Parfait For The Course

What were you expecting?

The Spanish Inquisition?

(that always stops my mind)

What was so special about

their Inquisition? 

What was so bad about the

French

German

Bali inquisitions?

i know, it was because of

Monty Python.

Because the British, after

two hundred years of treating

the world like it's bitch,

started to have a sense 

of humor...because Hitler

didn't defeat them... it was

the Americans.

So, now it's time for the

Spanish Inquisition

once again.

It better be funny

this time.

"Tepoztlan, No Se Vende!"

Will To Beast

We're all animals,

bags of water,

we should know better

than to take ourselves 

so seriously.

Seriously.

I could be writing in a

smoke filled jazz club

for all you know.

A young blond woman

helped an older Mexican

woman up some steps with 

a wheelchair...I said: "Nice girl",

she turned her head and smiled.

She didn't call me a misogynist

racist Nazi white 1%er who

should be beaten.....

I gave a nun a ride in a taxi

down the hill.

She didn't say

they were going to come for me.

She didn't say I might miss the

rapture or the second coming,

the one Mary always wanted.

She was a nice lady!

These common things happened

and they were extraordinary

if you've ever noticed precision

in these moments of your life...

meat work....survival..."getting

things done."

"Not Everybody Is An Asshole"

Not everybody is an asshole...

look on the bright side...

I still care about people...

a hangover from the Mahayana...

But the Orwellian Twist, to 

mark Trump as a hater,

so that people could hate him,

taking five minutes for a "1984" 

Orwellian Hate Break...

is a victory of marketing

and Goebbels wanna business,

triumph of the Id,  classic 

distraction, mind control 

repetition of words like 

"conspiracy", testimony from

spoiled millionaire celebrities,

on and on, but there's still 

a nice guy in Iowa. 

The Truth: An Editorial

The truth is always positive. If the truth

exposes something negative, that is a

positive effect of the truth.

Some people think Mr. Trump is the

same as Hitler. Certainly it's true they

didn't come up with this idea themselves...

it's been repeated in the MSM like a

broken record.

It's true that many Americans have been

brainwashed. Mind control to make

Americans good consumers, for example,

has been operative since just after the

First Word War. The prominence of Madison

Avenue is a testament to this reality.

If one objectively examines this election,

it's clear that the status quo selling of

Hillary is fully in motion. Popular T.V.

series, like the Simpsons, have 

propagandized against Mr. Trump. The MSM

treats Mr. Trumps words and distorts them

to create the impression he is a crypto Genghis

Khan, while, at the same time, they avoid

reporting the truths that Hillary is a lying, 

thieving criminal likely complicit in the murders

of people opposed to her.

But even the MSM has to look at the history 

of, and her current corruption. What happened 

with the Clinton Foundation is such a 

transparent example of pay-to-play that it

simply can't be ignored.

The corruption of the government, (is there any

major government institution that is not corrupt?)

absolved her of criminal charges, while, in the

same breath, demonstrated that she was guilty

as hell of those same charges.

Where is the truth in this election? Obviously,

Mr. Trump is telling the truth, tho he is brash 

and clumsy, hyperbolic in his rhetoric, and rubs

people the wrong way. If one uses their 

intelligence and looks past the slogans of the 

MSM and the entertainment cabal, one sees that

his positions make common sense.

America is a nation of addicts. Its people are

addicted to many things...i pods...twitter...their

sense of entitlement..."We're Number One!"

Any lie that feeds their craving is welcome and

embraced. Mr Trump represents an intervention

of the American Dream.

The American Dream seemed nice when America

was rescuing (read: subjugating) Japan and

Germany after the Second World War...helping

(read; undermining) Europe and Russia in that

moral conflict (read: establishing American 

hegemony). 

Now, with all the problems of the world that 

threaten the human species, America, (read the 

1%), has taken off the kid gloves. Greed has 

become transparent.

