped hands, forming the motion, guiding the change as you listen for its desire and direction — it shall develop and grow with the seeds of magic inside, ready to continually reproduce as old layers die with the tides.

misc, my thoughts on life, soul advice |

still writing poems about universal love n stuff

by trulymadlydeeply On Wednesday, December 12, 2012 0 comments

Tangled in projections of imperfect senses
Believing them to tell the truth,
We replace oceanic satisfaction
With the lie of satiation, material proof
Freedom!:
Get knocked down and smile
See yourself as nothing grand
Humbled with a heart perhaps above your head,
Seek and find pure, selfless love
Shine its light on ignorance
Or, atleast try

____

Guess who’s poetic?
This bundle of contradictions, that’s who!
(false ego identification is a bitch)

comment section, original poetry, twofer |

Transform Again

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, December 11, 2012 0 comments

Transform again
So I can say I thought I knew you back when
Happily whisper to my heart in a wink,
I just don't know him like I did

Transformed again
While that dress I'm in looks foreign to your constant eyes
Still settles on your soul's remembered ties
Sparks your mellow memory in a nick of causeless time

Transform again
To please that eternal form
As it watches your forgetfulness
Lose your little self to the ultimate
Die to live, die to live

Transformed again
Squirming, emerging against the tides
Bashed into false dreams countless times
Finally waking restless mind
To the lightness of an ebbing sigh

Transform again
Questions cloaked in answers
Wrangled into extra time
Compromise broken control
And let your soul sweetly abide

Transformed again
An instrument in those knowing hands
Dropped the sound of suffering
Deliver me your tonic place of rest
Appealing fallen to uncover best

Transform again
Lift the veil, recieve a taste
Bridge low lands and the mirrored page
Invest in cleansing ways to see the same
If you will, reunite on the eternal train

Transformed again
Calling out your name
From an ocean of darkness, this ever-changing game
Hearing, a new plant springs to sustain
Roots to the source, an evergreen thumb digging to remain

Transformed again
By this love like a river
Feeding rapid flames in veins to steady
A nearer kind of me, simply and no longer
Transformed again

one way ticket home, original poetry |

The Third Step

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, November 27, 2012 0 comments

You were there, sitting in a vinyl chair, waiting for the needle to start pulsing. Contemplating the symbolism of void. The void, that feeling matched your emotions at the time, your insides. It matched the window you'd alternately crack open or shroud in darkness, depending on whether or not you needed to know there was a world beyond your own.
The void also housed your optimism, like a blank canvas you'd ever carry to allow you a freshness, an option of hope and possibility.
You wanted to understand that emptiness, so you drew four lines around it. Some neat little geometry to structure. But you also considered that with knowing something, came the possibility of forgetfulness, of complacency, of predictability. So you were pleased when the flip-side hit; that emptiness simultaneously casts out commitment to any one specific image, idea, or desire.
Some kind of safety reassured you there.
Now if only you could control the vice-grip of your desires and settle in the stream. Looking back, you wonder if that thought had ever crossed your mind until recently.
Needing understanding. You now wondered if the missing piece was not being understood, but showing understanding.
You wanted to understand but your soul, your soul wanted to transcend.
And your mind drew a faulty map.
Looking back, you wonder if you missed a step.

fragment, now what |

DL

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, October 29, 2012 0 comments

Dear love
Your face changes over time
It once was his
It now is mine
It's all of ours, all of the time
Dear love
I haven't been able to get you off my mind
Out of my heart
Where my knowledge ends
Dear love
There you begin
Dear love, you make things so wonderfully hard
You want us to be free but instead you blind
Dear love
Wasn't that your magic
All of this time

original poetry |

Mah lymph nodes are tingling

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, September 18, 2012 0 comments

Sister's got serrius soul

dragonfly, feeling good, nina simone |

473'16"N, 2155'49"E

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 14, 2012 0 comments

Wherever one goes, youth is the same.
Music ties em together through the decades.
Drinks pour with similar thirst which awaits,
the other end of the scene holds stories of love and jealousy just as we'd seen.
Mirrors will always show just what it is you bring.
1am, 160 proof, 28 degrees Celsius

someone tell me please,
what are my coordinates

original poetry |

You are perfect just as you were

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, August 07, 2012 0 comments

It is imperative that you realize and believe in your wholeness, completeness and worthiness as a person, as a living entity. The sad truth, however, is that you are quite possibly fragmented, missing pieces, incomplete, and actually -- not at all perfect.

