Tool Man Mind

The whole Musk thing, 

making cars, going to Mars,

is just an extension of tool man mind.

Fantastic, science fiction, yes…watching 

the rocket booster captured was cool.

But it’s not evolution.

Buddha showed the path to self evolve mind.

A rocket ship is just extrapolation of the stick

homosap used to capture prey.

Although brilliant, that knowledge doesn’t 

make one more sane, in fact, that degree of

intelligence doesn’t mean that one is more evolved.

In fact, highly intelligent humans that run things;

corporations, governments, large parts of the world,

are often psychopaths that are known for being skilled.

What good does it do to expand the human race into

the universe if those humans are still controlled by

passions, aggression and ignorant instincts?

Maybe this is the reason the aliens don’t want us to

leave the earth. Maybe they’re afraid of human mind 

pollution.

No, Mr. Musk, building a better mousetrap, or trap for

a rocket booster is no different than what came before.

Populating anywhere with unevolved humans you wind

with societies that still have the same problems.

Tool man mind is the modern religion that began with

the Industrial Revolution and became scientific

materialism, which simply is the hope that if we had

the right tools, all of man’s problems would be solved.

Haven’t we noticed by now that that is not the case?

Buddha showed mankind how to self evolve, and many

have done so since then.

So the unrealized world looks to daddy Musk to make

things better even as his lithium batteries continue to

make things worse. Even though his concepts are 

magnificent, he still has tool man mind, unevolved,

looking for a better stick, governed by the hope of

finding Heaven somewhere else, when, really, it’s 

right here, but his mind is not trained to see it.

That’s his tragic flaw.

You can’t lie your way into Heaven

Assuming that’s where you want to go.

Heaven, Paradise, Eden, a comfortable 

pair of shoes. You can’t even lie your way

into a pair of shoes. No money, no shoes…

that’s the way it goes, let alone Heaven.

How does one get to Heaven?

If you’re not there already, there is a problem.

What’s the problem?

You have to look into it, find out what it is,

no one can tell you.

Many say that they can; religions, politicians,

gurus, life coaches. None of their words matter

if you don’t take action.

Learn how to be.

You’d think that would be the easiest 

thing to learn, since you already are, but how’s 

that working out for you?

“To be without description of to be.”  

That constant thought disaster in your head

is the problem, takes up all your time, gets

in the way, keeps you from simply seeing.

Until you dissolve that mess into nothing

you never can just be.

I didn’t make the rules.

I just followed a path that’s been around

for thousands of years that thousands of

people have followed successfully.

My teacher complained to his students that

he had to say the same things over and over 

again, and he was a patient man.

That’s the truth for you.

It’s difficult to hear even a word of it,

let alone to understand.

Two For Tuesday #2

Stuff     (for George Carlin)

I did the usual stuff growing up,

then the usual stuff in an unusual way,

also then unusual stuff.

I accumulated some stuff, and gave most

of it away.

I got rid of all the stuff roiling in my mind.

All the stuff I have now I can stuff into a

couple of suitcases.

Advertising creates the need for stuff we

didn’t know we even wanted.

I don’t see stuff on the internet I really want,

though that was not always the case.

I knew an Italian guy, who told me that when

the first refrigerator came to their rural village,

everyone else in the village got depressed.

Thanks, Buddha, for showing the path to 

stufflessness!!

Tic Tok Tick Tock

What The…..??  WOW!

Did you see that??

That was amazing!!

I’ve never seen anything 

like that before!!

Are there any more potato chips?

No More No Less

“It’s only love and that is all.

Why do I feel the way I do?”

We all go that way, as Issa said 

to the grasshopper. No more

no less. We’re only human, some

say. No more no less. 

All philosophy could end right there.

We wish we could figure it all out,

achieve certainty. It never seems to

go that way…except for the Buddhas,

which you know nothing about, or why

the sky is blue. It’s hard to grok what 

the seers see. They tell us, make 

analogies, write stanzas. If we’re lucky,

sometimes they show us miracles, which

are, simply, seeing what’s there with our

eyes finally open. Sometimes we don’t 

see things until we almost bump into them.

That’s what we’re up against, whether we

know it or like it or not. Just being realistic.

The music here now is dark jazz. Imagine

a room, dim light, old furniture, smells of 

oak, roses and death. Perfect at least for 

what I just wrote. Face it: it’s all right here;

in the three books on the desk you never 

open but always want to, the doors leading

to other rooms, a man cave, to be crass. But,

more than that why not? A miniature Xanadu,

a mini time warp to when, though there were

problems, you didn’t watch the world go crazy 

in front of you. Did I just bring you down? Or,

did I just bring you back to the present, because

you know, we’re all experiencing the same world.

No more, no less, always comes back around, so

my only advice is, for now, try to remain human.

Charnel Ground

The world right now is a charnel ground.

Jackals and scavengers are everywhere 

revealing themselves. You may have thought

mass murder was a thing of the 20th century,

but right now it’s happening. 

This time the whole world is at stake.

Bill Gates, for example, works to depopulate 

the world. He’s an embodiment of evil, but

he’s not the only one.

Possessed with rabid appetites for wrongdoing,

hoping to achieve power and control, the

miscreants of self aggrandizement attack 

goodness and decency at every turn.

This is the Dark Age, the Kali Yuga, not a pretty

picture, but one predicted by all religions and

prophets. How long will it last? If Trump wins

and common sense is restored, there may be 

hope for the future. If not, brace yourself for

a thousand years of darkness, when good people

are eliminated until all that’s left will be monsters

eating each other until they destroy even 

themselves. 

If evil can be purged, it has to happen now.

If not, forget about humanity because the

homosap failed to evolve.

Ni Moto

In Mexico it means: “It’s nothing.”

They say that a lot around here.

One would think they’re Buddhists,

they say it so often. At least, they’ve 

got the right idea.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff” 

is what the sweaters say, the ones

that don’t know ni moto

look in their eyes…there’s nothing there,

not the same as no one’s home. They’re 

home but nothing’s there. It’s why some

places don’t change over hundreds of 

years, just life after life ni moto.

Sometimes much seems to be happening,

like now in the world. More people die

than is usual for a while. After the carnage,

it goes back to ni moto…

always has, always will.

That’s why it’s nice to be in a place that

doesn’t know what’s going on elsewhere.

That’s why I came here.

The mountains are always there ni moto.

People walk in the streets ni moto.

Some days the coffee’s made better ni moto.

Nothing to lose sleep over. 

Meanwhile, I write words few people read.

It’s all that I can say that I do. Ni moto.

Quantum Symmetry

A phrase that translates to “karma” in Buddhism.

Karma means cause and effect. 

One’s karma manifests over the course of one’s 

existence, more than one measly life.

As the plumber’s saying goes: pay me now or

pay me later. Nobody gets away with anything.

Taking My Seat

Installed outside the coffee shop, no ceremony 

was involved. Last night a drunk driver smashed

the door of the shop just in front of where I sit.

It’s a big wooden door stoutly made, and they

bucked it. An outstanding exhibition of drunkenness 

I had to admire, having once been there myself.

That’s the news from my vantage point, not worth

a post on X, it will never go viral, the goal of social

media, infecting millions of minds. Social media 

should be called something else. Quantum circus

of infection? Plague of the 21st Century? Something

like that. All it does is give morons more slogans to

chose from to rant with. If you can’t see what’s 

happening by now, you haven’t been paying attention.

The truth may feel negative, but it’s always positive.

This could be the end of humanity.

This could be the beginning of a Dark Age predicted

by all religions and prophets.

I still have some coffee left. The clouds kissing the

mountains are beautiful. Maybe I’d put some red in

my hair to make myself look a little better.

Jailhouse Rock

“Everybody in the whole cell block

was dancin’ to the jailhouse rock.”

Plenty of places to go from there…

Jan. 6 political prisoners but don’t get

me started. Innocents are always losers.

Have you noticed? No? Why? 

Because they’re dead. More to come.

It’s not morbid. It’s just what happens.

Humans dream of Paradise, Eden, 

Heaven. They just numbly don’t get there.

It’s just what happens.

“And so it goes.”

Who could have imagined it…..life?

Whatever….it is, and then everything else

happened. People live as if this is the way

things are, even though they were never this

way before. “Things are more the way they

are now than they ever have been.” 

Eisenhower.

Can you see where I’m going?

Nowhere, that’s right. I’m a good Buddhist 

so I always point to nothing.

Yet, it’s a movable feast, all our minds.

The great thing about Nothing is that

everything arises from it. That’s all that

Buddhism says and it cost you Nothing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

At the boys’ bed and breakfast, nice cloudage

on the balcony, classical music. I like Ed and

Mike. They’re regular guys, Johnsons, Burroughs

calls them. Guys that would help you if you 

needed it, but otherwise minded their own affairs.

Ed talks to me his brain on autopilot, driving

itself into the ground. I give him a different  view

and he comes around.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Now at lsabella’s in the new Mercado.

Eggs, bacon, pork, rice, beans, all the nutrients 

I need in the Matrix…this illusion tastes good.

A hint of Thai flavor in the peanut sauce…I could

go on like this forever.

Outlaw

When the center of society is corrupt 

it’s saner to be on the fringe.

When laws become oppressive it’s 

better to go around them.

That’s something we learned as hippies.

Did you think we were wasting our time?

