Mythtory

Everything you know is wrong

because everything you’ve been

told is a lie made up by the controllers 

to keep you in line, Rockefeller buying 

teachers to change education an example,

at least that’s the way it used to be until 

the internet started making things more

transparent in real time, but people still 

believe in fantasies and nonsense from 

a bygone era because, as Gibson said, 

the future is already here, it’s just not

evenly distributed…the future meaning  

the time when nothing is hidden, when 

everyone sees the same truth, when the

Carny controllers loose there power, but

it looks like that might still be a while.

Freak Out #9

Blood on the side of the road.

Child lives.

Thus have I seen.

I’m getting used to the pain.

The drops of water on my head 

don’t bother me anymore.

I want to live forever.

Don’t complain.

Don’t think yourself into a corner.

Everything you know is wrong.

It’s back to the senses,

back to the senses now,

now senses the to back.

You say you want an evolution,

weh-eeell,  you know…we all 

want to lose some weight. And

you’re gonna have to carry that

weight a long time, unlessssss

Ozempic can make you enlightened.

There could be moar.

Moar moar, even…a red sea 

history, herstory, moarstory, 

babbling seersworths of secrets to make

everything right again, fat chance, no

happy ending outside of Eden, or do 

you forget your Bible? Fat chance.

Good luck, Sir, and fat chance to you!

Elon wants to go to Mars….(         ).

I must be missing something.

Have we covered everything?

I don’t see much more to discuss.

Please, please, is there anything?

Yes, yes, nothing…

that’s all we need to cover: Nothing,

i. e. Fat Chance.

Moar

Even Jesus wanted a little moar time.

Moar because better than more, moar

better, larger caliber, moar firepower,

stopping power, love power, children

power, basic goodness power, moar

power to you, common sense must be

protected. You can’t have too much

decency, compassion, strength, 

courage, ruthless clarity.       MOAR!

Hurry Up, Please, It’s Time

It’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.

Any one of them could be a Nostradamus.

The Schumann Resonance and the Moon

in Uranus got things all hyped up raw.

Raid: Kills Bugs Dead Lew Welch Reed.

It’s the writers you gotta watch out for….

anyone who writes words down has

something askew, ajar, anon, autistic

about them. Pissing on a Mercedes.

I write to the end of the line full stop.

Watching the world do what it does all

around is my Manifesto.

What fabulous art.

It would be fabulous if only it was art.

Instead it’s as real as politicians being shot.

People are fucking nuts, 

alone and in groups,

brainwashed or without moral compass,

clinically insane or behaviorally coo coo,

and boy am I glad I’m not where they are.

Wrote a song about it…uh huh.

But, I digress.

If I didn’t digress, 

would we ever get anywhere?

Would fire have even been discovered?

I know, I know, it’s time….but the eccentric 

is the basis of design 

have you heard the one about

July 5

Every something is made out of nothing.

I Want To Tell You (for Jim Morrison)

What can I say?

You have the means to self-evolve;

your mind.

All religions are a grift, meant to make

the hierarchy rich, using belief as a 

distraction from uncertainty, the nature

of composed existence. Got me?

Don’t believe.

Don’t do it.

It makes you stupid.

Find out for yourself…Jesus did.

Where? How?

Buddhist meditation.

That’s all I have to say that’s of any use.

Corpse, or, Can’t You See I’m Decomposing?

Ha ha! I fooled you! I’m not dead!

(will I be when you read this?)

Not that I won’t be forgotten quickly 

when I’m just another corpse…where

did that bubble that just popped go?

“All will not be.” S.  That means 

everything, not just you and me.

The universe…will not be.   Pop.

Makes me wonder the point of a library…

oh yes, ignorance, confusion…

I remember.

I want to hope (giggle) that the internet

is eternity…

Started a religion about it….

wanna hear about it?

Goes like this.

If our words are vibrations in space, doesn’t 

quantum entanglement mean that some being

on the other side of the universe is reading

these words right now?

That’s a stretch.

“ Hi! How ya doing? What’s your name?

Bxyrrrrrrrdigggg? That’s a nice name. 

Say, what do you think of my poetry?

You don’t like it?”

FUCK!       (

see what we both did there?)

For Example

Thunderstorm flux transparent prophesies 

not long until everything changes oh really

might as well could be for all you know

these words for example who put them here

for what purpose oh yes that’s what words

are for that’s why we have them wouldn’t 

you agree

then something derails the thought train and

it’s back to the senses just as you head first

through the windshield or am I making the 

whole thing up why not it’s what we do it’s 

all we do.

I could go on as we usually do you’d like 

that so familiar except when it isn’t but let’s 

not talk about that now.

You see how easy it is?

Dark Thirty

It was dark thirty.

A long afternoon….clouds making their

way across the sky, dancing slowly,

holding back the light, playing the rain

ballerina, teasing the sky over the caldera,

lush valley of flowers, Conrad wrote a

novel about it, or was that someone else?

I could have made up a virtual reality,

but would it have been better than this?

I’m not sure of the answer, but I think

I’ll take the natural magic, ordinary magic,

a little gritty maybe, not perfect, but we

don’t really want to go to hell, do we?

It’s good that 

somewhere in Mexico, nothing happens.

Splice

Splice the time with music,

words with the tones of the sounds.

Splice history with uncertainty,

religion with crazy yogis,

society with kachinas.

Splice a banana with ice cream,

and split.

Pen And Paper

When the internet goes out

there’s always pen and paper.

Our voices won’t be silenced!

We are the spice!

I talk big, really, for an expat,

sitting at a desk in his underwear,

a Bukowskian figure, except for the

liquor bottles long since a memory.

Sunlight through the skylight yet

cool rainy season breeze…I like

the internet, being connected, in tune,

plugged in, watching the puzzle unfold,

unpacked by people not quite sure 

what they’re doing, others very certain.

It’s all been written for posterity, (is that

the same as eternity?) on paper, copied

during the Dark Ages, rediscovered in

Greece, in the Mid East on scrolls, on

the clay tablets of the Flintstones.

Once Homosap learned to yap, you

couldn’t shut him up! What did you 

splice onto those monkey genes?

Pandora’s mouth!

…all transcribed

nature of mind,

(there it went again…

a little pig…with wings…)

is that your natural mind?

Describe it.

Happy Father’s Day

To me, you bastards! (hee hee)

My daughter wrote me…all I need.

An old woman in the market first

asked me if I was a father, I said yes,

and she gave me a big hug!

So, I had a backup, or, it was the

universe…these days ya never know.

I’ll take it.

In A Farther Room

A whiter shade of pale comes over her

porcelain skin. She looks like she’s 

waiting for the flash of the photo, or

like she’s a classy thousand year vampire

that doesn’t need to move. The music is

paralyzing in its voluptuousness. Being

there was the sole purpose. The memory

of the moment was the only further 

instruction.

Only Words

People used to read because that’s all there was…

newspapers,

books,

periodicals,

the writing on the subway wall.

Comics came along for the kids…

first images soon to burgeon and 

take over the airwaves.

Poetry, then music lost their value,

and Mickey Mouse tee shirts took

over the world.

It’s all part of “The Great Plan”…

yeah, right, of mice and men,

the scum also rises.

The prophets wrote what they saw,

whether they could explain it or not.

They wrote what they saw, like 

the poets, like Conrad.

