I lay for centuries, recovering from old age, and up I spring!
Calculus-spewing owls screech their derivatives during a lunch break;
I duck to avoid their avian attache cases with my taxes done.
I run under Einstein's umbrella, and for another dime, I could be anywhere.
I save up, and now I'm pissing away my worries and cares,
An Arctic team of penguins takes notes.
I visit Portland, Oregon and steal a few library books for my collection.
When a taxi offers a free ride to Norway, I just can't say no!
My arthritic toes can't stop my disco-dancing.
The liters of vodka only encourage my worst habits.
Rather than marry my darling in a tub, I start an ant farm and live
inside for weeks at a time. I come out for my funeral, for some cake,
and start my PhD at Harvard Medicine.
A reunion brings us to an unfamiliar hill, but someone's making lobster tails.
Hug the soccer moms, send them to their own Heaven.
I construct a commercial 747 and overcharge the customers.
I build a bridge from my kitchen to wherever you are.
After dessert, I have to skydive with a few enemies,
and we agree to disagree. Everyone involved got a carrot,
and mine was the biggest. Anyway,
Lights, camera, action, Cecil.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Ham.
A midnight cruise with overbearing weather precautions
Is forced by lack of enthusiasm.
Fog rolls its heavy, tangible concepts, and the ocean
Imposes its comfort in the impossibly dark streets.
A careful turn wrecks Germany's pride in the
Wasted beauty of Autumn. And the angry
Green thorns that rise and eat away at my frozen,
Tired, alert, numb, and petrified flesh.
Raw energy and countless attempts lead to pigs-
Rushing to the momentous, drawn out scene.
Fear surges both our stomachs as we wrestle
Our way out of the filthy night sty.
A lone man, victim to the Ganja Queen,
Himself identifies with the parade that we lead,
Not a follower to see, and lends both Time
And Power to the confused prisoners of
Fate, mechanics, and half-truths.
In seven hours time, we arrive sullen,
Exhausted, lethargically awake, and guilty.
Splash in the waters that you're asked to drown in.
Is forced by lack of enthusiasm.
Fog rolls its heavy, tangible concepts, and the ocean
Imposes its comfort in the impossibly dark streets.
A careful turn wrecks Germany's pride in the
Wasted beauty of Autumn. And the angry
Green thorns that rise and eat away at my frozen,
Tired, alert, numb, and petrified flesh.
Raw energy and countless attempts lead to pigs-
Rushing to the momentous, drawn out scene.
Fear surges both our stomachs as we wrestle
Our way out of the filthy night sty.
A lone man, victim to the Ganja Queen,
Himself identifies with the parade that we lead,
Not a follower to see, and lends both Time
And Power to the confused prisoners of
Fate, mechanics, and half-truths.
In seven hours time, we arrive sullen,
Exhausted, lethargically awake, and guilty.
Splash in the waters that you're asked to drown in.
Life's a Trip.
A stroll in the endless psychedelia
of fungus and those joys.
Awareness bursts to grasp
at these very real concepts,
with a limited understanding of
JUST HOW.
We wander for months, establishing
new identities and personas, trying
out the trip that'll last my life.
It all comes down to
What makes you laugh.
Be careful, center all on
the glass houses you will build.
And remember, its just a trip.
of fungus and those joys.
Awareness bursts to grasp
at these very real concepts,
with a limited understanding of
JUST HOW.
We wander for months, establishing
new identities and personas, trying
out the trip that'll last my life.
It all comes down to
What makes you laugh.
Be careful, center all on
the glass houses you will build.
And remember, its just a trip.
Rubdown.
In a room:
shrills, cars, a sunset rubdown, conversation, spasms of music, chemical reactions of a learning mind, laughter resonating all around, artistic reminiscence of a soviet motherland, dim lamps, graffiti-ed walls, active motionless posters, translations of theft, reclined cushions, abstract films, and teenage nothing.
shrills, cars, a sunset rubdown, conversation, spasms of music, chemical reactions of a learning mind, laughter resonating all around, artistic reminiscence of a soviet motherland, dim lamps, graffiti-ed walls, active motionless posters, translations of theft, reclined cushions, abstract films, and teenage nothing.
Cumulus Nimbus Erotica
Orgies of clouds lusting and moaning across the virgin Sun.
Its innocence and naivety shining through the heaps of Cumulus Nimbus erotica,
Its beauty shunned by the desperate longings of these airy gods.
