wantism..

[capnjazz23]

My brain is the lotus jelly and my arms are the fish oil and my heart is the kabob by which God pours his avid meanderings. Everything here quakes in the cricket song, save me, I am Oregon, from which the calls come, a growing cardamom. But she waits, she speaks of deer, hemp is the cure, but how deep could the cause go? This healing nuance, for her is born prayer. That they sometimes seem bright and vibrant, and then a wandering comes over all, and confusion time has come, come sit by the cat. He's been here for a long time, aikido and fair game for the villages that left the grove unending, a plant-like cadence, the humor rising in me, big laughter, and thoughts relaying sweetly our futures. Oh, its no oracle, they say. We never found the cat, but his trail now turning round. In your hands what is it? The spirit happy birthday, or the train track graffiti kids, holding their own promises somewhere under the cultural mirage. This is America, whispering under the signs, and buildings, from where lived a sad girl, we had met, it was pointless now, it was just choosing where to lay focus. I went out back on the balcony and sat there, maybe they were behind it all, pouring it into my head, or maybe it was natural and so far beyond any of us, left behind, who knew nothing yet where do they go, they who are here and then there? The milk thistle grew today, I cleaned my liver, drinking the nectared tea of my own making, my hair alive, sitting in some restaurant, where they seemed to judge me by it. Then it was gone, because I was sitting out on the back porch meditating, it was as simple as a choice, that it was beyond God or any symbol, the west, cars were there, my eyes slipped shut, much was lost. Lost. An admittance.

"This!" They say though we now act, and dancing at the laundromat, compassion. In a dream, he wants to come by, they've got herb, and in the hills where its wild enough, like sunglasses and misquitos, oh they're dead, gone now, its october, come by, we'll get high and make out. My girlfriend sighs, I say to her, them I hardly knew, and never understood but the way the mystic sat on the concrete and drank for days I couldn't help but love, and give near anything, all I had was a hand with a spiral I had found in the lilies, saying lotus instead. We were both joking, nothing ever happens in our lives.

Love is divine is everything, that its all the same thing, I set off to write a poem on the lake. The healing way shown under the moon.

Don't brag, said the cat, don't brag and be respectful, they don't want you here, they keep you because you're special, unique. And isn't everyone? Much shrugging. The water. You're as silly as a rhyme, are you a book report writer? The ankh gives it soul, at least, and they all started talking correctly amongst themselves. In Schenectady there are elves of the eternal song, the cars passing, don't care, offer them something else... what? The rainstick.

Juju beans of love
brought the sirens from above
and then they fade and what is clear
theres a violin thats near
but I must not wander there
the ness (Cannabis) of when I went back in
and came forth, out the door
churn the worlds,
they're stoned up there
thats why they care
and they are pleased
the rainstick, all our living dreams
the way, what is the way?
coming up the river here
all our living dreams

This staircase, and I am the earth,
Chill bee, I am the earth, they await you there on the way that is away. You carry strings I never saw you play, but you say you play, I was not there today or yesterday, they say, I love you.

Suddenly its clear and to them, I send the love, that takes them highest, I smile, as I churn the world. Around the blind one, the tribes come together, in the sense of water lapping coal? The doctor is rarely honest.

They ask where is your soul? It is everywhere, that we have mapped it out to you, strings of light are everywhere, that we have woven it in your breath. We don't need anything, they give so many cigarettes. We don't need them, and things are connected.

Sweet life!

The fairies in the woods, or in the fading houses, I am here like a pattern in the ground, the thing that first showed me our love, like exploring the spine a kind dragon smiling off we sooth the nerves. The Appalachian, we wondered, we soared. Remembering the Pomo all those years ago, blossoming soul, Pomo, grandmother of light. Yet our frame is the stars. Watch the sky!

They are burning in remembrance, for it gives them all the joy, the peace, a bold spirit, the wandering, invisible, rests here tonight or for a moment, forever. Gone, we had forgotten, floating on. But you didn't forget, you reminded me, crashing down on me from the tree, where I was second stoned. It was cashed, there were checkers, laughing forever, walking home, it was good, they had not taught it was returning.

