Nope

You can’t be anywhere if you’re not already here.

Need I say more?

If you don’t know where you are, the first thing

to do is look around.

You can think about it later.

It’s all a car crash anyway, continuously unfolding.

“You could die walking your doggie.”

You took a chance being born, whether you wanted it or not.

We can make the best of it or just go get lost somewhere.

It’s never too late until it is which happens 

if you like it or not.

I had a three inch pipe full of dirty water 

blow up in my face…I considered it part of the job.

I jumped through the hoops, did what I had too, including

making mistakes to get to this point that is really not bad.

The years in Mexico, far from my land, were fantastic 

epiphanies. 

Two UFOs, two other life changing moments,

some never get one their whole lives.

I stopped thinking, then I quit drinking…

both like a flash.

There’s ordinary magic in my life, from the dentist, 

to the friends, to the moments of calm in the storm,

my own, the world, the universe always moving,

dancing the dakini polka, waltz, fandango, ballet.

The popcorn is getting expensive.

You know what I’m saying.

What Now?

Is there always something?

It doesn’t feel that way now

that I’m home and relaxed 

and know I have today and tomorrow 

to be so., 

so carpe diem at least for today.

What are you up to? Are you having fun?

Over your depression? Got a new look on life?

You’re just part of the food chain, like me, 

like everyone.

I’m a bottom dweller anymore…give us credit…

we’ve survived longer than most.

Make use of your environment, try to blend in,

is a strategy that seems to have worked for me.

Not in the corporate mannequin way,

no…just a known, harmless person, not a threat.

that’s good enough for me.

Some dark music, a few cigarettes, a pipe…

do I know what’s good for me?

I’m 77, but I can’t answer that question.

What I see is what I got, as is the same for you.

The aliens would agree.

Forgery

I was forged in a star and forged my identity

the first chance I could you can imagine why.

Samsara, the world we live in is a forgery, but

let’s not talk about that now.

As a forgery, I try to be honest, it’s the least I can do.

If people are constantly jumping to conclusions, that’s 

the way of the world.

But, let’s not talk about that now.

I’m hearing mourning doves, like in Illinois, like the

first time I came to Mexico…memories would be

good enough in court, good enough to think they 

happened that way. Rashomon, by Kurosawa, 

tells a different story, but let’s not talk about that now.

World changes, that’s for sure…whatever could they mean?

The internet is burning up with theories, evidence real and not.

Things are happening we never would have thought likely.

There’s so much to discuss, to try to understand, to talk about.

But let’s not talk about that now.

It’s all a big myth take, a big mistake, a case of mistaken identity,

the fallacy of misplaced concreteness, a magic show, a dream,

a bubble of consciousness we can’t hold onto, can’t hold down,

can’t keep in place because it’s a fluid, not a solid…”I am a verb.”

As  Fuller said….but let’s not talk about that now.

I’m making this up as I go along, BLNTATN.

Ode To Malcom Lowery: Honesty

I did it, Malcom,

I got stoned for the first time in a month.

I didn’t know, I went to a friend’s house,

further than I normally walk.

We caught up, he turned me on, 

I wasn’t used to it.

Going to the bathroom up a spiral staircase 

was like one of Odysseus’s trials.

It was epic, in a way.

When I left his place, I had to walk back,

a good five or six blocks of uneven pavement.

I negotiated gingerly, stumblingly, haltingly,

taking pauses every fifty yards or so.

I had to wonder if I’d make it or not.

I wasn’t just stoned, I’m 77… so the effect 

was that I was drunk, or having a stroke.

Negotiating phenomena in a drunken boat.

I think I rode my self/mind well.

What a relief now that I’m in my space.

I didn’t tell you the details, the walk back,

walking on  broken sidewalks between people,

I was sweating like a pig…my legs were rubbery,

like a beat up boxer,  getting my meatball, drugstore,

shopping market deeds done done done me in….

jumping through self created hoops of uncertainty,

using the training I got from being a hippy at twenty,

using the training I got that “raises my energy”,

Shambhala Warriorship that few experience,

In other words,  I made it, I got through the ordeal,

passed the test, grabbed the brass ring, whatever you say,

I’m here in the other side to tell the tale.

No big deal, just a whole life in a couple of hours

time compressed, like a  traffic accident that takes two hours,

it feels, but only took matters of seconds by the clock.

Oh yes, the dentist, before I saw my friend, boy he was great!

