Slogan for the day

Meditation: ....not just a good idea; it's reality.

The Sign

Man's having a horrible time with 

his life; lost his job, wife and kids

moved in with his neighbor, dog

ran away, and he contracted 

shingles. He's at the end of his 

rope, falls to his knees in the

backyard where his children used

to play, and begins to pray:

"Oh, God, please show me a sign

that you will help me in my misery.

that, like Job, my faith is not in vain...

Oh, Lord, I need a miracle!"

Suddenly, The Lord appears in the 

skies in front of the man, a rainbow

arcs, heavenly music plays and flower

petals and perfume fill the air.

The Lord speaks: "So, how was that?

Feeling better now?"

"Not as much as you'd think."

Catatonic Cowboy

hemlock holy death council,

"Thanks, Soc!"

and to Buddha, his students 

said: "Thanks for nothing!"

faint phase biblical in time

caravan holdup inevitable

French casino uprising growl

extensive iron swami enforcer

social lubricant joystick cruelty

petites-fours and swamp gas

hydroponic narcissist extravaganza

in the in, so so very...very

a bunch of damned banshees in drag

cackling all the way to the bank

I'll tie up near this pool in the river

eat some grub, smoke some jack,

and watch the vast dark blue twinkle 

at night, head on my saddle, 

looking up.

"...and the alleys smelled of earth"

ancient history ended only maybe

thirty years ago, to when the world

was built up, built out, and tech

progress speed created a new

generation of humans every ten

years/ so many in cities never

seen a cow/ newyorkers afraid

of driving through Vermont woods/

woods and farms I grew up in gone/

into strip malls condos seven eleven/

oh, put a word on it! nothing like when

I was three in Chicago, lilac lined drive

and the alleys smelled of earth

like the anthem of an age.

Brave New World

I remember when I was, at most,

eight, in front of the television, and

a show came on: "The Big Picture".*

I thought: "Someone's gong to tell 

me what life is about!" When I realized

it was military documentary, I was very

disappointed. I wanted to know.

Point being, then, as now, I am in a 

completely new world that is coming about

and being revealed more and more

rapidly. Then, of course, the world was

new..I was young. Now the world is new

in so many ways...secret world government,

UFO disclosure, HAARP, Fukushima, The

World Bank, Secret Space Program, Cern,

world depopulation program, intradimentional

portals, Dan Burisch, the Antarctic, all 

becoming visible as the actual world we live 

in rather than what we were led to believe 

my whole life up until recently, even though 

this new world has been going on secretly 

my whole life. I knew I smelled something...
soft disclosure.

* The Big Picture T.V. series 1951-1964 (Wiki)

Poem For Monica

They're building a wall in my house

on top of an old wall because of leakage.

The whole family is here including five

year old Damien, who likes me. He has

a new puppy as big as my hand. I gave

both of them cold milk to drink.

This just happens when you're alive,

all of it, so ordinary, so magic...we take

for granted the magnificent dream we

wake up into every day. Everything

that emanates from our hearts and minds

fills the universe like a perfume, "immense
and living."

Corpses....Uh Matter

A corpse speaks:

"As a chunk of post-life, I should be

respected, as I am normally in society,

but there needs to be more attention

paid to my right as a corpse to be a 

corpse and take my rightful place by

the side of the politicians and ruthless

magnates who are my natural brethren."

Jack Straw

Keep on rolling

beyond the fence

of present tense

conversationalarialism

all words mean a prison

straw men straw minds

not enough sense

to bale themselves out

of solipsistic penance...

"all thoughts blades of grass

that fly in the face of death

like straw in the wind."

Snowflake

We didn't think there was anything

wrong with that...

we just went along with it

so that nothing could happen...

it did, then something came out of that

as is always wont to do...

and we weren't ready

as we always are,

distracted

by anything in front

of our nose...

kinda like pigs, really.

Heroin

Tell me the name

of the game that you play...

Blackwater flaming city?

barbaric pig pity?

computer capture/eliminate?

grim extravagant cartel?

consumption apparatus executioner?

New Age spellbound goofball?

dishonest pagan sorcerer?

narcotic mutant politician?

dependent snowflake?

gymnastic hogwash aficionado?

you're all f'd robot idiots

addicted to your programs.