Hours or days or weeks may pass, but eventually the shimmering goodness and truth
of Ra's golden youthful rays triumphs over the aged,
withered white bags of heaving sexual atmospheric Giants.
Its innocence and naivety shining through the heaps of Cumulus Nimbus erotica,
Its beauty shunned by the desperate longings of these airy gods.
Hours or days or weeks may pass, but eventually the shimmering goodness and truth
of Ra's golden youthful rays triumphs over the aged,
withered white bags of heaving sexual atmospheric Giants.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Mountain Awakening V1.
Dried leaves, with beards hanging, gardens of Babylon in their selves; old age embodied in the crumbling, barely tangible physicality,
litter a trail up, up, up the side of a Buddha’s stone, cold and silent, knowing face. A face with such a gleeful, immobile Nirvana that hints at a mocking air,
crisp and delicious air that hangs on my wounded soul that now can exist with a new purpose and comfort, content.
Finally understanding Nature’s real Truth, and why it conceits itself wholeheartedly and acceptably, by its creator, found in itself.
Such a long -highway to the other, pulsating and jazz-infused, western coast-long, path to understanding this twisted yet smooth flowing Truth.
Now, steps echo within tiny, microscopic, yet full and existing individual universes that spot every point of Being on the way up, up, up.
Not one collective spiraling galaxy of a Nature’s dreams, but tiny, like Doubt’s place in eternity’s da Vinci’s masterpieces of psychedelic explosions of acidic colors,
blending, meshing, and washing themselves in a pool of a twilight-encased lake’s recess of frigid, shivering, yet vibrantly explicit Color.
Return now, the stone Buddha observes my progress, ascending it and its world of a soul, a grandiose monument to all of the infinite Life.
Watches my slow attempt to leave behind my humanity, wrapping my frail fingers around the atmospheric ideologies of this hopeful Nirvana,
free of fear, grief, and that pesky rat under the bloody butcher’s table, gnawing out holes in the ripped leather shoes, stolen to keep warm, Doubt.
Releasing the tons of an unwanted and impure civilization’s dirtiest, trashiest of trash, from my soul’s tired and beaten Being, craving nothing but the Winds,
those Winds that empower a knowing mind with the momentum to drive a tree deeper into a forest, or a river straight into the bleeding sky.
Snow-capped arches impose their glacial importance onto the radiating, cloud-driven and golden sky, providing me with an answer to all; Peace.
Time’s role proves insignificant in such Oriental airs that guide all of existence instead. Thousands of years of isolated Truth rushed around my drifting mind,
breathing and relying on the wispy promises of bodhisattvas. Eternal truth held inches from my newly awakened eyes and mind, ready.
Hundreds of labels leap to attach their parasitic, piercing, Life-depriving teeth into the skin of this fresh, newborn Universe of Thought,
but arms extend, nullifying their false meaning into a pile of kindle for my warmth through the dark that now creeps out the amethyst-stained, glowing night sky.
A miniscule pod of a heated temperature is my castle upon the grounds of Thought for this night. Tea warmed by a fire, driving meaning
into the frozen, ice-decorated tunnels of my physical, lagging body, longing for the fulfillment brought by the burning heat found in my mug, and now my azure lips.
A day’s travel’s are reflected on, and thereby travel again through the Passage’s labyrinths that again and again lead into each other’s endless trails,
those that carpet the inner workings with a soft and lulling brown Earth. Tufts of auburn soil escort my thoughts into my maze of memory.
Such is the meditation achieved sitting beside a dwindling fire, with stars and a lunar smile bearing down upon my rocking body, vibrating soulful forever vibes,
not a smile even to signify happiness, the understanding is beyond the current dimension
outside, and is entrapped, joyfully, within my lustrous new mind.
Familiar pupils open doorways in the shimmering, yet densely dark sky, and my mind at Peace takes its careful strides into what unfolds beyond.
A shaman’s chant rips open the Silence in Nothing, and whole pieces of what Was fall around a disoriented and ill-equipped Eye;
blinks closed, and now desperately searches the vast Planes for a last fleeting image of a higher Truth than was desired. The door last standing is lunged at-
and before spiritual indicators are removed, and I return to my mind in the head of a Someone, I glimpse at an orb, the Colors involved
incapable of being described by any imaginable language or Speak. Eyes enhanced before plunging, forever to hold an array of newly possible Truths.
Bounce off the now frozen ground, a small consequence for the massive gains made in the time at Peace, and in truth, up, up, up away.