We weren’t playing their games. We made

up our own. Creativity is the father of

invention. Necessity, the mother, is always

telling us the lawn needs mowing.

One thing’s for sure: there’s always something.

Even getting up insists on adventure…even if

we have a rut, a routine, derailment is always

Da likelihood. One can be smart and be numb,

stupid and be enlightened. We have what we bring 

to the table, and also what we are served. Over all,

the whole thing’s a feast, if you look at it that way,

or a holocaust, if you’re so inclined. One of the 

Khans, I forget which one, tried to kill Karma 

Pakshi, by fire, by boiling him in oil, other ways.

He was never harmed in the slightest. 

It’s only a story, but it happened they say.

He was an outlaw of the laws of physics. How can 

that be? “There are more things in heaven 

and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your 

philosophy.” Hamlet. Shakespeare was an alien.

I have a great disguise, costume, persona that fits

very nicely over my corpse. Is it possible to be 

morbidly awake? I just thought of that. Anyway,

(My Muse is winging it.) Even writing as an outlaw.

The Beats did., Bukowski, Miller, etc., all the great 

ones, like all the artists, presented something that, if

one digested, one would see the world in a more 

clear way. So, Buddha was the greatest outlaw of

them all. He showed humanity how to transcend

imprisonment at all. Just say’n. And, he did it

peacefully. Me? I’m a cheap imitation of what I 

do not know. A word salad, like Kamala does, but

with anchovy, hard boiled egg, artichoke and bacon,

you know, something nice….that was an outlaw 

thing to write.

Social Media

 Social media is a charnel ground

where corpses of people’s thought abound.

A steady stream of scream goes forth;

just the homosap letting off some steam.

Musk Rant

People in Tepoztlan are truly nice people,

a lot of them. When they say hello, they mean

that. When they don’t say hello, they mean 

that too. It’s not like on X, where “community 

standards” is an algorithm. Not so good, Elon.

Build some cars, fly to Mars, have fun, you crazy

genius wannabe! How many tricks does a pony

have? Not all of them.

I’m curious to see if you forget you’re only human.

You and Russel Brand could have a talk on X Spaces

all about God.  That would be fun.

Documentary #3

“I don’t hate people, I just feel better 

when they’re not around.” Charles Bukowski 

Move over, Rover, Jesus is coming!

Eli’s coming, hide your heart, girl!

Why should we argue?

Do your own thing! Even we hippies had 

some wisdom way back then.

“Chill” didn’t come from raves, you know.

I’ve loved being at some of them, they were

cool, groovy, out of sight.

“Do it again, just a little bit slower.”  We had

the best music back then. I say “back then” as

if it wasn’t now, which it is. I picked out the good

stuff all my life, wherever I found it. 

You’d be surprised. 

My Muse only has this tool, me, to work with.

The universe does what it can.

“Hey, look! Humans! That’s pretty good!”

Whoever thought that life would happen?

Another proof that thoughts don’t matter 

very much…

only when folks take them seriously.

Comedians have to be the way they are,

or else they’d explode. My mind’s a blank

until the universe peeks through. 

Wouldn’t you?

I only had a taste tease of moonshine once,

as a plumber at a rich man’s house in South

Carolina. It was the best liquor I’d ever tasted.

My father wanted to teach his sons how to drink,

so he taught us and we became drunks. Drinking 

helped me because I was very sensitive and uptight.

I always used, like Tarzan, the vines that 

were available. 

I don’t care.

I’m old.

You try it.

California Girls

Re :  Donald Trump IS:   “BOSS MAGA MAN”

I’ve been a boss and I’ve had bosses and

they’re not always necessary a bad thing…

except for…. plumbers. One of the few rules

we plumbers have is that the boss is an asshole.

Folklore….oral culture…..jokes…it’s the truth.

Oh yeah, saw The Beach Boys, Chicago, 1963.

Documentary

Half of the day I rest.

The other half I don’t do very much.

The entropy of the Matrix has me.

Social media is like turning on a faucet 

of shit. I can’t say it any plainer than that.

It takes up too much energy I don’t have.

I like looking out at space, the direction

I travel. 

Social media sucks the life out of me,

but it’s something I should know.

Is  Trump relying on God, or Project

Looking Glass?

All belief is magical thinking.

I start writing and don’t stop.

It was that way with sex…

entropy again. Writing is easier,

if only it could get me laid.

Bukowski wrote simply..didn’t pontificate.

I am a Pontiff of pontification, opinion,

verbal clarification. Are we clear on that?

It’s all just algorithms.

Morphony

Morphony…more funny…not taking

the whole goddamned thing so seriously.

Slap schtick getting the punch line in time.

You get the jokes?

Well, you’d better laugh, folks, because 

these are them.

It’s based on the fact that change is inevitable.

One of the only things we can count on is change.

It’s a Buddhist thing, you wouldn’t understand.

Imagine if Buddha had become a comedian instead.

Comedians must rank somewhere on the spiritual 

hierarchy, excluding from spirituality all organized

religions.

The Tibetans just got lucky for a while.

But, after thirteen hundred years, (pretty good)

they lost their power/the Communists took over.

Blah, blah, blah….it’s all The Big Myths’ Take.

Swell

 That’s an old guy’s slang term for a job well done, 

with good workmanship, even a bit beautiful. It also

means no need for further praise, next thing.

The new Mercado in Tepoztlan is that way. Many 

people here, of all stripes and feathers, were querulous.

It’s the opposite now, as it is for me also.

As having been a plumber that did commercial 

construction plumbing as well, I could quickly tell two

things: The proper vision of the place had been 

implemented, so that the building itself was already

 becoming an integral part of the downtown space,

without being intrusive. That’s saying something for

the only four story, 1/4 block square building in the 

vicinity. The construction was, in my eyes, beautiful.

The workmanship was not shoddy, it was rather 

impeccable. The way the work itself was done made

it more beautiful. It enhances the magic of Tepoztlan. 

It’s really swell.

Next?

(Spoiler Alert! first you explain the joke, then you tell it.)

Aphorism

All organized religions are organized wishful thinking.

Corollary:  All organized religions are cults.

Commentary:

“ There was only one Christian, and they killed him”

Frederick Nietzsche.

I’m using Christianity as my example, but my thesis 

applies to all religions. The Bible doesn’t say what

happened to Jesus when he was “wandering in the 

“wilderness” for twenty years. For the Jews, wilderness 

could have meant anywhere that wasn’t there, where they 

were. Some scholars have proposed that Jesus might

have found his way to India and Tibet, studied and 

practiced  Buddhist meditation and yoga there, and 

became an adept. There are videos on YouTube that 

go into this. There is anecdotal evidence, as well as 

historical writings, that support this idea.They say the 

person that came to India from far away was named

“Issa”. Jesus/Issa are quite similar, given distances 

of thousands of miles and different cultures. If true, 

this would be rational evidence for some of the 

phenomena associated with Jesus. The “miracles” 

he supposedly performed are a good example. The

Tibetans have countless examples of documented 

“miracles”performed by Buddhist adepts. Raising 

the dead? My own teacher, Trungpa, is said to have 

done that to one of his teachers that died. Another 

teacher, Trinley Norbu, is said to have done it too.

These were Buddhist yogins that were alive in my time. 

He predicted my future two times about two different 

things. Other miracles; being in two places at once, 

transporting his body to another place,

appearing as different beings, are all stories I heard 

from my fellow students Trungpa saw what is happening 

in the USA today. He urged his students to move to 

Nova Scotia to avoid the mess. Many did. So, in light 

of these and other examples I could give, the miracles 

that Jesus allegedly performed, a main reason to the

claim he was the Son of God, are not that extraordinary 

or evidence of divinity. The few teachings of Jesus the 

New Testament includes are interesting. “Love thy 

neighbor as thyself”, the Golden Rule, is the same as 

the Buddhist idea of compassion. “Unless you are like 

one of these, (children), you cannot enter the kingdom 

of Heaven”. Unless you are free from the pollution of 

discursive mind, Buddhists would say, you cannot 

attain enlightenment would be the same idea.

If the Catholic (or any) Church practiced the actual 

teachings of Jesus, the world would be a better place for 

sure. The history of the Catholic Church, as an example, 

is one of greed and genocide, hardly what Jesus would 

have taught. The Catholic Church genocided the Gnostics. 

In the teachings of Gnosticism, it is said that adherents 

to that could have a direct relationship to God without 

intermediaries. That would have eliminated the need for 

the priesthood, and the Catholic organization did not 

tolerate that idea. Having said that, the Christian ideals 

of kindness and decency are central to the values of 

tradition in the USA. It’s better to get a little bit of 

something good than nothing at all. I do emphasize,

however, that organized religions always stray from

whatever founding principles that are good that they

may be based on into corruption. It is better to get 

nothing at all than something bad.

Amnesia Number Two

We are born with amnesia

of how we ever came to be.

But. a mind like that, doesn’t 

understand all at once.

Victim Of Amnesia

When I was born I had forgotten who

I had been. My father looked at me and said:

“Where have you been?” I couldn’t answer him.

I was back at tabula rasa, square one, beginner’s 

mind. From then, I made it up anew, as I went along.

T.V. was new. I was watching a show, The Big

Picture. I thought: “Oh boy! I’m going to find out

what life is all about!” I didn’t, it was a military show.

