Poetry and Flying High

Poetry... I didn't know this until a couple of months ago... Not until I let poetry write me... Poetry's the swift kick in the gonads! It's the punch in the nose, the sharp slap in the face that stalks me and takes me by surprise! To me, poetry's emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, and sensuously, my velvet jolt, and my giga-watt shock of beauty! Perhaps, I could even call it "God shock..." Poetry's the combination of letting my sweet inner silence and knowing deliver the electrifying jolt from my soul that keeps me on the path to Self-awareness. I just do the best I can... This jolt, through unbending intention and purity of my purpose, reinforces my belief that in this world of so much suffering and pain, that I can still feel and give love, and it's alright... Even if we receive precious little in return...

Thank you, don Juan and Carlos Castaneda, and Steve Kubacki...

Flying's my sorcery, my artistry, and it's really the most fun I have with my clothes on... I've had few inhibitions in flying, I've taken my flying to the limits of the body, mind, soul and machine. I took one flying lesson, and BAM! When I see something I want, I just go for it... I went for it! But, I never want to own it, just co-exist and join with it. I never feel there is a separate flying machine and my body. There's only the us, the we, and the melding of organic and non-organic life spirits... The aircraft is alive to me... Hmmm... Like making love... I make love with everything I fly and it loves me back!  Ok, that's intense, but it's the difference between a man who just fly's aircraft, and an aviator... The person who merely fly's is a technician, competent, but doesn't fly through their soul... The aviator is an artist, a slave to the art of flying, a lover who transcends method with their multi-dimensional love making style... Maybe I can take you flying someday? In a wholesome, and innocent way...

Thank you, Ernest K. Gann, Antoine de Saint Exupery, Darrell Hoff, and my wonderful Dad, who helped me know to go for what I want...

TC,
Michael

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley
All Rights Reserved

Stroking the Ego

Self-serving

spiritual gain,

serves our pain,

feeding self’s disdain.

Wanting to be

free…

Freedom from what?

Mind doesn’t see…

Stroking our egos…

Yeah…

Faster…

Faster!

We want,

whatever it is…

We’ll kill for it,

just to serve it more…

We’ll lie to our self’s,

to forget about the festering sore…

Give it to me!

More of some more…

Stroking our egos…

More…

Uh-huh…

Uh-huh!

Your itchy ego

needs a scratch…

A never ending, and

impatient mis-match…

We look for love,

in all the

wrong

spaces…

Stroking our egos...

Mmm…

Yes…

Yes!

Ego loves to be

served…

Love, loves

to serve!

Ego doesn’t want

“Itself” to end…

It never wants

“Itself” to mend…

Stroking our egos…

Stop!

Don’t…

Don’t stop!

An endless fight

with self and pain...

Ego says, “Give me

more! More exquisite pain!

There is more…

Much more in store…

But ego

fights the Painless Soul…

Stroking our egos…

Wait…

What are you doing?

Keep doing more!

Ego’s loves it’s circle of pain

and sorrow…

Ego repeats it again,

and again; more on the morrow…

Self wants freedom,

and To Be…

self wants Self,

not To Be…

Stroke me more…

Why are you stopping?

Stroke me more…

Stop! Don’t go!

Why do we do this?

Why hurt our self’s?

Soul asks self, why hurt

other’s for gain, only for our self’s?

You don’t need this inglorious pain…

Love serves,

ego loves to be served…

Feeding our pain, never ever serves…

Let go of your suffering!

It serves no function…

Pain is optional…

Kill it with Intention.

The Self’s Will is to

heal, and give Purpose

and direction, and desire

to serve Light's Purpose.

Self’s Purpose is to

help let go of our payoff in pain…

So let go of your suffering,

for serving self’s ego, is only in vain…

Love your Self, and be kind to self!

There is so much for Us to gain…

Much Love to gain for Others, too!

Just let go! Let go of your self's useless and egoic pain…

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

Sowing the Seeds of Love

A Woman of Green from her

place of youthful vigor,

came to our circle of

pining and useless snigger.