He meditates there, and he wears all orange, he lunches everyone out, without even using corn, why is he there I don't know, I've never seen him so...

Yeah, man, it is calmer so you give yourself to healing. I sit in this yonato, aigy, I have a feeling, where the petals of my heart open, inside I am a flower. I see my mind is the lotus, my arms are the hemp oil, my heart is something that I long to know.

Flo, you are the singing shingles, daffodil, buttercup, not a thing, not a word, they have heard, there is no telling. These days the sun is beautiful, all of it is the outstreching, ecstatic, raindrop grower, divine peaceful knower.

The world, stretching out, some are crazy, all are crazy, when they shout, when they sleep, when they ask what is happening? Its obvious we have been caught like a wrapped around swing.

The ocean still goes, galaxies still whirl their spirals, and like clocks we are undone.

And it went on like that for sometime until she put on the song.

It vibrates every parts of me and gets me moving again, who cares if its the long arm of light through all our dreams getting to our life.

What do they sing about?

Peace.

Everything is as it is, love has no beginning or end. Perfect!!!

Sweet love!

"love will fall in you"

a beach.

who am I though? and who are you? and what is all this? ahh mann.. everything changes but we remain
thank you, ya know, from the <3...

peace everyone

[capnjazz23]

Wanti is fried ice cream, a giant riding, merry moon these sails an anaconda's asterisk in the tea cup where Laro lives his turtle shell of a home, breathing vegetable feelings in light the days pass the nights are all one night, fort night, wanti meditating. that whole world could meditate and disappeared unnoticed like the convenience of a blink. The world ripples sometimes where they come through the portals and holes like the cosmic river, breaking through. The people see this water, this stream, straight to the edge and from a ledge, I don't know, sitting looking off, a thousand different positions, looking back on it, well. It did not mean much, they rest, it is fall. I bury my hands under blanket. The rails and walls are hollow, our hearts and heads are hollow. All of them fill with the ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing. It kind of like singing, everyone around is suddenly no longer around as they were, like you could see into er soul and see she was pure love embodied, and wrath is rain in the sun, on a unnamed street, where bursting out of the morning, was the forest before us and so many things. Adawapayo, was there, we went deep in, and heard the bird songs, saw the wonderings of so many things etched in the layers of nature.

Its a heighty proposition, but true.

No one knew, when the first snow fell. It was quieter that morning, than all mornings, but there was only joy. That alone there, finally no one began. And so, in unending rays the sun laid a few flowers. I was fixing a mud puddle with aces, the rabbit hopped slowly until the bushes covered him, but none of it was there nor had happenened. And Flo played across all of it. The first thing, a morning shower can be welcome. We love you white sky, white ground. I hear the nice sound, the quiet, and so many similar games.

Theres drawings on the bus and on the sidewalks and in trees, who is writing it? They can never control your soul, even though they attempt to watch stupidly, like muffins. Ragamuffins.

And you remember, when it seemed like the words couldn't come? The couches, so many rambling nights. Trying to define soul. In wanti again, dancing with the streetlights sadly and not caring about it. where suddenly and just in time it swing back another answer another spark to life, to love, to the pull, to seperation, clinging.

I wasn't driving, its just art was the noose. Fuck sunsets and kale, the little false whispering oneness with percieved situations on this plane of such loud acting. These real feelings have homes, they have places, in no center, the edge, they all indicate as the water falls through.

Down there, its gone done there.

These loose ends, lets cut them off

no they look cool

they are whimsical.

just like the wind, who are you waiting for says Laro who asks why? come stay a while in my pocket, or some nonsense like that. Watch life paint itself, oh my goddess, its so many things, and here we are, its gone on. And I looked around and I had to jump,

there below there was nothing, actually nothing there, I missed the snow, and the world, I missed myself, the pomo is awake and halloween is a crazy time. Theres no candy, understand this is set up as if the planets could understand, what I go through under concrete and moss hourly. Love, and speaking slowly, breathing full, I reached the yonato.