So I went on in the clear fog of not knowing, 

discovering that nobody else knew either, although

they tried to tell me they did. I never believed any

of them. I could tell by their words they were stuck

in a rut, parents, teachers, the whole lot of them.

They were all full of shit. I read a lot of books,

thinking that someone must know something,

figured it out a bit. There were clues in poems I

memorized, a few words at a time. I thought if

I had enough clues, things would begin to make 

sense, it did. I realized very few had any idea what 

they were doing, or why. I became friendly but 

distant, wondering if I would ever meet someone

that had it together. I did, Trungpa, my teacher. He

was so together he had a body with no bullshit inside.

It was rather intimidating because, by that time, I had

accumulated plenty of bullshit myself. I didn’t mean to,

but there it was. He taught me to shed it, dissolve it,

vomit it. I went through a lot, but now I’m fine.

What else shall we talk about? The weather, the

mountains, the sweet dogs I pet as I go to the

market? I don’t want to bore you with details,

but that’s all I’ve got. There’s nothing more to explain.

I self evolved, like anyone could, but few do; too

ravenous for feces, as Shantideva put it, to even

look around. I write because I breathe, it’s part of

it all. I send poems into the quantum matrix, the Void,

like other poets did, aspiring that some will catch some

of the clues that I send, the continuity of awakened mind,

so they can find their own paths, their own awakenings

from the sleep of their lives, and finally remember

what they are.

And The Bleat Goes On

Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Are you seeing one side?

If so, it’s the wrong one.

If there’s a war going on in America, 

and there is

Someone’s fighting with somebody else.

This is not another four year election.

Have you noticed?

Something’s rotten in Denmark, and

it’s not the cheese.

Ho hum….all,I can do is wait for you

to catch up, if you ever will.

I throw my two cents into the mix,

like a snowflake landing on a burning stove.

Everyone has their own ideas, but some

of them are correct. No one can tell you

what to think, but, shut up already!

Aren’t you getting tired of talking to

yourself in your mind? Why not?

You may realize by now most of your

thoughts are useless garbage. That’s 

the matrix that’s got you. Just because 

you walk on two legs, doesn’t mean you’re 

not more animal than human, if all you

rely on are your survival instincts and

seeking pleasure that can never be fulfilled.

Even Jesus wanted a little more time, the

Son of God, some say. Don’t be so damned smug.

Use the senses to let reality seep in.

Let that sink in.

Day Tripper (number 5?)

Here we go, the curtain is rising again.

What will the show be this time? Only

time and my Muse knows for sure.

Really, reality is pretty good right now.

I don’t need to get high. I do it for 

humanity, not that it pays attention 

much right now to other than the sideshow

that consumes most people’s minds in the 

current chaostrophy. I’ll take a shower soon

because high is always better when the body 

is clean. There, that’s better. A little patchouli 

to top it off. Perfection was never like this.

Are you still looking  for that, perfection?

I could tell you where to find it but you 

wouldn’t believe me. Some already know.

It’s been around since the Buddha, who 

was the end product of human evolution.

People have used his teachings to self-evolve

ever since. I know. I’m one of them. And yes,

since you ask, there are intelligent beings

throughout the universe. There are minds

with no bodies that are as vast as space.

It’s possible to communicate with them.

The Gnostics did, which is why the 

Church eradicated them.

“Nothing scares people more than

the possibility of freedom.” 

Robert Anton Wilson  Music has

charm to sooth the savage beast.

Music saved  my life before I

discovered meditation. 

Buddha said that language is

the least effective form of 

communication. If you see the

truth, words aren’t necessary.

Totalitarians use language to 

confuse, which is so obvious now.

Every ruler should have a “Fool”,

one who can speak the uncomfortable 

truth, the opposite of a “Yes” man.

I think I’m having a conversation with

Elon Musk on X. Maybe it isn’t him, 

but anyway it’s a great conversation with

whomever. “Have you heard about my

investment opportunities? “ always seems

to come up with him, whether it’s him 

or not. Oh well, I hope he works for Trump 

and has his ear. 

Now then, on to something else, but what?

A pleasant experience continues. I’ve gotten

all I’m going to get out of psychedelics. 

Ecstasy is the only one I’ll occasionally do.

It’s somewhat refreshing, turns the mind a 

little to the left, whatever that means. Just 

a beautiful day. I wish all sentient beings

could live in my mind for just a little while.

I could take care of them there. Actually,

I do anyway because that’s the only job

I’ll ever have in all my lives. It’s the thread

that makes sense of the discontinuity. It’s why 

you knew you wanted to become a ballerina 

when you were two. One thing my mother said

on her deathbed that as a girl she wanted to

travel to Tibet. A Tibetan enlightened guy

liberated her mind just before she died, so,

I guess she knew something way back then.

If enlightenment wasn’t an awakening of the

senses, it would be senseless, like religions.

The uncertainty is where we can learn

something. Pretty sure about that.

I used to be a teacher of meditation.

Now, this is the only venue I have

for much of anything.

I never wanted to be a guru. In that,

I’ve succeeded admirably. It’s better

to get nothing at all than something bad.

All that’s stuck in my mind are some 

quotations I remember. I’m glad I have

them because they’re beautiful and some 

good jokes. A few Captain Beefheart

a capella songs he sang, sung poems 

really. He was a great poet. Lots of the

great poets, after the fifties, were singers

of different genres, because that’s where

the money was. They were the truth tellers

the Elizabethan “Fools” of our age. The 

ones that told the truths that people could

hear and sing along. Fantastic. Bob Dylan

definitely contributed to my awakening.

Joanie Mitchel too. She met Trungpa and

she was definitely touched by the experience.

Ginsberg asked Trungpa once if he wanted

to meet Bob Dylan. His answer was: “ I

couldn’t care less.” I’ll leave it at that.

My wife and I gave Ginsberg a ride once 

from Vermont to Boston. It was just before

his poems he wrote about the Rolling Thunder

Review were published in Rolling Stone 

magazine, and he recited some while we were 

driving. One that I still like, to this day, goes

like this: “Nobody saves America by sniffing

cocaine/ jiggling your knees blank eyed in the

rain/when it snows in your nose you catch 

cold in your brain” I think his Howl was the

most influential poem, in English, in the second

half of the twentieth century. Same as On The

Road was the most influential novel. That’s 

what I think. All pleasure and no pain makes

Jack a dull boy. Like the weather in Colorado,

if you don’t like what you see, just wait awhile.

I like what I see, clouds, rain, sun, the sellers

in the market, the dogs roaming free and 

undisturbed, children dressed up in little

costumes…sometimes they’re on horses,

with their parents by their sides. I’m never

sure if these people believe in anything.

They sure like a good show, though. Don’t 

we all? When’s the current “bomb” going

to end? Not soon enough for me. And there 

is still the possibility we might go

full Kali Yuga. We don’t have long

until we’ll know. Meanwhile, which I call

being in Mexico, I live in a special, magical

place, maybe not in the way you imagine it.

Find your own, because it must be somewhere.

You can’t become enlightened when

you’re a God….too much pleasure,

you’re not interested. Only, the Gods

don’t know their existence may be long,

but it’s still temporary, like the biggest

mountains. Think about that the next time

you want to go to heaven. Like Blind Faith

said in one of their songs: “Heaven is in

your mind.” That’s what you find when you

come back to your senses. That’s why

meditation. If it didn’t work, no one would 

have been doing it for thousands of years.

The future was always the present growing

up…how much greater America could become.

The American Dream which seemed to work

for some, others not so much. It’s a relative

goal, all of which are disappointing. Even when

you get to the top you realize you’re on the

bottom, Bob Dylan said. He also said you’re

either busy being born or busy dying, which

also true for everyone. A good place to stop.

A Gift To Tepoztlan (for Herbert Wickenheiser)

I’ve made an impression 

in the space where I sit

outside the coffee house 

in Tepoztlan.

When I die they won’t 

remember me, but they will

remember my colorful socks,

the ties that I wore: “ Where is

that guy that used to sit there

with the striped socks?” they’ll

wonder. Perfectly out of place.

They’ll remember me as a thing

that used to be there.

Space has a memory, like water,

(the scientists say), don’t think it

doesn’t. Space has a memory,

otherwise, nobody would remember

their past lives, some do. They will

remember the colors there for a while,

the ones that saw me, after I’m gone.

Emptiness is the best gift a Buddhist

can give.

Walking Around (for and with Pablo Neruda)

A comby (van) ride to town past

Mexican buildings with bright 

colored murals. I get off at the main

bus stop where I saw a UFO two years 

ago. Straight to the coffee house, I sit

down outside. I’ve come here so often

a friend painted a portrait of me here;

it looks like he captured my soul.

Most people are calm in this un bourgeois 

town. “Still, it would be lovely, to wave a

cut lily and panic a Notary,

or finish a nun with a left to the ear.”

My craving for revenge at being born has

abated. The world does its thing and I do mine.

After coffee, I walk a couple of blocks to the

new Mercado. Grand Opening yesterday, I

didn’t go, mostly through with fiestas. I have 

a routine and a route that I travel, like all

paraplegics just waiting for revelation. It won’t 

come from a God, I know that now. I find the

meaning of life in strangers’ faces, or pick it up

from the street, lost by some unconscious slob.

