Disappointment - But Keep On Trying

I dislike intellectuals, mostly

Because I am not in their gang

But also because I believe they stole

That which I thought belonged to me

Back again

In the domain of intellectuals

Who have once more refused me

Entrance to join their ranks

This time though there is hope

As I walk past several Francis Bacon originals

Also a Giacometti

Whose standing woman appears to lean

Unlike the Healing Man Buddha

Who silently promises

To make well

All in my world and its surroundings

All That I Am - Some Things May Be Missing

I am nothing more

Than mind, body

Soul, eros, and spirit

Which

Through memories, observations, and dreams

Gift me feelings, thoughts, and ideas

Opportunities that allow me

To plot a way forwards, and sideways

Through this singular journey of my one life

One Way In - There May Be Many Others

It is a different kind of thing

A love out of nowhere

Other than from the meditations

Of the morning

What is it that I wish to achieve

What wishes might I reach for

How might I discover the truth

The truth of that which I am seeking

Not now knowing where to start

Or what the out-turns may be

Misunderstanding how this works

Or where and how to find the clarity

After The Beginning

Why are there so so many mistakes

Do I need to proofread

Again and again and again

Yet why to make the mistakes

In the first place

Is it through a lack of concentration

Should I slow down the writing process

Oh, but that book

That was written using a different method

So, then the voice recording

Becomes a necessary step

Before publication

A final editing tool

To makes as best a job

As I, on my own, can possibly can

This will be the first book

To follow the three step system

Write, type, voice record, type right

 

In The Beginning

This is the quiet hour

There may be many

The hour of half light

The hour of half thought

That beauty resides

In the view through the trees bare branches

That beauty decides

In the peaceful quiet of inactivity

Such that it is the tea, the chair

Which provides the welcome

Which says, please sit down

Be aware of your breath

Be aware of how your mind travels

In small steps, in giant leaps

Be mindful of the floorboards creaking

Of another life making moves

This is the beginning of a second hour

With the joy of a shared pot of tea

As one prepares oneself

For the pleasures of bathing