Higgs Boson?

The latest discovery at Zern has identified
that the "Higgs boson" is actually made up
of two other bosuns: the "Pigg" boson and the
"Hogg" boson. Scientists think it's quite
likely other  bosons will be discovered.

As one Zern scientist put it:
"It looks like it's bosons...
all the way down."

Koanversation

It's not that something is always here...
what's here never really arrives...
what's here is always arising....
arising is the only here there is.

Eisenhower

Eisenhower gave us eight

great years of Daddy Joy

knowing we had won!

Yet, that Eisendaddy warned

us when he left our lives that the

Military Industrial Complex

was still the bogey man under

our beds…..bad daddy…

couldn’t stop it, could you,

daddy?

I remember when you said:
"Everything is more the way
it is now than it ever has been."
And I believed you, daddy....
heck...It took me ten years to
understand what you said.:
that you were a good cause
that had won but became lost.

The Children Of The Successful Velveeta Eaters

“Shall I grapple with my destroyers

In the muscular poses of the museums?

But my destroyers avoid the museums .”  

Wallace Stevens

The children of the successful Velveeta eaters

listen intently and properly to Beethoven,  Haydn,

Liszt, in their suits and dresses, grey and desiccated

in the academic venue from which they still suck 
life…. the zombie factotum class spawned from the 
Velveeta lotus eaters of postwar success and yawning 
hope for the future.

These are Anonymous…anonymous in spirit unto

themselves…cultural cultists programmed to see

smell, feel and think within the lines, high on the

opiate of alleged security…rows upon rows of them

in theatres, malls, offices, schools, churches,

basketball games… fitted like bed linens to the vast

social landscape….docile, obedient, convenient…

expendable…..lost in their own lives…imprisoned

in convention.

The successful Velveeta eaters were good people.

They just didn’t realize the kind of cheese

they were being handed until it was too late;

it snuck up on them one slice, one aerosol can

at a time…and their children became processed

like the cheese itself; manufactured, packaged,

blended.

This is where we are: in or affected by

a cheesy landscape of manufactured consent…

mutual twisted agreement, if you like…

the only heroic action being to get out for

the sake of oneself and the others....."get
out" meaning freeing the mind from conventional
social perceptions.

End Of The Road

I went down where

The dead tree stands

An owl on a limb

With a cold blue stare.

Nowhere further to go

I stood there looking

In my socks, shoes and hair

My skull a bare wire.

Nowhere to go, that magic

Feeling,  as the greenscape

Begins to come in, as the field

Resolves itself in perception.

That there really is nothing to

Look for except what’s in front

Of you.

 

SFÂRŞITUL DRUMULUI

 

M-am dus în jos acolo unde

Se afla copacul uscat.

Cu o bufniţă pe ramuri

Cu o privire rece albastră.

 

Nicăieri nu-i de mers mai departe

Am rămas acolo privindu-mi

Şosetele, pantofii şi părul

Craniul, o sârmă goală.

 

Nicăieri de mers, acest sentiment

Magic, precum trunchiul verde

Care începe să se interiorizeze, precum câmpul

Care se rezolvă pe sine prin percepţie.

 

Căci într-adevăr acolo nu-i nimic

De văzut, în afară de ceea ce este

În faţa ta.

 

FINAL DEL CAMINO

 

Fui allí abajo donde

Hay un árbol seco.

Con un búho en rama

Con un azul frío.

 

No hay ningún lugar para ir más allá

Me quedé mirándo

Mis calcetines, zapatos y pelo

Cráneo, un cable pelado.

 

No hay donde ir, este sentimiento

Magico, como la trompa verde

Que empieza a interiorizarse, y el campo

Que se resolva si mismo a través de la percepción.

 

Porque en verdad no hay nada

A ver, aparte de lo que es

Frente ti.

 

Translations into Spanish and Rumanian by Daniel Dragomirescu

 

What I Think

You don’t want to know

what I think, because

what I think is so different

from Dallas Cowboys

sales at Best Buy

shopping spree mental

breakdowns at the mall…

So:

Don’t ask.