Many people remember two words: 

“The horror” from Apocalypse Now,

but, do they know what they mean?

Maybe writing will go retro soon,

after everything is incinerated as usual…

a few survivors writing on the bark of

remaining trees: “What happened?”

Never mind about that now… a woman

just talked to me on the street..Giselle,

German but lived in Florida forty years…

open and smart, hip to the trip. We agreed

about everything….I made her laugh, and

she walked away. That really happened, not 

a magic lantern image projected on a screen.

People talk too much and say too little, a type

of white noise they like to make and hear.

Do I write too much? No…only what I do.

I’m not standing in front of someone saying:

“Hey! Let me read this to you!”

If you got this far, you read it 

‘cause you wanted to.

All I did was make it available,

not to beat a dead library.

This Side Of Paradise

Every great storm has a center, an eye.

In the eye, you can see things clearly.

Every nation has a town, a village,

more tranquil, a Casablanca. 

Every town has a secret, magic restaurant,

a coffee shop, an eye.

Magic is scaleable, a universe 

in a drop of water.

It’s magic because it’s based in the senses.

It’s magic because no one has figured it out.

Knowledge is not wisdom.

Wisdom is magic, seeing things as they are,

Steven’s anecdote of the jar,

sitting on the sidewalk, slightly ajar.

History is a naturally occurring puzzle,

pieces fall where they may,

repetitive like a cycling storm.

Humans are rubes taken in by the Barkers,

flashes of light in an empty sky,

shiny objects as far as most of them go.

If I was any closer to paradise, I’d be on

the other side of it, as Groucho quipped.

It all remains to be seen.

Existence

“The faster we go, the rounder we get.”  The Bus

Everybody wants to know the future.

Because they want to forget about the past?

Because the present looks too grim?

Hopium is the most common drug humans

have invented.

“It’s a good day to die.” is a better perspective.

“Eat, shit, sleep. The rest is none of your business.”

is good too.

“Chisme”, gossip, is my favorite word in Spanish…

I wonder why?

“Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly. Man gotta sit and

wonder: why? why? why?”

Even common wags have something to say.

Plenty of stories about people too smart for their

own good….plenty of history too.

The wisdom/knowledge of the Greeks was lost and found.

How many times has the Homosap reinvented the wheel?

I’m an attendant poet, into watching…blah blah blah

because it’s fun.

If anything I say is true, it matters little.

My bank account speaks for itself.

Even the grasshoppers have something to say.

“Don’t cry, little grasshopper, we all go this way.”  Issa

Off Baise

Subway killing behavior graph vein drum

heartless slattern singer serenity maximum

gasket blown … threshold oversight forgotten

in the yes these are only words what do you

make of them…interpreter goodwill 

refreshments scar of ancient blue horizons

smacked me in the face oh really no not really

but if you can’t help yourself it’s nice to fool 

around.

Had you fooled think so 

how’s about this time you never know.

Is it because of this?

                      

Laughing At Our Staff Will Not Be Tolerated

“Does I has to spell it out to youse?

Youse a wise guy or sumptin’?

You think youse da Buddha, wise guy?

You just a punk.

Shariputra!”

Starting From Everything I Know Is Wrong

Where do you go from there?

You can get here from there.

You don’t have to go anywhere 

to get here.

Yes, I’m fucking with you

because I can.

A monster burger and good mota…

everything I know about that is right.

I’m not sure about any of you,

I thought I knew, but you were brainwashed

into arrogance and stupidity…sorry…la la la…

don’t mind me…

I just live here.

We’ll See

In a month we’ll see

if everything changes.

In a month we’ll see

who’s left alive.

Maybe it’s all an illusion…

in a month we’ll see,

or never at all.

(a stolen prophecy)

July 5, 2025.  5 A.M.

(A.I. it)

It’s Late

Trump Musk feud has been entertaining 

today…”all the world’s a stage”, as was 

said. “Clothes make the man” also 

Shakespeare. I want to write more to keep

the party going on this quantum merry-go-

round…nothing I can say will improve the

Hubbel Constant theory, or any others, no

“trudging through vast Arabies of hot meaning”,

children, we “just numbly don’t get there.”

I repeat myself because the truth is always

the same. Wanting to understand is Homosap’s

biggest problem that has already been solved,

but, “Don’t ask: ‘What is it?’ Let us go and

pay our visit.” as was said.

Smartly Dressed

As if you’re going somewhere.

There’s a phrase you don’t hear these days.

Now it’s all about dumbing down.

Is anyone besides Musk looking forward

to the future?

But his future is on Mars.

Yes, Trump’s Golden Age….

rather hyperbolic mythology,

even if it could be.

In the USA, everyone’s always 

worked up about something,

since it’s beginning.

That’s why fads are an American invention;

the hula hoop, pet rocks, stuffing phone booths,

professional sports. 

Not around long enough for a dynasty,

unless you consider some of the families dynastic,

could be, or just nasty.

America’s roiling creativity made lots of new things.

Whether it makes it to a time of wisdom

is still a big question.

Terminal Velocity

I move/live at the speed of the senses,

slower ‘cause I’m older, moving terminally 

to inevitability of algorithm’s end, the end

of my time, relative time of a dying animal,

eternity fastened to it like an escape pod,

what comes next a mystery like last time

it happened…what would it be like to be born

fully aware? What a trip! Like opening the 

front door to go outside, and, when you do,

there’s nothing there except the opposite 

of death.

Machine Gun Learning

“It took a nipponized bit of the old sixth avenue el

in the top of his head to tell him.” eecummings 

Learning takes place at the point of a gun as a

last resort too many times in history.

Why we don’t learn, as humans, from past mistakes

is a mystery.

Ideals don’t solve problems, rather create them because

they don’t acknowledge the nitty gritty.

You say you want a revolution?

Wrote a song about it…wanna hear it?

Goes like this.

And So It Goes

Franklin was in his cabana, sipping a mai tai,

listening to the waves. He kept up with what

was happening in the States. He was glad he

was not there, that he had moved to Mexico

twenty years ago, to a town protected by it’s

vibe (from the copper in the mountains that

surrounded it?). His decision to do so was 

purely instinctive…a brainstorm like the one

he had when he decided to become a plumber.

His mind had somehow grokked the clues he

saw and felt. He was brave enough to take 

some leaps in life, not jumping to conclusions,

rather seeing what was there and acting 

accordingly. Many people just looked for the

most convenient rut and stayed with it their

whole lives. The ones that didn’t seemed like

weirdos and crazies. Some of those became

his friends. Two soldiers walked along the 

beach with automatic rifles. He noticed them

that morning as they got out of their truck. He

wondered if someone had noticed the smell of

the joint he had smoked in his room. 

The United States of America

What’s happening in the USA?

Not what was predicted 

by the Buddhists

by the Hindus

by the Christian Bible

by the Hopi, 

Nostradamus, 

Baba Vanga,

Mark Taylor.

Maybe the Mayans got it right.

Maybe Project Looking Glass did.

(I too made a prediction, like Taylor,

in 2011…”The Purge Of Evil”. Looks

like I was right, if I do say so myself)

We’re in the fog of a war

the fog of propaganda 

the fog of newspeak

the fog of anarchy and chaos

the fog of ridiculous stupidity.

If the United States falls to the 

Communist conspiracy, (think

Soros as the poster child), the

world will go into a thousand

years of darkness, the Kali Yuga.

