Civeo's Magnum Opus

I am not sure what it will take to serve,
except for that we will need integrity, courage, and compassion.
Look at us!
We’re soldiers already, each fighting some sort of battle every day.
Pity we so often take up arms against one another, mistaking our despair. You see?
Where is cause for such madness when here and now, not beyond a good will to better understand our own humanity, are lush golden fields?
If we go today, we each put on our poetic breastplate, souls ablaze, rouse our moral fibers and use our greatest weapon, our words, to defend our dignity.
May we stand tall together, as tall and purpose-filled as a spring poppy!

O the hour

In this second is everything. A simple moment, yet illimitably deep and dynamic. In this minute life everywhere is budding with purpose and in it I, alive with intention, bubbling with joy, flowing over brim. And you, a gem. Unique. Pure wonderment! Nothing alike and it not unlike you. Sometimes I can hardly believe my eyes. Better I trust. It's here and now. Happening in a snap. Already gone. So seize. Flashes of inspiration. Jazz hands. We're riding the storm or the wave and I wander closer to and farther from. And what marvels beyond the Tree of Knowledge but the sacred Tree of Life? Imagination.

As I step onto the sidewalk, I'm amazed at the gentleman walking toward me with his air and that smile. Not long after, I cross a river bridge, and over there I see a child. She’s running to the poppy garden, and crouches to touch a bushy bulb. I wonder, and I think she wonders too, if she's gunna snap one of those flimsy intoxicating flowers off at stem. She hesitates. It has its place, its peace. Who’s to yank it from roots and leave thirsty and dry? Water, water, O holy water! Moving like there ain't no boundaries. Like we’re all one and this is all the same old story but unraveling in another way? Hopefully this time better than last. We might learn from ourselves or those hanging golden stars. Blanket of warm light in darkness. Hark! It may be love which holds the firmament. Maya Angelou. We hope, and it's faith in dawn that keeps us going. Go, go, and stop. Ready, set... soar again! Glide like a butterfly, sting like a bee -Muhammad Ali. Suddenly, there's that ol’ boxer buzz. Pollinated vibrations electrically charged. I put my finger on it; can make your hair stand straight up! Absolutely enthralled and I know I am freedom! Fertility I tell you. Dance because today is given to us. And the greatest art gallery we'll see is the one we're already in. It's better than any factory production. Enchanted.

All this excitement has me tired now. I rest, breathing, still in a turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless, neither coming nor going. Zen. Natured and nurtured. How intricate yet punchy this second. Weird and wonderful this minute. This is luscious stuff and O the hour.  

Au delà

Past the Tree of Knowledge, stands the Tree of Life.
You'll find me there.
And so it goes -
By an endless turn of imagination,
A fruit tree, rooted and still, embraces all seasons.
Alive with intention!
Zen child, natured and nutured.
Come rain, come shine.
Grateful for the shade.
Faith in Dawn.

Crystals in a Glass Jar

Crystals growing in a glass jar.
Amid all this reflection,
I ask,
where is the light coming from?

Refraction,
Deflected truths and dancing illusions
play with mirrors of a brilliant diamond.
No clarity.

Wake-up.
Don't believe everything you think.
And, yet, know it when you see it.
Soul's afire.

Ever Short

I. Truths - however short. Questions - whyever short?
II. How ever short of truth, why ever short of wonder?

III. Whyever short of wonder, however short of truth?

IV. However tall a truth, whyever short a wonder?

Ode to MLK Jr

Portrait

Of a man who lives –to see to it–; whose fisted hand firmly holds humanity’s dignity, who raises it high in common brotherhood and lowers it with courageous conviction, whose arms are links in an unyielding demand for freedom and respect, whose mind dreams on and on, whose feet march on and on, whose soul hopes on and on, whose heart loves on and on, whose spirit struggles relentlessly to bring: Power to the People!

