Open Mind

Open Mind

What is an open mind?

One that re-invents itself

upon meeting some new insight,

without a fright?

It ponders, pokes and prods:

maybe there is truth here?

Oh my, oh dear,

this is not what I want to hear?

Maybe, this could be real?

How does it taste,

how does it feel?

Must I now waste and replace

my old with something new?

Does it make sense?

How do I recompense?

 

Oh no(!),

I must forgo

my beliefs

and concepts

and ideals

to allow for alternative reals.

I reel,

in loss and confusion,

was I living in delusion?

Ignorance?

Fake and fragile

my concepts break

open.

 

The mind is torn, sliced, spliced and diced

with visions of newness and expansion and opportunity.

Wonder and awe and truth so bold,

the accoutrements of possibility

trimmed and dressed for all to behold.

Must I re-create(?)

everything(?).

 

For everything is fair play, everything in the game,

there is no shame or blame

to box-in with society's square frame.

Pandora, busting with curiosity, unleashes beastly designs

of an unendentured mind.

Looking on with wonder and amazement and even fright

it might be hard to delight

in the mystery of the unexplained.

 

Yes, ok, cool, interesting, hmmm

I am loose and free and open,

so here's to holpen.

Investigate the grand wide-open,

break free,

break through

cease(!), stop the mental doping

and re-open,

again and again.

 

Do I have the ability to accept change(?)

to re-arrange

a mind(?)

that might be deranged.

If I do,

I might just learn something new,

or remember something old.

 

Open and receive.

Open and receive.

A mind that is

open, yet skeptical

can believe

in anything

and not be fooled

or tooled

by the fabric of the mind’s stories’ spool.

 

Deciphering and discerning

diaphanous and learning

lucid and yearning

to be bent and toppled

and untrain any engrained drains

on the receptors for expansion

revolution and evolution.

 

Agile and soft

the open mind is a landing

and a launch pad

for delightful, cascading

cosmic creation –

a celebration,

a toss,

a cheer

and a round of a applause

to the kind

of mind

open

to shine.

 

* Image By Norbert, Gertrude and Chuck

* Image By Norbert, Gertrude and Chuck

Band Cohorts

Band Cohorts

This is my band of cohorts, my compadres.

My fellow schemers and dreamers.

My tribe, posse, parliament and parade.

My brothers and sisters.  

My mothers, fathers, nieces and nephews.

My elders and youngers.

My friends, folk, kin, and gaggle.

It's my pack, group, gang, clique, and cartel.

It’s my band.

 

We are thinkers and tinkers,

inventors and renters.

We laugh loudly and often

rousing rebels

and skipping pebbles.

We make fun out of the mundane,

we act insane

with our fortune and fame.

We wrestle and cuddle

and play in the mud.

Playing and jesting

while jiving and thriving

we contrive, wonder and desire.

We inspire and encourage,

educate and enhance.

We charm and romance

the rhythm of life

and the joy of being happy.

We tread lightly and brightly

on the serious goo and the smelly poo.

 

It is true

this consortium is made of me and you.

We see things through

to the finish, “to the end.”

Our path is winding,

it curves and bends.

Smooth and steady

all are called when dinner is ready.

We dine in a group, a gaggle, a pack

there is plenty for all

with nothing to lack.

We snack on the quorum

of quid and quo

imagining a future

with lofty glow.

 

If you need us

we are surfing cloud 9,

enjoying the cushiony breeze

feeling fine.

We shine

superly, duperly, and dandy indeed.

 

It is time to roll on

with God-speed

and Goddess-deed

the Great Spirit we feed,

our universal creed –

each other is all we need.

 

Come on.

Come along.

It is the group

that makes us strong.

Let go

and have some fun

in the sun,

rain and snow,

which ever way the wind blows –

all we need is us,

so off we go.

 

Band of Cohorts copy.jpg

Squeeze The Skin

Squeeze The Skin

Take 1:

            Squeeze the skin

            A hug, an embrace is how it begins

            Full and warm

            Safe from harm

            Ahhh, the comfort

            Of loving arms

 

Take 2:

            To greet those you love

            Press the flesh

            To express

            The motion of the heart

            Compress the skin

            Of your kin

 

Take 3:

            Press the flesh

            Hug the ones you love

            And the ones that love you

            And ones that are new

            And the ones made of gold

            That are ancient and old

 

Take 4:

            Hugs from the heart

            Hugs from the soul

            Make us filled-up and whole

            Our worries and cares

            Drift away

            Couldn’t we stay, here all day

 

Take 5:

            From mamas and papas

            Sisters and brothers

            Friends and strangers

            Companions and lovers

            All discover, all uncover

            How sweet it is to smother

 

Take 6:

            Press the flesh

            Squeeze the skin

            It’s easy, just jump right in

            Just do it, it feels really good

            Spread it around the neighborhood

 

Take 7:

Ensconced with embrace,

Surrounded by beauty

Nothing like a tender clutch

Now, that’s not really asking much

Just a sweetly simple touch

 

Take 8:

            Science even proves it so

            The more we hug

            The more we grow

            Brain chemicals are released

            Making us reside more in peace

 

Take 9:

            Try it

            Do it

            See how it goes

            When we’re skin to skin

            Everyone wins

 

Take 10:

            Having and holding           

            A truth unfolding

            On the surface

            Is a heavenly purpose

            For all to cling

 

Opinions and Judgments

Opinions and Judgments

I have opinions and judgments.

