Eggtooth Breaks Open

After Thrust

2012-01-30T15:36:00.000-08:00

After this
After thus
Altered state
Might be an afterthought,
afterbirth,
aftertaste
aforethought
a None-Such
a blank stare into black No….
a positive negative full
of possibility but no promise,
like when you first got off
the bus in Manhattan.

Huh

2012-01-28T16:35:00.000-08:00

Sad sweet truth from long ago 'til now and forever.

For The Broken Record

2012-01-25T19:31:00.000-08:00

Play it again
the joy the pain,
oh, you will….
because you can’t
help yourself, Sam.

Misunderstanding

2012-01-25T17:24:00.000-08:00

did I say something wrong?
did I say nothing?
did I say nothing wrong?

Pick Up Styx

2012-01-19T20:37:00.000-08:00

Moving along at the speed of
lethargy. Picking up coupons
for the next life…speeding at
the pace of oblivion,.. the lotus
leaves of material wealth tearing
voraciously at the flesh of our minds.

You There

2012-01-19T20:16:00.001-08:00

You there...
who reads this…
Why?
What’s the connection?
Are you bored
alone
desperate
looking for something?

Is the truth in front of you not enough?

Or, is it possible you don’t see
the truth, and you’re looking for it?

Yes,
It’s possible…
It’s likely
It’s true.

It's Official: The U.S.A. is a Fascist State

2012-01-19T11:07:00.000-08:00

On March 3, the day before my birthday, the
Defense Authorization Act takes effect, meaning
that after that date, the United States Government
is authorized to detain American Citizens indefinitely,
for no reason, without trial. At that time, the transition
from Democracy to Fascist State will be complete.
What an irony that the first black President would be
the person to eliminate the freedoms of all American
citizens. What the world must think of the U.S.A..
As for me, I never intend to go back there. The biggest
problem with this Fascist State, is that it is not a
dictatorship of a few: the whole society is corrupt
from the top down….from the corporate shills that rob
the country, to the stupid, obese, brainwashed masses
that allow them to do so. As Richard Dreyfuss said
decades ago: “The reason why there are no
revolutionaries in the U.S.A., is that they would be like
spoil sports at an orgy.” Well, the party’s over, the jig is up,
and it’s possible that all hell might break loose very soon.

Words

2012-01-17T20:56:00.001-08:00

Words do a thing to me
dance, ping-pong off each
other in my head.

Power of word
Power of mantra
Power of art…

“See no future, pay no rent,
all the money’s gone,
no where to go,” Beatles

O

(3 stanzas of a poem written
an understanding of where
I"m going...new phase...
drunk and stoned as fire
It all becomes clearer
the clearer it becomes....
but don't take my words for it...
I'm a moron....
(more on that later)....
and so it goes.....
Kurt Vonnegut's favorite phrase)

Oh yes, whatever…I’ve been there
STRONG before by now.
So words continue, you see, like the sea,
do they mean anything…does the water
mean anything as it burbles down the stream?

Words mean anything
you just have to put them
together right like a spaghetti
dinner, a pound of flesh,
a proclamation of freedom.

Plumbing Story

2012-01-11T13:08:00.000-08:00

I was a plumbing apprentice in Boston, circa 1972,
I worked for a company that was going down,
because the smart partner died. They were reduced
to selling pornography and stolen goods from the shop.
One morning, one of the plumbers came into work
soaking wet. He had driven his car into the Charles
river early that morning. I was assigned to work
with him that day. We went to the building he
had been installing a new heating system in. He went
into a room and said: “I’m going to sleep…make sure
no one bothers me.” I waited there for however long.
When he came out, he got a call for a stopped up toilet
in the building. We went to the apartment, and he
started working on the toilet. The plunger and toilet auger
didn’t work. He pulled the toilet, and snaked it
from the outlet, which yielded no results. In desperation,
he got a hose and stuck it in the toilet. The bathroom was
tiled halfway up the wall, with a floor drain, so he wasn’t
worried about water. He wrestled with that toilet and hose
for a good twenty minutes. Suddenly, a gigantic turd slithered
out like a snake. We looked at each other in a primordial
state of mind, because seeing the turd we were so shocked
that anyone could have produced it. It was a true moment
of awakening.

Going Along As If Nothing Had Happened

2012-01-05T13:51:00.000-08:00

Going along as if nothing had happened..
Going along as if you never were born.
Going along as if life has always been this way.
Going along as if your assistant had never
fucked that boy in the shower.

Going along…only seeing what you need to
right in front of you…plowing ahead
regardless of the consequences…

Sleepwalking in your favorite dream
till the accident….ravishing America
with greed till what you’ve gained
becomes worthless.

“Don't ask me about it…
I know nothing about it...
Nobody else knew either…
So, I went on in a fog, thinking
That nothing had happened.”

Pablo Neruda: "Don't Ask"

Street Fighting Man

2012-01-04T16:02:00.001-08:00

Put this song out now...go to internment.....(1968)

Perfect Timing

2012-01-02T10:52:00.000-08:00

Too late...shouda been
there…uh…here…
as they used to say till
now became suburb of
when?

Here I am again…
every time.
Sometimes
I think I’m late…
lately the synchronicity
is catching up to me.

Sometimes I think I see:
“Capture that light in a
prism, Spock, before it
turns to ash!”

The only perfect time
is now.
The only time is now.

letter

2011-12-19T13:04:00.000-08:00

Winter continues unabatedly beautiful weather-wise
in Mexico. The murders have slowed down for the holiday
season. The market abounds with toys from China. The
indigenous don't have much out on display so far in the
Zocalo, the center of town. Two blocks of the main drag,
Calle Cinco de Mayo, are torn up by large machines to put
big pipes in them. As a former plumber, I observe what they're
doing, and I'm left with a surrealistic impression....the pipes
are necessary as an image is necessary in a dream. Their work
does not follow formal logic or utilitarianism, from a
gringo plumbers p.o.v.. I was walking to my friend's house yesterday
for dinner, about a mile and a half away, down a main street that
leads to Amatlan, a bedroom-of-this-bedroom-community,
Tepoztlan. As I was walking I saw, and smelled my life's-blood,
sewage, a river flowing from some residence or posada, for at least
a half a mile, in the direction I was walking. It eventually found it's
way into a gully and hence to a riverbed. So, yes, surreal
infrastructure...what more could a plumber-poet ask for?