You have been sold to probably all your life. Magazines, TV shows, advertising, movies, Hollywood, Bollywood, pop music, pharmaceutical companies, big box stores, Proctor & Gamble, General Mills, your friends and possibly your family -- all these major machines have employed, fed, and worked millions of people tirelessly to convince you to buy their product because you're just not good enough. Their slick marketing and advertising, while selling the benefits and necessity of xyz, subversively suggests that you are not yet quite right, and so, need to get xyz in order to be better, more beautiful, more happy, more complete, to live a dream life (their dream, not yours). So you may have believed & bought it. On top of it, you took a look around and you saw all these other people apparently doing well with these xyz apparatus. If you're female, as a young girl, you may have hungrily flipped through Seventeen, Glamour, Vogue, and the countless other magazines to give you the scoop on what's hot, who's hot, how to look hot, and why you're not hot unless you've got it.

What you may not be aware of is that, by being sold to, by believing in your inadequacies and then taking others' prescribed actions to obtain xyz as a necessary element to achieving wholeness, hotness, happiness, you were moving in the opposite direction of where you already were and actually away from what they're trying to sell you -- happiness, hotness, perfection, worthiness, value as a human being. It is by holding ground in what, who, you already were (are), pre-brainwashing, that you can totally be what it is they're selling you. At this point it might be too late. You've got the closet full of whoozits and whatsits and all of a sudden they hold real value in your life, and you've taken second place. And you might think they're harmlessly fun and cool. But that's just feeding the system -- it's still sending visual cues to the not-clued-in consumer world, up-holding a (essentially destructive) system of social currency obtainable by purchasing power, conspicuous consumption and parading instead of one based in self-worth sourced in compassion, introspection, love, and sharing. You are (were?) whole. And you can, with a bit of awareness and discrimination, actually hold solid ground in that place among the clouds of sell-speak.

Now, that's not to say that you're devaluing yourself vis-a-vis yourself by indulging in these purchases, but it is still upholding the system to fool others, propagating advertising via your daily life amidst these things. It's fun to be part of the crew. To feel the shiny clink of social currency in your hands as you show up in that outfit, that car, that restaurant and bar, with -- those people. But while they're there, seemingly having it all, you may have been robbed of your self-worth by trading it in for a belief that you didn't already have it and that now you do -- but only because you've got the outer signifier. In that process, you lost what was always, and should always be, innate in your being, in your attentiveness to your self and not that 'other'.

While stripped of everything society ever told you is important, you still have inside you, you always were, just what it is you're seeking.

give away your sabotage

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, August 02, 2012 0 comments

90's rockin is where it's at today!

90's rock, beastie boys, give it away, hip hop, red hot chili peppers, sabotage, tapas, titiksha |

Open

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, July 22, 2012 3 comments

This song by Rhye caught my ears from the second those strings started softly pushing notes across the air waves to my already throbbing head, thanks, last night (feeling poetic)

Lyrics, interesting. Google open. Tap tap tap. Search.

Oh, Fader featured their video. Oh, it's "very NSFW". Double caught me. Click. Play.

Share:

Rhye - Open from Rhye on Vimeo.

And my head feels better somehow... Download it here, courtesy of Urban Outfitters

Yoga words

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, July 12, 2012 0 comments

I’ve started a new blog at Yoga Words dedicated to exploring yogic words and their meanings.

I immensely enjoy learning languages in general and Sanskrit is a whole new bag. With yoga’s steady-growing popularity I thought it’d be helpful to elucidate the many words that yoga philosophy rests upon. Their meanings are often multi-layered and as with words in general, it’s not so much the signifier but what it stands for that’s important and rich.

Each word is a drop of gold and the language and alphabet are fascinatingly efficient. Nothing wasted. Total value. In the package of one little mot (that’s French for word) awaits a world of philosophy, driving you through a tunnel of productive pondering to come out a littler wiser, a little deeper, a little cooler ;)

If you like it, pass it on, follow, spread the good words — let’s get there together.