Things in themselves are symbolic. There’s a 

secret code that runs through the world. Only

if you look can you see it, and most are too busy

for that. This town is fiesta, when it happens or

not. Everyone’s up for a joke, laugh easily at

not very much, my kind of people. Everyone 

knows life’s joke, the uncertainty. The icons

they carry through the streets in processions 

are imposing. I guess they have to believe in

something…no one tells them otherwise.

They go on this way for centuries. I’m still,

not walking, but very moved inside by their

sufferings and their joys.

Good times, but not the way you think.

Just being on the street delights me, like

an old man sitting on his front porch with 

his shotgun, waiting for nothing in Paradise.

Internet Is Out

Sitting in a chair looking out my front door,

second floor steel steps leading down to

walkway curved to the right, block steps

I had cemented into place so they wouldn’t 

wobble, then a cobblestone walkway,

a few steps, a steel railing I had 

put in, the walk is steep but not too long

up to the street. In front of me a wall of green,

trees and bushes, some wires strung head level,

a little coiled plastic pipe on the ground.

A wall of green, and earth and stone behind the

green. Silent except for the rare car, occasional dog.

No fireworks yet, although I expect 

there will be some. I hardly notice anymore.

Internet’s back on!! 

Fuck it!

It’s only poetry!

“The best things in life are free.”

I wish I could get ahold of that guy

just once. The best things may not 

cost anything, but you still have to 

work for them, like

education,

enlightenment,

a good used car.

“You can’t take it with you.”

is another thing they say.

For me, that was easy because

I always gave everything away,

not caring to carry baggage on

my continuous journey, which,

I know doesn’t end with death.

How do I know that? Well, I can’t 

really share my experience, put you

in my head for a while.

Birth is another beginning, death

another end. As dharmas of samsara,

they are relatively true, not absolute.

Buddha told the whole truth 84,000

times. That’s what he did, that’s all

he did. He was the Terminator of the

illusion in which we all live.

Buddhism is no longer popular.

The ways of the world dominate in this age.

Faster and faster, more and more is the rage.

The world is ablaze with the three poisons.

Look them up, I won’t do your homework,

you lazy bastards.

I had a girlfriend once that was a young girl

when she was in a Nazi concentration camp 

for three years. She came out of that marvelously 

intact. She was better than any Prima Donnas

that are everywhere today in this gone world.

And So It Goes

“When I die, they will place my hands like this.

It will look as though I am flying into myself.”

Bill Knott, Chicago poet.

As the clouds come and go, whether you like it,

or not. Change comes hard for us, whether we like

it or not.

Even if we want to get better somehow, it’s a

difficult journey.

All the wisdom we need has been available for

thousands of years, whether we heed it or not.

Sometimes what is familiar gives us reassurance,

whether it’s good for us or not.

Humans are strange, have the ability to change,

unlike dogs and elephants, but, never forget:

you do what you do, whether you like it or not.

One teacher I knew said his teaching method 

was like a blind man swinging a stick in a crowd.

Whomever he hit was coincidence, auspicious

at that.

The world does what it does, whether…..(you

remember…whether you want to or not.)

We do what we do, over and over, ‘till we

get life right. Lives recycle, called reincarnation.

Comedians try the same joke over and over

‘till the audience gets the punchline.

That’s called compassion.

There’s only one poem, one song, one joke,

one punchline. Don’t you wonder, sometimes,

what it is, whether you want to or not?

I write, then I stop…I do what I do too,

whether anyone likes it or not.

Clear View

 Open air on the fourth floor of the new

Mercado. Valley and mountains laid out,

mind expands for miles, no thoughts while

eyes take in what it sees. Vipassana, clear

seeing, what happens when you practice 

meditation and the ego begins to wear thin.

It’s the mind that moves, not the flag.

Experience moves as the mind moves,

a very moving experience. Everything 

arises in the mind, including the universe.

When we look through a telescope, all we

see is our own mind manifesting perception.

But, the pigs don’t know that, and the ponies

don’t know that. “You mean, only we know that?”

“That’s right.”

Sense Of Dollars

Clams, smackers, gelt, moola,

Lots more names I’m sure, filthy lucre.

“What it takes to get along”, 

post Depression song.

Really what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Would you agree is what I want to know.

I get along more without it now, I’m

shrinking rapidly, a slow fade as the music swells.

just a slow dissolve and segue into a new scene.

It never was my idea.

Whenever I relied solely on my rational mind,

it was always a big mistake.

I foretold, only to myself, my future up to now.

It’s hard to believe, for you, some of my realities 

that are true, (Ah, goofy poetry, foolish me).

I’ve never been a coward when survival was at stake.

I haven’t killed anybody yet. I had an opportunity and

wanted to, but didn’t. It’s always a possibility.

Why I mention that now I have no idea.

I’m just writing down what comes out of there.

No point in this one, no punchline. 

Might as well should give up now.

It turns out money wasn’t so important 

after all.

Why Bother?

I write poetry, if you can call it that,

because I fell in love with it in high school,

and that continued on. Back then, colleges

educated people in culture, not like now.

I continue to write because I can’t help it,

the way an alcoholic can’t help drinking,

the way a dancer can’t help dancing,

the way most people can’t help thinking.

Sometimes my blog gets a lot of hits,

which could be a glitch in software, or,

someones read me. 

Still, I don’t really know how popular I am.

Younger people don’t even read books anymore.

A patron is what I need, an anachronistic term

for those in olden days that had “fuck you “ money,

and could easily afford to patronize the arts.

I don’t mind being patronized: “There, there, poor man…

here’s your hundred bucks.” if it gave me an hundred bucks.

But, I’ll keep writing anyway, Fool that I am, though there

may not be Royalty of any ilk that could appreciate what I am.

The desperation of iambic verse,

no more no less, 

no one likes to be a wolf howling at the moon.

“For what it’s worth…buy my album” 

the musician said, as art is bought and sold,

tailored to Consumer’s Mind. (Suzuki Roshi

would have been proud of that). I give myself,

my poetry, to all the beasts that eat me.

And that’s that.

Billions And Billions

How many billions of years

before this coffee house appeared?

I’ve waited for my coffee, but never this long.

A lady passed me with an ass 

that could stop a truck. How long have

I waited to see that? How long will it be

before I see my teacher again,

drunk Trungpa, with his crystal mind?

Not long at all, in fact, he’s with me now.

That happens when you make connection 

with the quantum maze. Few have that 

experience, that perception. Most wander

in Brownian motion, pinballing through 

life, in one direction. “Tilt”, and it begins

again, another quarter in the slot, 

another life. People don’t believe in

reincarnation, rainbow body, enlightened

mind, phenomena documented for

thousands of years. In the West, most

still have never even heard of those 

realities. They only believe in money,

pleasure, tangible substances, their

lovers’ skins. It’s a game of diminishing 

returns, like Patchinko. 

Maybe going to Mars is the brass ring

on the carousel. Fat chance. You see,

there are some things I don’t believe,

like Gods of any name, religions…

there are some mythstakes I don’t make.

Eternity is real, for sure, but it doesn’t 

happen all at once. It’s discontinuous,

like the uncertainty of our lives.

Humans arose because man eternally

arrives. Everything you can imagine

is happening right now somewhere.

There’s a universe in a drop of water,

Blake, or someone said. The microcosm

scaleable to the macrocosm. Each mind

is a universe unto itself, the same number

of possibilities. Even science, still primitive,

at least gets some things right. They still

seek ultimate reality by examining smaller

and smaller things…larger and larger things,

when everything is here, right under our noses,

but, who takes the time to examine that? 

Buddhists do, that’s all we do: Terminators

of all the myths until all that’s left is space.

“Spaces-Are-Us” is an empty store,

another Buddhist joke, that’s two.

I’ve got forever to become a comedian.

In Love With Space

A new mercado opened in Tepoztlan,

a four story building in the heart of town.

Surprisingly well constructed, with unmatched

vistas of the mountains and the valley.

It replaces the market that’s been there forever,

with it’s ramshackle stalls, crowded together,

plastic sheets protecting from the rain not well.

It’s the first big change to the town since I’ve

been here, twenty years. Open, airy and breezy,

feeling out of doors, earthquake reinforced, the

right answer to a chronic question.

No bad vibes of McMansions, strip malls,

condos on top of one another. It’s happy

industrial magic, if that is even a thing,

compatible with the magic that abides here.

As an ex plumber, I admire the quality of

workmanship with a bit of astonishment.

There are capable people in Mexico, but

sometimes they’re hard to find.

A gringo saying about Mexico is:

“Mexico: the country that almost works.”

In this case, it does.

Sometimes poems are about ordinary things.

Poets always go where the magic is.

Man As Machine

I wrote a senior college thesis paper

on “Man As Machine In 20th Century

Literature.” People don’t write much 

anymore, here in the 21st Century, only

a few words written on a magic screen.

Mainly, it’s social media, a frenzy of

quick impressions working directly into

the mind….Danger Zone!!….so, we are 

merging with these machines, surreptitiously,

behind the scene becoming more like them,

so we begin to forget who we are, which is

textbook brainwash. Orwell didn’t write 

much about the technology of control, the

means, just the method. And now, Homosap

is controlled by machines. He thought he 

had escaped from Dr. Caligari, but, he only 

found himself in another cage.

 Now, my paper is up to date.

Rainy Season Tepoztlan 2024

A good one…solid rain from mid June

through August…more to come.