Holidays and New Year...and what a new year! 2012, when, for once,
all the flakey prophets might be right. I've had too many personal visions
and waking dreams in my life to ignore the larger signs....which are, actually,
prophesies from all major religions coming true when they said they
would....like, now. 2500 years of prophesy from Buddha....look it up.
You want to go on reading Harpers, the Atlantic, NYTImes, ect. and
roil in the culmination of intellectual prosperity inherited from the
"Awakening", Renaissance, Whatnot, go ahead. Rational
Mind, like the dinosaur has had it's time of dominance. What did it
accomplish? The imminent destruction of the world....hey, so long,
and thanks for all the thesi!

Occam's razor...the simplest explanation is usually the closest
to the truth. The Jacarandas will bloom in January, trees full of lavender
blossom. My survival paradigm will work as long as the current world paradigm
continues. That's why I drink everyday. Why look for a future when
you can't see one? Yes, a slightly negatory
p.o.v., however, it's just one life...it's just one world.

Doing Time

2011-12-14T16:33:00.000-08:00

Wasting time
making time
schtupified

waiting for any shoe to fall.

It was nice earlier, when I was busy
in seemingly meaningful made up realities.

Now it's just me and the landscape,
pen and paper as an excuse
that something is actually happening.

When Trungpa, Rinpoche was alive
and we were young, crazy eyed,
overflowing with hormonal glee...

It was magnificent and terrifying
and everything else all at once.

Now it's just a still life in nature
punctuated by belch and butterfly,
humming bird and fart.

Smokey, The Bare Wood

2011-12-12T15:31:00.000-08:00

Cement truck coming at ya fast
now what…
maybe not even that much time.

Shedding Confusion

2011-12-10T13:53:00.000-08:00

The world humans are born into is a
confused world…it’s nature is confusion.
Humans are born with a blank slate, onto
which is written their experience.
But what’s doing the writing is not unbiased…
we learn from our parents,
teachers, environment. Those aspects are
biased towards confusion. As
a result, we grow up as confused beings.

The mechanism that creates our confused
world has three aspects: passion,
aggression, and ignorance. We build our
world by grasping what we want,
rejecting what we don’t want, and ignoring
everything else. This mechanism,
while somewhat efficient at survival, is not
interested in anything else. Because
our minds are not trained in anything but this
instinctive reactiveness, our lives
are lived at it’s mercy.

But there is something more. There is the
“I don’t know” component to our
experience. This “I don’t know” is experienced
when we try to learn anything,
but it is deeper than that. There is a fundamental
“I don’t know” that haunts us
our whole lives.

As we build the edifice of our lives,
the fundamental “I don’t know”,
sometimes expressed as “what is reality?”
is put in a closet of that edifice
and the edifice is built around it. Because
the edifice seems so real, the
fundamental “I don’t know” is hidden.
The world that is built around “I don’t
know” overwhelms it, but it never disappears.

The more solid the edifice seems, the less
concern there is about the “I don’t
know.” in the closet. If “I don’t know” rears
it’s head in experience, we either
quickly throw it into the closet, or, we try to
paint it with belief, concept, and
hang it on the wall of the edifice as an enhancement.
When our life reaches it’s
conclusion and the edifice we’ve built inevitably
crumbles, what we’re left
with is “I don’t know.”

This “I don’t know” is the key that unlocks real
reality, the unconfused world.
To use that key, we have to look into the “I don’t
know” itself. The means to do that is the practice of
meditation. Through the practice of mediation and the
cultivation of awareness, the fundamental “I don’t know’,
the question “What is reality?” answers itself. At that point,
confusion disappears.

A Flurry Of Mirrors

2011-12-07T13:19:00.000-08:00

Mirror of my mind
So called reality
Space with a tinge of
Something called
Experience.

No more substantial
Than a rainbow, yet,
Seeming so.

So very….very, yet,
Always constantly changing,
Like a cloud of smoke.

Even a mountain
Is very slow smoke.

Our thoughts are
Nothing more than smoke….
That’s why we smell
Rubber burning….
A pipe dream…
(dream on)

Nothing more than
Light reflected in
A teardrop
Dewdrop
Drop of blood
Ruby
Diamond
Emerald
Lake
Ocean
Mirror.

Holiday Cheer

2011-12-05T13:47:00.000-08:00

It’s beginning to look like Armageddon…
Everywhere you go…..
The bombs are going off,
Global warming makes us cough,
And all the chemicals in the air….

Radioactive white snowflakes are falling….
Everywhere you go…
Chernobyl wasn’t enough,
Fukushima was hanging tough,
Till’ an earthquake was right there….

It’s beginning to seem the Mayans were right
Everywhere you go…..
Time is speeding up,
Information is catching us,
And World Economy in the air.

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth,
and gums that do not bleed….

(Hey, Kids! Add your own verses!!
Make this an "Occupy Poem"!!!
((nudge, nudge, pass it around!)) )

http://youranonnews.tumblr.com/post/13784338017/its-beginning-to-look-a-lot-like-nazi-germany

(Is The Mike On?)

2011-11-28T14:02:00.000-08:00

Dear Rita,
we’re not all equal (egalitarianism not the same as equanimity) (x Democracy)
and people tend to form classes naturally (natural hierarchy). (x Classlessness)
“democratic values” is almost an anachronism already.
spiritual power…or, in this case (Occupy World) whether positive or negative
now
is what will change things
societal realities are moving more into their elementary particles
so even the phrase “social change” falls…”clunk”.
there’s no time and it’s getting to be a bit too much.

