There is a Middle Road between all Worlds
I know this to be Truth
I have always seen it, glimpsed like a shadow in the corner of my Eye
Everywhere I have ever Looked
Everywhere I have ever Been
Everywhere
I have always felt myself to be
Known my Self to be
Standing to one side or the other of this Lost and Delicate Way
Skipping between the Extremes, always
Too High
or Too Low
too Hard or
too Soft
too Strong or too Weak
Too Much
or Never Enough
a Life Exhausted, leaping Across the Divide
from Mountaintop to Mountaintop
Seeking in vain the peaceful Valley on the Horizon
Always in The Distance
always Almost
never Now
Until
Until
until

until I collapse
until I cannot Go Any Further
until I finally Let Go
and Let My Self Fall
and Slide down the Mountain
because there is Nothing Left for me to do
but Lie Down
and Be Still
and Rest
Eyes Wide to the Sky
along the Middle Road

Reaching Inside
to Center Mind
and further still
past Grey Matter
past axon and dendrite
through the synapse
Once more unto the breach
and further still
into cell
into nucleus
into gene
into acid amino
and further still
into particle carbon
past electron
past proton
into neutron
and further still
to Reach
The Void
and reside within
and wait, still
Being within Nothing
as the World Serpent
tail-in-mouth
consumes itself

Wait
and Hold
Still


Wait

and

Hold

Still


Now gently Returning
Up and Out
tugging softly at The Void
with wish whisper touch
softer than Light
pulling
bringing Nothing
Up and Out
into Everything
into Center Mind
Up and Out
leaving neutron
past proton and electron
leaving carbon
Up and Out
pulling No-thing
Up and Out
leaving gene, leaving nucleus, leaving cell
Up and Out
bringing The Void
Up and Out
through synapse
past dendrite and axon
through Matters Grey
Up and Out and Into

Center of Mind
the Hole in
Your Self
the Whole within
the Holy
You

Now Wait

and Hold

Still

all sons
at some point
inevitably
face the same
dilemma:

either
figure out a way
to be
more successful
than your father
or
figure out a way
to deal
with the inescapable feeling
of having
failed
at being a man

those walls you've built?
those thick stone walls you surround yourself with
to keep you safe
to keep out the pain?
how are they working out?
are you comfortable in that tower all alone?
do you feel safe?
are you free from the hurt?
or does the pain seep in anyways
as cold creeps through cracks
in the mortar?
loneliness an ache in your bones
and a shiver down your spine.
are those walls keeping the pain out?
or are they holding it in?

Life Is Pain, precious.

there is no avoiding that.
not for anyone.
and sacrificing everything
that makes Life worth living
in a futile attempt to avoid
the inevitable
is the worst pain there is.

Climb down, precious.

leave that pointless, pitiful prison you've built for yourself
and don't look back.
don't hide yourself away forever
like some fragile little snowflake.
you'll hurt either way
so why go through it all alone?
there's nothing to be afraid of.
and you have nothing to lose.

Come out and play with us.

I remember feeling a sort-of sense of
vertigo
looking down at my mother lying
in her coffin
Difficult not to see
my own waxy lifeless face
lying there
someday
doomsday
and it was like looking down on Earth
from Heaven
or maybe I was standing on Earth
and looking down into Hell
for the first time
seen in the empty face of
this life that I came from
this person I came out of
my maker
now just a lump of dead weight
a heavy pile of stilled flesh
eerily still
like a life-sized doll
The light that created me
that started the spark that still flickers behind my eyes
suddenly gone out
and nothing left behind but
a sagging sack of meat and salt wearing
the too-fancy clothes that
she only ever wore to funerals
That is where I came from
That was Home
now gone forever
and someday soon
it will be me
lying there like a pile of clay
wearing too much make-up
but there won't be anybody there for me
holding my hand for hours
rubbing off the make-up
exposing the rubbery grey-blue skin underneath
the way my father so lovingly did
for her

http://michaeltaoblog.blogspot.com/2013/03/neighbors.html

Nine months
since My
Last
Drink.

Nine months.

That is
Significant
in an obvious way.

Nine months,
Today.

Nine months since
I last sipped
purposeful poison.
Nine months since
I last heard
the beautiful
tink-tink-tink
of ice
swirling around
into amber
glass
wall.
Nine months since
I last melted
away
into caramel-
and smoke-
flavored
oblivion.
Nine months since
I last felt
the burning hole
in my gut
weep red and raw
and wail for more
More
MORE.

Nine months since.

Nine months today.

Does that make me a new man?
Am I a New Man yet?
Am I re-born?

The bags
under my eyes
are gone
but it's still Me
I see
looking back
from that glass.

It's still Me.
I'm the Same Man.
I just found
some New Pleasures.
And New Problems
to go with them.

