the 10 stone game of decalynx
or waterbird or circuit thinks
our poetic images and rinks

we play or pray this array
let me know if it's ok

see: http://home.earthlink.net/%7Ehipbone/contact.html
if that's hard to read, it's harder to spell

And so it's all explained at last,
There's nothing more to know.
Chameleons are pink and fast
Because they're green and slow.

wanna play one of these games?
let me know

chrisdo

sometimes the Anima Mundi builds her nest using your body
warming, waiting, brooding is the way of eggs
'i am the egg woman, i am the eggwoman goo goo ka choob'
warmth of the mind, open incubation of thought open to Heaven

three inspired thoughts take flight
spitting open, "above your mind"
send them forth
her song warms, broods, sends forth

soon many others are seen tending the young
supportive thought birds who come with food and wisdom
as the 3 mindbrooded nestlings mature

when it is freed
so shall we
finally be

The distractions are many,
And their traps are compelling,
They offer you plenty,
But deliver you nothing.

In taking your thoughts,
Always keeping them going,
They keep you from peace,
And experiencing not-doing.

So stop reading this poem,
Take your mind off the tracks,
Be still with your thoughts,
And just simply relax.

Simon: I am Simon. Simon-in-Time.

The Rockchuck: That Simon-in-Time, that Simon-in-Time, I do not like that Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Do you like to sing and rhyme?

The Rockchuck: I do not like to, Simon-in-Time. I do not like to sing and rhyme.

Simon: Would you like to here or there?

The Rockchuck: I would not like to here or there, I would not like to anywhere. I do not like to sing and and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Would you like to on a jet? Would you like to on the Net?

The Rockchuck: I would not like to on a jet, I would not like to on the Net. I do not like to here or there. I would not like to anywhere. I do not like to sing and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Will you sing out in the shower? Will you sing out in an hour?

The Rockchuck: Not in an hour. Not in the shower. Not on a jet. Not on the Net. I will not sing out here or there. I will not sing out anywhere. I do not like to sing and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Would you? Could you? On the job? Sing out! Sing out! Don't be a snob.

The Rockchuck: I would not, could not, on the job.

Simon: You may like to. You will see. You may sing out in a tree.

The Rockchuck: I would not, could not in a tree. Not on the job! You let me be. I will not sing out in an hour. I will not sing out in the shower. I will not sing out on a jet. I will not sing out on the Net. I will not sing out here or there. I will not sing out anywhere. I do not like to sing and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Your Car! Your Car! Your Car! Your Car! Could you, would you, in your car?

The Rockchuck: Not in my car! Not in a tree! Not on the job! Simon! Let me be! I would not, could not in an hour. I could not, would not in the shower. I will not sing out on a jet. I will not sing out on the Net. I will not sing out here or there. I will not sing out anywhere. I do not like to sing and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Say! In the dark? Here in the dark! Would you, could you, in the dark?

The Rockchuck: I would not, could not, in the dark.

Simon: Would you, could you, in a bar?

The Rockchuck: I would not, could not, in a bar. Not in the dark. Not in my car. Not on the job. Not in a tree. I do not like to rhyme you see. Not in an hour. Not on the Net. Not in the shower. Not on a jet. I will not sing out here or there. I will not sing out anywhere!

Simon: You do not like to sing and rhyme?

The Rockchuck: I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: Could you, would you, with a pal?

The Rockchuck: I would not, could not, with a pal!

Simon: Would you, could you, with your gal?

The Rockchuck: I could not, would not, with my gal. I will not, will not, with a pal. I will not sing out in a bar. I will not sing out in my car. Not in the dark! Not in a Tree! Not on the job! You let me be! I will not like to in an hour. I will not like to in the shower. I do not like to on a jet. I do not like to on the Net. I do not like to here or there. I do not like to ANYWHERE! I do not like to sing and rhyme. I do not like to, Simon-in-Time.

Simon: You do not like to. So you say. Try it! Try it! And you may. Try it and you may, I say.

The Rockchuck: Simon! If you will let me be, I will try it. You will see.

... Stop ...