Almost immediately, the physical and mental and creative and technical aspects of my Being plummet into the impossible caverns of Dream.
No longer able to sustain such revolution of Thought, the brain drugs the mind, and puts on picture shows of fantasy and of Tarot predictions,
of comfort otherwise unknown, even to such a tea-head as All. And rest is found within the velvet folds of Continuity, and with the sun, the journey again, Is.
Implosion of Dawn’s rested and bright phosphorescent lights, those eyes now white with anticipation for fresh discovery.
Boil ancient tea leaves, and brew a flavorful steam that sets a tone for the day, immediately, as if
513A.D has again come!,
and the misty mountain’s wet air purges my soul and leaves it wringing with a joy never before felt. Find myself on a mental Plane
beyond Earth, Space, and the Universe, and set my feet to travel to the mountain’s physical peak, surprised my mental one has yet to come.
Begin the second day’s ascent, pushing my sore ankles to steeper heights, hearing philosophy’s rusted voice telling of the impossibility of falling off.
A lake is approached, neared with a careful step, to not disturb this truly tranquil liquid pool of All that Is, and radiates a true Knowing of its own beauty.
The sun’s face and surrounding cloudless, like a canvas for my Hopes, Dreams, and Thought, sky, reflect in God’s mirror,
creating a new, entirely unique Universe of this image, never again to be seen in the same way, like every moment in this Life.
Galaxies spin their long, translucent webs of arms around in the façade, urging me to seek Inner Truth higher up, up, up the rocky trail ahead.
I look to the surrounding trees, searching for nothing but beauty, but find, instead, meaning to All, a definition of Existence, and of myself,
that would be an impossibility, had the Awakening meditation of the past night not occurred; grateful to that Orb of indescribable color.
My focus aims at the coniferous branches that symbolize who I am, and my infinite journey. Seeking what the Roots have to give,
but needing to wait; my place is as a twig, an insignificant crumb to be brushed off the tangled and matted dirty beard of a King unnamed
and without a face, hidden in the curls of the pubic protrudings, yet gorging meat and bread with a passion, so I must wait.
Accepting my place, I continue on the path, more often having to produce my own; chuckling at Nature’s witty methods of conquerable obstacles,
I drink in the infeasibility of what I am passing, and look ahead, at the peak’s taunting altitude, a virgin habitat for my meditated Thought.
Continue pushing my will, finally truly awakened, up, up, up. Open the aqueducts to release thought as it occurs in this new land.
Finally understanding the insignificance of humankind, the tiny-ness and inabilities of this perfect race! They destroy the world, which is
privileged so graciously by Nature and its grandness and true ability. And outer space? Nature-less wasteland in
the voids of God's playground. Nothing but Emptiness within and throughout itself. Explore and travel, and leave the Nothing to the Nothing.
Don’t become a nihilist throughout all this, however; a wasted life emerges from that shell. Think.
Carry yourself with an understanding as to your mind’s place in All. Accept what is Nothing, think it over, and Live!
Finally, within arm’s reach of this Napoleonic goal, to conquer All, rising above levels of a depressed mind, and finding Inner Self throughout beautiful Life.
Cold overtakes almost all processes, a feeling like climbing into an iron maiden is felt in the bones, crushing my will to even continue,
turning back seeming like a logical choice, an easier way. I had learned much, and meditated into a higher Plane of understanding. That’s enough, I thought.
But one glance at the top, and faith is restored, and feel the on-looking Eyes guiding my legs up, up, up, a force unknown to me awaiting my divine Understanding.
It rushes through my head. Rushes through my mind. Rushes through my knowledge of Everything. Life through these Eyes is forever changed.
Winds up, up, up there guide my soul to a plateau of churning clouds of reddened violet wisps, their Being hurtling my mind into an abyss of exploding Everything.
Nearly sliding my way back down, and resting like a tranquilized bear, I come down without truly realizing just yet what had transpired.
Time now again takes a hold, its murky and slimy self imprinted onto All. But the All I see is altered. New. Beautiful.
Never to forget the spiritual Awakening that I experienced on my soar into the skies of Truth, Understanding, and Life;
on the way up, up, up.
litter a trail up, up, up the side of a Buddha’s stone, cold and silent, knowing face. A face with such a gleeful, immobile Nirvana that hints at a mocking air,
crisp and delicious air that hangs on my wounded soul that now can exist with a new purpose and comfort, content.
Finally understanding Nature’s real Truth, and why it conceits itself wholeheartedly and acceptably, by its creator, found in itself.