Strength of Vulnerability

Unguarded, uncertain, uncomfortable, nerve-wracking. Questions making way for potential, for tolerance, for understanding. Open to groundbreaks, to heartbreaks. Belief in self-worth, turning pain to power. Ready to chance, dare, serve, love. Vulnerability, a warm hug, the courage to feel. Are you alive?

for Lovers

Embarce that you won't know
why, it is so. And so it is,
better that way. Just as lovers are better
apart. (Well, not really, but a certain differentiation helps

to hold onto perspective, be thankful,
stay wildly curious about another, build
passion in the tension between connection, find
mystery in how you act out your play).

If they're you, and you them, then you're bored
all over again. Unable to will yourself to move, an awkward
four legged two headed monster stuck in a fear driven draw between
whose numbskull is going to shoot first?

The world's on fire! You've got to pick up your feet, darling!
We'll fuck up. So forget about it.
Love often. Go! Where these words don't mean a thing.
Talk about shit with integrity. Smile because it's happening.

O, Yes! It's happening,
like the engagement we're born into. Be
glad you're alive to see
how this old flame still burns.

In an Instant

In an instant I grew
a horizon wider... a sky taller... an ocean deeper...
I thought surely this is it;
one of those unforgettable happenings.
So far,
so true.

To-do's...

To turn the hands of time... To slow it all down and pick the ripe low hanging fruit of our hope trees... To act out a dream, exit stage left, and make way for another play... To be a fool for a lover who could do with more than what’s called for... To strip down and tear it up...  To turn up and put it on since our minute-hands are like chalk and cheese... To go merrymaking and cherry-picking more often... To sweep a tint of radiance over another’s tip-off, recognizing they’ve somehow enhanced our own… To just do it... To find irresistible...

Matrix

Open    Your      Eyes      Your      Open

Your      Eyes     Open     Eyes      Your

Eyes     Open     Your      Open     Eyes

Ode to Pens

You’re seeing this now,
what I wrote then,
somehow brought together
by this silent instrument.

I flow through its narrow passage to colour the surface,
my tone polishes the inks  poisonous rivulet; 
or so I hope,
for your burning ears on the other side.

Listen,
and know my words don’t mean a thing
compared to how I carry them,
for its integrity which lifts the soul.

"The Ultimate Guide"

Reality is,
the truest story told
has not been written
in a language
we can understand.

Exposed Brick

Because there is a new fashion in town

you may not have heard how once

dry hands placed red brick by red brick

to build this brawny structure.

How times have already changed!

Now cracked hands are swiping evenness over

lines of red brick by red brick

grey cement hiding the hours of dry hands.

Eventually weather crumbles

a seasonal façade

exposing brick at the edges

hinting to an elongated process.

How time changes

complexity’s beautiful dry hands

red brick by red brick --

by simplicity’s beautiful cracked hands

grey swipe by grey swipe.

On Potentialism

Do you notice the capable of being? The not yet in existence, but which silently devises it all? Potentialism is a theoretical extension of the word ‘potential’ and otherwise means ‘budding’, ‘would-be’, or ‘impending’. This work attempts to illustrate the practical daily effects potentialism has on our overall livelihood. My motivation is to find resilience in each moment, effectively strengthening our buoyancy to adapt. How to live a life of potentialism? Based on a literature review, the research suggests that potentialism is generally damaging and dangerous. Following it’s assumption whole heartedly can lead to massive disappointment if an aim is not reached.  To the best of my knowledge, that is a pathetic examination. What truly comes abreast from a system of potentialism? If hope and ability coincide at every moment, then a potentialist attitude overcomes emptiness. I tested my hypothesis against criticism and found that hope and ability, two mind’s eye elements, immediately render critiques defenseless. Here, I recognize that potentialism can be damaging if met blindly. Even dangerous if approached with narcissism. However, those who consider living with arms and eyes wide open will find the theory an enriching experience in practice. Potentialism is a way of seeing an exceptional concurrence that each moment gifts to our universe. The mission is to heighten the awareness of the destiny of hope and ability, in order to enable a perceiver to seize significance in transitory time.  Bareness is overcome by the concurrent coupling of a widely available up-lifter which inspires what can be learned, if not naturally endowed, upon the perceiver. This conclusion is not based on realism, liberalism, socialism, constructivism, opportunism, positivism, individualism, pessimism, classism, racism, fascism, protectionism or sheer optimism.  My study is based on Gratitude-ism, and Namaste-ism, and Luck-ism.  In sum, your potential mission is already aborted if you don’t see it. Conversely, if you do see potential, your mission only may fall short in practice. Either way, your odds of fulfillment are better if you try. So, do!

