everything
we do has
to be
uncommitted

it is so to
escape influence
glory and
pride

a phrase written in
the sand, waiting to be
cleared by the
upcoming wave

a piece of cardboard near
a dumpster in
the back alley of
the place you go to
earn a living, picked,
and used to
write some words in
between smokes at the
ten-minute break,
later dumped, and stumbled
upon, lost in the dirt,
forever

one of those
might be found by the
chances of the universe,
and that's the way the
universe gives us
our genuine
created value

this new age search
for 'collecting of experiences'
is no more than an image
to be created by the self.

it's an image of a
complete individual,
an image to be sold
in the desirable markets.

it's a barrier to truth,
truth which is
beyond description,
beyond recollection,
beyond recognition,
beyond label,
and therefore
beyond experience.

truth only is
in a state of awareness;
is the state of a
child looking at a tree...
always fresh, always new,
unbiased,
unexperienced,
full of life.

last night
it was softly raining
during the summer solstice,
creating a strange
heavy atmosphere.

i took a shower,
looking trough the small
bathroom window-
watching the mountain,
the fog in the high trees,
it looked like
the forest was breathing.
the birds were all hurried up
to get to their nests,
their refuge
from the night.

i went to bed early,
closed the curtains
and watched
the evading light
on the celling,
and on the floor.

i waited, watched the light
slowly ceasing to pitch-black.
i imagined that outside
was a danger zone,
was the realm of the monsters,
and all the creatures of the night.

my bedroom was my safe zone,
hidden under the soft blankets,
like the birds in their nest.

contrary to popular belief,
a marriage can endure
under love, or hate.

what keeps it going
is the same
for both cases.

it's the things
about the other
that you don't tell.

you don't speak
about 'love',
and you don't speak
about 'hate' either.

people's greatest fear
is
dying
before the tomorrow
they're preparing now
becomes their now

their tomorrow's
will always be preceded
by another tomorrow,
and their now
will never be now

they gather
all sorts of things:
knowledge,
wealth,
reputation,
confidence;
all so they can
tomorrow,
be able
to accept
or change
'what is'

'what is'
is always,
eternally
now-
the thing
which neither comes
into being
nor perishes,
without beginning,
or end,
reborn
moment
to
moment

my grandfather
was a sweetheart

he died
in pain
at home
at the age of sixty six
with a colostomy bag
hanging
while his wife,
my grandmother,
made him work
in those fields
all morning long

one night
he got home-
drunk
to:
'where were you,
you drunk fool?'
he slapped her
back in the time
hitting a woman
was the thing to do

she didn't forget,
forty years later
she hasn't forgot,
that drunk slap

the expression:
'vengeance
is better served cold'
was first spoken by a man
and performed by a woman

there is only
one question
to be asked.

it's the first question.

it's the question,
you constantly asked
when you began talking –
why?

if you keep
the question
between your lips,
like before,
no door
will be closed,
no truth
will be preached.