My thoughts are confricting
Matters rubbing mind
Heating as they're beating
On the anvil of my kind
About the concepts of creation
Between a women and a man
Where I stand in the relation
Of what I aren't and who I am
Conflict and dissension
Happening in my head
Conscience scrapping consciousness
Schrodingers cats not dead?
The poet William Stafford said that
he wrote a poem every morning
about the first word that came into his head
This is what a poet do's
(for the grammar police, dos - operating system software)
So lower your standards and
don't wait for The Muse
So I
being an aspiring poetic guy
resolved to give his method a try
So here's a poem for me and you
It's title is I Need a Poo
I hope that that it's about going to the toilet
Doesn't offend you and doesn't spoil it
And now that I am able to sit at my table
A body intentive about being inventive
and choosing to write at the end of the night
I think
isn't that what creativities about
It's how I get my insides out
And now I've done it my only sorrow
Is the worry I'll write the same poem tomorrow
How low can my standards go?
Every religion has its fundamentalists and mystics.
Every culture its members and misfits.
Every organisation it's laws and freedoms.
Every system its believers and cynics.
Every game it's rules and aim.
Every thought its pros and cons.
Every life it's joys and strife.
Every universe it's centre which is right where you are standing.
You can't have nonduality without duality that's reality
a marriage is a husband and a wife together making life
the two being one makes a daughter or a son
as creating goes on and on and on(e)
What went wrong was sisters and brothers
saw others and not love is.
What went bang when the big bang banged
"Prologue- constitutes "words" spoken to introduce a poem or novel." Been thinking about logs or could say I've been logging about thinking. Log meaning study of, as in, biology - life, ecology - home, mythology - story, logos - word. Log - a part of a branch from a tree. A tree in The Garden of which eating from formed me as I am? I am conscious of this and perhaps this is consciousness? I think therefore I am? "In the beginning was the Word." Meanwhile another logging truck passes my house carrying the seedlings I grew years ago at Puha Nursery. Log out of poem.
