Through the years of transparent existence, a void of illusion becomes apparent and slowly becomes nothing more than a side-show. The dribbling glimpses of truth fade like the bones of old. No man can create such an indentation in the mold of space and time that the observers at the end of eternity will render their imprint upon the infinite gaian consciousness and body of universal proportions of any significance. Even the earth laughs at such ridiculousness. The ego is a strong bind - it can create maya and attachment to such fantasies easier than a bear can find it's ideal location for a winter hibernation. It's a world of craziness, where nobody knows whats going on.
The man woke up from his deep slumber. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Squinting, he looked around, studying his surroundings and taking mental notes. His thoughts are ***** scribblings on a subway wall. His heart is beating, searching for a band to play in rhythm with. His soul is aching from loneliness and desire. His feet lifelessly surrender their position up on the couch and find the floor, shrieking from the cold of the linoleum. His presence is that of a bird with a broken wing still attempting to fly. He stands up and stares at the ceiling.
The room is small. Four walls of white, one window and one door. The window looks out over the grey city. The door leads into another room - the room most would call a kitchen. In the small room before the kitchen, there is only a couch and a blanket. No lamp. No television. No electricity. No electricity in the entire apartment. The kitchen holds no refrigerator, no oven, no toaster, no pantry. It's called a kitchen because that's what it would be if somebody else was living in the apartment. There are two bananas on the floor along with a box of wheat flake cereal. No milk, no bowl, no spoon. The bananas are almost entirely rotten. The box of cereal is on its side, leaking bits of wheat flake, resembling a dying soldier on a battlefield who's losing all his blood through the wound on his neck rather than a box of the West's favorite morning go-to breakfast.
The man is observing the cracks on the ceiling, along with various stains with no known origin to him. His eyes dart from one corner of the room to another to another to another and back to the first. Spiderwebs. Dust. Decay. A perfect example of life's ability to take care of itself. Biodecomposition. When no one is around to look after a house, over time, Nature will take over it. Vines will grow and overcome the walls. Rain will fall and wear away the roof and general structure. Winds will blow, taking blindshots at the weakened building, eventually cause it to fall. Nothing lasts forever. Everything goes back to where it came from.
The man now steps into the "kitchen", where he begins to study the stains on the ceiling in this room as well. His mind is electric, with no thoughts in the usual sense, but rather just a vague presence of void to help the ceiling stains feel important. He is the space through which everything around him can exist to their fullest potential. After a measureless amount of time, the man walks over to the sad bits of food on the far side of the small room. He picks up one of he bananas and studies it. He feels where it came from. The tropical skies and smells and earth of Costa Rica. There's a little sticker on the banana that says so. Each bit of fruit in the markets nowadays are individually stickered...for prosperity, one can only assume. Though it's best to never assume anything, and instead be open to everything - afterall, anything is possible, at any time. Likelihood and probability are also important factors in the universal constitution of existence. What was the likelihood that this man, when he was a little child, figured he'd be holding a rotten banana from Costa Rica in his hand inside of a kitchenless kitchen? Who knows? The man wouldn't be able to recall his thoughts from early childhood - he barely remembers waking up and experiencing the chilling sensation of early morning linoleum. In any case, everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, for it wouldn't be if it wasn't meant to be.
He slowly peels open the banana peel to reveal this brown, soft mush of tropical fruit. Just the way he likes it - soft enough to chew with his toothless mouth. He takes his time consuming the fruit, savoring every particle. After a good bit of time, the fruit is gone and all the man is left with is the peel. He takes another good look at the peel, once again imagining where this particular banana came from. Then, in two swift bites, he devours the entire peel - sticker included. He figures the sticker came from Costa Rica as well, and thus must carry that Costa Rican tropical vibe of health and longevity. His eyes then focus on the wheat flake cereal lying next to the other rotting banana. He bends down and picks up the box. The box is upside down when he picks it up and so the cereal spills out all over the area of the "kitchen" floor that seems to be dedicated to eating food. The remaining banana is now covered in wheat cereal.
The man drops the box back onto the floor and takes a seat alongside of it. His fingers hold his face from drooping onto his knees. His knees are keeping his torso from melting onto the floor. He screams with no sound. The pains of existence seep through his hollow eyes and into the receptors of his soul. He screams with no sound. He’s as empty as the American Dream.
The cobwebs are spreading from the corners of the room and are aimed for the human form sitting in the “kitchen” screaming silence with all his might. The cobwebs grow. The commuters of the city highway are commuting. A thousand birthday celebrations are being had. A thousand people sexually uninhibited, joyously seizing the moment in disgusting miraculous unity of mortal physical desire. Junkies are roaming the street for their morning fix. Teaching are teaching their students absolute lies. Governments are stealing the lives of billions and counting. And the cobwebs are growing, encompassing entire walls. The the ceiling. Then the floor. Then they crawl up the lifeless legs of the man who sits screaming in silence and the spiders overtake his body. They stitch his mouth shut and close his eyes with their spun proteinaceous spider silk. The man withers into the wind of time and vanishes from the world without a single soul taking notice. Leaving nothing behind except an empty apartment, overdue rent, and a number in the system of Western Society. His spirit cries sorrowfully as it flees the clutches of molecular existence into the realm of eternity and space. Heaven. He made it. He looks down at the people of the world he just left and sings a pitiful song for them. He’ll see them again. Afterall, they are Him. And He is Them. His Heart, the Sun, burns as the world he left turns. The lessons He left are slowly being learned. One by one. But still, there’s a space between the atoms, between the cells. And that space can never disappear. Without it, there would be no point to the story. All would be one, as it is, and there’s be nothing to overcome. No triumph. Just an endless loop of bizarre beautiful experience and pattern.

From everywhere, gathers everyone
To join in the Song of Life -
Singing the Melody of Form
And remembering the time this world was born

Sing, sing, sing
Time flies on the wing
Of the song that we sing
It's you and I and everything
All together in a melody,
We're nothing but notes -
Just a lead up to the Chorus of Stars
How far, How far - well,
Here we are
Singing in the Chorus of Stars

Pisces to Aquarius
The grand illusion of time,
Galaxies alligning
Like dominoes

Human bodies burning with love
From the head down to the toes

Inner light reflecting the reflector -
The sun,
Our home star

Beneath San Pedro’s coast
Lay tiny monsters
Where ancestors of long past
Still fury their curse in puppet form
Action of devil play
Cast by High to taunt commercial soul
Unleash burden of possession
And the will of Yahweh

Give away the law of oppression
And start anew
Revolution cries “Freedom”
In the pale yellow afternoon
Life comes fast
And it’s gone too soon
Pretending happiness
In a world of blues
Won’t do too much
In the real world
The insanity avenue

Basket of food
Pass around, take what ya like
Free
Share with your brother
Share with your sister
Share with your neighbor
Share with a stranger

From here to forever
This is the unfolding of everything
It’s a movie and you’re the character you want to be
In the end, how all this plays out, we shall see
Keep sharing -
Sharing never hurt anybody

To get from the streets to a new life
jungle high
Keeping alive
The will to survive
Months keep seeping
through grates of sub-grieving
no one said life would be easy

Moths, spiders - the size of hands
Creeping through the sands
Aching because they can
And so do I
And so do we

Together, through the darkest night of rain
Coming to the dawn of healing pain.
Come on knees crawling slow
Heaving forth the throne of gold
- Don’t need nothin’ ‘cept Love in Heaven

Thus we cross the lonely river bed
Lying side by side, head to head
- Say was that a bear growling?
Or was it just coyotes howling?