Happy Birthday,
Little Man.

suddenly so sleepy
nodding off at my desk
don't know what's come over me
limbs weigh a thousand pounds
it's a concentrated effort of will
to hold my eyes open
muscles made from ***** tar
i feel myself being pulled under
slowly
down down down into warm grey
favorite blanket
arms of a mother
wrapped tight
held close
warm and safe
all over warm
all inside warm
and down down down
further down into night
and play and wonder
into joy and fruit loop philosophies
and cotton candy *** with
childhood friends
and down down down
further down into warm caves of earth
molten black rock steam and sweat
lungs full of fragrant sweet hot
breath of life ancient ageless mind
swept away gone gone gone
lost in the stream mind of one
eye and one flesh and all
of one and down down down
into gone gone gone
into heavy warm wet safe loved all
over all over into
suddenly
so
sleep

I've got nothing to say
It's an ordinary day
Nothing to write home about
No reason to stay

There's nothing to see here
No deep thoughts to feel here
I'm empty as the mirror's gaze
For all the world to see here

This is just an exercise
Performed for all your judging eyes
Written to determine who
Can wrench the Truth from all my lies

Because I have nothing to say
On this ordinary day
And the rhymes of poetry sometimes
Just get in the way

gotta write
can't write
no time
gotta work
can't stop
too much to do
i can feel it
building up
hard up
hard time
hard line
hard night
coiled wire muscles
stretched tight twang
reverb spinal twitch
sets one eyelid going off
fluttering to start a hurricane
and the whole of it unravels
unless
i can get it out
get it out
get it all out of me
and onto paper
into screen
out to hivemind
out of me
out of me
out of me
one fibrous thread of
twisted steel at a time
all i need
is just a little more time
and a little room to bleed

i know you're depressed
know you just don't want to deal
with me
with anyone
don't feel like you can
don't feel like you can take anymore
don't feel like you can handle it all
it's just too much
all these people who Love you
who mean so well
who want to be the one to save you
to play the hero
be the one to make you smile again
they have no idea
can't feel what it's like
they don't understand that
for all their good intentions
their affections are just another burden
their attempts at Love and comfort just a
complicated social dance
they're forcing on you

i know you want to feel better
know you would if you could
but all their attempts to help you
just make you feel like a burden
to the people you Love
the ones you least want to burden
and why can't they see that only makes it worse
to have to choose between
disappointing them
when their attempts at cheeriness inevitably fail
or lying to them
and pretending to feel better
when you don't
not really
just to spare their feelings
can't they see that you don't have the energy
to even be responsible for your own feelings right now
much less anyone else's
why can't they just leave you alone

alone

isolated

simplified

reduced

quiet

numb

trying to let the pain fade
disappear into nothing at all
so in the blessed silence left behind
the spark may return
just maybe
to fan the flames again
to build the heat
and warm you back to life
but only if you can first get away
away from all of us
and all our Love and affections
and our mountains of best intentions
only if you can reduce all the noise
and complications
and lay still in your shallow depression

i know you're depressed
i know how you feel
i know i can't help
i know i'd only weigh you down further
and make it harder for you to get up again

but i also know
that I Love you

and that you are not alone

I love this song
but I want it to leave my brain
Go away!
Get the **** out!
Leave me in peace!
Be quiet!
For ****'s sake
I have something I need to say
but I can't say it
with this song in the way
The same fifty words
the same catchy beat
over and over
looping through my mind on an
endless rotation
I'm feeling something slightly
complicated
that I need to express
to try and get out of me
but I can't find the words
beyond the lyrical wall blocking my path
And even if I could
even if I knew the words
I couldn't lay them out
couldn't string them together
couldn't find the flow or the rhythm
because all I can feel is the beat
that someone else created
pounding in my head
I'm infected
and I need to get clean
Someone else's art is interrupting mine
and I need to banish it
to wherever lost art goes
so that I can find myself again
hear myself again
so that the voice echoing through my mind
will be mine again

where I live
the blooming of the Bradford Pear
is always the first flower of Spring
a tree filled with tiny
bright white blossoms
raining petals like snow
a pastoral picture of seasonal beauty
scene in almost every suburban community
but the flowers give off
a powerful stench
like rotten fruit
or an infected wound
or a diseased crotch
that hangs in the air forever
like a fog of swampgas
I hate the smell of Bradford Pear
it can hit me from a block away
and stay with me for hours
pounding at my sinuses until
I think my head will explode
it overwhelms everything
for the first few weeks
of every Spring
and even though it makes me miserable
and even though I hate it
and even though it stinks all to hell
because it is the first sign of life
the first sign of Spring
every Spring
it always makes me feel
so happy
a delicious pain
reminding me
that I am alive

It's so easy to step on the wrong word
hit a bad verbal note
an off-key phrase
and bring the whole delicate dance to a screeching halt
Why can't we each just understand the other's meaning?
After all these years
you'd think we'd know each other well enough by now
to understand the intent behind the words
that fall limply from our mouths
to thud at our feet
It shouldn't be so easy to hurt each other
accidentally
trod on a vulnerable heart with ill-prepared words
and misguided affections
The sentiment should speak for itself
the care-for-ness that guides our every action
shouldn't need to be stated explicitly anymore
should it?
We know how we feel
about each other
So why is it still so easy to fall to the same conclusions
that paint ourselves as victims
each to the other's phantomed cruel intent?
We should know better by now
Will we ever be able to truly learn this lesson?
Or are we doomed by the very fact of our dancing
through this life together
to step on each other's toes once in a while?

I guess it doesn't really matter
so long as we keep dancing
it's worth the
bruised toes
bruised egos
battered hearts
and all
Just hold on
hold close
don't look down
and don't stop
don't stop
don't ever stop

I woke this morning
Wrapped in Luck
Discovered in the bathroom mirror
My bedhead looked fabulous
Better than my actual haircut
Like finding a $50 bill on the sidewalk
Like getting a fortune cookie
That speaks your name
And says,
"Today is going to be a Good Day."

