Mazie Lane’s Poetry: By Mazie Lane

No Form All Form Nowhere Everywhere

Not in form bound in or around this round of existence,
I Am.
In every form finding itself floundering all around, unfound,
I Am.
Can’t be expounded, can’t be propounded, can’t be in my head pounded,
I Am.
This is nothing, that is nothing, you are nothingeverything, say THAT
I Am.
Someone moves inside from somewhere bringing something speaking nothing,
I Am.

I must be I am, must be I am, can I get a witness to this sam I am plan?
I Am. (Am I sam I am or am I sam I am not?)
Witness to what? Witness to who needing something to define You. YooHoo!
Advaita-rated guest spots on the late night hotspot’s are wide open
if you know the secret password, the club’s handshake, the no-speak.
In the beginning was the word ’til we silenced it. We zipped that trap!

Be true.
Be true?
True to who?
Be True to you.
But who am I?

Still, not two. It must be true this not two. Still, not two?
To be not two I have to slay the Beloved One, or I, slay I, say I.
“There is no slayer and none are slain.”
Then who or what has got to go, or give! In or up will probably do.
Dual-speak. Poet’s sing to lovers caught
in Mira’s Dark One’s Kashmiri Black Eyes Blinking as our loving again.
Lost in that silence of Being Love, being who I am,
somewhere in that spaceless space I birth my world again
as a single jasmine blossom trembles like a bead of light
on waterbeads
trembling on my mind’s skyey alter of nothing, nothing, everywhere!

A Waterwheel makes rounds around our fumblings and our stumblings!
Splashes of fun have won the race, beat the gun, born the brunt,
just begun to roll ripe melons down the hillsides of me.
All day and night long rolling round fruit all along, a long way,
a long, long way from home. Standing on a bridge of me now;

on the bridge at night
two people below speak in low tones
we all three know the secret now.

I Am who I am in a circle repeating the chorus of rejoining,
rejoicing in I Am. Voiceless Rejoicing in Nothing’s Abundance Rejoining.
I Am
Opened gates of No-Mind. I am inside seeing Sight!
Smashing melons, crashing gates, carting off the jewels and cash,
this thief of hearth, and heart, and home has taken nothing!
Nothing was and nothing will and nothing can and nothing is but That
I Am.

I Am what Rumi counseled me to be, he said to me to be
“a full bucket pulled up the dark way of a well
and lifted out into light.”
I Am words, fit fine, fine and dandy like a toothcomb combing out me.
Now toothless and homeless and clueless as ever, still dropped-jawless,
still within me, lying in fields of moonflowers and Hoopoes,
the breeze of remembrance comes blowing to me, blowing from the Sea of
I Am.

But are you, oh YooHoo! remembering to remember and why to surrender
I Am.
Surrender I Am.
Surrender I Am to Surrender, surrender surrender, I, I surrender,
I surrender I

Slow Motion Drift

Like islands, we drift slowly, yet
no one sees our moving. Our appearance
to be still is very convincing.

With oceans all around us, slowly
tearing away, bit by bit,
year to year, lifetime,

after lifetime, we give up
our slow ghost. Drifting
across time as we crawl

towards somewhere we’ve come
from before. Time-held
wanderings still need

their destinations. To cross
the sea to plunge in the ocean
could finish the crumbling

of our island homes. Gales
of life-crushing laughter
and storms of death’s howls

gone a baying at the moon
of our distress, are just
kisses from the island-eating

Friend. Slowly we notice
that the notion for motion
has fallen away. Unconcerned,

and well-centered inside,
we are the moment of sinking
and lifting, and settling,

as nothing but Being.
Beyond That, this song,
this lament set free,

has never been born,
never been known,
it disappears as water

Aware it’s the Sea.

Astrological Primevalism

Some say the stars are our home.
Some tell a different story about original goo.
Some brothers remember Adam and the way of desire.
Some children of the Light love the Beautiful Dark One.
Some still the rising of thoughts and abide in the Self.