Lonely nights pretending to smile
Medicine only helps a little while
I’m sorry I fall into black holes often
It’s just hard to stand long, once you’ve fallen

I envy your stance, though
I can’t tell if you’re real
Maybe you’re an image of my mind
Created to keep me in line

Either case, you failed me

It’s alright

Life goes on

There's a magnetism -
in the air, in the ground, in the eyes of the sun,
keeping gravity in check with the mind of the sun
to keep things in order with the heart of the sun -
outside of structure, inside of paradox -
circles, circles, circling the cosmos with blank maps and directionless compasses
Writing, writing, writing - to collect a volume of love and work and truth and play -
seeking nothing more than meaning, an answer to the eternal enigmas
- why? - how? - what is this? - who am I?
Coming up empty as a begger's hands
and as rich as the poorest soul inside the palace of enlightenment -
silent solitude in the meditation of the sun,
inner exploration through the thoughts of the sun,
exploiting the strength of the light of the sun -
all to gain a following of selfless knowers -
all flowing along the river empty endless,
holding together through the magnetism,
Praying for salvation come the other side of this life,
the Heaven, the Garden, the Utopian dream
The magnetism - unexplainable electron of consciousness -
the Universal It - the All in the One - the Whole -
the Source and the Body,
circles, circles, circling in orbit the mathematical patterns of Being,
within the question of the answer,
within the definition of "nothing", where nothing is still something -
Let gravity fall where it may, just as love hunts its prey
As law holds flaccid in the court of Cosmic Direction,
The hearts beat stronger during resistance than in times of rest -
pulled into existence past the veil of illusory doubt through magnetism -
That taste of creation, grand awesome beauty within delicate fingers,
playing piano silent in halls of endless imagination - infinity.
There's a magnetism - everywhere, there's a magnetism.

Listen to the turning of the doorknob -
Listen carefully, as though to a prophecy
Candles burning in background pose - prose - close the door,
Leave nothing unopened - not mind, not heart, not soul, not eyes, not love, not love
Listen to the turning of the doorknob -
Listen to the prophet scream obscenities in the face of God -
Screaming law to children in the playground,
Waiting for dawn to **** night, and say hello to never -
Leaving nothing unopened - not the door, not the door,
Like never before - except now, no, because because...
If an angel rode in midnight, wings out full-flight -
Would they be invisible to the mortals of planet Earth?
Or would they become best-friends with the lowest of the low?
Listen to the turning of the doorknob -
The door speaks sudden truths to the ears of the heart of wisdom and desire,
Wisdom holds no desire, just as desire holds no wisdom -
Both polar opposites in the city of Being,
Rising like smoke in the collapse of nations and culture -
No tears shed for the loss of men, in the war of knowledge,
of pride and territory and fortune and remembrance -
Listen to the turning of the doorknob,
Listen to the turning of the doorknob,
For the sake of living forever right now in this moment -
Listen to the turning of the doorknob -
Leaving nothing unopened -
Not the past, not the present, not the future, not the never forevers,
Like the wars being fought for oil and money and cheap gratification -
Short lived egos, going down in history books,
For the children to read while being screamed at with obscenities from the prophet above,
And the angels below, and the ground and sky and earth and stars and gravity and all -
Listen to the turning of the doorknob,
Please, for the sake of living forever right now in this moment, or never
Right now - because now is forever - cheap cheap poetry, meaning nonsense
Just an escape...just an escape from the turning of the doorknobs,
For a minute or two or three - just a longing to be free,
And no one can be free when they’ve been ****** to mortality -
Oh sincere mediocre heartfelt dribble - just turn around, door and all -
Fall out the sixth floor window and don’t look back - never again forever again -
Right now in this moment, forever and never and back again - looking up,
Singing to the screaming prophet, blocking the door on accident - there are no accidents in life -
So, listen to the turning of the doorknob,
Listen to the turning of the doorknob,
For the sake of your own existence and place in these here cosmos -
Listen to the turning of the doorknob.

In a nowhere flat, wishing nothing - ‘cept release
Release from mind - release from nothing -
Everywhere release, in nowhere fashion -
Lame tame nobodies doing nothing all the time
Lax time in tame eyes - everybody is hypnotized -
From above, the name of God - and cross nothing -
Everybody is hypnotized, with screens - glasses
Brought forth from nowhere, in nowhere time
Time time, lame time speaking sinful prayer
Asking for nothing, not revenge, not salvation,
Not a thing that nowhere nothing could bring in mirrors
Everybody is hypnotized and words are useless to use
When in time for becoming mirror - because everybody
is hypnotized - clouded eyes - got a fear of time, running out
South northerns aching for nobody except birds,
Birds don’t have feelings until they die - because they fly -
They’re not hypnotized like Man, or slaves like legs -
They’re bound to the sky in subject chance - it’s nothing
It’s nothing - they scatter when winds blow - within time
Within time, without time - inside nothing nowhere,
In a nowhere flat, sad without sadness and searching for nothing
Nowhere time anyhow - everywhere - it’s nothing
Time is nothing - and everybody is hypnotized

I’ve got a longing
For California -
The western shore,
The sunset coast -
Hoping I’ll see you again,
Sometime soon -
But that’s wishful thinking
I’m just singing the blues -
I just hope you will remember
The times that we shared
Before our eyes got cleaned
Before we ever cared,
So I’ll keep on looking
Everywhere that I go
Searching for your face
Searching for my soul,
From California
To South American Isles
India and the Middle East
New Caledonian Paradises,
I’ve got nothing but sky
To keep my Self company
So alone I will fly
Forever as a nobody
In the alleys of Rome
And down Morocco way
To the Himalayan heights
Pressing hashish every day
I’ve watched the clouds sway
And metallic birds mutiply
I’ve written letters to God
But I’m still waiting on a reply
So I seek your deep wise eyes
To get lost in for a lifetime or two
But your body is nowhere in sight
And I don’t know my next move -
I write my mind down for the sake of peace
Though instead it brings me sorrow,
To reach into that vast sea of emotion
And dig up yesterday’s sorry hope for tomorrow -
A world in harmony
In order with Nature’s Law
It’s all that we could talk about
It’s all that we ever saw
So tell me please, if you can
Just how did we ever fall from that grace?
And will we ever get there again?
Or is that a long and lost and buried place?
From where I stand, time ain’t real
But try telling that to a Court of Man,
They’d tell me that I’m crazy
And truly, perhaps I am,
But you, you know I’m not
And for that I owe you my Love
Eternally and infinitely,
From the ground below and the space above -
I’m wandering this lonely earth,
Hoping for some connection
But what I get when I truly look
Is nothing short of a perceptual correction -
These bodies are just for show,
And that I know you know,
And so,
Everywhere I go,
There you are,
We’re the dust of a star,
Concentrated,
Regenerated,
With sight and mind and heart and eyes,
And with this gift of life that I hold,
I see You everywhere I turn,
And I see there is no place to go -
My longing for the western coast
Fades like the sunsets of long ago
And drifts quietly back
Into the endless river from which it came -
California will wait for me
Like I know you will too
And if I don’t catch you in this world
The next one is coming all too soon,
And there we’ll start all over,
Getting one step closer each life,
To the point of Eden
To the point where ego falls -
And all along the way,
We shall dance and laugh and sing
Because we’re everywhere
And because we’re everything -

The wind tells me you said “Hello”

May the ripples in the water let you know
I too say “Hello”