Some of the ones supporting Mr. Trump do so 

because their lives are being ruined by the banks,

by the education system, by a criminal government.

Others back Mr. Trump because they see the truth

that if Clinton is elected, if the status quo is allowed

to survive, it could mean nuclear war and the end

of civilization. That's the worst case scenario. But 

what is certain is that the middle class will continue

to be erased, radical Muslims will pour into the

country and kill lots of people. And the rest of the

world will continue to see America for what it is:

a powerful, stupid bully, and they will form stronger

alliances against it. Japan and Europe will continue

to support their master. A New World Order, (read

dictatorship) is on its way.

I'm with Thomas Paine: "Give me liberty or give
me death" (not debt). I'll fight against a corrupt
American government as the Declaration of
Independence and the Constitution tell me I have
a right and a duty to do. If Mr. Trump is elected,
perhaps there is a chance that that won't be
necessary. If not, it may well be.

Desperado Goes To The Zocalo

I call it the "smokalo", 'cause I

can smoke there. Center of town,

school children, early teens,

in uniform, so cheerful and sweet,

hugging their friends, how delightful!

Ran into old gringo blues player from

Chicago. We did our elderly damn-it-all

dance, glad we live in a town that doesn't

know too much, where they still sing

loudly and carry on their nothing-better-

to-do traditions that used to be some 

previous experience of their ancestors, 

but now is just something that happens 

so they can feel a bit connected to some

continuity and don't have to think too much.

They don't seem spoiled...one girl shouts 

to her friend, notices me and says: "oh, 

pardon...". They really seem to love each 

other. People in American cities should

come here just to see this before it too is

gone. I've met some real humans here, 

the dying breed, who respect old people

which means they respect people in 

general...and my landlord's three year old

that look at me so happy as if I was the 

greatest thing he'd never seen before.

I've been desperado my whole life to try

and ascertain W-T-F was going on and why

everyone was telling me what I should do

as if they were happy. I can see what's 

going on here, and, much of it is lovely.

As a preserve, it's still game.

Desperado

Desperate, but not despairing...

Woulda beena Beat, but the times

don't allow the luxury of marginal

existence...just getting by trying

to make it in a real way...what the

Beats finally did. 

Desperate at the OK watering hole,

corralled by diminishing returns of

possibilities to make it before it all

falls apart; monolithic ponzi scheme

worship of status quo that ain't over

'til it's over can I get into this feeding

frenzy before the fat lady is 

devoured?

Desperado expat in a nation that is

used to despair...not like El Norde

which isn't used to waking up from

its dream, pull the covers up tighter

and kill the alarm clock, shoot the

messenger, all he brings is bad news.

Even Kansas isn't in Kansas anymore,

and hope was for a time when things

actually could get better. Now, when

things get better, they are actually

getting worse: technology which was

supposed to give us more freedom is

doing the opposite; humans are 

automated out of existence by the 

facility of communication so they never

have to shut their mouths, still their

fingers, notice the dark noise bombs

going off in their heads, a flower is

merely a photo op for a tweet, in itself

it has no meaning...

...so, yes Desperado to panic a notary,

Desperado to shatter artificial lives,

Desperado to wake the sleepwalkers,

Desperado, an outlaw to the unseen,

unfelt, invisible laws that have trained

the human clown into sad makeup, 

made us allergic to color, quirky jokey

spontaneous capering that will get you

shot on any Main Street where the meme

of mediocrity is mainlined, where 

correctness has erased us, life suspended

'til the next sequel of Star Wars, waiting

in line in pathetic costume for artificially

flavored popcorn and the hour to be 

elevated into suicide dream, Disney

Utopia of brave new world, don't forget

your prozac if it gets to be a bit too much,

oh, it will.

Steak And Eggs

Axitla

restaurant surrounded by

gorgeous jungle.

Omar knows what I want.

It never comes out perfect,

like life, but close enough.

Sound of rainy season river.