Marching Into The Future With Great Teeth

2011-11-27T14:42:00.000-08:00

It’s getting to be a bit much
It’s getting to be a bit much
Marching into the future with great teeth

It’s getting to be a bit much
It’s getting to be a bit much
Saluting the policeman as you get out of the cab

It’s getting to be a bit much
It’s getting to be a bit much
Fighting over discount underwear you have to have

It’s getting to be a bit much
It’s getting to be a bit much
Looking for life everywhere but in front of you

The Algorithm Is Reaching It’s Five O’clock Shadow

2011-11-21T19:49:00.000-08:00

The algorithm is reaching it’s five o’clock shadow,
and Billy hasn’t yet returned with the dumplings…
… don’t cha know you can go anywhere from there?

…the most significant piece of modern art is a urinal,
and I told my mother a thousand times we weren’t in trouble…
the people in control can’t control themselves, so,
“What’s eating you?” takes on a new dimension.

“Mandelbrot This! Cosmic Charley!”
was the headline….there were just too many pieces
to identify anything….but, at least, the hotdog stand
was still functioning…

Compassion

2011-11-21T14:46:00.000-08:00

Look at it this way…you’ll understand
if you have children or parents…
you Love them….which doesn’t necessarily
mean you Like them. Look at all sentient beings
that way, because they ARE your family.
That is compassion.

The Purge Of Evil

2011-11-19T09:27:00.000-08:00

For everything there is a season.
This is the time of hell on earth.
This is the time of the flowering of evil.
The Lords of Materialism have seized power…
It is their time.

The karma they accumulate from their evil deeds
Will rid the world of them for a long time….
They will not be reborn as human.
It is the time of the purge of evil.

Remain human!
Don’t get sucked into their trip!
This has to happen now!
Remain human! Remain human!
Don’t give into their bloody game!
What goes around comes around!
Cultivate compassion!
The leaders are lost in lust!
Their self-destruction is inevitable!

It’s Done With Mirrors

2011-11-15T18:16:00.000-08:00

Must be…
if movies seem real reel,
i.e., done with mirrors…

All perception is experienced
in the mirror of your mind….
must be…perception of what?
Reflection…radar…

Clay-mates….we all are…made of the same…
genetic material mirror flashes…
memory beyond time,
cosmic meme…otherwise we wouldn’t
know to get lost.

Sitting In A Bus Terminal, Minneapolis, 1969

2011-11-15T16:18:00.000-08:00

Tripping on acid….
Blowing bubbles with one
of those plastic wands…
grumbling from across the room…
the Ticket Master comes over,
says: “Stop blowing bubbles.
The old people don’t like it.”

Endings:

1.We knew it was the end of time…or, close.

2. We spent a week just thinking about that.

3. A Mandelbrot of endings.

Three D Poem

2011-11-06T16:59:00.000-08:00

Panic at a pic-a-nic
reaching over the ants
for the cornbread
my stomach doesn’t need this
blurting out from my tee shirt…

…in mists of dawn no one thought
they’d ever see again, the shattered
landscape flowering with determination,
a possibility of balance once more…

…at the café on Rue Bouland,
perfect jour de printemps, her hair
in the breeze, the whistle from a
potato cart, bad news from the East.

Day of the Dead 2011 Tepoztlan

2011-10-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

They’re here
Ready to party
Because that’s how they died…
That’s how they lived.

Fiesta is their religion…
That’s what’s with all the flowers…
That, and the dead live on and in the scent…
A trail of blossoms leads to their old home.

The dead are here
Ready to be alive…
Like the live are ready to party
And die.

A Thousand Glass Eyes

2011-10-31T09:56:00.000-07:00

A thousand glass eyes were staring
Hands limp at the sides
As the Leader pulled the lever
No one cried.

A thousand glass eyes were staring
At the incoming tide
Standing in place
Mouths shut tight and dry.

A thousand glass eyes were staring
Away from the sun
Looking at the light
In the glint from a gun.

A thousand glass eyes were staring
At the flag that was still there
The wind had no will to unfurl it
In dawn’s rabid red glare.

Wholemind

2011-10-28T18:21:00.001-07:00

Great minds think in holograms
Not paradigms
Struggle of a plant to green
Struggle to hologram
Manifest the whole in part
Unfolding the lotus beyond
Rational mind.

2 Arn/John

2011-10-28T17:06:00.001-07:00

Which way will you go after death?
Do I have a choice?
Discretion is real it seems.

Somehow, perfection is cracked.
Lost in such possible dream
I guess I’ll go with door number two.

Having Fun Going Down

2011-10-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

Face it.
No one depends on me
except me and,
as far as I can see,
what’s in front of me
is the denouement, the
going down, just a natural
part of life of this ephemeral
organism…this is where the
prism of light becomes clear
digesting the past so the present
dance has the meaning of it all
but not the plodding weight
of mind, of baggage, what we
carry that has no meaning.

Having fun going down….so fun
So very …very…of things as they are…
playing on a blue guitar.

Anal Mucus

2011-10-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

Only the best…
Wake up now, Fuckers…
It doesn’t get any other than this…
Buck up, Spunky! We got more chips!

Ars Poetica: Pool Analogy

2011-10-25T17:10:00.000-07:00

I write with the intention that I play pool:

I don’t care if I win a lot…just give me

one good bank on the eight ball,

because that's what they'll remember.

Raw Meat

2011-10-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

Do you see it?
Can you taste it?
It’s only words
Did you react?
How’s about I say…
Anal mucus….
Yes…negative
Reaction by many…
Only words…
The association
A memory…
A personal meme…
Only words.

So numbarded are we
Everyday by words
We live as a pack of
Over stimulated
Over reacting
Slathering dogs
Howling silently
Through malls

That’s why I don’t
Learn Spanish…the
Silence is getting louder…
Peace is rearing it’s
Gigantic space.

I’m just a peace
of raw meat
in an open place.

Not Enough

2011-10-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

Not enough, no, the night
That flames it’s darkness
And knows that all the tells
Of what is known
Don’t seem to be enough,
No, the heart is still the tell…
The heart is always the tell.