Such a long -highway to the other, pulsating and jazz-infused, western coast-long, path to understanding this twisted yet smooth flowing Truth.
Now, steps echo within tiny, microscopic, yet full and existing individual universes that spot every point of Being on the way up, up, up.
Not one collective spiraling galaxy of a Nature’s dreams, but tiny, like Doubt’s place in eternity’s da Vinci’s masterpieces of psychedelic explosions of acidic colors,
blending, meshing, and washing themselves in a pool of a twilight-encased lake’s recess of frigid, shivering, yet vibrantly explicit Color.
Return now, the stone Buddha observes my progress, ascending it and its world of a soul, a grandiose monument to all of the infinite Life.
Watches my slow attempt to leave behind my humanity, wrapping my frail fingers around the atmospheric ideologies of this hopeful Nirvana,
free of fear, grief, and that pesky rat under the bloody butcher’s table, gnawing out holes in the ripped leather shoes, stolen to keep warm, Doubt.
Releasing the tons of an unwanted and impure civilization’s dirtiest, trashiest of trash, from my soul’s tired and beaten Being, craving nothing but the Winds,
those Winds that empower a knowing mind with the momentum to drive a tree deeper into a forest, or a river straight into the bleeding sky.
Snow-capped arches impose their glacial importance onto the radiating, cloud-driven and golden sky, providing me with an answer to all; Peace.
Time’s role proves insignificant in such Oriental airs that guide all of existence instead. Thousands of years of isolated Truth rushed around my drifting mind,
breathing and relying on the wispy promises of bodhisattvas. Eternal truth held inches from my newly awakened eyes and mind, ready.
Hundreds of labels leap to attach their parasitic, piercing, Life-depriving teeth into the skin of this fresh, newborn Universe of Thought,
but arms extend, nullifying their false meaning into a pile of kindle for my warmth through the dark that now creeps out the amethyst-stained, glowing night sky.
A miniscule pod of a heated temperature is my castle upon the grounds of Thought for this night. Tea warmed by a fire, driving meaning
into the frozen, ice-decorated tunnels of my physical, lagging body, longing for the fulfillment brought by the burning heat found in my mug, and now my azure lips.
A day’s travel’s are reflected on, and thereby travel again through the Passage’s labyrinths that again and again lead into each other’s endless trails,
those that carpet the inner workings with a soft and lulling brown Earth. Tufts of auburn soil escort my thoughts into my maze of memory.
Such is the meditation achieved sitting beside a dwindling fire, with stars and a lunar smile bearing down upon my rocking body, vibrating soulful forever vibes,
not a smile even to signify happiness, the understanding is beyond the current dimension
outside, and is entrapped, joyfully, within my lustrous new mind.
Familiar pupils open doorways in the shimmering, yet densely dark sky, and my mind at Peace takes its careful strides into what unfolds beyond.
A shaman’s chant rips open the Silence in Nothing, and whole pieces of what Was fall around a disoriented and ill-equipped Eye;
blinks closed, and now desperately searches the vast Planes for a last fleeting image of a higher Truth than was desired. The door last standing is lunged at-
and before spiritual indicators are removed, and I return to my mind in the head of a Someone, I glimpse at an orb, the Colors involved
incapable of being described by any imaginable language or Speak. Eyes enhanced before plunging, forever to hold an array of newly possible Truths.
Bounce off the now frozen ground, a small consequence for the massive gains made in the time at Peace, and in truth, up, up, up away.
Almost immediately, the physical and mental and creative and technical aspects of my Being plummet into the impossible caverns of Dream.
No longer able to sustain such revolution of Thought, the brain drugs the mind, and puts on picture shows of fantasy and of Tarot predictions,
of comfort otherwise unknown, even to such a tea-head as All. And rest is found within the velvet folds of Continuity, and with the sun, the journey again, Is.
Implosion of Dawn’s rested and bright phosphorescent lights, those eyes now white with anticipation for fresh discovery.
Boil ancient tea leaves, and brew a flavorful steam that sets a tone for the day, immediately, as if
513A.D has again come!,
and the misty mountain’s wet air purges my soul and leaves it wringing with a joy never before felt. Find myself on a mental Plane
beyond Earth, Space, and the Universe, and set my feet to travel to the mountain’s physical peak, surprised my mental one has yet to come.
Begin the second day’s ascent, pushing my sore ankles to steeper heights, hearing philosophy’s rusted voice telling of the impossibility of falling off.
