The Wordless (from Twittering)

There are no words to describe the Unmanifest that some call Spirit, Being, Self. It is beyond our world of words. It is... The Wordless.

In the beginning was the Wordless, and the Wordless became the pattern, and from that pattern we made the Word.

In time the Word became the World, the pattern became unknowable, and the Wordless became unspeakable.

But world know and speak this: You are That Wordless.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Twitter Me This: timeless no tomorrow

The moon. A diamond. One-thousand wings. And below the earth in tedious darkness.

Bamboo. Kachinas. A barrier island. Thunder coughing in the long uncertain non-negotiable horizon.

Guitars. A cornstalk. Pawns, knights, and kings. Lightning flashes in a full-length mirror.

A panther. Green temples. Convoluted driftwood. Rain creating writing on the white-washed walls.

Blue cup. Brass Shiva. A rough-hewn altar. The flood that washes all this said material away.

Nothing. But something. An always being now. The timeless no tomorrow staying in the once again today.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Yet Another Few Tweets that Made the Poem

Not the Not

It’s not the rock, the mottled
way of granite; not

the subatomic field
where energy informs

this pattern which the mind
calls rock; but wordless...

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Twitter Poem in Three Stanzas (rev to 4)

New

It’s as if I were
a tree connected to
the earth with neuron roots

and plugged into the sky
with leaves like copper plates
and through the heartwood came

a sunburst, came the molten
lava, and their meeting
made the nightly news

become white noise and empty
airtime broadcast to
an audience of no one.


~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Twiquintanka 2: That That

Hiking on this path,
I know the trees are That,
and rocks are That, and even
these legs that move because
that That impels are That.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Twitter Quintanka: Naming

White sky, green air, & earth
the color of the rain
await my eyes to write them so.
Before this naming, no sky, no air,
nor earth—universe.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Early Morning Late Night Twitter Holy Prose-like Prayer Poem in Five Full Tweets

I should worship the manifest universe as one would worship a god.

Out of the unmanifest emptiness arises this manifest field, out of Pure Awareness arises a conscious energy.

Mind interprets the patterns of this manifest energy into god-objects. Holy tree and holy leaf and holy oriole.

And holy couch and holy coffee table and holy blank screen of holy television set.

Holy gods of manifest illusion appearing from unmanifest pure emptiness, the holiest of holies only holy, here and now is praying.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

A Twitter Exercise in Chaos Theory (w/ soundtrack)

Quantum energy of the universe exists as one field with varying patterns. Thought names the patterns as if they were discrete. I’m paisley.

I once was plaid. Plaid was plausibly the pluperfect plan. Vertical integration and horizontal planes. But it was crossing everything up.

Trivia: Gerry Rafferty hailed from Paisley, Scotland. He formed the band called Stealers Wheel. Big hit: 'Stuck in the Middle With You.'

Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, Here I am, stuck in the middle with you. ~Stealers Wheel http://digg.com/u13H7j

ECS_Dave@sonrivers Stuck in the Middle... is a great tune, as is Baker Street... ♫ http://blip.fm/~689gk

@ECS_Dave Thanks for the link. Funny thing, I like both those songs, but never knew they were by the same person.

ECS_Dave@sonrivers Wow! Glad to be able to connect them for you... ;=)

ECS_DaveTo my followers... I just found a new friend via http://twitter.com/public_t... @sonrivers Ask Twitter to put that link back on homepage

More trivia. According to Wiki, there is some question as to whether Gerry Rafferty disappeared on Aug 1, 2008. Or is living in Tuscany.

Tuscany is home to the Chianti region. Chianti: one of my favorite wines. I do not believe you can buy a bad bottle. No matter how cheap.

I am presently drinking a glass of Red Rhone wine, another of my favorites. Holy grape, mother of France, forgive us our Tuscany trespasses.

La Société des artistes décorateurs introduced the patterns, Art Deco. This is a pattern of quantum energy in mathematical geometric shapes.

The manifest appears to have an affinity for mathematical geometric patterns aligned in the greatest design of all: chaos.

We the manifest appear to be random. But we are deterministic, defined by initial conditions. Nothing is random. The manifest has designs.

One can resist the designs of the manifest and try to be plaid. Or one can surrender to those designs and accept the paisley.

There is no choice of course. Don't worry. Be Paisley.

Sri Swami Satguru Bobby McFerrin http://digg.com/u13HFP

qjohn@sonrivers I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll get totally stoned for your right to say it.

@qjohn Just an exercise in chaos theory

Think of it as performance art: A Twitter Exercise in Chaos Theory (w/ soundtrack) http://digg.com/u13HI2

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Full Moon Twitterka

A full moon rises,
surrounded by the silver
wisps of clouds, reflecting
in the stillness of the silent river,
its near emptiness inviting.

first tweeted on twitter here

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Poem Written on Twitter in Five Tweets

Swaths of newly green rivergrass on the far shore of this high tide current gives appearance that the river now begins to leaf as well.

Leafing river, laughing river, the river of life and the river of love, the river of springtime sings its manifestation of Pure May.

Beneath the leafing river, underneath the high tide currents, lies the living darkness of the ever-present never-knowing emptiness of all.

All the river, all this May and all the leafing loving living are reflections rippling from this deep and unknown silent undercurrent being.

And there’s nothing but this being, nothing known about this being, nothing one can do to be this being, but to be the being being being.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

Orange and Red Energies

A Twitter 140 Drama: Adam's Trance

1 The stranger walked the muddy streets beneath a darkening sky. Not a soul could be seen. Neither were any windows lit.

2 The wind, though, appeared to be calling his name. He dared not answer in fears that someone invisible to him would hear.

3 He had no idea how he had arrived here. He had no idea where he was. And he had no plan on coming up with any either.

4 He heard a loose window-shutter banging against a wall in a kind of syncopation. A dog barked somewhere off to his right; left, nothing.

5 He was looking at the ground, fighting off exhaustion, when he heard his name spoken. Looking up, he saw a figure walking towards him.

6 The newcomer was clothed in an emerald robe, yet he couldn’t tell if it was a woman or a man. He stopped, but the figure kept approaching.

7 The wind stilled. All noise ceased. The skies began to brighten. The figure began to run towards him. Startled, he stopped in his tracks.

8 He had no time to react. His vision filled with green, and he felt an awesome power surging through his body. His eyes were forced shut.

9 When he opened them, he was in a warm lush garden. There was a woman with him. He spoke her name and kissed her good morning.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers

poem from twitter posts: May Day Sea

May Day Sea
(blossoming sat-chit-ananda not necessarily in that order)

May Day! May Day! World
goes drowning in a sea
of green! Flowers swimming
all around! Am descending
to some procreative
void:
first forsythia
its dazzling yellow flirt
with everything thought dead
but now aroused in scalloped
shells of synchronistic
consciousness;
then cherry blossoms so
ephemeral they seem
to last forever in
a graceful local spray
of coral cosmologic
bliss;
last, these maple blossoms
going greenery
exploding fireworks
in seaweed strings an arcing
shrine for summer mirror
being.

~Peace to All and One,
Son Rivers