poetry | Tom's Nature-up-close Photography and Mindfulness Blog

All Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

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Story Time… Koan Time… (2)

December 14, 2016

7 comments

I took Eternity out (on a leash) for a walk today.

Upon reaching a fire hydrant she, of course,

took forever to do her business.

I said, “Why on earth do you take so long to do your business?”

Eternity just looked at me (with her little head tilted at a cute angle),

without replying, with an inordinate stare that seemed to

permanently transcend time and the separateness of space.

Then, for what I thought was a brief moment,

the boundless leash started pulling me, ever so slightly,

and we went on and on.

We, as we went on, passed by a beautiful, enduring damsel

sitting, persistently, upon a non-evanescent ever-green tree.

Please remember that whenever you and Eternity go (or may have gone)

out for a magical walk, perhaps with a leash — wherever or whatever

you move (or had moved) through, no matter how far or short it is,

no matter how many places you visited — your consciousness hasn’t

really moved anywhere (other than where it always was).

***************************************************************************************

eternalfountainofyouth.com

In the Ever-green Tree (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

In the Ever-green Tree (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Together Poem… or: Is One Really Separate from the Experience?

December 9, 2016

11 comments

The steps to the train they know their name

The sign by the bus creates a big fuss

The gate by the tree bent its left knee

The red light in town gave a huge frown

The bite off the peach spoke each to each

The cat on the floor petted more and more

The letter to the friend had plenty to spend

The tree by the brook gave a sweet kindly look

The snail by the well some flowers did sell

The fossil on the stone held its own cellphone

The fear by the door drowned by the shore

The bouncing ball was a joyful dog at a wall

The fog around the house chased a wild mouse

The slicing of bread would soon go to bed

The white toilet seat had just enough to eat

The smiles on the train did not ever complain

The look at the crow had photographs to show

The creak in the floor opened the front door

The corn in the field depressed brakes to yield

The flowers in the yard toiled very hard

The pen in the hand helped to make the man

The wisdom and the tree had to go and pee

Trilobite Fossil Cheirurus sp., middle Ordovician age (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Trilobite Fossil Cheirurus sp., middle Ordovician age (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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In the Pursuit of Color

December 2, 2016

15 comments

In the pursuit of color

levelheaded snapshots happened twice

at the heartflower of everything

feathered sirens sang their song

Simply sweet as nature’s grace

they nurture beauty and joy

far from apathy and indifference

implicit order moves along

Not overwrought with stilted lies

but beyond the obtuse pool

lone in the plush prairie preludes

pristine charm transcends war

Here as there is nowhere

beyond cold space’s creed

just as now always was

the flower’s passage widens perceive

The Flower’s Passage (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

The Flower’s Passage (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Is one really separate from what experiences are?

November 25, 2016

21 comments

Passionate lipstick Dreary clouds

Angry vehicles Bored jail bars

Smiling birthday cakes Careful tightropes

Dancing shoes Hungry enchiladas

Swearing beer bottles Patriotic flags

Sleepy beds Frightened darkness

Apprehensive boxing gloves Giggling lollipops

Complimentary babies Relaxed swimming pools

Melancholy psychiatrists Laughing balloons

Lost neighborhoods Generous donation containers

Indifferent guns Conversing ketchup bottles

Impatient intersections Whistling dogs

Proud properties Disappointed traffic tickets

Thirsty deserts Indoctrinated religions

Upset bronze medals Disenchanted politicians

Peeing fire hydrants Crying coffins

Thankful presents Listening walls

Reaching sandals Talented pianos

Lying used cars Flying flower blooms

Inquisitive computer screens Excited carnival rides

Nearsighted soup directions Farsighted oak trees

Insightful questions Stagnant presumptions

Bee & Bloom (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Bee & Bloom (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Poem That May Not Be About a Rose…

November 18, 2016

13 comments

Within life’s is(this immortal love

shouldn’t have been)but joyfully was

beyond barbarism’s wretched hoopla

between time’s gobbledygook of because

Not shoddy(jaded)mentally faded

ifs chattering through imaginable maybes

Not ordinarily common in obdurate rigidity

witless whens and wishwashy crazies

Not apathetically apart from pristine forever’s nows

Not merely immersed in cool November’s leafy falling

though blind gravity pulls the weeping rain down

pompous and proud in its feigned bawling

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head… (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head… (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Story Time… Koan Time…

November 11, 2016

16 comments

An enlightened man — one of only a few in this

particular solar system —

walked across the street.

