Ramble For The Hell Of It

Abbie Hoffman, that magnificent manic/

depressive, gave me the idea…why not?

if I was on drugs, it might be better…

maybe we should all work about ten years

high on meth and then retire to golden

years…..maybe not…I came as close as I

could that I can tell you…worked at 

meditation centers for 13 years…that was 

no picnic, but it was a great feast..and…

I’ve got Nothing to show for it! What a deal!

Got more than I could even have known to

ask for! I can’t prove it!

I feel like when I was growing up in Winfield 

thirteen just not bouncing off the walls the

way I was then…all those years in between…

the cavernous smoke filled echoing concert

halls of the sixties…dharma center crazy 

wisdom of thirty years…Mexico and

unwinding…unraveling…slowing down…

stopping.

Everyone feels there’s something missing.

Buddhists call it enlightenment to give it 

a name. Whatever you call it, you have it…

it’s just “missing”…temporarily misplaced.

That’s so hard to get people to understand.

If it wasn’t already known to you, you 

wouldn’t feel like something was missing