Originally posted at MogaYoga

Footnote to Howl

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, July 09, 2012 0 comments

By Allen Ginsberg

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum!
Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone!
Holy the bop apocalypse!
Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements!
Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions!
Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut!
Holy the vast lamb of the middle class!
Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion!
Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

Berkeley 1955

And to see James Franco embody this...

epic poetry |

This Morning

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, June 29, 2012 0 comments

Rainstorm rolled in on the dawn
Woke me up with a flash of lightening striking in my mind
Opened my eyes
As the thunder roared through me
and my dream spoke out loud in reality
Boom, so close to home

original poetry |

To spend a day with me

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, June 08, 2012 0 comments

To spend a day with me
We enjoy everything that is free
Expand our hearts without dropping a dime
Feeling richer and fuller than you ever have in your life
To spend a day with me,
We put in more than we take
Pay off our debts to the bank of time with the love we make
To spend a day with me,
To be richer than ballin online for the world to see, waitin on a future delivery
Delayed gratification can come now
To spend a day with me,
Means experiencing how
It's to scour the pantry of stored memory
And cook a meal that will fill your dying soul, while we keep the glass at half-empty
For the present with me is spacious eternity
To spend the day with me is allowing freely
It's kicking up your heels, creating from what you don't know you've got
When consuming second-hand goods only emptied out your pot
It's re-covering what bared and burned in the sun
It's reading prose aloud that you've written for another, one-to-one
To spend a day with me requires pride in all the things you can do as you chose not to,
Like uncovering what's on the dark side of the moon
A day with me is like finding that missing shoe
And the foot, too

This is what I wish for you
To spend a day with your truth
To find 'me'
In all that you pursue,
In all that comes to you

24-hours forever, inner child, original poetry |

poet's life

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, June 01, 2012 0 comments

I want you in my memoir
Your heart speaking history
Visions carrying the future
To the same resting place I'd chosen
Unbeknownst to these two souls
All the binds their strings would weave
their innocent trickery
Word play
Night play under cover
Designed to try their hand at the creator
The pen dropped down for them
Ready to receive
Because their very impulse ran with ink
Cut them open and it would spill
Orderly as none other could arrange
Chaos sublime drained from their veins
Depth could not be measured
It did not scare
Neither he nor she
concerned with normalities
They just kept moving
Yes they gave into cravings
Guilt-ridden for the thought of it
Assuaged by a spirit
Some clinics called it psychotic
They
They knew the labels undermined
The visions they flung farther from plain sight
Could it really be alright
Is anybody hurting?
Then I must go on
They weren't living for a memoir
But the day, inevitable, came
When time stood at the intersection
reality set in
Something here's truly brewin
And it's too late to give in
So on they went
Living their dreams
Painting their nightmares
For the balance
For the delicacy
Of hearing the beat
The beat of a single reason
To live in step with what drove the story
Onwards
Innards
Spread forwards
Grace of pain
Repaired transmissions
Broken promises
Pieced together again
When?
Ink, blood, spit, love
Cut from the cloth
Collaged harmony
As best they could
They knew one day,
One day they would

original poetry |

Ode to summer reading

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, May 29, 2012 0 comments

In the middle of creating and consuming

Stood I

An afternoon colluding for glorious use of time

Lost among stacks

Hot sun beating upon my sweater'd back

The artifacts ran through me

Alive they came

senses awakening

The dust off lithographs

First editions

Copies of Playboy from 1975

A flip clock set at 4:20

Time stopped and yet I was flying

Flung into eras, lives, fake, real, felt,
stolen glimpses at god

Soon the words hit a wall

My eyes turned sore

Standing, a chore

In the air
A record played,

With the right song

turned on
At first a tear

Heavy loneliness

Solitude of exploration

Confronting the reality of this journey
bittersweetly beautiful

pausing to glimpse others' experience

For a moment, sharing my solitude

With yet more mute partners

My mind keeps bringing me the thought of ice cream,

a cool shady knoll

A book and leaving this nice store.