The Rockchuck: Say! I like to sing and rhyme! I do! I like to, Simon-in-Time. And I would sing out with my gal. And I would sing out with a pal. And I will sing out in a bar. And in the dark. And in my car. And on the job. And in a tree. I feel so good, so good, you see! So I will sing out in the shower. And I will sing out in an hour. And I will sing out on a jet. And I will sing out on the Net. And I will sing out here or there. Say! I will sing out ANYWHERE! I do so like to sing and rhyme! Thank you! Thank you! Simon-in-Time.

I must say, look there, what a beautiful scene,
The sun is rolling the winter away green.

I am sorry, I can't, I haven't a moment to spare,
I'm too busy to look, and in fact, I don't care.

Where are you going, on such a wonderful day?
And why are you stressed out and acting this way?

There are things that I need, to keep myself going,
I have much to do, and more keeps on coming.

What's more important than the beauty abound?
Take a load off, enjoy it, stop running around.

Well I need bags, shoes and gloves, to name just a few,
Without these, I ask, how can I do what I do?

What needs to be done that won't get completed,
By God's own design, whenever its needed?

Things, I tell you, very important to me,
Defining for others, who I want them to see.

You are who you are, Things can't say what you mean,
Or relate your true thoughts about where you have been.

Bah, you have no idea, you don't know what you say,
This is a material world and will always be that way.

You will not find the answers in gaining possessions,
To find inner peace you must release your obsessions.

I cannot simply be without something to grind,
What on God's green earth would I do with my time?

You could search your own soul, break down the wall,
Release the light from yourself, and see the beauty in all.

from dilapidated press
Beast escapes but is surounded.
"Alive beyond life, before there was thought, everything was so perfect that it was nothing. It created nothing. It slept in completely circled spheres just beyond time needing nothing. And it, as it had to, and must, and not of its own accord, succumbed to the grace of spontaneous combustion and , so, and so literally*, found itself imploring what it ought from this natural conflagration, the source and whirling fabric of everything, including love, and, now, because this simple and intrinsic entropy was the only law, consequence, and inevitability around, it just start to glow." - this was reportedly given to the 'Wholey Times' reporter Misses Knowthing written on a tea box secreted in her lunch box sometime early last week.. I t continues. " And I awakened to lament the absence of a witness. So, inevitably, so inevitably, the huge paisley beast that always and never was lumbered off my sleeping floor, (waking it, the floor, rudely), and took on, again, once more, in the center of its tiny(lizard)brain, the beyond-tiny fulcrum who's totally unconnected

and indifferent arms reach to infinity in every direction. This time in song. This beast, today, was a master herder of song snakes, the musical magicians that no one ever gave the proper and the real credit due and to. And this morning they threatened to riot around the ankle of my mono-ped paisley beast. They joined, perhaps a thousand of them a terra-second, and formed green coils that extended themselves into wild ropes only containing themselves because of the imposed frequencies shaping and reshaping them into apparent motions. These frequencies were a gift from the marvelous one pedal paisley beast. The snakes had made it, again, into the rift between substance and motion. Snakes know that nothing that is real ever moves and can never be found alive. That is why they love to swim in sand. The animals had all settled down, now, to a stability of sorts; a stray and forcibly deranged paraquet had sent a loaded para-quark across and, yes, 'through' the room. I look over my shoulder and the commander-in-chief is in deep conversation with himself, reassured, I plod on...."

*yes, there was a subsequent visit by the word police

I tried to find Fredrick but no go. Seems he is out of town on assignment. At least according to the implications of a note I found under the door matt where he usually leaves the key up at the retreat . It was raining and almost too dark to see the breath fog i tried to hold in my hands. I called his wife without using a phone as I can sometimes do when we are both concerned and we began the long tedious task of reminding ourselves with words of the rock solid truths here that our hearts would never believe. We wandered in our memories to the many many drunken evenings screaming into a typewriter where and when the impossibility of achieving even the most basic, perhaps especially the most basic, communications became intolerable. The 'whole point' hovered over his left shoulder, a magnet behind glass and the metal crowds in his mind would lean him over to one side and you thought he'd fall out of the chair. We laughed. Well, I believed we did. He seemed to anticipate the request and strove in an addendum to the note to remind me that no one owns anything anyways, period. And it should be given to an editor who would give it immediatly back to Fred and make him do justice to the form. To tell him over tea and crossed legs that she was the filter and reflector and that to take an innocent reader from the expectation of a run of the mill everyday tragic story to the cosmic intialness of the 'Big Empty' without a little more color from the mean streets, or, maybe, some hungry wailing children under a mother's shawl to reley the heart of it all. And what was the weather. How was the beast standing? To give the reader something more than these disperate boubols. She called him lazy and irresponsible. Evidently that was the final straw. He stormed out giving her everything. Everything. Even the rights to his dirty laundry. He, of course, expected it to be done when he returned. But as everyone already knew; it would never be over. We pictured him way out in the wordy wilderness so paisley that it was painful to look at him.

