MYSTICAL POEMS OF MVM

THE RECIEVEING GIVER

He gave the poor food and the rich heart.
For each one had what the other needed.
He saw this but they did not.
So he wore the poor man’s hat for the rich and vice versa.


THE WEARER OF HATS

As the wearer of hats puts it,
To wear any particular hat is to know that hat,
and to know a hat one must experience it firsthand.
He then has the power to wear it when he sees fit.

THE GRASSHOPPER

I’m bored of hopping from blade to blade.
I have mastered this art.
I need a new illusion to ponder.

THE SPIDER

I wait patiently in meditation.
Prey comes to me and I have abundant food.
If other creatures could learn this patience they to would no longer need to seek.

LET GO OF THE POEM

I want to ponder the imponderable.
Fine then ponder the imponderable but then let go.
I want to be happy.
Fine then be happy but then let go.
I want to let go.
Fine then let go but then end the damn poem.

TO OWN UP

To own up to who we are is to own up to what we want is too own up to ware we are going is to own up to who we trust is to own up to who we serve.

WEALTH TO RICHES

He was the wealthiest man in the world.
Until one day he gave up all his wealth.
At that instant, he became the richest man in the world.

THE GREAT PARADOX

When I am inspired I write.
When I am not I don’t.
Because that would be lying to my self.
I only do that when I write.

THE PERFECT POEM

She was in search of the perfect poem.
When she finally found it she realized that it had no words.

WHAT DO I WANT TO KNOW?

I ask the question. What do I want to know?
Knowing that answers can come, I settle into the question.
What do I want to know?
What is the question that I seek?
A-HA! The question that I seek is what do I want to know?
So then I relax and settle into the question.
Then, the answer comes.
It comes from the calm of the moment …
I have no need for questions.
Questions paralyze me.
I have no need for answers.
Answers corrupt me.
I look to the sky for confirmation.
The soul of the sky replies.
You have no need for confirmation.
Though I may be the most beautiful sky you have ever seen.


WHEN NEEDED, FORGETFULNESS SHOULD BE REMEMBERED

Receiving a glimpse of the old self, I choose not to return.
To have the freedom to choose is a wonderful blessing.
To go back, that freedom would not be as easily seen.
Though if that were the case, forgetfulness would have to occur.
Forgetfulness can be healing.
Forgetfulness can be harmful.
To have the know-how to discern is in itself a blessing.


FOOD FOR A SMALL PLANET

Never mind? Nope, that’s enlightenment.
So let’s not go there.
Always mind? Nope, that’s insanity.
So let’s not go there.
50/50? Nope, that’s anal.
So let’s not go there.
The enlightened observe.
The insane analyze.
Those who are 50/50 are over balanced.
If one dives in he should see to it that he does not drown.
Though he should also see to it that there is enough water.


THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN

Boy, that sure was rude of him.
You are right of course, it was rude of him.
On one side of the coin.
On the other side, however, it was not.
And I chose to look at both sides.
When I tell the masses of the other side of the coin they call me insane.
So the masses go on in their misery.
Blind to the other side of the coin.
They call me insane.
But I would rather be insane and happy then sane and miserable.



THE SCHOLAR AND THE SAGE

Scholar – I know a lot and can speak well on many topics.
Sage – Than you are very limited, aren’t you?
Scholar – how can you say that?
Sage – I don’t have to, you just did.
Scholar – So than you speak in riddles that go nowhere?
Sage – Exactly. Nowhere. I would recommend it as a remedy for you.


CONTAGIOUS

A worm face is contagious.
A cold one, too.
A soul may experience both within a moment.
Is the soul the creator or the creation?
Perhaps both.
Perhaps neither.


THE POETS ROLE

The poet writes.
The reader interprets.
For the poet to take this away from the reader is to take away the reader’s soul.
A song moves no two people the same way.
If there were an 11th commandment written it should read: Thou shalt not tell another to think a certain way unless both parties agree.
Suggest, do not tell.
Follow, do not push.
Guide, do not pull.
Dance, do not fight.
To help another understand is to let him understand for himself.
If there is one power allowed to a poet it should be the power to guide the readers closer to themselves.

