A Morning

Terrified a baby…(it probably recognized me.)

Coffee in a courtyard, table on brick, vase with

flowers, Huicholes hanging their beaded wares.

It’s all profound in the fact that it is. Where would

I be without me?

No cosmic axe to grind. It all unfolds as if it’s

supposed to. Civilization on auto pilot; decision

makers channeled into views believing them to

be their own, the train on track and moving in

one direction. We are so speedy in our lives the

changes are invisible, except  when they’re not.

And, then, we adjust to a new reality not of our

making, assuming it will all  continue somehow

as always.

When the pressure gets too great and we go 

crazy, we don’t know why. We think there’s 

something wrong with us, not the environment.

Pills are issued as coping mechanisms. Reality

gets more blurry, but we don’t care and our not

caring is cultivated to the point we accept all

the ridiculousness spewed by our controllers and

go peacefully to our guided cages. 

Coda:

Compulsion calibration: baseline

chargeable funnel with no reverse.

Flash assembly abitrary murder.

Brainwash daydream coffin...

blockhead hoser unchained.

Public accomplice smiling 

bloodthirsty teeth. 

Happy ending to apocalyptic 

peepshow?

Feets, get moving.

Ballistic Attachement

Does not play well with others.

It's all about not being breast fed.

Hyperbolize infancy to nth degree.

Reasonable people don't act this way.

Creepy liberal deathtrap...it's not the

fault of the elders, marginalized as

we are by systemic morons. How

many times were the Indians lied to?

Drive through hogwash...you're thinking

is done for you...what a relief, trucking on,

assured you don't need to know by the

shucksters of the public fun house mirror.

Ballistic button at the mercy of hollow

amnesiacs...only those in the forest 

aren't crazed in one way or another;

when you left nature, nature left you.

Meat Dream

I don’t know what happened, but, suddenly,

I was there, like somebody turned on a light

switch. I had no idea what was happening…

everything was moving so fast for a while,

like I was on speed. Gradually I got used to 

the situation…I was in the care of gigantic

beings…gods, it seemed to me. As time went

on, I got used to the idea of being there. There

seemed to be a logic I was learning…how 

things were done…how it all worked. The 

gods that were there most of the time were

friendly, and I felt pretty secure. The older I 

got, the more I looked like them, so, I could 

see where this was going. I had what they 

called “teachers”, who tried to show me how

to do stuff, and wanted me to behave in a 

certain way. I went along with it because what

else could I do? Later on I found out that they 

only taught stuff that they had learned and 

seemed to work most of the time. I realized 

that none of them really had a clue about what

was really going on…that it was all a dream

we were caught up in and believed as if it was

real. They added on ridiculous beliefs to fill

in the blanks they couldn’t explain. Not to do so

would have subjected them to abject terror. 

Coda:

I opened my eyes in

orthodox beefcake.

Genetic hitchhiker, 

randomly I was there,

the torch of careless

stumbling through the

fog passed down like

a useless heirloom, 

looming ubiquitously

overhead. 

How Many Lives Are Lost?

How many lives derelict, washed up,

passed by, ignored,

                                lost treasure

of having seen, witnessed…

…mulch of minds’ memories not lost

on eternity’s watch.

Trudge-ing-ly clumsy trek towards truth…

…what truth?

ultimate dense encryption 

                   of drifting skyline

                                                     hands

full of daisies.

Attainment

I've attained the state of Supreme Goof.

Even death strikes me as funny.

Not fixating on anything,

everything becomes a joke awaiting

the punchline of impermanence.

Isis crisis, 

after tea and cakes and ices?

You've got to be kidding.

New World Order?

So, that's what they call the chaos.

Internment camp?

Don't call it that...say it's dying with friends.

Hanging's not so bad...

you get used to it pretty quick.

Cerebral palsy?

One of them gets to be a poster child!

What? What's that you ask?

Enlightenment?

Well, you gotta call it something for marketing...

but, let me ask you this:

why is Buddha depicted so often laughing?

