On the Dole of Dharma

[Guest guest]

Dear God: Minimize the crying game fame

associated in name only, to me. Free me from

the Summa Cum Laude shout all about and all around

all of us (All-Is-Me) crash course combusting karmically

comically, tragically in the cuss-and-bless

Yes&No of the boldly told Homerisms,

Mazieisms,

HumanBeingisms given, and enlivened from

the living caves

of the crazy, craving for Love Heart imparting

impeccably, impartiality’s reality. Reality? Me?

Get real. Me? I see the Silency of Sea

in soundedness is rounding out the talking head’s edges …

Headless

ness

is professed in this, tested in all investments of, oh Love!

The Guest Is God embodiment I’ve Bhava-borrowed

and burrowed in,

been buried within, been sinless,

shameless

married to the grave while lying alone

looking up at the Sun from the Moon from the cradle

of the womb. You do know that this is all a dream truth-lie

that I am forsoothing the soothing sound

of Death’s breath borrowing my own? Do I have

the knack of not this-not this stitched richly in

my pen’s giddy-up and go? I do not know

what I cannot know.

Are pell-mell knells dying down in this song?

 

Don’t

you

believe it!

 

Don’t

you

believe it?

Seize it,

the day, and unsay my lies, unstay my time,

and rhyme the rapture had when Hong Sau sears

the fears of No into the Om of Whoa, Baby! Waaaay!

Say Yes.

Yes. I confess … and I confide

that I am

still

so

very scary green

with me, myself, and I … still trying denying that I Am.

And I am

on the dole of Dharma, charmed

by the chink in the armor’s linkage of thinkage: Think

Sri Yukteswar speaking in seriousness: Let us

hie Homeward within (my Friend), for the darkness of Maya

is fast approaching. Encroaching

on my Soul’s Sole Sovereignty, a starfield reveals

spinal-highway arrivedly, Myself to myself.

I hear and I’m saying it too, kookachoo and woohoo too,

to two-not-two … to hearing truly, ‘Son,

you’re still wet behind the ears, (the Heart-ears, Dear Ones).

In my mind, I find myself wealthy with wallow,

hollowed-out and hallowed

out by the routes not taken,

by the seething, surging, wording wonder spun

from the lumpsum sinkhole of Me singing,

winging my way through the D’Ohtavakra-Gita,

(The first step to failure is trying),

to the Jai-Allah Mahjong of falling far and long

from the dumbwaiter-wall of Bodhidharma bearing me

baring me to The Sea of Love. Oh Love!

I long for You.

I live for You.

I die for You, too.

Will you ever forget the fright-night fable

cable-coded in codicils of willfulness, wantonness

and wild-eyed warbling, wanting us to be

Fie! The Am of being I, and I being

an unbearable being bearing the likeness of the likes of

Beavis & Butthead, of

Bozo the Clown, of

Beloved come as this God-branded Shakti-Goddess gal. Like,

God … Quo Vadis this, now.

Wow.

I somehow still simply simmer like chickpea soup

when you

wander by,

when you

arrive inside the light

of all my ideas of Semper fie…Why

this I should try to deny any of this …

is a mystery to none. We shun Love as Love

is running shadow-tight beside us.

I have shunned the Sun, running

from the only Light in the Sky of Mind – I Am …

That world-wafting wanderlust … is Us, us crafting fat

scatterback actions of shattered rapture shaft

reflections of the Real.

I have tried to define myself as a free-being seer

severing the little-self’s leverage, shouldering up

the levee of me against the Oceanic Freedom of Thee.

I see that it’s a game claimancy giving attributions

to me, myself, mirror-magic made to say, on a clear day

(or so they say) you can see forever. Commute

this mouthy, mute maverick back

to fade to black…Arc always inside the actionless actions

of maximizing entirely, I and my guises of

a semi-gimme-gimme professionality.

Reality? Sheesh.

The confessional lessons

that I have learned while on my knees

before me, myself, I, Christ,

and God, give leeway lengths and levity

to the contrivancy of being me. And me? Compromise … I?

Moizie, most moxy-shockingly talking about truth?

Pshaw, I thaw Hearts apart

upon the unthawed cheeks of all seekers … I am …

complete…replete with the sweet pink secrets

of a rose-blushed hushing-up

when the tattle-tell compulsion

cantilevers compassion into rash actions of reactivity.

Me? I see my greed-fed ignorance

in all its ignobility.

You see, Bob’s Ixnay’s Greebes’ got nuthin’ on me!

Deny that I have ever clever-girl kettle-settled

someone’s head-up-their-ass hash? I ask myself

the selfsame searching inquiries in the words I’m writing

right

now.

The holy cows I’ve kept so sacred

have grazed their frightened faces

upon the last slick knack I have of crass,

human-grass munching acts, of push-comes-to-shove,

mug-scrunching in judgement unlovingness,

of an incredible, unbelievable selfishness

I’ve shined and whined forth from my one-woman act

of atrocities in error against the Light, against Love Itself…

I have gathered together all anu-amplitudes of all my selves

comprised from the infinite sky of consciousness … and I am

all humankind, and every beasty, feasting thing … and I am

everything I see, feel, think or be. I See from mySelf,

the Inconceivable Wealth of being Dharma-dram,

Tao-draught, Yoga-laughter swallowed,

all of me and everything I be, Being MySelf,

The One Sum Total

of Absolutely Nothing,

absolutely acting in everything, in everyone

forever and forever and forever …. in time-

and time dies when this I dies knowing Who Am I.

 

I am as a Fana-flung Funhouse in full-throated Mirthrightfulness,

I, Being, born adorned of the entire attraction-repulsion garmets

of ghosts floating within this, our Collective Consciousness,

in a realtime-dreamtime repertoire of revealing

beveled mirrors mirroring mirrors

mirroring me for all to see in all my myriad

madnesses that have been enhanced egoically …

by Grace, oh! the Grace

embracing me completely,

that I might See

MySelf … God.

 

 

 

As I Am,

 

Mazie