I thought I’d need a tooth pulled but he made a crown instead…

forty dollars, professional work, a little crazy good like all dentists,

so, that’s the good news.

Good weed, good dentistry, as it turns out as if by magic some days…

wouldn’t you?

Now that I’m relaxed after my ordeal, I’m getting more stoned.

Wouldn’t you?

I don’t mean to belittle my situation…

I was scared to death the whole lost time.

Soon I’ll eat a meatball, give one to the dog because I love her.

I can eat a meatball soon because my dentist told me so….Milagros.

I’m a decent human, aren’t I?  

How much more personal can I get than that question?

I’m not embarrassed, are you?

By the hair ye shall know them…

punk rock hair…

rainbow hair…

the chestnut hair of a thoroughbred girl…

Elvira mane of dark intent…

Raven’s texture on her head…not really hair…

Harley Quinn’s pigtails…sweet disaster…

you get the idea…

Thanks, Malcom, for your lost time that will 

never be lost because it’s in writing.

Nice to meet you under the volcano,

mind and pen in perfect combo.

Infinite Mirror

Reading a poem by Harrison about a Russian

poet named Yesenin who wrote his last poem

in his own blood before he hung himself…

Harrison a master troubadour was poor too

and depressed but wrote stunning words I 

wish I knew them both better so late to know

anything new just doors opening to other doors

as in a dream trying to go outside to green but

thwarted by repetition and keening drone of

history because we forget the mistakes we made

because the books were burned/lost in libraries/

in gleaming shuffle of bright shiny things we

grasp at like golden rings on a carousel always

slightly out of reach/no finish line with accolades 

just bread and thin soup which themselves almost

seem like a miracle at the end of days.

Good Night

Fan on room cool next month

will be hotter May the hottest

then rain but March is like a lamb

right now lots of clouds and a

little rain even   my friend is 

helping me so it looks like I’ll

make it another year a relief for

now one day at a time as they

say in AA and in Iran I bet five

days no bombs how good can it

get they may even get rid of the

repressive government forty 

seven years it’s about time but

I digress from my sleep I’m

ready you bet.

What Are You Waiting For?

If you’re desperate you’re not waiting.

If you’re rich you’re not waiting.

Anything in between is questionable.

Some people wait their whole lives 

and never arrive.

Some people have found their spot and 

aren’t waiting anymore…they could even

be poor.

La, La, La, I’m not saying much really, 

I’m just something else to ignore.

Maybe you like to read me… that and

fifty pesos will buy me a moka.

The beautiful birds aren’t waiting…

the clouds in the sky aren’t waiting…

the sea isn’t waiting, it beats at the shore…

only the Homosap is waiting…what for?

Evolution doesn’t just happen, we know

that for sure.

Are we waiting to go to Mars?

If we get there we’ll probably be

just waiting some more.

Beating my own beating heart,

but I’m not waiting, oh no.

I was so ready to start I’m already here.

I was one of the desperate ones.

Now I am not.

Thank goodness for that.

Tuesday For Instance

 “When I pray to God, I find that I’m 

talking to myself.” The Ruling Class

Same with writing just putting down what’s 

going on in the old cabesa giving the world

a talking to lord knows it needs one all those

crazy people with power who don’t know what’s 

good for them but then I digress from what exactly 

oh yes just the flow of words life like watching a

stream go always the same always new soothing

through sound and sight the senses we might pay

attention to water wears down mountains with its

patience like meditation lets the mind spin until

it runs out of momentum and we suddenly find 

ourselves there somewhere looking at something 

simply beyond time.

The Tender Heart Of Sadness

It’s sad, isn’t it?

Just look at history.

“Why can’t we all just get along?”

Who said that?

Was it Jesus?

Was it Buddha?

Oh, I remember, it was Rodney King,

a black man in the middle of a riot.

“Have a heart” is something people say sometimes.

Is it something people really want is a question.

Some have it naturally.

Some lost it long ago.

We don’t always have a choice.

We have more choices when we’re young.

As we grow older, we find ourselves pigeonholed 

by our decisions, become frozen in beliefs, there’s

less wiggle room.

Choose wisely, I could say.

7-8 billion people in the world, many dying everyday.

Some you know, you will too…

“Don’t cry, little grasshopper, we all go that way.”

Reality is not always pretty, not always what we want.

It’s not made up of Hallmark cards for sure.

