‘tree’ video

and here are the  lyrics

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Auntie and the Cavemen

Beware Hooray
the Cavemen are comin
jumpin up and don knock-kneed
sweepin the hill with their new harvested beard

Howdy chicky chicken leg
What’s goozin under your sweaty shirt
lookin like ma granpa
with ur baby cream breath
or is it maybe somethin else luscious
spring of intermittent discharge
making rainbows duplicate

yep gimme two too
when u come to me
oh when u come to me

cause I am a matured
lovin n sexy is my blanched bird nest
neatly crowned above my head
I shall unbind it for
adorable is your lady color short pants
I bet holographic daisies growin
along the tri-d charm
of your undies
if any yeah if any

Beware Oh the cavemen
Run flat out nou
cause I shall feed you
to my auntie’s aging dreams
with the buncha hair on ur face
u look lika somethin
resembling
a man before her famine

Beware Oh the cavemen
Autie is comin

There is a Dove

They say something is truly computerized
yes or no? yes or no ?
which one? which one?

BETTER throw a dice if you wanna know
but no it is a BIG YES of course!
that’s what they should be saying – truly

THEY.

WE –
however –

we don’t have a proof
that it truly is so
and we never may have
and actually we don’t even need to spend our time to find out
if they are right or wrong
It is more important to understand why we discuss this matter here now
and we can explain the reasons in two basic steps:

1- believe not  and do not become a blind believer  –
to whoever – to whatever- no matter who – no matter what –
there is no one who can tell you the truth
but you –
you may not need to like it all – but
that’s always for a good reason –
if you make it good

2- understand what is of essence now – thus  – the thing- maybe a poem- maybe a result of a competition – maybe this – maybe that –
why that specific thing comes to my/your attention now

So
it does not matter
if it is computerized or not –
what matters is
I see it and it communicates with me
and with my senses
and is at my attention

it manifests itself to me  here now where I truly am

does not matter how it manifests – but it matters that it manifests

and the answer to why
is by my experience creating an action –

Only what I can neutrally and  non-judgmentally witness I can purely experience  –

and purity
has surpassed frights
and purity
has no addictions
and purity
does not swing from moon to sun
but remains centralized-
and purity
needs no temporary replacement that serves to escape from one pain- discomfort to another
but purity is ultimate self – is itself by itself
therefore what is presented to me here now is not other than what my consciousness is manifesting as –

it is not a test -because  we have passed all the tests –
there is no teacher other than the self-
it is such that we are moving on –
on a path of knowing of our own true nature

And now
that ‘s why!
that’s why!

There is a dove
in love with me

comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs

it ain’t matter if it’s not the same dove
although I know it is
not because it looks alike
but because I know it is
and still it ain’t matter
if it’s not the same dove

because there is a dove
in love with me
comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs
adoringly

the Squall

I wonder how I landed here ?

and that is for me to find out -alone-

because nobody will tell

and maybe there is nobody to tell

but the ten 1000 branches of a giant tree

changing souls continually

maintaining thousand shells in turns

to lure the dold rums poetically

watching them swing from moon to sun

as if the same mariner sings all the time

to avoid the squall

including the one named the Bull`s eye

who then would I be

why then should I be

my mind cannot tell

neither can this body

but a knowing only

which

I surrenders to

now

The magic thicket

Bloom had a gravid heart last night
She could not relate but meditate with leaves up

Bloom received a thicket from the moon
While she froze in a posture of
‘a gift to be presented to … but for whom?’

Fitted well in length on both of her parabolic curves
as if a newborn glume

a galaxy made of a wood flower
a heap which once a cycle blossomed
same color as the fragrance of a lover’s desire
in a deepest clearing at the heart of hearts
at a holy spot where a ray shone
Just one night falling on one cycle
to awaken a moonflower

She sings the magic wood’s tune
to matchmake destined lovers
living in such mirrored cycles

….

The golden  bunch which she then gently grasped
until a fist would became its skin and pulsate
in mindful rhythm

reintegrating the nature of nodes within

reanimating the beat from and through the leaves

delivering health to All its unitless dimensions

The nourisher and the rejuvenated
the heart of joy
a flow
to  find its way this way
along the equifying particles
on one smiling body

she dreamt of

….

