The home, the helm, the mast and the rudder... without wind to our backs we surely would sputter, lucky for us we've wind as a boon blowing quite strongly the nuclear blossom bloomed awesomely. Wind to our backs, surely and awfully.

Maslow's heirarchy revisited

How can the self-actualized man return to regret, after defining regret as a system of cause and effect... how can the self-actualized man cope with blunder. The man so self-actualized with his head in the clouds, ever-moving forward without regret or remorse, happens across an irony. To promote a style of self that places emotional regard in second place, and then... A sudden realization, as sudden as actualization, that the tables turn and what a turn. The man experiences a past act of his own, as if from a third person view, except it is second-person and he is being acted upon. A method or mode of behavior that helped him cope so well in the past has finally come to bear upon his self. How ignorant the man has been of emotional pain, never having allowed it into his own life. The desire to appear strong manifest a brittle shell of delusion hiding his eyes from the tears in others hearts. What can this man do now to reconcile with himself? To gaze in his mind, over the field of memories, at the moments of pain caused. How to see this, feel this and affect a change internally? How to adjust a fallacious first principle? no excuses, no rationalization, no justification... The universe has deemed it necessary and the man must learn, or history is doomed to repeat.



By and by, things must die, and naturally so, in death they try, to live once more, using others as the door. By and by, teachers will try, to deceive them of the score, when surpassed they have, the teacher’s head, some will wish support and some to death’s contort... burning inside, the pain resides, in the anger infested heart... passing along the hastily contrived ’no’, while past regrets cause wishes of company to herald at once to misery... This event plays by, is hard to see... implanting doubt and insidious rivalry, I just wish the teachers could see, just what they are doing, as it had been done unto me... Half the story now told, of the wretched horror, so bold. There was light back then, seeing now backwards, around the bend... those few inspired folk, with smile, care, delightful laughter, and long flowing hair... attached with joy, I was to my chair... these fine teachers rejoiced of teaching so fair, we could all join in, it seemed like a dare... astounded we were as progress we found, each of us teamed up, member to member, each as a pair... no longer feeling like a hound. With those personal touches we all learned some tips, like the differences between rose petals and rose hips... really it was the look in their eyes, the intrigue veiled in a smiling wonderful disguise, a loving heart their passion, and passion their drive... I never fell far behind when it felt like we were riding side-by-side.



Inspired Poem of Living Light’s Deed

I have seen a thousand seraphim's flight

cloud the blinding sight

Immediately I felt the urge to flee

to go, to fly, to be

The wings were not perfect

maybe that is perfection's creed

for some light filtered through

the rays did cast

whilst only a moment was past

Light hit faces and freedom was found

from pains strike and burdens bound

I see this light

It is warming me

It lays aside confusion

and comforts me

It sings a steady song

every wave of every ocean

and of every stirring sea

the clouds do bloom

and wind does blow

while the moon swings 'round

to be

every urge, surge, and swell

righted in motion

says to me

"Be in action and act to be,

lest you live idlely"


Mossy river

There is moss by the river

it is warm and green

The sun is shinning brighter

than everything

There is moss by the river

I can sit and sing

the moss is much softer

near the end of spring

There is moss by the river

where to my love I bring

the moss is so soft now

we just lay and dream



Facing the advisary... whimsical weapons of wind

In night and day I meditate and pray for the courage to look straight into the way, to set aside the wall and stride... but that approach has hectic written all over it, virtue chimes lightly on patients and of sure plan... though the plan is part of the wall, allowing intricate choices to distort the manner of impression and of report... and in these lay pride and ego, those things for show and the useful time they blow... the vibration in my message must be sure, not valiant, not ignorant, and surely not a bore... I mustn't tally and must endure, and I don't want to waste time while she is waiting at the door... I know the balance that measure has weighed, the ball is in my court unsure of the next play... I know a gesture must be shown and should not hesitate... patience now the salve to the fire burning inside, I want for common ground and to wrap my arms around... to hold and dream and whisper soft-sweet sound... from a land in the sea she has sent her love to me, yet now my tongue is tied as to what to say to thee.