Victory, failure, everything in between, are there as a

reminder, in case we were wondering.

The truth is never negative…we take it all in, or else,

we’re missing something.

Even enlightened beings cry sometimes.

The Scream is a famous painting, you tell me why.

I can’t do it for you.

Even Buddha said you had to work it out yourself.

Not losing heart is a start.

Letting go is not giving up.

It means shedding the things we cling to 

that don’t really help, things we can’t change,

like cancer, hoping to live a little longer.

We could go through the four stages of death 

right now, that might be a good exercise.

We might find our lives in the process…

what do you think?

I drank many years to numb the pain.

Now that I haven’t for years and my mind 

is trained, I feel it all in all its gory glory.

My broken heart has become my home.

You’re welcome to enter.

Please forgive the mess.

Warriorship

You don’t have to carry a gun.

You could wear decent clothes,

wash your face, be simply splendid.

When my teacher, Trungpa, started to

teach in America, his students, myself,

were all dirty hippies…we thought it cool

to let it all hang out.

When he asked us to cut our hair, wear

nice clothes, suits and ties, some of the

students were outraged and left his sangha.

Others of us realized we felt better.

Decency, kindness, authenticity, awake,

were things we could actually learn.

Killing with kindness is a phrase in our

lexicon we have heard.

It simply means being a good example.

Our clothes were our armor against

losing our minds in carelessness.

Isn’t that why people dress up for Church?

The same logic applies.

Why wait until Sunday to put on a good

face for the world?

We could always be decent and available 

to others.

Shambhala, enlightened society, happens that way.

“Fake it until you make it.” has some bearing here.

You don’t know until you try.

Osmosis is one way we learn, absorbing information 

through constant exposure,

like boot camp for Marines,

like practice at the dojo.

One thing’s for sure, the mind needs to be trained.

If you don’t do it yourself, the world does it for you.

Discipline leads to freedom…a master who’s gone

beyond training is an example.

We can master our lives or get lost in confusion,

blown this way and that by whatever arises.

That is our choice, and it’s always been that way.

A word to the wise is sufficient.

Dark

Evil true evil is something I hope you never see.

There’s too much of it in the world especially now.

I’ve been on the outskirts and quickly got away.

If I described it perfectly you’d never forget.

I write this now because I was reminded by 

something I saw a movie that goes as close as it can.

It wasn’t David Lynch but he touches on it.

Watch Blue Velvet if you want to see what I mean.

But that’s just a movie that doesn’t go all the way.

Some get a thrill at the top of a roller coaster.

Some think it cool to go to a horror show.

We know it’s all fake so we don’t mind what we see.

I lived with crazy people it took years to let go.

Even that is no match for what is out there.

When the truth is revealed, what’s going on in the world,

you’ll have to make your own choice to know.

That much has been said already by those in the know.

Taking Maduro out, Iran, are the tip of the iceberg.

No one likes war but war can be understood.

Dying in battle is not what I mean, though PTSS 

happens because of what the soldiers have seen.

I’m just finger painting what I don’t want to show.

If this makes you uneasy that’s as far as I’ll go.

Be kind to others, love, appreciate life.

These are things that evil cannot know.

Poverty

I never was really poor until now.

Now that I have that experience, 

I see what they were all talking about.

Poverty is painful, no doubt.

Now I’m just a poor poet, like so 

many before me.

At least, I’m in good company.

I’m glad it’s at the end of my life,

when misery is the norm.

I did what I wanted for most of my life,

if I failed I only have myself to blame.

I could have done something differently,

but I don’t know what that would be or

if it would have helped.

Maybe I could have been a famous, wealthy

actor, but look at what that biz is like now.

Should I have been a lawyer like my father?

There’s corruption there too, especially in

politics, it’s a joke don’t you know.

Instead I was a plumber, it worked for me well

for a long time…I could go anywhere and get

a job instantly…unfortunately, it didn’t make

me wealthy as it does for most now, because 

youths don’t want to work in the trades…they

do podcasts that make them millionaires…can’t 

argue with success.

Can’t argue with failure either…

can’t argue at all.

Reality doesn’t care what anyone thinks, it’s 

just there.

Old age, sickness and death is my future,

what I must face…at least I wasn’t a part of

the interminable degrading rat race.

Most of my friends are dead now anyway,

but, at least, I’m still able to pee.