Filled with passion, I moved. Then a shaman appeared, he told me to consume copious amounts of ganja, which I did. Thus was revealed to me dreams and deja vu, of many past lives and their clever weaving into this one, it was a dragon story. And so we tonight we fly again! Yah, the non violent liberation folks, the aurora borealis, flying tao, the gift of eternal sprinkling. Aigy and yah, for there we stood, and knowing wanti, life sprang being, in thoughts and in words, every song singing together, this thing the fairy waits she says love is slumped over as if drunk on the seat of the rowboat that fell with us. This never was too clear, never a matter of just pushing forth... and we pushed forth a little and soil and grass came up moist and green worms, enough to make you say gross, the windows, and becoming steel, drawing faces in the mist. Who would set this forth?

The galaxy, we'd talk about it on those few days we knew everything. At the Pond, there was Flo, rolling a jay thick in love.

Love and love.

and these are just the words that fell. That we became. Aigy.

I hugged her and we talked about weather.

There was not a lot there, the idea of being in one place seemed oddly true, and by the cosmic river, where everything passes. I cried a bit, there was soup and cats. I had realized that change was a matter of spirit, and that all the world is natural and comes from this. So wanti was a word where as the world was undivided and whole and there in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to recover from some kind of pychological blow gazing out and the sky above like always I began to see what I must do, the sense of what had been happening. And just like the clouds there, tiny pillows, a familiar thread, reaching for it... on the tip of every tongue but not quite there until...
waiting, any number of things
a lantern in the fog, these language from books, that suddenly appear, outside, walking with a stick, this sense and that one!

That books speak at that point we didn't care, we were having a party and no one could understand that, no one could take the time out of their busy schedules to just relax. Suddenly, it made sense, it had indeed come to this, it had formed in this way.

It was the beginning of The Great Migration.

Upto!


We are in the universe. I propose that we get down.

We headed south west and there was firm ambition in our hearts, just before we had set out I headed north east and sat in the plants, there had a tiring twang to their talk, the sidewalk gave way to pebbles and dirt, there was mugwort there, all was quiet, the enlightenment filled the air.

The first legs of our journey were like branches we had moved, upon the path. I took a seat and felt the earth beneath me and around me, it seemed to expand endlessly, but then Flo broke the silence stating

"We are in the universe."

So I proposed that we get down. Down down down, starfish on the rocks, faraway singing a sailor hat song. Somewhere that the sun is still up, the southwest. The squares were becoming rounder, the world seemed fatter as we trudged on, smiling with bears that hugged gently and were peace loving at the core. They were numerous and quickly passing, seeming to scatter out into the hedges, the forests, and the caves. For us we found solace in the car.

The car first came upon us in 1973, when suddenly it appear, in front of us, speeding up and nearly giving seizures of fright, playing 'Everybody loves the sunshine' on the radio. Laro sat in the drivers seat, with a hat we'd never seen before and it kind of hung off of his head like a bag and we hopped in after we all exchanged glances, not saying a word. The revolution dangling from the glove compartment.

I was not in a state to conversate, but the topic of dragons was brought up, as we rode through Osaka, and my mind was wild, not because of the morning meditations, but because it simply seemed in the flow of events. Flo was trying to convince Laro to quit smoking.

"Laro, you are a dragon!" We almost crashed the car. Did you say I'm a dragon? His questions were along these lines. "Yes," I responded. The cigarette held loosely to his lips, though it had been fractured by the rains.

"Then we must fight."

"No!" I said.

It was the perfect summer, cooler than usual, but so what?! The gusts all to have come from somewhere, every blade of grass must have held an opinion.

We stumbled upon Flo who must have wandered off, she was reading the dictionary on a bench, like a square. We had to stick together, and there were no time for petty quarrels, we would hold firm, like the earth, because there was a reason we had come together and to a part of this migration, this journey, this peaceful trail, and we all studied the tips to what it was, while the towns were far off and the farmland was dense.

Ostriches descended upon us with fruit.

Trying to convince us of their dreamlike nature, revealing the most beautiful spotted mangos I'd ever seen. Of course we did not eat them. Wanti's at that period were not eating for spiritual purposes.

Instead we arranged them in a randomized pattern for hungry pass byers, played a few songs with an old guacamole container and hit the road once more.