Things don’t look so good right

now for the evil ones, the clients

of Epstein and Diddy, the socio/

psychopaths on the payroll of

insanity and destruction, but it’s 

too early to tell, because things 

are still foggy.

If you think this is just my opinion,

or I’m a conspiracy theorist,

a vaccine denier,

a MAGA lunatic,

a “Trump is a danger to democracy”

apologist,  go ahead.

I have plenty of thoughts about 

people who think that way.

Part of their war strategy is to make

me, make everyone angry, sow seeds 

of the anarchy and chaos, it’s a piece

of their plan.

Instead, Trump and the Patriots, 

(common sense people) are using the

Constitution and the law as their 

weapons, destroying the enemy.

Check your reaction to these words

written here. If they make you angry,

there’s a clue.

I’m not sure of anything right now.

You?

One thing is clear: it’s the greatest

show on earth.

I apologize that this isn’t a poem…

maybe it should have been.

Artificial Intelligence

There are two types of people…those that divide

people into two types, and those that don’t….he’d

written about that once before.

He had been an actor, became a writer because

acting took lots of other people, and he didn’t know

when, if ever, he’d be around them anymore.

Acting was an amazing endeavor. He thought

Buddhists would benefit from doing it because, if

you were in character, there was no room for ego.

Acting could be dangerous. He had two examples.

Alfred Jarry was a playwright at the end of the

Twentieth Century in France. He wrote “Ubu Roi”,

a play about a king. That king was disgusting…

always spewing dirty language, filth, aside from

his bad behavior. Jarry began to dress like that 

character, and wandered around Paris spewing

filth, and generally being Pere Ubu. Freud coined 

the term: “Jarry complex” to describe his obsession.

Ubu became Jarry’s ego. The other example is

George C. Scott, who won an academy award for

his role in the movie, “Patton”. George had a 

nervous breakdown. He couldn’t stop being Patton.

“Hang on to your ego, but I know you’re going to

lose the fight.”

He wrote things, even a few lyrics, but he wasn’t 

a musician. He had two examples of people whose

music had gotten them out of prison: Leadbelly and

Handel. He didn’t see how his writing could get him

out of the prison he was in. He knew death would 

solve that problem, so he wasn’t really worried. It 

was interesting, however, to consider the possibility.

He was living in an ancient caldera in a town

considered to be a place that was one of the oldest 

continuously inhabited spots in the Western 

Hemisphere. That was good enough for him.

He knew that going somewhere else could only,

at best, be redundant. What do you do when you

find your spot? You stay there. It had worked for him.

Besides these thoughts, it was just another day. Today

felt a bit better because the moon was moving from 

Cancer to Leo, or some other reason. It made sense

to him, even if he really didn’t understand.

Waves Or Particles?

Frank woke up …he was at the beach.

Who was he this time? He seemed to

remember… Franklin Tish…yes, that

was his name. He felt better…the fog

of sleep was beginning to recede like

the tide. He knew it would be back…

no one stays awake forever…or, do 

they? What about the enlightened ones

whose bodies evanesce when they die?

He knew he’d read about them. He 

knew he had some connection. Perhaps

things would become clearer over the

course of the day. That’s what usually

happened. He trusted the process…it

took a long time for faith to develop,

but eventually it did.

It was fresh from the rain last night.

Rainy season had begun, and the heat

of the last few weeks was beginning

to assuage. He got out of bed and

went over and looked out the window

of the room he had rented over the 

restaurant. No people on the beach.

A few clouds punctuated the horizon.

He remembered he used to have a 

schedule, a routine, even a purpose,

but no more. Every morning he woke

up, there was that second, that moment,

before he was awake, a slight panic, 

then, a letting go when he realized he

no longer was a plumber, no longer had

to go to the job. Rather amazing how

patterns linger. The mind is a terrible thing.

He got back into bed. The sun wasn’t fully 

up yet. He had plenty of time, which was

rather a surprise. Maybe he’d fall asleep 

for a while. Maybe he’d have another dream.

The last part of the night, the last part of

a good night’s sleep is when the dreams

usually came. He wondered what the 

message would be this time? He hoped

it wasn’t that he was back in college for

another year. That dream was always a

nightmare.

Anyone that loves a beach would love

Mazunte. It was off season, so there were

few people there, which was nice. The people

he did meet were splendid…easier to be that

way in pleasant surroundings. There was no

reason to complain, so complaints didn’t 

seem to arise…at least, not as much as in

Pittsburg.

Why did Pittsburg just pop into his mind 

just then? Why did anything? He’d only been

on the outskirts of Pittsburgh once in his life,

when he hitchhiked East with a black girl in 

‘69. Is that true? Did he do that? He did seem

to have the memory.

Some of his memories were scary…times when

he averted an accident at work or driving a car.

He sometimes wondered how he survived…there

was always a slight twinge when he had those

memories…a residue of fear, like sand in your 

shoe. His mechanism, his Deus ex Machina, held

a lot of secrets. Maybe there was still time to 

figure out how to work this thing, this body/mind,

this soul fastened to a dying animal, but he wasn’t 

hopeful. Luckily, he wasn’t much fearful either, as

he had been when he was young. He was very

aware of death when he was young. It drove him

to try and find out what it meant to be alive at all,

in the first place. He’d made leaps in that 

direction. Now that he knew he had eternity to

fully realize the answer, he was more relaxed, in

general. Eternity? Just watch the waves endlessly

breaking on the beach. The waves come from 

the ocean. Thoughts come from mind.

Cafe At The End Of Time: Epilogue

Frank is as real as I ever was…maybe more so.

We got ourselves into this mess every much as

any fictional characters we might think of creating.

To be honest, I’m only back to write this…when

I’m through, I’ll be back as 264499, helping recent

newbies figure out what has happened to them.

You can only reassure them so much….they have 

get a grip themselves naturally. Otherwise, they’re 

going to be in for some serious brain surgery. Then

they have to be reprogrammed, which is time 

consuming and expensive. At least, it’s quicker than

evolution. Most recent arrivals do pretty well. They

were chosen because they exhibited openness, after 

all. The frozen minds were left on earth to their own

devices. Maybe they’ll wind up eating each other in

the long run. That was not our problem.

We sometimes laugh at Homosap’s concepts of  “Utopia”,

“Brave New World”, “Republic”, any ideal world ideas.

That’s because we have it so we don’t have to imagine it.

What is it, you wonder, but I can’t explain it because you

wouldn’t understand. Some humans actually found it for

themselves. They were able to teach it to a few others who

had to go through years of intensive training so they could 

finally understand. That’s why only a minority of humans

had the ability to phase shift to a new reality. That’s why

“extraterrestrials” watched earth, humans, for all those 

centuries. They had to be sure.

I’m not giving away any secrets. “The truth is out there”,

as they say. It’s just that most people stop looking for it

even before they’re adults. The ones that do look for the

truth are always considered weirdos and lunatics by most

of humanity, except some native traditions that let them 

be shamans. Like the Beatles wrote: “I want to tell you.”

No wonder they were so popular…lots of hidden wisdom 

in their songs.

I could go on….endlessly…but quantum wisdom only 

allows to disseminate clues. There was no instruction 

manual for being human ever written, unless you count

the Tao Te Ching, but that was basically finger painting.

So, in conclusion, to quote Vonnegut:

“So long, and thanks for all the fish!”