When were you last really happy?
Let that experience ferment,
bring it to mind once
in a while.

Surely in the genesis of that past moment, when you danced,
you would not have wanted a constable
to have knocked
on your
door,

or have said, "you just entered
a restricted ground."

Why are there so many stars and souls,
with no end in sight for
them?

Because nothing can interrupt God
when He is having fun,

creating!

i felt the words set fire
of the spirit in my heart
i boldly mocked the cross-roads
so certain of my part

i never saw it comin'
i guess that i was blind
'til i lay there broken
in the bed of my pride

So run head-long toward the guns
with the Truth burning in your veins
for your children, for the Kingdom
for the union, for the slave

any lesson from your dyin'
goes hollow at the Gate
when St. Peter asks your Soul,
what Heaven taught of hate?

we sure 'nough give 'em hell
down in the Devil's Den
the hellfire did not scare me,
nor the death of my friend

faith is an armor
when you're bleedin' in the hole
and the scales fall from your eyes
and you know the rebel's Soul

So run head-long toward the guns
with the Truth burning in your veins
for your children, for the Kingdom
for the union, for the slave

any lesson from your dyin'
goes hollow at the Gate
when St. Peter asks your Soul
what Heaven taught of hate?

one day, you'll go marchin'
out in the parade
one day, you'll go ridin'
to look upon the grave

one night, under the darkness
with the starlight shinin' down,
when the weepin' heals your heart,
you'll know who i am

So run head-long toward the guns
with the Truth burning in your veins
for your children, for the Kingdom
for the union, for the slave

any lesson from your dyin'
goes hollow at the Gate
when St. Peter asks your Soul
what Heaven taught of hate?

When St. Peter asks your Soul
what Heaven taught of hate?

What is it we seek?

We contemplate the universe, but know not what we seek.

We search for Truth and Happiness, whatever they may be.

We think that we will know them, if we can only get a peek.

But the answers we are looking for, are not where we can see.

To find what we are looking for, we must look inside the keep.

The Universe and all that is, can be found inside of thee.

universe within and universe without
that you have it in you is what the Loving is about
all around and beyond the Light of the Flame
the World answers back the mirror of your Name

http://www.cropcircleconnector.com/2004/eastfield/eastfield2004a.html

gives an image of what i tell

We compose to expose our tortured mind
To other's with views of analogous kind
In the end it turns out
As within, so without:
It's our Soul we inevitably find.

----- Original Message -----
From: Ned
To: Chris Boucher
Sent: Wednesday, June 23, 2004 9:46 PM
Subject: Formal Thanks

For allowing me to speak . I am embarressed at its triviality attempting to make itself important by "taking it personally when it rains" to the point where words simply play with themeselves. I claim no responsibility and will insist, if bullied. But the result is theraputec for me in the extream. perhaps this truely nebulous Toa of language, where, just like with the basic kernals of the universe, intent changes everything without changing a thing, perhaps sincere intent is the offspring of opposites seeing through eachother to the point where they become something more; the actuallity.The researcher cannot, must not, take himself from the equation while interested in a particular result. Where it will become impossible to not see ourselves, finally, for what we are; Canadians! I mean, Planet Citizens, complete. Inalienable rights around us like a fortress with the sanity inducing knowledge that there's only one boat. When all is said and done. I may get to go to China and preach my doctrines, my inevitable and self revealing doctrines, my totally unownable never even created becuse they outreach time itself. Doctrines that abuse themselves until the container and the contained turn inside out and definitions are fluid, like truth and reality themselves. I am ashamed of my country and must now declare the planet as my nation, with doctrines that are self-revealing. Owned by all. Beyond ownership. Self-evident intent, finally, no middle man to play the demon and place profit in the equation as something that the universe forgot. Which it most certainly did not. Abundance is its middle name. You are a good and powerful man in my opininion. I just felt the need to say hello. I love you and all you have shown me , good brother.