Greatful Dead

will be grateful when the struggle finally dies, this Love Sex Dichotomy flashing violently in my eyes, wisdom re-recycling and imitating the wise, I wish I really understood instead I just asked why, now I don't even do that, too much fear of rejections' implys. maybe it's for the better, I have yet to know. The stories seem more complete when you watch the competition from insult to defeat, except I feel I shouldn't have been there, my alternative options being evasively discreet, divine intervention or random perilous suspension gave me pause for report that destinies light is mingling with my sight, far down at the end of the land shines the light that in my heart doth expand, you could bask and bathe yet never get tan, for you see, this light is expressed as a man, myself empowered high over head, myself festering decay rotten dead, Greatful is me of my mind instead, now that the ridiculous dualistic combat is dead...

Working Inward

If words describe the falling scribe, then the words are ribbons of wrapping cloth, readying to lay the writer bare. putting with pen and soaking the paper, the ideas are really intentions spelled out for later... stale incantations, the incomplete ritual already undone... Passion the fire and light the fuel, this engine burns from morning to yule... Gazing and watching the far fletchings fly, facing forward so to see every impulse lending a hand and helping me not to die... the whispers going deeper urging and surging not to try... yet cold calloused preservation is too much work for not... outwards and upwards, this motion guides the light, lifting and holding this intersected sight. Dividing lines cut to the core, when wrapped up in a knot and put away for bore, we forget and begin to look around for more... only to divide the lies and eat up smores, split the secret up and get a divorce, work yourself up into a fervor and explode with remorse, babble on nonsense and bang on doors... spread now from corner to corner to corner to sun, it fell apart so beautifully and left me feeling a little less dumb, it’s a numbers game and it’s nobodys job to sum... but we try, yes we do, to run out of numbers and to add up all the left shoes... really I’d rather be flying, but only one wing won, a fight to the death that left me with none, maybe not, maybe it was only some, only enough to get past that guy in whom ego death sung... almost never, it was just.



{Used [unused (to be used)]}

I used to hang on every word, and fret over every chord

I used to stand on the edge, closely looking downward

Now I stand firmly on the knowledge, knowing there is really no ledge

No better place to be than comfortably within me.

The gathering of us and we in I are you as us is them

I saw a vision of a brush stroke

it began and ended with equal fervor

as extreme as any extremity could be

A splash at the start, as any should be

A stutter at the end, as the substance wears thin

yet a remarkable thing was seen at neither end

for the boldness of the stroke

and that portion which showed it's strength

was that firm solidity that stretched it's breadth

Splattery, fiery, and chaotic ends

are evidence enough that the terminal exists

through which our lifeline flows

end to end and back again

until perfection finds it's self complete

or completely undone

reminiscent of duality

remember it's all part of the show

duality plays it's part

in the need of know

struggle is of power, presence, and prominence

and life is of love, loyalty, and providence

And those who do not will dwindle

on the trickling stream of self

without integration

or systematic summation.

the relevance is lost

on the reverence, which

has been stripped

of it's revelations

and inspirations.

these the things we need.

I pray not to want

I pray to know what to need

I pray for the balance

between going and serene.



Something wrong with perfection

Color bled through from the colors between, though the fabric is died it's bursting at the seems. so brightly it shined, intensity it shed... In awe I stood in this such beautiful wake, this cosmic storm for beauty's sake. Displaced is the value and loose is the stone, long is the journey, this way that leads home. I see much in this world, much is kin to me... Fighting for the pinacle of achievement, fighting for what to see... Advertisment interjected sight with a dollar sign and a fee, we are now expected to take a collection and extrapolate myself from all of these... with time surely passing and attention guided well, our lives already lived out for us, our souls the biggest sell... with painstaking caution *they* are guiding us straight to hell.



