If we start with the premise that man is made in the image of God, we can deduce that man is like God. Afterall, Jesus was the son of God, and he embodied particular traits that made him great! Now, what is this god-like force that some men possess? Is it charisma, which quite literally means a divinely conferred power or talent? And if Jesus had charisma, and I think he did, then this quality might be interpreted as divine. But the problem is that Hitler also had charisma, and most people would agree that Hitler was not good. So, what did Hitler and Jesus have in common? The ability to speak to crowds and resonate with individuals on a deeply emotional level, and on a primitive plane through the use of story-telling and parables.

The most lasting cult-like figures used stories. Stories are as old as humans. We must look to the origins of human nature to understand where power comes from. It comes from moving towards God and away from flesh and blood. The most potent power a man can possess is a sublimation of the sexual energy and a retention of the vital essence. The spirit is in complete contrast to the desires of the flesh, or desires that exist outside of the self. If you satisfy the body, you will remain hidden. If you satisfy the spirit, you will become great!  When Jesus went into the wilderness to be tempted, he told Satan that “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes out of the mouth of God.” His physical body broke down after 40 days of fasting, while simultaneously connecting to his Father in Heaven, the divine. Listening to God and following God, while turning away from the body will cause men to have the powers of God. A man follows a vision, through the power of his creative imagination, and brings it into being through faith. This is similar to a connection with God.

A leader articulates a vision through the power of imagination. This source of power does not rely on limiting patterns from the past, but comes from the infinite source. It is limitless, in the way that God is infinite. It will require unconventional behavior and extreme risk-taking. Jesus was continuously tested by religious leaders, which would have resulted in his death if he answered incorrectly. Before Hitler was anybody, he stormed a beerhall and declared his political philosophy while firing a gun into the ceiling. He was consequently imprisoned.

What sort of spirit would possess someone to make claims that would lead to their death? It is the transcendence of fear for what might happen to an earthly body, and an expression of the spiritual one. On more than one occasion, Hitler compared himself to Jesus, the savior of Germany. These claims would be ludicrous, if they did not come true, and Jesus would be a liar, if he did not rise from the dead.

Why do crowds respond to these individuals? Freud thought that the moral center of consciousness is overridden by a crowd controlled by a charismatic leader. When we become part of a crowd, we lose our sense of self and become unrestricted, and free. On a primitive level, people desire to be a part of crowds, to give up cognitive control, and allow a charismatic leader to be in control. This contrast of wanting control and wanting to give up control is an element of human nature. It is most obviously an expression of the sexual energy that desires both bondage and submission. It is man’s desire for adventure and security, which is in constant conflict with each other. Desires are always in conflict. They originate from the earthly body. To overcome desire, one must give up desire, and follow God, and all of the things of the earth will be added unto you.

Flabbergasted by the dialogue that runs in my head

like stock market ticker tape

on an unsteady trading floor

where a series of smart investments

are traded from one perception to another

and every thought is dissected

until the remnants

are indiscernible

from the whole

like a butterfly

missing its wings.

We belong to this WHOLE of humanity

that can’t love itself

it continuously cuts off

bits and pieces

putting them in corners

and forgetting they are there

a sinking feeling

like a lonely longing

knows there is something missing

but it can’t reach out

for fear of losing

itself.

Feeling power

in an empty room

in an empty world

where the powers that be

don’t feel power

and exercise

tyranny

on a stationary bicycle

that doesn’t go anywhere

reminds me

I am continuously

astounded by pain

as I ride through neighborhoods

cities

and countries

that all have the same

social suicides

and personal resurrections.

Most people are looking around

at the same

and doing the same

because they cannot stand something

that differs from their own.

And the pain will always hurt

so much

that you can ride into the spiritual realm

on chariots of fire

where leaders follow

and the HAVING of it all

in well-ordered ways

is a short-lived act

before the unloading

of understanding.

Waiting on the Wind

or if not the wind

than something

I can’t describe

Some men make the wind

to their intolerable dislike

because nature was never meant to be forced

instead,

it waits for the you

inside of you

but it doesn’t always come out

You can have all the success in the world

and you have nothing

Some men test the direction of the wind

to know which way to go

others

get blown to god knows where

and after they’ve landed

they tell a story about their journey

that makes sense

just how, the falling leaves make sense

the fake world has no humility or pride

it’s a pretend humility

that is not self-aware

and the pride, is nothing but a logo

something people stand behind

not because they believe in it

but so they can hide.

It’s difficult to make a living with the truth

but it’s the only way to stay alive

being humbled

and accepting what is

is more freeing

than pretending

it’s not there

and the words of others

don’t hold much weight

but when they do

you feel their heaviness

and it’s okay to be weighted down

even if the wind is blowing

because,

being held by the truth

is more valuable

than going

where you want to go.