KNOWING

When one sees truth he may think, I know.
He does know until he thinks, I know.
At the point just before knowing, he has a choice.
If he chooses to know, he misses the point.
The point of truth is not to know it but to experience it.


WE ARE WHAT WE THINK WE ARE

The analytical analyze.
The feelers feel.
The knowers know.
The Doubters doubt.
We are all these things and more unless we think otherwise.


THE NATURAL COURSE

The natural course can only be taught by you and learned by you.
I only know one thing of you.
That is, that you are your own best guide.
You are the fuel that moves you closer to you.


THERE AND HERE

There is there.
There is here.
Are we there or here?
We are both.
We are nether.
Let’s take a peak.
Let’s remove the dust.
Does the dust come back.
Yes, but the more dust we see the more dust we can clear.
There and here.


THE EGO AND SPIRIT

There is spirit, there is ego.
We are both, don’t fight either.
If we are going to fall, let’s fall limp.

MERGING CONFLICTING PERSPECTIVES

Conflicting perspectives cause disorder.
Merging conflicting perspectives creates balance.
Both parties have to be willing, though.
Most minds see their own perspective and that is it.
To move one’s mind beyond its original boundaries takes bravery.
It is safer if one does not pursue this route.
He doesn’t have to feel as much.
He doesn’t have to be as human.

THE MUSICIAN’S BEST TOOL

For the musician who knows not of emotion,
He is like a cook with no ingredients,
A painter who is color blind,
And a mute speaker who, through desperation, tries to move a crowd.
The dedicated musician who really dives into himself may one day stumble across one note.
One note.
One beautiful note.
And one beautiful note is far more precious than a thousand that do not stir the soul.


WORDS, WORDS AND MORE WORDS

Don’t be fooled by the man who speaks words, words and more words.
Though he occupies his time with words he may not know his own heart.
If this be the case his words are hot and his heart cold.
His mind may be sharp while his emotions are dull.
This breed may be the smuggest of the smug.
His mind is fueled by the poison of arrogance.
When it comes to reality he claims to know.
When questions need answers he is quick to volunteer his words
Words, words and more words
Heartless words breeds a heartless reality.
If a sharp mind does not have the foundation of sincere emotions,
then his mind in reality is duller than the dullest sword.
He cannot penetrate the soul of the masses.
So all he has are his words, words and more words.


GREY BEARD

The man with the gray beard is listened to more.
His gray beard tells people he knows more than the young.
Even if he knows nothing, the color of his beard tells people, this is a person who knows.
If he acts sober then he really knows.
And if he pretends to be smart then he is considered wise.
I know a 5 year old who would put these bearded old wise men to shame.
We are quick to listen to the gray beards and to dismiss the wisdom of the child.
Remember one thing my friend, wisdom is not a fixed shape or color.


THERE AIN’T NO POINT

There ain’t no words to describe the wordless.
It can not be written about.
It can not be spoken about.
So what is the point of this poem?
There ain’t no point.

MAYBE

Is my music good?
Maybe.
Are my words nice?
Maybe.
Do I care?
Maybe.



LISTENING TO THE CENTER

If one can be content with defeat and indifferent to victory,
he will remain in the center of life’s tornadoes.
If he chooses complacency as his path,
he will get swept into chaos and spill ink on his map.


A POEM IS A POEM

As this poem writes itself,
it reminds itself of its meaningless words.
It reminds itself that whether it contains 5 words or 5 million,
it is just another misunderstood poem.
Though the soul of the reader may be good he will search for understanding
of things that are impossible to understand.
So, for heaven’s sake read the poem and be done with it.
It says nothing.