There's More Now

2011-10-23T18:18:00.000-07:00

Why?
If ever…..
Jeeze, you get up
and more is expected

for me, getting up is enough.

More now is because there is more now

Of everything….even in Mexico….Cost Co
Sam’s Club

Everything is everywhere

Now and forevermore….

Suckers…..

Not me, because…

I got up.

Bad News

2011-10-23T17:50:00.000-07:00

I’ll give you what you want if I have it,
which I don’t, so, if you’ll forgive me,
which you won’t, I must say this night
is too vivid and too long because it must
be for some insane reason which must be
me.

Blogdonovitch

2011-10-23T17:39:00.000-07:00

Poem For Blog

Here, Blog, fetch my mind as it is now,
tendrelized, yes, sweetly, like anything
constructed, like a night, like a palace,
like a prison so beautiful in the now,
in the tension between the music I hear
and the words I write like Hemingway
tripping on life and death…..but let’s not
talk about that now…let’s wait till the
extreme shivers begin to call.

John Fahey

2011-10-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

Just because I love this and him.

Selfone

2011-10-10T06:21:00.000-07:00

Who needs a chip in the head?
There’s already a broken record
up there twenty four seven…the
monkey needs to be tamed.

Tepoztlan Story

2011-10-07T10:21:00.000-07:00

“Thirty five years ago, there were no cars in Tepoztlan.
There were taxis, but most of their work was in Cuernavaca.”

Jerry had come to Tepoztlan in a busload of clowns, real ones,
from San Francisco about that long ago. They left and he stayed,
working for local bands, and later as a massage therapist. He was
a colorful character, but his Spanish was excellent, and the locals
took to him. He dropped out of Yale. He dropped out of everything.

“One time, back then, a taxi driver from Tepoztlan picked up a fare
in Cuernavaca at night. He didn’t get a good look at his passenger.
While they were driving, his passenger asked him if he was from
Tepoztlan. The driver said: “Yes, but how did you know?”
The passenger responded: “That’s not important. What is, is that
I have a message for the people of Tepoztlan. When the great
sorrow comes, Tepoztlan will be protected. You can let me out here.”

The driver stopped the car and let the man out. It was the middle of
nowhere. When the driver turned to collect his fare, the man was gone.

Evidently this story has been lore, since then, among the local
people. And the local people, the Tepoztecos, are not New Age
flakes.

They Know (A Fantasy)

2011-10-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

The gutting of the US economy with no response
from the justice system… two wars that Obama
said he would stop still going on after four years….
2.3 TRILLIONS of dollars lost in those wars.…
for ten years the building of underground cities
across the USA….

The truth is where? Hysteria, fear and panic
promoted by media…information, dis-information,
misinformation blended into a confection of
confusion desensitizing the public to the truth.

If one looks at these phenomena coldly, one comes
to the conclusion that what seems to be happening
in the world is shrouded, hidden. No one’s
trying to save the world economy…in fact, power
is doing everything it can to steal as much as it can…
right now! And no one in power cares what
ordinary people think about it.

This smells of an end game. It’s no secret that the Illuminati
want to eliminate about 5 billion people. The strategy?
Hope that the prediction by scientists of a world destroying
solar flare happens in 2012, keep the people you
want safe underground, and let nature take care of
the problem.

A fantasy? Maybe…but simple logic and observation
show that people in power are acting as if
it could very well be true. Clinton got impeached
over a blow job. Bush did not get impeached although he
allowed torture. There are no standards anymore…
there is no truth that people can see or follow.
It’s a side show where the Carnies take the Rube’s gold
and flee town knowing that soon the town will be ablaze.

(In Huck Finn, by Twain, it's called: "The Royal Nonsuch")

Driving To Boulder

2011-10-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

I didn’t think it would end
in my hot car, great sound,
driving to Boulder to the
Tribal Electronic Gaia Fiesta…
whatever...

but it did… all of it forever…
no problem…I have the music
like snapshots in my mind…
a map into the universe, like
coming off thirty six and
slowing down as you start
to head north…
and all that happened so
many times in the flash of
light that were those years,
arriving as we did into a place
so familiar, so beautiful,
so strange, to be branded
on the brain like first love.

The Wind: for VCTR

2011-10-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

The wind makes the difference in your flesh.
The hammer-ring of birds and clouds.
Anyone can say anything about it.
Your speech embedded with natural truth
is the wind
is the salt of the sea
and the salt of your flesh.

1971-2011

Beginning to see the light...

2011-09-25T16:08:00.000-07:00

I'm so glad I found this.

I first glommed onto this song when I was beginning to see the light.

If Ikku ever did a rock song, it would be this one....or, maybe Blake.

Late Summer Poem

2011-09-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

Late summer when the grass is high
and the afternoon barbecues, screened porch,
Uncle John’s fat belly…Aunt Bertha’s wisdom…
sweet corn, screaming kids and dogs, a great
big Yellow Family Jello….mellow with the
timelessness of complete temporary pleasure

Story Of My Life

2011-09-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

When things got too good,
I would create pain, because pain
was all I knew.

Pain let me see through the illusion
of my father’s world, success and
pleasure…pain welded me to the truth.

It was a crude technique for keeping
my head above water: fear of drowning
in victory….or any other promise.

I saw western civilization in my family…
I was able to translate that into what was
going on…at all….it didn’t look good.

It seemed that we were all on a runaway train…
towards the future…towards progress.
It looked as if the runaway train would go on
forever…I didn’t believe it. I was right.

Fragment of an E Rant

2011-09-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

I mean, Charley, how many scenarios do I have to pull out if my (soul)
to get you to love me again?

Your magazine did this to me...oh yeah,,,,that and the drugs...which
saying makes me feel about 20. Oh and the music I'm listening to,
the place, the air,
el tormenta, This is like gold finding itself.

I don't do windows.

J.

Afterdeath

2011-09-21T18:59:00.000-07:00

Afterdeath hangs on
like an Afterthought
of Afterbirth called life
of all of them awhile
while their life is fresh in
this life, like you saw
them yesterday but
didn’t get a chance
to say goodbye…
or you remember them
ten years from now…
an Afterlife if ever there
was one.