I always wanted to end a poem with the word:

“Watermelon”

Like the rest of my life, if I didn’t succeed,

at least I was close.

Land Of The Sleaze And Home Of The Grift

Trillions in fraud is being exposed.

Social Security, that I rely on, has

also been robbed…it doesn’t keep

pace with inflation, death by a

thousand cuts.

Will Trump save the world?

It sounds like a fantasy, a myth.

Even if he does, it’s probably won’t 

happen soon enough to be of any

help to me…I’m just stating the facts.

The Kali Yuga, Dark Age, is here with

us now…whether it consumes the world

with its lies remains to be seen.

The truth is at risk, propaganda abounds.

People are brainwashed by media, 

entertainment, sound bites, all the usual 

suspects.

Children are indoctrinated not educated.

The plot is evident if you can see, many

don’t because their minds are numb.

Art, music, poetry that used to show the

world truth and beauty are bereft of reality,

part of the plot to steal meaning from lives.

I’m like the little Dutch girl with a finger

in the dike…

we all know how that turned out.

What do you know?

I knew in ‘63 when JFK was killed,

the beginning of America’s fall.

Now I just watch the plot that sickens

and makes fools of us all.

I’m just a voice crying in the

wilderness of the internet, obscured

by cacophony of bytes that eat us alive.

The bag lady, the ranting ragged bum,

are my brothers and sisters.

I weep for us all.

Living Color

Life loves color.

All the fiestas attest.

Funeral processions carry flowers

as gifts for the dead…

icons in shades of pastel,

a racing stripe on a car,

clown make up to make a point.

Chromesthesia sees sound as color,

a trick of the mind.

A tool of survival: hummingbirds

see the color of pollen.

Red, yellow and green tell us to

stop or go.

A lady in a flowered dress is 

very attractive.

White is all the colors, black is none.

White hats, black hats distinguish 

good from evil.

That’s a cliche, but why is it that way?

I’m feeling blue, I’m seeing red…

colors we use to express.

When I visited the Art Institute of Chicago,

my eyes always hurt from the overload of color.

Matisse, Van Gogh, used color to dazzling effect.

When I had cataracts, the world was amber and vague.

After I had them removed, the world was psychedelic

until I got used to color again. 

We sometimes say the truth is black and white, or,

many shades of grey.

That’s not exactly right…we see the world through 

a prism that divides the light into colors..it adds

complexity into the games we play.

Viva color!

It always makes my day.

Turn On

Turn me on, I say, so I can say more words.

Start me up, I love that song, so positive 

into the thick of things this reality we find

ourselves in if we’re lucky, if we find ourselves 

ever at all not lost in the shuffle of causes and

conditions beyond our control.

Live a little would be good while you have time

not measuring out the future with such coffee spoons

that you numbly never get to, or retirement even

when all you find out is that you never knew how

to live in the first place, driven by fear until you

got there, then what is your only empty question,

taking cruises, visiting ruins in case that will help.

There’s so much good that could be done if only

we wanted to…that doesn’t occur to many

self absorbed into their own survival, not much

better than the other monkeys out on a limb.

Yes, a little cynical…I’d be good as a Blues

musician but I can’t carry a tune unfortunately.

Fortunately, I’m cheerful in spite or because of

cynicism, which, besides beauty, all the artists

are familiar with…Punk rock, for example, or

the paintings of Francis Bacon, beauty and horror 

in the same venue, the avenue of lost souls, which

has its own fascination like a battlefield in aftermath.

When will we ever learn? The truth has always been

out there, which, in fact, is right here, the dead horse

I continue to beat like Krag on a drum…is that a

conundrum? Just thought I’d ask in case anyone is

listening.

Icarus

I’ve been winging it my whole life

sometimes flying high, at others

closer to the ground, like now. 

I looked into the eyes of some that

told me what I should do and saw

they didn’t have a clue themselves,

so I took off as soon as I could and

have been soaring ever since, though,

like Icarus, the wax is melting and I’m

falling as the parable we know.

“What goes up must come down.”

as Buddhist a saying as you can get.

John Lear, the son who flew the jets,

knew more that what was good for him,

but lived with no regrets…no point in

crying over candle wax…the truth is all

to know, if that, if it can be seen…better 

to have loved and lost than 

never loved at all, to have known love

for once more poignant than a siren’s call…

the rocks in the sea onto which we finally fall

are there nonetheless.