MY CLEVER SELF

As I sit here reading my poems,
the thought enters my mind.
These are clever poems.
Whether I know the difference between cleverness and non cleverness does not matter.
They are clever in my mind.
And this thought comforts me.
It keeps me safe.
I don’t have to face my self.
Ahhh… and it feels good and safe and
I can pretend that I know myself.
My clever self.


MY WORDS

To know the right words to write is wise.
To know the wrong words to write is wiser.
To write nothing at all may be yet even wiser and closer to the truth.
Yet I am content with my words.
My lies.



THE INTERVIEW

Who do I write for? Good question.
Myself? Maybe. Others? Maybe.
Both? Maybe. Neither? Maybe.
What do I write about? Good question.
That which can be perceived? Maybe.
That which cannot be perceived? Maybe.
Both? Maybe. Neither? Maybe.
When do I write? Good question.
When I do? Maybe.
When I don’t? Maybe.
Both? Maybe. Neither? Maybe.
Where do I write? Good question.
Everywhere? Maybe. Nowhere? Maybe.
Both? Maybe. Neither? Maybe.
Why do I write? Good question.
To express myself? Maybe.
To suppress myself? Maybe.
Both? Maybe. Neither? Maybe.


IN LOVE VERSUS LOVE

In love is a perfect spring day.
Love is both a perfect spring day and
a wretched winter day in harmony with each other.
Love knows what in love is.
But in love knows not of love.
It only knows springtime and roses.
The other seasons are foreign to in love.
Why do we fear love?
Because we are afraid of death.
We are afraid of the death of in love.
We do not perceive the reality of transformation.
Instead we chose to focus on the illusion of death.
Once love reveals itself to in love,
the heart of in love can’t help but expand into all four seasons.
In love then becomes love.
What in love once feared
now has no bearing.
And not only did in love not die,
it also did not lose itself.
Even though the river merges with the ocean
it still can locate itself.


UNDERESTIMATION

Underestimation of your fellow man
brings a finite concept to both parties.
It brings the party of infinity to a halt.
It categorizes the heart as limited.
It confines the mind to what it thinks it knows.
We reach out.
We search for the friend
who will not confine us
to that which we think we are.
We search and search and search.
We keep our doors open.
And if we are lucky we find a friend
who will allow us the freedom to become ourself.


THE POINTLESS MOMENT

Look out, friends.
For these words were meant
for your eyes and ears.
And even at this point
I have no idea where the words will go.
For this is the moment at hand.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
It is an interpretation if you will.
An interpretation that may or may not ring true for you and I.
I sense that this tidbit
is coming to a close.
Though I feel for some reason
that I should make a point.
mmm... no , on second thought, this will do.


THE STIRRING OF CONTEMPLATION AND INSPIRATION

If I have stirred contemplation in the listener that is good.
If I have stirred the ceasing
of contemplation than that is better.
Inspiration being the fuel for contemplation,
let death consume contemplation.
Inspiration being vaster than contemplation,
give up the latter for a while
to explore the many varied terrain of the first.
The map of inspiration cannot be seen with the physical eye.
For this is like smelling symphonies
and tasting chocolate with one’s ears.
To love is not to contemplate love.
One may love contemplation
But to contemplate love
is to not even sense a single leaf on a vast tree.
We will continue the contemplation though.
It is fun.
It is candy for the mind.
And we all need candy in one or another form.
Whether the candy be of form or formless
Indulge… it’s human.


THE SECLUDED ALLEYWAYS
OF THE WALKING CONTRADICTONS

Walking contradictions
make their way
to secluded alleyways
where truth and ignorance
are one and the same,
and peace is a constant tone.
In this area of town
the enlightened come
to sit with one another,
and chat, or meditate, or feel,
or eat, or grow, or shrink,
or whatever they need at that moment.
For each one has
what the other needs.
And what they need,
when gotten, causes a calm.
Causes a coming into what is.
Causes a burning away of what isn’t.
Causes what isn’t to give birth to what is.
Causes a reason to be here.
Causes reason to implode.
Causes here to explode.
And causes now to devour all causes.
In the secluded alleyways
of the walking contradictions.



