Kafe Kua

Amatlan where Quetzalcoatl was born they say,

Cafe over looking the shop I’m waiting for to open.

Beautiful, clear, sunny, cool day, table a little shaky,

like Mexico.

The environment here is magic,

miracles are commonplace,

everyone’s seen a UFO.

Shop’s open, I go

get my birthday present,

and flow.

Mexican Festival

Day, of some sort, people marching to

bands, in costumes, they get into it.

What else are they going to do?

Just flat, plain, simple, earthy lives,

spiced by salsas, tequila, cervesa, 

colorful clothes, dancing, fireworks.

Mexico third world with some first

world pretensions. Forget progress.

The Mexican Space Program (there

is one) is humorous. Nothing ever 

gets off the ground.

Hot Sauce

I’m going to die happy.

We used to get Face Of The Sun

and Hector’s Revenge hot sauce…

to die for, really,

the Siren call…

I get the S&M thing now, although

the pain is not the pleasure,

it’s the price.

He Tried

Have a life, go ahead,

get a wife

have some kids

get some stuff

get more stuff

on disability now

junior got arrested

daughter went to Harvard

fifty years of marriage

at least there’s still someone

here I know…

junior made it though

he has two kids too

daughter won the Nobel Prize

then got cancer and died

junior outlives us all…

…and so it goes.

Windmill Warrior

Joe Schmidt. This was the name

for Trungpa’s “Everyman”. R. Crumb

had several names: Norman, Flaky Foont,

Joe Blow. You get the idea, an average Joe

walking down the city street, whistling, 

hands in his pockets, casually looking around.

Suddenly, anything happens; a safe falling 

from a building narrowly misses him…he gets

tangled in the leashes of dog walkers…he watches

a fight across the street, the police come, a fire ignites,

fire engines come….but he only stops for a couple of

minutes. He’s the kind of guy you hardly notice. You

can never remember what you talked about. Well, 

evolution is a funny thing.

The Universe Has No Opinion

“Opinions are relics of fight-or-flight

ancient animal instincts, “what if?”

extrapolated by discursive mind.”

Panteleon 

The safe that falls on your head isn’t sorry.

The pack of wild dogs that tears you to pieces

is just having fun.

Remember “Horton Hears A Who”?

Yes, that’s us on this planet.

Maybe Musk is right about Mars,

but on the universe’s scale, it’s not an inch.

If the earth is destroyed,  the universe

wouldn’t flinch….there’s plenty more

where that came from, including humans.

Heroes And Villains

That’s the game that’s afoot.

The villains are losing power

and being replaced by heroes.

It’s the yin-yang thang, the

heaven and hell rondo. Even

if you get to Heaven, don’t expect

eternity, because Heaven is still 

part of the game. Sooner or later

you will recycle. No, the only way 

is to get off the bandwagon, dissolve 

into the quantum mind of the universe.

It’s a tall order, but many have done it.

Our problem is we think the bandwagon 

is going somewhere. When we see it 

properly, we see the bandwagon is actually 

a carousel going round and round.

The heroes and villains are merely costumed 

players, painted wooden horses that go

round and round, up and down.

It’s fascinating for children.

Wake Up!

Before it’s too late!

Before the fat lady sings!

What are you waiting for?

I’m giving you permission!

Strike while there’s still an iron!

(that’s the irony)

I’m tired of writing poems!

I want to shout like a mad man!

I’m manning up!

You could have listened to the Buddha, the Beatles,

Nietzsche, Whitehead, Stevens….the world has been

telling you constantly what’s going on, but you

haven’t listened!

Now the world is starting to scream like a madman!

Fuck your ego!

Whatever you think of yourself, good or bad, is ego,

so, fuck that. It’s not even what’s really happening, 

so why waste your time with it, except you can’t 

help it because, love or hate yourself, you’re strung

along like a little doggie. Die trying to make the

world your oyster.

I saw one talking to herself today walking down

the street, middle aged, well dressed, couldn’t tell

if she was on her cell phone until I looked, but she

wasn’t, just a steady stream of words, high as a kite

on something or other….herself maybe.

Human existence is fluid more than solid or gas, 

though there are many full of hot air, many seemingly

solid as rock, but they still move.

Open Your Eyes

You never know

until you find out,

which is why it’s preferable 

to keep your eyes open because

you never know.

Falling into an open manhole

while talking on the cell phone.

This principle permeates our lives.

We notice a stray dog or cat, alone

shivering, and we take it home.

It becomes our pet and gives love for 

many years….you see?

If you don’t look across the crowded room,

your eyes will never meet.

It’s all quite enchanting, really.

Clowny

It’s better to not be too in control,

meaning rigid, Kantian, always

purposeful, lacking spontaneity.

Wallace Stevens wrote: “ The eccentric 

is the basis of design.” meaning what

we’re not expecting at least makes life

interesting, at least we’re given a

million billion chances in life to wake

up and smell the roses, the most mundane

example I can give.