Bougainvillea

Red/mauve bush exploding over the street

wabi-sabi like as if someone put it there by

accident/maybe they did/not out of place/more

like natural vibrant bombshell in its self created

space untrimmed and gorgeous spontaneously 

splendid the way all art should be (he said an aside)

an inspiration people pass by and oh yes they see.

Samurai

I’d like to die like a samurai in battle,

fighting for a worthy cause.

I’d like to live like one in the certain awareness

that death could come at any time.

The longer I live, the closer I come, the more

I beat my own hopeless drum.

The Charge of the Light Brigade immortalized 

in poetry, futility on a pedestal, a prelude to 

World War, industrialized hopelessness.

There was the Lost Generation after WW one,

the Beats after WW two…it was something 

that they knew.

Paradise on earth avoids us except for the few

that found it by accident or trained their minds,

saw through the illusion of existence, what the

samurai knew.

Is that why they were determined enough to cut

their stomachs open in final sacrifice, or was it a

cultural thing to do?

I wonder if any/many ran away instead…I bet

there were a few.

It hurts to die, which is probably good to keep

survival going, humanity on track.

Canada makes it easy to die: one hundred thousand 

euthanized so far, government sanctified, but what

do Canadians really have to live for, a wag might say…

it’s cold up there and the fishing isn’t that good anymore.

On the other hand, the Inuit survive…I doubt they ask

“What for?”

“Death is real, comes without warning, this body will 

be a corpse.” might  have come from the samurai, but

it’s actually a Buddhist reminder…so the samurai didn’t 

have a corner on that market.

People here notice me but don’t bother me, like motorists

passing a bad accident slowly, looking for a glimpse of gore.

A mystery, a tragedy, entertainment in misfortune, I find it

curious that the “special forces” in movies get so quickly

taken down by the heroes, cannon fodder as was coined before.

Today we’re entertained by death even more,

which inures us to its reality.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

American Kachina

I’m a gringo Kachina clown walking around town

in colorful clothes and socks as a reminder of the

colorful world that dazzles us all at times in case

they forgot…not likely in Mexico fiesta land where

color and loud music is mostly what they have. 

People I don’t know know my name, so I must be

making a slight impression.

You’d Think

You’d think someone would have made sense of it all by now,

written an instruction manual on life that we all studied growing 

up so we wouldn’t have to figure it out for ourselves but that

doesn’t seem to be the way things work...maybe in some primitive 

cultures or ancient China but not now we’re all too preoccupied.

I got a book in registered mail today…first anything registered

in the twenty years I’ve been here from Michael White, the author,

look him up, full of stories about visions and the like from his

esoteric life… he knew the Beats from Naropa University so many

great anecdotes about them…more people than you imagine have

spent lots of time delving into far out dimensions, others remain in

their rocking chairs sipping beer and trying to forget all their bad

decisions…it takes all kinds or is that just the way it is you decide.

I’ve got plenty of stories interesting and shameful so I’m like all

the rest of them/you/us however you want to put it. I feel lately I’m

in my own rut writing dharma themed pieces of my mind…I’ll give

you a piece of my mind and hope it brings peace of mind although 

who knows what impressions you make outside of car accidents?

I’m not an accidental tourist because I like to go to a location and 

stay for a while to soak up what’s really going on…I can always buy

a postcard if I want to send someone a picture…do I have to draw 

you a picture? I fell in love with this town twenty years ago and have

only left for short hiatuses. I’m trapped here now because of causes

and conditions but at least I’m trapped in Paradise…not sure if that’s 

an oxymoron but maybe in the neighborhood. April and May coming

up are the warmest months here never much over 90 degrees but my

place heats up because of the sun doesn’t cool down until midnight 

which is tolerable. At least I’m not in Gringolandia, the U.S.A., which

seems to get crazier by the day…certainty not the place I knew when

I was young. I wish the best for everyone…that’s called wishful 

thinking given the way things are going. Buddha said these times 

would come, in fact, all the religions say so at least they got one 

thing right. Believe at your own risk. My friend was in the hospital 

and in the room next to him was a minister who was young had a wife 

and young children and was dying. He was pissed/questioned why 

God had allowed this to happen to him very upset. Why not is the 

cynical truth. I know the fix I’m in is due to my own stupidity so 

karma rears its head again. I can’t complain. So to all of you out 

there who might read this good luck/try to be aware

and have fun out there. Why not is also applicable here.

