Traffic is really not such a bad thing.
It gives me a chance to think,
to practice chants,
to introspect about anger
& see how stupid people look
when they express it.

Imagine yelling & giving somebody
the *******
because you missed a light,
might be 10 minutes late to dinner.
This guy better get off my tail.

Om namo
guru dev
namo!

Om namo
guru dev
namo!

On namo
guru dev
namo!

I feel better now.....

I can't seem to think straight,
my moods swing like
bent butterfly wings.
She certainly pleased me,
every single part of me.
I loved her, but
now I don't.
It crushes me.
It's like pulling
the petals
off daisys.
It hurts.
Guess, I love other things
more than floating
on gentle breezes
with her tenderness.
It's safer that way,
less chance of
broken hearts &
bitterness.

Alone on a speck
Paradise is overstated
You cannot kiss sand

Like me, you entice
with sensuous-words,
contriving them
in a manner
to scintillate the senses
& the effect is positive.

Following
your ****-verses,
word by word,
line by line,
makes things hard
to imagine them
any other way,
the way you like them,
like me.

There’s a spirit living deep inside of me
that cannot be stifled,
it carries a weathered canvas pack,
wears woolen gloves
with holes in the fingers,
it’s denim has worn out knees,
boots are cracked leather,
topped with a faded red bandana.

It has sat in jungle downpours,
crossed wide oceans of blue,
tasted sand in the desert winds,
camped on sacred burial grounds,
seen the curvature of the Earth.

And if you knew its ways,
you’d swear it was created in pure love,
which can never die,
it can only leave footprints,
my spirit.

You want to play war,
you think you’re so tough,
go ahead then,
I’ve got something
for your belligerence.
That’s right,
put up your dukes,
let’s fight!

O yeah soldier,
sniff some of my vapor,
inhale it deep,
get a good whiff.

At first you’ll get a runny nose,
probably try to rip off your clothes,
you’ll have trouble breathing
with a constricted chest,
as your pupils dilate,
you’ll make a confessional,
get blistered.

Then you’ll *****,
urinate & defecate,
soil your pants,
do the funky-monkey
spin spastic
& keel over
with a closed-throat,
stone cold dead.

You see,
I am the result
of diabolical science,
I’m manufactured specifically
to ruin your day
& I will.

You’ve walked the edge,
strung yourself out
on the bent-dreams of others,
stared delirium straight in its ugly face.
Carrying scars from the dark side,
you strut with perfection,
molded from that which isn’t.

And in that vein, you are more
sacred than all the saints
who line the halls of Heaven,
even those devils squatting in hell.
For they are dead memories
& you are living proof.

Calm in the center
Swirling danger all around
Sacred equalizer