Don’t give me love nor memories that fade.
Don’t give me words nor pointless promises.
Don’t tell me you love me in so many brilliant manners,
nor how much you want me as if you were tying a knot.
Let it be night when I close my eyes, and please leave my soul alone.

Don’t give me flowers that have perished and will surely rot.
Nothing that’s dead can stand for us.
Don’t give me stones to carry nor a trench that I must fill.
Don’t give me smiles that are not yours, nor tears only shed to move me.
Show me the plainest of the plain in you, without prejudice nor pride.

Don’t give me anything, except your life, and I will tie it down with mine.
Give me your mornings, your fears, and your humanity.
Let our tomorrows be a garden, of smiles, tears, and laughter,
of children running dippily in merry-go-rounds,
of tender caresses, sighs, and whispers.
Give me your now and your forever and ever, in this life.

death is to cease to be seen
on the outside
not an end, not a beginning
it’s the perpetual push of a wind
that having passed by
will be felt no more
we live in infinity
way beyond ourselves
where the wind and it’s push
goes on goes on

There are days of sun, and days of rain,
and days where the wind
will press your soul almost to extinction.
Let things be, that will be.

Real thoughts are mindless thoughts.
Thoughts of the heart, of the skin,
a wink of an eye, the blink of both.
All meaning exactly what they mean.

Just be yourself, your thoughtless self.
Be selfish, negligent, foolish, reckless.
Who cares! Be whatever you wish,
whatever you are able to be.
Just be you and accept you.

Then change, if you may.
We are made from changes!
Remember, there are days of sun, and days of rain,
and those special days where the wind made you grow.
So, be the sunflower that welcomes the sun,
be the tulip that merrily swigs from the rain,
be the overgrown grass that bends and whistles as the wind runs by.
Be a little of them all,
and, who knows, if you can,
dare to be more.

Poems are not meant to be explained,
but I will do just that.  
You are your heart, your skin, your eyes,
but not your thoughts:
try to be your physical self, your thoughtless self,
and everything will always be alright.
You are the animal in you, the plant in you, the god in you.
You are all of these things, they are all you.
And you are so much more!

So, now, go on with your day, go on with your life,
and even go on, if you must, with your after-life.
But as you go, from now on,
tilt your head a little higher, and breathe a little deeper.
For, now you know: you are alive,
and that, in itself, is what’s divine.

Meditation does not mean to escape, but to
come closer. Praying does not mean to speak,
but to listen. Praying is meditation.

In meditation you seek to allow peace to
penetrate, to show itself, you seek truth.

There is no knowledge in truth.  Understanding
means to throw away your knowledge.

When you regain truth, you find peace.  When
you are at peace, you are mindful, compassion
flourishes freely, you start to smile, and you
fall in love, with everything.

Compassion is a verb, love is freedom, and
truth is to be yourself.

Satya, shanti, prajna, karuna, ananda, prema
is the order to parinibbana.

I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what
does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split
personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing
pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re
ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and,
as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time,  
living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity;
yet we suffer so much pain.

Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed
to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued
iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies,
stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make
my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly
ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed,
through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low-
cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and
gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over-
promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all
so unsatisfied.

We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end,
like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken
up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully
stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches
@Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint
pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the
name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys,
and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply,
then superficially, without even wondering, for a
zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any
longer.

We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners,
shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of
smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while
we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over
interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives,
chronically connected and severely distracted, in
aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through
comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere
and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs
at all this, and sobs, and so do I.

In retrospect we see
with eyes we do not have.
Blindness is as frequent
as breathing, or more.

One hand leading,
one hand lagging,
the ego soundly truncates
what expediency has not.

Blindness is not darkness:
blindness is not seeing.
Blindness is correctly being
in all our vapid states.

Physicality is abstract,
and the stalk to true self:
proper awareness must be earned,
through our factual senses.

corporal beauty is impractical and
unfeasible: though it attracts, it
also repels and subtracts: it’s the
trap to the trapper.

it spins and swings our slacking
slant of self, echoing the strapping
sounds of our ego: when we see
beauty, we see self (i.e. the
craving for self)

ultimately, it serves solely
one master: the spell and stretch
of time: visibly, beauty sags
sooner than time itself.

stand or stride on beauty and you
shall shake and wobble,
eventually.