Monday, October 31, 2016

This Is The Way It Was

In Paris, nineteen fourteen, sipping
aperitif at a cafe on a lazy afternoon
as the Krupps mobilize their monster
machines.

In Hiroshima, during a tea ceremony,
contemplating the ephemeral nature
of life seconds before a star bursts
outside the tea house, and 
contemplation becomes reality.

In Tepoztlan, election two weeks away,
great coffee, nice lunch, now, writing...
the power went out, but, that happens.
The townspeople will go to the cemetery
tonight, feast and drink with their dead;
the dead will come back this night to 
visit... at least, the drunk ones will claim
they were there. The dirt roads and paths 
in this town remind me of when I was 
three in Chicago.  


Closure.

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Manifestasia

Tired of living. 
Allergic to the vicissitudes
of that endeavor...yearning
for non-existence.

What can be done
has been done.

The great men are forgotten,
their deeds buried in the dust.

Archaeologists discover
ancient civilizations....
"What fantastic lives they
must have had!"
"Thanks...I'll tell them."

Meanwhile...
life continues...
meals are good,
and the feel of clean sheets.

"Will there be nuclear war?
Will Trump/Hillary ruin the USA?"

It's a moot point...what can happen
will happen, as always, and the cries
and the protests about the way things
are fall on deaf ears.

Meanwhile, time still is, and
the ferris wheel still goes around,
games are played,
Homo-sap "gits 'er done!"
the tamasha continues 'til the end.










Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Hey Joe

Yes, Jimi, I went way down south
where a man can be free. No one
cares much for this town, so, it's
free. Fresh air and a nice place to
walk around, so, everyone leaves
it at that. You paid for your freedom
through a vein. No one's going 
anywhere here. That's how we got 
here. We were done with rude boy
life...rude boy in the street, office, 
bank. Rude Boy doctor: "We're 
going to have to take that out...my
kids need to go to college."

Yes, Jimi, sorry you got sucked into
the maw of the music industry... 
certain death. "Hey, Joe, where 'ya
gonna go with that sum in your hand?"
It's still the company store....whether
you call it Mafia, Government, Bank, 
Corporation...you been had.


Liszt Les Preludes

Theme music for Buster
Crabbe's Flash Gordon...
grandiose, in your face
powerful...if music could
conquer. Hitler listened to
it the night he invaded 
Poland.

Another meme, a reference
point for emotions, feelings,
arising at a time in history
when those sentiments 
needed to be expressed
exactly, so, Liszt captured 
them and manifested them.

Suitable, now, at the latest
beginning of the end of 
the world...

Only, this time
we mean it.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Closing In

An older lady I met in Tepoztlan
said: "It was a paradise here,
fifty years ago."
It's relative, I guess...sure; more
taxis...more people on weekends...
compared to shopping malls
condos, etc., it's still a paradise
bountiful cornucopia of life, flowers,
mountains, rain, wind, people
connected to that, so, real...

...but..."Fifty years ago it was a 
paradise"...so...closing in...
even here.



So Much For Belief

Of course belief in God of any sort
is a myth that people are waking up
from. How's about belief in Democracy?
How's about belief in a two party system?
How's about government by the people
and for the people? 

Belief relies on faith and trust.
Who believes in and/or trusts the United
States government any more?
The proof is out there. Trump represents
traditional American values...even if he's
a son of a bitch sometimes....but then,
Lincoln and Kennedy probably were at times.
It's wake up time for the American Dream.

This election will show what percentage of
Americans are irretrievably stupid and what
percentage gets it...if it's not completely
manipulated...like it has been so far.


Thursday, October 20, 2016

A Few Small Poems (can I know that?)

Every time we exhale
we return to the sky.

When we inhale, the
sky comes into us.

That's because I'm 
listening to Vangelis
with a banana in my 
ear...."I was listening
to Vangelis and all I
got was this lousy
banana in my ear."
....which sums up 
every conversation
I ever had.

Ripe limes falling down
like tennis balls.

Have I always been here, or,
have I merely been here before? 

The Poet Sits Down To Write

Am I forgetting anything?
I mean, all poetry is just
one poem....all music just
one song. All art is just one
big shared heart.

That's not sentimental;
it's hard fact...unless you
say:

"Guernica by" Picasso
"Lord Of The Flies"
"Catch-22"
"Howl"
and on and on
ad infinitum
are sentimental.