It's Autumn
and the World around me
has begun to Die
and the Air is scented sweet with Decay
and the crisp Snap of the breeze
boils my Blood

Life thrown into
sharp, Sensuous relief
surrounded on all Sides
by its inevitable Reflection

Breathe it in
hold it Inside
Kiss it
Eat it
**** it
let it Roll down your chin
get your hands Sticky with it

and Remember
that One day
It Will Be You

first days of Summer
early childhood
first, second, third year of school
when Summers first started to mean something

Free.

I am Free.

i remember
i remember those days
i remember that feeling
only remember
i remember one morning
early
seven or eight
both of us
myself and the day
just starting to heat up

i remember finding our front door open
wide open
propped open
because we'd just bought a new screen door
our first
to let the Summer in
i can still remember the sweet smell
of the soft blond wood frame of our new door
blending with the scent of suburban Summer wafting through
cut grass and pool water
dandelion and hot asphalt

i remember the sparkles of dust twinkling
through the enormous beam of radiant Sun
pouring through our open front door
flooding through our new screen door
pooling in two golden domino blocks
on the orange **** carpet

i remember lying down then
right there on the carpet
right there at our open front door
in my pj's
in that bath of light
and doing nothing else
doing nothing at all

i remember it was so warm
so comfortable
so wonderful
so perfect
i didn't want to leave
i didn't have to leave
i could lay there as long as i wanted
i had nothing else to do
all i had to do was whatever i wanted
and what i wanted was to lay right there
and let the blissful Summer Sun caress me all over
until there was nothing else

i remember i felt free then
absolutely felt it
for the first time
a sort-of tingle in the belly
like falling
or flying
the exhilaration of that new-found freedom
knowing i was free
knowing this was only the beginning
knowing there were months more of this left
months more to look forward to
the upwelling joy that knowledge brings
the surge of happiness at having nothing better to do
than drown in a pool of starlight

i remember recognizing
even then
that there was something special happening there
i didn't know what it was
not then
but i knew there wouldn't be many days like that
and there haven't been
this is the only one i can remember
anymore

but i'm glad i remember
it feels good to remember
it dulls the ache
left from wondering
if i'll ever get to feel that way again

it's not that i'm blocked
though i don't have anything particular to say
at the moment
i'm just tired
couple of long nights
back-to-back
not enough sleep
another one looming ahead of me tonight
the weight of it all holding me down
thoughts coming slow and sluggish
every yawn another pothole on the road
to creative output
sometimes i wish i was a machine
a poetry machine
that never stopped
never stopped
never stopped writing
never stopped creating
never stopped expressing
just feeling and saying and doing everything in poetry
all day
every day
never needing a moment's rest
never needing to do anything more than this
to keep my clockwork heart ticking

I killed a man in my sleep last night.

strange albino maskface
cueball head coated in alabaster
greasepaint of a clown
skin white as the sharpened teeth
tearing through a bloodred slit of mouth
that wound the only color in his face

he was keeping me there
in the darkred room with no windows
holding me there in fear
terrorizing me
torturing me
delighting in it
consuming my fear like a drug
lusting after my pain
pleasuring himself with it

It had been a very bad day for me.

but then he brought Her in
so She could see what he had done
witness the mess he was making of me
brought Her in so I could see
the pain and the fear twisting Her beauty

but then he lost himself
in his lust and hunger for our degradation
he leaned down
face to "face"
pressed his sickening skin to mine
to whisper in my ear
all the things he was about to do to Her

He shouldn't have.

my hands were on his head
fists closed around ears
and pulled
thumbs went into eyes
and sank
and his bloodred mouth opened in glorious tortured screaming
my teeth clamped down
tearing into his bottom lip
with everything i had
i pushed and pulled and tore and ruined
eyeballs popped wet and cold like rotten grapes
ears gave in came off ripping strips of cheek revealing bone
lip tore down down down over chin and neck and red flowed free
free as i felt
free as i now was
as we now were


and i looked to Her
worried for us both
for so many things
and I saw Her
standing shocked
and there was no more fear in Her eyes
and there was no more love in Her smile
there was only the dumbfounded awe
of the newly awakened

all i felt
was justified

a Little
is Alright

but Too Much
is Perfect


and More?


More is
Never Enough

dreaming of drinking and grinding up smoke
laid-back and laughing while having a ****
summernight fireflies flash through my head
while i doze through delirium snug in my bed
with summer's lost loves and old friends gathered 'round
we play and we love as the stars settle down
the night sky above paints a portrait of grace
and we lie on our backs and we soar into space
we fly free, we are young, we have nothing to fear
and our latest new love whispers red in our ear
those words we've been waiting forever to hear
and we are back on the earth with our dearest held near
the world's just right now, in our favorite arms
as fingers trace skin, weaving delicate charms
to love and to lust in the grass under sky
open wide to the world and to gods passing by
we sing out our paeans to pleasure and loss
we have yet our whole lives still left to exhaust
and there's nothing for us in this world but our need
each for the other in word and in deed
we roll in the grass and we burn up our hearts
'til we're lost in each other and coming apart
one in the other we dance in our sins
and the juice of all summers drips sweet down our chins
awake in my bed, i was them, now i'm me
and that mythical summer i'm longing to see
now forever is gone, but these visions remain
of a dream of lost love sought forever in vain

Without motion
there is no Heat
In our sudden stillness
we are freezing to death
But our fire scorched
and consumed
so what choice
did we have?