Definitions:

—     Potentialism believes in the concurrence of hope and ability at each moment, regardless of circumstance.

—     Potentialists are inspired to see hope and ability regenerating existence, regardless of circumstance.

Magnitude of Multitude

Silence is full of it – a magnitude of multitude.

Particles parting on tangents in any direction,
their fractals colliding at some funky intersection.

No wonderin' if lost; sure to be wanderlust.

You’re bursting with it too; no one can figure you out.

I like it that way, to be kept on my toes.
Surprise! Here comes the ho-hum prose,
Taken high with rocks and rolls, dropped low
with rhythms and blues, songs of our souls
dust settles onto tired bones rocking in a chair.
That's the truth; so better dare. Run where

fertile fields of fascination buds the allure of imagination. There,
the wildflowers grow. Come
to my garden to reap what I sow! A fruit-
ful(l) lover clogged in the gutter. Left
to explore perplex. Figures to simplify
complex. Suns burn around black holes; haven
in your eyes. Not as empty as they look; merely their disguise.
Don't you see? There is no vacuity.
Potentialists see hope lighting up our ability!

Find the youth of the mortal, meet the catcher in the rye.

Live words to a portal, see the wink of an eye.

I’m full of it, so are you –
a magnitude of multitude.

Active Addiction

I have an active addiction.
A prescription I mix myself.
Try some? However you’d like.
You can shoot, inhale, swallow, or dream it.

(There are a hundred more ways,

just as long as you free wit)

To be high on junk is an out of body experience,
to be low on junk is the mind’s inexperience.
It will draw me to crowds and isolate me to caves,
I get so built-up. The absurdity saves!
Luckily, there’s abundance.

I neeeeed my fixx. I love the concoction.
Overdose to the point of exhaustion.
I have noticed side-effects.
I go astonishing places with company or on my own-some,
Always a friend there, not at all lonesome.

The doctors say there isn’t a cure.
And I’m delighted they’re right.
Does it suffice to say, I’ve got free my psyche?
There’s too great a force to keep the lid tight.

Imagination is my preferred vice.

Circumstance

Under no circumstance, shall I be

too smart to learn

too proud to admit

too greedy to give

too guarded to love

too blind to see

too dark to shine

too pity filled to overcome

too hurt to try

too rigid to smile

too lazy to do

Under no circumstance, who shall be you?

Highlighter

Sweeping a tint of radiance over another’s tip-off, 

recognizes they’ve somehow enhanced our own.

Sparkle Core : Twinkle Eye

You’re beautiful.

From your twinkle eye to your sparkle core.

You forget how brilliant you are.

All those spinning twisted thoughts drawing your skies grey.

Picking up your home pieces and moving them farther from your sparkle.

When you're wondering why all the tangled chaos left you with this?

Open your twinkle eye.

Whirlwinds circle hastily inwards, closer and tighter to their hollow.

They can't handle spring, caught uneasy between searing and chilly pressures.

Lightning beats tornados with jolt-bolts, shocks to energize their sparkle core.

Thunder whips and grumble-rumbles when tornados haven't listened.
Still they bully out of control, unable to open their twinkle eye.

They twist most in May when once frozen buds are growing-up, pushing up-right --

becoming stronger than the weight of the world.

Light your sparkle core with your twinkle eye;

no twisting tighter towards the hollow.

You think you have nothing?

You have everything!