I waste and obsess.

I pollute, curse

and share in ignorance.

I have hypocritical tendencies.

 

I scheme and scam,

convince and connive.

I get angry and plot revenge.

 

I get crude and rude and lude.

I can be offensive and mean.

I misdirect my anger,

insult and spew venom.

 

I get bored easily and disgruntled quickly.

I have testy times and grumpy vibes.

I cannot take a joke – but I can give them.

 

I complain, gossip and taddle.

I enjoy throwing people under the bus,

watching others make mistakes

and blaming others for mine.

I have self-pity and search for sympathy when I fail,  

yet, I have no time for other people’s sorrow.

 

I love winning games, at any and all costs.

I brag when I win, celebrate profusely and talk trash.  

I sport a poor attitude when I lose,

maybe it is because I cheat. 

 

I lie and deceive.

I like giving people the middle finger,

cursing someone out,

and talking behind their back.

 

I do not burn bridges, I blow them up.

I yell, scream and shout in public

especially when I do not get my way.

 

I know I am not perfect,

yet, I can be the first to point out other people’s imperfections,

make fun of their dysfunctions,

and exaggerate their malfunctions –

not to mention push people’s buttons.

I passively aggress,

get envious at other people's success,

and stew in thoughts of negativity.

 

Despite all this I carry inside,

they are only just parts of me.

I have other parts and pieces, just come and see.

I may be a walking bag of contradictions,

but wait,

oh, just wait, Walt,

whimsical Walt,

we all contain multitudes.

 

Can you embrace me and all of my faults and failures,

all of my shades of gray (I have more than fifty),

my idiosyncrasies and quirks,

my oddities and malfunctions?  

Can you accept me with all my jagged edges and sharp points,

split ends and disastrous deeds,

affectations and afflictions,

hypocrisies and contradictions?

Can you welcome me with all my tempters and bad days,

my flailing remarks and sad ways,

rude comments and personality flares,

egoic tirades and terrified scares?

 

Myself is myself.

Me is me.

I have my moments.

Now that the air is clear

and I am allowed to have my moments,

maybe I won’t have as many.

I can now explore,

the other parts of me

more fully and famously,

more freakishly and flamboyantly,

more directly and nonjudgmentally.

I am more gregarious and inspired,

enspirited and enthusiastic,

grand and fantastic

to move into my awkward moments gracefully,

my scared moments fearlessly,

and my ugly moments beautifully. 

 

I can go on and enjoy my journey.

Even though I have…

I am something else altogether,

something wonderful and sweet

tender, magnificent, and awesome.

I am the journeying me

and someday I will see

more purely

what my soul can be.

 

 

 

Who is Your Guru

Who is Your Guru

Who is the guru, maestra, teacher or mentor?

Who’s protégé, disciple, apprentice, student are you?

Perhaps it is the tv screen or the face of a child?

Is it dollar bills or nature's wild?

Maybe it is the thoughts in our head

or the books we've read?

 

Are not our teachers,

            our gurus,

            our maestros,

            our idols,

                        anything and everything under the sun, moon and stars?

 

What are the mantras of our existence?

            Are they nothing but our circular verses inside our brain box?

            Are they everything that goes merry go round in our hearts?

            Are they the feelings in our gut?

            Are they our instincts and intuitions?

            Are they the recordings from our extrasensorial parts?

 

The spiraling and colliding relationships,

            with our stuff,

            and our habits,

            and our addictions,

            and our convictions,

            and our disciplines –

                        are they not our gurus?

 

What is your guru?

Who is your maestro?

Where are your teachers?

What sort,

            type,

            kind,

            style,

            or flavor?

When,

             and why,

             and where,

             and how,

                        do you yoke?

 

Are you your own teacher?

Is it not within?

What does it take to boldly take hold?

Are you not the sovereign soul authority?

Are you not

            the one,

            the maestro,

            the guru,

            the teacher,

            the pandit,

            and the ace?

 

Are you the you

that was dreamed

to remember

your power and prestige?

 

Is it time

            to awake,

            to arise,

            and to be forever lifted?

 

By who, what, when and where will you be moved?

 

Is it time for you to be your guru?

 

*image by Norbert, Gertrude & Chuck

 

 

Tears

Tears

Wonderful release

Calm, fierce

Our souls they soothe

            Our egos they pierce

 

They have many a Muse

Sadness and joy

A black and blue bruise

Or a broken toy –

            Down the cheeks they pursue

 

Memories from the past

Fear of what is to come

Sometimes they come instantly fast

Or stay for a while, as we come undone

            Eternity in a moment,

            Forever they last,

            Then gone with a flash

 

They hold the weight of the world

In their tiny-ness small

Representing minds broken and hearts twirled

In slow motion they fall

            Bold human display of Eros uncurled

 

*image by Norbert, Gertrude and Chuck