There is no heat
without Motion
But we only ever went around
in circles
It was inevitable
and obvious
that someday the fuel
would run out

Fire without fuel
Cold ash of promises lost
Deep winter of resentment blows
Howls echoing through our empty chests
Where blood once pumped rhythmic hot
Now silent ice blue

Every Push needs a Pull
Every Give a Take
The dance from White
to Black
to White again
is all we are
a trillion trillion trillion times over
All Creation writ large in infinite complexity
so who are We to pretend to argue
with Nature's Orders?

I am No One
I sit in silent stillness
numbed now in the Cold
I only ever wanted One Thing
And I nearly burned the whole world to get it
Before I realized the obvious truth
that all my actions
my motions
my Heat
had only pushed it further and farther from my reach

So now I am No One
Sitting in silent stillness
comforted in the Cold
knowing that there is nothing I can do
That if I am ever going to have the world I want
it is out of my hands
it is beyond my Will
and all I can do is simply wait
in the Cold
for Her
to come to me



And Hope
it wasn't only my Heat
that drew Her here

the air touching my skin was noticeably warmer this week
and today is the First of March
and people are beginning to talk about Daylight Savings Time
and there's that familiar excitement in my chest again
the Spring butterflies returning to my stomach
every time I smell the electric ozone scent of
growth
energy
power
life
carried in the warm, wet breeze blowing from the west
it's the chill down my spine
and the recurring gooseflesh
anxiously awaiting all the unknown
possibilities
opportunities
drifting in on the wind
every day it seems the Sun changes color a little more
shading from the hazy white-blue hue of Winter
toward the bright hot yellow-orange fireball of Summer
and I swear I can taste that color shift with my skin
licking it up
cat bath of photons
drinking it down
sunlight pouring straight into me as
endorphin
serotonin
dopamine
adrenaline
altering my basic chemical makeup
transforming
regrowing
my Self
coming back to life
waking the **** up
waking the world up
I can feel it
I know it's time to move again
time to run again
time to drift again
time to dance again
time to **** again
time to kiss again
time to drink again
time to feel again
feel these things again
feel awake and excited and anxious and nervous and alive again
I can feel all of it beginning right now
with every new sensation when I step outside
I feel the familiar twitch of that little seed growing in the center of me
stronger each day
getting ready to burst

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
stepping out into a world of
startling reminiscence
of childhoods spent chanting in churches
and calling out to Papa, Papa!
Come save us!
Come save us from ourselves!

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
like a whole world made holy
streets paved with sacred resin
sewers leaking holy vapors
warm fogs wafting down from
some invisible censer
to smother us all in glory

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
oh so familiar tangy-pine aroma of magick
and mystery and mastery
and gold glinting with candles' light
burnt offerings sacrificed
as to make the very air sacred
with graceful gifts to gods

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
potent and penetrating and permeating
into and through and all around
clinging and saturating, dizzying and cloying
turning the world as a dervish reeling
in a rush of divine dance
inspired to the light of one true mind

the city smelled like frankincense this morning
and when I breathed it in I knew
I could read the sign
I knew which way to go
I knew what I had been waiting for
and why I had been wanting

I knew

I never know how to feel on Mother's Day
My mother killed herself
She checked into a hotel room
without telling anyone
and took a bottle of sleeping pills
one at a time
until they were all gone
and then she laid down
and put herself to sleep
She did it to escape the pain
yes
She did it to save herself
certainly
She did it to save us
undeniably
to save us
from her
from her madness
from her long pain
from her forever scream
She loved us so much
that she died
to protect us
from herself
She gave me life
and then she gave it to me again
saving my life
by sacrificing her own

So whose life
am I really celebrating
today?

And should the flowers
be daisies
or lilies?

http://michaeltaoblog.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-other-boys-father.html

I am a middle-aged grasshopper
fiddling my way to Winter
I can feel it coming
smell it in the air now
my days are getting shorter
and soon I will know my first Winter
and my last
and I see the ants all around me
going about the business of their days
while I fiddle away in mindless joy
I am free from all their cares and concerns
I share none of their worries or woes
and every moment of my life is filled
with more bliss than they will ever know
but the price to be paid is Winter
when the long night comes
they will have time for reflections
they will enjoy a sacrifice-earned peace
and plenty
that I will never know
they will possess a special wisdom
born only of accomplishment
that I am doomed to covet
but never share
the precious sounds I drew from my strings
that spread so much joy to so many for so long
lost now in the howling winds of the storm
and lost soon after even to memory
but that I enjoyed it all every second
to the fullest
every moment but the last
there is no sign to mark my passing through or by
no trace left of me where I danced my life away
but perhaps the impression of an almost imperceptible
****
in the new-fallen snow that covers me where I lay
next to the towering mountain hill of the ants
teeming with the frenzy of the living
who will know a second Spring

It's been five years
since the Moon spoke to me
And I did my best to listen
and remember

I'd never been more lost
never felt more alone and confused
never been closer to death
than I was that year
Technically an accident
but living so recklessly
"accidents" become a near certainty
so I am not free of responsibility
I nearly ended my self

Grasping at straws for months on end
Clutching at any whispered fragment of hope
of a Way Out
One morning
I heard a news report
about an upcoming celestial event
a Total Lunar Eclipse
of the Full Moon
I barely noticed it
thought nothing of it
changed the channel
and landed on a cartoon
about the embodiment of the Tao
in the Spirit of the Moon
and something clicked
I know that click
I'm intimately familiar with that click
I have been my whole life
But it'd been almost a year since I'd last felt it
I thought it was gone
gone forever
but here it was again
from a news report
and a cartoon
a cartoon!
of all things
but unmistakeable nonetheless
something about the Tao
and the Moon
and an eclipse