He didn’t particularly care much for the pavement;

it was hardened, callous (like many, uncaring people),

and it covered a place where there used to be

lush, living things of great (soft) beauty.

There was awareness of the distant, oncoming traffic, but

unnecessary thoughts were (intelligently) not there;

there was no center, no authority to

merely see with (and “as”) separation.

As the street was being crossed, a wren came flying by.

Awareness was that little wren… not something separate from it,

(not something seeing it as being separate).

After the crossing of the street, a few steps were climbed.

As the steps were climbed, a curious squirrel was seen in a tree.

Curiously, that beautiful squirrel climbed the steps,

though it never left the tree.

What U R 2. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

What U R 2. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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In the Spectrum of the Whole…

November 4, 2016

26 comments

We’re all a part of the spectrum of holistic light

and just like the color yellow will never

permanently fade and disappear from that spectrum

each of us (including all life forms)

will never permanently disappear

With all the colors of life’s palette (life’s rainbow)

with all the dimensions of living light

we are there

There will always be yellow

and though yellow (and green) may fade now and then

they will always be there

Of Yellow and Green (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Of Yellow and Green (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Childhood Time and Beyond…

October 21, 2016

29 comments

Childhood time is a magical time)

and it’s all about magic (really)

life is

It’s so beautifully full of magic

life is

And youthful joy is that wonderment

and that feelingcloseto

sweet immortality

So many adults lose those wonderous moments

drink to their bitter depression

and go through the motions without

ever being alive

?Why do they stop asking questions

?Why do they with starched faces

cadaverously walk right past joy and beauty

I don’t ever want to grow up

Childhood time is a magical time

and it’s all about magic

(really

Silver-Spotted-Skipper (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Silver-Spotted-Skipper (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Haunted Halloween (spiders aren’t anything compared to this)…

October 14, 2016

13 comments

Let’s give a prize…

to those who were too crass and uncaring

to ever open their eyes.

Let’s provide a splendid, gold citation…

to those who radiated endless cruelty,

increased suffering, and needlessly caused frustration.

Let’s mindlessly vote for an unhinged, sick sociopath with an unstable mind that divides us…

who snarls that the polluted, unhealthy environment is balanced,

and that all of the dying coral reefs are quite healthy and marvelous.

Let’s cheapen the whole…

be ordinary, separative, comfortable, selfish,

and take a long, indifferent stroll.

Let’s thoughtlessly add more and more pollutants and superficial experiences to the fire…

and when this tiny world burns to the ground,

Let’s wait until the very last day to deeply inquire.

*************************************************************************************

Note:

[I love spiders. The real (deadly) thing on this planet (except for a few) walks on two legs, not eight.]

Halloween Surprise. Video by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

The Honest Poem

October 7, 2016

7 comments

The honest poem,beyond all the mumbo jumbo,

in a purgative way,tersely flushes out the detritus of words

exposing them for what they really are…

fractional representations that are inherently second-hand

The genuine poem,beyond all the gibberish and hogwash,

in a laxative way,wisely purges out the putrid,stale simulations

suggesting to,instead of dwelling in mere crappy accounts,

go and holistically perceive as if for the first time

Butterfly Flight (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Butterfly Flight (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

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Beyond the Sedentary Way

September 30, 2016

20 comments

Wonderfully then

came upon now

beyond images of “I”

beyond everything anyhow

Magically beyond wish

floated limitless dying

finishing dead symbols

in an alive not just trying

Sweetly far from measure

burst a timeless moving

not of stale thoughts

not of physic’s proving

Beyond the Sedentary Way. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Beyond the Sedentary Way. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Core of the Butterfly

September 23, 2016

19 comments

once upon a twice

wings folding unfolding

here within the universe’s

folding unfolding

twice upon a once

universes folding unfolding

here within the wings

folding unfolding

Pearl Crescent (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Pearl Crescent (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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When this What If…

