By the Balls




By the Balls

The 'I' we are, is stuffed with lies, made at the time when fears
were wrung, to cope with monsters in the closet, and under the bed.
When school yard toughs, and painted teen-age fluffs were peers,
one's image and rep, was all we had to keep from being bled.

Embellishments to personality, helped one survive
the ravages of youth, but many never shook it off,
and bought the bull instead. Truth is never something we contrive.
Unless put right, we die like pigs with snouts, ears deep in troughs

of filthy bunk. A skull taught true silence, can see it all.
Not needing to construct a frame or box, such a mind groks,
on sliding scales, events and elements, both large and small.
One doesn't think, one just looks, and Conscious Understanding opens locks.

One I, or many 'I's', that is the question. A single side
of Self, or a Self with many sides, none the which are boss?
This is the make or break dilemma hingeing whether 'walk or ride',
becomes a choice that helps our cause. It's not a chance coin toss,
'
one answer's right, and crikey, it's imperative to get
it right. It's difficult because it seems to us, we're one.
We cannot see just who's the one, who bumps our cage, with gun
in hand and says, "you're dead unless I get a cigarette",

(or chocolate bar); or those who keep a private stash of lust
behind their honey's back; or they who should take one, take two.
When we keep secrets, opposing loyalties are thrust
against the blade of Truth, which twists, resulting in a screw.

Behind the daylight plane where all men face their daily fate,
a back estate exists with energies of a different kind.
Our sense does not include the means to know or penetrate
this mystic realm from which, our better notions roam the mind.

Most folks don't know how fully they're asleep, or even that
further waking is possible. A mega realm exists
of wonderous energies and ways, that make earth look flat,
and we came from this place. The inner universe consists

of the same Infinity the outer-verse enjoys.
Caught in thorns of arrogance and doubt, one's soul's not free
to understand and know which way is up. We act as if we're toys
dressed up for play, and not out hunting bear. The holy three;

Goodness, Truth and Beauty compress into Love and Rightness.
This is the path that leads to where you want to go. If brightness
in your mortal core is on your list, this pure triumverate
must be the sacred cloud from which, you breathe and contemplate.