Wednesday, January 31, 2018

I emerging..

i'm a daffodil
emerging from the cold
along the places where the cold snaps! for good and does not linger
i am thriving now

translucent skin
touch my face and i will die
but please
touch it anyway

every time i fall
another flies
we understand that we are grounded and tied and enmeshed
there is none beside me that isn't me

touch us all
we will rise again
in spring
we are the ever ascending corpse
toward the God of humanity who understands him not

jPayne, freewrite

January 31st, 2018

Monday, January 29, 2018

The Vow

I woke this morning with purpose and an outline.
I went back to bed to dream and lie upon it.
I woke again the self-same questions plagued me so,
I sat upon the ground with wrinkled outline and made up sonnets.

Barefoot I rose still, just how would I proceed?
The day wound on, the walking sun set low behind the hill.
I fashioned a spoon from wood, and ate the day gone by,
around the tender carvings in my tomb.

I struck a match and lit the little hovel there,
imparting to the fire what lay around the stack.
And then by daybreak returned the sleep I lacked
smelling strong of pine and campfires and thoughts of never turning back.

The birds flew south above my head and a chill came on
the earth was not yet cool to permafrost
the sinking imprint of my body there among needles
was sure the kindest rest I never lost.

I lay my wadded purpose next to spoon and outline
I walked out mid-afternoon among the pines.
The fuel for doubt and warmth is little consolation there
when the meaning less of life prints paper ties.

I ran into the warmth released in great migration,
but pondered still on what I'd left behind.
Some purpose driven caffeine messiah complex maybe,
and the smiling edges on my burning list
breathing one last time!

To be enough to be the gift, Vagabond, "Embody good!"
and for this good for life it's this just this to know now.
What purpose little purpose here comes bowing knee to joy,
and rising up to greet should strife oppose
this immortal vow.

jPayne 29.1.2018

Saturday, January 27, 2018

To the future

Here's the future. You heard it here first. ‬

‪Man jumps Don's wall and swims to America. Gets job with and mows the grass for slave wages and beans. Im ok with this because my forefathers were also a cheese pairing bunch of slave drivers looking to trim the hedge and the bottom line and it seems somehow I am programmed to be just the same. Weird. ‬

‪Fast forward 40 years: sends a Robot to mow the now food color green yard for an oil bath, toothbrush detail, and a recharge and 9.95 a month. All the while I fail to notice the self-terminating grass gave the dog and the neighbors kid cancer. Anywho, MY children, now half-machine are suddenly preaching #botrights with face in a phone. #weirder‬

‪Fast forward.. comes full circle again. White kid named Josh comes out of wormhole soaking wet and knocks on the door claiming he made 25 bucks in 1983 by mowing a yard the old fashioned way. AND he claims he got hired a fair wage to do the same odd job by the now neighbor, a robot named Tex who lives right across the road from me!‬

‪We I tell ol' Josh, "no thanks, Josh from 1983, but I get my yard done at‬
‪Suddenly my own sickly kidbot looks up from his phonebrain taking critical note of sadly events. He jumps up puts down his phonebrain, runs out into the yard and starts an analogue yard service with Josh from the past. Their customers? Robots with chemical free grass who are programmed to pay a fair wage to the human kind.

And the moral of this story is:
My loss; his brain.‬

‪jPayne 2018‬

"Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it."
‪Seer Jeremiah 655 BC‬

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Tooled by the Tool

Tooled by the wrong Tool.

The idea that Psychologist David Buss actually said the words "The science isn't in yet. Nobody knows" to a powerful thinker (Tai Lopez) asking powerful knowing questions about social media and narcissism is absolutely ludicrous and like many Drs I've encountered incredibly narcissistic. (Dr David, just because you don't know and are too dense to string together the obvious, and too arrogant to shut up, and step off, doesn't mean nobody knows. Just because you quantify the world in doctoral degrees and merits, again does not mean you know that nobody else knows. You can quote me on this: The science is in. You're looking in the wrong place. Start over.)

And then to Tai Lopez who I admire greatly:
No, I wasn't necessarily invited into the conversation but you asked us what we thought. Rhetorically I cant know but like I wrote to you via email, I thought it might be time for a willing lamb to actually get up on this empty soap box. Lord willing I will write a book or a library of books on the subject of this kind of denial, but in the meantime here's a pin prick at unwanted startling global truth.