Spontaneous 12-21-2012

Hello!

Is it today again?

Does the sun still shine,
does the moon still glow,
do flowers still seem to bloom?

Well......do you think we could....
maybe....

APPRECIATE THAT NOW?

....maybe that IS the Eschaton....

(a double "eschatondre" ?)

(meaning a double take of the eschaton....
for those that need help)

(which most of you unfortunate
pieces of robotic future trash....
nothing personal ...are  )

(meaning.....maybe....nothing personal
.....but....maybe......you should be careful
crossing the street.)

Doug Patterson

I just remembered his name.

I was a sophomore in high

school when I knew him.

He used to tease me, call me

“Leonard Leech”… he looked

like  Zippy the Pinhead

physically…big soft body and

pointy head…he played second

fiddle to Dick Teichen (Teichen/

Tischer) who teased me harder but

somehow looked like me so I got

confused………

Happy Nuclyear!

I lost the preceding poem

because of drain bamage

and nuclear holochaostrophy,

extending McKenna’s word

to something he couldn’t see

because he was right about

novelty, but, as he said in his

last interview, “novelty” does

not mean necessarily something

you would see as “good”…. It

just means “change”….so…

Fukushima is included in the

paradigm…You can open your

present now.

A Green Leaf On Grey Cloth

Harless Uthnorth    (Guest Poet)

A Green Leaf On Grey Cloth

I see all the plates crashing

stubborn daggers dragging

at the social occasion you

prefer to call your lives

and your loves, Mon Dieu!

I shiver to reflect on the

unintended paths and their

outcomes falling like Pachinko

balls in the random parlor of

bright lights and distracted

wisdom,

But green words on the grey

cloth  of having to write always

rips me into forcibly putting my

ink to the cut on the bull’s neck,

boxer’s eye, because, simply,

they need someone to see and

tell others…because theirs  is

where the truth lies.

Matrix, Maze, Magic

Matrix…maze…magic…

Hinayana…Mahayana…Vajrayana…

Ground…path…fruition…

Hand to mouth to…

You think history can’t end?

You think that all the political

intrigues of the twentieth century

mattered even a little?  OK…

tell me how?

Now, brown cow, the same mistakes

of the past are still here and exponentially

worse….as well as the possibility of a last

second transformation of a different

dimension….  So…

(Pardon me, but your institutions are showing..)

Written In My Cabin

Are you when we need you?

I’ve listened to “Cream Puff War”

over 600 times like a paleontologist

trying to see where rock meets bone

meets mind…my roll top desk and

satellite computer connections seem

luxurious…the whole ship is astonishing

in it’s opulence….but I only crave the

simplicity and complex codes encountered

at the interior pub…wood paneled…limited

seating…demure lighting…where something

real could be said…where the bartender knows

my bar tendencies…this year cruise around

the world a true miracle and coincidence,

(let alone a fantasy)  Although what I propose

to engender: A documentary, a new play, could

offset some of the inevitable unenviable damages…

so…that’s why I’m here….because for once in

your unenviable lives up to now no matter how

much money you have you can see something

good and react positively…. Just a thought….

I could even do a radio show once a week....
of course there's more.

D-Day

I Died On D-Day

On the beach…in France…then I was

re-born in Chicago….Ravenswood hospital

1949…raised in suburb…Winfield…Dad

was a lawyer….mom a schizophrenic…

perfect beach to land….scrambling to find

cover…or what the war of my new life was

about…I found the same old enemies; power

and control…but my karma was clear and

propelled me forward to help establish a beach
head of Buddhism and peace and brilliance and

knowledge and wisdom in the United States,

which we have done, albeit the degenerate

times hinder our light.

1913 1933 2012

Berlin 1933:  from: “In The Garden Of The Beasts”

by Erick Larson;

The trams moved as usual, as did the pedestrians

passing on the street: everything about him had

“an air of curious familiarity, of striking resemblance

to something one remembers as normal and pleasant

in the past—like a very good photograph.”

