Swelling, turgid, hard, round As I transition from morning sleep Soft and solid, like the ground, Firmly connected to somewhere deep -Primal, earthy, sexy stiff, Filled and full as I awake, Silky, smooth, sensitive In my grasp as I take A breath, deep into this place -The man inside- before I face The wake, the work, the worry, the clock This moment of me and my morning cock.   Our eyes easing open in cool morning still You slide toward me and reach your hand Firmly feeling, finding the long rigid roundness that will Soon fully fill you with your man Pulling me to you in clamping grip, Feeling my want gazing into your eyes, Rubbing warm moist with tingling tip Wettening warm hardness, drawing urgent sighs Tingling rush, sliding, arousing wait Of lingering tip teasing the gate Craving, aching to be filled with thick, Powerful first full thrust from my morning dick.   In afterglow of the pre dawn The shared explosion rippling on In the silent space at passion’s end Before routine returns again Still heightened breath and trailing sighs Still sensing my filling from inside And through the day with just a look We’ll remember this moment [...]

We chase shadows into the darkness To conceal our shadows from ourselves.   Truth-tellers speak behind masks Of all personality as such, Save theirs, Sparks from their tongues Brighten the darkness, With shadow after shadow Of beautiful darkened souls Following.   Truth is Truth-tellers lie.   Followers see only shadow Of the figure of the follower before them, Who follows the truth-teller Behind as such a mask.   And the darkened Ones repeat: It is better to light one candle Than to curse the darkness, Their wicks wetted from the spit From the guru’s truth-telling. None see the blackness behind the mask, Only wait for a few more sparks.   Their candles never burn Following, flailing, faving, fanning, Failing. Each candle, each One burning A thousand times brighter Than the sparks of the truth-teller, Never lit – every One Afraid of his own shadow Dies in darkness While the truth-teller lies.

…to go from a company that didn’t care at all about its employees, where my petty, lame coworkers were complaining about my efforts to improve myself and they actually punished me for working on myself, to a company that is encouraging and offering to pay for employees to attend a weekend personal evolution course, totally “not business related.” And is it any surprise that the “previous company,” the most poorly managed company I’ve ever worked for, is losing money and laying off dozens of employees while the other company, probably the best managed company I’ve ever worked for, is experiencing record growth, record profit, is an industry leader and is hiring new employees left and right? The “previous company” has a moron for a president and a fascist for an HR director. They spent their resources checking security tape, checking employees’ Internet usage, making sure everyone is swiping their keys in and out, and then giving big bonuses to a sales VP who never brought in any business. The “current company” gives employees tons of flexibility, keeps coming up with awesome new product, and has sales growing hand over fist. It’s not a coincidence. The “previous company” is a textbook [...]

You are not your thoughts. This is something I’ve been telling myself for a while and only recently actually felt in my being. Getting this concept, at a bodily level, will change the way you look at everything. And it will allow you to create a profound level of groundedness and relaxation you might not believe is possible. You are not your thoughts. You are not the feelings generated from your thoughts. You are not your beliefs. You are not your habits. And just because you think something does not mean it’s true for you. Just because you think something does not mean you have to give it any attention. You generate all kinds of thoughts, most of which go unnoticed. There is a part of you which is filtering your thoughts and deciding which ones to pay attention to. And when it decides something might be important, it lets you know, usually through some sort of emotional charge. But that doesn’t make the thought you, and it doesn’t make it true for you. Until we bring attention to it, most of us allow our thought-filtering to work on auto-pilot to the point where we allow our thoughts to actually [...]

In this train car From one downtown to another, I walk in the doors Before they close, then grab hold of the rail above me.   In this train car All the seats are taken, so I stand, Breathe in the scene, And share a smile with a woman at the other end.   In this train car The train shifts, and jerks, Turns, stops, starts, and I sway, Yet feel connected to the ground below us.   In this train car More people climb on, Most people try to ignore each other, While a woman sings “We Are the World.”   In this train car I see the morning sunlight Streaming through the windows, An uplifting sense of peace and love fills me.   In this train car I feel I am being held, Everything and everyone will be okay, That we are all doing the best that we can.   In this train car I do not know anybody, Many do not speak my language, Still I feel connected with all of us sharing the ride In this train car.  