September 16, 2016

15 comments

When this WHAT IF

rumin

8ed on what MIGHT BE,

ear

interrupted and re

main

as some

thing unpleasant

2 be elimin

8ed

by what considered

itself

2 besomewhat sepa

r8ed from the

ear

that thought thoughtithad

& also con

sidered it

self

separatefrom(&controlling)

images projecting the

possible future

& also

separate from the

whole of

time

toc

tic

Mommy Shortlegs. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Mommy Shortlegs. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Meditation and Un

September 9, 2016

8 comments

Upon which this once became a twice

and twice became trillions

because why not and many so between

floating eternally silently divine

Happily nothing within when’s nowhere

devoid of stale musts rotten shoulds

placid endlessly wondering alive always

beyond savage ugly and hurtful war

one little how. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

one little how. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Piggy

September 2, 2016

38 comments

When i first laid eyes on you

it was love at first sight

Then i got to know you better and realized

that we have so very much in common

You relish eating delectable meals

(So do i)

You love to smell the nearby,splendid wildflowers

(So do i)

You love the songs of the joyful,little birds early in the mornings

(So do i)

You like to watch beautiful horses sprightly prancing around

(So do i)

You love to roll around in the sweet,textured mud

(So do i) (Well,at least i did when i was your age)

You dislike being bossed,bullied,and pushed around by heartless people

(Same for me)

As time went by,i became even more enamored with you

Rumor had it,though,that you might be liquidated by carnivorous others

(That played heavy on my heart) I was looking forward to seeing you again

but not (being myself a long-term vegetarian) between

someone else’s two slices of bread

It is a shame when others dismiss you as

merely being a swine

We are all hoggish in our lives in

one form or another

***********************************************************************************************

This poem is dedicated — with much respect and fondness — to Jinx. Jinx was a bus driver at the school for the multiply handicapped where i worked as a teacher. In warm weather, i would often take my sack lunch to the beautiful river that was right on the school property… and eat my lunch on the banks, watching the river go by. Jinx would often be there fishing during his lunch break; he would release any fish that he caught. Jinx, when he found out that i was a vegetarian, told me that he had been the owner of a pig farm for many years. Then, one day, he decided to give it all up, because it seemed wrong to be raising them for slaughter. Jinx became a vegetarian. Quite some time later, after i had switched over to another school, i found out that Jinx died. Jinx was driving through Chicago. He had seen a house on fire and heard screams from children inside the house. Without hesitation, Jinx ran into the house in an attempt to rescue the children. Jinx died in that fire. He is a true hero (and he had real love).

http://www.nbcnews.com/id/24628983/ns/technology_and_science-science/t/smartest-animals/#.V6rBr5grKUk

Miss Piggy (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Miss Piggy (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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8 x 8 = 64

August 26, 2016

23 comments

When i was a child, i was the scissors, the paste, the glue, and the papers.

We were instructed to (each one of us) cut out a small paper kite and attach it to a big pegboard on the schoolroom wall. The teacher stated that whoever learned their multiplication tables to a certain level would be allowed to raise their kite higher to a corresponding level. I cut my kite into a grotesque shape. Our teacher asked me why (while i was good at art) i made my kite so distorted and “out of shape.” I told her that i did not want to have a nice kite that would appear to soar higher than the kites of all of my friends. I refused to learn the multiplication tables. I remember, at that young age, thinking that my teacher was very crude and unrefined for asking us to compete in such a way against each other. After a couple of weeks, the teacher allowed me to learn the multiplication tables without having to place my kite on the bulletin board. Years later, as a young adult, i visited (and worked for 6 wonderful months) in Perth, Ontario, at a magical place called “Family Pastimes.” They, at Family Pastimes, are caring vegetarians who make and sell cooperative (non-competitive) games. Play together, not against each other. When i was a child, i was the ringing of the school bell, the giggling of boys and girls, and the accordion-like, crushed paper coverings for plastic straws.

[Familypastimes.com]

64 flower stigmas, more or less. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

64 flower stigmas, more or less. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

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Upon this earth a here transpired…

August 19, 2016

23 comments

Upon this earth a here transpired

between all rabbits and everything inspired

Miraculous rambling after the tidings of dawn

beyond bourgeois commercials that boringly yawn

You’re not the world around you,you’ve learned assuredly

but seeing yourself apart perverts so luridly

To blossom past superficial darkness quite superb and transcendent

not the separative space of a shadowy pretendant

Part of the blossoming. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Part of the blossoming. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Butterfly Poesy…

August 12, 2016

24 comments

What is oneself?