Lisa Says

2011-09-21T16:22:00.000-07:00

I would listen to this song by the Velvet
Underground before my dramatic last scene
as the son in Albee’s play, “All Over”.
It would screw me in right into the right emotion.
I had a stage hand tap on my shoulder to cue me.
But I never did it better than when I did it at the
first rehearsal after I had practiced it at my parent’s
home in Illinois. Those were real tears.

Nothing Matters

2011-09-21T09:51:00.000-07:00

…because what you think of as
“matter”, “stuff”, is just
condensed energy…so….Nothing
Matters, i.e., turns into “matter”….

…which is helpful so you can…

realize you turn thoughts and emotions
into things that “matter”, i.e., seem to
have some vague substance….”matter”
when….nothing really matters….becomes
matter or, equally, is something that matters

Some things are important….
But that doesn’t mean you
have to make a matter out of it,
or else you do.

The Points Don't Matter (for Drew Cary)

2011-09-19T12:15:00.000-07:00

…like puberty to a girl’s voice
...like government to the Republicans
…like the Fall of America to Darwinists…

hey…I’m getting pretty pissed off here!!!

…like my anger…

One Day Of Life

2011-09-19T11:33:00.000-07:00

One day of life is a miracle.
Novels have been written
about one day of life.
So many days strung together…
a progression of miracles…
this day a pearl, glistening with
nacre of time.

I Got A Line On A Whiter Shade Of Pale

2011-09-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

Death is the new life…
greed the new standard of morality….
survival has replaced retirement…
the future does not look far away…
the build-out is almost complete…
the train is running out of track…
a world frenzy is beginning to build…
this time was predicted a thousand years ago….
karma is inevitable.

Pyro

2011-09-14T19:02:00.001-07:00

Burning with the light of the life left
in me…flame of passion flaring up
to love all sentient beings though it’s
beat me down before…I’ll go to ash
before I give up on you bastards.

No More Questions

2011-09-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

I don’t have any more questions.
A few more answers would be nice.
I mean, I joined you on this Mystery
Tour…without question, and then, yes,
we all had a few….some exploded…
some had a strange taste left in their heads…
OH YES, MR. SPACE MAN VCTR*….
Any questions?

*VCTR= Vajracharya Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche

Mind Fish

2011-09-14T16:03:00.000-07:00

Poems like mind fish
surface but don’t take the
bait unless I’m quick enough,
meaning alive,
to catch them in the act of
becoming…to hook them
and boat them so they can
gasp their last breath of….

I can do two more fish…that’s the
number that came to me just now
this moment…so this is the first fish.

The second fish is Earnest Hemingway…
a quote I can’t quite remember, or, catch,
if you will…so…this is the objective correlative,
the fish that we’re after….(I catch a lot of T.S.,
they’re like sardines…) No…he was the big
one that got away…..(which reverberates
in so many mirrors)…oh, no…oh god, I’m done.

Mind Stream

2011-09-14T14:47:00.001-07:00

Crystal clear
roiled by flow and light
landscape of riverbed
embedded debris of life
waterfall emotions…
reaching the sea entering
vast peace.

Cliché Is A Déjà Vu You Already Had

2011-09-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

Cliché is one of phenomena’s’ in jokes,
Cliché is a déjà vu you already had.
Cliché is one of phenomena’s’ in jokes,
Cliché is samsara not coming up with
something better.
Cliché is every family meal after twenty years.
Cliché is every politician that ever lived.
If you live day to day, year to year the same,
you live a cliché.
Cliché is not living, it gives the appearance
of life.

Often confused with phony, cliché is not phony
because it believes in itself…..contributing much
to the general chagrin.

Los Donas

2011-09-11T12:35:00.001-07:00

The old mothers that gave birth
to all without exception…
Christ, Buddha Hitler and
everyone in between…
walking the streets wrinkled
and shrunken, love for their children
and their childrens’ children carve
permanent faint smiles into their faces….
they carry a living ancientness of the
meaning of life written into their bodies,
their bony hands and sagging breasts,
the aprons they wear as if to say
they can do another day.

Three Questions: An Escape Plan

2011-09-10T14:24:00.000-07:00

What’s Next?

Not a question.
A treadmill of karma
unfolding itself endlessly
even after you think it’s done.

What’s Left?

All the loose ends,
unfinished business,
repressed emotions,
thought garbage piles,
residue of lifetimes.

And Then?

After life? After love?
After enlightenment? After words?
Big Sleep. Union. Simplicity.
All accomplished…. no re-runs…
fresh space….
what you’re looking for now….
…no different than what’s in front of you.

Conclusion:

You’re looking for what’s right
in front of you.

Blue Dream

2011-09-10T13:56:00.001-07:00

Blues turned
to rock and roll
when despair
turned to hope.
We only got to
“Street Fighting Man”
and the dream was
lost again.
Thing about dreams:
they keep reoccurring.

REVE BLEU

Le Blues retourne
vers rock and roll
quand le desespoir
retourne vers l’espoir.
Nous allons tout simplemen dans
“Street Fighting Man”
et le reve fut
perdu une fois de plus.
Chose sur les reves:
ceux-ci tiennent a revenir.

Traduction francaise par Daniel Dragomirescu

“It’s Clobberin’ Time!!”

2011-09-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

The poet takes off the gloves,
stands in front of the Void, his
taped hands assume the stance,
weight on the back foot, Eroica,
first movement, blaring from the
loudspeaker in his brain, adrenaline
rush strains his tendons to near
snapping…he remembers the taste
of his own blood….

…strangely alone…all challenges
already met…enemies defeated…
down time…denouement…even all
the victory parades…if there were any
…lost in excelsior of skin deep memory,
passion ashes, corpse poses, theatrical stance,
a “was it ever!” and a sigh that brings
the curtain down.

I will forget myself.
What connection will
my poems have to me then?
(that’s the Void connecting
with a right hook)

Whatever connection my readers have
to my poems now,
they will have to me then.