A very different message than Christ on the 

cross....we know now where that one leads.

Buddha was a great comedian.

He said: "life is suffering", meaning

the joke's on us!

The Last Rock Show

The last rock concert I attended was maybe 

fifteen years ago in Colorado: Little Feat, at 

Fiddler's Green in Denver. My friend's brother 

was in town, and we decided to take 

mushrooms and go to the show. My friend's 

sister set him and I up with blind dates.

We took the mushrooms and met the ladies

outside the venue. Hot Tuna was the opening

act, and the mushrooms started to come on

as we entered. 

We found our seats and got comfortable for 

the ride. The two women decided who would 

be who's date. The brother, more handsome 

than I, got the little cutie. I sat next to the 

other woman who was tall and stiff. 

Little Feat came on, and the 'shrooms hit 

home. Everything started to melt in my mind.

Everyone was dancing at their seats, except

my date. The brother got up and went to the

bathroom. He was gone a long time. His date

talked to mine, and she asked me where the

brother had gone.

"Oh, well," I said, "We're all tripping heavy on 

mushrooms, and he went to the bathroom. It

might be a while until he finds his way back."

"And he's driving us home?" She said, 

bewildered.

I shrugged my shoulders and kept dancing.

Finally, the brother returned. As soon as he 

sat in his seat, his date jumped in his lap and

started making out with him furiously. My date

stayed as still as a Baptist. 

When the party was breaking up, my date 

indicated to her friend that I could come home 

with her. I demurred, not caring to fuck a corpse.

Poetry

Poetry is phenomenological apprehension

moving perception to another dimension

a glimpse of the part we can't see...

intimations of eternity

Truth Hurts

That's why kids make excuses.

That's why adults lie to themselves.

That's why a Ponzi scheme looks good.

That's why the USA and North Korea

yell at each other: because they know 

the truth that neither are in control.

It's why P.C. children shout and scream.

It's why Hillary looks insane.

But truth is never negative.

It's always better to know the truth.

I told my father he was dying,

and he thanked me.

Once you get over the addiction

to the lies, 

truth becomes welcome relief.

Rimbaud's  "Season In Hell" is beautiful

because it's true, like "All Quiet On The

Western Front" that tells the truth of war.

The drugs that take away the pain

are like lies we believe

'til the drugs themselves become the lie

and there is no recourse except 

to return to the truth, or die.

There is nothing but the truth;

"pay me now or pay me later"

Like an elephant, truth never forgets.

Never forget that.

God: The Father That Abandoned Us

Oh, sure, He was there for a while. We 

screwed up when Adam and Eve disobeyed

Him, and it's been downhill ever since. He

tried to teach discipline...gave the Ten 

Commandments, then spanked Sodom 

and Gomorra. Didn't work. He looked at 

Noah and thought to Himself: "This dude

and his family aren't too bad. Maybe we'll

start over with them"...and killed everyone 

else.

Now, His children are out of control. Like

Ted Bundy's parents; He'll always love us,

but, I don't think He'll be coming back.

Post Apocalyptic Poet

I thought I'd get ahead of the game.

My house is decorated in post 

apocalyptic decor: disorganized, dirty,

lots of junk around, as if a bomb went off.

I want to be ready

when the earthquake hits,

when the insane blow everything to atoms,

when the storms come,

when we run out of food.

I'm surfing the waves of future ruin.

I'm grooming myself for disaster,

to be the last clown left standing,

wondering who'll be left laughing..

Guest Poet: Gilbert Seldes

Schmooziness

we enjoy smelling our own

armpits

so much

so much

"smells like teen spirit"

Projected petroleum jelly

lubricates our

interface with the world

miasmic force field

cushions the sharp points

our beloved schmooziness

coats, soothes and relieves

this puss-filled petri dish

turns us into jellyfish

Tarot Card Poem

The universe,

covered by defeat,

opposed by the star.

Basic essence

rends fabric of obstacles

revealing destiny of awake.



