Pooper Scooper

The future is only dark for the unprepared. For those who've lose faith in their inner god. Now the dark doesn't have to be scary. In fact, once you've purged a few demons, you can see in the dark much more clearly.

Having been haunted by the demons common to man. I've learned their trick is making you forget they're visitors, not part of your essential self. Demons, like the ego, are baggage that we pick up along our material journey. While on earth, we get mud on our shoes, motes in our eyes and spinach in our teeth. That's a big deal for someone who didn't have a body to start with.

Ego isn't a bad thing, its a pet, an animal that needs taming, an ape that can smoke. If you ever think its civilized - watch out; you could get your face ripped off. We only need the ego for comfort and to talk to egocentric people. Those few of us that shed the ego before death or old age - I'll see you in the dog park.

People free of ego's domination are interesting to talk to. They seem self-contained, comfortable in their own skin and adaptable. Folk around them tend to adjust to higher frequencies. The egoless are centers of gravity, contagions, forces of nature.

Once this state is achieved, time for departure is near. You see, not only is the ego a pet, its also an anchor. The buoyancy of the little god can easily overcome earth's pull without an ego weighing it down. A low pressure system forms overhead, then a whirlwind brings death to the body. So when people say "the good die young" it's because of the weather.

The path to achieving this state of egolessness is boring and wonderful. One technique is to progressively free oneself from fear, learn life's lessons and accept that everything and everyone "out there" is really in here - we are all one. With these elements in place, buoyancy is increased and the spiritual eye opens.

There are all kinds of adventures to be had by just accepting who you are and that you define who that is. No religion required.

See you in the dog park.

Photo: Metro platform from inside subway w/ reflection from window, taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Helga Viking, Float)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Artificial Dreams with Commercials

"Don't go to the Light! It's a trick!" my roommate said. Guess it's not a crime to be pessimistic on your death bed. But I could see the light, even with my eyes closed.

The light I saw had character, lights within lights. Nuances of color, nothing as garish as a rainbow. These colors were whispers of intent and they expected something of me.

Once I saw a man in the light. He made it clear that "his skin" was reflective and what I was seeing was my own projection. It was awesome.

Later, after much more listening, I didn't need the illusion. I perceived true spirit. Don't know what "he" is other than a friend.

When I spent more time in the real world than this dark one, my medication was increased. That made it harder to concentrate on our dialogue; I would drift off into artificial dreams with commercials.

I willed a pair of scissors. Slowly cutting each silver thread that kept me from floating away. My family weighed me down with prayer and ego.

A wise preacher moved these bricks away with psalms and comforting words for my loved ones. I became a mist - at last.

Wish I could tell them I'm really awake now, but they can only hear me in their dreams.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Kaimal Mark II, Ina's 1969)

Zen for Critics

A train indecisive up a hill. I study her, she ignors, forward and upward. Stream whispers. I know it's just a dream.

In this hot kiss of summer, I sweat memories. Rewind buttons drip toward earth. My companion in this exercise, struggles against her own ingenuity. A little closer to a perfect angle. A little more naked before god.

Memory and whispers answer to no one, a free expression of mindlessness - zen for critics. When we lose ourselves in our labor, we be. We really just be.

I see the ass of the train, a beautiful way to imagine a brief companion. Whispers can't be seen now, must have stopped talking to herself. Convinced, of the rightness of her expression.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Helga Viking, Afred Infrared)

Seeya Bitches

Fear is the last companion you have when you leave Gotham. You've always seen her around, but the timing wasn't right.

House sold, bags packed, in a hotel with nothing in your name but a car and a celly. All your friends in this 'burg were situational, so when they heard you were leaving, pretense faded. Your ego was disappointed, but the essential-self never looked back, like "Seeya Bitches and God bless!"

In a bar and later at a theater, I saw her; it was electric eye contact. Seemed like fate so the small talk was bold. We ended up in my hotel room using each other as a divine distraction.

She left her number on the dresser. I woke to the knocking of the cleaning lady - alone. Any dreams I had for myself in this town were left in a condom and flushed.

Driving with the visor down, I live on the horizon... And I left that number on the dresser.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Salvador 84, DreamCanvas)

The King is Dead

Did you see him fall? I just heard this hush go over the crowd, this sigh. Like the whole world was a dream and we're just waking up.

When he fell, when our hero fell, we had to grow up. All of us.

We couldn't depend on him to inspire. We had to find the reasons on our own. We had to make our own religion.

photo: crystal chess set, beneath glass table - taken w/ iPhone 3GS and Hipstamatic app

Apple Time Machine

I got this time machine that's always late. It's not the machine's fault. I've just been lazy with maintenance.

The vibrations from time travel cause the control dials to slide backwards sometimes. A screwdriver could've fix that.

The monitor doesn't turn or swivel easily, so I can't see if there are palm trees or dinosaurs ahead. Some WD-40 knock that rust right out.

Duct tape could have saved the Titanic. My multiple-dimensional side-view mirror keeps falling off: catastrophies are closer than they appear.

What's the point of having a time machine that's always late? To impress the girls, the iPad is too expensive.

photo: caught multiple reflections off subway train window, while riding in train - taken w/ iPhone 3GS. Adjusted image contrast, saturation with PS Mobile app