Is one a vibrant, compassionate movement involving wholeness and integrity?

Or is one a fractional collage of mundane symbols,

stale ideas, and bourgeois reactions?

Is one a radiant, superb dynamic that exists as freshness and real change?…

Or is one a secondhand repeater of stagnant thoughts

and antiquated ideas?

Is one free like a splendid, magnificent butterfly?…

Or is one a jaded prisoner of static miseducation

and barbaric, indoctrinated values?

The listless chrysalis always bursts into gliding

if it leaves the secure confinement

of its own limited space.

Female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Turtles Airborne someday soon!

August 5, 2016

23 comments

Being in the water

is our domain

Being out of the water

is our domain

We can’t (as a species) fly yet

but we are certainly considering the possibilities!

*********************************************************************************************************************

[Please… don’t laugh about the possibility of “flying, airborne turtles.” In reality, from what one has seen so far, many people are a lot less likely to fundamentally change away from the self-deceptive, standard, run-of-the-mill, crass, bourgeois mentality… than the occurence of turtles evolving to fly.]

Who knows: Those huge webbed feet could be turned into wings over time! Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Beyond time’s deception…

July 29, 2016

23 comments

When

magically

the

crisp breeze

of pink summer

eclipses all thoughts

blossom

beyond the deception of time

to where energy bursts

without measure

and compassion gives

a damn

Bursting (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Bursting (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Beyond the intelligence of ignorance…

July 22, 2016

19 comments

Fragmentation

is the scientists’ piecemeal

way of ripping everything

to perhaps $\mathbf{j} = \frac{-i\hbar}{2m}\left(\Psi^* \nabla \Psi - \Psi \nabla \Psi^*\right)$ $= \frac\hbar m \mathrm{Im}(\Psi^*\nabla\Psi)=\mathrm{Re}(\Psi^* \frac{\hbar}{im} \nabla \Psi)$ one day understand everything.

The true wise man,however,abandons

chopping things up,abandons dissecting things

little by little.

The wise man clearly sees beyond the bits and segments

because his consciousness is devoid of mere bits and segments.

That is why he timelessly understands the whole better

than any sequential calculation wearing thick glasses.

In flight (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

In flight (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Iris…

July 15, 2016

17 comments

Once

simply minerals and water

Now

minerals and water cooperating with

a different twist,different tingly,energetic

sensation

that miraculously ebbs and flows like the

purple sea

beautiful sea

Purple Iris (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Purple Iris (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Sharing us…

July 1, 2016

21 comments

cryingplayinggigglinglearning

swimmingskippingjumpingfinding

kickingwhistlingdancingscreaming

laughingspittingdrinkingcaring

dreaminghelpinghatingdriving

huggingsleepingrockingsharing

walkingsmilinglisteningswearing

steeringrunningwonderingcomparing

readinglovinghidingglaring

writingseeingsufferingwearing

exploringwishingeatingbathing

blossomingkissingunderstandingdying

Purple Veronica (1) . Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Purple Veronica (2) . Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Understanding is not a possession…

June 24, 2016

16 comments

When laziness happens, laziness is not what you have…

laziness is what you are.

When indifference happens, indifference is not what you have…

indifference is what you are.

When anger happens, anger is not what you have…

anger is what you are.

When distortion looks…

distortion is what is seen.

When fear happens, fear is not what you have…

fear is what you are.

When compassion happens, compassion is not what you have…

compassion is what you are.

When understanding happens, understanding is not what you have…

understanding is what you are.

When recognition happens, recognition is not what you have…

recognition is what you are.

When wisdom happens, wisdom is not what you have…

wisdom is what you are.

Bellis Perennial. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Bellis Perennial… Through the Looking Glass Version. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Poem to a wild bird…

June 17, 2016

42 comments

We all cling to something

You cling to part of an old white birch tree

Some of us cling to corrupt politicians who promise sunny heaven

while connivingly making shady deals under the table

I’d rather cling to a simple old white birch

and then soar joyfully through the vast wondrous sky

rather than grasp onto what driveling babbling politicians say

I’d rather fly free into that wordless timeless immensity

Redpoll Finch. Video by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Indigo Bunting

June 10, 2016

30 comments

Eye couldn’t conceive so simply a pure blue

as perfectly miraculously feathered you

who far into the vast and cloudless skies

can fly deep from any terrestrial primate’s whys

Indigo Bunting. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Butterfly Answers

June 3, 2016

15 comments

Wherefore we alight upon these mineraled grounds

far from the dainty blossoming stores

with their nectar prizes all too pure and sugary seeded?