White Man

White Man is the new Superhero.

(This is satire, if I have to spell it out for you.

If I do, I know who you are.)

Let’s not beat around the bush anymore,

hedge our bets, hide the truth.

White Man has been the only Superhero for a long time.

Hitler had the idea, but he was wrong in that 

White Man never advertised himself.

All the Superheroes invented in comic strips

were euphemisms for White Man.

Sure, there was Bat Girl and Super Girl,

but only Wonder Woman had a good backstory.

Black Panther came along because someone

felt sorry about something.

White Man built Western Civilization after the

other races’ civilizations, empires had vanished.

That was before White Man’s time, which is now.

White Man flourished in the sciences, discovered 

evolution, built the Empire State building in a year,

built the World Trade Center. 

Another color blew it up.

(Actually, it was the Jews, so that’s a grey area.)

White Man put a man on the moon and is heading 

to Mars. He wrote most of Western literature, 

created most of it’s art…not blues or jazz, which

came out of Africa, an extension of what they had.

“Noblesse Oblige” is a White Man’s burden.

 Ghengis Khan didn’t have it…he killed everyone.

Ancient warrior societies were the same way.

Today they want to destroy White Man because

they’re jealous….what other reason?

(Of course, White Man isn’t the pinnacle of evolution.

The Buddhists discovered that, yellow people, but that’s 

not what we’re talking about now.)

So, folks, we’re stuck with White Man, like it or not.

Anyone have a better idea?

The Myth Of Freedom

That’s it, just a title.

I could say more, like,

if you think you’re free,

what are all those thoughts 

in your head telling you

what to do, what to believe?

Sorry, I just saw Stone’s movie,

J.F.K., and I’m a little upset

because a lot of people still

believe what the successors 

of the people that killed him say;

MSM, Dems, RINOs, MINOs,

three letter agencies, you know,

the usual suspects that have been

around my whole life…

do you see?

Many see, they elected Trump.

Others still have thoughts that

aren’t really theirs, implants to

govern their behavior.

I’m tired…I should have ended

this with the title…it’s not a poem

…it’s not hit bait…it’s just the truth,

an acquired taste that’s out of fashion.

Maybe I should have taken the blue pill.

Gong Show

In Kyoto, the Mikosan was four hundred years

of life history revealed in dance, the echo of

dynasty and culture, eternal beauty.

In Tepoztlan, Mexicans move with their history 

embedded in wrinkled faces, in costumes 

reflecting humor at servitude they endured,

in sauces for the plain food surviving from 

ancestors’ lives, in their horses they ride with

pride, beasts whose ancestry parallels their own.

My German stock mingles with Tibetan and Zen

quantum vibrations, songs, sayings, tales, stories

etched into axions, ringing on to eternity, part of

Frank Zappa’s single note that is the universe.

I’m Feeling A Poem

 …coming on…

a vowel movement…

when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Life’s like that…it has to come out.

Here it comes…ladies, hike your skirts!

Residue 

All that’s left of yesterday is memory,

maybe a photo or two stuck in a drawer

and forgotten.

I have scars to prove I worked,

a few reviews of roles I played in plays,

of books I published, residue of life I lived.

I’m still here, a footnote of myself, still writing,

a stone rolling downhill with momentum,

natural continuum until it stops, the only question 

left is “So what?”, swept away like all the rest,

history a wisp of smoke that lingers in the air,

Horton hears a Who.

In the cosmic quantum maelstrom, the earth

is merely punctuation.

Period.

William Blake Was Right

 He wrote of three stages of life;

innocence, experience, and return to innocence.

Return to innocence is because of experience.

What Blake didn’t say is, if you don’t heed experience,

if you go down the wrong path, (because we’re all on one),

you don’t return to innocence…

you continue on the wrong path.

Give Blake a break, he was a mystic…he did, however,

draw a picture…many of them.

Innocence, then experience…what kind?

All of them.

You have to make a choice.

The road less traveled?

Up to you.

No instruction manual,

just a lot of clues.

Believe me or not, all the clues are there,

even in the Bible.

It’s a mission impossible, which you have

no choice but to accept.

Door number one or door number two?

I’m sure you wish you knew,

but, still, you have to choose.

“By their fruits you shall know them.”

There’s one for you.

Not A Professional

I write because that’s what I do.

That’s the only reason.

If there was another reason, 

someone would have noticed me by now, 

maybe a patron…I’d be famous then.

I still like reading what I wrote before…

not so much now at the end of this thing,

what do you call it?

Oh yeah, life, the thing that keeps happening 

until it doesn’t, I remember…until I don’t.

It’s been like painting a wall and the paint 

is running out, so you add thinner so you can

complete the job The paint doesn’t cover

as well, but you keep going because that’s 

what you do, like breathing, but the lungs don’t 

work so well, so you’re on oxygen,  and you’d

like to make love because you remember how

great it was, but you don’t feel the passion.

Things start to clear because of less distraction.

And you begin to see people, those you know and

others you see in the street, in a different way, like,

what’s wrong with them? But then you realize you

used to be more that way. You’re not, not because

you learned anything at all, but because you forgot

everything you knew, a kind of blissful ignorance,

maybe, or even a childlike innocence, that’s better…

a second childhood, sure, gurgling words to myself.

So, no, I never took writing seriously…I just wrote 

a lot, that’s all. 

“So what?” you might say,

as I do now.

It Won’t Be Long

What won’t be long?

You’ll see…or will you?

Is it happening right now?

Can you see the signs?

Is anything really normal?

Is your life going along as usual, the way

it was before the last eight years?

Maybe it’s happening in slow motion,

a frog in water that is slowly heating?

What is it, you say?

Has the truth been hidden for so long,

eons, that if you saw it, you wouldn’t 

believe it?

Oh no, it doesn’t matter what I think.

The only thing that matters is what you see.

You see? Do you agree?

It’s time to wake up, reboot, get real,

whether you like it or not,  because

the truth is unavoidable, 

eventually, like now.

“It is precisely in unconscious involuntary 

manifestations that all evil lies. You do no

yet understand and cannot imagine all the

results of this evil. But the time will come 

when you will understand. “ G.I. Gurdjieff

1916.

Random Lines

Truth whorls in random hunger for itself.

A pansy Republic sweats the small stuff.

Yoke replica on the wall as reminder.

Minor-league coercion no longer a problem.

Enough cemeteries defend greed.

Purgatory bus stop notwithstanding.

Free peripheral apparitions.

Orchid embryo dissemination tactic.

Everlasting numeric hollowness…think conflict.

I told you, but your fedora covers your ears.

My impudence is a determined disaster.

Yin/Yang

I don’t miss America.

Over sixty years since JFK died,

and it’s been going downhill since then.

Now that Trump’s in office, there may 

well be a new “golden age” for America,

it looks promising, but we’ll see…I won’t 

be around long enough to experience much

of it if it does happen. 

I’m glad I didn’t waste my life trying to get

on that gravy train of treasonous bastards..

(12 TRILLION dollars Trump’s people have

no idea where it went).

I didn’t waste my life trying to save America.

So, maybe the next fifty to an hundred years

might be fantastic…great living standards again,

everybody gets a Tesla robot to keep them company,

we build condos on Mars, sounds great. 

Let’s assume Trump is the greatest President America

has ever had. Let’s say he’s one of the greatest men that

ever lived. It could be true.