So off I go

But before I dive into pleasure and respite,

Soften my eyes to the inner night

The inner light

I'll drop a pin on this time

Of drifting into death

To spark it with my life

Though ink and digital pages remain as set

There's a timelessness to the exploration

Eventual appreciation

It does not wait for me

It does not know of me

It is as if my inner compass

Had been waiting

All this time

For me to drive by and turn my head

See the sign,
pointing,
painted

In my language, in black and red

black cat books, original poetry |

string happenings

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, May 29, 2012 0 comments

d-o-p-e

Have a moment, take it in by writing it out with your heart beating loud

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, May 28, 2012 0 comments

If only my mirror had a camera on it we could YouTube me dancing for you and you and you and you
All these on-the-spot moves grooving to run this town with confident swoops
in hips ripping emotion from the one who felt it n bringing it to transform the state I'm in on a whim
Wham there she goes soft as petals from the man laid out for drama in the landscape gasping through colored fields, spinning webs to gauge the life in your head
Wait where was I ah yea back again with the dance--
Selling the shit out of my fidelity to the moment and nothing but the music control me with your fireworks going off as my belly roars in icy hot pleasure of feeling dropping lower to the floor on hands and knees tumbling around through the leaves of grass on grass growing out our destinies stain me with your making memories please as performers for the love of self and others what's the difference any more if not just to keep keepin score four and seven years ago where were you when you finally let go in each instant still talking to the walls as flowers bloom outside your window, innit, don't let the beat go on an on an on an on without my banging on my bongos, bongo bongo bong

Last night bit of writing, memo pause in rhymes and cause n effect of self to self combat in peace please praise, once it starts rolling out there's no holding down holdin it down, original poetry |

5 Communication Tips to Help You Get What You Want and Change the World! (mayday)

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, May 03, 2012 0 comments

We're all just looking for something real. Something to hold on to that won't disappear
disappoint
missing the point
realize what's real must be free
and what's free can't be held on to
not for happiness
at least
It's the holding that saddens,
disappoints
you wrap your fist around it
it feels good in your hand. And while you enjoy the feeling, slowly seeping
the growing in your hand starts ceasing

a story for some...

feeling dirty trying to make a buck off of what i love
so i embrace what i hate to pay for what is my fate
to love in darkness, to light fire to the pure
break down to find an out of the trap of needing a cure
you can't heal what's not there
you can't lose if it's there without a form

but you can change your definitions
keep the structure
fill in the smile behind the destruction

shut your mouth and move me with your body
moving in space
your voice will be in your poise
the authentic you
in the gaze that lasers through my skin
your mind will move me like a mountain
your heart pounding in my head
you move your hands
across all of time and space
I shift
I'll lay with you when you hit the bed
not questioning, or demanding, not needing
not speaking
holding total understanding in the fresh air
radiating
resonating
with you
with they all too
it doesn't matter how beautiful your lens is
how clear the shot
when you can feel the real
coming out at you through the moments
when you can hold the irreal
by acknowledging your existence
in contrast
_______________.
I'll be there with you
spending our time remembering
no
I want to forget and live
forget so that time can't hurt me
you want to let yourself feel again
but it's just easier to

oh these lines fill my head
............................._
cause when the rich are rich, they really are poor
and when you've got too much it'll drive you to the floor
babe I'm tellin' you,
stay hungry too
and I know and I know and I know
the hardest hunger is that which you choose
but here's the silver lining, it's the hardest to lose
and when you hold to that bit of control
and you've got a grip
make sure you stay loose
don't let it slip

false advertising, original poetry, true semiotics |

orange breasted bird

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, April 30, 2012 0 comments

There's a bird in my neighborhood
He bangs on my windows
Every day last week he would alight
Onto my fire escape, peering in
He going for the plants?
I'd wonder
He'd see me
And fly away
I'd leave the room
back crashing again
Higher up, through to the clear glass
Trying to fly past the curtains, perhaps
Hitting
His little
bird body
again
and
again
I opened the window
To let him in
He didn't come back
Until tomorrow came with a

bang
bang

original poetry |

slight of hand

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, April 26, 2012 0 comments

You are small
Look how well you fit into this big hand
Holding you up in the space of
A fraction of a fraction of a fraction
Of the time it took for us to realize
Tiny lights
Looking down at us
Humbly, winking over light years
A cosmic joke
‘I’m not there’
And when I was,
The thought of you
Did not yet dwarf me

Originally posted here

original poetry, time and space |

Midnight Rain

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, April 22, 2012 0 comments

Listening....