I sit, awaiting the apocalypse,
Knowing Its already Here -
I sit, awaiting a sign from Above,
In the form of the wind blowing
Or a smile from a child passing by -
I stand up, knowing my time has come
And I march down to the office
Of the biggest suit-wearers in town
And I tell them why I think they're the Devil
Disguised in masks of well-intentioned men
And all they do is kick me out the door,
Without a single "Hello" or "Goodbye",
Indeed I was right - they are the Devil -
The lawmakers, man-made war declarers
Suffering because they've got too much greed,
Still thinking it's more money that they need -
Indeed their fruit contains rotting seed,
But only Time will tell
Whether they'll drop the bombs or not,
On their own people
From metallic birds above,
Not the Holy place,
Just a faceless face -
Video-controlled drones flying flying flying
Crazy-eyed maniacs
Miles away
Safe in their cushioned bunkers of first-world luxury,
And they say its okay
They say this is their day,
And thus they drop their bombs
On their own people,
Family,
Miles away -
So far away that they won't be forced to see the blood,
And they'll never hear the children cry -
And I'm here,
Sitting,
Wondering why,
Wondering how,
We, as a species, ever became so ****** insane -
And I realize in the silence of my own questioning
That I'm not one of them -
For I am my own man,
I am my own soul,
I am a child of God,
Allah,
Buddha
Krishna
Jah Jah,
Ra,
Jehovah,
Yahweh,
And I know I've got a right to be here,
And nobody is going to take that right away from me,
Except the Universe that made me -
For these bodies are just recycled dirt,
But these souls are eternal beyond worth,
And nobody will take that away,
Especially not the whiskey-drinkin' cigar-smokin'
Legal pimps of legislature,
Declared messiahs by illiterate masses,
In the same sand dunes that they come from -
But there's a fox amongst the chickens -
The Devil, so they say -
And that fox is running wild, rabid with fear and hunger,
Ignorant of the beauty of Life -
Unaware of Eternity,
Of God,
Of the One Love that brings Everything Together,
And again, I don't know why or how,
It just is what it is,
And I'm blessed to know I'm not one of Them -
Because I once was,
And they're still me,
But I've woken up,
And I have learned to see -
We're always free,
No matter the hour or town or name,
We're always free,
And we shall always remain free,
For we're all creations of the Universe -
Almighty in the Eyes of the Infinite,
And we're free to do as we please -
But if I may beg of thee,
Be wise and listen to the wind,
Choose yer path according to the Sun,
And not of Man,
And though I know beggars can't be choosers,
But I can still pray,
And thus I shall -
I will continue to pray until this body of mine fades back into Time,
Because we're always free,
Yes,
We're Always Free,
We're Always Free.

Dance of the wind, shakes the trees, shakes the sky
Turn of the seasons
Turn of the storm
Sweet Ulyses on a broken tulip, dying
Reaching for the last of time
Within the great mystery.
Oh, holy land walking underneathe feet
With tired eyes and repeated lies -
The carrion song breaks down and cries

Yesterday closes in on thought's illusion
Of telling today to run around
Chasing past days gone
For the sake of youth gone
Crystal eyes and flaccid goodbyes
The carrion song breaks down and cries

Under soft caresses of Nature's glow
Ceases to be, the gift of selfishness
Asleep in the fog

Spinning madly, this rock of earth
Around star sun, a one-eyed Buddha
Taking gravity, magnetic energy
Invisible force
Orange burn, holographic sin
Make the clock jump ahead
Forward in time, backward in rhyme
Poor things of words
Emotionless, bodiless
Detailing worlds, both inner and outer
But never receiving rightful admiration
Or recognition
Oh, sad words of symbolic reference
Lay down your weary tune and collapse
Sink back into the void of a hum

Yesterday opens around thought's illusion
Of showing today the masterplan
When bizarre happenings stir the crowd of mind
'Tis the moment to step out of time
And examine the line,
The dire chime of truth
And thus enters the chance to realize
The carrion song that breaks down and cries

I take a sip of black coffee
It sits resting in the ceramic mug next to this typing space
The liquid rushes down my throat
This fifth cup of the hour brings joy
Is it a crutch, for I miss my usual companions of mind expansion?
Or is it a common cultural ritual of casual importance?
Is it a tool to fuel the fire of prolific inspired thoughts?
Or is it an illusion of harmful dedication to fulfill the need to write?
I feel it helps,
Though, naturally, it is not necessary.
Just as wine to wet the palate of flow,
Or an herbal cigarette to get the picture on the roll, the scroll, the holy goal
It simply is a habit - an extra step to the top floor of Creation.
I've been in the fields - the plantations
I've picked the coffee bean with my own hands for hours upon hours on end,
Leaving nothing but sticky hands and a limp paycheck to help me continue on my way.
Where am I headed?
Only the sky knows the answer to that question.
I try my very best to listen to its whispers
And imitate its words with action
I try and follow the orders of the divine to the best of my ability
But I am human,
And with that fact, I am hindered by natural law
And so I sit quietly on this lazy sunshine afternoon, sipping my black coffee
Recalling the days of sticky hands and limp paychecks in the humid fields of fate
And laugh at the craziness of my existence.
When I was born, did I think that I'd be here today, recalling such things
And forever immortalizing them in word and symbol?
I can't recall.
Perhaps I did , but perhaps I didn't.
They say that you choose your family before your come into this world.
But did they also say that you’d pick your face and desires?
Did they say that you’d be exactly who you wanted to be?
I’m not too sure who “they” are, but I don’t really care
As I poured the coffee into this mug,
I also choose what I want to do, who I want to be, and just how I shall love the world
As a human, we’re born free
The mind creates whatever it wants to base its perspective on reality off of.
The grounding
The lock of gravity to keep us from floating away
Even when you’ve had a drop or two of ol’ Sandoz, you’re still kept from flying from the world
Words can fly, though
At least spoken word.
The words carry a vibration, a soundwave, which continue throughout the cosmos for eternity,
Unless eternity doesn’t exist in this universe,
In which case, they shall bounce off the walls of Space and Time and ricochet back to their source
Oh holy game of Sound Tennis
Free us from thinking you don’t exist
When the game is being played, its easy to forget that its just a game
It is only a game
Sitting in the sunshine of afternoon daze,
Sipping away at coffee and dreams
Life seems more like a blessing of bizarre circumstance and genuine interest in formful comfort
As opposed to a game with no more of a meaning than to finish it and try win in the meantime
Something seems fishy
And it isn’t the cat or the caffeine
Its the bare existence of existence
Perhaps I’m dancing around in circles, getting nowhere
But is there actually anywhere to go?
Sure, I’d love to be on the beach in ninety degree weather in the Cayman Islands rather than the cold of This northeastern mountain range of poor old troubled Amerika
But such is life
Perhaps one day I’ll be back on the beaches, dreaming easy of nothing, for the dream has already been Fulfilled, oh what a dream
With a farm up the hill from the coast
With fresh gardens and fruit trees and cannabis and coconuts and a shack of humble gratitude
With rivers and fish and goats and chickens
With sunshine and warmth and light and forever blue skies
With a woman of love and peace and art and intellect and wisdom and smiles
With the quaint knowledge that everything is always alright, regardless of circumstance
With the security of not needing security
With the freedom to laugh without pausing out of courtesy to not wake the sleeping
With the ghastly beauty of not waiting in line to ride a roller-coaster, for the mind is more than enough
With twists and turns and self-inflicted burns
With the crazy catch of tomorrow while still being here today
With nothing less than paradise awaiting the caress of self’s heart
And the holy notion that there’s something even greater on the other side of this life
Om, tranquil being
Pour more coffee, must stay awake - no sleep in days
No sleep in weeks
How do those speedy speedsters do it?
I wouldn’t even want to try
I enjoy my dimethyltriptamine inspired voyages across unforeseen holographic landscapes of the Subconscious
Oh, I’m conscious of that
I wonder if it’d be possible to bring the totality of the subconscious mind to full conscious awareness
I suppose it wouldn’t be the subconscious anymore
And thus there would be no way to measure if it worked or not
I think it’s already working
Poetry
Yep, it’s working,
At one-twenty-eight a.m. It’s working. From noon to night. Life is still life, and it’s all alright.