And another thing, (nice segue) if I hadn’t 

made myself a fool with so many ladies, I

never would have gotten laid. What better

testimonial do you need? As I wrote before:

My dad said: “If you don’t control yourself, 

people will think you’re crazy.”

“But, Dad, if I control myself, I’ll be like them

and think I’m sane.”

Saturday Evening

Lying in bed…fan on…music next door

from a party, not loud, not like Mexico…

background beat and notes quite earful,

earrich sound to go with no pain of old

man…sweet like posts on X of people

with their animal friends even though 

I’m alone, in fact but not in spirit since

I feel the people at fiesta next door, the

people suffering in wars, the evil that

must be stopped for the world to remain;

I feel all of it, it’s my job as Buddhist/

bodhisattva/poet/prophet/Johnson just 

yer neighbor, glad to help. And I think 

we’ll get along a lot better once 

the change happens.

Start with a story…

The Hotel Bismarck in Chicago, when I was

coming of age, was a landmark establishment.

The. restaurant there was famous for its creamed

spinach, and it’s ancient, obstreperous waiters

that came with an attitude. It was all in good fun.

There was a male only bar that was part of the

hotel.  It was very cool, kinda like a club atmosphere.

The women’s movement happened in the Seventies,

and women started coming into the bar. 

Nothing happened.

Then, after a while, the women stopped coming into

the bar, and the bar went back to the way it was…

for a while.

And so it goes. My dad liked to take us to the restaurant 

there, because he liked the creamed spinach, the waiters,

and the sauerbraten. I realize precisely as I’m writing this,

that German food is the best food. English was my father’s

second language that he started to learn when he went to 

school. His neighborhood in Chicago was German. He 

never looked like he wanted to raise his arm in a Nazi 

salute. He trained American soldiers in WW2. He was,

believe it or not, an honest lawyer. But, it’s the creamed

spinach that’s got a hook in me. I bought some deserts…

brought them back….chocolate…should help me forget.

And so it goes….didn’t see that one coming, did ya!

“What….what do you mean?” 

Yeah…..that’s right. It’s what comes between…the

conjunction, but instead, read between the lines. 

I mean, does one thing lead to the next, or, are events

constantly arising randomly?

NEXT!

How rude….

Turning The Page

The next page is always empty

until it is filled with anything you could imagine.

Libraries filled with trees worth of pages,

in case what’s on them is needed.

Now, pages are anachronisms, forever filled with

forgotten information.

From my notebook, to computer, to internet where

my words will echo forever…..not the meaning of

life, that has been found, and lost, and found again

forever,

 but never comes up when you put in a key word.

A.I. may destroy us, but it will never have a 

quantum transcendent essence, soul for the straight

people. 

Native Americans knew that when you wrote 

something down, it would be forgotten.

There’s a lot we should know, should have 

been told, but weren’t. Those of us that know

had to find out for ourselves. 

Many people are like dogs, sniffing each 

other’s butts, looking for information, 

social media.

It’s easier than turning a page.

Extispicy

If there is anything to divination by the bowels

today should be a special day since my bowels

have expressed themselves so magnificently, 

as if saying: “Here’s shit looking for a fan.”

A spicy premonition if ever there was one.

It Had To Be A Woman

No, it had to be a woman

to make me notice

something, 

anything at all, 

her.

Then, everything around was filled

with her perfume, her presence,

and the whole space leaned forward.

A natural event that makes the world

go round.

I’m just beating a dead obviousness again,

like every comedian,

poet,

fool that ever was.

Some are better at it than others, but I affirm

none of us can help ourselves, like madmen

shouting loudly in the streets…

“as we sing in our chains like the sea.”

Apocrypha 

Silly Me Prophesy

I’m getting lots of hits on my blog today

from Austria and Germany.

My name is Tischer.

Maybe they’ll put me on a bumper sticker.

Sense Of Taste

German Eiswein is what I imagine nectar tastes like.

The taste of a pipe full of shit

exploding in my face: I’ll never forget that taste.

Made you taste! Made you taste!

Phantom taste! Phantom taste!

Tip Of The Day

Relax because everything is not going anywhere.

Tip Of The Day #2

Penis (just the tip).

John Tischer 75 years old.

Tip Of The Viceburg

Musk in Washington. 

Raiding the Waffle House

of pancakes with too much syrup 

on the taxpayer dime.

Act one scene one, getting to know 

the characters, the players, watching

reactions, events, counter moves,

The Greatest Show On Earth

will be remembered forever

as something or other.

Maybe

Maybe something will come out

if I write maybe. (Yeah, one of those

I’m afraid) 

it all depends on how you look at it.

And Job said: “Lord, I’ve been suffering

for….let’s see…my whole life now, and

really, it’s all a cliche by now…

see what I mean?”

And the Lord said: “You have a point. OK,

no more suffering.”

And this could play several ways….Job could say:

“Oh, c’mmon! Just a little more?  Please?”