Yes, Tai, The science actually is in but the correlation has not yet been made. Narcissism is a symptom that stems from addiction and the addict always denies he's addicted. Your doctor friend is wrong or he's lying; like the smoking doctor of the 60s refusing to make a correlation between lung cancer and cigarettes. Psychologist Patrick Carnes brings up an important and powerful point in his book Out of the Shadows when he outlines the phases of addiction and how quickly an addict moves through those phases given different and varying stimuli. My point about correlation has to do with an entire world of addicts suddenly destroying themselves denying the phone is a drug and/or that they need a cure and saying altogether there is no problem. I've worked in behavior analysis for more than half of my life and no study is new under the sun. For example: We know well what cocaine is and what part of the brain is targeted. We know well what blinking lights do to that very same area of the brain but because of our corporate obsession with speed and light and efficiency and a dollar driven greed we mistake for purpose, the little blinking lights reel us in. How does one cook a frog? In cold water. And by the time the pot boils the amphibian has no idea he's been cooked. Society has become what I call "auto reaching". Suddenly the ticking mechanisms of abused children are present in every man woman and child with phone or tablet. We walk around like Weimaraner's instead of powerhouses with keen ability and sharp focus. Instead something has captured our focus which is not even close to the same thing. The mindlessness of those auto responses; these ticks; these fragmentations; the auto reaching for our phones even when standing in one on one conversation with a warm body -- We give the person standing right in front of us, only the portion equivalent to one running text message in a very long cue of ongoing cybersations. No longer does man address man or give all of himself to what is in front of him. He mistakes community for an imaginary world on screen when the widow and orphan are right next door. No yogi was ever fragmented; no great man this dependent. We are lost to our desires and on the far reaching scale we are all what Patrick Carnes would call Phase 3 addicts; equivalent to the level of addiction known in serial killers. We are dangerously lost. Narcissism is unfortunately inevitable. You're asking the right questions Tai. You're just asking the wrong people.

Yours ever

Joshua Drew Payne 2017 Sept 2


This is what the LORD says: "Stop at the crossroads and look around. Ask for the old, godly way, and walk in it. Travel its path, and you will find rest for your souls." But you reply, "No, that's not the road we want!"
Jeremiah 6:16

Friday, August 4, 2017


jPayne 2©17 4aug

i like feeling it
a little sorry
for myself,
i'm best when blue

i'm warm in melancholy
when rain is foreign cool
and the sky is blue too
it's an imagination

humani don't know escape
they bustle
frogs and bird sat in branches
the large leaf surrenders like rooftops

i stand along time
the grocery stores emptied
like a race
i spoke with the patient elderly

where do they all go?
is there some hurry
that busy stoplight isn't waning
the star will still rise Friday

judith regenberg
we remembered then
when there was nothing else to do

what are connections
sticks of dynamite
in a sand pile
we played

i looked her up
in the eyes
they are dark
bluer than a storm

jPayne 2©17 4aug

Saturday, December 10, 2016

for Buddy (and the Black one)

for Buddy (and the Black one)

WE exist in planes, as planes
stratum of artificial madness
mattering only to our God
who lovingly (perhaps)
regrettably re-planes us.

You've heard of me
no bread of numbness
dumbs down that pain
by which His hand succumbs.

I have heard You
on your bedroom, teary
the sleeping coming-morning
wrestling-carving, intervening:
She …

She is a light and dark
altogether she is might
her likeness but a rubber lip
on the edge of neighboring time

See the way the light
chases down inside,
the cornea of her liquid amber eye?
The flecks of red and violent silver
bend the marble into sky.

She sits the sunlight of her youth,
knowing what is coming after.
Still all is mirth and squirrels
a rabbits chase into the dower.

I know she sees You.

She's been so close.
All 'round her is that death.
She flexes fast and bawls with joy
proud sinews do the rest.

Companion blonde,
The boy hung star lays cold.
His friends, the men, bring fire and julep,
To celebrate the waking old;
the coolness of his day,

I know he knows.
"Don't break my love, don't break.
Don't worry boys within, without,
my spirit grows …."

My Left
He is my watch and constant stand.
He knows the job though I know not
the crown of thought he comprehends

That thought has seen my life protect
And to it's end,
With quarter hind and quarter movement
pack, to, fro
inherent bend.

He rises in my arms and sleeps there also
My puppet cricket bee my doff my fearless partner.

She claims the space he easily resigns
She moves in knowing it-is all because
He tenders to her kind -

Her past, the horror-dark she tastes and still pretends
Our mirth will last forever
That hope is but an end
That all will be together never aged;
never wending waning-dawning
these autumnal pages.

Hail Buddy! Sage! Sifu-
Tolerant spirit.
To Mamma Black, her heart
and to the way she tests us.

Bring us round and right expose
exactly whom we bought;
For whom,
And who exactly
we are not.

To the mirror eye, though often so unkind to me,
Find Buddy, ever joyful, ever able, clear unchanging.
Dog my God redeeming ever his mankind
Surely, he hath shown again Messiah.

Ever Alpha and Omega,
ever light unwavering,
And as ever, soft as water, ever
Strong as bended breaking.

Winter light folds in.
He faces brave.

She hides beside him
ever slave.

Ever kin:

She is at last my Darling, thing
And He
forever mine,
my peerless, peerless friend.

Joshua Drew Payne December 10, 2©16