She watched us as we

craftily criticize
the loving hearts of men and women;

the most valuable of our sweetest prizes.

Taking great gashing bites with our

jaws of self-righteous delight;

we placed them in our open

and prideful gaping maws.

Barely chewing

and mashing;

almost swallowing

their silly heart’s whole…

The Woman of Green,

watched with fascination,

as we enjoyed our self’s

in our gluttonous mastication.

We ignored her tender stare,

as we emptily looked at her

with our toxic glares.

For we love to hate, without a care…

She held a newspaper written
with moods of despair.

The paper was finely shaped,  

as a funneled cone, holding some ware.

Something inside the paper

was numerous and green…

Small seeds of what she called,

"Love, that goes between…”

Those seeds were energetic!

They shone and they quaked!

She said “they will move your

hearts, if you’ll only partake…”

They looked delicious like

shelled pistachios appear,

but few partook of the seeds,

that she sows from a near.

I took a chance for a chance;

my heart was broken anyway…

I took a chance with my receptive

and open heavy heart.

Her green seed was luscious

and sweet to my taste.

With respect, I chewed the

Seed of Love, with no undue haste.

Feeling its Energy and Freedom's Renewal,

seed nourished my needful body of greed...

I was filled by Sweet Love’s Energy of Source!
Not knowing why, her seed, served the greatest of deeds... 

A few more from our circle saw

my change, and felt of their empty need…

So, others from our cynical circle,

partook of her surprising green seed.

Our eyes opened,

and we saw with great speed,

how we sniggered, and hated,

and before, how we ruined man’s Self-less deeds.

Only a few consumed

seeds from this Woman of Green.

For their pride and their self's-disdain

feeds them, and their endless pain...

The Woman of Green,

her love for us, exceeded her need...

So she gave us the Seeds of Love;

she gave her progeny, without self-ish greed.

Now, those Seeds of Love,

they grow and move men’s hearts!

They Love with kindness and care,
and they Love Self-less-ly, with great dare!

The Woman of Green
sows the Power of Love,
planting one Seed
with one Soul...

Changing the world with
one seed for each Heart...
Changing us forever,
each of us, one at a time...

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

Scorpio and Gemini

Walking in the cool light night,

stars brightly laughing and twinkling,

like heavenly eyes, mischievously peeking,

from the god's dark and velvety black delight.

The Twins, Taurus,

Orion the Great Hunter;

and Canis of Major size, with

Canis of Minor and lower wise…

Stouthearted men and hounds of old,

of tales of dramatic and golden bold.

Gemini draws my attention, their stars

faintly shine of little light or more...

Pollux, exuding the greatest of gallantry;

Castor, famous with the swiftest of steeds…

Their eyes burning bright in the cold wintry sky,

placed on high for their warm heroic deeds!

But they have a small and irritating bane…

Scorpio... Orion’s short and lethal destroyer,

could be the Twin’s thorny emotional pain…

Vice versa-ly… Must they be each other’s annoyer?

No one knows why it must be so…

Astrologers say that Scorpio’s and Gemini’s fight
and they yell, like demon spawn, from the depth's of hell…

Like the boiling blood of Water and Air, that just refuses to gel...

Is this truly so?

Does it have to be?

I laugh at astrologer’s fearful

prognostication for she and me…

In the full moon’s glow,

Scorpio's and Gemini’s music flows

with innocence and delight… Challenging

each in great ways with their respective rites...

Scorpio’s beauty and endless energy,

and the Twin’s innate mystical synergy,

their hearts open to boundless possibilities,

negating each other’s opposite qualities.

Que Bella La Luna!

Her beauty's Silvery Light burning Gemini's starry admiring eyes,

his Candle-Fire Eyes light up Scorpio's delicious feminine flora…

Will they join? Or will they each other despise?

Can they transcend astrology’s myth?

Will they step beyond it’s limiting grip?