MIRRORING

I enjoy the imperfection of things.
They help me get in touch
with the human side of whatever I am.
I like illusions as well.
They are fun for a while.
And if illusions be the flip side of reality.
Well then, even more reason to indulge.
They say that the only way
that one can see both sides of a coin
is if it is held up to a mirror.
Hmmm…. Let’s see then.
How about holding ourselves up to a mirror.
What do we see as we glance upon
the reflection of our ego?
Ahhh… do we see something
or do we feel something?
Let’s not forget our mirror then.
So we can now and then check out our soul.


KNOWLEDGE OF NOTHING

A great writer once said to me,
write about what you know.
So me, knowing nothing,
I continue to write about it.
It continues to write about me.
We pursue each other.
We are slaves to each other.
We are best friends.
Lovers.
Soul mates, if you will.
I once got sick when I started knowing things.
And it was not until I regained my knowledge of nothing
that I regained my health.
Knowing nothing has been good to me.
As far as illusions go,
this is one of the more peaceful ones.
It does not compete,
So nothing can compete with it.

A DRIVE IN THE MIND

I took a drive last week,
shopping for words
I drove past the various shops.
A few that caught my attention were:
THE SHOP OF ORIGINAL WORD COMBINATIONS,
NEW ENGLAND WORDS,
A WORLD OF WORDLESS WORDS
and Store 777 with a sign posted,
VALUABLE POETIC WORDS 50% OFF.
And in the window there was a book entitled
WORDING OFF WORDY WORDS
And two other book covers with the headings,
WHY WORRY OVER WORDS? and
WORDS ARE LIKE WORTS.
As I shopped the streets of my mind,
I saw lots of words for sale,
both meaningful and meaningless,
yet for some reason,
I could not find any to describe my point.


TICKLED

If one can find a way,
to tickle oneself,
then he can call upon a mirror
with the confidence
of seeing greatness.
If one can tickle another,
then greatness can stare back.
And when this happens
Greatness is doubled.
And both parties can lean back
On the cushions of their great souls.


SURROUNDINGS

As I gather words
from my surroundings
the one way sign
warns me not to enter
into this dimension
of sight sound and mind.
A word or phrase
passes by my ear
from a radio song
or nearby conversation.
A grand exchange
takes place as I attempt
to enter this space.
Which flows without
Worry or fear.
I bank on driving through,
No, rather riding on the moment.
The five or so other customers leave
and I am left with
the sound of the
NANTUCKET NECTARS machine
MAGIC 106.7, my thoughts
and the voices of the
coffee shop helpers.
I look across the street
and see the no right turn sign.
I look out the window
To my left and see
a one way do not enter sign.
And I feel thankful.
Thankful for the fact
that at this moment in time
these signs do not appear in my mind.


THE EXCHANGE

Examining our exchange
we change our example
with ample expertise.
We exchange our exself
with expert – ease.
Extending without expending.
Exorcising the ex self.
And exploring the new extension.
The ecstatic exciting existence.
The exhilarating exhibition.

A BALANCED DIET

The selfish self says
Do for me.
The selfless self says
Do for others.
The integrated self says
Do for both.
Selfishness can be likened
to a gallon of chocolate ice-cream.
Selflessness, a plate of vegetables.
While one satisfies the palate
the other nourishes the whole
I would be lying if I said
that I did not like palate pleasers.
But if the whole is neglected
even chocolate ice-cream
is not so sweet.


WORNING DO NOT DISSECT THIS POEM!!!

WARNING!!! Do not dissect this poem.
Its substance cannot be dissected.
One would have better luck dissecting air.
And I have tried chopping air before.
I have yet to find a sharp enough knife.
So, again I repeat, do not dissect this poem.
That’s right… Now concentrate.
Are you ready?
OK. We are on: THIS!!! Word.
Not the word that came before.
Not the word that has yet to come.
But THIS!!! Word.
Is this poem about the present,
the moment at hand, you ask.
I say, I said before: do not dissect this poem!
This poem is about the now. You say.
I say. Boy, you are one hopeless case.
But luckily my patience is such that
Sooner or later you may actually get
This good for nothing pile of words.