Even so, all is vanity, and there’s nothing new under 

the sun. 

What goes up, must come down.

I hope everyone enjoys their temporary pleasure.

Anyone For Quanta?

Vibes

Vibes are quantum fluctuations at the Planct level

in the scaleable universe, perceived by the senses.

Humor 

Jokes trigger sub-atomic explosions at the Planct scale

of the universe.

Just guessing.

Cyclical Existence

Penrose cyclical universe why not going away

from linear existence of universe of man nice

and tidy that way beginning/end sort of thing 

the West with it’s daddy God creating everything 

suddenly out of nothing something you have to 

believe in because it doesn’t make sense besides

samsara cyclical existence of beings a la Buddhism

already made sense….

time is a wheel not a line.

A wheel makes a straight line on a road.

Do we really experience time, or only it’s effects?

Crack Record

To make an informed choice between politicians,

you have to take into account their crack record.

If they have a crack record, probably not a good pick…

Hunter Biden, for example.

Cory Booker…he did talk for twenty five hours….

suspicious.

Drug testing should be mandatory for politicians.

Gotta figure out why the Dems (and RINOS)

are so crazy…must be addicted to something.

Not many can say they stand on their record.

Not many have a record to stand on.

The deep state has been on a binge

for the last four years.

They’re ripe for a crack up.

The Jones is a killer.

Longing For Nonexistence (for Edgar Cayce)

Longing for space, from which existence arises,

our home that we left on our adventure of life.

A romantic yearning knowing life’s evanescence,

seeing behind the curtain where no one is.

I know my work is almost done this life.

I’ll come back if causes and conditions arise

again the way they did this time.

In an infinite universe, everything is possible

and likely, eventually.

As my teacher said:

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest when you’re dead.”

And the contract (karma) has an infinity clause.

No Worries

An easy daily routine leading to many hours

in bed and lots of sleep, no worries about the

ort cloud or the cosmic bubble or what will

happen on the earth, in quantum time, the 

all-time they haven’t quite yet discovered

but are getting very suspicious of their own

models, who knows? Maybe they’ll figure 

out what the Egyptians and Mayans…let alone

extra-terrestrials…(talk about reinventing the 

wheel) already knew long ago. We ‘re chimps

looking in the mirror and thinking we’re 

handsome. I love writing about this stuff

because these words, not me, will last forever.

There are things that are timeless,

like the truth.

Going To Mars

Going to Mars is not evolution.

Going to Mars is monkey business.

Going to Mars is the same old Homosap.

Going to Mars is the same old shit.

For Europeans coming to North America,

it was like going to Mars, except the prospects

were more promising.

Those people didn’t do anything differently.

Those people didn’t learn anything new.

Those people tried to recreate the world they knew.

For the people that go to Mars, the same will be true.

The means to self evolve has been known and practiced

since the time of Buddha and before.

Why look for the truth somewhere else?

It’s an ego problem.

It’s always an ego problem.

Arms race,

Space race…why does the Homosap always

get himself into situations that are never resolved

and always unsatisfactory?

Evolution is not more, better, best.

Evolution is not being the best at something.

Evolution laughs at a monkey reaching for another banana.

Dark

Music I’m listening to…

thunder approaching 

early for rain…the seasons

even here have been a bit off…

I bit off all I could chew…

Chewy Chewy Sugar Sugar 

the residuals aren’t that great.

Black bubble gum.

Snow White only drinks albino blood.

I didn’t make that up.

Why do Americans delight in horror shows?

Heat

Hot. I’m hot…I’m writing about it…

if you read it, maybe you’ll get hot too…

heat…not unbearable, just a little too much,

which is unbearable…boring….anything that

takes too big a percentage of one’s awareness,

like my friend who had rheumatoid arthritis 

for twenty years…twenty years no relief from

pain…very boring…in dramatic fashion, he

burned himself up in his trailer one night…not

boring…we all feel relief that I didn’t make that

story any longer.

Just then, no lie, it started to rain.

Good Luck

That’s it…that’s all…good luck.

I write like I think I know something,

good luck with that.

Maybe Musk knows more, wants to go

to Mars, good luck to him.

What do you know, what do you think you know?

I really am curious…

I mean, I see what people do…I don’t know why…

what goes on in their minds?

Why  would anyone go to war, for example?

If you’re attacked, ok, I can see that…but the USA

hasn’t been attacked since 1941, and look at all the wars

the USA has been in since then? 

If you believe in something, at least you feel you’re not lost.

That fear is what all religions and political philosophies

build their kingdoms on…don’t you see?

No, they don’t…so they go on in relative security even if

their beliefs don’t exactly match what they’re seeing…they

just look away from what doesn’t match “themselves” and

get by get along get lost in the funhouse ‘till it’s over.

Good luck.

Misadventure/Adventure/Afterthought/Dirty Joke

I have a leaky bladder. For now, I soak

up my dribbles with a tee shirt I bought

at the Beat Bookstore in San Francisco…

a poetic something or other. I was in the

bank, waiting to use the ATM, and some

of my excess slipped past my defenses 

and dribbled on the floor in a little puddle.

No one noticed, I played it cool, did my

transaction, and slipped away unnoticed.

Victory.

And now, two nicely dressed Mexican

gentlemen stopped and began talking to 

me, a little Jesus rap, I didn’t understand 

a word. I said: “Yo soy Buddhismo..es

differente.” They detached at those words.

We shook hands and they left smiling.

Basic goodness.

Beethoven  has been playing in my mind

this morning. His music is awe inspiring,

victorious even. Yeah, but everyone lost

everything always anyway, so what?

So quantum victory, 

victory over time itself.

(snarkastic remarks here)

What do you call a gay man burning in a fire?

A faggot.

Hey, folks, I’m not a hypocrite.

I tried faggotry in my youth,

and I found it wasn’t at all what

it was cracked up to be.

Middle Of The Night

Wake up….bathroom…aspirin-shower

in bed quick now writing this I don’t 

know why whatever could wait until 

tomorrow it’s not like I woke up eureka!

I’ve got it! I’ve got the answer! No!

Nothing of the sort! In fact, I’m going

back to sleep now with no one the wiser!

Two Fans

Two fans hot the top floor concrete roof

bakes in the sun good passive solar but

not when you don’t need it it gets cool

enough to sleep later the whole month 

and part of June then rain comes and 

the flowers come and the heat is forgotten

and then there’s only one fan.

Secret Facility

Where I am…music of pipes being hit by hammers

chorus of machines whine together singing progress…

another civilization maybe…one would be nice…

post apocalyptic steam punk…if there is such a thing…

hard to tell with all the verisimilitude…can’t tell what’s 

what without a program if you think that gives you a 

handle…hasn’t been a blue sky in years…I know one

thing…I can keep a secret.

Clown World

One could probably go anywhere in the world

where there’s electricity and you could show 

the people there a picture of Mickey Mouse,

and they would recognize it immediately.

By contrast, most people you talk to in the world

about the teachings of Buddha and the path that 

leads to the end of suffering would never have 

heard of them, and would think you’re crazy.

It’s a clown world we live in.

Hypoxygen

Nothing rears its ugly head again,

wait a minute….that can’t be right.

Seer sucker…

Yes, I can see your future and it doesn’t 

look good….maybe get down on all fours

and try to make it as a dog?

