Sunday, 30 May 2021

The Order of Words and The Heart of Light

 
Occurs not 
The transformation negativa
Yet, because
It's still the intellect
 
Why, this intellect
So strong it be
Remains the truth,
Cunning, persuasive,
Story of who?
 
The knowing beatitude,
Smiling in freedom
Toward we does it glance

O laughing one,
O laughing one!
I feel taunted
But your space,
Endless in expanse,
Does reach thru me,
It does
 
Irony, so powerful,
Yet subtle,
A soap bubble like,
Yes, a soap bubble like
 
If words be broken,
 
Broken be words,
 
Then what thru shines?
 
Shines what does thru?
 
This vast expanse,
 
It calls,
 
Voice with not,
 
Already here.
 
Yes, here.
 
Al ready
 
.
 
MS21
 
 


Wednesday, 26 May 2021

The White-Crowned Sparrow

 
 
The bright melodious call
Sat in stark contrast to the
Surprisingly mundane warm greys
 
The whirlpool of electrostatic
Vibrations tingling the air
With lively song
Remained as always
In clear invisibility
 
One's penetrating glare and the
Perked ears did entreat strongly
But Nature's want of concession
Remained motionless
In sage-like austerity
 
As the focus faded softly,
Diffusing gently into the vast arena,
Only the reflection was left—
A translucent memory,
A depthless sheet of wobbling glaze
Standing quiet in feeble fragility
Yet so enduring it be,
Teetering on the edge
Between matter and light
 
In swift retreat,
The totality of memories were
Left twinkling in crystaline fragments
Like leaves of the aspen,
(Yet devoid of pigment)
Quivering on the verge of disappearance

Falling away, further still,
 
The specks of shimmering light
Reminded of stars in the
Vastness of space

And at last, the breath
Returned in Life-giving purity
 
The colours reappeared in 
Their homogeneous delight
 
Nature's symphony resumed in
Its haunting harmony
And variegated similarity
 
The inaudible wail
Rang through the cosmos
Sending atoms shivering at the core
 
MS21

Monday, 24 May 2021

Children are Whole No.2

 

The sunlight broke through
The leaves in a fragmented pattern—
 
The hefty chuckle
Reverberated through the night air—
 
The question of "Why?" did arise
So piercingly, so suddenly—
 
"Why all this chaos? Why!?"
Again, the throaty laughter
Ejaculated in vibrations
Through the damp fog—

"Why is this happening?"
The incessant insanity,
The selfish pursuits,
The utter lack of wholeness—
 
The night was still and silent
Apart from the occasional
Dripping of condensed fog
Collecting on the colourless leaves—
 
Suddenly, the horrific roar
Of a 10 year old boy
Skidded through the sky
In an elongated stream
Of terror—
 
The shaken shrubs
Stood numb in disbelief
As their molecular constitutions
Slowly regained equilibrium—
 
The memory, though, did remain,
As all memories do,
In the cosmic eye,
The Knower of knowing—
 
"I hear your cry, young lad,
It has been registered, indeed.
You may not have the words,
But your protest is an honest one—
 
The injustice which prompted
Such violent outrage
Is mirrored in thee
O, young one—

A mirror you are.
Your service is acknowledged.
But heal you must,
For the greater wicked,
Is yet rampant—

Polish your mirror
And shine your reflection
Of all who pass,
So that they may see
Their true selves
Without distortion or blur—
 
And if the timing is right,
The memory of their childhood
May too arise, clear and undisturbed.
And they will heal and polish..."
 
MS21
 
 
 

Children are Whole No.1

 

The flame burns clear
With silent intensity,
Diffusing calcified clumps
Into impotent particles—

Sitting, standing, walking;
Here we are,
Smiling in glory,
Light and peace—

The horrible ideas,
Swirl within the mind
Like putrid mustard gas
Intent on harm and war—

The violence concedes not
To interior borders
And naturally the nations
Are their intensified selves—

The Earth is cracking
Like a dried desert floor,
From aeons of strife and pain—

The Cosmic joke
Permeates space
And matter alike,
And infuses ironic
Humour in sin as well—

The wars will only end
When children born free
See the mistakes of their fathers,
The blindness of their mothers—

Tradition is perpetuation,
Liberation is clarity,
The space to see afresh,
Anew, the beauty of people,
The Love and joy of life—

Empowered children,
Unharmed by the grown,
In Love and wisdom,
May emerge Clear.