Or, Job could go “Wheeeeeeeww!  Wheeeeeeee!”

and suddenly drop dead.

Or, Job could reverse roles and God suddenly finds

Himself in an office in front of a computer 

working for DOGE.

Nowhere Man

Nowhere man sitting anywhere

everywhere in the markets, on the

streets, in factories, dancing in clubs,

or, was it all a dream, memories, scars,

photographs, same old stories, did it 

happen and does any of it matter?

Perhaps if we could grok the complexity 

of the quantum matrix we’d have 

an answer.

Karma is a real thing and manifests 

over lifetimes, not that I can prove that.

Maybe I’ll find a joint and forget about

the whole thing, be nowhere again.

But, just then, my amiga, my friend,

appeared with a joint as if by perfect magic,

starting the thinking all over again,

which is how I got nowhere in the first place.

Race To The Stars!

Now what?

A race between Musk to Mars or bust,

and space alien race technologies already

know that make Musk’s rockets look silly.

Well? What have you heard lately?

Got any truer ideas?

I loved science fiction as a kid,

but reality now has it beat to shit.

Absurdity

“One thing leads to another.”

That’s  a cliche.

Cliches point to something

that happens over and over,

over and over,

over and over.

That’s why Absurdist Theatre arose;

Existentialism with a sense of humor.

It came and went because things

come and they go.

“Don’t you people ever learn?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

The absurdity is endless really.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather.”

That’s why there are so many punchlines

in the first place.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”

could be the overwhelming question.

World War Q

What would Jesus do?

Anyone who seriously asks that

question is already lost.

Trump appoints a televangelist.

It’s not out of character.

Trump has been messing with people’s 

minds since he came down the escalator.

What would Jesus do?

Christians argue amongst themselves.

It’s a long way from the resurrection.

Now it’s more like the Tower of Babel.

Chaos is ramping up, a good thing when

certainty becomes destructive.

Then, there are the aliens from space.

What would Jesus do?

Hide the truth like the Catholic Church?

Welcome them as children of God?

Who the fuck knows?

It’s the fallacy of belief.

It’s the fallacy of misplaced concreteness.

Even Job might cry: “No! This is just too much!”

We don’t know because humanity has never

been here before, in the final world war

for the control of the mind.

Small World

It’s a small world,

a tiny itsy bitsy planet

somewhere in a universe

where intelligent beings

think every thought there is to think

like a supercomputer gone mad,

not that anything much happens.

Oh yes, the homosaplings manage

to get themselves in lots of trouble,

but the universe couldn’t care less.

OK, maybe they’re sending emissaries 

in strange crafts to boggle our minds…

maybe we are their reality show, for a 

good laugh.

Somebody should tell them it’s not funny.

And So It Goes Again

“Hurry up please, it’s time.”

Last call at the pub,

last call for humanity.

Too late for second thoughts.

“What’s it all about, Alfie?

Is it just for the moment we live?”

There is no other now than this now.

What part of now don’t you understand?

We are the quick and the dead.

“You don’t have to be quick to live here,

but, it’s over.”

The truth is always positive…we live

we die, that’s it.

Any questions?

I’m sure there are a few, but

that doesn’t change the fact.

That fact could be a wake up call,

an inspiration to look around and see,

instead of believing what you’ve been told.

It’s a choice we always have until we don’t.

             &&&&& Extra Credit &&&&&

Belaboring the obvious truth is what  Buddhist

teachings do.

It’s all they do.

They are the Terminator of ego,

if you’re into that sort of thing,

and why shouldn’t you be?

It’s the only path to freedom.

Just ask those that practiced it

over thousands of years.

It’s rare to even encounter the Buddhist

point of view,

let alone be attracted to it,

let alone resonate with it,

let alone Grok it,

let alone follow the path,

yada, yada, yada attain liberation.

It’s a shaggy dog story without a punchline

which is the punchline.

“No trudging through vast Arabies of hot meaning.”

Simply recognizing what’s true according to one’s 

own common sense wisdom, if you can make

heads or tails of that.

Jolly good luck, Frens!

Baby Jesus

Lots of people walking around with

Baby Jesus dolled up dolls in fancy dress

for some ritual celebration or other, so

many I can’t keep up, but yes, many dolls,

that have somewhere to go, a purpose, as if

they were alive in the maelstrom of mind

Homosap comes up with, with good or bad

intentions since his time began.

The Purge Of Evil: Update (“The Purge Of Evil”, November, 2011)

People commenting on President Trump’s

first days in office have been using the word

“purge” lately to describe the process that’s taking 

place with Trump’s Executive Orders, DOGE’s

investigations, and other soon to be confirmed

Cabinet members agendas. The word evil hasn’t 

been used by the people that will be running the

government much, but, as they say: the night is

still young. The more the truth about how the

American people have been targets for lies, mass

brainwashing, and mass murder for decades,

the more the  word “evil” will be used. 

Six months to a year.