Who dares ax
Why I am
Sow meta for
As the spear it in me
Razes up
Too meat the spirit in you
This poem is an ode to my favorite version of the greeting “namaste:” may the spirit in me rise up to meet the spirit in you. My poetic version plays with the meeting of the spiritual and physical, the spirit and the flesh. How do the sublime and the crude coexist? The short answer is that life is marvelously messy. Daring to question why I am the way I am can be a precarious project. Delving into why the great “I AM” is “I AM” can be downright dangerous. Existence is puzzling; essence more sow. One of my projects in life is to be in touch with my bastard nature, daring “too meat” the spirit in you. The churning of my spirit yearns to kiss the whirled of flesh, and perhaps more. The paradox of “Razes up” speaks to the inextricable cycles of destruction and creation, countless resurrections, risings up from the ashes like a phoenix. 
This is a death-defying game: “the spear it in me.” Still, I like to stir things up. Things that are settled strike me as dead. 
Where there is pretension, expect to be punctuated with vulgarity. Where there is cynicism, expect to be flooded by my delugings of unabashed hope. I will hurl sublime poetry over your ahead, but I won’t pick at your soars. I will lob softballs to hit you out of park, but know one will keep score. The hallowed and the hollowed will mete. There are plenty of weepin’s in this life too be had. How ever, weather I reach hi or lo, behold my arse and all. Think good that the pun is mightier than the sored! What ever this life is, it is the most beautiful thing I ever metaphor. 
Namaste.
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