Magian I

I dreamt a dream of a moon-lit beam, the face it lit had hardly seen the life so lively dreamed. This lively dream, moon-lit seen, moved me where it deemed. And strewn I was, to and fro, from chaotic to serene. The life so lively lived, nay, was but a dream.



I see your rage has aged into a mere illusionary cage.

When doth the light strike your stage and signal the reading of your page... the love will flow out, much as a water spout... in each and every seat the audience will be, a clearly different and separate version of yourself; just like me... we have seen something, yes we have, this sight overflowing as it had... I think I want more as I did before, but damn that raven "Never more!, never more"... now a quizzical state, depicted here upon such a clean slate... you've cleansed and cleaned some more, only to notice you've pushed yourself far off shore... the quest for an answer has only brought me end, I must instead quest for a question... then and only then will I exclaim 'More, more, more!'... of course (the genuine path of travel) this presents us a state of being that may not entirely be great... like chickens with no head, we might be better off dead... yet instead we cry out for more to be placed on our plate... until somethings gotta break, and we're calculating the date... on and on, it goes so well, the more we have the more we sell, when we'll be done it's hard to tell... so far you can hear the words I tell to you as from the vantage of a seer... it's not all bad, not even the beer... it's in excess that temptation has invested, and even now your taking the test. I have borne witness to the death and birth of the universe, and know that above-all-else is still somewhere in between. and when you begin to see the 'more' go 'on and on', you must ask your self "Really, what is a Moron"?



bordom is my worst enemy...

Instead of leaning upon my first instinct, wich is to seek(or find), I will ritualize to indemnify, and thus identify this thing against which I feel guarded... though awareness comes to play in each and every day that the continuum continually continues, which does sway my thoughts this day of the ways I feel I should stay, lest I find somthing and thus be lead astray... The conclusive thought is to delve inside and lay all externals aside calling on Satori to reunite the hive.



Relevant ideal

Beneath the color and feeling of the primal lies a sound, the orchestration by wich life proliferates. This gentle perturbation can serve as input to your overall existence, it hums in relation to the natural order. Precaution is a necessity for the system by wich it is guided is not the physical reality you see in everyday life, it is the weight of assurance/peace/adoration set at your very core to counterbalance the ruthless and required interactions of mankind. Balance is the only goal, it is cause for casualties and martyrs.