Kerouac Was Right

“Let’s live suddenly without thinking.” eecummings

Let the thoughts stream, the senses open to the world, 

let there be light of day, clouds, trees, everything always

there each day always as like the first time we opened our

eyes dazzled by the impossible truth of existence, our home,

this world…why not take advantage of simple life the air

we breathe the songs we sing even the Blues are beautiful 

especially at night in a seedy bar down by the docks perfume

of sawdust and sour beer of sad hearts some call it home

not stuck in your heads of weary thoughts the dogs don’t care

neither do the other humans stuck in their own ruts on track

to the nowhere we all find ourselves at at the end…that’s why

now is the only time a gift a magic spell the universe somehow 

conjured…too much time wasted in speculation when the answer

is always in front of you like the wind we cannot see but can 

only feel it is no mystery because it’s the way it should be how

could it be any other way? Simplicity makes wise fools of us all

a man with a line in a stream waiting with minimal expectations,

a job well done let’s have a beer in celebration…all the mundane

joys we miss if we aren’t really there in the swing of things…that’s 

all Buddha was saying…he was just trying to help.

It’s all about bliss/ecstasy in a simple cup of tea in the aroma of

fresh bread and the scent of a rose..no one has come up with

anything better in all the soap operas stories and plots that

entertain for a moment and are forgotten just as quickly.

That’s why Buddha held up a flower.

That’s why his student smiled.

The Game Is Afoot

The mountains haven’t moved yet.

Silent actors, their time hasn’t come.

They arose from the landscape, like

us all.

Now they are witness to what’s going on.

Sometime in the future they will crumble

and fall.

Hard to believe, but it’s true.

“I will not be and all will not be.” Shantideva

The game is afoot, as it has been for millennia.

Lots of endings but no conclusion.

I think of the millions that have died in the wars…

pathetic history we haven’t learn from.

Wasted lives because someone thought something.

Power over others, P.O.O..

From tribes that fought other tribes to the whole

world in turmoil.

That’s progress for you.

Everyone loves a good mystery, or else they don’t.

It depends on how personal it is.

The biggest questions never get answered.

That’s why there’s so much belief.

Always looking for answers “out there”.

Maybe on Mars we’ll find the truth.

We don’t recognize our brains are the universe,

where all the answers are, if only we would look.

Instead we look at the stars, as if they had something 

to say.

Of course there are aliens…no wonder they’re shy,

watching the smart monkeys making a mess of things.

Buddhists know about them because their minds are trained.

In this time of dark confusion, no one listens to them.

Today, the monkeys place their trust in machines that only

make them lose themselves even more.

Still, beauty, love, the basics, remain as reminders,

in case anybody cares.

Some do because reality never becomes monolithic.

There’s the Yin Yang thing, the constant change of

the pendulum swing.

There will always be a few that tell it like it is.

Two plus two is not reality…it always adds up to

infinity, endless complexity, unfathomable, what

we can’t understand but at least we can see…

I learned that long ago when I took L.S.D..

Laugh while you can, Monkey Boy.

We can learn how to ride a bicycle, make wars,

oh so many things.

Why we ride or fight is another thing altogether.

Do we even know why we do what we do?

Through habit, we forget why we started at all.

At the end, we find ourselves somewhere…

is it where we had hoped to be?

That seems like a natural question.

I know, too heavy, say something nicer…

believe me, I’d like to, but I can’t help myself.

I’ve become what I’ve become, 

for better or worse,

like even the mountain.

Musings

That’s poetry for you…

contemplating out loud,

like songs with pithy lyrics,

art that stops you in your tracks,

singing to the stars at a campfire,

a handbill passed out to a crowd.

A catchy tune catches you, becomes

a mind worm that you can’t shake.

Even The Beach Boys had something to say.

Teenaged girls screaming at the Beatles

because of the longing in their hearts.

Not just information…art communicates

experience.

Poetry is inefficient: a picture is worth a

thousand words.

Music echoes down the ages and never gets old.

The town is quiet today between fiestas.

Old guys like me like it that way.

Smoking cigarettes, toka mort,

longing for nonexistence.

“When will they ever learn?”

that’s a line from a sixties folk song,

the answer is pending.

An enlightened guy said his teaching method

was like a blind man swinging a stick in a crowd

occasionally hitting someone.

That’s a good analogy for how we learn from art.

“You can lead a whore to culture, but you can’t 

make her think.” Dorothy Parker…similar sentiment.