Next morning I got up early
seeing the municipal cars aside
with stacks of healthy roots inside
all to be planted in a day
to grow trees
in front of her little house

and yes she could relate this time

first with bewildered eyes
then with bewildered mind
then with a breathing belly
then with a full heart
she smiled

….

She was a mystery studying  facts only

I saw two socks

I saw two socks
hanging across in the dark
bordered within a tiny rectangular balcony
only with railings made of iron

these were no socks but the learned shape
of named matter
as we are conditioned to see

it was night

I saw two worn out socks
hanging from an invisible washline
airing in an invisible way
Not that I saw one slight move
but because the laundry on higher bigger balconies were waving
and the leaves
and these endless lines of triangular
paper-like / prayer-flag-like election flags

altogether palpitating in a way that made me almost say
‘these are beautiful!’

until the pre programming within their existence
became obvious to the mind
instead I thought I said
‘not quite so but I could have liked them if they were so’
kinda thing

and yes I could have even wished to see them permanently
as if a part of a flying metropole of all colors
within a concept of whatever permanence would mean or the latter …. if ever

You know permanence is a state….and lasts as long as the permanence of one’s state which is equivalent to an ‘endlessness within’
preserved in a pack with an expiry date and that’s all about it for any
endless permanence bound to matter … nothing stays once you define, once you name, once you label a thing
it stays not
such is a name of a person,
a person may have 1000 names
all the 1000 are destined to remain within the elements of the name bearer’s cycle
receiving a life because it has been brought to life by being named – name in spell of gravity
losing its universality – precipitating partially -…Ahh whatever
forget about it

I was saying the flag like triangles remained colorless
but to the mind they had color
as seen in the daylight
and they moved to and fro in the night air

And so the mind says
if they move then these two socks should also move
… in ideal conditions
although there is a brick barrier
although they are sheltered in a ‘one person fits terrace’

and that one person
is most probably an older man or a woman
really cannot imagine a family
I know I am sure
only one person lives there
Because the family vibe is not in these shadows
it is the worn out socks’ worn out owner sleeping now
behind a worn out glass with worn out curtains
meant to shut to fit custom but inversely exposing
a worn out life

I am sure the air reaches there for a slight sweep from the side

I saw two socks hanging yes last night
They were no two socks but looked like it
A silhouette bearing two black patternless
favorited – mostly chosen -two ordinary
socks
that rapidly needs to dry before tomorrow’s rush
not to be a part of it
But by which it gives an appearance of
‘has already long dried’
and still hangs there long
from an invisible parabolic wash line
because that’s exactly how it goes with socks:
a left behind – unforgotten pair
to stay as if forgotten
until a life would pass
while they are long dry
so
Yes I saw two lulling socks
dangling from an invisible parabolic line
building a balcony floor
made of pebbly patterned stones
which I will never see

a floor where a broomstick was neatly placed at the side of a sun-dried-brick wall
to confirm about the existence of straight lines
a floor which also confirmed that the 130 angled line to the point which the broom stick rests
has horizontal parallels
one of which would be the first tangent to touch the right sock

also telling there is a right and left one relative to my look
but also a short and a long one
because the tangent only touched the tip of one sock to be called a tangent
the left one remained untouched yet ….and confirmed the primary reason of not being touched was not because it was shorter
which may naturally be – could be … of course

but mainly because it was hanging from a parabolic curve -which still remained invisible to the eye because -it was night. . . Ah yes the eye – my eyes …No they have never been good
I am born with one lazy one but its condition has nothing to do with what I say
if there is at all a thing I am saying now right now haha

but maybe it heals the eye … I mean this way of looking at invisible things as they appear to us …maybe but who cares

as of now slowly it starts getting too much this thing in my mind now

As my smoking dream ends with the romance of the poor socks or the beauty converts to my own making or as I see and am sure these two socks were as long as each other when they were first produced but not now
and that is not because the heel side is slightly torn
but simply because they are hanging from a parabolic line which is there because there is gravity or is it such that these socks create the gravity?

Yes I saw two socks last night while wishing to smoke a cig and looked as long as the blow could take it and so I became friends with the socks
but
Maybe it was a dream
or
Maybe real
but
Who cares
when
All is long gone now