Rain in Vermont

I feel great
In spite of the rain
In spite of my aging body
In spite of diminishing ability
In spite of thoughts that linger
In spite of loosing track of friends
In spite no one paying much
Attention to me.
Must have been all the practice I did…
I don’t know…I don’t remember.
The fog on the green hills
Is so delicious.

Everything Tastes Like Chicken

A cheap Dodge with plastic spoiler…
A pile of fruit on plastic covered crates….
No dogs here, but they’re around…
Motley, subdued, looking for food…
A three year old walks slowly, by herself
Through the market…no one pays much
Attention…it’s ok to be alive here….
Quesadillas for dinner…fifty cent apiece…
No conversation, but lots of flies…
I like the flies….they keep civilization at bay…
No mi gusta civilization….it makes me shudder…
No one holds the law here, so people are nice…
You have to be cool, or someone might want
To stick a knife in you….really, they’d rather
Sing, dance, eat tamales, be happy drunk…
The perfect philosophy the French aspire to…
A simple life is great…I had a fast car,
Out ran the cops, I don’t miss it….
Pass the chicken…

"Take a Look..Take a Good Look..."

"Mighty quiet...here in the desert...eh Tonto""

"Me know, Kemosabe...me feel eyes watching... but me no see eyes..."

"You don't see eyes, Tonto, you see with your eyes...it's just one of those things, Tonto...
Nothing new under the sun, Tonto”

“Me understand,
Kemosabe…Kemotherapy ‘been too much for White Man.”

“Yes, Tonto, my lad, best buddy, boyfriend, bus boy,
totem pal, teepee mate, scalping kind of blood friend,
YES!!! Time to ride into the great shadow, Indian friend,
You rascally Red Skin !! YOU!!!!”

(White Men all clazy,
Indian think…..Indian get fuck outta here ‘cause White Man
clazy…_)

"I guess I've been talking to myself all this time, Tonto...yes...I guess i remember you left days ago and the water ran out a day ago and it's pretty darn hot out here, Tonto, and I've been hearing your voice the last couple of hours ...so, Tonto, maybe this is it, die time the last round up, curtains, asta lavista Baby,...know what I mean, old blood letting buddy?.......oh......"

New Years Eve 2006

The artist’s studio was rather blasé.
Just another day for starving artists.
I got my painting and ordered another…
Went home to eat, drink and be merry
If possible. Just another night for a
Homeless Buddhist. Practice evens things,
Shaves the hair off my ego…though it
Always seems to grow back quick enough.

There will be bombs at midnight...
Celebration bombs of delight.

Here in the cockpit in front of the
Keyboard…all the instruments are
Glowing green…it’s a go, at least
for now. I’ll never find anyone to
love me as much as she does…she
gets me like no one does. My
daughter gets me too…we’ve come
to an understanding of each other’s
lives that leaves room for love.

There will be bombs at midnight…
Bombs of flowers and delight.

Another year, another day, another life.
Time is a relative we
Can’t forget for a moment. That’s why
There are so many occasions…to parcel
Out infinity in digestible increments.
If Monday never came, we couldn’t look
Forward to Friday…and what would that
Do to Saturday? Time would train wreck.

There will be bombs at midnight….
Bombs of wonder, bombs of fear.

There is no beginning so there can’t be
A conclusion. The womb is really a
Swinging door. The writer runs out of gas,
The canvass is filled with color. The limits
Are artificial, relative, not to be trusted.
We shouldn’t be cows that think barbed
Wire is metaphysical.

There will be bombs at midnight….
Bombs of “I am here! Believe it!”
`
Tomorrow I’ll wake up, go out having
Eaten everything in the house. It will
Be a new day of small challenges. I’ll
Get coffee somewhere, talk to the one
Artist who got up again as usual… not
That that was his plan. I can’t tell how
I’ll feel at that time. That’s the mystery
Of the ages… like finding panties on
The windshield of your car.

There will be bombs at midnight…
Going nowhere…just exploding.

Verisimilitude Blues

I got those verisimilitude blues...
It seems like I got nothing to lose...
It's as if life's gone down the drain...
I feel like I won't smile again.

I don't know about you...
I ain't sure about myself...
I don't know if this world is true...
It may be a matrix, that's why I'm blue...

