|
|
I Am The Most Blessed Of Children A confession of Gratitude Born from two saintly emanations of love, on a beautiful farm with the richest soil in the world, surrounded by a large tribal family, four siblings, thousands of animals and plants, before TV and modern times had arrived, working and playing long and hard for the benefit and support of the family, I am the most blessed of the children. Growing with lots of solitude and interactions of the generations, discovering everything through the experiences of the senses, feelings and mind, having my own retreat of wildness called the Willows, spending early summers amidst a flock of sheep, observing the constant cycle of life and death, I am the most blessed of children. Learning from the examples of parents lives, not through words, rules and expectations, knowing you are loved no matter what or who you are, knowing that no one knows any of this is, being free to ask your own questions and find your own answers, being free, I am the most blessed of children. Leaving hom and entering the larger world, seeing the injustice and suffering, working for civil rights, pointing to the criminal insanity of a wicked war that killed my friends and millions of neighbours in southeast Asia, threatened by my own neighbors to stop protesting the war, my parents early death giving me the liberation to throw myself out into the world, I left America, knowing that, |
I am the most blessed of children.
Arriving in Mexico to experience a whole new millieu of weather, geography and cultures, basking in a warmer sun, darker skins, and mysterious ways, arriving in the doorsteps of a new life where I would be able to create a community of life based on my own realizations of the past and my hopes for the future, planting a million trees, scattering ideas to the worldy wind, taking everyone who came into my life as a friend, I found that,
I am the most blessed of the children.
Returning to America without a reason, a why, or a what I found myself on the wrong side of the Rio Grande in the middle of nowhere, losing all ideas of who or what I was,
And finally, simply just being there with my dog family in space and time in a community where integrity and truth were still acknowledged, where all had not been infected with the general worship of money and power, where stars still sparkled and lands were still empty yet,
I am the most blessed of children.
Knowing now that I am a seer, the voice crying in the wilderness, the eternal student and lover of humankind, the cultural creative, the avant-garde, the post-modern monastic, the enemy of none, the only one who is,
I am the most blessed of children.
18th of April, 2004
Ken Nelson,
Piedras, New Mexico
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
AMERICA IS A FAT WHORE.
ALWAYS ON HER BACK IF THERE`S MONEY TO BE MADE.
WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO LOOK GOOD WHILE FUCKING THE WORLD.
SINGING HER OWN PRASISES WITH EVERY BREATHE,
HER THRASHINGS AND HUMPINGS CRUSH THOUSANDS, ENSLAVE MILLIONS,
COLLATERAL DAMAGE OF HER LOVE.
AMERICA THINKS SHE`S THE HOLY PROSTITUTE WHO WORKS GOD`S WILL,
BUT SHE`S THE WORSE OF BABYLON SPREADING GREED AND FEAR,
AMERICA`S PIMP, THE MEDIA, ALWAYS PRESENTS HER PRETTY SIDE,
NEVER TELLLING THE TRUTH OF THE DEADLY DISEASES SHE INFECTS YOU WITH.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
AMERICA, LOOK AT WHO YOU ARE:
YOUR MOTHER`S MILK IS TOXIC,
YOUR BLOOD IS PETROLEUM,
YOUR BODY IS A CANCER GROWING ON THE WORLD,
YOUR MIND IS DERANGED,
YOUR DESIRES ARE ALL BASE,
YOU ONLY SEE YOURSELF.
YOU UGLY BITCH, IT`S COME TO THIS,
WE HATE YOU!
From the RANTS AND RAVES series by Ken Nelson, Tres Piedras, New Mexico, July 2004.
Let`s all remember, YOU HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO REMAIN SILENT.
ALL IS AS IT IS
It`s a magical world: it`s all done with mirrors.
If this dream has any rules,
one seems to be that if you turn away from something
you will be facing it again.
what you turn away from
what you turn toward
is yourSelf.
Only the one who sees their true face
without a mirror
knows the Self
Then the magic bubble is burst
and all projection ceases
for there is but one
without a second.
There is no separation or distance
because there is nothing to be separate or distant.
That which is seeing
through the eyes of a loved one,
through the eyes of a stranger,
(the eyes of the mouse, the hawk,
The brightest star, this stone;)
is that which is seeing through
what you call „your eyes”
And on some „level”all know this,
This is the whisper, the haunting, the sensing,
(so often misunderstood)
like a splinter in your mind.
That which is seeing is All.
And All is as it is.
David Carse „Perfect Brilliant Stillness” Paragate Publishing 2006