That night five years ago
the night of the eclipse
I didn't know what to do
I almost gave up
but I finally decided to go through with it
out of a sense of absolute desperation
I had nothing left
I might as well
At the appointed time
I took my posture
half-lotus in front of my altar
set flame to candle
and recel
I tried to relax
to let go
to empty myself
I found my Center Mind
and reached inward
to the Void
When it was time I let myself go
drifting up out of my body
flying through the atmosphere
floating in space
above the Earth
staring at the glowing white surface of the Moon
filling my vision
with cratered beauty
and profound grace

And I waited
I watched as a shadow crept across the face of the Moon
from East to West
as the Earth behind me
moved slowly between us and the Sun
And I waited
until the shadow blotted out the Moon entirely
leaving me in darkness
And I waited

And nothing happened

And I felt something inside me break
I had been so certain
that click had always meant The Way before
but nothing had happened
I must really be Lost then
so I gave up
and started to let myself fall back to my body

Just then
the eclipse broke
as the Earth continued on its Way
the shadow began to leave the face of the Moon
a brilliant crescent of white light blinded me from the eastern edge
and I heard a voice that was not my own say

All things that Are, are Change

As amazing as the experience was
a voice inside my head
that I did not recognize
I was still let down
What it had said was
hardly news to me
a paraphrasing of Heraclitus
"All things that Are, are Fire"
The only Constant is Change
Nothing is Certain
except Uncertainty
et cetera
I knew that
had been living it
for years
the purview of Chaos
Nothing is True
and Everything is Permitted
Kids' stuff
arm-chair mysticism
Tell me something I don't know
I said
And the voice answered

You cannot be Good
You cannot be Bad
You can only Be

And suddenly I knew
what should've been obvious
all along
Good and Bad are entirely subjective
just ideas
not Truth
their existence depends entirely
on our particular point of view
at any given moment
there is no single thing in this Universe
that is entirely Good
or entirely Bad
every single thing is both
Good and Bad
depending on your circumstance
your point of view
how you look at it
just as no single thing in this Universe
is entirely Yin
or entirely Yang
every single thing is both
Yin and Yang
that is the Way
that is the Tao

How had I lost sight of that?
What had happened to me?
I wanted more
I knew there was more
I asked the Spirit of the Moon
What else?
and Manni-Moon-Yin replied

Look on the Bright Side
Make the Most of it

Again it suddenly seemed so obvious
it followed naturally that
if all things are both
Good and Bad
then it must be our choice
to view them either one way
or the other
Joy is not a circumstance
Happiness is not an event
something beyond our control
that we must wait for
wait until it happens to us
No
It is a choice
it is something that we do
or don't do
So if there is Good in every single thing
then all I need to do
is choose to see it

Reeling
Overwhelmed
Overcome
Humbled
Awed
I asked
Is that all?
And Manni-Moon-Yin replied

You are Amazing
And so is Everyone Else

Human existence is
astronomically improbable
We should not exist
We are the end result
of a billion
one-in-a-billion chances
all coming up Jackpot
even the worst of Us
is an absolute ******* miracle of Nature
the most amazing thing in the known Universe
the Living Embodiment of Tao
a Human Being
an astounding accident
a chemical formula so complex
that it has become aware of itself
and I am one of them
and I should never lose sight of that
I am one of these ridiculously
outrageously
amazing pinpoints of sentience
and so is every single other person I will ever see
or hear
or touch
or encounter in any way
throughout my entire life
Each person is an Individual
and I can't know them
can't know their experience
or their circumstance
so it is unfair
and pointless
and rather ridiculous
to try and judge them
when we are all equally amazing
each in our own Way

I said Goodbye then
to Sifu
to Master
to Manni-Moon-Yin
and slowly fell back to Earth
back to my body
back to my self
anchored by Knowing
by finally Knowing
something
some True thing
again
with certainty
and clarity

To this day
I do not know
whose voice I heard that night
the Moon Spirit's
or my own
my Unconscious
and I don't care
it makes no difference to me
either way
because the words that voice spoke
are Truth
undeniable
inarguable
solid
foundational
Truth
and I will remember them
for as long as I live
and as long as I remember them
I will never again
be lost

It's hot
and it's humid.
But it's the perfect temperature,
and the best climate.

The bugs are all over me,
a distraction.
A thousand tender caresses
from The Mother.

I am wearing too much clothing.
But I am completely naked,
open,
and exposed
to the air
and the light.

On opposite ends of the wood,
I am too close to you.
But I want so badly
to be inside of you.

There is no sound here.
And it is defeaning.

I am completely sober.
And out of my ******* skull.

I feel like ****,
and have never felt better.

Here,
with you,
I am all alone.

My books
all define the Infinite,
while void
of any meaning.

I Want so fiercely,
like a ******* hole in my chest.
And I am content.

I miss you all,
now that you are here with me.

The wind swirls around us,
and nothing moves.

My belly,
my heart,
and my head
are all empty,
so I nourish the insects
with my skin,
and my sweat,
and my breath.

And when the storm
finally breaks,
and the rain
finally comes,
I will
finally
be dry.