Even when i think I'm having fun...
I can't trace back where life's begun...
Did I take the red pill or the blue?
I can't be sure it's real, can you?

Drinking coffee on a rainy day....
When I see you I don't know what to say...
I look out the window...it may be true...
cold grey sky...mind sky blue.

Haiku Too

Spring, cruelest season,
offer flowered hope:
dogs of war pissing.

I saw your eyes then.
They were clear as mirror glass.
You looked: didn’t smile.

Absinthe tastes bitter.
Oh, what I’ll do for pleasure….
forget aftertaste.

I got in my groove
tooled around for a while…
found myself back home.

Certain death awaits…
got to have my coffee now.
I’ll worry later.

Friends come and friends go.
My teacher never leaves me.
Our minds are the same.

Lucky in this life,
I’ve done what I could to help
dancing through horror.

Don't Be Afraid of Death

Don’t be afraid of death.
It’s just everything you
don’t know, all at once.
You just don’t remember
That you didn’t exist
Most of the time, eons.
I know….I’ll miss the
Music too…it was worth
Being alive for...the taste,
The flavor of the infinite.

First Thing

So much to do,
Busy day ahead.
Not enough time.
That’s the way it
Once was. Now,
Getting up takes
The morning. A
Meal and the day
Is almost done.
But so many small
Things I now
Notice pack the
Moments with
Wonder.

New Day

Dean is gone, not much, just rain...
I can go to the market now and eat tostadas...
Another girl dumped me, now little
Willey is free...
and each day my mind is more like a child's.
You can have your complications, fortresses,
Armageddons...chat yourselves up, save
the world, build a future...I wish you best
of luck from my rustic casita...
that greatly disguises the celestial palace...
my advice: don't get stuck in the mud,
have some fun, kiss each other, my lost
friends, I will meet you again someday.

So...That's Why You Left Germany

With ruthless efficiency
the German guitar player
Blitzkreigs the strings of his instrument.
His wife, the petite flamenco dancer,
taps her tiny toes with arrogant precision.
One can almost feel her spiked heels
on his back when they are in heat.
His blunt indifference to anything
outside his obsession with the frets
is a fitting tribute to his masochistic splendor.
Her joyless smile punctuates her
sadistic cuteness.

Still Life With Banana Flower

Purple with hard stem...
Yellow anther athems when they open.

Yeah, right, like life itself
and puppies bouncing with energy...
tequila falls like rain.

Purple and yellow...the Regent's colors...
the rainbow that happened as they lit the fire
to burn his body.
That was life too
a long time ago.

The fire is out.
Now the rain comes down.
Humming bird does it's dance
around the purple flower...
the phone doesn't ring...
and tequila goes down
like the echo of a gong.

"...and then you're a Poet!"

Learn a language and
learn to write it.
Learn to love the words.
Write a lot of words
strung together.
Listen for sounds and images
You enjoy or seem cool.
Keep doing that over and over,
again and again.
Fail at everything else
in life….
…and then you’re a Poet!

Soap box: Brainwashing

Confessions of a Brainwashed American


I woke up the other day to the realization that I’ve been brainwashed by America since
I was a small boy. The American public at large has been brainwashed since after the Second World War to conform to a vision of a United States founded in a materialistic
world view. Whether or not this is the result of a conspiracy of immense proportions is
not my concern here. It is the experience we share as Americans that points to this brainwashing that I’m interested in exposing. If you are stuck in a job you hate, a slave to your television set, desirous
of the latest electronic device, on prozac or other “coping” drugs, afraid of the people you pass in the street, saddled by debt, you are experiencing the result of this brainwashing, especially if you feel that this is the way the world is and there is nothing you can do about it. Surprisingly, if you have lots of money, several new cars, houses…all the trappings of success…you are equally victim to this brainwashing. You just happen to be somehow essential to the process, and so must be hypnotized by pleasure in order for
the operation to run smoothly.