We realized that Laro was driving in circles, and he was afraid to go further south west. We didn't know where we were, we didn't really care. And thats precisely when the sacred herb, Ness (Cannabis) introduced itself into our lives.

We meditated, and reached enlightenment, thus basking infinite worlds in loving harmony, and asking 'why?' many times, not always as a joke, but sometimes it was humorous.

We were sometimes stoned! We had come together of a mutual longing, a longing that had brought us together and also reaching out for the stars from which we came. There was a lot of music that was for this, and we seemed to get the closest, at campfires, cookouts, and sometimes within structures. Back when the grill was constructed, we had been trying to understand why dreams happened, and why life continued. The fish power house of mount wasai.

Was far away now, still its legendary teaching resounds in our hearts.

There once was a fairy who lived in a forest where everything grew, and he wandered through the forest everyday, one day he found something, it was all the happiness and joy in the world, he spread it around, he put it up and down, he said to many kindred souls, 'peace love unity respect'.

aigy, one love all beings deep down.

The emerald light of your heart, is like Runoa, and the Runoac is a rusty pipe hanging from a tree, I was alone this whole time, you always running through my mind, I didn't even notice at times it was natural, it was love, I remember learning what it was, and how it had set the world in motion and all the people in their places, and goings on, the birds in their tunes, and seasons are like seasoning on the cake of the world. The emerald light of your heart I saw one day.

Before all of these changes, we were growing up, we didn't feel we had done anything, I saw that and so much came from it, but where did it come from? It is everywhere, it lights thoughts in my head.

The things you get to rambling to in a car moving on. And moving and letting go of what? Honey is sticky, and vinegar is not.

I don't know if vinegar is good for you or not, but I know honey is sweet, vinegar smells bad.

To set the world free from itself, use sheets.

Why read the dictionary??

A guy named Kevin sat down with us, and a guy named Ronald, it was nice that it was so random.

[capnjazz23]

everything is here but who can see who am I?
the Pomo blessing every random thing, things coming clear
all the rainbow of colors
arching back
like squinted eyes, the lights stretch up to the skies
is there a suprise??????

we've come back to the beginning of life...
and its different
each moment is punctuated in some kind of crazy love wise quiet talk
the past in the present
up and down those spiraling stairs with you
is there time or direction?
I don't know but its good to dance
while grass grows
for now
like go with the flow

peace

wanti is giving, it's asking for nothing, it's giving to your true Self, and the incredible peace adventure that comes from that...

wanti is realizing there is no existence or nonexistence and it does what it does, we must make it up

wanti is just art

wanti is a good vibe and making it up following your heart

wanti is a bridge of fairy healers

nature!

saiyazen is communication beyond words, sometimes using words in full context of feeling, really learning or seeing something , goes beyond others like conversation that happens alone without even words or thoughts necessarily, but knows others as truth
like in a yonato, earthy home in one self
where there is ness fire

making sense or not its still it

thats one interpretation

[capnjazz23]

life is a circle, its like a process for bring this message that is what life is to itself, so the person at the beginning of the circle starts its off, maybe they say, this is life, pass it on, so its passed on, but its like telephone, sometimes it changes, and when it changes its like everything begins again, because its not life anymore, its nice, and then suddenly it becomes clear there are so many other circles out there, and all of them are passing something or other around, and it all gets mixed up, because in the arden of all the passings, there is much confusion, so as the spirits pass on this ness in wanti, these vibes, portions of them enter into other circles and meld with what it is that they are passing, and that enters our circles and it continues to echo out, in this way through all the endless circles of all the beings, and all creation, so there is a bit of what we are saying in everything and a bit of everything in what we are saying, yet, to us it may always appear that it is wanti, wanti is just a form, a whole form, that has passed through every circle and is still grooving on doing its thing, and so it seems to originate, yet its like everything else, connected, because there can be no origination, in a circle, there is no beginning or end but it is the journey from me to you and back to me again, and all the silence and nothingness in between that is everything, that can sometimes be called blatantly, wytipodating

[Firecracka]

Dude ur frickin crazy... but i like reading ur stuff. it makes sense somehow keep writing. Jah bless