Clouds decorate the mountains, people

looking moisturized. Streets as clean as 

they can ever be. No rubble, no protestors,

no riots. I was smart to leave the USA.

Even if Trump is elected, by the time he gets

the USA back in shape, I’ll be dead. I never

trusted a plan I couldn’t see. Americans, many

venal, many dumb…they do have a Musk no

others do. Let’s see if he degenerates into a

Savior. After all, he may be a genius, the richest 

man in the world, but he has no mind training,

and his mind is numbed with God. One thing is 

sure: I’m a better poet than he’ll ever be, and

I’m not that good. Poets are a dying breed from 

a time when language was used to communicate,

not indoctrinate, which both sides always do.

The pendulum is swinging towards the Dark Age.

Not every prophet, for millennia, can be wrong.

More was known about the mind 2500 years ago

than is today. People still train their minds, but

few go that way. “The reason why there are no

revolutionaries in America, is that it would be like

being a spoilsport at an orgy.” Richard Dreyfus 1971.

Revolutionaries are in charge of the orgy now…the

lunatics have taken over the Asylum. There would 

have to be a Mao sized extermination to get rid of 

them, but the good guys are too nice. If they did that,

no doubt they’d become evil too, and the slaughter

would never stop...what to do? It’s only business,

after all, and, as we know, the dharmas of samsara 

are futile. Over seven billion people in the world,

but not for long. Mother Nature doesn’t listen to the

homosap, and there’s going to be hell to pay.

I’ll die in poverty while you continue to dot the “i”s

and cross the “t”s. It will make no difference if you 

go to Mars, as you will see. It’s just more hopium to 

buttress against futility. Your vision is because you’re 

still young. Wait until you’re old, like me. Are you a

Renaissance Man or a freak of nature? Time will tell,

we all will see.

Yes, rainy season, where I am. I write easily because

I’m in a magic land, in a world of diminishing returns,

caused  by man.

I Am Zero (with commentary)

A Buddhist is the zero

between God and dog.

People get confused

whether there is a God

or just a dog. They get

confused if they are a God

or just a dog.

I’ve eliminated the extremes 

to the point of zero, which, as

a Buddhist, is where I belong.

If people ask me: “Who are you?”

I form a zero with my lips and

am silent.

Few seem satisfied with this answer,

but, for once, I’ve given them a gift

that keeps on giving.

Commentary:

On the Norm Macdonald show,

he and his sidekick, Adam Eget,

had a little shtick they’d do, a joke

played on their guests. Adam, 

the foil of the two, designatedly

would ask the guest: “ My question

to you is: where do you get your ideas?”

The guest, at first flummoxed and chagrined,

would be silent, (the correct answer they 

never seem to get). After  that, as comedians,

they come up with something, but most don’t 

seem to like the trick. Is that why it’s difficult

for Buddhists to be comedians? Because, really,

that’s their only joke?

Trapped In Paradise

Is that an oxymoron?

If I told you why I was trapped,

I’d have to kill you.

It’s not a bad thing or a bad idea.

Where I am is Shangri-lha, about 30%,

more than I’ve seen elsewhere.

A wiseguy like me is just a bright flower

on the side of the road, that distracts drivers

and causes accidents. I don’t mean to, but,

there you have it.

Language has been the cause of many things

good and bad. Wallace Stevens said that poetry 

is a destructive force: it destroys misconceptions 

about perception. It shines a light into our shared 

experiences. A little should appear on all social

media platforms to aerate the bullshit, to distract

the rabble from their rabid reactions, if only for 

a moment. Getting a little bit of something good

is better than getting nothing at all. And, getting 

nothing at all is better than getting something bad.

For example, smart Mexicans speak English.

It’s a good filter to know who to relate to.

Fuck It

 Contemplating suicide….

the pros and the cons. 

Money is the issue…if I run out,

there’s no way I can survive…it’s

still an iffy issue…it’s too early to 

pull a trigger. I never was interested

in money…never good at making it.

When I had it, I took it for granted.

Now the end game is afoot.

I gave my life away already to all

sentient beings…

I helped all those I could the best I can.

If no one helps me now, that’s their business…

everyone does what they do..

I don’t blame them, I did too.

As a Buddhist, suicide is a bad thing, very bad.

I’m not afraid of dying…

I’m deathly afraid of karma.

Sitting on the edge of that question 

is very powerful.

There will be no more poems.

I don’t imagine that matters much.

I’m rambling because of uncertainty,

not freaked out, but with a cautious 

apprehension. This is not a note I leave 

beside my body. I’m just thinking out loud.

Ironically, I feel better than I have 

my whole life. I’d hate to throw that away

because of some stupid move.

I could have died so many times already.

Why I’m still alive is something of a miracle,

a blessing, an opportunity to contemplate my fate.

“Even Jesus wanted a little more time.”

Trying to help was my only inspiration.

I did radical theatre, social satire, a mirror

for society’s mind. I realized whatever effect

it had wore off quickly.

I helped my Buddhist teacher bring Buddhism 

to the West. I’m most happy about that. Of course,

it didn’t make me as rich as the Pope, the opposite.

If anything, that’s why I find myself here.

Still, I wouldn’t have had it any other way,

which seems suicidal now.

Fuck me if I can’t take a joke.

I have no idea my poetry has done

a whit of good…some people said

they liked them…so what? Poetry

and music have always inspired 

people…only Dylan and his ilk

have been worth a hoot, became

rich. There have been plenty of prophets

over millennia. Few ever listened to them.

No, if you really want to change the world,

it takes power and money to conquer the world:

Prince Ashoka, Genghis Khan, even Elon Musk

and Trump. Hitler made a splash, but he had the

wrong idea. Money and power corrupt, but they’re 

the only way to get things done. That’s the quandary.

Berryman jumped off a bridge. (I wonder what he

was thinking just then.) My dear friend, Thomas,

master artist, burned himself up in his trailer after

twenty years of intense suffering. His reason was

better than mine. My grandfather begged me to

kill him. I didn’t, but now wonder if I was kind.

I’m willing to go…too many people anyway 

on the earth. Bill Gates wants to help, but in

an evil way. Elon wants to colonize Mars; to me,

like pouring water from one glass to another.

There’s a question if his marvelous inventions

will help anything at all, or are they all just

brilliant hopium? Only the enlightened know 

what to do, and they’re in short supply.

What if you found, at the seashore, a message

in a bottle that read: “Look behind you.” ?

What would you think?

Would you understand?

Would it be a revelation?

Would you keep the bottle

and throw the note away?

Did that note save Donald’s life?

People tend not to see the treasures

in front of them, too busy to notice

anything besides their comfortable lives.

As a child, I already knew there was 

something more than that. So, I gave 

my life away because it seemed the right

thing to do. 

I have no regrets or doubt of that.

All that’s left is how to close this out

without leaving a mess behind. I’m

in this moment to ask that question.

It’s the same question I had as a child:

“What is this life thing anyway?”

My only answer is: look behind you.

Handel and Leadbelly wrote music

that got them out of prisons.

I doubt that that will be my fate.

Back To The Drawing Board

Social media isn’t for me.

Oh yes, I’m addicted to it already,

and I’m already suppressed by the

algorithm. 

It’s a tar baby of attraction.

I can see days go by when

I forget about everything else.

I may have to delete X from

my computer.

Elon is special.

He’s already on his way to becoming

a long lived God, (one of the six realms).

I’ve never met one, but supposedly, they

live for millennia, longer than Methuselah.

Supposedly, just before they die, (for none

of the realms are eternal), their flower

garlands start to wilt, and they start smelling

their body odor. When they die, they’re 

immediately reborn into hell. 

Karma, ne?

Xpoem #1

Sifting through the debris of social media…

leaving my entrails as a trail.

How can I fly to Mars in three lines?

Poetry Is An Anachronism

 Poetry was from a time 

when people had literary minds.

Writing was one of the few forms of 

entertainment, as well as education.

Now, with social media, it’s all entertainment,

dispensed in tiny bites to fit the manic

attention spans. No one is learning much

anymore…. too busy consuming 

information pollution to satisfy appetites

for bullshit. 

So, as I write here less, I write on X more.

More people see and read me there.

It’s a natural progression,

and I love telegraphing snarky comments.

So, I’m going away, but not disappearing.

Just a fade, a dissolve, into a different scene.

When you live among the Lotus Eaters, 

you can’t choose the menu. But, this way,

I can complain about the service:

“ Hey, waiter! There’s an “I” in my soup!”

Social Media #2

“If I seem to act unkind, it’s only me,

it’s not my mind that is confusing things.”

John Lennon

Social media is questionable usefulness.

If you’re not already convinced of the truth,

it gives plenty of reasons to doubt yourself.

If you have emotions, it’s a tar baby.

Would you have coffee with Elon Musk if he

asked you? Why would he want to?

How could you be sure it was him?

Maybe he wants to know normal people.

That’s a good reason.

Maybe he wants you to invest.

That’s a reason.

The problem seems to be the world suffers

now from an overactive imagination.

If Mr. Musk showed up outside my coffee

house, or sent a representative to talk to me,

that would be proof of life.

Otherwise, it’s just a temporary mirage.

There are plenty of those on the internet

to chose from.

I can wait for the truth forever.

I’ve got time.

Gaming

“A man could make a modest living

playing the marble game.”

from the play “The Time Of Your Life.”