A lake is approached, neared with a careful step, to not disturb this truly tranquil liquid pool of All that Is, and radiates a true Knowing of its own beauty.
The sun’s face and surrounding cloudless, like a canvas for my Hopes, Dreams, and Thought, sky, reflect in God’s mirror,
creating a new, entirely unique Universe of this image, never again to be seen in the same way, like every moment in this Life.
Galaxies spin their long, translucent webs of arms around in the façade, urging me to seek Inner Truth higher up, up, up the rocky trail ahead.
I look to the surrounding trees, searching for nothing but beauty, but find, instead, meaning to All, a definition of Existence, and of myself,
that would be an impossibility, had the Awakening meditation of the past night not occurred; grateful to that Orb of indescribable color.
My focus aims at the coniferous branches that symbolize who I am, and my infinite journey. Seeking what the Roots have to give,
but needing to wait; my place is as a twig, an insignificant crumb to be brushed off the tangled and matted dirty beard of a King unnamed
and without a face, hidden in the curls of the pubic protrudings, yet gorging meat and bread with a passion, so I must wait.
Accepting my place, I continue on the path, more often having to produce my own; chuckling at Nature’s witty methods of conquerable obstacles,
I drink in the infeasibility of what I am passing, and look ahead, at the peak’s taunting altitude, a virgin habitat for my meditated Thought.
Continue pushing my will, finally truly awakened, up, up, up. Open the aqueducts to release thought as it occurs in this new land.
Finally understanding the insignificance of humankind, the tiny-ness and inabilities of this perfect race! They destroy the world, which is
privileged so graciously by Nature and its grandness and true ability. And outer space? Nature-less wasteland in
the voids of God's playground. Nothing but Emptiness within and throughout itself. Explore and travel, and leave the Nothing to the Nothing.
Don’t become a nihilist throughout all this, however; a wasted life emerges from that shell. Think.
Carry yourself with an understanding as to your mind’s place in All. Accept what is Nothing, think it over, and Live!
Finally, within arm’s reach of this Napoleonic goal, to conquer All, rising above levels of a depressed mind, and finding Inner Self throughout beautiful Life.
Cold overtakes almost all processes, a feeling like climbing into an iron maiden is felt in the bones, crushing my will to even continue,
turning back seeming like a logical choice, an easier way. I had learned much, and meditated into a higher Plane of understanding. That’s enough, I thought.
But one glance at the top, and faith is restored, and feel the on-looking Eyes guiding my legs up, up, up, a force unknown to me awaiting my divine Understanding.
It rushes through my head. Rushes through my mind. Rushes through my knowledge of Everything. Life through these Eyes is forever changed.
Winds up, up, up there guide my soul to a plateau of churning clouds of reddened violet wisps, their Being hurtling my mind into an abyss of exploding Everything.
Nearly sliding my way back down, and resting like a tranquilized bear, I come down without truly realizing just yet what had transpired.
Time now again takes a hold, its murky and slimy self imprinted onto All. But the All I see is altered. New. Beautiful.
Never to forget the spiritual Awakening that I experienced on my soar into the skies of Truth, Understanding, and Life;
on the way up, up, up.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sapling Worlds.
A longing for a new and spiraling perception
Through the same twisted-green eyes as always.
To search through infinite ranges of mountains-
Descending the aurora's purple valleys with a floating ability-
And to swim shimmering empty space's dark depths,
Breathing airy atmospheres of lands of dreams that hide
In a lunar forest, deep in the labyrinth of a hermit's lonely mind.
And to drift through an eternally green-
a tribal, south American green,
field that blesses me with lavender smells
That immerse my skin and eyes with a new understanding
of the soil's spirit.
And for a newly found center-
Entirely centered within an abyss' clear nothing.
Thoughts then flow, and form their individual
Sapling new worlds.
This I look for and continue to accept-
This free, free world.
Through the same twisted-green eyes as always.
To search through infinite ranges of mountains-
Descending the aurora's purple valleys with a floating ability-
And to swim shimmering empty space's dark depths,
Breathing airy atmospheres of lands of dreams that hide
In a lunar forest, deep in the labyrinth of a hermit's lonely mind.
And to drift through an eternally green-
a tribal, south American green,
field that blesses me with lavender smells
That immerse my skin and eyes with a new understanding
of the soil's spirit.
And for a newly found center-
Entirely centered within an abyss' clear nothing.
Thoughts then flow, and form their individual
Sapling new worlds.
This I look for and continue to accept-
This free, free world.
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