For me, the poems are always there.

(the poet wipes his face with a towel,
cracks a beer... )

Not Much for a Long Time

2011-09-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

Nothing in front, nothing inside, nothing in between........

all a Big Nothing, with colorful seeming attributes
that dance and swirl in every conceivable way

leading always back
to no end, no beginning

Purely Face Computer Poem

2011-09-02T13:40:00.000-07:00

Your screen or mine?
Your pixels tickling till screams
of decibels wash out the visual…
recovery and a few puffs and sips
and now we’ve gone again, live…
Reality T.V.,… special effects, I can’t
wait, but there’s always replay

I Want My Stats To Go Up

2011-09-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

When I post a poem
there is a blip in the stats
as if some cosmic radar or
social seismograph is picking
me up…and I like it…which
makes me wonder….
,,and want to fuck with it…play it
like a bitch…as if the only reason
for writing was to manipulate.
And then I remember why I didn’t
do the MFA.

Dharma Meat

2011-08-31T17:04:00.000-07:00

The first night I spent at the
Dharma Centre was in a chicken
coop….I remember waking and
pulling a large spider off my face.

Training? Yes, if you count being
ripped apart publicly by your colleagues
constantly as training….yes. It was
primordial training….as when Buddha
was alive.

It was raw.
It was a chance
before everything
got crazy….before
now.

To A Businessman

2011-08-29T13:14:00.000-07:00

Would you base any business
decision on a belief?
Then, why would you trust
your life to one?

Lionel Fenninger

2011-08-24T16:39:00.001-07:00

Imagine a landscape of pastel skyscrapers
Cubist Miro De Chirico stories tall
Imagine New York hazy morning from
a helicopter…imagine blue mesas in
New Mexico….imagine climbing a tree
and finding a robin’s egg.

Echolalia

2011-08-21T16:30:00.000-07:00

America is Number One!
Thank you,…have a nice day.
I love you.

Mything Link (Pin it on Him)

2011-08-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

All the horrible crap of life,
the fighting, the murders,
mixed with beautiful passions,
and a heart that held up a body
well scarred.....
........That Was Ricky!!

Everyone's Frankenstein Baby!!

Hey Rube!

2011-08-15T10:51:00.000-07:00

A charlatan in the midst
of the community!
Wake up! Wake up!
Saddle the windhorsies!
Expose all self-serving trips!
Don’t let them hijack
basic goodness!
Don’t let their honey words
Of Goo drip into your ears!
Liars! Liars! Sangha on fire!
Hold the line of critical intelligence!
Crack them with the Black Jack
of truth and kindness!

Ricky

2011-08-15T10:49:00.000-07:00

From New Jersey came to Tepoztlan…
just bull-rushed life like a cage fighter,
not just scars, but chunks of his body
were missing…

…had that black cloud karma attached,
violence, but beneath his fists he was
a sweetheart …of a killer….he probably
thought he was normal.

He died of everything.

Encore

2011-08-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

Blank page
mown lawn
poem on wall
fresh air, smoke,
drink, space…
still…
stoned
drunk
better now…
curtain rises.

My dear friend John,

I send you as a small gift the Romanian version of "Encore".
Strangely this poem has something from Expressionism and
Symbolism of George Bacovia (1880-1957), an important Romanian poet.
This poem will be also included in CHM 4/July-August 2011.
All the best from your best friend from Bucharest,

Daniel D.

ENCORE

Pagină nescrisă
gazon cosit
poem pe zid
aer proaspăt, fum...
băutură, spaţiu,
încă...
drogat
beat
mai bine acum...
se ridică cortina.

Traducere de Daniel Dragomirescu

Snapshot

2011-08-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

Thunder in the distance
Stones on the headphones
Heavied by engolopment,
but real neat, like nylons
on the bedpost… French
roast hot on nightstand....
wake up and smell the LIGHTNING!

Hopelessness

2011-08-11T15:28:00.000-07:00

In the midst of chaos and destruction
there is beauty and heart…it never gets
totally black, or it would have done so
by now in the history of forever….no,
there is always somewhere blossom of
newness, of fresh start, of square one….
there is always, some now, some where,
anything you could imagine . .. Casablanca
on Titan….OK Corral on a desert on Mars. ..
the universe is infinite…give it a break from
your whiny hopelessness that your custom
paint job has a scratch and the world’s going
to hell….So?

Maybe It Starts Out As Tiny Dancing

2011-08-04T15:45:00.001-07:00

When you were small
and wore your mother’s shoes….
when the big people were dancing
and you were joining in and they
noticed you…and you noticed that
they noticed you…

So you became Michael Jackson,
Donald Trump, Joe Schmidt,
famous for your
ice cream
triple axle
herd of cattle
star of David
Medal of Honor
shit stains on
your underware
nothing at all....

it all started out as tiny dancing.

Aging (for Marion Seldes)

2011-07-24T15:04:00.001-07:00

I have no memory of anything actually having
happened…as far as I know, I just appear, now,
moment to moment, leaving no trace of where
I’ve been or what I’ve done.

Being in New York for a week was so exciting
and expensive I thought I would explode…
it looks like they got rid of most people near death,…
looks like a brood farm for rich, smart, good looking
breeders…my body ached with the stress of just
watching them glide through their first class, incredibly
sophisticated tinker toy. Of course, I wasn’t really there.

I’m playing small ball from now on…simplicity…each
breath rich and slow… each movement a dance…
each word surrounded by space…just a smile on a
face that made it to the other end of life uncorrupted
and joyful. What better?