Pachinko, maybe…not roulette…I’ve

got more balls than that.

It’s a game of chance, if you look at it 

that way…karma if that’s how you see it.

“Many times for brief moments” is the 

most profound instruction.

Losing is not a problem if you know

the game is rigged.

In that case, you just make the game bigger

until the marbles fall through space.

X

Started on X the past few days

realizing why I stayed off of 

social media since it began.

So far no one has said anything 

about my ranting. Tentatively 

good. Takes up a lot of my too

much time…old and in the way

and all…not complaining…if 

you’re lucky, you’ll get here too.

Other than that, it’s just

a tool I’ll use more if 

it continues to be useful.

I am an ape and all.

Esmeralda

 Beautiful young petite Mexican

senorita all tatted up with the sweetest

genuine smile. I’m in love again.

Too late for this lifetime doesn’t matter.

“Old rats like cheese too.” 

South Carolina plumber.

“Just because the director says ‘Action!’

doesn’t mean you have to do anything.”

Marlon Brando to Al Pacino

Good Morning!

 Where I live in Mexico people

say hello in the morning.

They don’t in Kyoto, Chicago,

New York or Boston. Being an 

American means never having to

say hello….too busy…crust of

isolation, illusion of separateness 

and individuality, full of themselves 

with little room for others, no sense 

that we’re all in this together, which

we are. “I’m me and you’re not” is

the battle cry, though there’s nothing

much to defend. Being the best at

trivial pursuits, but losing the game

of life.

Saying hello is meaningful. It says 

you acknowledge you’re not the 

only one there. 

If not, if everyone’s center stage,

there is no audience to see the play

in which the truth is revealed. 

Life becomes a clown show with

everyone just fooling around in

goofiness. 

It’s a mad mad mad mad world.

Quantum Story

Late night city street sidewalk 

street lamps red and white car

lights sizzle of tires through the

recent rain.

It could have happened.

I wasn’t cold. I lit a cigarette 

under lamp light watched the

smoke drift upwards and fade.

Not much movement on the

cityscape. Most of the lives 

buttoned up for the night. I

wasn’t going to come up 

with something new where

I was standing. I had to go.

Weather Report

Sagittarius moon afternoon rainy season

rain shower splash of downburst windows

just a slit open even so rain sprays ticklishly

with the wind over me lying in bed mind 

cloud wisps flurry along dissipatingly with 

the wind I imagine it’s the weather of Shambhala.

Fog Of Life

Mountains hidden in clouds,

obscured by fog, just like

the fog of mind that obscures

what’s in front of you.

When the fog lifts, 

the mountains are undeniable.

When the mind clears one sees

the formations called reality.

Awareness, the breeze of delight,

dissipates temporary obscurations.

All the Buddhas say the same thing

again and again.

It’s simple: just follow nature.

A tree never says: “ Hey! I’m a tree!”

A tree has no ambition to become a table.

Why do we insist we are any different?

We are part of nature.

It’s not nature’s fault we don’t act naturally.

Chain Smoking

Scorpio rising outside the

coffee shop. Doing my due 

diligence, token Buddhist 

in Tepoztlan. Usually nothing

happens except occasionally a

brief, friendly word or two.

Not inspired to write, but it’s 

what I do. The coffee is good

today…they always make it 

differently….that’s the 

Mexican way.

I gave my life away always,

even before I knew I was a

Buddhist. It seemed the thing 

to do.

You’ll forget what you just read

as soon as you’re finished, if you

even get to the end.

These days I feel unburdened,

(thank you Kamala),

by all the things I gave away.

My cigarettes especially remind

me of impermanence.

I have to give praise to all the

Vajra Masters who spread the 

dharma throughout the world,

now available to everyone,

first time in history.

Arnold Toynbee said the most 

important event/trend of the 20th

Century was the coming of 

Buddhism to the West.

That’s what happens when 

you have good coffee…still,

nothing happens.

If you have nothing,

you have nothing to loose.

Even then, the non-existent

beat goes on, and my seat on 

the street 

is a portal to another realm.

Little Births

Poco Cumpleanos

mostly dying, but sometimes

finding myself suddenly born again

a cameo of myself in my movie I recognize

like a movie star, which I was 

in my own movie in memories of great scenes,

like when my mother overturned the Xmas dinner 

table, completely set, in a fit of rage when her brother,

my uncle, showed up unexpectedly. 

That took three lines of memory from my mind. 

It was as if happened yesterday.

But that’s not what this poem is about.

I’d better start again, 

or is that another birth?

That’s what keeps happening, 

even as I age: always finding myself

again, back at square one.

Reason enough to keep living.

***************

Afterbirth

Yeah, like, when you’re born?

And everything that comes after

that is afterbirth, until death, and

it’s as messy as it sounds.

Full Of Themselves

This is the big problem with

social media influencers 

Communist politicians 

main stream pundits and experts…

the list goes on.

They trip over themselves trying to

pass off partial truths with loud voices.

I can hardly hear myself think anymore.

I have to look at trees to get back in my body.

The marching morons making something 

out of nothing once again raise their strident

historical voices, brandishing self righteous 

ignorance as before, the new barbarians, the

darkening of the light,

eschewing basic decency, common sense,

what’s seen when looking clearly.

It’s all I can write about because it’s all I

can see when I look at the sad world we’re 

on right now: the rise of the Kali Yuga.

The only question I have is; will it change

after November, or, will it last a

thousand years?

This is a piece I wrote in November, 2011,

just before the whole thing started.

The Purge Of Evil

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 create from their evil deeds 

Will rid the earth 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! 

Predicted by all religions!

Remain human! Remain human!

Don’t take part in their bloody game!

What goes around comes around!

Cultivate compassion!

Their leaders are lost in lust!

Their self destruction is inevitable!

****************************

I publish it over and over….

July 30, 2024

 Days do go by.

Even during war, some days

just go by without much happening.

Even lives go by

without much happening.

My life is going by 

without much happening.

Since the industrial/information

evolution, hardly a day goes by

without something happening.

Change has picked up speed.

Change is becoming exponential.

You think the Mayan calendar 

was wrong?

“OK, frogs, it’s 2012. We’re 

turning up the heat now.”

Maybe it just took a while.

By now, we all know people

that are getting a little hot.

We are living in a time that,

one day, will be called a myth.

Old beliefs can only 

drag us down.

Iconography

 Cigar Store Indian.

Any surprise that that icon is gone?

It went the way of Aunt Jemima,

Uncle Ben, and other racist affronts.

Icons have moved to people’s bodies,

branded by tee shirts, monograms,

tattoos. They feel a certain way when

they wear them…now everyone is 

their own cliche.

People in uniforms demonstrate that

they have the same purpose. 

Clowns are made up that way.

A swastika is an extreme example.

These days, no one has to guess it’s 

meaning.

“What you see is what you get” some say.

“Things are symbols of themselves” is

another way to say it.

People see through the filters

of their symbols, their brands,

their group, their team, the scars

they got becoming one of those.

My poetry is not philosophy,

it doesn’t care what you think.

It only cares what you see.

Carnival

 “Everyone’s a winner!”

That’s what the carnies bark.

“Barking” is the term for

the words they say.

Plenty of carnies around these days.

Everyone’s a winner: believe that

and you might just as well believe 

anything.

It’s all for show for money.

The carnival exists because

of the rubes.

Without the gullible, the mysths 

would disappear.

Sounds like the politics today.

You could say

Trump glows like the sun, or,

Kamala looks like a clown.

Brainwash

As humans, we are brainwashed in all

kinds of ways:

by culture,

national identity,

family,

lovers,

intellectual sidetracks,

politics,

the Mob.

It’s impossible to avoid,

but possible to overcome.

De-programming takes many forms.

It could be a conversation that presents

the truth.

“If the truth can be told so as to be understood,

it will be believed.”  William Blake

It could be a life changing event.

It could be clarifying the mind through meditation.

One side effect of de-programming is that, for a

time, one has doubts about one’s own judgement.

What is life, anyway?

Who looks into that question?

Certainly not the brainwashed

in the artificial certainty of the

rut they never find themselves in.

Brainwashing has been a standard 

tool of power and control forever.

It is based in language and concept…

just read Orwell.

William Burroughs said the word is

a virus. When words infect the mind,

the result is brainwash, a crust of

resistance to new information.

An example?

“Biden is sharp as a tack and able to

be President again.”

After the debate with Trump, the same

people say: “Biden is too damaged to

run for President.”

What changed?

Only the words.

Civil War: The Sequel

The American Civil War was not a war to eliminate

slavery. It was a war to maintain the United States 

as an entity. The South just happened to be where the

treasonous Democrats were. Now, they are everywhere

in the United States, determined to destroy the Union

the same as the Confederacy was. The Democrats have

always been the racists, and still are. 

Life Is Art

“Take a masterpiece…burn it a little…

makes it even better. “ Chogyam Trungpa 

That’s what happened to Trump when he

lost a piece of his ear and raised his fist 

in the air. Many people saw him for the

first time. A change happened. Rich people,

like Musk, gave him more money…one

obvious result. People saw him in a new way.

Giving the credit to God is puerile, simplistic.

The event underlined his mind, brought it

into focus.

There have been incredible humans

throughout history…maybe the aliens

don’t agree…still see humans as

undifferentiated monkeys.

A man, Buddha, discovered 

enlightenment, the logical

culmination of evolution, which 

certainly is not nothing.

