November 11, 2010 § Leave a comment
Do not breathe
What of it?
Yet to see
Doors and windows
to the cold
wrapped up cocoon-like
inward I turn
up the coal
out the smokestack
from these words.
You are free.
September 17, 2010 § 2 Comments
and what is [it] in the middle?
what joins the concepts of spirit and ritual
into that which is spiritual?
ahh…that is for each of us to decide on our own.
we all have a path, and to follow our heart
is to know oneself intensely,
is the ritual of it,
and spirit is what compels us to move.
together, the movements,
the awareness of our movements,
they meld into one.
om. zen. amen.
August 31, 2010 § 1 Comment
time to start cranking up the speed
on this production line.
how do you keep an angel
tethered to an inspiration conveyor belt?
truth is, she can’t be tied down.
nor is she a she, or even a he,
more like a hedonistic omnigendered bellydancing poem
playing endlessly, effortlessly as elevator music
to the ups and downs of my life.
the akashic records – now, that is an angelic assembly line
if ever there were one.
oh, the irony of it!
me, thinking i put the spirits to work
producing these lines,
they pump out human souls like mine
all the time.
August 24, 2010 § 2 Comments
one palm down on the knee
accepting what is,
accepting what could be -
the other palm up
on my right knee;
half lotus seated comfortably,
baby at breast
get it all out,
to get to where
i’m supposed to be:
i don’t care if i’m a starving artist.
you can recognize me when i’m dead.
don’t temper it,
because then it’s not real.
we are the filters,
the crystal diffusers
of light in the dark,
synthesizing all that we see,
hear, taste, touch, smell, breathe,
a perfect shade of cigarettegreydeathlypallor,
enjoy life for all she gives to you,
suck the marrow right from her bones,
we all go down the same road
and we know,
look into your heart,
there is change coming.
when i take my glasses off, i do not see,
but that does not mean i stop to believe
there are other worlds than this
which exist around, below, above, between, and within me.
entirely too much energy of mine
is being spent on where i’d like to be
in a few months from now.
turn up the volume
and the bass
and boomshakalaka to a few years from now.
forward thinking only works
when you fast forward far enough ahead.
otherwise, i’m still caught in the game
of keeping up with the jetsons, joneses, kardashians -
why is it so hard to concentrate?
why is it so hard to turn it all off?
shake me up like a can of pop,
pop the cap and explode all envy and empathy
until i get back to empty
and see i’m still here,
and all is well with the world.
August 16, 2010 § 1 Comment
August 6, 2010 § Leave a comment
fake it, force it, push on through.
do whatever you need to do.
we all raise the bar,
& the bars close down.
it is better to go to sleep & dream
& remember what the world was like
when we were young
& the west was one
with the whole land mass
& the pot first called the kettle black.
betty boiled the water down,
slowly as ever,
watching it all the way
to the point of rolling
on the floor
in real life
while giving this fresh squeezed water
to every poor pore
craving life! life! life!
“we want to live!”
and to whom?
who birthed betty and beulah and bobby sue?
who was the mother of all?
we all explode out of black holes
- thoughts&dreamers&poetsalike -
spanning eternity & existance
from infinity’s edge
to the arc of acknowledgement
at the fact that we can know we are real.
and how do we know?
who told us so?
do you hear me?
i conceptualized you in another dream,
& who dreamed me?
figments of each other’s wild imaginations,
drink, drink, drink it up,
the bars will close down
as we hold one another to higher standards,
raising all brothers and sisters up to greater hights
& new vantage points
to better see the lights
pointing back inside of our heads
telling us that we did this,
we did this,
take credit now
this wonderful mess.
how else do you think this happened?
“immaculate lies,” i tell you
in the teal room.
you will read this
on your teleprompter
in the 35th century,
while somnombulant waves
throughout my brainscape.
it is better to go to bed early,
dream of the time before time,
close the bars down,
drink deep of the water,
fill up the kettle for your next of kin,
boil – but be patient,
purification takes its sweet southern time.
August 4, 2010 § 1 Comment