You can lead a country to sanity,

but you can’t make it think.

Morning glory vines and lavender adorn

the old brick wall. Sitting in the quiet of

the garden, taking in through the senses,

breathing out a sigh of relief.

Just because the Director says: “Action!”

it doesn’t mean you have to do anything.

My Blank Pages

What does a poet write?

(                   lots of words.                    )

What does the reader read?

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah, The End.”

…except for the occasional 

mind mine

that explodes 

into a new knowledge of reality.

It’s worth it.

It’s Today Again

Who do we have to thank?

Who do we have to blame?

I’m my own Boss.

I don’t boss myself around…

…I used to… how do you think

I lived this long?

I had to play by some rules.

Others I could avoid.

So, today again, always something 

seemingly new, disguised sameness,

but I’m old and keep forgetting, so

I can’t complain because I can’t remember.

I wish the same joy for you.

Sorry, everybody’s not a winner…we all

have a finish line thanks for playing.

Participation trophies are so degrading.

Bruce Jenner was the greatest athlete 

in the world.

The best he could come up with after that

was to change his sex. Let that sink in.

It took some balls to do that.

I find the whole thing indicative of the

human predicament.

It all boils down to: “What to do?”

…the basis for all human comedy, drama

and stupidity.

Have I left anything out?

Only the dogs: it’s today again for them too.

Part Two

Music cold dark sweet doom jazz mellow

like watching out the window of a diner

a few shady characters punctuate the sidewalk 

cars zoom zoom incognito splashing puddles

steam from sewer grates migrates upward

lamppost oasis in the gloomy darkness

a few diners, bars, flop houses still open

clatter, hiss, chatter, skid, curse, sing, glee

the whole place is alive but don’t 

let it get to you it flows flow with it just

don’t never get heavy with the heavies.

April 29

Or is it?

Depends on when you’re reading it.

I’m writing it now, you’re reading it now.

Is that a different now? Is it the same now?

Does it help to understand the words knowing 

when it was written?

I think not, what say you?

Have we just proven that truth is eternal in the now?

Got me?

You got me so I can’t sleep at night,

or, is that just me overthinking?

Yeah, that’s it, you don’t really got me

now, but don’t let that stop you.

Right You Are

Right you are then, anything you say…

father knows best, what? Wink wink,

nod nod…no, no need to explain…I’ll

take your word for it…you’re Aces with

me, indeed in deed…I can see by the cut 

of your jib that you’re a good feller, fine

by me. Just take off all your clothes now, and

after the cavity search you’ll be on your way.

Remembrance

Getting older, memories are the most 

of what you have

left

to hold on to if you want to hold on to

something anything it all was so real we

thought it would never end those were the

days weeks months years decades it adds up

to time passed and who cares, if your immortal,

but you’re not.

Easter Sunday and A Confession

It’s not that existence is prosaic, it’s that

we forgot what we are, got trapped in bodies 

in a confusing world. It’s what the Gnostics 

believed and practiced until they were genocided

by the Catholic Church that needed people to

believe in something so that they could maintain 

power and control.

You didn’t know?

Living your prosaic lives preferring entertainment 

over art, where the truth is revealed?

Don’t take it too hard…no one told you the truth

because they didn’t know either, so you “went on

in a fog thinking nothing had happened” until the

airplane you’re in suddenly crashes and you walk

away where others died in the wreckage, and you

think “ why me?” good question.

Without a question there can be no answer.

A Confession

I was in a play my senior year at Carleton College

in Northfield, Minnesota. I connected with a guy who

was also in the play. We decided to have an adventure 

together to solidify our friendship. A Saturday night after

the performance, we went out and started walking around 

Northfield. We were passing a Catholic Church, and we 

stopped. We had the bright idea that we would get into the

Church and steal the communion wine. We walked around 

the building and found an unlocked window. I crawled in 

and hung by my hands, my body stretched out, but my feet 

didn’t touch the floor. It was total darkness. I let go, and 

dropped to the floor only two feet below. I went upstairs 

and let my friend, Peter, in. We wen to the priest’s chambers

and looked through his robes. Then we found a refrigerator.

When we opened it, we discovered a gallon bottle of red 

wine, probably Gallo. We took the wine, left through the front

door, and went to the railroad tracks. Once we were settled, 

we proceeded to drink the wine and tell each other stories all

night.  The sun started to come up and the wine was gone, so

we walked back to the campus, arm in arm singing loudly.

As we walked down the sidewalk past some dorms, people

stuck their heads out of windows and yelled at us to be quiet,

but we kept on singing. As we past a girls dormitory, 

suddenly, the front door flung open and a naked man ran out

past us, down the sidewalk and disappeared. A girl in a robe 

came out a minute later, and we told her what we had seen.

She said the man had been hiding in her closet, and when she

opened the door, he dashed out and ran away.

That was a perfect coda to our adventure.

Post script:

I committed a crime against the Catholic Church

fifty years ago and never got caught. I’m very 

proud of that. I sometimes wonder what the priest

thought when he opened the refrigerator door that

Sunday morning.

Cosmouniversalis

I’m a man of my world with a mind of its own.

Don’t mind if I don’t mind if I do.

We live in an aftermath of so many things,

a horrible hora, dance of death, trying to 

come back, remember humanity, but evil 

hasn’t yet been defeated.

But, hey, Monkey Boy, it ain’t my fucking planet!

Pardon me, but, you are a robot, aren’t you?

“The universe wouldn’t blink if earth was destroyed.”

All the science fiction is now fact, and there aren’t 

 a lot of new ideas because the future is coming so

fast it’s hard to keep up with. Is this part of evolution?

You’re either on or not on the Bus?

Are you on a path at all,

let alone to the stars?

If you think you have all the  answers,

maybe you just haven’t found the right question.

Painting Yourself Into A Vaccine

The death agenda of the Deep State

is in full swing…they’re going door to 

door trying to get everyone vaccinated.

The unbrainwashed aren’t buying it.

The result is the only people they’re 

depopulating are the people that don’t 

think for themselves, aren’t aware, I.e.

Democrats and sheeple that can’t wake

up, destroying their base, and leaving

Trump supporters that aren’t having the

vaccine. Doh! Keystone Kriminals! Lol!

2014

Listening to lies our whole lives 

maybe or not our parents, certainly 

everything around us; what we saw 

on t.v., learned in school, the uniforms,

the fads, the latest fashion swept away,

with only our instincts to tell the truth.

That’s sophisticated Western culture of

the Twentieth century and beyond.

Even now only a handful of people make

all the rules and it looks like the Republic

is down one, two outs in the bottom of the

ninth.

Commonality

What are the most common things we say?

How’s the weather? How ya doing? How’s the kids?

Verbally, are our lives a cliche?

When was your last new thought?

When was the last time someone said something and

you thought to yourself:  “Huh!” ?

“What do you think of…”

something incredible

something you never considered 

in words, communication,

intersections on a ven diagram?

We don’t just sense each other, we intersect,

because part of our nature is quantum being.

“Bags of water” as the aliens call us.

Put a hermit that has been meditating in a cave

for twenty years and plop him down in the middle

of a thousand people and watch them change.

Jesus did it, and, it happened.

Anthropo-Homosap

You can see how ridiculous humanity is in all the

billboards

cartoons

sit-coms.

Also god-like in the art o

Michelangelo

DaVinci

Beethoven,

but nobody talks about that now.