As for me, I have a flat in the Pleiades, and a cot in the crab’s claw.
I once pulsed as liquid ooze. I oozed along as You; You Goo. You Laugh?
Many lives I’ve lived as the heat in sexual urgency, a call to create.
I have shone in the eyes of millions who gazed into the Heart of Hari.
From the Abundance of Nothing, this I will subside and leave no trace.

Twelve separations of persona, four corners to call from, only One #.
Capricorn climbs from mud into light. Gemini splits the atom’s heart.
Every yodeler calls across the canyon for “Yoooooouuuu…Yoooooouuuu.”

God knows how much I love to sing in each pomegranate seed of rubyfruit.
Rubylight heartbeats into silverbowls of cradledessence of Lovenotes.
Grasses spring from my lips before the words make their way onto paper.
Rumi called forth gardens of flowers whenever he opened his mouth!

We’ve become that garden that Rumi swore we were when we’re together.
I see nothing but rainbirds and lightwords sprouting color inside us.
O! The dissolution of each colored fountain offered from our JoyFriend!
Call from this riverbottom and the moon will answer with love splashes.

Freedom from falling worlds, broken lives, and shattered bodies is Now.
There are no tyrants in this flowing joyriver that we live beneath.
We have learned to breathe Inside this Water of His Presence. It drowns.

I have become a floating bag of happy buzzard treats, for the taking.
You and I have learned to play It their way with no thought for returns.
This spinning world of planets is circling inside us Alone! No Other!

Every heaven and world and hell that’s ever been imagined is my own.
Time to clean out the closets and donate those old clothes to charity.
My wordworld wants only skeletons to wear to parties, now that we Dance.

I’ll show up at the nest with sticks, fluff and cosmoses to soothe you.
I’ll feed you black holes and quarks, and stuff your gizzard with Light.
O! My heart! Let’s stop kidding around and just swallow up the World.

You are my astrology, and my compass, and every direction I sail in.
Your eye is the beacon lighthouse which calls me to come Home, to You.
I’ve fallen off the Edge of Love and I’m spinning out of control now.

Someone get a straightjacket, maybe a butterfly net; I need catching.
All the friends who breathe through the Beloved One are One Disease.
We’ve all become contagious with the Love-Itch of Stardust on our soul.

Time to end all this starchatter and moonblubbering right now. NNNNow.
Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their One Tree.
Blow up my building, set off explosives. We All Fall Down Now. Timber!

One thing only matters in all this empty lovetalk amongst our kin
. Love one another like the revolution loves circling, like circling in.
Love one another like the heartbeat. It only knows to follow its sound.

Love til love has no meaning,

Nothing to Lose-Everything to Gain! One Love!

Listen! You Who are Sound and Hearing and Asking!
Hear me plead O Thou Windswept Walls of All This!
Beloved One! I’m calling You! I know You’re in there!!

Can this heart be widened enough, deeper-trenched
enough to pool up with all that suffering imagined?
C’mon, c’mon! I’m pond-worthy product writing this.
I’m all duckweed and water-hyacinth, even frog-eggs.
Move inside this ‘PING!’ to free that frozen moment.

Tethered, millenia weathered to this lodgepole want,
there are no aloe-fires burning, no cordwood hearts
being gathered against the day of this momentous aloneness.

If I could break away from this utter smallness,
I could force Your Smile to tilt upwards at the sound
of thousands of tiny ankle-bells tinkling inside me.
Every single note crystallized into Ramana’s clapping.

O You! Your Wonderous flashback as Pain hip dance, c’mon!
Mercy mewlings and compassion-cooings are beating softly.
What bars of twin-stars have kept this heart from freedom!
Moonlandscapes are alighting on each breath drawn saying, “I AM…”
Yogananda and Ramana are the eternal note of a snowdrift sound,
remembering the hearts of truth-lovers long ago come home again,
come Home again, come sit in the Silence: I am the Home again.

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