MS21

Tuesday, 4 May 2021

Behind the Words - Part 3 of 3: Renewed Life

Renewed life—
Our mountain climb, 
No longer tinged
With acidic melancholy
And regretful dread
Of the state of the world,
But with true liberation—
 
Humankind as one,
Arisen from the shadows
Of blind strife and futile
Swipes, to the quenching
Abandonment of old rags
And infested slime—

Breathing anew—
Our primordial connection,
Now glowing with Life,
Never looking back
To dead memory
And sorrowful prison,
For this too has ceased
To exist. Its power retracted,
Now pulled and pushed
With the wild winds
On desert floors,
It floats around like 
Holy cloth disintegrating
Slowly into particles
So fine, again to dissolve in the great
Ocean of the cosmos.
A return to homogeneity,
Indeed are all condemned
To do. The inevitable end—
What has always been
And which is Now.

MS21

Behind the Words - Part 2 of 3: Love Ends Strife

 
How then can we fight
Each other with eyes closed
And with uninspired fury,
Engage in endless dispute
And battles of horror and rage?—
 
With insight, so too
Does anger cease,
For the Self is removed
From the robot of evil,
That which was constructed
By it's own nature and material,
The material of thought,
The material of separation.
 
The arms do drop
In silent surrender.
The Love, not of words,
Not of direction—a vector!,
But of clarity and peace—
Of clarity and peace.
 
We embrace as friends,
Our global share—
We laugh with Relief,
The first and last Relief.
 
MS21
 

Behind the Words - Part 1 of 3: That Which We Are

 
Even behind a condescending smile
Shines the Truth—
 
Behind the white or yellow teeth,
Behind a fit of insanity,
The rolling and gurgling brook
Swelling fast with heavy rain—
 
Then the senses are flooded too,
With premeditated propaganda,
Irresponsible or responsible
In design. The power of this media—
 
So engrossed we dive,
The instinct, magnetic,
We engage in a world of colours
And sound so bright and real—
 
The words, oh the words,
Abounding thoughts.
The endless waves
And rain does swallow—
 
Yet who is swallowed?
Not the victim to be sure,
For he is constructed
From these thoughts.
Like teeth eating teeth,
Quite impossible indeed—
 
Are we the Truth?
Our bright and shining Self?
The Watcher of the storm,
The Be-er of experience,
The Light of darkness—
 
Belief too gets flushed away
With thoughts,
As the old paint of uncertainty
Flakes off, revealing boundless
Space and timeless commotion—
 
How ironic! This Pure Absence
Has never been extinguished.        
How could it, when it is
Not material?

We already know,
This first and last truth,
How could we not?
For we are This,
And This is all. 

MS21
 

Friday, 30 April 2021

The Impenetrable Field No.1

Basic Futility!
One rests in
Ironic glee—

The unsought terminus
Is upon one
As the pure stream
Resumes once more
Its unceasing readiness
To flow and heal,
Like Nature's movement
In the birds, the trees,
The wind, sky and sun—

Rest knowing
The Pursuits
Are in vain,
For the impenetrable field,
The Love, is unending and always
Here.

MS21

The Impenetrable Field No.1 - 2021

 

Sunday, 11 April 2021

Notes No.1

 

 

There is so much awe in a simple flower.
Life is beyond richness—
It's beyond the division
Of "the flower" and "the me".
In the act of looking
The object and subject
Are not, but there is only
The singularity of Act.
The divisive "reality of thoughts"
(The separative beliefs)
Is not the Truth.
It's imaginary, constructed,
Conceptual.
When the thoughts quiet,
The beauty flows in.
The beauty of a stranger
Walking along the path,
The beauty of a single falling leaf,
The beauty of a cloud
Moving between the sun
And the looker.
MS21
 
The ugliness of expectations
Allows not room
For sweet appreciation,
Loving gratitude,
And a healthy heart.
MS21
 
There is not anything
Quite as beautiful
As the exchange of smiles
Between two Loving
Individuals.
MS21

Tuesday, 23 March 2021

Gesture No.4

 
Like a beach ball 
Softly bouncing down the stairs—
 
The quiet descent,
Of objects it did consist,
Yet the motion suggested
A distant field.

The colours revolved
Within the round,
A planar spectacle
From the world of depth—
 
The faint pulses
Beat out arhythmically
Upon the colliding
Potencies,
Introducing
The stadium of silence,
The deaf motion
Of a distant cloud
Drifting along
In the open sky.
 
The colours of the scene
Faded to a homogeneous
Luminescence—
A strange combination
Of stillness and motion,
Sound and silence,
Unity of space.
 
MS21

Monday, 15 March 2021

Saturday, 13 March 2021

Gesture No.2

 
The swirling agreement
With the imagined other—
Only to find unity
Was always there.
 
MS21

Thursday, 11 March 2021

Free Form No. 9

Free Form No. 9

As if time is foreign,
The battle of speed—

But unity pervades all
In concept too—

Behold! Time fades
Into present act.