That's why, right now,
is there anything left to say?

We could talk infinitely at 
a table over whatever 
deliciousness, or, leather
chairs in the library,
long past when we died,
about ever arising topics
we hadn't thought about
because no one has thought
about everything, even Albert
Einstein who still believed in 
God, so, he must have missed
something...

What's left worth talking about?
What colors, images left to see?

That's why I like to listen to certain
music over and over....
revisit Dali.

Certain perceptions stir certain 
emotions...the way the Blues
works, for example.

Nothing new under the sun...
a latah in Phoenicia invented rap...
an old man wrote a protest song
in the Ming Dynasty...
...the same songs play on Mexican
radio as adults sang in their youth.

To summarize:

The same words never come out
again. Even the same song heard
anew is new....is now. 

















Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Reprobate (pre-destined to damnation)

Might as well
could have been.

Pretty heavy karma
if you ask me.

You can change karma.

For example. my small
house is a palace to me...
to others, probably a hovel,
or, a novel.

This poem is reprobate,
but you don't see me crying.

Damned if you do,
damned if you don't,
so, yes, reprobate, but,
I think I'd rather go down
swinging...

...which I'm doing wildly now.




Friday, October 14, 2016

Not For Writing

This is not writing stoned.
This is taking the paint off 
the wall stoned.
I didn't read the warning
on the pipe:
"Watch Your Head!"
But I'm writing anyway,
like a frog splayed on a
dissecting table...
time for lunch.
Nothing wrong with that
frog that a life as a toad
couldn't fix.

You see?

But, you see, we hippies,
what's left of us,
never could abide your rules.

You have to learn technique 
to paint, to do music...
but even these disciplines 
become second nature...
...then, you improvise.

Which is a description of how
we learn to live on our own 
at all anyway.

"Kill the Buddha"






For Sale

Bird for sale
cheep.
Poet for sale
deep.
Farm for sale
reap.
Ocean for sale
neap.
Mountain for sale
leap.
Car for sale
beep.
Hay for sale
heap.
Army for sale
jeep.
Chick for sale
peep.
Septic tank for sale
seep.
Politician for sale
Veep.
Emotion for sale
weep.
I'm for sale
creep.





Wednesday, October 12, 2016

In Celebration

"Of what?" you might ask.
Might be more fun to guess.
The hints are the words 
themselves...but writing,
(always a cause to celebrate),
is not it.

Good guess.

Perhaps the state of mind I'm
in....oops! I just told you! But
you still don't know what that is,
or why. What and why are the
reasons I celebrate(?); I celebrate
the truth. 

I celebrate the ephemeral 
moment the lime falls from my 
tree. I celebrate the music of
John Fahey, hermano. I 
celebrate this cigarette, and this
one and this one. I celebrate
that I can still walk, my general
health, clean sheets at night,
when I open the window in the
morning, reacting to my friends,
buying milk, smiling at a child...
blowing its mind.

Yes, the ephemeral 
eternity of now. 
I just gave it away.









Sunday, October 9, 2016

Goodbye America!!

I never thought you were my country.
There was always something fishy
about you after you killed Kennedy.

I left eleven years ago, but now I'm
saying goodbye...

...because you'll never get back
to what you should have been...

...because you have a criminal
psychopath and an out-of- control
egotist running for president...

...because you want to run the world
into the ground...

...because your people don't realize
they've been brainwashed crazy...

...because you're addicted to everything...

....because you're a spectacular failed
experiment...

...because I can't afford to live in you,
even when I gave my life to you....

...because I found a place to live where
I'm not afraid of what you'll do to me....

...because no matter how corrupt Mexico
is, it is not as evil as you've become.

The Spaniards wanted gold, so the natives
here poured molten gold down their throats...
poetic justice which power in America
richly deserves.

So, goodbye, America, and thanks for all
the hamburgers!

Thanks for planned obsolescence and
the atomic bomb!

Harvard and Yale, everything you did
was wrong!

Thanks for all the great people:
King, the Kennedys, Fuller, Ginsburg, Corso,
Cummings, Brando, Lenny Bruce, Carlin,
so many! Too bad you didn't listen to them.

It's sadly amusing that you still think you
know what you're doing.

I'm out of you like a bad marriage...I'd say
go fuck yourself, but, wouldn't that be
redundant?