Sandia Azul

Reyna Zochitl

Pechugas Popocatepetl

under umbrella, cool 

afternoon, overcast skies,

waiting for a phone call, or,

the end of the world.

Might as well eat first.

Just Label It Thinking

I've been listening to Debussy,

"Afternoon of a Faun", so, maybe

that means something. Why have

that thought, or, any other for that

matter? We give our thoughts a

great deal of importance, but we

really don't even know why we 

have them. Trains of thought make

sense, of course, choo choo...but

if you look at thoughts you can't see 

or experience through the senses 

where they came from, where they 

go. If you've listened to any

testimony from congress in the last

six months, you know that nobody's

memory is any good...can't remember 

what they did, let alone what they 

thought. Don't tell me what you think.

Tell me what you know.

What About Now?

Are you ready yet

for anything?

Is now just a moment

that gets lost on the

escalator of daily life? 

Can you really tell me

what's so damned 

important? Are you

busy because you have 

to be, or, because you

just can't sit still for a

single moment? All

distressed up and 

going nowhere.

Hill Of Beans

King of the Hill

of beans

wearing a beanie...

propeller turns.

Scorpio Rising

Yes

an enigma

tragic or fortunate

concussion karma

chiaroscuro emo

knowing you have 

a secret...not knowing

what that secret is

melting in passion

limousine struggle

in concept of

limousine

never an arbitrary 

awakening

discord sacred fermentation

memory imprint of

broken lost glory

agony soup

drenched in limitless spirit

haunting on my fingertips

ecstatic devastation

donut perfume emergency

don't say I didn't wake you.

Bamboozled

I want to punch a guy and I want

to make love to a woman and haven't 

felt either of those in years...the I Ching

just tells you to suck it up. I'm a bit 

excited because it would be as if I was

doing both/either of those activities for

the first time because of bad memory.

Neither may happen. So I'm enjoying

the delightful throes of emotion, like

watching a tsunami, riding a roller-

coaster, skydiving, finding treasure.

The Way It Goes

That's the way it goes, which means

we are only in limited control of our

existence even David Rockefeller is

gone and what do you make of that I

guess for lack of words to describe

the ineffable...we don't get frustrated

because we can't touch a rainbow but

everything else including emotions is

questionable so much time wasted in

meaningless activities we'd be better 

off doing nothing Buddha did nothing

and freed his mind we should be so

lucky.

Leavin' USA

(To Beach Boys "Surfin' USA")

If everybody had a notion

across the USA

then everybody'd be leavin'

like Cali-for-ni-a

They'd all be pakin' their baggies

all their money too

pushy pushy bad karma

leavin' USA

You'd catch them runnin'

for a county mile

Santa Cruz and Oakdale

Chicago's lakeshore drive...

all over Manhattan

and Tallahassee way

everybody be leavin'

leavin' USA.

We'll all be plannin' out routes

we're gonna take real soon

we're burnin' all our bridges

we can't wait for June

we'll all be gone for forever

we're on hiatus to stay

tell the people we're leavin'

leavin' USA

Trungpa Dharma

"We've been told to develop and be

professional and everything has a 

philosophy behind it. That all boils

down to one point which is being

uptight."  Chogyam Trungpa

The modern 'scapes of Fenninger,

DeChirico, Eliot's "Wasteland",

Hopper's "Nighthawks"

echo the haunting reality of man

losing himself by taking on a

pattern, a persona, a code

that defines him and to which he

must conform to secure success 

in the popular world.

No Respect For The Dead

Fuck 'em,

(not necrophiliacly)

they're dead...on the

karma express...deceased...

no longer breathing...daisy

fodder...bit the bullet...cashed

in the chips...passed away...

folded their hand...bought the farm...

took a dirt nap...

...they get one good send-off

party they can't go to, and that's

it for eternity...unless they're

famous, meaning only someone

else makes money off of their name.

"The only good corpse is a dead corpse."

Does that actually work?

In Mexico, they treat the dead as if they

still hang around somewhat, which

kinda makes more sense...of course,

any excuse for a fiesta!

