When I was about
five years old,
I was sitting
on a swing,
depressed,
because there
was nothing fun
to do,
so I asked my mom,
"Mom, what's there to do?"
and she said back,
"Go clean your room."
but I didn't want to do that
because that was no fun
so I just sat there longer,
depressed and restless,
and so begins
a lifetime
of low restlessness,
until tonight
when I have uncovered
the secret answer,

and that is
that when I don't feel
like I know what to do
and it seems like
there's nothing to do,
I sit down
in a chair
and in my case,
I think and smoke,
to entertain myself,
and then
I wait
until the one right special thought
occurs to me
about the one right fun thing
to do,
and then I go do it,
and this seems like an obvious simple understanding
but there really is something deeper to it,
like that it is the cure
for my entire problem,
and maybe other's problems,
too.

My music
is spontaneous
and comes
from the instant
that it takes place
often without
any ideas
at all
so I am sitting
typing at the keyboard
playing little clicking tones
on my qwerty piano
writing about
nothing in particular
only this music
in its current score form
that documents
a person's existence
like this guy
here.

Part of this mind
is furiously angry
and part of this mind
is extremely kind
and this is a condition
which applies
to my whole family
and I have been struggling
to control the anger
by letting it be
and I have been practicing
to bring out the kindness
by being right here with us
so the dual nature
of the split mind

is non-existent
in this suchness
which doesn't have
to be silent,
only loving.

When I was really suffering
and I mean really suffering
I was lying in bed
like Brian Wilson
watching Pat ******* Robertson
and the ******* PTL Club
asking for help
from Jesus and God
and Buddha and Dharma
and Sangha and Shiva
and every other ******* god
or whatever there was or is
and they all
just made things worse
so do you know
what got me through it all
no, it wasn't the psychiatrists
or mom or dad
or brother or sister
or friends
or any of the above
all I had
to get me through
this ******* torture
was
cigarettes
yes
my holy smokes
and now
tobacco is an endangered species
but I'm ready
with my pipe
and a lifetime supply
of tobacco
so bring on
the cigarette enemies
because I think
I'll have a smoke -
Ahhh.

I was sitting
outside of my house
years ago,
thinking about a sad song called,
"Can't Find My Way Home",
and I felt homesick
even though
I was sitting there
at home,
so here are some ideas
about home,
and the first is
that home is the place
where I feel I belong,
so that would be
this present moment
right here, right now,
but I usually don't exactly
feel like I belong here now,
so another idea
is that home is where
I am happy all the time,
with peace and love in my life
all the time,
but I usually don't exactly
feel like that is the case at all,
so another idea
is that home is where
I am rich and successful
but I'm certainly not that
and probably won't be
in this lifetime,
so I have another idea
that home is being
with the family,
but I don't exactly
feel quite at home
with the family,
so another idea
is that home is this body/mind
that I live in,
but that place
doesn't feel quite like home either,
so I have this idea
that Buddha was at home
when he realized full enlightenment,
but I don't know,
and I probably won't get there
any time soon,
so I have come
to the conclusion
that there is no home,
like we think of home,
anywhere,
so I guess that makes me
homeless,
like Buddha suggested
that I be.

So my hair
was getting
really long
so I went
to the barber shop
with the lady barbers
and told her
to give me
a businessman's haircut
which I used to call
normal style
and she cut off
most of my hair
and shaved my neck
with a straight razor
and I thought
that it was great
but now
my hair stands up
in the back
so I look like
Alfalfa
(if you remember him)
without the grease.

Sometimes
when I do something
a little less
than good,
the mind
bugs me
with a guilt trip
to ****** land,
and I know
that morality
is a cornerstone
of Buddhism
which I subscribe to,
but the moral, virtuous, pure way
bothers me
as does the chemistry
of the mechanism of the mind
which gives me
this crap.