Town filed on Sunday with

Mexican tourists.

The bus stops here.

The buck stops here.

Fear of death gone or away.

All you stock brokers 

with your money 

can't touch this.

This is your longing, your

craving that drives you

down endless treadmill.

"Oh, how tired we are of 

hearing it...leave us alone!

For one day we'll get to the

Hamptons, throw a big party

and everyone will see!"

Like Gatsby? The Golden Myth

of success and privilege?

Better hurry. The species with

all its big brains is self destructing...

don't say I didn't warn you. Sorry if

it's all I have to say, but, you

understand.

Right now under trees and 

bougainvillea, awaiting steak 

and eggs on what might as well 

could be the last day of earth.

Every  day is special, which only

old people tend to know, and the

ones that really know what's

going on...not you or me.

It's a small world.

It won't be missed.

The universe has better things

to do.

Ah, steak and eggs...

almost perfect.

Jim Morrison

Poor Jim, Lizard King,

snake charmer

indestructible hedonist

poet

charlatan

in the twisted carnival

taking the ride

outlaw

hall of smoky mirrors

forest of dark shadows

alleys euthanized in the vein

haunting anthems lost in glass tinkle

prophet Dionysus torn to shreds

defier of authority

enscripted warrior of a time

from Whiskey-A-Go-Go womb

to world stage of defiance.

He hung up on his mother, after

he was famous...in Washington

for a concert.

"How was the conversation?"

a friend asked.

"I never want to talk to her again."

His father was an Admiral.

They couldn't let him, Jimi and 

Janice live....or Michael  or Prince.

David Crosby at Monterrey Pop,

six months later, telling his audience:

"And they killed Kennedy, your president...

and this is your government!"

Meanwhile, in Flanders field,

the poppies still in bloom.

(that was a crop out.)

Resolution (for Johnny Depp)

You say you want a resolution...we-ell

you know...

we all want to pay the girl

you say it's an institution...we-ell

you know-ow-ow...

we'd all love to change the wor-orld...

but when you talk about sedu-uuction,

(the suction?)

don't you know that you can count me out.

You say you got a resolution...we-ell you know

we'd all love to see the plan.....

You ask me for a contribution....we-ell you know

we're all doing what we ca-aan.

But if you want money for people with minds
that hate, all I can tell you is, Amber,  you'll have to wait.

You know it's gonna ....be

alright....

(ect.)

Poem For Keith Dowman

Poem For Keith

Old man

basking in time

like the blues

in a slow cocktail

bar...piano, maybe...

Sometimes a barely

discernable reaction

to a statement...like

the grunt of a rhino

trying to get it's 

audience to flinch.

Yeah, I can see you're not

all there, or should I say,

rather, you is not there,

poetry in un-motion, just

a dance in an improvised

jazz...

a man who learned how to

be kind, a certain kind of man,

with the fortune of the dharma,

a touchstone for anyone wanting

to be human, sorry I can't be silly....

it's probably because I'm listening

to the blues.

Trope It Good

Moby

John Mayal

Glen Campbell

Jeff Beck

Mary Kay

Campbells Soup

Morton Salt

"When It rains, it pours."

Lady Gaga

Trust in the government...

Belief in institutions...

Confidence in the electoral

system...

Faith in the media.

Jesus is the way...

Allah is the way...

Scientific Materialism...

Scientology....

EST.

When the great musicians 

played, when the great actors

acted, when the great men 

spoke; there was nothing that

could be given a name,

could be pigeonholed,

could be reproduced

by someone else.

They were symbols

of themselves:

Trungpa

Ram Dass

Leary

Nixon

Hunter S. Thompson.

Brian Wilson

Red

Blue

Baby shit Yellow

Black as a thirty

year old hooker 

junkie on the streets

of New York.

Wash your brain

with something else,

something new.

Simulacrum

I pretend to be a poet.