Breathing into the pain – deeply, Slowly, fully, filling my heart With aching heaviness, Filling and overflowing Into catharsis, Breathing through my tears, Welcoming hurt into my heart, Feeling the movement – completely, Opening each inhale, releasing each exhale, Allowing the sadness to expand, Radiating with love in my chest, Exhaling the tightness, the lumps in my throat, Surrendering to the storm of sweet heartache, Savoring the pain with each breath, Feeling it move through on the wind, The breath current on which everything passes Through time, Even heaviness such as this.

I originally got into the “personal evolution” arena as a way to release my inner barriers and “live out loud.” Along the way, I found some amazing people, learned a lot, and had some incredible breakthroughs. Eventually, I put those experiences and lessons down on paper and created my first book – things were really flowing and feeling great. Then, for some odd reason, I switched gears and went into this “commercial mode,” where I became very concerned about “messaging” my “audience” and blogging felt very uptight and constrained. I lost my voice. Without knowing it, I’d strayed away from my purpose and everything just felt like work. For a period of time, basically from September up to now, I’ve been working a new “full-time” job, while at the same time working away during my “downtime” (usually commuting on the train to and from work) doing various writing work on other “evolutionary” collaborations I’ve been working on. Great, things are moving along. But somewhere in the middle of this, I ran into some quicksand and just felt myself slogging along. I’d lost touch with that energy, that inner poet that’s been the source of my inspiration. How many people feel [...]

Standing on the platform, peering across the wall of freeway traffic noise, Over the Los Angeles basin, to the illuminated city silhouettes, In the growing damp chill of a later-than-average and far-too-often-so post-rush hour, Eyeing my fellow train waiters suspiciously, Wondering if today is the day I am robbed. Buildings look beautiful in the evening darkness, Background mountains obscured by blackness, In the afternoon twilight which I only rarely see, The picture is inversed – hazy skyline upstaged By brown and snow-tinged mountains. I text with an eye around me, to avoid surprises, Letting my wife know I will be late, A night of arriving home with her and our three-year-old asleep, A night of dragging and hurrying through dinner and preparation for tomorrow, Stealing a moment of presence from my sleep, sitting silently in the dark, Knowing shortly I will be waking to start again. Somewhere in this evening I will write, Somewhere in this evening I will relax, Somewhere in this evening I will find a moment to enjoy, Somewhere in this evening I will be grateful for my job, Somewhere in this evening I will despise my cramped apartment, Somewhere a child is home with his mother, [...]

Shiny gloss of the stapler, reflecting on its surface Glints of fluorescent light and images on my desk. Smooth muted phone receiver plastic, shining A dull white glow from the office light above. Mirror-smooth of monitor outline, distorting The sight of the desks lined up behind me. Matted keyboard black, keys worn to a shine From the tap of my fingertips against them. Tape dispenser, matted on the oval sides, plastishiny slanted concave front, A layer of dust dulling the finish, sticking underneath exposed transparent tape. Grippable dull, comfortably curved mouse, rubbery flat pad To the right of a desk calendar showing last month. Plastirubber indented pen grip, ink showing through plasticlear pen Clamped between the keyboard and a stack of papers under my typing forearms. Plastic cylinder reflecting a sticker on the printer, housing a pair of scissors and a pen In front of the printer, next to the phone, next to the monitor. Two trays of reflective, stackable, a mission statement affixed, covering part of a side facing me, A cascade of papers and files obscuring the top. Rounded rectangle screen of my iPhone, between messages, on bed of rubber bands, Surrounded clockwise: tape dispenser, stapler, notepad, empty [...]

From this vantage over the carved emerald canyon, Captivated by the island of chiseled stone set against a turquoise horizon, Above a sapphire sea, Beneath a sparking sunshine warming our winter morning, Our laughing little boy running along the path, Overturning stones, discovering a treasure trove Of sowbugs, pincer bugs, spiders and ants, Feeling the diamond of your ring pressing against my finger, Slowly, deeply, feeling the crisp morning air fill my lungs, Carrying our excited little boy on my back, Seeing the radiant green of your gaze, Savoring the priceless warmth and tender passion of our kiss –Admiring each precious gem.