There is a fraying

at the edges

like a hem, where the rug falls apart

perhaps, it’s not important

to know who you are

and more important

to know

how to be

in the rainy cities

with the changing times

people get their groceries

and go to work

it keeps coming back to me

family

I wonder, how does one get the sense

of being alive?

it happens

regardless of what we have

or who we know

it’s a floating feeling

especially, when the ground

is waging war

being able to put down the words

is the ultimate high

and when I can’t do that

I’m waiting on the wind.

I can’t see myself pleading… Anymore

and even when I think of others

she expects a concession

looking for guilt

on my face

with her cold

metal detector eyes

reminding me

of how

I am surely wrong

there is a tipping point

on the teeter-totter

of a man’s timeline

when he realizes

he can’t give up his weight

because

there’s no benefit

to compromise

getting along

costs too much

and

Respect

is not enough

because they want to

change you

and if they can’t change

you

they put you

on the cold back porch

to make you wait

and you

realize

there was never

any love there

just a smile and a face

that wanted you

to smile too

I want to be let in

to people’s warm houses

but the price of admission

is just too great

Why can’t they walk out

onto the street?

“You dress all wrong; your clothes don’t fit; don’t you care?”

I guess I don’t

but I don’t say anything

Who I am

is a poor reflection of themselves

and they can’t adjust my collar

or comb my hair

so, they break their mirror

or stop looking into it

I used to be controlled by their approval

but now, I don’t care

and even when they squint at me

through disapproving eyes

I can’t force myself

I can’t force myself to do anything

anymore

my face

is my face

it doesn’t smile back

because no one is really smiling

I don’t even want to laugh

which makes their discomfort

worse

because none of it

was ever funny.

it seems that ambitious men

and the not so ambitious kind

have goals

and over time, they collect values

like sea shells

washed up by tides

and the sand smiles

at all of us

trying to get back to itself

lots of time

lost in the sand

a Rolex

a wedding ring

footprints

smoothed-out by water

Now, people think about what they want

and they want

what others want

a house, near the shore

to watch the horizon

or a studio, with a bright light

to know what to write

or a man or a woman

to love

so, they can love

or a place of employment

for security

But the beach is constantly changing

nature’s way of telling us

we’re alive

tsunami feelings

tide pools of reflection

everything we want

and don’t want

standing out there

away

from all the things

that don’t matter

giving them your ego

like a broken egg

your yoke

slips onto the floor

and they don’t want

what’s inside

only the shell

to make them harder

you might fry in the sun

or find a temporary home

you might be a medium-sized rock

pushed around by waves

stones have difficulty speaking

they never disappear

they die in the same way they are born

there is no difference

between death and life

only the mistaken judges

who want

what isn’t there.

She took everything from me

said, I wasn’t a man.

She addressed the crowd, “thank you ladies.”

there I was

at the center

the invisible man.

She asked for information

but she didn’t like the facts

and when I didn’t say what she expected

ten women

raised their hands.

She stopped my world from turning

and called my sunny days

black.

I am a weak man

for not fighting

back.

Your house is supported by strong columns

mighty in their size

I live in a warm box

my body heat

keeps me alive.

What do we build with this life

when our constructions are broken down

with whom do we fight

if we are content

to walk away

Everything is given

I’m not allowed to work for my bread

She has won

She glorifies herself

and it’s not enough

she has to find a better man

and when she can’t make him better

she topples

her statue

that can’t love her back.

It’s good to live in your head

until she

cuts it

off

She wants blood

and she will get it

I pity the poison

in her veins

It is finished

She is forgiven

She knows not

what she does.

She tells me I’m getting fat

and I immediately lose weight

before that,

I tried diets, fasting, running, and weightlifting

and I became strong,

Sumo strong

the fat did not obey my commands

“Leave; I want to lose you!”

but it stayed

and my pants sizes increased

I didn’t want to lose part of myself

but when my mother gave the command

I lost it.

As a child

I got lost in department stores

the mannequins were scary, so still, and so real

like perfect persons paid to display clothes

and the lady on the intercom was God

when she called my mom.

I got lost a lot

back then,

and I still do.

Some of us have great abilities

and equally poor sense of direction

My fear of getting lost is real

but there are many people like my mom

who will help

if you ask.

Maybe it’s vanity to search for greatness

it’s not about being better than other people

but to rise above something larger than yourself

Usually, I ponder it, aware of my fleeting time

but yesterday, my mom asked me, if I wanted to make a day of it

and I couldn’t think of anything better to do

with my life, running towards death.

You can spot greatness on the street

How a person walks

or when a man smiles at a woman.