From my third-eye to your insides

Plow the field of integrity...put your will into it... make it yours for anyone will take it if they could, this is yours, the very thing you took from another...molded and changed...imprinted with the shadow of your soul...and you'll never get it back, just continue doing... when not doing then one must think... it's like ethereal currency... each act an expenditure... which of your investments have you seen return as of late? by and by I think you aught to at least put as much effort forward as you do in reverse... like a toy race car with a sticky wheel, always being turned about and being reminded that he can't continue in that direction... the red sign in the form of what would be reiterated as a rough patch in life... with varying length, depth, and/or density... the beautiful flaw of the process of elimination, life in a Turing machine... how do you account for multiple conclusions? Do they exist? If you can solve a problem more than one way... after you choose, could it have gone any other way and been the same?...simple answer is no... experience is a friend that sticks with you... what do you want him/her to look like?... put forth that ideal image in your mind while in the process of decision making...let it become a habit... the object of this exercise is to slowly become what you see yourself as... an unleashing of self...if this is not the case then you need to turn inward for the answers you need to dislodge your inhibited self... can you see your image? Does it require much effort to see it? How much of your decision-making do you let others perform for you? Do you just let things happen?... the Earth is a perfect example of a human... a tenuous balance between struggling forces... if any of these forces were to erode even a fraction of it's realm of constraint then the other forces would achieve a balance among themselves within the relinquished borders... when you give up your choices to others, you give them power over you, how ever miniscule... and as with any eroding force it is governed by the force of inertia... point blank, if you give, it will be expected... if you give people will take... people don't have much control over themselves... they will continue to take until you give no more... when I say "take", you should visualize a chamber with a table full of ethereal currency and an accountant sitting there keeping tabs on it... then you should see the line of people, one after another, taking taking taking... what is your first reaction to this sight?... "Close the borders, shut the gates, cease communication!"... you must resist this temptation most of all... it is dangerously similar to the want of sleep when depraved of oxygen... you need to rebuild your reserves of currency... time to get rid of that drained feeling... if the strain is upon you physically you could do with some sleep... but the best key lies in variation... too much sleep will make you depressed... increase your water intake, this aides in the elimination of chemical agents which may adversely effect your emotional/psychological balance... this balance is solely dependant upon your physical state... it is a balance of all three, each effecting and reflecting each other... it is a balance... not a binge and purge... what ever course of action you decide is necessary you need to be consistent... if you feel that the problem is not on the physical end of the triangle, yet your still an emotional roller coaster then you might consider applying yourself to a routine of some sort... from within your routine you may achieve psychological stability and will most likely be privy to an emotional calm... above all else, make decisions for yourself... another important factor you should pay attention to would be the decision-making processes of those around you... make sure you aren’t making choices for them... though in a short-term scope, making choices for others gives one the feeling of empowerment, be weary of this path, you don't want to end up alone with no-one around to boss about... instead you should encourage others in their own decisions... especially at those times when they ask you for your input... there are two primary influences on the behavior of those individuals who would rely on the judgment of others... insecurity being in the front, just because it feeds it's self... the second a slightly more deep rooted issue is far less's a simple matter of accountability... no-one wants to be responsible for any action, because of the possibility that it might turn out just as bad as it could good... these people would rather keep them selves pent up inside relying on others... this makes them a picturesque version of a hollow human with deep rooted concerns as to what their motivations are or if the ever had any at all... questions along the lines of "Why am I here?" plague these people...what else would you expect from a person who let everyone save themselves make decisions on their behalf, why?... Because it seems easier to go with the flow...and what is this flow? The movement of others nearby... would you trust your neighbor with your credit card?... then why trust strangers with your hopes, dreams, and ambitions?... sure everybody wants to fit in... but at what price? Higher than any would knowingly pay...the life and vitality of your very being as an individual personality.



'The Architect of Man'

Headstrong and willful in an attempt to be

a piece of cartilage off the human tree

connective components

particulate and obscene

bones having a place to meat

structure is organic

like the bend that's in your seat

thalamus always told us

you've got to control the heat

once the fires going

water is just something you can't beat

if its ear candy that your hearin'

that's where the hammer meets the anvil

though I can't quite grasp umami

this other thing tastes rather sweet

and photons are nicely being caught

by rod and cone shaped pins

on my inside out optical cleats

the aperture closing slightly

light focusing mightily

each particular part

fulfills a need slightly

of every child's dream

to be thought of, spoken to

even to be heard and seen

its like this great big building

plumb upon the schist

tragic wailing all about

for the architect, he is missed.

Why did he build this building, and leave us in its midst?

This fleshy temple, it's guiding light, and the faculties with which to sense.


'Introspection of an American Businessman'

On the relevance of man

before an elephant he stands

a bear and bull to his back

appearing to prepare for impact

and the mystic steed

an ass indeed

was casually talking smack

the man he stands

at high command

his foot upon the tack

gently stroking a whisker or two

the man demands the facts

of why he stands

at high command

with his foot upon a tack.