Mexico 2012:  12.12.12 Day of The Virgin of

Guadelupe…the Padmasambhava of Mexico…

even the weather seems to be holding its breath…

the whole planet leans forward seriously and says:

“Take a good look.”

Letter to A.

that talking to you and playing around with words

increases my tendency to think in terms of lyrics...

...I'm just saying....

...it's probably an osmotic aesthetic process....

or, it could be a truck load of empty oak barrels...

or an elephant at the zoo who's cripple, but can't complain....

Orville and Wilber were able to fly because their craft

was light enough and they had plenty of gasoline and whisky...

...same for Timothy Leary....

...I'm just say'n...

what's the difference between a crock of something and a load of something?

Well, at least a crock of something has a crock around it.....(slightly more respectable?)

...I'm just say'n...

I like those ceramic jugs of whisky...now, there's a crock of something...

when you drink from one, you know you're drinking and have no shame...

(suddenly my mind went back to 3; the earth smell in the alleys as we

walked to the candy shop)

(Now that candy sky is filled with needles)

(It only takes a song or so for the words to flow...

but when I listen to Randy Newman, I know I'm finished.)

I just realized...

(I'm just say'n)

when you left I couldn't see the world...

but now I know you're gone

everything is clear

(Not that I didn't have a mother of a time  and 

crush an ass of hampsters, drive my car into a truck,

just jump off an effing mountain...oh yeah...oh yeah...)

so, play the record backwards, bastard, and see what

I didn't forget to say....

drop me a line,

throw me a grenade,

kick out all my teeth,

then give me lemonaide

...it's all gooooooood.

(End of message)

December 21: T.G.I.F.T.E.O.T.W.A.W.K.I.

T.G.I.F.T.E.O.T.W.A.W.K.I

2012-12-21 falls on a Friday, which revises the famous

slogan to: “Thank God it’s Friday, the end of the world

as we know it”…..fitting for any Friday…really.

Rock Meets Bone

My heart left home…

I was bad, bare, alone…

I found myself there

Where rock meets bone.

I went out on the road

With another load, hoping

Never to be known….I

Couldn’t forget, but I could

Try not to remember.

Truck stops, steaks and chops,

Stares and  trash talk, wading

Through just to keep going, trying

To see where rock meets bone.

Turtles And Titanics

At a dinner party, a woman was in conversation with

George Bernard Shaw:

Woman:  “Surely, Mr Shaw, the theory  of evolution

cannot be correct. Everyone knows that the world is

balanced on the back of a turtle.”

G.B.S.: “Indeed, Madam? Then what does that turtle

rest on?”

Woman: “Why, on the back of another turtle,

of course,”

G.B.S. “I see…..and beneath that turtle?”

Woman: “Oh, Mr. Shaw, it’s no use….it’s turtles all

the way down.”

The world economy is a Titanic….

The environment is a Titanic….

Seven billion people is a Titanic….

The New World Order is a Titanic…

It’s Titanics all the way down.

Frontier Mentality

Little boxes….the frontiers

shrank, even as the mentality

grew and life was removed from

the streets, sequestered in manage-

able units, Daddy in his Laz-E-Boy

in front of the T.V. holding a loaded

shotgun.

The Hammer: A Poan*

Looking into the mirror

the poem gives itself

birth because that clear

mind, our nature, can do

fantastic things if given

space. 


* A "Poan" Is a poem that is also a koan.

Alligator (For Bill Knott)

poet waiting by

the side of the road

in a café…some bank

to sun on where prey

will show itself in all

it’s social splendor and

raw meat perfume which

calls the predator out to

find its masterpound
of flesh.

Poem For The Repressed

I have fresh grind

of coffee, music,

weed, mind…jump

in

or, just jump in place…

jump for joy…

jump because

you can’t avoid….

Jump because it

suddenly makes sense…

or, jump for nonsense…

out of your skin is the thing….

jump clear out of your skin…

into the clear blue

where you belong.

December 2012 Haiku

How will it be in

three weeks? Will I recognize

the world? Do I now?

Party at Barry’s:

pre-“whatever” party…

plenty of good food.

Every day from now

the coffee will taste different:

each morning the last.