:   i have realized something

          :   i have realized the distilled essence of all of my desires

          :   is simply to be able to Love you

          :   or, more honestly, that you would be able to let me Love you


          :   and i have realized something else

          :   i have realized that this desire of mine

          :   to be free to Love you completely

          :   with neither regret nor remorse

          :   will never be fulfilled


          :   and so now i have a choice


          :   i can let go of this desire

          :   to save myself

          :   from constant rejection and disappointment

          :   i can accept that you will never let me Love you

          :   the way that i want to

          :   the way that i try to

          :   i can let go of this desire

          :   accept my fate

          :   and simply stop trying


          :   or


          :   i can take it

          :   i can endure

          :   and keep Loving you

          :   knowing full-well that Loving you means

          :   an oft-broken heart


          :   and i have realized one more thing

          :   one final thing

          :   that for a life spent Loving you

          :   You

          :   for that I can be

          :   for that I will be

          :   for that, I am


          :   Strong

view through my windshield
painted on the sky
leaving me staggered
shattered
broken down on the side of the road
never saw it coming
awe-struck dumb and stunned
by the sheer magnitude
of the natural beauty displayed
arrayed through that pane of tempered glass
watercolor pastel palette
a cloud for every hue
soft sunset rays filtered just so
just right
backlighting the backdrop
layer upon layer of clouds
of every shape and size
clouds upon clouds upon clouds
the depth was astounding
as if seeing all three dimensions for the very first time
hundreds of miles away
yet it looked like I could run my fingers through it
and smear it all over

something about that scene
something snapped in me
so suddenly my eyes were filled with salt
so I could no longer see
the glory that had overtaken me
and that I had lost this wondrous sight
only pained me all the more
and I had to stop and sit and stare
because I could not let it go
I couldn't simply pass it by
without a chance to drink it in
and quench my thirst of it
until I had let it wring out of me
every last drop of poison

I am a ******.
That is a powerful word
a putrid, painful word
a psychotic thing to say
out loud
to know
about myself
to admit
to You.
This is the worst thing I know
about myself
that I ***** a girl once
without even realizing what I was doing.
I don't know why I'm saying this now.
I know a lot of people will hate me
for saying this
for admitting this horrible thing I did
for displaying this
repulsive
repugnant
piece of my personal history
like picking up a piece of my ****
and showing it to You.
I don't know why I'm saying this.
I don't know why I'm telling this.
I guess because
after all these years
more than half my life later
I still haven't forgotten
I can't forget
I still regret
so I guess it simply
needs to be said.
So call it a confession.
And now the bargaining begins.
The inevitable qualifications.
Because while it is true
I am a ******
that powerful, putrid, painful, psychotic word
calls forth to mind an image
of violence and brutality
that is not me
and is not what I am trying to say
and is not what happened that night.

We were very young
not even twenty
and stupid
clearly stupid
and we'd been "going out" for years
Homecomings and Junior Proms
we'd taken each others' virginity
many years before
this was not our first dance.
And we were drunk.
Blind drunk.
It's not an excuse
but it's a fact
and it's relevant
and it needs to be said.
We had rented a hotel room
away from our parents
alone
free
and we were *******
joyously
terrificially.
Young
Free
Drunk
*******.
It was a glorious night.

At some point
she said,
"Wait, stop."
I don't know why.
To this day, I have no idea
what happened
what was wrong
why she wanted me to stop.
But I remember
what I said.
I'll never forget
never be able to forget
what I said
what I did.
She said, "Wait, stop."
And I said,

"No,
I'm almost done."

There is no apologizing
for that
no accepting it
no getting over it.
Not for her
or for me.
Some things just become
a part of you
forever
and you can't hide them
no matter how much you want to
or how hard you try.
Some words weigh on you like Marley's chains
and you carry them for the rest of your life.
And you should.
I'm not seeking sympathy
or solace
I deserve neither
and I wouldn't want them
even if I did.
I want to carry this chain.
I have to.
Because it is the only way
I can attempt to
balance out the equation
and even have a hope
of trying
to begin
to make up
for what I did
to her.
I guess I just needed to
acknowledge the chain
admit it
make it real
so that I could keep carrying it
a little longer.

Orange yellow tounges climb licking
tinder dried limbs wood eating
pine bough'd circle yearned-for grasping
explode in blazing new Sun crackling

White wisp'd winter ghosts rise gently
carried north on cold winds darkly
sacrificed spirits pyre'd burn brightly
light for a New Year to shine sublimely

Red runes round ring enchanted
holy words spoke oft-repeated
flowed wine o'er horn filled sacred
Gods' graced gifts for wishes granted

x
                                                               ­     Do you remember
                                                        ­                 the last time
                                                            ­        you said the words
                                                           ­                     "I
                                         ­                                     Love
                       ­                                                       you"
     ­                                                                 ­          ?

                                                    ­                +          +          +

    I don't

    I don't remember

    I don't remember
    the last time
    that I said
    "I
    Love
    you"

    I don't remember
    when I said it
    or to whom
    or why

    And now I can't escape this
    rotting feeling
    that this isn't a memory
    we should ever out-grow
    That this isn't a memory
    we should ever out-live
    That this isn't a memory
    we should ever get
    too far away from
    Now that I realize it's gone
    I feel adrift and lost without it
    like a greenhorn just realizing
    he's lost sight of shore
    for the first time

    The sudden realization
    that I couldn't remember
    that I've lost this memory
    that it must've been so long
    since I last said it
    to anyone
    for any reason
    that I've lost it completely
    sits so alien and unreal in me
    That I could've ever lost something
    so important
    something
    that has always just
    been there
    before
    something
    that should just be a backdrop
    to the rest of my life
    now gone
    and I didn't even notice it
    didn't miss it at all
    until now
    It's as if I suddenly realized
    one wall of my house was missing
    exposing us
    letting in the whether
    and I can't even remember
    when it happened

    And this is all only preamble
    just the lead-in
    to the real question
    Why?
    Why can't I remember?
    Why have I forgotten?
    Why has it been so long since I last said it?
    Why haven't I said it?
    Why did I ever stop?