To extract something tangible and something intangible

must occur together as a unified whole

in and out of the recurrent clockwork of time that was needed.

The Cabbage Butterfly Club. Video by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Measuring one’s life with coffee spoons alongside Mr. Eliot…

May 27, 2016

11 comments

Here among the dust suspended is precisely where the story ended)
not that the end and beginning were ever the same
The agitating wings flapped a bird not far above rose leaves
while sequenced words inevitably turned eyes to the right

No superficial questions ever birthed deep answers
The yellow present became the future of past awareness
Ripples followed suddenlywetrocks unflinchingly
as adherents preceded authoritarians obtusely

Honey turned to nectar via six-legged winged creatures
as toilet paper touched crass politicians vehemently
(Elmer’s fun was glue as a child
Itching was scratching and blinking was deer

After the nectar. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

After the nectar. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

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Dogs Rock!

May 13, 2016

18 comments

Dogs are so joyful to frequently hug
Dogs are fun to roll around with on the living room rug
Dogs cherish you in their own little pack
Dogs = oodles of love to give back
Dogs just wish you to be compassionately there
Dogs (if your face is ugly) do not give a care
Dogs each can be just a wonderful friend
Dogs chase their tails to no attainable end

[The first photo is of our 14-year-old Shih Tzu, Gabbie. She just turned 14; yesterday was her birthday! The second photo is a 12 million-year-old fossil wolf from Eurasia. Could it be a distant ancestor to the dogs who own us? Possibly! (Putting a perspective on time here, recent research reveals that the ancestors of humans and chimpanzees may have begun genetically diverging from one another 13 million years ago; 12 million years ago we were still in the trees, safe from the terrestrial, predatory wolves.) ]

Our dog Gabbie. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

12 Million Year Old Fossil Wolf. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

The red and yellow of it…

May 6, 2016

23 comments

beyond the gobbledygook of politicians
and a mad society’s derelictions
beyond the divisive multiplicity
exists a yellow, whole, and naturally red simplicity

not bamboozled by their hateful despair
we won’t feed our youth to constant warfare
we’ll cherish love despite the bureaucrats
as we disappear from their gray caveats

Explosion in Spring. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Explosion in Spring. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Limited space…

April 29, 2016

12 comments

You need space (don’t you?) to discover “exciting
things” out there
(out there apart from what you are)

There’s only one problem with that
that they didn’t teach you
… which is:
Such space is always limited
and a mind that merely depends
on that limitation
is always limited

A mind that sagaciously goes beyond
such limited space
dies to limitation
and (in such psychological dying)
lives in (and “as”)
a boundless realm
beyond the isolation of
symbolic words, egotistical centers,
habitual cravings, and restricted beliefs

Mostpeople depend on limitation
and are that limitation
And there is nothing perceived
apart from what you are

Limited Space (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Limited Space (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

When we think that the “perceiver” is truly separate from “the perceived”…

April 24, 2016

22 comments

“And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.”
— T.S. Eliot

Excerpt from my book, which includes, just as it does within the book, another one of the many poems, by famous poets (who are deceased), that seem to help corroborate what i write about:

When we think that we are different and separate from our environment, we are wrong. When we think that we are better than those around us, we are wrong. When we think that we are special and that the others are not so special, we are wrong. When we think that we are not so special, as the lucky ones are, we are wrong. When we think that our skin is of the “better color,” we are wrong. When we think that our country or religious organization is better, we are wrong. When we think that fear is separate from what thought/thinking is, we are wrong. When we think that cruel greed and indifferent selfishness can “get away with it” and exist in deep happiness, we are wrong. When we think that the left arm that harms the right arm can truly be triumphant, we are wrong. When we laugh at the dog that chases its own tail, yet (we) endlessly seek pleasure from one amusement after another, we are wrong. When we think that silence, vast space, and quietness are merely barren voids of lifelessness, we are wrong. When we think that life, sunlight, gravity, and space are all mere coincidences that will never happen again, we are wrong. When we think that the big can exist without the little, we are wrong. When we think that left can exist without right, we are wrong. When we think that the sailor is not the sails, we are wrong. When we think that the mountain-climber is not the mountain that he conquers, we are wrong. When we think that the figure skater is not very slick, we are wrong. When we think that the magician is not an illusion, we are wrong. When we think that the “perceiver” is truly separate from “the perceived,” we are wrong.