MS21

Thursday, 4 March 2021

The Singular Ground No.1

 
How far we walk
To arrive still here—

The impenetrable distance,
The immeasurable motion—

The spherical reality
And the cessation of time—

The silent chaos
And the life sharing laughter.

MS21

The Singular Ground No.1 - 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
View available sculptures at:

Friday, 26 February 2021

Free Form No.8

 
The loaded words
Serving solely to misguide,
A fantastic journey
Into dream and delusion—
 
The adventurous ride
Into painted meadows
And high-tech cities,
We fly like Scrooge—
 
So lucid, so bright,
The words do hint
At facts so rooted
In common ground—
 
But alas, behold,
The lurking daemon
Behind the garb
Of loosely fitting
Robes and lavish
Yet cheap polyester—
 
The elusive form
Speaking only in riddles
And haunting tales
Calling forth fancy views
Of transient charm—

The expanding girth
Of one so smart,
The rarefied potency
Incessantly infusing
Its molecular odour
Indiscriminately through—
 
What a terrible trick!
Yet who's to blame?
For afflicted is all
By this evasive cause—

Hands thrown up!
Sigh light in knowing
Ills perceived
Are just illusion—
 
For here we sit
In silent being,
Ravished not
By dismal scenes
Of fading fights
And startling news—
 
The parasitic leech
Is shaken off,
Falling hard
Does wriggle
In drying death
And dusty dissolution—
 
Until emerging from
The desert ground
One violet pulse
Of pulpy growth—
 
With this timeless act
Of effortless strength,
The greater field,
The unwavering friend,
Shows its face
In ceaseless presence—
 
The very bed
Of all delusion.
 
MS21
 






 
 

 
 

Saturday, 13 February 2021

Snow Outside

 

The quiet flurries of snow descended across
The light-blue-tinted-dawn-sky—
Only visible while passing in front
Of dark yet muted evergreens
Standing stoically in the snow.

The chill outside was felt inside
Notwithstanding the sweat-bearing windows
And the trembling heater in service.

Just as the cold was felt within,
So too were past experiences reflected inside,
Their factual intensity diminished over time
And their clarity impeded by the accrual of more.

The seagulls carving through the air from tree to tree,
Swooping and curving in graceful lines,
Were in fact playing in the falling snow.

The intellect of man, clever in its nature,
Serves the self but how dangerous to follow
Its command when not infused by the spring dawn.

MS21

Tuesday, 2 February 2021

Looking out onto Space

Looking out onto Space

An unfathomable distance
So conceived

The absolute darkness,
The blindness seen

Alone with a candle
Piercing darkness with light

The boundless chasm
Without reply,

Accepting the glow
In unwanting quiet—

Looking down at my hands
In flickering hues

The truth of the flame,
Its mark it made.

The warmth was felt
By source so near

And eyes rejoiced
At sights so clear.

Still deeper yet
The gratitude lay

The darkness speaking
Not to the ears

But in silent being
Its language conveyed.

Received by same (inside myself)
The pervasive noir—

The inexhaustible field
Of unyielding birth

Without time nor object
Without distance nor wait—

Behold the unfathomable
Bounty of blackness,

Our humble flame,
Without which

Could not live,
Nor so the day

Be born anew
In endless cycles

Of life renewed.

MS21

Saturday, 30 January 2021

Non-Local Movement No.1

 

Non-Local Movement No.1 - 2018

 

The beauty of movement caught by the silent eye of the observer,
Watching, accepting, allowing, receiving.
In stillness, the eye is open with the fire of attention,
Which burns invisibly leaving the container yet to be filled—
Never filled, always open and empty, receiving
The flowing contents of interrelated parts—
Inconceivable to the discerning system.
The eye is not separate from the vast stream
Entering. The eye breathes with blood,
And in its wholeness, outpours a polar opposite—
Spinning together, intermingling with all other actions
Never ceasing, the cosmic dance of infinite pieces
goes on into the night.
The moonlight is on the gurgling brook.

 

MS2018

Sunday, 17 January 2021

Gesture No.1 (short poem)


So delicate, the particular view,
Gazing out the window—

The sounds from inside
Softly yet densely
Rebounding around
In indistinct and distorted
Rings and chimes.

MS21

Friday, 8 January 2021

Freeform No.7

 

The incomprehensible dream
Looses integrity
As Time as we know it
Begins to flicker
"Real, unreal, real..."
In chaotic switch patterns
Complimentary and
Momentary—

As the film wears
From repetition
The noisy breaks
Call out for attention
In its final attempt
To establish its
Thin and flimsy
Existence as the one
And only truth.

MS2021