This brainwashing has been going on for so long now, that more than ever it is taken for reality. It is a paradigm cast in concrete that is hard to penetrate. Even the more aware and awake, educated, open individuals seem to have a minimal effect to penetrate the American cultural of ignorance. Over one hundred scholars, PHDs, have come out en mass
to demand an investigation into 911 official report discrepancies to little avail. Over three hundred and fifty reputable witnesses…former military and government workers at the highest levels… have come out to demand transparency about government knowledge about the UFO phenomena, to equal silence. This is the macro level of the effect of brainwashing.

On the micro, the individual level, most people accept the paradigm of meaningless work for money, a more or less comfortable physical existence, with non-participatory entertainment as the opium that distracts awareness, as the status quo…the way things are, take it or leave it. Isolation is the norm. One statistic say that twenty-five percent of Americans feel they have NO close friends.

The good news is that it doesn’t have to be this way. Waking up has to take place on an individual basis, since it definitely is going against the prevalent forces of mass culture.
Here are some suggestions:

1. Kill your television set. Avoid mass media altogether as a source for the truth.
2. Get off your ass and do something. Go for walks, learn to meditate, take a class
in painting, start a literary discussion group…in short, exercise your body and your mind.
3. Learn to be creative. Sing, dance, write poetry, do art, learn a musical instrument.
4. Go to Burning Man or another, outdoor, tribal, paradigm challenging event. Does that mean do drugs? Not necessarily….although in some cases it might be helpful to shake up what you think you know….only the psychedelics, please.
5. Learn to talk to people. You won’t like them all, that’s for sure…but you have to
learn that as humans we have some connection to each other. Also, you’ll begin to feel that self importance is not that interesting.
6. Travel...even to Canada or Mexico. Nothing opens the mind like being in a different culture.
7. Find someone that knows something and listen to them. It could be a yoga instructor, a tai chi teacher, a buddhist monk, an Indian medicine man or a shaman....it could be an artist, a carpenter or a musician. It could be that old guy down the block everyone thinks is crazy, (that would be me). Find someone who has explored life and ask them questions.

What will be the result? There is no guarentee once you move beyond the illusion of security. But the illusion of security is living in supressed fear...fear of death, fear of life itself. It is possible that with some effort, you might experience life more as celebration. You might begin to overcome fear and move towards developing confidence...not in anything specific, but simple confidence in the value of your existence.. It's worth a shot. The alternative, although seductive, is not very pretty.

Same Old New

Same old beauty punctuated by the odd butterfly. The same words come out in a different sequence. The beauty is the same, but since it never really came to be, it’s
always fresh. There is subtle life communion in just seeing a tree…or a bunch of trees
on top of the mountains. You don’t have to eat the flesh of God, you could just breathe the air….unless you happen to need a hit in the head to experience life….but more than likely, you don’t….unless you call living in front of your TV living….then, a nuclear explosion might be in order.

A friend of mine dropped dead yesterday in the airport in Chile. I just had lunch with him
a couple of months ago. We had a great time talking and laughing. We didn’t need to have serious discussion. There was an understanding in the joy of being together that made complexity seem irrelevant. It was always that way between him and me. He was one of the rare ones in my life. I don’t feel any loss. I’m sure that wherever his mind goes, it will benefit others. I’m kind of jealous that he got off the runaway train before it crashes. His name was Simon.

Simon Says

Simon says be happy!
Simon says practice the dharma!
Simon says enjoy your existence!
Simon says be kind to others!
Simon says don’t take yourself too seriously!
Simon says this is a great tamale!
Simon says I’m going to tease you!
Simon says don’t forget the lineage!
Simon says Adios!

I’d like to have a whale for a pet. That would be a whale of a pet. They say that porpoises
are extremely fond of humans. Karl Sagan said something to the effect that porpoises have learned and understood some dozens of words in English, but no human has learned one word of porpoise. They like to eat fish and play. They are the only other animal besides humans that have sex just for fun. I think they are reincarnated hippies, but I have no proof. It could be that the hippies were reincarnated porpoises, trying a life as a two legged for a change. Maybe that’s why there are no more hippies….they found out it was more fun being porpoises. They are perfect anarchists….they don’t have meetings….they just swim, eat fish and have fun.

Give Yourself A Chance

Try not believing anything…
Go somewhere new…
Create a sculpture out of
The things you don’t really need…
Call it: “Freedom #5”….or,
Call it something else…
Watch people at a café…
Say hello to every stranger…
Pretend you’re a character in a play
That has no inhibitions…
Please don’t die in front of your TV,
Watching “I Love Lucy”.
Live a little, spread life around…
It will help us all, I promise!