Impressions come in,

words come out

like meat from a grinder

fresh and raw forever.

Not super attenuated

pre packaged

copy ready

for critics who only appreciate

what they expect to see.

Real poetry can't be pigeonholed

like Creeley

Merwin

Angelou

Velveetas of cheesy word smithing.

Show me a Rimbeaud

or leave me alone.

I didn't have to write...I make no

claim other than I'm out of control,

everyone should aspire to that, IMHO.

Talk talk talk about what they want to do.

but don't because of the BIG BUT.

So much possibility...lost in Picadilly,

(pick a city) no money, just some clothes

on the skin....

...jumping a ship as a cook and crossing

the ocean...

..waking in a jungle of gardenias...

...getting lost is the only way you'll find yourself.

Even where you are is nowhere...it's name

is mere superstition.

I'm a serendipitous simulacrum,

a latah mimicking a human being

only acting

as if all this was real

so I don't scare the straight people.

Aside To My Audience

I'm going to manipulate you....

the only way you can avoid  it

is to stop reading.

Still there?  OK.

You like word play, twisting images

into new thought balloon animals. 

You don't want my opinions piercing

the balloons I think you're thinking.

"Write about birdies, don't pollute us

with polemic, we have enough already!"

So, yes,  birdies fly in the face of our

perceptions, nest in the trees of delight.

It's good to write about things you notice

once in a while....(oops! almost slipped 

up there into diatribe...but I can balance

on the airship of my lofty devices. If I fall,

"kersplat!" perhaps it's welcome.)

"So, words," as Quasimodo continued his

splendid word feast. Words, music, even

white noise is a useful slip slide around that

which will remain nameless for the duration 

of this poem.

The words I'm using are meant to entertain,

not serious enough for the unexpected post

card that reads: "I'm dying!!" leaving no 

return address.

I think it's safe to say life is a balancing act,

lean too much one side or the other and eat

dirt.

I loved words my whole life, even as a grade-

schoolist since my first story: "Colonel Pop-nut

and the Scrummies", long lost, thrown out with

all the photos of my family by that bitch my

father called his second wife.

Weren't expecting that, were you?

So, yes, I'm having fun, steady stream from the 

invisible well, no axe to grind, pechuga de pollo

alambre a substantive feast, yada yada yada,

and then we'll have world peace?

I gave the world a piece of my mind, lost in the

jabbering multitudes of social media clowns

of (h)unt and pecker, finding meaning in their

own dirt.

I watched a good, bloody Tarantino last night,

"Hateful Eight"...he doesn't leave many standing

at the ends of his movies...bad childhood? 

Wishful thinking? Just good cinema? Same reason

we jump out of airplanes, run with the bulls, take

drugs, masturbate....

Did that come as a surprise?

Got to cut this off now, enough part of the one poem

all poets write...only one. If you can dig one poem,

you can dig them all...(just to leave this poem, nice

and tidy.)

Wake Up

We never close,

but sometimes we have a hard time opening.

Too much serious, useless thinking amounting

to nothing. How many thoughts have you

actually acted upon? Each time you take a step

you don't think: "There's another one."

Somehow you manage to get from here to there.

In fact, walking and heavy thinking at the same 

time can be dangerous...you might fall into an

open manhole.

I'm not trying to be peckish, but, folks, how much

of your lives are you really there for?

Unless your job is fascinating and rewarding, that

cuts out about a third right there. Waiting for a two 

week vacation, coming back with snapshots and

memories of bad food is an absurd waste of time.

Is that the best we can do?

What is the American Dream, and has anyone

achieved it outside the Satanic cult of Hollywood

actors?

What is freedom? I suggest it might be the 

existential moment walking to the insurance job

writing poems like Wallace Stevens, for example.

For me, one thing was waking every day I knew I

didn't have to go to work. Now, that moment is

every day. I'm not saying any of this is profound.