If you start nuclear war, maybe some
million dollar bankers would survive....
I wouldn't want to be left with those people...
I'd rather die here, by the side of a dirt road.

So, America, dream of freedom, goodbye!
I don't say goodbye because I left, America.
I say goodbye because you're gone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeCpLcjxOq4






















Saturday, October 8, 2016

Bukowski Knew

Bukowski was satisfied to know
that most people are full of shit,
but they couldn't stop him from
drinking, writing, getting into fights.

He knew he had the precarious
freedom of one escaped from
conformity, mindless routine
just to keep the body going
on someone else's track.

Two Swedish women came to
his house one day, fans of his,
just to fuck him. That's when he
knew he'd made the right decision.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Punchline

We laugh at jokes because
we recognize the truth...
you smile at a baby, and the
baby smiles back, copying,
then, realizes what a smile is
by smiling...then, it really smiles.
You learn balance by being 
unbalanced and feeling the
difference....another of life's
punchlines.
If you don't try things, make
mistakes, you don't learn, don't
get the punchlines.

Skydiving has two punchlines:
one, when the chute opens,
another when it doesn't.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

No Loss No Gain

We didn't gain anything from being
born human, except a chance to
understand. Growing up was a 
natural process...for some it was 
better than for others. Arriving at
adulthood was a landmark, and the
rest of life continued. Saying that
you gained anything; material
possessions, knowledge, power,
prestige, is a false assumption.
Yes, a crab gains a shell, a home,
that it decorates with seaweed, but, 
it's just part of the life cycle...all the
buildings you built, and everything 
else you own, is just part of that 
cycle...you don't really "own" 
anything for more than a few dozen
years...those things are only a 
manifestation of living that will have 
to be given up when that process is 
over. Nothing is gained, nothing lost
in that process. Awareness is the only
worthwhile thing that can grow and is
lasting.

I Don't Speak Bullshit

I was at the coffee house and there was
a table with five people at it, three of
whom I knew. I got my coffee and moved
a chair to the doorway so I could smoke.
The table was lively with discussion. As
I was about to leave, Don, whom I knew, 
said: "What's the matter...not social? Don't
want to join us?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak bullshit."

They all heard that, and there was some 
reaction. Don said: "That was a pretty 
snarky thing to say...you think you're
better than us?"

"It's not that...maybe if I explained myself,
you'd understand." One woman left in a 
huff...the others remained.

"You're all adults...went through the growth
process...had your share of challenges..
now you're somewhere in the middle of 
your lives. You have some problems to 
deal with, you experience some joys, and
you probably have some plans you want to
execute..am I right so far?

It's all bullshit...it has not much to do with 
the importance of life. When you were 
young, you might have thought about 
the meaning of life, contemplated what life,
in fact, was...but then you got busy. You 
got involved in various ways and were
captivated by the process. Instead of 
remaining curious and making some effort
to understand life, you took it for granted.
Hence, bullshit ensued...the bullshit of self
importance and the meaningfulness of the
trivial details which caused you to lose the
sense of life itself. So, whatever comes 
out of your mouths is an expression of 
that bullshit. I don't have time for that."

"That sounds pretty arrogant," said Don.

"Hey, don't blame me...blame the truth...
that thing you only have a use for when
it seems helpful and seems to agree
with your conceptions."

I left then. The table was quiet as I was
leaving.














  

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Gone For Good

Don't come knocking on my door...
I'm here, but I ain't coming out,
not to say the same things again,
and again, all like before.

What do you want to talk about;
the weather,
what's happening to the world,
who's your favorite band?

How's your garden? Did you
fix your roof? Jimmy's doing
well in school...Susan couldn't
care less and you're worried?

Enough novels have been written,
enough sit-coms to distract you
from the life you can't get a handle
on because you haven't been
paying attention.

I'm sorry your insurance went up,
that you had to put down your dog,
about your argument with a 
neighbor about a tree....no, I'm
really not. Get with life or off the
planet...you could surprise me...
maybe... if you suddenly
came to life again,
like when you were three.






Saturday, October 1, 2016

Everything's Better When It's Hot (For Samantha Fish)

Cajun stew
par example
grease and sweat...paint
a pretty spicy picture
lighting savors flavor
slide guitar and lips
same woman
this is bothsexual
boltsexual
man and woman heart
as one music lighting
agrees...and watches you.