Meanwhile, the beat still goes on…

the play’s still the thing in which 

the truth is revealed, if one has 

eyes to see. And, right now,

Trump is standing center stage.

Racist

Racist is a term used to insult people

when reasoned logic fails. It is used extensively 

by the Left to denounce it’s critics and stifle 

debate. The proper response to the slur of racist

is: “you’re brainwashed” because it’s true

empirically and not just an insult. The dramatic

reactiveness of people when you just say the word 

“Trump” or“MAGA” is an indicator that these 

people can’t  think or see clearly, that they are 

brainwashed.

The real racism in the USA today is against white

people, because they are the biggest threat to the

Communist takeover of the USA. If one looks at

the history of totalitarian governments in the 

twentieth century, it’s clear that propaganda and

the resulting brainwashing were an essential 

engine that brought these governments to power.

This is what’s happening in the USA right now.

Obama overturned the law that made propaganda

illegal in the popular media. How many snakes does

it take to make you realize you’ve been bitten?

2024, but, who’s counting?

An old woman walked past me…grey hair,

stoic expression, holding up a bunch of flowers

at shoulder height. The mauve flowers matched

her flower print dress. She looked like she was

walking to her grave, an apparition. She’s my 

image for the next year of world civilization.

The USA is the hot spot for the world’s changes.

“The temperature’s rising, it isn’t surprising,

it certainly can….can-can.”

If it was an asteroid, it would have hit you.

The next year…the next year…what other time

in history we’re we as aware that big changes

are imminent? 1914? 1941? 

The prophets on YouTube are pulling out their hair.

It’s no joke, but black humor is a thing.

We see which way this situation that has

reached its boiling point is going.

Some frogs will not survive.

“Hurry up, please, it’s time.”

My last twenty years went by in a

second, but then I live in Shangri-La,

where the only time is now.

This year is and will feel like the Truman

Show, glimpses of bare wires dangling 

from the sky.

Time itself will slow, like when you’re in

an accident, to be sure it doesn’t miss anything…

flashes of invisible realms. 

Who will survive to continue to evolve once

the truth is fully revealed?

We live in interesting times.

Attempted Assassination of Trump

The shooter, a twenty year old, was two years out of high school.

He was a loner who had been bullied a lot. His father was a licensed 

therapist, from whom he may have acquired the gun. He hated Trump.

He gave money to Democrats. His mother was also a therapist.

Sounds to me like a CIA/MK ULTRA kind of guy.

People in the crowd alerted the police to the man with

a gun on the roof of a building, 150 meters from Trump.

FBI marksmen had him in their sights and were told to

stand down. They only killed him after he got off a number

of shots.

How did he get onto the roof of a building with an M16?

A ladder. Did he bring it? How, plus an M16? If not, how

did he know it was there? It was inside the building, so, 

he must have at least known that. You really think he

had no help? “Lone gunman”? Yeah, that theory has

been the number one excuse. We know now in JFK’s

case, and RFK’s case, that was not true. It’s the same 

puzzle with the usual lack of pieces, but the pattern 

is mostly the same.

There were differing reports about why the sniper, who 

had the person in his sights, didn’t take the shot. One was

that he needed confirmation to shoot, but was told to stand 

down. Another was that those anti terrorist snipers don’t 

need further orders to shoot. What is the truth? The coverup 

is happening right now!

Samsara

Samsara is the world we all

find ourselves in.

It includes all the pleasures 

and pains; every experience 

we have in life.

Ultimately, it’s results are

always unsatisfactory.

One might be Bruce Jenner,

the glorified athlete.

His fame faded, so he got it

back, for now, by becoming 

a sex change champion.

Annexing Czechoslovakia 

wasn’t enough for Hitler.

Even Alexander the Great 

wanted a little more time.

First, you have to see the

problem: desire, longing, 

grasping, clinging.

Then, you have to train your

mind to let go of those things.

Then you can be in the world,

but not of the world.

That’s why Jesus said:

“Unless you’re like one of these,

(children)

you cannot enter the Kingdom.”

(with all the bullshit in the Bible,

it’s amazing that, perhaps, some of

Jesus’s most profound teachings 

survived).

Children’s minds are uncluttered

with all those “adult” concerns 

until they come “of age”.

We do have to get back to the Garden.

ConsterNation

Not a Utopia…

everyone walks around in a permanent shrug.

“Oh well,” is the common greeting, like Mexico,

only, here they really don’t care…lazy Samurai, 

they don’t do much but they’re ready to die at 

any moment.

“Where’s John? I haven’t seen him.”

“He died.”

“Oh well…” and so it goes.

Shambhala.org?

It got corrupted

Democracy?

It’s over.

Society?

Taken over by A.I..

The human species?

Heading towards a cliff.

Oh well.

How’s Life?

Greetings to all my friends I haven’t met yet!

Have you thought about life lately?

Have you looked into what life is?

Are you having too much fun to even think

about it?

Are you so burdened you don’t know what

to think?

Whatever the case, you’re not alone.

Most people are either too busy being born

or too busy dying to even ask the question.

What other question could be more fundamental?

Most people only look for the truth when 

they’re cornered; when their paradigm falls short,

like, when they walk away from an airplane crash

and wonder why they’re not dead…this happened 

to a friend of mine. Her life changed forever.

“Why me?” some people say.

“Why not?” is an appropriate response,

but maybe not that helpful.

If you don’t look into what life is, you

might be like Marlon Brando on his

deathbed when he asked the question:

“What was that?”

Random Orts

 I Wouldn’t Put It Past Them

The Democrats have declared Biden has

entered a spiritual realm and his garbling 

is actually him saying mantras. He’s too

spiritual for you to judge him.

The pharmaceutical companies have issued a

statement that their improved vaccine will now

be effective for any pandemic they intend to spread.

The military has instituted a policy that soldiers will

no longer carry weapons. Instead, they will be armed

with wands.

(Sorry. I’ve wasted too much of your precious time on

this already.)

Grouchy Old Man Song

I’m a grouchy old man,

yessiree! 

If you get too close I’ll grouch

at ye.

It don’t matter that you did nothing wrong…

you just got too close is why I sing my song.

(repeat)

Gone

I was just smoking a cigarette, and 

now it’s gone. 

Where did it go?

It was just here like

all those relationships, projects,

triumphs, failures, all those years.

Where did they go?

What did I expect?

Haiku

Living in a dream.

“This paradise is so real.”

“What’s next?” I wonder.

Megamorphosis

 A new word, maybe, meaning

what humanity is going through now,

Childhoods End, end of the road for 

the homosap, archaic revival, even, if

E.T. was our ancestor/engineer/God, it’s 

about time we knew maybe? So, we’re 

hearing cornucopias of chatter about 

every organized government, all the 

rumors we heard or believed for the 

last sixty years about the way things 

are being challenged, destroyed, and

the truth revealed.

“The future is already here. It’s just not

evenly distributed.”  William Gibson

Rainbow Simulacra

We are all beings made of light,

so hard, so hard to see, so stuck

on the earth, stuck in the mud are

we, concerned about the longevity 

of a mirage.

In magic, movements play tricks 

on sight, the ephemeral solidity

is revealed. Even the elephant in

the room can disappear.

There is a “mind’s eye”,

an artist’s eye,

seer’s eye,

quantum panoramic eye,

eye yi yi!

So,

no words…

just performance.

The Simpleton Yogi Speaks

 You can go to the past,

but no one’s there anymore.

You can go to the future,

but no one’s there yet.

If you remain in the present,

you’ll always be right on time.

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t know.”

Maybe it’s better you don’t know

the truth, what’s really going on

in the world.

That’s what our rulers have been

telling us for the last seventy years.

Inasmuch as it doesn’t affect your

penthouse, your retirement plan, you

don’t care or pay much attention.

“It is precisely in unconscious 

involuntary manifestations that 

all evil lies. You do not yet understand 

and cannot imagine the results of this evil.

But the time will come when you will

understand.” G. I. Gurdjieff  1916

What’s It Gonna Be?

It’s going to be  a woman

it’s going to be a woman of color 

it’s going to be a Chinese

a Christian 

a Mexican

a black man

a white cracker 

a yarmulke wearing Mofo,

it’s going to be somebody 

so just let go.

Saturday Morning Cartoons #1

Old Man Picking His Nose

…could be the subject of a poem:

“Desperately Seeking Dementia”…

a documentary about famous people

that picked their noses:

Abraham Lincoln

Ulysses S. Grant

Napoleon 

All the Greeks…

someone would watch it,

to be sure,

to be immortalized by A. I.

like everything else there ever was.

With such knowledge, what forgiveness?

####&####&####&#####&####&####&####&###&###&###&####&######&####&#####&####&

Faster than the speed

of smoke

the DMT

hits me

suddenly

rainbow waterfall 

Splash!

…and that was the world

for a little while, not exactly 

the “I’ll have the usual.”

familiar landscape oh boy.

That’s The Way I Like It

Sailing on an ocean of blood constantly replenished 

by a variety of waters rehydrating the manblob into

it’s proper vague form, definition compromised by

years of wear as with any machine…”If it’s a machine 

it’s not my problem” (Dick Cheney) good thing it’s 

not up to him I’ve seen men like him go up in smoke

hard to burn something made mostly of water, but it’s 

been done for thousands of years if we weren’t made of

lots of water we couldn’t move like sailing our bodies

over

a basketball hoop

a ballerina twirl 

a boogie woogie dance flip

a high dive, a floor routine

a flea flicker pass

a bull ride

all need oceans of water

to capture the dance of fluidity,

going with the flow,

the Tao of spontaneous presence,

nowness,

which is never created 

but is always complete.