from Walt Whitman:

When the script preaches instead of the preacher,
When the pulpit descends and goes instead of the carver
that carved the supporting desk,
When I can touch the body of books by night or by day,
and when they touch my body back again,
When a university course convinces like a slumbering
woman and child convince,
When the minted gold in the vault smiles like the night-
watchman’s daughter,
When warrantee deeds loafe in chairs opposite and are my
friendly companions,
I intend to reach them my hand, and make as much of them
as I do of men and women like you.

Clearly beautiful. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

The Ubiquitous Chord of Everything…

April 15, 2016

18 comments

The ubiquitous ChordofEverything

d

Ed to play parts of itself in s

Some facets(of the music relayed)turned out to be dancing and whales

Also,the ensemble included

yew and eye

gliding butterfly beauties and malodorous turds

and the insightful sagacity of existing beyond merely symbolic words

yew and eye. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Froggie

April 8, 2016

19 comments

When)you croaked I cried for days

(four days)

Then eye saw hop

splash

jump

slurp

moths dis

appearing

(a peering here and there)

and then(Suddenly) I kicked the bucket

Some folks wept

(it is useful for hauling

things like

leaves and

sticks

and wasted t

Froggie (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Froggie (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Latest news: Nouns are Old-fashioned…

April 1, 2016

22 comments

We steadfast nouns supposedly dwell in a scientific watery world of wriggling verbs
where nothing is solid and where we shouldn’t exist
where movements as all cigarettesmokespacetime are perpetually changing
as silky smooth adjectives write themselves and bring you to their list

Here and there adverbs endlessly and wholeheartedly played
Said I: “My nominative singular pronoun was bound to go bust”
Through the looking glass, prepositional phrases swayed like beautiful flowers
In a verb-oriented cosmic movement: nouns and this self… inevitably turning to rust

Say they syntax matters a lot of a whole hell
We’ve got free will alright; you can bet all of your relatives’ ingrained conditioning on that
And we’ve enough determiners to keep these phantasmagoric choices exceptionally happy
But when nouns become old-fashioned, you’ll have to give up your hat

Eternally flowing. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Eternally flowing. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

Re: A better form of Spring…

March 11, 2016

21 comments

Pristine beauty there beyond everything
(unnoticed by thoughts and all of their symbols)
in awareness limitlessly wisdom does spring

Boundaries dissolve and so time truly ends
Here,not just patterns and learned separations
Living magically in flowing harmony,my friend

Impeccable movement with deep immovability
where there doesn’t exist and neither do I
Beyond conflict,separation,and inscrutability

Red Cardinal. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Red Cardinal (2) Ditital Photo Art by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Post

If perception occurs without distortion…

March 4, 2016

14 comments

Love can be in the air,if perception occurs without distortion,
if looking takes place without a so-called central ego

A center apart can’t have profound love in the heart
if everything is seen via ruptured partition and cold separation

They are not thoughts from a true center;
“I” and “mine” are merely accumulated,learned thoughts

Though often cooperative (within “their own limited,little tribe”),
diminutive ants perceive with much friction and separation…(Must we?)

Not “these” are “my” thoughts,
but… “these thoughts”… “these perceptions”

You did not merely “have” jealous thoughts about something;
jealousy was what you were

Not just: “the beautiful bird flapping its wings”…
The wings are the beautiful bird

Not just: “my ideas”…
The ideas are the consciousness

Not just: “I saw the tree”
…but: “The perception of the tree was what you were”

Not: “I see and feel the many branches”
…but: “The many branches are not separate from what one is”

Not: “I looked into the mirror and admired myself”
… but: “Due to some undistorted poetry,the truly intelligent mind can possibly reflect upon what transcends mediocre separation”

Not: “These lines of poetry are presently being read by me”
… but: “These words of poetry, as reading presently occurs, are not separate from from what one is”

Not just: “Now I am going to meditate” (as if conditioning can choose to be the unconditioned… as if the smoke can choose to be the flames)
… but (the realization that): All thoughts (the “I” included as another thought, which it is) cannot ever decide to become (and then actually become) the freedom and non-limitation that they are not

Not (if you are very wise): “I stopped for oncoming traffic”
… but: “The oncoming traffic stopped”

Friction upon treeland. Photo by Thomas Peace c.2016

Post

Neither here nor there…

February 26, 2016

14 comments

“There” has
an element of di(stance) and
sep a ra tion to it.
“Here” has
an element of di(stance) and
sep a ra tion to it.

