Sometimes words water-skip
across some kind of I-sky river’d sadness,
wrung out, de-boned, stone-cold, unkempt;
Kindness kickin’ with the criatura-crouched
counter-kindness kiting by.

Kinky head-trip, karmic hat trick,
pulling colorful baubl’d things, unbearable,
dark night-nourished things,
from beings we hope will back-up
our beautifully contstructed belief-system.

These things do not exist.
Validation is for victims.

The hard-drive of “I” is humming alive and running well.

We are not victims…and the idea of such
is smokey vapor trails
from fires set and flames fanned
when we landed in the land of the living and the dead.

Fanaic-Flipping over the past burning barrels of believing
anything or anyone can save this mimic’d me,
I serve up simple songs,
mouth out mantras of idiocy and charm,
in decant and disrobe,
in dukka-duckback water’d woo yays.

IdobelieveIdobelieve I don’t believe
(again she sends this, Oy vey!)
Okay, Okay. Could it be like a kinetic heart-charge in challenge?
A kind of personal Khyber Pass passing
we must pass through to the Kashmir-Hearted Jewel of Truth?

Chimera-chuddar’d in karmic clothing,
kilted in wail and moan, lowing loudly out,
“Please, please, oh please Love me…”

"And the lake grows crystal clear”
when what we fear is faced
and traced to the original place
it was birthed – head-works that emerged like this:

“Oh God, Dear Lord, Where are You?”

“Who Am I” that wants to know?

Showmanship of the Self, a most Manjusric Magic-Trick!

There is no severance pay.
Here now, this is the hot buck passed.



LoveAlways,

Mazie

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