USA gets more like Mexico, the louder

the brighter the display the better.

Not many understand what’s going on anyway.

A nuclear war would be a blast!

Impulse Giving

I gave a friend something my daughter gave me

that I liked very much.

He spent a couple of hours with me explaining 

my relationship to the Mayan Calendar. It’s 

his speciality, as a mathematician.

Whether it was worth it or not, for me, is not

important. 

He spent hours preparing to talk to me.

Letting go of something precious is an

appropriate response.

I. Q. for Steven Wright

I got a zero on an I. Q. test because I didn’t 

like the questions they were asking me so

I didn’t answer any.

Later on, I found out that I have a thousand

I. Q. because I didn’t answer any of their questions.

This is the world we live in right now.

This has only been a test.

Proteus

Be the change you want to see.

Be the way you want to be.

You know what your interests are,

do that. Listen to your mind and 

follow your heart, your core, your

intuition .because they’re what’s 

most real in quantum reality.

The rest is just a dream.

Boys Will Be Boys

Boys will be boys,

girls will be their mothers.

Dogs will be dogs,

pigs will be pigs.

Humans will sometimes be human

sometimes dogs

sometimes pigs.

Actors have found a secret:

humans can be anything they imagine.

Sometimes a human is a pig that acts like a human.

Sometimes a human is a dog that acts like a human.

The ego can get very complicated,

but it’s never really human.

It’s the heart that gives it away, tells the truth.

If you can’t see someone’s heart, you know they’re lost,

not really human, tho they swear they are.

Let boys be boys, girls be girls, 

men and women be themselves.

It’s natural and not all that difficult….

be what you are…..do what you do.

You will know them by their actions, 

not their words.

Feral Jesus

You could say that’s all of us.

Feral Jesus, feral Buddha,

untamed mind wisdom potential,

wandering the wilderness of survival,

untrained, doing the best we can,

civilization a rerun on t.v.; leave it 

to Beaver all in the family The Big

Picture my three sons the way it

used to be in the fifties when we were

told about progress but found ourselves 

lost in current chaos which is only the

beginning….survivalists are still in

Idaho waiting, waiting.

Morning Glory

Day rises as always…who knew?

Now that we’re here, what do we do?

We do what we do with the sun overhead.

We do what we do until we are dead.

(Buddhist Seuss)

But, let’s not talk about that now.

Let’s avoid the truth as long as we can,

Democrats do…let’s be like them just kidding.

What else is new?

Have we reached Mars yet? 

Have we conquered the debt?

Why ask why?

Either way it comes out the same,

the Homosap finger-painting progress 

and success…we were never given an

operating manual, but maybe our creators

just wanted to see what we’d do…then,

when the Sap got the A bomb, they began

to reconsider. 

Have you heard the alien theory before?

Was it just something else to ignore?

When the truth stands naked at your door

will you think it’s Avon calling or the DEA?

These are just words, ours are just lives,

honey on a razor’s edge.

You’re probably pissed because you thought

this was going to be a poem.

Ancient Space

 On a planet somewhere lush dense green

steady echoing musical note mantra from

who knows where or why but fills the scene

like back ground music to a silent performance 

of movement of vegetation living beings of every 

stage of evolution existing naturally according 

to instinct as humans do but more complexity 

yes the woods are ancient and arranged like a

painting by Arp lushly draped over everything

the air sounds movements sensorily complete

there in awe no feeling of needing or wanting 

to change anything so organically manifested

just one of the worlds like that pervading space

that just be there existing with everything on it

enlightenment of beings on many worlds is 

no big deal.

Life Like

Life like, like life, like

a corpse made up for a funeral

a theatrical production 

Congressional members lying

with sincerity

Governments lying with sincerity 

lots of showman, lying deception,

bad actors.

That’s a lot of it.

Meeting genuine, sympathetic,

sincere, honest people these days is 

getting harder and harder.

It’s getting harder and harder to hear

a word of the truth.

Signs of the Kali Yuga are everywhere.

History

In the sixties, when I was coming of age,

we protested the Vietnam war and Lyndon 

Johnson because we knew the government 

was corrupted. We wanted change: “We want

the world, and we want it now!” (Morrison)

The protests did help get us out of Vietnam,

but it really didn’t change anything in the U.S.;

Johnson, who had Kennedy killed, was a deep

state founder. The deep state wanted to take 

over the USA then, but they didn’t have enough

power until Obama became President and 

solidified the insurrection. Obama was groomed

(have you heard that word before?) to become

the Communist President to oversee and 

facilitate the destruction of America, which

he did for eight years. My generation failed

to save America back in the sixties. But 

Donald Trump, a Boomer, is leading

younger generations to accomplish what 

we failed to do. So, maybe my generation 

didn’t fail after all.

Story

I lost my account on X because I trusted

someone I shouldn’t have. I have a new

account on X, but none of my posts seem

to get posted, so, I wanted to tell this story

here.

I was looking at a post about women in

the army. The debate is between a DEI

military, and one advocated by Trump 

Pete Hegseth. The new Defense Secretary 

wants a force that is trained for combat

as it’s primary objective. 

My dad was a training sergeant in WW2.

He told me that if they had a recruit that

was constantly borderline insubordinate 

and acting out, the sergeants would take

this person behind the barracks one night

and beat the shit out of them. He said the 

reason they did this was because that kind 

of habitual behavior could get someone

killed on the battlefield. That’s how they 

trained troops back then.

Musk Wants A Mastodon

Dire wolf pups created out of reconstructed DNA

are real. If that can happen, can mastodons, dodos,

etc. be recreated? What else? T Rex? Nature finds 

a way? You know, if it can be done, it will. I’m 

gonna build me a bomb out of match heads. I’m

gonna build me a tree fort, a ground fort, a fort

underground because I did when I was a kid. 

Imagine you’re the first person to do this.

You think you’d want to stop?

Looking For A Savior

Plenty of candidates roam the States.

Which side are you on?

Left: who there do you admire?

Right: plenty to chose from. Just look

for the ones excoriated by the Left.

Jesus/Allah for the ones that have lost critical thinking.

The Kali Yuga is the time when the truth

cannot be heard.

Are we there yet?

Edge Of Night

Almost asleep up later than normal 

what is normal living and doing during

the day sleeping at night so it’s close

but I can’t help feeling the cutting 

as time passes that maybe I won’t 

wake up tomorrow I remember people

I worked with that died and I always 

took their passing personally maybe 

I didn’t know them very well but better

than I thought because I do remember 

them even now and that they died which

is like going over the edge into night 

where we’ve spent much of eternity

already

so

if there is basic goodness of existence 

would you say nonexistence is also good

I would life and death meaning continuity 

even the monsters that kill people recycle

eventually no Utopia can be seen in the light.

Priorities

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest when you’re dead.”

Chogyam Trungpa to his students.

“Hasten slowly and you’ll soon arrive.” Tibetan saying

What are you doing with your life?

Ask a billionaire if they’re happy.

Will your last words be: “What was that?”

What does it mean to be human?

Have you ever had a class on that in school?

Belief is thinking you have the answer.

Maybe you should look around before it all goes away?

Parinirvana of Chogyam Trungpa April 4, 2025

 Thirty eight years have passed since you left

your body seems like no time at all in my heart

part of me stays with you.

