Banged and bruised
                          Open wounds
                                            broken bones


I hate skateboarding.

So the Bodhisattva said
"Emptiness is none other than form,
form is none other than emptiness"
and I have perceived
this emptiness
through years of Yoga and Zen
but the real understanding
which I have gained
about what emptiness is
and how to perceive it
can be done
in a blink,
because the greatest expression
of emptiness
is to look
at what is in front of you
at this very moment,
because at that point
the emptiness of it
is so empty
that is doesn't exist,
this space between atoms
is so empty
that you can't even perceive it,
so there,
you are now
an enlightened Buddha
with a knowledge
and perception
of the Awesome Emptiness
Of Everything.
Congratulations!

To me its all the same,
But when it rains
I don't complain...
Because it gives me an excuse
To sit around the house in sweats
Drinking Irish coffee...
Other than my being lazy,
And a bit of a lush.

Just stop breathing God ******
Stop breathing right now
Understand?

I cannot stand the rise and fall
So slow and steady and alive
It moves me along
Simulates something that I
Do not want to be

Understand?

Disrupted and befuddled –
                                                          Falling away,
                                                                            Behind and beneath the stars…
                        Gazing into the black abyss,
                                      Filled only with questions,
                                                                      Mystery melting into my skin,
                                Seeping and escaping…
                                                                                                             Again empty, Again alone.

I feel close to you,
Though far,
I feel the chill down the spine.
Like raindrops falling on leaves,
you slipped right through me.
You slipped right into me.

I imagine your hands
and how it would feel like to hold them,
I imagine your eyes,
and how it could read my play by play.
Imagination fuels curiosity,
Curiosity fuels death – death in your hands.

Unique relationship of a thousand purposes,
We walk towards an oriental sun,
I remember your perfume
like memorizing keyboard characters.
But we have dismembered physicality.
We have configured a disfigured mentality.

Let’s not go outside,
Beauty has its way to disconnection,
I know it too well from you.
I feel detached from my consciousness,
In this dream, rationality became serendipity.
I turned to sleep – only to stay awake.

She is young. Have I the right
Even to name her? Child,
It is not love I offer
Your quick limbs, your eyes;
Only the barren homage
Of an old man whom time
Crucifies. Take my hand
A moment in the dance,
Ignoring its sly pressure,
The dry rut of age,
And lead me under the boughs
Of innocence. Let me smell
My youth again in your hair.

I was born to make music
I love music
That's why I like you
Your voice
the masterpiece that is your voice
It has the ability to calm me
Your eyes, they drop my heart
They hum a story of love
Your smile is the trumpet
Piercing through the crowd in my heart
You're the words of the song
that controls my mind
You're the words to my instrumental
We were born to make a song