Scorpio and Gemini dance in the moon’s insane light,

Wishing to hold each other with passion and lover’s delight…

Cautiously, carefully observing each other…

Courage and Fear, and Love and Grief,

patiently waiting for the lightest of Heaven’s sweet breath,

not sure of themselves, and not sure of each other…

Water and Air desiring and hoping for love…

Slightly perplexed in their place of sweet juncture.

Wanting and patiently waiting for desire’s first love…

Wondering if they’ll have love's fiery, and ecstatic rapture...

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

I had great fun with this poem! I worked in a planetarium as a young man. I memorized the constellations, their mythologies, their stories of love, and power and dominance over mortal humans. The immortals and the gods were petty and always maneuvering for more power and position over each other and the humans below. Sound like anything today on earth we know?

This is for you Johann F... Ha!

Options

Self see's self dreaming about our life,

looking through dirty glasses with hardly a smile…
Life's only “option” seems like sliding down

the cruel edge of a rusty jagged knife...

What do we do

with our option’s limitless time?

Ride shotgun security

as someone else’s mime?

You say, “Why…?"

"Why should I take life seriously?”

"I'm mortally wounded by its

lethal and deleterious schemes..."

"I’m a victim of the serrated

edge of someone else’s blade…"

A victim of love;
an option, one of the lowliest grade.

You’re right of course…

Why dream at all?

When all that life seems

as just another’s Bloody Ball?

Options are very interesting...

There's a kind edge to the stiletto's other side...

But you have no inkling,

how to pull out their dirty and bloody blade.

Paths abound,

for eyes that will open…

Paths take focus;

but strangely, they have no sharp locus…

Life’s dirty,

so, drink from the cup…

Never mind cup's edge is dirty and sharp…

Bite off a piece! Swallow, and Divinely sup!

If you’re just an option
in a real life charade;

kindly cut it off...
Remorselessly, kick it to the curb!

Suffering is optional!

Be ruthless! Sweetly slash it off!
Your blade's work is done for now...
What will you do? With your freedom of Self?

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

Pity-Full Self-Importance

I’m self-ish.

I’m self-centered…

I’m oh, so self-ish,

and self-ishly self-centered!

I pity my self…

My hell-ish and self-ish self!

I’m pathetically

full of my pity-full self…

But sweet change is

un-self-ish,

and kind change is

pity-free-ish…

Unbending Intention is

Self’s Will-full door to change…

Isn’t a pity Intention’s link

is so woe-fully deranged?

We can clean Intention

in just a blink…

Intention’s cleansing

is our self-less way to Link…

Link through Intention,

and we accept the abstract.

Break link with content,

and we see life’s new contexts…

Our self-importance

self-ishly appalls us…

It’s morbid attraction

fuels our destruction…

Self-reflection pity-fully

attracts more pity…

Pity-full self-reflection

mirror’s our negativity….

We exhaust our self’s

by endless self-reflecting,

in our mind’s mirror of

pity-full neglecting.

Break self’s mirror,

and we break self-reflection.

Break self’s mirror

with impeccable Intention.

Be impeccable with

our Self’s energy!

Be frugal and thoughtful

with innocence and simplicity...

Break continuity...

Wake up Intention!

Listen to Self’s Silence,

and know non-reflection.

Know Silent Knowledge,

and you’ll have no pity…

For Hell controls Heaven,

by those full of self-pity.

With no pity for self

and compassion from Self;

Intention free’s Self from

our pity-full selves.

Use Intention!

Know the Beauty!

Have no pity,

and free your Spirit!

Formerly your Hell…

Know Heaven on Earth!

Feel Spirit’s Knowing,

and embrace Silent Self...

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

An Unfeeling Kiss

An Unfeeling Kiss of Freedom and Death,

surrounded me softly and left me with it's Bliss.

Struggle with my self had ended,

and I emerged with only warm unknowing. 

My hell had ended; 

yet I knew not that I was dead…

For I had died without fighting, 

against the black and unknown dread.