It takes a lot of attention to see profundity in the

mere moments of unextraordinary life. But, it has

been done by thousands of people for thousands 

of years. To see this, just listen to the shakuhatchi,

read a poem by Basho or Issa, go to a tea 

ceremony.

Some old men that seem to just sit and stare aren't

always senile. Some have learned the art of doing 

nothing.

Work can be a crutch, even an addiction. How many 

retirees find themselves lost?

It's so human to dance and sing, to paint on cave

walls and subway walls, to tell stories and joke

around, to bay at the moon.

The "lost generation", Pound, Hemingway, 

Fitzgerald, were happiest when they were broke 

and creating in Paris. Kerouac drank himself to

death after his splurge of joy. Reaching success 

was their ultimate failure. They only realized how

important the journey was when they felt they had

lost it.

Whatever happens with you, my friends, the journey

will continue...there is no time line...time is not

linear. You could say there is a deadline, but is

death merely a re-boot?

Be curious, be interested...that's why there is 

nature at all, seeking it's answer in the sun.

No Big Deal If The World Ends

Shakespeare, Hemingway, Beethoven,

Bukowski and Huang Po all arise on another

planet to continue their beauty and sarcasm.

If humans disappear like dinosaurs, no one

left to weep, not even a memory, so no 

worries, no problems. Hunter Thompson will

appear, green, with antennae holding a gin 

and tonic under a blue sun...who knows?

We don't know how we got here in the first

place, God notwithstanding. Issa put it blunt

and beautiful: "Why cry, little cricket? We all

go this way."

If you were lucky in this life, you got your 

bearings and did something interesting, with

inquisitiveness to explore, look around,

understand a bit. If not, too bad...go believe

something in case that will make you feel a

little better.

How long does it take to grow up, and, are we

talking one life or many? Both, I think. Some are

mature beyond their years, which points to prior 

experience with living...others never manage to

get out of their own way.

I was driven mad with wonder, when I was young,

why I was alive in the first place. It took intense

reading of books to find the truth and begin to

absorb it. The truth is out there, folks, let me assure

you, in case you have any interest in finding it.

If you're sure about anything, you're lost. The 

purpose of the truth is to bring you to your senses

and the only time of now where you can find 

yourself. Yourself is not your "self"...it's everything

but your ideas about you....it's the trees and clouds

and furry creatures. The body is just a convenient 

mechanism to house and focus the sense tools so

you can be a full participant as part of the tamasha,

the shared illusion, the ongoing eternal play of the

whole enchilada.

The universe wouldn't blink if our earth explodes.

It's too small a deal. There's already another earth 

out there in whatever stage of awakening....another

cambrian explosion...other entities learning to use 

fire, tie their shoes, get enlightened. Only stupid

earth monkeys are sure they're the top banana. 

Any other view doesn't make sense. Do you best

and forget the rest.

America Is Dying

When Kennedy was shot,

America knew that something was wrong.

America tried to deny it....denial....the sixties,

civil rights, counterculture...America could

still make things right...there was a new hope,

things would get better...Vietnam was over....

then Nixon, Reagan, deregulation, as America

started to lose its cohesion...still in denial....Bush

and the wars started again...Clinton and more loss

of cohesion and deregulation of banks...then, Bush

2, and the lies started to take their toll and America 

started to get angry....anger...which culminated in

Obama and another promise of cure....more lies,

more anger 'til anger reached it's height, right now,

anger against Trump. anger against Hillary...
America angry! Polarizing anger and despair...
which is leading to the final stage...

resignation...acceptance...letting go...dying.

The Zen Teachings of Huang Hung Low

" Never put off until tomorrow the eternity of now."

"A stich in time is timeless."

"A penny saved...who saved it?"

"Neither a borrower nor a lender exists."

"Love means never having to say anything."

"A bird in the hand is worthless."

"A circle is a square that doesn't take sides."

"Nostalgia isn't what it used to not be."

"A plate cracks.....kwatsi!"