I have no problem with the dead...my

problem is with the living...because too

many of them are not dead!

A lot of them kinda act dead....wish they

were dead...by all rights should be dead...

...something different than the sanctity of 

life, which includes death as natural...

No, our dead are stupid dead, make-up

splashed puppets, like worshipping

garbage...just feed the sucker to the

coyotes...the corpse won't mind, and it's

better for the environment.

No Adze To Grind

Taking it in stride...

today, nice...reading some others'

poems...

no need to make a mark, mar 

this generous moment...

raga-esque, in situ space,

ancient beginning always discovered

at end of long journey...

(and they call it "life")

Ah, Basho's pond is everywhere!

Splash!

And light prisms into color just as

music is the expression of 

The Big Note...

Politics and world events like waves

on the surface of bottomless ocean...

(don't forget)...

don't trip over your own tamasha.

Parinirvana of Chogyam Trungpa 2017

Thirty years, and still a part of me.

What a miracle you continue to be.

Blueberry Hurricane

Blueberry hurricane

hurricane hot sauce

hurricane catsup

hurricane insurance

atomic hot sauce

atomic insurance

atomic daisy

conspiracy theory

conspiracy hot sauce

conspiracy orchid

atomic conspiracy

atomic hurricane

Blueberry skoan

eggnigma

Cheap Trick

Reality is a cheap trick,

in fact,

it only costs your life...

so...whattya gonna do

about it, citizen?

Go on, as if nothing ever

happened?

Go on, as if whatever 

happened, it all 

makes sense?

Really...

I had my forty four under my coat

when I walked into the bar that day

to give my girl's lover a violent

deformity, a liberation torpedo.

Did he deserve it? 

Depends on who you ask.

Under The Volcano

I read Lowry during the first few

years in Mexico...I fancied I was

like him, romantically and obscurely

drinking myself to death under the

looming metaphor for the end of

civilization. I quit drinking due to a

vision I had...it was a miracle, but I 

can't prove that. Meanwhile, the

metaphor has expanded to the 

whole world about to blow. He

probably wouldn't have finished

that book had it not been for his.

wife. A modern novel about an 

end time.  Writing the book same 

as drinking himself to death.

You notice there are no more books 

of the Bible after Revelations

April Fool!

I Do Not want all the Under Uber

State collaborators...whether

Clinton, Bush or Obama lined up

against a wall and shot!

I Do Not want the MSM pundits

and shills chained to sharks!

 I Do Not want the parents of

P.C. children be forced to work

on hog farms while their spawn

are forcibly re-educated!

I Do Not want the Deep State

Deep Fried!I 

I think America "is more the way

it is now than it ever has been"!!

That Burning Sensation

That burning sensation,

where you feel you want

to climb out of your skin...

have you ever had it? I have 

it every time I turn on the

television, but I've learned

to control it, because I know

television is good for me.

Noir

I'm writing this at my desk...

not much time and got to get

it down before they get here...

if it hadn't been for that bad

lobster dinner and missing the

train, I wouldn't be in this 

mess...the key's in the mail 

box, and the timer is set for

two o'clock tomorrow afternoon...

that's all I needed to get down. 

A few minutes 'til they get here...

I could write down a few things...

my last testament?

What's worth saying? Besides, 

soon it won't matter...only 

a very few will even see this. 

Glad that bottle was still in the 

drawer...always enjoyed the view

of the shore from this window...

nice breeze today...I can smell 

a little salt. I'm sure they'll 

find the boat in a day or two...

The shakuhatchis were a nice touch...

and, you have to admit, the timing

of the assassin was impeccable...

someone's at the door..

Mutant

Not off the shelf...

broke the mold...

clown iconoclast

troglodyte trickster

imp impersonator

soap box orator

mirage muralist 

naked space man.    

Afternoon Of A Meatstick

Mechanical, orthodox and brutal

from point A to point B...

(no point in anything else),

God autopilot beacon blares

directions...Meaty listens:

"God told me to get a hot dog

with relics and mustard...

hold the mayo." ...preparing a face

to meet the faces made of meat,

airtight and indomitable,

chattering lethally noir charisma,

at home in an isolated, heavyweight,

fathead maze.