Don't bother with the politicians, the war men -
For Karma will fulfill the People's ancient justice.
Just say "mu",
And let your soul dance naked down the avenue,
Singing songs,
And carrying on,
From the day you came to Earth
To the day you'll rejoin the Sun,
Peace is what we need -
Peace is everything.
Peace in the mind,
In the body,
In the naked Soul of Infinity -
Let peace ring out in song
And silence the War Man's voice.
For we all have a choice.
Every moment,
Of every day,
We all have a choice -
And our choices are ripples,
Ripples that are endless
And affect the entire universe.
So be well,
And spread your peace.
Don't be swallowed up by greed.
Just be well,
And spread your peace.
This world needs you.
We need your peace.
For if you're not free, no body is free.
Life is a moment,
So seize the day,
Go out and play,
Say what you want to say -
For life is a moment,
And your body won't last forever -
Walk easy, Speak easy, Be easy
Nobody said life would be easy -
But It Is.
So be well,
And Spread Your Peace.
Yes,
Spread Your Peace.
Spread Your Peace.

From Saturn, I Remember May And June -
Scribbling thoughts in sand -
Orbiting Eternity, the atoms in my hand
Spin around, without my effort,
Never forgetting to breathe.
Holding a picture of an angel,
For comfort,
And a concrete reminder of the past,
For today would be nothing without yesterday,
Nor tomorrow without today -
So I remember my family,
My friends, pets, and aquaintences -
Each face engrained into my subconscious -
The uniquness of each atom,
In comparison and relation to the awesome size of The Whole,
Is simply incredible.
As no two snowflakes are alike,
A friend once told me,
"If you want to see God,
look in the ******* mirror".
But there are no mirrors when you're floating in space.
So I hold onto my picture the best I can
And remember the beauty of Home's ancient familiarity,
As I write endless dribble
Into the internet abyss
From Saturn's Welcome Center,
I send you all my love, the best I can.
My only hope is that you feel IT,
The same as I still feel You.
I'll see you on the other side of Pluto -
Please save me some wine.

Peace in the echo
The echo of love
Protect us like the hope of Zion

Walk in the echo
The echo of past
Learn from mistakes -
Insanity is doing the same
Over and over
Expecting different results

They say war
Brings about peace

Insanity
Yeah - them suits insane

Jah over all,
What must be will be
All temples fall
And with them bring peace

Peace in the echo
The echo of love
Protect us like the warmth of Sun

Govern yourself
Don't give in
Keep your will
Protect yourself
From their sin
Stand up still
Release yourself
To within
Keep your will

The day of revelation
Shines like supernova
Stardust in color
A reflection of Star

On the rocks of discarded dust
Lands life of decay and rust
Without death,
There'd be no life
And thus, the wilt is no bust

Balance

For each day, a night
For each night, a day

To keep order within chaos
Listening to each wind blowing
Will reveal and lead the communication

Vanishing transparent
Between walls, silent
Orchestrated fate by falling backwards
Through and through, breakthrough
Up onto Heaven’s plane
And into Forever’s game
You were born
And you must also die
So live free
Live silent
Live loud
Between cities, wandering, wondering
Does everything happen all at the same time everywhere all the time?
Well, I don’t know. Probably. I’d assume so. Perhaps.
Like shadows growing thinner, longer, in heat long setting sun
Aching desire for starlight, magnetic love radiation bug
Nuclear hellos in the freshly fallen snow, not yet cold, not yet the season
So in the desert, you and me, my friend -
We Are, and everything forever smiles widely in aching desire for starlight
Let us melt into the swirling mess of time,
And weep for our ancestral bloodshed,
Blurred with history’s selective memory
We bow our heads sternly with eyes half-open
Waiting, praying, knowing, watching
The world spins around, and the cards of the endless day are dealt
With flightless angels pawing for glory
And gods out on unemployment,
Burning cold for starlight, to be a star of the light
We remember being here before
A million times before
And we smile slowly, bleeding ourselves of mental poison
Scanning the near-future for escape routes
This town is going down fast, sinking, yes, and I want out
And so we leave. We strike it up somewhere new. By a river somewhere green.
Where life is free. Where life is silent. Where life is loud.
And we break away from yesterday’s mold of who we were,
And we take off from the nest flying high,
Through colors into the church of sunrise and out from under the moon’s gravity,
Smile, for tomorrow will never catch up to our dreaming,
And we’ll never leave the infinity of today behind for tomorrow’s promised gems.
No, today is fine by me. Flight beyond impossible - grander than grand
And more beautiful than a frozen rose in the desert, aching desire for starlight.

Walking Grand
Seeing friends of broken dreams
******* eyes crying streams
A constant river of hopes and lies
Selling grams,
Ounces, lies, those streams cry
Too many children for the mother to look after
See Cruz in the Tomorrow
Then Yesterday comes
And a year passes with no difference
Just more drive in Coca eyes
Snorting grime in afternoon midnights
Dirt nothing
Dirt nothing
Pity the soul who gives up forgiving and knows It All
Come springtime,
Gonna plant in the shadows, fortune growing
Plants - medicine - drug - confiscated time
Forgive the mind
Time ain’t time
Grime is grime
Prositituted hearts selling gold and green and white and brown
Trying for rent, in the gutter come night
No fight to vent, too numb, just can’t
Lawns come bedrooms
Bushes come kingsize
Bleeding nose and veins
Throwing needles in the park
The garden
The sidewalk
The supermarket
The local furniture outfit
You see,
They ain’t free
It ain’t me
I try, but there’s nothing to try for
Shoot fountains,
Smack come crack
Hotel burning back
Moment to pack
Heavy, heavy sack
Breaking my back
***** drag
No turning back
No den for slack
Sailing sick towards public arrest
Friends turn friends like rotating doors
Come and come again
In the middle of the day
Confidence doesn’t matter
Exploring blankets of warmth and escape
Poor, poor parades of humiliation
Humiliating Truth
Standing like stamps to smoke
Sad rock crumbling on diamond mirror
Scattering stairs to escape
Towards the park
Away from the dark -
Where’s the light?
Something ain’t right -
Vampires are lurking
And nothing seems to work
Save me if you can -
I’d save myself if I could

Oh old days of past lives lived -
West coast ridin’
Thumbin’ ‘bout the coast -
San Diego up to L.A. -
Zoomin’ through Big Sur with strange friends,
Stranger than strangeness itself.
Arrive Santa Cruz,
Cops called,
No transients allowed,
Caravan keep tumblin’ northbound -
San Francisco Bay,
Oh, that Oakland scene
With Park Prophets
And worn-out crack minds
Panhandling supermarkets
Begging coins for fire -
The Sun isn’t enough -
Old man needing dirt
Paid with by pity,
Smoking up the score
Singing little ditties
On Piano, beating keys
loud, Loud, LOUD
until Cops called
by neighbors afraid of God,
claiming Jesus freaks of being demons,
Oh old days of past lives lived -
Walking Telegraph to Berkeley
In the rain Rain RAIN,
Stolen bicycle,
Making friends, People’s Park
No more noise -
Just rain fallin’ fallin’ fallin’
And in the rain, I do miss those lives -
Those faces. And I know, forever I will. Forever I will. Forever I will.