Nice Denouement

2011-07-23T15:58:00.000-07:00

Last couple of days in NYC, yes,
ate more good food…hung out with
Dellon, young friend of Gile’s, guitariste,
like a very warm, sharp knife blade of
New York awareness.…then, a friend of his,
Tara, a dancer, to whom I wanted to explain and
discuss a dance idea I had, but, dazzled by her
presence, I flopped, but she was so kind
and fun that it didn’t matter….young, fresh,
brilliant, sparkly Buddhists… mmmmmm….
very cool…lunch with Giles and Gymbal,
his girlfriend, and a my age/era Trungpa woman
student, just totally delightful and lunch was
delicious…

a close member of my family died while I was
visiting them in New Hampshire…and a couple
I knew in New Jersey got engaged…I told my family
I would do a sukavati, a Buddist practice for people
who have died, when I got back to Mexico,…the
person that died was a Marine, and his ashes were going
to be buried at Arlington cemetery.
The day after I got home, I prepared for the Buddhist
ceremony for the ex-Marine.
At the exact moment I sat down
to begin the sukavati for Gordo, someone
working outside, a random neighbor,
whistled “taps”.

Marian

2011-07-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

Jam packed week in New York City, Central Park
the first day perfect weather with a great hot dog…
MOMA and MMMA filling me with color,…in Brooklyn
brunch with my niece, (natural Buddhist) indy film
directing café purveyor of good truth…
a private party for an indy movie; the lead
was a young man with downs syndrome,
snappily dressed and drunk, got into a fistfight
with his family when they pulled the
beautiful ingénue off his lap to take him home….
had lunch with Marian Seldes,
the great Broadway actress. …in fragile good health,
sweet as a flower. I asked her:
“What do you think of Tom Cruise as an actor?”
(It was a set up), she replied: “I don’t think of him
as an actor.” Bada-bing…worth the whole visit….
she is a goddess slowly blossoming into the universe..

East Village

2011-07-18T07:37:00.001-07:00

First night in NYC,
the village of Ginsberg, Kerouac, et. al.,
the Beats…
I wonder where the apartment
is, where Hunck stored his stolen goods?
My friend, Bill, faced with pain
the rest of his life, just told me of our
mutual friend, Larry, who just found out
he’s dying of cancer… what a bitch…
meanwhile the streets
are filled with the yuppified hordes on
a Friday night.
I said “Fuck You!” to the first New Yorker
I saw as I got off the bus from Vermont,
as a fraternal greeting…he smiled knowingly.

The apartment I’m staying in is small,
like a hall between rooms, converted into a
living space….might as well be in Tokyo.

Civilization has become a lie to me,
but, funny, if you can get the joke.

Central Park, MOMA, my niece in Brooklyn
are what I want to see…the NYC icons for me.

I’ve seceded, in spite of the Union of Pretense
which characterizes this false age.

The Age of Reason failed precisely
because it couldn’t take a joke.
The Fool….Wisdom…lost in a flurry
of Pulpits.

Painfully, excruciatingly clear…
OMG…don’t you see?
NO!

You can’t bear to look…
because you’re smart enough
to know you will see.

So, we mostly go on,
as if nothing had happened…
looking for excuses for our
hypochondriac symptoms…
parodies of a parody of life.

"It's Not Working"

2011-06-29T17:11:00.000-07:00

People who start out in meditation are seeking results.
That’s logical. We usually don’t engage in any activity
without expecting some experience or outcome. When
we first study the Buddhist teachings, words such as
“enlightenment”, “peace” and so forth are used to
show that there is some direction to the path of meditation.
Some people hold one or more of these words in mind,
as reassurance that the activity of meditation has a worthwhile
goal...however, there doesn’t seem to be much of a
timetable for reaching any goals through meditation

There is no timetable. As one gains experience in
meditation, one begins to realize, perhaps, that
“just sitting” in itself is worthwhile. Let’s say someone
has been meditating regularly, an hour a day, for a year.
For most people, no one has achieved enlightenment…or
had any great meditation experiences to speak of. One’s
life is pretty much as chaotic as a year ago. Mind still yaps
away as always…perhaps one has become increasingly
aware of the mental chatter… irritatingly so even. Far from
experiencing the peace one had hoped for, all that meditation
seems to have done is heighten mental discursiveness…
though at times one recognizes that the chatter had always
been there. One continues to practice because just sitting
is grounding, feels healthy and wholesome…not for any
superior reason. At that point, it is possible
to see that the path is the goal. It is also possible to feel
“It’s not working”, i.e. , the meditation is not living up to
one’s expectations. Or, one could realize that just sitting,
breathing, coming back to one’s breath when distracted
is a simple, organic, uncontrived practice… a simple
cultivation of awareness. The path is continuous from
the first time we sit down to the attainment of enlightenment.
What changes is what we see when we’re sitting,
how we see. That takes place over time, as has been said,
like a pool of muddy water becomes clear over time
if left undisturbed. How can that have a timetable?

Born (This Way) Addicted

2011-06-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

Everyone addicted to life;
else not have been born…
Void a bit Too Much
nothing, so, let’s dance.

Darwin Meets Godzilla

2011-06-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

“It is not the flag that is moving…
it is the mind that moves.” Zen Parable

It is not the species that evolves…
it is the mind that evolves…
Ontogeny recapitulates Phylogeny,
organic playback in the womb…
in media res...we start in the middle
of forever...
all life is mind manifesting
…as in a dream…
everything seems as it is…as if it is…
…someone dies, we say: “ I just saw them
yesterday.” …as if they couldn’t not be there…
shock of misplaced concreteness…
“I dropped my nail file!” …trapped in The
fun house mirror…taking reflection to be real...
…species adapt…mind evolves…enlightenment
is not about survival....meditation is
negative duckling imprint.

Prayer To Things As They Are: The Almighty Moment

2011-06-07T15:18:00.000-07:00

We bow to You, Almighty Moment, and to your powerful
Fist Of Perfect Indifference; the power of Change which finds
no man immortal or immune….

There is no guarantee to life, because you are No Guarantor…
We ask for nothing more than to acknowledge your Holy Chaos,
The Grail of Clear Seeing, the Eden of Simplicity…
P.T. Morpheus, Big Chagrin of Reality!
Our worship of You is to go on as if nothing had happened!

American Dream

2011-06-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

Perfect Daddy, suit and tie, wide brimmed fedora,
Mommy blue dress and bangs, Billy and Susie and
the dog, all smiling gleamingly, brightly, driving
into the future….