Neither “here” nor “there,”how(ever),
negates conflict,and
ends what was
taught to us
(and reinforced for us)
to reabsorb.

Bottoms up! (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Bottoms up! (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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On Eternity…

February 19, 2016

26 comments

one danced with infinity just the other day
of course,the limited and superficial never met her
(except briefly)
one would be safe to say

she always had her hat on
she always wore that dateless dress
her enduring nails reflected(ever(y)thing)
she remained brighter than(the rest)

*******************************************************************************************************************************

[The book that I wrote (i.e., “The Eternal Fountain of Youth”) deals a lot with the existent, basal nature of eternity, consciousness, and time. This book is not for the masses. Only read the book, by the way, if you are very stable and have it together, so to speak; it is extremely strong medicine. Even though the content of the book is extremely potent, it is not really dangerous; the real danger is for us to continue in our barbaric ways without changing.]

“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?”
― Emily Dickinson

life and death forever together. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Happy Valentines Day

February 14, 2016

18 comments

A poem on our wall, composed by E. E. Cummings and signed by
E. E. Cummings:

E.E.Cummings Poem Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Impossible union

February 12, 2016

29 comments

impossible union
mixed in the mud
dimmer than never
brighter when always

transcending shadows
creeping so shyly
(finer than sand dunes
silence)everlasting

nowhere to be found
worshiped fallaciously
falling with snowflakes
rising in time

once upon ever
words were their reading
slowly as learning
fast as a crime

Mixed in the mud. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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In terms of truth…

February 5, 2016

17 comments

In terms of truth
everyone thought the world was flat
except (of course) the
wise man
who saw the world was round

In terms of space
everyone thought from separation
except (of course) the
wise man
who perceived that he was sound

In terms of experience
everyone thought they had (and were not actually) the experiences
except (of course) the
wise man
who joyfully went beyond mere experience

In the backyard. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Be Careful!…

January 29, 2016

20 comments

later last night or maybe the other
one went walking, and not with your brother
whatever was scene was a part of the seen
then walked along nowhere with nothing between

unseasonable whether, weather you feel it or not
fossil fuels as greenhouseffect gases drive and fly a lot
golfing umpteen politicians sling us to war
making plenty of excuses about what fighting is fore

far from Teflon where sticking doesn’t matter
a happy wren eats oily seeds naturally fatter
an error in writin tis a beutaful ting
avoid Zika fliers early next spring

The Zika virus, as you have seen on the local news, is carried by mosquitoes, and is supposed to spread globally. Pregnant women who are bitten can have children who are micro-cephalic. I taught, before i retired, multiply handicapped students with mental retardation. One girl, who i had at one time in my classroom — who was born to a mother who had Dengue Fever as the result of a mosquito bite — had a severe micro-cephalic condition. When you would touch the top of her very small head, it was like touching a sponge; there was little skull support surrounding the brain. She had very little awareness of her surroundings. Be alert to where this virus is spreading. Please, if it is an area where you live, seriously think about curtailing pregnancy; if you are already pregnant, please stay indoors and use all kinds of precautions. Both of these viruses cause joint pain in people. Be very careful! (If it comes to the area where we live… you won’t be seeing as many nature photos from me.) Hopefully, this disease will not be nearly as widespread as many scientists are saying. This year, the Olympics in Rio are where the virus oriented mosquitoes currently exist; here, and other parts of the world where this is happening, is where people will be spraying like mad (which isn’t good for the environment, but may curtail much of the spreading, hopefully). If people would stop vacationing to distant countries, it would help slow the spread and progression of this disease, plus the earth would be better off with less pollution from fossil fuels (which aircraft spew out like mad). By releasing sulfur dioxide and carbon dioxide higher in the atmosphere, aircraft allow molecules of pollution more time to trap heat, causing havoc for our environment. These mosquitoes, scientists say, will spread by hiding in jet planes and other aircraft as they move from one country to another. Sorry if this is a bit frightening… but this is a precarious thing. One has seen what it can do.