I see regress in Mankind -
escaping through the backward tunnel of self inflicted destiny
Running rampant amongst the Judites, the elders too old to be alive
Printing cash coin empty of value ceaselessly into the empty abyss of night,
Oh, pity no fool for each man thinketh himself into action (reaction) -
So may the nightmares the souls of war suffer
torture the maniacal mind of these villans
and make them taste the blood of their fallen innocent prey -
Alas, history rules fate until history is let go of -
each day anew, yet strung together into eternal daylight bliss bang
Yes, and the fountains in the gardens soar higher than ever,
With peace in the ranks for conquering vibration
Lest say the suits then freedom shall be,
For the suits are the devil in disguise, selfish aliens of Mankind.
Never be nothing less than gold, they say harsh and bold
For the ones of dirt will be poor eternally, body after body -
So bow down to creation and civilization and rampant war supierors.
But the underground speaks loud, louder than air in silent transition from still movement
To an ever-evolving force of unpenetrable doubt beyond foresight or useless chaos,
The underground breathes heavy,
And exhales the toxic filth of first-world hedonistic pleasure domes of futuristic down-fall,
tasting the ****** drive of youthful generations seeking salvation from directionlessness,
And like rabbits, they take to their naked truth of love and lust,
and they bring forth a dissilution of boundaries -
They divide the seperateness of "You" and "I" into a unified personification of God called "We" -
As in "We the people", and so freedom is never more than a lover away.

Oh, lady fountain above
Sing to me with your long laced words of love
Take me away - into the Heavens above

“Look here, peasant say -
Nothing is above, nor below your stand.
All is equal in mind of me -
For the Heavens is not something that you see.
It’s a land void of cold and warmth -
And a land where bodies don’t count.
Heaven is a place where thoughts don’t roam -
It is a place without prayer or hope.
It is a place where action is blank,
And a place where words don’t voice -
Heaven is as far away as the Sun,
And as close as your own heart.”

I looked at the lady in my dreams with curiosity -
A glare of confusion written over my face.
I begged for a clearer translation,
For my mind is not suited for riddles on Sundays.

She borrowed a second, and then bowed to the right -
She smiled at herself, and then took off in flight.
She disappeared in a flash out of my sight -
I ****** my inability to comprehend,
And my insignificance in the beginning-less end.
I sat down where I was, and I pondered for a while -
The lady fountain and her charm,
Her wisdom and her flattering song.
She spoke without speaking,
And I listened without hearing -
I felt left in the dark, while she flew freely
Somewhere within the world of the holy unseen.

A week went by, and the skies changed rapid color -
First from blue to orange to green,
Then it all faded to an indigo sheen -
Shinier than metallic mobiles
And grander than the highest skyscraper.
The hues sanded time into fragments of measurement
And faded quickly into normality within the Now.
On that new Sunday, the lady fountain appeared again to me.
She brought with her a friend of angel wings -
They both said “Hello” and flew in transparent circles,
Claiming to be God’s favorite children.

As minds expand and bodies grow old,
Time stands still and the story unfolds -
Of cosmic chance and wicked dance,
The winds of light bow and blow

With clocks turning hands,
Illusion grabs hold
Eyes deceive
And hearts behold -
What is that which makes up a lifetime?

In the lands of snakes and vines
Life echos the truths of chance
Opportunity laughs aloud,
Inside the empty halls of mind.
The sun circles itself madly,
Searching for a reason,
But reason stands afar laughing,
Holding schizophrenia as a charm
And the wounds of war as gems.
Reason baffles the logic,
Of Jesus freaks and scientists alike.
Reason scares children
Like the very notion of having to die.
But of all the ages that reason has stood apart
From the existence that it is reasoning for,
Reason has been proud of its complexity -
An endless enigma for inquiring minds.
Reason’s ego is the size of the universe,
And one can only laugh drunkenly
At the pathetic excuse for hiding
For reason is within itself,
As clear as glass or rain -
It shines its love through seasons
And galaxies and prophets -
It shares itself through music and drugs
It reaps nothing but folly -
Evolved from boredom on the astral plane.

Reason is but a word, for something that speaks no sound
The word is a name for that which holds no form
The word is as fleeting as time
Like youth gone old, or the old gone young -
Life is far too short to find a reason
So why not have a little fun?
Madness is nothing short of genius -
Altered perspective on insanity of Man,
And comprehension of the absurd reality
That persists in the world of form.
Madness is a celebration of life.
As the clouds rain from above,
In a ballet of syncopated Nature -
Rhythm in scenery -
Desert home to thoughts -
Seeing through a lens of truth
Out to the illusory fleeting center of experience
Laugh, laugh, laugh - for laughing is all there is to do.
Nothing is more serious than anything else.

Deep blue, deep blue - morning by the ocean -
The same ocean as my ancestors,
And their ancestors,
And their ancestors -
The same ocean as the dinosaurs -
And so I can't help smiling,
Feeling a part of a long long long lineage of ocean dwellers and dreamers -
Folks who fell in love with the romantic tinges of Ocean's Eternity -
Wrapped up neatly in coming/going tides,
In and out, in and out
Without ever stopping
Because eternity stops for no one -
And so I smile, knowing that my body will one day join
The millions of my ancestors and their ancestors
Deep deep deep in that blue rushing infinity called "sea" -
And freedom crashes upon skin
Washing away dirt and cleansing the mind for a new day -
Part of the old day -
Day of the same eternity -
And there I smile -
In the deep blue,
Because there's always more beyond the horizon -
Another land, another shore -
And I always yearn for more
Because the sky is my witness
And the ocean is my woman
And the three of us melt together into the circus of Life
Where we each pretend to be separate for a little while -
But in the deep blue silence of night,
We secretly whisper our memory of unity
Under the safe-hold haven of moonlight and stars,
Keeping warm under the blanket of infinite space -
And I smile knowing I'm never alone,
Even when the tide leaves me
To rejoin that deep deep Blue.

That touch that surrounds
My heart, my head, my body, my soul
That touch that makes me laugh,
awkwardly,
at everything and nothing,
both at the same time,
in a space where there is no time -

That touch that penetrates lifetimes,
and squeezes the cord of metamorphic sky
screaming "I don't want to die"
but no matter how hard I try,
I know there's no place to hide,
Life is death, as death is Life

And that Touch -
That touch I've known for many many lifetimes before
And many many lifetimes to come
That touch, that touch that makes me want to cry
That touch that soothes my worried mind
The touch that gives me the light of sight and a love so kind

That touch, dreaming backwards,
Through possible pre-time times,
Remembering how to fly
And how to always let go -
For nothing is forever,
nothing but the earth and sky -
matter and space
Balance
Tao
Save the human race
Go now

Touch the World

I'm standing on the walls, staring at the crossroads.
I've got a good feeling about the path I'm taking.
I'm blindfolded, but can sense my way around with means other than sight.
I've got blood that's aching to flow.
I'm cautious with my trust.
I've felt the golden grace of silent space, and I know that's my home.
I'm floating until I can shed this silly body that’s weighing me down.
I've touched the dreamer's dream and have lived it over and over time and time again.
I'm a tree with branches for others to sit on.
I've learned about the essence of true love - the unconditional care for another soul.
I'm certain that everything will unfold as it's meant to.
I've experienced too many miracles to think otherwise.
I'm exercising my right to be a human.
I've seen too many people be prosecuted for their existence.
I'm coming to terms with my immortality.
I've lost my ego and have played tug-o-war with it for lifetimes.
I'm beginning to regain what I once believed was a sacred space.
I've spent too much time dwindling down my days idly.
I'm taking off and eating the road and the New Jerusalem.
I've flown the coop west and met the holy men.
I'm considering staying put to keep monks in style.
I've climbed red rocks and felt higher than height.
I'm guessing when the apocolypse will come.
I've read Revelations.
I'm thinking it’s all in my head.
I've seen too many other me's to think that I'm dead.
I'm gonna shed my fear and fly with the birds to Heaven.
I've already grown my wings out.
I'm gonna sing with the rhythm of the wind.
I've seen her come and I've seen her go.
I'm content with her transparency in my life.
I've been the same for others.
I'm just reflecting myself back to me.
I've seen the mirror.
I'm afraid that the mirror is descriptionless -some call it "God", others "Buddha", and others "cheese".
I've written too many words that mean nothing.
I'm the embodiment of nothing.
I've scoured the nothingness for anything and thought I found something, but it was really nothing.
I'm part of the whole.
I've met the pieces and they're just like me.
I'm writing my novel word by word.
I've ran the race of tempests, and found no sanctuary.
I'm the founder of my own legacy.
I've founded my own foundation.
I'm consciousness embodied in temporary physical form.
I've painted my body.
I'm painting my mind.
I've painted a canvas.
I'm the canvas of my world.
I've decided to untie the knots of curiosity.
I'm pending on whether I should throw them away when I'm finished or not.
I've hurled passed the gas clouds at extreme speed, clarity, and tranquility.
I'm alive.
I've been born a human.
I'm blessed as could be.
I am you, and you are me.
That makes three.
See?