Hypocritical anti-media rant

In lieu of the dramatic, I have instead place the anticlimactic. for through and through this life we pursue the impression of wearing a worn shoe, that I'm as true to me as I am to you, and that as equal to what you say is what you do. I have this to say between me and you, that the secret of mysteries is but the mildest of intrusions on the freedoms of your mind. Strange and exotic symbolism displaces the real values that will lead to a strong and prosperous life, displaced by means of what we seek. Some of the paths we hold dear to our heart are so close to the truth yet they miss the point entirely when it is dictated that one should no longer seek in order to be complete. I would not wish stagnation upon anyone, and so I feel compelled to share what has been shared with me on the path of life, and that is that each light with it's own life has a beginning and an end, through traveling the distance between those points we seek to fulfill our ends. Everyone will agree that most people leave this place with more than they came here with and thus each end is filled with that very same substance which is conceptualized here. You might also agree that during life this substance is shared, formed by structures to inform other structures from within. By the mere causality of recognition and the provision of enough well defined symbols will allow for programmatic sequences to be 'shared' with the human mentality for to obtain a desired end result. Hence, mass-media is programing a nation with the 'consumer' code. Where is our destroyer of the unjustifiable creation?

3 - For this cool grungy ass animal that I knew

The trilogy came to see the big movie turned big G, when the light reflected and stored in their heads, split up more than a million ways he said, all herding for the exit, each in a different direction, the ninth dimensional spiral interconnected... when your beginning meets your end is the only way to tell just how you bend... this four-score trifle trash, where uncle sam wears a flag and uncle john throws a band bash... sloshing from extreme to extreme, just getting washed out... this double standard is all we are excited about!



Of letting go...

Fighting the world as it falls from your fingertips, running down, dripping flows of smoky essence that fades as you assail it with everything that you believe, everything that you have, everything you... it felt like the world was falling, only it was you... it felt like you were something, if only you knew, the moment of knowledge is everything leading up to and including the morning dew, but then it slipped and then you flew, far from this ledge of knowing, out into the splash of do, this action acting on motion like synergy between the moon and the ocean. Now then is the lingering question... Who Knows?



Variably viscous fluids flush all the finds of the unknown, with swirling consistence and energetic persistence pulsing and flowing in as many different directions as there are. Motion interlaced with resistance while inertia and entropy play hop scotch through the universe, eventually laying down with atrophy in little splashes of apathy...



Supple Gentile

Gentle sweetness, softly slid, from world to world... through the edges they hid, walking the sidewalk, creeping along... the shadows now dancing, to which they belong... the sky now an eratic display, the horizon well lit, now ablaze... to find our way without seeing, we must leap through the haze, the world raining cinders while the ground is never found, yet through the nether spaces I can still hear my sound, as universe collides with universe, skin contacts the ground... back again I was, with prize at hand and sweetness on my lip, a little dancing of the tongue and drip, drip, drip... each fiber of my being exploding with sight, each part with perspective, even here at night... dipping and swirling, reacting to soft sound, intuitive motion, passion abound... from world to world, a sound... my face was attached to her soft sweet mound.



A comment for completion of days not yet.

Mayhap the distance is not far

Also the door is slightly ajar

Light falling through as faint as a star

Firm earth and the smell of trees

Current time would cause flight right past these

Almost like that story 'Wheres the cheese?'

A simple sound would fall from humble lips

'Depart from yourself a part of this'

with coin and note in his grip

ignoring the gems that lie abound

to useless paper he's made his sound

And chiming in, with smug sweet grin

'I'll exchange your paper for a thimble of gin,

that way, each and every one of us will win.'

You get what you want, and I get mine

Who now will tarnish, and who will shine?

So sad the day now gone,

When you could still buy a pebble with a dime.



Story of seeds... reaped and then sown

The racing and rushing pursuit of graceful bare caresses... the faster it comes, the faster it must go... awareness of a need to just let go... when the time is prime, the world will chime, signaling of when and where to dine... the syncronistic flow, so well seen, is so hard to sow... my mishap now is meerly wanting to know... this urge so strong, it means I must be increasing. My urge to find, this deeply steeped in seeking...

I'm trying, I'm trying... as everyone must know

I'm trying so hard, it seems to be all I know

I'm trying to get there, I'm trying to go

It's all an eventuality, eventually it's got to go

How long I can keep this up, I just don't know

I'm scared of finding something, really I'm scared to know

If these are the thoughts I'm thinking ...I want, I need, I know...