FORGETTING HOW TO TRY

I forgot how to try last night.
Ended up flying through the sun.
Strolled the solar system for a while
Then had Venus for a night cap.
While passing by Saturn,
I noticed that on its rings,
Written in light were these words:
I, BEING THE CREATOR OF ALL THINGS,
THE DESTROYER OFF ALL THINGS,
AND THE KNOWER OFF ALL THINGS,
CAN ONLY BE COMPLETE THROUGH
EXPERIENCING A LIMITED VERSION
OF MYSELF WHERE I AM CREATED,
DESTROYED, AND FORGET THAT
I AM THE SOURCE OF ALL.
I tossed these words in my hat
and headed back home.
Where I continued at the point
that I had left off
Tensed up, limited,and trying.


EART

As I drifted off
to sleep one night
I began sinking,
sinking deep, deep, deeper
into a dream.
I dreamt that I was moving
about very, very slowly
on some planet.
The name is rather
vague in my mind.
Was it eart?
Yes, I think that was it.
And if I recall, I believe
That the consumption
of various beasts and
colorful chunks of eart
were essential to my maintenance.
The confinement of mind
and emotions were also essential.
Why I know not.
Yet the emotion of love
was permitted to expand
so that it could scorch fear
beyond repair.


TRYING TO UNDERSTAND
IS MISSING THE POINT

Opened up a Chinese book today.
Couldn’t understand it.
Opened up an Italian book.
Couldn’t understand it.
Opened up a Spanish book.
Couldn’t understand it.
Opened up an English book.
Pretended to understand.
Opened up my mind.
Got a glimpse of understanding
Opened up my heart.
Saw myself.
Tried to understand.
Couldn’t and was disappointed.
Stopped trying.
Understood and was content.


MARCH SOMETHING

2:34 P.M Thursday March something.
I’m at a Chinese bakery
in Malden, Massachusetts.
Gave up on inspiration
for the day
when the face of ignorance
walked in.
Ahh… something to write about.
I try staying open to the fact
that they may be the wise
and me the fool as they
open the juice cooler
cussing and bragging
about their 50 pushups
they did earlier today
I don’t really care; I guess
it just gives me something
to sound clever about
so that I can hang out
with my own ignorance.
Or just simply slip into
the illusion that I may
actually know something.

DISSECT THE ILLUSION

Dissect the illusion.
Go ahead, let us look
and analyze.
And if we pretend
to know we can
then feel the fleeting
emotion of comfort.


SIMPLER IS TRUER

To find truth in cleverness
is a rare find indeed.
In the case of simplicity however
seeds of truth grow greener and taller.
Take the word love for example.
It seems to me that the more one babbles
about love the further away from it he goes.
Love is infinite in its form
therefore it has no form.
To describe it with words
is to limit its magnificence.
If the musician can find one beautiful note
it is far more precious than a thousand
that do not stir the soul.
Such as the master archer,
who needs only one arrow
to penetrate the center of
his desired target.
So to is the musician with his one note
Pierces the heart of the listener.
If truth is purity in its purest form
then a newborn is truer than a grown man.
If thought gives birth to words,
Then thought is truer than words.
And if that is the case,
Then that which gives birth to thought
is even more true.

THIS GREEN PEN

This green pen
does not feel
the same today.
It commits sorcery
behind my back.
while my mind wonders
it brags of its wizardry
and I slap it hard for
for its mischief.
And I say, if you go
too far astray
You’re bound to lose your way.
And I may no longer pray
for your good intentions.
Because your good intentions
will no longer exist for you
and if that becomes the case,
I will have to find myself
a new pen.