I remember the days of rambling aimless down beaches naked of past and frozen in present with zero regard for future. I remember the smell and sound of ocean cracking against shore in broken fragments of bop rhythm. I can still recall faces of people I never met and still hear the voices of closest friends and lovers and strangers and pets who came to the forefront of my reality and then vanished into the wind with nothing more than a simple note to say goodbye. I can recall the trips down coast routes in cars, borrowed from nobodies for a time to get from A to B without worrying about starvation or getting lost - with the mystical island rocks deep in sea, poking through the surface to greet the eye with asymmetrical wonder. The seals on abandoned sands, moaning for death and sinning with boredom and sheer laziness of the upmost amplitude. I can remember standing on roadside, sticking out thumb, smiling, and catching rides within a minute by the most incredible of characters to wander together through the paved isles of earthly human veins of vanity transport. I can remember remembering memories that have faded into silk dreams of past-life same-form consciousness that only surface from time to time to whisper sweet proverbs of sage and true light - I remember forgetting nothing and carrying on to see if anything actually matters in the grand scope of pearly eyes of cosmic vision - I remember, I remember, I remember.

Romance them politics.
Make them easy to digest.
*** sells, mame your love on a television show.
**, **,**, there's nowhere for me to go.
No, no, no,I'm left with nowhere else to go.
I turn and turn and face the wind and snow.
Lord have mercy on my speechless soul.
Leave a mark so that I will know -
Just where I should go.
Lord show me where to go.
I'm a dog, throw me a bone.
Build me a ladder, to the cloud of my home.
Ancient instinct, not drool on a phone.
Caliope missionairy drone.
Romance them politics.
Feel their legs like wine.
Waiting for a message -
Waitingfor more time.
Can't count drifters,
They don't exist on paper...unless they're a poet.

Sie halt meine Liebe
Noch im Speicher
Ihre Augen werde ich nie vergessen
Ich sah Gott in ihr wie kein anderer
Wenn ich sie wieder zu sehen,
Wenn dor Tod keine Grenze
Lass es sein, oh Gott, lass es sein

Sie ubt Achtsamkeit in ihrem Gang
Sie spricht, wenn sie spricht
Sie liebt es, wenn sie allein ist
Sie erzahlte mir,
Und ich glaube, sie

Wenn das Ego hingibt Stolz
Wahre Macht gehalten wird
Wahre Liebe aufgedeckt
Und die wahre Wahrheit ans Licht -

Her kiss of days between

She holds my love
Still in memory
Her eyes I’ll never forget
I saw God in her like no other
If I am to see her again
If death is of no boundary
Let it be, oh God, let it be

She practices mindfulness in her walk
She speaks when she talks
She loves when she is alone
She told me
And I believe her

When the ego surrenders pride
True power is held
True love is uncovered
And the true truth is revealed

I cry at the fraility of mortality
I accept all must pass
Anything is possible at any time
Thus awareness is key

Unlock the door
Storm the houses
Take captive the machinery of maya
And take a match to the floors
Let the house of austerity go up in smoke
May the winds of Nature blow the cloud away from overhead
May the shadows be cast into the light

Hoy es hoy
Ayer ya paso
Y manana nunca muestran su
Asi que hoy es la vida
Hoy es todo
Hoy es el Cielo
Hoy es el infierno
Percepcion
Circunstancia

Enviar mis saludos a los angeles caidos de antano
Que sus almas se ilumino con dulce alivio a la luz del sol de oro de ser eterno
La manana del Cielo
Se realizo hoy en la Tierra

That sweet release comes but once a lifetime
And once it comes, the revelation
Cannot be shared with others -
Each body, each soul
Must experience it for themselves...
And at that moment, all shall be known
But until then, we must make comfort and peace our objectives
Why rush?
Enjoy the ride

Sweet caress,  Mexico calling Beauty
Heaven casting shadows on body
Melting into shore-sprayed ocean waves
Dribbling lifetimes through the galley
Space time warfare being shunned
Baja rising mojo rising
Knowledge knows nothing
Uniformed eyes
Scanning celebrated islands
Off the coast, way off from town
In the depths of solitude
In the current of infinity
Where Riders Ride, and Angels fly
Where life has forgotten to die
Rivers, Waterfalls, Cliffs
Falling crest liquid chest
Milking the ***** of Nature's kindness
Seek salvation in the fish of water
With no sake or care, but just the season
Washing air over warm
Combing through atlas place
Gutter rhyme spilling into the conversation
And the mouths of fate choke
Leaving silence to beckon hope
And from the silence comes the now
And the now shall bring later and tomorrow
And life will roll on
With briskness of clouds and truth
Aching itself into the moment of face
Loving every minute of the hour
Forgiving hopelessness as bad company
And saddling the wandering again
'Cause even at the end of the road,
There's always the ocean still to go.

Bennie said "We all have to die"
Jade said "Nobody ever dies"
Yahnie said "Death is but a dream"
Bennie said "In dreams we find death"
Jade asked "But do the dead ever dream?"
Yahnie said "Only if they forgot to live while they were alive"
Bennie said "We all have to die"
Jade said "We all live forever"
Yahnie said "I believe in believing"
Bennie asked "What is there to believe in?"
Jade said "The mystery of Forever"
Yahnie said "The words of the prophets"
Bennie said "I'm my only prophet"
Jade said "Now you understand"
Yahnie asked "What are we talking about?"
Bennie said "Death, 'cause we all have to die"
Jade said "Life, 'cause we all have to live"
Yahnie said "I think I've been caught dreaming too much again".

What?

