en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ram_Bahadur_Bamjan
What I know...



I know that time

is a figment

of our collective imagination

and we need to look to the aboriginal watchband

for further updates and developments...

I know certain people
come to shake off the carcass of a belief
that two people
could be more powerful
than the solar orb
of an empowered human,
being.

I know that light
in the form of the sun
is the only thing that
we are digesting.

I know that small silent moments of solitude

creates foundations of fire

that are unseen

in the breaking open of relationship's unsealed mouth.


I know that climbing trees at 12 in the morning

is the surest way to know

you are alive and breathing with the earths

laddered

lungs.

I know

that cradling a tree on a busy intersection at noon

with three of your friends

is the greatest way to remind the masses

of busy bodies

that they are alive

and a part

of a greater

humanity.

I know

that outside

is better than inside,

and bikes

are greater than cars,

and if anyone

wants to argue the physics behind all that,

well they are sure to get a textbook

delivered to their devil advocate doorstep,

on human ingenuity

and propper

breathing techniques.

I know

that the only way

to become a pillar of strength

in the face of disaster

is to extend your heart

three

feet

past

your comfortability zone
and shake hands
with the lamped confusion
that arises there
ike a genie
granting wishes. .



I know that love

is a 4 letter word by its nature,

and unbalance is 9

and balance is 7

and seven is center

and that is whole

onto itself.



I know that children

are the future, we are the present

and some combination of the child and the elder

is the ideal pigmetation

to paint a self portraiture of strength

and purposesful groves

of artistic revolution.

I know I miss you,
on cold nights,
and warm ones,
when our souls were wrapped in blankets of becoming entangled
and looking in your eyes was the only sky
I needed to thread
myself into.

I know stars

are jealous

of the human beings t

hat become

galaxy enveloped,

solar hearted,

earth rooted

windmills.

I know sneakers are a fashion statement,

and statements are billboards,

and signs can be boring

when they scream the obvious

for an extended period of commercial breakage.

I know that none of us can make it alone,

not on any endurance course of life,

maybe a sprinting chance,

but not for long strides of society,

not in the face of all this accelerated reflection and coal smoke trapeze hamstring shaking.

I know that music soothes the savage beast inside the wanting stomach knot,

that melody is the key to all that is right with the world,

and harmony is the stasis of a foot slipping in and out of the dancing

dissonance of our created hereafter shimmy.

I know that we can never latch on to the "other"

for by tying strings of a future emenatation

all that we are left with

is a tangled web

of mist

and foggy perception's

hollow glass case...

I treat my body like a temple on Sundays

but the rest of the week it's

a squatter's paradise.

I know that the only true way towards salvation

is a belief

so firm and true

that no element known

or unknown in the annals

of magic or science

can really capture the surety of its intense movement and purpose.

I know that words can only say so much,

action is greater than mountains of knowledgeable utterance,

and solidified patterns of order and function

will break open the locks of all that holds you back,

no doorway to enter,

no journey ever taken or even needed...

I know that the garden never left.

I know I have already arrived

and there was never a destination

besides my own listening

hearth.

I know most of these words will fall on deaf ears,

since none of us here know anything,

and

that the only way to have access to the subway trains of the holographic way stations

is a labotomy of all the mental plush toys

that create the identity

of a temper tantrum

also known as the frozen catharsis of the ego...

I know that every grain of matter is a living library that speaks unto itself for itself, and represents itself,

and the greatest way to genius

is to listen in

to the narcissism.

I know that scarves,
ties and fashion faux-pa's,
are a way of hiding the aching throat that longs to sing Fibonacci into blades of grass and I, to you.

I know that naked streaming glow is the only heaven I need.

I know that angels hide themselves in the masks of laughter, I know that sorrow is the harpstrings of the brave chorus.

I know the rushing will of the labored hand,

I know the quickness of the feathered heart,

I know the juggling wrists of scales

symetrical

dance

of stillness

in the arm

reach.

I know the silence of the red clay
after the potters wheel
has stopped its incessant hum,
and whats left
is a form that was molded
from the chaos of a mishapen ball.

I take comfort in my lack of knowlege.

It teaches me
the expansive patience
of a grandmothered galaxy being
up in her rocking chair
made of stars and gas
and debris of matter,
constantly humming to herself
and crocheting the cosmos
out of her body...
a forever
ripple
of
yarns.