Reactor

Sitting outside the cafe in Tepoztlan is different 

than sitting outside a cafe in New York City.

Both places people walk by the same.

Here in Tepoztlan they either react with  me or 

they don’t react with me.

In New York, they reach at me, to me, because 

of me.

Lots of posers, actors, in New York City.

Here, not so, because there’s nothing here to grift.

There’s no use pretending.

Notice

The moment you’ve been waiting for

was yesterday at 3:30 p.m..

Kudzu

A living thing that grows out of control

‘till it makes the landscape look like a

painting by Jean Arp

like turbo cancer

like lion fish

like Communism,

bullying existence.

Dystopian

Right now

rubble left from riots

message the future.

Light is brighter:

spectacles, ceremonies, conclaves.

Dark is darker:

aforementioned disasters, wars, plagues,

social mayhem, actual mayhem.

Refuge could be a doorway in an abandoned city.

Escape to the countryside while there’s still time?

The City And The Stars by Arthur C. Clark.

Even music echos hollowness of the homosap.

All this survival for nothing?

At least, there’s still the question.

Come In, Rangoon!

I like to catastrophize, hyperbolize, imagine the worst,

or am I just seeing what is?

I emphasize for clarity…all the arts do….

so does propaganda, but, let’s not talk about that now.

The wheel that squeaks loudest gets the oil

is all you need to know,

ever, at all.

So, next time someone says: “Listen!” 

you might want to.

Random Gleanings From The Id

From womb to tomb, 

something something gloom.

An out-of-booty experience?

Pardon my Brand.

Is my Brand in your way?

Pardon me, but your Brand is showing.

I’d like to talk to you, but I’m allergic 

to stupidity.

I’d like to talk to you but my life is waiting.

He’s got a way with words; he gets away

with words.

Before you were born, you didn’t want anything.

Before you were born is  an infinity of time.

Look straight ahead, because that’s where you’re going.

A lot of my fellow Boomers died young because when

they saw what was going on, it was too late to go back.

All my poems are like coming up for air

three times before I drown.

There they go, there they go.

Where they stop, nobody knows.

Ghost In The Shell

There’s a ghost in my shell…

“the next thing” always haunts me,

the fight for survival thing, part of

my body, my shell, my costume.

There’s still the fear of death,

not hidden, in front of me.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, a cookie comes my way,

feeding the hungry ghost.

Getting Away With Life

I pretty much got away with it.

I didn’t become what the slave owners wanted.

Twenty years in Mexico, drinking and writing poetry.

I’ll buy that for a dollar!

The end might not be pretty, 

but that’s true for billionaires.

I’m happily poor, unvaccinated, unbrainwashed,

dinking coffee, smoking, writing this.

There are still some of us left in the world.

Others walk by me in some sort of fog.

And so it goes.

Risky Business

At the risk of being stupid, 

(but isn’t that life after all?)

I write some posts on X, 

for example,

and get a little feedback.

I don’t know what it means.

I tell people what I think,

which is why I have no friends…

not complaining…I don’t know

what it means.

Everybody knows that if you go

out that door, you might never 

come back. It’s a cliche.

You can get beyond survival

as a homosap, become rich,

have everything you want,

still, you never know.

Not to be a downer,

but it pays to stay on your toes.

,

Genocide Academy

The possibility of such a thing is anathema.

Moist hazy switchboard allows aberrations.

Making mincemeat of absurdities and stuffing

them into bikinis.

Crude miscommunication melts trust.

Caption this waterfront handgun in terms to study.

Acquire derivations classifications endpoint revelation.

(Backdrop flickers while comatose music roars)

Snowflake religion laments implant wreckage.

Envious prisoner of ambient intoxicant accelerant.

Pendulum appetizer fails crisis priority.

If tongues could taste themselves we’d be

right where we are.

Shadow

A study with a rolled top desk, piles of

books on the floor, you get the picture.

A parallel universe to my own. Why not?

Whomever inhabits that room is more

successful than me, has appointments to

various societies and boards, is constantly 

in motion between engagements,  highly

visible and noticeable in social media.

We are not the same.

Sitting On A Street

Not in Ukraine,

not in Philadelphia,

not in New York City,

not in Juarez,

not in London,

not in Bejing…

so many places I’d rather not be.

The street is perfect with people

minding their own business, 

walking along, some smile.

I’m anonymous, not a target.

There it is, the life I ordered.

If I’m lucky, I come off as a

nice old man, harmless, to which

category I’m happy to belong,

forgotten, even by me.

Inspiration

I had that thought that the jazz swept away

thankfully resting in music vibration ‘till 

captured by a pair of eyes? Maybe, or just

drifting in the ambience, a complete unknown,

part of a scene.

That’s not enough, I know, just a leaf adrift

on a turbulent stream.

Teacher’s Pet

“Easy, boy, easy!”

I talk to myself like an animal

when my instincts bristle, 

watching, not identifying.

I’m just another rube in the carnival.

No need to make something out of nothing,

besides, it’s already been done.

Just look around.

Aftermath Of A False Apprehension

Things could have gone quite differently.

I was braced for the worst, but the best happened.

Still a bit quivery from that other possibility,

but I just noticed the air,

how fresh it is today.

So, things are looking up.

Oh Yeah

Could be a playground dare…

could be a sigh of relief.

Everything is contextual.

Only the oral traditions 

spoke the truth.

They chiseled the truth

into monuments, in case

anyone was wondering,

which they used to do a lot

until internet/social media

vampired curiosity, which

makes me, a writer, no matter

good/bad, an endangered species.

Saved In The Nick Of Pan

On the edge of a crumbling cliff…

no cliff notes to refer to.

Everything could go wrong in so many ways…

but maybe it will wait until I’ve had breakfast.

Wheelhouse

Sitting there

observing, aware

of the flow of life,

of energy, me and

around me.

“Nothing personal.”

You don’t like to hear that

when a gun is pointing at your face.

You don’t think that’s your daily life,

thought that is in fact the case.

The most profound truth is right

in front of you.

Trosang

Day of relaxation…I’m not going to worry,

nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.

A lovely feeling, like being a child again

for a moment.

What should I do?

A leaf falls, kerplop!

I could just notice that.

I did, and my mind began to analyze.

Stop that, mind!

Haven’t you learned by now you don’t 

have to figure it all out?

Don’t waste the moment trying to do 

something.

Funny, how I feel this residual need

to hurry.

Why Not?

Why can’t I write when I’m bothered,

frazzled, vibrating from intensity?

The waters are cloudy, roiled, lacking

clarity, foggy, at least that’s clear.

The pain of getting things done, having 

continually to be getting things done is more

tedious and draining.

Survival is more a question; I wonder if

it’s worth it, like Berryman.

It’s just the mood I’m in.

It’s just that I can see why people kill themselves.

It all just gets to them.

Everyone has a breaking point, but life seems

to go on..”they tell me that it will kill me

but they won’t say when.”

No More Troys

No Eden, Utopia, Paradise…

Shangri-lha/Shambhala not included…

No more Great Halls to hang your sword.

No more Victory Feasts to celebrate certainty.

No more calendar dates to commemorate.

Everything starts new now when we don’t know

we know things are changing but not what to.

Personally I am in Paradise how long I don’t know.

You feel things are changing people dying sadly

all over the world that needs to be exposed and is.

Let the Great Eastern Sun of the truth shine on all.