Full Moon rising as

She waits in the night

for Mysteries and Magic

She who flies this wake

this Eagle's Light

Falling embers and

Flowers bud

She quickens alive

Dear Sun to come

She scribbles her soul into

a Black Hole

scarcely seen she

scarcely keeps while

nakedly Becoming

But her imagination kills as

her imagination feeds

a canvas painting sweet

Sweet Company

Fearful and hiding she

steps out of sight

a Witch in her

Burning

a Phoenix flight

Tameless fires keeping

relentless Heartbeat

Wicked and dancing

and I am she

And so all those

Spiral Galaxies

are naught but

Ancient Goddess

Spinning

Dancing

Round and Round

by Gravity her

Magnificence here

again Held fixed

She has no need

of any Sound

save pulsating

this Gazing

Sweet Lover's

Heartbeat

for where spellbound

Bewitched is he

Creation Dance

shall ready be seen

the burning! the burning!
Orpheus sang as the city burned.

everyone looks at the city
and wonders why such a one
would fiddle like Nero before the conflagration.

look within him though
and you'll see his invisible flame
he is a man on fire
a song of surrender to the tongues of flame
it is because of that the city burns.
it sings: "i have given up all traffic patterns
and separation grids."

you won't gain as much using a physical consuming.
put down the matches and the gasoline
we are not speaking of that.

no, the city is a soul mirror
and it is in flames because it is rejoicing.
"I have heard the song of the One-with-the-fire
and the Joy has overwhelmed me!"

many miles i drove
learning the Way to follow the Path
which takes a steady awake-ness
not easily learned, for the attention
falls back to sleep, hitting the snooze button
of following a realization that became a dogma trap

more miles, seeing the awake and the entranced
nature speaking, even the radio and television
has me in mind, for it's that way when you carry the world.

day and night, the disturbed and hungry dead
enter me, i am full of holes, with no way to
even be choosey about who plays me.
no more of this, i am tired of the dead
and their clinging, no matter how royal or ancient.
with a trick of the eyes, i send them into the starry emptiness
then, lock the door of my inner self.

the relinquishing only comes at the point of exhaustion
when there is a sorry bit a realization that cleverness has failed
"what a mess i've made of things. this wasn't
that self-less at all."
i am lost, strapped to the pride bed.

it seems like all of Creation holds still and watches.
there is only Hope for the Promise to be kept.
poor and empty and this Relinquishing may leave me broken
with my mind scattered in mundane madness.

finally, i lower my head and let it all go.
"into Your Hands I commend my spirit."

in fairy tales, sometimes the guiding helper makes a strange request.
the fox or horse will say,
"if you want to repay me, kill me."

this is a horror for it's counter intuitive

not so for the heart animal.
it tells you, "you have reached my limits
my form will no longer serve you"

"put me in a cage and don't feed me or give me water.
put a stone in the cage upon which i can comfort myself.
after i am dead, divide my body into the 6 dierctions,
you will know how to do this. when you find the Pearl
that is in me, clean it off. place my body and my
Pearl in something Sacred. you will know how to do this too.
put all of me under the clear night sky"

your own heart will ache in your chest
as you carry out the instructions
and it will last a long time.
you cry out and wonder if you can take such pain and loneliness.
even telling people and G-d, does not lesson that kind of pain.

complain all you want.
"my heart animal has always told me what to do,
but now, all i do is hurt day and night from the loving"

what rises from the bundle though, walks upright,
head closer to heaven, feet deeper into the earth,
and all that follows from the new arrangement.

converse with that one, with that heart-guide
and you know why the heart animal required what it did.

What does it mean when
My guide appears as the
Soul of Humanity?

brick-walled county
bent-right phallic monument
hammers out its backward song

swing yer partner round
round yer partner swing
stars outside still sing:

!!!!!og reh tel
hguone gnol diap sah ehs
!!!!!og reh tel
hguone gnol diap sah ehs
!!!!!og reh tel
hguone gnol diap sah ehs