Mexican Bar

Sun streaming into slice in a wall
Arrogant young barista smirking wildly behind
The counter…bright eyes gleaming with
Schitsophrenic hormonal glee…
Cars slipping like chilis down the throat of the street.
It takes three weeks for a dead dog
by the side of the road to decompose.
A road crew covers the bones with asphalt.
The barista shivers and sparks in his skin,
Arms hanging, rigid by his side, flingers splayed,
His shit eating grin conveying a big nothing.
The beer goes down slow, silent, smooth.
Beauty is not always pretty this Malcome Lowery night…
Out mad man till you laugh.
Skate on thin ice of clouds of phenomena.

Razor

Green of mountains, low clouds overhang,
Sunspots on the ground, butterflies and birds,
Stillness that slices like a knife over centuries,
A blade that penetrates the force field of
Thinking you know. Stop making sense…
Pay attention to the senses….knowing will
Render you senseless…cut the rope.

My Girlfriend Saw a UFO

It was in the night sky in Tepoztlan. She was with her girlfriend, who was stoned. My girlfriend wasn’t, so when she said she saw it too, her friend said:”Thank goodness!
I’ve seen them before, but no one ever believes me because they think I’m just stoned!”

I’ve been sitting on my balcony at night, looking for UFO’s, not stoned. I never see one. I saw a video of one on Youtube that was over Tepoztlan. The perspective was such that it looked like the video was shot from about where my house is. I guess I’ll just keep looking.

Yellow butterfly. white butterfly…..

My whole life’s a déjà vu…
I’ve seen it all before…
Just numbers for experiences now..
Twenty five, thirty two, seventy four.


Cement stacks on blocks of concrete….a wall somebody forgot to build….went on to something else and forgot about it……probably a good thing. There are plenty of walls to go around.

Black butterfly….

Going to Puerto Rico soon…..”going to be a mental toss flycoon”……

Orange butterfly….

Hard to know it all came out of nothing….the complexity…the seeming deep meaning….
…it arose like your grandmother’s underpants.

That’s all I got.

It Worked for Me So Far

I made my way in life OK,
Got a house, a boat, a Spanish guitar.
I eat the best food every day.
It's worked for me so far.

Had some wives, girlfriends too...
Drove them in my fancy car.
More money than I can ever spend,
It's worked for me so far.

Been to France, India, Japan too...
Sang in a karioki bar.
Hung out with swamis in Rishikesh...
It's worked for me so far.

I've climbed Machu Pichu,
On Oahu I broke par.
A few more places I want to go...
It's worked for me so far.

Life is beautiful to me.
I can't wait to see
What happens next.
It's worked for me so far.

News From Tepoztlan

A slow Viola Lee Blues on the balcony as rainy season clouds move in over the mountains, scraping themselves on the peaks. I’m enclosed in green fulsomness like an Ernst painting…Mother Nature not having a problem here asserting herself at the moment. It’s like a giant outdoor opium den….a Xanidu if you can catch the drift of the dream. The news is all good here because there isn’t any. Desayunos at my girlfriend’s casa…she collects all kinds of strays….dogs, cats, teenagers…I guess I fit in to that paradigm. I’ve never enjoyed my life so much as I do here. It’s about time…before too late happens. I decided to forget about the future….now I’m in free fall, but it feels like I’m flying. Charley came here 25 years ago from San Francisco in a bus full of clowns…real ones…and never left. It seems like he never came down from that last acid trip, but it worked out for him somehow. Give people the right environment and you never know what
flowers or fruit will come out of them. Maybe that’s the idea behind the garden of Eden. “We’ve got to get back to the garden” Joni Mitchel sang. …that’s a long way from Real Politik….but those people will destroy themselves…we know that now. ….pretty basic and transparent.

Tepoztlan feels pressure to change, sure it does. Money finds something good and destroys it in the name of progress… like what’s happening at Zipolite…invasion of the paradigm snatchers….night of the Living Bread. …but right now this place is still somewhat hidden.
I hope it remains so for a while.