Like, what I say

The few people that like me,

like me for what I say. Many

don't like me for what I say.

They don't like me because

...I'm a great anything

...I'm handsome, ect.

They like me because they're

right, and they agree with me.

I like them for the same reason.

Everyone likes who they like

for the same reason.

If you need a safe zone,

nobody likes what you say.

Late Night Musing (Raku)

I'm supposed to be a poet.

I'm supposed to love words.

I'm not sure I like this Cafe

Ole Expresso   wherever

I'm going...

It won't be far or for long...

been there, already gone.

When the tree dies, the 

roots stay in the ground.

I don't know what that has

to do with anything, in fact,

this whole thing I'm writing

which is horrible nonsense,

and I didn't want to go there, 

but, there is where I am.

Trungpa, Rinpoche, would 

say:  "Let's forget about the 

whole thing."

There is always another 

starting point

fresh start

first thought

square one

because time

is not linear.

Do you want to go with me?

Just My Luck

My great good fortune

little house, wabi-sabi yard,

privacy in Tepoztlan, "valley

of the flowers." And I can still

walk, not in constant pain like

some old friends, so....

so fortunate, even not knowing

how long this will last.

Ki! Ki! The red bird cries and the

dogs bark and howl...fireworks

explode in the sky like primordial 

dots...Campasinos breeze by on

their spirited horses...

Ashe! The stroke of intuitive

perception that brought me here!

It Isn't

It is not what

you think it is.

We don't know it

because we know it's name.

It never really had a name.

We had to give it all a name

to navigate

to compare

to discuss

to build

to scheme

to try

to understand.

The senses played second fiddle

because we thought we were so

damned smart, but the smartest

went back to the senses.

It isn't.

It never will be.

It never was.

Rainmbo

Tel    Avivre

message

                  secret

hair and nails still grow

out on a limbo

in a circle since birth,

brains, billions,

scorecard

billboard

wallet

stuck in past tense

anachronistasis

the sound of "who said that?"

concertina echo bounces

off steel wall

coming to

coming into

                  focus

only took

               a lifetime

there's something to be said

for having nothing to say

Let me

throw another log on the fire

here, at this dot of infinite space,

and, isn't that enough coincidence

to make you wonder?

*    *    *

I had assurances

recoil

faint, hazy,

broken record 

contract

devise

consequences

unintentionally....

of course, 

I had taken certain liberties.

     

Watching The Parade

Watching Trump's parade to the

White House....the slow procession...

Is this real? Are you sure? What will

happen when he gets there? Is there

still time to wonder? We are hopeful

because this is new, perhaps a more

healthy direction for a people...

Slowly, the limousines, the police on

motorcycles, the Secret Service

walking slowly beside Trump's car...

It would be inspiring unto itself; how

much more with this new person

progressing to his new seat of power,

his promises to America's people

fresh in their ears...

Will he do what he said? Will he be

able to do what he said? Will he even 

make it to the White House? The only

certainty is uncertainty....

He's walking now...the crowd is cheering...

First Light

New light pries my eyes....

air smells as when I was five years old

life seemed clear then

now I'm going back

to before useless complication set in

to before i thought I knew, to when

I didn't know, but to when understanding

was understood, obvious, transparent,

without words, just there, like your mother.

It

It started, then it continued as

it went along.

No one could come up with a 

cause for it, what direction it was

heading, nor what the outcome 

would be, but rules and regulations

were in place to direct it's progress.

After a while, the rules became more

important than anything else, and it

lost touch with itself, what it was to

begin with, and existed only in 

relation to the others, based on some

learned knowledge that roughly made

sense, but had no clue as to the real

nature of what was happening.

It knew something was wrong, that it

wasn't being told the truth, that those 

around it were involved in a mass 

delusion, but, because most went along

with this delusion, the alternative was

not very apparent. It had to search for

information that made sense. Many 

others were so sure of the certainty of

the common delusion that it had a hard

time finding anyone who didn't toe the

common line, who could speak and not

just react with a pat phrase, anyone with

the slightest doubt that conventional 

reality was what it made itself out to be.

It's story is really the same as that of 

every one that has tried to understand 

what was the truth of being here, going

along in a body, breathing, eating. Every

one that has taken that journey of inquiry 

has met with ridicule from those that live 

without examining their lives. It was one 

of very few that would ever see the 

possibility of experiencing freedom.

  

Odyssey

I knew we were going too fast

because I couldn't read the Burma

Shave signs as we zipped past.

Clive was in a hurry. The scenery

passed by like looking at an oil

landscape on LSD. We pulled into 

a gas station to load up on Mountain 

Dew and Fritos, almost drove away

with the pump still in the gas tank.

Tunnel visioned the Cadillac to

Austin, the end of the rainbow. We

would be ready to open the trunk of

the red convertible and make history.

One thing had led to another Randy

Quaid called on the cell phone, 

but didn't leave a number. It hadn't 

been long ago that they were sitting

at the diner down to their last cup of

coffee, listening to two hair dressers

having a conversation about welding

while eating pecan pie.

How they got to the spot they were in,

on the lam with no destination, money

running out, both of them fantasizing

about Dusty Springfield, wasn't clear...

the dots didn't connect. The vagueness

could be attributed in part to the variety

of substances they were consuming on

their epic journey. Like Columbus, they

couldn't be certain they wouldn't fall off 

the end of the world. All they knew for 

sure was that they were lost.

Titanic As Metaphor

"Yes, well, we're all

going down, ahem."

As Machado wrote:

"As with women, there

are three useless things 

at sea: rudder, oars, and 

the fear of going down."

They called it "Unsinkable"

and it went down on it's

maiden voyage...

would you call that ironic,

tragic,

or, slapstick?

White man should have 

given up right there,

walked himself 

into the ocean

started over

and tried to make it

as a fish.

Haiku 999

My muse has left me.

Only trees out the window

waving in the breeze.

John Fahey playing,

stretching notes in dance of angst,

he drank himself dead.

Beauty in anguish...

if we didn't feel the pain,

we're not quite human.

Only trees out there...

empty branches signaling

march of the seasons.

Ah, Tepoztlan, home!

Casablanca in chaos!

The world will find you.

Here in my penthouse,

people down there seem so small.

Oops! Power went out.

Death To Smoochy

It won't take another World War.

It won't take a concerted effort.

It won't come with a bang,

only a whimper.

Ah, the romance of various ages,

the hopeful times of prosperity, 

burgeoning of the arts from the

blood of sacrificed natives that

built cathedrals so high!

No matter how clean the Germans

keep their streets, no matter the

impeccable customs of the Japanese,

no matter the blunt honesty of the Yanks,

the loyalty of the British, the French

aesthetic, Chinese Confucian order,

no matter the virtues of past civilizations.

We're at the end of all that...the end of

history, the end of meaning, the end of

the truth as the guiding principle. We are

at the beginning of darkness, the waining

of the human spirit, the rise of the sub-

human. 

The natural cycle of things....what goes up,

must come down, and humans have had 

their ride. Goodbye, Smoochy, and thanks

for all the punchlines.

Blood From Stone

You can't get it.

My muse petulant

due to lack of attention.

I'm just another victim

of extinction. I'm not

sure why I'm still moving.

Are we waiting for one 

man to save us? Isn't

that a bit preposterous?

Even Jesus needed 

more time.