Little Gypsy Witch

To relate, or not to relate–

In Gina Bishop on September 3, 2015 at 10:25 pm

Dex

To relate, or not to relate–

that is the question for our generation,

our habitually perplexed state of being

and our fiend ambitions…

Birthed instinctively clinging to claim an idea of “self”,

We loosely grasp our own: worth, identity, reality.

The revolution is in our minds (!)

like a stir-crazed child,

seemingly trapped in an endless crib

of “self” doubt, criticism, loathing—

Dear Neighbor,

I regret to inform you that we cannot peacefully co-exist at this time.

There is no room for hugs.

But, let’s exchange inconsequential pleasantries (!) …

I am currently occupied– with a very (very) busy job,

Wait, I mean… My ego is preoccupied–

with feeding an addiction-to being “right”.

So, I will find time to disprove- whatever it is you believe, say, or do-

Because, it aligns with the plight of always being “right”.

Enjoy the fruit basket, see you in church.

Sincerely, Your “Good” Neighbor

We are-

the robots, racketeers,

suckers and saints,

negotiating self worth at high prices-

But, at the expense of what?

Gambling away…

the only thing that ever meant anything,

Our cells, Our selves.

We are-

what we came here with.

We are-

what we leave here with.

Wherever will our sacrifices lead?

Time spent on spending,

Spending time on what?

A lifetime barely spent “trying”

to be relatable…

and, to relate—

Sometimes Purely, Sometimes Poorly,

Blinking a blind third eye, dissolution of perceptibility

Lost Connections of the Masses, Madness-

disintegration of the divine.

Deafening politeness repeats,

muted ears decipher the beat,

insincerity disguised as integrity-

drenched in the heat of the discrete,

sweat the poetic justice

of our unconscious liberty-

Will we be led by Grace ?

forsake the beat of the heart,

abominable Lovers, void of conscience,

without a thought or word,  to jot-

Jog! Cynics jive,

drunkenly dance in life’s hazy fog.

One step, two step, three step-

drudge.

hum goes the drone-

Turned off, Tuned out, Dropped on—

our heads,

splat- goes the sound of our poo-

pooed imaginations

We swallow fear,

by the mass(ive)-

Genetically Modified Doses.

Kaleidoscope of truth, reveal the absolute–

infinite and finite nature of it all.

Masking the inevitable, obvious,

nature of our human need to Attach-

by attaching, only to be attached-

to some Need, to break free-

We detach,  all of Our-manySelves.

the “rest” compartmentalized,

in manageable doses,

for functionality.

Fleeting illusions of “peace of mind”,

mask the imbalance we so often hide.

Harmony a mystical fantasy we long to ride…

We read the books,

We buy the beliefs,

We trust the answers so blindly,

we go…

escapism is our moral code.

Hustle, Hide, Spend, Repeat.

Hustle, Hide, Spend, Retreat.

We travel, without question –

What is the source of our insatiable appetite?

Why do we long to get,

as far from where we came,

as far as one can go?

Will we return to Ourselves once more ?

We go, to come, to Realize

we want Everything but,

we need Nothing more,

than to be–

OurOwn-true-Self.

Our past, weighs heavy on us-

Yet, we over pack.

We are the noisemakers, disrupting the silence,

traipsing carelessly down our misguided path…

there’s always someone else to blame

Counterfeiting ideas of success,

in wild pursuit of a thing called “fame”,

a “thing” we believe we so deserve to gain-

the only truth we must fully attain-

is to recognize,

the reality of our mortality.

We fear to feel the ground we pass

and choose to forget where it is we came.

The “I AM” that is forevermore.

“Then” does not exist.

The time is NOW and,

It is WE who must learn to tread gently,

and consciously-

in the present, of this singular day-

because, Today, is all there ever is…

To Whom It May Concern, 

We have been misinformed. And, we have totally accepted being misinformed. We are living to claim ownership of “something” that feels close to “us”-ness. A “thing” that is “No-thing” at all.  A “thing” that was always ours and a “thing” that we can never be separate from– US. Yet, we refuse to commune with the divine. We reject communicating, unifying and expressing our true calling… and accept fear as our natural state of – being. And, so much as we are living day by day, we are dying to be a “somebody”, or somebody– else. We have relinquished the necessity in simply being here- as a whole and thriving “Some-One” because, we have not accepted the responsibility of our own free will, as our own.

So… what now?

 Will we learn to relate on this unrelatable terrain?

Do we have enough awareness to be empathetic during insanely numbing times?

Can we find methods of listening more and talking less?

Will we be rational as we navigate personal, social and political complexities?

Do we have the heart to start loving and stop using the name of God to excuse heartless intolerance?

Can we dissolve theories, traditions, practices and ideas that no longer serve us?

Will we start listening less to the media and more to nature?

Do we dare prioritize being real over feeling pretty or prosperous?

Can a desire for conscious collaboration override mindless discrimination?

Will we creatively coexist as a species without implementing false ideas of “good” or “evil” ?

Do we dare trust our moral compass to guide us towards more compassion and less ignorance?

Can we allow our intuitive minds to replace our irrational fears?

Will we risk being free, acknowledging our will as such, in exchange for the illusions of comfort?

I’ll let you know in 20 years…

Sincerely,

Optimistically Disillusioned 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: