There’s a mind that relentlessly rioted
And honestly couldn’t be quieted
Distraught by illusion  
It hungered for fusion
Like Plato’s original dyad did

There’s a novel in which I’ve been caught
But my storyline’s tied in a knot
Come villain or lover
I’m drawn to discover
The author who penciled my plot

There’s a state of profound integration
But the ego demands separation
       So the mind flips about
       Like a panicky trout
Who’s deprived of essential hydration

Our crude imperfections they serve to remind
     Of the ****** limits by which we’re defined
               And so I surmise
               That you need not despise
     The ephemeral flaws of a natural kind

I once met a forestry ranger
In the depths of a dimly lit wood
She warned me to steer clear of danger
And I told her I would if I could

I then met a four-eyed doctor
Who diagnosed me with unhealthy skin
In the very short time that I talked to her
She observed it was dangerously thin

I next met a forensic detective
Who examined the mud on my shoes
And recommended a thicker protective
To shield my poor soles from abuse

I then met a foreign ambassador
From a kingdom remote and removed
Exotic but totally taciturn
Her statements could not be disproved

I later met a forlorn professor
And assumed we might get along swimmingly
Like a shipwreck I tried to impress her
But her preference inclined to the simile

I furthermore met a fortune teller
On a poorly paved path to the beach
She foresaw not a single best-seller
Overburdened with figures of speech

'Twas the night before the Big Bang, when all through the void
Some notions were stirring, towards Darwin and Freud
Superstitions rejected and hung out to rot
It’s shocking how quick we completely forgot
Where cryptical symbols were sacredly spoken
The stories upended and images broken
From out of such Chaos, a chariot of Truth
An empirical prancing of paws on the roof
Now, Newton! Now, Einstein! Now, Herr Oppenheimer!
Now listen! the odious tick of the timer
From the Apple of Knowledge forsaking the plums
For probable visions and practical sums
When wisdom, by Turing, is put to the test
Then where are those letters to Santa addressed?
If coal from the mischievous miscreant’s stocking
Keeps motors of industry ticking and tocking
Then icecaps will vanish from under the elves
And Bezos will eagerly fill up our shelves
So with glittering objects and shiny bright trophies
We bid you Good Luck with a train of emojis

At the door comes a knock or a beating
That demands an uncomfortable greeting
So you hide from the guest
And deny the request
For this most unavoidable meeting

From an ego that can’t be surpassed
The star-spangled insults are cast
So vote for the hooligan
Make this place cool again
Just like it was in the past

It’s time for the people to form a decision
Just see how they struggle to hold a position
With lines in the sand
They can all take a stand
In a loose coalition of bold opposition

There’s a darkness that’s blacker than coal
But it isn’t enlightenment’s goal
To escape from the night
Or to bathe it in light
But to use it and make yourself whole

There’s a need for severe repetition
And when objects are out of position
A ritual practice
Restores the exactness:
Obsessive compulsive condition

Successors of Solomon, wiser than wise
Guided by motions of stars in the skies
               Restoring our powers
               Through forests and flowers
With spells on our lips and a gleam in our eyes

Confronting profound consternation
The positive faces negation
But for unions that matter
Illusions must shatter
To welcome the reintegration

Enduring the Culture of Wow
To reduce our attention and how
Just a swipe at the screen
But it’s not what we mean
When we talk about Being Here Now

Where the olives and ego were pressed
Three brethren fell into a rest
At a crossroads inside
He was forced to decide
In the garden where Christ took his test

From the pages of Peanuts came Linus
Neurotic but here to align us
From his blankie one learns
About coming to terms
Lest our character flaws should define us

There’s a monk by the name of St. Francis
Who strolls in the forest and prances
       While whispering words
       To the mammals and birds
Who religiously fall into trances

It’s not that my truth is superior
Or that your way of life is inferior
We both would agree
And a blind man could see
That we value a vibrant interior

To live a good life that’s effective
You have to be somewhat selective
Your mind isn’t frozen
Your thoughts can be chosen
The truth after all is subjective

There once was a club swinging Swede
Determined to pillage and breed
But sweet miss O’conner
Defended her honor
Refusing to welcome his seed

There once was a red-bearded Viking
To the emerald land he went hiking
And trying to be wily
Snuck up Miss Reilly
But his salmon was not to her liking

There’s a viking name Erik the Erring
On a voyage he lost all his bearing
Instead of New York
He landed in Cork
And alone he became hard of herring

There’s a skeptic I know who remains inconvincible
Certain that logic is something invincible
Loathe to accept
The secrets well kept
Unable to pinpoint the primary principle

An assault with no sense of compunction
We enter this perilous junction
It’s so disappointing
When missiles are pointing
And fueling electile dysfunction

I feel like it’s better to listen than talk
And faster to run, though it’s wiser to walk
A field to be tilled
Or a cup yet unfilled
For this is the way of the unsculpted rock

The tilt of the earth turning evenly orthodox
     Seasons are changing observing the equinox
               As hours of light
               Are on par with the night
     The leaves will soon gleam with the color of Goldilocks

There’s a partisan grinding an ax
Over aliens snacking on cats
And a nifty new notion:
Postpartum abortion
So let’s blame the checkers of facts

When judging the tree by its fruits
The bamboo proponent imputes
             That this grass’s great power
             Lies not with its flower
But deep in its rhizomes and roots

There’s a middle-aged mother who’s said to be frisky
She knows that the quest for true wisdom is risky
But rather than scripture
She holds an elixir
A cocktail of hormones and breast milk and whiskey

In stillness the senses grow pleasant
With inner abundance no peasant
The coin of the realm
He receives from the elm
And spends every ounce in the present

Like an onion whose layers have lifted
The Self with sharp vision and gifted
Is shedding its skin
To expose what’s within
It’s consciousness pure and unscripted

It’s a doggie dog world so watch where you step
Foot in mouth syndrome is spreading like strep
But a house of prevention is worth more than liqueur
Have a spoon full, a mind full, are you feeling demure?  

Inside effects may include outlaws of vision
But don’t freeze your auntie, make a thawed out decision
Keep on pugging, plugging a way
You will fly like a beagle, as every doc has his day

While thyme keeps on dripping into the tincture
And limericks rhyme everything, except the kitchen sphincter
Now refill your subscription and do as I say
Because a Hornaday keeps the doctor away

And give us this tray, our daily meds
While terrier-ism threatens to Smirnoff our heads
It’s a mystery wrapped in poodle, but misery loves coventry
And it takes a heckuva lot, to go parking up a wrong tree

Just another Shih-Tzu day, making trouble in paradise
Ain’t nothing but a ground hog, gone skating on the nice
Though I wouldn’t herd a fly, or let a wafer stray
Don’t doubt the Roman knows my aroma was built in a day

When ego gets hold of your mind
Then the notion of self is confined
To a tight narrow cell
And forgotten how well
Every sentient thing is entwined

The progress is slow but perpetual
Impassioned as well as habitual
Avoid second guessing
To honor the blessing
And live every day like a ritual

Regardless of what one believes
The universe waxes and breathes
While ebbing and flowing
And always unknowing
The Tao, without purpose, achieves

There’s a force with a name known by none
It’s referred to by some as the one
And it can’t be dismantled
Nor spoken or handled
But through it all things will be done

When you look to the truth as your task
Then you may find it’s too much to ask
To go searching inside
Where the monsters all hide
Underneath your most virtuous mask

The whale is a fish and a mammal in one
As white has all colors and also has none
               The grandest of creatures
               With paradox features
Unknown and untouched by the light of the sun

Discover the medicine maybe abuse it
The day could arrive when you choose to refuse it
Live it and breathe it
Or take it or leave it
With patience and time you can learn how to use it

We often get lost in our bubbles
Caught up in our very own troubles
But it’s equally rotten
For those we’ve forgotten
Remember that everyone struggles

When driven by mere acquisition
On the glittering path to perdition
You may seem to go far
But with no guiding star
You will fade like a dim apparition

There’s a pastor who speaks with a twist
With his lips puckered tight as a fist
From the nave he’s been heard
As he whispers the Word
Of the Seventh Day Adventriliquist

It’s as old as the wind and the rains
It survives in the pit of our brains
But we’ll never be free
From the primitive sea
Till the cellular memory wanes

Where behavior is deemed detrimental
The impact appears incremental
But anger infuses
As loathing reduces
Your soul to the size of a lentil

Shaking my head as I shuffle through Nod
     And wander through darkness on scabrous old feet
     Where the fruits are forbidden, and might I add strictly
     But the knowledge is ever so sweet

     I’m Under the Influence of sir Malcolm L
     And M. L. von Franz has me under her spell
     Seeking the change that I wish I could be
     While my dear inner Ahab I struggle to quell

     To search by escaping through tropics and trenches
     Determined to make every ocean my home
     My singular purpose: the potion that quenches
     Still I drink that I could theme alone

     In this watering hole will I bury my hatchets
     A sickness that’s cured is an ailment forgotten
     So choke every sorrow and drown your regrets
     A soul that remembers is cursed to go rotten

     With penalties and interest forever compounded
     I’m astounded to watch how my recollection grows
     The proverbial wisdom that’s also called madness
     Is purchased on credit and paid for with woes

     Drifting asea to steer clear of collectors
     Engulfed instead by tempests my own
     Echoing voices demanding comeuppance
     From the depth comes a cry that disturbs every bone

     These howling reminders are issued below
     From under the surface by more than a beast
     My pirates on deck keep me bound to the mast
     Always in earshot and never released

     Mostly a head but with hardly a face
     My nemesis, massive, can scarcely be seen
     Not to be measured through time or in space
     From his cousins’ cadavers our data we glean

     Less than a man, I stomp on my stump
     And promise to silence the primitive brute
     Guided by starlight, unable to sleep
     Harpoon at the ready and eager to shoot

     **** the torpedoes and to hell with the crew
     Set sail at once for the wide open blue
     Don’t be seduced by this monster in white
     His message is wicked, no less than it’s true

     He feeds on your anger, you’re never too old
     To listen instead of exerting your tongue
     Or shaking the hinges of Davy Jones’ locker
     On the floor of the ocean where Melville met Jung

Straighten your mizzen and steady your oar
Set sail for the hub of your centermost core
Arrive at the middle
Unravel the riddle
Return to the One and debark on the shore

Confronted by battle Arjuna disputes
But Krishna proposes more pious pursuits
Accepting one’s duty
With transient beauty
Concerned with right action but not with its fruits

Psychic vicissitudes working cross purposes
One thought dissolves and another one surfaces
Feelings are fleeting
So watch as you’re greeting
The many sensations that consciousness furnishes

There’s a comforting concept of metempsychosis
The spirit moves on while the flesh decomposes
But the birth rate’s exceeded
So new souls are needed
And this is the number one problem it poses

There’s more than one method to meet the divine
The road to salvation is not a straight line
Skeptics, recall
Worship no god at all
While the foolish insist that there’s no god but mine

Respect the true source and you surely will hear it
Only the wicked have reason to fear it
To obtain inner peace
Just learn to release
And never forget to be mindful in spirit

Raised in the valleys and fed by the seas
Borne on the breeze with the birds and the bees
Gifted with birth
From the womb of the earth
My origins are not unlike those of the trees