Mosquito Eater. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

To be avoided. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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That Placeless Place…

January 22, 2016

18 comments

Here is where the matter ends
beyond the tick of space and the edge of time
it’s a nowhere that can’t be bought
in a depth further than the superficial can find

True life is where the past is gone
a placeless place beyond thought’s deprivation
it’s an everywhere that is priceless
in a union beyond a learned separative station

Red Milkweed Borer. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

Red Milkweed Borer. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016

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Just Be Ordinary

January 8, 2016

13 comments

Just be ordinary

Just be what they programmed you to be

Just safely fit in and never stand out as being different

Just try to impress a large number of others who are just like you…

who are practically exact clones or copies of what you are

Just continue to perceive like you and everyone else

were taught to perceive

Just continue to constrain or manage internal fears

while thinking that they are something separate from what you are

Just try to get ahead and have a wonderful time

impressing yourself while thinking that self is something separate

from animals plants experiences others thoughts and time…

just like everyone else tends to

No Irony Here. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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Time soon to Deornamentize the Christmas Tree…

January 3, 2016

18 comments

Time soon to deornament the dressed-up Christmas tree
without anything on it’ll feel blissfully naked and free
until it goes to where we’ll be going if we don’t get the earth right
to a vile world full of garbage and dead debris without any light

If you wish to keep Life forever growing as healthy beautiful pines
join the Sierra Club and send politicians heartfelt environmental lines

Time to take the tree down soon. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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Hoping your “New Year” is Happy and Healthy!

January 1, 2016

15 comments

*** Hoping your “new year” (though there is really nothing all that new about it) is full of true joy and enchanting wonder! Don’t make any “New Year Resolutions.” Go beyond (dead and stagnant) ideals and just wisely watch what takes place from moment to moment (without learned separation and without mere self-imposed patterns that are likely rather stiff and cadaverous). ***

Sprouting mushrooms in the forest
symbiotic with the trees
conveying more than mind projections
sharing nutrients in simple ease

In the meadow spins the spider
painting webs with splendid grace
silver fish swim as pulsing power
lilacs shoot smiles to nature’s face

Insect wings beat through the garden
crickets chirp a cheery song
trickling rain drops from the thunder
gurgling swift stream moves along

In the whispering of the answer
wisdom shares her answer soon
beyond all of thought separations
is truth’s harmonizing of the tune

Insect wings (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

Insect wings (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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In the poignant circulating of the cosmic wheel

December 27, 2015

15 comments

In the poignant circulating of the cosmic wheel

only a small portion exist pliable enough to feel

In time’s perpetual murmur along the mutated stride

only a small handful passionately perceive with eyes open wide

In the inept fervor of politic’s frantic flames

most cling to shadows rarely stuttering their names

In the isolated prearrangement of the seeing of the same

most reside as separative symbols that stylish inattention helps retain

Only the Fruiting Part. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

Only the Fruiting Part. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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When Merry Christmas comes to YouMeThemUsAll who are the lack of living flowers around the Gazebo (and the snowman who isn’t)…

December 25, 2015

13 comments

(Well, when Christmas comes around, we put poinsettias on the kitchen table.)

From E. E. Cummings:

blossoming are people

nimbler than Really

go whirling into gaily

white thousands return

by millions and dreaming

drift hundreds come swimming

(Each a keener secret

than silence even tells)

all the earth has turned to sky

are flowers neither why nor how

when is now and which is Who

and i am you are i am we

(pretty twinkle merry bells)

Someone has been born

everyone is noone

dance around the snowman

In the mix. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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Beyond the Learned Center

December 18, 2015

13 comments

the hopping toad was the garden’s movement

toward that which wasn’t apart

from the symphonic moonlit night that was

crickets chirping as one beyond silence

while hands washed each other in blended sequence

a spacious window gazed out of itself

then one very shiny silver spoon quantified instant coffee

and the rhythmic ticking of the clock walked to the kitchen sink

right foot preceded left foot at measured intervals

as distance carefully calculated momentum

eyes moved from left to right repeatedly

wondering about the elemental purpose of this poem

Garden Hopping. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

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