JIGGLING TO FOCUS

When I feel my own head
needs a whack with a club,
just to give a small giggle
to the gray, winding wiggles,
that run into snaggles
and trip up my focus
in a way thwarting
my doing the things
that I most want, need
or love,

so much life blood
somehow
from the system
seems bled,
but, in truth,
this will not
likely be solved
with a whack
to my head.

Where the focus
seems sudden drained
as if by
hocus pocus,
I need to refrain
from entangling distractions
that leave me constricted,
and me-on-me pain
quite cruelly inflicted,
which may quite well rank
as the absolute worst
kind of human infraction.

In so ceasing,
omitting,
to go on in that vein,
I become much more
free and ready
to at last bring the thing
that seems to be missing
for the plain, simple reason
it has not been emitting
from deep in my locus,
where resides the true me,

since there have been plenty
of people and things
I’ve been raising on pedestals,
and their false images showering
with endless needy and greedy
onslaughts of kissing.

I have veered off my true course
by fancying
this or that person or thing
outside of me
as my wellspring, my source,

and delaying my weaning
and staying there leaning
on little old, mortal them.

But, if I am willing
to go
just a little bit zen,
and listen quite quiet,
patient and deep,

then, I can be the one
who channels those others
not as sources, but as channels!–

And,
just watch me manifest
a marvelous set
of warm, thick, cozy flannels,
and a brimming abundance
of what comes through me
overflowing in richness,
till it’s actually too much
to even receive
of all kinds of things
that I most want and need,
both for the doing of my waking
the so profound restoring
that flows through my sleep.

From there, I begin
to spread a great circle
without head, without end
so others, too, grow to thrive,
and bring to the light
myriad treasures
that were very well hid,
but which, now and always,
were already theirs,

for as those truth tellers,
light shiners,
as they live, breathe and grow
in the flow,
they receive constant infusion
of peace, love and happiness
that streams in and streams out,
they remain ever blessed,

as the gifts we give out
prove the only real ones
we are actually
destined to keep.

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This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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