Love, here now.


I didn’t write this poem, you did,

it’s writing itself, as you hear it,

and here’s what it sounds like,

right now:



And these noise, cut with silence, come to you as words,

beautiful phrases or gobbledy-gook, and they do so,

right now.


Or maybe other thoughts appear, 

of holidays, or what to have for tea, or how to fix the toaster

and these words and thoughts are mingling, together,

right now.


And all of this is happening in a tiny hanging moment,

and the past never happened, and the future never comes,

and the words and language don’t exist, all there is, 

is right now.


And there is no you or me, no us or them, no here,

no there, no outside, no inside, no upside, no downside,

no atoms, no particles, no space in between, 

and yet there’s still colliding, 

right now.


And everything is love, 

(or whatever-you-call-it.)

The voices

the spaces,

the people,

the places,

the trees, 

the flowers, 

the hamburgers,

the dog shit,

the gas bill,

the toll booth,

the mustard,

the traffic jam,

the television.

And the planet.

All a shared dream, 

happening right now.


A few thoughts on religion, life and spirituality…

There is no external God.

Science and experience seems to indicate, that everything is appearing from the void and dying back into it again and that everything both exists and doesn’t exist. How could an infinite God exist outside these rules and if he did would he have created finite rules, relating to humanity in ’ time’? He’s just a concept.

There is no God morality.

The morality appearing is created by humans. It varies from place to place and time to time.

There is no heaven.

Where Heaven is a concept  of the individual self continuing infinitely. Everything is coming into being and dying back to source. To be Dead is like  sleep -When sleep happens the universe and I cease to be, when waking happens they are again. 

There is no past.

Its gone, just a colourful memory.

There is no future.

It never comes. Whatever you think it is going to be is a concept.

There is no time.

Only this moment, one constant moment. That last’s till it’s over. Hours and minutes and years are all just consensus concepts.

There are no countries

On a globe where everything runs together how can place x be seperate from y. All divisions are conceptual.

There is no money.

Everyone just has an agreement that little bits of paper and numbers on a computer screen have some notional value.

There is no separate self

All there is is a load of stuff happening. A big colourful merry go round rotating round an infinite still centre and even these things aren’t separate.

Sounds, feelings, thoughts, places, people, movement, just happen. Mind gives them value, folds them into a continuing narrative or discards them and this too is just happening.

All is illusion.

The infinite manifesting as an infinite amount of stuff and paradoxically all these things exist in the dream or it is insisted that they do.

All there is, is what there is, whatever that may be.