i don't know what to call this, its just a poem

its like the spirits would like
me to be doing specific things
and thats not the way
partriarchy is everywhere
you would be free
they say, with war
still the goddess has born all things
i'm not a sheep or dog to be herded on
what is patriarchy and what is one man?
how deep does the oppression
and delusion go?
when do words and happenings bear fruit
this insanity, clamoring more and more
seeking insincerely
a scene precipitates before the cognition
feng shui
strange existence
angry rapist dude
aine of compassion
feel it deep down
i seek the true doctor

remember paracelsus
healing sun in windows
so much love
grace, understanding
it is all just yin and yang
and waiting

sit comfortably, do not be disturbed
know all that manifests is delusion
amida gravy
light and sound
the understanders of awkward moments
where we are forced to be knowingly
wrong, tao makes it such and the path of words is mysterious
fairy healing reaches the kundalini deep down
coiled at the bottom, and helps guide it
when is deep to the core of the world,
which is resulting from a deep awakening of the soul to its allistic nature
and humor of our roles, everyones got it, few talk at it directly
alluding like so many mossy creeks

make me whole with your kisses
clear bright lonely morning in forever
sun like raindrops
the moon of cheese
so much abandon and significance

the moment builds up in us
for once i don't care who is watching
i feel what the world really is
a walloping tapestry of ancient dharma
reflecting fractally complete in each being
on every level, this is the point where the worlds meet
and only i can see it,
thats game we play, across the veranda of looseleaf dreams
the smoke on the deck across the sky
like a branch of spirit
incarnation of consciousness, The Infinite
pondering itself, as the river splashes
in the clearish white stones
where eternally this poem goes on,
in your arms, across the clouds

learning and healing in the wild
wild healing
real healing, earthy feelings rise again
across my face, and yours, the sun, conversation of nothingness
reounmao, the australian sky,
a bit of tumble weed, seizes the hours
I feel dusty, offering, to shiva, birthing planes
again and again, oh bodhisattvas among the natural intricacies
oh warm sun, balm of pains, chi of breathe
we toss and know
it is a dream
it is a process, a recipe
yet, what is to come who knows, there is no one at the drivers seat
nor a road, nor a sun nor a self
theres only this, funny feeling
it all passes
Yomo

 

Nice development. I like it.