his deep hunger

The hungry was powerful it did not cease – for nigh on three days it had him on his knees consuming what nourishment that he could find except for the tantric or spiritual kind. He stuffed himself full with grains cheeses and fish and ate from most every available dish but still his deep hunger he could not abate no matter how much food he piled on his plate. A few dozen beers also entered his guts but he knew he'd never reenter the ruts that he'd long been trapped in that led him astray that had turned to pewter once-pliable clay. And so he now sits in his small tidy room with thoughts turned to liberty fate beauty doom; the future is his who can harness himself who searches not outside but inside for wealth.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

starting from birth

There are friends who want what's good then those who are concerned just with bellying up to a bar. To conquer the ego and harness its faults; stand up, face the music of this fragile waltz; revel in the beauty of our tiny Earth; is all one can hope to do, starting from birth. When others attempt to control dictate lead concerned not with joy but with merely their greed they just satisfy what they feel deep inside and then drag some others along for the ride. To not face one's demons is a faulty path, for one will soon incur Miss Fate's patient wrath and wind up without much to show for oneself beside empty bottles lined up on a shelf. I reject this method for dealing with stress and would rather do say try and attempt less and sit by myself in this room made of flesh – this mortal warm bloody mobile living crèche. Thank you sir but no thanks, I must say more oft and keep all my energies lifted aloft and learn to stay focused in the here and now and wrap up my fleshy pulsating man-plow. No amount of liquor can quench this here thirst; to drink so much sugar just makes most things worse; so throw down that flagon and go take a walk; enough of this rambling self-righteous talk.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

fortunes and luck

At 4 in the morning was when my clock struck to signal a shift in my fortunes and luck. I'd sprung from the bed before it could sound twice and switched on the light-saving overhead lights then sat in the small room for maybe fifteen producing a paltry intermittent stream. With a five solid minutes I buffered my quest yet when I arrived just one other did rest and woke not in time to head out with the group which duly out toward the chauffeur did troop. With no cars in our way we sped through the dark and walked in while their local driver then parked and met with a manku (or monk, in this tongue) who brought out dry sarongs for everyone. Thus clad and all ready we made for the spouts and entered cold waters with nary a shout and opened our chakras and relaxed our souls and let ring our innermost balancing bowls. After those 5 outlets had washed us off good we changed into dry clothing in which we could sit for a long period down on the stones and pray to many gods in varying tones. We lifted our bare hands up to chackra 6, washed them in smoke rising from red incense sticks, then prayed once again but with flowers between our fingers which had been so recently cleaned. After that was done sat for meditation and two of us felt a powerful sensation of energies flowing in down out and through repeating and flashing with patterns we knew. Once finished we went then to view Shiva's rod, the rock and stone member of a mighty god, then left by a side-door the groomed temple grounds and reflected on all the knowledge we'd found. We sped back past rice-field and workshops for wood and sought out a café in bustling Ubud and made there new friends with a small group of men. They had on their chests round devices which blinked which caused us to wonder pause inspect and think and caused us to jump in the leader-dude's van and speed right back out to the country again. The price-point was high for what we would have got wherefore we did not buy anything on the spot but pledged to meet up with him a few days hence when passions had cooled and our minds were less dense. My nap didn't happen for now I must ride to find me a resto with decent Wi-Fi where I can complete a task started last week before my eyes flutter shut tired and weak.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

churning far side

With frothy peaks mounting atop the deeps black he ducked under wavelengths of ceaseless attack. When surfaced once more on the churning far side a perfect one coming ws all that he spied and turned for his takeoff and nailed it anon and without much effort was surfing and gone. When its forces were spent his exit arrived and his was a purest joy to be alive and he turned once more and once more paddled out while sounding his loudest and sharpest war-shout. A maiden was nearby and she turned to look as he from his forelock the briny drink shook but with a few stokes of his lean mighty limbs pulled past her and toward that one sweet spot did swim. Through haze sun was setting and sending up steam it watched as he kept getting up on his beam it watched as he sped through the oceans atop the great mighty breakers that never did stop. When his forces left him he aimed for the cove and thanked all the gods who looked down from above and thanked all the gods living under the sea in a short swift sincere surf ceremony. With aplomb he wormed slipped and dodged all the rocks and ignored the nay-saying beer-drinking jocks who piled on the shore-front to stand there and leer whenever a surfer-type came them too near. His heart though was pure and he kept his mouth shut and kept right on walking to his meager hut where he took a shower too brief and too cold then vowed he'd still love the sea when he was old.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dandy and fine