    What am I waiting for?

cough **
I don't know which upsets me more
That I am saddened by my Self
And my life
Or the Guilt
Stemming from the Knowledge
That I have no Right
Nor Reason
To feel this way at all

I'm a King
dressed as a Beggar

Who will give me Alms?

My brain buzzes and my fingers dance.
My eyes twitch and dart to make the world vibrate.
Too much coffee and my heart slows down to one,
long,
drawn-out
thuwump.
I feel the fibers in my muscles coil like a snake.
I'm all adrenaline and nothing to do.
No fight to be had,
no flight to be made,
no harm,
nor foul,
nor **** to be given.
Wires pulled taut,
I could strike out a tune,
make the bones dance
a crackhead jig.
Long breaths in staccato time,
high on the oh-2 painting my brain red.
I can feel my whiskers like an aura,
hovering over my skin,
every hair a bright,
electric
nerve.
Throb, pulse, twitch.
Writhe, dance, squirm.
Eyes-wide,
drink it in,
eat the lightwave whole.
Bits and bits and bits
stab,
pierce,
*****,
puncture,
penetrate,
explode
into image,
view,
vista,
site,
sight,
seen,
scene.
It's all the same.
All light
and heat
and motion,
no differentiation,
no line of demarcation,
no distinction,
no more,
no me.

One more cup,
and I'll be gone.

Humans
are Drugs
who live
to get high
on each other
so
they can feel
as if
they are Living

There
is
no
Perfect
Drug

I've waited too long for Spring
Last year Winter never came
this year it wouldn't leave
And now I've waited too long for Spring
and now it all feels wrong
We should be halfway to Summer by now
but Spring has only just started
yesterday
was the first day
that we could really feel it
We opened the windows for the first time
since last Summer
and realized how long we'd been holding our breath
And, oh, this morning
it was PERFECT
in our home
The soft yellow light of our star sliding
through the slats covering our open windows
The soft, cool, petal-scented breeze blowing
through our rooms and halls
caressing my skin
I wanted to stay there forever
I've waited too long for this
I need it so badly
I need it to remind me
that I am alive
and breathing
But I couldn't stay
I had to leave
There are bills to pay
I have to Take Care of Us
I have to work
I can't stay home
just because I want to play at feeling human
It took everything I had
and I stumbled along the way
many times
but eventually
I forced myself to do it
And I put on clothing
that covered my skin
so that I could no longer feel the breeze caressing me
And I closed the windows
to still the air
so that I could no longer smell the soft, petal-scents of Spring
And I closed the blinds
so that I was shut away from our star
and could no longer feel its warmth
or see its soft radiance
And then I stood a moment in the darkness
of our now ruined home
steeling myself again for what I knew
I had to do

In the office today
I could not stop wondering
whether I'm a Hero
or a Fool

why don't you want me?
why don't you want me
the way that i want you?
why can't you feel for me
what i feel for you?
is it chemical?
just an accident of genetics?
or is it me?
is it the pills?
or is it me?
Is it something in our environment?
Or is it Me?
Is it the hormones?
Or is it Me?
Is it something in the way you perceive yourself?
Or is it Me?
Is it pathology?
OR IS IT ME?
Is it just a lack of empathy?
OR IS IT ME?
Is it the drugs?
OR IS IT ME?
IS IT SOMETHING ABOUT US?
OR IS IT JUST ME?
IS IT SOMETHING I DID?
OR IS IT JUST ME?
IS IT JUST A FACT OF GETTING OLDER?
OR IS IT ME?
IS IT JUST A MATTER OF TIME?
OR IS IT ME?
IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO?
OR IS IT JUST ME?
IS IT ME?
OR IS IT ME?
IS IT ME??
OR IS IT JUST ME?!!



please don't say
it's not you
again
i can't hear it anymore
because it is me
I am the thing
that you
don't want
not like that
not in that way

not so close

always at arms' length

no closer

because that is where

you want me

the Man is no longer a Man
in this day and age
he is a strange Middle-Aged Boy
an Aging Adolescent
hair going grey
with the hours whittled away
on Xbox video games

the Man that is a Man
is of a bygone age
The Real Man in the films of old
Age-ed Anachronism
strong and proud and brave
standing tall to face the day
and keep the wolves at bay

that I am a Man-who-is-not-a-Man
a product of this modern age
has vexed my Heart and Soul
my Arrested Ascension
how can I always play
when a Real Man works all day
but really who's to say?

the Boy is also a Man
in our culture at this stage
in truth both young and old
Advancing Adolescence
we get to play our lives away
yet still have bills to pay
the balance of the middle way

I am a Boy and I am a Man
by internal and external age
work only to play is my road
an Admirable Aspiration
that I get to live My Way
a little boyhood every day
is the great gift of this age