Midnight Rain by thetopofmymind

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, April 20, 2012 0 comments

I prefer things to spring naturally, found where they are needed, which usually means there's an element of surprise. Initial incongruency. Though if I were to be completely honest, this makes me shades of uncomfortable. I spent the day aimless. Wandering. Scheduled and then needed no longer. The vague plan of my life dissolved, I had my hand unoccupied. I did not decide. Found near a museum, I decided and entered. Of all the things, this was unexpected. But a perfectly natural recourse for my seeking some sort of refuge. The Hilton housed a yoga conference. Boatloads of women in corporate culture yoga wear. Frustrating. Sterile. Yet a sense of familiarity in friendships I found again. Brief. A kindness in those others, those, shall we say, compliant consumers.
I exchanged it for the mausoleum where artists who've ascended can house their lonely parades as finished works, deaf artifacts to live on, ingested by crowds of anonymous faces. I honed in on their possible back stories. I recognized the girl with a deformed head and face from my earlier failed attempt to work at a cafe (one with no electrical outlets or WiFi), she reappeared in the halls of the museum. Her grey-haired escort pushing her along in a wheelchair. What are the chances, running into them again? I had thought to myself after seeing her for the first time there in the cafe that I'd like to tell her she's beautiful. Not to be cruel, because it's painfully obvious that she's anything but, but to give her those words that she's maybe never heard. And to say it earnestly. Because I believe there must be some kind of beauty. Even in the most heinously disfigured of humans.
The expo was nothing but a quick interlude. The chance to kill time among people momentarily sure of what they're looking for (a cultural experience of sorts) in a life grossly devoid of certainty. And it was free. Security pushed us out of the galleries back into the city.
The allure of traveling can be found in its sharp honesty. You're confronted with yourself, un-moored, having to admit you don't know where you are, or quite what you're doing. Trading your sense of self as referenced within a culture, for your person as simply a figure in space, ready to find fulfillment as the boundaries dissolve around you. Forcibly, freeingly naive; dependent on a force beyond this carefully-constructed sense of self which, among the unfamiliar, no longer has the currency which once sold you out in exchange for recognition that you are indeed important.
On my way back I decided to let the stories go.
The drum beat found me as I found the rhythm. In an instant all that could be contained was the purity of eyes closed and seeing, shifting hips, pumping chest, sure feet, synchronicity. The sound, a sensation, a sort of indelible truth, a container which poured me out into the primal. My tribe, our energy; my imagination replaced the synthetic carpeting with dirt, earth. And free of substance, of self-importance, we got down, we got high as hell.

The Third Hand

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, April 06, 2012 0 comments

5:06am. My eyes open. The smoke alarm in my bedroom has decided to run out of batteries. And every minute or so it informs me of this with a shrill beep. Also, a feral cat is wailing outside my window. I try to decipher the sound, as if my hearing doesn't trust my judgement. Could it be a child? The kid upstairs? Waaaooooooooohhhhhwww. No. Definitely a cat. I imagine it laying belly up on the concrete giving birth. Or being raped from behind. Poor kitty. Beep. Waaaaooohhhwww. It's obviously in distress. Beep. In a flash, the image of my own cat giving birth appears. I have this file stored from 1995, the year I came home from school to play midwife to our cat in my closet, her choice hideaway for delivering kittens into the world. The wailing continues. The sky is still opaque. Though, gradient. Beep. I reach for my phone. 5:06am. My dream keeps playing, not bothering to wait for me, knowing I'll jump back in when I'm ready. Partly anxious to slip back into the stream, worried about losing my place. After another audible wail, I set down the phone, dive back in. The beeping dulls. Half way there, I wonder if these two sounds, piercing and disconcerting, are a something of a sign. I briefly consider shaking off sleep to meditate, feeling as though I'm receiving a wake-up call from beyond. The film I fell asleep to addressed the 2012 global shift. I remember this unsettling feeling the film gave me, my culpability, my contribution to the ecosystem's unraveling. Residue of one world remains as we transition into another. The battery's dead. The alarm sounds. Nature protests. How am I going to help? My grip on material reality loosens. My concern for the cat's welfare turns into a concern for my laundry and that strange street, the building I've moved into. I'm back in my dream. Heavy and blissfully out of control. Puppeteer and puppet at once.

Dreamstates |

My Body is a Cage

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, March 27, 2012 6 comments

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key

I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head

I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a

My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven

I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight

I'm living in an age
That laughs
When I'm dancing
With the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key

Set my spirit free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free
Set my body free

Set my spirit free
Set my body free