Free flow, juggling words, consciousness
So to say - like jeweled crescent clouds
Like river laugh - sawing earth-tree
A sound erupts from the deepest depths of mind -
Sorrow, no - something different - completely alien
No language can speak the sound,
For comprehension of said sound turns up no meaning
No meaning in familiar form or shape -
And so the flow flows free, back into the sea
Far from you and far from me
For we are all together, lost abound the creed
Of having something to believe in -
Like thinking that we’re free
But as molecular structure
Binds the soul to ground,
The thought engine runs rapid -
Thinking thoughts resembling ghosts of abstract lands
Lands without land - space without dimension
Seek like tomorrow exists,
And drink to the sun -
Tomorrow remembers nothing
As today is just for fun
We’re free as we sleep
We’re free as we dream
We’re free until we awake
From the unsettling scene - reality screams
The light gleams, past statues of Man,
And petty idols and plastic song
The light shines into the eyes of the knowing -
For the knowing understand
Nothing is permanent nor recognizable
Once the sudden truth is revealed
Through practiced art and dance and talk
Know nothing ‘cept the ignorance of thought
Say nothing save the chance to see
Without ignorance, one cannot know
Without knowing, one cannot live
Without living, one cannot be
Without being, one is without

Lookin' through stars
Not lookin' for jazz
Just tryin' to find
The first of the last

Keep rollin' up, baby
Keep rollin' up
Keep taking notes,
And comparing lies
From the kings and queens
of Bohemia

Utopian dream
Gone through the smoke
Given up the glimmer
Given up the hope

Penchant monkey
Seeking out gold
A fool for the fiddle
A fool for the gold

And she don't care,
No, she don't care -
She wears her
Benjamin Franklin Glasses
And just does not care

But oh, when she dies
She'll look through the lenses
Of her final choices
And come to her senses

At last,
In icy dreams of the present’s past
Holed up in eternity
Surrounded by the wisest fools
Younger than I
Older than Time, so I’ve been told

See,
Floating back through wisps of memory
Drenched in nostalgic gleam
I pick up pieces of naive me
And smile for the love of innocence -
The childlike warmth of Ancient New
Like watching clouds dance over Naked Sun

Ah yes. And so roads converge, again and again,
twisting infinitely through the cosmos, the heavens,
manifesting encounters with the personified void
In angelic form, dancing, beads, hair like silk
In desert exotic, caves of rustic sunset come dawning night
In solitude plane, contemplation erases nervousness
In tunnel of depth, going deeper and deeper and deeper,
In glowing brilliance, magnifying illumination of nothingness,
In transcendent beauty of body and mind,
In the arms, in the embrace, of the Universal Womb of All Life,
There exists no thought, no worry, no noise, no pollution,
Like the waterfalls
Or the ocean tides
Flow away on dreams and believe in anything

Inside, where walls disappear
Where there is no “Here”,
A gentle color extends high
From the ground to the sky -
Brilliant radiance of light
Producing colors never seen before,
Erecting pyramids in honor of the heart -
Beating, beating, beating
The heart, it keeps on beating
Pumping blood through the veins
Planets ride in the stream,
Orbiting cells and cells -

Inside, where walls disappear
Where there is no “Here”
Great transparent eyes
Of the ghostly face
Worn by Creation and Matter and Form
Stare down the desires
Of being anything more
Than this right “Here” - THIS -
Look around, It’s Everywhere!
It’s Everything! It’s inescapable!
Anything more than This is blasphemy!
But maybe not - perhaps This is a test.
This is an illusion put in place and set to spin,
Testing the point-blank eyes of humanity,
On single planet Earth.
How bizarre. How bizarre.

Inside, where walls disappear
Where there is no “Here”
A giant heart warms the soul
By fireside bones,
A Love is grown. Yes, a Love is grown.

Don't check twice for the plants to be living
Time's being wasted on taking not giving
Figure the point of all the cosmos
Without saying "Well, only God knows"
Take the walk down the concrete side
To meet the souls of the hypnotized
Bow, begging bread from yuppie talkers
Who've grown from kids into devil stalkers

The eagels fly, over the valley
Over the hills, through the canyon
Skies collapse into the earth
Creating chaos perfectly woven

Commit mind to action, a call to air
In the revolving wheel of what's to share
Where blood fills the streets
And angels sing emptiness
Sweetly, calmly
All for you, and all for me
I am you, and you are me
Let the angels sing
Let the angels sing

She climbs out of the galaxy
to say hello to Her reflection
in the dripping pool of stars
and molecular consciousness

She climbs out of Her womb
to be born to the Day of Now
and live as She always has lived

She climbs the mountain of Life
to shout Her Prophesies
to the ears of hermetic creatures
with ears tuned to Her voice

She climbs under the radar
of vicious naysayers
and unbelievers,
attempting to surprise them
with Her hidden beauty
and knowledge of All Things

She climbs from Her watchtower
and walks the streets of mortality
and sacrifices Her form
to gain back Her eternal body

She climbs out from the past
to offer Her peace and comfort
to the ill-minded souls
lulling into despair from indecisive hearts

She climbs out of the painting
to inspire the painter with Love
and Vision
and internal wisdom

She climbs for the skies
knowing She'll end up in circles -
an endless loop of here's and there's
and everywhere's


She climbs back out of the laughter
to hear Her echo of life
ring through every dimension of the cosmos

She climbs the wicked winds
to land safely like a dove
on the shoulder of the faithful
and the strong,
never letting up Her hold
on the Card of Fate

She climbs to the Heavens of Her mind
to poetically rearrange Her thoughts
to mirror Her destiny

She climbs down from Herself
and imagines what life would be like
to not exist
and to not imagine
and to not know
to not feel
to climb no longer

She smiles to Herself
as She becomes the climb
and thus, She is

Waitin' on the steepin' of my tea and
thinkin' 'bout peace in the Middle East.

Yeah, just waitin' on the steepin' of my tea and
thinkin' 'bout peace in the Middle East.

Can ya dig?

Nah, you're too busy waitin' on the steepin' of your tea and
thinkin' 'bout peace in the Middle East.

Respect.

The clouds - machine made
Appearing In Infinity
From somewhere
Behind the curtain of Horizon -
The clouds,
They carry knowledge
But the monkeys can't decipher the code
And so
The clouds drift on
From nowhere to everywhere in between
Just waiting
For a mind to pay attention
To the pattern of Creation
Existing simultaneously with the Mind
And once said Mind deciphers said Code
All shall be known -
But the secret is beyond preexisting language
And so the Chosen Mind is trapped
In futile attempts
To share what has been seen
But the monkeys don't care
Because they never question the patterns
And so the Chosen Mind must wander
In hopes of meeting others
Who have also deciphered the Code
And together they sit silently
Knowing
All of Life exists to die
To Create new Life
To continue the pattern of the Clouds
For no greater reason than "Why Not?"

I'm a young monkey,
Lost without a tree -
Swinging on vines in search of the key
to unlock the door
Into the room I'm already in.

I stand tall over my shadow,
Until the dawn of night strolls up,
Igniting conversation
About secrets and guilt and such
And showing me my own reflection
In the snot of society's death -
I'm a young monkey,
Lost without a path
To find the destination
Of which I'm already at.

Remember summer in blue,
Dressed to the leg in wonder too,
Wearing Love as a charm
In worn-out body from Hollywood
Smeared blood on eyelid, broken morning
Room-service waits for door to unlock
Get up from bed and answer the door
They’re waiting and will wait no more
Hurry hurry hurry to the door
Jump over the heartaches on the floor
Juggle the pins and needles with ease
Open the door and see the hall empty
They waited and could simply wait no more
They’ll be back, surely one knows
They need their money, like Amerikan vampires
Empire minds, building nonsense and putrid wasted art
Selling ideals to the college-bound toddlers
Delivering the news of Santa being Satan in a mask
And handing over the papers for a non-physical death
Certified by the highest suits in the highest cubicles,
Signed by God himself, and nailed to the cross
Worshiped by the lonely and shunned by the worried
The plastic coins in the fountain one day will explode
I know this from sheer experience only
Trust my word for I never ever lie
Only to myself, and even then that’s still the truth.

The world is a breath -
Coming in through the form
And leaving through the invisible.
Pulsating through the rooms of art,
survival screams for salvation -
A Communistic utopian,
under-turned for sake of pride and recognition.

The world is but a breath -
Within the core of existence,
Inside the minds of society,
and in the hearts of the freed hermits,
the nomadic saviors of the human race -
star-children.

Lungs of void and thought and action
and being and being and being -
With veins of rivers and trees
and eyes of ocean wholes,
the face of life gleams truth in sun -
with cancerous tumors of Man’s cities -
cities designed for convenience,
and constructed out of fear for safety -
deeply rooted in the unconscious.

The world is a breath,
and art is the air.

There I was - sitting amongst strangers in the strangest of strange places, simply waiting for the strangeness to stop, but instead, things only became stranger. How strange? - I wondered to myself in discreet thought. But then I realized that my thoughts were words and all of the strangers could here me mumbling about the situation. They all turned to me with their beady lizard eyes, and with sweat dripping from their foreheads, with their drinks before them, and they all scowled in my direction as if I was the true stranger in this circus of strangeness. I thought about scowling back at them, which only made them scowl even more-so at me, but I chose not to. And after several minutes of cooling my mind to a low hum, the lizard eyes all went back to their circle of chatter - ceaselessly ranting on and on about nothing except themselves and their meals and their cars and their bills and their money. I became sick to my stomach.

Standing on Heaven, by oak trees and maple
Seeking truth in self as daylight burns purple
A stance of nothing taken for a joke
To mislead followers,
and throw responsibility to the fire

Standing on Heaven, in field of rich poverty
Blinking twice before looking straight
Past far beyond the structure of faces
and deep into the throes of spirit and death and time
where only the sky holds the key
to the door of knowledge and existence

Standing on Heaven, in an attempt to fly
Breaking bones on collapse from high
Coming down to feel the sullen ground,
***** from corporate greed and ignorance
Ah, just another day in Heaven's Hell
Where everyone is someone, forever and more
because humanity is immortal
viewed by the eyes of stature -
Man's egoic need to feel real.

I’m not trying to turn water into wine here,
That’s been done before -
Out with the Old, and In with the New.

I pray to the morning dawn,
but the moment is temporary, fleeting -
I feel I’m always chasing time down,
Attempting to bring forth a permanent reality,
but the Cosmos laugh at permanence -
Such tomfoolery is of human thought,
Not Angelic, not Zen, not High
Just human thought - everyday mundane thought,
Synapses beauty, leaking subconscious pitter-patter into form, into life,
And I sit twiddling my thumbs waiting for death,
waiting to have my body disintegrate before my eyes -
Watching the molecules lose their magnetic pull
And have the atoms dash off,
making quantum leaps,
forming new bodies, in parallel worlds.

I’ve been here since the beginning,
If there even was a “beginning”,
after-all, the Universe doesn’t believe in Time,
but I know also that I’ll be here for the end,
If there even is an “end”.
Something must have a beginning to have an end.
And something must exist within something else to be labeled as an individual “something”.
So if the universe is a “something”, where is it located?
Tell me, please, for the sake of humanity, where is the universe located?
“Here”, you say.
The sky smiles. The ocean weeps.

When the birds will fly
Many will undoubtedly cry
Many more will even die
And still more will wonder why

When the birds will fly
Many a truth will be shown a lie
As hands depart from the eye
And a new kingdom will come to rise

When the birds will fly
The purpose of mankind
Will be screamed from up high
From the fire in the sky

When the birds will fly
Mountains will slide
Into the massive ocean tide
Where they'll wait and hide

When the birds will fly
The grand purpose of life
Will finally be realized
When the birds will fly
When the birds will fly

Between the crowds of thought and action, lies a well-known secret path of reveled mystic importance in the first-generation of being - that, being experience - living life as life was, and is, meant to be lived. From the very decree of pronounced dictation of one way of doing things brings forth an unintentionalized mantra of “do this, but not that”. In actuality, that is the very opposite of this well-known secret. There is no “do this, but not that”. It is not a diet, nor a deity. It has no rules and no sins. It has no prayers and it holds no expectations. It is separate from the millenia old traditions of false prophesy and blind faith. It is a common thread in the quilt of the universal existence - it is a perspective beyond perception. It is a thought beyond the mind. It is a feeling beyond the body. It is life as life was, and is, meant to be lived.

And so, with a new day come a new night, and thus a new day -
On and on and on it goes,
Forever, she cries
Like yesterday’s woe and tomorrow’s worry
There’s no need to hurry -
Life moves at its own pace, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
Just go, she said.
Just go, and don’t look back - whatever you do, don’t look back -
Regret has no place in the warrior’s plan,
and guilt does no man justice.
Hurt goes away - wounds do heal,
but the mind can trap itself into severe delusion,
And that can be Hell with no exit in sight, except the escape within -
Death without life is a life without death -
It’s nothing and never existed -
It’s a coward’s way of things,
A foolish priest’s pity,
A fallen angel’s mercy,
A youth’s vice and virtue -
But it’s nothing more than a ball and chain.
The air must be clean to breathe, so not to pollute the lungs -
The water must be clear, so to not gag the body and purge the nutrients of sweat -
The rest must be full so to dream off reality -
The fall must be full so to force a man to stand back up again in humility.

This is a great time to be alive.
It coincidently is also the only time that exists.
Right now. Yes, this time - Now.
It's great.
Possibly even greater than Great.
What's greater than Great though?
The time that never passes and is always present.
Well, duh.
As is the fact that the entire universe even exists.
How weird is that?
Where did the universe even come from?
Why is there a universe?
Are there other universes?

Great questions take great time for great answers.
The time that never passes and is always present -
What a great time to be in,
To be alive within -
It may not be an answer to anything,
But within that space, there's no need for questions anyhow.
The beauty is too overwhelming to think.
That's why I pray,
and say as I may -
This is a great time to be alive.

Well, I had to let it go - I just had to let it go.
I don’t know why I’m writing - I seriously don’t. You can believe, or not - it doesn’t matter in all honesty to me - but I do care. I actually always care. I care about the children and the sun and China and India and Africa and war and peace and food and water and highs and lows and the earth and the air and the grand color of life sewn into the fabric of experience through eyes and minds and legs and lives. How could I not care? To not care is borderline-blasphemy - it’s spitting in the face of God and defecating on the golden throne of responsibility. Having a life is a responsibility - one of massive cosmic proportions.
And so I wait for a call, from a friend, about business concerning sound and growth and direction and sharing - something along those lines...and I wait, and I wait - in the rain, on a cloud, in the street, alone, waiting. It’s okay - not quite as bad as it seems, but everything has a mask if you look at it in the right light (or shadow?). Perhaps, just perhaps...but here I am waiting for a call, and I’m thinking about a girl - about love - and I know that where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be, but it’s sort of sad when you wish that somebody close to your heart is standing there with you, perhaps not even talking, but simply taking in the silence for what it truly is - beauty beyond life and death and dreams and the rest...beauty beyond idea and form...beauty beyond beauty - just love...love is all, and love is truth.
I wonder sometimes about my privilege in a “first-world world” and how I’m too lazy for my own good...sometimes I wonder what somebody else would do in my place if they were me and I were them...sometimes I wonder if I wonder too much...sometimes I wonder if anyone notices or even cares that I’m lost in the cosmic space of my own mind, swimming through endless wonderings about this and that and everything and nothing all together and between it all...sometimes I wonder what it’s like to stop wondering...

I awoke from the dream to face the bright dawn of reality’s morning rise - drifting from the puddles of faraway abstraction and brought face-to-face with the picture of death - painted on every tree and cloud and in every set of eyes of every young child in the street. I saw past the forms and glimpsed the souls of every organism in existence - I saw the love radiating inward from the outward spells of the universe’s whims. I caught breath of the meaning of senseless creation, sneaking a view at the blueprints - and decided that such things are of nil importance in the world.  - That’s what craziness is made out of.

Wake up, see the earth
Feel the air, for what its worth
Be fed the manners and the matters
And sleep in your new form

Open your eyes
Breathe and realize
The gift of sight
Life's a surprise