With just a wee portion of tasteful delight she ended what started as an average night. Her mate he was slender and didn't much care if she had long pretty blond straight or short hair. Their tryst was not lengthy and he didn't stay but quickly at sunrise went off on his way and never did call her or drop her a line which she found OK splendid dandy and fine.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

lyrics to mete

I'll keep this one simple short tender and sweet for I have been given some lyrics to mete. The words I'll keep simple but they don't come free for they will require much effort from me. It's off to a roadhouse for its wireless as well as a well-cooked and boned chicken breast. The life of a stringer is not hard at all, so long as I stick to my own wherewithal and don't fall in cozy with drinkers and thieves or mistake my wants for my few paltry needs. My fingers will fly over all of these keys and then I will relax and do as I please and stand back and rejoice that labor's been done – that for just today I've a few battles won.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

my small victories

One way that I keep mood and spirits buoyed is by satisfying their everyday need for order, cleanliness, and propriety – these together make up my small victories. The world that I live in is not won or lost by me calculating just profit or loss but by me composing and building up slow the projects and databases that I grow. I'll throw in some yoga six days out of all – it helps me stay limber and ruddies my pall – then be sure I hang out with old or new friends, whom I then rotate through again and again. In this way I augment the work that does pay for this my long lengthy vocational stay upon this here island below the equate whose surf-spots are plenty whose fun won't abate. This life of a human is full of defeat unless one always gets back to one's feet and marvels rejoices and praises the self with wee tiny victories for mental health. Without such small successes one shrivels up and merely inhabits a cracked leaky cup that oozes out oodles of life's precious juice, such the stuff as one must do one's best not to lose. So celebrate those small important occasions or struggle with constant and daily frustrations that start on the inside but soon emerge – with your small victories these you'll soon purge.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

just three conditions

When habits emerge they are duly subjected to just three conditions or else they're rejected. Occur these new habits in moderation? With love and humility toward everyone? Do they increase waistlines and bring the mood down or are they the toast and the talk of the town? If they have an impact that is quickly felt then they must forthwith an ejection be dealt or molded and shaped so that they then do cause not sad bad old loneliness but proud applause. The doing's not hard but the starting sure is – to pull oneself back from that gaping abyss that is a new habit takes grit marbles sand as well as conviction and a simple plan. Analise your conditions and ask yourself this: Will this here decision make me feel remiss? Or will I rejoice when the piper comes calling, demanding such payment as I find appalling? Then cut out the dead weight and start you anew, to make small change daily is all you can do, for that is how all those bad habits got started – when you got too comfortable and your brain farted.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

moves and stretching

With thoughts just of serving the weak and the lame he started a practice that he hoped would tame the misled convictions that lived deep within that caused him to lie cheat steal hate curse and sin. It was a short series of old moves and stretching that kept his limbs limber and his waistline fetching with bookends of breathing meditative thoughts that saw him there sitting and thinking of naught. He then read his Tao Te Ching, bowed to Agung, and swept up and tidied his single-bed room, and dove into writing a screenplay or book while an holy fire his soul-lines it shook.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

ourselves and alone

There remains for substance a palpable need in this time of spacial and temporal bleed. No one is sure just what is now going on – all that we can say is a battle's been won that has long been raging between light and dark since that one old codger did built him an ark. The fight is not over, there's more yet to come; it rages inside each of us, everyone, who deals with temptation lust want hate and greed and laughs or rejoices when his fellows bleed. Cultivate compassion and right the heart ​true and hope will spring always in your life anew for there is a well hidden inside the soul that runs deep and bountiful, pure clean and cold.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

from yesterday's fears

I learned at a young age that all people leave but not so much how and for how long to grieve. I sank into alcohol, wallowed in pity, and wasted a lot of time being plain shitty. Fourteen years now have passed since my Mom did die and here I sit still with a tear in my eye and reject the errors, the faults of my past while looking for meaningfulness that will last. I find that it helps to have people nearby who care for me and do not mind if I cry or sit there in silence and keep my mouth shut and trust in the Truth that lives deep in the gut. It is the small victories won every day that help me to get back up and onto my way, that help me keep learning from yesterday's fears the long solid wisdom that lasts through the years. Rise up from the pit now and reject what's false, there will be more obstacles and higher walls, but using the lessons I have learned so far I swear to keep for Hope my soul's door ajar.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

all by my

Sometimes I just have to sit back and unwind all by my poor lonesome for weeks at a time. I am I think guilty of giving from nil, of letting these others to drink of their fill and drain siphon empty the gifts that I share with all and with everyone, ugly or fair. I learned to watch out for this when I was trained but since have slipped into it now and again because I am careless and let habits grow instead of just sticking to good things I know. To keep doing yoga will save this here life and help me to quiet my internal strife and see me now blossom with recovery, with brightness and laughter and wondrous discoveries. Each day is a choice, then, each day starts anew, to make good decisions is all I can do, not wallow or pine for days or people gone but celebrate the tiny victories won.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

thankful in two

There has been an anger stuck deep in my brain that's there because the past cannot come again. When I make the mistake of thinking too much and brooding on images I cannot clutch, and missing dead people like Mom Dad and Grammy I suffer a jaw-clenching, swift double whammy. I yearn for the people I see in my head, then remember – Oh yeah, that's right, they're all dead – then feel like I want to just tremble and break and scream from my lungs with each breath that they make. Instead I'll go surfing and bob in the waves, and try to be thankful in two or three ways, and beg for the souls of my ancestors dear, who are always with me, up between my ears.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