The truth is never negative.

It’s the lies that enslave us.

Riding into the future in our shiny convertible 

with gleaming teeth, 

we just numbly don’t get there.

Many more ways to get lost than to be found.

If the truth was a snake, it already bit you.

Looking for an antidote, we measure out our

lives with coffee spoons…

Stavros Narcos on his treadmill

hoping to never die.

Beautiful Dreamer

I went to the past in a dream

I had this morning…one of

those dreams where it seems

like you’re actually there.

It was a beautiful dream…

the details aren’t important.

I woke up refreshed, a fresh

start to my old life.

“So what?” I hear myself 

saying to myself.

At least my subconscious is

not troubled by the things of

this world, this dream we call

our lives.

We are dreaming, you know…

our lives are a very real illusion,

a magic trick we believe in.

The Buddhists say so, Feynman,

the physicist, says so…

we add beliefs to our belief in

our lives and get lost in thinking

we know.

Taking sides and fighting wars

over false assumptions.

For what it’s worth, no one is right

if everybody’s wrong.

All our evolution hasn’t gotten us

past mistaken identity,

the fallacy of misplaced concreteness.

I’m fortunate that the truth of illusion

is embedded in my mind.

War Games

OK, not a game because people are dying.

A game because pieces are moved to win.

Strategy of leaders affect people’s lives.

Stalin slaughtered the intellectuals to limit

the opposition….so did Hitler and Mao 

and Pol Pot…game theory…just a game.

Making Americans stupid with fake news

and propaganda has the same effect…”they”

would kill the American people if they could,

but Americans have guns…a dangerous game,

and free speech to point out what’s happening

that hasn’t been suppressed.

Still, the C.I.A. did a pretty good job 

brainwashing America…just look at all the

purple hair, piercings…too much for normality.

MK ULTRA was a winning technique, until

it wasn’t…a great awakening is happening.

The Dark Age, the Kali Yuga, when the truth

cannot be heard, is what all religions fear,

just looking ahead for thousands of years to

this time, what possible moves might be played.

What part of Satanic pedophiles don’t you think 

is happening? Red Rover, Red Rover let the 

blackmailed come over. 

Evil is an acquired taste.

The game is afoot.

A winner is not obvious.

Two thousand years of deception is hard 

to dispel.

Amazingly, it could be happening.

Latah

Doomed to repeat myself

in words

in gestures

because the truth is always the same,

a sandwich board with the words:

“The End Is Near.”

Love song laments,

transparent mysteries,

plots that thicken and dissolve,

the plans of mice and men.

Everything has already been said,

even as I lean over closer to make a point,

in case they forgot.

Atoms forged in a star come together

to make us all…the differences are

only superficial.

If only we could see…

if only we would look.

Mind’s machinations that we rely on for support

are futile, a waste of time, when time is all we have.

“In a moment there is time for decisions and

revisions that a moment will reverse.”

Only humor cheers us up.

“You’d better laugh, folks, because these are the jokes.”

Some think I laugh inappropriately.

I think they don’t get the punchline,

which is everything you see.

Instead, they believe, because they take the whole thing

too seriously, not that it isn’t a tragedy.

That’s why black humor arose.

Uniformity isn’t that things are all the same.

It exists to simulate security,

the false bottom a magician uses to perform 

an illusion,

a politician uses to hide the truth…

lipstick on a pig.

Confusion exists because the mind is not

trained to see through it.

Repetition is how we learn.

Kind Of A Drag (apologies to the Buckinghams)

Your guess is as good as mine.

How’s your life plan working out for you?

Getting you where you want to go?

I did pretty well except for this last

uncertainty of death part.

I lived ten years longer because I quit drinking.

Those were some good years.

Coming together, falling apart, what goes up

must come down.

The truth can be boring.

That’s why we make things up.

But Disneyland never lives up to expectations,

the occasional pot of gold notwithstanding.

Even the universe wants a little more time.

Escaping from reality is absurd!

It never happened!

One would think there would be more interest in reality!

Strangely, that’s not the case!

Homosap is still up to his old tricks!

Another World War!

Why not!

We haven’t had one in a while!

Maybe someone will win this time!

There’s a first time for everything,

and everything has already had its first time!

Even space aliens are nothing new!

It’s too late to keep up with the Joneses!

The Joneses are planning a trip to Mars!

Evolution Or Bust!