**** it
I'll be okay

they're not nightmares
anymore
and i should think that would make a difference
but it doesn't
my dreams are a plague
infecting every part of me
every vessel, every *****
every nerve and every cell
every night
                            a Wonka riverboat ride down the rabbit hole into Madness
                                                         ­                                 and mixed metaphors
                                                       ­                   a kaleidoscopic psychic calliope
                                                        ­                              of psychedelic psychosis
i remember when dreams used to comfort
bring relief and restitution
or delightful reminiscence
or strange beauty
but my dreams are now a plague
they exhaust me
all vivid surreal visions
          of mundane interactions
                                                    ­with a world I do not recognize
                                                       ­  that feels uncomfortably
                                                   ­                intimately
                                                      ­              Familiar
waking in those peaceful hours of pre- and post-dawn
that peace is lost on me
lying there, almost paralyzed
i do not remember my dreams
so much as i
Recover from them

I wanted to write a poem today
about that frustrating feeling
when Life intrudes on Art
that sensation of being stuck
pinned between
Wants
and Needs
I need to express myself
but I want to make money
so I can eat
and watch TV
I wanted to write that poem
today
but I was too busy

An old beat-up couch
and an antique desk
were the only furniture we had
We slept our first nights together
had our first kiss together
had our first come together
on a plastic air mattress
on the living room floor
The carpet was a thin industrial
floor mat
barely thick enough to keep out the splinters
We hung candles on the walls
and watched them glow
and watched the shadows dance
and let the wax drip spires on the floor
We built an altar
and a playspace of blankets
and quilts
piled high in the corner
by the door
We spent so many hours there
days and weeks all-told
in that corner
on those blankets
in front of our altar
playing
Playing with friends
Playing by ourselves
feeling each other out
figuring each other out
falling in Love
over and over again
and pouring it all into our life together
building it piece-by-piece
shaping it to hold our desires
to hold us together
Later on
all our friends
and family we Loved
would gather around
to watch us swear ourselves to each other
on that same spot
where we played
and Loved
in front of our altar
I can honestly say
I've never been happier
than I was
Loving you then
in the empty home we made together
in the place where we played and Loved
and built our altar

+     +     +

That it's only a memory now
is so bittersweet
So much joy to remember
but remembering only reminds
that those fantastical days are gone
Our altar is just a table now
the blankets packed away in storage
Even that corner of the apartment
where we'd built everything together
is gone
Where we'd made our Love and played
so carelessly and free
now cluttered with piles of boxes
full of junk
accumulated from the years of our lives together
Everything we had no place for
we stacked in the corner
filling in the space
where we used to sit side-by-side
and play
and Love
and weep and sing and dance and scream
until it was gone
until it was lost
and almost forgotten

+     +     +

I won't forget
The memory is all I have left
And even just the ghost of those times
means more to me now
than all the piles of junk
we clutter our hearts with these days
I won't forget
And I won't grieve
and I won't regret
I will remember
and I will Laugh
and I will look into your soft blue eyes
and I will remember how I saw you then
and I will be grateful for all we ever had
because it was so much
though we didn't know it then
So much more
than we ever needed
So much more
than we ever deserved
though we didn't know it then
now I cannot help but see
it was more than enough
More than enough
to fill a lifetime

on some level
it's about control
and i'm sorry about that
insecurity
always is

You are the other half of me
as i am the other half of You
and so if there's something
about You
or something You do
that i do not understand
then i'm not understanding myself
i'm unsure of myself
i'm the definition of
insecure

the Thing
whatever it is
the particular Thing
that i have failed to understand
about You
about me
is completely
and absolutely
irrelevant
what matters
what's important
is that

I

Don't

Understand

everything else
is just window dressing  

i need to understand
in order to feel secure
in order to maintain the comfortable illusion
that i have some control over my life
over myself
that I have some understanding of
who i am
where i am
what i'm doing
what the **** is going on

so when i'm threatened
by my own confusion
i make inquiries
i ask questions
i try to understand
desperately
urgently
crucially
i have to try
i have to

and besides
there's no harm in asking
is there?

What if I don't
feel anything
worth writing down?
What if I don't
see anything
that penetrates my eye
with beauty?
that infects my mind
with wonder?
What if
nothing happens
in my ordinary day
to inspire
or bewilder
or amuse?
or arouse
or confuse?
or infuriate
or frustrate
or fascinate?
What if it's just
a day?
just like the day before
and the day after
and I feel nothing
nothing worth saying
nothing worth feeling
out loud
no line to express
or wisdom to surmise
with cutesy-clever
patyourselfonthebackforthinkingofitaren'tyouspecial­
twists of wordplay
Just a day
And what if I have
nothing to say?
I'll say it anyway

Silent Fractals Fall
White Whispers Wash All Away
No Thing Left To Be

Soft Crystals Gliding
to Wrap Us in Fluffy Ice
Inch by Inch by Inch

Succumb to Snow Fall
Smothered, the World Disappears
only Yin remains

Is there any better feeling
anything more freeing
than standing naked
in a Summer rain?

It is a sensual kiss
from the Mother that bore you
and the Monster
that will devour you.

The air that caresses you
is the motion of the Earth
vibrating on your skin
the transfer of momentum
from the spinning ball of Blue
to the gaseous sphere encasing it
to your body
to You.
You're dancing on the roof
as we fly through the galaxy.

The water that now licks
your entire body
was once part
of a vast sea
wherein the first chemicals
melted together
locked into each other
and twitched
and copulated
and convulsed
and conspired
to move
and to Live.
The molecules that once held
the first Life
All Life
surrounding you
touching you everywhere
setting your skin on Fire.

It is your planet
Making Love to you.