We walked

next to the water

and all the people we passed

looked, like they were looking inside

at their troubles.

Then we got a coffee, and made plans for the bookstore

and I noticed the Muslim grocery across the street

12 tall black men were leaning against the wall

carrying prayer rugs

no windows, and the store could’ve been situated in Syria

“I wonder what kind of food they sell there?”

“Oh, some interesting stuff,” my mother said.

“Mom, you’re not allowed in there.”

“Oh, it’s okay. When I walked in, there was no one there, and the gentleman who came out looked at me, suspiciously. I just told him I was browsing.”

I looked at her white hair

“You have more courage than me; I would’ve never gone in.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. When you get to be my age, you can do whatever you want.”

She drove us to the bookstore and cut several people off in traffic

“Why are everyone honking?” She asked.

Then she pulled into the wrong parking lot. “I guess I don’t know where I’m going. I’m glad you put up with me.”

“Mom, the day is so much better with you. Now, put it in park, and let’s go inside.”

what if

you talk to people who don’t listen

and

what if

your fate is decided by fools

and

what if

every good thing is equally given

Content

not to have any rules

and what if

the powers that be

stay in power

by propping up fools

what can you do

that hasn’t been done

already

do you double down on your anger

or do you let it all go

Surrendering

to the wind

Maybe, you lie down in a quiet room

year after year

and wait for the weather to change

but you change

whether or not

the weather changes

and you can’t wait on your life

So, it is best to become good

inside

and people will like you

even though,

they don’t know why

their angry looks

will die

their treachery

digs tunnels

underground

where you

escape

where the falsely humble

placate;

You

placate no one.

Fools have left you

alone

to let others

shower them with praise

so, they

can wash off

their dirty sense of self

NEVER

becoming clean

and your escape,

is a beautiful thing

no ugly walls

no ugly faces

no ugly conversations

just the good

inside

you have been

practicing

and you don’t need

them.

Perhaps,

they wonder why?

But it doesn’t matter to you

You are alive.

I don’t know that a person can describe

a dull day

people want to read about;

an old woman

lost in a grocery store

white hair

black pants

hanging onto her grocery cart

like she might fall

for weariness

or the talented people

who choose mediocre jobs

hanging onto hope

like a dusty dress shirt

neglected, in a black closet,

out of style for five years.

Even the ones who break out, don’t seem to break free

they can’t forget where they came from

and they are the sort who are terrified of their origins

like the cow that doesn’t want to admit it was once a whale

they all succumb to the dark hole

the ones who scrabble out of it

can’t look at the blue sky

because they are worried about falling in again.

I’ve been told that I’m a great lover of myself

and not in a good way

I feel the misunderstanding is justified

I’m the only one who can change

and I’ve been trying for sometime

like an artist sculpting their own clay

or a philosopher trying to discover their own wisdom

I don’t fit the mold

so maybe that’s saying something

but I’m still not the man who can look at the blue sky

and avoid staring into the abyss.

That doesn’t mean I’m not looking for someone who can

I just haven’t found them yet

and like great paintings that cost lots of money and hang in exclusive museums

the odds of finding that

in my neighborhood grocery store

are quite low

and perhaps,

the odds of finding that inside myself are even lower

but it’s like playing the lottery…

you can bet on a ticket

or you can bet on yourself

and I find

betting on myself

to be more satisfying.

My ambition

is ambivalent

washing in waves

possessing energy

that knows no peace.

If I had the choice

to live by a still pond

or conquer cities

I would lay waste to the world

and order it like a library

with the dewy-decimal system.

So, I thank the stars

I’m not a star

and I accept

the chaotic universe

inside my head

expanding

like green and red lights

STOPPING

STARTING

pulsing

creating

impulsing

like a shooting pain

or an unstoppable urge.

My life is full of anxious conversations

where I’m as calm as the ocean

dreaming

under deeply troubled waters

while the office walls are white

plain and lifeless.

Faces are lifeless.

Clothing is lifeless.

Mannerisms are carefully controlled.

Is it just me, or are people telling themselves

I need to have more control today

I need to organize my office

I need to clean my apartment

I need to exercise

with a perfect routine

then the straight suit speaking to me

will know that I’m straight

and the world of women will turn into little girls

when I speak

deeply

like I’m in control

like I want that more than anything

and soon, we will adjust ourselves

because we are not straight enough.

Our houses are filled with square rooms

with perfect poufy pillows

planned perfectly

for those who are not straight.

We will expose our sharp edges

and teach the world how to behave

without words

with fake smiles.

There is a need to be real

but it’s really dangerous

it requires more courage

than power

you can’t put it on

like a power suit

it’s a t-shirt, with a genuine smile.