No matter the perspective, this is what is so

Am I making things more, unnecessarily? or is there really more to show

Am I getting more via viewpoint, is it boredom that I owe?

Was this gift for me to see, or just for me to say and you to know?



I feel

I feel like smiling, but my face might explode

I feel like dialing, but the voice might say no

I feel like compiling, but the computer might just blow

I feel, and thats a problem with nowhere to go.

I felt the feeling of falling sorrow

I felt the feeling there may be no tomorrow

I felt the falling blow of noone to follow

I felt the feeling of that emotion, hard to swallow.

The peace must be

The piece must see

They were standing there, just the three

Outside it's all the same

Outside it looks like me

The feeling felt, officially seen

The breakdown melt, words vehemently obscene

The shadows deeply rooted, like an ages dead tree

The crust shattered open, the price a hefty fee

The swarm pours forth, like killer kamikaze bee

I felt the most, when I pressed delete just not to be.



Dirt in my eye, this vision far off seen...

Parting this place in pieces placed in parted partitions, while less than most of what little is left must be enough, even though it be left behind. And to the right we stand tall with angular nobility, lined with firm foundations, centered on an intersection. Off to the east, in waves of flow, where all know the way whether deer or doe. In all these things we each know, that which the other must. Intertwined with hindsight's 20/20, each thought firing blanks at everyone else's money. The weight is unbearable, yet the bears are still coming, I don't want to chew the cud, but boy aren't you cunning. Mystery ensnared, I have my misgivings, to each their own, at least somebodys' winning. The gears each turning, one into the next, where has this thought begun and where will it end, suspicion draws close, like a gun to my head, was this thought implanted, is my brain dead? The choice we are choosing, given to us, said "relax, enjoy, now blow off your head"... it appears to be sad the story once said, since we've watched all the tv, all the way to bed. It's happy, it's fun, now that our souls have been bled. Really, it's all we have left, instead of anything else. What is more important, where does it go... We're in a predicament now, three feet down and three more to go. How do we go about getting out, when we have been told it's not so. Who to believe? was belief ever free? Now that I'm lost and scared, who do I find to pay my fee. Like alice in wonderland, I am now confronted with those whom are in control, tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dee, they act the parts so professionally. Why has it become standard policy to simply play dumb, yet only if your a corporation unethicly undone. I am sorry to say that information is getting in the way, because paved with ill-intentions is the primary form of the information super-highway. "Buy more of what we say you need, regardless of use!" you're hopelessly feeding their greed. Our footing now unsure, with nothing left to seed, you should forget your hope, only sorrow now sown, with nothing left to eat... I assure you now, (they) will watch this feat, we will chase and chase around, in hopes of finding meat. It is neither hope nor dreams they have defeat, not faith or even belief. It is the entirety of humanity, into demonic clutches, (they) bequeath.



Divide and Conquer

Down where the roads are mating...

Even where the communities are gating...

Lied to about Individuality,

we are apathetically separating.

Are we already conquered,

here upon our knees

Whining and crying

about the failure

of our high esteem

Supplicate, Divide, Devote,

Invade, Devise, Promote,

Delay, Indebt, Forsake,

Forget, Enslave, then Immolate.

Fight for the cause without affect

Passive trials weigh heavly on balance, seeking remitance from the strain, strangleing the force by wich it perpetuates itself. dangling amidst the ashen sky, the balast heaves and hos, spanning the distance from whence we came to were we are to go. Yet only if gone is where we want to be, or to become, you see it might be a frightfully dense tree, the path layed out so intricately. Choice is only temptation, for convicted hearts see true. The heart heavy laiden, with the woes of the forsaken, clambers on despite his foes rejoicing from below. The mirrored lake tells this dark dreamers fate, in this world of puctuated hate, he must not hang his head as silence's copesmate.

Copyright © 2010 of original works belonging to Raymond Skinner, all rights reserved.