…was the hook, line and sinker we boomers swallowed
in Eisenhower Golden Material Dawn of The Greatest
Country/Show On Earth as we were told…

…not no more…brief feast on carrion whale of a dream,
beached on the shore of greed …endangered? Ha!

Dinah-Shore-See-The-USA this way nevermore….
How-Sweet-It-Isn’t-Gleason gurgles in his grave…

Even-when-it-could-have-been-Sixties, Psycho-spiritual
Revolution, LSD and meditation to overthrow Rational Mind
subverted and stunted by Power and Control….

So save that vision ‘cause a vision like that you don’t see all at once…
…and it’s all on record: Frank Zappa, R.A.W., Bill Mahr, Joni
Michell and the rest of them…
… grass grows through cracks in the concrete now and forever…
…nature finds a way, the truth will be told….time is irrelevant...
...the Buddha arose.

Question Mark

2011-05-20T14:37:00.000-07:00

Question mark…
mark of Cain…
born of the fruit
of the tree of knowledge…
trying to fill in the blank,
that existential hole,
with a certainty that
never seems to be enough…
…the question that marks
the loss of Eden…
the loss of union…
the loss of confidence…
the beginning of conflict…
the stain of separation…
the birth of ego.

2011-05-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

A Step Into Zoo

2011-05-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

The Great One stepped onto the balcony greeted
by a cacophony of primordial “oooos” and “aaaaaaaaahs”,
the balcony itself manifestooned
with balloons in a ruse of hues down
impossible avenues of color….

…all in good time say the Maya,
grinning a feral dog into the camera,
into the minds of millions…
“that ought to do something…” the shaman,
premedicated into a parallel dimension,
smiled to himself…

…these were precise moments captured and mined,
coaxed and teased and packaged and marketed in
consumable form as zen-like instant epiphanies
for the go-go spiritual activist, accessible in 3-D…

Death Haiku

2011-05-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

I can avoid death
my whole life until that time…
ouch!

Reincarnation

2011-05-15T10:33:00.000-07:00

Those of you that don’t believe in reincarnation,
look in a mirror….
this is either your first birth,
or your trillionth,
and you have no idea which is true.

Bin Laden's Death

2011-05-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

The puppet’s strings are cut,
it falls upon the stage…
the hand that gave it life
glides silently away.

Movement

2011-04-29T13:55:00.001-07:00

Nothing is ever still….
even the boulder is teeming…
there is never a period…period…
Beethoven’s Third, first movement…
says this…yes…then this…but wait…
now this…no…no...no… it’s not over
even at the climax…we are born in the
middle of things…middle because no
beginning, no end…no conclusion …
an Everest if ever there was one, but one
that goes on forever…no peak experience …
Gold Medal Olympian wakes up, sees the
Wheaties box on the wall…it’s not even over
when the fat lady sings…there is just one
poem, one song that goes on forever…

Peter, Bill and Eamon

2011-04-24T09:42:00.001-07:00

Three Gentlemen

Three gentlemen: now you see them,
now you don't... left the action leaving
only traces; meetings with remarkable men.

We'll all go this way...vanish into non-everything...
and when the door clicks behind us, the rest will
go on, forgetting once again it's all a dream.

On the Anniversary of the Parinirvana of Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche

2011-04-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

With VCTR

Sometimes it was pleasure…
sometimes it was pain…
always crystal clear intensity
like standing next to blast
furnace of precise seeing…
like being onstage in front of
an infinite audience of one…
standing on earth, yet falling
through space, the damndest
feeling…like wanting to jump
out of my own skin: excruciating,
adamantine…empty.

Cyclical

2011-04-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

Life cycle of insects…
Ages of Man…
The seasons…
The rise of intelligence
through evolution…
History…
Social Orders…
Planetary systems…
Galaxies…
The Universe…
Scaleable.

April Fool

2011-04-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

In an amazing development today
the governments of the world agreed
to stop serving the self interest of
corrupt, greedy, insane, world
destroying individuals and institutions,
and turn the world back into an Eden
based on common sense, the benefit
of all beings with an emphasis on
creativity, replacing the myth of
social Darwinism.

In a related development, Hell froze over.

Mary Shelly Was Right

2011-03-25T13:05:00.000-07:00

Hubris of intellect
specialized into pieces
ignorant of the whole
slapped together into
World Monster.

Etta James...good music for a cold night

2011-03-18T16:22:00.000-07:00

Carnival

2011-03-08T19:34:00.000-08:00

Carnival....same as Mardi Gras, but Mexican...streets packed with
people so tight you can barely slip a screw driver between
them...Cheezy....the food, the rides,
the stuff that they sell in the kiosks set up for these 5 days that
crowd the sides of the main downtown street...I don't go down there at
night...that's when some blood letting can happen...kind of a
community catharsis, in a way....it's not enough to get borracho...too
much passion and aggression for that...last year I heard seven people
died...beaten,
drowned in a pool of water, ect.. It seems a normal ritual here. Death
here is looked at differently...accepted...almost embraced. Or else
I'm being too romantic and it's just
crazy stupidity...but? I was hanging with my buddies, Max and
Humberto on the street where Max sells his wooden puzzle/sculptures
and Humberto does great Shiatzu massage
and combs auras. Max's girfriend/wife's brother comes by, smashed with
liquor and a smashed in face he got last night (he's maybe 21). Max
had to carry him home over his shoulder
and he was picking a fight with everyone they passed by.
50 pesos says he doesn't live till Thursday.

The variety of people is magnificent. Chinelos, folks dressed in
costumes satirizing the Spanish Conquerors, dance for hours straight
in the town square...they achieve almost
Sufi like states of...something or other. Sports
clothes....sweatpants, logo shirts, are the norm. Lots of tee shirts
with glitter or beads. Three svelte young girls walk by. followed by
three young swells. Mostly people are polite and considerate in the
crush....Mexicans are not "close talkers",
necessarily, but they don't care...or know..
that much about personal space.