From "Like Decorations In A Nigger 
Cemetery" by Wallace Stevens:

"In the spring, the chrysanthemum's 
astringent fragrance comes, revealing 
the hidden mechanism of machine
within machine within machine."

Processing Life

I'm doing that now;

looking back

how I got here

the steps I took

how I knew

what I had to do

but didn't know

why I had to

'til now.

Buddhism 101

They give you a carrot on a stick and say:

"Walk towards the carrot" and that's 

meditation...and you get pissed off because 

you're not getting any closer, and you ask 

your meditation instructor and she says:

"You're doing fine...keep walking." "But I 

don't seem to be getting anywhere..." "You

see that carrot in front of you? That's where

you're going." "But why does it seem like 

I'm not getting anywhere?" "Because you're

trying to get to the carrot instead of simply 

walking towards it." "But, if you walk towards 

something, doesn't that mean you want to, 

and expect to, get there?" "If you're walking

towards a carrot on a stick, how can you 

possibly ever get there?" "I know! So, why

am I doing this?" "I'm sure I have no idea!"

Random Word Poem: Shorty

Fashionable demolishment, bouncing,

blinking best. 

Celebration amidst fiery darts;

dynamite from a blowgun.

Parasitic gunplay a greedy picnic.

Gurgling gypsies fluff the ensemble.

Gigantic addictive flammable shrimp

surface for the last consumption.

Greedy crawling bovine customers

cue up for disaster.

On the other hand:

Grateful connectedness delights in gland

democracy.

Slap the elephant in the room.

Victory depends on eating heaven's wall.

Triggering Mechanisms

Triggering mechanisms are psychologically

embedded switches that, when activated,

stimulate specific behavior. The fact that 

the term is a common meme of Millennials 

is visible evidence that they have  been

subject to brainwashing, since the term 

derives from that arena.

Random Word Poem: Truth

Antique notion anachronism when

it's so easy to get away with murder.

Flaw in humanity's backbone,

no rest for the schemer.

Wealthy promise no longer holds water.

Furious circus of twittering imbeciles...

why paint such a bleak picture?

Because the truth is always delicious,

albeit an acquired taste.

"beauty is truth, truth beauty--that is all

ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Keats

Theatre Versus Entertainment

Theatre originally functioned as a platform

for entertainment, instruction, and moral

contemplation. 

Greek drama showed man's foibles as did

Shakespearian drama and Restoration

comedy, as well as entertaining audiences.

Dada and Absurdist theatre manifest the

breakdown of social norms. Experimental 

theatre of the late sixties painted a picture

of society that offended the prescribed status.

The best movies were also instructive in

observing social trends. "The Big Chill" 

demonstrated the loss of idealism of the

sixties as hippies faced the real world. 

"Apocalypse Now" demonstrates the horror

of war, as well as the hypocrisy of USA's

involvement. "The Graduate" showcased the

American Dream as well as one person's 

journey of awakening from it. "JFK" renewed

the debate on assassinations.  This was a

time when movies tried to tell some truth.

Things are different now. In the late sixties,

there were over three hundred and fifty 

independent theatre companies in the USA,

performing their own, original material. Now,

there is only one left, the one I acted in, in '71,

Broom Street Theatre in Madison, Wisconsin. 

How many young people have seen live 

theatre? Movies, television, and the internet

are now the sources for what before could 

only have been done by actors live on stage.

That industry is not interested any longer in

instruction, edification, or dissemination of

intellect. It is purely for entertainment, 

diversion and distraction; i.e. brainwashing  

that masks reality for the benefit of powerful 

people. Actors are no longer artists, but,
rather, corporate shills and pasteboard icons.
The truth is left to the comedians.

The barbarians/Christians are back at the 

gates of the Library of Alexandria, already 

vandalizing common sense and enflaming 

rationality. Will this activity lead to a new 

Middle Ages where wisdom and knowledge 

are circumscribed, and people are kept in the 

dark?  The presence of the internet 

seems to say no at this time. Stay tuned.

(Reviews of the play I was in in 1971
appear as comments)