I died in the serpent’s kind coils

of it's constrictive renewal.

Resurrected by pitiless love,

and left with no self-accrual.

I’ve died of merciless shredding,

by six eagles and their beaks of death.

Consumed by nine ravenous friends for forgetting;

they fed on my vain spirit that had no depth.

I was shown Universal connection,

and the Infinite of The Source.

I saw no need for self-pity

or indulgence for my selfish old self.

Swallowed for food by a great serpent,

it beguiled definitely not…

Reborn with contentment for “what is,”

and not caring for “what if,” or “what not.”

The grand trick is Awareness,

and Knowing that we are Dead.

Seeing that my darkness was a lie,

as was knowing with my deceitful head.

Knowing it is Dead;

the Self has no beginnings or endings…

Sweetly moving between Love’s Nothing

and Everything, with never an ending...

Awareness wraps us in Knowing,

and preserves us in mint condition.

With Awareness’s Unbending Intention,

it stops mind’s useless and muddy mentation.

Death sweetly stalked me,

and destroyed my mirror of reflection.

Continuity died;

never to be repaired, again and again…

Timeless in limbo with impeccability,

a warrior becomes Knowing.

Patiently waiting with Not-Knowing,

and a warrior’s state of “as if,” it never slowing.

Armed with only their Knowing

and their Not-Knowing,

warrior’s just wait fearlessly,

and they wait patiently for their 

Silent Knowledge and Final Knowing…

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley

All Rights Reserved

Revere life...

Revere life in all its expressions,
no matter how it distresses you…
Even if you don’t understand it,
revere life with your thoughts of its omissions.

Revere the spider,
and its capturing threads.
Revere the fly,
for its annoying flight.

Revere the fish,
and its need to swim.
Revere the snake,
and its weaving move.

Revere the bird,
and its freedom of flight.
Revere the ant,
for its body of might.

Revere the small,
for its great size.
Revere the large,
and its greater dependence.

Revere the intelligent,
for its desire to control.
Revere the simple,
and its natural letting go.

Revere life,
and admire that it ends.
Revere death,
for it's ending renewal...

Revere all Life,
with our limited thought.
Love all Life,
with your Infinite Soul...

Revere Life...
and Let It Be.

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley
All Rights Reserved

Destroyer

Nothing ever lasts…
Some things will change,
and some things just won’t.
Iconic grist for the rending mill of life.

Iconoclasts exist for new change,
reactionaries live for the old same.
Some welcome new changes,
and some want their exhausting old ways.

Changeability is our way to survive,
bending with the storm is freedom’s way to arrive.
A stiff and dry branch breaks under the gale’s strain;
a flexible branch laughs against the storm's grain.

We’ll always have stormy Changes…
They blow in our faces and we make them our pain.
Our unchanging icons of our self's fabrication;
those icons that beg for their own Destruction.

Courage in the maw of our storms,
bending under the energetic strain.
Devastation for our self-made icons
by Dark storms that lay waste to self's illusions.

Annihilating,
ravaging,
and decimating our
self’s...

Self respectfully slays our self
with Sweet Surrender. 
And after the Dark storm, 
all that remains is the Beauty of Light.

Is this storm a gift our self asks?
Is it a bestowal from On High?

No; nothing so lofty,
as God’s All-Knowing Sight.
Something more subtle,
yet, just as bright…

It’s our chance to kindly Destroy our self’s,
and be free from our dark deceitful seductions.
It’s our chance to have a chance,
for beginningless and endless Destructions.

They are our Choices,
and our Changes...
It is our Surrender to continuous and
loving un-doing by the Destructive Light.

Softly let go of your stormy burdens,
breathe in its rending energy,
and give It back by letting It go...
And, our beguiling icons are Destroyed by Chi.

It’s the beginningless
of our endlessness...

It’s Simply Changing, 
and Surrendering our self to
our non-birth and new life of
Our Unimportant,
and Divine Self

Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael G. Hesley
All Rights Reserved