Uh huh…..Uh huh….That’s right!

Crystal Ship

Sea of joy roils in chaos around

me in crystal mind clarity embedded

in the truth of the senses, sails smoothly 

up the waves and down the troughs,

at home in the vastness,

no fear in the certainty 

of going down.

Strange Days

Strange days have found us..

what the prophets and troubadours told us

in so many languages for eons, and now 

you say 

you know what to believe

you don’t know what to believe?

All you know is you’re angry?

Strange, isn’t it? 

It wasn’t this way before.

Strange days have caught up with time.

It’s strange time…seen clearly..it’s strange

not normal middle class American sitcom…

no, tomorrow won’t be the same as today.

And history won’t be of help in any way.

Late Night Musing

 Cool now….will be

                       maybe….

until next year

another year goes by 

and coolness returns

only a year, and yet a year

goes by so quickly and returns

so we can be in coolness again

as if coolness measured time

which it does.

And measures the time that’s left

to pass before there is no more time,

just a refreshing coolness that is relished

and that passes slowly,

relaxing into silence.

Tropical Storm

Coming from the Caribbean, East to West,

I see the intensity on the radar. Out my window,

I see the clouds at the edge of the storm 

not thick, but covering the sun. Coolness

finally…but, of course, I want more…and

shall have in exquisite gradual excruciating 

slow progress of the storm, 

like Queen Elizabeth the First and Her Majesty’s 

Progresses, wreaking havoc on the economies

of Her Lords to keep them in check, what Ieyasu

did to the daimo.

I love the weather.

I could talk about it all day.

I could talk about it all day

because it was always so phenomenal.

There’s the famous story about the 

Sixteenth Karmapa making it rain for 

the Hopi. That kind of thing was happening

constantly with all the great teachers. It was…

“normal”.

I live in a magic town (Mexicans say so),

that often finds itself at the center of a vortex

of air. The weather accommodates the landscape.

The whole thing, including history, is a giant

clockwork.

Breakthrough

Opening the door to a room and looking inside.

A chair, a table, many windows, weather outside.

Sitting in the chair, feeling the table,

seeing and hearing the weather,

I am forgotten, even by me.

Only relief to, finally, just simply be.

Hugh Hefner And William Gibson Were Right

It’s not half bad

lying in bed all day

comfy and cozy 

while a world that makes no sense

roils elsewhere in hot confusion.

I’m endowed with artificial sight and sound

that looks in on the megillah, the tamasha,

and I don’t get my hands dirty

except to write the odd snide comment on a post

that proves I’m smarter than they are (I’m sure).

“Them”…

not my enemy

not my community.

I don’t know “them”,

but I am surprised how many

of “them” are busy being undone.

Miracle

Ask the question.

Find the answer.

Life is short.

Don’t waste your time 

in twiddle twaddle,

hesitation, 

doubting inspiration,

temporary relief…

(you don’t have the luxury).

There is only now, no future.

Take advantage of the miracle 

that is your mind.

Nothing Happens

Birth, the course of your life,

learning, becoming somebody,

the complications and confusions,

accomplishments, accolades, the

smell of victory and the agony of

defeat, unstoppable self inflicted 

pleasure and pain, seeking meaning 

in meaningless activities, partying as

if there was something to celebrate, 

“meat eaters teeth” calling the plays

at sporting events, sooner or later,

death.

Flakey Foont:

“What’s it all mean, Mr. Natural?”

Mr. N.:   “It don’t mean shit.”

“No trudging through vast Arabies

of hot meaning…you just numbly

don’t get there.”  Kerouac

Confidence

Confidence comes from seeing and knowing 

what is happening.

Not exactly the Charge of the Light Brigade,

or, is it?

They all knew they were going to die, 

and yet, they did it.

Confidence in a higher calling?

Fallacy of misplaced concreteness?

Confidence arises from knowing the truth

and following that path.

Parade

 When you have a parade of people, with

inspired music, marching along with all

the other people;

adults,

kids,

grumpy oldsters,

grumpy young fatties,

they shed, for a moment,

their complaints and worries

to partake of the fun.

It’s just like meditation when 

you begin to see your thoughts 

as a parade.

Shocking Discovery

 “What’s your fucking pronouns?!”

is how I greet young strangers today.

They seem happy I asked, and shocked

at the same time. Or, do they?

Do I really say that to people,

or am I just writing bullshit?

And is that any different than all of us

constantly making up our lives?

Too Much Sense

“It all makes sense now.”

I’m not happy you think so,

if you think you got a good

handle on it…you got a good 

bead on things. And I’m trying

to make sense of it too. This is a 

period of uncertainty, folks.

You may feel a comfortable 

“I’m not one of them!” 

fortune, notwithstanding its 

shaky ground. It’s starting to

not be the world you were

familiar with. And That Change

ain’t gonna stop changing 

until the change is complete.

It has, for me, a flavor of the

Multiverse, a time tunnel, or

funnel, a claymation puzzle

unfolding, sentient A.I..

So, when you choose one of those

you’d be better  off

finding a new life.

Like:  

Submarine Tourism!

No Proof

I look back at my life and can’t 

prove I did anything. Oh sure, the

poems, but they’re not something 

I did…they’re just what happened.

I was in plays and got great reviews!

No proof!

I taught terma teachings of Shambhala!

No proof!

I helped build meditation centers!

No proof!

I’m tooting my own imaginary but

not nonexistent horn!

To preserve something somewhere

besides on the toilet wall!

I’m not special! Anyone can tell

their life’s unique story! And should!

It’s just that….

I did.

The Way They Look At Me Has Changed

 My colorful outfit cum costume 

hasn’t changed.

At first, they looked at me skeptically,

slightly derisively.

After a while, they began to ignore me.

Later, they began to smile, greet me, as if

I was a fixture in their experience,

a reinforcement of their lives, or else,

they were seeing me for the first time.

“You have to have respect before you 

can be liked.” Kayleigh McEnany

Time Well Spent

I wasted a lot of time.

A lot of time I didn’t waste.

There were times I wasted 

no time, times there was

nothing to do but wait.

For about six years I haven’t 

wasted much time, not that

I’ve done anything really, just

more here rather than 

somewhere else. When you’re

just here, you’re not wasting 

time.

Hang On To Your Ego. (from the Beach Boys)

“They come on like they’re peaceful,

but inside they’re so uptight.”

Phonies? Democrat politicians?

Actors? MSM commentators?

In your face and bathroom transgenders?

Biden family apologists?

From Terminator 2:

“The police are here.”

“How many?”

“Uh…all of them, I guess.”

Which could be the way it goes.

Smoked

Trashed

Been had…

could be a hippy on a commune…

could be an exec in a board room…

could be a man in a no man’s land…

could be the results will be the same.

Could be a blackmailed talk show host.

Could be a compromised politician.

Could be the greatest Geshe.

Could be the president of the A.M.A..

When society begins to crumble,

everyone becomes a potential victim.

Ask the ones that already died 

because of the lies.

They died because of lies.

They died because of lies.

They’re still dying because of the lies.

They will still be dying because of the lies.

I don’t know if you’re tired of this poem,

but I sure am.

Proteus

Since change is constant,

why not get with the program?

It only means paying attention 

to every single moment.

Who does this?

Only the occasional Buddha.

“My how you’ve changed!”

Why are you so surprised?

Meditation is the only way.

Keeping up with the Joneses?

Can you even keep up with

yourself?

You can’t get there from here

because, when you do, you

you find out it’s not what 

you thought it would be.

The goal changed before 

you could get to it.

That’s precisely why I didn’t 

become a professional actor.

Embarazado

Full of ideas and metaphors,

embarrassingly so.

I looked back in the archives 

of my blog…sometimes I am 

chagrined by what I wrote.

However,

still in love with words,

I still can’t help myself,

the way it feels with any love.

“Every orgasm I had was 

right on the money.”  W.A.

Like a note in a bottle,

like a note in your pocket 

that says: “No more coke.”

like a response from the internet 

that goes: “That is not what I

meant at all. That is not it at all.”

These are the days of our lives.

Wow

Swimming against the current was

never tougher.

Seeing is the only thing I believe in.

Even then, it’s hard enough to believe 

what I am seeing.

Too much input.

I have to go outside,

look at some trees

to get back in my body.

All Write

All write…what they write

is always questionable.

We’ve all had the experience

of recognizing the truth on the

spot, clear as day.

What we write is wrought from the

mind’s mine, finding treasures

among common rocks. It is

displayed in the marketplace 

and self selects its fame.

The real gems from great poets

and artists, treasured by minds

for ages, sparkle down time,

the truth of beauty, 

the beauty of truth.

Saturnalia

Tell me about it.

The mark of the beast,

occult symbols,

dark slogans adorn clothes

people wear…

brand loyalty, I’m afraid.

Fighting fear with fear?

I’m afraid so…if that’s 

all you know.

“Why so many piercings?”

I asked a young woman at a rave.

“So I can remember the pain.”

she said.

These days,

how can we forget?